Cinepocalypse 2017: The Crescent

If anyone ever compiles a coffee table book of great horror movie architecture and design, this retro-postmodern-Bauhausian beach house should definitely be included, along with the modernist cabin from Rift and the classic Bauhaus sets of Edward G. Ulmer’s The Black Cat. It looks striking yet livable, but it comes with some rather undesirable neighbors in Seth A. Smith’s The Crescent (trailer here), which screens tonight during Cinepocalypse 2017 in Chicago.

Ever since her husband was lost in an accident, Beth has shunned the company of everyone but her toddler son Lowen. That even includes her own mother, but she will borrow her beach house (perched on a crescent-shaped cove) to retreat from the world with Lowen and her grief. The two or three-year-old still lacks a meaningful comprehension of death. He just continues to wander off and be a general handful, as toddlers will. However, their creepy nearest neighbor seems to have an inappropriate interest in them both (thanks for the babysitting offer, but that’s not happening). He is probably one of the ones eight or nine-year-old Sam is talking about, when she offers Beth a cryptic warning about the locals.

Crescent is exactly the sort of film the beyond-insulting term “post-horror” was coined to describe. It is definitely a slow-burner with some unambiguously metaphysical concerns, but it also has its scary moments. For instance, the funky beach house has one of the most unsettling doorbells you will ever hear—and it is prone to ring at the middle of the night.

Arguably, it is the unnerving sound design that makes the film so potent. Once you lock into its wave length, it is impossible to relax and just coast through it. Smith also dexterously uses the lonesome remoteness of the setting to build the tension. However, he drives the point into ground with an overly long denouement following the big revelation.

Rather remarkably, young Woodrow Graves, Smith’s real-life son, probably has more screen time than anyone as Lowen. In fact, some press write-ups credit him as the central lead, which is probably news to Danika Vandersteen’s agent. As Beth, she is certainly convincingly bereft and increasingly unstable. Plus, she and Graves really do look and act like mother and son. Perhaps even more impressive is the poised work of Britt Loder as Sam, who is arguably the most proactive character in the film. Lest we forget this is a horror movie, it should also be stipulated Terrence Murray is all kinds of creepy as the too-friendly neighbor.

In a rather uncommon bit of character detail, Beth practices marbling, allowing Smith to incorporate some dramatic visuals. The overall vibe of The Crescent is also genuinely unique. In many ways, it is what Aronofsky’s Mother! should have been, but wasn’t. Even though Smith draws things out too long, it is still an eerie film with post-viewing staying power. Highly recommended for fans of surreal and allegorical horror, The Crescent screens again this afternoon (11/7), as part of this year’s Cinepocalypse.

The Nightmare: A Girl and Her Creature

Tina’s creature looks like a cross between E.T. and Gollum, but he is symbiotic and perhaps supernatural—or psychosomatic. Of course, she might be dead already, so it wouldn’t matter. Yet, she still must contend with peer pressure and social media shaming in director-screenwriter AKIZ [Achim Bornhak]’s The Nightmare (trailer here), which releases today on DVD from KimStim/Icarus Films.

Tina was one of the mean girls, until that fateful pool rave. Her bad trip starts when one of the drug-snorting sons of entitlement shows her a viral video of a woman getting mowed down by a speeding car. Shortly thereafter, that video plays out in real life, with Tina facing the business end of the hit-and-run bumper. One life-flashing-before-her-eyes later, Tina comes to after supposedly fainting. Things get weirder still when she hears a slimy critter that would not look out of place in the Ghoulies franchise knocking about in the kitchen. Naturally, her white bread parents see and hear nothing, but when the imp cuts himself, she shares the blood and pain, like a Corsican Brother.

Consequently, everyone starts to assume Tina is crazy, because that is how she is acting. Inevitably, this leads to mockery and ostracization at school. It also might lead to institutionalization, since nobody else can see her personal demon, except during the times when they can.

AKIZ fuses together a bunch of elements that would not ordinarily look like they went together, sort of like a cross between Before I Fall and Bad Milo! played scrupulously straight. The fact that it works at all constitutes a minor miracle. The intentionally and effectively disorienting style certainly helps. AKIZ literally pumps up the volume and unleashes the strobe effects to immerse viewers in these club kids’ milieu. With its flashy look and pulsating soundtrack, Der Nachtmahr could also be thought of as the pouty teen spawn of Tony Scott’s The Hunger.

Regardless, Carolyn Genzkow falls apart pretty spectacularly. She definitely nails the Polanski-esque creeping madness vibe, but it must be said, she also looks distressingly thin. As is happens, Tina is already in therapy even before she maybe dies and meets a monster, so perhaps we can speculate eating disorders were an issue. In any event, she might start feeling better with a little nutrition. She and her BFF co-stars, Lynne Femme and Sina Tkotsch perfectly balance snarky cattiness and hypocritical kiss-kiss sisterhood. Frankly, they will make you glad you are not a German teen girl, circa 2015.

AKIZ definitely pulls you in, but it is hard not to get distracted wondering how he will bring it all home down the stretch. He doesn’t quite stick the dismount, but it is not for a lack of effort or degree of difficulty. If you want a distinctive film, this is a distinctive film. Recommended in all its head-scratching messiness, The Nightmare is now available on DVD.

Heart Blackened: Korea Remakes Silent Witness

They say money can’t buy love, but it can retain the best legal defense available. Sometimes that is just as important, or more so. For Im Mi-ra, this would be one of those times. The entitled heiress stands accused of murdering her father’s fiancée. Still loyal to his daughter, he makes a somewhat an orthodox choice hiring Choi Hee-jung, but he is a shrewd judge of character. Choi’s integrity is about the only thing we can take for certain in Jung Ji-woo’s Heart Blackened (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Yes, this is indeed a Korean remake of the Aaron Kwok-Sun Honglei-Yu Nan legal thriller, Silent Witness, but Jung has shaken it up a bit. He largely parallels initial set-up of Fei Xing’s film, but he shifts the focus from the prosecutor to the defense attorney. Although he is faithful to the big twist, he makes some alterations to the ending, so viewers who have seen the original still won’t know with 100% certainty where the film is headed.

Given the fame of Yoo-na, an aging but still popular K-pop idol, this murder case is sure to be a media circus. Ordinarily, Im Tae-san’s sharky corporate firm handles all his legal business, but they subcontract Choi for this case. Due to their friendship at school, Mi-ra is more likely to trust the young, independent counsel. In terms of image, she is a good counterbalance to the Ims. Unfortunately, the case looks bad for them. Technically, there is no smoking gun, but the circumstantial evidence is as damning as it gets. However, a stalkerish fan might have video footage of the vehicular murder. A mad scramble ensues to recover that footage, sight unseen, so it is sure to surprise at least one of the interested parties.

Filling Sun Honglei’s shoes is a tall order, but Choi Min-sik is more than sufficiently grizzled and steely. He definitely commands the screen as Im Tae-san, but he also delivers some surprisingly poignant moments down the stretch. Park Shin-hye is terrific in the expanded role of shy but principled Choi Hee-jung. By elevating her to the lead, the film takes on a bit of a Jagged Edge vibe.

Lee Soo-kyung also shows impressive range as Im Mi-ra, who is allowed more room for self-awareness and growth this time around. Lee Honey’s warm but messily human portrayal of Yoo-na makes us sorry to see her murdered, even though it is necessary to get the picture going. However, it is unclear why the film allots so much screen time to slimy super-fan Kim Dong-myung, beyond actor Ryu Jun-yeol’s teen heartthrob popularity.

Heart Blackened is a slickly produced film that deftly turns its surprise reversals of fortune, but it is never too far divorced from the human element. It also features some of Korea’s biggest stars and most reliable character actors, all working at the top of their games. Highly recommended for thriller fans (even those who have already seen Silent Witness), Heart Blackened opens this Friday (11/10) at the Los Angeles and Buena Park CGV Cinemas.

(Photo: CJ Entertainment)

CAFF ’17: The Blood Hound

China could use more forest rangers like Lao Zhu. So could the tragically despoiled Tibet, but we have to settle for stationing one of the few ecologically minded rangers in the Tianshan mountains. He believes in protecting wildlife, but dogs are his true love, perhaps even more than his family. A disgraced former ranger out for revenge will target both in Liu Jianhua’s The Blood Hound (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Chinese American Film Festival in the LA area.

People still eat dog in China’s provinces, but not Lao Zhu. Zhang Biao is a different story. There is already bad blood between them, so when Zhang moonlights poaching rare white wolves, Zhu does not hesitate to call in the constabulary. Unfortunately, Zhang’s arrest hastens a series of misfortunes for his family, all of which he blames on his honest rival. When he is released from prison, he starts killing Zhu’s dogs. However, a scheme out of Titus Andronicus to trick Lao into eating his mutt Rambo falls apart when the wonder dog escapes Zhang’s cronies. Zhang then turns his attention on Zhu’s popular older daughter, but his intentions get more complicated when he ends up falling for her.

Frankly, it is probably good just to have a Chinese film that suggests a little wildlife preservation is not a bad thing. In many ways, Blood Hound looks like an attempt to reverse-engineer a more politically palatable analog of Jean-Jacques Annaud’s Wolf Totem. Just updating the setting from the Cultural Revolution to modern day probably goes a long way. Xia Liu’s screenplay also clearly suggests the People’s Police diligently enforces wildlife protection regulations, which is highly debatable in real life. Regardless, even though cinematographer Ma Deling feasts on the Tianshan vistas, Wolf Totem a much more artistically accomplished film.

In fact, Blood Hound is rather prone to door-slamming family melodrama. It seems like old Zhu is constantly yelling at a family member, up until the ridiculous third act, wherein Rambo basically turns into Lassie. Still, Huang Hong and Liu Xiang-jing are appropriately grizzled and hardnosed as Zhu and Zhang. They promise score-settling a la Charles Bronson and Lee Marvin in Death Hunt, but the film delivers something more like a Hallmark TV movie, with the old grouch and rash poacher learning important life lessons from dogs. As a welcome bonus, the up-and-coming Zhu Lin is also quite engaging as Zhu’s dog-loving younger daughter.

It would be a mistake to dismiss outright a film with as many good intentions as The Blood Hound. There are some impressive performances and you have to appreciate a dog named Rambo. However, it also has more than its share of awkward moments. If you want to see a film that illustrates the man’s predatory encroachment on wolves’ habitat, Wolf Totem is your best choice. Notable more as a curiosity than as significant cinema, The Blood Hound screens tomorrow (11/7) and Wednesday (11/8) as part of this year’s Chinese American Film Festival in Alhambra, CA.

Destination Unknown: Survivors on Surviving

Some will ask in partially good faith whether we really need another Holocaust documentary. Oddly enough, those same people never seem to ask if we really need another film about the environment. There have been a fair number released after Spielberg’s Schindler’s List and Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah. Many of them were excellent, such as Inside Hana’s Suitcase, Night Will Fall, and The Labyrinth. Yet, the lack of will to combat the rise of anti-Semitic violence in Europe suggests there is indeed a pressing need for more Holocaust documentaries. While we can view them as part of the ongoing effort to prevent future atrocities, the emotional impact of the Holocaust persists to this day for the survivors giving testimony in British documentarian Claire Ferguson’s Destination Unknown (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

It is hard to imagine how a survivor like Ed Mosberg could don a replica concentration camp uniform to give educational programs, but his commitment is just that extraordinary. In contrast, another survivor explains why he felt a pressing need to have his camp tattoo removed, which we can all surely understand. Nobody uses the term post-traumatic stress in this film and it is probably for the best. Viewers could give probably give that armchair diagnosis to all twelve survivors interviewed at length by producer Llion Roberts without fear of contradiction, but what they continue to experience is deeper and more profound than that. For instance, Mosberg’s wife can still hardly bring herself to discuss those times with him, let alone anyone else.

There are two historical figures whose shadows loom large over Destination. Although the Spielberg film and Thomas Keneally book are never directly referenced, several survivors speak at length about their very different encounters with Oskar Schindler and the savage camp commandant Amon Goeth. Schindler’s List was arguably the first film to take subject matter to a mass audience (nearly $100 million box office gross in the U.S. alone), but it has been few years since 1993. The world could probably use a refresher. In fact, Destination is rather newsworthy, because it features the first on-camera interview with Schindler aide Mietek Pemper, Goeth’s reluctant secretary (Ben Kingley’s composite character was partly based on him).

Perhaps we should take encouragement from the fact Destination hails from Europe, but it is probably needed more in countries like France and Sweden than the UK. Nevertheless, it is executed with considerable sensitivity and insight. In some ways, it acts as a corrective to more simplistic films that present Holocaust narratives as a triumph over adversity. Some of survivors steadfastly embrace life as a means of countering the darkness, but others have never truly escaped the terror. Highly recommended for general audiences, Destination Unknown opens this Friday (11/10) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

Cinepocalypse 2017: Snowflake

In near future Germany, immigrants and neo-Nazis openly clash on the streets and emergency services never venture into certain neighborhoods. A robot also plays a minor role, if you were wondering what made it near-futuristic. Murder might be a common occurrence, but not for Eliana. She will deal with some pretty unsavory people for the sake of revenge in Adolfo Kolmerer & William James’ Snowflake (trailer here), which screens tonight during Cinepocalypse 2017 in Chicago.

Javid and Tan shot up the kabab shop where Eliana’s late parents were eating, because they are violent knuckleheads. They deserve some harsh payback, even though they are products of their savage environment. They too seek revenge for the deaths of their families, which they blame on a former security minister turned outlaw paramilitary leader—not without some justification. With the help of her family’s former bodyguard Carson, Eliana will hire some of Europe’s vilest assassins to cap Javid and Tan.

There will be considerable collateral damage, which nobody knows better than Arend Remmers, the screenwriting dentist. Every violent scene he writes comes true. When Javid and Tan find an incomplete early draft, they pay him a little visit hoping to strong arm a better ending out of him, but it is hard to get around certain principles of screenwriting.

Arend Remmers, the real life screenwriter, deserves credit for re-invigorating the Don Quixote/Pirandello-esque conceit of characters acknowledging and responding to the supposedly fictional works in which they appear. In Remmers’ screenplay[s], it is presented in a fittingly surreal and post-modern fashion, but it is never belabored, because there is additional pressing mayhem going on simultaneously, particularly that involving the film’s wildcards, Hyper Electro Man, the costumed vigilante, and Snowflake, Javid and Tan’s supposed guardian angel.

Snowflake is an espresso-charged, pedal-to-the-metal revenge thriller, with a heck of a lot of moving parts, but it still features some downright shockingly memorable performances. Xenia Assenza and David Masterson are terrific together as Eliana and Carson, in what might be the best bodyguard-client movie relationship since Sammo Hung’s The Bodyguard (which could be the best ever).

Adrian Topol also bears watching as Bolek, who turns out to be a surprisingly compassionate cannibalistic Polish hitman (look, you have to make allowances in the future). Alexander Schubert earns some big laughs as Remmers, the on-screen sad sack screenwriter, but neither Reza Brojerdi or Erkan Acar manage to appreciably humanize Javid and Tan, despite the film’s efforts on their behalf. However, the insanity really skyrockets when crafty veteran David Gant appears as Caleb, Carson’s apocalyptic cult-leader father Caleb.

Genre fans will be relieved to know Snowflake’s metaness never gets in the way of the violence. For a dystopia, Adolfo Kolmerer & William James’ Berlin looks a heck of a lot like our world, but it is still an unusually dark vision of the future. Yet, somehow, they also make it wildly entertaining. Highly recommended for fans of cult cinema, Snowflake screens tonight (11/5), as part of this year’s Cinepocalypse.

PDXFF ’17: Secret Santa

Why are there so many Christmas horror movies? Because it is a family holiday. That is scary enough for many folks, but in the case of the Popes, it is absolutely terrifying—even before they are dosed with a psychosis-inducing drug. It will be coal for everyone in Adam Marcus’s Secret Santa (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Portland Film Festival.

April is in charge of her family’s gift exchange this year—and boy is it going to be miserable. Her ugly duckling sister Penny will continue blaming her for everything wrong in her life. Their half-brother Jackson will show up with his latest stripper girlfriend, Jacqueline. Their divorced father Leonard has been banished from the house, but he will show up anyway just to make a point. Meanwhile, their high-ball guzzling mother Shari will make everyone feel terrible about themselves, especially Penny and the youngest brother Kyle, the one with a stammer. At least April has brought her boyfriend Ty, so she has back-up. One of the caterers also happens to be Kyle’s lover, but he is totally not ready to come out of the closet yet.

As if the night were not already fun enough, several family members suddenly turn into raging maniacs. At first, they feel suspiciously hot and then they lash out. The corpses will pile up, starting with creepy Uncle Carter, but Mother Pope steadfastly refuses to air any of their dirty laundry in public.

Wow, if anything, Secret Santa is less brutal when they shut-up and start stabbing each other. Think of it as The Ref, but with more bloodletting, if we can still safely reference a movie starring you-know-who. Regardless, this is one of the most wickedly funny horror films of the season. Who knew Marcus, the writer-director of Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday [which its wasn’t] and Texas Chainsaw 3D had it in him, but here it is.

His co-screenwriter Debra Sullivan is also spectacularly passive-aggressive as Ma Pope. As Pa Pope, John Gilbert has a slightly older and thinner Ron Perlman thing going on, which definitely works. Plus, you have to give Michelle Renee Allaire tremendous credit for being a good sport and showing off some decent action chops in her portrayal of Jacqueline. Likewise, as Jackson, actor-stunt artist Nathan Hedrick definitely came to play.

With Award-winning make-up artist Robert Kurtzman on-board as an executive producer and also providing his practical artistry, you can be sure there will be blood. This is turning out to be a banner year for holiday horror, with both Secret Santa and Better Watch Out destined to become annual Christmas traditions, along with Santa Stinks. In fact, they complement each other nicely, because they are both really twisted, but in very different ways. Highly recommended for horror and midnight movie fans, Secret Santa screens today (11/5), at this year’s PDXFF.

PDXFF ’17: The Hollow Child

So, you live in a house bordering a wild and brambly woods? Seriously, why don’t you say your final goodbyes to your kids while you still have time. After all, you know full well you will find that forest has a history of child disappearances if you do five minutes of googling. Samantha’s sort of sister Olivia was abducted in such a forest and replaced by an evil doppelganger, but nobody will believe her, because she is the obnoxious foster child in Jeremy Lutter’s The Hollow Child (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Portland Film Festival.

Samantha has issues, but Garrett and Liz still welcomed her into their home. Little Olivia idolizes her, but Samantha is always ditching the eight-ish-year-old, to smoke and drink with her orphanage pal, Emily. She really should have been looking after her when Olivia vanished—a fact not lost on her foster father. Yet, just as her guilt becomes unbearable, Olivia reappears—except this isn’t really Olivia. It is an impostor, who enjoys ripping the eyes off her stuffed animals.

Of course, Liz and Garrett are too dense to recognize her ominous behavior. Plus, the forest spirit has a talent making Samantha look bad. However, the moody teen will possibly glean some survival tips from Alison, the town nutcase, who went through a very similar ordeal several years ago.

As horror movies go, Hollow Child is pretty non-descript. Frankly, it feels it could have been produced as a Lifetime Movie Network original. You have a child in jeopardy and the young heroine nobody believes. Frustratingly, it also features the all-too-common “screw-you” horror movie ending. Seriously, it is a minor miracle that we care about these characters to any extent, so it is a real buzzkill when Lutter and screenwriter Ben Rollo drop a load of dirt on them during the closing seconds.

On the plus side, there is some realistically engaging pseudo-chemistry shared by Samantha and Logan, the nebbish classmate she’s just not into. Jessica McLeod and Connor Stanhope play off each other nicely and they both can actually pass for older teens. Young Hannah Cheramy also chews the scenery like a seasoned horror genre performer as impostor Olivia.

You have seen better films than this and you will see plenty that are worse. Yet, most fans will want more than middle-of-the-pack, lukewarm foster care angst. Regardless, even genre diehards who are somehow intrigued should be able to easily wait until it hits its natural home, VOD. In the meantime, The Hollow Child screens tonight (11/5) during this year’s PDXFF.

Cinepocalypse 2017: Hagazussa—A Heathen’s Curse

Alas, poor Albrun is the original lonely goatherd. You would think superstitious villagers would try not to antagonize a suspected witch. However, this is the 15^th Century Austrian Alps, so in addition to their paranoia, they also have a slightly volky intolerant thing going on. They will harass and ostracize Albrun and her mother, but matters will end badly for everyone in Lukas Feigelfeld’s Hagazussa: A Heathen’s Curse (trailer here), which screens tonight as part of Cinepocalypse 2017 in Chicago.

If Albrun’s mother really had evil powers, presumably she wouldn’t let the villagers get away with their loutish behavior. Instead of casting spells, she seems to suffer from them. Unfortunately, she will soon be leaving Albrun behind in the cold hard world. Ten or so years later, Albrun is similarly raising an infant daughter on her own. We could assume it is the product of an assault, but Hagazussa is not a talky film, making backstory difficult to glean.

Albrun’s life briefly brightens when one of the village women appears to befriend her, but her motives are actually quite sinister. That makes Albrun angry and quite possibly tears the last fibers holding her sanity in place. This is the sort of film that garners a lot of attention for its technical artistry, but Aleksandra Cwen is quite remarkable as grown Albrun. Watching her psyche splinter into pieces is a ferocious viewing experience.

Shot in arresting Gustave Doré-like black-and-white by cinematographer Mariel Baqueiro, Hagazussa is a hushed spectacle of mud, rain, and rotting carcasses. You can practically smell the decay and corruption wafting off the screen. However, Feigelfeld’s pacing is slow even by the standards of slow-burners. Narrative is a low priority for this film. It is more about immersing viewers in this world of dread. Towards that end, the eerie sound work of foley artist Peter Roigk and the almost subliminal score of Greek chamber trio Mohammad really get under viewers’ skin, possibly unnerving us more than the macabre imagery.

Everyone and their black goats are comparing Hagazussa to Robert Eggers’ The Witch, for obvious reasons, but it also arguably shares a kinship with Haneke’s The White Ribbon. Feigelfeld is not merely inviting the audience to witness a case of isolated madness. He is giving us a peak into Teutonic original sin. This is a demanding film that really ought to go further over the top during the climax, but you have to give credit to Feigelfeld for realizing such a singular vision. Recommended for fully fortified fans of avant-garde horror in the Häxan tradition, Hagazussa: A Heathen’s Curse screens tonight (11/4), as part of this year’s Cinepocalypse.

Cinepocalypse 2017: Charismata

Are two murders sufficient to classify the suspect a serial killer, or is a third killing required? Unfortunately, while Detective-Inspectors Rebecca Faraway and Eli Smith argue the point, it will be rendered moot by their quarry. She will still have plenty to bicker over with her smug partner and the rest of the chauvinistic task force. However, Faraway will have even greater concerns when their chief suspect takes a sinister interest in her during the course of Andy Collier & Toor Mian’s Charismata (trailer here), which screens tonight as part of Cinepocalypse 2017 in Chicago.

These are ritualistic killings with the emphasis on the “ick.” There are pools of blood, satanic markings, and missing body parts. It is never the same body parts removed, but it still safe to call it part of a consistent M.O. It turns out there are other linkages. Two of the bodies were discovered in empty properties awaiting gentrification that were guarded by the same bargain basement security firm and owned by the same up-scale development firm.

Thanks to good police work, Faraway tenuously links Michael Sweet, the firm’s hotshot, youngest-ever partner to the third victim, but he is cool as ice when they bring him in for questioning. In fact, he is clearly much more interested in her than his status as a potential suspect. Soon thereafter, she starts having dreams and hallucinations, featuring Sweet in the starring role. She already has a history of personal problems and instability, so her increased freaky behavior just further alienates her from her colleagues. Of course, that makes her obsess over Sweet even more.

Charismata is a nimble and atmospheric fusion of police procedurals and demonic horror, sort of like Prime Suspect crossed with the better Exorcist sequels. Frankly, the cop stuff works surprisingly well. As Faraway and Smith, Sarah Beck Mather and Andonis Anthony really do not seem to like each other at all, so “chemistry” is not really the right term, but they are terrific playing off each other. David J. Peel and Ethan Chapples add some blunt-spoken comic relief as their knuckleheaded DS and DC, without getting shticky or slapsticky, while Jamie Satterthwaite shamelessly preens and chews the scenery, as befits a cocky as Hell horror movie villain.

Charismata starts modestly, but it raises the tension and the stakes steadily and at an impressively speedy clip. Yet, despite some mostly presentable special effects, this is really a character-driven horror movie. Collier and Mian masterfully control the mood and get some great work out of their ensemble. They also receive a key assist from cinematographer Fernando Ruiz, who makes it all look mysterious and foreboding. Highly recommended for genre fans, Charismata screens tonight (11/4), as part of this year’s Cinepocalypse.

Along for the Ride: With Dennis Hopper

James Dean only made three feature films as a proper credited actor. Dennis Hopper was in two of them. Hopper also co-starred in Apocalypse Now and directed Easy Rider, so his place is movie history is already secure. Few Hollywood survivors could top Hopper’s anecdotes of chaos and excess, but fortunately his longtime friend and right-hand-man Satya De La Manitou knows almost all of them, because he witnessed them first-hand. De La Manitou pays homage to the industry rebel in Nick Ebeling’s Along for the Ride (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

De La Manitou joined Team Hopper shortly before the production of The Last Movie, which would become something like his Apocalypse Now, but with far worse career repercussions. Nevertheless, it made a tremendous impression on De La Manitou and takes more screen time in Ride than any other Hopper project. It was a passion project that followed Easy Rider, still considered the most successful independently produced film of all time. Unfortunately, Universal did not get it. As a result, he was essentially black-balled from studio projects.

Of course, Hopper would have second, third, fourth, and fifth acts. Aside from The Last Movie, there is a fair amount of discussion focused on Out of the Blue, Apocalypse Now, Mad Dog Morgan, American Friend, and Blue Velvet, with a bit of Colors shoehorned in, as well. Some fans will inevitably be disappointed memorable later projects like Hoosiers (which earned him an Oscar nomination), Red Rock West, O.C. and Stiggs, Speed, The Hot Spot, and season one of 24 are essentially ignored, but that is the downside to having such a diverse and distinctive body of work.

On the other hand, there are plenty of stories involving booze, drugs, and telling off studio executives, because this is Dennis Hopper. Ebeling and De La Manitou appreciate his “bad boy” mystique and persona, shrewdly using it as the thin edge of the wedge to build appreciate for Hopper as an artist. In addition to De La Manitou, Ebeling secured entertaining interviews with contemporaries like Russ Tamblyn and Dean Stockwell, artists including Julian Schnabel and Ed Ruscha, former co-stars, such as Michael Madsen and Dwight Yoakam, and Hopper’s brother David. As you would expect, everyone has a Dennis Hopper story.

Despite consisting largely of breezy reminiscences, Ebeling executes Ride with a fair degree of style. Hopper was one of the best talk show guests perhaps ever, just because he was always willing to discuss his own life with humor and candor. Ebeling and De La Manitou give us the Hopper we’ve been missing, while making their case for The Last Movie. Recommended for fans of Hopper and 1970s & 1980s cinema, Along for the Ride opens today (11/3) in New York, at the Metrograph.

Stanislaw Lem on Film: Solaris (2002)

Don’t call it a remake. Supposedly, Steven Soderbergh was reinterpreting Stanisław Lem’s source novel rather than fiddling with Tarkovsky’s classic. Okay, so where’s Dr. Sartorius and the study of Solaristics? Arguably, this is the least faithful of the three film adaptations, but it still shares thematic kinships with its predecessors. No matter what you call it, following in Tarkovsky’s footsteps is a perilous proposition, so you have to give Soderbergh credit for creating a distinctive Solaris (trailer here) of his own, which also screens during the Stanisław Lem on Film series at Anthology Film Archives.

This time around, the fact that Dr. Chris (no longer with a “K”) Kelvin is a psychologist who has been unable to process the guilt and grief stemming from his wife’s suicide takes on tremendous significance, quite logically enough. He is rather surprised when representatives of the DBA corporation (including a blurry John Cho, in the one sf role he is probably never asked about at cons) recruits him to assess the state of moral at the Solaris space station. It turns out, he was requested by his old friend Gibrarian, who apparently committed suicide shortly before his arrival.

The two surviving crewmembers, Dr. Snow and Dr. Gordon are both acting suspiciously. The latter has become a paranoid recluse who rarely leaves her quarters, whereas the former is twitchier than Meryl Streep playing Dracula’s fly-eating Renfield. He soon learns the crew have been visited by apparently flesh-and-blood constructs generated by the sentient planet from the darkest corners of the subject’s subconscious. In Kelvin’s case, it is his late wife Rheya. At first, his “visitor” freaks him out, but then he desperately grasps at this unlikely second chance.

So yes, this is Solaris, except Soderbergh throws in an incidental plot twist that largely parallels the big reveal in Professor Zazul. In some ways, he appears to deliberately evoke the Tarkovsky classic, starting with the nearly continual rain during the early Earth-bound scenes. This is also the steamiest Solaris yet. Indeed, Soderbergh is much more interested in the relationship between the husband and wife and Kelvin’s subsequent guilt-tripping. His affinity for vintage 1970s cinema stands him in good stead, in this respect. It is a bit of an exaggeration, but a tag-line like: “in space, love means never having to say you’re sorry” would not be wholly inappropriate.

Probably best known for Spy Kids 3 and Return to Horror High, George Clooney actually slow burns quite effectively as Kelvin. He always looks torn up inside (and it literally seems like he walks under a constant rain cloud while on Earth). Natascha McElhone poignantly portrays the various Rheyas, especially the visitor incarnation’s coming to terms with her debatable human status. Unfortunately, the 2002 Solaris really suffers when comparing its Snow to previous Dr. Snauts (translations vary). Jeremy Davies basically hits the same almost shticky note over and over as Snow, whereas both Vladimir Etush and Jüri Järvet added complexity and heft to their respective 1968 and 1972 adaptations. Viola Davis hardly registers as Dr. Gordon, the Sartorius substitute, but that is still an advantage over the ’68 Russian TV production.

Much to Lem’s frustration, all three films downplayed what he considered the most important aspect of the film—the inconceivably alien nature of planet Solaris itself. Yet, there is obviously something deeply compelling about the space visitations, especially Rheya/Hari, since it keeps inspiring challenging and emotionally engaging films. Strictly speaking, the first two Solaris films are probably better, but that is not a knock against the 2002 release. In fact, it is quite rewarding to watch all three in short succession. Recommended as high quality, character-driven science fiction, Soderbergh’s Solaris screens tomorrow (11/4) and next Friday (11/10) as part of the Stanisław Lem on Film series at Anthology Film Archives.

PDXFF ’17: The VelociPastor

For a while, shape-shifting paranormal romances were a hot-selling publishing category. They’ve cooled off lately, but Brendan Steere and his co-conspirators are determined to bring them back. Instead of werewolves or selkies, Doug Jones has a velociraptor alter-ego. That’s Doug Jones the character, not the actor—and a priest to boot. Do not expect subtlety or shame from Steere’s The VelociPastor (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Portland Film Festival.

VelociPastor is based on a gag grindhouse trailer, so that should give you an idea of what’s in store. After his parents are killed by a car bomb, Father Jones experiences a crisis of faith. To reconnect with God and nature, he tours rural China, which looks a lot like Clark County, Ohio, by the banks of the Mad River. While there, a peasant girl chased by ninjas passes on a mystical dragon tooth to him, which duly instills its juju in him, after it cuts his palm. Whammo, hello VelociPastor.

Initially, Father Jones tries to keep the monster inside him at bay, but when his parents’ killer unknowingly boasts of their murder in the confessional, all bets are off. He also starts falling for Carol, a hooker with a heart of gold, who will be his kung fu kicking partner in vigilantism and eventually breaking his vows. Frankly, as Carol, Alyssa Kempinski has more poise and presence than this movie has a right to expect. To his credit, Gregory James Cohan endures no end of slapstick humiliations like a good sport, but some of the supporting players are awkward even by low budget grindhouse spoof standards.

If VelociPastor had an ounce of seriousness or professionalism, we would call out its shameless hostility towards the Catholic Church (which among other things is eventually revealed to be masterminding a nasty cocaine smuggling ring). However, it just isn’t worth the effort for a film like this. So, it’s offensive. What did you expect?

A little faux grindhouse goes a long way. Even at seventy-one minutes, VelociPastor is really dragging the joke out. Still, it has the twin virtues of being nuttier than Machete and less brutal than Hobo with a Shotgun, if that helps you place it. So here it is. You’re on your own when VelociPastor premieres tonight (11/2) at this year’s Portland Film Festival.

DFF ’17: Godspeed

Cabbies and drug mules have one thing in common: the mileage. That is particularly true of Old Xu, an expat cab driver originally hailing from Hong Kong. In contrast, Taiwanese Na Dow is new to the drug delivery business and he might not last very long. Their comical road trip periodically takes dark detours in director-screenwriter Chung Mong-hong’s NYAFF-selected Godspeed (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Denver Film Festival.

It figures Na Dow might be in for some trouble, because his boss Da Bao barely survives the extended prologue. Someone is clearly looking to move in on his business, so Da Bao and his lieutenant Wu will discretely follow Na Dow on his latest run. It turns out to be quite ride when the mule reluctantly agrees to the persistent Xu’s terms. Their misadventures will really just confuse their secret shadows, rather than vindicating or condemning Na Dow.

Godspeed veers all over the road, but it still works nearly every step of the way. HK comedy veteran Michael Hui still goes for plenty of laughs, but Old Xu is definitely a sad clown. It is a complex, deeply humane performance that directly compares with Eric Tsang’s even more serious turn in Mad World. Na Dow (as his namesake) is an adequate straight man and he has some nicely turned moments down the stretch, but he is definitely the junior partner of their tandem.

Starting right from the start, Leon Dai nearly steals the picture several times over as the deceptively quiet and amusingly sly Da Bao. Ironically, a lot of viewers will be disappointed when they discover he really isn’t the focus of the film. As an extra added bonus, professional steely Thai authority figure Vithaya Pansringarm does his thing as the drug lord who nearly kills Da Bao, mostly just because he is psychotic.

Chung seems to be a bit like Tarantino in that he has a knack for casting nostalgically beloved actors in roles that help redefine them for younger generations. He did it with Jimmy Wang Yu in the wonderfully subtle and evocative supernatural film Soul and obviously, he did it again here with Hui. While Godspeed is bit plottier and talkier than his previous film, it still very much a work of mature restraint.

The guys who have been around the block a couple times really come through in Godspeed. It is a flattering showcase for Hui’s talents, but Dai, Pansringarm, and even Tou Chung-hua (as Da Bao’s dealer crony) score plenty of points. Despite some sudden tonal shifts, it still keeps purring along, because Chung trusts his characters and never overplays his hand. Recommended for fans of wry caper and road movies, Godspeed screens this Saturday (11/4) and Sunday (11/5) during the 2017 Denver Film Festival.

A River Below: The Human Cost of Environmental Activism

Nobody should understand better than an environmentalist our world is not a closed system. Every action has a resulting reaction. Yet, two very different environmentalists are surprised by the consequences of their respective campaigns to save the Amazon’s pink river dolphin in Mark Grieco’s documentary, A River Below (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

The pink river dolphin, a.k.a. bota, is a peaceful and intelligent creature that really shouldn’t be slaughtered to use as bait for piracatinga fish (or mota fish, as it is known in Colombia). To drive the point home, Brazilian wildlife TV host Richard Rasmussen secretly filmed a group of fishermen catching and slaughtering a pregnant bota. It was not pretty, especially when he gave the footage to Brazil’s top-rated newsmagazine. A few days later, Brazil passed a five-year ban on piracatinga fishing to mollify an outraged nation. Meanwhile, marine biologist Fernando Trujillo goes on Colombian television to explain it is a really bad idea to eat mota fish anyway, because of its sky-high mercury contamination rates.

At this point, Rasmussen is feeling pretty proud of himself, so he resents it when Grieco starts asking awkward questions. It turns out, Rasmussen recruited and paid the fishermen to conduct their dolphin hunt, which he directed off-camera. They had been promised Rasmussen would never publicly release his footage. He would only use it with the government in an effort to develop better bait for their use.

However, Rasmussen betrayed their trust, abandoning them on their own to face the resulting national scorn, death threats from fish wholesalers, and the total loss of their livelihoods. Meanwhile, Trujillo starts receiving his own death threats from similar fishing interests, after becoming the public face of the mota fish-mercury educational campaign.

Grieco deserve tremendous credit for not backing down and following leads as they sprung up. It probably would have been easier to make a one-dimensional film about saving dolphins (again, saving them would be a good thing to do), but instead, he duly explores the consequences of drive-by activism.

It is clear Rasmussen never intended to return to that beleaguered fishing village, until he is shamed into it by Grieco’s inquiries. In contrast, Trujillo emerges as a genuinely ethical and empathetic environmentalist. Visiting the distressed piracatinga fisherman incognito with Grieco, the scientist telling reflects on how “completely alone” they are with their troubles.

Whether he intended to or not, Grieco ultimately raises questions regarding the general approach of contemporary environmentalism. Developed Western nations have sufficiently robust economies and educated, socially-mobile work forces to roll with rigid regulatory prohibitions. That is simply not the case in the desperately poor Amazon. It is simply not realistic to expect the piracatinga fisherman to move to Rio and become web designers. Any curtailment of natural resource-based employment that is not coupled with an offsetting economic development strategy is just plain cruel. Eventually, Rasmussen learns that lesson the hard way—on-camera.

Grieco’s documentary also challenges viewers to question overly simplistic media narratives. Unfortunately, it will be an uphill struggle to alter people’s blind acceptance of the media of their choice. People are addicted to the cheap dopamine fix they get from feeling morally superior and signing a change.org petition. Like Rasmussen, the last thing they want to do is examine the potential human consequences of their enlightened policy demands. At least River makes a good faith effort to encourage viewers to give matters deeper thought. It is a legitimately inconvenient film that refuses to ignore messy truths. Very highly recommended, A River Below opens tomorrow (11/3) in New York, at the Village East. 

HFFLA ’17: Strangled

Soviet tanks put down the Hungarian Revolution in 1956. Then in 1968, Hungary contributed troops to the Warsaw Pact Invasion of Czechoslovakia. In between, a serial killer terrorized the Hungarian town of Martfü, but the police badly complicated their investigation by forcing an innocent man to confess to the first murder. That it is the Communist experience in a nutshell. The real-life fear, paranoia and bureaucratic backstabbing that marked the inter-invasion era are chronicled in Árpád Sopsits’ historically based thriller, Strangled (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Hungarian Film Festival Los Angeles.

Akos Reti was the last person to see his ex-girl-friend alive after she dumped him and he lacked an alibi for the time of death, so it was relatively easy torturing him into a confession. It was less than a year after the failed Revolution, so the police and prosecutors were under enormous press to convict somebody quickly. Nevertheless, there were facts about the case that did not sit well with Inspector Bota.

A few years later, several bodies of similar looking young women turn up, murdered in a roughly comparable manner, while the suicidal Reti languishes in prison. Zoltan Szirmai, the young, trouble-making provincial prosecutor quickly suspects the Reti murder was actually the work of their mystery serial killer and Bota is reluctantly inclined to agree, but nobody else wants to hear it. Thanks to incompetence and dishonesty, the investigation drags on for years. There are even two victims who survived the attacks, but they did not see their attacker. Nevertheless, Szirmai keeps pushing his theory of Reti’s innocence, basically bucking for a transfer to Siberia.

The true story of the Martfü Murderer is absolutely fascinating, bringing to mind the notorious Rostov Ripper (a.k.a. Citizen X) case, in which Communist ideology also served as an accomplice to a vicious serial killer. It is hard to say which is more chillingly depicted here, the killer’s slasher-style crimes, or the Orwellian horrors of the Party’s police and judicial system.

Zsolt Anger and Zsofia Szamosi are both terrific as the hard-drinking Bota and Reti’s outraged and ostracized sister Rita, respectively. Considering their difficult, often antagonistic shared history by their characters, the fact that we can largely accept their halting mutual attraction is a testament to their profoundly humanized portrayals and potent chemistry. Gabor Jaszberenyi is also unsettling convincing portraying the slow, agonizing death of Akos’s soul. Conversely, Karoly Hajduk is uncomfortable and clammy as the real killer (don’t even pretend that’s a spoiler), but he never comes remotely near Hannibal Lecter-Norman Bates levels of creepiness.

Although the film is not a horror movie per se, cinematographer Gabor Szabo (presumably no relation to the late, great pop-jazz guitarist) gives it an evil, nocturnal look. The film is particularly chilling because it is all mostly true in fact and entirely true in spirit. Very highly recommended, Strangled (catch the double meaning of that title) screens this Saturday night (11/4) at the Laemmle Ahrya Fine Arts, as part of the 2017 Hungarian Film Festival Los Angeles.

Taiwanese Film Biennial ’17: Le Moulin

Usually, it is the French who supposedly celebrate artists who are under-valued in their own countries, but apparently it was Japan that best appreciated Jean Cocteau’s poetry in the early Twentieth Century. Among his greatest admirers were a circle of expat Taiwanese poets and scholars. They were ardent nationalists, but nearly their entire literary oeuvre was in Japanese. There is no known film footage of the Fushashisha writers, but viewers will meet them through their poems and letters in Huang Ya-li’s impressionistic essay-documentary, Le Moulin (trailer here), which screens as part of What Time Is It There? Taiwanese Film Biennial at the UCLA Film & Television archive.

Le Moulin, taking its name from one of their key literary journals, is a hefty one-hundred-sixty-two-minutes, but there is nary a talking head in sight. Instead, Huang uses Ozu-esque recreations of their empty homes and offices as well as Ken Burns-esque still photo shots, as the backdrops for narrated poems and excerpts from their work. Clearly, a lot of biographical detail is sacrificed, but we still get the broad strokes of their lives and times, along with an intimate sense of their loves and fears.

They were Taiwanese, but the French surrealists significantly shaped their artistic development, as well as prominent modernists like James Joyce, Salvador Dali, Charles Baudelaire, and Charlie Chaplin. Yet, they were synthetizing all these influences and their own colonial resentments in Japanese, which explains why their work is largely forgotten today. Which national canon should claim them? Of course, the Fushashisha school also had a hard time of it during the White Terror, but the extensive time they spent in Japan probably would have made the Mainland just as bad for them, if not worse (they were truly bourgeoisie poets).

There could be room for a more traditional documentary on the Le Moulin contributors, but Huang’s film is certainly distinctive as a work of non-fiction cinema. Viewers might need to acclimate themselves to its rhythm, but it is worth the effort.  Their verse is quite evocative and their prose is indeed rather poetic. It is also strangely compelling to watch their lives fly by from such an oblique vantage point.

Le Moulin could be the most carefully crafted film you will see all year. It is also one of the most poetic. At the risk of sounding like a philistine, it probably could have been trimmed to a mere two hours without irredeemably damaging its artistic integrity, but at least this way viewers definitely get their money’s worth. Recommended for poetry lovers and experimental film patrons, Le Moulin screens this Sunday (11/5) at the UCLA Film & TV Archive.

PDXFF ’17: Wol-ha—Very Bad Moon Rising

It would sort of be like collecting some of the orange carpeting from The Shining or the puzzle box from Hellraiser, except the grave of the kisaeng done wrong in the 1967 Korean horror movie A Public Cemetery of Wol-ha is very much real. At least one mysterious collector believes so. He has tasked a private investigator and his part-time assistant with retrieving the vengeful kisaeng’s grave stone. In the history of bad horror movie ideas, this sounds like one of the worst, but the team still does its best to fulfill its obligations in Oh In-chun’s Wol-ha: Very Bad Moon Rising (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Portland Film Festival.

Thanks to the rise of found footage horror, videographers now have the world’s most dangerous job. Just ask Aaron from the first Creep. Now it is Yang Jun-il’s turn. He has been hired by Kang Chun-sik to document his mission. They must obtain the headstone of the very late Lee Wol-hyang, as seen in A Public Cemetery, by the end of the day, or contractual penalties will incur. However, her true resting place is someplace in the remote mountains, where cell service is sure to be iffy.

In addition to Yang, Kang has brought his junior gofer Park Han-su and they are stuck with the standoffish Masami, the weirdo client’s resentful assistant. Apparently, the client also arranged a guide, Lee Jun-seop, who happens to share a surname and the hometown of the grudge-wielding kisaeng.

There is something very wrong about this Lee, starting with his aggressively annoying sense of humor. Kang and Masami-san can at least find common ground in their distaste for him. Even though he seems to know exactly where they are, he gets them all thoroughly lost. With the daylight burning, bad things are heading our troupe’s way. Of course, we’re talking about stalkery bedlam and madness of some sort.

Very Bad Moon will definitely inspire viewers to catch up with the 1967 film, which is definitely a good sign. It also manages to breathe life into the found footage genre. Oh turns loose several extreme characters are reaps the resulting chaos. You will want to slap the nauseatingly arrogant Kang, roll your eyes at the petulant Masami, and throttle the obnoxious Lee.

That might not sound like fun, but strong reactions are usually the result of an effective film. Such is the case with Moon, which gets decidedly creepy when the sun goes down. Oh makes quite a nice pivot, taking all the nervous energy from the awkward comedy of the first two acts and funneling it into some really unsettling Blair Witch-style business.

Usually, you do not get much character development in found footage, but Moon has all kinds of messy character. To its credit, the small ensemble chews the scenery like mad. It is definitely one of the better let’s-document-this horror movies of recent vintage, up there with 1974 and JeruZalem, making it dramatically superior to the Blair Witch reboot/sequel. Highly recommended for genre fans, Wol-ha: Very Bad Moon Rising screens tonight (11/1), as part of this year’s Portland Film Festival.