Mehrdad Oskouei at Anthology: Starless Dreams

Like everything else in Iran, being a woman makes it harder to be confined to a juvenal correctional facility. However, many of the young women remanded there would prefer to stay rather than return to their families. They are the first to admit they committed the crimes they were accused of, but viewers will quickly conclude probably everyone else in their worlds ought to be behind bars, rather than them, based on the heartbreaking confessions recorded in Mehrdad Oskouei’s Starless Dreams (trailer here), which screens as part of Documentary, Iranian Style, a new retrospective of the documentarian’s work starting this Friday at Anthology Film Archives.

This is Oskouei’s third documentary shot at the Centre for Correction and Rehabilitation of Young Adults, but it was the first time he was allowed in the ultra-restricted girls’ section. They really are girls—teens and even tweeners forced to live on the streets and commit crimes to survive or pay for a fix. Getting approval for films on the boys was a dicey proposition, but Starless was a particularly daunting bureaucratic challenge. Nevertheless, it is clear the young women immediately trusted Oskouei and even forgot his presence during times of high emotions.

Several of the young residents were sentenced to the Centre for drug-related crimes. At least one is there for conspiring to kill her violent, drug-addicted father, much in the style of The Burning Bed. Several were victims of domestic violence and sexual molestation, which they fear will only get worse if they are released back into the custody of their abusive families. However, the Centre’s administration makes it clear once they exit the property, their former charges are no longer their responsibility. We do not see very much of the adult supervision in Starless, but when we do, they look really bad.

This film will just break your heart over and over again. The stories these young women have to tell are absolutely harrowing. Yet, they judge themselves just as harshly as the problematic adults they encounter. Oskouei never directly addresses politics or ideology, but it is crystal clear his subjects have been poorly served by Iran’s legal and social welfare systems, as well as the judgmental misogyny of the Islamist state religion.

It is also easy to see why the juvenile prisoners were so accepting of Oskouei. His voice is remarkably warm and soothing, while his questions always reflect the sort of humanist perspective they have rarely encountered. This is a quietly intimate film, but it is just as much a work of progressive muckraking as anything Jacob Riis ever did. Highly recommended, Starless Dreams screens this Friday (2/23) and next Monday (2/26) during the Mehrdad Oskouei retrospective at Anthology Film Archives.

The Cured: Post-Zombie Ireland

Just what we needed, more forms of identity politics. In this case, it is your zombie status that really matters. It’s more complicated than you might think. After the outbreak of the Maze Virus, a cure was developed that returned 75% of the infected to their former human state. Alas, one quarter remain feral zombies, the so-called “Resistants.” Having lived through a zombie apocalypse, many of the uninfected still harbor suspicions of the other 75%, perhaps with some justification in David Freyne’s The Cured (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

There is already a substantial body of film that speculates on how society would adjust to a cure for zombie-ism, including the BBC America show In the Flesh and the Canadian film, The Returned. The notion that some of the uninfected still hold a grudge is an old saw by now, but Freyne still harps on it. The first wave of “Cured” integration was not exactly a smashing success. Senan and Connor are part of the second. They hunted together during their zombie days, which they still vividly remember. One of their victims was Senan’s brother, a fact he declines to share with his American sister-in-law Abigail when she agrees to take him in, but the memory still tortures him.

Senan wants to live a quiet life and be a good uncle to his nephew, but Connor is a bad influence on him. Before the zombie outbreak, Connor was an up-and-coming politician, so he logically becomes a leading figure in the Cured-power movement. They argue they are merely a civil rights group, but there is reason to suspect they yearn to return to their days of brain-munching.

The Returned wants to lecture us on inclusion and understanding, but it is undone by its genre.

When you make a zombie movie, you need to have the zombie hoards start rampaging eventually, so you have to have a reason the fragile peace collapses. In this case, it is Connor and his Cured militants who upset the not so great equilibrium. That means they really are dangerous after all, so the hawkish skepticism was justified, rendering film’s didactic messaging null and void. Except for Senan, it sure starts to look like the only good zombie is a dead zombie.

In Maze, Tom Vaughan-Lawlor played an IRA terrorist serving time in HM Maze Prison, while in The Cured, he plays Connor, who was infected with Maze virus. It is highly debatable which character shows more remorse, if at all. Regardless, he is unsettling intense as the Cured resistance leader—arguably so powerfully so, he helps undermine Freyne’s efforts to liken the Cured to dispossessed immigrants and victims of police brutality.

To her credit, producer Ellen Page disappears into the role of mournful Abigail, but it is not like she has an overpowering movie star presence to contend with. Seriously, Juno was over ten years ago. Sam Keeley is also an effectively woeful sad sack as Senan. Yet, Paula Malcolmson has some of the best lines and the most interesting business as Dr. Joan Lyons, who is convinced she can cure the Resistant too, if she can just get six more months to perfect a serum, or maybe a full year—eighteen months, at the outside.

The Cured is so busy using zombies as a vehicle for Romero-esque commentary, it doesn’t even notice when its allegory collapses. Guess what? Zombies are dangerous, that’s what. Vaughan-Lawlor is impressive, and the Irish urban backdrop lends itself to the demilitarized dystopian near future. It just doesn’t add up to what Freyne intended. Too muddled to recommend, The Cured opens this Friday (2/23) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Mainland Noir: Lethal Hostage

It is maybe the most extreme case of Stockholm Syndrome ever, but it happens in Burma. Yes, even Chinese films still call it Burma, not Myanmar. No matter what you call it, the area along the Chinese border is a lawless domain and the neighboring Chinese city of Ruili is a classic border town. Crimes from the dark past will directly affect the lawless present in Cheng Er’s Lethal Hostage (trailer here), which screens as part of the Mainland Noir film series now underway at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts.

Sun Honglei plays “350,” a steely drug cartel lieutenant with ambitions of advancement. Need we go any further? Using a fractured narrative structure, Cheng kicks things off with two seemingly unrelated events that turn out to be profoundly linked. Xiao An visits her life-battered dentist father asking him to bless her marriage, but he bitterly refuses. Meanwhile, a young woman becomes suspicious of her neighbor, because something in his flat makes her dog Feng Feng bark like crazy. Poor Feng Feng will stir up a whole lot of trouble for himself and his owner, who happens to be the hot mess sister of the narcotics detective pursuing the neighbor’s boss.

Rewind ten years and we see 350 taking the dentist’s young daughter hostage after a drug deal goes spectacularly bad. It will be the start of a long string of misfortunes for the distraught father. However, Xiao An somehow brings out 350’s compassionate side. He will even stage a cartel coup to protect her. Of course, the machinations of fate will pull them all back to Ruili in the present time.

Lethal Hostage is an inadequate title to describe the gritty ruthlessness and tragic irony of Cheng’s narrative, but so be it. In many ways, it would be a fine companion film paired up with Johnnie To’s Drug War, which is high praise indeed. It all fits together nicely, but the scenes set in the sister’s apartment building are especially tense, in the tradition of Wait Until Dark.

Of course, Sun is superhumanly hardnosed as 350. Watching him stalk through Burma makes us believe he could knock birds out of the sky with a withering stare. Wang Luodan is affectingly earnest and vulnerable as his grown wife, while Gao Ye covers the spectrum, from passive aggressive party girl to an utterly terrified hostage herself. However, veteran character actor Ni Dahong really delivers the pathos as the woeful dentist.

Cheng does a lot of flashing backwards and forwards, but he always clearly establishes his place on the timeline. There are plenty of twists, but even more attitude and menace. It also obliquely recalls recent shoddy public works construction scandals, particularly the school collapses during the 2008 Sichuan earthquake, when a similar fate befalls a school 350 funded on behalf of his wife, which is pretty gutsy on Cheng’s part. Very highly recommended, Lethal Hostage screens this Thursday (2/22) and next Sunday (2/25) at the Yerba Buena Arts Center, as part of their Mainland Noir film series.

Scent of Rain & Lightning

Oklahoma: it’s where the wind comes sweeping down the plain and family grudges can turn deadly. Technically, the book was set in Kansas, but the movie was shot in the Sooner State. Frankly, its not like New Yorkers or Angelinos could tell the difference. The family grudge business is what they will focus on, as will Jody Linder. Ten years ago, Billy Croyle was found guilty of murdering her parents, but his sentence has just been commuted. Since the past is already disturbed, Linder starts investigating that tragic night herself in Blake Robbins’ The Scent of Rain & Lightning (trailer here), which is now playing in Los Angeles.

Croyle is mean brute with and an evil temper. He definitely had a score to settle with his former employer, ranching baron Senior Linder (Jody’s grandfather) and the necessary capacity for violence. However, some inconsistencies in the trial record have come to light, starting with his son Collin’s anti-alibi. The morally conflicted young man now admits his father never roused from his drunken stupor on the night of the murders.

As Jody Linder peels away at the onion, she sees a darker side to her parents and platoon of uncles. There was also some embezzlement going on at their Colorado ranch, which may or may not be a red herring. Nobody really wants her to uncover the truth. Plus, the feral Croyle is still out there, nursing his grudges and resentments.

As a dustbowl noir, Scent is stronger on atmosphere than suspense. However, it is a terrific vehicle for Maika Monroe, whose work is remarkably sure-footed throughout the film. Despite her genetic good fortune, as Linder, she always comes across as very down-to-earth and humanly vulnerable. Watching her is like watching your own sister or daughter struggle with some deep, dark family secret.

Monroe also gets first-rate support from a deep ensemble bench. Brad Carter is chillingly and convincingly ferocious as Billy Croyle, while Will Patton demonstrates again why he is one of the best in the business with his hard-charging but increasingly complex portrayal of Senior. However, all the uncles duly look alike (doesn’t anyone in the plains states shave anymore?), which makes them believable as kin, but dashed difficult to tell apart.

Scent is undeniably predictable, but Robbins nicely evokes the lonely vibe of tallgrass country. The genre elements are so-so, but it is worth seeing anyway as a showcase for Monroe, who still has the potential to usurp Jennifer Lawrence’s position in Hollywood, especially given JLaw’s recent string of under-performers and outright bombs. Deserving more attention than its currently getting, The Scent of Rain & Lightning is now playing at the Arena Cinelounge.

Detective K: Secret of the Living Dead

Post-Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes has faced off against Dracula a number of times, so it is only fair Detective K[im Min] would get his own run-in with the living dead. However, he will be considerably more fortunate. Instead of a Transylvanian nobleman, he encounters a beautiful Joseon princess, who has lost her memories of her previous existence. For now, she is a gentle day-walker, but all bets are off when she remembers who did her wrong in Kim Suk-yoon’s Detective K: Secret of the Living Dead (trailer here), which opens today in Los Angeles.

Wol-young (as Kim will call her) was immolated into dormancy, but she wasn’t burned sufficiently to destroy her. As a result, a mystery fugitive manages to revive her, before sacrificing himself for her safety. Meanwhile, Kim is unmasking a Scooby-Doo-style fake vampire. His next case won’t be so easy. A ruthless full-on vampire has been turning and then immolating the grown sons of prominent villagers. Logically, Kim is dispatched to stop the macabre serial murders.

As their paths cross, Kim and Wol-young discover they are both interested in the shadowy perp, whom the lady vampire just feels she knows from someplace, but cannot recall how. An uneasy but flirtatious truce is forged as they work together tracking their quarry. As long as the freshly revived Wol-young refrains from tasting blood, she can control her vampiric nature, but she will still be denied her memories. Of course, avoiding blood will be difficult given the circumstances.

If the previous Secret of the Lost Island was a little too shticky for your taste, you might consider giving the franchise a second try with Living Dead. Kim Myung-min and Oh Dal-su still engage in plenty of rubber-faced broad comedy as Kim and his loyal but cowardly servant Seo Pil, but the vampire story is far darker and way more poignant than Lost Island viewers would expect. As emotionally engaging vampire movies go, it falls somewhere between Byzantium and Let the Right One In, but still with a goofy sense of humor, somewhat akin to Vampire Cleanup Department.

Without question, Kim Ji-won is a major reason why it works so well. As Wol-young, she is eloquently expressive and achingly vulnerable. There is no question she muscles poor Seo Pil off the screen, taking command of the picture. On paper, Living Dead would sound like an unlikely star-making vehicle, but she turns it.

Franchise helmer Kim Suk-yoon also deserves credit for staging some highly cinematic action scenes and running up a body count exponentially higher than the norm for historical comedy. Frankly, there might be more tragedy than comedy in Living Dead, but that plays to Korean cinema’s comparative advantage. Recommended surprisingly enthusiastically for vampire fans, Detective K: Secret of the Living Dead opens today (2/16) at the Los Angeles and Buena Park CGV Cinemas.

IFFR ’18 on Festivalscope: YEAH

It is unfortunate few people live in Ako’s provincial housing complex, because she could use some supervision. She definitely has persistent mental health issues, but she might also be haunted by ghosts (with an outside chance of being one herself). Regardless, it is nearly impossible for her to make human connections in Yohei Suzuki’s long short or short feature YEAH, one of several recent selections from the International Film Festival Rotterdam that streams for a limited time on Festivalscope’s public-facing VOD platform.

When we first meet Ako, she is having an earnest discussion with a tailor’s mannequin and an old growth tree somewhere in the wooded outskirts surrounding the complex. Since all the cookie-cutter buildings look the same, she accidentally barges into the wrong flat—a relatively common occurrence judging from the matronly mother’s reaction. However, her teen son is much more forgiving of Ako’s eccentricities. In fact, he might be the only person who really looks out for her during the course of the film.

Ako’s family situation is a little uncertain, but she definitely has a brother who would like to commit her for a while. Eventually, she meets another young woman who is as off as she is, but it is still not a healthy relationship. She really ought to seek out the kindly lad, but she is obviously not thinking clearly.

YEAH (an oblique reference to Ako’s difficulties with American colloquialisms) manages to combine the look of vérité naturalism with an unsettling sense of the surreal. Even in the economically depressed town of Mito, Ako’s world should not be so depopulated and lonely. Yet, she careens about on her own, with only the occasional snarky teen mocking her from afar. Visually, it serves as a metaphor for the isolation and alienation resulting from her scrambled psyche.

Despite Suzuki’s challenging aesthetic approach, the film is almost entirely reliant on Elisa Yanagi’s haunted and haunting portrayal as Ako. She can be disruptive and vexing, but Yanagi vividly taps into her unspecified traumas, laying herself emotionally bare. We really want things to be better for her, which is frustrating, but also the sign of a lethally effective performance.

YEAH is the rare sort of film that is tough to watch on both stylistic terms and on a gut level. Although Suzuki does his best to keep the allegorical readings abstract, it leaves us with a nagging suspicion all is not right with the world. The awkward forty-five-minute running time also makes it difficult to categorize and program, in a betwixt and between sort of way. At least those who appreciate subtly avant-garde cinema will have their chance to take it all in while YEAH streams for public audiences on Festivalscope, through February 20^th.

Golden Slumber: Korea Remakes Nakamura

The Beatles recorded “Golden Slumbers” without John Lennon, because he was in the hospital while they recorded that part of the Abbey Road suite-like progression. That doesn’t matter to Kim Gun-woo. To him, it will always represent his friendship with his old band-mates. Unfortunately, his nostalgia makes him easy pickings when one of his former pals helps frame him for the assassination of the leading presidential candidate. If that sounds familiar, it is because it is a loose remake of Yoshihiro Nakamura’s hit from 2010. Given the increasing suspicion and cynicism regarding governmental institutions across South Korea, this paranoid political thriller makes the cross-over quite easily. It will be death by Beatles cover in Noh Dong-seok’s Golden Slumber (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in Los Angeles and next Friday in select cities.

The aw-shucks Kim is Korea’s favorite deliveryman after he saved K-Pop idol Su-ah from an attacker. However, he still has time for his friends, so he readily agrees to meet Moo-yeol when he suddenly reappears. The idea is to frame-up Kim for a conspiracy that is never really explained, but Moo-yeol just can’t do it, so he drives off with the second car bomb instead.

Kim is still framed up good and solid, so he has no choice but to run like mad. Although confused and distrustful, Kim will look up the former black ops colleague Moo-yeol referred him to, because what choice does he really have? However, “Mr. Min” clearly does not have his best interests at heart—at least not initially. Meanwhile, Kim’s surviving band-mates, including Jeon Sun-young, the great love of his life, debate his guilt or innocence and how far they should be willing to go to help him.

With his Slumber, Noh essentially returns the favor to Japan for remaking Confession of Murder as the in some ways superior Memoirs of a Murderer. The new Korean version is definitely tighter, stripping away some of problematic subplots, while adding some identifiably Korean particulars. As a result, it is probably even more effective as a “Wrong Man” thriller. In fact, even those who know Nakamura’s original film will find the third act surprisingly devious.

Gang Dong-won agilely walks a tightrope as Kim, portraying him as painfully naïve, but still socially functional—and to some extent, even nobly idealistic. Kim Eui-sung (the jerky businessman in Train to Busan) is all kinds of hardnosed as Mr. Min. Frankly, Han Hyo-joo brings over-achieving depth to the true-believing, equally sentimental Sun-young. Regrettably, there isn’t a colorful villain to root against, but Noh largely compensates with breakneck pacing.

When Nakamura’s Slumber played in New York, we found its depiction of media compliance and obedience somewhat dubious, but seven-plus years later, it now feels like Noh lets the media off easy. Does anyone doubt the major news outlets would now predetermine what the truth of a story might be and “spike” any reports that contradicted it? What inspired incredulity now seems self-evidently believable, admittedly thanks to some wise reshaping of the narrative, courtesy of screenwriters Cho Ui-seok and Lee Hae-joon. Plus, as a bonus, there are a few pleasant covers of the nearly titular Beatles tune. Enthusiastically recommended, Golden Slumber opens tomorrow (2/16) at the Los Angeles and Buena Park CGV Cinemas and next Friday (2/23) in New York.

Looking Glass: Nic Cage’s No-Tell Motel

The Motor Way Motel is just as cheap and seedy on either side of the two-way mirrors the previous manager installed. It just depends on whether you are an active participant or a voyeur. With respects to the lesbian dominatrix who often stays in room #10, Ray will have to be the latter. However, peeping can get you a troublesome eyeful in Tim Hunter’s Looking Glass (trailer here), which opens this Friday in select theaters.

For reasons that never make any sense, Ray and his wife Maggie decide buying a roadside motel will cure what ails their souls after the death of their young daughter and the near collapse of their marriage due to his infidelity and her substance abuse. Old Ben, the previous owner was eager to sell and once they completed the handover, he made himself scarce. At least business is steady, especially the more secluded room #10, which is the favorite of the dominatrix and a hooker-hiring long-haul driver.

While cleaning out the utility shed, Ray stumbles across Ben’s peeping tunnels and finds them quite interesting, especially on nights the dominatrix books #10. Needless to say, relations are still pretty strained between him and his wife. However, things get real when a recent guest turns up dead in the desert. It has happened before they are unhelpful told. “Fortunately,” Howard, the coffee-mooching sheriff’s deputy is always popping around to make things awkward.

Looking Glass isn’t much of a mystery, but it gives Nic Cage an opportunity to bulge his eyeballs out like a cartoon character. Still, by his standards, this is quite a restrained, simmering-on-the-inside kind of performance. Regardless, the moteliers’ relationship dynamics are surprisingly down-to-earth and believable, even if the basic premise—that they would try to work through their grief by buying the Bates Motel—is not.

There are absolutely no surprises in this film. Seriously, we know who the bad guy is as soon as Suspect X struts into the picture. However, it is entertaining to watch Cage chew the scenery, along with the colorful supporting cast, including Marc Blucas, Bill Bolender, and Ernie Lively, as the deputy, the former owner, and the trucker, respectively.

In many ways, Looking Glass is a throwback to those 1980s cable-ready erotic thrillers that often had the words “bedroom” and “eyes” in the title. That makes it super-fitting to have Nic Cage peering beady-eyed through the mirror. Hunter certainly keeps it chugging along briskly. Since the 1990s, he has mostly directed for television (including the TV movie The Lies of the Twins, based on the same pseudonymous Joyce Carol Oates novel as Double Lover), but his first film was the rapturously received S.E. Hinton adaptation, Tex. He has had an interesting career. The gleefully lurid Looking Glass makes it even more so. It is not really recommended, but if you want to see it, we wouldn’t dissuade you, because it’s exactly what you’re expecting. It opens this Friday (2/16) in limited markets and also releases on iTunes.

The Monkey King 3: Still Journeying West

Okay, so they are on a bit of a detour. Somehow, on their pilgrimage to the West, Xuanzang and his demigod disciples (Sun “Monkey King” Wukong, Zhu “Pigsy” Bajie, and Sha “Sandy” Wujing) found themselves whisked into a kingdom of Amazon warriors, where men are strictly prohibited on pain of death. Maybe there is a bit of a Wonder Woman influence there, but Wukong is still the one with all the cool superpowers. He is a veritable Superman, but he cannot save his master from the dangers of love in Cheang Pou-soi’s The Monkey King 3 (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Who would’ve thought blow-dried Cantopop star turned actor Aaron Kwok would become the definitive Monkey King, but there is no doubt he has made the iconic character his own. As a result, it is a tad bit frustrating he plays a supporting role in the third film in the series that bears his name. Wukong can handle just about anything flesh and blood, but even he flounders against the aquatic River God monster, so Buddha and the Goddess of Mercy send the band of pilgrims through a wormhole into Womanland.

When Xuanzang locks eyes on “The Queen,” mounted on her enchanted stag, it is love at first sight. However, rules are rules, so the Preceptor insists on executing the fab four, just like any other mangy dog excuse for a man. However, the Queen is intrigued and reluctant to comply, which leads to complications. The simian demigod keeps his eyes on the prize: those scriptures waiting to be rediscovered in India, but his master learns to appreciate love from a whole new perspective. Just in case you were worried, there is also some unfinished business with the kaiju-like River God from before.

The previous Monkey King was a fantastical wuxia delight because of Gong Li’s wonderfully seductive and sinister élan as White Bone Spirit. Nobody can touch the hem of her scaly serpentine garments this time around, but Gigi Leung distinguishes the film in a different way. As the Preceptor, she starts out as Cruella de Vil, but she evolves into a tragically romantic figure of noble sacrifice.

Once again, Kwok looks like he is having a blast with his monkey mannerisms—and his enthusiasm is contagious. He might not be as true to nature, but in terms of energy and conviction, he is up there with Terry Notary in The Square. As Xuanzang, William Feng is supposed to be sort of placidly dopey in a Zenned out kind of way, which he duly is. However, Zanilia Zhao quite endearing and even rathe poignant as the star-crossed Queen.

Compared to the previous bang-zoom film, Monkey King 3 is a little light on the action until the third act. However, it is still entertaining to watch Kwok do his monkey thing. Also, Cheang and screenwriter Wen Ning do some interesting fantastical world building. As crazy as it gets, it still takes its Buddhism seriously, which is refreshing. Weirdly, it might just be the most Valentines-appropriate film of the week. Recommended for Monkey King/Journey to the West fans, The Monkey King 3 opens this Friday (2/16) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

The Housemaid (The Vietnamese Gothic Ghost Movie)

It all starts like a Vietnamese Rebecca or Jane Eyre, but the master’s late first wife is not about to let any floozy marry her husband. He also happens to be a Frenchman from a socially prominent family, in 1953 French Indochina. The naive servant girl and the frog officer are quite an unlikely couple, but their passion will not be denied, at least not by scandalized mortals in Derek Nguyen’s deliciously gothic The Housemaid (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Having been orphaned and left homeless by the war (the French one), Linh travels hundreds of miles from her village to apply for the only opening she has heard of: the housemaid at the Sa Cat rubber plantation estate. However, there is a reason the position has been vacant so long, which she learns only after accepting housekeeper Ba Han’s probationary offer. Rumor has it, Sa Cat is haunted the ghosts of the hundreds of workers killed by the plantation’s brutal overseers. Even more ominously, the black clad ghost of Captain Sebastien Laurent’s widow also stalks the grounds—and she is a jealous ghost.

Much to the dismay of Mrs. Han, a powerful mutual-attraction develops between Linh and Laurent while she nurses him following an unsuccessful assassination attempt. However, it is safe to say from the supernaturally-charged in media res prologue, their romance will not end well. Eventually, we will learn what happened that fateful night, but Nguyen first rewinds to the beginning, as part of the investigating officers’ interrogation.

It is a shame the Vietnamese state film authorities hold perverse biases against supernatural horror, much like their Mainland Chinese counterparts, because they sure seem to have a knack for it, at least judging from The Housemaid. The nation also has a taste for the genre, given its standing as Vietnam’s third highest grossing film of all time, having somehow slipped past the censors. Some of the twists and turns are not spectacularly original, but the atmosphere and settings are to die for. This is one ominous looking manor house and the surrounding rubber trees are as spooky as any of the forest locales in Twin Peaks (then or now).

Kate Nhung is terrific as Linh, perfectly modulating her naivete, earthiness, and yes, sensuality. Jean-Michel Richaud is a bit stiff as Laurent (in all fairness, he spends at least half the film lying prone in bed), but he still develops some believable chemistry with Nhung. Kim Xuan would do Mrs. Danvers proud as the severely scoldy Mrs. Han, while Phi Phung turns some nice moments as the shrewder-than-she-looks cook, Mrs. Ngo.

Who knew one of the most enjoyable gothic yarns to come along in years would hail from Vietnam? Nguyen masterfully controls the foreboding vibe and his cast broods and swoons like Hammer Horror veterans. It is mostly eerie rather than gory, which makes it all jolly fun, in a throwback kind of way. Highly recommended for fans of old school gothic horror, The Housemaid opens this Friday (2/16) in New York, at the IFC Center.

IFFR ’18 on Festivalscope: August at Akiko’s

Sadly, many of Hawaii’s best-known jazz musicians have passed away, including Lyle Ritz, Bill Tapia, and Betty Loo Taylor, but they were all probably too swing-based for an experimental improvisor like Alex Zhang Hungtai to mesh well with anyway. Regardless, he finds himself alienated and at loose ends when he returns to his family’s former Hawaiian homeland. However, a Buddhist bed & breakfast might be just the thing to center him in Christopher Makoto Yogi’s’ August at Akiko’s, one of several recent selections from the International Film Festival Rotterdam that streams for a limited time on Festivalscope’s public-facing VOD platform.

Indeed, Zhang (playing a meta analog of himself) learns you cannot go home again, in just about the saddest way possible. However, fate and his mother’s vague recommendation takes him to Masuda Akiko’s Buddhist B&B/hostel/retreat. It turns out the meditation and communion with nature she offers is what his soul needs. He even starts volunteering for community service projects, but he still has some unfinished spiritual business to tend to.

Although Zhang plays half a dozen instruments in half a dozen styles, both under his real name and the monikers “Dirty Beaches” and “Last Lizard,” throughout August he performs on tenor sax in a free improvisational style influenced by Ornette Coleman. Frankly, it is nice to see free jazz get some sympathetic screen time, but it is particularly apt, because Yogi’s patient but sure-handed approach is a lot like the best of avant-garde jazz. At times it feels diffuse and hazy, but it all comes together at the end (which features an arresting performance by Zhang).

Zhang is quiet and moody as his second self, but it is still an effectively sensitive and lowkey performance. In contrast, Masuda is wonderfully charming and all kinds of dynamic (albeit in a mostly quiet way) as herself, more or less. Together, they share an unforced rapport that is pleasant to experience second hand.

Cinematographer Cho Eunsoo fully embraces the picturesque Big Island landscape, but in a deeper way than mere picture postcard visuals. If you stick with it, Zhang’s music is plaintive and devastatingly powerful. Plus, we also get to see the Hilo Taishsoji Taeko Troop in performance, which is a cool bonus.

With August, Yogi rather remarkably proves that a film with a somewhat free-ish ethos can still inspire a warm emotional attachment. Very highly recommended for Zhang’s fans and sophisticated audiences, August at Akiko’s is available for general VOD streaming on the public Festivalscope, until February 20^th.

Hellraiser: Judgement

He is an icon of horror, but “Pinhead” wasn’t even known as Pinhead in the original Hellraiser movie (it was an off-camera nickname the crew gave him, for obvious reasons). Known as “Hell Priest” and “Cold Man” in Clive Barker’s fiction, Pinhead and his fellow sadomasochistic Cenobites have undergone a bit of an identity crisis when Barker cut all formal ties with the film franchise, but at least he was still portrayed by the original actor, Doug Bradley, through the first eight movies. This is the tenth. Fans may question its canonical cred, but Pinhead still dishes out the pain and accessorizes like nobody’s business in Gary J. Tunnicliffe’s Hellraiser: Judgement (trailer here), which releases today on DVD.

Even if you know nothing about the franchise, it is obvious the sexual predator who was lured into to Cenobites’ realm is in a world of hurt. It turns out, Carl Watkins is, or rather was a tangential figure of interest in the “Preceptor” serial killer investigation. The Ten Commandments are his thing, but he is already on his fourteenth victim, so he must not mind repeating himself.  Detective brothers Sean and David Carter were nowhere near cracking the case, so Det. Christine Egerton was assigned to assist. She is also supposed to keep an eye on Sean, the older one, because he has started showing signs of stress—and that was before he followed Watkins’ trail directly into the Cenobites’ lair.

The good thing about direct-to-video sequels is nobody ever bothers sending them to focus groups. Boy, is that ever evident in the case of Judgement. Frankly, it seems like Tunnicliffe deliberately devotes the last twenty minutes to developing new and different ways to alienate and infuriate his audience. It gets to the point where it is downright impressive to watch him pile unsatisfying character revelations on top of questionable (a potentially offensive) theology, while undercutting series mythology, left and right. If he had just let it stand when the credits started to roll, it all would have been perversely amusing, but he invalidates the final twist with a truly pointless stinger. Face meet palm.

Judgement looks like it was produced with leftover sets and props from Naked Lunch and the Cenobite business feels problematically small in scale this time around. However, Damon Carney, Randy Wayne, and Alexandra Harris are all way better than anyone has a right to expect as the three investigating detectives. In fact, they are good enough to make us want to see team up again against another serial killer in a stand-alone film. Alas, Paul T. Taylor’s Pinhead is probably his dullest incarnation to date. In contrast, Tunnicliffe himself brings some much-needed villainous flair as the sinister and weirdly punctilious “Auditor.”

It should be noted, Heather Langenkamp, the original Nancy Thompson in the Nightmare on Elm Street movies is prominently billed, but she only appears briefly as the tough-talking landlady, who lets the cops paw through Watkins junk. Talk about a letdown. There really isn’t very much to recommend Judgement except to see how far it runs off the rails. It is a total mess, but defiantly so. However, if you’ve been waiting to see a super-model archangel tell the Cenobites “don’t make me have to come down there” like they are stoners in their parents’ basement than behold Hellraiser: Judgement when it releases today on DVD.

Tehran Taboo: Sex and the Single Revolutionary Islamic Girl

It is like an underground Sex and the City, but consenting adults run the risk of arrest and torture at the hands of the morality police. Tehran is just as cosmopolitan and randy as any major city, but Islamist hypocrisy and misogyny has a poisonous effect on human relationships. Three middle class urban women try to negotiate the sexually charged terrain of the capital city in Ali Soozandeh’s bold animated feature, Tehran Taboo (trailer here), which opens at Film Forum on Valentine’s Day.

Pari must work as a prostitute to survive, because her incarcerated husband refuses to consent to a divorce or sign her employment applications. Ironically, Pari and scores of her colleagues walk the streets fairly openly, because the morality police prefers to crack down on couples holding hands. The Islamic Court judge will not grant her a divorce without the acquiescence of her deadbeat husband, but he offers to make her his kept woman instead.

As part of the deal, Pari and her young mute son Elias move into an upscale flat owned by the upstanding jurist. Though Pari is cagey about her own circumstances, she quickly befriends Sara, the pregnant wife of Mohsen, an entitled banker. She yearns to pursue a career of her own, but he categorically forbids it, using the pregnancy and her previous miscarriages as an excuse.

Meanwhile, electronica DJ Babak finds himself living the longest, most awkward morning after, when his hook-up from the previous night insists he fund her hymen reconstruction surgery. It seems Donya has a very large, possibly mobbed-up fiancé, who is expecting to marry a virgin.

Eventually, Pari will take a big sisterly interest in both Donya and Babak, but unfortunately, she can mostly offer moral support, rather than the financial kind. Nevertheless, Soozandeh brings his cast together in a convincingly organic manner, rather than contriving ways for their paths to cross. At various times, each woman is both a victim and a schemer, but the deck is always stacked against them.

The Iranian-born, Germany-based Soozandeh, who helped animate segments of the remarkable documentary The Green Wave, is shockingly frank, at least by Iranian standards. To put it in perspective, the film starts with Pari trying to perform a sex act often denoted by two letters on a flaccid cabbie, with the silently jaded Elias sitting in the back seat. Yet, through the use a child’s still somewhat innocent perspective, Soozandeh consciously embraces the tradition of classic Persian cinema.

Nevertheless, there is no denying the predatory and base nature of the men exploiting Pari, Sara, and Donya. By forcing sexual relations underground and under the table, they become effectively severed from the strictures of respectable society. In effect, only the law of the jungle applies.

Yet, nobody is entirely a victim (especially not Pari), because Soozandeh has drawn such distinctive and multi-dimensional characters. There are not merely symbols, they are women with stories to tell (or rather try to keep secret). You would think the animation would provide a protective layer between the film’s provocative subject matter and the contributing cast, but Soozandeh’s use of rotoscoping techniques means there are indeed bravely identifiable performances to be seen throughout Taboo. Even through the transformative animation, Elmira Rafizadeh’s work as Pari is remarkably earthy and gutsy, while Zahra Amir Ebrahimi is quietly devastating as Sara. Yet, it is the silent indicting gaze of Bilal Yasar’s Elias that will truly haunt viewers.

Soozandeh largely focuses on sexual/gender iniquities, but he does not ignore other forms of institutionalized injustice, such as the pointless censorship of Babak’s music and the shocking sight of bodies swaying from the gallows at a public execution. Soozandeh holds a rotoscoped mirror up to contemporary Iran and forces viewers to give it a long, hard look. The result is a viscerally powerful experience that both seduces and horrifies. It is an outstanding film, definitely in the tradition of Persepolis and The Breadwinner, but clearly intended for mature audiences. Very highly recommended, Tehran Taboo opens this Wednesday (2/14) in New York, at Film Forum. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Ozon’s Double Lover

Considering how prolific Joyce Carol Oates has been over the past thirty-some years, it is surprising there haven’t been twenty of thirty more feature adaptations of her work (but there are a lot of short films listed on her imdb page). Ironically, two of her novels that were adapted here in America were subsequently remade in France. Fittingly, one of those was The Lives of the Twins a doppelganger-themed “women’s suspense” novel written under her trashier pen-name Rosamond Smith. Twins will fascinate, seduce, and generally disregard doctor-patient ethics in François Ozon’s Double Lover (trailer here), which opens on Valentine’s Day.

Dr. Paul Meyer made good progress curing Chloé Fortin’s psychosomatic stomach aches, until he stopped seeing her professionally and started seeing her personally. (They’re French, so apparently that’s okay there.) Fortin is truly mad about Meyer, but as soon as they move in together, she realizes how little she knows about him. For instance, his surname used to be Delord, but he took his mother’s maiden name when his father was unjustly embroiled in a scandal. At least, that is the story he tells when pressed. He still keeps mum on his twin brother Louis Delord, who also happens to be a shrink.

Fortin stumbles on Delord by accident, but she quickly books an appointment. She first goes hoping to get some answers, but keeps returning out of sexual attraction. Delord could indeed be described as Meyer’s “evil twin,” especially considering his even laxer code of conduct regarding patients.

Double Lover can definitely be described as an “erotic thriller,” but it would be a risky choice for Valentine’s date-night. It would be spoilery to explain, but there is some seriously adult subject matter here, way beyond mild steaminess. Eyebrows will be raised. In most other respects, Ozon observes and refines the conventions of psychological thrillers, but he over-relies on dream scenes as a symbolic literary device.

Regardless, master genre cinematographer Manuel Dacosse (Alléluia, Strange Color of You Body’s Tears, The Lady in the Car with Glasses and a Gun) makes it all look like a De Palma movie trying to look like Hitchcock (which is a good thing). As Fortin, Marine Vacth projects enough sexual tension for a dozen Hitchcock heroines. She is not a blonde, but with her brunette bob, she could ironically pass for the younger sister of Isabella Rossellini, who had the analogous role in Lies of the Twins, the previous TV movie adaptation of the Oates/Smith novel.

Dardenne Brothers regular Jérémie Renier is terrific as Meyer and Delord, creating two very distinct personas, while leaving space for our myriad suspicions to grow. Jacqueline Bisset is also excellent as a third-act secret-revealing character. Of course, Ozon has long been one of the best at handling actors, but that is especially so in this case, with nearly everyone having dark sides and dual natures to contend with.

Honestly, DL is almost too risqué and risk-taking for its own good, but Ozon drenches his excesses in style. This could well be too much for 50 Shades to handle, because it makes it look like the smarmy cheese that it is. Recommended for patrons who like their French psycho-sexual thrillers on the wild side, but sure to generate mixed responses with the rest of us, Double Lover opens this Wednesday (2/14) in New York, at the Quad Cinema.

SF Indie Fest ’18: Maze

IRA member Larry Marley was shot down in retaliation for the murder of loyalist John Bingham and the Provisionals duly responded by killing loyalist William “Frenchie” Marchant as payback. You can definitely say he was enmeshed in a tragic circle. Frankly, prison was probably the safest place for him to be, yet he masterminded the IRA’s most notorious prison break. The careful planning and execution of the escape gets the big screen treatment in Stephen Burke’s Maze (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 SF Indie Fest.

Her Majesty’s Prison Maze no longer stands, but in the early 1980s, it was a maximum-security prison for both IRA and UVF militants, which often led to some tense confrontations in the corridors. Marley participated in the 1981 hunger strike, but reluctantly ended his fast. Feeling guilty, he struck on the notion of a large-scale escape as a way to boost morale. However, most of the IRA prison leadership initially dismisses the scheme as unrealistic.

Nevertheless, by agreeing to do prison chores (contrary to the hunger strikers’ demands for special privileges), Marley starts to get a comprehensive picture of the Maze’s security systems. By currying favor with Gordon Close, a frazzled warder who recently survived an assassination attempt, Marley picks up on little flaws to exploit. However, he also starts to begrudgingly respect his jailer as a fellow father and human being.

In fact, the film rather backhandedly suggests the greatest flaw in Maze security were the British guards, who were too humane in their treatment. Like they say, no good deed. Of course, it is rather tricky, maybe even perilous, to make a Troubles film in the delicately balanced post-Good Friday era. Yet, Burke pulls it off by giving hints Marley could envision an era of peaceful coexistence, but he had to maintain his IRA street cred in the meantime. Whether or not it is historically accurate, it makes it easier to spend time with him as our focal character.

Still, Tom Vaughan-Lawlor is so realistically twitchy and clammy as the tightly-wound Marley, it almost undoes all of Burke’s efforts to humanize him. On the other hand, Barry Ward does some of his best work yet, aching and brooding as harried and alienated Close. Their “friendship” has no big TV movie moments. It is a rather circumspect and restrained business, but we still totally believe it when Marley appears distressed to see him covering for another warder on D-Day.

There is some satisfying jail-breaking action, but Maze is unusually even-handed and well-spoken for a historical prison movie. Burke never gins up resentment against the warders with manipulative beating scenes. He also makes it clear one guard is ultimately murdered during the course of events, probably gratuitously. Arguably, Maze is about as de-politicized as it could be, while still openly inviting us to sympathize with the escape-planners (and seeking Irish box office returns). Recommended as a nicely-staged prison-escape film, Maze screens tonight (2/11) and Thursday night (2/15) as part of this year’s SF Indie Fest.

SF Indie Fest ’18: The Midnighters

Victor Lustig was in prison throughout the 1980s, so he missed Tough Guys with Kirk Douglas and Burt Lancaster, but he would understand the premise. He also missed Rectify, but now he can start binging it. After forty-some years behind bars, Lustig is finally paroled. Of course, he only had one skill—safe-cracking, but there is still a demand for it in Julian Fort’s The Midnighters (trailer here), which screens tomorrow during the 2018 SF Indie Fest.

Lustig is in his early 70s and practically destitute, with no foreseeable prospects, but he accepts full responsibility for his situation and refuses to feel sorry for himself. Supposedly, an associate was holding his share of the loot for safe-keeping, but it was plundered in the 80s. At this point, it isn’t worth getting upset over, but it necessarily means Lustig could use the money when he is offered a potentially lucrative safe job.

Frankly, the gig smells like trouble, so Lustig probably would have passed if it hadn’t been his long-lost son Danny recruiting him. The junior Lustig apparently entered the family business, but he uses computers rather than dynamite or a stethoscope. However, it is the senior Lustig who better understands the gravity of Danny’s new Russian mob associates.

For years, journeyman character actor Leon Rossum has paid the bills with soap opera work, but his leading man star turn was worth witting for. As Lustig, he nails all the expected hardboiled attitude and world-weariness, but he also conveys the tragic dignity of the Rip Van Winkle character. If this were a major studio release, Rossum would be a shoe-in for awards consideration, but it isn’t, so the lazy guilds and critics groups will just ignore it. It is a shame, because it is terrific work, comparable in several respects to Robert Forster in Jackie Brown.

Rossum’s fellow episodic television veteran John Wesley matches his grizzled charisma but adds some scene-stealing sardonic humor as Lustig’s old crony Chester. Likewise, Larry Cedar largely defines the film with his relatively brief but significant screen time as Lustig’s hope-scuttling parole officer.

About midway through Midnighters, Lustig’s son delivers an amped-up Tarantino-esque monologue, but the old man immediately undercuts it with a brutal reality check. It is about that time most viewers will start to realize this is a really good movie. It is a small, intimate film, but Fort polishes it to a gem-like sheen. The actual caper business is rather clever, but it feels like a secondary concern compared to the study of Lustig’s flawed but deeply compelling character. Very highly recommended, The Midnighters screens tomorrow (2/11), as part of this year’s SF Indie Fest.

Entanglement: Mental Illness and Quantum Mechanics

There is nothing cute or quirky about mental illness. The truth is, it can be a gravely serious matter. This film belatedly comes to that realization, after first forcing us to sit through some wildly misplaced rom-com tropes. It is definitely safe to say Ben Layton is plagued by emotional issues. His two unsuccessful suicide attempts would be our first clue. However, the Amélie-like pixie his parents briefly adopted might help him right his pathetic, meaningless life in Jason James’s Entanglement (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Layton is stunned to learn his parents had briefly adopted Hanna Weathers when they had finally given up on conceiving, right before his fetus unexpectedly announced its development. They quickly returned her (maybe they got a store credit or something), focusing on their neurotic bundle of joy instead. They never planned to tell their moody son, but his father accidentally let it slip. Somehow, Layton gets the notion in his head that everything in his life would have been better if he had a big sister to help guide him.

With the help of his long-suffering neighbor Tabby Song (who for some inexplicable reason, often comes over to tidy up his flat), Layton tracks down his would’ve been sister. It turns out Weathers is an attractive Holly Golightly figure, who shares his burgeoning romantic interest (she offers up some overwritten rigmarole about molecular entanglement, by way of explanation). There is no problem with any of that, because they were never related. Of course, Weathers has a secret of her own that is quite problematic in its way.

Screenwriter Jason Filiatrault has actually written an inventive and intriguing third act, but getting there is sheer water torture. The forced cuteness that comes before is absolutely nauseating and it appears moral questionable if you don’t stick around for the full picture.

Sadly, lead actor Thomas Middleditch makes that sticking around a painful chore to endure. It would be less unpleasant to watch algae for an hour than spend time with his abrasively neurotic persona. It is also borderline offensive to have a bright, charismatic screen thesp like Diana Bang playing such a subservient role—enthralled to a nebbish nothing like Layton.

Eventually, Jess Weixler’s Weathers also gets interesting, but first she must go through the motions of all the usually free-spirited clichés. The notion that she could possibly be attracted to a mopey sad sack like Layton is beyond incredible. Yet, somehow everything almost all comes together down the stretch.

Frankly, Entanglement looks like a film that should have spent much more time in the script development phase. If it were consistently darker and ditched the cutesy affectations, like the animated deer, it would probably add up to considerably more. At least the film dispels the hate it initially stokes, which is something. Way, way too much of a misfire to recommend, Entanglement opens today (2/9) in New York, at the Cinema Village.