Brooklyn Horror ’18: Ghost Mask Scar

Plastic surgery has done a lot of good for people, but you wouldn’t get that impression from films that prominently feature plastic surgeons, like Eyes Without a Face and The Skin I Live In. Hana is one of the top plastic surgeons in Seoul. She is smart and pretty, but she harbors a dark secret. She could open a practice with Antonio Banderas’s Dr. Ledgard from Almodovar’s film and share office space with Jeremy Irons’ twin gynecologists from Dead Ringers. Yet, the slow-building horror comes not from her, but someone close too her in Takeshi Sone’s Ghost Mask: Scar (trailer here), which screens tonight as a selection of the 2018 Brooklyn Horror Film Festival.

Miyu has come from Japan to find her sister, but it is unclear whether she wants to be found. The older sibling was always overshadowed by Miyu and Sae, the youngest, but a terrible misunderstanding brought her resentments to a boil. It is indeed significant she is never given a proper name. Miyu only refers to her as “my sister” and “sis.”

Initially, Miyu finds Seoul to be an expensive and inhospitable place, but she seemingly catches a break when she meets Hana, the plastic surgeon. Forging a fast friendship, Hana invites Miyu to stay with her and her lover Hyoshin, whose instant jealousy is awkwardly conspicuous.

Something is profoundly wrong here, but Sone takes his time revealing his characters’ secrets. Be careful reading about GMS online, because many synopses (including imdb) giveaway way too much. Even though viewers can sense something sinister in the air, the first hour of the film is entirely gore-free. Yet, the tension rises steadily, culminating in a spectacularly bloody climax.

Whether you call it a horror movie or a mystery, GMS is unnervingly effective thanks to the terrific cast. Lee Yu-ha gives a remarkably complex performance as Hana, never skimping on her insecurities or her excesses. Yurika Akane is even more nakedly vulnerable and yet still a little off (in a hard to define way) as Miyu. Miya Sakimoto just makes viewers ache in her flashback scenes as the unnamed sister, while Sou Hirosawa’s Hyoshin viscerally and chillingly schools Othello in the corrosive power of jealousy.

Etsuo Hiratani’s screenplay gives the deceptive impressive of being rather Spartan, but it really delves quite deeply into the characters’ damaged psyches and makes provocative connections that become clear with hindsight. Sone’s own austere cinematography nicely suits the film’s coldly creepy vibe. Very highly recommended for fans of Miike and Cronenberg, Ghost Mask: Scar screens tonight (10/12) at the Wythe Hotel, as part of this year’s Brooklyn Horror Film Festival.

Bushwick ’18: Lost in Apocalypse

It sounds like a Chinese spoof of zombie movies, in the tradition of Lost in Thailand and Lost in Hong Kong (think Carry on Zombie, but without the naughty bits, because obviously), yet it is actually an adaptation of a popular webcomic that takes its zombie apocalypses pretty seriously. However, the mayhem is still a lot of fun in Sky Wang’s Lost in Apocalypse (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Bushwick Film Festival.

The zombie apocalypse is underway and nobody questions it, because what good would that do? Wang rewinds to show how this rag-tag group of survivors got together in the first place. Most of them were attending a luncheon arranged for their former headmaster (now a regional administrative director), arranged by the slimy wheeler-dealer Rich, but his poor driver Jack was stuck in the parking garage. At least TV news magazine host Helen did him a solid by granting him access to the hotel’s wifi. Ordinarily, he would be far shy to approach her, but they are a cinch to form a Survivor-style alliance when the hordes attack.

In contrast, Jack’s boss Rich definitely looks like an every-man-for-himself kind of guy. The slightly corrupt administrator also inspires little confidence, but he starts to straighten-up when the group saves Cindy, a recently orphaned girl roughly the same age as the granddaughter he hardly knows.

On paper, the narrative of Wang’s adaptive screenplay is indistinguishable from a host of previous zombie TV shows and movies, but what sets this Lost apart is the characterization. Even though we know most of these characters are most likely going to die (no spoiler there), we still care about them. Martin Yang scores big in his film debut, playing Jack with a rubber face and an old soul. He develops some endearingly sweet chemistry with, E’Naan Zhang, who is just terrific portraying Helen’s redemptive arc. Likewise, Fengzhu Jia is quite compelling as the Bureau Chief who also redeems himself down the stretch.

So many zombie films only show humanity at its absolute worst. Granted, there are some absolutely appalling people in Lost, but there are also those who sacrifice everything for the sake of others. Frankly, it is refreshing to see the best of mankind, as well as the worst. Of course, that takes us back to characterization, which is the film’s strength. Very highly recommended for zombie fans, Lost in Apocalypse screens tomorrow (10/12) at the Bushwick Film Festival—and also tonight (10/11) at Screamfest LA.

Sitges ’18: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure—Diamond is Unbreakable

Josuke (Jojo) Higashikata is a lot like Fonzie. He has the hair, but he can easily top Fonzarelli’s finger snap. Jojo smashes things up and then put them back together again with the help of his avatar-like “stand.” “Stand-wielding” is similar to the powers of the secret sub-species in the manga-based films Ajin: Demi-Human and Tokyo Ghoul, but Jojo’s franchise got there first, predating the other two by twenty-some years. Genre auteur Takashi Miike finally gives the series the live-action treatment in Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Sitges Film Festival.

Jojo is the big man on campus in the fictional seaside town of Morioh. The powers of his stand certainly help, but it is mostly due to his hair. He certainly makes quite an impression on starry-eyed transfer student Koichi Hirose. In fact, he hardly notices his assigned study partner, Yukako Yamagishi, which shows highly questionable priorities.

Regardless, Hirose often happens to be around when Jojo uses his powers, but it is all an impossible blur to make out for anyone who is not a stand-user themselves. As it happens, there are many stand-users in town, including Jojo’s long lost nephew (who is old enough to be his uncle) Jotaro Kujo. In their case, stand-wielding is a family thing. However, the sinister Keicho Nijimura has a bow-and-arrow that converts average civilians into stand-wielders. Angelo Katagiri has been recently turned, but he already feels like he has a grudge to settle with Jojo and his family.

In many ways, Bizarre Adventure follows a roughly similar narrative to Ajin: Demi-Human and Tokyo Ghoul, but, on one hand, the stakes are considerably lower, while on the other, Jojo’s characters are much more fully fleshed out. It is rather amusing to watch Kento Yamazaki strut about as Jojo, making like everything makes perfect sense. He also develops some sweet and ultimately rather poignant chemistry with his police officer grandfather, Ryohei Higashikata, played with genuine warmth and dignity by Jun Kunimura.

Ryunosuke Kamiki’s Hirose is so appealingly earnest and guileless, it is hard to believe he is a teenager. Nana Komatsu is sadly under-utilized as Yamagishi, but the closing scenes coyly imply she will have a larger role to play in a promised sequel. Takayuki Yamada gets his creepy Doug Jones on as Katagiri, but Masaki Okada’s Nijimura is a bit bland for a stand-wielding super-villain.

Kunimura and Yamazaki are nice together, but much of the “Bizarre” narrative feels familiar. Still, Miike ushers us into a compelling fantasy world—very much like our own, but different in strange and idiosyncratic ways. Recommended for established Miike and Jojo fans, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable screens this Friday (10/12), during Sitges.

Gosnell: The Trial of America’s Biggest Serial Killer

Hollywood frequently portrays mass murders like Charles Manson and the Unabomber, but they avoid Kermit Gosnell like a radioactive petri dish leaking plague virus, even though he racked up more killings than the aforementioned, by at least of factor of hundreds and more likely thousands. That is because Gosnell was an abortion doctor. If you remember the story but tried to avoid it at the time, you are not alone. However, that means many people have a deep misunderstanding regarding the facts of the matter. The full case in chronicled in a surprisingly calm and mostly dispassionate manner in Nick Searcy’s Gosnell: The Trial of America’s Biggest Serial Killer (trailer here), which opens this Friday across the country.

James “Woody” Woods was and still is an undercover Philadelphia narcotics detective who was present during the initial raid on Gosnell’s clinic, targeting a script-selling ring. Yes, this was a side practice among Gosnell’s employees, most of whom had no formal medical training, but were still medicating patients according to a crude color-coded chart Gosnell provided. Once on the premises, the cops and Feds were utterly shocked by the conditions they found. Bags of body parts were piled up on the stairs, stuffed into closets, and crammed into the refrigerator. At one point, Woods and his partner Stark are flabbergasted to find a cupboard filled with jars containing baby-fetus feet. When Stark steps in cat excrement it is not played for laughs because it is not funny.

All of this is real, as viewers can see from actual video of the fateful raid that plays during the closing credits. The state of Gosnell’s clinic, which looks like something out of Naked Lunch, would be disturbing enough, but during questioning, one of his assistants mentions the woman who died. That was Karnamaya Mongar, an immigrant from a Nepal refuge camp, who came in for an abortion, but perished on Gosnell’s table. That starts Woods and Assistant District Attorney Alexis McGuire asking questions, but when the assistant mentions how Gosnell would snip the spinal cords of live-born babies, it turns their blood cold.

McGuire, a pro-choice mother of five and her politically ambitious boss, DA Dan Molinari insist the case is not about abortion, but Gosnell’s slick lawyer, Michael Cohan is eager to make it a referendum on reproductive rights. The truth is more complicated than either counselor wishes to acknowledge, starting with the fact Gosnell’s clinic went uninspected from 1993 to 2010, because the state health department was specifically instructed to give abortion clinics a pass. Yet, as McGuire archly points out in the film, nothing that happened in his clinic had anything to do with women’s health.

Evangelical films have a bad rep, because many of them are poorly made and relentlessly preachy. Gosnell should not be lumped in with them for many reasons, starting with the fact it is not an Evangelical film. It really doesn’t tell viewers how they should feel about the abortion issue (and there is absolutely no God talk), but it exposes how politics allowed Gosnell’s horror show to continue.

Veteran character actor Nick Searcy (Justified, The Shape of Water) finally follows-up his 1997 directorial debut, Carolina Low by showing some remarkably shrewd instincts helming Gosnell. He side-steps all the potential pitfalls for hot-button issue dramas, shunning overheated rhetoric and outraged histrionics. Although the death and dismemberment uncovered at the Gosnell clinic takes an emotional toll on McGuire (and believably so), Searcy and screenwriters Andrew Klavan (the novelist), Phelim McAleer, and Ann McElhinney stick with a just-the-facts approach. It is worth noting a particularly distressing piece of evidence is never shown to viewers, so nobody can fairly accuse Searcy of waving bloody shirts. To a great extent, this film is the Gosnell-inspired Dragnet episode we will never get to see.

Searcy also supplies plenty of energy and attitude as the colorful Cohan. As Woods, Dean Cain looks grittier than you remember him from Lois & Clark, while also effectively providing an everyman figure for audiences to identify with. Sarah Jane Morris is terrific portraying the increasingly horrified McGuire, while Michael Beach clearly has a blast chewing the scenery with Machiavellian delight as DA Molinari.

Yet, Earl Billings’ quietly chilling performance as Gosnell is the key to the film. Even when his character is behaving oddly, he is never over the top or cartoonish. However, he vividly conveys Gosnell’s smugness and his absolute certainty he will get away with everything by playing the abortion card, which is deeply unsettling.

Granted, Gosnell cannot match the artistry of great motion picture procedurals, but it is always competent and consistently illuminating. Audiences will have a much clearer and complete understanding of the Gosnell case after watching Searcy’s film. Very highly recommended, Gosnell: The Trial of America’s Biggest Serial Killer opens this Friday (10/12) nationwide, including the UA Staten Island Stadium 16.

I Still See You: The Post-Ghost World

Ghosts can’t hurt us. They are just kind of creepy and in some cases awkwardly embarrassing. That is the general premise of this adaptation of Daniels Waters’ YA novel, Break My Heart One Thousand Times. Technically, they are called remnants or rems and they are more like holograms on a daily repeat cycle than tradition chains-in-the attic ghosts. The important point is they can never interact with living human—or so we are assured in Scott Speer’s I Still See You (trailer here), which opens this Friday in select theaters.

Following a cataclysmic disaster at a Promethean research lab (following in the tradition of the Flashforward TV show), a large swath of Chicagoland land was killed instantly, but came back as rems. It was thought that they recreate important events in their lives, but there really seems to be no rhyme or reason to it all. For instance, Veronica Calder’s father appears every morning, sipping coffee at the breakfast table.

Calder is convinced rems are proliferating at an increasing rate, but the government denies such rumors, so set your mind at rest. Still, she does have some compelling anecdotal evidence, like the punk rem that just started appearing to her in the bathroom, making vague but ominous threats.  He seems to be breaking the rules governing rems, or at least bending them like Gumby. Naturally, when confronted with this world-shaking phenomenon, she seeks the help of her local Holden Caufield wannabe, rem-obsessed transfer student Kirk Lane.

ISSY has a handful of inventively spooky scenes that were presumably lifted straight from Waters’ source novel. However, the way it plays fast and loose with the nature of rems is frustrating. Ultimately, it is unclear whether there is more to the ghostly projections than previously assumed, or Jason Fuchs’ adapted screenplay is just rather sloppy.

At the risk of issuing fate praise, it should be stipulated Bella Thorne carries the silliness quite well. She also builds up some nice energy with Richard Harmon’s Lane in their scenes together. However, the supposedly secret villain is so obnoxious and conspicuously suspicious, it damages the credibility of the other major characters, for being so slow on the up-take.

If the post-ghost world had been more fully established and fleshed out, it would have made ISSY a much more effective film. There are intriguing bits, but much of its feels cribbed from The Sixth Sense, Flashforward, and weirdly, Morel’s Invention (which probably gives it too much credit). This is one of those frustrating films that has enough promising stuff to make us want to recut it and film some reshoots, but as it currently stands, we cannot recommend I Still See You when it opens this Friday (10/12).

A Prayer Before Dawn: Doing Time in Thailand

Getting involved with hardcore drugs in a nation like Thailand is a bad idea. A really bad idea. Mere words cannot express the awfulness of such a decision. British boxer Billy Moore made it anyway. He found Klong Prem prison was no Club Fed. That is a lesson he learns the hard way, over and over again in Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire’s A Prayer Before Dawn (trailer here), which releases today on DVD.

Moore is hooked on yaba, a locally baked meth derivative. He also has anger management issues that do not make him a lot of fun to be around. Somehow the cops were tipped off to his drug use, which really couldn’t have been very difficult to figure out. Sauvaire does not show us any of the prosecution, but it is safe to infer Thai justice is swift. It is not specified how many years Moore is supposed to serve, but it could very likely be a life sentence.

It is never clear how much Thai Moore speaks. In fact, there is a good chance he has no fluency whatsoever. Nevertheless, he fakes it as well as he can, doing his best to protect himself from the horrors of prison life. It is touch-and-go for a while, but he finally achieves a bit of stability when he bribes his way onto the prison Muay Thai team and trains like mad to stay there. It provides him better living conditions, but all the other nasty facts of prison life remain unchanged.

To approximate Moore’s perspective, Dawn deliberately refuses to subtitle most of the incidental dialogue, but like the yaba-jonesing boxer, we really don’t need translations to get the general gist of it all. Sauvaire also heightens the disorientation with his restlessly whirling camera, but this is not cheap shaky-cam jiggling. It is a largely successful (if somewhat nauseating attempt) to recreate the whirling maelstrom of Moore’s world.

As Moore, Joe Cole is quite credible as a strung-out, unstable punk, but he lacks the charisma to explain away all the favors various people do for him. He also develops some intriguingly ambiguous romantic chemistry with Fame, a transgender prisoner (convicted of murdering her abusive father), played by Pornchanok Mabklang. Yet, it is rather frustrating to see the talent of Vithaya Pansringarm (recognizable to Western audiences for his work in Only God Forgives and The Last Executioner) is largely wasted in yet another prison warden role.

Dawn is almost too much (realism) and simultaneously not enough (narrative and context), but it is certainly a memorable cinematic experience. There is a good deal of Muay Thai action, but it is almost too brutal for martial arts fans to really enjoy it. This is a tough, uncompromising film. If it doesn’t scare you straight than no movie can. Recommended for those who appreciate no-holds-barred MMA and prison movies, A Prayer Before Dawn releases today on BluRay and DVD.

De Palma’s Sisters

This early, career-defining film by Brian De Palma probably features the best use of split screens since The Thomas Crown Affair. It definitely has exploitative elements, but it also boasts a fully orchestrated score composed by the legendary Bernard Hermann. Not surprisingly, “Hitchcockian” is often a word used to describe De Palma’s sinister 1972 homage. Freshly restored in 4K, Sisters (trailer here) opens this Friday at the Quad.

Contemporary viewers will pick up on odd echoes and resonances when watching De Palma’s gritty, ever-so-1970s film, starting with the opening sequences involving a voyeuristic game show called Peeping Toms. Phillip Woode has been set-up by French Canadian model Danielle Breton, but his chivalrous behavior earns him her respect and a date to use his free dinner for two. She won a set of Ginzo-esque knives, which should indeed sound ominous.

Breton gets very drunk during their date, but Woode continues to be gallant, driving her all the way home to remote and exotic Staten Island. He also must contend with her stalker ex-husband, Emil. However, the real surprise comes in the morning, when Breton reveals she lives with her twin, Dominique. Alas, it seems Dominique is even more prone to jealous rages, judging from the slasher murder of Woode. Grace Collier, a professionally stalled local SI journalist, sees it all, or at least a good deal of it from her rear window, but her most recent story was an expose on police brutality, so getting the cops to take her seriously will be a challenge.

Of course, De Palma tightly controls just what exactly the audience does and does not see, rather skillfully pulling off a neat feat of misdirection. He alludes to just about every Hitchcock film except Jamaica Inn, but the parallels with Psycho are especially strong, with a dysfunctional sibling relationship replacing Norman Bates’ special friendship with his mother. There is even a terrific scene in which a Life magazine reporter reveals the Breton sisters’ tragic backstory, much like Simon Oakland’s classic Psycho epilogue, but De Palma puts it at the midway point instead.

Sisters is not a perfect film. Arguably, a pivotal but totally nutty flashback-fantasia looks like it could be the ironic work of Guy Maddin, yet for fans, the rough edges are part of its charm. Regardless, its merits far outweigh its shortcomings, starting with its street-level depiction of 70s New York, which is just as effective as a time capsule of the era as Sidney Lumet’s more “respectable” films.

Margot Kidder is terrific as the Breton Twins, in what might be her best role not involving a man in a cape. She is all kinds of creepy and squirrely, but in a way that is entirely different and distinct from Norman Bates and his imitators. Likewise, William Finley immediately established his cult status with his unsettlingly weird turn as the mysterious Emil (probably half his credits come in films directed by De Palma and Tobe Hooper).

Lisle Wilson is quite charismatic and down-to-earth as Woode, making him quite a worthy Marion Crane analog. Granted, Collier is supposed to represent many of the era’s frustrations, but Jennifer Salt’s confrontational portrayal often leads to face-palms. However, ubiquitous 1980s character actor Bernard Hughes (Tron, The Lost Boys) is quite memorable explaining it all as Life reporter Arthur McLennen.

So, is it horror or is it a thriller? Hermann’s Hitchcockian score says the latter. That will be good enough for anyone who takes their movie soundtracks seriously, but people of good conscience could disagree. De Palma worked in both genres, blurring the lines between them with films like Carrie, The Fury, Body Double, and Dressed to Kill. It is still a tense and grabby film that has also become a fascinating cinematic artifact of its time. Highly recommended for fans of De Palma and psycho-killer movies (across genre), Sisters opens this Friday (10/12) in New York, at the Quad Cinema.

Sitges ’18: The Liquidator

Apparently, it is tricky for Chinese film producers to bundle up character rights when they option a novel, judging from Lei Mi’s Evil Minds novels. Much like the competing adaptations of the Ghost Blows Out the Light books, a television series and its sequel already predate the two films that released last year in China, from completely different production teams. This one is running far ahead of its competition (titled Guilty of Mind), likely due in part to the involvement of super-producer William Kong. Following its American release, Xu Jizhou’s The Liquidator (trailer here) screens during this year’s Sitges Film Festival.

Despite his brilliance, Fang Mu was cut loose from the police force when he became a suspect in the disappearance of an accused child rapist. However, he was just too smart to let him go completely, so they keep him on as a side consultant. Mi Nan will be the latest cop to seek his gruffly arrogant consultation. Of course, they do not get on well at first, but they come to respect each other over time.

As things often happen in mystery novels, Mi Nan’s current case and the missing suspect that indirectly led to Fang Mu’s ouster may in fact be related. They soon discover there is a psychopath loose in the city. He preys on the notorious, whose actions brought harm to others, but escaped punishment, except for an online pillorying from the outraged Netizens.

Xu offers up some earnest finger-wagging regarding online shaming and harassment, but Liquidator has neither the seriousness or the heft of a film like Chen Kaige’s bizarrely under-appreciated Caught in the Web. For the killer, Jiang Ya (whose identity is revealed early in the second act), motivation and logic are rather slippery and inconsistent. Frankly, it makes no sense how he could continue to maintain his credibility as “The Light of the City” after a truly awful murder of a complete innocent. The crime is also a buzzkill for viewers, for multiple reasons.

Deng Chao is just okay as the shaggy, world-weary Fang, but Ethan Juan Ching-tien is only incrementally darker and more intense as Jiang. In contrast, Vicky Chen (Wen Qi), who was so extraordinary in Angels Wear White and The Bold, the Corrupt, and the Beautiful, is again altogether electrifying and heart-breaking as Liao Yafan, the victim of the missing perp, who Fang subsequently adopted. Karena Lam is also quite haunting as Jiang’s (almost literally) petrified wife, Wei wei, while Cecilia Liu Shi Shi is appealing tough and forceful as Mi Nan (and she has a nifty opening chase scene).

Ironically, The Liquidator really makes us curious to see Guilty of Mind, because it has a lot of promising elements, but neither Deng or Juan really click in their roles, despite the spectacularly brutal fight scene between them Xu stages. It also takes itself a bit too seriously, missing the irony of its rousing defense of the rule of law (surely all the human rights attorneys and HK booksellers being held incommunicado would desperately like to have a little bit of that). Still, there are a few shocking twists and several terrific supporting turns that redeem The Liquidator as a VOD movie, but everyone in Sitges should prioritize newer films when it screens tomorrow (10/8) as part of the festival.

Sitges ’18: Seder-Masochism

Religion is supposed to hurt a little. That’s how you know its working. Like a medicated balm, first it stings and then it soothes. Animator Nina Paley maybe doesn’t quite see it that way. She explores Exodus, Passover, and her own family’s ambiguous relationship with Judaism from a feminist perspective in Seder-Masochism (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Sitges Film Festival.

Paley’s endlessly inventive feature debut, Sita Sings the Blues, was such a blast of pure animated delight, it is inevitable her sophomore feature will look like disappointment in comparison, so let’s try to set Sita aside for the present moment. In some ways, Paley repeats the same formula, mixing animated mediums, as well as the sacred and the profane. The net results are nowhere near as charming, but there are plenty of raucously funny and strangely beautiful moments.

Paley goes Old Testament on us, but her soundtrack is hip and hummable, including Gene Kelly & Donald O’Connor’s “Moses Supposes,” Louis Armstrong’s “Go Down Moses,” Josh White’s “Blood Red River Blues,” John Lennon’s “Woman,” Led Zeppelin’s “Your Time is Gonna Come,” and Pat Boone’s “The Land is Mine.” Frankly, watching Paley match up music to each segment is a good deal of fun. In fact, it is probably safe to say this film can claim the greatest use of “Free to Be You and Me,” probably ever.

On Paley’s drawing board and animation imagers, every notable event in Exodus eventually segues into a lavish MGM-style production number, which is cool. At its best, it is a slightly tasteless religious comedy, in the tradition of Mel Brooks’ History of the World, Part I and Wholly Moses!—the sort of amiably tasteless film that probably couldn’t be made with live actors anymore.

Sometimes Seder is quite droll, but there are times when Paley sabotages herself by introducing real news footage, including scenes of carnage from the many wars of self-defense Israel has been forced to fight. Honestly, nothing kills the mood quicker than September 11^th footage. No matter what her intentions that just creates all kinds of bad karma.

Still, there are some droll moments in the interviews Paley recorded with her late father, wherein he explains why he still observes the traditions of his Jewish heritage, even if his own faith is a bit iffy. She also creates some wonderfully sly and subversive images. However, the film lacks the joyous uplift that made Sita so special (ultimately, there is just no avoiding comparisons).

Paley is an extraordinary animator, who is drawn to big, significant themes. However, Seder will probably be regarded over time as a relatively minor work from her. It is worth seeing for her visual artistry and taste in music, but fans of Sita should temper their expectations. Amusing but not transcendent, Seder-Masochism screens this coming Tuesday (10/9) during Sitges and Friday (10/19) as part of Animation is Film in Los Angeles.

Viking Destiny

Helle is no Brunhilde. She is a warrior who is not about to break out into song. Nor is she inclined to wait around for a man to save her. She also comes from mortal stock, albeit of a noble vintage. She is in fact, the king’s rightful heir, but instead, she was raised by the king’s deceitful brother, Prince Bard, or the Half-Prince as some derisively call him. Although they played the roles of father and daughter for years, they will both be perfectly happy to kill the other when the truth comes out in director-screenwriter David L.G. Hughes’ Viking Destiny (a.k.a. Of Gods and Warriors), which opens today in New York.

Helle was born at an inconvenient time. King Asmund of Volsung was off saving the Viking realm from foreign invaders while his wife died in childbirth. When he returned, his jerky brother convinced him he needed a male heir to ensure stability, so they swapped infant progeny. Helle turned out to be the fighter, whereas the presumed Prince cuts a rather underwhelming figure. Alas, Helle’s time together with her real father will be brief once the truth is revealed by a loyal retained. However, her desire for revenge burns brightly just the same.

Of course, Helle also happens to be a loose end Bard needs to tie up. Frankly, his pursuit of her is rather counterproductive, taking her distractions, like a love triangle among a peaceful tribe of vegetarian nomads. Arguably, you cannot judge the mortals too harshly for strategic errors, because they have Odin and Loki perched on either shoulder, like the angel and devil in old school Saturday morning cartoons.

To be fair, Anne Demetriou has decent screen presence and action cred as Princess Helle, but Hughes’ narrative is dull and lifeless, while his dialogue is horribly clunky. That does not leave her much to work with. When in doubt, Odin and/or Loki reappear for some power-people-whispering. These scenes would be utter cringe fests were it not for Game of Thrones alumnus Murray McArthur in high camp mode and a depressingly embarrassed looking Terence Stamp cranking up the wtf randomness, as Loki and Odin, respectively.

Aside from that, there are a few nicely blocked out fight scenes (but not nearly enough) and a lot of trudging through the forest, which turns into gamboling when Helle stumbles across the vegetarian cult. Rarely, have destined ones been so easily distracted. Not recommended (even though we approve of Helle’s fierceness and resourcefulness), Viking Destiny opens today (10/5) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

Heavy Trip: Finnish Head-Banging

There are pockets of Scandinavia where metal still rules, like it is still the late 1980s. Maybe it is the Nordic scenery that would often resemble heavy metal album covers, if you replaced the Atlantic Ocean and Arctic Sea with Hellfire. Alas, Turo Moilanen lives in a small Finnish town where hair bands get no respect. However, Moilanen and his three band-mates have a dream of hardcore glory, but nobody is going to hand it to them. They will have to fight for it head-banger-style in Juuso Laatio & Jukka Vidgren’s Heavy Trip (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Turo is the front-man in a band called Impaled Rektum, but the mere idea of performing in front of an audience will send him off projectile vomiting. Of the Un-Fab Four, Jynkky, their formerly dead drummer, is probably the healthiest. Yet, with a little encouragement from someone like his longtime crush Miia, he might possibly pull it together in time for their set on the main stage of the biggest Scandinavian metal festival.

Yeah sure, but the thing of it is, Impaled Rektum really hasn’t been invited. It was just a misunderstanding that took on a life of its own. Regardless, it could still be the sight of pointlessly futile gesture on their part—if they can get there.

For the most part, Heavy Trip is a genial, quirky comedy that you could watch with your grandparents, but at least one plot point around midway through took some guts. Still, this doesn’t feel all that different from A Man Called Ove or The 100 Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared.

Johannes Holopainen’s long-haired Turo is mostly a big nothing, but he still manages to build some nice chemistry with Minka Kuustonen, who is quite winning as Miia. The rest of the band look like they are acting goofy on cue. Perhaps the best supporting turn comes from Chike Ohanwe, who definitely goes all in as a metal loving psych patient at the hospital where Turo works as a lowly orderly.

Basically, Heavy Trip is a harmless film that is desperate to be liked. Some of the jokes appeal to a “grim-dark” sensibility, but it is mostly too polite for a true head-banger movie. As a result, it is hard to really pin down who this film is really intended for. Therefore, Heavy Trip is mostly just recommended for aging metal-heads looking for low-impact nostalgia. The rest of us can just go about our business when it opens this Friday (10/5) in New York, at the IFC Center.

JFFSF ’18: Kurara, The Dazzling Life of Hokusai’s Daughter

O-ei Katsushika did her best to follow in the footsteps of her father, the celebrated Ukiyo-e artist Hokusai Katsushika (generally referred to as just plain “Hokusai”). That meant she also produced her share of erotic art. Even famous artists had to take what work was available during the late Edo period. Father and daughter became close collaborators after age slowed his hands, but she still eventually developed her own style. Following the exceptional anime feature, Miss Hokusai, O-ei Katsushika gets another, more traditional live-action bio-treatment in Taku Kato’s television film Kurara: The Dazzling Life of Hokusai’s Daughter (trailer here), which screens (free of charge, but tickets still required) during the 2018 Japanese Film Festival of San Francisco.

After three years of marriage, O-ei divorced her husband and moved back in with her parents. Her mother is still embarrassed and scandalized, but her father was always totally fine with it. He appreciates her passion and budding talent, but maybe he is not as encouraging as he ought to be. Regardless, he quickly relies on her to finish important commissions once he gets bored with them. Even after a stroke, he remains the best Ukiyo-e artist of the day, but he will need the help of his daughter and his friend, novelist Kyokutei Bakin (also seen a supporting character in Kakekomi).

However, the focus falls squarely on O-ei, her fascination with color and her lifelong love for Zenjiro Ikeda, known professionally as Keisai Eisen. Her interest is reciprocated, but alas, Ikeda/Eisen is often married or otherwise attached to other women.

Miko Omori’s adaptation of Makate Asai’s biographical novel is respectful and largely conventional, but it is still pleasant to spend time with it (especially for free). Kato is particularly adept at dramatizing moments of artistic inspiration on the screen. He also provides some nice historical context with non-fiction wraps-around featuring lead actress Aoi Miyazaki interviewing art historians and visiting a major Hokusai retrospective at the British Museum.

Miyazaki is terrific as O-ei, fully fleshing out both her prickliness and her vulnerability. (Obviously, she was cast for her talent and fame, because the references to O-ei’s supposed plainness do not fit her striking presence.) She also develops some rather sweetly touching chemistry with Ryuhei Matsuda’s roguish Ikeda. Plus, old man Hokusai’s image fares much better with Kyozo Nagatsuka’s gruff but complex performance this time around than it did with the distant, arrogant figure in Keiichi Hara’s animated film.

Fittingly, there are many bright colors in Kurara, but Kato also dramatically establishes arbitrary perils of life in 1840s Edo. The period production details are also first-rate, especially by TV movie standards. Highly recommended for anyone interested in Japanese culture and history, Kurara: The Dazzling Life of Hokusai’s Daughter screens this Saturday (12/6) at noon (free tickets required), as part of this year’s JFFSF.

A Crooked Somebody: Maybe it is Better to be an Honest Nobody

Michael Vaughn is a professional psychic. He is also a conman—obviously. The one clearly implies the other. He has been scuffling through crummy commuter hotel gigs. However, he will try to convert a crisis into a blockbuster career break in Trevor White’s A Crooked Somebody (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Vaughn is tired of life on the road with Chelsea, his business partner and shill-of-last-resort. Nevertheless, his act is still good enough to impress Nathan, a violent drifter who still carries the remorse of a decades-old murder. Convinced Vaughn made a connection with his victim, Nathan kidnaps the phony medium with the intent to kill. Instead, Vaughn exploits his guilt, promising he can help bring comfort to his victim’s restless spirit and his now grown daughter, Stacey (who was a major sob-story, back in the day).

Shrewdly, he convinces Nathan to lead him to where the body is buried, so he could “discover” it as part of a media event. He does indeed become a trending topic, but he also attracts the suspicious attention of the local cops. Nathan also starts to doubt his sincerity, while Stacey refuses to participate in the media circus.

Crooked Somebody shares a kinship with Irvin Kershner’s The Flim-Flam Man, because both films explore the ways in which bunco artists often get help from their pigeons to con themselves. They also share small-town-off-the-interstate settings, which are convenient if you might have to leave town in a hurry.

As Vaughn, Rich Sommer is impressively committed, portraying him in just about every way a man can be unpalatable, from smug smarminess to whiny desperation. He certainly makes him quite a piece of work. Joanne Froggatt’s Chelsea is subtly reminiscent of Lizabeth Scott in her hardened noir prime, but without any hanky-panky going on. Yet, the best work comes from Ed Harris and Amy Madigan as Vaughn’s devout parents. Thanks to them and screenwriter Andrew Zilch, the Vaughns are not moralizing caricatures. In fact, their faith and earnestness are ultimately quite beautiful and touching.

Frankly, Crooked Somebody works better as a grifter character study than a caper-con. Zilch’s narrative has a few reversals and betrayals, but it would need more to hang with the Ocean franchise and Mamet’s big con films. However, the characters are consistently intriguing and increasingly compelling as the stakes rise. Mercifully, it also avoids the “hey, maybe he’s suddenly psychic, after all” subplot, like it is the doomsday plague. Recommended as a modern, media-savvy Flim-Flam descendant, A Crooked Somebody opens this Friday (10/5) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

Loving Pablo [Hating Escobar]

In 2009, Virginia Vallejo was a columnist for the Venezuelan opposition newspaper 6to Poder, before Hugo Chavez had it shuttered and threw her boss in prison. It is an important story, but it will have to wait for a different movie. This one focuses solely on her affair with notorious cartel boss Pablo Escobar and his fall from power. Unfortunately, Vallejo is nearly dragged down with him in Fernando León de Aranoa’s Loving Pablo (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

This film is adapted from Vallejo’s memoir Loving Pablo, Hating Escobar, so even though the story is credited to documentarians Jeff & Michael Zimbalist (who made The Two Escobars), the film never really asks the obvious question: “what the Hell was Vallejo thinking?” We see her falling for Escobar’s Lord Bountiful act in the Medellin slums and then suddenly she is the drug lord’s mistress and also an advisor to his successful congressional campaign. Seriously, what happened to journalistic distance? Of course, it will not be long before Vallejo rues the day she met Escobar.

According to the film’s account, Vallejo was already a celebrity “journalist” when Escobar paid her (and several others) to lend star power to one of his many lavish parties. Generally, those with high social standing were happy to accept his hospitality, but they never mingled with their “nouveau riche” hosts. That was a euphemism for drug dealers. Vallejo would be an exception. Escobar started his charm offensive at the party, but he sealed the deal when Vallejo produced a story about his supposed philanthropic projects.

Despite the double-speak, Vallejo knew well enough just exactly what Escobar was. In fact, she was present as arm candy at several milestone meetings of the allied cartels (Medellin, Cali, etc.). For a while, she manages to keep kidding herself, but when Escobar’s political opponents are gunned down in broad daylight, she finally snaps out of her denial. As the heat turns up on Escobar, she also starts receiving threatening phone calls from the friends and family of his victims.

Granted, Loving Pablo can get a little cheesy at times. Vallejo does not actually accuse Escobar of stealing her youth, but a line like that would not sound out of place in this film. Nevertheless, it offers a somewhat unusual vantage point on the gangster-rise-and-fall narrative, from the perspective of the disillusioned mistress and media consultant.

You also have to give Javier Bardem credit for all the De Niro pounds he packed on to play Escobar. He looks so bad, viewers will fear for his health. In contrast, Penélope Cruz looks fabulous as Vallejo. When you see them together in Loving Pablo, it is dashed hard to believe they are still married in real life. In terms of actual acting, Bardem growls and chews the scenery with abandon, but his portrayal pales compared to heavy, career defining work in Biutiful and To the Wonder. Arguably, Cruz fares better doubling-down on glamour and old school oh-if-I-had-but-known melodramatic chops as Vallejo. Peter Sarsgaard also helps keep things lively as the corner-cutting but still somewhat principled DEA agent, Shepard.

Loving Pablo has epic ambitions León de Aranoa is not able to fulfill, but he delivers a super-slick two-hour nostalgia trip for eighties-centric fans of Miami Vice and Scarface. That’s definitely something. Recommended accordingly as a grandly shallow indulgence, Loving Pablo opens this Friday (10/5) in New York, at the Village East.

Satanic Panic: The Devil Rides Out

An old school British conservative like Dennis Wheatley understood the nature of evil, so he fought the Infernal One tooth-and-nail with his occult horror novels. Someone could do a jolly entertaining mini-retrospective of the seven films and one TV anthology episode based on his books, but this would definitely be the centerpiece. It happens to be the only Hammer film scripted by Richard Matheson and the great Sir Christopher Lee also often identified it as one of his favorites. Lee plays Wheatley’s intrepid Nicholas, Duc De Richleau in Terence Fisher’s The Devil Rides Out (a.k.a. The Devil’s Bride, trailer here), which screens as part of the Arena CineLounge’s Satanic Panic film series.

Despite the devilish goatee, De Richleau is an upstanding Christian gentleman, who has studied the occult in depth, and therefore understands the profound danger it represents. Both he and Rex Van Ryn have taken a fatherly interest in Simon Aron, the son of their late military colleague. Rather mysteriously, Aron has gone off the grid (circa 1929), so the two old friends have decided to pay him a call. Much to De Richleau’s alarm, they walk in on the pre-game for a black mass to be conducted by the villainous Mocata.

De Richleau manages to scuttle the ceremony and then returns later to whisk off Aron, whether he wants to be saved or not. At first, Van Ryn has a hard time believing De Richleau’s warnings, but he soon sees enough to make him a believer. He also starts to fall for Tanith Carlisle, another young recruit due to be initiated into Mocata’s circle.

Devil Rides Out is notably heavy on the occult imagery, particularly for 1968. There is definitely some serious Satanic panic going on in these tony British drawing rooms and on the Salisbury Plain. Somewhat surprisingly, some of the visuals seem to parallel those seen in A Dark Song (which like DRO, was also influenced by the Aleister Crowley mystique).

Regardless, Lee is terrific as De Richleau, clearly enjoying a rare turn as the hero. His De Richleau is rather a bit brusque and mysterious, not unlike his longtime friend Peter Cushing’s portrayals of Sherlock Holmes. He also has some rather engaging British upper-class bro chemistry with Leon Greene’s Van Ryn (dubbed by Patrick Allen, which seems odd, since Greene was an opera singer, as well as an actor).

Beyond the nifty Hammer-style demonic horror, DRO represents a unique assembly of talent. In addition to Lee and Matheson adapting Wheatley, it features future fine artist Niké Arrighi as Carlisle, Paul Eddington (best known as the easily befuddled James Hacker in Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister) as De Richleau even more skeptical friend Richard Eaton, Charles Gray (Blofeld in Diamonds are Forever) as Mocata, and Nigerian playwright Yemi Ajibade as an African cultist.

The direction of veteran Hammer hand Fisher is tight and taut all the way through. Matheson’s adaptation keeps raising the stakes and incorporating ever more sinister occult lore. Plus, dig those vintage cars. Altogether, it is a highpoint in the Hammer filmography, even though it was not a hit in its day. Highly recommended for fans of vintage horror, The Devil Rides Out screens Thursday night (10/4) as part of Satanic Panic at the Arena CineLounge.

The Great Buster: An Overdue Ovation for the Silent Star

Buster Keaton and Elvis Presley were a lot alike (obviously, right?). They were both drafted into military service just as their careers were reaching stratospheric heights. Yet, when both returned to civilian life, they released some of their most iconic work. Plus, Presley sang about a hound dog, while Keaton looked like one. The life and art of the silent comedy auteur are surveyed in Peter Bogdanovich’s The Great Buster: A Celebration (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

He is so recognizable, yet so underappreciated and misunderstood. Keaton came up during the vaudeville era as a part of his parents’ comedy act. In fact, they had the law called on them several times for their distressing-looking slapstick treatment of young Buster. He would return to the stage to perform his “greatest hits” over the years, but when Keaton discovered motion pictures, something just clicked.

In the early days of cinema, shorts were an important part of the movie-going experience. Keaton made some of the most beloved. However, his reputation rests on his indisputably classic features, particularly Sherlock Jr., Steamboat Bill, and The General. Then he signed with MGM and everything changed. After that, he only directed a few shorts and a handful of gags incorporated in other filmmaker’s features.

Yet, Bogdanovich and his talking heads find unexpected gold in the many commercials and industrial films he made late in life. He also did some respectable work as part of the so-called “golden age” of television, but somehow Keaton’s guest-starring role in the Twilight Zone episode “Once Upon a Time” is overlooked. Still, it is frustrating and arguably even tragic that no Hollywood decision makers were willing to bankroll a new film directed by Keaton.

Bogdanovich (who also serves as narrator) had access to a first-class cast of talking heads, including Dick Van Dyke, Carl Reiner, Mel Brooks, Werner Herzog, and Bill Irwin. Some of the big names do not bring that much to the table (like Quentin Tarantino), whereas many of the best insights and most poignant memories come from his late-career co-stars James Karen (in Samuel Becket’s Film) and Paul Dooley (from commercial work).

The Great Buster definitely gives viewers context to fully appreciate Keaton’s masterworks, but the extent to which it “rehabilitates” the comedy legend’s later years is an even greater contribution to cinema studies. It is a highly watchable film that effectively showcases Keaton as the ultimate movie clown, who could also make you cry. Highly recommended for Keaton fans and students of film history, The Great Buster opens thus Friday (10/5) in New York, at the Quad Cinema.

Moynihan: The Man in the Bowtie

He was a New Deal Democrat, but he was also one of the Ford Administration’s best appointees, from a conservative perspective. As America’s UN Ambassador, Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s plain-spoken defense of the American democracy and our shared values rattled Turtle Bay, especially his withering rebuke of the notorious resolution equating Zionism with racism. The political career and scholarship of the “neoliberal” Nixon advisor and longtime New York senator are chronicled in Joseph Dorman & Toby Perl Freilich’s Moynihan (trailer here), which opens this Wednesday at Film Forum.

We can’t have politicians like Moynihan anymore, because he was smart, flamboyant, and capable of working with the other party. His first major government stint came under Johnson, helping shape the initial conception of the “War on Poverty.” Much to people’s surprise, especially his wife’s, Moynihan also served as Nixon’s domestic policy advisor (and later ambassador to India).

Dornan & Freilich’s many interview subjects make it pretty clear the administrations changed, but Moynihan and his commitment to fight poverty never wavered. However, his passionate term at the UN made Moynihan a folk hero at the time, even earning praise from then Governor Ronald Reagan.

It is rather refreshing to watch Moynihan at a time of such partisan polarization, because a healthy percentage the talking heads are politicians and commentators associated with the conservative movement (or at least they were in the pre-Trump era), including Norman Podhoretz, George Will, Michael Barone, Trent Lott, and Suzanne Garment. It is fitting, because much of Moynihan’s work, particularly his influential and maligned “Moynihan Report” on persistent unemployment in the African American community, often cut both ways.

Moynihan the documentary also reminds us of a time when the less extreme candidate could still win a party primary, although in the case of Moynihan’s “whopping one-percent” victory over New Left firebrand Bella Abzug, it certainly was close. Yet, New York and the nation were incalculably better off with his representation.

Of course, the filmmakers and their interview subjects spend a good deal of time on Moynihan’s dry wit and his way with words. That also includes “benign neglect,” a turn of phrase that rather got away from him. That from-the-hip outspokenness could lead to misunderstanding, but it certainly made Moynihan an interesting figure on the national political stage. It is hard to find any politician on the scene today who us remotely unfiltered, except, rather awkwardly, Trump himself.

Pretty much all the significant milestones and controversies are covered in Dornan & Freilich’s Moynihan, except for the incident (never denied) when Moynihan took a swing at Sen. Kit Bond (R-MO) on the senate floor, after being called out for an earmark. Well, nobody is perfect—and would have added even more color to a colorful profile. The filmmakers definitely take a great deal of time and effort to codify Moynihan’s standing as a liberal, which he was. Still, it is too bad they did not spend more time on his UN tenure, because it had a unifying effect on American society, across party and ideological lines. Regardless, there is great merit to Moynihan, which is recommended for political junkies of all partisan stripes when it opens this Wednesday (10/3) in New York, at Film Forum.