I'm a fairly recent convert to the church of Takashi Miike, but after watching Audition, I knew it was something I'd have to cover during spooky season. One of the most notorious shockers of them all, Audition is hardcore viewing, but it's also one of the most wonderfully pitched, deeply disturbing and outright intelligent pieces of horror storytelling. And it's even more awesome because, for a good hour, it's not that scary. It's actually almost a romantic comedy, with a mild-mannered widower holding a fake audition to choose a woman to be his new wife. It's a little dishonest, sure, but his son and co-worker seem to think it's a good idea, so how bad could it be? Turns out, very, very bad. Audition is a pitch black cautionary tale, where our hero's ideal woman turns out to be something a little more dangerous
Of course that bait and switch is instrumental in making this movie work as well as it does. Obviously what Aoyama is doing is seedy, dishonest and wrong, and it's doing this that leads him onto a dark path. The film is a horror movie for the entirety of its run, and while those early scenes are almost entirely innocuous, they're subliminally setting up the pieces for one of the nastiest climaxes in cinema history. Audition, like the best horror movies, is a fable. It runs on fairy tale logic, where if you do the wrong thing, something awful will happen to you. Asami is one of the best characters in horror, because she's a total metaphor, terrifying not just in what she does, but also as the consequences she represents
The caution in this cautionary tale comes from what happens to men who don't respect women. Aoyama's not necessarily a bad person, but what he's doing is so dishonest and so disrespectful, pretty much duping these women so he can marry one of them. Asami represents what happens when men treat women as something to be obtained, and punishes Aoyama for his dishonesty with unimaginable torture. What she's doing is undoubtedly wrong, and sick, and awful, and completely unjustifiable, but in the logic of the fairy tale, it actually kind of makes sense. Think of the best fables. They work because at the centre of their stories is something so nasty, so unimaginably scary, because if the consequences weren't awful, you wouldn't take them seriously. Asami is those consequences. She's the unfathomable terror that awaits those who mistreat others. She is, to put it bluntly, a monster, and like the best monsters, she's made from a scary idea
But does this film's violence have to be so extreme? Well, yeah. The gore is relatively brief here, but it proves that sometimes a short, sharp shock works best. Audition eases you into the terror, not to lull you into a false sense of security, but to tease the terror out, to make you expect the absolute worst. And you know what? The absolute worst happens. This is horror, and film in general, at its most extreme, but if it wasn't, it definitely wouldn't work so well. This movie's pitch black scares are legendary, and they work because the entire film is structured around them. After all, if it wasn't this strong, would the lesson resonate as much? In a genre of vampires, werewolves, zombies, ghosts and killer tyres, Audition is a chilling reminder that the scariest thing in the world is people. Not just evil people like Asami, but also the choices that anyone's capable of making. The wrong decision could lead anyone into this web of pain and misery, so chose carefully....
"kiri kiri kiri kiri kiri"
Thursday, 31 October 2019
Tuesday, 29 October 2019
Shaun of the Dead: The Comedy and Horror of the Everyday
The spooky season is the time of the year where we celebrate the horror genre, watching and rewatching classics that remind us why it's so awesome. And of course it's the best time to (re-re-re)rewatch Edgar Wright's modern comedy-horror classic, Shaun of the Dead. There's so much I could say about how good this film is and everything that it does well, but, given the time of the year, I want to talk about how it does that stuff, how it absolutely nails such a unique style of comedy horror that I don't think has been fully replicated since. Edgar Wright is kind of a genius, and I've talked about how much I love him many times before. I guess one reason he's one of my favourite filmmakers is that he's a film buff himself, and understands how film geeks think, how they watch things, and how they interact with the things they watch. This not only gives his films great intertextuality ("We're coming to get you Barbara!"), but it also means that, in the case of the Cornetto trilogy, he's able to take a sense of humour that stems from loving movies and pop culture and relate it back to the people watching. As a result, world-conquering aliens, badass cops and flesh-hungry zombies occupy the world of the mundane, squaring up to people who are just like us. It's the film equivalent of the movie memes you see on Twitter: jokes that are funny because the people writing them are in on it, not just understanding what they're referencing and how it works, but also understanding how other people interact with these things too. That's a big reason as to why I love the trilogy, and though Shaun of the Dead may only be my second favourite, it is a really good example of this style of comedy writing, and that's what I want to talk about today. This is a movie that gets both comedy and horror just right by relating them back to the everyday, taking these over-the-top, genre flavoured elements and placing them squarely in the humdrum world of the mundane
So we'll start with the comedy. All of the jokes in Shaun of the Dead come from a familiar place. Don't worry, this isn't going to be an essay of joke explanation, because nothing strips the fun away from comedy more than explaining why something's funny, so I'm not going to do that. This is an incredibly funny movie, everyone knows that and everyone's cool with it, so we can leave that there. But I do think that the role the comedy plays in the story is interesting. Shaun of the Dead is, for all intents and purposes, a romantic comedy, about a guy who's just trying to win back his girlfriend, make his mother happy and maybe have a sneaky pint at his local. Hell, there aren't even any zombies for the first half an hour. And when they do come, it's clear that they're entering our world. That doesn't cause our society to collapse and turn the world into a post-apocalyptic wasteland, it just means that everything is the exact same, just with zombies. When Shaun wakes up in the outbreak, he's still looking at the same to-do list. He's still got the same problems, and the funny stuff largely comes from the stuff that hasn't changed.
This is the comedy of the everyday, and the cyclical nature of the jokes makes that all the funnier. This being an Edgar Wright film, most of the jokes from the first half come back, only slightly differently. Pete's still a dick, the jukebox is still on random, and Shaun's still got red on him. We're fascinated with zombie stories that show the world scarred, warped and changed, but Shaun of the Dead is so genius because, well, pretty much everything's the same as it ever was. The biggest change comes at the end, where the world becomes more tolerant of the zombies, and everyone just kind of co-exists. In a way, it's the ultimate inverted zombie movie, one where none of the post-apocalyptic wish fulfilment actually happens. It doesn't go from bad to worse, just slightly dull to.... actually kind of nice. Because, realistically, you would still have the same problems. You wouldn't automatically become a badass zombie slayer. Edgar Wright doesn't take the audience out of their world, he just injects some genre-goodness into it, and then starts laughing at how dull it'd still be. It's not cynicism as much as it is clear-eyed savviness, because the anti-escapism turns out to bring its own brand of wild fun and dogged optimism. There's not much of a spectacle here, just familiar solutions to unfamiliar problems. Even the biggest setpieces work because their components are so rooted in the everyday. The jukebox scene is the perfect example, with everyday weapons (pool cues, darts, a fire extinguisher) melding with the irrefutable fact that everything can be improved by playing Don't Stop Me Now. As a spoof, it works because it sets up this crazy situation, only to present the audience with the stuff they already knew going in. The joke isn't on you, but it is all around you; made from the movies and music and video games and urban legends that you consume on a daily basis and turned into a backdrop for easily the most common what-if situation ever
So if its ordinary setting make it a good comedy, well then why does the horror stuff work? Well, kind of the same reason, actually. Obviously this isn't a straight horror movie, but like the best comedy horrors, it works because it nails both. It's not necessarily scary, but it ensures that you take the horror seriously. As a viewer, you recognise that the zombies are a legitimate threat, that they are something to be scared of. I think a lot of that comes from An American Werewolf in London, a notable favourite of Edgar Wright's. Seriously, if you haven't seen his introduction to the BFI screening of American Werewolf, do yourself a favour and check it out, because it's awesome. John Landis kind of wrote the comedy horror blueprint with that film, acing the balance that pretty much every genre mashup since has at least referenced. An American Werewolf in London works because it's incredibly funny and it's got well defined horror. As a subgenre, comedy horror is made up of those two components, and the strength of a film largely comes down to how much of both of those they get right. Because when you absolutely nail them both, you get a third element that only comes from the other two working in absolute harmony: emotional investment. Take An American Werewolf's ending, with (INCOMING SPOILER) David dying in Alex's arms. An incredibly funny and pleasingly gory romp it may be, but, while you're watching it, you come to really care about what's going on. Again, this is a genre thing, because to find something funny or scary is to invest in it, and when both are working so well simultaneously, it lets the film unearth these emotional stings that actually resonate
Shaun of the Dead has these in spades, with Barbara's death and Ed's infection having a real impact that goes beyond the pure farce this could have been. Lesser spoofs lack that kind of weight, because they fail to tack down the legitimacy of the threat. Shaun (the film, not the guy) throws its likeable characters into a situation with real stakes. The gore isn't purely played for laughs, it's a real consequence, something that Shaun (the bloke this time) has to factor into his now considerably more difficult afternoon trip to the Winchester. Again, there aren't any concrete scares, but it roots itself into the horror genre because it fully understands what these genre trappings are and why they work before riffing on them, and the result is pretty glorious. The bonus is that, because it's still set in that painfully mundane suburban setting, the horror is fairly everyday too. I mean yeah, the zombies are scary or whatever, but the real horror in Shaun's life comes from his own failures: the pressure he faces to win Liz back and keep Ed happy and maintain his relationship with Barbara. The zombies are the horror of the story, but even they're treated as just another errand that he has to complete. That's the everyday horror of Shaun of the Dead, the fact that the horde of the undead that our hero has to face are just another responsibility for him.
It's no secret that this is one of the best comedy horrors of all time, and for me, that's because it always stays conscious of its setting. The jokes are razor sharp and consistently hilarious, and what makes them even better is the way the film absolutely understands what it's spoofing. Like with the other films in the trilogy, Edgar Wright made Shaun of the Dead a movie that understands the two worlds that film geeks live in; the glorious escapism of the films we watch, and the mundanity that we escape from. He sets this movie in the space between them, a balanced and unique brand of horror and comedy that's simultaneously outlandish and so ordinary. And it's because of this movie that comedy-horror was forever changed. 99% percent of films in the subgenre have borrowed something from this movie, and the fact that, 15 years later, it's still an awesome comic achievement is seriously cool. Stay gold, Shaun, I'll see you again next spooky season
So we'll start with the comedy. All of the jokes in Shaun of the Dead come from a familiar place. Don't worry, this isn't going to be an essay of joke explanation, because nothing strips the fun away from comedy more than explaining why something's funny, so I'm not going to do that. This is an incredibly funny movie, everyone knows that and everyone's cool with it, so we can leave that there. But I do think that the role the comedy plays in the story is interesting. Shaun of the Dead is, for all intents and purposes, a romantic comedy, about a guy who's just trying to win back his girlfriend, make his mother happy and maybe have a sneaky pint at his local. Hell, there aren't even any zombies for the first half an hour. And when they do come, it's clear that they're entering our world. That doesn't cause our society to collapse and turn the world into a post-apocalyptic wasteland, it just means that everything is the exact same, just with zombies. When Shaun wakes up in the outbreak, he's still looking at the same to-do list. He's still got the same problems, and the funny stuff largely comes from the stuff that hasn't changed.
This is the comedy of the everyday, and the cyclical nature of the jokes makes that all the funnier. This being an Edgar Wright film, most of the jokes from the first half come back, only slightly differently. Pete's still a dick, the jukebox is still on random, and Shaun's still got red on him. We're fascinated with zombie stories that show the world scarred, warped and changed, but Shaun of the Dead is so genius because, well, pretty much everything's the same as it ever was. The biggest change comes at the end, where the world becomes more tolerant of the zombies, and everyone just kind of co-exists. In a way, it's the ultimate inverted zombie movie, one where none of the post-apocalyptic wish fulfilment actually happens. It doesn't go from bad to worse, just slightly dull to.... actually kind of nice. Because, realistically, you would still have the same problems. You wouldn't automatically become a badass zombie slayer. Edgar Wright doesn't take the audience out of their world, he just injects some genre-goodness into it, and then starts laughing at how dull it'd still be. It's not cynicism as much as it is clear-eyed savviness, because the anti-escapism turns out to bring its own brand of wild fun and dogged optimism. There's not much of a spectacle here, just familiar solutions to unfamiliar problems. Even the biggest setpieces work because their components are so rooted in the everyday. The jukebox scene is the perfect example, with everyday weapons (pool cues, darts, a fire extinguisher) melding with the irrefutable fact that everything can be improved by playing Don't Stop Me Now. As a spoof, it works because it sets up this crazy situation, only to present the audience with the stuff they already knew going in. The joke isn't on you, but it is all around you; made from the movies and music and video games and urban legends that you consume on a daily basis and turned into a backdrop for easily the most common what-if situation ever
So if its ordinary setting make it a good comedy, well then why does the horror stuff work? Well, kind of the same reason, actually. Obviously this isn't a straight horror movie, but like the best comedy horrors, it works because it nails both. It's not necessarily scary, but it ensures that you take the horror seriously. As a viewer, you recognise that the zombies are a legitimate threat, that they are something to be scared of. I think a lot of that comes from An American Werewolf in London, a notable favourite of Edgar Wright's. Seriously, if you haven't seen his introduction to the BFI screening of American Werewolf, do yourself a favour and check it out, because it's awesome. John Landis kind of wrote the comedy horror blueprint with that film, acing the balance that pretty much every genre mashup since has at least referenced. An American Werewolf in London works because it's incredibly funny and it's got well defined horror. As a subgenre, comedy horror is made up of those two components, and the strength of a film largely comes down to how much of both of those they get right. Because when you absolutely nail them both, you get a third element that only comes from the other two working in absolute harmony: emotional investment. Take An American Werewolf's ending, with (INCOMING SPOILER) David dying in Alex's arms. An incredibly funny and pleasingly gory romp it may be, but, while you're watching it, you come to really care about what's going on. Again, this is a genre thing, because to find something funny or scary is to invest in it, and when both are working so well simultaneously, it lets the film unearth these emotional stings that actually resonate
Shaun of the Dead has these in spades, with Barbara's death and Ed's infection having a real impact that goes beyond the pure farce this could have been. Lesser spoofs lack that kind of weight, because they fail to tack down the legitimacy of the threat. Shaun (the film, not the guy) throws its likeable characters into a situation with real stakes. The gore isn't purely played for laughs, it's a real consequence, something that Shaun (the bloke this time) has to factor into his now considerably more difficult afternoon trip to the Winchester. Again, there aren't any concrete scares, but it roots itself into the horror genre because it fully understands what these genre trappings are and why they work before riffing on them, and the result is pretty glorious. The bonus is that, because it's still set in that painfully mundane suburban setting, the horror is fairly everyday too. I mean yeah, the zombies are scary or whatever, but the real horror in Shaun's life comes from his own failures: the pressure he faces to win Liz back and keep Ed happy and maintain his relationship with Barbara. The zombies are the horror of the story, but even they're treated as just another errand that he has to complete. That's the everyday horror of Shaun of the Dead, the fact that the horde of the undead that our hero has to face are just another responsibility for him.
It's no secret that this is one of the best comedy horrors of all time, and for me, that's because it always stays conscious of its setting. The jokes are razor sharp and consistently hilarious, and what makes them even better is the way the film absolutely understands what it's spoofing. Like with the other films in the trilogy, Edgar Wright made Shaun of the Dead a movie that understands the two worlds that film geeks live in; the glorious escapism of the films we watch, and the mundanity that we escape from. He sets this movie in the space between them, a balanced and unique brand of horror and comedy that's simultaneously outlandish and so ordinary. And it's because of this movie that comedy-horror was forever changed. 99% percent of films in the subgenre have borrowed something from this movie, and the fact that, 15 years later, it's still an awesome comic achievement is seriously cool. Stay gold, Shaun, I'll see you again next spooky season
Saturday, 19 October 2019
My Thoughts on Ad Astra
Space movies are cool. That's just a fact, right? Everyone knows that if a film is set in space, it's going to be 90% better than something that isn't. And James Gray's latest film, Ad Astra, is very cool indeed. And no, I'm not going to call it Brad Astra, so don't worry, you're not going to see any of those kinds of puns. This is a story about Brad Pitt. He's feeling a bit Sad Pitt so he travels to space to find his Dad Pitt, in the hopes that things will be a little less Bad Pitt. What? I didn't say I wasn't gonna make any puns. Okay, so that might be simplifying things. Ad Astra follows Roy McBride, an astronaut with a reputation for always maintaining his cool. His heart rate never goes above 80, he always stays calm, and his success rate is incredibly high. Beneath the cool though, is a huge amount of pain that comes from his tense relationship with his father, who went missing on a mission to Neptune 16 years before. When it turns out that his dad might be alive, Roy is sent on a mission to contact him and..... well, you'll see.
It's not an especially complicated plot, but it doesn't have to be. This is a film that's all about the journey, and the things it does well are all related to the trip it takes the audience on. This is one of the coolest depictions of space I've ever seen. It's set in the near future, where the universe is a little smaller. Space travel is totally commercialised, Mars has been colonised, and technology is a bit more advanced than it is now. Every setpiece in this film reveals another part of it's mindblowing world, and the film is incredibly patient in revealing these details. From a crazy chase involving moon pirates to a scene featuring some apes that plays like something out of horror movie, Ad Astra has no shortage of awesome Pittstops on the way to its destination. It should go without saying that, with this focus on an epic journey, that the plot is a little on the thin side, but by and large, that's not really an issue. Apart from the narration, which was pretty unnecessary and becomes slightly distracting after a while, the way the film progresses its story is pretty decent. It's not great, but that really isn't the point, and pretty much everything else here is absolutely top-tier in its quality.
This film is an experience, and as clichéd as it might be to say, needs to be seen on the biggest screen possible. The scenes in space are so vast and quietly powerful that they almost defy words. The vastness is also pinned down to the intimate, interior conflict going on inside Roy, and the way that's contrasted is just fascinating. This is a film that deals in huge spectacle and powerful emotion at the same time, and the way Gray balances the big and the small is just fantastic. The closer to Neptune McBride gets, the stronger the underlying emotion in the story becomes, until it just absolutely explodes into something that's both visually stunning and really, really moving.
A lot of this down to Pitt's performance, and I'm telling you now, if this guy doesn't get an Oscar nod, there's going to be trouble. I will write the most strongly worded letter you've ever seen. You have been warned. So much of Pitt's performance is masterfully understated, which is really impressive because he's the only character you're with for most of the film. It's wonderfully interior, something which, again, is kind of spoiled by the voiceover. Look, it's not an issue for the first twenty or so minutes, but after that it became especially noticeable, and a little unnecessary. Everything great about his performance is in how quiet it is, so when he tells us how he feels, it does throw me off a little. But yeah, his performance is definitely worth the price of admission. It's quiet brilliance among the huge spectacle, and watching how his character is carefully unravelled over the course of his journey is really something special. The whole film revolves around the vulnerability under the stoicism, and watching how Gray slowly, quietly works his way to the centre of McBride is truly a joy to witness
Instead of going for the grand existential musings of any space films, Ad Astra goes inwards, which I know has been done before, but the way Gray takes that idea and maps it against a father-son relationship and then makes it Apocalypse Now in space and then makes it about male vulnerability and then adds space pirates and apes and BRAD FREAKING PITT gives it a little bit of space. The scale is massive, the philosophy is rich and the things that happen in the plot are consistently interesting and incredibly diverse. It is, to borrow from my favourite purple warlord, perfectly balanced as all things should be. Gray understands how to combine these different elements and play them off each other perfectly. It's huge size never takes away from it's poignant musings, and the crazy elements of the world never become a distraction. Everything here fits into place, everything has a purpose, and everything fulfils that purpose really well. It's a fascinating juxtaposition of the vastness of the brain and the gradual shrinkage of space, and by doing it backwards, Gray makes its ultimate conclusion all the more satisfying.
So, Ad Astra is kind of incredible. It's big and small at the same time, unafraid to go to strange places on its journey to the centre of this incredibly stoic man. It's hard to sum into words, because it's such a spectacle to witness, and so emotionally driven (I shed many tears), that it's kind of tough to articulate. It's intelligent, astonishing filmmaking, headed up by a marvellous performance from Brad Pitt. I absolutely loved this film, and it just gets better the more I think about it, because it leaves so much to chew on. The ideas, the visuals, THE SPACE PIRATES, everything in this film is beyond amazing. Yeah, it loses serious points for that voiceover, which is just so obvious and handhold-y, but even that can't detract from how stunning everything else is here. Between this and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Brad Pitt is marking himself as a serious Oscar contender, and honestly if he gets it for either then it's 100% earned, because he's amazing in that and he's incredible in this. Ad Astra, man. Ad. Astra.
It's not an especially complicated plot, but it doesn't have to be. This is a film that's all about the journey, and the things it does well are all related to the trip it takes the audience on. This is one of the coolest depictions of space I've ever seen. It's set in the near future, where the universe is a little smaller. Space travel is totally commercialised, Mars has been colonised, and technology is a bit more advanced than it is now. Every setpiece in this film reveals another part of it's mindblowing world, and the film is incredibly patient in revealing these details. From a crazy chase involving moon pirates to a scene featuring some apes that plays like something out of horror movie, Ad Astra has no shortage of awesome Pittstops on the way to its destination. It should go without saying that, with this focus on an epic journey, that the plot is a little on the thin side, but by and large, that's not really an issue. Apart from the narration, which was pretty unnecessary and becomes slightly distracting after a while, the way the film progresses its story is pretty decent. It's not great, but that really isn't the point, and pretty much everything else here is absolutely top-tier in its quality.
This film is an experience, and as clichéd as it might be to say, needs to be seen on the biggest screen possible. The scenes in space are so vast and quietly powerful that they almost defy words. The vastness is also pinned down to the intimate, interior conflict going on inside Roy, and the way that's contrasted is just fascinating. This is a film that deals in huge spectacle and powerful emotion at the same time, and the way Gray balances the big and the small is just fantastic. The closer to Neptune McBride gets, the stronger the underlying emotion in the story becomes, until it just absolutely explodes into something that's both visually stunning and really, really moving.
A lot of this down to Pitt's performance, and I'm telling you now, if this guy doesn't get an Oscar nod, there's going to be trouble. I will write the most strongly worded letter you've ever seen. You have been warned. So much of Pitt's performance is masterfully understated, which is really impressive because he's the only character you're with for most of the film. It's wonderfully interior, something which, again, is kind of spoiled by the voiceover. Look, it's not an issue for the first twenty or so minutes, but after that it became especially noticeable, and a little unnecessary. Everything great about his performance is in how quiet it is, so when he tells us how he feels, it does throw me off a little. But yeah, his performance is definitely worth the price of admission. It's quiet brilliance among the huge spectacle, and watching how his character is carefully unravelled over the course of his journey is really something special. The whole film revolves around the vulnerability under the stoicism, and watching how Gray slowly, quietly works his way to the centre of McBride is truly a joy to witness
Instead of going for the grand existential musings of any space films, Ad Astra goes inwards, which I know has been done before, but the way Gray takes that idea and maps it against a father-son relationship and then makes it Apocalypse Now in space and then makes it about male vulnerability and then adds space pirates and apes and BRAD FREAKING PITT gives it a little bit of space. The scale is massive, the philosophy is rich and the things that happen in the plot are consistently interesting and incredibly diverse. It is, to borrow from my favourite purple warlord, perfectly balanced as all things should be. Gray understands how to combine these different elements and play them off each other perfectly. It's huge size never takes away from it's poignant musings, and the crazy elements of the world never become a distraction. Everything here fits into place, everything has a purpose, and everything fulfils that purpose really well. It's a fascinating juxtaposition of the vastness of the brain and the gradual shrinkage of space, and by doing it backwards, Gray makes its ultimate conclusion all the more satisfying.
So, Ad Astra is kind of incredible. It's big and small at the same time, unafraid to go to strange places on its journey to the centre of this incredibly stoic man. It's hard to sum into words, because it's such a spectacle to witness, and so emotionally driven (I shed many tears), that it's kind of tough to articulate. It's intelligent, astonishing filmmaking, headed up by a marvellous performance from Brad Pitt. I absolutely loved this film, and it just gets better the more I think about it, because it leaves so much to chew on. The ideas, the visuals, THE SPACE PIRATES, everything in this film is beyond amazing. Yeah, it loses serious points for that voiceover, which is just so obvious and handhold-y, but even that can't detract from how stunning everything else is here. Between this and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Brad Pitt is marking himself as a serious Oscar contender, and honestly if he gets it for either then it's 100% earned, because he's amazing in that and he's incredible in this. Ad Astra, man. Ad. Astra.
Thursday, 17 October 2019
My Thoughts on Ready or Not
Oh. My. God. Even though it's arriving in Ireland about a month after everywhere else, Ready or Not immediately establishes itself as one of the funnest films this year. There was no way that I wasn't going to love this movie, not with a premise like this anyway. "Woman tries to survive her wedding night while being hunted by her crazy in-laws" is a great concept for a comedy horror, and the real excitement is watching how that's explored. This is what spooky season is all about, folks, and I cannot wait to dive into it, so let's. Freaking. Go. This is a good example of a film working on the strength of its premise alone. The plot follows Samara Weaving's Grace, who's marrying into the wealthy Le Domas family (they prefer dominion). The catch for joining this board-game empire is that, on their wedding night, the family-member-to-be has to play a game. Which is fine, unless you draw the card that says you have to play hide-and-seek. Do not draw the hide-and-seek card. Grace draws the hide-and-seek card. The shit hits the fan. Hide-and-seek is a deadly serious matter for the Le Domas clan, who intend on hunting Grace down and killing her. The reason for this is a little bit spoiler-y, but rest assured, it's as gleefully nuts as you'd expect from this kind of movie
My local cinema screened this with captions on for some reason, which actually turned out to be kind of great. I tend to watch things with the captions on anyway, and in a film that hinges on its tension, it's pretty fun to know exactly what kind of noise you're hearing. And the tension here is kind of great. When the hunt begins, the film is so creative with its setpieces and their construction. This film is legitimately tense in a really fun way. Every part of this house and it's grounds is utilised, from the service corridors to the creepy-as-hell shed full of goats. The sense of location in this movie is amazing, and watching as it shifts from the joy of a wedding to the hell of the hunt is an absolute thrill. The house feels like its own character, just as tied into the sinister machinations of the Le Domas clan as any of it's members. Speaking of the Le Domases (Les Domas? Le Domasi?), they're amazing antagonists. Each one has such a distinct personality, and watching their overblown personalities expand even further as the slaughter progresses is one of the big joys of Ready or Not. Big shoutout to Aunt Helene and her intense devotion to the cause, and another one to my main man Stevens, the crazy butler who gets some of the best (and nastiest) moments in the movie
Of course a horror movie is only as good as its survivor, and Samara Weaving is such a badass. She was the best thing about The Babysitter, which, naff as it was, turned out to be the perfect showcase of her horror-chops. I genuinely can't wait for what she does next, because she absolutely tears this movie up. This is her film, and watching as she unleashes her survival skills on her murderous in-laws is a pure delight. She's got it all: the wisecracking humour, the hardened survival instinct and even the rootability of a woman who just can't catch a break. She's an awesome horror hero, balancing everything with a genuine likeability that really amps up the satisfaction factor of the ensuing bloodbath. And the crazier the film gets, the more she grounds it, ensuring that it never gets to carried away in its antics by being someone who you genuinely like and want to see succeed.
She's also a great character in the context of the film's satire. Without giving too much away, Ready or Not is critical of the über-rich and the things they do to stay that way. Like the best horror-commentary, it's genuinely scary because there's an element of truth to it. Even though everything is over-the-top, the shadowy illegitimacy of the Le Domas family's empire is eerily believable, and seeing how (almost) every member of the family is corrupted by this ethos to some extent is incredibly unsettling. Is this commentary kind of overshadowed by the crazy gore and comedy? I mean yeah, but it is there, and a lot of it does hit the mark. It's not the strongest aspect of the film, but it's sharp enough to make an impression. What makes it work better is Grace's status as the outsider, the everywoman who finds herself in this web of dark secrets with the truth of the family's wealth at the centre. This is the brain behind the fun, and it gives it a really clever edge that I'm sure will give it some serious rewatch value
For all of this though, there is one problem: it's way too short. Not only does it feel like there's not enough of it, but it also means that by the end of it, it feels like there's still a little more to be done. Without getting into too many spoilers the ending, as batshit crazy as it is, is very neat, not necessarily a problem, but it does feel like the film sacrificed more setpieces to get to there. It's a weird one: I do love how bold and crazy the note it finishes on is, but I would have liked a little bit more of an escalation. A nitpick? Most definitely, but it did bother me, because I was having so much fun with the film, and I would have liked if it let itself breath a little more. This is a sprint, not a marathon, which is fine, but it means that all of the really great stuff here does feel a tad rushed. Oh well, it's still huge amounts of fun
So Ready or Not is the crazy horror comedy bonanza that we need right now. It takes a simple idea and pumps it full of gore, comedy and stinging social commentary. It's an amped up assault on the 1%, with pleasing amounts of violence and enough knowing humour to stop it from ever tipping into excess. Samara Weaving is an absolute boss, and I'm so excited to see what she does next, because she makes this movie what it is. Throw in a wonderfully hissable cast of evil in-laws and you've got a genuine delight of a comedy horror. Yeah it's short and quick, but it's a deliriously fun ride that rarely holds back on anything. It's so exciting that we have a movie like this in 2019, exciting, bold wonderfully standalone. It never plays it safe, instead choosing to bring gloriously chaotic horror into the mainstream. More. Films. Like. This. PLEASE.
My local cinema screened this with captions on for some reason, which actually turned out to be kind of great. I tend to watch things with the captions on anyway, and in a film that hinges on its tension, it's pretty fun to know exactly what kind of noise you're hearing. And the tension here is kind of great. When the hunt begins, the film is so creative with its setpieces and their construction. This film is legitimately tense in a really fun way. Every part of this house and it's grounds is utilised, from the service corridors to the creepy-as-hell shed full of goats. The sense of location in this movie is amazing, and watching as it shifts from the joy of a wedding to the hell of the hunt is an absolute thrill. The house feels like its own character, just as tied into the sinister machinations of the Le Domas clan as any of it's members. Speaking of the Le Domases (Les Domas? Le Domasi?), they're amazing antagonists. Each one has such a distinct personality, and watching their overblown personalities expand even further as the slaughter progresses is one of the big joys of Ready or Not. Big shoutout to Aunt Helene and her intense devotion to the cause, and another one to my main man Stevens, the crazy butler who gets some of the best (and nastiest) moments in the movie
Of course a horror movie is only as good as its survivor, and Samara Weaving is such a badass. She was the best thing about The Babysitter, which, naff as it was, turned out to be the perfect showcase of her horror-chops. I genuinely can't wait for what she does next, because she absolutely tears this movie up. This is her film, and watching as she unleashes her survival skills on her murderous in-laws is a pure delight. She's got it all: the wisecracking humour, the hardened survival instinct and even the rootability of a woman who just can't catch a break. She's an awesome horror hero, balancing everything with a genuine likeability that really amps up the satisfaction factor of the ensuing bloodbath. And the crazier the film gets, the more she grounds it, ensuring that it never gets to carried away in its antics by being someone who you genuinely like and want to see succeed.
She's also a great character in the context of the film's satire. Without giving too much away, Ready or Not is critical of the über-rich and the things they do to stay that way. Like the best horror-commentary, it's genuinely scary because there's an element of truth to it. Even though everything is over-the-top, the shadowy illegitimacy of the Le Domas family's empire is eerily believable, and seeing how (almost) every member of the family is corrupted by this ethos to some extent is incredibly unsettling. Is this commentary kind of overshadowed by the crazy gore and comedy? I mean yeah, but it is there, and a lot of it does hit the mark. It's not the strongest aspect of the film, but it's sharp enough to make an impression. What makes it work better is Grace's status as the outsider, the everywoman who finds herself in this web of dark secrets with the truth of the family's wealth at the centre. This is the brain behind the fun, and it gives it a really clever edge that I'm sure will give it some serious rewatch value
For all of this though, there is one problem: it's way too short. Not only does it feel like there's not enough of it, but it also means that by the end of it, it feels like there's still a little more to be done. Without getting into too many spoilers the ending, as batshit crazy as it is, is very neat, not necessarily a problem, but it does feel like the film sacrificed more setpieces to get to there. It's a weird one: I do love how bold and crazy the note it finishes on is, but I would have liked a little bit more of an escalation. A nitpick? Most definitely, but it did bother me, because I was having so much fun with the film, and I would have liked if it let itself breath a little more. This is a sprint, not a marathon, which is fine, but it means that all of the really great stuff here does feel a tad rushed. Oh well, it's still huge amounts of fun
So Ready or Not is the crazy horror comedy bonanza that we need right now. It takes a simple idea and pumps it full of gore, comedy and stinging social commentary. It's an amped up assault on the 1%, with pleasing amounts of violence and enough knowing humour to stop it from ever tipping into excess. Samara Weaving is an absolute boss, and I'm so excited to see what she does next, because she makes this movie what it is. Throw in a wonderfully hissable cast of evil in-laws and you've got a genuine delight of a comedy horror. Yeah it's short and quick, but it's a deliriously fun ride that rarely holds back on anything. It's so exciting that we have a movie like this in 2019, exciting, bold wonderfully standalone. It never plays it safe, instead choosing to bring gloriously chaotic horror into the mainstream. More. Films. Like. This. PLEASE.
Saturday, 12 October 2019
Once Upon a Time in the Fest (Part 2)- My Thoughts on A Hidden Life
Day 2 of my LFF experience was pretty great even before I saw A Hidden Life. I'll review it in a minute, but first I want to talk about my general Southbank experience today, because that was so awesome. After the best DVD haul ever (High and Low, Celine and Julie Go Boating, Audition, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, The Knack.... and How to Get It, the Jeunet and Caro Collection, Playtime, The Discreet Charm of the Bourseogie and Persona), I checked out the BFI's Mediatheque, where I passed the time by watching Derek Jarmon's Jubliee, which, mini review, was okay. I liked a lot of the ideas in it about art, history and sex, as well as the general aesthetic, but I found all of the characters incredibly unlikeable, and not in a good way. It also felt like it had something to say, but didn't actually know what it was it wanted to say. So yeah, it's kind of decent? Anyway, back to the review!
Terence Malick is a strange one. At his best, he makes some of the most poignant visual poems you're likely to see, but at his worst, he churns out navel-gazing, faux deep nonsense. So it's good to see that his latest, A Hidden Life, is a thrilling reminder of what he can do when he's at the height of his powers. The film revolves around a conscientious objector in the Second World War, and it's kind of incredible. True, at nearly three hours long and covering a very weighty subject matter, it's far from casual viewing, but this is a film that engages every one of your senses in the way that only Malick can. It's a patiently told story, with these beautifully shot images of Radegund, an idyllic village in the Austrian mountains. This being a Malick film, the sound and visuals truly tell the story. There's so much in the wind blowing through the grass, and the buzz of insects. The actual plot itself is revealed very slowly, but it rewards the viewer for sticking with it with a heartbreaking and deeply fascinating musing on what it means to stand up for what you believe in.
I love how patient this film is. It sets itself up gradually, never giving away too much at a time, and leaving it down to the viewer to decide what they think. It's heavily focused on ideas of morality, and how much a person is willing to sacrifice in an uncertain and complicated time. Amidst the heady, mountain-set visuals is a series of really difficult discussions about doing the right thing, and the way the dialogue regularly flips between English and German is a really effective way of emphasising that. There aren't any subtitles here, and Malick lets everything play out in the language these people are actually speaking whenever he risks overexplaining. It doesn't even progress as much of a plot, instead mining the deeply ethical discussion from visual representations of the ordeal of Franz Jägerstätter, with all of the dialogue suggesting rather than providing exposition.
Hell, the only criticism I could really give it is that, with its length and subject matter, it really isn't a fun watch. I wouldn't call it overlong, although I did feel its runtime as I was watching it, because, when the film had ended, I realised that its ultimate conclusion wouldn't have impacted me as much if it was shorter. At times, the weighty subject matter gets a little bit much, and if you're not a fan of Malick, then I can't see this doing much to change your mind (unless you really do like looking at grassy mountains), but as someone who really likes him when he's good, I absolutely loved this film. It's tough yet moving, complex yet sensual, and so deeply haunting while also dealing with absolute truth. Malick deals with the most difficult of subject matter in the most nuanced way possible, gradually drawing the deep reservoir of emotion from this story while keeping the tough moral questions at the centre intact, and then fusing those things with his own unique brand of woozy visual poetry. Add in an incredibly brief scene that features one of the biggest rabbits I've ever seen, and you've got one of the best films of the year. In many ways, it's the ideal Terrence Malcik movie: all of the profundity, none of the self indulgence. Would I watch it again? Probably not, but its soulful musings are sure to ring in my brain for years to come
So that was what I thought of the two films I saw at the LFF. First Love is a batshit crazy romp that sets a high bar for next decade, while A Hidden Life is a gut wrenching meditation on the price of doing the right thing that is absolutely one of my favourite films of 2019. As first film festival experiences go, I don't think I could have had a better one!
Terence Malick is a strange one. At his best, he makes some of the most poignant visual poems you're likely to see, but at his worst, he churns out navel-gazing, faux deep nonsense. So it's good to see that his latest, A Hidden Life, is a thrilling reminder of what he can do when he's at the height of his powers. The film revolves around a conscientious objector in the Second World War, and it's kind of incredible. True, at nearly three hours long and covering a very weighty subject matter, it's far from casual viewing, but this is a film that engages every one of your senses in the way that only Malick can. It's a patiently told story, with these beautifully shot images of Radegund, an idyllic village in the Austrian mountains. This being a Malick film, the sound and visuals truly tell the story. There's so much in the wind blowing through the grass, and the buzz of insects. The actual plot itself is revealed very slowly, but it rewards the viewer for sticking with it with a heartbreaking and deeply fascinating musing on what it means to stand up for what you believe in.
I love how patient this film is. It sets itself up gradually, never giving away too much at a time, and leaving it down to the viewer to decide what they think. It's heavily focused on ideas of morality, and how much a person is willing to sacrifice in an uncertain and complicated time. Amidst the heady, mountain-set visuals is a series of really difficult discussions about doing the right thing, and the way the dialogue regularly flips between English and German is a really effective way of emphasising that. There aren't any subtitles here, and Malick lets everything play out in the language these people are actually speaking whenever he risks overexplaining. It doesn't even progress as much of a plot, instead mining the deeply ethical discussion from visual representations of the ordeal of Franz Jägerstätter, with all of the dialogue suggesting rather than providing exposition.
Hell, the only criticism I could really give it is that, with its length and subject matter, it really isn't a fun watch. I wouldn't call it overlong, although I did feel its runtime as I was watching it, because, when the film had ended, I realised that its ultimate conclusion wouldn't have impacted me as much if it was shorter. At times, the weighty subject matter gets a little bit much, and if you're not a fan of Malick, then I can't see this doing much to change your mind (unless you really do like looking at grassy mountains), but as someone who really likes him when he's good, I absolutely loved this film. It's tough yet moving, complex yet sensual, and so deeply haunting while also dealing with absolute truth. Malick deals with the most difficult of subject matter in the most nuanced way possible, gradually drawing the deep reservoir of emotion from this story while keeping the tough moral questions at the centre intact, and then fusing those things with his own unique brand of woozy visual poetry. Add in an incredibly brief scene that features one of the biggest rabbits I've ever seen, and you've got one of the best films of the year. In many ways, it's the ideal Terrence Malcik movie: all of the profundity, none of the self indulgence. Would I watch it again? Probably not, but its soulful musings are sure to ring in my brain for years to come
So that was what I thought of the two films I saw at the LFF. First Love is a batshit crazy romp that sets a high bar for next decade, while A Hidden Life is a gut wrenching meditation on the price of doing the right thing that is absolutely one of my favourite films of 2019. As first film festival experiences go, I don't think I could have had a better one!
Friday, 11 October 2019
Once Upon a Time at the Fest (Part 1)- My Thoughts on First Love
So this is the first of a two-part saga chronicling my time at the London Film Festival, my first ever festival. Tonight's screening was Takashi Miike's 105th film, First Love. The screening actually started with an introduction from Miike, who stressed that, crazy as the film is, it is a love story, and he's absolutely right. As romances go, this is undoubtedly a crazy one, with yakuza, Chinese gangsters, ultraviolent fight scenes and a moment involving a toy dog that's utterly unforgettable, but it always keeps this genuinely believable love story at its centre. It's also a movie that doesn't get a release until 2020, but I'm reviewing it now because, y'know, film festivals. I'm literally just out of this film, so apologies if this review is a little unstructured, because I'm still just trying to process exactly what it was I saw. This is a film that turns your brain into soup, and spends the next hour and a half aggressively slurping it until there's nothing left. This film is wild, but it's also kind of amazing, and I can't wait to dive into it. Also, there are no spoilers in this post. Regular readers will know that I never spoil films in reviews anyway, but since we are talking about something that isn't actually out until next year, I'd absolutely understand if you didn't want to know anything. By and large, you're good to go, but just keep the release date in mind. We good? Good!
First Love follows a young boxer whose life intersects with that of a young woman with connections to the yakuza. Their relationship triggers a crazy series of events that come to involve the police, the Chinese triads, and a whole raft of assassins. I'm not going to go into specifics, but this plot is freaking mental. It's always on the move, twisting and developing and always going to the very last place you'd expect it to. There's a lot going on here, and even if the film occasionally loses track of all these different characters and ideas, it's pace and energy are enough to steer it back in the right direction. Confusing? Sometimes, but it's never boring, and it moves fast enough to get back into the action almost right away. The story melds mind bending action with surprisingly genuine emotion, and Miike's devotion to both of these aspects is what gives it such a unique punch.
This is my first Miike film, so I can't say how it compares to the rest of his filmography, but as an introduction, it definitely got me in the mood to check out more of his stuff. This is one of the most purely enjoyable cinema experiences I've had in ages. It's the perfect blend of comedy, action, romance and balls-to-the-wall craziness. Sometimes it's even weirdly profound in its musings on life, death and loneliness. I have a soft spot for movies that take place over the course of one night, and the way that this film is able to fit such wildly different tones and elements into its plot, while also making them feel completely organic is really special. This feels like that one wild night, one that starts off relatively normal but explodes into something really unique and special. The imagery is surreal and wild, yet weirdly meaningful. True, it's absolutely batshit, but Miike is telling a genuinely sweet story where everything happens for a reason. The crazy stuff is certainly crazy, but every batshit visual is grounded by something with real weight. When it slows down for the conclusion, it wraps up every idea it has presented, and that's when I realised that I really did care about what was going on. I think the crazier you make something, the more you have to build investment in something, and, although there's a lot going on here, you care enough about these two leads for the story beats to properly register. Under the crazy flourishes is something really substantial, and that's what makes it work
Obviously there's a lot more that I could and want to say about this movie, but I'll leave it at this: it was the perfect first festival movie. First Love is buckets of fun, with the exact kind of surreal humour and crazy plot that I never knew I needed. It's honest and genuine as well as being absolutely batshit insane, and also has some of the best side characters of the year (one gangster in particular is especially hilarious). So yeah, I kind of absolutely love this movie. The exhilaration of the whole thing gave me such a buzz, and the fact that I saw it with a huge crowd just added to the atmosphere. Everyone I saw it with was so into it, and as a viewing experience, it was pretty spectacular. Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I've seen a movie that's coming out next decade, but if this is the standard for 2020, then we're in for an absolute belter of a year. This is pure cult fun, and I'm glad it kicked of my LFF experience.
This is my first Miike film, so I can't say how it compares to the rest of his filmography, but as an introduction, it definitely got me in the mood to check out more of his stuff. This is one of the most purely enjoyable cinema experiences I've had in ages. It's the perfect blend of comedy, action, romance and balls-to-the-wall craziness. Sometimes it's even weirdly profound in its musings on life, death and loneliness. I have a soft spot for movies that take place over the course of one night, and the way that this film is able to fit such wildly different tones and elements into its plot, while also making them feel completely organic is really special. This feels like that one wild night, one that starts off relatively normal but explodes into something really unique and special. The imagery is surreal and wild, yet weirdly meaningful. True, it's absolutely batshit, but Miike is telling a genuinely sweet story where everything happens for a reason. The crazy stuff is certainly crazy, but every batshit visual is grounded by something with real weight. When it slows down for the conclusion, it wraps up every idea it has presented, and that's when I realised that I really did care about what was going on. I think the crazier you make something, the more you have to build investment in something, and, although there's a lot going on here, you care enough about these two leads for the story beats to properly register. Under the crazy flourishes is something really substantial, and that's what makes it work
Obviously there's a lot more that I could and want to say about this movie, but I'll leave it at this: it was the perfect first festival movie. First Love is buckets of fun, with the exact kind of surreal humour and crazy plot that I never knew I needed. It's honest and genuine as well as being absolutely batshit insane, and also has some of the best side characters of the year (one gangster in particular is especially hilarious). So yeah, I kind of absolutely love this movie. The exhilaration of the whole thing gave me such a buzz, and the fact that I saw it with a huge crowd just added to the atmosphere. Everyone I saw it with was so into it, and as a viewing experience, it was pretty spectacular. Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I've seen a movie that's coming out next decade, but if this is the standard for 2020, then we're in for an absolute belter of a year. This is pure cult fun, and I'm glad it kicked of my LFF experience.
Thursday, 10 October 2019
I'm Going to a Film Festival!
Hey, so this is just a quick update about what's going on. First of all, I'm currently working on my reviews of Ready or Not, Ad Astra and Joker, and they should all be up in the next few days. But the main thing I want to say is that I'm going to the London Film Festival this weekend, which I'm incredibly excited about. I've wanted to go to a festival for ages, and this looks like it's going to be awesome. I'm going to be seeing First Love and A Hidden Life at the LIFF, and I'll post reviews of both of them when I do. First Love looks absolutely wild and I can't wait for the carnage, especially because I've never actually seen a Takashi Miike film. A Hidden Life looks like a return to form for Terence Malick, who I'm a pretty big fan of when he's good, and from the sound of things, he's definitely back on form here. So yeah, that's what's gonna be happening on this blog over the next few days, so get excited for that! As for me, I'm gearing up for my first fest experience!
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