Affirming himself as a truly unique filmmaker with the kaiju mockumentary Dai Nipponjin (2007) and a master of high concept comedy with Symbol, easily one the best films of 2009, comedian/director Hitoshi Matsumoto elevates his peculiar craft to an entirely different level with this jidaigekicomedy that had me crying and gasping of laughter. Like his two previous films, Saya Zamurai (aka Scabbard Samurai) is a high-concept comedy relying on repetition of a very simple and clever idea. When an aging swordless ronin (Takaaki Nori, hilarious) and his young daughter (Sea Kumada) are captured by a feodal lord, they are given 30 days to make his son laugh, who has lost his smile with the passing of his mother. 30 days, one attempt per day – that’s it. And because Matsumoto’s mastery of comedic timing and imagination knows no bounds, hilarity ensues. But in the process, Saya Zamurai manages to become much more than a relentless series of genius gags: a film about the intricacies of creative process behind filmmaking and comedy; a film about the absurdity of bushido, mortality and life itself; a film experience unlike any you’re going to have this year. Matsumoto elevates comedy to such degrees it becomes humanistic. Saya Zamurai will illuminate your day, have you marvel at the sheer ingenuity of its cinematic devices and, most importantly, take you through a spectrum of emotions that will have you wiping tears off your face.
Joost & Schulman, who caused a bit of a sensation with Catfish last year take the helm of the Paranormal Activity franchise and offer the best installment yet. Telling the story of Katie and Kristi’s childhood haunting (referred to multiple times in the two previous films), Paranormal Activity 3 gloriously recreates the 80’s, from the video format which the film tries (and somewhat succeeds) at emulating digitally to the babysitter trope, exploited brilliantly in the film’s best scene, but also in offering a more playful tone and aesthetic, providing a whole new setting, which will recall, also in atmosphere, Ti West’s much-loved retro-80s The House of the Devil. Scarier and more endearing than its predecessors - in part due to the all-new cast - Paranormal Activity 3 elaborates slightly on the mythology, leaving the viewers to connect some dots and giving itself plenty of space for a 3rd sequel - in fact, leaving much of the questions raised by the sequel unanswered. While the torture-porn genre, as set into motion by Saw, superseded the slasher film as the franchise material of the new millennium, I’m glad to see the mockumentary reality horror genre is finding a way to serialize itself in the form of an interesting, generation-spanning story of familial disintegration and obsessive use of technology. Paranormal Activity 4, which, after this great interlude of sorts, should pick up right where 2 left off, can’t come soon enough. In the meantime, I shall find time to watch the Japanese spin-off/ripoff Paranormal Activity 2: Tokyo Night, which came out last year.
Harmless comedy about a boring white dude that gets cancer (personal favorite Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and his good-spirited stoner friend (Rogen, in character) that “beats the odds”, Jonathan Levine’s 3rd film (following acclaimed indie teenage slasher(!) All The Boys Love Mandy Lane in 2006 and The Wackness in 2008) nonetheless manages to strike a chord with its skillful balance of drama, heartwarming buddy comedy (Seth Rogen, everybody!) and most importantly with its honest depiction of contemporary young adult relationships. Indeed, Joseph Gordon-Levitt makes me (once again; see (500) Days of Summer) reach new heights of onscreen identification with his character, which is perhaps one of the closest cinematic approximations of the way I like to believe I’d handle something like cancer and/or have handled family, relationships and break-ups in the past. Beautiful Bryce Dallas Howard plays the gorgeous and treacherous girlfriend, the irritating Anna Kendrick fills in as the conventional replacement love interest and Angelica Huston (looking like she’s 100 years old) plays the mother, rounding up this good cast and making 50/50, past its conventional and effective comedic nature, definitely worth a look.
What’s not to love about an exceedingly dumb post-New Wave pop musical TV movie starring, fetishizing a bespectacled Anna Karina, scored and composed by Serge Gainsbourg and featuring a young Marianne Faithfull? Not much and everything at the same time. Revolving around a man who is obsessed out of his mind about Anna (Karina) but fails to realize she is a co-worker because of her glasses (no comment), Anna is filled to the brim with Actionist nonsense, New Wave/pop art iconography and musical numbers embodying everything you love as well as everything you hate about the French swingin’ 60s on film. To be experienced at least once - Karina’s looks alone making it all worthwhile.
The comparison is inevitable. With 13 Assassins, Takashi Miike does his best Seven Samurai, but one major distinction remains. Kurosawa’s seminal classic is a deeply humanistic story existing in the post-occupation climate; the Golden Age of Japanese cinema which saw the country produce some of the most touching and resonant films ever made about the human condition and helped cope with the legacy of Imperial militarism that plagued the country for decades and the horrors that brought World War II to its brutal conclusion. This film, on the other hand, is fundamentally different in that ultimately, 13 Assassins it is nothing more than the an bloody spectacle, a celebration of violence from prolific provocateur Takashi Miike. Contextually, the comparison can go no further.
Which isn’t saying that 13 Assassins isn’t great. Because it is. Excellent action film, which perhaps only fails from featuring too many characters one has absolutely no time to identify with despite the near 3h running time, 13 Assassins is also surprisingly political in its intrigue, crafting a realistic and complex feudal world, before burning it to the ground. Miike’s characteristically depraved humor - anal rape, anyone? - also finds its way in the otherwise controlled, deadpan and mainly political first half, mostly baffling but reminding us that 13 Assassins is not a revision of the 1954 classic, but first and foremost an abrasive piece of entertainment, which just happens to have a slow build towards an explosive third act.
Indeed, the film culminates in an hour-long battle, carefully plotted and filled with twists and turns that succeed in their sheer spectacle, but fail to engage on an emotional level. With very little bond created with the samurai - and as the battle narrative becomes unexpectedly concerned by the 13’s loss of control over the whole ordeal - the warriors become nothing more than dead meat for swords to chop through. And with little time spent on the actual bonding inherent to the turning of the town into a labyrinthine trap, the amazing smorgasbord of war tactics and death devices unleashed upon the daimyo’s army, while absolutely, balls-to-the-walls awesome to look at, are not nearly as satisfying as they should have been. The film nonetheless finds a gripping climax through the madness and 13 Assassins’ lack of emotional impetus is grandly compensated with a bloody carnage of epic proportions.
Naritsugu, the film’s main antagonist and evil daimyo, is a perfectely exaggerated Miike villain, enhancing the hyper-reality of the film considerably. His cruelty - as evidenced by one particularly harrowing scene of abuse - knows no bounds, giving the film’s conflict a captivatingly mythical quality. In keeping with the Kurosawa legacy too, the film even finds its Kikuchiyo in Yūsuke Iseya’s Kige character, an invincible mountain man hinted at being a yokai(!). A great film that does all its sets out to do but not much more, 13 Assassins, while built on the shoulder of giants impossible to surpass, is a great time on its own and a welcome change from the melodramatic jidaigeki that are usually produced nowadays.
What Fun We Were Having: 4 Stories About Date Rape (Adam Wingard, 2011)
This anthology film finds hyper-prolific indie director Adam Wingard (read my thoughts on his films HERE) back to the short film format which put him on the map initially. What Fun We Were Having, telling 4 stories thematically centered around rape (“date” being not exactly all there is to it) and mostly lazily connected through characters, ismuch like the director’s aforementioned short film output; quite -sometimes painfully - uneven, but nonetheless interesting.
“Hot Boys”, irritatingly offensive and stereotypical in its characterization and offering no satisfying ending, aside from the expected rape and display of strobe effects, is undeniably the worst segment of the bunch, opening the film mediocrely but luckily leading to better things.
“The Sleep Creep” is a slow build towards an absolutely skin-crawling conclusion, which, while operating within set expectations and coming off as no surprise at all, still manages to pack a punch because of its implications.
Starring A Horrible Way to Die’s A.J. Bowen as the proverbial sprinkled sprinkler, ”The Meat Man” offers a welcome, somewhat comedic gender reversal, taking the idea of rape, which thus far has been handled very close to reality, and putting it into a slightly more fantastical and absurd context.
“The Fuck Up”, starring Joe Swanberg once again - which I have to admit I’m growing very fond of - is without a doubt the best segment of the whole and the only one in which “date” truly applies. Pleasantly ambiguous, 100% probable and most realistic, it is also the only segment which isn’t tainted by Wingard’s usual hipster entourage; featuring instead two relatable characters involved in a bone-chilling situation where sexual desires, inebriation and resulting lack of inhibition collide into one regrettable act.
Flowing together nicely mostly because of its strong colors and particular aesthetic - Christmas lights, again! - What Fun We Were Having has the particularity of building towards a great conclusion quite steadily. Scripted by Wingard, joigned by his regular screenwriters Simon Barett (A Horrible Way to Die) and E.L. Katz (Home Sick, Pop Skull), all of the film’s dialogue was improvised, which, aside from being perfectly à propos considering Wingard’s ridiculous work pace, proves grandly enjoyable when handled by Bowen or Swanberg especially.
With two strikingly different films already completed and touring the festival circuit; the romantic comedy Auto-erotic, co-directed by Joe Swanberg and You’re Next, a seemingly straight-forward looking home invasion horror film, What Fun We Were Having seems to signal the end of Wingard first cycle of films, which by building upon each others’ aesthetics, using a lot of the same actors and serving as undeniable platforms for experimentation, succeed and fail to varying degrees. Nonetheless an established unique and fearlessly productive voice in the landscape of independent genre filmmaking, Wingard’s work deserves to be discovered and I’m quite interested to see where is career takes him next.
Aside from having one of the best credit songs of the whole franchise (which, when I realized I was as subconsciously eagerly anticipating Kanye West to start rapping over, painfully reminded me of my age and place in the constantly remixed pop culture), this seventh Bond adaptation - and last starring Sean Connery- made me realize two things: 1) how silly the Bond franchise used to be and 2) how I need to read my way through the books. I’ve been halfway through Casino Royale for for a year (I’m a terrible reader, if you didn’t know yet) and I’m sure the books are tremendous reads. Overall, the great Bond girls, as portrayed by Jill St. John and brief Lana Wood, excellent sequences (moon buggy chase? come on!) and context in which I saw this film amply made up for the overly convoluted narrative and lackluster villain.
Yep…Still catching up on Fantasia reviews - although on my own time now! I hate the fact this is my first John Landis! And since the Thriller video doesn’t really count, I’m guessing one has to start somewhere. For what it is, this latest telling of the Burke and Hare murders that took place in Edinburgh in 1827-‘28, is a very successful film, following countless adaptations (the most famous of which is perhaps the 1971 version of the same name) and having the particularity of turning two hideous murderers into lovable doofuses knees deep in the macabre. Pegg and Serkis are obviously great as the titular grave-robbers, production design is through the roof and the humor rarely - if ever - fails. The film also stars Jessica Hynes (yay Spaced reunion!) and features cameos from Ray Harryhausen and Burke(!) himself!
That said, nothing in the movie could’ve rivaled with the hour-long Q&A Landis granted us with following the screening, during which he shared many stories, such as the one in which he had to defend DePalma’s Dressed to Kill to Hitchock, who took offense in critics calling it “Hitcockian”. A hilariously vulgar, witty and irritated Hitchock that is, who, as soon as Landis defended the film as being an “homage”, denounced it in turn as a fromage. One of the other highlights was the story in which an inebriated John Ford asked him if Peter Bogdanovich was a fag - probably because of the scarf. There are too many things to remember, but it was a tremendously fun time and the best Q&A of the fest, from a notoriously amazing speaker.
If you want to know more about the Burke & Hare murders and films, Kier-la Janisse wrote a jaw-dropping article about their screen history for Spectacular Optical. Read it HERE, it is excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go watch Schlock, Animal House, The Blue Brothers, An American Werewolf in London and all the others in order to keep living with myself.
Somewhat related? The great, lower-budget Glass Eye Pix film I Sell the Dead, which stars the amazing Larry Fessenden and Dominic Monaghan as grave robbers (and serious competititon to Burke and Hare!) involved in various episodic fantastical adventures. Also featuring the talents of Ron Perlman and Guerillas artist Brahm Revel.
Much like 2008’s Pineapple Express, which featured la crème-de-la-crème of Apatow’s slack pack more-or-less playing themselves in an uncharacteristic action film scenario, 30 Minutes or Less finds endearingly awkward Jesse “Not Michael Cera” Eisenberg and the marvelous Aziz Ansari with a very explosive situation on their hands. Also starring Danny McBride and Nick Swardson, Ruben Fleischer’s follow-up to Zombieland is an excellent comedy, packing with as many gags as it can fit in its tight, neat and relentless 80 minutes. Succeeding in its obligatory subversion of (and multiple references to) action movie tropes, the ridiculous plot (involving, if you did not know; Eisenberg’s character being forced to rob a bank by having a bomb strapped to his chest - a situation he could’ve gotten himself out of with a single, thoughtful call to the police…) is carried by fantastic humor and performances, mainly from the the hilarious Aziz Ansari, who unsurprisingly steals the show as the easy-going sidekick. 30 Minutes or Less does not reinvent the wheel, but is a comedy well worth the look, if spending 80 stupidly entertaining minutes in the company of McBride, Ansari, Eisenberg, explosives and a bunch of car chases sounds like a good time to you!
Speaking of stupid: I never thought I’d say this, but I’m officially very excited for A Very Harold & Kumar Christmas 3D (aka Harold & Kumar 3) coming out -prematurely - this November. The trailer, which played before this, is most excellent, making the film look like it’ll feature the most interesting use of 3D since Jackass 3D (or Spy Kids 4D, who knows) and giving me a reason to finally see the second installment and possibly revisit the first film of the moronic, soon-to-be trilogy.
“Freddy Fontaine’s son, brawling on a boat? That the thing local legends are made of…”
In a male-dominated industry and culture, it is easy for films—genre films especially—to be overbearingly and uncomfortably andocentric. While most films have rarely, if ever, had something new to say about male relationships, past the recognized macho-vs.-effeminate conflict that permeates today’s mainstream narratives, it was with great joy and surprise that I witnessed Fantasia 2011 unveil a fascinating selection of films that knowingly or not, addressed issues of masculinity in genuinely refreshing, personal and sometimes brutally honest manners.
Thus it is in the midst of BLEAK NIGHT’s portrait of youth’s competitive cruelty, BELLFLOWER’s exploration of masculine tendencies for self-destruction, WAKE IN FRIGHT’s shattering of class perceptions and THE CORRIDOR’s portrait of shifting masculine friendship in the face of a crisis that BRAWLER, Chris Sivertson’s Southern tale of cage fights and brotherhood, finds its footing. And it proves to be as powerful in its themes, performances and execution as any of the exemplary films mentioned above.
Inspired by New Orleans’ boxing tradition, specifically a true story involving two brothers’ infamous confrontation, BRAWLER explores the love-hate relationship between siblings Charlie and Bobby Fontaine, their careers and declining relationship, as both find themselves stuck in the web of an underground New Orleans riverboat fighting league peripherally run by the mob. Mixing traditional boxing and gambling scenes’ sensibilities with modern-day UFC-style mixed martial arts action into one hot onslaught of kicks and punches, BRAWLER is a highly kinetic film, building upon Big Easy folklore, a striking Southern aesthetic and a hint of Martin Scorsese’s crime-fueled cinematic tour de forces.
Like Scorsese, Sivertson knows that good stories need good characters, and Charlie and Bobby Fontaine, portrayed respectively by Nathan Grubbs and Marc Senter (of Fantasia favorites RED WHITE & BLUE and Sivertson’s previous THE LOST) do more than carry the film; both actors give extremely strong performances, giving their all in superb physical choreography owing nothing to contemporary kung-fu or boxing films, but finding a brutal, dirty style of their own.
The film’s themes of family ring true and deep in the midst of this sun-scarred facet of Americana, and when Grubbs’ appropriately patriarchal Charlie, taking after his father and boxing legend Freddy Fontaine, seeks to settle down and look out for his indebted and recklessly egotistical brother Bobby (brought to energetic life by spitfire and real-life karate black belt Marc Senter), tensions escalate, money stacks up, the mob gets involved and both end up in the ring—facing off against each other.
Also populated by an amazing supporting cast, including MAD MEN’s Bryan Batt and genre favorite Michael Bowen, BRAWLER follows a somewhat predictable plot structure that is made nonetheless unwaveringly fascinating by its two main actors as well as other performers—those behind the camera. Indeed, BRAWLER shines through Zoran Popovic’s cinematography, who gives the film an exhaustingly hot flavor, reminiscent of BELLFLOWER’s sepia-toned lensing. Blocking the fight scenes with great energy, Sivertson turns every confrontation into an event, yet constantly drives the plot forward and gives space for more of the great character interactions at the heart of the film.
In exploring the divide between Charlie and Bobby—who, while growing apart, fail to recognize their need for each other—BRAWLER adresses issues of brotherhood and family (their whole relationship being framed by their father’s death and a VHS tape that once brought them together) in touching and thoughtful ways, while providing enough high-testosterone punches to make it required viewing for action and martial-arts film enthusiasts. Worthwhile for the way it handles its themes and characters rather than its familiar storyline, BRAWLER exists within the welcome grey zones of characterization and features amazing performances bt Senter and Grubbs, making this fighting drama a cut above the rest and one of the most memorable indies of this year’s Fantasia. - via Fangoria: “Brawler” (Fantasia Review)
Charming Finnish buddy comedy, that my brain unfortunately buried under the gazillion other films I saw at Fantasia this year, this was well worth the watch for its immature humor, gorgeous frozen landscape, idiotic slacker shenanigans and typically Scandinavian charm. The film suffers from staying on the safe side - this is no Clown, which I’ll review eventually - and not featuring half as much sex and dick jokes as it could’ve but ultimately, Lapland Odyssey is avery cold, very funny “guys-on-a-stupid-journey” that fans of the genre will surely appreciate.
As an immense fan of West’s THE HOUSE OF THE DEVIL—which I consider to be a nearly flawless film—my expectations for THE INNKEEPERS were through the roof. And in telling his version of a haunted-house story, West had a lot to live up to. THE HOUSE OF THE DEVIL was a bold, stylistic statement, one that had genre fans head over heels at the idea that “less is more” was returning, that horror films could find legitimate scares in moments of silence, careful pacing and unique characters. I expected an expansion of DEVIL’s minimalist style, but THE INNKEEPERS is instead a resolutely conventional ghost story—which, while continuing West’s fascination for spaces, being undeniably effective and supported by likable characters, builds on very few of the potent stylistic elements that made his previous film so admirable.
Starring Sara Paxton and Pat Healy as Claire and Luke, two charming clerks/amateur paranormal investigators working Connecticut’s soon-to-be-closed Yankee Pedlar Inn, THE INNKEEPERS succeeds in how its sets up horrific situations for its characters to dabble in. As amateur, albeit mostly slacker, ghost hunters, Claire and Luke spend the film seeking out apparitions, leading to many playfully expected jump scares, plus terrifying moments near the end that West makes work primarily through composer Jeff Grace’s score. Indeed, with this film, West abandons his previous carefully designed soundcapes in favor of the bombastically overbearing spookhouse music by Grace (also responsible for this year’s amazing STAKE LAND score). The backbone of the cheap haunted-house tricks the film accumulates (which, while managing to grab you on a primal level, are in retrospect quite underwhelming), these compositions are imposing, yet worlds apart from the quiet atmosphere that pervaded HOUSE OF THE DEVIL and made it work so well.
West exhibits great control over his film’s aesthetic, with appropriately lingering and ethereal camerawork, both in mapping out the space and creating tension. Ultimately, though, the time spent with the characters seems insufficient and lacking, and one goes through the narrative wanting more meat to chew on, more details about these two archetypal clerks’ peculiar relationship.
It is clear that with THE INNKEEPERS, West wanted to make a different film, drawing atmospherics and musical cues from 1950s haunted-house narratives and mixing them with the slacker humor of CLERKS. Ultimately, THE INNKEEPERS is enjoyable, but far from outstanding—especially if one considers the glorious crop of economic genre films this edition of Fantasia had to offer (Larry Kent’s EXLEY and Mike Flanagan’s ABSENTIA, which I haven’t reviewed but are both great, come to mind). The last frame, leading to a patience game that could’ve redeemed the film entirely, will disappoint with its obvious resolution, and, in engaging with the viewer so directly, substantiates the fleeting feeling of dissatisfaction THE INNKEEPERS might leave you with. West’s next project shall prove interesting, but in the meantime, allow me to go back to Jocelin Donahue and HOUSE OF THE DEVIL. - via Fangoria: “Fantasia Day 10-12, Part Two”
