Stars Do Thrills and Kills

Stars Do Thrills and Kills!

by Kristin Battestella

Some big names past and present take on murder, mayhem, slashers, and suspense in these intriguing mysteries and fun horrors.

The Eyes of Laura Mars – Barbara Streisand (Guilty) power ballads and photo negatives open this 1978 mystery directed by Irvin Kershner (The Empire Strikes Back) starring photographer Faye Dunaway (The Three Musketeers) and cop Tommy Lee Jones (Stormy Monday). Hazy point of view scissors, saucy magazines, fur coats, and stabbing knives contrast the Deco bedroom accented with multiple mirrors, reversed symmetry, white nightgowns, and strategic lighting glows. The swanky pads come complete with vintage photography, huge cameras, light boxes, print sheets, cases of Polaroid film, and a copy of the titular photography book. Despite dreams of killer crimes, the gallery galas must go on thanks to pushy reporters questioning the steamy, violent photos and whether such photography is just an incendiary fad compared to real artistry. Such topics are immediately fascinating to study then when nudity was relatively new onscreen and now as today's auteur photographer has taken a backseat to instagram filters and cameras everywhere. The edgy pictures here, however, are said to be a reflection of the world – recognizable selling points for our former war zone photojournalist. Funky music and great disco tracks contrast murder questioning as lingerie, lace, and garter belts accent the photo shoot montages with babes pulling each other's hair and cars on fire in the street. Editing matches the rapid fire shutter clicks until blurry visions and more death interfere with the couture and upscale time capsule. Violent stabbings and blood in the eyes overtake the viewpoint as the audience thinks we see more than what is actually shown thanks to the believe what you see or what I tell you duality. The ugly green, harsh police station and its neurotic smoking counters the glamorous scene and the slim, sexy campaign while unpublished crime photos suggest a copycat and cast suspicion on Laura's handsy ex-husband Raul Julia (The Addams Family). Sophisticated friends think she shouldn't mention these psychic visions, however the conversations happen while we're looking through the lense or at the billboards, for the images are distractions from driver Brad Dourif's (Lord of the Rings) rap sheet and details agent Rene Auberjonois (Deep Space Nine) isn't telling. Laura is no nonsense at work but reliant on the men around her once something goes wrong, and the models are to be looked at, used, or killed. Hard line cityscapes, industrial scaffolding, and massive windows are places where a lady can get hurt. Above and below chases, stabbings, shootouts, staircases, and filming through railings harken Hitchcock and Bava as deadly action happens in both the voyeur and the victim's perspectives. Video cameras and television screens filming the sex and violence as titillation layer the within within visuals while pictures within pictures and photographs provide both foreground and background subjects. More through the blinds peering and intercut editing match the slicing crimes as funerals begat admonishing sermons, intruding reporters, and hecklers blaming Laura. Trysts amid the trees and bed of furs zoom in and out of focus, and our photographer is taught how to aim, point, and shoot with a gun instead of the camera. Reflective wrapping paper reveals a picture of the receiver when he wasn't looking before he sings “I'm a jolly good fellow” and decoys of decoys, tails being tailed, and men dressed as women lead to screams, car crashes, and red herrings. Each frame is like looking at a wall of mirrors, creating tunnel vision where the audience, voyeurs that we are, see what we want to see until the double vision becomes one with elevators, shattered windows, slashed throats, and cracked mirrors. Imitators and wise viewers make the finale twists obvious now, however this should be seen more than once for the doubts on what we see as face value and not noticing what's hidden in plain sight.

The Last Horror Film – Cape wearing cabbie who still lives with his mother Joe Spinell (Maniac) fantasizes about directing scream queen Caroline Munro (Dracula A.D. 1972) to awards glory while stalking her at the Cannes Film Festival in this 1982 filmed on the fly slasher also called Fanatic. Boobs, red lights, hot tub shocks, and electrocution screams garner screening room praise amid vintage theater projectors, old film reels, and retro film equipment in a great visual capsule of New York streets, Riviera scenery, and topless beaches. Posters of the day – including the giant, unmistakable legs of For Your Eyes Only – and sly festival cameos contrast radio reports about Jodi Foster's stalker and creepy collage shrines of Munro as Jana Bates. Our obsessed wannabe blends in with the wild parties, filming within filming set ups, and crowded red carpet for his hefty but then innocuous on the shoulder camera is just one of many like today's fan encounters never in the moment but via the ubiquitous smartphone. Calls to the producer with script ideas for his leading lady mirror today's chance for anybody to @ a celebrity on social media while love triangles parallel the life imitating art relationships on and off screen. There's 212 phone numbers, too – no 555! Busy vignette filming with night clubs and neon slow the shoestring plot, yet the obviously bad toppling heads, slit throats, and slow motion scares blur the film within a film wink. Prophetic throwaway mentions of women wanting to talk film business pushed aside by producers looking for nude starlets accent debates about not needing security because the audience understands the difference between reality and illusion, actress versus character, and violence or bad influences onscreen. It's chilling how easy it is for one man to gain star access, but police suspect the crimes supposedly being committed must be performance art promotion for a horror movie – again not unlike today's fine line between PR and real life with social media photoshop and accidentally on purpose pap strolls. Babes frolicking on the beach taunt the weirdo who wants to watch before blinding spotlights in the cinema, silhouettes against the blank screen, and gory ax slices as the intercut editing merges the fantasies of our horny, disturbed director with onscreen stabs, gouged hearts, and fake blood everywhere. The audience eats popcorn while he bursts into the bathroom ready to pop the cork on his champagne, and the soundtrack fits the frenetic mental state. Lack of awareness on any wrong doing and rejection from his favorite star lead to chases through the festival wearing nothing but towels – and the cheering crowd doesn't help because they think such a fabulous entrance must be a publicity stunt. Lookalikes and security can't stop the backstage abductions as the old school horror leaves the festival for country villas and an over the top candlelight vampire meets chainsaw finale. The varying versions' gore contrasting Cannes unevenness and horror versus humor mixed tone add to the somewhat frustrating haphazard filming, however the winks come together in the end with the open for interpretation saucy, bemusement, and entertainment.

Spinning Man – Sunny lakeside fun turns into ominous docks and police blotters in this 2018 thriller starring professor Guy Pearce (Prometheus), detective Pierce Brosnan (GoldenEye), and wife Minnie Driver (Phantom of the Opera). Foreboding flashes, yellow tape, and photos of the deceased keep restarting the story alongside snippets of seemingly happy family fun, pieces of conversations, and disjointed exposition. The professors debate hypothetical opportunities with young students and guilt versus objective reason, but working out while the students look leads to crushes, stolen glances, and unspoken flirtations accented by the camera's focusing on a smile longer than it should or lingering on the long puff of a cigarette. Family collisions, questioning versus alibis, and rival smooth, however, are enough without unnecessary hot and heavy fantasizing and back and forth intercuts. Sometimes our professor is cool, yet other times he protests where there seems to be no reason. The detectives insist this is all routine, but the viewer understands the interplay without the story resorting to sensationalism as many crime and procedurals often do. Paralleling police mirrors or the man made small and isolated in the frame visuals accent interrogations while careful editing matches the police questioning and family arguments. Again unnecessary flashes of running in the woods break the suspect or family man tension when in the classroom philosophizing and literal versus figurative plays on words build better suspicion. It's easy to talk one's way out of anything if you interpret truth as subjective, and whispers about previous students and patterns of behavior mean treading carefully in the semantics with our pesky yet thorough detective. They're both searching for the truth, but the close to the vest police unnerve their suspect with their own existential theories. The timelines don't add up, and the impounded vehicle certainly points to our professor. Lawyers, however, provide realistic doubts on the circumstantial evidence – runaways instead murder despite suspect lipstick and traps lying in wait. Awkward family trips acerbate the narcissistic blaming and maybe maybe not memories ironically a la Memento. No one says what they actually mean and a mother must protect her children even if she doubts her husband. Perception on who's guilty and deception that doesn't make one look good provide duality, for hiding suspect behavior may be as innocent as putting up missing posters for a child's pet you know to be dead or as bad as rationalizing a scandal that puts the entire university in jeopardy. A son may put on a cape and pretend to be someone else but as adults we choose the destructive facades we wear. While this straightforward did he or didn't he doesn't underestimate the audience, it is slow in some spots thanks to the round and round. Viewers looking for tense a minute will also be let down as this is really a character drama misrepresented as a thriller. Fortunately, the fine ensemble and dramatic performances provide mature introspection as the lies and what is believed to be the truth come full circle.

I Didn't Finish this Skipper:

Slasher Season 2: Guilty Party – This eight episode 2017 installment now billed as a Neflix original gets off to a very rough start with shades of Friday the 13th and I Know What You Did Last Summer. Hip camp counselors take a snowy drive with rad music to revisit a past crime before torches and a hazing gone wrong lead to a bloody picnic blanket, dumping bodies, and screams. Unfortunately, everyone is an immediately unlikable horror stereotype deserving of what comes to them. Supply stop cliches and warnings from the experts add more seen this horror movie before deja vu, and summer staff lacking in proper outdoor clothing inexplicably know how to drive snowmobiles after complaining about how much they dislike winter activities. Now the retreat is a commune with likewise trite tree huggers suspicious in their lack of suspicions, as apparently they don't hear the loud arguing and x marks the spot map where the counselors fear a new developer putting in tennis courts will discover their buried secrets. Sudden chainsaw action and gruesome eviscerations are tough to appreciate when far too many characters are throw at the screen amid more contrivances for the obvious unknown witness and/or family member revenge. From taking a vote to call the police after saying murder is not a democracy to the drinking game for each time the hysterical snob tells everyone else to calm down and everybody telling each other to “fuck off” like it's “goodnight” on The Waltons – terrible dialogue acerbates the intercut unevenness between the shouting killer crowd versus the happy whispering commune. The original camp flashbacks are more interesting than the present but the back and forth also undercuts any current tension. Strung up skeletons and ominous tracks in the snow wouldn't sustain a weekly viewing if this were a traditional series nor can the scary shocks hide the laughable action and intestines wrapped around a snowman preposterous. Emo counselors crying wolf and making themselves the victim repeatedly ask why someone is doing this – because the “I know you killed her” bloody writing on the wall isn't explanation enough? Sabotaged vehicles, bloody packages, and stupid people who don't know they are in a horror movie thinking a thirty mile hike in the winter night is better than staying in a safe building create inexplicable motivations while brief wolf perils, frostbite, being lost in the woods, and a hitherto unknown medical expert among the crowd are no surprise. Dual timelines and the all over the place ensemble can't compensate for the too thin for eight episodes derivatives. Most disturbing, however, are the racist undertones over a seriously problematic love triangle with a black man and Indian girl desperate to fit in with the white Mean Girls. After two episodes, the only person dressed for the outdoors is the somehow unseen killer in a bright orange parka, and gouged eyes or snapped necks have no deeper, vengeful meaning beyond varying the gore. There's no reason to care about who lives or dies, and reading the remaining episode summaries provides cannibalism, rape, more characters who happened to visit the isolated retreat, a just missed it plane flying by rescue, and conveniently found old camp files among yet more numerous reasons to tune out ASAP.

The Three and Four Musketeers

The Three and Four Musketeers Double the Swashbuckling Charm

by Kristin Battestella

Producers Alexander and Ilya Salkind (Superman) and director Richard Lester (A Hard Day's Night) infamously doubled the adventure with 1973's The Three Musketeers and its 1974 sequel The Four Musketeers. Despite the behind the scenes two for the price of one controversy, both films remain charming with supersized Dumas spirit.

Young d'Artagnan (Michael York) is off to join the King's Musketeers. Unfortunately, he immediately finds himself dueling with not one but three musketeers – the brooding Athos (Oliver Reed), boisterous Porthos (Frank Finlay), and religious but romantic Aramis (Richard Chamberlain). d'Artagnan seizes the chance to assist the musketeers in fighting the villainous Rochefort (Christopher Lee), henchman to the ruthless Cardinal Richelieu (Charlton Heston), who also conspires against the King of France with Milady de Winter (Faye Dunaway) amid stolen diamonds, secret letters, kidnappings, and revenge.

 Opening crescendos, swords slices, and clanging metal set the tone for The Three Musketeers, which is also subtitled as The Queen's Diamonds. Our young hero isn't quite ready for this outfit with training tumbles, bungling in the mud, and swinging and missing his quarry amid rowdy musketeers, snotty enemies, and sassy attitudes. The Three Musketeers is truly cavalier with bawdy drinking, chuckling errors, and winking asides – swords are cut in half, library shelves domino over, scaffolding below makes a lover look more heroic when he jumps out the window, and courtiers try to organize the king's dogs into playing life size chess in the park. The well edited comedic timing isn't slapstick, leaving room for French quips and tag team dead pans. Against odds melees versus the Cardinal's Guards provide a variety of action gags and fighting tricks accented by up close winks, overhead shots, and wide angles. The intense pace is done in camera – The Three Musketeers doesn't have to cut corners with editing or special effects because everyone's kick ass shows. Granted, the musketeers aren't fully developed as characters beyond their lighthearted distinctions and some humorous padding is unnecessary. However, the ensemble is up to any task with the right delivery and period gravitas be it intrigue or wit, providing charming moments that keep this familiar tale fresh without obvious cues. Unlike contemporary romps, The Three Musketeers doesn't need to show excessive raunchy thanks to subtle romantic winks and rowdy laundry house brawls. The coordinated thieving, horseback races, hidden passages, and betrayals culminate at the grandiose ball before The Four Musketeers brings viewers right back where we left off with narrations and credits showing highlights from The Three Musketeers. Now that d'Artagnan is a musketeer, the swashbuckling rescues continue as our eponymous soldiers must thwart the subtitled Milady's Revenge before battlefield canons and firing squad target practice where no one can hit a thing. Although serious talk on coups and religious strife becomes somewhat lost thanks to kidnappings, intercepted messages, primitive submarine inventions, and daring escapes; tender flashbacks deepen character histories. Swords, poisons, and feathers fly as hiding in the water trough ruses and stilts versus attack dogs don't work. In The Four Musketeers, the famous trio has more to do, yet their convenient rescues feel deus ex machina easy amid the disjointed plots – dilemmas are quickly resolved without the wither tos and why fors because the focus here is enjoying the good guys versus the bad guys and their daring fights upon frosty bridges and frozen lakes. The terribly risky but unique action looks like a lot of fun, keeping the swash in swashbuckler alongside deceptions, confrontations, and darker aspects of the novel that many adaptations gloss over in favor of Hollywood trite. A lot's happening with protestant versus catholic, England versus France, Buckingham plots, and front line encampments – the sieges, assassinations, and strangulations at times conflict with the humorous nunnery disasters. Villains montage over Tower of London captures and La Rochelle victories as carriage chases and superb one on one sword fights keep the kicking butt pace before a fiery finale with killers in disguise, executions, revenge, and consequences.

What's not to love about Michael York's (Romeo and Juliet) young, handsome, and sweaty d'Artagnan? The foolish farm boy cum wannabe musketeer is bonked on the head when picking his first fight but has all the roguish charm required – tipping his hat to a lady before promising to kill her other male friend and scaling the vines to her balcony even if he doesn't exactly make it to the window. d'Artagnan is earnest in love and war but is only granted a musketeer consideration because of his renowned father while he proves his worth. He's spirited but has a lot to learn as one woman after another tries to get into bed with him or use him for her own motives. d'Artagnan can't outwit the Cardinal but knows not to accept his duplicitous offer even as he blindly and blissfully does what the Queen tells him to do. The Three Musketeers is largely about him doing most of the bumbling or heroics himself with only peripheral musketeer assistance. By The Four Musketeers, however, d'Artagnan understands where Athos is coming from as the men bond in the tavern over the women they are supposed to love. Oliver Reed's (Paranoiac) Athos is an angry, ornery, sarcastic, and serious but drunken leader reluctant to join d'Artagnan's follies – the dark horse rarely seen in his musketeer frock. There has perhaps never been a more perfect casting, as Reed is definitely believable as a chip on his shoulder drunk wild man with a sword. The Four Musketeers recalls his ruined romance with Milady, and her murderous deception haunting Athos gives Reed some scene chewing when this not one but two movies ploy ironically doesn't provide much meaty drama for the ensemble. Fortunately, Athos becomes like an elder brother to d'Artagnan, threatening to kill anyone who touches a hair on his head – all for one and one for all and all that.

Richard Chamberlain's (The Thorn Birds) Aramis prays during a duel, but it is just another crafty musketeer ruse. In fact, Aramis barely talks in both films, merely standing around a lot and looking pretty when not in the steam bath. He does suggest one plan of action, but of course it goes completely awry with a kick in his groin to boot. Frank Finlay's (Othello) larger than life Porthos also knocks folks on the head with whatever is handy and picks the pocket of a man who's down for the count. Porthos is a gambler making bets on silly games when not eating and drinking in battle. He's sure to make a fighting spectacle in the marketplace so they can steal more wine, and his silly way of fighting – like dropping pots on the bad guys – always helps at the perfect moment. Both Aramis and Porthos are portrayed as a more circus styled duo where one can't seem to do anything without the other. Neither is fully developed and both seem to be there just because they have to be, bemusing as their moments are. Likewise, Raquel Welch (Fantastic Voyage) as dressmaker Constance Bonacieux has being a klutz as her main character development. She's perky, bouncy, and uses a delicate nightie to her advantage when not catching d'Artagnan's eye. Her husband's weakness and the Queen's confidence in her are merely plot devices before she herself is used in a kidnapping scheme in The Four Musketeers that plays for both rousing humor and shocking, well, shocks. 

It's immediately clear to start The Three Musketeers that Charlton Heston's (The Omega Man) Cardinal Richelieu is that selfish kind of Man of God. He has parades to himself and pays the bystanders to be there, stands out in his purple regalia at court, and talks out both sides of his mouth to the King. Richelieu uses the Queen's affairs with Buckingham to pressure the King, gaining information from the top as well as his tormented underlings. He captures people and tortures them only to release them with money so they will become his friend – effortlessly creating a network of spies and manipulation while he remains Teflon and Rochefort does his really dirty work. Richelieu has the most dialogue thanks to his numerous plots yet insists he has no personal enemies – only the enemies of France. Christopher Lee also looks even more nefarious with his eye patch and attitude as Rochefort. He's suave in contesting the Cardinal's plans even if he fears and hates him, and I would have loved to see these two together in more than some blink and you miss it moments in Julius Caesar. Lee has a rough, physical role and must match wits with each musketeer – even if he's always foiled. Likewise charming and deceiving in white or pristine in pearls, Faye Dunaway's (Don Juan DeMarco) Milady de Winter is undressed so all her clandestine weapons can be pulled from inside her frock. The ladies also have some dust ups before the boys come diving in through the window, and Milady has more to do in The Four Musketeers – such as luring d'Artagnan to her chamber for some poisonous daggers about the bed. Down shots over her bosom or close ups upon her lips reflect her temptation, and Milady knows how to use her femininity to serve her fatal nature or make her jailer fall in love with her and kill on command. Again, I'd loved to have seen more of her in league with Rochefort, but Milady remains ruthless right to the end.

Of course, when you end up shooting two movies for the price of one, the colorful production values between those pictures remain seamless with rousing scores invoking the medieval fun amid extensive duels, zany acrobatics, awning leaps, and clothesline spins. Such stunts happen fast and in camera, natural action rather than a superficial, slow motion effect. Horses, country roads, cobblestone squares, and authentic buildings accent the Spanish filming locations as bleak dungeons, barren quarters, and stained green patinas of the poor contrast the marble palaces, grand staircases, and massive chandeliers. Capes and big hats with even bigger plumes set off the regal carriages, red interiors, luxurious bedrooms, and vintage weaponry – daggers nestle inside the corsets even as the cinched bosoms nearly burst from the colorful frocks, fabrics, and sparkling parures. The costumes reflect one's station as the crowded, dirty, plain marketplace bustles against the pompous regalia and music likewise reflects the whimsical of the musketeers or leisurely at court. While some may find the complex fight choreography stagnate thanks to today's flash and dazzle whirlwinds; it's pleasing to completely see the difficult riverside sword action, frigate raids, and night time duels by lantern light. The actors earned their cuts and bruises in these melees with no CGI assistance in the realistic, well filmed battle scenes. Strangely, the DVDs offer options for widescreen or full-frame viewing, and the lack of subtitles can make audiences miss some of the sarcastic asides and quick quips. Thankfully, both videos offer half hour behind the scenes features with some of the late cast recalling the twofer controversies, elaborate fights, and incomparable Oliver Reed.

Despite some ups and downs in adapting the written humor and peril, The Three Musketeers is a straightforward story in full spirit of the novel. The superficial characterizations could have been deeper, but they don't have to be thanks to the roguish charm, courtly adventure, and witty personality continued in The Four Musketeers. Kids can laugh at the swashbuckler visuals while adults can chuckle at the cavalier innuendo. Though intended as one epic film split in two after the fact, The Three Musketeers and The Four Musketeers can be viewed together or separately for a timeless escapade.

Gothic Adaptations and Literary Mysteries

Gothic Adaptations and Literary Mysteries

by Kristin Battestella

Although some of these contemporary movies and miniseries based on books are better than others are, the literary adaptations herein exude plenty of gothic atmosphere, mood, and mystery.

The Limehouse Golem – Sublime frocks, décor, carriages, and top hats accent the 1880 bodies in the bed, poisoned cordials, and bloody riddles opening this 2016 serial killer about Londontown adapted by Jane Goldman (X:Men: First Class) from the Peter Ackroyd novel. Red gore, orange lighting, and green hues befitting the title join pink and gold dance halls, sing songs, and theatrical cross dressing as Bill Nighy's (Underworld) Inspector Kildare avoids the sensational headlines and public bloodlust in favor of handwriting analysis and murderous journals. Messy footprints, missing police reports, and polluted crime scenes don't need any modern stylistic intrusions – the intercut discovery mixed with on stage recountings of the kills, disjointed past and present point of views, and non-linear editing are unnecessary. Fast moving abusive childhood flashbacks within murder trials when we've hardly met everybody make the focus of the story unclear, the assistant constable repeats everything the inspector already knows just for redundant audience exposition, and the gay comments about Kildare are useless. Famous names, library clues, dance hall girls, jealous playwrights, and life imitating art plays let the evidence speak for itself, piecing together the case with scribble in the book margins, secondhand shop keeper connections, and inspector deduction. Distorted voiceovers, violent slicings, backstage nudity, accidents on theater stairs, and religious undercurrents set off the deceased's recounting of the crimes in fantasy-esque flashbacks repeated with each suspect as the killer. These brutal horror reenactments compete with the song and dance flashbacks, but they also help blur the investigation as important details aren't shared with the kangaroo trials, distracting the audience as information is given and taken for shock value or cinematic reasons when key evidence, set ups, and relationships would be obvious if anyone but Kildare was paying attention. The persons of interest, backstage investigations, play clues, deflection, and one on one interviews are better once the flashbacks stop and the real time case proceeds. There must be a reason why the crimes have stopped – what we need to know is given in the opening scene – and all the back and forth delaying belies viewers into how little time has passed and why the police are unaware the killer hasn't struck again. Longtime viewers of British period mysteries may see through this faulty veneer with padding misinformation and meandering backstory in need of tighter direction rather than style over substance. Fortunately, there's an interesting mystery, multiple suspects, numerous kills, and suspicious ties between them as the execution order counts down to the finish. The infamous show must go on no matter how many people die for it, and this is fun for fans of Steampunk style mysteries.

Rebecca – Artistic ingenue Emilia Fox (Merlin) – companion to wealthy gossip Faye Dunaway (Don Juan DeMarco) – is smitten by the suave yet mysterious Charles Dance (Bleak House) in this 1997 three hour Masterpiece adaptation of the Daphne Du Maurier novel. Sublime style, flapper headbands, candlelight, and long stem cigarettes add to the whirlwind 1927 Riviera's scenic drives, classic convertibles, and charming hats. Unlike the immediately gothic gray scale of Alfred Hitchcock's 1940 version, vivid color and visual depth layer this initially idyllic romance. Our unusual couple have each been shy, lonely, and sad, but Maxim de Winter admires this young lady's innocence and honesty compared to the gilded aristocracy. Picnics, boat rides, a silly girl, a foolish old man – can they make a go of their differences? The dangerous curves and perilous drives suggest something slightly sinister brewing amid glimpses of the unforgettable and beloved by all Rebecca. It's been a year since her death, yet everyone must remind Maxim of his late wife upon this surprising second marriage. The newlyweds return to the lovely English gardens and proper decorum at Manderley, the estate where the Emmy winning Diana Rigg's (On Her Majesty's Secret Service) icy housekeeper Mrs. Danvers won't let go of the first Mrs. DeWinter's memory. The household reception is awkward and chilly – the coastal brightness turns darker thanks to shadow schemes, lighting changes, and the looming silhouettes of both Mrs. Danvers and Rebecca. Despite being a large estate with a west wing facing the sea, the hefty staircases, huge windows, and great fireplace feel congested, closing in on the new, nervous Mrs. as she gets lost wandering the shuttered parts of the house, breaks priceless statues, and hangs her head like an admonished little girl. She doesn't fit into the upper class routine, but the brooding, often misunderstood Maxim doesn't want her to become like those other cruel, aristocratic dames. Everyone is so heavy handed, formal, and not just unhelpful but resentful of how unlike Rebecca she is, and the couple regrets returning home to the rocky cliffs, beach side cottages, and distrustful staff. Crazy hermits, past gossip, vogue cousins too close for comfort, recreating previous fancy dress balls, and one big costuming faux pas strain the relationship further, but she can't exactly ask her new husband about why the pieces on how Rebecca drowned aren't coming together. Her room is still kept as is, almost in worship where our devoted housekeeper can express her creepy vicarious and pathetic intimacy, re-enacting brushing her madam's hair and laying out her perfumed night gown. Was Rebecca really so perfect? If she wasn't would anybody actually say so? Her presence is overwhelming – not because of any actually supernatural mood or ghost, but because the obsessed Mrs. Danvers won't let anyone forget, placing the fanatical pressures of her devotion on the second Mrs. de Winter. Foreboding strings add more ominous, however the suspense is certainly helped by Maxim's not coming clean on his life with Rebecca at the start. While some scenes are very similar to Hitchcock's vision, this is also closer to the novel, and even if you've seen other adaptations, viewers are swept up in wondering how the secrets will play out in the finale. Fog, vintage boats, watery evidence, mistaken identities, inquests – the circumstances surrounding Rebecca's life and death come to light, but our servant oversteps her bounds with cruelty, jealousy, and bullying suicidal whispers just to assure the Rebecca everyone thought they knew and loved won't die. Though more romantic than true crime, the fresh love and warped liaisons are told swift and honestly as the scandalous true colors are revealed with fainting spells, medical discoveries, fiery rescues, and kisses in the rain. Indeed all the gothic staples are here with period mood and performances to match.

Split Opinion

The Moonstone – This five part 2016 series based on the Wilkie Collins novel opens with funerals, church bells, top hats, and tombstones before gloomy Yorkshire estates and a family cursed to unhappiness thanks to the eponymous plundering. Flashbacks to the pleasant year before recount the colorful gowns, piano music, painting, kissing cousins, and birthday gifts. There are, however, prowlers, suspicious visitors, dangerous beaches, melodramatic maids, rival suitors, and awkward dinners. This was not the day to quit tobacco! One and all pass around the diamond – broadcasting its whereabouts before immediately suspecting the “gibberish speaking” foreigners among them of its theft. The hysterical birthday girl doesn't want a public scandal, refusing to speak with the police who bungle the case with a contaminated scene thanks to a meddling maid made obvious by the ominous music. Men are worried about rectifying their reputations over the lost gem, but one wonders why they go through the trouble when the lady herself impedes them amid nonsensical red herrings, cluttered pacing, spliced editing, and foreboding fake outs. The revisiting flashbacks and present conjecture interrupt the tension with coming and going scenes or up and down stairs transitions stalling the seeking of clues while questionable colonial aspects, off humor, and poor acting parodies the deduction with overly pompous, long winded dialogue, and faux sophistication. London to Yorkshire travel looks instantaneous, and timeline breaks should bookend episodes only instead of deflecting the mystery. A ham-fisted superintendent, busybody relations, and back and forth blaming contests hinder the case further with stupid snobbery. Itemized prophecies with clues, convoluted letters, second hand evidence, and missing people string the messy in the wrong direction. The meandering points of view and uneven framing don't build characters or suspense, and viewers already have precious little sympathy since our supposedly so in love cousin so adamant about the girl and resolving the theft up and left for an entire year. Timely deaths, mysterious wills, suspicious marriage proposals, and coastal rescues finally provide something incriminating halfway thru Episode Four as love sick letters recount how the subservient people of the house were lost amid all the upper class hullabaloo. Eyewitness unreliability and laudanum stupor add to the painting clues and prospective motives while secret passages and potential suicides culminate in jeweler trades, bank stakeouts, and bodies at the hotel. Although this comes together in the last half hour, the presentation continually goes back to the night of the crime where it never should have left all the action in the first place. Characters themselves ask how they are always back where they started, but the insipid performances can't disguise the Twelve Days of Christmas cumulative – each hour adds a superfluous person who knows what happened then who travels to read a letter revealing what happened the Monday after the Wednesday that the moonstone was stolen. Such treading tires impedes the game afoot, and there's never a sense that anyone is closer to solving the mystery. This is fine for audiences who like period piece whodunits, yet such an audience is already well versed enough to be frustrated by this piecemeal structure. The series is twice as long as it should be when a streamlined, feature length design would have sufficed. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Disappointing

Labyrinth – Christopher Smith (Black Death) directs medieval heroine Jessica Brown Findlay (Downton Abbey), bad girl Katie McGrath (Merlin), Malfoy in a greasy wig Tom Felton (Harry Potter), gigolo writer never seen writing Sebastian Stan (Avengers: Infinity War), annoying creep Emun Elliot (The Paradise), and the under utilized John Hurt (Only Lovers Left Alive) in this 2012 two-parter based upon the Kate Mosse book. Opening scrolls set the 1209 Carcassonne scene with Catharism sects, reincarnation, and Holy Grail secrets before contemporary archaeology digs and caves with ancient writings. Although the men's armor looks cheap, the medieval costumes have the right silhouette – healers, herbs, and woodwork create period detail while scenic bridges, horses, and country beauty belie ominous bodies in the river, missing fingers, and mysterious books. Unfortunately, this telling of two tales at once is immediately confusing with lookalike sisters both introduced in sex scenes with the same man and a modern woman who takes on this archaeology thing after a bad break up, goes into a cave during an earthquake, and is rightfully chastised for her amateur contamination of the site. While a book can go back and forth per chapter, this television film juggles too much. The Old Speaketh is try hard and everybody in France speaks unaccented English as crusader persecutions are intercut with good cop/bad cop interrogations. Secret brotherhood meetings, double crossing contacts, another corporate woman introduced with a nooner – we're still meeting everybody an hour into the story thanks to the spliced presentation. Longer scenes building tension between the sisters, car accident shockers, and hooded rituals with candles and daggers better show the medieval past and present, and the two parts should have had all the past action naturally building to the present intrigue. Why tell in a current research montage when we can see that past suspense? The uneven structure cheats with women from different times in the same frame or place just for visual effect, delaying the storytelling with attempted edgy. Hot guys in the pool, iPod mentions – leave your number by typing it into some man's phone, is that for real? – and forced chemistry aren't as interesting as a Book of Potions or religious protectors. Secret society bad guys chase something so important one moment only to call it an irrelevant loose end the next, people with answers go unutilized, and clues are waiting in an inherited house but nobody goes there. A righteous thug with a silencer shooting people for not going to confession and information easily given that should have come sooner are too convenient as neither past nor present is primary thanks to no sense of danger and the thin women's tropes such as the one-dimensional illegitimate naked bad girl scorned threatening a man with cries of rape. It's also tough to enjoy the trebuchets, sieges, fire, and cemeteries when all the miscast, messy, mansplaining men are so weak in battle. Although the opening scenes suggest a mystical connection, there is no point to these separate stories being told in parallel. Neither receives the attention it deserves, leaving the medieval hollow despite serious topics and the present lacking an intelligent mystery that doesn't know its audience. While the men in such adventures can handle the Holy Grail, reincarnation, immortality, and get the girl; with women the medieval must be all jealous affairs and a soap opera sappy choice between a lover or the greatest religious and archaeology discovery ever. Boo!

Recent Horror Questionables

Recent Horror Split Decisions

By Kristin Battestella

When watching horror across the decades, one thing always seems to stand out: most recent macabre movies are kind of iffy.  Whether it’s a case of miscasting, poor effects, or weak scripts, here’s a quick look at a few 21^st century films full of undecided ho-hum or what could have been.

The Divide – Michael Biehn (Aliens), Rosanna Arquette (Desperately Seeking Susan), and Courtney B. Vance (Law & Order: Criminal Intent) star in this freaky and dirty dystopian tale with a conflicted identity. It takes several starts to get going- a disaster, credits, black outs, frenetic camera work, strobe lighting, and action that’s so fast the audience can’t tell what’s happening. Somber music notes capture the desolation as people go nuts early in this crappy, dusty basement; but these depressing montages conflict with the in your face photography. Everyone freaks out as expected, but one critical twist happens too early and is subsequently never touched upon again. Is this SF action or social serious? The Unrated Version may polish the character development, but it is frustrating to the viewer when the plot can go either way and there are two cuts of the film.  The two full hours here are both not enough thanks to the confusion and too long over the slow motion breakdown onscreen. I understand the attempt at substance, but the editing is poor and the plot unbalanced. It’s tough to tell who is who, and all the titular division, paranoia, and desperation can’t exactly be highly stylized with such dirty subject matter. The breakdown of an already fractured group of people is nicer than the herky jerky action start, but the story still degrades into mindless shock value and becomes forced as weak and crazy men create the need for an action woman and veiled political statements. The make up and plausible collapse of health and social systems may be good, but who wants to watch a disaster movie where the assholes end up in charge? This could have been a fine film, but even if a final explanation was given or the ball not dropped on such a significant twist, this one simply can’t end well. What’s an audience to do?

Evil Eyes – The writer-within-a-film-frame aspects of this 2004 thriller intrigued me, but considering it’s a video direct from that pesky low budget embarrassing genre grist mill The Asylum, one can’t expect glory. Already dated thanks to old cameras, phones, laptops, and headphones, the VHS and newspaper clippings in the plot further detract from this contemporary-set film and make it seem even more low budget old. Weird colors and dream photography, jagged angles, unflattering up shots, and music cues are a little too on the nose.  Several breakings of the fourth wall are also too obvious. Sure, the premise is a bit familiar, but it’s sound and doesn’t need all these over the top misses. Simple shots of a blank screen with a blinking cursor in the corner are chilling enough. Udo Kier (Shadow of the Vampire) is a perfectly slick and shady Hollywood executive, but Adam Baldwin (Firefly) is tough to believe as a down on his luck screenwriter to start. Somehow, we expect him to be bad or crazy not the everyman, and the character improves as the twisted action, suspicion, and madness intensify. Is it coincidence that he writes and bad things happen or is it fate? Unfortunately, there isn’t enough mood or atmosphere despite some good gore.  Except for overboard plugs for Dreamworks, the tone here is all about the on the cheap and it just doesn’t go far enough.  It’s not all bad, but everything turns out a little too trite with a dumb ending.

Jennifer’s Shadow – Also called Chronicles of the Raven stateside, this 2004 spooky has a lot going for it. Faye Dunaway (Mommie Dearest) looks classy as always and has fun with all the freaky birds and macabre. The music is moody, adding to the disturbing atmosphere and scary night terrors. Although a full on gothic feeling might have been better served had this been a complete period piece, silent, demented action and chase scenes build the sinister intensity.  The language beats, however, feel weird. There’s a stilted English and Spanish mix that should have been one or the other, not a “No habla espanol bien” bumbling. We never get a real Argentine flavor, either. The dark photography and muted palette are also tough to see at times, and the audience can figure out the curse exposition and obvious twists before their fairly late appearances.  Nonetheless, all that could have been forgiven except for one major pitfall: Gina Philips (Jeepers Creepers) is a completely unfeeling and unlikable ‘pretty American girl in a foreign country’ waste on two legs. Not only is there an additional lookalike cliché tacked on, but thru either bad acting or poor scripting, the audience can’t like such a bitchy and selfish protagonist.  It’s tough to enjoy a film when you want something bad to happen to the lead! There are great surroundings here to chew on, and one really wants to like this little thriller. However, the ridiculous characterization does not make it easy.

The Wicker Tree – A chaste Christian couple from Texas (Brittania Nicol and Henry Garrett) is thrust into the naughty Scottish countryside for this 2011 revisit of The Wickerman. Our young leads lay it on thick with some annoyingly bad acting, and though creepy, Jacqueline Leonard (EastEnders) and Graham McTavish (The Hobbit) simply aren’t as juicy as Christopher Lee was in the original. Sub par cast notwithstanding, the very premise from writer and director Robin Hardy (also of the original) feels off. The young missionaries are written as brainwashed by their religion, too naive to live, and almost deserving of the mocking of their beliefs. Then the preachy pendulum beats the viewer over the head with evidence of how most Christian elements grew from pagan roots, making this not-a-sequel potentially offensive to audiences on either side of the fence. Both cultures are portrayed as oppressive or negative throughout the film, and the mix of country sassy turned gospel turned Celtic music also won’t be for everyone. The ridiculous subtitles during a sex scene and weak TnA here barely earn an R rating, too.  Lee’s brief appearance does add a touch of class; his voice carries a wonderful alluring question- but it isn’t enough. Likewise, the scares and sinister in the final act here can’t redeem all simply because we know what’s going to happen. Rightly or wrongly, this one makes more statements than modern run of the mill slashers, and perhaps it isn’t that bad in and of itself. Unfortunately, it’s just not the original.

And Do Avoid

Bride of Chucky – I thought this 1998 sequel was more recent that it actually is, and the dated music and fashion really shows. While Brad Dourif (Lord of the Rings) as the voice of Chucky is always fun, the line up of Jennifer Tilly (Bound), the late John Ritter (Three’s Company), and a very young Katherine Heigl (Grey’s Anatomy) is also too of the nineties, and the entire horror comedy plot turn comes off as a little impractical to say the least. It’s a little weird that we’re watching two dolls arguing- or worse, having sex! Tilly keeps it bemusing, but if you want true scares instead of puns, this tone just doesn’t work. Perhaps Bride isn’t a bad film on its own, and at the time, it was a good way to revitalize the Child’s Play franchise with a gimmick towards the follow up Seed of Chucky. However, the series has nonetheless ended up in direct to video and reboot territory, having traded in its original childhood fears for self-referential stupidity.

Don Juan DeMarco

Don Juan DeMarco Charming and Witty Fun

By Kristin Battestella

Seriously, I think Netflix only has one copy of certain films, and they seem to be all the ones in my queue.  Fittingly, I held onto the 1995 sappy Johnny Depp comedy Don Juan DeMarco for an entire week just to soften the blow of what felt like a two year wait.

Despite bedding thousands of women-1,503 to be exact- 21 year old Don Juan DeMarco (Depp) has been rejected by his one true love and wishes to end his life honorably.  He goes to the top of a New York building where psychiatrist Jack Mickler (Marlon Brando) talks Don Juan down.  Now that he is on a 10-day psychiatric hold, the debonair Don Juan must prove to Jack that he is not delusional over a masked centerfold and a reading of Lord Byron’s tale before the institution’s higher ups insist upon medicating him into monotony.  Even considering the absurd account of Don Juan’s tale, Jack warms to this last patient before retirement and is inspired to liven up his contented marriage.  Mrs. Mickler (Faye Dunaway), however, asks her husband one critical question- who is Don Juan really?

Humorous themes of unexpected dreams and romance aren’t the typical subject matter from producer Francis Ford Coppola (The Godfather); but this wry comedy written and directed Jeremy Leven (The Notebook) has plenty of mature debates on age, love, state of mind, and well, whimsy. This is not an outright comedy like the slapstick or gross out we expect today, but it is not so overly romantic to drive away folks like me who usually can’t take a rom com. There’s enough depth here beyond the Zorro jokes and possible drool- but with material such as this, one can’t get too heavy a la Good Will Hunting, either. Don Juan DeMarco finds a smart balance by being able to laugh at itself with fun dialogue and a lighthearted internal self-reverence.  Multi-level parallel storylines between Don Juan and Jack reflect just how much Don Juan’s biased account touches his doctor.  Of course, it is all totally over the top and ridiculous but a charming reflection and exploration nonetheless.  

I confess I was swoony over Johnny Depp…once.  Cry Baby, anyone? The Pirates of the Caribbean star shows the same fun and flair here in another fine example of perfect casting. Depp swaggers with a believable Spanish accent and delightful cavalier style- his Don Juan is truly a character who inspires everyone he encounters for the better.  He is so full of it, totally, yet he is so good at what he does all the same.  Don Juan’s sexual wisdom and philosophies of women and love are absurd while also making perfect sense. Perhaps it is just that we don’t often speak of such truths- or that the wit comes with a contrastingly stupid Zorro like getup- but it all works.  It’s also amusing how Don Juan seems to charm both men and women- pleasing to see how all walks can be touched by such sentiments and good-natured love.  Audiences can read into these mask motifs as well in theorizing on who we are and how we love. Which is really the mask that Don Juan wears? If we do fool ourselves into believing something we are not and that helps other people or at the very least doesn’t harm anyone, who’s to say it is a delusion? Don Juan thinks looking at life for what it is just uncreative!  Obviously, his issues are revealed during the course of his tale, and we see more and more evidence of how unlikely his reality is.  Real life, however, is beside the point in Don Juan DeMarco.  

Though I like Depp well enough, outside of The Godfather, I often find myself unimpressed with Marlon Brando.  Seriously, he looks like hell here (though not as bad as The Island of Doctor Moreau, ugh) - yet for me, this is one of his most charming and lovely performances.  He bemusingly plays along with Don Juan’s delusions in fun, faux Don-ness.  Maybe it’s meant to be Spanish in flair, but we of course think a little Corleone when Jack puts on some mocking zest.  He’s a retiring psychiatrist who has seen better days indeed.  His wit, however, matches Don Juan’s fluff perfectly- interrupting DeMarco’s tale of how women should be  delicately touched to abruptly ask if Don Juan is Mexican, Spanish, or Italian.  Brando’s great in going from stuffy old man to living vicariously through Don Juan. Despite knowing the preposterousness of his patient, seeing through all Don Juan’s plot holes, and giving clinical diagnosis on the delusions, Jack is still no less touched, even increasing skeptical about what the truth really means.  Is it better to burn so brightly and passionately for a shorter time or wash up with mediocrity and retire to boredom?  Despite his askew view, Don Juan sees through the masks that Jack has spent his life wearing. Even with all the psychological mystery presented by Depp, Don Juan DeMarco is just as much about the revelations for Jack, too.

Amid all this testosterone and speculation on the 1,503 conquests, Faye Dunaway (Bonnie and Clyde, Mommie Dearest) is breathtaking as the would-be old and washed up Marilyn Mickler.  She’s beautiful and endearing to all but Jack and herself- routine settled into their house a long time ago and early on in Don Juan DeMarco, it shows.  It’s great to see Marilyn blossom and be touched by Don Juan’s influence on Jack, and Dunaway is the perfect onscreen match to Brando.  She’s coming into a vibrancy and vitality as a sexy and confident middle-aged woman. Today a film like this would be made with a 35-year-old questioning love and age and it would beat everyone over the head with exactly what it is trying to say. Only that over and obvious hand would be given to the viewer- with no room for growth and inspiration.  Indeed, as Don Juan says, how boring and uncreative would that be? Rachel Ticotin (Total Recall) is also lovely as Don Juan’s mother Dona Inez- the perfectly ideal senorita as expected, and Talisa Soto (License to Kill, Mortal Kombat) is beautiful of course as lady love Dona Julia. Look also for a quick appearance by the late pop star Selena as well.

Don Juan DeMarco may be hampered by some iffy mid nineties style in the women’s fashions and set decor, but the made to look Mexico locales and great beach scenery fit the bill. Perhaps the Spanish uses and flavors might be a bit stereotypical, but this is an ideal flashback with unreliable narration from Don Juan- it’s all wistful and in good fun.  The goofy sultan’s harem scenes look the proper whimsy as well.  There is some brief nudity as expected in such a seemingly steamy show. However, the clean cut sex scenes are tame compared to stuff today. That being set, the photography is no less intimate and personal and yet funny thanks to appropriately placed music cues.  Yes, we were all sick of Bryan Adams’ “Everything I Do (I Do It for You)” theme from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves that was everywhere back in the day. Thankfully, the scoring here and Don Juan DeMarco’s lovely string based “Have You Every Really Loved a Woman?” signature song still rings true with elements of timelessness and beauty.  Actually, I have the Don Juan DeMarco soundtrack- I found it second hand cheap and listen to it quite often. Come on, you know you love that guitar rift! Sing it with me! The music is classical when needed, pop when required, carries a touch of Latin flavor, and yet is decidedly cross-cultural.  It’s also lovely to hear some of the lyrics in both English and Spanish, with different arrangements and instrumental versions of the tune underlying the film.  Seeing the Bryan Adams music video included on the Don Juan DeMarco DVD as one of the few features was nice, too- although Adams in the Zorro mask has most definitely not stood the test of time!  

Though charming, Don Juan DeMarco may be a little too mature for younger Depp fans thanks to the swoon elements and satisfaction of a woman motifs- a woman is like a musical instrument to be coaxed and all that. I’m not really sure why this movie seems somewhat unloved. Someone at Netflix is clearly watching anyway!  There is more class, wit, and delight here than in the modern repetitive romantic comedies for sure  Lady Depp fans can absolutely delight here, and those looking for more whimsy and complexity can find it in the elder stars as well.  Suspend your disbelief, let go, and enrich yourself with Don Juan DeMarco.

May Mysteries, Thrillers, and Intrigue

May Mysteries and Thrillers

By Kristin Battestella

There’s nothing like a sudden Spring thunder buster to get one in the mood for some intellectual foils and heart pumping thrills! Here are a few old school staples, modern mysteries, and some foreign intrigue to shock and delight your inner whodunit.

Classic Must Sees

Strangers on a Train – Passengers Robert Walker (Since You Went Away) and Farley Granger (Rope) plot to switch crimes in this slightly unloved but oft studied 1951 Alfred Hitchock (Psycho, people, I’ll just stop there!) thriller.  All the complex atmosphere and psychological analysis needed is here in duplicate.  Do we all have it in us for the anonymous kill?  What can drive a man to take such latent impulses into action? Infidelity? Shame?  Peer pressure?  Where does the wronged Average Joe end and the sociopath begin- and which of our men is which? How far can one take such crime and battles of seemingly pure versus the corrupt and expect to get away with it? Hitchcock’s adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s novel offers plenty of dual debate and subtextual suspense for the enthusiast as well as the uninitiated viewer. And on a side note, it’s so nice to see a fine DVD presentation and subtitles for the classics!

Three Days of the Condor – Sure, the music is a little dated, and you need some knowledge of seventies politics and sentiments of the time.  But this 1975 spy thriller directed by Oscar winner Sydney Pollack (Tootsie, Out of Africa) and starring Oscar nominee Robert Redford (The Sting, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid), Best Actress Faye Dunaway (Network, Mommie Dearest), Actor nominee Max von Sydow (The Exorcist), and Best Actor Cliff Robertson (Charly) is still intelligent, taut, well played, and mentally entertaining.  Whew! On a visual note, it’s great to see the young cast. Both the 70s bad- look at those huge glasses!-  and good- the World Trade Center figures significantly in the plot- are a lot of fun. The end is a little abrupt, but that is also kind of the point.  You’ll also notice I’ve said nothing about the plot itself.  That’s the point, too.

The Wrong Man – Academy Award winner Henry Fonda (Grapes of Wrath, Mister Roberts, On Golden Pond, 12 Angry Men) is accused of a crime he did not commit in this 1953 Hitchcock thriller ripped from the headlines of the day.  Also starring Vera Miles (Psycho, The Searchers), Fonda- though Italian- is a little as miscast as his mixed up everyman titular role- Emanuel Balestrero, really? We don’t actually think of Fonda as ethnic or a young musician, do we? But of course, he’s effing Henry Fonda, so despite the WASPness and stereotypical Italian implications, we root for him to get out of the downward law and order spiral nonetheless.  Besides, a case of disastrous mistaken identity is the point, isn’t it? Ah, the unreliability of eye witness testimony! Oh the hysteria, and if everyone would just calm down, and how we’re all caught up in the system and can never get above the bills!  Hitch keeps it all too close for comfort then and now, and we’re still on the edge of our seats, cringing at every turn as the hole gets deeper and deeper.

Decent Recents

Arlington Road (1999) – Are Jeff Bridges’ (Crazy Heart) nice, new neighbors Tim Robbins (The Shawshank Redemption) and Joan Cusack (Working Girl) really terrorists up to no good?  Though both very nineties and a potentially touchy view in today’s global climate, director Mark Pellington (The Mothman Prophecies) and his fine cast keep the suspense on form and the doubt high.  Once you’ve already seen this one a few times, it can loose its luster, yes.  However, rewatching with a virgin viewer adds new intrigue and debate. Comparing what folks could get away with then that they can’t now or observing the preposterous impossibilities of film is also fun, too- especially against the scary notion of how easily we can be fooled, used, and abused.

The Machinist – Before he starved himself into Oscar glory, Christian Bale’s (Newsies, people, Newsies!) disturbingly skinny abilities stole the show in director Brad Anderson (Transsiberian) and writer Scott Kosar’s (The Crazies) 2005 thriller. Yes, it is a bit predictable, even obvious to seriously observant viewers.  However, this one really is about from where Bale is coming and how he gets to where he needs to be.  The subjective viewing; the muted, dreamlike palette and design; the clues for a careful viewer to find; and the intelligent interpretation keep The Machinist captivating despite the skeletal distractions- and yes, I was finally made to watch this one after praising that other skinny-fest, Hunger.  

Resurrection – Okay, so there needs to be a built-in explanation for his French accent just like Jean-Claude Van Damme, but Christopher Lambert (Highlander) is wonderfully compelling here as a conflicted and faithless Chicago cop investigating a seriously twisted and disturbingly religious serial killer.  You wouldn’t know this was just a 1999 HBO original movie thanks to the fast paced look, sickeningly glorious crimes, and solid support from Leland Orser (The Bone Collector), Robert Joy (CSI: NY), and Rick Fox (you know, the former L.A. Laker, who knew?).  Even once you figure out this complex and intelligently referenced and written caper, the viewer can watch again for the emotion and strong character intensity and depth.

Brit Suspense

Poirot: After the Funeral – I hadn’t seen Agatha Christie’s famed Belgium detective in quite awhile - in fact, my sister always preferred the series more to my favored Columbo. However, this 2006 TV installment has been the first film to totally fool me in a looooong time!  While tight and complete in its presentation and intellect, After the Funeral takes at least three viewings to fully catch all the great wit and subtleties of crime and character. The thirties period style is also excellent and Sachet is in charming form along with a wonderful supporting ensemble including Geraldine James (Little Britain), Robert Bathurst (The Pillars of the Earth) and a young but no less juicy Michael Fassbender (X-Men: First Class).

Red Road – After enjoying her sophomore Cannes success Fish Tank, I took in a viewing of writer and director Andrea Arnold’s 2006 debut.  Though quiet to start and seemingly routine and mundane; taut, distorted, and intimate camerawork turns what seems so innocent into something wonderfully intriguing but no less voyeuristic and perverse.  The lines that normally define the viewer and players Kate Dickie (Prometheus, Game of Thrones) and Tony Curran (Underworld: Evolution) are blurred.  We just know this unsolved drama is going to take us some place as ugly, dangerous, and as seedy as the downtrodden Scottish landscapes.  The videotape usage and payphones also provide old familiarity to go along with the trapped monotony.  Red Road’s kinky is definitely not for kids, and may seem slow or confusing to Americans.  However, the seriously good story trumps our commonplace expectations for typically action packed thrillers that place shock and awe over the heartfelt realism here.

Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking – Though it has been some time since I read me some Arthur Conan Doyle, it seems there have been several competing, rebooting, and/or capitalizations of Sherlock Holmes again recently.  In this 2004 BBC television production, Rupert Everett (An Ideal Husband) portrays Holmes as a bit of an ass- but somehow keeps him witty and likeable all the same.  Ian Hart’s (Dirt) Dr. Watson and his rapport with Everett’s titular detective are also great fun.  There’s no glossing over of Holmes’ dark side, drug use, or egotistical ways, either. And also, again I simply have to say the youthful charm and thespian abilities of Michael Fassbender shine here, too. The period London production is what we’d expect, and though important, the onscreen fog is annoying.  Thankfully, the detective work is a good mix of modern sensibilities in keeping with Edwardian expertise.  This is an original story from Allan Cubitt (who also penned the 2002 BBC adaptation of The Hound of Baskervilles) but the fun twist here works nicely in the culminating act and definitely captures the spirit of the famed detective. 

The Woman in White (1997) – The ladies Tara Fitzgerald (I Capture the Castle), Justine Waddell (Dracula 2000), and Susan Vilder (Trainspotting) in this Masterpiece Theatre adaptation of Wilkie Collins’ novel are a little wooden, yes. Thankfully, James Wilby (Lady Chatterley), Simon Callow (Shakespeare in Love) and Ian Richardson (House of Cards) are far more interesting.  The atmosphere is also a little lightweight, but perhaps I expected more gothic brooding and melancholy then warranted.  The mystery, of course, is juicy and delightful, with the viewer an outsider speculating on all the hidden questions.  The Victorian style and English locales are great as well.  Though perhaps a little slow for Americans- especially until the final half hour- all the revelations come in due time and are well worth the wait.

And One to Avoid…

Dorian Gray (2009) – Despite a fine ensemble cast including recent Best Actor Colin Firth (The King’s Speech, Bridget Jones’s Diary), Emilia Fox (Merlin, Silent Witness), and Ben Chaplin (The Truth About Cats & Dogs) along with a finely stylized Victorian production; this remake of Oscar Wilde’s famous tale falls flat in character appreciation and psychological analysis.  Weak lead Ben Barnes (The Chronicles of Narnia), stereotypically modern direction from Oliver Parker (Othello), and more confusion than care ruin what is usually such a fine and timeless story.