Contemporary Chillers versus Cold Ducks

Two Contemporary Chillers versus Two Cold Ducks

by Kristin Battestella

While some of these recent releases can leave audiences cold, other contemporary pieces provide just the right amount of seafaring suspense and psychological chills.

The Reef – Sunrises and sunsets, stunning blue water panoramas, and lovely reef life create coastal bliss for this 2010 Australian fright loosely based on a true story. Shark teeth foreshadowing, statistics about the likelihood of shark attacks, and an inexperienced crewman aboard invoke the ominous to come alongside natural water fears, racing to beat the tide, trouble raising the anchor, and leaky rafts. Capsizing thuds, flooding, and underwater hectic don't need any herky jerky action cam as the innate water movement makes the audience feel like we are there amid the missing keel, sinking hull, no supplies, and outdated distress beacon. It's frightening when viewers can just make out the shark silhouette beneath the surface for themselves, but headless turtle shocks and false suspense moments go for cheap thrills. Instead of keeping us on edge with every chop in the water, over the top music tells the audience when something bad is happening. Unlikable characters inspire little conflict amid a lot of childhood friends and lookalike blonde cliches – they are completely unprepared for any aquatic disaster and there's no sense of ocean vast, the slow passage of time on the water, sunstroke, or thirst. These helpless followers holidaying on this deliver the yacht job are also over reliant on their macho, supposedly world water traveling leader who messes up tide times, can't find north, and thinks they can maybe swim to an island perhaps twelve miles away. Wishy washy, don't know they are in a horror movie stupidity compounds the uneven pacing as the strong girl suddenly in tears stays behind while others risk this uncertain swim before she changes her mind thirty seconds later so they wait in the possibly shark infested seas. The women rightfully call out the guy who orchestrated the trip under false pretenses before apologizing that its not his fault but yes it is. Weak men say they are tired and laugh over sex stories, breaking the swimming scenes to stop and stand on reef rocks rather than shape any kind of epic endurance risk. Fortunately, seeing the nonchalant great white cruising past the hysterical people as they flounder and panic both justifies the yell at the television aspects and makes the viewer recoil. Mirage visions of land and thought they saw something paranoia frays the group as one by one they must leave the dead behind in the ocean. The fatal attacks are well done, and eventually – disturbingly – those remaining can see land but can't get to it. Despite loose characterizations and an uneven narrative in need of taut focus – again all the negatives in low budget horror appear due to one writer/director wearing too many hats – overall this is well filmed with several quality sequences featuring fine scenery and practical shark work perfect for a late night scarefest.

Split – Suspicious rear view mirrors and distorted camera angles turn pity party invites into parking lot abductions for this 2016 multi personality thriller from director M. Night Shyamalan starring James McAvoy (X-Men: First Class) and Anya Taylor-Joy (The Witch). Subtle dolly zooms and sideways panning emphasize the bolted doors, dark basement, and huddled girls amid their captor's sinister calculations and ominous childhood flashbacks. Can three girls defend themselves against one violent man? Two gang up on the third, pressuring her to take action as scary switches from one personality to the next are subtle and well done amid local CBS Philly news reports, King of Prussia Mall insults, and distinct city skylines. However it's a mistake to cut away from the dungeon suspense so soon – especially for a foolish psychologist falling for the abductor personality's pretending to be his calm fashion designer persona. Product placement Skype conferences debate multiple personality disorders as a trauma in need versus a new brain chemistry gift, interfering with the tense internal layers we're already seeing. Rather than the Hooters eating Security Guard M. Night's exposition, the reveal should be with the audience as the girls peer through the keyhole and hear both male and female voices. Styling, accent changes, and stuttering show the killer versus child personalities, and the captives speculate on what is crazy or ruse though details from each persona. Location hints, hidden ducts, and underground tunnels lead to possible escapes as the victims are separated thanks to foolhardy attacks and mean girls still being selfish – expanding the cat and mouse between the abductees and a captor who is a prisoner himself. Once the warped situation is established, then the audience can appreciate when he departs for a psychologist session stroking the current dominant, gloating personality's vanity. He deflects on the history of abuse and the cause for this latest psychotic break, resenting his weak host as the kinder personalities blur our sympathies. The female personality of our male abductor, disturbingly enough, may be the most unstable, yet these rogue personas insist another “Beast” alter is coming. One persona needs glasses, another is diabetic – can multiple personalities create mind over matter physiological traits? Videos of all the personalities become an inner monologue paralleling the eerie train station wait for this new evil to manifest its super human abilities and sub human behaviors. Past and present revelations double the uncomfortably frightening suggestion that purity breaking pain awakens the strength and instinct needed to achieve greatness, and certain disturbing subject matter will be tough for some audiences. Though mostly realistic horror and psychological drama, there's a reason things progress into the fantastic with an overlong, somewhat flat ending. Such surprise Shyamalan connections both need viewers to go in cold and appreciate the payoff being held back for sequel winks, perhaps leaving this with reduced repeat value unless you marathon it with Unbreakable. Fortunately, the nuanced performances and no twist just twisted horror meets fantastic does make for some entertaining psychoanalysis.

Two to Skip

A Cure for Wellness – A corner office climber must retrieve his unstable boss from a spa in Switzerland so the company crimes can be pinned on him in this overlong two and a half hour 2017 twister starring Jason Isaacs (Awake) and Harry Groener (Buffy). The bitter work obsessed opening, haunting skyscrapers, and ominous hand written letter describing the darkness of superiority and sickness of men with wealthy people and their wealthy problems are ruined early by tiring product placement and laughable horror clichés. Our unlikable lead is also a wannabe edgy, Shutter Island DiCaprio interfering with the on location castles, mountain vistas, and ruthless baron history complete with blasphemy, incest, and townsfolk with torches. Distorted angles, askew pans, assorted reflections, and upside down inside out views add to the unnatural greenery of this apparent oasis in the middle of a dark cloud. White robes, bright rooms, aqua aerobics, and happy rich people throwing their money at the latest health fad contrast the dark tunnels, taxidermy, and well filmed car accidents despite momentarily confusing flashes amid the forward moving violence. Incidental old folks nudity at the spa increases the discomfort of the eerie steam, maze like hallways, and hazy series of doors, creating ambiguous atmosphere that may be surreal mind, warped structure, or Hotel California influence. Creepy girls by the fountain, bathhouse altars, and whispers of special case patients build to specimens in jars, skin graphs, and creepy urine samples. Body shocks, elevators, dehydrated corpses, and hydraulic assembly lines stir viewer suspense while shadows of what else may be in the tank loom and the smiling staff enjoy a little suspect saucy. Exam chairs, buzzing dental drills, vintage file folders, period lockets, relics of the baron's obsession to cure his sickly family – there are a lot of cool spooky things happening here. Unfortunately, unnecessary flashbacks, Robocop dolls, ridiculous animal gore, and the repeated insistence that something's in the water like it's all just a bad joke take the audience out of the dark atmosphere. Giant eels in the toilet frights are lost in scenes that serve no purpose, and the so-called mystery being given away all along contributes to the increasingly downhill lag. German speakers having cryptic conversations – in English for the underestimated, uninvested viewer's benefit – break the protagonist's point of view as more tunnels, hidden chambers, and early medical equipment expedite the watching fatigue well before the two hour mark or the coincidental timing in the final act. Public declarations, shoving the breakables off the desk, research montage reveals, menstruation and red lipstick a la Little Red Riding Hood, shovels to the face, fiery knockouts, nonsensical villain tell alls, and a Phantom of the Opera-esque lair borrow much too much before yet more tacked on candle light cults and child bride nasty. I hung on for this? o_O

Red Lights – This 2012 tale stars Cillian Murphy (Peaky Blinders), Sigourney Weaver (Aliens), Robert De Niro (Goodfellas), Toby Jones (Berberian Sound Studio), Joely Richardson (Lady Chatterley), and Elizabeth Olsen (I Saw the Light). However, the drive to the horrors, rattling séance, family in fear screams, and early jump shocks are just a lengthy opening before longer credits, jet setting introductions, and debunking seminar restarts. These physicists don't think all paranormal cases are frauds, but they haven't witnessed any miraculous proof against logical controls. Cute coeds, slight of hand platitudes, Occam's Razor – each scene repeats who they are and what they do without saying what university they represent or why authorities call them to expose these supernatural frauds. Editing creates suspense rather than letting the viewer catch the hidden earpiece or audience plant as news reports recount the fire and brimstone psychic selling comeback tour tickets and newspaper clippings on the laptop become the research montage. Weaver's doctor is brash, admonishing a telepathy card test due to the reflections in a doctor's glasses, but we never see her confront a real psychic challenge. The talk show debate better explains the parapsychology fails, seminar versus performance, and religion versus science while the behind the scenes meta television filming makes nicer statements than the shaky cams or booming music. Weaver and De Niro's rivals have personal history – he used the limbo of her vegetative son, adding doubt and emotional pain to her debunking crusade against his dramatic on stage healings. Unfortunately, this intriguing one on one of facts against faith and catching those who think they can get away with it is not the point of this picture, and the focus veers to Murphy's amateur exposé attempts and angry manpain complete with bizarre visions, unexplained electrical explosions, and characters who even say conversations with him are a waste of time. Although academic trials trying to set controls while testing paranormal phenomena, university video reels showing the experiments, and no scientific explanation for the bending spoons provide study for the viewer, there's no chill up the spine scary or awe inspiring wonder at the unexplained because the story completely changes what it started out as. Obnoxious final speeches waxing on man versus monsters, lines of salt, magnetism, and levitation are all over the place. Any commentary on the media, spectator sales, and money made off people who want to believe is lost thanks to the in the in your face protagonist, uneven plot focus, and the movie's failure to heed its own advice with falling flat deflections. If the simplest answer is the correct one, then why does it take an hour and a half to ask why the blind guy wears a watch?

Family Frights and Perils

Family Frights and Perils

by Kristin Battestella

Zombies, ghosts, cults, fanatics – daughters, grief, moving, and politics are frightful enough with out these recent good, bad, and ugly horrors.

Maggie – Sad voicemails, outbreak news reports, desolate cities, quarantines, and martial law immediately set the bleak outlook for infected daughter Abigail Breslin (Little Miss Sunshine) and her gray bearded father Arnold Schwarzenegger in this 2015 zombie drama. Wait – Arnold? In a drama movie? About zombies? No choppers?! Nope, this is not an action horror movie, and gruesome gurneys, gangrene encounters, and blackened decay are not played for scares. Here the body horrors and social breakdowns go hand in hand – science can't put a dent into the virus fast enough, and loved ones must wait as the vein discolorations and white out eyes spread toward heightened smells and cannibalistic tendencies. Minimal technology, chopping wood, rustic generators, cassettes, and older horseshoe phones accent the isolated farmhouse as insect buzzing, infected neighbors, and animal dangers mount. Younger siblings are sent away, and step-mom Joely Richardson (Nip/tuck) struggles with her faith, strength of conviction, and the promises they've made despite the deadly risks. How does a teenager keep it together when she has nothing better to do but sit around and die? Do you call friends for a last hurrah? This flawed father won't send his daughter to die in quarantine with strangers, but he can't give the painful lethal injection at home or make it a quick end, either. Creepy doctor visits amplify the stigmas and paranoia regarding these in between infected, and nice teen moments soon give way to growls and necroambulist changes. Where is the line between siege removal authorities and family compassion? Someone has to take control and there's no time for sympathy – just the inevitable breakdown of families desperate to stay together. Governator Arnold produced the film sans salary, and the off-type surprise provides heart wrenching results and must see performances. Granted, most audiences probably expected zombie action thrills a minute and there are unnecessary artistic shots, long pauses, and plodding direction at times. However, this is a strong story with hefty goodbye conversations, and it is surprising such realistically upsetting and horrible circumstances rather than horror went unnoticed. Without mainstream box office demands, indie releases are free to tell their story as it needs to be told, and this tearjerker delivers a great spin on the flooded and increasing derivative zombie genre. 

 

We Are Still Here – Grieving parents moving to an isolated country home only to find a deceptive paranormal force may seem like nothing new to start this 2015 eighty odd minutes. However, it's lovely to see older protagonists with a lot to say yet little dialogue. Clearly this couple is disconnected over their loss, and this situation is already tough enough before the snowy bleak, creepy noises, and horrific basement. Exterior blues contrast the warm, seventies orange patterns, record player, and glowing lamps inside – the classic cars and country setting should be quaint but we know better. By being period set, there's no need to bother with technology explanations, either. How do they find the place without GPS? What's the cell phone reception? It doesn't matter, but retro psychics and hippie highs add to the simmering build, fire crackling, and shrewd use of light and dark schemes. The small cast and simple locations are well shot with no shocks and jump scares, just a tight camera focus on people feeling the suspicious or reacting to ghostly smells. Recent horror movies try to scare the audience by calling attention to the gag rather than making us feel the discomfort of a character in peril. Without such orchestration, the viewer is allowed to gasp by paying attention to the suspect baseball and glove, moving photographs, and every other part of the frame. This looks great on blu-ray, and rather than yawning at the usual predictability, it's more fun inching toward the screen for what happens next. Here, creepy neighbors sharing about the Victorian funeral home history is the closest thing to the cliché person who knows research moment, and the awkwardness over cocktails and cryptic warning notes works. The creepy crawlies aren't shown clearly at first – conversations are peppered with words like souls, demons, aura, and hot as hell instead – and our at odds husband and wife need to be on same page to best these horrors. Yes, it takes a half hour for something to happen, but the excellent twists and experienced cast do not disappoint. A superb séance is done with nothing but voice, and the nightmares escalate into siege terrors, plenty of blood, and nowhere to turn. I don't want to reveal everything, but this little picture does all it sets out to do in telling a darn good ghost story. Why isn't this kind of horror movie in the mainstream cinemas instead of the rinse repeat trite?

Split Call

The Attic – A derivative prologue and picturing Mad Men's Elizabeth Moss as 11/17/83 young makes this one tough going alongside throwaway cameras and a giant family computer suggesting a setting older than 2007. Indeed, this melodramatic, diary writing teen daughter feels ten years late in her nineties mood – Emma wears wispy white but is fresh and flirty with older men as her crazy look escalates to a black slip and icky food substitutions. Jason Lewis (Sex in the City) seems dubbed with bad dialogue delivery, and although there would seem to be an internal reason for this, the nasty implications with dad John Savage (The Deer Hunter) also go unclarified. Annoying strobe ghosts, popping lights, dream flashes, and creepy mirrors are also shocks more for the audience than the characters. Ominous clues, symbols, and objects in different places do better gaslighting with doppelganger blinks and head injuries adding duality to the agoraphobia and filming through windows, open doors, and faces in the glass frame. Rattling doors and violent twists layer this spiraling out of control reality, making the viewer unsure if this a ghost, a dead twin, or all in Emma's head. Is she acting out over other hatred and abuse or just enjoying the attention? Brief scenes with parents and doctors away from Emma accent the who's telling the truth unreliable view. Which whispers are real or imagined? Numerous possibilities including Wicca and the occult or evil hauntings are left hanging with poorly edited, nonsensical montages beating the audience over the head with cheap effects and obvious suggestions. This picture both needs more time to explain itself yet pads the eighty minute duration. Did director Mary Lambert (Pet Semetary) not have the time or money needed to finish? One can really see the difference between the direct to video stigmas here compared to the theater quality on demand today. Confusing ghost physicality and figments of Emma's imagination logistics contribute to a weak ending with too many twists and no answers beyond a Matrix believe what you see, what your mind tells you, and what is real to you meta. Leaving the crazy up to the viewer isn't a free pass to throw everything at the screen but leave your premise unexplained. Why would a house spirit make her go crazy with an occult twin theory when it could just do creepy ghost stuff? Fortunately, the cast is good fun – including a looking great Catherine Mary Stewart (Night of the Comet) – and this is shout at the TV trying to be avante garde bad entertainment watchable if one can accept the crazy as an excuse to ignore the plot holes.

Avoid

Red State – This 2011 eighty-eight minutes establishes its small town mood quickly with bigoted protests, homophobia, and rebelling against redneck Middle America ignorance and hypocrisy. The too chill classroom and modern teens are however immediately annoying – three dudes spewing gay slurs and lame, compensating gang bang talk deserve what comes to them and the audience never has a reason to care. There are smartphones and porn sites, but mullets, back road car crashes, a trailer in the woods, cages, and sex being the devil's business comments forebode a rural horror potential that instead gives way to misused hymns and Biblical quotes in uncomfortable cult dressings. Disturbing family congregation cheers and askew, from below camera angles are meant to reflect this warped, but the gross, in real time sermon steers the picture into heavy handed commentary. The first five minutes were already unnecessary and I really wanted to skip over this icky segment and turn the movie off all together in the first half hour. If I wanted to get disgusted by corrupt shit, I'd watch the news. Every fifteen minutes viewers are continually betrayed with a pulling the rug out bait and switch combining for some kind of clunky horror FBI raid meets zealot save the children siege. I see why stars like John Goodman and Melissa Leo were interested in the subject matter, but there's no finesse in the attempted statements or falling flat scares. Hate crimes and horror really don't mix. Trying to be witty dialogue ends up as corny misses – and I love Kevin Smith's humor in Clerks and social winks in Dogma. Once again, a one and the same writer/director really should have had another person tell him you can't squeeze a bigoted drama horror movie political action film together and expect something fulfilling. While I applaud the edgy approach and true indie notion of for the people by the people film making, the self promotional on demand distribution and lack of recognition here is not surprising. Not only does this toss in every taboo possible, but the wanna be shrewd controversial never makes up its messy mind.

The Tudors Season 4

The Tudors Season 4 Wavers, but Concludes Wonderfully

By Kristin Battestella

“You think you know a story, but you only know how it ends.” It seems like it’s been longer than four years and 38 episodes since Jonathan Rhys Meyers’ opening introduction to The Tudors.  At last, here we are at the final season of Michael Hirst’s sexy and heady but no less dramatic ode to medieval debauchery. Though not as juicy as previous seasons, this departing Season 4 leaves the not so merry England in style.

King Henry VIII (Meyers) marries his fifth wife, the young and carefree Katherine Howard (Tazmin Merchant).  Unfortunately, senior Lady in Waiting Jane Boleyn (Joanne King) uses Katherine’s attraction to chamberlain Thomas Culpepper (Torrance Combs) against her-and the exposé harbors deadly results for all involved.  The Princesses Mary (Sarah Bolger) and Elizabeth (Laoise Murray) return to court and are restored in Henry’s line of succession behind the young Edward (Eoin Murtagh), whose future power is already being manipulated by his uncle Edward Seymour (Max Brown) and his wife Anne (Emma Hamilton). Charles Brandon (Henry Cavill) has marital troubles of his own, and he butts heads with the returning Earl of Surrey, Henry Howard (David O’Hara).  Can wife number six Catherine Parr (Joely Richardson) restore order to Henry’s court before his madness destroys England?

A lot happens in these final ten episodes-and at the same time, not much happens either. With two wives, wars with France and Scotland, and the infamous gluttony of Henry VIII in store, Season 4 should be tighter and better paced than it is.  We spend the first five episodes with Katherine Howard, and again it seems like too much time with nothing happening before we get a ridiculously rushed departure for the young Queen and her lover Culpepper.  Honestly, all we see is his head on a stick!  I dare say he is not in his death episode-how can that be? We spend so much more time on meaningless sex and intrigue to nowhere between the Seymours and uneven guilt with Charles Brandon.  Despite no plans to continue the series into Edward’s and later Mary Tudor’s reign, all this attention to the secondary players at court looks like a backdoor storyline for just such a format change.   Why not continue into something called The Seymours or Seymours versus Greys or such?  The early dallying makes it seem as if The Tudors is already dead and buried, yet budding action in France with three episodes left doesn’t seem like a show that’s concluding any time soon. New characters and events happen so fast, but shouldn’t this be time for some serious H8 brooding?   It’s a pity we must jump forward in time several years to correct these errors for the finale.  Children age up, critical deaths happen off screen, and new religious turmoil and beheadings all happen in the second to last episode.  Surrey’s downfall, Anne Askew, and a disastrous rack are introduced halfway through Episode 9-where was this conflict and drama when we were dawdling with Katherine Howard?

Although some have been displeased with the mostly pretty boy portrayal by Jonathan Rhys Meyers (From Paris with Love, Match Point, Elvis), his vocal changes, aged makeup, and physical transformation into the Henry VIII we’ve long expected is wonderfully despicable, sad and yet touching. Occasionally, his madness, cruelty, and crazy look are even too tough to see in comparison to The Tudors’ prior sexiness.  Again, sometimes it seems the King is almost a supporting player in his own show, but Meyers makes the most of every scene with a surprising range of skill and reflection.  Henry is blinded by Katherine Howard’s youth, yet establishes fine relationships with Anne of Cleeves and Catherine Parr.  There are moments of fatherly charm, and of course, the twisted madness we’ve been waiting for.  The beautiful final episode is all about him, and rightfully so. Though pleasantly surprised by the lengths Meyers has gone in appearance and performance, Henry Cavill’s resolution as Charles Brandon has been a disappointment.  I don’t think it is Cavill’s (Stardust, Immortals) fault, as again, he’s been barely there until the final three episodes, but more should have been given to the only other cast member who’s kept his head off the chopping block for all four seasons.  Cavill’s given the moments to shine in the end, but too much was instead made of the new hottie Torrance Combs (jPod) as Culpepper early on.  Why bother spending two episodes developing such a cruel and obsessive dude when you’re going to axe him two episodes later?  

Tazmin Merchant (Pride and Prejudice) does the best with what is given to her, but it’s not a completely developed character-despite what the uneven portrayal would have us believe.  The young Katherine wavers from being just an innocent girl wanting attention, to a possibly abused and unjustly disliked Queen, to a bitchy and horny gal who knows exactly what she wants.  Which angle are we meant to feel for or relate to-is it Merchant dropping the ball or the writing?  Thankfully, Joely Richardson (Lady Chatterley, Nip/Tuck) adds an element of class to the final episodes of The Tudors.  Catherine Parr is thrust into Henry’s court and does her wifely and royal duties despite some religious scares.  Richardson is a fine bookend in comparison with Maria Doyle Kennedy’s initial Queen Katherine.  Likewise, Sarah Bolger (The Spiderwick Chronicles) has given us a darling and insightful look at Princess Mary.  She struggles with court appearances, royal romances, and religious fervor. Despite the rough reign we know is to come, Bolger keeps Mary endearing, particularly in charming scenes with the wonderful Anthony Brophy (Snow White: A Tale of Terror) as Ambassador Eustace Chapuys.  He should have been a regular cast member all along!

Joanne King (Casualty) is wonderfully juicy as the scorned and conniving Lady Rochford-her plotting is what keeps the first few episodes entertaining.  It’s nice to see a character that began as relative filler has now developed into a full court player. It’s also frustrating then to know we’re not getting the same follow up intrigue with the equally dicey Max Brown (Grange Hill) and Emma Hamilton (Into the Storm).  The juice between them, Andrew McNair (Hollyoaks) as Thomas Seymour, and David O’Hara’s (The District, Harry Potter) Henry Howard is played at the forefront of the earlier episodes then inexplicably dropped for Henry’s war in France.  If this is where the intrigue is at, then the show should continue beyond Henry VIII.  With all this unfinished Seymour business happening, we also only briefly see singer Joss Stone returning as the charming Anne of Cleeves.  Again, was this final season to be about Henry’s errors finally catching up to him or the Seymour politics that follows his reign?  Could two more seasons been done without Jonathan Rhys Meyers? Though Sarah Bolger seems up to the task, newcomer Laoise Murray seems amiss as the young Princess Elizabeth.  If we’re going to have the budding Elizabeth, then by golly have her full force. 

In some ways, I’d rather more historical liberties been taken on The Tudors this season.  Have eight episodes done right with Katherine Howard and the war in France, and then give us another season with Catherine Parr and post Henry succession drama.  Can you imagine what a shock it would have been if Henry’s death and aftermath came over four middle episodes instead of one final hour? Other period dramas and historical fantasies are forthcoming to fill the void, but I’m a bit sad to leave Tudor England.  This season has waned, yes, but it doesn’t seem like The Tudors should be over just yet.  Naturally, the production, interiors, and costumes look great; and by its end, The Tudors turns itself round right. In summation of not just this season but also the entire series, writer Michael Hirst spends a solid sixty-minute Episode 10 returning to the core players.  A lovely, otherworldly and ethereal quality takes over at The Tudors’ end. Foretelling from the not-so-dearly-departed, deathbed visions, and built-in retrospectives bring about a bittersweet, tearful, and very satisfying conclusion.  It’s not infamous like The Sopranos cop out, but rather as the King himself says, “It is well done.”

Though faulty in the uneven storytelling and revolving door at Henry’s court, The Tudors is incomplete without this final season of death and madness.  Fans of the series will eat up this conclusion and begin again with the earlier seasons, DVDs, Showtime streamings and repeats.  Despite the liberties taken and sometimes off-mix of drama and sex in Season 4, The Tudors is still one of the finest productions of medieval England yet filmed.  For better or worse its success has ushered in a new, mature pop wave of historical shows.  Now that The Tudors is complete, historians and fans of the cast can study it to their hearts content, compare with long-standing Tudor material, and delight without the wait.  Lose your head one more time with The Tudors Season 4.

Lady Chatterley

Lady Chatterley Not All Porn (But Still Not For Everyone)
Guest Review By Leigh Wood

On The cusp of my Lord of The Rings obsession, I’ve been passing the time by watching films starring the actors from Peter Jackson’s Oscar winning epic trilogy. When my quest for Sean Bean films led me to watch Ronin- in English and Spanish-I broke down and bought the first movie I had seen the Boromir actor in- the 1993 BBC production of Lady Chatterley.

Sure Patriot Games and Goldeneye are great, but it was director Ken Russell’s adaptation of the banned D.H. Lawrence novels that embedded Sean Bean in my brain. Sex, adultery, class divides, and naughty language sent not one, but three versions of D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover underground. When the third and most tame version was finally published in 1928, scandal and controversy erupted on both sides of the Atlantic.

I knew nothing of this history when I first saw the theatrical two hour version late at night on cable. Boy or girl, a young teen will find the soft core porn that is currently everywhere in our society. At the time, I often tuned in for Red Shoe Diaries. A few bumps and grinds, perhaps some boobs, sometimes a nice story and historical location. The Marilyn Chambers movies, however, I could do without. I sought more than weak porn. I wanted a story.

Imagine my surprise when Lady Chatterley appeared. Unlike its early 20^th century/World War I contemporaries Avonlea and The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, Lady Chatterley stars Joely Richardson as the sexually repressed young wife of a paralyzed veteran (James Wilby) who finds love in a scandalous affair with her husband’s gamekeeper (Sean Bean).

Make no mistake, there are kinky folks who will tune into the second and third parts of Lady Chatterley’s four hours purely for the sex scenes. To take the series only for those visuals, is however an injustice. The miniseries format allows director Russell to take the time and set up the marriage of Lady Constance and Sir Clifford. They are both intellectuals in the upper class. Connie hails from a heady and upstanding artistic family, and Sir Clifford has a long list of noble names to live up to. The couple get on well enough, but there is already strain between them when the story opens. One might wonder how and why they married in the first place. The War? Perhaps the union was an unofficially arranged one? Already we have questions, as does Lady Chatterley. She yearns for more than serving as nurse to her often grumpy (although understandably so) husband. Sir Clifford, however, doesn’t want to see his title end, and invites Connie to take a lover, in hopes of claiming an illegitimate child for his own.

At first, Constance clings to the image of a loyal wife-despite prodding from her own sister and father. She finds the ranch hand-foreman-wild-man-of-the-woods Mellors rude and fearful. Finally, after discussing the symbolism of the black horse of passion with Sir Clifford, Connie hires a nurse for her husband and sets off to explore her estate-an estate that the brutish and strong-not paralyzed-Mellors is always lurking. Inevitably, the Lady and the Gamekeeper begin a purely sexual affair. Their encounters grow to something more, and the couple seeks to find an escape from the society that divides them.

I dare say the serious opening and closing hours of Lady Chatterley are my favorites. The story’s setup and resolution are indeed more important than the sex scenes, even though no sexual scene is superfluous or fluff. The reflections on the war, striking coalminers, and class debates all give weight to the story. Sir Clifford reads and becomes extremely intellectual while bound to his wheelchair, yet he sees nothing wrong with the English class divides. Connie of course disagrees with the notion that there will always be people who boss and people to boss. Mellors is a higher servant than most, yet he still must take orders from other household servants, and Sir Clifford mocks his accented speech. Constance’s father and sister also find no problem with her taking a lover, but all expect it to be a man of upper standing, not a servant. Likewise, none of the lower class cared that Mellors and his wife lived separately until the affair with Lady Chatterley comes out. He becomes an outcast in his own society-a class that Clifford jokingly calls ‘the enemy’.

The absurdity of this class division is obvious to the viewer. The juxtaposition of the bright, big, and beautiful green Chatterley estate versus the cramped dirty, rocky mines is a smart move by Russell, as are the love scenes between Connie and Mellors. The natural wooded part of the estate is theirs, where class troubles can’t reach them, and simplicity and innocence rule-unlike the cold, structured halls of the Wragby estate.

Russell and his co screenwriter Michael Haggaig also give double duty to the production’s dialogue. I’ve not read any versions of Lawrence’s books, only criticisms, but the screenwriters use the sound source materials to their advantage. Every line spoken has double and symbolic meaning. Part one ends with the first significant interaction between Mellors and Lady Chatterley. She wants a key for the hut on the property, and Mellors closes with, ‘If you let me know when you want it.’ Sexual innuendo, the face value meaning, a little key into the lock penetration symbolism, and a hint of chastity belt referenced all in six words.

The acknowledgement of speech divides is also sharp. When Connie’s sister Hilda (Hetty Baynes) finally meets Mellors, she asks him to speak ‘normal English’. The similar but different nature of the way they talk should keep the lovers apart, but it is a treat for the audience. Listen closely, and not just for the naughty language.

Now of Nip/Tuck fame, Joely Richardson was fairly new at the time of Lady Chatterley’s release, as was future Sharpe star Sean Bean. Both give every ounce to the production, and the delivery from the actors is also perfect. The way Sean Bean says ‘Your Ladyship’ alone shows his pent up torment. We follow Connie’s perspective more, but listen closely to Mellors’ speeches. He’s been a lonely misunderstood soul and now he’s found an emotional awakening with the one woman he shouldn’t have. Likewise Joely Richardson is perfect in nearly every frame. She’s so proper in the beginning, then shrinks in illness. She looks radiant and grows in beauty as her relationship with Mellors grows. The looks and unspoken movements between the two are exceptional. She bites her lips and nails when observing Mellors, and he often tilts his head or hunches away shy in her presence-as opposed to his upright towering over the permanently seated Clifford.

The chemistry between the leads is evident, yet Russell swiftly finds ways to symbolically divide them onscreen. Many of the scenes between Richardson and Bean are through fences or gates, implying one or the other is always locked out or in. Even after their relationship begins, trees or posts will cut the two shot down the middle, leaving a divided but symmetrical shot onscreen. Subtle but brilliant from Russell. These shots show how out of her element Constance is, but also how trapped Mellors is. The cinematography, acting, and dialogue all multitask, and multiple viewings of Lady Chatterley is a must if one is to catch everything. Sir Clifford and his nurse Mrs. Bolton also develop a special relationship, parallel to Connie and Mellors, but acceptable of course. Their conversations seem more evenly matched. They play chess and the widowed nurse is more physically intimate with Sir Clifford then Connie, taking over the duties of bathing and shaving him. Her words are also accented, but Clifford never insults her about it. Wilby does a fine job as Clifford. He insults and bosses Mellors, but in fact it is Clifford who cannot function without his servants. Mellors may take orders, but he his own man, where Clifford’s paralysis puts him at the mercy of everyone else-even Mellors. Wilby swiftly moves from sorrowful and intelligent to brutish and melancholy. You feel bad for Clifford when his motorized chair gets stuck, and further emotional when it is Mellors who must push the crippled husband of his lover. Sir Clifford of course insults Mellors and then we hate him again.

Perfectly matching James Wilby is Shirley Anne Field as Mrs. Bolton. She plays the widowed nurse expertly yet with a slight air of ambiguity. Her button up style and always proper air are perfect, if a little Mrs. Danover from Rebecca. She claims to be there for both the husband and wife but clearly puts together the pieces about Lady Chatterley and Mellors. When rumors begin about their affair, Russell alludes that it might have been Mrs. Bolton leading the servant talk, yet she swiftly covers for Connie and keeps Sir Clifford in the dark. Clueless as he is anyway, Clifford doesn’t doubt Mrs. Bolton, nor does Lady Chatterley. It’s almost as if she might have let something slip, but not out of malice. Mrs. Bolton seems to understand that Wragby Hall isn’t where Connie belongs and seeks to speed her escape to Mellors. The women talk frankly about knowing true love, warmth, and tenderness from a man. Mrs. Bolton knows that is what Connie needs, and she won’t get it from Sir Clifford.

Social and sexual intrigue aside, Lady Chatterley is a stunning period piece. The Wragby Hall location is breathtaking and takes on the feel of a supporting character itself. When Mellors waits on its vast steps, he’s clearly out of his element. Likewise Clifford’s room could seem like a dream. Incredible bed, books everywhere, the piano and the latest inventions. Connie, of course, fits neither in the uppity hall or the meager shack in the woods. Joely Richardson’s costumes are so lush. Today such hats and flapper style dresses would seem ridiculous, but they looks gorgeous onscreen. The proper style, yet free spirited fabrics and layers fit the character so well, and Russell’s attention to detail sets everything off. Richardson’s wisps of hair and the clang of her beads set the tone for her wild ways.

Sean Bean’s costume also says far more about his character than he does. So lowly valued, yet he wears a button collar and tie while he lurks the woods with a dog and a gun strapped to his back. The wearing or removing of his page boy hat also add depth to Mellors’ mood and respectfulness. Even the music and props complete every scene. By no means is Lady Chatterley some B porn production. The wind up gramophones, old time radios, candelabras, and vintage cars sell every authenticity, and the score moves between modern jazz tunes and haunting classical arrangements. Russell insisted on using English compositions, and the tunes top off the flavor of the film.

But finally I must mention what I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for. The sex scenes in Lady Chatterley were spared nothing less than Russell’s best, of course. There isn’t any foreplay, fondling, or even oral sex. When Connie and Mellors finally get to it, they get to it. The initial consummation is a bit awkward for both parties. They discuss and try to resist but ultimately succumb to the sort of re-virginal experience. Lady Chatterley hasn’t been with a real man in some time, and Mellors confesses his demeaning wife was the only woman he had ever been with. The dialogue is indeed necessary in the kinky scenes. If what’s going on isn’t clear in the visuals, the characters say what they mean, and I mean they say it!

The pre and post conversations are particularly important in two ambiguous sex scenes-one that is near rape and another that is most likely anal sex. If you’re not reeling and all giggles over those, prepare yourself for Part 3. I suspect Lady Chatterley’s ‘For Mature Audiences Only’ warning is for the full frontal nudity sequences. I don’t wish to spoil it, but ladies if you go in slow motion, you will see the whole Bean.

In the end, however, Lady Chatterley isn’t about the tawdry sex scenes. By part 4, sensitive types may need a box of tissues. The speeches from Connie and Mellors are so sincere, honest, and downright poetic that the audience can’t help but root for the couple. Russell hold nothing back, from nasty husbands, kinky sex, and bad language so that we are raw, primed, and moved for the production’s big finish. In Lady Chatterley’s final fifteen minutes, you will be agonizing and cheering Connie and Mellors on to happiness. Do our fair lovers find each other at the end? I shan’t tell!

The Lady Chatterley DVD is available in all regional formats at a very affordable price. Usually under $30 at most retailers, or online if you’re a bit shy about the purchase. The double disc set has little special features to speak of, only a brief photo gallery, trailers, and an interview with Ken Russell. Not for children of course, I also don’t think men will enjoy Lady Chatterley. Despite plenty of Joely’s bits, males won’t be interested in the story or period costume drama. Keep Lady Chatterley for your own guilty pleasure, or for that all girls night you’ve been planning. All four hours in one sitting, tears, and repeat viewings- I assure you Lady Chatterley will not disappoint.