Showing posts with label Pierce Brosnan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pierce Brosnan. Show all posts

05 October 2024

Guy Pearce Re-Watch: Hidden Gems

 

Hidden Gems of the Guy Pearce Career Re-Watch! 💎



Those who follow my Twitter account @ThereforeReview know that I have spent these pandemic years perusing through a Guy Pearce Career Re-Watch. I retreated to this happy place because Pearce can always be depended upon to turn in a great performance in often exceptional films. 

This countdown's order is more arbitrary, as it's worth seeking all of these hidden gems for their film quality and variety of Pearce performances. Though capable of breaking the internet from time to time, Guy Pearce is not the marquee actor cast to put butts in the cinema seats. Fortunately, he is the go-to actor for quiet gravitas as seen in the unique pieces here. 


Please click through to previously written reviews and videos at I Think, Therefore I Review, InSession Film or with the Women InSession Podcast and Keith Loves Movies for more in depth analysis along with these quick commentaries and countdowns.




9. The Hard Word Crooked lawyers and corrupt cops facilitate heists carried out by conveniently release jailbird brothers in crime in this 2002 Australian who's who including Joel Edgerton (It Comes at Night) and Rachel Griffiths (Six Feet Under). It's tough to tell if this is about the crime or the comedy with turnabout circumstances, zany personalities, and backward Butcher Talk code suggesting humor while the dramatic prison visitations are very well done. Reflections on each side of the dividing glass accent the confrontations over who's screwing whom, and the camera accents the cleverness and crime realizations in the second half. Pearce is at times unrecognizable thanks to a bad fake nose that doesn't really move with his expressions. However his smart brother Dale slips into each disguise as needed. Though thematically uneven and not as taut as it should be with convoluted betrayals and unnecessary bad guys, literal runs with the loot and quirky characterizations keep this a bemusing late night heist. 


8. Dating the Enemy – The dated fashions, peppy ear worms, Valentine's Day cliches, and corny humor of this 1996 Australian body swap comedy starring Claudia Karvan and Guy Pearce takes me back to simpler times. Certainly part of me wishes there was more depth to the battle of the sexes explorations beyond his not being able to understand pantyhose and her zipper mishaps – women's locker room secrets and sleeping with your disappointing male best friend were ripe for more humor and sophistication. Likewise I also think our opposites attract exes should have switched back thanks to the unexplained wishes and moon magic and not because they had fulfilling sex while in each other's bodies. Learning what the other person wants and needs in a relationship and knowing how to give of yourself mind and body should have happened after they swapped back. Compared to American sex comedies the discourse is tame, played for all audiences without nudity or raunchy, shallow titillation. Our man realizes it sucks to be a woman not taken seriously who can't eat pizza every day while she has to do both their jobs. Fun performances anchor the preposterous mystic versus science of it all with walks, postures, and mannerisms reflecting the mind inside the wrong body voiceovers. The audience is along for the romantic ride, and I miss this kind of lighthearted, fanciful, charming little picture.


7. 33 Postcards – This 2011 international production also featuring social worker Claudia Karvan chronicles soon to be paroled inmate Pearce and his secret sponsorship of an orphaned Chinese teenager. Though naive and isolated from the real world for her age, young Lin Zhu (The Demon Hunter) runs away from her traveling choir to find her sponsor, getting in over her head in the Sydney chop shop scene. Some viewers may be bothered by the dated musical moments, dual languages, cultural mix ups, and slightly amateur English but our Mei Mei has a certain fearlessness – unafraid to ask for help whether people are friendly with the map or potentially taking advantage of her. Her positive outlook rubs off on others as the initial pen pal awkwardness gives way to making up for time served and loners realizing they don't have to be alone. Despite writing fanciful postcards filled with beachy Down Under fun, Pearce's inmate is actually pale, pasty, shaky, and squirrely small. He remains hunched with his hands in his pockets, fearful of re-entering the outside world after his ten year sentence. Immigration visas, bad relations, and parole red tape interfere as our would be father and daughter try to take care of each other, and tense prisoner harassment escalates to shower perils, shank chases, and children in danger. You know today a Hollywood version would be dark, scandalous, and cliché; however the youthful, personal moments here make for a simple, endearing little picture about finding your own family and making your own music. 


6. Hateship Loveship – Jennifer Jason Leigh (Possessor), Christine Lahti (Chicago Hope), and Nick Nolte (Cape Fear) are underutilized in this disjointed 2013 drama based on Alice Munro's short story. The slow paced plain and realistic bare mirroring the too old to be putting on makeup for the first time wallflower Kristen Wiig (Bridesmaids) may be boring and naive for some viewers. Fortunately, attention to detail in character clothing, cigarettes, and shabby motels sets off the misunderstandings as Guy Pearce becomes the erroneous, not so put together object of our shy housekeeper's affection thanks to a sneaky letter writing campaign by his daughter Hailee Steinfeld (True Grit) and her snotty friend who doesn't get the comeuppance she deserves. Well timed country music lyrics accent the foolishness and elbow grease as the down and out, who's taking advantage of whom realizations come to light. Wigg is subdued in a strong dramatic turn – humbly anchoring the broken people and second chances. Today's audience may balk at her runaway devotion, but Joanna makes the best of the fix despite her sheltered honesty, his flaws, fatal pasts, and drug abuse. Pearce is grizzled, shaggy, and sickly, having served for his mistakes but continuing to use, steal, and lie. People can't change immediately, but this late bloomer starting over romance could be the positive healing they need. Our hard working gal has her own money and takes action to achieve what she wants in this lovely little piece for fans of the cast.




5. In Her Skin Lovely landscapes, dancing, and original songs contrast dark skies, empty trams, and every parent's worst fear in this 2009 Australian true story starring Miranda Otto (Lord of the Rings), Guy Pearce, and Sam Neill (Dead Calm). A daughter hasn't returned home, and the number of days since the disappearance anchors episodic acts focusing on the parents, killer, and victim. Blasé officials see these cases everyday, but emotions are high for the family facing this awful new experience with frantic phone calls, television pleas, sobs, and swoons. Sensuality, nudity, love, and sex are also shown in different dynamics – the young bloom, ugly body dysmorphia, tenderness between couples, and brutally suggestive strangulation. Panning camera work, demented voiceovers, fantasy-esque flashbacks, and windswept distortions are spooky and slightly off kilter, getting viewers inside our killer's state of mind alongside disturbing letters, violent artwork, bullying, and a devious sense of empowerment with Electra undertones from the award-worthy Ruth Bradley (Humans). Today it's difficult for us to believe no one noticed or provided mental health intervention, but the performances carry the uncomfortable grief and realistically stilted shock in this intriguing psychological drama.


4. First Snow – Subdued psychic J.K. Simmons (Whiplash) warns sleazy salesman Guy Pearce he's on borrowed time in this 2006 parable waxing on fate versus destiny and self- fulfilling prophecy. Eerie, intense palm readings provide sports scores, highway warnings, and the titular ticking clock. Threatening phone calls, EKG check ups, amateur investigations, and screwed over business deals pepper angel on the shoulder girlfriend Piper Perabo (Coyote Ugly) versus paroled Shea Whigham (Kong: Skull Island) coming back to haunt our smooth talker. Dialogue and sounds often bleed into the next scene, and moments are intercut with flash forwards or past memories, visually mirroring the predestined plots. Low on the highway angles, rear view mirrors, up close windshields, choice zooms, and headlights match the rushed, coming and going, hitting the pavement metaphors while answering machine harassment, mail box threats, and gunshots build intensity. This is a bright picture with desert vistas, whiteouts, and spotlights, and our Jimmy often hides behind his sunglasses. He's said to have the gift of bullshit – smoking, slicking his hair, and mocking the ill-fated prediction before getting in over his head thanks to past mistakes, current paranoia, and increasing, gun toting isolation. Jimmy's appearance doesn't change, but this is a great character arc from Pearce, and his countenance is altered. His smile and wink become genuine as he mends fences, pays his bar tab, and faces his fate. However, putting things right becomes dangerous, escalating even as we know the full circle outcome of this taut character study.


3. Lorne – It's quite unsettling as the grizzled Guy Pearce sits across the campfire and looks directly into the camera for this 2016 fifteen minute, one man short from director Jesse Leaman (Mad Martha). He asks questions of us, his apparent visitor, for he's used to being alone, sullen, and with his rifle at the ready. His shabby hat and raspy breath indicate the cold desolate while gunshots punctuate the wilderness, and it's clear our forlorn, titular woodsman has been alone too long. Overhead angles show how small he is in the vastness, yet up close shots of Lorne's hands, face, mucky teeth, and dirty nails are uncomfortably intimate. Lorne's paranoid by our stare, wondering what his reflection looks like after this year of on edge isolation, and we don't want to go further into the dark forest with him. He curses and shouts into the void, apprehensive but prepared in the bush with tools and supplies – ready to die over something meaningful but not get killed in the wilds for nothing. He wonders if he's dead already, but the camera glances at his rifle as he talks about his father admiring its craftsmanship more than the dangers. Lorne misses his family and imagines they are there with tearful, introspective regret – realizing that there is only one thing left to do. Although I would have liked to have seen the rest of this story in full form, for fans of taut short films, this is a must see show reel of what Guy Pearce can do with nothing but the emotion on his face.


2. Spinning ManForeboding flashes, yellow tape, and photos of the deceased open this 2018 thriller starring Professor Pearce, detective Pierce Brosnan (GoldenEye), and wife Minnie Driver (Phantom of the Opera). The professors debate hypothetical opportunities with young students, but working out while the cheerleaders look leads to crushes, stolen glances, and unspoken flirtations as the camera lingers on a girl's smile longer than it should. Professor Pearce is cool about his alibi, yet other times he protests the police questioning for no reason. Paralleling police mirrors or the man made small and isolated in the frame visuals accent interrogations while careful editing matches the police interplay and family arguments. Classroom philosophizing and literal versus figurative plays on words build suspicion, for it's easy to talk one's way out of anything if the truth is subjective. Suspect lipstick and circumstantial evidence lead to awkward family trips, narcissistic blaming, and maybe maybe not memories. No one says what they actually mean and guilty perceptions create 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 an entire university in jeopardy. This is a character drama rather than a tense a minute thriller with fine performances providing mature introspection as the lies come full circle.


1. Breathe In This 2013 drama from writer and director Drake Doremus (Equals) about a would be romance between teacher Guy Pearce and student Felicity Jones (reunited with Pearce for the newly acclaimed The Brutalist) is not played as some steamy, tawdry affair. Superb classical piano and cello music, natural lighting, and intimate camera angles are vivid and authentic – taking time for the telling notes, lingering looks, and increasing contradictory lies that do not go unnoticed. We should hate cookie jar collecting, controlling wife Amy Ryan (Gone Baby Gone) as she quotes the negative logistics of her husband leaving a secure position for a city symphony chair. She always drives, often speaks for him, belittles his music as a loud hobby, and tells him no in front of others as if he's a teenager like their daughter. However, if Megan didn't smile, deflect, and hold fast to their seemingly idyllic home with scrapbooks and keeping up with the Jones barbecues; Keith's romanticizing of the struggling musician's life wouldn't buy their daughter a car. Young Sophie's Electra issues, on the other hand, are clear. She's brought her own copy of Jane Eyre and carries sheet music yet doesn't play now that her favorite uncle and musical mentor died. Her exchange semester in New York was a spur of the moment decision, and she immediately relates to Keith's despair in song. He drinks and smokes behind his wife's back, sitting on the empty swing set wondering what he has missed in life. Pearce's silent and still demeanor invokes a compelling melancholy– hiding a look of constant anywhere but here contemplation behind his glasses. The lid on the piano is closed no matter the emotional intimacy or sacrifices unsaid, and the painful glances are excellent alongside the shattered cookie jars and reckless teen angst. Nothing physical happens, but juvenile runaway plans lead to deception, cruelty, and consequences. Photo shoot bookends reveal how easy it is to feign happiness, and the superb performances carry the realistic relationships and bittersweet reflections. It's a pity this was released several months before Iron Man 3, for this is so little seen in comparison yet remains the better film.




06 August 2019

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 MarsBarbara 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.


12 March 2018

Family Frights and Perils 2!



Family Frights and Perils, Second Story!
By Kristin Battestella



It's time for another round of families under siege as these recent chillers use ghosts, zombies, technology, and suspicious real estate to terrorize one and all.



Hidden – Andrea Riseborough (W.E.) and Alexander Skarsgard (True Blood) star in this 2015 parable from The Duffer Brothers (Stranger Things) beginning with dialogue in the dark before a single flame reveals a stark bunker with metal beds and a green, fall out patina. A doll, one vintage board game, a deck of cards, and a handmade periscope with distorted mirror glances of their chained closed manhole and the debris outside placate the daughter inside amid whispers of what's above and the family rules – never open the door, don't talk loud, and they must not lose control. Candles, canned food, and carving the days into the wall for math lessons reflect the functioning but frazzled underground routine. How do you raise a child in a bomb shelter? It's a miracle they have survived together this long, but they are losing weight, rats are in the food, and water is precious. After fires inside and materials lost, can they risk going to the surface? Some of the bonding time with positive Dad is somewhat saccharin, but Mom doubts this can be a home and not a prison, creating tension as they both assure their daughter comes first no matter what the cost. Fade ins mirror the darkness and suggest the passage of time while past details come as memories triggered by the current smoke and surface rumblings – outbreak flashbacks giving enough information to accent forward momentum rather than lingering long or coming as in your face dream flashes. Footsteps echoing above, an inopportune talking doll, and glowing eyes peering in hit home the fear as the family tells themselves to hold fast amid banging sounds and screaming used to chilling effect. The desperation to surface increases with tense panoramas, hectic running, and close calls once exposed with dangerous escapes, injuries, and sacrifices. Where can they run? Dark highways and siege attacks lead to a taut revelation on what's really happening as the destruction comes full circle. While not slow or boring thanks to the sense of danger and the innate understanding of what parents won't do for their child, this is a confined play with the claustrophobia felt. The well woven narrative never keeps us too far away from the shelter for too long, remaining trapped by the environment be it inside, outside, or the truth – and lies – we tell ourselves for survival. Though there probably isn't a lot of re-watch value and today it is nearly impossible to go into a picture like this cold, this is a bleak and emotional surprise.




House Hunting – A low priced, seventy acre foreclosure is too good to be true for two families in this 2013 mind bender starring Marc Singer (The Beastmaster). Rather than a scenic credits montage, the obligatory drive to the horrors is a claustrophobic car conversation between a young wife and the unheard step-daughter. Shrewd editing places the divided family each in their own frame, and our second trio also argues over a teen son on crutches and a grumpy dad rightfully asking what the catch is on this dream property with automated sales pitches in every room. Surprise accidents, hidden guns, tongues cut out, crazy people on the road, and disappearing figures in the woods pack seven different characters into the SUV, but all the country drives lead back to this house. What choice do they have but to stay inside by the ready fireplace? Flashlights, hooded shadows in the corners, just enough canned food for all – the families stick together in one room but cigarette smoking, hooting owls outside, and chills in the air add tense while a bloody ax and a straight razor foreshadow worse. The men take watches but one women wants to get to work on Monday while the other is almost happy to be there and clean the house. Can they wait for help to arrive? Instead of any transition, the screen simply moves to “One Month Later” with piled cans, smelly clothes, and nobody sleeping. Household papers reveal those responsible for the foreclosure are closer than they think, but they're trapped in this routine, strained by violent visions and hazy apparitions. Is it really ghosts or cabin fever? If one family stays, will the house let the others leave? Finger pointing, blame, and distrust mount amid suicides and new assaults. Of course, the metaphors on being trapped by one's own consequences and reliving past mistakes aren't super deep and the atmosphere falls apart in real world logic. Why does no one do what the real estate recordings say? Have they no pen or paper to recount events? Why don't they hunt for more food? This is a little weird with some trite points, unexplained red herrings, and an unclear frame – problems from a lone writer/director with no secondary eye to see the personal family connections through without changing the rules for the finale. Fortunately, the supernatural elements aren't flashy, in your face shocks, and the plain fade ins mirror the monotony, freeing the eerie to develop with meta jigsaw puzzles, doppelgangers, us versus them threats, injuries, and standoffs. Are they getting what they deserve? Will the house let them apologize and escape? The clues are there, but selfish bitterness and vengeance prevent one and all from seeing the answers. While slow for those expecting a formulaic slasher, this festival find remains unusual and thought provoking.



Split-Level


I.T. – Stock reports, public trading, jet setting apps, tech jargon, and mod homes spell doom for Pierce Brosnan (Goldeneye) and his modern family in this 2016 thriller. Mom Anna Friel (Timeline) wants everyone to have breakfast, their daughter in a stars and stripes bikini wants faster wi-fi, and self-made dad can't work the coffee machine, but the open, glass designs give buildings both personal and professional a Matrix style interface amid graphics or text messages onscreen and tricked out cars. We are accustomed to this technology, however, with screens on the wall and motion lights more relatable compared to expensive closets, high rise corporate meetings, big investors, and private aviation plans. Dad wants to move into the future but likes his privacy, and interesting conversations on technology, privacy, and opinion or what we must give or give away to obtain each are too brief. In the nineties when computer technology was emerging en masse, this kind of cyber thriller was common, and the green lightning, New Wave pop, and nightclub den contrasts the bright, streamline high society tech – mirroring the have and have not divide. Of course, the cliché hipster tech guy says all the right things, stalking and worming his way into this family unaware he is not included but just there to fix the internet. His crying over this misinterpreted social cue is a hammy excuse to tap into their cameras, and the parents of a seventeen year old girl are right to set boundaries on a creepy twenty-eight year old man – but how do you draw the line when one can infiltrate your home? Unfortunately, between the emo weak and solo rave fist pumping, the crazy enemy plotting is totally unnecessary. It would be much more frightening if the elite man had to sweat over his family, home, and business without knowing where this tech threat originates. Sprinklers on in the night, music blaring, and lights flashing come amid doctored paperwork, trade investigations, hefty aircraft hacks, and compromised medical records. It's impossible today to stop using computers or cell phones, and the played police disbelieve our family because the evidence is their own devices. Old school calling the cleaners, reducing physical footprints, and stealing thumb drives become an undercover race to erase, but the going off the grid response ultimately runs out of steam. This premise should be disturbingly timely, however contrived conveniences have authorities never looking at the jump drive evidence or following up at the family home – not to mention that saucy teen shower video filmed and distributed without the minor's consent is completely forgotten. The stormy, slow motion final standoff resorts to a hokey mano y mano physical confrontation rather than a shrewd tech answer, playing its hand early and falling apart instead of providing the audience with any real fear of subversive technology.



Skip the Basement!


The Open House – My husband watched this 2018 Netflix Original one morning without me and spent the rest of the day complaining about it. Who was the guy? Was he in the house the whole time? Why did the trailer play at something supernatural? What was the point of the crazy lady? What a stinky ending! Suffice to say he summed it all as thus: “I want my hour and a half back.” ¯\_()_/¯ 



03 March 2017

Top Ten: James Bond!




Welcome to our new Top Tens series in celebration of I Think, Therefore I Review's Tenth Anniversary! These monthly lists will highlight special themes and topics from our extensive archive of reviews.


This time I Think, Therefore I Review presents in chronological order...




Our Top Ten James Bond Movies!





Please see our Action labels and James Bond Tags or our Bond Overview page for even more!


I Think, Therefore I Review began as the blog home for previously published reviews and reprinted critiques by horror author Kristin Battestella. Naturally older articles linked here may be out of date and codes or formatting may be broken. Please excuse any errors and remember our Top Tens will generally only include films, shows, books, or music previously reviewed at I Think, Therefore I Review.


04 October 2015

Unfriendly Family Frights!


Unfriendly Family Frights!
By Kristin Battestella



Put the kiddies to bed for these old school sociological scares, freaky families, and creepy couples of decades yore. 

 

Brain Twisters – A shattered walkman, neon, bad techno graphics, giant microphones, and lots of old time televisions add nostalgia to this 1991 sci-fi scary. Did I mention the bad denim, pink, phones with cords, and phone booths? The dated design is certainly noticeable but feels more bemusing than unwatchable. The opening fifteen minutes have a nice underlying ominous – we know something spooky is going to happen to these coeds thanks to the bevy of dorky dudes, a creeper professor keeping a student’s brain on ice, and you know, nasty corporations doing brain experimentations. The eerie bathroom scenes are fun, but the female characters are cliché and distinguished only by their stereotypes: the smart virgin, the dark haired slut, and the chubby best friend. This low grade, late night Cinemax feeling increases thanks to some hokey and a seriously testosterone trying wooden detective. The flashing lights triggering brain aversions are also lame; movies today have a lot more dizzy inducing strobe than a blinking pinball machine! While it’s nice that you can see what’s happening without any in your face special effects, the straightforward filmmaking was probably a by budget necessity, so the lack of camera bells and whistles or flashy editing feels like things are taking too long to escalate. Nobody really figures out what’s going on, and this nothing spectacular but not a disaster style could have been punched up a lot more. This is better than I expected it to be and remains entertaining, but the premise and ultimate statement are a bit dumb. If there’s supposed to be some kind of message about the static on the TV brainwashing the next generation, that ship done sailed!




Crucible of Horror – Alfred he is not! Michael Gough is deliciously wicked in this 1970 familial twisty brimming with mirrors, then upscale décor, country cottages, a spooky attic, and a suspicious stiff upper lip gentility. This dad's sexist ideals are so sadistically strict that he feels up his 16 year old daughter's bicycle seat – no, this dinner table isn't going to be awkward! Old phones and out of order receivers add to the deceiving protocol, lack of privacy, and oh so polite manner. Pour us a drink and kindly don't interrupt while we try to kill you, jolly good. Guilty hands are constantly rewashed, intercut secrets up the suspicion, and whether it is shown or implied, the disturbing violence somehow keeps us guessing who is in the right and doing what to whom. Classical music keeps the murderous plotting, well, classy amid the well edited escalation and bumbling crime. How many times has this caper been foiled? Our thieving, traumatized teen sucks her thumb, and wife Yvonne Mitchell (Nineteen Eighty-Four) is both dead behind the eyes yet surprisingly lucid. The volume, unfortunately, seems very low here, and some scenes veer too far toward nonsensical psychedelic dreams. Not a lot happens to start either, but the creepy 90 minutes is allowed to simmer and build discomfort – not to mention how misogynistic brother Sam Gough (Shelley) and sister in need of discipline Sharon Gurney (Women in Love) are real life husband and wife! Despite some predictable twists, we don't quite blame anyone for taking matters into their own hands, and the retribution, fishy neighbors, and body afoot make for plenty of who did what to whom and how suspense. 
 


The Evictors – This 1979 AIP spooky opens with a neat 1928 sepia flashback complete with cool coops, a rural siege, and tommy gun shootouts before moving to Louisiana 1942 for more pretty country, fedoras, candlestick phones, and operators at the other end! Jessica Harper (Suspiria) unknowingly settles into that prior deadly house, and it's a familiar premise with red herrings, lusty realtor Vic Morrow (Combat!), and an old lady busybody recounting a 1939 killer flashback. There's also an expendable mystical negro stereotype sharing a 1934 flashback, and the expected horrors may build too slowly for audiences wanting shocks a minute. I'm not sure if I like the separate flashback actions or not, for they take away from the present mystery a bit too much. However, seeing how the murderous actions went down rather than just telling it in a typical research montage is different and allows for additional scares amid the more commonplace damsel in creepy house horrors. Fortunately, the flat picture fits the seventies meats forties revisit, and the cast matches the wartime look and colloquialisms. This was an idyllic time with unlocked doors, friendly neighbors, a lone woman walking in red pumps to the country store – and carrying back the groceries! The sentimental introductions, picnics, and king of the castle era creates a quaint safety before suspicious notes in the mailbox, eerie ticking clocks, creaking floorboards, and simmering thunderstorms. The behind closed doors screams, cut away violence, and killer camera perspectives add to the predatory suggestions – even if the finale gets somewhat humorous. Wise viewers may see the same old same old gun twists coming and the ending is a bit confusing. However, there are enough surprises and period flair accenting this puzzler. So why aren't more horror movies set in these eras?



Nomads – Although the eerie editing, slow motion, and stilted camerawork carries a dated movie of the week feeling, the black and white photographs, darkroom splicing, frizzy perms, and limp ladies bow ties ironically accent this atmospheric 1986 supernatural thriller. Los Angeles hospitals, violent patients, grimy vandals, and French flavor set off the bad dreams and strung out ER as the memories between fair doctor Lesley-Ann Downe (North and South) and bearded anthropologist husband Pierce Brosnan (GoldenEye) blur. The wrong reflections are in the mirror, and the intercutting between our avatar and the retraced action is well paced and mature but no less bizarre. While I can do without the music montages and oooo badass silent but supposedly sinister punks, the gender reversals, possessions, titular pursuits, and cryptic history remain intriguing. Granted, the unique Inuit myths aren't made completely clear and these desert spirits gone wild aren't as menacing as they should be. However, the viewer knows there's something suspicious amid the concrete jungle threats, spooky nuns, and abandoned creepy. Where some tribes fear the camera capturing one's soul, these evil spirits don't appear in the developed frame. It's freaky and foreboding considering how many more gangs and urban nomads there must be today. How often do we pass by rowdy, stray, or seemingly innocuous people without really noticing them? Whether they are supernatural or desperate, maybe it's better if we don't catch their eye and loose our soul. Head down and keep moving! It might be interesting to see this notion revisited, as once you get over some of the eighties silly and wild, over the top finale, this 90 minutes makes for a scary sociological study.