I had a tremendous time chatting with Morgan at the Female Gaze Film Podcast about the 2013 film Hateship Loveship!
Thank you for listening to our conversation! Follow me on Blue Sky for more upcoming Podcast and Video appearances or browse previous audio/visual guest spots:
The Revisionist Almanac Women's History Month Collab
1999: The Podcast – The End of the Affair
Greatest Movies of All Time – Ben-Hur
This month it was such a privilege to be part a small part of The Revisionist Almanac's Women's History Month Collaboration podcast!
You can hear many amazing voices amid this epic episode and stay tuned for more video chats with Jaylan Salah on The Jay Days YouTube Channel as well as my guest spot on an upcoming episode of The Female Gaze Film Club!
DMs are open on Blue Sky for collaborations or follow our Podcast tag for past episodes including:
The Revisionist Almanac – 1956
Greatest Movies of All Time – Ben-Hur
1999: The Podcast – The End of the Affair
Two Too Obvious Horrors
by Kristin Battestella
These recent women in horror films make for an unfortunately obvious duo playing into cliches and doing much too much. Pity.
Hold Your Breath – Sarah Paulson (American Horror Story) anchors this 2024 Hulu original set in 1930s Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl. Coughing and gasping dreams, our mother's prayers to not be evil, and already deceased children giveaway everything upfront along with flashbacks of dad leaving to work on the railroad and daughters locking their door. Dust lingers in streams of light shining between wood planks; the women wipe, sweep, and beat the sheets but dust is everywhere. On edge neighbors trying to escape monstrous storm clouds lead to wagon accidents and burying dead animals. Families must cling to the safety lines or be swept away in the howling winds. Bedtime stories of the previously tall, golden wheat fields don't alleviate the rattling house, creaking wood, and dirt dunes billowing against the door. Promises to join their father when he sends money become notches on the wall counting his absence while the cows quit and a self-proclaimed healing hands minister hides in the barn. Unfortunately, ridiculously loud modern crescendos interfere with the suspense – deflating the innate breathing, nosebleeds, and dirt in their mouths. There should be no music save for the banging shutters, and although they serve the plot, one wonders if all the other townsfolk are truly necessary. Even our deaf daughter is a contrivance rather than a fully developed character serving the masks, sleeping pills, unknown man, women alone, and mailbag warnings. Entertaining angels unaware Lot scripture reiterates the feminine dangers while the superfluous town gossips whisper about what violence goes on behind closed doors. Friendly knocks on the door from those colloquial ninnies are rebuffed as mom practices putting on her smile in the mirror amid congested interior barricades, fires, and sleepwalking. Pretty white dresses are ruined with blood and no one believes there was a man terrorizing them once you say he's a speck of dust that came in under the door. Viewers understand our unfit mother's selfish descent as the family cycle perpetuates with sewing needle mishaps, shooting at voices in the dust, and children in peril. However grieving visions playing at the mental versus horror metaphors become an overlong, predictable excuse when the crazed, everything's fine pretending was enough for a straight isolation thriller. Despite a fine setting, atmosphere, and performances; this is laid on thick and obvious from the opening scene.
Immaculate – The similarities to The First Omen are indeed apparent, and the obvious title is obvious to everyone but novice Sydney Sweeney (Madame Web) in this 2024 seen it all before nunsploitation yarn. Although questions at customs and searching the suitcase establish the Italian dictionary, Bible, and stuffed animal nervousness about taking the forthcoming vows; the opening runaway nun caught for buried alive screams is unnecessary. I wish the lovely on location filming and scenery were bright enough to actually see and I'm not sure when this is supposed to take place? However the American accent is jarring – an out of place modernity amid the rapid intermixed Italian exposition, diegetic choir chants, and eerie courtyard processions. Suggestive bridal vows, handsome priests, kneeling before the men, and kissing the ring innuendo are laid on thick but the spooky atmosphere and rituals beneath the inner sanctum aren't scary because the audience knows more than our vomiting novitiate. Brief visual distortions and nightmares give way to a happy daylight montage with chores and kitchen quaint even as chickens are killed and old convent patients die. Giggling bathing gossip and questions about if she has been chaste lead to humorous crescendos as they whip the cover off the ultrasound machine. Apparently, she's so faithful the miraculous mom never questions why a convent for dying nuns needs an obstetrician on call. It's tough to support a protagonist that has wine, faints, and wakes up pregnant but isn't suspicious despite Madonna ceremonies, teeth falling out, and jealous drowning attempts. Askew funerary angles, hidden scripture, hair effigies, cross brandings, and a tortured nun getting her tongue cut out attempt medieval touches while mom-to-be in white roams the halls at night with a candle. Chicken ruses, bleeding emergencies, and prayers over said bloody sheets lead to chases and a rough shower scrubbing. The priest puts on black gloves and apologizes if she feels unsafe after being subjected to a rusty nail with 2,000 year old sinews yet it's all so on the nose thanks to egotistical experiments, fetus failures in jars, misused scripture, and secret lab equipment. Questions debating why God hasn't stopped them and Ave Maria choirs feel religion-lite as our woman in labor runs, fights, and climbs the cool catacombs. She damns her water for breaking after bludgeoning the mother superior with hefty a crucifix while Carol of the Bells plays. She strangles the eminence with a rosary when he's smoking and sets the genetics priest on fire, too, as you do. Despite being eighty-odd minutes with lengthy credits eating into the actual runtime, this feels both overlong yet lacking in resolution or consequences. Fortunately our wild, covered in blood mother bites off her umbilical cord and smashes her unseen demon baby with a rock – actions accented by nails on chalkboard screaming and humorous “thump” and “sloshing” closed captions. This is a comedy and I laughed out loud.
Recent Religious Horror
by Kristin Battestella
This trio of 2020s frights takes on evil in several forms. However, some results are better than others are – ranging from decent to frustrating and downright bad viewing experiences.
Pretty Good
The First Omen – Sonia Braga (Kiss of the Spiderwoman), Bill Nighy (Underworld), and Charles Dance (Game of Thrones) provide supporting gravitas in this 2024 prequel to The Omen co-written by debut director Arkasha Stevenson (Vessels). Tolling bells, scaffolding perils, and shattered glass begat shadowed confessions and whispers of unnatural conceptions. Black hoods, bound rituals, pregnancy, blood, and pleas to not be touched again make for a chilling start before the sunny arrival of our friendly American nun at the 1971 Roman orphanage. The old corridors look shabby with an amber, aged patina, and we wonder what goes on in this villa filled with women. These nuns smoke and giggle about the milkman, however union protests and youth counterculture that distrust church authority worry the Cardinal. Our novice recounts being a problem child herself, punished and subdued as a ward of the church for what was said to be an overactive imagination. She's reluctant to sneak out and hit the neon disco but soon gets into the dancing and sweaty kisses before regrets, kneeling, and prayers. Lookalike women, sisterhood suggestions, lesbian taboos, and repeated creepy hair fanning out upon the pillows foreshadow more while an excommunicated priest warns of evil things happening. Immolation, delirious weirdness, and monstrous nasty provide what we think we see in the dark fears amid eerie frescoes, hidden rooms, and disturbing offspring. Pregnancy is not a beautiful experience but gory with medical tools and horrible visions of demon hands and orifices. Backward chants and altars treat the Cesarean as ceremony – escalating to claws, growls, retching, convulsions, and baby cries. The elders claim this abomination is a miracle to save the church, however viewers will know what's what re mother and jackal before the ninety minute mark, and this didn't need to be two hours. Pointless arty shots and short cryptic scenes are disjointed while silly jump scares negate the more natural simmering horror mood. Swelling music calls attention to itself, heralding the spooky when the chorales should only be heard as diegetic and innate to the ritual vows. The revelations are overdone with repeated mark of the beast questions and Antichrist goals that don't make much sense when the sixth month, sixth hour, sixth day approaching should have driven the plot. Though very atmospheric and overall entertaining thanks to sudden, disturbing horrors; the last half hour drags on with fiery slow motion and but wait there's more too many endings. Instead of leading up to the picture of Gregory Peck and fin, this overstays its welcome by eking out room for The First Exorcism 2: Boogaloo.
Frustrating
The Harbinger – Native American seer Irene Bedard (Smoke Signals) educates writer/director/producer/star Will Klipstine (The Evolution of Andrew Andrews) on saving his damned daughter in this devilish 2022 tale. Hangings, mysterious death relics, and burning in hell declarations lead to our on the go family refusing the psychologist's concerns. Sunny flashbacks of happier times are oddly intercut with a cliché driving montage and an ominous gas station stop before an annoying neighbor gives the newcomers the bigoted scoop on the nearby cursed reservation. Our daughter kills a frog and pushes children out of the tree house, but the something evil afoot parental arguments are too on the nose – forcing the sinister amid disjointed scenes that don't happen organically. Viewers wonder what's on purpose, deflection, or padding as more caricature neighbors come and go. Little miss creepy is unwelcome at the reservation, but our seer both says there is no hope for such evil yet there is something they can do. Although not stereotypically portrayed, there also simply aren't enough Native American motifs. Mystical explanations devolve into magical gobbledygook about quests, blessed daggers, and sacred stones. Repetitive scenes with redundant exposition get preposterous as everyone tells but no one actually does anything. Our father finally admits the devil has his daughter's soul, and his having been a single parent would have been much more interesting. The best moments here are between dad and daughter with her asking if he remembers what she was really like and his carrying her to bed as always. One scene with our wife going to confession and the priest kicking her out goes nowhere thanks to demonic reflections, spooky whispers, dreams, and sepia speakeasy specters negating the too few and far between emotional family moments. Continued happy flashbacks don't create emotion, just delay the current inaction as our passive family makes no progress. The Mrs. hardly interacts with her daughter unless it's to be whooshed around the kitchen, complaining her husband needs to do more rather than being proactive herself. Likewise, our seer tells of colonial curses and sacrifices in the town crypt but she's not actively involved in any ritual to prevent the collecting of souls. Dead animals accumulate and demons attack the bed as more deaths and comeuppance are given after the fact. Police investigations again fall back on flashbacks – repeating the deals with the devil and harbinger exposition twice more with who's actually in on appeasing the devil. Their faith in God and any Catholicism are a non-factor but convenient cemetery maps and prohibition tunnels provide action contrivances, convenient angels, and gangster ghosts. The horn and hoof red devil begats back and forth flying daggers stabbing people like it's “Who's on First” – the effects aren't terrible but the finale descends into unnecessary twists and obvious self-sacrifice. Diablo ex machina reincarnation and more historical exposition thrown at the screen become terribly frustrating, silly, and overlong. Though watchable if you accept this is a flawed production that had potential, this should have been a taut, streamlined ninety minutes.
Skip It
The Exorcism of God – I want to appreciate the Mexican setting, Spanish flavor, and Catholic mood of this 2021 parable, but my gosh if this isn't pieces of every other exorcism movie put together. I laughed in the first five minutes over the Exorcist knockoffs and ridiculously sexual opening exorcism – predicting it was a prologue that would to jump to a new many years later focus. Even priests named Michael and Peter are derivative of the maligned The Seventh Day, and it was very easy to zone out and half pay attention when not chuckling at the demon special effects. The earnest performances are so earnest they don't know they are in a horror movie. Sometimes that is good, most of the time it isn't. Every set piece scare is also for the audience – negating any of the priestly conflicts with repeated, increasingly hammy sexual possession shocks. This setting deserved a much better script, and Saban should really stick to Power Rangers instead of trying to make horror movies. How could a studio/distributor release forty-five films in 2022? Even if that was somehow pandemic backlog, terrible movies like this result in such littered streaming. More important than the assembly line industry, however, is the downright offensive, trying to be shocking, scandalous possession and sex ploys toward church abuse victims. A priest claiming a demon made him molest young women in his care is your plot? Who thought rape jokes were a good idea?
Supporting Grace in 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.
After his self-imposed sabbatical from Hollywood in the early aughts, Guy Pearce re-emerged in a little bit of everything, adding gravitas to award winning films and independent surprises alike. Be it ten minutes or unforgettable villains, Pearce knows how to gracefully lend his cinematic support in all genres.
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.
New Video Bonus: The Convert
10. Two Brothers – This 2004 French film provides adorable cubs, intense tiger action, beautiful Cambodia locales, and picturesque ruins with the help of real wildlife, clever special effects, and up close animatronics. DVD Behind the scenes features and conservation documentaries compliment the period picture, and billed below the titular tigers Pearce is a rugged trophy hunter learning the error of his ways thanks to nibbling kittens, innocent children, and colonial corruption robbing the country of its history. Though labeled as a family film, the story here is very upsetting for audiences of any age with tiger mating, animal shootings, circus abuse, violence, and cub anguish as our brothers are repeatedly separated from those they love. The lessons win out for a happy ending, but viewers must know this is a tough watch despite the cuddly big cats.
9. Genius – This 2016 slice of life about Colin Firth's (Kingsman: The Secret Service) editor Max Perkins to Jude Law's (The Talented Mr. Ripley) writer Thomas Wolfe adapted by John Logan (Penny Dreadful) should be fascinating literary discourse. Instead the tormented artistry is a slow, dry yarn under-utilizing Nicole Kidman (Dead Calm) and Laura Linney (The Truman Show). I'm not a fan of either author but Dominic West (The Affair) has one scene as Ernest Hemingway – as does Vanessa Kirby (The Frankenstein Chronicles) as Zelda Fitzgerald – with precious few minutes more for Pearce as the bitter late stage F. Scott Fitzgerald. That's the biopic I needed.
8. The Hurt Locker – When naysayers on Twitter say Guy Pearce hasn't done anything since Memento, sometimes I like to be a little mean and recommend this 2009 Katherine Bigelow (Near Dark) Best Picture winner just to mess with them. Pearce's opening gravitas immediately establishes the devastating shock, action awe, and Iraq War pain to come for Jeremy Renner (Hawkeye) and Anthony Mackie (The Falcon and the Winter Soldier).
7. Lawless – I should like this 2012 prohibition epic from director John Hillcoat and screenwriter Nick Cave more than I do thanks to their previous glory that is The Proposition. This has period style, sweet cars, and suave gangster Gary Oldman (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) to match real life bootlegging brothers Tom Hardy (Venom) and Shia LaBeouf (Nymphomaniac). However, the moonshiners, crooks, and corrupt officials are all just shit men going on and on in believing their own self-perceived invincible hype. Why did Jessica Chastain (Crimson Peak) and Mia Wasikowska (Jane Eyre) sign on to play such used, abused, and objectified women? Of course, Pearce hams it up as the no-eyebrowed and over perfumed villainous Chicago dandy out to get our brothers in the film's best, most brutal moments.
6. Swinging Safari – Director Stephan Elliott (The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert) provides a zany look at growing up in seventies Australia in this nostalgic 2018 ode with everything from a beached whale stinking up the summer to kids with cameras setting each other on fire for their Death Eaters Super 8 magnum opus. Great retro colors, bell bottom styles, and period gadgets accent the perilous pets, pool mishaps, and mangled fruit substituting for Evil Knievel gore amid vignette freeze frames, slow motion, and distorted in-camera narrations. Our youths are left to such danger at play thanks to bored parents Guy Pearce, Kylie Minogue (Bio-Dome), Radha Mitchell (Olympus Has Fallen), and Julian McMahon (Nip/Tuck) – who decide to get down with a key party gone awry and therein is the problem. This is two films in one mashing a serious Wonder Years coming of age with an adult comedy that doesn't have enough of the titular scandal. Too much is happening and the charm becomes disjointed despite numerous entertaining moments worthy of a more complete picture.
5. The King's Speech – This 2010 Best Picture winner about George VI's overcoming his stuttering problems is a charming period piece thanks to the lauded cast including Best Actor Colin Firth, Helena Bonham Carter (A Room with a View), Geoffrey Rush (Elizabeth), and Guy Pearce “kinging” with aplomb as Edward VIII. Of course, the vocal exercises come across so feel good because the story excises any probable Nazi implications to the abdication. Here tuxedo wearing, champagne popping, piloting his own plane Pearce abandons the throne solely for love. Certainly I'd love to see a more accurate portrayal of the dirty dynamics between the subsequent Duke and Duchess of Windsor warts and all, but the endearing focus here builds to a superb radio speech accented by divine Beethoven crescendos.
4. The Last Vermeer – Scene stealing Guy Pearce's artist Han van Meegeren is second to Claes Bang (Dracula) in this 2019 historical drama struggling with a framework that doesn't completely tell its most interesting tale. Brief flashbacks of nude portraits, juicy parties getting in bed with the regime, and photos hidden in the floorboards suggest we've come in too late here in the post-war aftermath. Questions on Dutch versus Jewish identity and what double agent wives had to do to survive while upset about it husbands were in the Dutch resistance are uneven and heavy handed amid public firing squads and Allied Command versus reinstated Dutch Ministry intrigue. Vicky Krieps (Old) is underutilized as the female assistant who solves the case but get no credit, and the pace lags when Pearce is off-screen. Accused as a third rate artist but first rate opportunist, Han is small, impish, and ornery – humorous with his drunken house arrest witticisms, sexy assistant, and sassy wife innuendo. However, van Meegeren is also angry and duplicitous with careful smoking mannerisms and expertly crafted double talk. The chastising art community underestimated him, and he is at once for the people in besting the Nazis yet smug in this delicately orchestrated scheme peppered with priceless artwork, laundering implications, and whispers of espionage. The finale rushes over montaged chemical tests and loose legalese, and whether the charismatic Han was a hero or a collaborator is left unclear despite Pearce's compelling performance.
3. Animal Kingdom – Mustachioed good cop Pearce tries to protect Oscar nominated Jackie Weaver's grandson from their family's ruthless den of crime in this 2010 drama written and directed by David Michôd (The Rover). Ben Mendelsohn (Bloodline) and Joel Edgerton (Loving) punctuate their “grubby business” with drugs, murders, police corruption, and creepy family favoritism. Our sweet talking, manipulative matriarch thinks it's all a boys will be boys happy family while the innocent are caught in the crossfire. Rather than a cool crime heist or slick, polished thriller; the realistic filming is bitter with shabby styles, claustrophobic interiors, and mournful scoring to match the bleak consequences and brutal existence. Dramatic builds and abusive, incestuous implications lay the queen bee, bullying pecking order before shock shootings, car accidents, raids, arrests, witness intimidation, and bodies in the backyard. Edgy egos and power trips provide no recourse from this inescapable web as groomed youth must decide to pay the price or lay down a new law thanks to the raw, hard hitting performances here.
2. Rules of Engagement – The sensitive subject matter of this 2000 William Friedkin (The Exorcist) military courtroom drama starring Tommy Lee Jones (Stormy Monday) and Samuel L. Jackson (Kong: Skull Island) would be handled differently today. The well done opening siege action and latter legalese divide the picture in two halves. I'd also rather we had not seen the mission in question once the gunfire occurs nor known the fate of the videotape evidence – thus putting an intriguing uncertainty on what actually happened. However, viewers are never meant to doubt that Jackson was in the right doing what he had to do and that Jones will defend him with every crusty underdog gotcha. Time is taken for their banter and backstory alongside the fine supporting ensemble. Rather than being the purely villainous, nondescript prosecutor; Pearce holds his own as our opposing major, saying he will try the case on good evidence only and respecting the defending colonels. His Biggs also seems slightly fey, overcompensating with the macho talk and courtroom showmanship. Friedkin's winking zooms and stylish lighting accentuate Pearce's eyes when he realizes what's what. Five o'clock hour shadows add to the tension on the witness stand, and we must pay attention as jurors take note when testimonies conflict. Despite knowing the outcome, this is easy to re-watch for the action, intrigue, and characterizations. “Sixteen fucking minutes.”
1. The Count of Monte Cristo – Although this 2002 swashbuckling Dumas adaptation differs from the novel; the cinematic relationships and fine ensemble layer the tall ships, Napoleon intrigue, chess pieces, and betrayals. Burned letters and treasonous kickbacks mean the idealistic, niave Dantes is wrongfully imprisoned – counting the stones in his dungeon walls, vowing revenge, and secretly digging three inches a week. Courtly, austere mansions versus charming prison montages echo the classim and poverty as cave-ins and daring escapes lead to treasure maps, pirates, allies, and murder. Carefully orchestrated vengeance escalates to feigned kidnappings, ingratiating rescues, and duels while brief flashbacks punctuate the well paced adventure amid just turnabouts, pistols, arrests, and ruin. Balconies allow for dominate downward angles while windows and swaths of light invoke hope. Candlelit patinas, period costumes, lovely set design, and dirty attention to detail match the Malta locales, scenic waters, horses, and hot air balloons. The epic score accentuates spectaclular parties, revealed secrets, lost love recognized, and a dashing sword fight that surpasses the written finale. Despite the story's underlying goodness, we root for Mondego to get his due at times more than we cheer for our hero. Instead of the offered Dantes, Guy Pearce chose to play the childhood friend turned villainous love to hate Mondego – creating memorable deceit, rotten teeth sleazy, and despicable envy. I suspect this delicious performance is why there is a certain audience that will always hate Guy Pearce, and understandably so.
Divisive 2020s Horror
by Kristin Battestella
This trio of recent scary movies caters to a specific contemporary viewer, and I'm late to the party in watching these horror movies that were not meant for me. This doesn't make them all terrible, just misrepresented and thus a split viewing experience.
Not Meant for My Age Group
Bodies Bodies Bodies – Interracial chicks necking, dominant declarations of love, cool music cues, and texting while driving to the hurricane party horrors open director Halina Reijn's (Instinct) 2022 satire from A24. Crisscrossing flirtations, warnings, nervous chitchat, and awkward facades pepper the poolside manor, matching robes, and champagne. Fake compliments, judgmental introductions, weird old dude Lee Pace (The Hobbit), and who didn't text their RSVP but shows up late anyway provide attitude. Supposed friends mock one for being sober amid the intoxicated revelry, and it's immediately apparent we would not like these people in real life. The drugged up dancing, videoing, and Pete Davidson (Saturday Night Live) punching people gets old fast, dragging the first half hour. Nobody really wants to be here, and this social circle doesn't actually seem like friends at all. Such oversharing frienemy exposure of personal details, sex, history, and relationships is part of the social commentary satire, certainly. However everyone is so unlikable that it interferes with enjoying the movie. A man declares “gaslighting” as an overused word while he yet gaslights, and the script lays on annoying bait words to make these insufferable people sound smarter than they are. Fortunately, things improve when they decide to play the titular game and actual deaths occur. Flashlights and point of view spotlights lead to the power going out for real, but the search for the generator or attempts to leave (while selfishly leaving those you claim to love behind) are abandoned because our hysterical chicks don't know what to do in an emergency. Red lights, neon glows, kitchen knives, thunder, and blood accent conflicts about Xanax, who's not respecting who's boundaries, or making everything about themselves. Arguments about whether a man they knew for a few weeks was a vet as in veteran or veterinarian also reveal how our lifelong friends don't really know or even like each other. Standoffs and backstabbing remove the ineffectual men early, and the old white rich demean the new Black wealthy as merely upper middle class. Everyone is a follower, feigning allegiance while claiming enabler triggers and para-social toxicity as the conversation goes round and round over who's lying, screwing behind who's back, in therapy, or rolling their eyes. It's no surprise when they snap, shoot each other, and insist the others made them do it before denying they fired at all. The realistic filming is well directed and not over edited with well done angles and attention to lighting schemes complimenting the confrontations. The cast does the emo seriousness well, but even at ninety-three minutes, the pointing fingers me me me round and round deflection becomes damn unbearable. Four credited writers seems like too many as the meta nuggets stray. The horror label is also misleading – this is a black comedy that isn't scary but rather a midnight chuckle you watch while you scroll through your phone.
This is a Comedy
Malignant – 1993 hospitals, electrical buzzing, and doctors resorting to the tranquilizer gun against bone cracking violence open this 2021 film that should have been clearly marketed as the parody it is. Edgy time wasting credits, overly ambitious music, and a silly script initially appear to be just another bad horror movie as we move to the present day with a stereotypical spooky old house, retro shabby style, too much fog, and an excessive nighttime blue gradient. Our pregnant nurse repeatedly sees blood from her head injury thanks to an abusive husband but does nothing about it. Shadow monster things attack before sirens, police, and two weeks later disjointed restarts take too long to tell what's happening. That may be part of the satire but it's too easy to tune out in the first half hour. There's noticeable attention to peephole visuals, sideways distortions, and overhead camera angles amid blenders that come on by themselves, boo crescendos, flickering street lamps, and dark figures that send our protagonist running through the house closing the curtains like that will stop all the horror. Cool cityscape transitions begat pointless Seattle Underground tour jokes about Nirvana – just in case that shot of the Space Needle wasn't enough. It's tough to tell what is an in scene bang or an ominous score boom, and more music cues come from a strategically placed old fashioned radio. The distorted killer voice and the monster's leaps are silly, and blood splatter hits the screen before morphing panoramic set spins and screams merge the point of view and crime scene. By this point it should be obvious that this is a deliberate parody as the psychic bond, sketch artist picture of a hairy monster, and trophy for surgery excellence turned murder weapon cannot be taken seriously. The angry Black woman cop, ditsy sister, and quirky, lovelorn coroner are typical female cliches on top of convenient photo evidence and easy deductions. It's not halfway thru the movie and the parasitic twist is as obvious as the Slivercup sign spoof. Not so hidden hidden jump drives and all in her head winks – it's a good thing her imaginary friend killer calls with what's what on mom, hypnosis, spooky flashbacks, and the home video scoop. Adoption secrets, abandoned hospitals, a man in the attic, and VHS a la found footage lead to preposterous fire escape leaps, a laughable puppet monster, medical inexplicable, nonsensical shootouts, and mental showdowns that ultimately wear too thin to sustain the lark. If you want straight, superior, self-aware horror stick with New Nightmare or Scream. However, it's bemusing that today's so-called prestige television shows are guilty of seriously presenting these exact same cliches, and Annabelle Wallis (The Tudors) sending up her previous bad horror movie roles ironically makes for one of her best performances. This would have been genius if it was labeled a comedy and came in under ninety minutes. Unfortunately, going into this expecting a decent horror movie puts it off on the wrong foot and the overlong playing at clever runs into the ground by repeating the repeated gags too many times. Honestly though, I can't believe anyone thought this was a real horror movie.
An Uneven Execution
No Exit – Familiar faces and diverse newcomers anchor this 2022 Hulu Original as phone calls from ill family and group therapy hogwash lead to escapes from rehab, a perilous blizzard, and a highway visitor center with no Wi-Fi for our stranded strangers. Hazardous white outs, whipping wipers, and blustery winds acerbate relapse temptations. However, dream fake outs and slow, redundant moments create unnecessary padding before we get to the discovery of a van in the parking lot with a bound victim in the back. Playing cards should be a great way to get to know everyone and suss out the kidnapper but time is again wasted on the rules of the game. Characters pointing out the bluffs denies viewers the chance to observe the poker faces and deduce clues regarding origins, military history, license plates, and destinations for ourselves. The suspect is also apparent, almost as if it's the audience that's being played, and the women's bathroom being under construction means there are tools that will obviously come in handy later. In the van close calls, food necessities, illness complications, footprints in the snow, and confiding in some but not others about what to do provide suspense. Unfortunately, adults sit inside and wonder if something is wrong as if this is taut, one location intense. Then others who never sit still roam outside without coats and fall down ravines to create unnecessary up a minute detours and stupid encounters because the script says so. The back and forth intercutting deflates any tension, and even the well lit interiors contrasting the tough to see dark snow scenes is harsh on the audience eye. This is based on a novel, and the left field twists and sudden flashbacks can be read but become entirely too convenient and poorly paced for a ninety minute horror movie. Past connections, financial revelations, Mace, cat-fishing, trafficking, gunshots, and nail guns get preposterous as the on and on mediocrity bends all logic. Bad guys with guns negotiate through a blockaded front rather than enter through the back construction exit? Cops don't radio the place is on fire upon arrival? Today this is a serviceable midwinter scary movie because viewers have been lulled into accepting the thrown at the screen flaws as entertaining, but the potential versus execution unravels here.
Recent Female Helmed Horror
by Kristin Battestella
This trio of pandemic era horror releases is led by female directors – each with an interesting perspective on the love, blood, and gore of the genre.
Fresh – Every female viewer will be hooked in the first five minutes of this Mimi Cave 2022 directorial debut thanks to a crappy date complaining about spicy food, talking down to the waitress, wishing women dressed nicer, expecting her to pay, not holding the door, and calling Daisy Edgar-Jones (Under the Banner of Heaven) a stuck up bitch. Phone chimes, swipe left apps, and unsolicited dick pics add to our innate fears of a woman walking alone at night, keys ready, looking over her shoulder. Snacking on carrots leads to a puffy coat and goofy sneakers for a solo grocery run, but Sebastian Stan (We Have Always Lived in the Castle) is flirting in the produce section with awkward ice breakers and demands she taste the grapes. Noa didn't think people met in real life anymore but she's excited when he texts for drinks, and the exposition is for them as much as us with his plastic surgeon jokes and her hatred of all the dating pressure and projections. Up close smiles and blurred laughter overlays visually reflect the blissful time before kisses, red lighting, and a well filmed consensual that's risque without being for the male gaze. Multiple mirrors reflect the pretenses, dual facades, or who we really are revelations as the red flags get lost in the whirlwind excitement. He's not on social media yet takes pictures of her and is ready to go away for a weekend together, but viewers notice the real world warnings beyond the horror movie. No cell service, leathery artwork, drinks,and red furniture lead to a fuzzy point of view, camera distortions, slurring audio, and drugged movements just before the credits appear a half hour into the film. It's shrewd they arrive once the premise is revealed, but it's odd to disrupt the momentum as Noa awakens chained and pleading while her captor is calm and upfront: he will keep her alive and sell her meat because he's still a nice guy, but if she loses his trust, there will be consequences. Arena rock and singing along while dicing up a leg provide demented humor amid the surgical violence, epidurals, and invasive carvings. Fifties-esque pink dresses and ironic eighties dances punctuate the captive delirium, disgust, and duplicitous layers that don't underestimate the audience. Meat presses, packing the ladies' photos, and shipping the meal plans to his exclusive clientele are all in a day's work. Chainsawing the ribs, meat grinders, jerky, and limbs suggest succulence instead of gore, however the carnivorous flashes and creepy deliveries should be the only point of view breaks and the “wistful music playing” cues for every scene transition are also unnecessary. Hectic chases and a somewhat unfinished end feel a little too long, but cowards and man meat get a taste of their own medicine. Though perhaps tough to stomach more than once, there are numerous visual references of eating with the left hand, mark of the beast dinnerware, and gory bites at $30k a plate. Women must still worry about their body, looks, and beauty to go along with the crazy men and free themselves. Tagged and labeled freezer bags create a system of ritual feast that rich white men get away with while the women are chewed up and spit out – literally.
Rose: A Love Story – A secluded couple has everything they need off the grid in this 2020 horror romance from director Jennifer Sheridan (The Snow Spider) – generators, water jugs, extra locks on the door, wind chimes alarms, and typewriters for low tech, low light living. Hunting and animal traps are a necessity with rabbits and deer a plenty in the snowy forest, but mail order leeches and a cut through the glove leave our Mrs. sickly and pale. Writer's block, semantics, and miscommunication hamper their affections, for she doesn't want him to police her and keep track but they both have to stick to the rules, keep their home secure, and take no risks. Fine lighting, UV colors, lanterns, candlelight, and shadows accent the humble, cluttered cabin while the laid back pacing matches the routine, if ominous lifestyle. They try to make saucy time, but she's afraid he'll think her gross, and the realistic relationship and honest characterizations are firmly established. Faulty electricity and sounds of a struggle in the dark mean only blood can calm her, but our husband is committed to his growling wife's care despite debates on who is unhappy or giving up on life. There is no elaborate explanation about how this happened, but arranged roadside contacts for supplies gone awry necessitate a paranoid drive into town and the rush to return home. Date night is a walk outside so long as she wears her mask, and seemingly innocuous classical music montages and reading her writing aloud foreshadow their precarious pretense. Screams in the night lead to an injured woman caught in one of their animal traps, disrupting their careful situation with bone settings, bloody clean ups, and threats to tell the police if they force the injured runaway to go back home. She becomes like a child between the couple as well as an audience anchor – doing tasks with each, gardening, and asking why they live like this. The getting away from the bustle, self sustaining model, skin issues, and sunlight troubles are crafty excuses, too, but we know there is something worse at the source. It's best to go into this cold and I don't want to give everything away, however this is not for viewers looking for full on, in your face horror. Not much happens, but the slow pace maintains the taut focus and doesn't overstay its welcome. The underlying horror, angry answers, bloody bites, and tragic violence are worth seeing to the end here.
I Wanted to Like It but...
Carmilla – Period frocks, lovely landscapes, slow still lifes, and rippling waters reflect the repressed monotony of this 2019 Le Fanu inspired British piece from writer and director Emily Harris (Borges and I). Candlelight, nibs, and no exterior views of the manor provide a claustrophobic, congested attention to detail as the sense of restless boredom grows for our budding teenager who's still treated like a child by her governess, struck with a ruler, and forced to bind her preferred left hand. She is punished for secretly reading anatomy books and left to peer around the corner as the adults talk or come and go freely while she's supposed to be practicing her elocution. Moss and greenery contrast the cold interiors amid conversations about nature and dead animals, however far too much time is spent on artistic insect shots, yearning out the window up close angles, and more crawling bugs arty awe. Such scenes and any brief point of view breaks are unnecessary once we are within the lonely character. Fortunately, thunderstorms and a carriage crash bring the unexpected titular guest who stays to recuperate. The firelight glow accents Carmilla's eerie appearance and feline eyes as the nights become bold with red hair down, loose white shifts, and bloody dreams. The girls laugh, run, hold their breath, and climb trees while the stifled governess rings the tea bell and sits alone, rigid and scraping her toast. The cross above Carmilla's bed is found on the floor, and macabre dreams escalate with disemboweling gore, gurgling kisses, smeared lips, and promises to become blood sisters. Is our ingenue sick from the blood exchange or just distraught at being separated from Carmilla after being caught bumping corsets and forced to pray? The young cast does quite well, but the brief kisses could come across as modern lez be friends baiting since neither the romance nor the vampire symbolism ever fully culminate. The slow unknown may be meant to mirror the period look, don't touch admire from afar beauty of women keeping themselves unexplored. Unfortunately, the intriguing phobias and finger pointing statements unravel in the ambiguous, arty commentary by time our jealous governess jumps to conclusions and persecutes Carmilla. Once again, the troubles may stem from a one and the same writer and director that went for something existential rather than making the vampirism clear. This is lovely for period piece fans and those looking for a unique gothic romance or lesbian drama, but the tragic relationship versus vampire blood could have been much more.
