Podcasts and More at InSession Film!

 

We've delved into some Alfred Hitchcock discourse recently at InSession Film, both in writing and on the new Women InSession Podcast with my fellow female critics Zita Short, Amy Thomasson, and Erica Richards! 😱

Hitchcock in the 1930s

Two Great, Two Ho-hum Hitchcock

Episode 7: Hitchcock in the 30s and 40s

Episode 8: Hitchock in the 1950s

Women InSession Ep9: @vampfamwriter, @Zita_Short and @athomasson11 discuss Alfred Hitchcock in the late 1950's and his films of the 1960's!

Listen now! --> https://t.co/gd11SLuDWc#PodNation #PodernFamily pic.twitter.com/Tztglc3irt

— InSession Film (@InSessionFilm) September 23, 2022

You can follow all my of work at InSession Film on my Author Page or listen to previous episodes of Women InSession! 

The Golden Palace

 

The Golden Palace Falters Greatly

by Kristin Battestella

The 1992-93 spin-off of The Golden Girls sees sexy southern belle Blanche Devereaux (Rue McClanahan), simple St. Olafian Rose Nylund (Betty White), and sassy Sicilian Sophia Petrillo (Estelle Getty) buy a hotel in The Golden Palace. Don Cheadle (Boogie Nights) as manager Roland Wilson and Cheech Marin (Up in Smoke) as Chef Chuy Castillos also star in this lone twenty-four episode season, but the bevy of guest stars can't overcome the repetitive writing, poor characterizations, and situational upheaval.

The Golden Palace opens where The Golden Girls ends in “Pilot” as our remaining girls sell their house after Bea Arthur's exit as the newly wed Dorothy Zbornak. Instead of the luxury hotel life, however, the lack of staff and in the red books mean the ladies have to work the Palace themselves. The zingers are still there along with the cheeky newcomers, but The Golden Palace is best when everyone is once again around the kitchen table. Solving the dilemmas over cheesecake, unfortunately, is precious and few as The Golden Palace often spends time on the unnecessary rather than the chemistry. In “Ebbtide for the Defense,” our staff has to double up three to a room amid cranky lawyer guests and canceled liability insurance as the girls realize running a hotel is tough. Of course, Bea Arthur returns as Dorothy in the “Seems Like Old Times” two-parter, wanting Sophia to come live with her in a plot already done multiple times on The Golden Girls. The girls having to wait tables themselves could have been done without Dorothy, but she is classy in acerbic perfection with charm and banter as if nothing has changed. The Golden Palace addresses the series transition with great tears and elevated performances when our ladies admit how Dorothy's leaving made them feel unneeded. Dorothy's surprised how hard they work but not afraid to tell off the guests, and The Golden Palace lacks this vigor. Previously, the ladies were socially vital, active with charities and events, but now their lives are stagnant and they hardly go beyond the hotel doors. Christmas Eve isn't divorced Chuy's favorite in “It's Beginning to Look a Lot (Less) Like Christmas.” He's right about excessive gifts, holiday debt, cleaning up after, and the depression of the season but dreams of A Christmas Carol with Rose as a Past angel, Blanche as “Presents,” and a tricked out Future Sophia. While typical, The Golden Palace should have done more of these theatrics and costumes. Blanche suspects guest Harold Gould (Rhoda) as Rose's boyfriend Miles Webber is cheating in “Miles, We Hardly Knew Ye,” and the episode wastes a lot of time before he arrives to tell Rose he has indeed met someone else. Fortunately, we can't hate Nanette Fabray (The Mary Tyler Moore Show) as his intended Fern in “Rose and Fern”– though The Golden Palace misses the opportunity to make Fern a relative like Rose's sisters Lily and Holly or add extra winks about Rhoda's dad marrying Mary's mom. A terse restaurant critic dies after eating Chuy's cooking in “You've Lost That Livin' Feeling,” but news crews and health inspectors are arriving for the hotel's grand re-opening in what feels like a 1993 sweeps reset. Rat poison and a dead body lead to cumulative physical comedy as the body moves from the freezer to a heavy suitcase and the laundry chute before someone ends up in bed with it. This is the first really memorable episode of The Golden Palace, and it should have come much sooner.

Chuy wants to go into business with Sophia's pizza and she does a ceremony to pass down her recipe, but this fine story competes with the titular Ned Beatty (Homicide: Life on the Street) in “Tad.” Blanche's family put away her special needs brother, and the terminology and some of the misunderstandings played for humor come off wrong. However, it's poignant that Rose is able to relate and mend Blanche's being ashamed in an Emmy worthy standout from an otherwise subpar year. Herbert Edelman returns as ex son-in-law Stan Zbornak in “One Angry Stan,” having faked his death over IRS troubles. His video will was tapped over with a bikini fest amid humorous eulogies and choice nods to The Golden Girls in what might have made a fun premiere had the girls inherited the hotel from him. Spring Break, Rose's granddaughter, frat pranks, and a giant burrito aren't the worst in “Sex, Lies, and Tortillas” but the lack of time to focus on the ageism, visual gags, sex, and menopause is indicative of everything wrong this season. Despite fresh scenery attempting to lure new audiences, The Golden Palace is not meant for newcomers. The ladies are never introduced, and Dorothy is repeatedly mentioned without explanation. Presuming nineties audiences to be aware of The Golden Girls' eighties success is simply the wrong point of view, yet the situational comedy falls back on tired punchlines rather than fully utilizing the strong characterizations that made The Golden Girls so memorable. Here it's as if they aren't even allowed to say “Picture it...Sicily” or “Back in St. Olaf...” and the perpetual need for business in “Promotional Considerations” is slow to get to the point. Rose telling Roland to smile and sing “Zip-a-Dee-Do-Dah” is inappropriately played for laughs, and Blanche is angry that he “usurps” her. This second episode could have been the pilot, showing the hotel problems in media res, but the minorities in subservient positions and their charged conflicts are passed off as humor. Sophia once again has a money scheme in “One Old Lady to Go,” using a Chinese restaurant with the same name to sell their takeout as room service while Rose helps a senile guest in crowded Golden Girls repeats. The superfluous A, B, and C busy interferes with serious moments like those that previously earned our ladies Emmys. Often The Golden Palace doesn't know what an episodes is about, and Blanche's romance in “Just a Gigolo” is all offscreen thanks to self-help hotel seminars and Chuy walking on hot coals to overcome his fear. A live comedy radio show at the hotel and Roland's divorcing parents are likewise two plots too big for “Marriage on the Rocks with a Twist.” Carol Burnett alums Harvey Korman and Tim Conway provide practical jokes and wrong transsexual quips poorly repeating both “Till Death Do We Volley” and “Goodbye Mr. Gordon” from The Golden Girls.

Roland's parents are also named George and Louise – as in Jefferson as if they couldn't think of any other names for a Black couple – and Blanche doesn't understand while Roland objects to a Southern Daughters group in “Camp Town Races Aren't Nearly as Much Fun as They used to Be.” He's talking about white sheets but she tells him he's overreacting about the Confederate flag, and while many Golden Palace episodes are weak and repetitive, this episode is downright disturbing. Though produced third, “Runaways” was apparently dumped in January and Roland taking care of a foster child should have been a one and done episode. In rare outdoor footage, Sophia steal's a guest's car and Blanche runs away from her responsibilities in an episode again littered with too many things. Blanche and Rose fight over a man in “Heartbreak Hotel” while Sophia ignores Roland's clear discomfort at a couples seminar in a surprisingly mean spirited entry, and in “Senor Stinky Learns Absolutely Nothing About Life” Blanche is oblivious to her sexual harassment. She has to learn how not to mix business with pleasure even when rival hotelier Ricardo Montalban (Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn) comes on to her. It would have been great to see Montalban recur in competitive suave, but the serious issues are down played while a volleyball competition pads time. Blanche's son Bill Engvall (Blue Collar Comedy Tour) and George Burns come for comedy club night, and Chuy wants to enter too in “Say Goodbye, Rose.” The Golden Girls already had Dorothy doing stand up and Bob Hope made a surprise appearance, but Eddie Albert (Green Acres) as a lookalike to Rose's late husband Charlie completes the lifted from The Golden Girls trifecta. Short notice tickets to be on The Price is Right in “A New Leash on Life” are also reminiscent of “Grab That Dough” on The Golden Girls. We do get to leave the hotel briefly, but the race track and greyhounds are told more than seen in too many serious storylines that don't get their due. Sophia needing a vacation and Roland potentially leaving for a bigger hotel makes “Pros and Concierge” seem like a good finale. It's only the third time they leave the hotel, too, and filler misunderstandings leave Roland humiliated and wearing a safari outfit because Blanche thought she was doing good. Blanche is also suddenly serious about a wealthy cattle baron who proposes and wants kids in “The Chicken and The Egg.” Debra Engle returns as Blanche's daughter Rebecca, but the heavy conversation about asking her for an egg is off camera thanks to an old ladies self-defense class subplot, and the dream sequence with everyone having giant pregnancy bellies is downright stupid.

Rue McClanahan's Blanche is wistful about all the many men her old bed had seen and wants to advertise the hotel by using her picture. Mama told her sex was a women's duty and she's been a good little soldier ever since. Chuy counters that Blanche is a five star general to be saluted, but her spicy reputation is told rather than seen on The Golden Palace. Although she was always the selfish work shy one on The Golden Girls, Blanche becomes increasingly unlikable when Roland accurately says she passes all the hotel problems onto someone else. She uses petty cash to buy a new dress and marks the ledger with “whoops” when she loses money with no realization or consequence. Blanche fires others and won't take blame for making the initial bad hotel deal before admitting she never thought this business would be so tough. Rather than her previous vivacious, she chases the pool hunk and gets taken by a gigolo – now a foolish, horny old lady in unnecessary character sabotage. Betty White's dimwitted Rose thinks the 2-4 years on a puzzle is the time for completion. Since The Golden Girls, she's begun shaving above the knee, bought a new teddy bear, and confesses she stole candy once. Rose stands up for herself multiple times but strengthening the character becomes one step forward two steps back when The Golden Palace reverts Rose to extreme stupidity. Her St. Olaf stories are also oft told of yet never actually told. It's unfair that she does all the labor for forty-two rooms, her relationship with Miles deserved better attention, and the animal welfare statements when she steals a dog scheduled to be put down are lost in the hectic plotting. Estelle Getty as Sophia does all the Italian cooking but turns over the meat and re-serves it to an angry customer who sent it back. She plays poker with Chuy and her purse contains bingo cards, brass knuckles, and 101 Jokes for the John. Sophia doesn't get a real plot of her own save for Dorothy's return, and she spends most of that off screen as if The Golden Palace doesn't know what to do with her sans her daughter. The new Shady Pines home has more amenities than the hotel, but Sophia wants to remain busy. At 88 she isn't ready to slow down yet nods off while vacuuming and flirts by offering men a raisin – because it's something wrinkly yet so tasty. Sophia walks through the lobby with a “tramp” or “slut” punchline as needed, however her softball sexual harassment isn't funny, and the trying to be cute to get out of doing something bad wears thin.

Manager Don Cheadle wants to get in good with the new owners but makes the mistake of asking Blanche if she has ever spent any time in hotels before owning one. He's well read and tries passing off arguments in the lobby as The Golden Palace Players Living Theater. Roland won't squish bugs and refuses to stick his hand in the chicken when he has to help in the kitchen. The girls want him to date more in “Can't Stand Losing You,” but it's stereotypical that Sophia thinks he's gay and racist that Blanche tries to set him up with the meat lady just because they are both Black. Roland is right that Blanche's stories of the South, St. Olaf tales, and Sicilian quips don't always help. This is a stronger episode letting the players shine as the family they are, but The Golden Palace is overcrowded and it's unfair to Cheadle and Cheech Marin as Chuy. There should have been more subversive references to his pot brownies! Chuy objects to Sophia in his kitchen criticizing his fine Mexican cuisine, for he believes any mistake can be covered with parsley. Unfortunately, his cooking spot on a morning talk show is all off camera. Chuy's struggles with being divorced also take a backseat to other stories, and the men often have B plots separate from the women as if The Golden Palace is two sitcoms put together. Young Billy Sullivan as (Little Big League) Roland's foster son Oliver is obnoxious from the start, doing hotel chores that make viewers wonder about child labor laws and extorting customers before Sophia blackmails him in a strangely cruel scheme. Though written off early, out of order episodes string him along throughout the season, an unnecessary eighties sitcom holdover unwelcome by 1992. The ugly pink and green décor is likewise dated with too much wicker and the same kitchen table from The Golden Girls as if we aren't supposed to notice. Even the mugs are the same! Blanche's rearranged room is clearly her original bedroom complete with the palm tree comforter, and the entire hotel set is an awkward, wasted space. People must walk passed the television in the lobby or around a piano, stairs, and the elevator as needed, and the small, in between dining room magically transforms into a full stage auditorium for George Burns. The private office beside the reception desk changes sides while tables and umbrellas in the front courtyard are rarely used compared to the back courtyard – clearly a lanai redress – which becomes a fake beach for volleyball. Having had the ladies wear uniforms suited to their individual styles or at least name tags to indicate they are staff may have hit home the hotel setting better, and the friendship lyrics on the updated theme song ultimately make little sense for The Golden Palace.

Reviewing The Golden Palace is disappointing and frustrating. There's a lot to criticize yet it's easy to zone out on the run of the mill comedy that leaves much to be desired. Why didn't they remain in the house but have one of the girls work in a hotel or buy Blanche's previous haunt The Rusty Anchor to have more musical moments? One has to wonder why The Golden Girls didn't just continue with another roommate culled from the series such as Debbie Reynolds' sassy widow Truby, any of the girls' sisters, Coco the gay cook, or even communist cousin Magda. The unprepared writers proceed as if having our remaining ladies repeating Newhart would be as successful as its groundbreaking predecessor, but The Golden Palace over relies on old connections yet changes too much. One person left so the only solution was to retool the entire show? Rather than making one cast change as seamless as possible, The Golden Palace erroneously expects The Golden Girls audience to remain despite a rocky upheaval that doesn't know how to focus on its ensemble.

Dorothy Mills (2008)

 

Dorothy Mills is an Intriguing Genre Bender

by Kristin Battestella

Continental psychiatrist Jane Morton (Carice van Houten) travels to a tiny Irish island to evaluate Dorothy Mills (Jenn Murray), a young babysitter accused of attacking her infant charge in the 2008 international thriller Dorothy Mills written and directed by Agnes Merlet (Hideaways). Suspicious town history and backward thinking about the supernatural impedes Jane's attempts to unravel Dorothy's psychosis – leading to manifestations, violence, and revenge.

Turbulent coastal waters and foggy Irish cliffs open Dorothy Mills before scripture, crying babies, and creepy kids. The rural community and country church contrast the mainland institutions, psychiatry cases, and scientific evaluations as the old school atmosphere is set without the typical horror in your face prologue. Newspaper clippings of our attempted babysitter killer lead to a stormy ferry, water perils, winding roads, accidents, and all hands rescues. The local townsfolk are kind to the stylish outsider but gawk at her and balk at her mental sciences, distrustful of calling outside authorities to handle their business. Accounts of the night in question move fast with evil voices and hysterics – the parents of the victim fear Dorothy is insane and will abuse again. The minister recommended Dorothy as the sitter, for he's also the one room school teacher and the town doctor with outdated medical equipment and prescriptions for simple healthy living as the cure for everything. Supposedly devout men stare, drink, goad the youths, and object to our doctor's investigative approach. Her house to house interviews, therapy sessions, and tranquilizers jar with their bonfires, masks, slaughtered sheep, and homemade exorcisms. Even the relatively friendly, seemingly progressive sheriff tells Jane to leave before it's too late, but the ferry won't be there for another three days. Nosebleeds, flickering lights, dog perils, and hypnosis mix the supernatural and the psychology without resorting to today's big paranormal to dos. Is this multiple personalities? Ghosts? Possession? When the community blames and shames Dorothy, trying to cure mental illness with religion and backward fears, whom can you trust? Cliffside perils and taunting manifestations escalate to chilling visions of the drowned and deceased. Ghosts and flashbacks merge amid revelations and hypocrisy as the town fears more authorities and journalists coming to ruin their island. Can Jane and Dorothy leave the island for proper treatment? Rather than pulling the rug out from under the audience, this multi layered mystery balances the consequences, evidence, and payback as Dorothy Mills brings the threats home.

Early English roles as brief love interests don't do Carice van Houten (Black Death > Game of Thrones) justice, but Doctor Jane Morton has history. She's continental and suave, low cut compared to the drab, bundled up locals, but hints that Jane isn't so put together come via pictures of her late son and the booties dangling from the rear view mirror. Upon totaling her car fresh off the ferry, Jane sees and hears what others do not, however her grief remains touching rather than unreliable – until visions of her dead toddler mount. Instead of boom shocks and jump crescendos, these creepy, dreamy moments are sad, focusing on the pale distraught and tears. She hates the bland local foods and renting a primitive truck to get around the village, yet Jane continues to investigate while the snickering townsfolk object to her methods. There are a few whispering town asides to fill in the past, but Dorothy Mills is best when it stays in this outsider point of view. Old ladies upstairs and bygone crimes mount, but everyone insists Jane's ominous discoveries can't be, dismissing her as strained and exhausted as her appearance becomes increasingly frazzled. Our doctor is desperate to source Dorothy's psychosis – to Jane, Dorothy is the victim in need of treatment, a girl with Village of the Damned white braids and a room full of drawings, dolls, and toys. In her debut Jenn Murray (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them) is dowdy as Dorothy, looking younger already before skipping, changing her voice, and claiming to be a three year old named Mimi. No one listens to Dorothy but Jane, who promises to believe her without judgment and assess what's best. Dorothy's father is unknown, and this faith first community has always treated her as “special” instead of considering a true mental illness. Dorothy screams at the other reflections in the mirror before becoming an older, promiscuous teen rebel who tells of more personas that won't let Dorothy out because she tries to harm herself and them. Our unlikely pair must find which identity harmed the baby and why, but a dominant male named Duncan takes charge. Does Dorothy have psychic gifts that are a curse rather than a blessing? Her emotional connections to the deceased don't explain the paranormal phenomenon or the manifesting personalities. Dorothy Mills explores the trauma of the dead and resolves the root cause through our ladies and their relationship.

Thanks to the aughts production and rural locales, when exactly Dorothy Mills takes place is fittingly unclear. Mainland cell phones and big computers disappear in favor of downed phone lines, tape recorders, and no repairs on Sunday. People have to duck the low ceilings in old fashioned, cramped, and cluttered rooms amid mirrors, family photos, and lacking amenities. Cigarettes accent nerves, eerie distortions, zooms, and warped camera angles reflecting the mix of supernatural and psychosis. Surprising gunshots and splatter build chills rather than awe with gore, yet Dorothy Mills is unfortunately obscure. I still have a Netflix disc queue for such rarities, yes, but the long awaited disc was scratched, jumped, and skipped a few minutes several times. Recently, I've also seen several other early 2000s pictures that have been tough to find due to their fellow shitweinsteinpig labels – unfairly cut, unreleased, or buried. Dorothy Mills is an intriguing story, a well played drama that can't be pigeonholed with typical, erroneous Hollywood horror marketing. While this can play as horror at times, it is not meant to be scary. There are no whoosh across the room hysterics or sexual sensationalism and tawdry visuals drawn out in unnecessary episodes. To wise viewers, the cause is typical, apparent from the very beginning with obvious fatal twists and plenty of foreshadowing and watery metaphors. Fortunately, the personal investigations and tragic performances carry Dorothy Mills' mystery, pulling out a surprise or two thanks to the well done characterizations. Rather than a catch all of excuses throwing every horror trope at the screen to undermine the viewer, this is a fine balance of multiple paranormal ideas and real world trauma.

Bats! Bats! Bats! 🦇

 

Bats! Bats! Bats! 🦇

By Kristin Battestella

It's time to put on our serious film criticism caps for some chiroptera pictures that don't take themselves so seriously. 🦇

Bats – Terribly dressed necking teens suffer flapping whooshes, bat shrieks, and strobe splatter in this 1999 mutant bats run amok so bad it's good written by John Logan (Penny Dreadful) starring Sheriff Lou Diamond Phillips (La Bamba) and scientist Dina Meyer (Starship Troopers). Picturesque Mountains, blue skies, desert rocks, technobabble, batology jokes, and Latin names are for the audience as CDC credentials are repeated and multiple plane trips finally get everyone to the scene. Everything before the autopsy analysis, gory cadavers, and jugular bite marks suggesting what's afoot could have been excised because we know bats are the culprit. The escaped subjects, scientific deduction, and government red tape move fast as the mayor worries about the newspaper headlines. Old computer graphics and folding maps demonstrate the spread risk despite the human arrogance, shady officials, and talkative, repetitive dire. It is smart, however, that we don't see some ridiculous monster bats immediately – screeches, swooping, bats breaking in, and the colony eyes lighting up at fresh prey provide innate unease. Most of the comic relief is unnecessary and misplaced when the situation is already preposterous yet chilling. People freak and flail while country music plays, babies lay in cribs beside the open windows, and bats await while the trucker eats his tater tots. The mayor warns people, but “everybody in Texas thinks they know everything about everything,” a surprisingly spot on observation on how people who don't listen and think they know best acerbate the horror. Although this wants to be The Birds and it isn't that clever, trapped deaths, wings enveloping the face, and bats seeming to enjoy pinning their terrified victims are disturbing. Guns aren't going to do anything, and the growling cloud comes on so fast to those unprepared. Distorted bat points of view accent the well done animatronics and lengthy action sequences – the CGI looks better than today's rushed fix it in post effects – but the melodramatic exclaims and stupid behaviors get old fast and the bats retreat for cinematic convenience. Fortifying the school while listening to opera, making lots of coffee, going to the roost itself, military not helping them, military dropping gear, convenient mines – pointless activity and mixed motivations make for a disjointed back and forth almost deliberately designed for flicking the television channels or missing something after commercial breaks. Maniacal, laughable scientists and deliberately released bats aren't shocking as reveals we already know pad the one step forward two steps back to meet ninety minutes. It takes an hour for anyone to consider using a frosty fire extinguisher or air conditioners, dialogue is lifted directly from Aliens, and the military is taken out off screen so our heroes can swim in the guano. Bombing countdowns, keys to the machinery, and bat shootouts add one snag in the plan after another, and it's easy to zone out or forget what the goal is. One wonders why this fly by night product is Rated R, and the science and government serious or self aware humor and horror never finds the right approach. Fortunately, it's all a bemusingly bad romp perfect for a fun midnight roast.

Nightwing – Desert silhouettes, sunset vistas, and Anasazi ruins are beautiful but eerie, rocky, and perilous in this 1979 adaptation directed by Arthur Hiller (Love Story). Henry Mancini (Romeo and Juliet) music and Crystal Gale on the radio accent the dusty roads, rustic jeeps, and cowboy hats as unexplained animal deaths acerbate Hopi Reservation friction between Maski police, Pahana councils, and Indian Bureau technicalities. Our deputy can't believe in prophecies to embrace your inner coyote warrior when the trailer clinic doesn't have neonatal necessities and basic medical care to which all Americans are supposed to be entitled. Stereotypical white savior Strother Martin (Slap Shot) is married to a local yet complains how the Meskwaki are ungrateful for his bare minimum services. Arguments keep the horror succinct – blood lose, bite marks, ammonia – as the outcast shaman warns of broken circles and beasts coming to end the world. The tricked out station wagon with backseat microscopes and satellite dishes on the roof encounters stampedes, dead sheep, bubonic plague, and doctors paid off despite the blood on the white burial cloth. Patronizing oil men say there's no time for stoned priests and visions of the deceased when there is money to be made. Souvenirs and superstition versus tissue samples and sulfur research increase gossip about who's Christian or believes in witches and rain dances. Those wanting to prove that they aren't drunk doll making fanatics aren't wrong. Do you prospect on sacred ground because money is the white man's god and that means schools and medicine for your people? Nature is indiscriminate but people will profit on the deceased for the right price. Backstabbing villains reveal their true selfishness, more concerned about oil deals then quarantines or alerting state authorities. Hymn singing white tourists don't want to hear blasphemy that all religion begins as superstition, but those disbelievers of local ways are who we see horribly attacked – before trampling old ladies to save themselves. Some swooping action and bad bats are laughable, but the practical effects look nicer than our poor CGI as the howling winds, screeching, hissing, and screams shatter the bleak desert night. Torches and hazmat suits lead to empty graves and underground chambers amid broken down vehicles, 128F heat, and transistor trackers. Bat specialist David Warner's (Wallander) flourishing, no fear vampire bringers of death soliloquies paint bats as the quintessence of evil in Shakespeare meets Jaws chilling as the freaky little teeth chew their way in when the electric fence falters. For those expecting horror a minute, this will be slow and overlong. Outside of George Clutesi (Prophecy), the cast is also unfortunately not Native American or First Nations. Despite some weak effects and mystical convenience, the well done drama comes full circle thanks to real bat footage, dangerous spelunking, and conflict beyond the horror warning us not to dismiss practices we don't understand. I'm surprised the ahead of its time statements were so ill received then, but it's downright eerie to watch this now in the Covid world – and not because of the bats.

Vampire Bats – Professor Lucy Lawless (Xena: Warrior Princess) leads this 2005 TV movie padded with unnecessary hip college action, dated music, bad dancing, cool lingo, and terrible style. The raves, booze, neon, and bad aughts attitudes should have been excised for opening with mom Lucy struggling with breakfast, no air conditioning, house renovations, and back to school. This domestic stress doesn't need the frenetic camera work thanks to boxes, toys, and pesky sister Brett Butler (Grace Under Fire) babysitting. Night fisherman Craig Ferguson (The Late Late Show) also adds enough winking humor in a stereotypical attack with a lot of looking up, spinning cameras, and screams. Seeing police question students as the teacher intervenes is better than the unnecessary party beginning as our professor inspects the deceased – identifying bite marks, unknown fangs, and the absence of blood. The nettlesome mayor doesn't want to panic the public over bat droppings, but strobe transitions of newspapers with vampire headlines held up to the camera are lame, distracting from debates about putting family first and letting the authorities handle the unexplained. It's shrewd that we don't see bad special effects attacks, however setting up a scary frat scene only to cut away from the potential horror seems pointless. The batty overlays and cartoonish CGI at the cocktail party also don't match the action as people knock over tables and fall amid dizzying, hectic photography. Fortunately, bats under the dock, hanging from the church eaves, or swirling above the moonlit waters and up close shots of the little bloodsuckers are choice atmosphere. Classroom discussion about habitat and environment or bats as parasites not killers should be the only time we see the campus. Waste disposal whispers, rabies, experiments, and students offering to help capture the critters lead to teeth mutations, the need to feed, and rushing to the car once the wings start flapping. Gloves, cages, nets, and chemicals invoke science while the overhead projector and chalkboards create nostalgia. The biology couple, however, doesn't need students tagging along to spy on the local toxic plant, and the story suffers once the husband is reduced in favor of the kids accidentally discovering how the bats react to music. Wouldn't unusual sonar be the first thing scientists test? Though feeling long for ninety minutes, the final fifteen minutes rushes with missing family and luring the bats planning. The close calls are well done, and the entire movie should have had this intensity, but whether toxic waste, corruption, and EPA failures were the mutant cause goes unresolved. This wants to poke fun at horror cliches but is neither humorous nor scary and tries so, so hard to be cool when it doesn't know its audience. Ironically, this yarn is better than it has any business being if you can take it for what it is.

Did you know that the vampire bat's species name is Desmodontinae? I like it. 🦇

Dead Man's Gun Season Two

 

Dead Man's Gun Season 2 Falls Apart

by Kristin Battestella

The twenty-two episode 1998-99 Second Season of the Showtime western anthology Dead Man's Gun puts meek farmer Bruce Davison (X-Men) among the bank robbers and shootouts of “Ties That Bind” before chain gangs, deadly prison conditions, and pleas to the governor. Snake bites, bodily clues, rural chases, and set up escape attempts escalate to violence and corruption before revenge and one on one justice. Multiple people possess our titular evil gun, adding to its deadly mystique as some fall prey to its lure while others can resist its bad luck. A boy's school teacher with a fatal diagnosis can't handle his rowdy classroom in “Sheep's Clothing” until our gun in his hand improves his confidence, command, even his ailments. Perhaps more provocative now, this chilling parable on how a weapon creates obsession and threatens the lives in the classroom shows that a gun in the wrong hands is not empowerment to the innocents it harms. It's so easy to pull the trigger once you start, and this Third Episode should have been the season premiere. Irish Catholics and English Protestants likewise bend God's law as they see fit in “Sisters of Mercy.” Our nuns are both angry at blasphemy and the saloon being open on Sunday – not because it is the Lord's day, but it's when they planned to rob the bank next door. They bide their time helping the poor and broken women, pistol whipping the man who beats a working girl. The humor mixed with intrigue, however, is somewhat hollow despite the religious subject matter, and early in the season Dead Man's Gun has several decent, but not quite perfect episodes. Fortunately series producer Henry Winkler's titular “Hangman” calculates weight, scaffold height, and neck snap speed for a quick and easy death as decreed. It would have been intriguing if Dead Man's Gun had a regular character like this traveling in the gun's wake. Mercy is not his to give when an accused minister professes innocence, and the haunting voices and eerie mirrors standout as deeper introspection than “Sisters of Mercy” because the roulette is played serious sans humor. Our gun interferes in giving and taking life amid fear of the noose, perceived miracles, and those once hung who survived and get away with it. Statements about this gun not being for killing versus “all guns are meant for killing” are again provocative to hear now, and this episode would have made a fine series finale.

“The Judgment Of Joe Dean Bonner” premiere would seem to have it all, including a creepy storekeeper who also runs the hotel named “Final Hour” and becomes the judge presenting the eponymous victims and flashbacks. The judge isn't the devil, but says he knows him well. Despite chilling moments and more supernatural aspects than the rest of the season, this contrived trial plays at both justice for the deceased as well as sympathy for their killer. The man versus the devil comeuppance could have been stronger, and it all comes off too modern. Rather than focusing on the evil aspects, Dead Man's Gun often becomes less about the gun and is more often straight western stories. Vintage boxing photographs and bare knuckle fights in “Winner Takes All” lead to shady promoters, rival showman, and the gun as the prize. The period sports had potential, but the training montages and positive orphan inspirations are so wholesome they're on the wrong show. “The Trapper” tries to tackle respectful Native American revenge, but the stereotypical racist white men are cruel and unnecessary. The shape-shifting justice is great – Dead Man's Gun needed more supernatural horror not less – but the gun temptation was there for the taking and this story is all from the wrong perspective. The tribe or location is never stated, and too many episodes are just generic “The” entries playing it safe and the back end of the season suffers most. The murderous but unaware cobbler in “Sleepwalker” could have been fascinating as point of view horror for a psychosis brought out by the gun, however, the silly saucy, jealousy, and motives end up a total snooze. Rather than use the gun, a woman leaves aces calling cards after her elaborate kills in “Four of a Kind” amid precocious little girls, interchangeable thugs and lawman, meek storekeepers, and laughable derivatives. When you put explosives in somebody's walnuts, don't leave the bottle clearly labeled nitroglycerin out for all to see. The new unpopular female doctor in “The Oath” is also overwrought with modern statements complete with snake oil salesmen, Old West anti-vaxxers, and frustrating Dr. Quinn copycats again on the wrong show. An Italian immigrant heading West in “The Vine” also makes for stereotypical characterizations, cliché accents, and sentimental strings laid on thick as Dead Man's Gun inexplicably turns from sinister to sweet and tender. Hopes? Dreams? Religious chorales and miraculous plants? “Bad Boys” offers more nameless sheriffs and hollow standoffs before a trio of kids uses the gun to do good against nasty dads. I was ready to turn this off in first five minutes but ended up watching on 1.5 speed. Quicksand, haberdashers, and the eponymous study of “The Phrenologist” fall flat amid rival suitors, baddies looking for loot, and some kid who grows up to be Thomas Edison. The fancy fast talking performance is obnoxious and laughable for all the wrong reasons.

Season Two does best mid-season with the long haired and vain Michael York (Romeo and Juliet) as “The Collector.” His unique pieces include the gun and he's seeking a fellow professor of fine taste. The supposed civility and elitism add layers to the bumbling Old West archaeology rivalry as these so-called appreciators of Native American artifacts plunder nonetheless. They shoot buffalo because of their rarity and follow a treasure map to gold, scalps, bullets, and betrayals. Haughty British crook on the lamb Lysette Anthony (Dracula: Dead and Loving It) puts on the fake jolly good and hopes to make a crabby ex-Confederate general her next stool pigeon in “The Mimesers.” Again humor over suspense hurts the sinister household menace– the Southern generic crazy is over the top and the steamy attempts to get the loot would have been better with her alone instead of via a demented husband encouraging his wife. Fortunately, suspicious stock certificates, burying money in the backyard, and the key to the safe around his neck escalate to killer double crosses and for love or money twists. Seeing Michael Dorn (Star Trek) out of his Worf makeup in “The Pinkerton” is only the beginning of this noir styled Dashiell Hammett yarn. The racist, territorial sheriff resents this Pinkerton assigned to a local kidnapping case, but our man has succeeded in all his previous cases and admits a colored man has to be twice as good to get the job. Multifaceted performances and punchlines like “I'm a detective not a magician” accent the ransoms, suspect family, and procedural but in the Old West tone. He's warned to arm himself with our gun, but distrusts it's fine workmanship before ordering coffee at the saloon and talking down angry miners with high brow insults. Friendly barmaids versus femme fatales, motives, and clues are obvious to the wise viewer, but town lynch mobs, bullets, and deduction lead to respect. Our Pinkerton lost his family in a robbery shootout and killed the outlaws responsible, but it didn't bring his family back, and this remains one of Dead Man's Gun's best episodes. It almost feels like a backdoor pilot, and again, having a character like this recur could have given the series another season. In “Seven Deadly Sins,” Daniel Baldwin (Homicide: Life on the Street) is ready to take charge of his late father's bank but is forced to work under his brother. He happily screws customers on collateral, loans, and policy loopholes while drinking gambling, stealing, and blaming shortages on another clerk. He blackmails a farmer's wife for sex and uses our gun to achieve his corrupt goals, indulging in all the gluttonous vices before his fitting comeuppance.

Full moons and wolf howls lead to knives, splatter, and murdered prostitutes in “The Ripper,” which almost feels like a fun Halloween episode in what's supposed to be a horror series. Scotland Yard's Peter Firth (MI-5) is on the trail of Jack the Ripper – an American who has fled home and continued killing. Of course we immediately suspect a culprit, but the killing for satisfaction psychology makes for an entertaining what if before newspaper clippings, telegram evidence, working girl dalliances, and winking twists. A feisty writer coming West wants to write the life story of amoral gunslinger Billy Campbell (The 4400) for “The Regulator“ but his exploits aren't exactly legal and their tête-à-tête is tame today. It's disturbing, however, when he talks about the allure of our gun, what it takes to pull the trigger, and how to cull the herd. Any man will use a weapon if given the chance – it's a fairy tale to think otherwise – and it's eerie to see the tables turn on our likable scoundrel who says the terrible things we do now. Kate Jackson (Dark Shadows) directs the sermons, raunchy rides, and husbands chasing after wandering swindler Patrick Duffy (Dallas) in “The Womanizer.” He knows how to play the guitar as well as women, and the tone is sincere or humorous and cavalier depending on his honesty or triumph – save for an incriminating birthmark, that is. Again, the avenging church assassin in pursuit of his gun would have been a neat repeat character, and eventually the ultimate punishment catches our Lothario: marriage. Chez Emil Haute Cuisine also brings class to the West in “The Good Chef” even if the crowd can't pronounce the French names. The home cooking restaurant next door can't compete with the connoisseur who insists food is to dine not merely ingest, and any uncouth customers asking for ketchup, poor table manners, and quitting staff meet our gun. Although the tasty subject been done better on Tales from the Crypt and the temperamental chef feels too silly and modern, this is one of the better latter episodes culminating in the expected secret recipes. Sadly, the hasty series finale “A Just Reward” is a clip show cop out reusing weak moments from Season One and inexplicably the terrible “Bad Boys” from Year Two. This supposedly ominous Mr. Smith looks like a modern man in a black suit amid padding horseback chases, plodding camera panoramas, and mystical double talk suddenly concerned with the gun's effect on all who touch it when most of this lighthearted season the gun had no mind of its own. Mr. Smith says he's the gun's original owner before a laughable grim reaper transformation. It's camp and hokey like a bad Halloween costume, and the devilish judge from the faulty premiere would have been a better bookend to the series.

Thankfully, the outdoor photography is bright and barren or dusty and muddy as needed. Some interiors are slightly plain or dark, but the period clutter does a lot with little – oil lamps, nib pens, pocket watches, wallpaper, and wash basins. Vintage medical equipment or school house ephemera vary per episode as does the saloon piano and shadow schemes. Up close photography clearly cuts corners, but old fashioned gauze on the lens creates eerie overlays in camera as needed. Holsters, horses, and stagecoaches provide action while hats, spectacles, leather, and dusters provide a somewhat eighties meets 1880s style. Though fitting, the stock western facades on Dead Man's Gun all look the same. The town's not meant to be the same locale – it would be better if it were – but the set savings are clear despite careful shooting of specific buildings per episode. Slow motion shots feel dated and production quality varies from hour to hour. Bonnets, corsets and combinations look the part, but the women's dresses are costume modern and the ladies' hair is often terribly straggly – as if Old West look simply means unwashed. Elder actors make for better rustic than the out of place too nineties younger guests, but the repeating familiar faces become as noticeable as the bad generic, incorrect Southern accents. Unlike Year One with creators Howard and Ed Spielman writing, over half the episodes here have more than two credited writers, often as many as four. Combined with numerous directors, it's easy to see where Dead Man's Gun lost its cohesion, and the dragging forty-four minute episodes should have been a taut half hour instead. Dead Man's Gun DVDs are now also elusive and streaming options come and go, but the series works best as aired when you catch a one off weird western. Today this kind of show would be so violent it wouldn't be entertaining, yet dated filler episodes disappointingly stray from the paranormal gun aspects. Despite provocative stories, name stars, and intriguing characterizations, it's not surprising Dead Man's Gun was canceled once it forgoes its own chilling weapon and devilish premise, leaving the series as an awkward transition between the wholesome western television standard and today's serious bleak. Fortunately, skipping a clunker when marathoning Dead Man's Gun now solves any problems.

New Happenings at InSession Film!

 

If you've been reading our classic film reviews and actor countdowns moonlighting at InSession Film, you may have heard about the new Women InSession film podcast including Yours Truly alongside my fellow female film critics at InSession! 🙋‍♀️

You can listen to the First Three Episodes of Women InSession wherever you hear your favorite podcasts. This opening trilogy is a bit of a Classic Film dive:

Women InSession Episode 1: Our Top 3 Classics with @Zita Short

Women InSession Episode 2: George Stevens and A Place in the Sun with @ZitaShort and @Amy Thomasson

Women InSession Episode 3: Westerns from a Feminine Perspective with @ZitaShort

We have a fun, new announcement! Beginning this week we have a new podcast to add to the InSession Film family, led by @thereforereview @Zita_Short @filmswithamy @athomasson11 @ShadanLarki and @eRockReviews! pic.twitter.com/w8JzcdDObG

— InSession Film (@InSessionFilm) July 20, 2022

Look for our next Women InSession podcast episodes chatting about everything from Titanic and Kate Winslet to Alfred Hitchcock! Don't forget to read some of our Classic Film essays, too:

An Ingrid Bergman Potluck

A Fun Jane Seymour Trio

Larger than Life Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton Pictures

Stay up to date on the latest from us at InSession Film on Twitter! 🎬

DVD Video Hauls!

 

Recently on our Youtube Channel, we've featured a few Thrift Hauls and DVD Unboxings including box sets, television series, blu-rays, even books on film and VHS. Here's a round up of our affordable finds!

Your friendly neighborhood thrift shopper and physical media enthusiast Kristin Battestella gets a little carried away in sharing some recent DVD, Box Set, and Blu-ray finds! There are few music, sports, and holiday surprises, too! Please feel free to read some of the reviews of the films featured linked below and comment if you wish to see an in depth look at a specific title or more videos like this.

 

Kristin Battestella is breaking the bank once again with 50 cent VHS finds, Classic Hollywood Books, blu-ray hauls, and more thrift DVDs! Okay, so there are a few duplicates, but there's a good coughexcusecough reason! Please feel free to like or subscribe and comment here or Twitter if there is something you'd like to see discussed in more detail. You can also browse some of our written reviews of the movies featured at I Think, Therefore I Review or InSession Film. Thank you for watching!

 
Kristin Battestella waxes on classics, westerns, John Wayne, and more in this Father's Day themed DVD thrift haul. Shopping second hand for memorable movies is a great gift for the gentlefolk in your life! Not that I was specifically looking for dad-oriented finds, and I'm keeping the cool video sets, too. 😏

Our Reviews at InSession Film

Frightening Flix Video Review Playlist

Therefore I Review Video Playlist

The Deep (2010)

 

Superficial The Deep is Disappointing

by Kristin Battestella

After the mysterious loss of the scientific expedition Hermes, her sister submarine Orpheus – led by Frances (Minnie Driver) and Samson (Goran Visnjic) – dives 2,000 feet below the Arctic to continue the renewable energy research. Engineer Clem's (James Nesbitt) wife Catherine (Orla Brady) was on the Hermes and salvage expert Raymond (Tobias Menzies) may know more then he's telling as Russian rivals, underwater dangers, and surprise vessels expedite the race to explore the sea bed in the 2010 five part British serial The Deep.

Archive videos and bleak recordings from the lost Hermes open “To the Furthest Place” amid witch's stone tokens, family goodbyes, and a final toast at the pub before the Orpheus shoves off to the North Pole. The first twenty minutes builds the backstory and the upsetting potential of what happened to the Hermes. However, we shouldn't have seen the Hermes in res prologue if the current crew has their ominous logs, and once we are below in the Orpheus, we should stay amid the isolation, eerie underwater vents, and hydrothermal life possibilities. Automated arms work outside while the people wait with monitors and headsets. They're on a first name basis yet some have a terse, patronizing tone despite oxygen emergencies, trapped submersibles, and ominous sonar signals. Failed wench recoveries lead to alarms, flickering lights, airlock intensity, and crushing disasters. The accident happens fast, with enough disaster visuals but not ridiculously drawn out shock and awe CGI panoramas. Something else is diving above the Orpheus, and again, there's no need to revisit the trawler above thanks to the congested arguments, convulsion injuries, and apparent murders. Desperate repairs, written notes held up to the port hole, low power – the possible killer on board could have been a taut episode unto itself. Unfortunately, The Deep's pace falters with the bloated “Into the Belly of the Beast.” Once again, unnecessary scenes above break the underwater weight versus buoyancy, nosebleeds, and radiation fears. How long has this massive Russian vessel been drilling in this protected environment? The spooky ship is never full explored despite the should be ominous flashlights, bodies, leaks, and bad smells. This episode is much slower moving – redundant rather than horror of the unknown. Bigger issues on UN treaties or industrial pollution disappear alongside lab computers, abandoned equipment, and hissing tanks forgotten rather than used for, you know, information. The lack of a medical doctor shows with autopsies, gunshots, and nuclear dangers, but once again, The Deep must revisit outside perspectives apart from Orpheus. The contrived antagonism already feels silly and superficial, calling the serial's entire structure into question. Maybe there should have been an episode from the Russian perspective, another with the conspiracy depths, and one dedicated family episode rather than dividing the drama between everything but the eponymous submarine.

The motherboards are fried in “Ghosts of the Deep,” but there's no distress beacon, only people arguing whether they're on Russian or Greenwich time while the reactors overheat. Nobody explores who or what is on the vessel, and control rod fixes begat a lengthy lottery contrived for suspense. The irrelevant lethal exposure is not empathetic when the engineer or mechanic could have done their jobs, and repairing Orpheus with salvaged parts is treated as a surprising last minute realization rather than the primary goal. They conveniently find the lost Hermes instantly, and the back up pod's copy, over, roger, repeat interrupts the eerie tomb search with family mementos and pictures in the deceased's locker. An entire flashback hour recounting what happened to the Hermes could have been interesting, but the quiet personal and any intrigue on what happened to the crew are dismissed until a provocative figure seen at the porthole. There aren't any medical check ups, explanations, or debriefings for those rescued, and everything but the last ten minutes of the Third Hour could have been skipped. More meaningless, anonymous technobabble opens “Everything Put Together Falls Apart” before arguments about the pile of body bags and shootouts across the moon pool. Hydrogen producing lava bugs are equated as an organism that eats crap and farts clean fuel, leaving The Deep sorely lacking in a realistic medium between the highbrow gobbledygook and treating viewers like we're stupid. One scientist must deduce what would have been known had somebody turned on the computers found in Episode Two, and another already knew everything but didn't say. The race 8,500 feet deep isn't that interesting despite forbidden pipelines and buckling infrastructure, and this is another half an episode that could have been excised. Each useless excursion and finite maneuver somehow always succeeds despite pressure risks, Nitrogen biproducts, acid, and power drains. Emotions versus research waver, and marathoning The Deep acerbates the uneven motivation flaws and overly dramatic nick of time cheats. Staying alive would have been enough for The Deep without the rival conspiracies as supposedly smart people become foolish to serve the plot in “The Last Breath.” Turnabout shock attempts, multiple traitors, and more shootouts that lead to nothing delay the ruined families and people crying over the deaths they caused. The Orpheus surfaces lickity split to meet generic conspiracy henchman confiscating their research. Oil secrets versus bio fuel discoveries hit the audience over the head yet never address the deeper issues thanks to time wasting technicalities, preposterous survivals, ridiculous deaths, laughable characterizations, and ghosts.

Cold captain Minnie Driver (Phantom of the Opera) goes over all the checks and measures and insists her priority is the crew's safety. However she catches feelings and puts everyone at risk when not calling others selfish for their personal agendas. Frances vows to leave no one behind – after leaving somebody behind every episode – falling back on tired “We don't have a choice!” apologies with each dire failure. She tells others to bury their emotion but is unable to do her job thanks to uneven tears and ineffectual characterizations proving her wrong. Rather than doing what is necessary or surfacing for help, Frances foolishly never considers who really holds the expedition purse strings. Goran Visnjic's (ER) Samson is excited that the Hermes' failure is now his chance to go deep. He thinks he is so cool, but his wife worries he'll cheat – probably because Samson and Frances already knocked boots. Samson only tells Frances how he really feels when she's unconscious yet boasts when he's lifting dead bodies less than a day after being shot in the shoulder. He really doesn't seem like a nice guy and is an even worst scientist. Widower James Nesbitt (Murphy's Law) doesn't actually do any engineering, either. However, Clem's grief doesn't need any other sounding board, and the redundant daughter at home storyline contributes to the bloated problems on The Deep, taking away from Clem's immediate angst and the arguments over family, death, science, and priorities. Flashbacks of Orla Brady (Star Trek: Picard) as his wife Catherine before and during the Hermes mission also waste time, and seeing her through logs or archive research is forgotten because through it all, nobody bothers asking what's been happening the last six months. Of course, we know to be suspicious when Tobias Menzies (The Night Manager) claims to be an outside salvage man who knows nothing about what befell the Hermes, and the stereotypical Black person also dies first. Three secondary diverse yet disposable and undefined crew members on the sub seem too young to even be there. They repeat everything everyone else says a la Sigourney Weaver in Galaxy Quest, fearfully objecting and questioning everything. They never know what to do and are even told to shut up for being so annoying. Translators don't translate, anonymous mechanics never fix anything, chefs never cook, and the bad guys' allegiances change from hour to hour as the wishy washy plot decides. It's almost fascinating to see so many characters embody such frustrating minutia.

Ironically, the ominous blues set the mood well with reflections, ripples, and enough light for us to see the well done underwater effects. Creepy green lighting and choice reds set off the rounded glass, ladders, and hatches while ice, puffy coats, and chunky sweaters keep the chill. Darkness beyond the submarine lights, foreboding hull noises, and neat, if meaningless vampire squid add atmosphere while talk of recycled neon and oxygen accents the congested interiors. Where an American piece is often panning awe and cool wonder, The Deep is largely still until the final episode visually rushes with noticeably jarring handheld action and shaky cam zooms. An onscreen running out of air countdown or duration under water clock would have actualized the timing for the audience as well as anchored the pacing for series director Jim O'Hanlon (A Touch of Cloth) and writer Simon Donald (Fortitude). Unfortunately, the previouslies illuminate how superfluous the middle hours are, and the next week teasers indicate how many apparent calamities amount to nothing. The Deep should have been three parts or two ninety minute movies, for every tangent deflates the contained characters under pressure premise, and the playing at science fiction perils runs aground with derivative politics away from the water.

Horror Hexes!

 

Horror Hexes, Oh My!

By Kristin Battestella

These diverse, contemporary scares accent their cultural horrors with hexes, charms, and chills. Read on for protection, warnings, and mistakes from the parables herein.

Evil Eye – Traditional, superstitious Delhi mother Sarita Choudhury (Homeland) worries when her New Orleans daughter meets a too good to be true, suave, wealthy stranger in this 2020 Blumhouse/Amazon tale based on an Audible original. The culture and customs are immediately felt thanks to the styles, music, and protection charms. Old fashioned Mom follows Hindu astrology and warns that it's easy for a relationship to be perfect in the beginning. She's displeased with the whirlwind jewelry and doesn't want them to move in together unless they're married. It's too soon and she loves her daughter too much. Their horoscopes are exceptionally compatible, almost suspiciously, and our father objects to mom's invasive hiring of a private detective. He thinks she is inventing things to worry about, but viewers spot the possessive, fast red flags as our daughter quits her job and moves without telling mom. Video phone calls visualize the bothersome intrusions – differing time zones mean one side is always waking or disturbing the other. Family strife and realistic unease beyond the horror make flashes of mom's prior violent experience unnecessary until we get the whole story in full. Rather than a typical research montage, the right versus wrong argument is refreshing as the upsetting past comes to light in heartfelt dialogue. Are we suspicious because our mothers taught us to be? Children don't know everything about their parents or why they do what they do, and the stalking effects linger – knowing he is always there is frightful enough. Although the ladies bond over crap men, mom's demands about unborn curses and reincarnation sound crazy and controlling. She says she'll drop everything and get rid of the charms in face to face split screens, but chilling evidence and eerie revelations lead to in person confrontations where blood proves stronger than romance or evil. Domestic action rushes an ending that feels more like a straight thriller with no mystical connections, for the supernatural spiritual here won't be esoteric enough for viewers expecting full on horror. Fortunately, the family relationships and cultural drama anchor the supposition.

The Old Ways – A possessed American reporter is abducted by Veracruz brujas in this 2020 Mexican ode with dungeons, chains, herbs, and rituals. Our victim states who she is as if that gives her license to do anything – out of touch with her own culture while the interspersed English and Spanish reflect the miscommunication layers. Despite face paintings, occult drawings, goat milk, and salt across the threshold, she insists she doesn't have the “it” they fear. Cell phones and escape attempts are dealt with swiftly as her local relatives warn her she went where she shouldn't have gone. They will help rid her of the demon, but she still manages to retrieve her bag and shoot the heroin between her toes. After being bound and painted, she pretends, lying to fake her way out of the ritual before snakes slither in amid blood, hair in the mouth, and dead chickens. Arguments with her cousin reveal her twenty year absence, longstanding family troubles, and forgotten protective talismans from their abuela. Occasional diegetic music and a retro fan add flavor and heat while candles flicker and viewers question what we may or may not see in the darkest dungeon corner. Rustic demon documents, a bilingual dictionary, and “psychic surgery” escalate to bulbous sacs with extra teeth, vomiting, and snakes in the stomach. Rather than delays contrived for the audience or drawn out torture porn, the well paced demon encounters are about the possessed coming to believe, ask for help, and understand the terror of looking in the mirror and having something else look back. Healers instead of modern medicine and past exorcisms gone awry are told with personal sadness and lifelong grief – tearful pain with no need for today's whoosh flashbacks. The opening history and brief flash intrusions here are indeed unnecessary – nothing should visually take us from the dungeon congestion – for the suffering turned cleansing experience does better when this sticks to telling its tale without such modern cinema conventions. Chilling demon hints accent the one on one journey and willpower carried by the small ensemble. Serious research and ritual prep begats bones cracking, death whistles, visions in the smoke, Nahuatl demonology, and fatal trades embracing who you are. The ritual is recognizably similar to traditional exorcisms yet stays true to its unique cultural elements for horror viewers looking for something special.

Spell– Pleas, violence, and lingering scars open this 2020 parable starring Omari Hardwick (Power) and Loretta Devine (Waiting to Exhale). Rising above childhood cruelty has led to fancy suits, wealth, and law firm success. The high rise offices are sleek and shiny, but the self-involved teenagers joke about the backwoods past when a funeral summons the family to rural Kentucky. Dad Marquis, however, is unwilling to punish and have his children fear him like his father. He insists on winning with words because it is expected of them to fight and give in to Black stereotypes. Flying his own plane to Appalachia shows how much the elite family stands out at the rusty gas station convenience store with skulls and potions on the shelves. Marquis laughs at the outhouse and doesn't believe in the Mojo bags for protection against conjuring. He and his wife argue over their entitled teens belittling the country folks, ramping up the tension inside the cockpit as a storm brews over the mountains with lightning, maydays, and alarms. Marquis wakes in an attic bedroom, injured but under the care of an old fashioned couple objecting to his cursing yet assuring their hoodoo effigy is the best medicine. Marquis demands to know what happened to his family, for they are nowhere to be found at the out of the past rustic farm house. Vintage sewing machines, candles, and colloquialisms provide a suspicious quaint while calming powders, birds, and boogities invoke the rootwork folk magic. Marquis will pay whatever it takes for an ambulance and proper rescue team, but Ms. Eloise has no phone. Such tools meant to heal or communicate only become dividers among us but salt at the window will keep out the devil. Although he's not actually bound, shrewd filming angles above the bed or through the frame visualize Marquis' incapacitated position. A foot injury that's not what it seems, rainstorms, and revival meetings with animal parts, sacrifices, and chanting make for perilous escape attempts. The foul afoot doesn't underestimate the viewer thanks to suspect food, vomit, and one on ones where Marquis has to play along despite his belief that it's all psychosomatic mumbo jumbo. He's been trying to escape his past but must embrace who he is to cast the bones and beat them at their own magic. Belying use of the color white in the bed frame, locked doorknob, and innocuous pearls accents the eerie close calls in the tight house quarters before flashlights in the woods, ritual carvings, and bloody evidence lead to agony and desperation. The anguish and disturbia is personal – not drawn out viewer shocks. Frantic searches and hysterical digging reveal grimoires with flesh of my flesh spells and boogity doll bindings for and against. Marquis re-injures himself to maintain the ruse as torches and knives help him believe in a little fiery hoodoo of his own. The blu-ray edition features a half hour of deleted scenes increasing the out of touch kids versus Marquis' passiveness – strengthening his later man of action with more isolation. I'm surprised this received negative reviews with complaints about derivative occult cliches that completely ignore the history, cultural subtext, social commentary, and Black experience setting off the blood moon reap what you sow.

A Disappointing Skip

Old – Tropical sand, surf, palm trees, and cocktails set the vacation mood for M. Night Shyamalan's (The Sixth Sense) 2021 adaptation. The resort manager directs our families to a private reserve where beautiful caverns and inlet vistas lead to nosebleeds, chest pains, and bodies in the lagoon. When our guests try to leave the beach; zooms, warps, and blackouts send them back where they started amid knives, arguments, healing wounds, and growing tumors. Unfortunately, the dizzying, frustrating camerawork makes the viewer wonder what's significant. We can't see major action or important developments because the camera is always panning and pointing somewhere else. Although a stylistic choice mirroring the blink and you miss it metaphors, it's a terrible way to tell a story. Clunky, repetitive, simplistic dialogue; precocious kids who unrealistically introduce themselves to every stranger and ask who they are and what they do; disconnecting couples reiterating their relationships; and constantly quoted insurance statistics get...old...fast. Even with emergency surgical incisions rapidly closing, increasing schizophrenia, numerous sicknesses, swift decomposition, expedited youths, and a quickly deceased dog; it takes the group far too long to realize the a la Lost creepy happening. Any commentary on beauty, ageism, wealth, or divorce is never fully realized for most of the violence, wrinkles, rapid eating, even faster pregnancy, and growing young adults still mentally children happens off screen while someone watches from the cliffs as if we aren't supposed to know this is some kind of experiment. There's a lot of math about the hours per aging but we never truly witness the expedited struggle of old age because the interfering aesthetics constantly call attention to themselves. Rather than accenting our aging fears, such audience awareness detracts from the climbing fails, blurred vision, broken bones, and contorted backs. Underutilized doctors and nurses behave stupidly because the plot says so while diverse characters that should represent the social or racist dynamics become superfluous. Contrived childhood answers and notebooks found on the beach lead to perilous swims and an unnecessary meta meta with our director as actor. Seeing the accelerated aging from a pharmaceutical or medical perspective might have been intriguing, but the tacked on comeuppance underestimates the audience. Like low budget horror with a writer/director wearing too many hats, the indulgent M. Night was not the best writer or director for this material. The resort bookends should have been excised for more taut introspection, leaving what should be a provocative concept with no rewatch value.