FILM SPOT - The Ward (2011)

So, Halloween is upon us, it seems only right I review a horror film and so here is The Ward, a return to films by John Carpenter who after the disastrous Ghosts of Mars (2001) took a great deal of time off. This time he partly spent directing episodes for the Masters of Horror series, an occasionally hit and miss anthology of horror stories that seemed to get him back to basics with the whole horror thing. For those who saw any of these episodes, you can definitely see shades of them in 'The Ward', particularly the episode 'Pro-Life' which was set in an abortion clinic. The Ward concerns Kristin (Amber Heard), a young woman who torches a farmhouse to the ground and is then put into a psychiatric ward. As she adjusts to life there, she becomes aware of disappearances and strange happenings in the night. It becomes pretty obvious to her that nobody leaves the ward, and she starts to work out why. Now, the refreshing thing about this film is that it is relatively free of shoddy CG effects and is stage-managed extremely well by Carpenter. The jump scares actually work, and there is a very disturbing atmosphere to the whole piece. Now, I am a huge John Carpenter fan, and you can see his auteur fingerprints all over it. The pacing is superb, and he manages to suffuse the film with a dread that hangs on even as the numbers start dropping, something which a lot of modern horror films are unable to do. This may sound like it is leading up to a point, and yes I have been skirting around the matter of the script for a reason. Specifically, that the script itself is actually quite disappointing. It isn't that it is badly written per se, I have seen badly written horror films and this is not one of them. The problem is that it becomes far too 'been there done that' for its own good. The twist of 'The Ward', and I will not reveal it for spoiler reasons managed to galvanize a single reaction out of me.

'Is that it?' 

Amber clearly just saw the Human Centipede.

                                   
 It's just a rather banal explanation, which while explained well, has never worked in my opinion. It didn't work when Identity (2003) did it, and it will not work now. It's an intriguing idea that nobody can execute because it feels like the 'It was all a dream' twist of horror films, i.e a great big fat Deus Ex Machina to explain and resolve plotlines. I will also briefly mention the performances. They are largely fine, although I have to be honest; how on earth is Amber Heard quite this prolific? She isn't a bad actress, but I would hardly describe her as the next big thing so it is a surprise to see her in so many films at the moment. Her performances are largely functional, and her mechanical performance in this is kept on the rails pretty much by John Carpenter's assured direction. There is little point mentioning character development, as their lack of 'character' or histories is somewhat tied in to the big twist which again somewhat disappoints me and leads me unable to say much more about it. Overall, it's a good bash at the horror film but I would have expected more. It does cheer me however that John Carpenter has not lost his touch, and perhaps gifted with a better script, he could be right back at the top of his game again.  

DVD REVIEW - Lake Mungo (2008)

Where do we find the line between grief and horror? At which point does our mind decide to accept something and yet find a credible explanation within the incredible? This is something very much woven into the texture of Lake Mungo, an Australian documentary-style horror that follows a family, the Palmers, following the loss of their sixteen year old daughter Alice. The film's narrative shows how they deal with the bereavement and the impact this loss has on the family unit, and how the aftermath is messier than the event itself. If this only makes it sound like a rather maudlin melodrama about death and loss, that is to misrepresent this film. What we have here is a genuinely spooky film, which will at times make you extremely uncomfortable and, bets of all, makes you afraid of what is not there. The age old adage of 'the less you see, the scarier it is' applies rarely as well as it does here. The film tackles the subject of ghosts sensibly, letting us doubt the truth as to the presence of supernatural forces instead of forcing us to assume their de-facto presence immediately, as can often be the problem of horror films. As the family starts to come to believe that their daughter is somehow appearing to them, and her communications start turning up shocking revelations about her life, the film gets creepier and more skin-crawlingly disturbing as it reaches its climax. There are several twists that are far from easily spotted, and the film performs some excellent acts of misdirection and cinematic sleights of hand that prevent the obvious explanations from surfacing.

                                

The film's balance of cynicism and belief is evenly balanced; the characters are rational and believable, and for once does not immediately throw the 'woman believes, man scoffs' chestnut at us. Everybody here is confused and suspicious as to what is going on, which makes Ray Kemeny (a medium) a fascinating presence as nobody really believes he is attempting to help anybody. His eventual connection with the family is quite touching, but is earned by his virtues as a man rather than decided through his role as a spiritual medium. Probably the most frightening aspects of Lake Mungo are what turn up in the found camera footage. While the idea of the son being a major film buff and having loads of cameras does feel a bit crowbarred in so we can get this footage in the first place, it is the only viable explanation as to how it is present in the movie at all. It does however, provide considerably more scares than Paranormal Activity does; especially when one of the film's finest moment, in which we are shown an old piece of footage in a new light that changes the truth we have established so well that it genuinely shocks you. Dissecting the film too thoroughly will ruin the surprise, but let us just say it uses the documentary format well and ultimately produces one of the most frightening horror films of recent times. It also manages to unleash a cavalcade of horrifying revelations that make the skin crawl. The possible reason for this is the realism of the whole thing. It starts off as that most nightmarish of situations, in which a girl is missing and her whereabouts are unknown. Except instead of being reassured with a simple truth of death, and the ability to grieve and then move on, the story of Alice gets longer, more sinister and complicated and it begins to deeply affect the characters of the film. The first two acts are bad enough but the final third is just devastating, and contains perhaps one of the single most disturbing twists I have seen a horror film. Believe me, Blair Witch's kid-in-the-corner has nothing on Lake Mungo's final storytelling flourish.

Let us try to wrap this up by reasoning why Lake Mungo is as frightening as it is. Films about demonic possession have scared people for years, but these days, the demons are tangible entities usually rendered as special effects - we know it is fake and very little the filmmakers can do convince us otherwise. With teenagers becoming more of a mystery to the previous generation however, a terror of pedophiles lurking around around every corner and our own fascination with macabre secrets, it is clear that our fears have shifted. The monsters no longer have big teeth and claws, but disarming smiles and hidden basements. Lake Mungo taps into these deepest darkest fears, and runs amok with them. Disturbing, ghostly, frightening and never pulling a single punch, Lake Mungo is one of the best horror films of the year, if not the decade.

FILM SPOT - The Tree of Life (2011)

It is impossible to overstate the gift that is life. For as insignificant or alone as we may feel on this planet, knowing our own humanity provides us with a fresh perspective on our existence. You feel the wind on your face. That is a miraculous thing. You smell the air and feel the sunlight. These too are minor miracles. This may sound an odd way to begin a review, but Terrence Malick's metaphysical masterpiece does stop you in your tracks and make you try to sense every molecule around you, to feel life and your place in it. Alternatively, it will make you want to punch a wall, or possibly demand your money back. Truth be told, this is not an easy film to like. It is virtually dialogue free, very little actually happens and its subject material swings wildly between the surreal, extraordinary and mundane. Many people did not like it when I went to see it. At least ten people walked out during the course of the film, making snarky comments as they left. Not all of you will like it, and the reasons for liking and disliking this film are pretty much the same thing. The truth is that giving up on Tree of Life part way through just ruins the experience. You have to see all of it to get perspective.

The curious thing is that I HATE art films. I hate their self-importance, their bleakness and determination to make you suffer their bullshit because 'hey, that's life, deal with it', as if somehow it's your fault you chose to watch the film and your non-plussed reaction is simply because 'you're just, like, too obtuse man'. Quirky is a further thing I do not suffer, particularly those cute-li'l American indie films that are just so gosh-darn quirky, and feature stupid characters who do not exist in real life anywhere and are yet supported by legions of people who claim that IS actually what life is like. Yes, I AM talking about 500 Days of Summer, every turgid, stupid and quirky moment of it. While I will profess to generally preferring intelligent films, at least dumb films sometimes know what they are and revel in creating something richly textured instead of cack-handedly striving to drive a message into your brain like a nail in your skull (Did you know Crash was about racism by the way?). There is no reason whatsoever I should like Tree of Life. Nearly every audible line is done in a whisper for crying out loud, and even then some of the lines are whispered with such ethereal intent you honestly cannot understand what is being said. Despite all this and despite my reservations, I came away stupefied, amazed, infuriated and perplexed and only realized after a beer and a good night's sleep that the film I had watched was something extraordinary. At times yes, it drags and I was desperate sometimes for it to 'get on with it', as the cast of Monty Python and the Holy Grail would have it but the film is relaxed in its pace and its choice to do so.

What Tree of Life managed to do was produce a strange, non-linear narrative of a childhood, as remembered by Sean Penn. The story is that Sean Penn's character is an architect, and on the anniversary of his brother's death contemplates the life he had with his brother, the love they shared and how he was torn between his mother and his father and their very different approaches to life. His father, played with surprising dexterity by a very toned down Brad Pitt, was a disciplinarian who had specific rules and insisted the children call him 'father' as opposed to 'dad'. His mother was a free spirit, a woman who embraced nature and freedom, and yet was irresponsible in this approach to looking after her children, leading the father to overcompensating heavily in the discipline of their daily lives. This is all framed in a cosmic backdrop, the perspective sometimes coming off of this family and their lives to the universe itself. At one point, the film goes away from the memories of Jack (Sean Penn) and decides to recap the creation of planet earth for us, taking us from the tempestuous birth of our planet and through the creation of life itself, even showing us a few rather perplexed looking dinosaurs en route. Now I admit that the idea of switching from 1950s small-town America to the creation of the universe is a little jarring, but once the film is over, you realize what you were being shown. Young Jack (the insanely named Hunter McCracken) sees that the innocence of life he experienced as a very young child is a fragile thing, and starts to realize how life isn't all dancing and giggles. Yet as his father points out, the will to survive and persist in life is essential, or you will fall by the wayside. This is why we see so much of life on a grand scale, reminding us that though life can be hard, grace exists in many forms and if we persist, we can ultimately find solace in this. That although people can die, others are born and the world, though sometimes cruel, is a mind-boggling system of miracles, determination and unbelievably fortuitous chance.

                               

It also shows a very balanced view of family life. Traditionally, the mothers are all wonderfully tenderhearted people and the fathers are borderline psychotic automatons of rage and discipline. While these facets do exist, we see their downsides; Brad Pitt is never portrayed with any sympathy, for example. He goes too far, and disciplines the children too much and too often, and yet the mother for all her love, does not discipline them enough. Young Jack is disappointed by their weaknesses, realizing that life is not perfect and we are forced to embrace what we have so that we can achieve greater things. He learns his greatest life lessons from both his mother and father, coming to realize as an adult that he learned will from his father, and love from his mother. Jack also learns to bury the past and embrace what you were, what you are and what you can still become. In the beauty of the film we start seeing meaning in every gesture, every act and every natural wonder we see, and start relating it to the film as a whole. It collages together like a painting, and yet is more than merely the sum of its parts. While I have analyzed it pretty in depth, you have to realize just how damned difficult it is to sum up Tree of Life. High concept this film is not. It is a film of staggering ambition with some tear-inducingly beautiful music chosen to accompany this strange and yet beguiling symphony to life. Is there a God? What is Life all about? We create our own destiny. That is ultimately what makes this film soar; that there is no specific message, but it does enhance your own appreciation of what you are and what is around you, and the delicacy of what you carry in your soul. That has to mean something at least.

FILM SPOT - A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010)

Oh, god. Oh god oh god oh god. Could this have been done with any less care? Or with any less respect for the film it's based on? I seriously doubt it. Platinum Dunes, the production company of satan himself (Michael Bay), tend to specialise in taking other people's ideas, making photocopies and doodling penises on them. Their most recent product to hit the cinemas is a remake of Wes Craven's seminal 1984 feature about a group of teenagers being killed in their sleep by a mysterious dream stalker called Freddy Krueger. The first was a film made by a man who understands horror aesthetic, horror logic and creating suspense, whereas this one was made by Samuel Bayer, director of Nirvana videos, a man who understands how to make Kurt Cobain look good with wet hair. Both films have the exact same premise, and yet could not be more different. The problem is, that the first one is such a good template that this version felt it had to rewrite the rules in order to produce something different. Its attempts to be 'different' do not work on any level.

Let's analyse this logically, and try not to compare the remake to the original every five seconds and explain why it just doesn't work as a stand-alone film, let alone a remake. I will mention however that in the original, the entire premise is explained clearly, creepily and within about 10 minutes. You understand what is going on, why and yet enough is not explained to keep you interested. The remake fails to establish the characters to a point that I wasn't aware one of the leads actually turned up in the prologue. She was that important, apparently. After introducing this mish-mash of people, the film unleashes Freddy and the dreams upon us. Now, the tension of the original was the 'oh god, don't fall asleep! Don't fall asleep!' aspect of things, and there was a genuine sense of horror pervading. In this one, the kids fall asleep with such monotonous regularity that you'd think they were all narcoleptic, and there is a new concept of 'micro-naps' that renders all tension pointless. We're told it's basically sleeping for a microsecond, so you sort of dream while awake. Oh, brilliant. So they're unsafe awake and sleeping. What's the point in having a serial-killer whose whole mandate is that he can only kill you in your dreams if he can kill you awake and asleep?

'Bayer! See me after class!'

So as well as this total misunderstanding of what made the original work, there is also Freddie himself to consider. Jackie Earle Haley is a good actor, and I think he's an interesting piece of work – but this was not a good franchise for him to choose. It's not that the performance is bad, but it's the wrong kind of performance. A lot of critics praised the decision to turn Freddy into a malevolent nasty old man as opposed to the rather wicked and twisted dream demon from the original franchise, which after six sequels was pretty much driven into the dirt. His wicked old man routine unfortunately is not scary. I was never at any point scared of him. He was just...a big ol' perv, really.

The backstory is supposed to enhance Freddy, but it is used totally inappropriately and the big 'revelations' and 'shock twist' we're supposed to experience are totally undermined by our experience of what came before it. Eric Heisserer and Wesley Strick wrote this, so be sure to hunt them down and throw bricks through their windows. The film's pace is jumbled, constantly flip-flopping between dream states and reality with little care or interest. To say the dreams feel like 'filler' is perhaps to understate the issue. One girl, Chris (Katie Cassidy) dreams that she goes into the attic, looks around and goes back to her bedroom. Seriously. The best dreams are actually pretty creepy...oh sorry, I just gave the filmmakers too much credit. They're all stolen from the original but not done as well.

With the exception of Clancy Brown ('MEDIC!' guy from Starship Troopers) and Haley, nobody else seems to be making any effort at all. The teens all look bored as hell, with the kid from Haunting in Connecticut, Kyle Gallner, basically just looking exhausted (and not in a good way) and Rooney Mara as Nancy looks as if she'd rather be in another film. Some of the age casting is pretty stretched too. Katie Cassidy and her mother look barely two years apart in age, and she's supposed to be in high school. High-school for god's sake!

Stupid teenagers: Getting slaughtered for your pleasure since 1979.

Visually, the film is a write-off too. It's all ugly linoleum and vomit green, and the cutting is flat. One other thing: orchestral stings should be used sparingly for scares. In order to guarantee making us jump, the filmmakers have shoved in orchestral stings every time anything happens. It makes you jump, yes but so could suddenly turning up the television volume. It makes you jump, but it isn't scary.

Rounding up, the film is a disaster. A careless knock-off of a brilliant horror film. I guess all we have to do is wait to see just how badly they do The Birds. I for one am assuming a crash position now.

FILM SPOT - Hard Candy (2005)

EXTREME SPOILERS WITHIN


Few thrillers come more provocative than Hard Candy. An internet sex predator contacts a 14 year old girl, the two strike up a relationship, they have coffee, then they go back to his house where he offers to photograph her...and then it all goes wrong. Not that any of what I have described is meant to be 'right, you understand, I mean more that it goes hideously wrong for him. Not only has Hayley (Ellen Page) got his number, but she's set him up to take punishment for his crimes. Jeff (Patrick Wilson) has no idea what's hit him.

The bulk of the film takes place in Jeff's house, and the film revolves around their deadly and often highly painful confrontations. It becomes readily apparent to Jeff that Hayley is no pushover, and their game becomes more convoluted and dangerous until it reaches a nasty yet inevitable conclusion. Kudos must go to David Slade for making the best of a small environment for his thriller. The luxury flat, at first so warm and inviting, becomes a strangely creepy mousetrap that looks oddly beautiful; it glows in the sun, it looks harsh and stark in pale artificial light. Slade does a good job of using the environment and using his actors extremely well. He also treats the subject material with a fairly non-judgemental eye, which makes it up to us to decide truth and guilt. He handles it extremely well, and pulls no punches. What Slade does less well however, is maintain the film's balance. The film seems to recycle itself at least twice; Jeff escapes Hayley's new and devious torture method, he falls flat on his face, she recaptures him, skewers him with wit, repeat. This does take up at least an hour, and it is only in that final forty minutes that things finally become dangerous for Hayley - and the true cat and mouse game reveals itself. Except that you are made to wait far too long.


The odd thing about Hard Candy, perhaps the hardest thing to admit, is that in a strange way you sympathise with Jeff. It is a tribute to Patrick Wilson's incredibly brave performance that the decision to play Jeff as a likeable character instead of as a sleazeball pornographer that makes the revelations of his disturbing sexual tastes all the more shocking. Internet predators don't get their targets by being creepy morons; they are charming and outward. So in a way, it comes off as more realistic. Readers of UK tabloids would love nothing more than to see him as an evil psychopath who gets ripped to pieces by Hayley for his devious crimes, but that is not the point. It is not a wish-fulfillment fantasy for vigilantes. It is a parable about your past catching up with you, that being tortured sometimes is not enough for trying to achieve redemption, that things are never as they seem. It is also worth mentioning that Hayley, played convincingly and effectively by Ellen Page, is not an especially likeable character.

She is a smack-talking teen who often comes off as self-righteous rather than honest; but then again, what do we know? Was she a past victim of abuse? What did she really see in the house? It is interesting that we never actually precisely see any evidence of Jeff's misdemeanours. Then again, he can't be innocent. He did something. She knows he did something, and so does he. The question is: what did he do? It is a very clever premise to make Hayley as unpleasant as she is and Jeff as nice as he is, as it does make you question the nature of truth and who is telling it.

Sometimes, the dynamic does wear a little thin. Hayley's monologues about Jeff's dark side and the evils of child molestation do get a little dull, but for some reason are repeated in different forms throughout the film, as if somehow the audience isn't aware that child molestation is bad (say it ain't so). However, this is the crux of the whole film; Hayley admits that 'Hayley' is a mere mask - it isn't who she really is. So who is she doing it for? She seems bothered by the horrifying things done to the missing girls who supposedly are Jeff's victims, but she didn't know them or seem to care about who they were, though she cares they died. Is she out for revenge? Or just a girl taking on the evils of sexual predators when no others will? Or is she presented as an extreme example of what happens when vigilantes do get their way? She disappears from the film at the end, pretty much unharmed, and we never know anything about her. This makes her a strange and complicated character. It is highly possible she never existed. Did Jeff simply do this to himself?


More complicated is the actual 'truth'. Throughout the whole film, Jeff maintains his innocence. It is only at the end he makes a tearful confession to Hayley. How forced is this confession though? His endless denials of having done anything are met with torture; Hayley will only accept one answer. Did he do anything? Or did he say what she wanted to hear? Then again, if the film had just presented us with an evil sex offender being tortured and a pure innocent girl getting her revenge, it would have been a dull film with no questions asked. It would be bereft of character. It is the inspired writing of the two characters, to make the otherwise morally repugnant individual likeable and make the sweet innocent victim not so sweet, innocent or empathetic, that means we question the nature of the film's reality, of who these people really are.

The film toys with our notions of reality, so that it becomes more than just a claustrophobic thriller. Obvious comparisons are Fatal Attraction, but Glenn Close never cut anybody's balls off (sorry, gave that one away) and Fatal Attraction never suggested to us the possibility that all we saw was made up, or that it was maybe in the head of one or other of the protagonists. It is unique for a film to suggest such a thing. It is a shame that the film itself doesn't always live up to the questions it asks of us. The film's failing is that too much of the film is waiting game and little pay off, and while building up the tension is a good thing, a good amount of this build up is not especially tense. Boredom sets in as Hayley tortures Jeff in more and more creative ways, and your experience ends up oddly neutered. Soon, you just beg for the film to reach some sort of conclusion. Hayley's schemes do also border on the ridiculous, at times reaching Bond-villain levels of ingenuity that makes her a rather less believeable character than we initially think she is.


It's rather hard to recommend Hard Candy to anyone. You don't 'enjoy' this film on any level really. You're not supposed to take any pleasure from anything Hayley does. It's an experience, and not a pleasant one. This doesn't make it without merit though. It's just hard to convince people to watch a film about a child molester getting his gonads hacked off. Since this is all in your face and there is never really any distraction from the action, we have no choice but to watch in horror as Hard Candy unfurls its fairly distasteful subject matter piece by piece.

So yes, good and provocative. Not perfect though, and its true meaning could probably be debated until doomsday.