Friday Night Double: The Mist/Planet Terror

One half of Grindhouse, plus one Stephen King novella adaptation, equals a great creepy science fiction combination. Beers are optional; popcorn is mandatory.

Planet Terror

You know how it goes - it's Friday night, it's another weekend where you don't get to go out, so you decide on a few beers and a night in front of the telly. You decide on a loose theme: something creepy, something fairly recent - but something unconventional, a bit different from the recent glut of lame horror remakes. Using that criteria, what do you choose?

Celebrating a return to prosthetics and mechanical effects, the two films suggested here recall the spirit of earlier 80s science fiction horror. Both movies premiered back in '07 but failed to find their target audience, which is a shame - both enjoy an eclectic cast who play with our expectations of genre stereotypes; both feature great set-piece moments and twisty endings.

  The Mist

So, start out with The Mist (evoking the spirit of those 50s 'science-gone-bad' movies), then end with Planet Terror, Robert Rodriguez's celebration of early 80s video shockers. Cleverly referencing the early works of John Carpenter or the zombie films of Lucio Fulci, Rodriguez has perfectly preserved those drive-in/early VHS days. What better way to spend a Friday night?

The Mist (2007)

 

Frank Darabont follows his successful Stephen King adaptations of Shawshank and Green Mile with this outright horror movie on a much smaller budget. Great source material - the original novella was always deemed unfilmable due to the scope of the nasty things that come out of the mist; now we have CGI to make them real.

Part monster movie, part survivalist nightmare, this has the feel of the creepiest Twilight Zone episodes - key scenes are set in confined locations, yet we get a sense of a world suddenly thrown seriously awry...

The Mist realises the monstrosities creeping out of the fog with varying degrees of success - the best examples are things only slightly seen. And a controversial ending guarantees a slap awake before the next movie.

Planet Terror (2007)

 

This celebration of 70s exploitation movies was a failed experiment; originally, Planet Terror was part of a double-bill (coupled with Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof), complete with fake ads and trailers. It's all here - damaged filmstock, paper-thin characters and lurid violence, even a whole reel missing from the film, but it's done with such knowing panache, you can't help but be won over by it's charms.

The double bill was a box office disaster and was pulled from general release within a week or two of launch. Subsequently, much of the charm of the concept has been lost (besides the 20 minutes or so featuring Kurt Russell, Death Proof really isn't worth watching on it's own).

The great news for DVD viewers is that Planet Terror retains the spoof trailer for Machete - a loving, hilarious homage to exploitation movies, setting the tone for the main feature. Once the title sequence kicks in, we get Rose McGowan doing a pole-dance as the filmstock blisters and bulges, the screen burning with pumped-up primaries. Did I say it was Friday night?

This piece of the Grindhouse makes for lively, goofy, gory fun, but won't demand too much in return.

Burn After Reading (2008)

Following their Oscar Scoop in '98, Joel and Ethan Coen surprised many with this dark, if somewhat slighter outing. Burn After Reading marks their thirteenth outing - a bad omen? Depends who you ask.

It also marks the return of George Clooney to the Coen fold for the third time (Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? and Intolerable Cruelty coming before). Ever-dependable Frances McDormand is here, too, also joined by Brad Pitt, Tilda Swinton and John Malkovitch. Richard Jenkins gets an honorable mention here; his name was omitted from the movie poster and DVD packaging, but is as essential to the story as everyone else.

Burn After Reading is an ensemble piece and all principals get roughly equal screen time, each delivering great performances, but it's probably Pitt's performance that lingers longest - a goofy turn as a dim-witted, over-energised gym instructor.

The Plot

The backbone of the story concerns a stolen disc which may or may not contain sensitive CIA intelligence - carelessly left in a gym locker, it falls into the hands of Pitt and McDormand, who decide to trace the owner, then blackmail them for it, more out of excitement than real malice. McDormand's character is obsessed with the idea of cosmetic surgery, and with every other financial avenue a dead-end, the disc appears like a gift from the gods.

Plot isn't the primary interest here, though. What's on offer here is a combination of spy movie pastiche, combined with an examination of middle-aged mores: even though (initially) disconnected, all the characters share a frustration with where their lives have gone, and strive to find better.

 Tilda Swinton plays a very convincing harridan.

Malkovitch seethes frustrated, impotent anger from every pore, every other word an expletive as he rages against the little men of the world; marginalised by his superiors, he quits his relatively senior position in the CIA ('third-level clearance'), telling his incredulous wife (Tilda Swinton) that he plans to write his memoirs instead. This gets as far as him hubristically narrating nonsense into a Dictaphone. Ultimately, these anecdotes end up as text, saved to the disc that will fall into the wrong hands.

So wrapped up in his world, he fails to notice Swinton's boredom, never suspecting her affair with Clooney, a boyish, sex-addicted buffoon who allows Swanson to think he's planning a new life with her. Only, he's not really likely to leave his wife, a successful author on an endless series of book launches - it just gives him plenty of time to chase skirt.

Various contrivances allow these disparate characters to bump into one another, sometimes romantically; occasionally, with violence. McDormand's ill-conceived plan to ransom off the disc creates a vortex, pulling in the rest of the cast.

 Malk turns the AngerFrenzy up to ten. Again. Which is a good thing.

 

Coen Themes

Expectations were high when Burn After Reading arrived at theatres. Perhaps No Country For Old Men had raised the bar a little too high; compared to that movie, Burn After Reading appears to be a breezier affair. Where the Coen's previous thrillers subverted genres (The Big Lebowski turned Chandleresque hardboiled fiction on it's head; The Man Who Wasn't There celebrated the works of James M. Cain), Burn After Reading tips a nod to espionage cinema.

Carter Burwell's excellent score evokes all the tension of a heavyweight thriller, puncuating exterior scenes shot through a voyeuristic lens as if this were a Cold War drama. The fun here is the banality of it all - there is no spy element, only the fumblings of idiocy. As with many other Coen films, this is an examination of the stupidity of people, of best-laid plans spectacularly failing.

And then there's the violence. When it happens, it happens suddenly, shockingly; scenes that start out as almost slapstick quickly turn into ugly, brutal aggression.

Summing Up

A DVD release of a movie like Burn After Reading allows us some distance from the expectations prior to a theatrical release. This certainly isn't the disaster some reviewers would have us think - OK, so it isn't as funny as Lebowski, nor as meticulous as The Man Who Wasn't There. It lacks the wonderful cinematography of Roger Deakins, who had become something of a fixture to previous Coen projects.

But Burn After Reading isn't trying that hard. It's a suburban tale, the focus turned onto the players rather than the setting. It's certainly less challenging than previous efforts - but that's no bad thing. It isn't a 'light' movie, though - the final scenes are pitch black and as cynical as anything else the brothers have offered up before.

The Manchurian Candidate: 1962/2004 versions compared

I recently watched not only the original, but also the 2004 remake (dir: Jonathan Demme), curious to see which I’d like best.

Inexplicably, Demme's remake ditched the powerful ‘red queen’ motif of the ‘62 version; what he adds seems to dilute the basic premise. Now, the bad guys aren’t a diabolic commie cabal - it’s a (fairly vague) corporate organisation within the US. The starting point is Gulf War Pt.1, rather than Korea.

Both films explore disturbing mind experiments; the original goes for brainwashing, but the remake prefers more icky brain surgery.

2004 version on the left; 1962 on the right.

Denzel Washington is a much better actor than Sinatra, playing the guy caught up in the conspiracy, trying to unravel harrowing dreams that seem to suggest a complicit involvement in the murders of former comrades.

This works against the story - we care about his plight more than the bigger scheme. Meryl Streep fills Angela Lansbury’s shoes and stomps all over the set in them, playing the terrifying matriach.

2004 version on the left; 1962 on the right.

There’s an assassination of a mentor and his daughter in both movies, but the clumsy, rather banal nature of the killing in the original packs far more of a punch.

Needless to say, I found the original much better than the modern reworking.

New Moon, through an outsider's eyes

New Moon (2009) Dir: Chris Weitz

It seems pretty much all the females I know have succumbed to this Twilight thing, regardless of age. Menfolk seem curiously silent about it all.

I've somehow managed to avoid seeing either movie so far, or reading any of the books, even though both types of Twilight media exist in my home. (Books are easier to ignore, but films have a habit of being on even if you don't want them to be.)

But last night, New Moon hit the DVD player - and I decided to watch. I thought it might make for interesting viewing, going in blind to what is a sequel, or at least part of a continuing cycle. The way I saw it, any film should stand on it's own merits; the skill of the film-makers (as I see it) is to ask 'just how much back-story do we give?'

Pretty much none in this case, it turns out. This movie was made for the fans. If you don't get what's going on, that's your tough luck. You're expected to know.

This is the prologue sequence - a (relatively) complex narrative rather spoiled by Edward crashing in, replete with tittersome sartorial elegance and  half a tub of modelling gel in his hair.
(Question: how does he do that, given he can't see himself in a mirror?)

Regardless, I kind of got what was going on, but the thing that took my by surprise was just how irrelevant plot was to proceedings. There's very little sense of peril; in fact, the supernatural elements (vampirism/lycanthropy) are almost subtext to what is chiefly an examination of teen angst and nihilism.

There's some surprising directorial choices, especially when we're given a raven-eye view of events. Passages of time are shown with clever, tricksy montages and tracking shots.

I found it all strangely engaging, up to a point. I didn't care that I didn't know the characters wheeled out, and I turned off all the questions that started to fire in my mind (things like 'where is Bella's Mum?', which I'm sure would be answered if I'd seen the first movie).

 This is one of several dream sequences in the movie. It might also be the worst.

There's a keen ear in the script for teen heartache and confusion. This is also the maddening element - the push/pull, will-she/won't-she that constitutes tease on a massive scale.  Nothing is ever properly resolved; there's just longing then curiously cold-hearted rebuttals as Bella is left by one suitor, then the other, because they would be 'bad for her' (read: will disfigure her, or destroy her soul, or something).

Even those conversations aren't properly resolved later.  Instead, we get dialogue like this:

Bella: Yes... I needed you to see me once. You had to know that I was alive. You didn't need to feel guilty about it. I can let you go now.
Edward: I could never let go of you. I just couldn't live in a world where you didn't exist.
Bella:  [ puzzled] But you said...
Edward: I lied. I had to lie, and you believed me so easily.
Bella: : [ Starts crying] Because it doesn't make sense for you to love me. I'm nothing... Human. Nothing.
Edward: Bella, you're everything to me. Everything.


And so on.

I'm not the target audience for this stuff. I know that. But I happily sat through it without getting cross at it, which means I tolerated it more than Shutter Island for example. This is interesting to me. Because Shutter Island came with high expectations, perhaps? And with New Moon, I admit I'd set the bar very low.

But once we got down to the last 40 minutes or so, I did start to get a bit angry at it. We're packed off to Italy or somewhere, there's a lot of mumbled, hurried exposition, Michael Sheen supremely irritates as a pantomime Vamp (possibly the worst performance in the movie, so camp and theatrical), nothing makes any sense, then there's the hilarious Edward 'suicide' moment. There's a few 'suicide moments' in the film, all not what they seem, it's a cry for attention from the characters and the film-makers.

When Edward gets his turn, it's to be a Grand Reveal, showing the throng of mortals outside who he really is.  Somehow he only manages to muster the attentions of a young girl, even as Bella dashes like a lunatic in his direction. Everyone else ignores him, just like one of those emo kids you see at the shopping mall.

Plot and script seem to take second place to how the film looks. The males, significantly, are fetish objects, shot like they're in a perfume advert. Bella spends longer looking at Jacob's impressive rack than she does his face. 'When did you get so buff?' she asks.  She's a rather shallow girl like that, and tends to overthink things, I decided.  I felt sorry for her Dad.  She's quite a worry, howling at night then vanishing for days.

As I say, it was all a strange experience (and admittedly, rather beguiling at first). A bit like a teen crush.

I'll give it two (non-penetrative) lovebites out of five.

Outlander (2008) - I'm being kind about it

Outlander (2008) Dir: Howard McCain

It doesn't get much more high concept than this - a crashed spaceship strands alien starman in Iron Age Viking territory, slap-bang between two warring tribes. He's a Destroyer of Worlds, but is plagued with flashbacks of fiery desolation, caused by a dragonlike creature.

Thanks to a handy (but painful) device salvaged from the ship, said alien learns the viking ways in about five seconds. Which is a good thing, because he's captured shortly after. They think he's butchered a rival village - but the cosmic man sees the damage and knows that somehow the dragon-thing exists in this world also.

Frankly, it's all as bonkers as it sounds. Not that this is a bad thing.  Quite how Jim Caviezel (he was Jesus in that Mel Gibson movie) ended up in the lead role is a mystery, but he's ably supported by John Hurt and Ron Perlman. Sophia Miles looks lovely in it and gets to pout a bit, as well as swing a sword around.

The creature is the usual overly-designed, assault-on-the-senses CGI, but is used sparingly. Encounters are brief and bloody, and it's in those moments that Outlander most resembles Predator. One of the film's strengths is how it mixes things up. The plot isn't completely predictable and there's some surprising action.

With it's theme of 'going native', this movie predated Avatar by a good year. Unfortunately for Outlander's producers, Cameron really did raise the bar with his film; comparing those two movies, you can see how Avatar excels, especially in the visual depiction of alien worlds.

And as attractive as the viking thing is to me - has there been a viking-based movie that actually made much money?  13th Warrior, Pathfinder and Raising Valhalla all tanked at the box office. It seems that it'll take more than throwing SF into the mix, or 'from the producers of Lord of the Rings' at the top of the DVD box.

But if this film had been around when I was 12 years old, I'd have said it was the best film EVER.

David Lynch's Ten Tips for Figuring Out Mulholland Dr.

Mulholland Dr. (2001) is one of the richest movie experiences I’ve ever had.  Baffling, confounding and (at times) maddening, it’s a typically Lynchian take on the Hollywood dream.

Some people get it on first viewing.  I didn’t - it took me FOUR before I felt I understood what I’d seen.  Some people hate it.  Maybe they didn’t get it at all.

Personally, I don’t think getting it matters too much - the movie has a wonderful, surreal quality and amazing performances (especially Naomi Watts - check out the audition scene); the net effect is like waking from a dense, beguiling dream you can’t shake.

If that sounds like a lot of work, here’s David Lynch’s ten clues to figuring out the movie.

1. Pay particular attention in the beginning of the film: at least two clues are revealed before the credits.
2. Notice appearances of the red lampshade.
3. Can you hear the title of the film that Adam Kesher is auditioning actresses for? Is it mentioned again?
4. An accident is a terrible event… notice the location of the accident.
5. Who gives a key, and why?
6. Notice the robe, the ashtray, the coffee cup.
7. What is felt, realized and gathered at the club Silencio?
8. Did talent alone help Camilla?
9. Notice the occurrences surrounding the man behind Winkies.
10. Where is Aunt Ruth?

Moon

“Sam, get some sleep. You’re very tired.”

Moon (2009) Dir: Duncan Jones

So many people missed out on this one! Sam Rockwell is so good in it… he’s probably the best part of Iron Man 2 (I know I’m in the minority about that movie but I didn’t rate it much) - seeing him there made me want to watch Moon all over again.

In it, he dares to dream bigger than his predicament, although the odds are massively stacked against him… I’m not known for getting something in my eye during movies but it hits me like nothing else besides Midnight Cowboy, maybe for the same reason.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005) Dir: Shane Black

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is an under-appreciated gem: Shane Black is the master of Hollywood hard-boiled and this movie shows his love for the genre - a girl addicted to pulp crime stories, an unreliable narrator, verbose goons taking turns to beat up the anti-hero… even the chapter format employed uses Raymond Chandler book titles (The Lady in the Lake, The Simple Art of Murder, etc).

It marked the return of Robert Downey Jr, perfectly cast as a petty thief drawn into a typically labrynthine intrigue.  There’s so much to like, you can forgive its indulgencies (that beer commercial, or the brief cameo by Abraham Lincoln, anyone?).

The movie also taught me to keep my hands off the frame if someone’s about to slam the door in my face.  If you’ve seen it, you’ll know what I mean.

Oh, and there’s this killer title sequence…

Sherlock Holmes - credits sequence

Sherlock Holmes (2009) Dir: Guy Ritchie

Here’s some stills from the fantastic end-credits sequence, courtesy of Prologue.

Sherlock Holmes (2009)

Sherlock Holmes (2009): Dir: Guy Ritchie

The opening sequence perfectly sets the tone - an audacious intervention of a masonic ritual. Slick, muscular and confident, it isn’t like any other take on Arthur Conan Doyle.

I’ve got it on good authority there’s loads of details fans of the original stories will notice (my girl is the expert - she pointed out the ‘VR’ bulletholes in Holmes’ room, told me what it stood for) but equally lots that’s strictly non-canon (steampunk devices, anyone?).  It’s heavy on the occult too - but I kind of liked all that. Purists will be furious I suppose.

The downside is a fairly limp plot, but there’s much fun to be had from the Downey Jr./Law bromance. They’re both clearly having a ton of fun.

I’m looking forward to the inevitable sequel. Pitt rumoured to be arch-fiend Moriarty!

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
Dir: Andrew Dominik

Finally got around to seeing this - I guess I’d been wary; the stupidly long title alone had me label it as a painfully self-aware, not-really-indie, worthy, Oscar-baiting star vehicle.  I suppose it turned out to be all those things, but is actually very good too.

There’s something slightly incongruous with the juxtaposition between stunningly shot vistas (cinematography by the always brilliant Roger Deakins, Oscar nominated here) and the more earthy dialogue scenes (which feel almost like a Ken Loach movie). But it’s those talky scenes that really captivate - Sam Rockwell and Jeremy Renner (so good in The Hurt Locker) are especially good as two not-very-bright lackeys.

Pitt is Pitt, replete with the usual manic outbursts and flashes of ugly thuggery. What makes this work is how he’s distanced from his gang, attaining mythic status, especially in the eyes of Ford, played with astonishing skill by Casey Affleck.

This all results in a kind of Wild West Fight Club - a twisted story of man-love, told from the point of view of one little, ineffectual guy.  Ford sees James as heroic and longs to be him; the audience sees something else, yet - thanks to Affleck’s painfully honest performance - we can feel sympathy for his misguided devotion.

The Orphanage

The Orphanage (2007) Dir: Juan Antonio Bayona

I thought the first 40 minutes of this movie were gripping and beautifully shot. Once the story went outside of the confines of the orphanage though, I found my interest waning… and I really didn’t like the ending! It should have just left us with her choice, I think. But those first 40 mins were class.


Guillermo del Toro Exec Produced this movie, but his own El Espinazo del Diablo (The Devil’s Backbone) is far superior (and thematically similar) IMHO.

But that little kid in the scarecrow mask - how creepy was that? And… he’s deformed.

Up (an appreciaton)

Up (2009) dir: Pete Docter/Bob Peterson

Up starts with an ending, a life in snapshot, which is poigniant and so deftly done (it packs an emotional wallop inside of ten minutes), you wonder how the film will recover. I didn’t get any wet on my face because I’m a tough guy (But I think my sinuses might have been playing up a bit).

The clever thing is how they introduce zany, Tex Avery-ish ideas once the film gets going, so we have a cartoon world grounded with a deeper meditation on loss, loneliness and the solace of companionship.

No Country for Old Men

“Whatcha got ain’t nothin new. This country’s hard on people, you can’t stop what’s coming, it ain’t all waiting on you. That’s vanity.”

No Country for Old Men (2007) Dir: Joel & Ethan Coen

I watched this movie again, twice (it had been a while). It really isn’t the box of tricks I’d remembered it being, not once I knew what was coming.

Moss isn’t the lead, he just occupies most of the screen time. Bell is the lead, only he spends most of the movie ducking out of harms way. Bell’s opening monologue sets it all up; Moss chooses to do what Bell won’t, which is to take a step into evil (‘A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He’d have to say, “O.K., I’ll be part of this world”’).

So many people seem to think the terrifying Chigurh character is supposed to be supernatural, but surely the rather calamitous (and completely random) accident toward the end prove his fallible, flesh-and-blood credentials?  His last potential victim refuses to play his coin-toss game, forcing him to decide their fate; once stripped of his harbinger role, he seems to be a victim of chance as much as anyone else.

Roger Deakins is again in charge of the lens (as with most Coen films) - his foreign eye (he’s a Brit) seems to capture America in a unique way, evoking movies like the old John Ford westerns, but adding something else to the mix.

Did I say I liked it?

I Am Legend: book-to-movie

I read Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend recently. It’s a slight read but powerful and gripping - this was written in the early 50s, predating even George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead movie. To fully appreciate the horror of the scenario (last man left on Earth; everyone else is either dead or infected by a strange virus, turning them into blood-feeding monsters), you have to forget the countless apocalyptic zombie movies, as well as the many attempts (official and unofficial) to bring Matheson’s vision to the screen. This is the story that started it all.

I’ve since watched the Will Smith version and am amazed how even in that, they miss some of the best moments of the novel, particularly hero Robert Neville’s sexual frustrations, compounded by the incessant lascivious taunts of the infected women outside of his fortress home. Also absent is the strange, vocal man who calls for Neville every night, a neighbour he knew before the plague, now one of them. Neville’s hatred of him, later thrown into stark contrast through events, forms a vital part of the story.

Most surprising of all is how nobody sticks to the mantra behind the book title. The novel ends with those three words; we are shown in contrast who Neville represents to those infected with the virus.  The Omega Man, The Last Man on Earth and 28 Days Later all use Matheson’s story as source material, but all seem to discard this aspect. The most recent movie (with Will Smith) is OK, but the ending is a total cop-out. I think any adaptation that has Neville as a Christ-like figure surely misses the point?

Amazingly, there’s a pre-production script for a sequel to the Smith version, with Will on Exec Prod duties. Maybe that Robert Neville sprouts wings and a halo.

The book is a great example of economic storytelling - the fractured chronology of events (especially the details surrounding Neville’s dead wife and child) seem perfect for film.  So until David Lynch gets around to directing a remake (I can dream), I’d suggest sticking with the novel.

The Devils’ Backbone (2001)

The Devils’ Backbone (2001): Guillermo del Toro’s precursor to Pan’s Labyrinth, and arguably better. (I do love Pan’s though).

The ghost-child Santi is brilliantly realised - shrouded by a watery blood-cloud, as if submerged, Santi’s bones are subltly visible as the moonlight shines on his tiny body. Check out this clip to see for yourself…