Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991)

Tags

Comedy, Fantasy, Sci-fi

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem based on the way people normally talk, so I poked fun at the devolution of the English language. Best read with a valley girl/guy accent.)

Have you ever, like, noticed how people, like, talk,
Contracting their verbs into mush?
It’s, you know, “I wanna,” “I’m gonna,” and stuff
That’d make Noah Webster, like, blush.

I don’t know how English, like, got to this point,
But I follow it to the letter.
It’s, you know, like, likely you like how you talk,
But other folks shoulda learned better.
_______________

MPAA rating: PG

It may have only taken two years for Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure to get a sequel, but it took me at least a decade to finally catch up with their Bogus Journey. There’s something about the first film that’s so absurdly entertaining, so I wanted to believe that that creative lightning would strike again with the sequel.

The first film had a goal specified early on, gathering historical figures so Bill (Alex Winter) and Ted (Keanu Reeves) don’t flunk history and ruin the future in the process. In this one, the plot rambles even more, as an ambitious baddie in the future (Joss Ackland) sends evil Bill and Ted robots back in time to kill the good Bill and Ted and pave the way for their master’s reign. I’ll just ignore how absurd the plan is and how the bad guy doesn’t seem to understand how altering the past works. The film’s original title was Bill and Ted Go to Hell, a fitting option as the plot veers away from sci-fi and pits the dimwitted duo against the Grim Reaper (white-faced William Sadler, unrecognizable compared with his roles in Shawshank or The Green Mile).

Of course, it was fun revisiting Bill and Ted and their valley-guy nomenclature, with even a cameo from George Carlin, and Winter and Reeves fit these roles like two chuckleheaded gloves. I did get a kick out of the film’s reference to Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal and its game against Death (as well as the realization that this film surely inspired the cartoon series The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy). Yet for all its humor, I didn’t laugh very often, and the rampant silliness just didn’t quite match the “educated stupidity,” as I call it, of the first film.

It’s telling when one film has “Excellent” in the title and the next one has “Bogus.” This sequel isn’t bad and even quite amusing with some quotable gems, but perhaps I need to see it a few more times before I can embrace its cult classic status. With the announcement of a long-awaited third film entitled Bill and Ted Face the Music, I’m hoping the next one will be better.

Best line: (Bill, after seeing hell) “We got totally lied to by our album covers, man.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
627 Followers and Counting

 

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

Tags

Drama, Western

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for an abecedarian poem, where each line starts with a different letter of the alphabet. I took it one step further and increased the number of syllables with each successive line; the first as one syllable, and the last has twenty-six. I wish I could have made it rhyme more, but it was a fun exercise.)

A
Better
Case of cruel
Death and dream-fueled
Effort you’ll rarely
Find than the flourishing,
God-led western growth from miles
Hence to the hard-fought backyards of
Impatient, heedless Americans.
Joy at the progress through storm and disease;
Key victories that confirmed our destinies
Like blood-sprayed signs pointing home that we only would
Make the effort to clean off once we had arrived there;
New frontiers made bitter with tears as roads were paved with loss;
Once-famed pathfinders and desperadoes yielding their roles to
Pioneers that now populate our history books or else lived
Quietly, blazed their trails, and fed the good earth in anonymity;
Royals and natives losing what they believed was theirs forevermore; and
Stubborn, sweet, semi-sane civilians of fortune and sacrificial service ―
These all made the struggle west what it was and the world what it would one day become.
Underneath the present-day complaints of destructive white expansion or the rosy
Visions of mythical men taming the wild as few Americans today ever could,
We must acknowledge that they were as human as we, as prone to sin and improbable grace,
Experiencing a world unknown, a battle against oceans, forests, mountains, prairies, and selves.
You may judge them as you may someday be judged; they lived for themselves, not for history books or for the
Zealous people who write them. Legends and monsters were once mere humans before hindsight made them less or more.
_____________________

MPAA rating: R (solely for violence)

The Coen brothers certainly know how to make a western. After pulling off the unlikely feat of a worthy remake of True Grit, they brought to life a diverse collection of short stories in this Netflix anthology film (which was apparently meant to be a series at first). Whether it be wagon-training on the Oregon Trail or discussing human nature in a potentially symbolic stagecoach, the Old West has rarely been so mythologized as it is here, painting a broad canvas of cheery gunfights, dark satire, and quiet desperation.

Each of the six tales is unique and presented as installments of a short story collection; they feel authentic in that short story way, and indeed two of the segments are based off stories by Jack London and Stewart Edward White. Tim Blake Nelson is probably the most memorable character as the titular Buster Scruggs, who revels in his gun-slinging superiority while crooning tunes and conversing with the audience. The lightness of this first story is deceiving, though, and the film isn’t afraid to be downright depressing. In fact, of the six yarns, only one has what could be considered a happy ending, but even the film’s sadder moments are punctuated by insightful and poignant themes, such as the selfishness of man or the rugged unfairness of this place called the Old West.

Not all of the stories are equal, of course, the weakest being James Franco’s laconic bank robber tale, which seemed to exist solely for the sake of some last-minute, literal gallows humor. Everyone I’ve read seems to agree that the title of best (as well as longest) belongs to “The Girl Who Got Rattled,” an achingly realistic segment in which Zoe Kazan steps out of her usual roles and proves her skill as an actress.

What I loved most about The Ballad of Buster Scruggs was its script. The dialogue, antiquated, eloquent, and clean, was a joy to listen to, and it’s proof positive that you just don’t need strong profanity for an Oscar-worthy script. (Sadly, its screenplay was only nominated, along with Costume Design and the song “When a Cowboy Trades His Spurs for Wings.”) Unfortunately, it still earns its R-rating for the sometimes jarring gun violence (Buster Scruggs himself is the worst offender), but it’s still an uncommonly good member of a recently uncommon genre, full of gorgeous cinematography and seasoned thesps in all-too-brief roles, such as Nelson, Franco, Liam Neeson, Tom Waits, Brendan Gleeson, Tyne Daly, and Saul Rubinek. It’s a sign that the western genre is ripe for resurrection and that the Coens are perfect for the job.

Best lines: (Buster Scruggs) “There’s just gotta be a place up ahead where men ain’t low-down and poker’s played fair. If there weren’t, what are all the songs about? I’ll see y’all there. And we can sing together and shake our heads over all the meanness in the used-to-be.”

and

(The Englishman) “You know the story, but people can’t get enough of them, like little children. Because, well, they connect the stories to themselves, I suppose, and we all love hearing about ourselves, so long as the people in the stories are us, but not us. Not us in the end, especially.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
627 Followers and Counting

 

Chicken with Plums (2011)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a mournful elegy about the physical rather than the abstract. Thus, I focused on the everyday grief that doesn’t always make itself visible.)

I grieve every day but don’t show it.
None see it, of course, but I do.
No moistened eyelashes,
No sackcloth and ashes,
It’s deeper and yet no less true.

I grieve in the taste of the chicken
That never tastes quite like it did
When Mother would heighten
My senses and brighten
My day with the lift of a lid.

I grieve at the sound of the classics,
The ones that my father proclaimed
Were better by far
Than the modern songs are,
To which I agreed or was shamed.

I grieve at the touch of an afghan,
Hand-knitted with love in each thread.
Its knots and defects
Made the knitter perplexed,
But now they are precious instead.

I grieve where the world in its hurry
Has left things of value behind.
Don’t doubt I’m sincere
If I don’t shed a tear;
They moisten my heart and my mind.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

It was three years ago this very month that I reviewed Marjane Satrapi’s animated drama Persepolis as part of NaPoWriMo. That film was such a refreshingly unique experience that I knew I had to check out her next film, which, like Persepolis, was also based off her own graphic novel. Chicken with Plums may not be animated, but its similarity of style is equally praiseworthy, just on a far less consistent level than its predecessor.

Told in French and set in 1950s Iran, Chicken with Plums is the story of a man who decides to die. After his critical wife (Maria de Medeiros) smashes his beloved violin, the famed concert pianist Nasser-Ali (Mathieu Amalric) loses his will to live, lying in bed awaiting death and dreaming of the past and future. The narrative is far from linear, interspersed with subjective thoughts of how his children will grow up, memories of his success, and bizarre fantasies (hugging a giant pair of breasts, for example). It’s a weird mix as the tone swings wildly from obnoxious slapstick to pensive reminiscences, and not all of it works.

However, what does work is outstanding, at least on a visual level. The settings and overall aesthetic have the dated, magical aura of yesteryear, with a carefully crafted artistry that I could compare to that of Wes Anderson if he had half the idiosyncrasies. Satrapi’s vision of 1950s Iran oddly has the look and feel of Europe, reminding us how western-leaning the nation was before the Revolution, as detailed in Persepolis. And the acting is certainly on point, with Amalric of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly fame once more proving his thespian skill.

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Chicken with Plums up until the ending, where the story takes a sublimely bittersweet turn that is crushing in its emotional resonance. It’s a rare and beautiful melancholy replete with the story’s themes of music, heartache, and loss; it may not quite fit with many parts of the film but still ended it on a high note of poignancy.

Best line:  (Nasser-Ali’s music teacher, speaking of his initial music) “Sounds come out. But it is empty. It is barren. It is nothing. Life is a breath; life is a sigh. It is this sigh that you must seize.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

I Am Dragon (2015)

Tags

Drama, Fantasy, Foreign, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to present “a scene from an unusual point of view.” Thus, I took the fairy tale terror of a dragon carrying off a young maiden and provided the dragon’s angle.)

I am the dragon, the lizard of lore,
So hated and feared by mankind.
From the sky do I hunt,
And I take what I want
From the men who wince under my roar.
From the day that I hatched,
I’ve had power unmatched,
A monster by nature designed.

Now in my talons, I carry a girl,
Flown higher than humans would dare.
I made my attack
With the thought of a snack
And escaped with my prize in a whirl.
Her kin now must mourn,
For their cold-blooded thorn
Has taken her back to his lair.

Gladly, I’d deem her my prey to devour,
As dragons by nature must do,
And yet in her face
Is a vestige, a trace
Of a feeling confronting my power.
No man is my match,
But this woman I catch
Offers something I cannot subdue.
_______________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (could be PG, maybe more PG-13)

It’s rare that a film feels like a fairy tale, not just a Hollywood version of one but an original fairy tale with its roots firmly planted in romance and the fantasy culture of a nation. In the case of I Am Dragon (or He’s a Dragon), that nation is Russia. Based on the Russian novel The Ritual, the result is a film that tows the line between epic and sappy but is beautifully mounted and appealingly dignified compared with what I imagine a Hollywood version might look like.

A prologue explains how a dragon once terrorized a medieval village, carrying away the innocent maidens offered to him as sacrifices until the day a hero slew the beast. Fast forward then to the arranged wedding of free-spirited Princess Miroslava (Maria Poezzhaeva), or Mira, who is none too thrilled with her appointed husband. In a case of unwise history-rebranding, someone thought it would be a good idea to use the old dragon-summoning song during the ceremony, and everyone is shocked when the dragon reappears to carry Mira away. Mira soon awakens on the dragon’s remote island lair, where a handsome young man she names Arman (Matvey Lykov) proves to be a charming but conflicted host.

I won’t say any “spoilers” outright, but as you can probably surmise from my description, this is like a Russian version of Beauty and the Beast, with some very clear echoes to the Disney version of events. However, with a dragon taking the place of the Beast and an almost Game of Thrones-style aesthetic, it’s a successful variation of the familiar tale, which is also leagues better than Disney’s cringe-worthy live-action version.

As for the romance, there’s certainly chemistry between Mira and Arman, the former headstrong and adventurous, the latter self-loathing and in need of love. The island setting, though, along with Arman’s perpetually shirtless self does make the romantic scenes feel like something out of a Harlequin novel, albeit one with surprisingly grand production values, atmospheric music, and impressive CGI. (I even included the above image from this film in the top right picture of my fantasy banner.)

It really depends on your capacity for potentially mawkish love stories, but for me, I Am Dragon had enough high fantasy to outweigh the few corny moments, and the romance was still engaging and carried weight while thankfully keeping things PG for the most part. I’m glad to have stumbled upon this admirable fantasy, which makes me think that little-known Russian cinema can hold its own against Hollywood’s more publicized output.

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

Game Night (2018)

Tags

Comedy, Thriller

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a list lending a mystique to something ordinary, so I wrote my own riddle, which probably isn’t very hard considering the movie’s title.)

I spark delight in every age,
Or else I trigger tantrum rage.

I’m thought by some to be mere fun,
But some obsess until I’m done.

I may use one, but two or three
Are often a necessity.

I may take skill, I may take chance;
I thrive on zeal and happenstance.

My many forms are source of mirth,
But some derive from me their worth.
_______________________

MPAA rating: R

Comedies have always been hit or miss, but modern comedy seems to have a lot more misses for me, partly because humor is subjective, but also because all the R-rated content usually gets in the way of the fun. Game Night isn’t immune to that, but its twisty plot and dark humor were engaging enough for me to look past its faults and thoroughly enjoy it.

Maybe my own love of games is a reason; my family has a game night every Christmas Eve, so I know the appeal of a table-top competition. I’m not quite as competitive, though, as Jason Bateman’s Max or Rachel McAdams’ Annie, whose mutual love of games brings them together. Now as a married couple trying to conceive, they host regular game nights with their friends until Max’s shady brother Brooks (Kyle Chandler, who sounds oddly like Michael Douglas in this movie) tries to spice things up with an elaborate role-playing mystery involving kidnapping and clues. But the players don’t realize soon enough that the threats and twists are actually real.

Game Night has its share of unnecessary language and crude jokes, but it’s also a lot of fun. I’m not usually drawn to dark humor, but I loved the naïveté of Max, Annie, and their friends as they believe the danger to be a game. The laughs still come, though, once things get real, and their efforts to save Max’s brother are cleverly interspersed with a rollicking soundtrack, running gags, and more mundane debates like whether to start a family. And the plot will surely keep you guessing with its many barely credible twists and lively action, especially a cool one-take chase through a house. (I love how even less ambitious movies are using tracking shots more and more.)

The cast is also great, with McAdams at her most effortlessly attractive and Bateman brimming with dry sarcasm; Jesse Plemons also makes an impression as their creepy policeman neighbor, who acts like a serial killer most of the time. Oh, and I got a real kick out of a couple jokes about Panera Bread, since I used to work there, and I can confirm that the membership card shown in the film is totally fake. While I wish it had been brought down to PG-13 level, Game Night is a great source of fun that is worth playing over and over.

Best line: (Brooks) “We can’t go to the cops. The Bulgarian’s got a ton of moles.”
(Annie) “On his face?”
(Brooks) “No, in the police department!”

Rank: List Runner-Up

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

VC Pick: A Few Good Men (1992)

Tags

Drama

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a dramatic monologue, so I took inspiration from a film chock full of dramatic monologues, courtesy of Aaron Sorkin, and tried to rewrite one as a sonnet.)

You think that you’re a match for all the threats
That deign to infiltrate the walls I guard,
But plenty live devoid of foreign frets
Because I have the nerve to keep them barred.
You think I’m cruel and callous to my core?
No, I’m the one who earns your daily chance
To vent your vapid views and blissfully ignore
The foes who’d shoot you dead at second glance!
My duty’s daily done, despite your blame,
And it does not include concern for you,
Who thinks of winning battles as a shame
Because it kills a citizen or two.
I’ve served my country thus for far too long
For you to come insinuate I’m wrong!
__________________________

MPAA rating: R (solely for a surfeit of language)

I saw A Few Good Men when I was much younger, and since then have only caught the last thirty minutes or so on TV a few times, which is the best part anyway. Over time, it’s stuck in my mind as a largely boring courtroom drama that ramps up to become truly great during those last thirty minutes. My dear Viewing Companion (VC) has tried to challenge that opinion, but only recently convinced me to watch the full movie again, and I’m glad she did.

Directed by Rob Reiner, A Few Good Men has a good case for being the greatest of military courtroom dramas. Scrappy but inexperienced Navy lawyer Daniel Kaffee (Tom Cruise) is chosen for a case that his superiors would like to forget: the court-martial of two Guantanamo Bay Marines (Wolfgang Bodison, James Marshall) who killed one of their fellow soldiers in what many suspect to have been a “Code Red,” an illegal punishment carried out within a unit. The higher-ups, including Colonel Nathan R. Jessup, insist the Code Red isn’t true, but Kaffee, with some prodding by a fellow officer (Demi Moore), takes a chance to prove the unprovable.

Aaron Sorkin’s first foray into scriptwriting (based on his play from three years earlier) highlights what makes him such a great writer. The dialogue is often exchanged at such a rapid pace that you may or may not grasp everything said but you certainly appreciate the refreshing eloquence and intelligence behind it. It also helps to have it delivered by someone with the charisma of a young Tom Cruise or the intensity of a surly Jack Nicholson, who got a deserving Oscar nomination.

As I said, the last thirty minutes feature some exceptional performances along with the iconic lines and courtroom fireworks, but what comes before wasn’t as dry as I recalled. I do see why I thought that. I was a kid at the time, and most of the legal and military jargon, the chain of command and such, just flew over my head. I just needed to be older to fully appreciate them.

I’m still conflicted on my ranking, though. The truth is that legal dramas just aren’t one of my favorite genres, even one as first-rate as this. Off-hand, I can’t think of one on my Top 365 List, with the exception of To Kill a Mockingbird. (Does Kramer vs. Kramer count?) However, revisiting A Few Good Men has given me enough pause to consider it List-Worthy, for now at least. It’s always nice and all too uncommon that a film is better than you remember.

Best line: (Colonel Jessup) “You can’t handle the truth!” [I count the whole subsequent monologue too, but I won’t put it all here. Go watch it instead.]

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
626 Followers and Counting

 

Isle of Dogs (2018)

Tags

Animation, Comedy, Sci-fi

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem using homonyms or the confusion common to the English language, so, taking my cue from cleverly homophonic film title, I tried to apply it instead to the language of dogs.)

The language of dogs is a curious tongue.
It cannot be written and cannot be sung.

A “ruff” isn’t “rough” or the variant “roof”;
It’s “Give me a biscuit! I’m not hunger-proof.”

A “bark” isn’t something that grows from a tree.
It’s “Take me outside or else give me a key.”

A “whine” isn’t alcohol people can pour;
It’s “Don’t look at me; it’s that cat from next door.”

A “yelp” doesn’t reference a restaurant review.
It’s “Help! I’ve run out of apparel to chew.”

And woof, yap, and yip have no clear homonym.
So when your dog says them, you’ll have to ask him.
____________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

A Wes Anderson expert I am not, but I could tell from the two films of his that I’d seen in full (Rushmore and Fantastic Mr. Fox) that he’s an acquired taste I wasn’t sure I cared to acquire. It’s hard to compare the works of this king of quirk with more traditional cinematic style, but Isle of Dogs has an enjoyably straightforward plot couched among Anderson’s typical flashbacks, symmetrical designs, and camera-facing monologues.

First of all, I love the play on words with Isle of Dogs sounding like “I love dogs” (by the way, that’s the name of an actual district in London), and indeed a love of dogs plays a big part in the movie. In a near-future Japan, an outbreak of disease has led to all dogs of Megasaki City being quarantined on a nearby island. A young boy named Atari, the ward of the dog-hating mayor, goes there in search of his own dog and journeys with a colorful band of alpha dogs, with nation-changing results.

One thing I can definitely say for Isle of Dogs and all of Anderson’s films is that they’re clearly labors of love. Stop-motion animation takes unparalleled patience and attention to detail, and the animation quality and fluidity rival that of Laika (the gold standard studio for stop-motion, see Kubo and the Two Strings, Coraline, etc.), with set design made even more laudable by its miniature size. On top of that, the storyline, broken into chapters like a storybook, is buoyed by the bond between Atari and man’s best friend, finding surprising sweetness alongside the not-too-distracting idiosyncrasies.

Something my VC didn’t care for was how the dogs speak English but the language of the Japanese characters is not rendered in English, though it often is translated through electronic or human means. I took it as simply a creative choice, which worked best with Atari’s interactions with the dogs, since we never know how much dogs actually understand our words. Because of this, the dogs get the bulk of the dialogue, and Anderson collected an outstanding voice cast, including Bill Murray, Bryan Cranston, Jeff Goldblum, Edward Norton, Scarlett Johansson, Liev Schreiber, and even a cameo from Yoko Ono.

Isle of Dogs is a little more mature than most animated films these days, with some darker-than-expected story elements, some of which are relieved by the droll humor and a clever twist or two. But for older kids, dog lovers, and fans of stop-motion, Isle of Dogs is an unconventional treat and certainly the best Wes Anderson film I’ve seen. Maybe next he’ll do a Christmas spin-off called Yule of Dogs.

Best line: (Nutmeg) “Will you help him, the little pilot?”
(Chief) “Why should I?”
(Nutmeg) “Because he’s a twelve-year-old boy. Dogs love those.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
625 Followers and Counting

 

Annihilation (2018)

Tags

Drama, Horror, Mystery, Sci-fi, Thriller

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a spooky and mysterious poem. Of course, I could have used either of the movies from the last two days, but this one works too, with its theme of unchecked change hopefully providing the chill factor I was going for.)

The world is changing before my eyes,
And what a surprise
To notice mutations that God never tried
That eons would normally cover and hide.

That tree over there was not always a tree.
Nor was that creature that lurks in its shade.
Should I be afraid?
For I know what they are,
But what kind of people did they use to be?

Betrayed by their cells, too minute to resist,
They changed and exchanged what had made them exist.
What monsters are born from a change so extreme,
A mutable dream
Where men were not always the beasts that they seem?

Are questions of sanity signs that you’re sane?
Just being here mixes unease in my brain.
For I’m not immune;
My own skin’s a cocoon.
When it hatches, how much of myself will remain?
____________________

MPAA Rating: R (for some language and gruesome violence)

From the trailers, Annihilation looked like the kind of movie to follow in the footsteps of Arrival with its slow-burn, high-concept science fiction. Or maybe that’s just what I wished it was. It’s actually closer in spirit to 2001: A Space Odyssey, and while most critics considered that a point in Annihilation’s favor, it’s not for me.

Natalie Portman plays a cellular biologist and ex-soldier named Lena, who recounts her story to a hazmat-suit-wearing Benedict Wong. After her soldier husband Kane (Oscar Isaac) disappears on a mission, he returns a year later changed and distant, and Lena soon learns where he has been: a forested region of Florida, where a shimmering, expanding wall has puzzled scientists and swallowed any team sent to investigate it. Along with a head psychologist (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a paramedic (Gina Rodriguez), a physicist (Tessa Thompson), and a geomorphologist (Tuva Novotny), Lena enters “the Shimmer” in an effort to unravel its mysteries.

I’ll admit writer-director Alex Garland’s Annihilation has the high acting and production standards that modern sci-fi deserves, and it’s a home run at least on a visual level. The set-up is superbly intriguing, and Lena’s journey into the Shimmer is buoyed by the allure of the unknown. Signals and light are unexplainably altered. Monsters and strange species lurk out of sight. The evidence they find of Kane’s mission challenges their sanity.

It’s Alien-level tension and uncertainty (or at least Prometheus-level), but all this mystery has to lead somewhere for it to be worthwhile, and Annihilation’s ending is just too ambiguous for its own good. That’s where the comparisons to 2001 ring true, with the largely wordless climax playing out like a fever dream of compelling but nebulous menace. In the end, though, its unanswered questions just left me puzzled by its enigmatic lack of resolution.

It’s odd that this would be my gripe when I commended the ambiguity of The Endless just a couple days ago. I guess The Endless was open to interpretation in a way that suggested a complexity that was justifiably out of reach (and at least the main plot got some resolution), whereas Annihilation seemed more intentionally esoteric, like a puzzle where the writer was hiding pieces from you and chuckling at his own shrewdness. Maybe that makes no sense, and maybe others will enjoy the film’s mind-twisting, but Annihilation left me unsatisfied, just as my VC was left unsatisfied by the novel on which it was based (and by all the changes made by the filmmakers). I enjoyed the set-up, but not where it led. With its middling box office returns, they may or may not adapt the other books in the series, but either way, I’m not sure the resolution is worth caring about.

Best line: (Dr. Ventress) “Then, as a psychologist, I think you’re confusing suicide with self-destruction. Almost none of us commit suicide, and almost all of us self-destruct. In some way, in some part of our lives. We drink, or we smoke, we destabilize the good job… and a happy marriage. But these aren’t decisions, they’re… they’re impulses. In fact, you’re probably better equipped to explain this than I am.”
(Lena) “What does that mean?”
(Ventress) “You’re a biologist. Isn’t the self-destruction coded into us? Programmed into each cell?”

 

Rank: Dishonorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
625 Followers and Counting

 

Psycho 2 (1983)

Tags

Horror, Mystery

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem about loving something dull, so I gave it a bit of a deranged spin, courtesy of Norman Bates.)

It’s just a wig, a ratty thing,
Gray from age and gray from dust,
And yet I cannot help but cling
To something I distrust.

It was my mother’s once, you know;
A hoary halo round her head,
And now no matter where I go,
I see it even though she’s dead.

To keep it still makes her feel close.
Morbid maybe? Yes, it’s true.
But I’m a quite obliging host,
And when I don it out of view…

Hello, Mother, how are you?
______________________________

MPAA rating: R (stronger language and violence than the original, plus brief nudity)

For those who may think that Hollywood’s resurrection of decades-old franchises for the sake of a sequel no one asked for was a recent trend, I will simply point to Psycho II, released 23 years after Hitchcock’s original (not to mention Psycho III three years later and Psycho IV four years after that). I think that the ’80s really kicked off the horror course of endless sequels, and Psycho was just one of many to get that treatment. While this long-delayed follow-up doesn’t compare with Hitchcock’s masterpiece, it’s a tight little slasher mystery in its own right.

Twenty-two years after the events of Psycho, Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins reprising the role) is supposedly rehabilitated and released from an insane asylum, much to the chagrin of Lila Loomis (Vera Drake), who still despises Bates for the murder of her sister Marion Crane. Getting a job at a nearby diner, Norman returns to his motel and the house from the first film, but after befriending a beautiful young coworker (Meg Tilly), he finds himself struggling with his sanity, especially as the body count mysteriously rises.

Psycho II really tries to humanize Norman, making him sympathetic as he wonders whether he can trust his own mind, and Anthony Perkins manages it better than any actor taking his place could have. The mystery of Psycho has become too ingrained in pop culture for it to have much shock value anymore, but Psycho II keeps the characters and audience guessing what’s real and what’s psychosis. I’m rather disappointed in how one character is changed for the sake of the plot, right down to the gruesome way they’re dispatched. Otherwise, though, the mystery has decent twists and performances and even a little dark humor, making Psycho II better than I would expect from a film cashing in on Hitchcock’s legacy.

Best line: (Norman) “Well, I’ll tell you. When I was little, I had a fight with my mother, so I put some poison in her tea, you know. But I’m all right now.”
(Mary) “You sure?”
(Norman) “Sure! Otherwise, they wouldn’t give me a job at a diner, would they?”
(Mary) “I don’t know; it takes a nut to work there.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
624 Followers and Counting

 

The Endless (2018)

Tags

Drama, Horror, Mystery, Sci-fi

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem of origin, so, inspired by the time loops in this film, I focused on how where we’re going might mirror where we’ve been.)

Is darkness our friend?
They say we came from darkness.

We’ve grown up searching for the light
From friends both fickle and contrite,
From dogs that lick and dogs that bite,
And lies that distance and unite.

It feels as though our life’s a loop,
A track so many have run before,
From more to less and less to more,
And ere our ship returns to shore,
Our time is short, but we explore.

The light’s the loop,
The dark’s the end,
They say we’re headed for darkness.
Is darkness still our friend?
____________________

MPAA rating:  Not Rated (R for the language and some violence, though there’s much worse out there)

Not being a huge fan of horror, I’ll admit I’m not very familiar with the works of H.P. Lovecraft, a name I’ve noticed becoming more and more popular lately. What constitutes Lovecraftian horror is new to me, but from what I understand, it deals with terrifying cosmic powers beyond the scope of human understanding, or basically fear of the unknowable. If that’s right, The Endless might be the best example I’ve seen, a fascinating and slow-burning mystery with an undercurrent of paranoia and weirdness.

Two brothers Justin and Aaron (played by Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead, who also directed and split work on writing, editing, and cinematography) are struggling with normal life some years after escaping from a so-called “UFO death cult” out in the desert. Aaron remembers their time there as one of stability and plenty and wishes to return, and, though Justin is dead-set against it, he agrees to briefly visit their former home after a mysterious video arrives. Strangely, very little seems to have changed, but the longer the brothers stay, the more uncanny events seem to happen, portending a great danger that might be inescapable.

I won’t pretend to claim that I completely understood the film’s plot, but The Endless is well-acted and has intrigue to spare, with mysteries and fear piling on top of each other and most of the questions left largely unanswered by the end. Yet it’s very much a case of what you don’t see being scarier than what you do; there’s not really any nightmarish imagery, more foreboding and unease. A prime example is when the brothers are invited to pull on a rope as one of the community’s confidence exercises. The rope stretches off into the darkness as each person plays tug-of-war with something, with the chill factor coming from the lack of knowing what that something is.

As the film goes on, it enters a wilder side of science fiction, with time loops and fractured dimensions that challenge the mind and don’t provide easy answers, if any, but through it all, the brotherly bond between Justin and Aaron proves to be a strong human element to ground the craziness. I’m curious now to check out one of Benson and Moorhead’s previous films called Resolution, which apparently expands on one of the subplots from this movie, or vice versa. (Fans of theirs were no doubt happy to spot the connection.)

Like Chronesthesia, The Endless is an example of multitasking filmmakers making the most of a limited budget and delivering a surprisingly solid product; the special effects are especially well-done for an independent film. It’s also one of those movies worth rewatching and discussing with others, if only to understand it better, though perhaps that lack of full comprehension is both the point and the appeal.

Best line: (an anonymous quote displayed at the beginning) “Friends tell each other how they feel with relative frequency. Siblings wait for a more convenient time, like their deathbeds.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
622 Followers and Counting