whineycracker2000 Reviews

Terrifier 2 (2022)

Campy Fun

[7/10 · 5 November 2022]

Like the original, 'Terrifier 2' is a nasty little treat for fans of 'non-elevated' horror. A spunky 80's horror throwback with its own distinct personality and bolstered by one memorable, charismatic villain, Damien Leone's delightful follow up to his original sleeper treads the line between tongue-in-cheek and exploitation. And in addition to the icky practical effects, it has what's been missing in most genre offerings as of late: a wicked sense of humor. Some have proclaimed Art the Clown to be this generations' "Freddy".

"Terrifier 2" also relies on an internal logic that keeps suspension of disbelief in check just so- at least until the film crosses over into the surreal. The supporting teen protagonists, while disposable of course, are less cloying than in many modern horror films, and personally I was bummed when at least a couple of them met their very very grisly demise.

Unfortunately, Leone shifts gears at the 2-hour mark and introduces a new plot development that proves a real head-scratcher. I am not sure why he didn't save it until the next installment, because it drags the film out for too long (is there is an unspoken rule in Hollywood that having a longer running time implies more substance?).

Despite the fact that it (arguably) overstays its welcome, Terrifier 2 delivers and would make an ideal midnight double bill with its predecessor. I suspect that everybody involved in its production had a blast making it and, barring the last 30 minutes or so, its audience will too.

*****Final note: If, like me, you were concerned that the gore factor might be too much to take, you can rest assured that the kills are so over-the-top, unrealistic, and cartoonish, that those moments play out more like horror/comedy than disturbing torture porn.

Valley Girl (2020)

80's Daydream

[8/10 · 17 October 2022]

"That's how I remember it." Grown-up Julie, Valley Girl 2020.

Ok, let's clear up some things first. It is nearly impossible for any film to capture the essence of life in the 1980's. It was a very unique period in history, as there was a renaissance happening in all forms of art and culture in a way that we may not see again for a very long time (although I will always heed the advice of Romeo Void and "Never Say Never").

Hey, I get it. I have walked out of remakes in tears after witnessing the bastardization of everything that made the original incarnation so special (perhaps I should work harder at tempering my expectations). But every now and then, a remake differs so much from its forbear that it makes one question why it wasn't conceived as a standalone work from the get-go. Take Rachel Lee Goldberg's 2020 Valley Girl. I suspect that had it gone by its purported original title "Melt With You", it would have prevented many a bum from being hurt. Disclaimer: admittedly there are times when the props and costumes do feel more "retro" 80's than flawless replications, it's clear that the film's sensibilities were informed by screenwriter Amy Talkington's personal memories, as opposed to media tropes or second hand nostalgia.

With that soapbox out of the way, I will rip off the bandaid and just say it: Valley Girl 2020 is an underrated gem, and far better than most seem willing to acknowledge. While Martha Coolidge's original cult favorite has been designated by some as a post-punk counterpart to its spiritual cousin from the previous year, "Fast Time at Ridgemont High" (which presented a more untamed, hormone-driven version of the early 80's teen valley life), this reboot has much more in common with what I call 80's 'second-tier' 'PG-13 teen comedy/romances (think Can't Buy Me Love, Girls Just want to Have Fun and Just One Of The Guys, to name a few). Add the dance/musical element and what we have here is a New wave Grease.

Nicholas Cage was the essence of the original; he created the role of Randy- a sort of 80's punk Rock version of James Dean. It's impossible to hear the film's title without immediately picturing his bad-boy prince charming with those sad eyes and that haircut. There's probably no point in discussing Josh Whitehouse's take in this update because it pales in comparison (but at the same time, should we really be comparing the two?). As for the character of Julie, Deborah Foreman was an impressionable wide-eyed space cadet-not exactly a standard to which many girls of any generation would aspire. By comparison, Jessica Rothe's version is relatively more self-aware and at least has something that resembles an arc-a reimagining of the character through a twenty-first century quasi-feminist lens, (although I still prefer Foreman and think she and Cage make a far more endearing and organic couple).

How do you know if you will adore or deplore Valley Girl 2020? If you are a dude who loved the original, wanted to be Nicholas Cage's Randy growing up and/or expect to see the fringier and grittier side of Los Angeles nightlife of the 1980's, chances are this version will make you want to punch a hole in the wall with all of the testosterone-fueled vitriol you can muster. It is oozing with estrogen and is anything but cool, edgy, or Nick-Cagey. However, if you ever fantasized about strolling towards your high school sweetheart in glorious MTV music video-style slow motion to "Space Age Lovesong" by Flock of Seagulls, - or if you spent a great deal of your youth lip-syncing to "Destination "Unknown" by the Missing Persons or any of the other new wave hits so generously showcased in this 2020 version, then Valley Girl 2020 will leave you buzzing. If you meet any of the above criteria and can forfeit all memories of the original for an hour and a half, then do Erasure and Abba proud and take a chance on this.

Valley Girl 2020 feels like the cinematic equivalent of a daydream that a teen similar to Julie would have experienced back in high school. While the original was progressive and forward thinking, the remake is awash in over-romanticized retrospection; thus, its depiction of a giddy, fantastical, sugarcoated '80s is perfectly fitting. Taken as a stand-alone film, Valley Girl 2020 is a tiny miracle-even if it is pure sentimental indulgence. The film's choreography is top-notch, the singing appropriately clumsy, the vibe spirited and energetic, and perhaps most refreshing of all is the lack of cynicism and self-seriousness that you find in 99% of the movies these days.

Halloween Ends (2022)

Season of the Witch 2.0?

[7/10 · 15 October 2022]

It must be a dauntless undertaking to create a sequel in a 40-year franchise that breathes new life-especially considering the fact that the original's storyline was about as barebones as one can get. Nonetheless, it has been fascinating to witness the myriad attempts, and "Ends" is certainly no exception.

The final installment in David Gordon-Green's reboot/trilogy seems to have amassed a considerably larger number of detractors than admirers-making it the most divisive "Halloween" film in recent memory. But we must give credit where credit is due: even though its narrative departure does feel like an insensitive bait and switch on the part of the filmmakers, 'Ends' is an admittedly ambitious and relatively refined piece of filmmaking compared to the previous two installments. Green wisely keeps the story planted in the present, for starters-focusing more on immediate human conflict and less on fulfilling fan service quotas through constant callbacks. Technically, the film has stepped it up a notch as well: the cinematography is less imitative than the 2018 film and "Kills", Carpenter's score more restrained, the acting from the whole cast is possibly the best of the franchise, and the atmosphere considerably more bleak. Storyline controversy notwithstanding, there is much to appreciate here.

I also maintain-and this no doubt will be a controversial opinion-that 'Ends' might actually share more DNA with the original than any of the follow ups. David Gordon Green has proven through his filmography that he understands the rhythm and flow of life in small-town America and has been able to effectively incorporate this into the Halloween universe. This quality, which is what made the original so grounded and intimate, is prominently felt here. The characters in 'Ends', even the returning key players, somehow feel more like real people than prior iterations, and watching Laurie and company grapple with their bizarre set of circumstances makes for some compelling stuff, replacing the conventional scare factor with a palpable tension rooted in moral ambiguity and existential anxiety. Had Green's approach to the material been at the service of a more traditional Halloween film template, he may have been able to match the level of terror and suspense achieved in the original and ended the saga with a visceral bang.

I certainly understand the disappointment and frustration 'Ends' has caused viewers who were anticipating the type of film that the trailers misleadingly promised. Maybe after all the dust has settled, they will be able to revisit it with a fresh perspective and appreciate its positive aspects, for which there are many. 'Ends', like 'Halloween 3', marches to its own drum and -for all intents and purposes- should have been its own standalone project. That doesn't mean that what's on offer here is not effective in its own right, however.

I am confident that someday we will get a "Halloween" film that ticks every box in one fell swoop. Until then, we should be grateful to Green for treating the beloved property with the artistry and respect it deserves. Hopefully this will encourage the studio heads to continue to seek out the level of talent that is capable of creating the quintessential "Halloween" film for which fans have been so patiently waiting.

And hey, we finally got a "muzak" version of "Don't Fear the Reaper". That's some consolation, right?

Happy Little Bunnies (2021)

Happy Little Viewer

[9/10 · 5 October 2022]

I still can't recall the series of fortunate events which led to my viewing of this film, but I am sure glad it did, because I feel like I hit the jackpot.

Where did this oddity come from? Who is this filmmaker Michael McConnell and why have I not heard of him before? His film 'Happy Little Bunnies', places him alongside the ranks of Todd Solondz, Edgar Wright, John Waters (yes, you heard that correctly). If you are fan of those artists and/or their lesser-known counterparts, then take note. You can thank me for it later.

A plot synopsis is nearly impossible, and I have no words that could properly describe it, but the set up is simple enough: A handsome fellow named John (think a millennial version of Woody Allen) - miserable, self-loathing, and adrift-hopes to find some form of healing when he engages in a therapy session with a mysterious, yet seemingly even-tempered psychologist named Simon, who employs a set of unorthodox counseling techniques. The interaction becomes a journey down a rabbit hole (does this qualify as a pun?)resulting in a mind-bending series of events involving a host of truly bizarre characters; to give you a taste, one of these is a serial killer bunny that offs perverts.

The film's opening titles, which apes "Funny Games", makes it obvious that "Bunnies" is going to be a meta-affair, and indeed it is. But it's also much more. It takes fractured pieces of its story and presents them through small vignettes, which play out almost like performance art, some even bordering on sketch comedy, most of them hysterically morbid. Additionally, it toys with elements of other films within the same "arthouse" niche, but then turns them on their heads, while eventually pulling the carpet out from under the viewer's feet-all to dizzying effect. If this sounds gimmicky or pretentious, I can assure you it is anything but. McConnell's script is meticulously structured and brilliantly weaves all of its disparate narrative threads together seamlessly, leaving no stone unturned. Watching it all come together feels like a magic trick unfolding on screen.

I'll stop there as you just have to experience it for yourself. Let's just say that the journey to its insanely bonkers ending is about as wild and unpredictable as one is likely to find in any modern horror/comedy and you definitely won't see it coming.

'Bunnies' exists within its own whacked out universe and is all the better for it. Ingeniously plotted, exceptionally acted and directed, and squirm inducing in all the right ways, it joins the ranks among the best cult classics and deserves far more recognition than it has received. How such a well made film can fly under the radar is baffling. Prepare to laugh and gasp in equal measure. Highly recommend.

Bliss (I) (2019)

Drugs, Art and Body Horror

[8/10 · 4 September 2021]

"It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors."-Oscar Wilde

While I was watching "Bliss", a film that is essentially a psychedelic exercise in all-out body horror, I found myself coming back to the same question: "Can art only come from a place of despair and suffering, or can it come from a place of beauty and joy?" I realize this is a dead-horse topic, but writer/director Joe Begos got me thinking about it in a more radical sense.

Most likely a love it or hate it experience, Bliss is a head-trip of epic proportions. Begos had the guts to shoot it on luscious Super16mm and it makes the film lucid and palpable in a way that the digital medium could never recreate, which serves as a reminder as to why many auteur filmmakers refuse to shoot on anything else. There is an immersive quality to film and you feel that in Bliss. Begos is not trying to be "cool" or arty, however, despite what some may claim; he knows what kind of film he wants to make and stays true to a vision (If anything, his film is anti-art and a sort of anti-hipster treatise).

When the film opens, we are introduced to Ezzy, a twenty-something whose current circumstances are less than enviable; as a struggling fine artist who is barely able to pay the bills, she spends a lot of her time in fringy clubs, in a drug-addled haze engaging in drunken orgies and returning to her level-headed on again off again boyfriend. Her agent, who has been on her to finish her latest painting, decides to drop her when she doesn't meet a deadline. Dejected, Ezzy heads straight to her estranged dealer who hooks her up with the wonder drug of the titular title, and before long she regains her inspiration and attacks her unfinished project with rabid focus. Of course, the more of the drug she takes, the more she creates, and the more of it she needs to keep going, bound and determined to finish her masterpiece. And of course, this comes with a price.

Whether or not Bliss was intended to be a cautionary tale about substance abuse, it is as well-versed and insightful as many films that are solely committed to the topic. Anyone who has struggled with a habit knows the trajectory: experimentation starts out as innocent diversion (often an escape from unresolved pain), a need to recreate the high intensifies, the vice gains its grip, and then the afflicted find themselves pummelled down into states of depression, demoralization, and self-destruction- often to a point where they lose complete control and sense of identity. And this is merely the beginning of what happens to our main character in Begos's film, the rest being impossible to describe with any real coherency. You just have to experience it for yourself.

Many films have depicted in first-person perspective the horrors of drug addiction, but too many (i.e. Requiem for a Dream, an outstanding film nonetheless) give their main characters very little identity outside of it. Bliss takes its time to get to know Ezzy before her spiral down the rabbit hole to hell -she is an artist first; feisty, intelligent, cynical, foul-mouthed, and surly-a three-dimensional individual whose personality Begos establishes prior to her transformation. I have never seen her before this film, but Dora Madison as Ezzy hurls herself into the role with reckless abandon (talk about commitment). She brings a certain vulnerability that lies below her gruff exterior, making her a little bit of a contradiction in terms. She is at times both unlikable and winsome, alluring and grating, and like the film itself, hard to look away from- ultimately making for one badass lead. Bold and Brash one minute, weak and unrestrained the next. And the fact that she is a relatively unknown talent only makes her performance, and her character's journey, that much more absorbing.

When Bliss was over, I was high from the experience (cinema is indeed my drug of choice) I realized that just like Ezzy, Joe Begos created something of value-messy, chaotic, unpredictable, terrifying, and strangely beautiful. Ezzy's masterpiece is also Begos's.

I just hope his journey to get there was a lot smoother than Ezzy's.

Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers (1988)

The most faithful in terms of its priorities

[7/10 · 23 August 2021]

Many seem to forget the fact that the original Halloween was a great film despite its ridiculous premise, not because of it. Its sole purpose was to scare the audience and its only message,"boo!". A feminist statement, commentary on teen sexual awakening, and/or political allegory of sorts, were not even notions during its development (Carpenter himself has expressed this sentiment repeatedly). In my opinion- and I am sure I am not alone on this- the beloved series has morphed into something virtually unrecognizable over the last few decades, largely due to the changing priorities of the studios and the expectations of the newer generation of filmgoers; Michael must be bigger and badder than ever and must kill off a character every ten minutes in the most gruesome ways imaginable. Easter eggs, cameos, and callbacks are a must. And Jamie Lee Curtis must kick a lot of butt. There's nothing wrong with that per se, but if that's what you're looking for, then Halloween 4 is going to be a snoozefest for you.

This third sequel to Carpenter's game-changer was fashioned more as a tribute to the original rather than a mere straight-up continuation. Director Dwight H. Little and company took the project as seriously as one possibly could, treating the property with the utmost respect and never underestimating the audience's standards and expectations. Halloween 4 is not Carpenter-nor does it try to be. It invokes the mood and the spirit, if not necessarily the style, of the original. Little and writer Alan B. McElroy had a fairly straightforward blueprint to follow, and they are clever in how they reappropriate certain beats from the original without merely carbon copying them. And the manner in which they accomplish this is often subtle: take the moment when Sheriff Meeker and Deputy Logan are chatting about securing the windows as Meeker lights the lamp. If you blink, you will miss the outline of the Shape standing in the background behind a wall-an effect similar to the more obvious moment in which The Shape's white mask protrudes out of the darkness behind Ellie Cornell as she chats with Logan by the stairwell. These sporadic, yet deceptively simple "now you see it, now you don't" motifs are genuinely creepy because they don't call attention to themselves; they also serve as a nice counterbalance to the film's more sensational, exaggerated moments that make up the final act. However, Little never strays too far from the simple formula that worked in the original, taking a cue from Carpenter in the way they prioritized atmosphere and suspense over blood and guts.

Unlike some of the later sequels, Halloween 4 avoids "idiot plot" syndrome-a term Roger Ebert coined, in which the stupidity of the characters' actions makes it easier to kill them off and/or prevents the story from being resolved too soon. The characters in "Return" make smart and sensible decisions, for the most part. You will not find two horny middle-aged adults 'skinny-dipping' in a Jacuzzi in a desolate hospital after hearing reports of a murder spree taking place in the nearby vicinity. This time, our protagonists barricade themselves inside an unassuming location with firearms on hand and two very no-nonsense deputies at the helm-with an army of state troopers en route.

"Return" probably marks the official moment in the franchise where it is clear that we are no longer dealing with a flesh and blood psychopath, but something more omnipresent, spectral-like, and formidable ("You're talking about him as if he were a human being. That part of him died years ago" Loomis laments). By solidifying this version of the Boogeyman, the film lessens viewers' incredulity when his ability to seemingly be in several places at once starts to become apparent. Like the first two films, and unlike several of the series' subsequent entries, Halloween 4's presentation of evil incarnate is not meant to be taken literally.

The film ends with a final image that could serve as a prognostication of what the horror genre, for better or worse, would become in just a few short years to follow- reinforcing the underlying theme of Carpenter's original: that evil, of course, never dies. And the destruction of innocence is indeed one of the most tragic forms of evil.

Again, Halloween 4 is not Carpenter, but it stands on its own while paying homage. Thankfully, for a film that was obviously motivated by dollar signs (as is every sequel), Moustapha Akkad didn't take the easy way out and pile on a lot of sex and gore to ensure higher box office returns. And I can't think of any other film that stretches a meager 3-million dollar budget as far as this film does (IMDB states its budget is 5 million but I was corrected by the director himself).

On a final note: This film was made to be seen on the big screen. If you get a chance, catch it on its 35mm presentation, as it's far better in almost every respect than its digital format, and will help you forgive its 1:85 aspect ratio. Unfortunately, it's never received the transfer it deserves.

Funny Games (2007)

Art, like the truth, can be both painful and revealing

[9/10 · 2 July 2021]

*Note: this review is specifically for the 2007 remake, as I believe it warrants an appraisal as a standalone work if taking cultural context into consideration.

In his preface for 'Dorian Gray", Oscar Wilde states "Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital." Funny Games fits the bill.

Perhaps one of the most polarizing (American) horror films of the last couple of decades, Funny Games was destined, if not designed, to incite controversy and dissection, and of course, its mission was accomplished in spades. The fact that there is a seemingly endless array of impassioned arguments by ardent supporters and haters reveals some hard-won truths: mainly, that people will go to surprising lengths to prove to others why their opinion is the most sound (several reviewers maintain that the film is offensive for being too well made-one of the more curious assessments I've come across).

The film is a boldly confrontational exercise that works as a sort of exposure-response deconstruction of torture porn that challenges its viewers to question their own reactions to it. The conceit alone had already divided moviegoers long before they laid eyes on the first frame. As with partisan politics, one must either be 100% on board or completely opposed; Haneke is either a smug condescending prick or a genuinely curious filmmaker who is using his medium to get people to think about issues that plague him, right? It's understandable why many have questioned the director's motives: Does he respect his audience or hold contempt for them? Is he punishing them for showing up? Does he believe violence should be used sparingly or avoided altogether? Does he want his viewers to reflect or merely submit? Does he even know? Regardless, his integrity certainly lies in the balance.

As a horror film, Funny Games rattles its viewers in ways reminiscent of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre; like Hooper, Haneke diverts the camera away from the action when a character is being brutalized, suggesting rather than showing. He has an uncanny sense of timing, is exacting with how long he allows a shot to linger to elicit an intended emotional response from his audience, and knows instinctively how to undermine the viewer's sense of security. The presentation (or should I say representation?) of suffering and torture inflicted on the three members of this upper-class family may be painful to watch, but it is not cinematic masochism for masochism's sake, as some have argued. Real-life violence does not appear in the same sensationalized, cartoonish fashion that it does in most modern-day horror films, and Funny Games doubles down on this point. The film's emphasis on raw brutality is intended to make viewers consider content within context, not to titillate. And while many criticize Funny Games for employing what Roger Ebert referred to as the "idiot plot" device- the one in which characters make patently stupid and illogical decisions to prevent the movie from being over too soon) this couldn't be further from the truth. The film is based on a documented case after all, and if you were to ask actual survivors of home invasions, they most likely will tell you the same thing- that fear had rendered them incapable of taking the type of heroic actions that the audience members expect to see played out in horror films.

Would Funny Games have worked without the self-aware, 4th wall-breaking tournament of torture our psychotic Ferris Buellers inflict on both the characters and audience? Hypothetically, let's say Haneke nixed the meta-factor, scaled back on the torture sequences, but kept the more straightforward thriller elements: in my humble opinion, the film would still work as a rousingly scary and effective rollercoaster ride-(the scene where the son runs to the neighbors for help and discovers the dead family, for example, is terrifying without being graphic-and recalls some of the most chilling moments from the best of the genre classics). Haneke is a master of suspense in a way Hitchcock would have appreciated and he earns his right to break the rules to achieve something deeper. A lesser filmmaker would be a hypocrite if he could not first prove an expert of his craft before diving into deeper waters.

Those who condemn Haneke's "experiment" as an anti-violence treatise or tacky case of audience shaming are over-simplifying and missing some of the film's more practical takeaways. If you check your pride at the door and scrutinize Haneke's brushstrokes, you will be reminded that the best films within the genre rely on audience manipulation and misdirection to really work. And since the moviegoing public's penchant for blood and guts seems to be increasing while their attention spans wane, we must rally behind those filmmakers who choose the high road (imagine if Moustapha Akkad and Irwin Yablans had forced John Carpenter to amp up the sex, violence, and exploitation and omit the "boring" parts of "Halloween".). In fact, it's the 'snooty' Haneke who doesn't underestimate the sophistication of his audience; I believe that he wants them to know that they deserve more. He's not suggesting that we throw the baby out with the bathwater.

Experiencing Funny Games in the theatre for the first time was indeed a disturbing experience, but it was the audience's reactions that were the most unsettling. During the moment when the son wets his pants after being hooded by one of the film's teenage villains, about a quarter of the audience burst into laughter. This was certainly not meant to be funny. In fact, it was one of the most heartbreaking moments in the film. It was then that I realized that Haneke's work actually did serve a purpose because it exposed me to a segment of the population that I naively did not know existed (indeed, there are people who find humor in others' suffering). It also got me questioning my own reaction: was I just being too uptight and taking it all way too seriously?

Love it or hate it, Funny Games will get your cerebral juices flowing. And even though thousands of films are being released every year, we are seeing fewer and fewer like Haneke's that sacrifice their profit potential to take genuine risks. For that alone, it merits praise. And the more that one refuses to acknowledge the incredible amount of craftsmanship and artistry on display here, or tries to convince others why it is a pretentious flaming pile of garbage, the more that individual validates the film's status as contributive art-and the more Haneke has called their bluff. After all, to quote the film's tagline, "You must admit, you brought this upon yourself". Did you not?

Psycho II (1983)

Just as good as it was 40 years ago

[9/10 · 26 June 2021]

The marriage of the cerebral and visceral is a rarity in horror films. Typically, when a thriller has lofty ambitions, it sacrifices many of the carnal pleasures that are unique to the genre. Like Silence of the Lambs, Psycho 2 is a notable exception to this rule.

I am convinced that-had it been made today-(and found a clever way of avoiding a sequel designation)-this 1983 sequel to one of the greatest films ever made would have received similar recognition and praise as was given to Demme's film. It really is that good. The combination of Perkin's acting, Cudney's playful, magician-like cinematography, Goldsmith's restrained, melancholic score, Tom Holland's surprisingly complex and layered script, and director Richard Franklin's meticulous attention to detail- results in a critically undervalued film that brings much more to the peephole than meets the eye.

At just under 2 hours, Psycho 2 doesn't take long before the screws start to turn and the plot twists come fast and furious. However, despite its labyrinthine plot, Norman's journey remains the heart and focus of the story, and therefore the film manages to stay anchored because the events unfold primarily through his lens, even when his perspective becomes questionable. Perkins is undeniably the glue that keeps all of the film's disparate elements together, despite any (perceived) loose ends. And his portrayal is so commanding here that at times it feels as if he is telepathically re-writing the story as it unravels on the screen, even while the plot construction changes around him.

The characters

Holland wisely keeps his supporting characters at arm's length, and appropriately so. Lila Loomis (Vera Miles) for example, is presented as malicious, vengeful, and even unstable. She may be the closest thing to a "half-sketched" character in the story (to quote the late Roger Ebert), but her motivations are plausible, even justified, and her intentions clear; any further exposition would be overkill, so to speak. In addition to being traumatized by the events in the first film and enraged by the brutal death of her sister, one can speculate that she may be grieving Sam's death or perhaps struggling with an impending case of empty nest syndrome as she watches her daughter potentially slip away into the arms of a notorious serial killer.

The character of Mary (played by the beguiling and angelic Meg Tilly) is initially a stand-in for the audience but eventually becomes integral to the story's progression. When she first meets Norman, she is cautious, and even scared of him, as is the viewer, for obvious reasons. Eventually, she grows to trust him and discover who he really is-or at least who he wants to be-and she eventually takes on the role of his companion, nurturer, and protector (perhaps the fact that she too lacks a father and contends with an overbearing mother fuels her connection to him). Her plight also presents an interesting juxtaposition: Just as Norman is afraid of his mother and then eventually of himself, Mary is initially afraid of Norman, and then eventually of her own mother.

Many critics (again referencing Ebert) have described Meg Tilly's Mary as too passive, detached, and spacey. While I agree that she is initially presented as such, we learn quickly that she is deceptively tough and resilient (recall the hilarious moment when she stands up to Toomey in the diner). She may be armed with a pistol, but her non-threatening disposition is really her secret weapon. Mary proves that she can stand on her own two feet, which lends credibility to her choice to remain in the house of horrors despite the potential danger. Her predicament begs the question: is she safer inside the house with Norman and his demons or outside with her mother and hers? Psycho 2 is very clever in how it constantly shifts the audience's loyalties, and viewers may end up with whiplash trying to decipher which character poses a threat, or if there even is a threat. And since the film has us siding with Norman, it makes us complicit in his actions. This is the film's most notable stroke of brilliance.

The remaining characters are aptly written and well played. Just as Hitchcock did with Lila, Sam, and Arbogast in the original, Holland never treats them as insignificant pawns. Franz's character Toomey, while a slime ball, could typify 90% of the population's reaction if a serial killer actually did get released back into society ("Murdered by you yah loony!"). Robert Loggia's psychiatrist is icy, bureaucratic, pragmatic, and business-like. He cares for Norman but obviously cares for his job and reputation more. If Norman fails, he has to admit he failed too. And the criminally underrated Hugh Gillan brings a sense of wry humor to his role as the cynical town sheriff that wouldn't feel out of place in an early Cohen Brother's film.

Finally, Psycho 2 also touches upon some heady and controversial topics (criminal rehabilitation, nature/nurture, and the cycle of abuse, for example), but wisely does not elaborate on them. And while the film has a progressive outlook on psychopathology and mental illness, I am so grateful that director Richard Franklin and Tom Holland avoided any political artifice masquerading as a social commentary-a trend we see today to which there seems to be no foreseeable end.

I will always stand by my claim that Psycho 2 is not only one of the best sequels-but one of the best horror films of the last half-century. When comparing it to films of today, I am reminded of how far the bar has been lowered in Hollywood since its release almost 40 years ago. In addition to being made with a lot of elegance and style, the film just has a playfulness and buoyancy that far too many modern films lack.

On the most basic level, Psycho 2 is one hell of a fun ride and rewards viewers who surrender themselves to its many charms. And if you pay close enough attention you may discover how its oft-cited flaws are actually silver linings that work in the film's favor (yes, this includes its heavily debated final scene).

RIP Richard Franklin.

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019)

Offensive to fans of the books

[2/10 · 9 August 2019]

Like many 80's kids, I grew up with these books, which hold a special place in my heart. I should have listened to my heart when it told me that this film should never have been made, so I only have myself to blame for eschewing my intuition out of false hope.

I am speechless at how bad this film is. The original books left so much to the imagination, but this film version has none and leaves no room for audiences to use theirs. Yes, I know it's a "PG-13 horror film", which has become a red-flag for horror fans. All the same, there are countless PG and PG-13 horror films that are far scarier and outshine this wretched mess on every conceivable level: "Get Out," 2002's "Mothman Prophecies," and "Dark Skies" come to mind if we are citing more current films. Check out Disney's 'Watcher in the Woods', "Tourist Trap", "Jaws" and Return to OZ from 1985 if we are talking old school.

Technically, 'Scary Stories' is perfectly average. The musical score is recycled from every modern film of its type, the cinematography stale, and the special effects out of place, as they undermine the books' old-fashioned sensibilities. Director André Øvredal claims that the film consists of almost all practical effects with a mere 10% CGI for "enhancement." You could have fooled me because nothing in this film feels "practical" in any way, shape, or form. This is anti-cinematic, contemporary fantasy (Guillermo's fingerprints are all over the film in the same way Spielberg's were on Poltergeist).

Speaking of old-fashioned sensibilities-and this is my biggest bone of contention-the film's depiction of small-town America, especially 60's America, is ridiculously hollow and inauthentic (the director is Norwegian and born in the '70s, which may explain it). Every authority figure and adult character is an unlikable stereotype, each lacking the warmth and innocence you would find in a small town during that period. The main teen characters are all stock, lacking any semblance of charisma or nuance, and speak in distractingly modern-day colloquialisms. These are kids of today that act and talk like kids of today. And, of course, political correctness underscores the whole atrocity.

The film's ultimate misstep is creating a completely unnecessary narrative thread designed to link all disparate stories. This adds absolutely nothing to the proceedings and results in the majority of the main characters spending half the film's running time reading aloud from books "searching for the answers" to help them destroy whatever is-never mind, it doesn't matter. If this were a mystery, that would be one thing -but it's a film based on one to two-page stories meant to scare the pants off kids. Alas, this adaptation feels very compromised, more concerned with pandering to fans of "Stranger Things" and the "It" crowd than recreating the magic of its source material.

I sincerely hope the filmmakers of "More Scary Stories," which will inevitably happen, decide to take a more old-fashioned route and stick to the essence of what made the original books so eerily memorable.

When a Stranger Calls (1979)

One of the closest things to a nightmare caught on screen

[8/10 · 9 October 2017]

I think it's fascinating (and sort of sad) that a movie like "It Follows" (while not terrible, but a little redundant for those who grew up in the '70s and '80s and can cite several of its myriad influences) gets nearly a perfect score on Rotten Tomatoes and then a film as influential, raw, well-made and genuinely terrifying as this 1979 shocker has been panned across the board. It's easy to point to the film's narrative departure after the iconic opener as the main cause for the film's reputation as a one-trick pony, but I would argue that the second and third acts make par, but for entirely different reasons. Regardless of one's stance on this matter, nobody can argue that the opening 20 minutes is arguably the closest thing to a nightmare caught on film (surpassed only a smidge by Suspiria and Chainsaw 74').

A huge reason for this film's impact -aside from its thoroughly underrated and unsettling score- is Carol Kane, who is nothing short of astonishing in it. I have literally studied the first 20 minutes of this film at least 50 times just to try and figure out how she managed to be so damn convincing. When she pleads with the sergeant on the phone ("please can't you help me I'm all alone here?"), I am unfailingly convinced that something distressing had to be going down on the set to elicit such a raw and devastating delivery. It is rare to experience performances like Kane's where it genuinely feels as if the character is experiencing a tense situation unfold in real-time. Every facial expression, the way she clears her throat when she is talking to the menacing caller in the final moments, the subtle nuances in her delivery, the way her eyes telegraph gut-wrenching fear-Kane is a marvel here. You can almost hear what she is thinking as the seconds roll by. Her acting is on a level rarely seen in modern horror (with rare exception)-and it makes Jamie Lee Curtis's performance in Halloween seem pretty overrated by comparison.

The film requires patience, especially after its famous opening sequence. Younger reviewers who find the film tame or underwhelming have to be reminded of the time period that this film was released. Child killers like Gacy and serial killers such as Bundy, The Golden Gate Killer, Dahmer, among others, were very real and pervasive in the '70s, which is why I think films like Carpenter's Halloween and "Stranger" resonated so much with the movie-going public: they took place for the first time- in the very settings (suburbia) where these real monsters were striking. I can understand how the scare factor could be lost on some viewers through no fault of their own, as they lose the benefit of context. However, the type of terror and fear on display here is so intimate and universal that I can't fathom how anybody could not be put under the spell of the unnerving first 20 minutes.

I admit that 'Stranger' is not a perfect film, mainly because it bites off a little more than it can chew and doesn't quite tie its disparate 3 segments together, as much as it tries. The film may have benefited from trimming 20-30 minutes off its midsection and then allocating that time to focus on Jill and her family- perhaps even expanding on the character of the new babysitter (maybe some callbacks to the iconic opening scene?). As it stands, the oft-maligned second act does contribute to the film's cumulative impact, largely due to the haunting performance of the late, great Tony Beckley and his unflinching depiction of a sad tortured soul. The story's shift from standard thriller to character study helps render our villain's actions all the more plausible, making repeat viewings warrantable. Kurt Duncan is a real human being; incorrigible, corroded, lacking a conscience and with little to no chance at redemption- both a tragic and haunting figure. He is not a Jason or Michael Myers who possesses mythical qualities or supernatural abilities. He is somebody that any of us could have met at one point or another and to whom we never gave a second thought.

At the end of the day, When a Stranger Calls is the definition of cinematic nightmare fuel, and certainly not an upbeat experience. But it is a landmark film that deserves to be experienced once, especially by students of influential horror cinema. And even if you can't make it through the middle portion, I highly recommend you turn the lights off, turn the volume up, eliminate any outside distractions, and allow yourself to be scared silly, even if only for the first and last 20-minute sequences.

PS: I recommend the review by commentator Veritable32. They really nail my sentiment about the performance by Carol Kane.

Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre III (1990)

Okay, so it's not great art....

[6/10 · 6 July 2014]

I'm actually really surprised at all the positive reviews for this film here, considering its horrible reputation.

Made on a shoestring budget with no-name actors (at least at the time, of course, Viggo went on to A-list-ish status) obviously there is nothing groundbreaking in this 3rd chainsaw outing, as can be said of most sequels. Hooper's 1974 film said and did everything that needed to be said and done (its documentary style, iconic villain, the creation of the slasher-film template, the unrelenting suspense, the fire-orange burning sunsets, the post-Vietnam worldview, the subtle political underpinnings about consumerism, animal cruelty, and the decay of the nuclear family, etc....). That film is an unparalleled masterpiece, and even Hooper's own follow-up really didn't hold a candle or need to exist(although it was crazy, offbeat, quality cult film making on its own terms)so a third entry would seem a complete waste of time.

So why even pay part III any attention? My adoration for it is based largely on the first half of the film, which is very well-done and far superior to the second half. For starters, Kate Hodge and William Butler, as the film's yuppie protagonists, are natural and absorbing and never take viewers out of the film (something that can't be said of most slasher films of this era, which typically had bottom-of-the-barrel talent).

The cinematography is also imaginative and stylized. The entire "gas station peepshow sequence", for example, is fantastically shot and executed; the angle of our heroine through the cracked mirror, the claustrophobic lighting, the POV's from the peephole. And note Kate Hodge's reactions during this scene: she genuinely seems creeped out and uncomfortable, and her reactions of fear and confusion in the scenes that follow are equally convincing. It's a solid performance, in a film with uniformly solid performances.

The film's pacing in this first half is also impressive; from the mundane car conversation that opens the film to the bizarre "body pit" sequence- which was so absurd, it bordered on parody-to the armadillo murder scene, to the gas station sequence: all these events are knowing winks to the first film, but because the film modernizes them, it benefits as it places the viewers in the "now" instead of the "then" (the original's documentary feel is one of the film's greatest strengths, but years later, it does give one the feeling of watching historical news/home video reels of footage of something that already occurred-again, part of the film's raw, unnerving power, to be sure). While Chainsaw III would eventually show its age, attempting to match the style of Hooper's original would have felt derivative, redundant, and just simply out-of-place. So it's a credit to Burr and cinematographer James L. Carter, who later proved himself a real talent with more mainstream gigs, that they remained faithful to the mood of the original without plagiarizing, and while still taking some new chances.

And how about that "truck-chase/changing the tire" sequence? I LIVE for scenes like this and sadly, modern horror films just don't take us here anymore: the ominous, minimalist score, slow-burn pacing, the effective use of that lantern light, and again, Kate Hodge seems genuinely freaked out in this scene, you can really put yourself in her shoes, and boyfriend Ryan's (William Butler) reaction of incredulity, anger, and frustration-is equally effective. There is some commendable attempt at realism here, resulting in a truly tense and nerve-jangling scene. Also, dare I say that the atmosphere in this scene comes the closest out of any film in the series to match the "flashlight fight between Sally and Franklin" in the original film? It's that uncomfortable mix of anxiety, frustration, and dread that Hooper created so well that I think is unfairly overlooked in this sequel.

Okay, so that's the first half. The second half is simply not as effective. It becomes, like I mentioned earlier, almost a parody of the first film, with an uneven mix of horror and (attempted) black comedy. There are hints of wit and social commentary to be sure: the mocking by one of the chainsaw clan of the elitist boyfriend's underwear ("California!"), Ken Foree's completely out-of-place military survivalist, to name a couple. But these clever bits don't really say anything or offer insight (although the scene where Leatherface grapples with the Speak and Spell is curiously touching).

With that said, there is still enough style and enough action to make the second half more than watchable. And witnessing Kate Hodge's transformation from genteel yuppie to traumatized badass is worth the price of admission. A nice homage to Sally in the original.

But then comes the final shot, which is almost as if director Burr threw up his arms and said: "alright, time for the trendy 80's slasher movie ending....we all got bills to pay". And of course, it leaves room for yet another sequel. Shame, shame, Burr.

And there you have it: LEATHERFACE, the wildly uneven, sometimes ambitious, consistently amusing, what should have been the final word on an already dying franchise, and more notably, sub-genre that would never quite be the same. As we all know, SCREAM followed 6 years later, and the slasher film became a cultural artifact only to be mocked, parodied, and "post-modernized" to a new generation of filmgoers, most of whom weren't alive when their genre forefathers were in their heyday. So in that context, we should be grateful for earnest little films like TCM III, which, while far from perfect, mark the end of an innocent and seemingly forgotten era of irony-free slasher filmmaking. Sigh.