Genre: Arthouse

Escape From Tomorrow (2013) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“I’m Afraid if I Come With You, Something Bad Is Going to Happen…” – Jim

Written and directed by relatively unknown filmmaker Randy Moore, Escape From Tomorrow, released in 2013, serves as a genre-defying, experimental arthouse flick, which, whilst flawed, has to be admired for both its ambition and ingenuity. Produced on a budget of around £502,000 and illicitly shot at the Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, Florida, and Disneyland in Anaheim, California, without permission or permits from the Walt Disney Company, Escape From Tomorrow attempts to criticise today’s fascination with “Disney Culture” by mocking the company’s rose-tinted reputation (particularly its string of immersive theme parks) to deliver a conceptually audacious, darkly surreal roller-coaster of a film that morphs a miserable father’s seemingly straightforward excursion to Walt Disney World into an other-worldly tale of paranoia, conspiracy, sex and violence, interspersed between visits to iconic attractions, like Space Mountain, Dumbo the Flying Elephant and It’s a Small World.

Plot Summary: While his family frolics, taking in the sights and sounds of the Walt Disney World Resort, discontented and recently discharged father, Jim, finds himself curiously obsessed with a pair of beautiful teenage girls, subsequently leading him to unveil fiendish forces behind the Happiest Place on Earth…

As a result of Disney’s reputation for being immensely protective of its intellectual property, the cast and crew behind Escape From Tomorrow employed a variety of guerrilla filmmaking techniques to avoid attracting attention within the theme parks, such as saving their screenplays on their smartphones and filming on hand-held cameras similar to those used by visitors. After production wrapped, Randy Moore was so determined to keep the film a secret from Disney (and their lawyers) that he decided to edit the project in South Korea. Rather than suppressing the film, however, the Walt Disney Company merely chose to ignore it, with the 2013 Sundance Film Festival likewise declining to discuss Escape From Tomorrow in detail before it premiered. Those who saw the film expressed strong doubts it would ever be widely released, due to the legal issues involved and its negative depiction of Disney’s theme parks, dubbing it; “The Ultimate Guerrilla Film.” This unfavourable portrayal is most evident during the first act, as the film takes a less ‘magical’ glimpse at the Magic Kingdom, focusing on the strain and exertion of the parents taking their children to the consistently clangorous, overcrowded theme park.

As far as characters go, the film’s protagonist, Jim, portrayed by Roy Abramsohn, is rather unpleasant, heading to the Walt Disney World Resort with his family for a sunlit getaway, only to have his trip tarnished by a call informing him he has lost his job, leading him to drink, neglect his children and even make public advances on his wife, whilst there. These traits are later enhanced when Jim begins to undergo increasingly peculiar hallucinations and perverted sexual daydreams following his spotting of two French teenagers. Still, while the character is unquestionably unlikeable, credit must be given to Abramsohn, whose charismatic performance makes Jim an oddly amiable protagonist (one that you even feel some sympathy for), despite his repeatedly deplorable actions. The supporting cast of Elena Schuber, Katelynn Rodriguez and Jack Dalton aren’t quite as stirring as Jim’s sheepish wife and energetic children, though this could be forgiven, given their limited screen-time and experience.

Utilising a greyscale colour palette to disguise cinematographer Lucas Lee Graham’s occasionally amateurish camerawork and provide the film with an aura of visual cynicism and dream-like surrealism, Escape From Tomorrow, though primarily set in the Magic Kingdom, was partially shot at Disneyland on account of production issues, with the resultant theme park seen on-screen being an amalgamation of the two. These production tribulations are sometimes very noticeable, as it’s especially apparent during the second act that the filmmakers had to use shoddy visual effects, green screen composition and digital stabilisation to rescue some of the sloppier (and potentially improvised) monochrome shots.

Fortunately, the fantastical original score by Abel Korzeniowski flawlessly matches the film’s pessimistic outlook, as tracks like Gates of Tomorrow and Fantasy Girl mimic the cheerful, wonderous tone of the actual melodies employed at the Walt Disney World Resort before the score becomes more unearthly and ominous with somewhat futuristic, 1960s-inspired tracks, like Mystery Man and Lost in Caves.

Playing into many of the urban legends surrounding Disney’s illustrious theme parks, Escape From Tomorrow features many references to online conspiracy theories related to the House of Mouse, one being the mention of a location known as “Base 21,” which refers to a real, little-known V.I.P. lounge located inside the Spaceship Earth attraction at Epcot. This fixation on urban legends again ties into the film’s underlying themes, twisting Disney’s adorable, family-friendly brand into a disturbing, perverse satire that finds macabre in the ordinary, comparable to David Lynch’s uncanny style of filmmaking.

In summary, while Escape From Tomorrow retains an undeniably bold vision, the film is only intermittently successful in execution, lacking well-developed characters or consistently striking visuals in spite of its many thoughtful or freakish moments. Nevertheless, I’d be lying if I said I detest Escape From Tomorrow, as I certainly hold a soft spot for the film. And whilst I know it will not be to all tastes, if you’re willing to look beyond the gimmick of its production, Escape From Tomorrow is a fascinating yet largely forgotten cinematic scrutiny of the Walt Disney Company that ultimately became another urban legend encircling their theme parks. Rating: low 5/10.

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The House That Jack Built (2018) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“The Old Cathedrals Often Have Sublime Artworks Hidden Away in the Darkest Corners for Only God to See. The Same Goes for Murder.” – Jack

Whether writing screenplays that contain scenes of self-administered clitorectomies or expressing Nazi sympathy at press conferences, the controversial yet distinguished writer-director Lars von Trier (Dogville, Antichrist, Melancholia) loves to cause headlines, with shock value frequently being employed as one of his greatest tools, often accentuating the underlying themes of his filmography. The House That Jack Built, released in 2018, is perhaps von Trier’s most distressing film to date, however, presenting the filmmaker at his most unfiltered and uncompromising. As such, for some, the film will serve as a captivating arthouse piece that delves into the layers of a serial killer’s mind, while for others, The House That Jack Built will seem like nothing more than an insensitive, tasteless horror flick brimming with disturbing moments, all in service of a lumpen statement that has been better cinematically expressed elsewhere.

Plot Summary: Reflecting on his existence, Jack, a failed architect and sadistic serial killer, describes his twelve-year reign of terror to Verge, his unseen, enigmatic companion, illuminating the significance of his systematic atrocities by recounting five randomly chosen incidents from his blood-spattered past…

Premiering at the Cannes International Film Festival on May 14th, 2018, The House That Jack Built was reported to have more than a hundred audience members (including some critics) walk out during its premiere, despite a six-minute standing ovation following the screening. Furthermore, some of the resentful audience members condemned the film afterwards on social media for its relentless violence and nihilistic tone. Although I’m usually not one to get offended by media, The House That Jack Built is a film where I can, at least, understand why some take issue with the flick, as the film effectively promotes the idea that life is cruel and soulless, whilst simultaneously playing upon many ‘hot topic’ political assertions, primarily around the American politician, media personality and 45th president of the United States, Donald Trump. This persistent fatalistic outlook, along with its excessive runtime and unsettling violence, ensures that The House That Jack Built harbours minimal appeal for general audiences, even if much of the potentially contentious commentary gets buried beneath the film’s many other aspects.

Boasting about his achievements to an unseen, accented man known as Verge, the titular, obsessive-compulsive engineer, Jack, portrayed by Matt Dillion, appears unhinged yet astute straight from the opening scene, as he circumstantially describes five haphazardly chosen events from his life, all of which involve gruesome murders. From there, the film spends little time on Jack’s upbringing or the circumstances that led him to such a depraved place, but instead concentrates purely on the unconnected series of incidents where Jack slaughters his victims. Through these scenes, you can see Dillon slowly losing himself in the role as he spectacularly portrays Jack as an authentic, twisted psychopath who possesses no redeeming qualities or childhood trauma in an attempt to connect with the audience. Additionally, the supporting cast of Bruno Ganz, Uma Thurman, Siobhan Fallon Hogan and Sofie Gråbøl are all adequate in their various roles, usually as screaming, hapless victims.

A hefty portion of the cinematography by Manuel Alberto Claro, unfortunately, leaves much to be desired as the film is shot in an almost documentary-like fashion, predominantly relying on hand-held close-ups and mid-shots, where characters repeatedly pass in front of the frame, obscuring the audience’s view. As a result, The House That Jack Built has a noticeable deficiency of attractive shots and is continuously dimly lit, causing many scenes to blend together. That being said, the film does include a handful of brief animated sequences that are invariably visually interesting, in addition to an intriguing assemblage of archival footage/images for whenever Jack refers to fortes like architecture or winemaking.

Exceedingly unremarkable, the original score by Víctor Reyes is barely discernable for most of the scenes it’s featured within. Thankfully, the song choices throughout the runtime manage to audibly enhance the film somewhat, as songs like Fame by David Bowie support the story’s implied 1970s time period while classic French overture pieces, such as Partita No. 2 in C Minor, BWV 826 and The Four Seasons – Concerto No. 3 in F Minor, RV 293, heavily contrast with the ghastly violence on-screen, making a few of Jack’s killings seem darkly comedic.

Regarding the film’s graphic violence, I would argue that it could be excused in this case, given the narrative revolves around an unfeeling mass murder, an inherently frightening yet compelling subject matter that has been covered many times before in cinema with a comparable level of violence, most notably in the horror/black comedy classic; American Psycho (2000).

In summary, unlike a few other horror flicks that attempt to dive into the headspace of a serial killer, The House That Jack Built truly pulls no punches, depicting a self-examining, metaphor-heavy story of a man disguising his shortage of worthwhile contribution with violent self-interest. Throughout the film, Lars von Trier essentially grabs the audience’s head and shoves it into a vortex of anguish, unconcerned about whether it will appeal to the masses. For that reason, the film is not one I would recommend lightly, as if not swept up in the interpretative storytelling of The House That Jack Built, this sickening arthouse flick will likely carry the allure of a lengthy therapy session as it lacks the magnetism of some of von Trier’s other work. Rating: 6/10.

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The Green Knight (2021) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“One Year Hence…” – The Green Knight

Written, produced, edited and directed by David Lowery (Pete’s Dragon, A Ghost Story, The Old Man & the Gun), The Green Knight, released in 2021, is a visually stunning fantasy odyssey based on the 14th-century Middle English poem; Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by the Gawain Poet. Steered by a spectacular performance from Dev Patel, The Green Knight takes the timeless legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and deconstructs many aspects of the famed fables, leaving a lot of its story open to interpretation while casting a captivating spell on its audience through a slow-paced, mature and stylistic fantasy adventure.

Plot Summary: On Christmas Day, before the noble King Arthur and his loyal Knights of the Round Table, the King’s headstrong nephew, Sir Gawain, agrees to a challenge from a formidable foe; in a year’s time, travel to the remote Green Chapel and face its ghastly lord, the Green Knight. But, as the one-year milestone arrives, Gawain embarks on his peril-laden journey with great apprehension, traversing the land in an effort to honour his promise and prove his mettle…

A large majority of The Green Knight‘s narrative revolves around the five traditional knightly virtues of friendship, generosity, chastity, courtesy and piety. Throughout the runtime, Gawain, when tested, fails at all five of these virtues through a variety of situations, demonstrating that Gawain is not yet ready to be a knight and adding to the subtext of his journey. Moreover, in order to make his vision of the Arthurian world appear more distinct, Lowery’s screenplay freely capitalises on folk elements derived from Welsh, Irish and English stories, as well as the French chivalric tradition of the Middle Ages to flesh out the world-building and Gawain’s mystical encounters that are only alluded to in the original verse.

Whilst the supporting cast of Alicia Vikander, Joel Edgerton, Sean Harris, Barry Keoghan and Erin Kellyman are all sublime in their various roles, Dev Patel truly knocks it out of the park performance-wise, portraying Sir Gawain as a troubled yet well-intending relative of the celebrated hero and monarch, King Arthur, evidently anxious about overcoming his personal flaws to find his honour and live up to the legacy left by his uncle and his faithful Knights, all in the hope of one day becoming the monarch himself. Patel is simply a magnet for the audience’s sympathy and the protagonist Gawain is a character anyone can get behind, with his journey of trials, temptations, trouble and self-discovery only adding to his subtle characterisation.

Primarily shot in Ireland, presumably to capture much of the island’s natural beauty. Practically all of the cinematography by Andrew Droz Palermo is visually astonishing, depicting a grounded and eerie fantasy world that makes fantastical concepts like spirits, giants and a talking fox seem almost ordinary. From soggy marshes to lonely mountain roads and extensive forests wrapped in mist, the camerawork never fails to visually grasp the looming dread that grips the land, mirroring Gawain’s fear of the Green Knight. The set design is also remarkably impressive, assuring the shadowy interiors of each structure are equally atmospheric. The only real downside concerning the visuals would be the CG effects, which often appear too glossy and clean when compared to the rest of the unkept visual aesthetic. Still, all of this is somewhat to be expected, as Lowery has always been a gifted visual storyteller, especially when it comes to colour usage, and The Green Knight is no exception, retaining a wildly diverse colour palette of earthly tones, making the film perhaps Lowery’s most sumptuous work to date.

Similarly, the original score by Daniel Hart manages to convey the setting, time period and action/emotion without performing the same tricks too many times over. Through tracks like Excalibur and Now I’m Ready, I’m Ready Now, the Pagan-like percussion and xylophone come and go, frequently followed by a whistle or pipe lead and rattling backing, making for an almost medieval-like dance rhythm. The score also utilises acoustic drums, bass strings, angelic vocals, bottles and harps. And it’s this unique combination of instruments that allows the soundtrack to expertly back up Gawain’s journey across numerous scenes, whether triumphant or fearful.

Given that the character’s name is the very title of the film, the Green Knight needed to leave an impact on the story and the audience. Luckily, he does just that. Sporting overgrown, corroded armour engraved with the Sabaic alphabet (Sabaic being a South Arabian language spoken from 1000 BC to 6th Century AD), the Green Knight has a tremendous on-screen presence, appearing ancient, imposing and authentic as a result of his flawless costuming and prosthetic make-up, the Green Knight’s towering appearance only being rivalled by his baritone voice, well-provided by actor, Ralph Ineson.

In summary, The Green Knight is a visually breathtaking fantasy flick, in addition to another exceptional release from production company; A24 Films, outside of its usual brand of horror and drama-centric films. Although its pacing is occasionally too slow for its own good, and many audience members will undoubtedly be turned off by its assortment of interpretive scenes and heavy emphasis on underlying themes, David Lowery employs almost every ounce of his imagination to craft an audacious and demanding Arthurian adaptation that warrants multiple viewings to increase its allure. Rating: low 8/10.

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The Lighthouse (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 2 Comments

“Why’d Ya Spill Yer Beans?” – Thomas Wake

A psychological horror only in the vaguest sense, 2019’s The Lighthouse is a strange yet wondrous cinematic venture, incomparable to many other modern releases due to its distinct visual aesthetic and often genre-defying narrative. Led by an outstanding pair of performances from Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe, The Lighthouse is the type of film that relentlessly sears itself into its audience’s memory, employing striking visuals, Lovecraftian influences and ominous, atmospheric sound design to craft an unnerving flick that closely resembles the fever-induced night terrors many actual lighthouse keepers endured during their lonesome, off-shore excursions tending to a beacon.

Plot Summary: Off the coast of late 19th-century New England, two lighthouse keepers, the taciturn former lumberjack, Ephraim Winslow, and the elderly lighthouse caretaker, Thomas Wake, set foot on a remote island to begin their monthly duties. But, as the tight-lipped men spend more and more time in each other’s company, a mutual resentment begins to arise as their collective sanity unravels…

Co-written and directed by Robert Eggers (The Witch, The Northman), the story of The Lighthouse is loosely based on a real-life affair that occurred in 1801 known as the Smalls Lighthouse Tragedy, during which two Welsh lighthouse keepers, sharing the name Thomas, became trapped at their station during a storm. When one of the men died, it is said to have driven the other insane. The story also takes some influence from the seafaring literature of renowned authors, including Herman Melville, Robert Louis Stevenson and H.P. Lovecraft, all of which lends the film a sense of historical accuracy and unseen oceanic horror. According to Eggers, earlier versions of the screenplay were more coherent, however, this was later changed as Eggers’ felt the best way to approach the film was to make the audience feel like they were losing their minds alongside the characters. As a result, The Lighthouse can occasionally be quite difficult to follow, yet this ultimately works in the narrative’s favour as the audience, much like the characters, struggle to tell reality from delusion. Even the very concept of time gets thrown out the window by the end of the second act, as it becomes almost impossible to tell how much time has passed between certain scenes, forcing the characters (and the audience) to question exactly how long they have been on the secluded island.

As the only two cast members, Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe are superb throughout the runtime as fellow lighthouse keepers, Ephraim Winslow and Thomas Wake. Simultaneously appearing layered and accurate to the time period, both characters flourish on-screen thanks to Pattinson and Dafoe’s electric performances, which are only enhanced when combined with the continuously compelling dialogue. This period-accurate dialogue bleeds through every scene, with the screenplay’s emphasis on 19th-century terminology and expressions instantly transporting the audience to the time and setting of the story, enriching Ephraim and Thomas’ persistent back-and-forths as they become increasingly infuriated at their situation. What makes the characters even more interesting is that neither one can be sighted as a reliable point-of-view, no matter how much they claim the other to be untrustworthy or deranged under their boozy breath.

Shot on Double-X stock, which requires much more light to get exposure. So much so, that the crew had to use about fifteen to twenty times more lights on set when filming at night or indoors to successfully capture footage. The cinematography by Jarin Blaschke is imposing and hypnotic, exhaustively utilising the isolated location of the treeless, storm-susceptible island along with its adjoining greyscale colour palette to create an array of hauntingly beautiful shots. Many of the visuals almost seem like depictions of a sailor’s nightmare, with the dense black-and-white grain of 35mm capturing every shadow and contour, lending the visuals a sensation of 19th-century expressionist horror, where even the tight aspect ratio proves to be claustrophobic. Furthermore, The Lighthouse employs several exceptional practical effects to depict the story’s more fantastical elements, such as its visual references to Greek mythology and seafarer folklore, like mermaids, sirens and the mighty Kraken.

Moving onto the original score, composer Mark Korven adds to the film’s foreboding atmosphere through doomy tracks, like Arrival, Curse Your Name and Stranded. However, much of the unsettling atmosphere could also be attributed to the immersive sound design, central to which is a bellowing foghorn, which sound designer, Damian Volpe, turned to J.J. Jamieson to create; a craftsman in Shetland, Scotland, who makes YouTube tutorials on operating and maintaining foghorns. Using Jamieson’s samples, Volpe manipulated the sound to create a period-accurate foghorn that was suitably startling and memorable.

Another favourable aspect of The Lighthouse is its authenticity, not merely in relation to its time period, but in regard to its restraint to filming on-location, which allows the film to retain a consistent level of practicality throughout, similar to its sense of dread, both of which are only broken up by the handful of well-timed, darkly comedic moments.

In summary, disorientation is clearly the primary intent of The Lighthouse as Eggers offers hints towards a grander narrative, but never fully commits to a sweeping, readable story, even avoiding an easily discernible conclusion. As such, instead of being a straightforward psychological horror or a disturbing historic folk tale, The Lighthouse is more of a surreal exploration of masculinity, guilt and seclusion, in addition to standing as another impressive showcase of Robert Eggers’ screenwriting and filmmaking abilities. Rating: 9/10.

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Mad God (2021) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“If You Disobey Me and Remain Hostile to Me, I Will Act Against You in Wrathful Hostility. I, for My Part, Will Discipline You Sevenfold for Your Sins…” – Opening Quotation

Written, produced and directed (among many other credits) by Phil Tippett, the founder and namesake of Tippett Studio, whose varied career in visual effects has spanned more than thirty years and includes two Academy Award wins and six nominations. Mad God, released in 2021, is a rich visual treat for enthusiasts of horror and stop-motion animation alike, serving as a harrowing delve into a post-apocalyptic hellscape that is both unique and disturbing. Harbouring a cinematic allure that is equal parts unsettling and mesmerising, Mad God proves that even in the age of CGI, the art form of stop-motion remains strong, even if the story and characters it’s bringing to life are far from well-developed.

Plot Summary: Equipped with a gas mask and an ageing map, the Assassin, a lone iron-clad humanoid, descends into an underworld of tortured souls, ruined cities and wretched monstrosities on a covert mission to reach the heart of this nightmarish realm of suffering…

First starting work on the project in the late 1980s, shortly after creating effects for RoboCop 2, released in 1990. Mad God has been Tippett’s pet project for over thirty years, despite the filmmaker almost considering abandoning the project when Jurassic Park was released in 1993, as CG effects appeared to make stop-motion a thing of the past. After some urging from those around him, however, Tippett decided to create a Kickstarter campaign that allowed him to complete the project. In the following years, three parts of Mad God were released online, which made up around half of the full eighty-two-minute version that was eventually screened at various film festivals. And whilst this story behind the film’s creation is certainly intriguing, Mad God‘s biggest shortcoming is that it lacks a narrative itself, or at least a coherent one. Instead, the film relies on visual storytelling and world-building as the audience follows the Assassin on his lengthy journey, encountering many distinct creatures, locations and civilisations on a mission that is never disclosed. As such, watching Mad God requires a lot of concentration to get the most out of it, much like how the project was crafted, I suppose.

With no dialogue or characterisation to speak of, Mad God‘s characters hinge entirely on their design. Thankfully, every character/creature that appears throughout the runtime is visibly repulsive, unnerving and eccentric. At the core of Mad God‘s story is a character only known as the Assassin, a silent, gas mask-wearing humanoid who also receives no characterisation, instead functioning as an audience surrogate through Tippett’s fever dream of a post-apocalyptic world. As the film features no dialogue, the central cast, including Alex Cox, Niketa Roman and Satish Ratakonda, only appear in a handful of live-action sequences, which similar to the scenes of stop-motion, are grimy and discomforting whilst relying on visuals over direct storytelling. While these sequences are interesting and count towards what little plot there is, many of these moments also pull you out of the experience and are often plagued by the film’s need to implement oral sounds to ensure the human characters don’t appear mute, meaning noises like “Eh?” and “Hmmm” become rather repetitious.

The cinematography by Chris Morley and Phil Tippett allows for spectacular framing within every scene, lending to the atmosphere and intrigue of each setting, whether its an oxidised factory of greasy machinery or a society of helpless slaves ruled over by an electronic screen that speaks in child-like gibberish. Furthermore, each of the surroundings the Assassin treks across is distinguished by the film’s colour palette, which seamlessly jumps from cold blues to vile greens and blood reds, making the stop-motion appear incredibly cinematic. Interestingly, one scene, which features a mountain of dead soldiers, was actually accomplished by melting thousands of plastic army men together on a wire. This scene took six animators around three years to complete, demonstrating the substantial amount of dedication required to animate even a single scene of Mad God.

Through prolonged tracks like Long Way Down and Conveyance, Mad God‘s original score by Dan Wool enhances many of the surreal visuals in a relatively nuanced fashion, making for a soundtrack that isn’t all that memorable, but avoids becoming overbearing as to let the visuals speak for themselves. However, the sound design is where the film’s audio truly shines as the countless animalistic growls of the mutated creatures that roam Mad God‘s mystifying world are ghastly and add audible depth to whichever location the Assassin finds himself.

As most would expect from Tippett Studio, the animation itself is smooth yet appropriately unearthly, providing every creature with its own jittery method of walking/crawling that feels remarkably natural. What’s even more impressive is that, according to Tippett, a considerable amount of the animation on Mad God was actually conducted by novice students who wanted to gain some filmmaking experience.

In summary, Mad God will likely be a very divisive film on account of its largely interpretive narrative and absence of well-defined characters. But, these annoyances ultimately don’t matter that much in the grand scheme, as Mad God thrives in what it’s trying to do. Presenting itself as a love letter to stop-motion that could only be realised by a legendary visual effects artist like Phil Tippett. And with stop-motion animation in such short supply nowadays, an outstanding piece of artsy like Mad God will always be a joy to behold, faults or not. Rating: 7/10.

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The Lobster (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“If You Encounter Any Problems You Cannot Resolve Yourselves, You Will Be Assigned Children. That Usually Helps.” – The Hotel Manager

Bleak, eccentric and ambitious, The Lobster, released in 2015, is undoubtedly an acquired taste, but for those with the fortitude to crack through the film’s offbeat sensibilities, it should prove a cinematic treat as co-writer and director Yorgos Lanthimos (Dogtooth, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, The Favourite) continuously demonstrates his peculiar style throughout this anomalous black comedy. And although the film does admittedly fall short in its final act as the story loses interest in its animal-transformation premise and abandons its fascinating hotel setting in favour of a less interesting location with equally less interesting characters, this does little to diminish the intrigue of The Lobster‘s unique outlook on human relationships.

Plot Summary: In a dystopian future where, by law, all citizens must have a life companion, single people are taken to the Hotel, where they are obliged to find a romantic partner within forty-five days. Should they fail, they will be transformed into an animal of their choosing and released into the wild where they will hopefully find love with a different species. Inevitably, as the newly divorced architect David enters the luxurious rehabilitation facility, he too must find a suitable partner, or an uncertain future in the wilderness awaits…

Since its initial release, The Lobster has become an intense hub of speculation regarding its true meaning, but the most common theory is that the film is an absurdist look at modern-day coupling, which, if truthful, is similar to the rest of Lanthimos’ filmography which frequently picks apart damaged characters, attempting to expose the raw and volatile relationship between humans and their fragile sensibilities. Immediately from its opening scene, The Lobster also presents an extraordinarily unusual world, a dystopian future that is simultaneously striking, disquieting and darkly comedic without ever appearing overly futuristic. Needless to say, with a world as irregular as this one is, there are still a few lines of dialogue that feel fairly on-the-nose concerning its world-building.

The film’s large cast of Colin Farrel, Rachel Weisz, Léa Seydoux, Ben Whishaw, Jessica Barden, Angeliki Papoulia, Ariane Labed, Olivia Colman and John C. Reilly are all superb throughout the film, intentionally delivering their lines with a complete lack of emotion. Instead, many of the characters present much of what they are feeling on their faces whilst seemingly concealing everything else. This approach works flawlessly when it comes to the film’s comedy, with the numerous quirky characters David interacts with giving matter-of-fact line readings that are extremely difficult not to find amusing. Yet, these constant stabs at dry humour never feel at odds with the story’s more dramatic/romantic moments either as The Lobster tries to gain emotional investment from its audience by making the characters feel distinctly human through the recognisable neuroses that label them despite their emotionless tones.

Visually, The Lobster is rather impressive as the cinematography by Thimios Bakatakis allows nearly every shot to have something poignant to it, with the symmetrical staircases and hallways of the Hotel presenting a world of order in a simplistic yet elegant manner. One hunting scene, in particular, stands out as gorgeous composition, slow-motion and lighting are all used to great effect. This is made even more impressive when considering that the production crew worked without make-up and exclusively utilised natural light. With large-scale lighting set-ups only being employed for a handful of evening scenes.

When it comes to the film’s music, even though The Lobster lacks a traditional original score, the film does feature a tremendous assortment of brittle classical compositions, such as String Quartet No. 1 in F Major, Op. 18 and Strauss, R: Don Quixote, Op. 35: Variation: II, both of which give the film a feeling of serenity yet also push much of the story’s tension to the forefront. Quietly damping down the comedic tone that gradually bubbles up through the carefully placed laugh-out-loud one-liners.

Returning to the visuals briefly, The Lobster was primarily filmed in and around the Parknasilla Hotel in Ireland, an ostentatious hotel that is decorated almost entirely with Dutch flower still life from the 1600s. This ageing pattern along with the film’s exceptional use of colour; primarily blues, greens and a few alternate shades of red, including beige-pink, give The Lobster a distinct visual appeal even more so than its cinematography as these colours can even be seen in many of the costumes or mentioned in lines of dialogue, like the scene in which the Short-Sighted Woman says she should wear blue and green clothes or when David mentions that lobsters are “Blue Blooded.” Lobster shells also being red, of course.

In summary, while The Lobster is a droll piece of storytelling lashed with grim humour, it also offers a rich, surreal take on modern relationships that you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere else. As for every moment that makes you laugh, there may be another that leaves you with your mouth wide open. In many ways, The Lobster is as much a black comedy as it is a slice of existential horror, glimpsing into an outrageous yet disturbing future, one that is truly a testament to Lanthimos’ brand of filmmaking and storytelling as he’s able to trump even the most outlandish premise and turn it into an accessible and engrossing narrative. Rating: low 8/10.

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Possessor (2020) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 3 Comments

Following his 2012 directorial debut with ‘Antiviral,’ Brandon Cronenberg, son of legendary sci-fi-horror director David Cronenberg, crafts a captivating sci-fi thriller with 2020’s ‘Possessor,’ a film that deals with heavy underlying themes of identity loss and sexual discomfort, all whilst displaying its story through some truly spectacular cinematography and lighting. And even though Brandon’s second sci-fi/arthouse outing doesn’t quite reach the high bar set by his father’s work, ‘Possessor’ is still more than successful as a surreal and layered science fiction flick with outbursts of strong, bloody violence.

Plot Summary: After many years of working as a corporate agent utilising brain-implanted technology to inhabit other people’s bodies and force them to commit assassinations for the benefit of the company. ‘Tasya Vos’ struggles to suppress her violent memories and urges, soon causing her to completely lose control when taking over the mind of a new subject, whose identity now threatens to destroy her own…

Debuting at Sundance Film Festival in early 2020, ‘Possessor’ has quickly gone down as one of the best low-budget releases of that year. Or at least this version of the film has, as according to writer-director Brandon Cronenberg, there was an alternate screenplay for ‘Possessor’ which drastically differed from the version that was released. So much so, that Brandon stated it could possibly become a second film later down the line, encompassing all of the material that didn’t quite make it into the first, which was primarily inspired by two pieces of media, the first being the 1971 novel; ‘Physical Control of the Mind: Toward a Psycho-Civilised Society’ by José Delgado, and the second being the short film: ‘Please Speak Continuously and Describe Your Experiences as They Come to You,’ written and directed by David Cronenberg.

Andrea Riseborough gives a fantastically cold performance throughout the film as ‘Tasya Vos,’ making it clear within only a few minutes that ‘Tasya’ is deeply suffering from the effects of her job, as each time she steps into the life of a new subject, she remerges different, finding it harder and harder to untangle her true identity from the one she just inhabited. And it probably goes without saying that as a sci-fi focused on entering other people’s bodies, the story does explore sexual desire/sexual discomfort, never shying away from scenes of: ‘Tasya’ being entranced with her new body after taking over the mind of ‘Colin Tate,’ portrayed by Christopher Abbott. Who also gives a superb performance as the unfortunate host chosen to execute the company’s assassination, continuously switching between two personalities before eventually becoming devoid of all emotion as minds conflict.

‘Possessor’s cinematography by Karim Hussain also rarely ceases to impress, as nearly every shot is both attractive and memorable, with many shots leaning into the narrative’s themes in addition to providing a closer look at the heavily detailed gore effects through an array of extreme close-ups. The innovative camerawork is also enhanced by the film’s terrific use of colour, as the lighting and colour palette swiftly alters from bright yellows to dark blues to eye-piercing reds. But this isn’t where ‘Possessor’s filmmaking peaks, as it can’t be denied that the film is at its best whenever it visualises ‘Tasya’ and ‘Colin’ mentally battling for control of ‘Colin’s body, as the film visually displays this interesting concept of a psychic battle on the astral plane through a range of editing techniques and creative yet strange practical effects. The scene in which ‘Tasya’ first enters ‘Colin’s mind is particularly astounding, as the film displays the fake bodies of the two main cast members, which then melt entirely into liquid flesh.

Many of the film’s bizarre visuals are also elevated to a great extent by Jim Williams’ original score, as ‘Possessor’s synth-esque soundtrack keeps the film’s eerie atmosphere present throughout the runtime, capturing the story’s surreal tone and constantly building tension through its atmospheric feel until we arrive at the story’s thrilling climax. My two personal favourite tracks; ‘Reborn in the Mind of Another’ and ‘A False Reputation,’ aren’t exactly distinctive, but both tracks do help tremendously in this regard.

The leading issue ‘Possessor’ suffers from is its lack of world-building, as supposedly the film takes place in an alternate version of the year 2008, but aside from one short scene where we see ‘Colin’s day-to-day job as a data miner, which does at least serve as a comment on the paranoia of corporate overlords and their nefarious activities, the world of ‘Possessor’ receives very little development and can often feel inconsistent when it comes to its technological advances.

To conclude, ‘Possessor’ is the perfect hybrid of sci-fi, character study and body horror. As whilst its lack of world-building and compelling side characters do stop the film from reaching its true potential, ‘Possessor’ (along with Brandon’s previous film), definitely prove that Cronenberg’s son has a talent for telling harrowing and violent stories, all the while never forgetting to integrate intriguing concepts and ideas. And with Brandon pushing for most of: ‘Possessor’s effects to be completed in-camera rather than with CGI, the two directors may be even more alike than I first thought. Final Rating: low 8/10.

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Black Swan (2010) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 2 Comments

Fantastically deranged at all times, ‘Black Swan,’ directed by Darren Aronofsky (Requiem for a Dream, The Wrestler, Mother!), is for many, the pinnacle of the director’s filmography, as the film’s combination of numerous genres soon evolves into an incredibly unique experience that leaps onto the stage in an effort to impress, with its gorgeous lighting, dreamlike atmosphere and occasionally grotesque visuals all elevating the film’s twisted tale of a dancer obsessed with achieving her dreams. And whilst the film does trip over itself once or twice, its faults are few and far between.

Plot Summary: When ‘Nina,’ a ballerina for the New York ballet company discovers she has been chosen for the lead role in the company’s production of ‘Swan Lake,’ she struggles to maintain her sanity as her rival dancers, eccentric casting director and obsessive mother twist her perception of reality, forcing ‘Nina’ to prove herself worthy of the duel role and be the example for both the ‘White’ and ‘Black Swan.’

Although the film was never marketed as such, director Darren Aronofsky has always maintained that ‘Black Swan’ is first and foremost a psychological horror film, as the story delves into themes of mental illness and obsession, in addition to displaying many graphic sequences of what is essentially ‘body horror.’ And yet, the film also somehow manages to never feel restrained to just one genre, which is what keeps it so compelling. This experimental nature might also explain why it took around ten years to be green-lit, as Aronofsky made many changes to the original screenplay in an attempt to get the film funded, with his original hopes for a budget of around £22 million being drastically lowered to roughly £9 million in the end.

The phenomenal lead performance from Natalie Portman nabbed the actress an Oscar back in 2010, and throughout the film, it quickly becomes clear as to why she won, as Portman flawlessly portrays ‘Nina’ as a committed and talented dancer being crushed by the pressure of the role she is undertaking. Portman even went to the extent of altering her voice (which had been continuously criticised by directors in the past for its childish qualities), as Aronofsky requested that for the role of ‘Nina,’ Portman would need to regress backwards and make her voice more child-like. Furthermore, Portman not only lost over twenty pounds for the role, but at least 95% of the dancing seen within the film was performed by Portman herself, with the professional ballerina Sarah Lane acting as her body/dance double for the complex en-pointe work. All of this is without mentioning the excellent supporting cast of Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Barbara Hershey and Winona Ryder, whose performances all add to the film’s surrealist feel.

Matthew Libatique handles the cinematography, which despite relying far too heavily on hand-held shots during some scenes, also makes for some truly astonishing visuals, at points, as the film’s cinematic lighting alongside the grand gothic influence that the film borrows from cult horrors and other arthouse films, most notably, the stylised supernatural horror; ‘Suspiria,’ released in 1977, grant the film a very distinct and striking look. Aronofsky’s trademark of camerawork also creeps its way into the film, as there are a number of moments throughout the runtime where the camera tracks ‘Nina’ from behind as she walks through various locations, giving the cinematography a great sense of movement, not too dissimilar to leaping across a stage.

The original score by Clint Mansell also suitably feels like a score composed for a ballerina recital, as ‘Black Swan’s orchestral soundtrack is mostly a variation on Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s ‘Swan Lake’ ballet, the only difference being that the notes are played backwards in a distorted manner. This makes the entire score feel very extravagant and almost overly dramatic, as tracks like ‘Nina’s Dream,’ ‘A Swan is Born’ and ‘Perfection,’ add to both the tragedy and beauty of the story.

As previously mentioned, due to its many scenes of graphic (and frankly disturbing) moments of mutilation, ‘Black Swan’ is far from an easy watch. As while the film doesn’t feature any ‘gore’ per se, all of the scenes of ‘Nina’s harmful acts towards herself feel more grounded in realism as a result of how minimal they are, with all of the skin-picking and dancing injuries she endures being reminiscent of a real disorder, known to medical professions as “Dermatillomania,” a disorder primarily related to skin scratching and/or skin picking.

In conclusion, even though many believe ‘Black Swan’ to be Aronofsky’s best effort, ‘Requiem for a Dream’ will always be my personal favourite film from the distinctive director as in spite of ‘Black Swan’s beautiful visuals and captivating narrative, the film also feels like it isn’t quite reaching its full potential, mostly due to its overuse of hand-held camerawork and unexplored characters and ideas. Regardless, this arthouse horror sustains its entertainment value, for the most part, and just like many other arthouse films, can be interpreted very differently from person to person. Final Rating: high 7/10.

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Maniac (2012) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

Directed by Franck Khalfoun (P2, I Lived, Amityville: The Awakening) and shot almost entirely through a first-person perspective, 2012’s ‘Maniac’ is a unique and extremely innovative slasher that has been enormously overlooked by fans of modern horror. While the film does admittedly have its issues, the impressive visuals and timid yet creepy performance from Elijah Wood surely make up for most of them, quickly resulting in a discomforting dive into the sadistic mind of a serial killer.

Plot Summary: After working his day job at a mannequin restoration store, the mentally ill and isolated: ‘Frank’ takes to the dark streets of Los Angeles as a serial killer with a fetish for female scalps. But when a young artist asks him for help with her new exhibition, ‘Frank’s obsessions begin to consume him…

Although it takes a different approach to its story, ‘Maniac’ is actually a remake of the classic 1980 slasher of the same name. However, this is one of the rare occasions where I believe that the remake is possibly an improvement over the original film, as while the ’80s flick does feature plenty of over-the-top gore, the film never manages to elevate itself from being just a fairly straight-forward slasher, and although it’s maybe not always successful, the remake does attempt to further develop ‘Frank’ as a character as well as exploring themes of mental health, parental ignorance and identity loss throughout its runtime.

Elijah Wood, best known for his role as ‘Frodo’ in ‘The Lord of the Rings’ series, portrays the serial killer protagonist, ‘Frank,’ as awkward and almost dry at points, making ‘Frank’ feel incredibly deranged when he interacts with other characters. Most notably, the artist and photographer, ‘Anna,’ portrayed by Nora Arnezeder, who is a clear contrast to ‘Frank’ in the way she portrays her simplistic yet likeable and innocent character, completely unaware of ‘Frank’s dark deeds as she grows closer and closer to him. The performances are slightly dragged down by writing throughout the film, however, as although the dialogue is decent for the most part, the film does still have the odd unusual line.

As previously mentioned, the remake of: ‘Maniac’ is also shot nearly entirely through P.O.V. shots and it’s this cinematography by Maxime Alexandre that really makes the film stand out from many other slashers. As whilst watching the film, you can’t help but feel the tension as ‘Frank’ goes on dates or has conversations with women who we know will soon meet a gruesome fate, as the audience is fully aware of his sinister intentions, the film almost makes you feel hostage to ‘Frank’s mind. That being said, the film does sometimes take you out of the experience when it leaves the P.O.V. format for a few seconds. While I understand why the film does this (as it’s usually at crucial points within the narrative). I personally feel keeping the audience restricted to looking through ‘Frank’s eyes would’ve made the film more compelling, especially since we don’t even see ‘Frank’s face until twelve minutes into the film.

Serving as a great throwback to the classic ’80s film it’s based on in addition to adding too many of the film’s best moments. The original score by Robin Coudert or ‘Rob’ as he usually goes by, is a synth soundtrack. Utilising electronic waves, this underrated score is certainly a high point of the film, with my two favourite tracks; ‘Doll’ and ‘Haunted,’ both being incredibly memorable in their own right, almost feeling as if they were ripped straight from any of the iconic horrors of the 1980s.

Extremely violent and disturbing throughout, ‘Maniac’ truly pulls no punches when delving into the mind of its serial killer, meaning many viewers may be put off by the film’s highly gory deaths and unnerving murder scenes. As ‘Frank’ disposes of his victims with little remorse, dark memories of his mother during childhood fuel his violent actions. This is also where many of the film’s more bizarre moments come into play, as although it may surprise some viewers, ‘Maniac’ is partly an arthouse film as well as a slasher, as the film’s underlying themes as well as ‘Frank’s broken mind is usually displayed visually throughout the film in a variety of ways. Unfortunately, this leads to the film’s weakest aspect, however, as during many of these anomalous scenes, the film’s editing can become quite erratic, sometimes even placing cuts mid-conversation.

In conclusion, I deeply enjoy ‘Maniac,’ even though the film is quite problematic in some areas, mostly in regard to its unusual editing choices and occasionally lines of strange dialogue. ‘Maniac’s memorable original score, intense violence and of course, captivating cinematography through its use of P.O.V. The film stands as definitely one of the better horror remakes in recent memory. And although I probably wouldn’t recommend ‘Maniac’ to everyone, if you’re preferred realm of the horror genre is gory slashers, then this inventive flick is certainly not one to miss. Final Rating: high 7/10.

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Serenity (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

A film I only heard about very recently, ‘Serenity’ is a sci-fi mystery written and directed by Steven Knight, best known for his work on the smash-hit television series; ‘Peaky Blinders.’ Although I thought the film looked interesting initially, it has received a lot of bad reviews since it’s release from both critics and audiences alike, so I decided I’d give it a watch and decide for myself.

Plot Summary: When ‘Baker Dill,’ a lone fisherman who escaped from his past to a remote island, meets with his ex-girlfriend, ‘Karen.’ She begs ‘Dill’ to save her and their young son from her new, violent husband by taking them out to sea on a fishing excursion, where, when the time is right, they can throw him to the sharks and leave him for dead…

The story and setting of the film definitely feel very fresh for this genre, mostly due to the film seeming like more of a straight drama at first before changing drastically later down the line. ‘Serenity’ also delivers its narrative in a very unusual fashion, editing between scenes at a very quick-pace. Keeping the story always in constant motion and placing small seeds leads to bigger reveals later in the runtime. Some of which only get small appearances for viewers paying close attention. Sadly, for these same viewers, the CGI on display here isn’t the most impressive.

Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway and Jason Clarke all give decent performances here, at points, however, they do feel a little ‘off.’ Whilst I’m sure this is intentional, as it fits with the film’s atmosphere, it can sometimes be distracting from the story itself. Particularly, I deeply enjoyed Jason Clarke’s performance as ‘Karen’s abusive husband: ‘Frank Zariakas,’ as here, Clarke portrays a completely different character than the ones we are used to seeing him take on.

The cinematography by Jess Hall is most certainly one of the highlights of the film for me, resulting in many beautiful and interesting shots. The film also uses the panoramic pivot point camera movement technique (spinning the camera around the actor) for many shots, similar to how the ‘Saw’ franchise does. Personally, though I’m not a huge fan of this technique, as it makes the film feel a little cheap. The cinematography also helps with many of the more emotional or tension-filled moments throughout the narrative of the film.

The original score by Benjamin Wallfisch really lends itself to the strange atmosphere of the film for the most part, aside from when the tension rises in a few scenes, as then I felt the soundtrack begin to feel a little generic and action-heavy. However, when you consider the twist at the end of the film, I feel the score could’ve taken some ideas from it into account, which would’ve perhaps made it a little more memorable.

When it comes to the editing, it can definitely vary, as in some scenes the editing can be a little messy or overly quick, for the most part, the editing is decent and the transitions between scenes are very effective. Even with the quick editing, however, the runtime is still overly long and could easily be cut down to at least an hour and a half. In addition to this, when the editing is combined with some unintentionally amusing writing, it can lead to some oddly comedic moments.

To conclude, ‘Serenity’ is a very different kind of film, it begins as almost a character drama before completely spiralling into its science fiction mystery elements. I can see that if you weren’t prepared for the change in direction, it may come across as very sudden and out-of-place. Soon becoming a film not intended for everyone, but with some great cinematography and some occasional impressive editing alongside an incredibly strange atmosphere. I personally found some entertainment value in this film, but not much. Final Rating: 4/10.

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