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Seen in the Cinema: 2013.
Seen in the Cinema: 2017.
Reviews
The House Next Door (2021)
Good family home cooking; something to sink your teeth into.
Blaxploitation, a hybrid of "black" and "exploitation", and holding parallels, in both name and context, from the exploitation film sub-genre. This style of film-making tends to exploit the current trend of topical Western popular-culture as seen as the socio-political point of the day, and in the case of Blaxploitation, this very much tends to focus on, since its titular tag-line being first penned in the very early nineteen-seventies, in and around the African American culture.
We see here in writers' Corey Harrell and Deon Taylor performing their art and bringing to life their individual interpretation of Blaxploitation in the guise of The House Next Door. This is, also, a new and refreshing complement to this sub-genre, with contemporary Blaxploitation films as They Cloned Tyrone (2023), Black Dynamite (2009), Undercover Brother (2002) and I'm Gonna Git You Sucka (1988) taking the helm. The House Next Door combines the horror genre that parodies, to a point, the 1972 cult film Blacula and the paranoia of the suburbs, as seen in The 'Burbs (1989) conformist's narrative and its threat via individualism and Fright Night (1985) adding to this theme of stranger-danger scenario.
The House Next Door is working within the constructs of the Blaxploitation genre; some call them clichés, and more to the point, stereotyping, of the chosen clientele. However, this is exactly the purpose this sub-genre asks for. Its all part of the masterplan of this genre, to precisely exploit its surroundings and to never take itself seriously, to more akin to the adage of "A truer word said in jest", here lies the undercurrent of The House Next Door, with its socio-political perspective of the normal-every-day-life and its challenges against the norm in the guise of the new neighbour and his swimming-against-the-tide of conformity; pimp-daddy is in the 'hood and now wants to covet your wife and daughter's. The House Next Door title, too, rings bells to the tune of The House That Dripped Blood (1971), The Last House on the Left (1972), House at the End of the Street (2012) and House at the End of the Drive (2014), for examples, and with this terraced property of comparable titles moves into a fine street of properties.
In spite of its poor theatrical box office reception what then may be seen as the death-knell for some, it can, in fact be a winner in other avenues. There are box office flops that went on to be popular in other mediums or even cult classics, such as the midnight movie The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), The Big Lebowski (1998) and Fight Club (1999), perhaps flopping just may give The House Next Door the injection it is worthy of?
The script here is tremendous; witty, sarcastic, mocking and extremely puerile to boot, and at times, contradictory adult in nature, it is this what gives The House Next Door is personality; The characters' its charisma and the whole production its charm. It all makes perfect sense within the context of the narrative. One may differ from this perspective, that, like Monty Pythons' Life of Brian (1979), there is a message that is both serious and made with such vigour of satire that you rather love it or hate it. Is Blaxploitation, i.e. The House Next Door, a fact differing of tastes due to insular-culturalism or can it be braced by a wider train of thought? It's all subjective, like all film genres in general; The House Next Door is a gallant contender to this family of its brothers and sisters. It simply does not take itself seriously, and is truly an enjoyable, funny film from the family of Blaxploitation that is more than welcome to the neighbourhood.
Dance Craze (1981)
Having fun is simply a case of Black & White.
Nineteen-seventies Britain timeline was an extremely bleak affair indeed; Trade Unions strikes, high inflation, ever increasing unemployment, power cuts and the Three-Day Working Week of Energy (Power) shortages, cuts and blackouts, the 1978-1979 Winter of Discontent, Trade Unions, Government conceding rule and being forced a General Election to the ruse of further Conservative rule in the guise of Margert Thatcher (1925 - 2013): this still does not comprehend deep-seated envy and prejudices with social-polarising and Nationalistic unrest of Xenophobic and racial and cultural indifference; In spite of the anguish, intolerance and social-unrest there came a guiding light, a differing kind of Movement, a new and refreshing musical tone that both publicised youth anxieties and in which, too, gave a fulfilling, up-lifting energetic escape from the up-and-coming, if not bleaker, nineteen-eighties; that working-class musical movement which was 2-Tone.
By the time the 2-Tone movement, via the rejuvenation of Ska and its own unique musical stant, had firmly rooted itself into British working-class youth culture its well established and musical partners had now turned to the medium of celluloid via Joe Massot (1933 - 2002) and the sweaty, dark, dank, smoke-laden, (spilt) beer dance halls, of a once Great, Britain circa 1980: Dance Craze, and its partners-in-multiculturism as The Specials, The Beat, The Bodysnatchers, The Selecter, Madness and Bad Manners firmly hit the Silver Screen.
There is only one collective noun to describe the vibe and sensation seen here and that is Family; Varied backgrounds and differing cultures, on and off stage, conjoin to give a high-octane close-up feel to the proceedings. A wonderful premise of the hand-held-camera interjecting within the personal zone of the performing artists is done with fortitude by cinematographer Joe Dunton BSC, MBE and shooting the arenas with the Steadicam on Super 35mm film and then blowing the whole shebang to a cinematic sensory overload on 70mm. There's just so much going on here; bands are a playing and the crowds are a swaying full-on and to the bone; the clean, crisp sound & imagery seen here almost feels like a 3-dimensional experience, along with the highly individual bands and personalities are an atomic particle of pure energy, stamina and viga and again, sweat and more sweat. The by-words here is most certainly youth and youthful; and most definitely not wasted.
This growing generations musical-mentors are taking their audience to the limits of the high-rise towers and urban city council estates to the days of UB40 sign-on's with attitudes and triads of unemployment, working the factories, the class system, violence, racism, social conformity and British working-class culture; call it musical realism with a backbeat to dance and jive to.
Having the privilege of seeing the blown-up Superscope 70mm version in its first ever re-release, since its first-run in 1981, at the 2011 Bradford International Film Festival (England) with a Q&A after the event from Mr. Dunton himself and the historical memoirs and the attempts of plugging the film for a major distribution was an evening worth the wait after all the years; happily, the full assault of mass media release finally came to fruition in the Spring of 2023.
The pessimism pushing through the bleak realities of the lyrics of this particular British timeline is captured wonderfully and is a more-than-fair representative of the times of a Britain in turmoil and social decline; the future does not not look bright for those who live the realities of the sung lyric. Messer's Dunton and Massot show all that with, sadly, unfortunate negative undertones having to lead up to the event of Dance Craze one can simply forget, for just a brief moment, the trails and tribulations of cynicism rightly bought to a head by music, fun and dance.
Halloween Kills (2021)
Was it murder or simply suicide?
Peaks & troughs in all walks of life may indicate that there are those regarding merit and those that throw away the possibility of redemption. Regrettably, this chapter of the Halloween franchise is deeply entrenched in the depths of the deepest trough.
The 2021 instalment has wavered all accountability of any respective form whatsoever whilst this devil incarnate clings onto the coat-tails of its elder siblings; Being less an individual more a doppelgänger that storks the backstreets in one-dimensional form only.
We are endured to an interwoven timeline of past & present that perpetuates the cycle of life & death of those that reside in the hamlet of Haddonfield, Illinois. The interaction of retrospective reflection works well and does highlight its past glory, but, alas, this poor substitute seems more an akin to an adoptive sibling than an authentic family member.
The reprisal of past members gives a nostalgic taint to the proceedings that, finally, gives a sense of closure. If one is dealing with both past & present, then so does any merit toward all characters' here; the void is filled of both the yesteryear and contemporary with much so differing in charisma, charm and talent. The differences in both Messer's Carpenter's and Mr. David Gordon Green's personification of character persona are that todays, contemporary, character simply cannot cut the mustard when charm, personality and depth cannot propel the narrative to any serious diction; bringing the latest chronicle to a mimicry of cringeworthy idiocy. This does not help the proceedings with poor edits, and a very low-brow script and low-value production sets that, given, also, the lack of Mr. Carpenter's original score only anesthetises both viewer and narrative.
Conceptually, Halloween Kills is a good idea but is extremely poorly executed; like Michael Myers, churning out the same old routine, the whole effect now has become an experience of a watered-down and an unoriginal staid bore. Not one redeeming feature, in all departments, on both sides of the camera, are worthy of merit; the dire acting is highlighted by poor editing and the production value brings the quality of overall direction knocking solely on Mr. Green's door.
The fundamental contrast here is that both 1978 and 2021 films are, in principal, at either end of their respective timeline, different animals' per se, albeit, tone, texture and character development, amongst others'. And using the mixture of both decades, we see that the tone of the film, today, comes across as a lack of intellectual context, insomuch as the complete lack of intrigue and that main Hitchcock ingredient: suspense.
Through time dignity has become eroded within this genre and turned itself into its own victim, slowly killing itself with each and every compromise of anticipation, uncertainty and mystery over pure sensationalism of the thrust of the knife. Regression of imagination and quality in all aspects within Halloween Kills is evident in todays standard of this genre; simply adhering to today's audience by exploiting the golden age of the slasher genre and making it its very own; The prodigal son has returned, but what face lay behind the mask? Has he purposely squandered his family's bygone inheritance simply to satisfy his own goal?
Lead Me Home (2021)
An American tale.
Homelessness; the scourge of society and the hardship of those unfortunate to suffer this social-disease. The 9th of January 1933 was a poignant moment in the world of homelessness as George Orwell's book "Down and Out in Paris and London" was published; an undercover exposé of the rough-sleepers, tramps and vagabonds within these two cities, minus the tents but doss-houses and back-street life alike.
Today, and in particular, here, the States of California and Washington, in the United States of America, these concerns for the destitute are ever more relevant as fatefulness within a system of capitalism, plutocracy and the proceeds of a banking system, housing market and health care takes no prisoners. The tip of the iceberg. An undercurrent of unjust and unfavourable statistics that blight good-society and deliver hopelessness to the unfortunates. Lead Me Home is here to shed light on a dark underbelly of American culture gone oh-so-wrong.
The independent body The National Alliance to End Homelessness is committed to thwarting and ending homelessness within the United States makes claim that by January 2020 some 580,466 people were suffering homelessness in the USA. Pedro Kos and Jon Shenk have linked three West Coast cities (Los Angeles, San Francisco and Seattle) via the form of oratorical description and visual enlightenment, from those living this lonely road, rather than the medium of literature. We see them all here and for differing reasons; narcotics, family tragedies, ex- veterans, the mentally ill, health issues, abuse and those who have fallen from the conventional lifestyle due to predicaments out of their control, giving their heart-felt account of, as the disenfranchised, sat front-of-camera, a wanting evaluation to a higher social standing; a home. Security. Worthfulness. And rightly so.
This short feature dwells more on the visual narrative that we see, in contrast, to those living their conventional lifestyle in warm, safe environments such as homes and apartments, living their daily lives; whilst the clear reality of the oratorical description deliberates on the tent-cities of skid row. The contradiction is subtle, but, also, is its underlined visual message; those who have. Those who need.
A pro-active stance is undertaken by said Directors'; we bear witness to the NIMBY (an acronym for Not In My Back Yard) mentality that shows how this conventional lifestyle, this comfortable lifestyle, chooses to become indifferent, to be ignorant of the woes and reason of this underclass when a Shelter is proposed near homes of those wanting to turn away from the street-life. No help here, move along.
The combination of all narratives, attitudes and conclusions are as dividing as they are uniting in their stark message. This contradiction is also a plight of contemporary thinking and an echo of how societies have always been to those pushed out, fallen through or simply dropped out of conventional society. With a soundtrack to elevate the visual of overhead shots and up-close-and-personnel monologues there is a tenderness of conveyance of the dire predicaments of these human beings. Each having a backstory that shocks and oozes empathetic alarm. Short in stature is Lead Me Home but the message is both deep and far reaching; Down and Out In Los Angeles, San Francisco and Seattle; An exposé of an American tale.
Just Beyond: Leave Them Kids Alone (2021)
Teen spirit smells like this.
The rebirth of the teenager after post World War Two and the subsequent creation of Rock n' Roll during the mid-nineteen fifties gave this new, contemporary, phenomenon of youthful adolescence the time, the resources and the angst to rebel against that contradicted its form of identity and free-will. It is here, with Leave Those Kids Alone, that mid-fifties youth culture has fast-forward to 21st century woes and the same-old-rope of generation-gap confliction and bringing fresh teenage apprehension of world issues as environmental trepidations has spread the wings of the 21st century teenager into a world larger than its own self-importance; rock n' roll has finally grown up.
Veronica is a sprightful young teenage girl whose aspirations go beyond the perpetual cycle of growing pains of childhood and whose youthful spirit transcends into individuality and expression of free-will within the realms of independent thought. Withstanding the clashes of ageism, from all perspectives, set alongside this youthful mindset, sets the theme of hegemony against autonomy and the system that constitutes to these opposing opposites. The system, departing from the primary system of Home, the epicentre of nature versus nurture, it is the secondary system of education, the system of nurture rather than nature that Leave Those Kids Alone sets its scene. The all-girl school has the best of the worst in rebellious attitude and we are shown how its writers' have used this environment to perpetuate this dilemma of both nonconformity and indoctrination to the point of seeing the indoctrination of a much deeper, and sinister, social programming of a homogenous society.
The Production setting predates the contemporary train-of-thought; no one seems to know exactly what Vegan is and the girls' Flip Bob hairstyle most certainly goes back to an era of dated norms; sex, race, styles and education, albeit, rebellion never gets stale. The overall concept shows a smooth visual narrative that given first impressions all is polished and refined; a ploy of the Production to entrap its viewer into a world of comfortable-compliance. The whole set-up is a trap to enhance all participants to the feeling of tranquillity of a system that only addresses the dark side of thought control and dominance over fledging minds. The timeline of the concept of social-control has raged through the millennia and its forms of rebellion has entered many forms; protest, art, the written word, film, styles and music; Leave Them Kids Alone has shown the way in which a political system pushes its agenda and, in particular, how, to taint the girls' personality with ideology and their resistance to this dogma; there just may be a breakthrough at the end of the tunnel, to the tune of song.
The current theme here is freedom of choice and the ways in which Mr. Webb has illustrated his visual theme of the undistinguishable is rather disturbing. It seems that as Veronica is thrusted into this new training programme it is her actual parents' that can see the faults around them, question them as they do; ultimately, in the end, they have become too timed to act and immune, sterile and dulled to the fact that all around lurks an underbelly of a sinister agenda; all for the greater good? This equates to Veronica also, pulling no punches to express her new-found-agenda of mass protest, and her seemingly naïvety to save the world, at her own expense, she, too, in her naïf, but commendable, way is deaf, dumb and blind to how exactly the wider world works. The paradox here is the fact as she tries her personnel agenda it is really a case of it is not what is done but in the way in which it can also be done that that placed her in the further-education programme; the same but different?
What is of interest here is the use of the two main themes of teenage importance; hair and music. Hair and music, within the youth culture, are the extension of personality and symbolism of rebellion from the norm. The writers' have used this symbolism on uniformed hair styles, and dress, to perpetuate the battle of individuality. There are many youths' sub-cultures that have adopted their own brand of hair style; punks, teddy boys, skinheads, heavy metal and New Romantics for example have all personalised their hair and the way in which they wish to be perceived, too, songs and theatre plays have addressed Hair as a form of uniqueness; the 1967 stage play "Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical", The Who's 1973 "Cut My Hair" and "Get a Haircut" by George Thorogood & the Destroyers, in 1993, for example. It is important to understand that the unvaried style here goes beyond face value. We are seeing the clone effect of both mind and soul through a system of oppression. Leave Those Kids Alone is more than a title it is a frank warning to unclip the wings of free-will.
The unclipping of wings has a second ally; Music. We see during the opening sequence many young heads wired for sound and Miss Genevieve's school has banned music from its repertoire. Leave Those Kids Alone seemingly, allegedly, may takes its title from the British 1979 protest, anti-school, song "Another Brick in the Wall Part 2" by the British rock band Pink Floyd where the "children" sing against a system, where they dispel the "...thought control...", of a meat grinding homogenous education system. Music here, too, is much more a tool against a system of repression. Rock n' Roll has been used here to subjugate the evil that men do and to inform, enhance and release the naïf mind from its supposedly caged state; The message of Leave Those Kids Alone? The essence of Rock n' Roll.
Godzilla vs. Kong (2021)
The bout of the century; with added canned heat to push the agenda.
Sold as the bout-of-the-century, this clash-of-the-titans opening credits seems more akin to a WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc) world title bonanza with all the hype and smoke & mirrors of extreme and hardcore moves to pull in the given target audience. It is here, that Godzilla Vs. Kong makes its appearance within this arena, adapting to a wide, or paradoxically, possibly a narrow, contemporary audience that holds its bated breath with excitement and anticipation. Holding one's breath whilst waiting for the great finale is not a particularly good practice and certainly not recommended; If one were to hold one's breath, we'd be holding-out until time eternal and with no contention of a second bout in sight.
We are being sold a one-way ticket to this extravaganza that leaves its reputation only in the visual, and pumps less iron where needed declaring that it is not how you start, but how you finish. The neutral positions of both contenders start with chest beating and erupts into facebusting plancha's and lariat tumblr's that releases tie-up after tie-up.
Comprising a higher percentage of action than diction, this is an easy road to glory when the Titan's rumble with the ethos of never giving up, never backing down and never losing faith; until the bitter end. Unfortunately, it will be how we shall best remember this bout and all that unravels around the ropes and bouncing off the turnbuckle's set at close quarters within this squared circle of celluloid; everything else is fodder and inconsequential.
Where strength and weakness conjoin here is the calling timeout of throwing in the towel of the abysmal, easily deposable ticker tape character development and any substantial plot. What are, exactly, are these parties achieving to enhance the narrative? Sadly, any screen time by Ms. Bobby Brown and her subplot adventures only ridicule's the tensions of the main event; whilst not to demonise her onscreen charisma, her dropping from A-Show to no-show B-Show here only disappoints and deflates any warranted tension; too, with the conjuncture of babyfaced Kaylee Hottle and Mr. Skarsgård for example, at best, simply add tedium and both hit the ground with a heavy bump that echoes throughout the whole debacle. The aphorism of less is more, albeit with an international cast, may have been appropriate to the overall quality of the narrative.
Within the, alleged, universe of the WWE, we are driven to the point of understanding that what we see is not necessarily what actually is: we came; we saw; we understand what our senses are being cajoled into believing that all is good and all is beyond the superficial. Understandably, too, this is where the parallels of the WWE and the celluloid bout of Godzilla and Kong merge. Beyond the cheap pops of smoke & mirrors, the hype and striking visuals, the target audience are left with two options of believing in what is seen will leave its mark or believing that the whole experience shallow and void of a missed spot and dusty finish.
Tag der Freiheit - Unsere Wehrmacht (1935)
Broken promises: Broken peace.
The date being the 28th of June 1919 and the declaration of the Traité de Versailles; a Peace treaty that brought about the end of the Great War of 1914 - 1918. Part of the Treaty of Versailles, and also in particular the Paris Peace Conference of 1919 and 1920, had Britain, France, the United States and Italy setting the terms of the political, domestic and financial domination of the German state, was that they, Germany, were to, both, relinquish any existing armoires and to hold-back any further building and stock-pilling of future weapons; out of the ashes of war the Weimar Republic is born.
The Weimar Republic was officially laid-to-rest by January nineteen thirty-three and the sea change of European politics once more was altered; the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei had truly taken hold of a new Germany and its new doctrine saw a new threat, a New World Order, of dark clouds looming over the horizon. The 7th of March 1936 saw the newly elected party dare to push the boundaries and flex its muscle toward the big-four by daring to reoccupy the demilitarised zone of the Rhineland as this region of Europe had been out-of-bounds to any form of German military. The purpose of this manoeuvre was simply to test the mettle of the big-four and thus, possibly, engage Europe into war once more; Britain, France, the United States and Italy were silent. The opportunity to re-establish the authority over a weakened Germany was ignored and never took; silence spoke louder than words to the National Socialist German Workers' Party.
With this newfound confidence came the extravagance of propaganda that was the highly imaginative filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl (1902 - 2003). Commissioned to rework a publicity shoot for the disgruntled Wehrmacht, being given less screen-footage in the previous 1934 "Triumph des Willens", this newly produced feature's purpose being to raise the profile of the German Wehrmacht of Land, Sea and Air.
Filmed on German Armed Forces Day at Nuremberg, Germany on the 10th to the 16th of September, 1935 and titled the Reichsparteitag der Freiheit (Rally of Freedom), ironically, the Nürnberger Gesetze (Nuremberg Laws) were introduced here. Albeit a short affair of less than thirty-minutes, we see here, the military rearmament had now fully matured and once more Ms. Riefenstahl master of artistic-technique making its mark with intriguing silhouettes and foreshadowing the thought of military might as Deutschland Erwache; both literally and metaphorically.
This self-proclaimed strength of force is all smiles and grandeur with those viewing from the high-branches, grinning like over-excited children on how much has been, and too, to be, achieved. Leni Riefenstahl has captured a time of military opulence with her pioneering imagination of the use of tools that aids the viewer to witness the mock battle and the flight of the German phoenix passing over the vast crowds dwarfed by polarising flags of exploitation; this really is the vision of the future.
Tag der Freiheit - Unsere Wehrmacht is short in length but not stature, military parades are time immortal and proclaim no new goals throughout time but to show and flex one's muscle to adversaries. This snippet of history is a not a comprehensive piece, because of its running time constraints it can delve into ambiguity; lacking in any true detail of merit we are left with a story that holds no beginning and no end, whilst not an empty experience, far from it, we are left with a very unnerving look into a machine that is primed & ready; Deutschland Erwache. The nightmare begins.
Ladies Who Do (1963)
The Eagle has Landed.
Under the surface of this fascinating culture of opposing opposites of post-World War Two lies a more sinister tale of contemporary Social Cleansing in the guise of corporate greed and indifference. This is simply more than a battle of social grading where, here, the A's and E's live within their individual stratosphere but Ladies Who Do project's a culture clash between high-stakes business and proud, and to an extent, naïve, English proletariat working-class.
This quaint amalgamation of English society concerns methods of progress and the struggle of a stagnation and inertia to change and adapt to better and further, to transcend, one's quality of life; the principle message within this narrative is freedom of choice.
Peggy Mounts' Mrs. Cragg is a Charwoman, a cleaner by trade, an extremely strong-headed woman, and this, too, is the point of the film's essence. Throughout the film we see an all-female power-base, remember, these middle-aged housewives were the backbone of the English war effort, when, some twenty years hence were working in the munition's factories, as Land Girls and other tasks that could not be maintained by the husbands and sons; This build-up of resilience shines with a determination from inserting a script that points not to a meek, menial stratification of the lower order but a self-belief and self-determination of almost militant attributes; to take on an enemy from within their own borders; Peggy Mount portrays her Mrs. Cragg with single-minded gusto up against the symbols of capitalism, and it is here that this free-spirited woman brings this conflict of interest to the forefront of a corrupt self-serving system that tires through battling techniques of bullying, bribery and bulldozers to control and relinquish any form of self-determination and choice.
Free will; pride; self-respect; camaraderie and once more, freedom of choice is the backbone that fights against a tyranny of oppression here; ironically, ladies making their luck, to help fight their cause, to legitimate money via the London Stock Exchange with the help of The Colonel, money makes money and information is wealth says he; Free will to capitalise on one's luck and to stand one's ground against those who wish to capitalise from the E's.
An exceedingly high-calibre British cast as Peggy Mount OBE and Miriam Karlin OBE et al bring about a division of narrative of a social spectrum that shows a seriousness here to the funny side of the seemingly condescending attitude toward these ladies. They may warrant comments as being naïve, simpleminded and unsophisticated but to only assume these labels is ignorance in itself; the irony is loud and telling; ladies, too, who are helping to put a man on the moon.
Prognoza pogody (1983)
Revolution can never wither.
To quote the late Terry Patchett (1948 - 2015) who once said: "It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it's called Life.", and it is here, within the celluloid walls of Prognoza pogody that we see exactly this; A tale of Life.
This is early nineteen-eighties Poland, where the old and infirm are seemingly cast aside within the confounds of an old-peoples' home, it is with these same elderly inhabitants' that have experience of the worst atrocities for both country and its war-generation; this is a country that has been in the cross-fire of major political and social reforms for many decades which has seen its people suffer from the likes of Nazi rule, Communist regime, the "Polish road to socialism" and its, in the later years, workers' protests in the nineteen-seventies. Writer Marek Nowakowski (1935 - 2014) and director Antoni Krauze (1940 - 2018) have bought the tale of Polish history up-to-date in this 1983 film Prognoza pogody.
In the onset of a harsh winter, a somewhat dilapidated building is housing a bleak and grey group of meek senior citizens that fear the worst when they witness a collection of coffins being delivered to their abode in under the cover of darkness. On this premise of certain death, they flee in the night and set-off for dear-life into a world of uncertainty. This fleeing to uncertain safety is more than a contradiction in itself, but a pure and simple reflection on life and the tide of death that waits for no man. Prognoza pogody is a life affirming experience and this bizarre, and at times surreal, journey of life is a road trip that turns the tide of foreboding and brings about a spiritual transcendence of nostalgia and deeper thoughts of achievement and regret. The wilderness of the Polish landscape brings memories of youthful times and the loving reflective escapade of bygone years brings the viewer feeling empathy with these older generation of Polish history. Their zeal for rejection of the final curtain is tantamount to what they have craved and fought for during their lifetimes.
The unique sound of an old eastern European soundtrack is given by Mr. Zbigniew Preisner and with the Cinematography of Mr. Krzysztof Pakulski and the film being shot entirely in an environment of rough fields, cold streams and hostile waiters and heroin addicts, and more importantly, a growing and rebirth of a new Poland that contrives and sets the old against the new that gives this self-efficient troupe a charming respect for a Polish heritage that still, after its varied and illustrious background, holds onto the flow of life's qualities flashing before their eyes.
The Invisible Man (2020)
Less Is More:
H.G. Wells' science-fiction story of the man who becomes all invisible was first published in 1897 and has had many facelifts and adaptations to this enthralling conception. Many have imitated Mr. Wells' legacy in all manner of saga and concept that have run along this timeline of science-fiction endeavour.
Writer and director of this contemporary adaptation of invisibility is brought to the big-screen by Mr. Leigh Whannell and it is more to the point of, throughout the years, how one justifies its uses and wants. Mr. Whannell has, here, seen to have gone for the psychological abuse and violent domestic perspective, and particularly toward female-dominance through the act of bullying and oppression of self-worth and ego. Could this simply be a case of a metaphorical viewpoint of mental torment seen through the eyes of this wretched soul due to a vain, malevolent man or a more sinister case of jealous lover cum exploitive, mad scientist?
We lay bare the facts that whatever the premise for the torture and madness this is most definitely a tale of both.
Ms. Elisabeth Moss' exemplary and unmitigated portrayal of the abused and Mr. Whannell's rendering of the old classic science-fiction fable here comes Vis-à-vis with the exposé of a chilling and somewhat disturbing insight into the world of paranoia and exploitation. The experience witnessed is wild and tense throughout and with each passing moment the intensity of doubt and reasoning becomes a visual nightmare for both recipient and viewer. Each tell-tale sign playing on the mind of the protagonist; looking but never seeing; present but never being. A downward and inward spiral sets the tone of an antagonist that drives this bitter battle to its central core; control, or simply addressing the element of losing control. A fine paradox of vision with the insight of Director to envisage a cruel world that is more often heard but never seen.
The Invisible Man is a scolding parable of two worlds that collide and intertwine with love & hate. This shrouded rendition shows the scathing contempt of personal space, dignity and respect. It is a train wreck of nerves and bitter sweet retaliation that holds its breath until its final gasp; we are eyewitness to a high-octane and sensational amalgamation of a modern disease via the workings of Mr. Wells' original concept with a stellar performance of its leading lady. This is quite the optical illusion of less-is-more.
Secret Santa (2018)
Black hearts amongst white snow.
Christmas comes but once a year, and within this year of prolonged absents of family trivialities one may just use this time of abstention to mould past angers, past resentments and embittered grudges; time here is certainly not the healer of festive cheer.
An examination of an unsettling character study of a family gone awry during this festive period of togetherness and tolerance is set against a family reunion that besets the inner circle with bitter hostilities and sour truths. It is quite frankly a boiling-pot of frustrations and indifference to any form of respect and love toward one another; these blood-lines have been severely severed during time and this winter solstice celebration of Christmas tidings have reached the equinox and irreversibly tipped into a state of perpetual darkness.
This disturbing dark comedy has a rich, if not too seemingly cliché, contemporary, and most notably, fractured, middle-class nuclear family at its epicentre and with a varied personality clash as the middle-classes values and moralities we see a notorious and foreboding nucleus imploding resulting in old and fresh wounds opening with a vengeance.
The writers' here have prepared a wonderful dish of an evil and sardonic flavour that cuts with a fervour of pure malice; the essence of hate and jealousies convey an ambiance of uncomfortable resilience of portraying what exactly lies under the surface of this family get-together. Notwithstanding the diverse cast of characters, it is really the script that hits home and does its utmost to deliver a plentiful feast of derision, scorn and contempt. It is more than a dialogue but a central nerve that teeters on the brink of insanity; sharp, focused and predacious in nature.
The team of Mr. Robert Kurtzman and Ms. Marcia King-Kurtzman have added a palate of equal measure of gore to the festivities, pushing a strong combination of horrific sights and wonting violence. It is all fitting in very well in conjuncture of said vicious script and its violent sequence of events that push home the narrative of how much integrity can both inflict pain and relief anguish. To paraphrase the old adage that "many a true word is said in jest" or that truth is often found in comic utterances is that drives its agenda.
This is an exceptionally cruel and unpleasant film to watch, notwithstanding, and not necessarily because of, the bloodshed but simply because of this feuding family. The grinch like tone has come and taken the spirit of Christmas and turned this festive mood into a moot point of family ethics and tolerance.
The Christmas horror film genre has come a long way since the days of Scrooge (1951), Black Christmas (1974), Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984), Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale (2010) and Mercy Christmas (2017) for example, it is all a varied style of Yuletide horror, and being a mixed bag of festive frights, all this fun and frolics only add to the delight of Santa's secret bag of goodies: enjoy.
Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker (2019)
A puncture wound that deflates any resemblance of hope.
An empty shell of an experience that flows into, and through, a universe of its old style of plagiarism bringing a low echelon of excitement and without great direction of plot and script. There is nothing refreshing and impelling to bring the viewer to a captivating thrill. Fresh out of the box as Richard E. Grant (General Pryde) and Dominic Monaghan (Beaumont), and some, too, tried & tested stalwarts of past vigour's, exhume eye-watering inadequacy in extended persona or charisma and only divide a myth into a mirth of poor casting.
The shebang is topsy-turvy with new faces that don't gel and old players and creatures being regurgitated with the likes of Billy Dee Williams (Lando Calrissian), Harrison Ford (Han Solo) and Ian McDiarmid (Emperor Palpatine) to hold the fort of a bygone era and to perpetuate the legend of Hope. The addition of Olde world players only condenses any credibility to bring a slight wave of nausea that should have really have been left to the past in the, once again, bygone era where integrity and respect still hold. This feels too misplaced and the rejuvenation of past character's only weathers the experience to a cringe worthy bemusement that concludes the proceedings of crossing the "T's" and doting the "I's".
The relationship of the leading lady of light and her dark nemeses (and within each oozes volumes of personality, charisma and intrigue between them, their personality, albeit from both sides of the screen, are a credit to the Star Wars saga) brings, now, only an entourage of stale narrative and lacklustre performance of once romantic and visionary heights; its all too short a conclusion within the stretch of timeframe within this latest chapter; this thin-on-the-ground finalé that, it feels pushed and condensed to only befit this last phase of the two opposing opposites.
With the lack of wiz-bang set against the best of CGI, there is a deep contradiction that has hastily crept in this ninth episode, while visually stunning, we seem to have been fed a bland adventure, and the rotten apple at the bottom of this barrel, that is most certainly, and importantly, the final adventure. This entire ninth, and excluding the final two previous epic exploits, just feel tired, flat and punctured. Sadly, the epigraph, the writing on the wall, will, here, be always engraved as the film that not only lost its voice, but misplaced its tour de Force.
Redneck Zombies (1989)
Appetite for creation.
Redneck Zombies; The wonderful and exuberant epitome of low Z budget production and the will to create a very explicit film from the zombie genre to combine the rural attributes of hillbilly culture that executes both fields to a high level of capability and extreme hilarity and horror.
Examples to this Z movie subculture can be seen with cult classics as "Plan 9 from Outer Space" (1959), "Attack of the 60 Foot Centerfold" (1995), "Who Killed Captain Alex?" (2010) and "The Creeping Terror" (1964) to "Manos: The Hands of Fate" (1966) and the list goes on; it's a fantastic list of low-brow production, in all aspects, and a self-determination to want to, simply, create celluloid prosperity is commendable. Produced by Full Moon Pictures and distributed by Troma Entertainment (the Godfather of independent film production and distribution, founded in 1974, by Mr. Lloyd Kaufman and Mr. Michael Herz); and it is in this collaboration between film and distributor that we have this delightful backwater romp-in-the-wilderness caper.
Radioactive waste is ineptly handed over to the local redneck community and its content inadvertently added to the ingredients of the local brew of moonshine. Thus, in the proceedings, turns tippler into, even more so, brainless, ravenous zombies which perpetuates into a blood-soaked, flesh eating run-for-your-life bloodbath. This production is more than just horror, what we have here is a visceral debasing in the form of parody, stereotyping and satire of unsophisticated poor farmers' lifestyle and culture.
What oozes along its main artery is the fact that this is quite the rib tickler, where we see characters having fun performing this operation, what with it lampooning of its subject indeed, there are certain looking ad-libs, perhaps, going on here and this adds to the hilarity and fun. There are real individual character's here and they only add their own unique blend of appetite and individuality to the proceedings. It all adds up to a fine line-up of actors who bring good taste and flavour to the fore.
The technicolour yawn of the film's DNA, the films makeup and on-screen psychedelic special effects, are for what it is here; quite effective and exceptional. The team behind this psychedelic passage of transformation from the living to the undead and beyond, has expressed a palate for surprisingly imaginative surreal cinema, considering the films expense account. Don't be fooled by its ironic humour, this is a very serious contender for lovers of gore and flesh-ripping shock-horror. The effects are tremendously realistic and done to a degree of respect toward this genre; there is enough Kensington gore, guts and raw mince-munching to adequality fulfil any gluttonous, carnivorous appetite.
Zombie Rednecks has a voracious mean streak of humour and horror and considering its contents, this is certainly no recipe for disaster. It's a possible acquired taste as we tuck into its main course, but, those of a nervous disposition may wish to try another restaurant; vegan perhaps?
Jumanji: The Next Level (2019)
Too many snakes and not enough ladders.
Carrying on from the preceding chapter, we are now immersed within the next instalment that is Jumanji: The Next Level. And what a linear level this is. After the overall outline, and outcome, of the interesting first period we are succumb to a rather dislodged affair of what, at best, can only be described as a Kentucky Derby of low standard, puerile and noticeably immature game to catapult this embarrassing farce; To enthral is target audience that, as seen, has now dropped to a lower age of understanding that this witless wonder is demeaning of any sense of wit and imagination. This is not merely poor execution of script, at its very core, it is at a level that does not hold its audience in any regard for its art; lazy is too cliché at best, this is a level of the lowest form of direction and experience in film.
Once more, we have all the four friends of the previous quest cantering along in the frolics of a new adventure; a new game and fresh locations and each being mixed and stirred with avatars that are based on, and around, their last gathering, at least.
It is in this new gathering that we see the dreary four and we bear witness to a small group of friends, who lacking in chemistry, charisma and charm, produces simply too little screen presence here to fill the audience with delight and wonder; it's all a tedious affair, even to the point of adding new faces to the game, Messer's Awkwafina, Glover and DeVito, and their respective personalities', cannot pull this from the quagmire of its astonishingly dull script and poor lacklustre avatar building disaster. There simply is no true aura, no honest connection amongst this new mindset between the players; What was once had is now, regrettably, misplaced and removed. Age has most certainly refused to gather pace but placed a regression of personality and having receded into childlike banter and juvenile charade. Already, by the second level, this has promptly turned into self-parody.
Time to Remember (1959)
Time to Remember: S1 Ep6: "1916: The Better Hole".
This stock footage makes grim viewing, whilst not unpleasant but giving a harsh reality of trench warfare as its most vile, whereas not so much archive material but being historical film memoirs, in part during 1916, of a time when the world was at war, from 28th July 1914 to 11th November 1918. We see the common soldiery surviving, suffering the water-filled, rat-infested trenches of Europe, the deserts of the Middle-East and beyond; marching ankle high in squalid, unhealthy settings of mud and death.
We see the British propaganda of pomp and ceremony of flag waving, crowd cheering pageants and support of the British Empire among the streets of England and the appreciation of the returning soldier by dignitaries and alike. It is all part & parcel of the industry of conflict, all necessary in keeping with the flow of this perpetual war. Such a short film it may be that contains more than sufficient legitimacy to drive the message home of its horrors, its dead carrion rotting in the fields, its relentless waste of human life.
"1916: The Better Hole", (the hole referring to a foxhole, bombed-out piece of land or trench that soldiers would hide, take cover for self-preservation; Find a better hole and your chance of survival may broaden) is essentially an anti-war film that depicts war, for the common soldier, stating from both sides, as a purely wasteful experience and meaningless endeavour.
Filmed with a narrative of a view of a Man who has experience and on hearing his accurate viewpoint of what war, and how war can only bring disenchantment in its purpose. We hear his account of a telling of foreboding and recognition of the consequences of warfare and its ripple effects, its butterfly effect, of a wider stance within its realm both on the field and at home.
It is all very dark in its message, and rightfully so, the images of this Great War packs no quarter and the verbal narrative, by English actor Stanley Holloway (1890 - 1982) ("This Happy Breed" (1944), "Passport to Pimlico" (1949) and "The Lavender Hill Mob" (1951)) asks for no pity or forgiveness. This is a Man who has come home and has seen a wider world and all its fortitude of his fellow men falling on the way-side on the battle fields of Europe; time to cry havoc the dogs of war and let slip the atrocities of mutilation and death.
Der Sieg des Glaubens (1933)
Echoes from the past:
"Here is a Party-Political Broadcast By The Nazi Party.", albeit through the medium of cinema rather than, then, and having a very elite ownership, of television. This is the beginnings of a relationship of cinema and the art of propaganda in a New World Order of populist dogma of the 1930s in the newly appointed NAZI Germany.
Written, edited, produced and directed by the imaginative and inventive filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl (1902-2003). Der Sieg des Glaubens is the first film of a Reichsparteitag (Reich Party Convention) for the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (National Socialist German Workers' Party - NSDAP) filmed on and between Wednesday the 30th of August to Sunday the 3rd of September 1933 at the city of Nuremberg, Germany, that concerns and projects their right-wing ideology; though the major party rallies had been an ongoing occasion since 1928, this being the tenth year anniversary of the creation of the NSDAP, it is here we see for the first time a Reich Party Convention being filmed.
The reasoning behind the first shooting was that by January 31st 1933 Adolf Hitler, leader of the NAZI party, had then become the official Chancellor of Germany and with its feet of the NAZI party securely through the door, it was time to reach further afield and project an image fitting for the Deutschland volk that is befitting for both people and party.
We bear witness to its rhetoric of Volkskörper (people's body - national body or a form of homogeneous within a contemporary context) with the delivering of the message of Blut und Boden (Blood and Soil) and a people divided is now a country united as one; regardless of class, position and bearing. Its all very illuminating of a jingoistic New World Order with its tens of thousands of disciples and its endless processions of flag-waving, saluting, cheering and marching to form a solid, perpetual, mass of sycophantic wave of obedience and control. This is the films pure essence at its epicentre, to enthral and to captivate its target audience and bring it to its knees. Image here is particularly important, the art of the visual image and the manipulative methods of the medium of cinema is now reaching its zenith. Masters' of manipulation indeed.
With this in mind, Victory of the Faith comes with no spoken narrative over the course of the film, and has only delivered dialogue through the spoken word of Hitler, Röhm, Julius Streicher (12th February 1885 - 16th October 1946) et al. This has the fatal mistake of coming across as a rather tedious affair, minus any spoken narrative we are left with just the musical score of Herbert Windt (15th September 1894 - 2nd November 1965) and very repetitive sequences of marching and Standard bearing Hitler youth, SA troops and SS legions set against the backdrops of city streets, open fields and stadium. With only the speeches to break the silence of fatigue.
Founder and leader of the Sturmabteilung (SA: Storm Detachment/ Storm Battalion) Ernst Julius Günther Röhm (28th November 1887 - 1st July 1934) died from execution during Nacht der langen Messer (Night of the Long Knives) after false allegations of a Röhm Putsch and betrayal toward his friend and ally Adolf Hitler (20th April 1889 - 30th April 1945). And it is this event that makes Der Sieg des Glaubens such an important historical document within the NAZI time frame.
Leni Riefenstahl, during April 1934, came to England bringing Victory Of The Faith with her, on the theme of discussing her filming technique and in doing so inadvertently gave way for someone to make a duplicate. For after the murder of his long-time friend, Hitler ordered that all copies of this film be destroyed, to literally wipe Röhm out of the Germanic history books and from all past and future existence. They had succeeded, concerning this film, until the 1990s a duplicated version had been discovered in England and is now the only surviving print.
This one and only print of a time when the NAZI party was entering its second decade shows Hitler and his entourage at its most belligerent toward a new Germany and romantic side toward its fallen comrades during the first world war. Fifteen years after the Great War we stand as observer to the grudge bearing animosity and the reasoning toward the New World Order of the Third Reich. The people lap it up, albeit under duress, voluntary or fear. This is only going to end in tears.
To accompany this film at least two non-fiction writings are worthy of note, each one with personnel insights, and experiences, to this era: "A Hitler Youth: Growing Up In Germany In The 1930s" by Henry Metelmann (25th December 1922 - 24th July 2011) and "Travellers In The Third Reich: The Rise Of Fascism Through The Eyes Of Everyday People" by Julia Boyd. Der Sieg des Glaubens is seen, then, but not for all, as an optimistic venture in the eyes of ordinary people; but this came, on reflection, at a cost too severe for all and on understanding its philosophy through this extremely serious and dangerous film, we should be, ironically, grateful that this piece of European history is, once more, readily available to examine, to re-examine, the mindset of this Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei doctrine.
Terminator: Dark Fate (2019)
It feels it does little else but hold its breath when having something to say.
Who would have thought that thirty-five years would pass since the original blockbuster science-fiction film "The Terminator" (1984) and that we would be watching a reboot of the Terminator franchise? "Terminator: Dark Fate" (2019) conjoins alongside "Terminator 2: Judgment Day" (1991) and thus leapfrogs across the timeline to the present with what we see here with "Dark Fate".
This latest edition to the extended family is a fair attempt to travel into the future and project a whole new angle on a fresh face of cinema goers. This is new-generation progressiveness to both enhance and perpetuate the "Terminator" franchise and it has done a fine job for the millennials' to enjoy and consume. The future here is bright and no doubt shall be very reproductive.
This new addition comes out screaming and shouting great effects and action, with an all-female lead that brings this triplet baby shower to a wonderful level of liberated vigilantes. We see Linda Hamilton reprising her role as "Sarah Connor", who brings an edge of maturity and guidance to the proceedings, that only a touch of tough-love can bring. While we have the irrepressible Mackenzie Davis, as "Grace", providing strength and determination to assist the survival of the youthful and inexperienced Natalia Reyes who plays "Dani Ramos". Three generations of ladies playing their irrespective roles in the hierarchy of knowledge and experience makes a fine combination and drives the adventure to new heights with each player serving one inevitable goal of a global responsibility.
Theoretically a road movie that plays as a high-octane survival trip combining superb fist-fights, vehicle destruction and every inch not being wasted in the visual theatrics. The only bugbear here is that without these visual sweeteners there really is not much left to ponder within the context of the whole. It simply is that, a road movie of great expectations but it can seem a little too convoluted in parts when all else has been proven, said and done that it feels it does little else but hold its breath when having something to say. Nonetheless "Dark Fate" is a weighty attribute within the Terminator family and with each passing addition we look forward to seeing how this partner shall grow and develop.
The Bone Snatcher (2003)
A forerunner of things already past.
South African born Malcolm Kohll (b. 1953) and Gordon Render have co written an exceptionally exciting film, with the assistance of director Jason Wulfsohn, that may be the outsider when concerning big names, big budgets and big distribution but this collaboration has brought about a tight and thrilling ride indeed.
Shot within the vast sprawling desert of Namibia and the city of Cape Town, South Africa and using a strong, charismatic and competent cast, we see this most definitely not about to be boxed in simply because of its lack of significant backing. This is confident filmmaking in the guise of imagination of script and strength of cast set against not only its open landscape but its concept of narrative and special effects.
Minor's find a strange large mound within the baron wilderness and upon further investigation, unwittingly release a hungry bone-absorbing creature and thus a cat-and-mouse game of survival pursues. Its a highly claustrophobic atmosphere where the effects of the creature bring a form of high-tension and this makes for great cinema. Perhaps films such as this may seem unfancied, but is in great company as "The Last Bullet" - 1996, "The Hunt"- 2012, "Airborne"- 2012, "The Horseman"- 2008 and "Miss Monday"- 1998 for example, that these fine thoroughbreds are from a respectable, and reputable, stock; all very unique and highly recommendable for value of entertainment and production.
"The Bone Snatcher" is in the running for all of the above, with commendable attributes that teeters on the brink of paranoia, in the vain as John Carpenters' "The Thing"- 1982, substituting an Antarctica for desert, and a gripping tête-à-tête between viewer & screen. There is plenty of flesh here to pick your bones and this particular production shows itself to be a big picture with a not so small heart.
I Bought a Vampire Motorcycle (1990)
It pulls you in. Then sucks you dry.
Films such as this, simply made and at low cost, can go either way as to insult your intelligence or titillate your senses of fun and humour. This particular genre, the British independent film genre, is taken to lower levels and with good company such as "Psychomania" aka "Death Wheelers" (1973) that rolls along with Nicky Henson, Beryl Reid (1919-1996) and George Sanders (1906-1972), joining the shenanigans "Come Play with Me" (1977) has Mary Millington (1945-1979) jumping on more than the band-wagon, too, Johnny Vegas and Mackenzie Crook in the half-baked "Sex Lives of the Potato Men" (2004) and the whiter-than-white "The Calcium Kid" (2004) delivered to us by a young Orlando Bloom making an all too disinvite crease in this celluloid bargain-basement bin genre.
It's all been done before; the highest example for this accolade is the winning team of the exceptionally successful English comedy franchise the "Carry On..." films (all Pinewood Studios shot) spanning thirty years (1958-1978). For decades this British tradition of slap-stick, innuendoes, double entendre and low-brow wit regurgitated as it may feel never feels drawn-out but is highly additive cinema indeed; it's a language all of its own.
"I Bought a Vampire Motorcycle" is no different, but it tries its hardest not to excluded itself from this pile. It fits into all the niches that brings this into the fold. On the surface this comes over as rather unsophisticated and that is exactly what it is. It holds no punches set against its downfalls of low budget production and simpleminded script. Saying this, this does not make for a poor, dull and unoriginal score. Bearing in mind its premise is extremely original and this is its draw and fascination.
A British Norton Commando motorcycle inadvertently becomes the harbinger of death and commands a thirst of a bloodlust that brings laughs from the bottom of the barrel to casually float to the top with the classic British one-liner technique. While not smutty, its sarcasm and target-audience clichés hold up the lowest common denominator and delivers its strength and keeps the stakes deeply pushed into the heart of this quirky little motor with a few nuts & bolts of its own to give this production a slant of personality.
To surpass beyond the pale of barrow-boy antics we see that the pièce de résistance is most definably the art of the cameo. Here we see film and television personalities as Burt Kwouk (1930-2016) "The Return of the Pink Panther" (1975) etc, "Tenko" and Ed Devereaux (1925-2003) "Skippy" plus a unusually cast, but a undeniably surreal highlight, Anthony Daniels "Star Wars (1977) as a trike riding priest to raise an eyebrow of intrigue and surprise.
This is certainly a film of night or day, with such a captivating title as "I Bought A Vampire Motorcycle", it draws you in to entice you to its curiosity. Being what it is, it holds no pretentious misgivings as to what you are getting. You may reach the fork in the road and on seeing this you may, you can, then decide if you were humoured or simply taken for a ride.
Joker (2019)
Cognitive dissonance: It will either make you or break you.
New York, during the latter half of the nineteen seventies and tipping into the nineteen eighties was financially bankrupt; an explosion of destitution, crime, immorality and insanity. This feature, within "Joker", has its parallels within the realm of a New York city that we see here set against an old crumbling fictitious Gotham City, ruined, too, by bankruptcy, crime, immorality and madness. This, unfortunately, is the home of one Arthur Fleck. A man that leaves very little mark on his surroundings and all those he meets. He's a man who supports both himself and his aging, dependent mother through work as a party clown; putting on a happy face. His councillor and many medications say otherwise.
He's a man stoical in his ways. He's a man who travels by bus. He's a man who, still, lives with his mother. Arthur Fleck is a proletariat of a nondescript nature. Arthur Fleck is a victim. Arthur Fleck is both lonely and insane.
Born of frustration, this alienated soul has befallen prey to cruel indifference from a society that leaves only a pinprick of light at the end of this very long, dark tunnel but at the same time, this very same soul, leaves an indelible speck of growing self-pity and grudge bearing resentment toward oneself and for those who reject, pour disdain and derision to those who grasp for the light. Only darkness pursues within the mind of one Arthur Fleck.
The world of Arthur Fleck is perpetuated by an eerie soundtrack throughout this film set against the grating, monotone effect of Ms. Hildur Ingveldar Guðnadóttir's (b.1982) haunting violoncello as too Arthur Fleck's own lifebuoy of classic and contemporary tunes to render or pacify his state of mind. This leading composition of soundtracks' and inner signature tune conjoins beautifully with the visual production of the films landscape. Here we see, hear and feel for this poor, lost soul. It is here, in a Gotham that is unforgiving we see the final phase of this man's inner sanctum finally crumbling around him; his cognitive dissonance hits hard. Extremely hard. Reawakening as all that he sees, hears and feels.
This premise, in part, though very slight, but recognisable, has a parallel to Paddy Chayefsky's (1923-1981) disillusioned, but also reawakened, character "Howard Beale" played by Peter Finch (1916-1977) in the 1976 film "Network", Arthur Fleck, too, is "...I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore...".
This too can coincide with the films reference to Charlie Chaplin's (1889-1977) 1936 feature "Modern Times" by comparing Arthur Fleck to the feckless and bumbling character known as "A Factory worker". No matter how hard he tries, all is in vain.
This context of this feature may run alongside the "The Joker" universe, the universe that is D.C. proper, but this portrayal runs wider here to a degree that "The Joker" as an individual, an arch nemesis of good and more central to the Gotham elite and to be judged by the company that he keeps is unique and separate within his individual universe. Here Arthur Fleck, now "Joker", is a sum of its parts, here he is more than representative. He is everyone. He is symbolic of a society that understands and empathises and experiences' his woes; they too are "...as mad as hell...and not going to take it anymore...".
With the assistance of Messrs Phillips, Silver and Mr. Phoenix alike this character study, and social introspective, of a downward spiral into self-destructiveness is, once more, more than a sum of its parts; It is beautifully shot, the colours and texture that run across the screen, the defining musical personas, the personalities within these back alleys and mean streets, its sociological perspective more than blends atmosphere and tone it catapults the whole hypothesis into a stark and extremely bold cautionary tale of the delicate line of how culture, of how civilisation can seemingly implode but that the last joke just well may be on us all.
Toy Story 4 (2019)
Fourever friends:
Number 4 has its moments that children will find funny, amusing and delightful, grown-ups will know and understand its deeper and wider implication of the narrative to see that this simply goes just beyond cuteness and cuddles. If you're unfamiliar with Toy Story and this franchise it all started during the last millilumen and the year 1995, then the second instalment fell into our laps in 1999 and subsequently propelled into the new-age for number three in 2010, and now, 2019, this fourth adventure of friends and frolics has hit the Big Screen and being produced by both Pixar Animation Studios and Walt Disney Pictures.
Throughout the franchise's history its main projectile has been to convey the lifelong traits that come with companionship, camaraderie, ownership via family, trust and love. All fitting attributes to enlighten, educate and entertain through the medium of cinema. Number 4 is no different, but we are aware that this is, so far? the final addition to this tetralogy and has further significance within its framework.
There is a story here that portrays all of the above, expectedly, and we see the usual gang, of course, and there are a few waifs and strays adding new personas to freshen and lighten the mood along the way; wonderful stuff.
With this course of action, we see a new generation and their love all all things that those young at heart love best; toys and toys as playthings.
This is the charming and underlying journey that stands out, as too, the perpetual theme throughout, of the toys as they hit the road to a new adventure; Roads are long and roads are never ending. It is this journey that Woody & co. find reason, faith and belief not only amongst themselves but within their own strength to take a wider responsibility and to broaden their own individual horizon. A fortitude to encourage those young of mind and to evaluate for those of a road further trodden; A journey, a story, fit for all, including grown-up, kids and toys alike.
Hell Comes to Frogtown (1988)
Things have moved on since the period of What The Butler Saw machines.
The world is in turmoil, anarchy rules and the population are divided into two gene pools, that of the remaining survivors of atomic fallout and the new race in which evolved from the atomic bombs; amphibians; part human, part frog.
This low budget double-entendre has Sam Hell (Roddy Piper, 1954-2015) as super-stud imprisoned by the ruling female government and sent on a mission, chained from the groin, to rescue and impregnate the fertile young ladies held captive by the mutant frog king dong.
It's an erotic breed of road trip across the sterile wastelands of desolation with the exotic C.O. Spangle (Sandahl Bergman) and lustful guard Centinella (Cec Verrell) who just want to jump on Hell's bones. You show me yours if I'll show you mine.
There are slight, very slight indications, and an unintentional nod to Hell Comes To Frogtown via the parallel universe that is "Mad Max: Fury Road" (2015), maybe this is all coincidental, as they say in film blurb disclaimers, the slight similarities are a little too recognizable to see "Fury Road" judged on its own merits. A road once before travelled, perhaps?
The nineteen eighties spawned a generation of, now classic, movies that may now appear antiquated, but they have most certainly gained faith through time, films such as "Killer Klowns from Outer Space" (Stephen Chiodo, 1988), "Class of Nuke' Em High" (Richard W. Haines, Lloyd Kaufman, 1986), "Demons" (Lamberto Bava, 1985), "Street Trash" (Jim Muro, 1987), "Brain Damage" (Frank Henenlotter, 1988) and "The Toxic Avenger (Michael Herz, Lloyd Kaufman, 1986) and Hell Comes To Frogtown is of no exception; all are siblings in their own highly individual merit and part of a large and respected happy family.
Hell Comes To Frogtown is funny, its quirky, its cheesy and it is a real scream. Notwithstanding its low budget demeanour, it works and fits well into this genre and is very much worth a peep if this makes your compass point north.
Ad Astra (2019)
The space between us:
Space; the space between us. The space that divides us. The space that we use to keep our distance. The space that pulls us together. The space that unites us. This paradoxical concept of nothingness that fulfils the need to pull toward, or divide against, one another is forever constant within this concept of James Grey and Ethan Gross' space drama Ad Astra. Space, albeit the cosmic, interstellar void of deep space here, could very easily have been translated into desert, ocean or continent, but it reflects well with the metaphor of division that there can be only one belief that is space; space as a vessel to reconnect.
Ad Astra's theme here is connection, or more simply, reconnection with those that are lost or abandoned. This feeling of loss starts very early on when we see the wife placing her keys on the table and walking out, for the final time. Roy McBride has concerns; his wife has gone and he assumes his father has come to an untimely end whilst surveying the outer ridge of the solar system searching for extra-terrestrial life whilst the earth is being slowly destroyed by power surges from deep space.
The magnificent backdrop of interplanetary opulence perpetuates and excels this disconnection in which brings about loneliness, despair and madness. Its all a very interesting design that has glimpses of past space exploration as Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968) and not too dissimilar to Coppola's "Apocalypse Now" (1979), substituting space for continent here and with themes of isolation and madness. The imagery is second to none and befits, and contradicts, the tiny, insignificance of human existence against this limitlessness of time & space. Here lies the paradox within the narrative, while we witness the protagonist and his father reconnect, albeit for differing reasons, it is only with deep, and final, parting that they both become truly father & son once more.
This true enlightenment of the human spirit that our protagonist dictates throughout forms an inner conclusion that brings about a self-awareness amongst, and against, this vacuum of both inner and outer reaches of the soul and space. Ad Astra is simply more than a voyage of the body, it is an inner voyage of consciousness that comes about when all may appear at their lowest, their most despairing and, too, reassures that all is not lost, all is not solitary.
It Chapter Two (2019)
Wanna play a game of Tag, You're It?
Gary Dauberman, as Screenwriter, has done a tremendous job of reworking and revitalising Mr. King's novella of a very naughty clown that comes out to play once in every twenty-seven years. This, being the second instalment of a double-bill, with the first chapter being released in 2017, but, both here is an amalgamation of the exceedingly atmospheric television movie (1990) of the same name.
It Chapter Two starts off twenty-seven years hence when our miniature heroes are fully grown-up and each having spread their collective wings and fled the roost that is small-town Derry, Maine, USA. Except one. The one, that is, recalling, reclaiming the flock to honour the oath that was once committed to each other twenty-seven years previously.
It Chapter Two has the best of both worlds, a schism if you will, in this, we see, more than simply a telling of the horror genre. We see horror in many aspects here, as expected, but what is interesting is that we see, also, melodrama, nostalgia, responsibility, reflection, guilt and deeper, more concerning adult themes of forbidden love, bigotry, sexual phobia, sexual repression and suicide and all within a strong context of friendship, honour, loyalty that builds into a framework of parallel worlds of the horrifying Pennywise and the bonds that were the young children of twenty-seven years back to concatenating old memories and events from the middle-aged adults.
What, too, exemplifies the charged atmosphere is the wonderful work from Checco Varese (cinematography) and all involved with Direction from Andy Muschietti to the many that gives here a more than spellbinding array of visual delight and astonishment. This is simply a gripping visual display of imagination and fortitude bringing together good & evil within one single conceptual chef-d'oeuvre.
With the illustrious Mr. Hader, the charismatic Mr. McAvoy to the distinguished Ms. Chastain at the forefront there is a significantly strong cast that bounces off each other projecting charisma that gives the film a wider sense of personality that examines the element of both youthful and older cast together. While we see the charm of Mr. Skarsgård and his goading of the main players, it is all here, and their respective parts that are more than the foundations holding this piece together.
It Chapter Two is no circus. This is all out, all unforgiving horror, on many levels, and within its fabric there lies a clown and its prey, once more: all grown up.
Bohemian Rhapsody (2018)
A tale of opposite sides of the spectrum; joyful & menacing.
You've bought the t-shirt. You've bought the album. You've bought the concert ticket. Now you can buy the film. This skimming the surface of the interpretation of this English band through this latest medium goes through the simplistic motions of a well written book; it has a beginning. A middle. And an end. But here, Bohemian Rhapsody contains all three aspects of the qualities of a well written book, too, but in its final execution it lacks true depth, true insight and true understanding of exactly how this band lived and survived within the harsh realities of the music industry itself. No secrets here.
Queen disbanded after their final performance together on the 9th of August 1986 (Knebworth Park, England) and officially after the sad death of their charismatic, extrovert lead singer Freddie Mercury, birth name Farrokh Bulsara (5th September 1946 - Sultanate of Zanzibar: 24 November 1991 - London, England) to HIV AIDS. Bohemian Rhapsody, with good intentions, is a fantastic film, the operative word here being "fan". The concern with biopics is that they can tend to be simply that, a fan-based narrative to straightforwardly not engage the pros & cons of the whatnots of said artists' but to entertain and, more importantly, to perpetuate the image, the myth, the legend and the coffers of those involved; If you make it, they will buy it. All well and good, to a point, if you understand the difference of entertainment and education; the difference between biopic and documentary.
"Bohemian Rhapsody", written by Mr. Mercury, for the 1975 album "A Night at the Opera", is more than simply a track on a 70s rock album, its significance, its impact, its relevance, both musically and culturally, has connotations way beyond its six minutes of diversity and complexity, and here, with the work of Mr. Singer, has extended the image, the myth, the legend. This amusing fable, this sad tale, this exposé of a casualty of abundance delves into the murky waters of human relationships; betrayal, jealousy, anger, self-worth, identity, loneliness and ego.
This is not the story of one band, this is, first & foremost, the story of its frontman, Freddie Mercury. We are to witness a fleeting glimpse, and feel, once more, a connection beyond the passing of this public figure, an empathy to his course, an empathy because of his course, like so many of his kindred spirits. We delve into his struggle with his proud parents, his bisexuality, his homosexuality, his working, and departure, within the band and ultimately his love, his soulmate, for Mary Austin (b. 1951).
Bohemian Rhapsody certainly shows the sordid side of how people can become lost, not only within themselves, but as human beings, but there is also hope, reconciliation and family too that are projected along the narrative here, sending a message that amongst all that is rotten there is always love & family. This is an intriguing retrospective of contradictions interwind with both joy and tragedy of a time when four men came together and became not only kings of their profession, but an inspiration fit for a Queen.