A Little Horror Fest for Myself (Part 2)

I spent a week in Tampa recently, doing the AP Language exam essay grading – which basically meant that I spent eight hours a day straight reading essays, for seven days in a row. As a result, my reading basically went to zero for a week – shockingly, my brain was a little fried by the time I got back to the hotel! – and I used the solo downtime as a chance to watch some horror movies, making a little weeklong festival for myself. So, without further ado, here’s a rundown of the second half of the movies I watched…

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I’ve really enjoyed all three previous features by Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead, a pair of independent filmmakers whose love of genre-bending entertainment allows them to throw together deeply unexpected elements – Lovecraftian monster meets Before Sunrise, sibling rivalry meets purgatorial cycles, etc. – into wholly unique films. But everyone is due for a miss along the way, and while Synchronic, the duo’s fourth film and their biggest budget/most mainstream release to date, isn’t a complete failure, it doesn’t quite live up to the standards of the other three movies. The premise is intriguing as anything, as a pair of New Orleans paramedics start dealing with the aftermath of a drug whose effects are truly surreal and inexplicable, only to find their own lives necessitating a dive into that drug to save the daughter of one of the men. It’s a lean, fun premise, and once the effects of the drug are seen, Benson and Moorhead use their budget well, creating wild worlds and visions that punch far above their weight class. The problem, ultimately, is that the thematic complexity the pair have always brought to their films doesn’t hold together here. Resolution was a film about the difficulties of endings in horror, serving as a meta meditation on storytelling; The Endless struggled with feeling trapped in your life and feeling the repetition of every day without hope of change. There’s no larger ideas in Synchronic to really grab onto, though – or, if they are, they’re not done with enough specificity to make the plot really sing out. It’s a fun watch, to be sure, and it’s done with style, but it definitely is the least of the duo’s efforts to date. Rating: *** ½

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I’d been told again and again just how wild and insane the 2019 Brazilian film Bacurau was, so the fact that what I got was essentially a pretty entertaining and off-kilter Western probably ended up making me feel a little let down by the experience. But that’s really not the fault of the film, which kicks off with a doctor returning home to her small village for the funeral of the town’s matriarch, and ends with a gleefully entertaining Udo Kier and a group of henchmen (more or less) taking on the village in a violent showdown for the ages. The result is a film that sort of slides between genres as it sees fit, opening as a sort of quiet international drama filled with odd touches (my favorite is the DJ who seems to be on hand to announce all events in the town, although the constant use of hallucinogenics in the town is probably a close second) only to become something a bit weirder (albeit maybe not as weird as you’re going to think) and definitely more genre-oriented. It does all this, though, while also being a film about colonialism and Western feelings about countries like Brazil, making those points clearly and strongly while never shirking from its genre payoffs. It doesn’t hurt that Kier hasn’t been this fun in a long time; he’s having a blast in his part, and given how much of the film needs that role to work, that’s very important – especially since he could easily have coasted on just being, you know, Udo Kier. Don’t get your hopes up for some surreal genre explosion like Save the Green Planet! or something like that, as you may end up disappointed, but if you’re up for a nicely idiosyncratic, oddball Western with personality and novelty to spare, you’ll have a lot of fun here. Rating: ****

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The Case of the Bloody Iris (known in its original Italian under the glorious title, What Are Those Strange Drops of Blood Doing on Jennifer’s Body?) is maybe one of the purest examples I’ve seen to date of the giallo genre – and in that, it’s also one of the most consistently entertaining and solid examples I’ve watched. In some ways, in face, Iris almost feels like a standard slasher thriller: a series of models in an apartment building keep winding up dead, and the obvious suspect (the omnipresent giallo actor, George Hilton) keeps turning up in ways that point to his culpability. Meanwhile, our heroine, Jennifer (the queen of giallo, Edwige Fenech) is dealing with her own trauma from her time in a free love cult, which adds sexual threat to the already physical threat around her. In other words, you have all the elements of the genre here – and does the killer wear gloves? Do you have to ask? But it’s all done with great tension and a winning sense of dry humor about itself, down to the comic relief police inspector who legitimately made me laugh often, and not at the movie but with it. As ever with Italian horror, the dubbing is odd, human behavior is a bit off kilter, and every woman is sexualized and then some, but all of that is part and parcel with the genre at this point. But as someone who is only gradually coming to embrace the giallo genre, Iris really worked for me – it’s entertaining, it’s solidly made, it’s suspenseful, and it’s all done with a sense of fun and oddness (the first cult flashback made me laugh out loud in its excess). It’s maybe the most archetypal giallo I’ve seen to date, but it’s also one of the most entertaining. Rating: ****

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Tongue-in-cheek “bad” movies are among the hardest movies to get right for me. So often, they lean into the cheese too hard, turning everything into a bad skit instead of something genuinely funny and engaging. There are exceptions – Black Dynamite is maybe the most obvious offhand – but more often than not, self-aware “bad” movies just leave me irritated more than entertained. Such is the case with Psycho Goreman, an R-rated mix of Power Rangers and oddball 80s monster movie that never quite worked for me as much as I wished it did. The premise isn’t a bad one – two young kids unearth an ancient evil and get control over it, only for the being – now renamed Psycho Goreman because it sounds cool – to push against its reins, often with gory, excessive results. At its best moments, Psycho Goreman finds the perfect balance of broad 80s family comedy and insane violence, whether that’s the slow escape of one of Goreman’s henchpeople, a desperate cry for help, or a fun musical montage accompanied by a couple of demonstrations of Goreman’s power. But too often, I found myself more irritated by the movie’s fake tone, getting the joke that it was going for but just finding it one note and tiring. I’m in a minority here, so your mileage may vary; for me, though, a couple of inspired moments aside (that cry for help really did kill me), it just didn’t do much for me. Rating: ***

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IMDb: Synchronic | Bacurau | The Case of the Bloody Iris | Psycho Goreman

Horror-Comedies: The Editor / The Day of the Beast

One of my favorite spoof movies of recent years is the amazing Black Dynamite, a send-up of blaxploitation films that works on any number of levels, but especially works as a love letter to the genre it’s parodying. From the specific niche references to the efforts to re-create the film stock, Black Dynamite shows its affection for/understanding of blaxploitation films not just as something they’ve sort of become aware of, but as people who are well-versed in the genre and love it in all of its strengths and weaknesses.

That seems like an off-topic introduction for 2014 Canadian horror film The Editor, but I bring it up because that film shows every bit the same level of detail, affection, knowledge, and love of Italian giallo films as Black Dynamite did blaxploitation, and the result is a dead-on re-creation of a niche genre even among horror films, which means this is a fantastic comedy for the very, very small audience it’s aiming for. Like a lot of giallo films, the plot of The Editor is basically impossible to recap; suffice to say it involves an editor on an Italian horror film who becomes implicated in a series of murders around the set, all while a police detective circles the crimes, the film barely holds together, and his wife’s affection barely holds on.

What The Editor is flawless at is the re-creation of the giallo film in all of its gloriousness and cheesiness. It’s not just the sharp visuals, or the black-gloved killers, or the objectification of women – it’s the slightly off-kilter dubbing work, and the voices that don’t entirely fit their characters, and the plotting that takes turns into the incomprehensible. And it’s full of homages for fans of the genre, even including a nod or two to Suspiria, the most famous giallo film that’s not actually a giallo at all but gets lumped in with the rest.

But here’s the thing: no matter how good the re-creation, hitting the same joke over and over again only works for so long, and The Editor finally ended up dragging for me at about the halfway point. Black Dynamite works whether you’ve seen the films in question or not, anchoring itself with a slew of absurd jokes and ridiculous performances. The Editor, meanwhile, tends to basically be the same joke throughout, and while there are some great moments along the way (the brief parts by Udo Kier and Laurence R. Harvey are both highlights), the film wore out its welcome for me along the way. (It’s also worth noting that while the female objectification is pretty accurate to a lot of the genre, that doesn’t make it a bit less wearying as the film goes along, especially given the hyperbolic use it gets here.) Now, if you love the genre, The Editor will be unbelievably in your wheelhouse (my giallo-obsessed friend adores it deeply); if you don’t know it at all, I’m not sure what on earth you’ll make of it. But for a lot of us, The Editor is perfectly made, but ultimately too long for what it’s doing. Rating: *** ½

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The hook for Alex de la Iglesia’s cult horror-comedy The Day of the Beast is a great one: a priest who has decoded the date of the coming of the Antichrist needs to figure out where the entity will be born – and thus decides that the best way to do it is to sell his soul to the Devil and work from within to destroy the creature. What follows, then, is the story of a very good man trying to do very bad things, with pretty mixed results, and that’s before he makes the acquaintance of an affable heavy metal fan and a purported television psychic, all of whom join in his quests with varying degrees of enthusiasm, belief, and free will.

The Day of the Beast doesn’t have a huge budget, meaning that it can be sparing in its horror moments, but it’s clear that de la Iglesia has a mind for horror, even as he never forgets to find the absurdity and silliness of his characters and his premise. Indeed, The Day of the Beast is less Evil Dead 2 and more Drag Me to Hell, with some dark comedic beats, a bit of an ominous mood, but anchored by a willingness to go for broke and embrace his situation.

The end result isn’t ever entirely a gut-busting comedy nor an intense horror film, but something that does both generally well, making for a really engaging and fun premise that entertained me greatly throughout every minute of its runtime. Yes, there’s a little bit of thoughtful world-weariness to one beat of plot, but by and large, this is a piece of horror entertainment done with a sense of fun, and it works like gangbusters on that front, whether it’s a man of God trying to psych himself up to kidnap people, a frantic fleeing down the outsides of a building, an angry confrontation with a conspiracy theorist, and more. And when it dives into its horror moments, it does so with a nice touch of the surreal and the unsettling, committing to the bit without losing its focus on character and entertainment. The Day of the Beast won’t really change your life; it does what it does well, without ever becoming something innovative or game-changing. But it’s a really good piece of horror entertainment with a sense of fun, and that’s something the genre often can lose focus on. Rating: ****

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IMDb: The Editor | The Day of the Beast

Brawl in Cell Block 99 / *****

With his first movie, Bone Tomahawk, director S. Craig Zahler made a name for himself, creating a compelling vision of the Old West before turning his True Grit-flavor abruptly into brutal and violent horror. It was a movie I liked a lot, even if at times I made the comment that it felt a little overlong and shaggy at times. And, to be sure, the comment could easily be made that the film feels intentionally disjointed and disconnected, but it still makes for an odd viewing experience.

But with his second film, Brawl in Cell Block 99, Zahler makes a huge step forward, creating something tonally unified, unfiltered, and absolutely effective. It’s unmistakably a 1970’s grindhouse revenge film tribute, but one that makes use of Zahler’s willingness to take his time in his films, letting the characters develop to make the payoffs all the more effective. And please trust me when I tell you that  the payoffs here are effective – but they are also brutal. At times, this makes the violence of Bone Tomahawk seem like a dry run; it’s shocking, horrifying, and undeniably disturbing.

But that’s fitting for Brawl, which takes the form of a 1970’s revenge film, more or less. It’s the tale of Bradley (Vince Vaughn), a man trying to get his life on track, but struggling to stay employed. Through a complicated set of circumstances, Bradley finds himself going to a minimum security prison, when something happens that changes his whole plan. (If it sounds like I’m being vague, that’s intentional; while this isn’t a plot heavy film, it’s best enjoyed relatively cold, to savor Zahler’s brutal and unexpected machinations.) That, of course, leads to the titular brawl…which lives up to expectations and then some.

But as much as the film’s violence is effective, jarring, and nightmarish, what lingers more than anything else is the mood of the film, which gives even the happiest scenes a feeling of dread and inevitability, and makes the film’s slow progression to its looming conclusion all the more intense. From the blue-tinted lens work to the lived-in feel of the dialogue, it’s not hard to feel that Zahler’s work has stepped up another notch from his already outstanding work in Bone Tomahawk, creating something even more intense and gripping.

For all of that, there’s no way to talk about the film without talking about Vince Vaughn, who may have never been better in a film than he is here. Gone is Vaughn’s usual swagger and ironic charm; his Bradley is a hard man, shaped by a troubled past that we only get hints of and the vagaries of a difficult daily life. There’s none of Vaughn’s usual motormouth tendencies, none of his ability to talk his way out of situations. His Bradley is all physicality – tense, dangerous, coiled. (It doesn’t hurt that Vaughn bulked up so much for the role; he’s big enough to seem like a threat that’s ready to pop at any moment.) And yet, we get glimpses of the man underneath it all; even as he’s doing horrifying things, there’s no joy in it, no savage delight – it’s just survival. That’s especially relevant, given how much Zahler turns the plot on Bradley’s need to protect his family; for all of Bradley’s physicality and violence, he’s a deeply loving man whose only priority is to provide for those he loves.

There are other great performances here – Don Johnson makes the best of a small role as a prison warden, turning a role that could easily turn into camp into something more threatening and hard – but truly, Brawl works so well due largely to Vaughn’s incredible performance here, one in which he fully commits to the part. That he’s matched – or forced into stepping up his game – by Zahler’s outstanding direction…well, that combo makes Brawl as good as it is, turning pulpy revenge into something more gripping, effective, and tense than it might be on paper. It’s not for the faint of heart, but for those up for it, Brawl is an absolute knockout of tension, mood, and performance. Just be prepared for what you’re getting into.

IMDb

Suspiria / **** ½

It’s taken me a long time to come around on Suspiria. The first time I saw it, probably 15+ years ago, I saw it knowing only that it was hailed as an essential and classic horror movie. What I got was bewildering to me; stylish and colorful, sure, but also nonsensical, unclear, and just sort of a mess. Then, a few years ago, I decided to give it another shot, seeing it on the big screen, to see if maybe I just had a bad first experience…but this time, a butchered and neutered print left me even colder to it, not really understanding any of the appeal of the film. To me, Suspiria’s popularity was bewildering; the script was a mess, the sequences often incomprehensible, the acting off-kilter…I just couldn’t get it.

But over the past couple of years, I’ve finally started to understand Italian horror – the style, the emphasis of mood and mise-en-scene over story, the focus on surreal and nightmarish imagery more than script or acting. It started for me with Lucio Fulci films, but there have been others along the way, including some more exposure to Argento. And so, I decided it was time to revisit Suspiria one more time, if I could find the right chance. So when the Belcourt theater in Nashville announced that they’d be screening the new 4k, uncut restoration of the film on the big screen, it seemed like the perfect chance.

And, man, am I ever glad I went.

There’s no denying that being more attuned to the rhythms of Italian horror had a huge impact on my viewing this time, as did realizing exactly how much – and how little – story I was going to get with Suspiria. Because, make no mistake, this is a thin, thin movie, in which a ballerina attends a school run by witches, and creepy things happen. That’s about all there is to Suspiria in terms of plotting, and yet, seeing the film in its full, uncut, restored glory, it’s hard not to get swept up in the nightmarish, intense setpieces. From a haunting pursuit that ends with creative use of a stained glass window to a blind man being attacked by his own guide dog, Suspiria shows off Argento’s knack for staging a sequence, and if it doesn’t always stand on the logic of the film or entirely make sense of its own accord, well, you’re certainly not thinking about that while you’re watching it.

But more than that, the colors – my god, the colors. Seeing Suspiria not just in a pristine  restoration, but in a restoration that made every single super-saturated color nearly pop out of the screen…well, it was a jaw-dropping way to see the film, one that frequently left me speechless at the imagery on display. It’s the ideal way to see – and to appreciate – Suspiria, a film that almost entirely relies on its ability to sweep you up in its saturated, hypnotic, strange world. (Mind you, the iconic score by Goblin does no small amount of work here, creating a strange, off-kilter mood that’s impossible to shake. It’s a bizarre, atypical score for a bizarre, atypical movie, but man, do they ever work well together.)

There are always going to be things about Suspiria that just don’t work for me. Even knowing how loose and shaggy the story is, there are big chunks of the movie that just feel silly and nonsensical, stretching the already tolerant boundaries of Italian horror to their breaking points. That’s probably most true in the film’s climax, a truly jumbled set of moments that feel like nothing so much as the film running out of time and hurriedly wrapping itself up so it could beat traffic. And even with the unbelievable style on display, part of me prefers the sleazy, go-for-broke horror of Fulci to Argento’s controlled, beautiful death.

But for the first time, this screening helped me understand what everyone loves about Suspiria.  It left me in awe of the iconic death sequences, unsettled by some of the intense mood setting, and absolutely floored by the beauty of the compositions. And more than that, it finally helped the film fall into focus not just as a niche art thing, but as a unique and fascinating piece of horror unlike most anything else. It’s beautifully, intricately composed, worried entirely about its visuals over its story (and even its scares), and absolutely, carefully controlled in its craft. And as someone who so often loves horror but finds the craft lacking, that’s no small thing.

IMDb