Review: A Cure for Wellness

Year: 2017
Director: Gore Verbinski
Screenplay: Justin Haythe
Starring: Dane DeHaan, Jason Isaacs, Mia Goth

Synopsis is here:

Subjected to understandably mixed reviews, as well as the relatively dubious release date of February, Gore Verbinski’s A Cure for Wellness may suffer from periods of stiffness, yet showcases its director as a peculiar and ambitious visual stylist who’s willingness and enjoyment in creating macabre moments often goes unpraised.

Since The Mexican (2001) Verbinski has happily suggested that his work is a little off the beaten track. A touch askew of the conventional direction. Especially in a visual sense. The prime example would be the third Pirates of the Caribbean entry, which merrily decides upon flirting with the surreal with Jack Sparrow trapped in the cheekily absurd Davey Jones Locker, after playing a losing hand with a Kraken. The strange, Burton-esque vibe pulled off by the sequence, almost feels as if someone laced parts of the fantasy swashbuckler with LSD for a laugh.

When not subverting typically standard fare like quirky rom-com The Mexican (2001), or children’s fantasies such as the Chinatown tinged Rango (2011), Verbinski clearly shows a love for all-round darkness. Mark Kermode is always quick to note the depressing tone set in Pirates of the Carribean: At World’s End, where proceedings start with the hanging of an innocent child. However, in looking at most of the director’s work, it’s clear that this is a filmmaker who wishes to walk the dark path. Consider the serial killer bookend from the American remake of The Ring (2002), which was cut before theatrical release. Verbinski is nearly always looking to work a bit of edge into his features.

This brings us to A Cure for Wellness, which cheerfully smashes together elements of gothic melodrama, sci-fi and mystery and binds them with distinctly macabre visuals. It leans towards the likes of Shutter Island (2010) and Shock Corridor (1963) yet also seems to hint at the likes of The Ninth Configuration (1980). Verbinski brings out all his visual tricks here, delivering distorted horror film angles and wrapping them in in an absurd plot which plays notes on anti-capitalism, incest and new alternative medicine all the way to foreign mistrust and of course insanity. The film plays most of these parts fairly well, with many scenes giving off a disturbing sense of unease. This includes one particularly gruesome moment, in which those with a phobia of dentists should stay clear from.

Where A Cure for Wellness fails is the same thing that Verbinski often stumbles on: economics. With a hefty running time of two and a half hours, A Cure for Wellness fails where something like Crimson Peak (2016) succeeds; the usage of time. Verbinski’s storytelling always has a way of loading a running time in such a way, that could easily be an effectively lean chiller now becomes a beautiful, but ungainly distraction.  Once we get to the films slightly over-egged climax, we release that Dane DeHaan’s selfish trader protagonist was never really that compelling to really engage with. We should, however, give three cheers to Jason Issacs (Hello) however, as the film, much like Netflix’s frustratingly shallow The OA (2016), is a tremendous showcase for his continuous good work. Hoorah.

Review: Crimson Peak

Year: 2015

Director: Guillermo del Toro

Screenplay: Guillermo del Toro, Matthew Robbins

Starring: Mia Wasikowska, Jessica Chastain, Tom Hiddleston

Synopsis is here

Crimson Peak, Crimson Peak, where the women are strong and the men are weak. Guillermo Del Toro’s English language ode to his Spanish language gothic drama, is an opulent, female driven beast that leans more towards Jane Austin than Ju-on.  

Wonderfully carried by a spirited Mia Wasikowska performance, this gullet slicing melodrama is something that will likely frustrate those who fell for its dubious horror-only marketing guff. The approach from the studios has appeared to be so incorrect, that the director himself had to reinforce his intentions beforehand.

Such is the linear view of movies these days, I wouldn’t be surprised that people went into Crimson Peak expecting The Conjuring. I don’t believe many expected heavy references to the literature such as the likes of Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca (famously adapted by Hitchcock in 1940 and gloriously highlighted here by a deranged Jessica Chastian performance). Nor do I feel that the so called “average audience” was interested in the lighter references to the likes of Nosferatu (1922) or even the meta winks to English hammer horror (Our lead protagonists surname? Cushing). Touches like this would probably be deemed uninteresting to a crowd looking for Paranormal Activity jumps.

The feverish love for the gothic melodrama, as well as the exquisite visual design, is why this blogger adored much of Crimson Peak. It’s a film which delights itself in the mood, it creates over rigid obedience over narrative. The film gracefully defies logic. The murderous, over-elaborate plot dodges any typical rationale. Meanwhile pure white snow falls delicately over the blood red clay which Allerdale Hall resides on. A grand, decaying, English mansion seemingly miles from anywhere. 

Nowhere in England looks like this. It all feels like something out of a monstrous fairy tale.

This is what Del Toro wants. It is not a film about particulars, unless it involves references to literature. The visuals help pronounce the madness. The cast is dialled to eleven, while the setting provides the psychoanalysis with Allerdale's rotten walls and sickly green lighting. It’s a film that once again highlights Del Toro’s main interest. The monstrous designs that lie within humans and how it corrupts the environment around them.

There’s ghosts and things that go bump in the night within Crimson Peak. However Del Toro’s feature is far more infatuated in those small creepy inklings that tingle the spine, over cheaper shock tactics. It’s a ghost story that is told in the way that only Guillermo can tell them. In bold, broad and intense emotions.