REVIEW: X

Year: 2022

Director: Ti West

Screenplay: Ti West

Starring: Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, Martin Henderson, Brittany Snow, Owen Campbell, Stephen Ure, and Scott Mescudi.

Synopsis is here:

 

I’m not sure at what moment Ti West’s X got me once again frustrated at film awards. It was possibly around the point in which the film delivers a tender split-screen involving Britney Snow singing a cover of Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. It might be the moment when a character tugs at a light switch. The film suddenly cuts back to the aftermath of a violent attack. An almost innocuous moment that becomes the film's most effective jump scare. West has always been an exciting horror filmmaker. However, watching the filmmaker’s maturity grow as a craftsman within these small moments reminded me of how much film organisations do the dirty within areas of the genre. Do I expect Ti West to win an Oscar? Not at all. But watching West create such an entertaining provocation on a tighter budget and with less pretension than some of the more typical prestige movies Hollywood tries to inflict on us reminded me of just how much horror should get more kudos.

X riffs hard on Tobe Hooper’s gruelling 70s opus; The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974). Like its predecessor, this slasher tale of an amateur porno crew embarking on a doomed feature starts innocently enough. Aspiring Porn actress Maxine (Goth) and his producer boyfriend Wayne (Henderson), head up proceedings with fellow actors Bobby-Lynne (Snow) and Jackson Hole (Mescudi), Director RJ (Campbell) and girlfriend Lorraine (Ortega) in tow, as they gallivant off to a rural Texas homestead to film footage of their movie The Farmers Daughter. They arrive at their location, which is home to elderly couple Howard and Pearl (Ure and Goth again). The abrasive nature of the shotgun armed Howard does little to deter the gang from performing their visual carnality. However, the day’s antics stir something within Pearl. Which soon quickly morphs from sexual to murderous, with tragic consequences.

Ti West coming off the back of a few years of TV work has come back with a horror throwback that holds a compelling use of form. The filmmaker seems to be in his element. Playing with classic inspirations as he’s known to do.  The homages are evident. Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) is noted in both the dialogue and visually.  Maxine’s opening moments of preparation pay subtle homage to the mirrored finale of Paul Thomas Anderson’s porn drama Boogie Nights (1997). Albeit without the large penile appendage. The religious fervour peppered on old televisions holds shades of Michael Parks’ crazed priest in Kevin Smith’s Red State (2011) as well as the likes of noted, real-life televangelist Billy Graham. Such moments appear in the film’s neatly detailed 70s aesthetic as lived in aspects. It never feels that the nods are cheap.

X spends a good deal of time allowing its characters to be people. Let’s be honest, this is a 90-minute slasher movie, so we’re on the lookout for grand opera. But what the film does have is characters with valid intentions. The film’s cast is headed up by Mia Goth, whose dual role as both adult movie starlet Maxine, and elderly host Pearl, highlights the young actress’ incredibly versatile range. Never one to shy away from the sexual (2013s Nymphomaniac), strange (2016s A Cure for Wellness), and horrific (2018s Suspiria remake) Goth is remarkable here. Playing both titillating temptress and spiteful, murderous OAP with more nuance than one would expect. 

From repressed sound girl Lorraine (Ortega) whose curiosity about the sexual exploits she’s being shown shifts almost 180 degrees, to the rudimentary yet liberating sexual politics of porn stars Bobby-Lynne and Maxine who are more than happy to toast to the perverts who are paying their bills. The film is just as wry with its topical conversations about sex as it is with its sympathetic commentary of its rueful antagonists. West’s maturity has the director blending in modern tropes of sex positivism along with its scattered movie references to a more seamless effect. The film's overarching theme, however, involves ageing and regret. Howard and Pearl rue the fact that the passage of time has removed their youthful vigour. While the porno scooby gang has only angered up the blood. If only they could see that such frustrated desire will occur to them too.

West has been around the block for so long that fans are wise to his trademark approach to horror. Slowly placing block upon block of slow-burning dread tentatively on each other before everything collapses into chaos. The deliberate manner is reminiscent of West’s Satanic panic feature The House of the Devil (2009). Much like House, X takes its time presenting its characters, giving them time to breathe before the mayhem starts. What stands out is just how well everything is staged. Much like Hereditary director Ari Aster, West isn’t afraid to make the whole thing look beautiful. Delivering picturesque wide and overhead shots so pretty, they make you forget about the unnerving isolation of the surroundings. Backlit closeups and grim set pieces are equally well envisioned. And there’s never a feeling that a scare has taken an easy way out.

 All the scuzzy feel of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre can be felt in X. But with none of the cumbersome “gen-z” pandering made by the recent Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel. X certainly enjoys touching on topical sexual politics of the present and playing Don’t Fear the Reaper in a slasher film is just one of the few obvious gestures that X decides to make. However, West directs X with the kind of care that is needed in the genre. Creating a horror film that folds in eroticism, voyeurism, and the ravages of time with a sensitivity that a lesser film would bypass.

There is always talk about whether the horror genre is in a period of boom or bust. With no awareness that for the most part, the genre is nearly always steady. However, what makes the horror of the current age interesting is its strength in variety. There’s a genuine feeling that the genre and its filmmakers aren’t resting their laurels on just one thing. There’s also a strong crop of filmmakers who have something to say about the world. Even when mining into nostalgia to do so. X displays West’s deft ability to take what’s come before him and invigorate it with modern freshness and energy from unexpected places. An effective shocker with something to say. X proudly makes its mark screaming at the top of its lungs. It deserves credit.

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Review: Below Her Mouth

Year: 2016
Director: April Mullen
Screenplay: Stephanie Fabrizi
Starring: Erika Linder, Natalie Krill


Time for an odd story. One of my hobbies is photography. Most of my work is mainly women. I often ask my subjects “how do you want to be shot?” I like the subject to have an aim of the shoot and their answer will usually provide a steppingstone to the type of tone the finished image will be. One model who I enjoy shooting with was quick to voice her concerns with previous photographers over sexualizing her recent shoots. A more than reasonable argument, so I looked to avoid heading down the same path. However, the model bought props which unfortunately would negate her comments if used. When she asked to place these items within the shot. I refused. The simple reason. If you don’t want to be observed under a certain gaze, it may be wise not to utilise things that may suggest otherwise. Below Her Mouth holds a similar problem. Although the film has an issue of addition as opposed to subtraction. It is a film full of sex. However, it has the same conundrum I felt I had with my model friend: What story are you trying to tell?

Films that single-handedly deal in the female gaze on screen still seem to be somewhat of a taboo even in 2020. Which is why it’s easy to a film like Below the Mouth wanting to be a lesbian romance straightly told. However, April Mullen’s sexually charged tale of an illicit affair between a female roofer (Erika Linder) and a fashion editor (Natalie Krill) in a heterosexual engagement is not too dissimilar to the testosterone-based cliché we often hear. It’s only interested in one thing.

Let’s not lie. Below Her Mouth is sexy. It’s really sexy.  The negative reviews I read about the film after watching the film, gave off the sort of puritanical leaning which seems to claim that they were somewhat above the film depicting sex which may cause an actual element of desire.  It wasn’t hard to find a review that labelled the film as pornography. The physicality within the sexual scenes is substantial. It’s a film that never shies away from sex. The scenes are as plentiful as they are explicit. The film is very happy to depict two very desirable women in a variety of sexually tense situations, often bathing them in natural light or framing their writhing bodies in aesthetically pleasing compositions. Both Mullen and Maya Bankovic have done their homework here. Being a non-Hollywood movie, it also means they can push the bar on what they can show.  And with no snickering in the back, the film knows how to make the sex look good.

The film’s struggle for substance in the narrative, however, provides the perfect element of truth to any cynic. Every sexual composition is lush and will no doubt corner the male gaze as well as the female one. However, the film’s turgid dialogue, sloppy metaphors and lack of characterization help push the idea that Below the Mouth is titillation and titillation only. The film’s use of one character nailing the roof outside while intercutting with the other woman masturbating in the bath while fantasizing over her is not only comically on the nose, but some of the scenes particular logistics feel unnecessary. The story keeps roofer Dallas’s backstory needlessly hidden while highlighting that she enjoys sex. The building of her character gives us little reason to care for her motives. In addition to this, as Dallas’ coded as the more masculine character, with her assertiveness being nearly her only trait, some of Dallas’s behavior is considered non-problematic simply because it’s a woman performing the actions. They could easily be perceived as toxic. The film gives little attention to Dallas's development. Keeping her an enigma, her pull towards Jasmine as well as her methods are left elliptical and unpolished.

Fashion editor Jasmine fairs only slightly better as an engaged woman who was seemingly scared straight due to one singular event in her childhood, however, the films lackluster character development again does little to convince as to why she’d be willing to drop her otherwise happy existence.

The film hints at a gender and sexuality struggle which may have been compelling. A secondary character exclamation of having to wear “conventional” women’s clothes to dictate that she fits in with certain societal expectations is sadly never built on. While Dallas’s statement of a coming out story being never-ending may not fully justify her lack of background story but is a small amount of profundity in a film that is far more interested in strap-on dildos.

All the elements add up to a film which is full of scenes that could make one hot under the collar but with sexual politics which were held together better in films which were more invested in who the film was about. The likes of My Summer of Love (2004), Moonlight (2018) or Princess Cyd (2017) name a few films which may not observe same-sex relationships with the same sexual explicitness yet hold an emotional attentiveness which Below Her Mouth seems disengaged with. If, however, one can ignore the battered clichés and slight dramatic displays at play, Below Her Mouth may hold some appeal simply by having scenes that could stream up a few windows. Don’t look for a powerfully told story through. It dissipates as quickly as condensation.

Below Her Mouth was viewed via Netflix UK

Article: The Pursuit of Pennies

*Spoilers are about.

The final shot of Steven Soderbergh’s The Girlfriend Experience (2009) floored me upon a recent rewatch. After spending just over an hour of it’s economical running time, observing the lifestyle of Christine; a high-end escort and her relationship with different clients as well as her boyfriend Chris, the film’s essence is boiled down to its purest moment in the film’s closing sequence.

The scene itself seems pretty innocuous. Christine (then real-time Porn Star Sasha Grey) is invited into the backroom of a Jewish Jewellers by the owner whom we identify as a client for the services that Christine provides. They talk briefly about the upcoming election, in which the client recommends Christine (or Chelsea if we go by her escort name) should vote for John McCain over Barack Obama. He dominates the conversation, she merely responds in rather basic platitudes. As they talk, they undress unceremoniously. For a film with a porn star as the lead, it only really displays Grey in any real sexual fashion briefly, although many conversations in the film highlight her attractiveness. Framed in mid-shot which captures two-thirds of Grey body in full but is set at a distance which halts the observation of her body as gratuitous or titillating, she walks towards her client, a heavy-set man and they embrace. He begins to sob.

Soderbergh’s movies often involve how people operate for the pursuit of money, yet what I found so striking with The Girlfriend Experience is how the film deals with the element of control the chase. Throughout the film, we’re supplied with a plethora of talk about the economy. It all comes from Men. Nearly every man within the film is telling Christine what she should do with her job. From how she should approach men, to trying to find out how she keeps her accounts. They all want a piece of her. They pull of ruses to try and pay less for her services or “get to know the real her”. Despite the boundaries which are set in place by people within the film, everyone is looking to break them. However, it’s in this small moment in which we realise that all the bluster and bravado. All the posturing. It all comes down to that base wish of getting an attractive woman to need you. An urge so powerful it can make a grown man weep.

One of Soderbergh’s more experimental affairs, The Girlfriend Experience came out to middling reviews, with much of the focus being fixed on Sasha Grey’s “coming out” to the mainstream. The choice of Grey here is a masterstroke from Soderbergh. Her flat portrayal of Christine is deceptive. It suggests a bad performance. However, in my eyes, having seen Grey in some of her pornography, as well as her rather limp performances in Entourage, her near unemotive turn here is a clear decision between actress and director for a character who is purposely not letting anyone into what she really feels. If the film had been given to another actress, there’s every chance that they could have overegged their performance, letting the audience know exactly what they’re thinking. Grey’s face, which at one point is covered by huge sunglasses as to hide her eyes, feels like a mirror, reflecting the emotions given by those around her.

The film seems to go on around Christine and to me, this seems to be the point. We jump from conversation to conversation which ranges from how the economic climate will affect her work, to gross clients trying to obtain freebies from her to guarantee good reviews. However, despite whatever’s being said, everything boils down to that final moment. She has what they want. Payment is negotiable, but there will still be paying. What’s fascinating is just how well Soderbergh has transferred some of the clear issues we are now seeing in the gig economy. Looking into my other hobby of Portrait and model photography, it’s more than a little concerning how it would only take a small amount of script tinkering to have it apply to the amateur photographer scene, and yes, I do mean some of the more dubious elements too.

After the release of the film, directors Lodge Kerrigan and Amy Seimetz took the material and turned the source material into a TV show, with new characters and storylines. The Girlfriend Experience TV series is far less of an experimental slice of life endeavour that Soderbergh devised and is a more familiar and explicit affair. Gone is the semi-provisional feel, and what we’re given instead is a political espionage show with a variety of different, difficult female leads which sometimes holds more in common with the erotic thriller genre than the more ponderous take of Soderbergh. 

In any case, what I found most intriguing about The Girlfriend Experience is how both the show and the film are invested in delivering agency to female characters who are hard to catalogue into simple terms. My favourite visual on the film comes around about halfway through when Christine, positioned centre framed, sitting on the edge of a hotel bed, is getting her feet massaged by a client; David, who is so low down in the shot he is almost out of it. It’s a moment which, despite some of the things which are about to occur, subtly hints at the metaphor which takes place in the aforementioned finale. The dynamics shift throughout the film, but it is within these moments that we gain a glimpse at what’s going on. Where the agency is. Why men write bad reviews of Christine when they don’t get their way and why they are sometimes so despondent when she gives them a chance to touch her. If the economy tanks, then there’s less money to go around. Less to brag about. Less to impress with. You can’t impress Christine if you can’t pay her. Maybe that’s why they cry.

Article: She’s Lost Control – Some words on A Teacher (2013)

Hannah Fidell’s debut movie A Teacher is short on running time but high on anxiety. It feels like pouring scalding water into a small cup over someone head while they are bound. Filling the container to the brim with the subject wincing in the knowledge that the cup at any time could spill or overflow. Drops of the liquid sting the person’s head, as they await with dread the moment that the pourer will twist their waist. Someone is going to get hurt.

That someone is Diana Watts (Lindsay Burdge). The film starts innocuously with a small glimpse of her basic routine. Jogging. Driving to work. Finally, we land at her job. She teaches English to High Schoolers. One student; Eric Tull (Will Brittain), asks for a book. It is handed to him with no incident. You feel that Diane’s face flickers slightly after the ask. If only for a second. Later that evening, the two meet up again. Eric walks with a swagger into Diane’s car. They have sex. We now understand that flicker.

The story is familiar. There’s been films and novels involving Ephebophilia since time memorial. Alissa Nutting’s debut novel; Tampa (2012) treads in similar ground, while Josh Radnor, of How I Met Your Mother fame, wading into the pool with his second film Liberal Arts (2013). But A Teacher refrains from toppling into the fully amoral quandary of Tampa, nor does it hedge self-satisfied bets like Radnor’s feature. Fidell’s film follows a more plausible outcome not too dissimilar to the likes of Kristen Roupenian’s popular short story Cat Person (2017), where characters are left isolated and fractured due to the dynamics at play.

A Teacher lacks the seductive temptress who inhabits a novel like Tampa. Nutting’s main character isn’t just deliciously sinful but is almost a model by description, designed almost exclusively to lure in the male gaze. It’s no surprise that Tampa’s lead could easily entice in an impressionable teen. Diana as a character is neatly framed as the type of young, approachable woman that you wouldn’t be surprised to walk down a school hall.

This is within the build of the character in which the film finds of its small areas of complexity. Diana is young and pretty but is not set up as the vampy predator, dressed to turn the heads of horny young boys as well as pervy parents or snooty work colleagues. Nor does she hold the type of personality that draws attention to herself. Her colleagues are mildly shocked that she has a brother; Hunter (Jonny Mars). We don’t know the timespan of Diana relationship with Eric, but it’s long enough to see that it’s carnal, comfortable and kept away from her roommate, whom she is relatively close to. Fidell layers more complication to proceedings in small doses. In a singular scene involving her brother, he refers to their mother who is suffering from an undisclosed mental illness. When Hunter mentions his concern for Diane, the conversation is shut down. There’s enough ambiguity to suggest not only an ailing parent but possible past conflict. The most poignant conversation Diana holds with Eric has her reference secretly having sex with her high school boyfriend unbeknown to her mother, again alluding to a vague possibility of trauma. Fidell drops breadcrumbs within the story but never sets down a full trail, allowing a viewer to question the reasonings of the behaviour.

Diana is framed by Fidell as an archipelago through the film. Isolating her from characters with simple blocking or surrounding her with large amounts of negative space. The one hobby we see Diana have is running, and she is shown performing this solitary hobby throughout the film. One of the more telling moments has Diana wandering amongst the wilderness of a ranch, which Eric’s father owns, the changes from a panning close-up to static as she grows smaller within the frame. Early on her roommate introduces her to two shlubby men more suited to her age. “You’re the teacher that every little kid wanted to bang” one states. It’s an amusing wink to the situation, but it also highlights the arrested development which seems rampant within the narrative. There’s no surprise that Diana is looking elsewhere to date when her so-called suitors are working on websites called LOLpoorpeople.com, yet by embarking on the relationship which appears doomed from the outset with a teenager, Diana shows her own irresponsibility, again leaving her adrift and isolated.
Whereas Josh Radnor’s Liberal Arts does little particularly interesting with the hot for teacher narrative, Fidell takes the things to haunting, plausible places. One feels that she’s able to by simply making the switch of gender. Fiction is littered with older males having a younger woman as a springboard to “finding himself”. I’m hard on Radnor’s liberal arts because it’s so soft on itself. Vaguely charming at times it’s a film that smugly allows its character to waltz into this young girl’s life, have a little bit of a fling but walk away with everyone “grown”. Fidell’s film is far more interested in muddying the waters with the power dynamics.

Diana, the person who should be seen as the moral compass, stumbles into a grease pit of fixation based around her impulsiveness. Eric not only as a jock with boyish charm but as a relatively sensible teenager who just happens to have the coding of the type of adolescent sweetheart that you could see girls reminiscing about after their school days end. Fidell frames Eric in dreamy white vignettes when Diana daydreams about him. In one instance she sends him a nude image with no foresight into what doing so may entail. Fidell’s blocking of these characters arrives at its strongest point when a seated Eric instructs Diana framed and confined in a doorway) to strip. Diana; the adult, the teacher is standing above Eric the student, and yet he holds all the power. A reverse play of Jemima Stehil’s strip photo set series in which the power of the sexual dynamics’ rests within Stehil herself despite asking prominent male players in the art world to take pictures of her while she disrobes. There is only one moment in which Eric’s control over Diana is relented, but even by the film's conclusion, it is clear how much is at stake for Diana over him.

It is the adolescent-like behaviour exhibited by Diana, through a deeply committed performance by Lindsay Burdge which makes A Teacher an absorbing watch. In this current age where modern culture writers want to reduce views of gender into 280 characters, Fidell creates a film which poses complicated questions around female desire, while wringing pockets of empathy from places we may not expect. Diana is no simpering wallflower, nor is she a hyper-confident mega bitch. A Teacher is smart in portraying a complicated woman who simply does not have her life on her own terms. Fidell intelligently mines the drama within that.

It’s easy to say that we should be morally against what occurs in the film. That’s easy. What’s interesting here is watching a film which garners an element of compassion over a situation we’ve clearly been told is wrong. But this is a film which is far more interested in emotional investment and portraying mood via camera placement. Due to this, the film’s resolution may come across as unsurprising and abrupt, yet it still says everything it needs to more accurately than a film with double it’s running time. By the end of the film’s mere 75 minutes, we’ve watched the cup spill over. It burns.

A Teacher is Available on Amazon Prime in the UK

DVD Review: The Duke of Burgundy

Year: 2014 (DVD Release Date: 2015)

Director: Peter Strickland

Screenplay: Peter Strickland

Starring: Sidse Babett Knudsen, Chiara D'Anna

It’s funny to see The Duke of Burgundy released now as the budding blossoms of Spring begin to bloom. The film, set over the brisker seasons, is saturated in rich autumnal tones, appears to use the chilled temperatures to hide the warmth the film creates. With the likes of Fifty Shades of Grey (opened during the chilly month of February) using a damp, overcast Vancouver, Washington as its setting, both films appear to slyly hint that while there may be no heat outside, things are definitely heated in the respective bedrooms of each films couples.

This is a slightly tawdry way to describe both films. Yet whereas Fifty Shades would wear such a tag as badge of honour, stifling giggles as it describes sexual relationships. The Duke of Burgundy, while described as “preposterous” by its own director, Peter Strickland, understands the nature of its sexual games at a far more substantial level. Fifty Shades may have captured the box office, using its sex as titillation. It is The Duke of Burgundy, which ensnares the imagination. The film's sexual sequences not only understand that less is more. The film as a whole, understands its themes far more than E. L James’ material. Both highlight dominance and submission as the main erotic practices of one particular partner. Only The Duke of Burgundy truly grasps just how tough the rigors are if trust and understanding are not involved.

That may not be what Fifty Shades was aiming for, but I’m not surprised that people have come towards The Duke of Burgundy with more favour. With no authoritarians to get in the way of the film's creation, director Peter Strickland (Berberian Sound Studio) is free to roam within the sensual landscape of his central characters and their eroticism.  

The film; a loving homage to the soft-core euro erotica of the 60’s and 70’s details the relationship and rituals of Cynthia (Chiara D'Anna) and Evelyn (Chiara D'Anna). The couple are entomology students whose love for butterflies and insects is only bettered by their affection for each other. Each day they embark on a D/s routine that slowly erodes the couple relationship as one partner’s sexual mores become more obsessive.

Amusingly, the bare bones of the film aren’t too dissimilar from Fifty Shades. However Strickland’s skillful direction, makes exemplary use of form. Consider the fact that despite being a homage to soft-core, there’s no nudity. We see no men, yet this does not distract or deter the narrative in any way. The film's luscious visuals and high quality sound work, capture the sexual texture more than the typical, vanilla happenings which occur within the so called Red Room of Pain. Strickland’s film has a wonderful understanding of anticipation. The removal of stockings and tightness of pencil skirts do more to entice than flesh.

Beyond that, The Duke of Burgundy is a film that relies on convincing performances. Both Sidse Babett Knudsen and Chiara D'Anna are note perfect in their portrayal of a loving relationship coming under conflict due to wariness and obsessives. Although both play their parts straight, there’s clear allowance for subtle humour throughout. Even easy gags, such as the comfortably of sitting on someone’s face, are smartly delivered. Mostly due to the couples, quiet unflinching expression. Although I’m not sure if people will react as rambunctiously as I did when it came to the films (offscreen) urination sequence.

What both Kundsen and D’Anna mostly exude, however, is heart. The warmth of their relationship is tenderly observed, whereas in Fifty Shades, sometimes remained as cold as its overcast location.  It’s no surprise that the front cover for The Duke of Burgandy’s DVD mimics the most iconic image of Bergman’s Persona (1966).  It is indeed the dovetailing synchronicity of two people in love that we are meant to observe here. How often do we watch films of romance and find them lacking in such aspects? The Duke of Burgundy may lose some when it delves into the abstract (apart from the obvious metaphor, one may wonder about the butterflies). However, unlike Berberian Sound Studio, Strickland’s piece stays relatively sound from a narrative perspective. While retaining the auteurist tics (such as his analogue love of sound and looping of recurring events) that punctuate his filmmaking.

In the world of sexual melodramas, the almighty dollar is king. It’s difficult to see fans of Fifty Shades jumping their cruise ship to navigate choppier waters. However who may have found the antics of Grey and Steele lacking somewhat, may find something a touch more scintillating with Cynthia and Evelyn. With this couple's ability to read each other’s face, there’s very little need for a non-disclosure agreement.   

Review: It Follows

Year: 2014 (U.K release 2015)

Director: David Robert Mitchell

Screenplay: David Robert Mitchell

Starring: Maika Monroe, Keir Gilchrist, Jake Weary

Synopsis is here

A friend of mine, warned me about It Follows not being “scary” in the slightest. Informing me of the walkouts he had in his screening, he was quick to label the film as pretentious. Once that word was used I was wary about his reaction. However, when the film made a splash with some of my other film friends last year at the London Film Festival, I was even more cautious. I saw one tweet from an acquaintance labelling it as one of the horror films of the decade. After finally viewing the film on the Saturday of its opening weekend. I can safely say that while I lay somewhere in the middle of both reactions, the film’s unsettling style and thoughtful subtext had me wondering about the film in fascination for a good two days.

It Follows is not scary in the now more conventional sense of long banging jump scares (although one such moment is perfectly handled). The film mines great amounts of discomfort from it’s startlingly simple premise. If you have sex with someone who has had “it” passed on to them, then “it”, a shape shifting apparition, will follow you. It makes a beeline for you. It’s slow, yet unrelenting. It can look like someone you know, or a complete stranger. Once “it” has you, then it leaves your mangled corpse before moving on to the person who passed it before.

Part of the film’s strangeness comes from the various human forms the shape takes. One of the earlier scenes has us witness “it” as an elderly woman. Once you consider the films mechanics, the film becomes more disquieting. It takes forms of people these teens know and love. This not only disarms the youths, but also implies transgressive consanguinity based anxieties, which are difficult to shake off. Two of the key scenes are quick to remind you not only of the absence of adults, but also the destruction of the suburban family. A well-known component of U.S horror, which often rears its head amongst the strongest entries of the genre.

Then the film contrasts this with the way it observes teenage sexually (particularly female) and relationships. Marking them with a keen eye for closeness and rapport. While the dialogue isn't remarkable, the performances do grow as the film continues and the icky creepiness of the premise and the cold deliberate dread of the film then really takes hold. Highlighting relationships, not too dissimilar to the seemingly parentless teens who permeate the films of Larry Clark. A sense of loneliness begins to penetrate throughout. Parents are often heard but never really seen, while most of the information shared between the kids never trickles up to them, only emphasizing the generation gaps and isolation.  

The main reason the film manages to instill such a beautiful sense of dread, is its cinematography. Excuse me for my hyperbole (I’m sure you have before), but I can’t think of a horror film which lies so much fear on such precise compositions. Utilising the widescreen format (as well as autumn, suburb setting) in a way that harks back to one of horror’s granddaddies: Halloween. While so many horror films have attacked the forefront and centre. It Follows, like Halloween, understands just how disturbing things are when we’re not fully focused on them. Things don’t jump out in It Follows, they stalk towards. Close ups make us restless, as due to their tightness, we can’t peer round the frame. Innocuous background characters, suddenly pose threat when walking into the shallow depth of field.  The film becomes a “Guess Who” of the genre, gleefully recalling the “did you see that” feeling of Carpenters 1978 hit feature.

Unfortunately It Follows sometimes suffers from some frustrations. A character informs another of a certain rule and it’s broken with a hint of irony. One could easily place this down to fear and I urge you should for more enjoyment. However, the fact that characters play a little fast and loose with the rules more than once, only reminds me of just how Scream (1996) broke a generation of film goers. The film also feels more than a little indulgent at the best of times. Not all the directorial flourishes always help tell the story or build the character while the music often comes off as more jarring and incessant. 

However, by the end of the film, It Follows posed questions and feelings that, much like Kill List (2009), or Ringu (1998) provoked me with a complexity and ambition that I so often crave from a horror film. Much of the films beauty lies in the fact that despite having elements that will remind folks of Kids (1995), Final Destination (2000), Under the Skin (2014), The Terminator (1984), The Night of the Hunter (1955) or the photographic works of Gregory Crewdson, It Follows never feels like it a list of obvious homages. It never rests on its retro leanings or its laurels. It uses subtext to its advantage and does what I feel a good horror should do: make the mundane feel frightening. It Follows sets a high bar for horror movies in 2015. Unlike my friend in the first paragraph, I hope that the other contenders can keep up. 

Review: American Reunion

Year: 2012
Director: Hayden Schlossberg, Jon Hurwitz
Screenplay: Hayden Schlossberg, Jon Hurwitz
Starring: Jason Biggs, Alyson Hannigan, Sean William Scott, Chris Klein, Thomas Ian Nicholas, Eddy Kay Thomas, Tara Reid, Mena Suvari

Synopsis is here

So after years of dubious direct to video sequels and poor casting choices, the original cast of American Pie are back. And depending on how you feel about the franchise, you could be gleefully lost in late nineties nostalgia, or have a deep feeling of despondence at the whole affair. To me a fan of the original film, I found this return all a little obvious.  Much of this stems from the American Pie franchise having never really escaping from the jaws of its DTV bretherin. While we are thankfully spared the zany, now-out-of-canon antics of Stifler's brother/cousins, the same flat, well trodden tone of sequels past remains.

Reuinon also has to contend with the fact that the series is no longer the grossest kid on the block. Things have changed since the Apatow clan cropped up, the class of 1999 no longer shock like it they used to. Not a terrible thing as one of the stronger elements that's often forgotten about American Pie is it's warm take of male comradeship. Much of this remains as Reunion focuses on misguided bravado, former past glories and the inevitably growing old. The chemistry between the cast is still solid enough to warrant laughs even though the set pieces never reach the heights of before. Some plaudits should also go Sean William Scott who carries one of the larger arcs extremely well.

However, having such a large ensemble cast means having to keep a certain amount of balance. Where Pie stood firm, Reunion falters. Many characters are smacked to the sidelines, why? Because there wasn't that much of a need for them afterwards. Everyone is shoehorned in awkwardly with actors who were mere bit parts, get expanded to to how their status grew since (Stand up John Cho) Such is the trouble with franchises, it becomes tough to trim the fat when you know some enjoy the chewy bits.

Reunion works intermittently, with more laughs than expected for a forth entry of a 13 year old franchise. However by the end, when everyone sprouts pronounced feelings based on quite small misunderstandings, it all feels like the late franchise entry it really is. Warmer than tepid, but you miss nothing if avoided.

Review: Shame

Year: 2011 (2012 Release)
Director: Steve McQueen
Screenplay: Steve McQueen & Abi Morgan
Starring: Micheal Fassbender, Carey Mulligan

Synopsis is here:

Note: Slight spoilers are abound in this review. I don't speak of the plot explicitly, but what I do say does touch on areas of story more than I usually do. Well to me anyway.

I haven't read any reviews as of yet* but Shame has been making quite a stir with many critics. I'm quite surprised; as to me, the film, a character piece about sex addiction has more than a touch of the conventional about it. McQueen's film does well to show that sex addiction is just as wretched much like any other type of excessive behaviour. With this said, by doing this, the film sometimes feels like we've seen this been done before with the usual suspects. It's not hard to feel that one or two moments within the films final act could easily be found in a typical drug piece. However, McQueen's use of space and setting; along with Fassbender's scintillating performance makes help make this feature a captivating one.

McQueen's view of New York we see in this film is a isolating and smothering one. We never really release how suffocating it is until a critical scene involving Fassbender's Brandon running on a late night jog. It is the most invigorating moment of a film that relies on the stillness of it's camera. We see Brandon not only trying to break free from the situation within his apartment; involving his equally emotionally broken sister (a devilishly child-like and selfish display by Mulligan), but also trying to break out of his own damaged spiral. As he runs down the gridded system, it's almost like an old cartoon where the character moves and yet runs past the same repeated background forever.

Brendon is an deeply affected addict; locked in routine he cannot break free from. He is constantly restless (spy the red bull can often in his hand), and his sisters disruptive involvement in his life has only caused more problems. He feels shame not only for his addiction, but for whatever tragedy which both stuck him and his sister in New Jersey. The scenes between the two of them are drenched in anxiety. They do not interact like brother and sister, they can't console each other when the reach breaking point. The simple fact that they cannot find an emotional connection with each other has infected all their other attempts of finding a meaning full relationships in other areas of their lives. Both of them try and utilise sex as a way of starting something meaningful and can't seem to understand why its so destructive.

Brandon is absorbed with sex; and his excess has reached such a peak, that it doesn't even seem to be about "getting off" or "conquests". We don't know what his job is, but does it matter? It's not as if he concentrates on it, distracted in meetings, often late with reasonable excuses, we're as adrift in the haze as much as him. We watch him on a train in a scene involving a young (married) girl which switches from playful to predatory in a moments glance. We sense the tone in uncomfortable close ups; not only in this scene but so many others. The camera lingers disturbingly when we would like it to cut away. The sex although clearly constructed at times is never romantic or erotic. It feels like a weight that needs to be shifted. The endorphins released after the act clearly do little to lift the cloud. Fassbender carries this metaphorical bulk effectively in nearly every scene. His body language subtly awkward, conflicting thoughts flutter in each glance. Mulligan's outward display neatly counterbalances this. This is the best I've seen from her. Her childish manner is attention seeking but with good reason. He rages at her because his covers blown. "you trap me in a corner" he exclaims. What he hate is the fact that he's exposed. She doesn't understand but often reacts just as sharply. The chemistry between the two is a foil that works remarkably well within the film
 
Where Shame slips it's in certain moments within it's final third. In what should be a pivotal scene is seemingly shoehorned into proceedings, almost to give the film somewhere to go. It shows the film at it's most conventional but also highlights a slight imbalance between the characters we've been watching. While the hints to something deeper lie in between the lines of Shame, there's an act given to us that feels that one more piece of the puzzle may not have hurt.

However, this is part of the "fun" of Shame. I need to watch again because I fear I've missed something. The final moments are a recall of the train scene. It's a tease. We witness the girl again in similar circumstances, but something's different. The positions have been altered slightly. Her posture has not only changed, but challenges us in so many ways. We look at her reactions compared to before. The final moments focus on Fassbender's Brandon's face which is equally as provocative. I hope the cartoon went to a different setting.

*Since writing this I have read Ashley Clarke's exceptional piece on Shame, which is here

Review: Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll

Year: 2010
Director: Mat Whitecross
Screenplay: Paul Viragh
Starring: Andy Serkis, Naomie Harris, Olivia Williams, Ray Winstone

Plot Synopsis is here


Despite not being a massive fan of Ian Dury (no dislike, just haven't heard enough of his music), I strangely remember the first time I heard hit me with your rhythm stick in it's entirety and when the man died (both on the radio inside my fathers car). There are other artists I've admired that have died, and yet I cannot place myself when I heard the news. I guess there was something about this guy, something truly unique.

Mat Whitecross' colourful biopic enforces my feelings of this man. Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll (which I will call SDRR for short) is a chaotic and kinetic film which felt like a combination of Bronson and 24 Hour Party People. It suffers from the usual rise and fall elements of the musical biopic particularly within the films last act. But before that you have a dense and well told story of a man who learns from the very start that no matter what the stakes (Dury was stricken with Polio in his years which left him near paralyzed down his left side), a man must stand up for himself and forge his own way in life if he wants to go anywhere.

The film sets itself up nicely with one of it's first lines of dialogue: "don't let the truth get in the way of a good story". Once those lines are uttered, then the film is given poetic license to play a little loose with the man's life. Accuracy is secondary to enjoyment and for the most part, it works exceedingly well.

Whitecross structure certains scenes in such a way that they may not have happened at the said time as one another, but they heighten the emotions within the film. Also considering this is a musical biopic, Whitecross restrains from making the same mistakes that U.S biopics make; punctuating every high or low point with one the artists songs that sums everything thing up with a faux neatness. Keeping focus on the story at hand, the direction manages to get right under the characters skin. As does the the films script (By Paul Viragh), which is personal, plot heavy (in a good way) and full of cleverly crafted dialogue. The kind that reminds us of how well Dury placed words together. Many craftier cinephiles may complain that the film isn't the "collage" that Serkis mentioned on the radio 5 Kermode Film podcast earlier this year, and runs on rails in terms of overall structure but compared to other biopics, I doubt they have has much energy as shown here.

Direction and writing aside, the film is lead by a cocksure and mesmerizing performance by Andy Serkis; a criminally overlooked actor who once again shows his range with a dead on performance of Dury. It's one of those whirlwind turns, that can sweep a viewer up with it's feverish intensity. Serkis completes the mixture of performer, screenplay and direction to give us a character who is fully formed and complicated. It's just as easy to dislike this character as it is to fall for his charisma and although the film follows the formula often, the films last moments to feel like a cheap vindication. Your left with a portrait of a man who could equally hurt as hard as he could entertain. Compere this to the glossed over moments that inhabit solid, yet flawed movies such as Ray and you realize how easily the glitz can distract.

I should mention more about the films supporting cast, but I won't in case of boring you with my praise for all involved. What I will say to finish up is that SDRR is exactly what I want from a musical biopic. Kudos is deserved for all involved and recommended for all with a love of music and film.

Hear me rave about this at Cinematic Dramatic Podcast at Geek Planet Online