Review: Starry Eyes

Year: 2014 (U.K Release 2015)
Director: Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer
Screenplay: Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer
Starring: Alex Essoe, Amanda Fuller, Noah Segan

Synopsis is here:

It’s no surprise that that producers of The Innkeepers also had a hand in the terrifically nasty Starry Eyes. This film not only has Pat Healy (Cheap Thrills) in a comical yet slightly leery, small role. It also has a similar deliberate pace to it. Along with the likes of The House of the Devil (2009), Resolution (2012) and It Follows (2015) – three films which also take their time with their thrills - Starry Eyes enjoys hanging out with its characters. Peeling back the amour of who we watch, leaving only their exposed areas. It adds itself to the growing list of recent horror films that want to attach ourselves to the vulnerability of the people we see. Not to say we haven’t seen this in horror before, but the likes of the aforementioned films have clearly strived to make the lives of their characters more prominent.

The film’s wish to give its characters and story some consideration, poses advantages and disadvantages to the piece as a whole. We’re more poised with empathy for Sarah (Essoe), the demure yet determined young actress, once the carnage starts. Yet we have to contend with the fact that her friends are arseholes. Sarah story is compelling in its own indie movie way. However, so much of this is due to Alex Essoe‘s well balanced and powerful physical performance. If this doesn’t connect with a more impatient viewer, I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t wait until the end.

This is not to say that the clues aren’t there. We see the subtle anguish and detachment that escalates after her fated audition with a faded yet infamous production company. Tensions between Sarah are illustrated by her frustrations of failed auditions, her dead-end fast food job and bitchy friends. As the tensions rise, we notice that Sarah is really quite fragile. Once the claws of the cult begin to dig their fingers in, her stability, both mentally and physically, begins to disintegrate.  Kölsch and Widmyer use effective dream sequences to exhibit her frailty, including a devastatingly simple “missing dialogue” set piece which reminded me of the creepiest moments of Nintendo’s Eternal Darkness.

What I really enjoyed about Starry Eyes, is how it becomes a sly dig at the disintegration of independent filmmaking and comment on the murkiness of Hollywood ambition and desire of fame. The films under lit cinematography of an overcast L.A only helps to highlight the gloomy state that inhabits Sarah and her ambitious young friends, who always chat about their movie, but seemingly get nothing done. It is only the old hands who succeed in the fame game as the youthful are eaten alive.

As the film pushes on, Starry Eyes appears to be influenced by the likes of Kill List (2011), capturing the same tone of despair felt by the despondent characters featured in Ben Wheatley’s brutal thriller. Starry Eye’s climax also holds similar aspects to Wheatley’s film thematically, with the film playing out a comparable fatalistic conclusion for those desires for material wealth. Yet it seems clear to me that the filmmakers most far reaching and explicit influences are that of Brian Yuzna’s Society (1989) and Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession (1981), with Alex Essoe’s appearance and features bearing more than a small resemblance. An eye colour change near the film's end really feels like a tip off.

While Starry Eyes isn’t as deranged as Zulawski’s unhinged offering, it does have a fun time hanging near the same ballpark. As Essoe clings to her slipping sanity, I became more drawn to her performance. Once the film raises the stakes, and turns the volume up on the body horror, I found myself more involved with the film and with what Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer were doing with it. I will say that it takes a while to get where it’s going, but any film that would make an interesting (yet depraved) double bill with David Cronenberg’s Map to the Stars (2014) is a winner in my book. A nefarious entry for the corrupt little bastard in all of us.

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: Bastards

Yeah: 2013 (UK release 2014)
Director: Claire Denis
Screenplay: Jean-Pol Fargeau Claire Denis
Starring: Vincent Lindon, Chiara Mastroianni

Synopsis is here:

I found myself to be quite bowled over with Bastards. This was a feature that I had no expectations for, yet discovered it to be the type of revenge film that I lust for. Its fractured structure and slow burn philosophy to the nature of its straightforward narrative threw me for a loop. It allows its characters to breathe yet the film wallows in such desolate, nocturnal tones it becomes suffocating.

It starts simply enough, a death, a sexual assault, a dysfunctional family and a hinted plot for revenge but slowly (very slowly mind) becomes something twisted and unnerving. Pieces of the puzzle are given to us but Denis’ film is all about its foreboding mood. It wants us in the squalor with the characters we’re watching. We need to be drenched in the same filth as them. When we slot the pieces into place the film wants us to know that the entire picture is ugly.

While the sums of the film’s parts are pretty standard, it’s Denis’ focus on character that sways things. The film plays with the same type of sleazy cynicism that littered Ben Wheatley’s Kill List. The people we watch may hold wealth, but slip into the backside of Paris so well they become near camouflaged. Protagonist Marco Silvestri’s (a brooding and craggy Vincent Lindon) outer shell of affluence betrays a corroded core brought on by his secretive and destructive family. It’s no surprise that we find their once successful shoe company now plumbing the depths of bankruptcy. As the film ploughs on, the liner plot has us guessing how it all slots in, yet the themes point to ideas of business lives being invaded by the personal.

But what really hits you is the tension; a creeping feeling of foreboding and desperation that sits awkwardly with a viewer throughout. Haunting images are glimpsed and loiter in the brain like unshakeable blemishes; an assaulted teen wondering waif-like through the night, a discarded bike we remember in the hands of another character. Denis uses these moments not only to disconcert us but to keep us locked in the films distilled bitterness. By the end of the film I wasn’t just left with the how and why, but a profound sorrow at the film’s dismissal of innocence and it’s perversion of loyalty. Never has a title been so apt.  

Review: A Field in England

Year: 2013

Director: Ben Wheatley

Screenplay: Amy Jump

Starring:  Reece Shearsmith, Michael Smiley, Julian Barratt, Peter Ferdinando, Richard Glover, Ryan Pope

Synopsis is here

Ben Wheatley is a British director I really admire. A confident filmmaker who enjoys bending genres and challenging the typical ideals that British film often stumbles into. A Field in England; his fourth feature was one of the 2013’s entries I had a large investment in, purely based on the strength of his previous works. Even the idea behind it had me hooked. A black and white, psychedelic nightmare set during the 17^th Century is the type of English period drama I’ll happily get behind (do I look like I watch Downton?).

Much of A Field in England’s buzz stemmed more from its multi-platform release structure. The films makers decided upon releasing the film not only in cinemas, but on video on demand and DVD all on the same day. An idea that we’re slowly seeing more of (albeit in alternative forms: see Sodenbergh’s Bubble as an example) but never to this extent with a U.K release.  Questions were raised on whether this had to do with the niche aspect of the film, or if the film industry can really spark a trend towards such releases. Particularly as many have become more drawn to the idea of home viewing since the quality of their film going experience has been on the decline.  

I viewed the film coming back from work; I popped into my local supermarket and gained some credit on the stores very popular point system. For me it was easier for me to view it this way as the cinemas just due to time and travel. I love going to the cinema but I see the benefits.

However, A Field in England’s release structure seems more to be about casting its range as far as possible due to film’s obtrusiveness than starting a trend. The film’s black and white aesthetic is not the only thing that will put more casual viewers off. A Field in England clearly shows maturation of craft and boldness which British cinema needs, but at the expense of losing the connection carefully built from previous films.

The film feels reminiscent of the works of Ingmar Bergman, as well as the likes of Blood on Satan’s Claw (1970) and Witchfinder’s General (1968). The look of Michael Smiley’s O’Neill has shades of Vincent Price’s Matthew Hopkins written all over it. While the unsettling imagery of characters bound by thick rope against their will, is deeply rooted in folk horror. A sense of dread begins to form within the film. Something that the British horror of the 70’s and Wheatley’s own Kill List were much quicker at bring about. The first act often feels more of an exercise of form, than anything else. There is a sense of irony throughout the film as it uses its period setting and cast to cut into very seemingly modern question class and male bonding but none of it feels truly substantial, although Amy Jump does not get enough credit for an often witty script with some wry exchanges placed within it.

Some nice moments are scattered throughout (the tableau style poses, Shearsmith’s phenomenal body language) while more of the outlandish visions begin to seep during the second half with a more unsettling mood coming with it. Yet it all seems a tad too late. The sense of lost futility these men face can be felt by the time the film steps up a gear, but nothing hits as hard as the wedding sequence with Witchfinder General, in which the unfortunate couple of the piece make their own vows within a vandalised church, highlighting the conservative conflict that lies within the folk horror movement (see also The Wicker Man).

So I held my breath embraced the fear and let the Devil in and yet I came out relatively unscathed. Some of A Field in England still tickles me, and there’s good chance I’ll let more of it consume me on a second viewing. I'm not sure however, on whether this is because I brought it on DVD or not.

Review: Sightseers

Year: 2012
Director: Ben Wheatley
Screenplay: Steve Oram, Alice Lowe, Amy Jump
Starring: Steve Oram, Alice Lowe

Synopsis is here:

In 1996; school disco halls everywhere were loud with the sounds of awkward shuffling and the heartfelt warbling of Gary Barlow and co. Before disbanding in 1996 (and reuniting in 2006), Take That released their cover of the Bee Gee's hit ballad "How deep is your love". The couple we follow within Ben Wheatley's Sightseers would have been around 16 at that point. I'm sure that you can imagine either of the two, sitting alone, mouthing the words. All the while, their friends (if any) were victims of cheeky gropes and similar tomfoolery.

Upon watching the film; I found myself asking: "Is anyone surprised that two people like this would find each other?" I certainly wasn't. Nor was I surprised. Due Tina and Chris being in such a young, developing relationship, their passion is what you call...intense.

Said intensity is key for a director like Wheatley, and perfect for a movie like Sighterseers, a film which, like Four Lions, revels in thorny issues for its comedy. It's Natural Born Killers (1996) by way of Dear Deirdre; gleefully wrapping it's lovers on the lam narrative around Fargo-style eccentricities. The film even inverts the impotency issues that Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde (1967) delved into. It's not like neither character can articulate their lustful thoughts (just take a glimpse Tina's knitted, crotch-less panties), but there's a drollness in that while Clyde excelled in looting paper, Steve can barely place his thoughts down on any. Beatty's Clyde may not have been able to get it up, but you sense he may have had enough charm to write a book.

Literacy issues aside, Steve (a quietly sinister Oram) is a messy quagmire of lust, rage and loneliness, desperate to introduce Tina into his world of caravanning, local sights and premeditated murder over trivial incidents. Tina (a superbly comic Lowe), a withdrawn young woman, living in the palm of her controlling mother (a callback to Wheatley's 2009 film Down Terrace), seems to become more besotted by Steve due to his method madness. Is she intoxicated by the violence she's encountered? Or did the darkness just need to be awakened? At one point, Tina is insulted in a way that seems exaggerated at one point, but feels on point later on. We're never really sure about the two, other than their passion. Clues are laid, like Kill List (2011), Wheatley suggests things, but he never runs for an easy answer.

The holiday is often the test of the relationship and it is no different here. The relationship slowly degrades as their unstable personalities clash and circumstances close in. But Wheatley has coated the situation with such rich British idiosyncrasy that he manages to unlock mirth within the macabre. He toys with British politeness and tolerance in a way that reminds me of Serial Mom (1996), John Water's camp subversion of the suburban American Household. Sightseers's is angrier than that, and has more to comment on. The films cinematography is quick to highlight just how entrancing The Lake District can be, and yet it's is completely lost on these murderous characters. It is lost on us as well, as we're too busy indulging in their darkness. But there's the joke. We watch the observational comedy, smirk at the all so true moments with passersby and secretly delight at the couple’s murder spree and we forget how their intentions seemed good. 

What I love about Sightseers is just how passionate Chris and Tina are about themselves and what they do, even if it's completely immoral. The observations found in the script are not only infinitely quotable but often endearing, although; you would probably be a little more pensive with a Daily Mail reader. The film’s title, holds a certain irony to it, as the films climax suggests that the Chris and Tina themselves are "nice enough" to visit but not the type of people to stay with. They're the type of couple that is considered "just a bit off". The final decision made by the couple is sweet, humorous and yet haunting. It asks the question that Gary, Robbie and the rest of them were banging on about, back when we only had two lonely singleton teens. How deep is your love?