Review: The Witch

Year: 2015 (U.K Threatical Release 2016)
Director: Robert Eggers
Screenplay: Robert Eggers
Starring: Anya Taylor-Joy, Ralph Ineson, Kate Dickie, Harvey Scrimshaw, Ellie Grainger, Lucas Dawson

Synopsis is here:

There’s not many horror films that trouble the mind like The Witch. In fact, I celebrate the sheer audacity of its execution as well as Eggers’ faith with the audience. Films like this are destined to be cult. This is not The Conjuring (2013) or Insidious (2010), which lean heavily on loud bangs and jump scares. The Witch is a film that is a triumph of tone. Establishing the same sense of dread that lies in films such as Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971), The Devils (1971) and The Witchfinder General (1968). As we follow this excommunicated Puritan family forced into braving an unforgiving terrain with only the word of god by their side, we discover that what makes The Witch tick is the anxiety that stems from the character's suspicions.

Uncertainly is ensured as the fear, distrust and religion slowly bleed into each other. A child goes missing, crops wither, animals start playing up. Has God forsaken this family? Is it just dumb luck?  It becomes clear that the eldest child; Thomasin, is beginning to grow into womanhood. This alone causes serious issues between the family. Is it just budding sexuality through? Are we in the presence of Witches?

This unflinching portrayal of this disintegrating Puritan family unit lead by an immensely cagey performance by doe eyed Anya Taylor-Joy works simply because the cast is so committed to the situation. Eggers has stated that he was influenced by The Shining (1980) and that certainly shows, yet the disorientation and gradual shutting down of trust and mental defenses feel familiar to the likes of The Blair Witch Project (1999). Characters so devoted to their faith that it’s hard not to care for them when things go bump in the night.

The cast is helped on by assured direction from Eggers. Together with cinematographer Jarin Blaschke and composer Mark Korven, Eggers creates an environment in which a simple shot of a rabbit feels more discomforting than it should. A film made for a budget of $1 million dollars, the film constantly looks and feels like more money was placed in the kitty. The attention to detail is substantial.

The Witch could have possibly gone with being a little more ambiguous. While the film takes a slow ride towards its strange ending, it does reveal a tad too much of itself early on, minimising the curiosity somewhat. Meanwhile the film’s final moments to indulge more than some may need. This doesn’t stop the fact that The Witch is still rather bold in its execution. The film’s drained muddy colour palette and unsettling score do far more to unnerve than the latest “Lawton Bus” scares that will infiltrate in the next mainstream chiller.

I’m quite sure that despite raking in a decent box office take, The Witch probably spilt audiences 30/70 in terms of agreeable opinion. I do feel however that those in the favourable camp no doubt found The Witch to be a refreshing alternative horror which rewards followers who want to place a bit more thought in their horror films.

Review: Calvary

Year: 2014
Director: John Michael McDonagh.
Screenplay: John Michael McDonagh.
Starring: Brendan Gleeson, Chris O'Dowd, Kelly Reilly, Aidan Gillen, Dylan Moran, Isaach de Bankolé.

Synopsis is here

I enjoy films about faith. I feel much of this stems from my upbringing and my grandmother; a woman whose faith in the almighty seemed to never waver. When she was told about the ailment which caused her demise, as opposed to facing hours of operations and hospital treatment, she decided upon staying at home and going peacefully with her family as it was the “will of god”. I admire such a choice as much as I feared it. Possibly because I’m still young. I’m currently not sure I could make the choice so readily. Even if I was at the age she was.

For me, I find this to be an often neglected cornerstone of faith, often glossed over by the more arrogant members of the new atheist movement, who are very quick to inform us of the corruption and wars that religion plays a part in, or how scared people are to find solace in faith. We often never hear of these folk telling us about what moral good that they themselves perform. All wrapped up in the sins of the church, some seem to be far too interested in maintaining the view that the world is an insidious and ugly place. One of my favorite qualities of my grandmother is how she interpreted faith as a source for good, no matter what denomination. I love seeing that in films like Calvary, a film that beautifully illustrates the idea that the goodness in faith must stand defiant in front of those who only wish to mirror the ugliness that resides within the world.

Calvary’s focus on its weighty subjects start with what sounds like a dark absurdist joke. Opening with a beautifully composed shot of Father James (Glesson) sits solemnly in the confession booth as a voice whisper to him that they first tasted semen at age 7. The more depraved may crack a grin (sorry), but this moment is a telling one. The Irish voice, the line of abuse, the troubled grimace of the face as the ears register what is said. One of the films subtexts, the abuse carried out by the Catholic Church is richly brought to our attention within minutes. The conversation only seems to get worse. The exchange digs deep into each participant psyche till we reach the inciting moment: the person we don’t see on the other side of the confessional wishes to kill the priest. To kill this priest, a good one, will say more things about us than if a bad one was murdered.

Father James seems to know his killer and after being introduced to the town’s oddballs and eccentrics, most viewers will know too. Writer/Director John Michael McDonagh almost displays the identity as an open secret. However, Calvary is more interested in the mysteries of our morals and guidance than it is about a maybe murder. Calvary holds some the darker humor of McDonagh’s previous effort, The Guard, but is much more meditative and pensive thematically. Calvery is a film, much like the slightly more pious Of God’s and Men (2010), which helps question the place of faith in a messy modern world.  With his fate considered sealed, James continues to provide penance and advice to those around, while they do their best to condemn him and the church and frolic in their impurity. Why does Father James continue his work with such a cloud looming over him? Why does he seemingly do little to try and alter the course?

The eccentric village folk do very little to help matters. At one point a resentful publican belligerently questions James on why the church hasn’t done anything to attack the banks, and their part in the economic crash and yet amusingly such thoughts fit snugly into more questions of who why and how we observe faith. To snub one’s noses at religion and what it may bring to some is of course the easiest thing. It’s also clear that Father James feels his doubts prick at him like acupuncture needles that are slightly too large. Then again, when it comes to faith, doubt can hit anyone.

Calvary may set up the idea that its lead is Jesus-like, but the film also does well to ground him as a man who lived a life before the cloth a man who pushed past the wrong to allow faith into his life. This is not a man born into the burden and there are times that we see and know that it must be hard to keep the halo from slipping. For a man of Gleeson’s size, he manages to carry such vulnerability with great balance. The boorish behaviour from The Guard (2011) is not shown here, but the sensitivity certainly is. “There’s too much talk about sins. Not enough about virtue.” James utters at one point. This line, like many in the film's screenplay manages to get under one’s skin for the better.

The film is visually based on sparse paintings of Andrew Wyeth, and cinematographer Larry Smith’s bold compositions illuminate the darkness that lies between each scene, but Calvary is anchored by the weighty performance of Gleeson, who carries himself like every inch of his soul is troubled by the unsaid burden placed around him. Yet James plays on despite the prickliness of the village oddballs.

Whether or not our protagonist of the story embraces or fears death is one thing, but the fact that he acknowledges fate as he wanders through what may be his last week becomes suddenly profound. In the slightly distanting landscape of modern mainstream cinema, which is often invested in near immortals keeping all of us safe, James’ heroism isn't about saving the whole world, but doing his best to affect the close ones within his, despite their naysaying. The fact James decides to do this through faith brings poignancy as those around him feel that they know better but do a little better for themselves. Calvary, like my grandmother, gives insight into how the small steps of faith can bring clarity and courage. Not only to those who believe, but those who may not believe. I enjoy films about faith and Calvary is a welcome and inspiring one.

Review: Noah

Year: 2014

Director: Darren Aronosfsky 

Screenplay: Darren Aronofsky, Ari Handel

Starring: Russell Crowe, Jennifer Connelly, Ray Winstone, Emma Watson, Anthony Hopkins, Logan Lerman

Synopsis is IN THE BIBLE

I found Noah to be a dreary experience. Many fellow writers managed to gain something out of its more unhinged qualities; I needed more than the films deranged tone to keep my interest levels up. I do not consider it bonkers because it’s a religious text. For instance, the screenplay wisely eliminates problematic elements such as Noah’s age (in the Bible he nears 1000 at time of death) to level things out slightly. The film however, suffers from a troublesome tone throughout which is always hard to ground. Noah as a whole feels fantasy-lite, almost placing it in the same realm as Aronofsky’s equally barmy, but far more entertaining Black Swan.

Aronofsky has stated that Russell Crowe was cast to give the film the type of grounding a film such as this sorely needs. Crowe struggles with this and not due to his talents. This is a screenplay that flies into full The Shining mode during the last act of the film. Aronofsky’s adaptation of the text is clearly written with the audience in mind. Here Noah’s inner conflict stems from how he interprets his Lord’s message. If God (named The Creator in the film) wishes to end the wicked world of Man, does that include Noah and his kin?  Like Aronofsky’s earlier works (Pi, Black Swan, Requim for a Dream) Noah is a film where the protagonist’s obsessions slowly get the better of them. It certainly fits into Aronofsky’s wheelhouse thematically. It is just far too tough to get past the film’s meandering pace, awkward time lapses and outlandish skylines. Along with its bizarre rock monster/Angels that feel like they’ve wandered off a Tolkin text.

Noah simply does not have what made The Passion of the Christ so strangely compelling. No matter how you feel about Mel Gibson and his project, his visualisation of the message (even if it’s just guilt tripping you into his faith) is stronger than what we see here. The visions expressed by the likes of Judas had more conviction and the films characters felt more authentic. To quote Kayne; I’m not here to convert atheists into believers. Nor am I siding with those with faith, looking for a fully accurate piece devoted to the original text. Noah shows its weaknesses however, not only by having Anthony Hopkins come across as an older version of Woody Harrelson character in 2012, or by the amusing miscasting of Ray Winstone. No, Noah feels it’s the right decision to under develop the role of Jennifer Connelly’s Naamah. Connelly’s soft, subtle performance is the kind of grounding Noah needs in spades. The film’s cautious view of such a character makes sure that Noah remains a cult drinking game footnote more than anything else.  

Review: Gravity

Year: 2013

Director: Alfonso Cuaron

Screenplay: Alfonso Cuaron, Jonas Cuaron

Starring: Sandra Bullock, George Clooney, Ed Harris

Synopsis is here:

What I write here is information you can take or leave. My reviews are not so much about “telling people what to watch”: a belief which that many people feel about the idea of reviewing and criticism.  No, I write to merely state a personal view on whether or not a film works on me based on my own values, prejudices and otherwise. If one shares similar attitudes, enjoys and agrees with me, that’s the humble reward for my so called work.

I mention this because I know not everyone will feel like I did about Gravity, but that's fine. I’m so often on an island when it comes to my film taste I’ve set up my own coconut selling store.  But I’m still naive to think that honesty is key and I wholeheartedly believe that Gravity is one of the most moving and life-affirming films I have ever witnessed.  Beyond the films slight narrative and unsurprising plot elements is a film that is simply breathtaking in its execution.

Gravity not only squeezes tension out of each minute of its runtime, giving full weight to the hostile environment these characters inhabit and displaying their fragility, but the film, like others of Cuaron’s, grounds the film with a heart that pulsates it’s humanity on the screen. Cuaron notes his intentions with small visual cues (note the religious artefacts set up almost like a gag), but the ground work is done here by Sandra Bullock.  An actress whom I’ve never really given my full attention (although I love her work in Demolition Man), blind sides us with her powerfully expressive display. She has been formidable in her more expected roles, but here she has such forcefulness in her physical performance we realise that despite the thinness of character on the page, we understand her fears ad emotions by even just the slightness of gesture. Clooney’s work is mostly one of a voice of reason. Bullock not only does all the heavily lifting but does so with such astounding ease, it’s made me realise just how much I’ve been missing from her previous works.

With so many films asking inviting us to watch heroes save the world, what makes Gravity stand out is its wish to show somebody save themselves. The film roams in the same realms of the likes of Buried and Cast Away, but Gravity’s setting, performance and direction invigorates the dynamic. We see Earth, our planet; hovering in the distance in such a way that you feel you could reach out to it. Yet it’s clearly so far away that it seems to taunt our characters, mocking our frailty. When we see what may happen to Bullock’s Ryan, we get the very real feeling of the risks she must take and the enormous effort she will need in order to survive. I watched the film in 3D and marvelled at how the filmmakers use it to illustrate the depth and dimension of the infinite. This is the first time that I did not muck around with the glasses. I found myself too enthralled with the film and what I felt it was saying. Matt Zoller Seitz states the film evoked the imagery of The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928), I was reminded of the imagery of Bergman with close up’s that staring into the void. Searching for meaning within a seemingly hopless existance I found myself so into the headspace of Ryan, I asked the same questions that she asks herself. Unlike many other films of its type I’m not looking at the mechanics, scientific inaccuracies aside, this feels organic. When films get like this, we been to fret for the character in a unique way. We don’t called the actors name, we call out for the character themselves. I muttered to myself at least three times.

This was the effect Gravity had on me. My popcorn sat uneaten and my fizzy pop was left, going flat.  I created new creases on the inside of my jeans at each new set piece.  There are moments of humour in Gravity but often I didn't laugh. I was trying to regulate my breathing. Terror has never been so alluring, so beautiful and yet by the end I found myself moved by the experience. Its technical prowess is there for all to see (many have asked how did they achieve what they did) but beyond that is a simply tale of morality that shook me to the core. This year has been a tough one for me and took these 90 minutes to reinstall a faith in me that has been missing for quite a while. We all find ourselves staring into the blackness, Gravity confronted our (read: my) fears in a way only a few other films have. As I said before, not everyone is going to feel the same way about Gravity and that’s fine. I fully get if you came here for a normal film review and came across ponderous nonsense. You can take or leave the information. I will say that after the film finished I walked home I did so in silence. I refrained from jamming my headphones in my ears. The heavens opened and I listened to the patter of the rain on the ground as I walked. During the 30 minute journey I didn't mind getting wet. I was just happy to be alive.

Review: The Master

Year: 2012
Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Screenplay: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Joaquin Phoenix, Amy Adams, Laura Dern

Synopsis is here:

To many, The Master is a difficult film to love or even like. The characters we meet are not ones we would want to be cornered by at a dinner party. We observe within the film, more than enough scenes of these people gatherings just to be sure. And yet, the film, even at its most obtuse and surreal, remains utterly compelling. If one thing is for sure, it shows again that Anderson is obsessed with trying to charm us with charlatans and fallen angels.

In The Master we are given Freddie Quell (A career best Phoenix), a man who would have been completely swallowed up by his surroundings, if not for his violent and drunken outbursts against them. The film's beginning, we find Freddie; simulate sex on a sand woman made on the beach. One could say he's literally fucking Mother Nature. Of course the question is why would you do that, if you weren't quite right?

Quell sticks out. Is he mentally ravaged by war? Has destroyed his faculties with those poisonous (made with paint thinner) brews of his? Did he spend too much time away from his sweetheart? We are never given solid grounding on his ailments and yet we are shown enough to show how damaged Quell has become since the war. A blanketed statement mentions early on that those returning from the war should be able to start small businesses and perform labour, in spite of what they may have seen. But what of those who have lost more than others? It's clear from Quell's posture alone that he is a misshapen man. The erratic episodes and outbursts we see only solidify our thoughts.

By chance, Quell meets the enigmatic Lancaster Todd, leader of "The Cause", a bizarre quasi religion based around a glut of peculiar principles and rituals that are never truly explained to us. Todd is a classic Anderson character; a father figure who promises atonement with words as sweet as syrup. No different from The Porn Mogul (Boogie Nights), or The Oil Man (There Will Be Blood), Todd is so wrapped up in his words, he believes he could sell brimstone to Satan. Todd decides to take Quell on board as a protégée, as clear testament, that the teachings and practices from his book can cure even the most distraught.

Hoffman plays Todd as smoke and mirrors personified. All darting eyes and false grins and much like Quell, he is quick to anger when tested. Although they meet by chance, there is a feeling of fatalism about the situation. We delve very little into his past and yet when he states that he's seen Freddie before, the empty spaces begin to fill in. It's interesting to observe how both Todd and his wife Peggy (an exemplary Amy Adams in full Lady Macbeth mode) look at alcohol. A small bathroom scene involving the Todds shows that despite the grand gestures, Lancaster is ruled by the same masters that rule many of us.

These are primal men ruled and controlled by their urges. While Todd tries to internalise and intellectualise his baser appetites, Quell spills his out on the floor like Freudian vomit. Together their fragments complete a damaged father-son relationship Anderson's films often feature. Quell seeks guidance, Todd wishes to be that superior leader that fathers may wishes to be, the raconteur at the family wedding, the all knowing and great auditor. And yet, the two of them being together, tugs at both of their frayed edges. Many scenes bind the stress in stifling close up. Mihai Malaimare's arresting cinematography and Jonny Greenwoods hypnotic score create a sense of unease that travels from scene to scene. Like a car crash, there's something so hauntingly beautiful about the ugliness of human behaviour is captured in the film, it's hard to turn away when the spinning tops clash.

Much has been said about the films references to Scientology, as well as how damning its statements are. While the film isn't a glistening expose of all things bad about the religion, I'm in no way shocked at the reaction of a certain practitioner of the faith. The Cause's processing appears very similar to auditing, while a tense sequence, involving Todd's son in law throwing Quell's personal problems (extracted from the process) back at him, illustrates the type of fears brought up by many when the mentioning of auditing arises. What makes these moments of the film so appealing to me is in how non-judgemental the film is towards the faith.  The film holds a mirror to the audiences’ thoughts of not only The Cause, but the self help/spiritual courses that The Cause picks from.

Does this all add up to a great film? To many, they will see nothing and the film is more basic that it leads on (certainly in its narrative form). The Master at times can appear as much of a muchness. Anderson's films of the past may have been more forceful in their eras and the film is so wrapped up with these people and their vulgarities, it feels sparse and at times distancing, while its main message doesn't feel as complex as suggested.

However in the opinion of this blogger, the film is a truly exciting work of craft. A character piece in which its mesmerizing visuals are punctuated by its blinding tension. The Master is a tale of damaged men searching for inner peace in all the wrong places. To wonder why it doesn't all "fit in" to a comfortable narrative space, almost mimics why the hunched and sick Quell does just "fit in" with all the rest of Middle America. The Master takes a while to state it's case, but Anderson's execution of material is absorbing throughout.

Review: Red State

Year: 2011

Director: Kevin Smith

Screenplay: Kevin Smith

Starring: John Goodman, Michael Parks, Melissa Leo

Synopsis is here:

I'm not sure about other film fans but I've wanted to see this movie since it was first announced (mid 2007?). The idea of a Kevin Smith Horror film appealed to me, but the idea of a Kevin Smith horror film based on the religious right of America? How could I not be there? 

However despite this a lot has happened in the world of Kevin Smith and unfortunately not a lot of it I would consider that positive. For you see for sometime now Mr Smith has really had it out for those who dislike his movies, namely the critics and bloggers who are invited to press screenings. Since Cop Out gaining some of the worse reviews of his career, Smith has gone all out with all sort of attacks on those who write about film. His Twitter now a base of operations with a large allegiance of fans who will blindly attack anyone who says otherwise about the man's actions. 

Seeing how Smith has acted, reacted and lashed out to those who oppose him has been a strange experience. It's obvious that Smith's films; no matter which ones they may be, are extremely close to him and so they should as they are his works (although I've never got why Cop Out got him the most worked up) and I do find Smith's ideas with distribution intriguing ones. However, Smith's way of going about things seems to be based more on personal grudges and getting people out of joint than anything else. To his his movies is to have a personal slight on the man himself and I know for a lot of people the thought of that is just not true. 

The issue is; now Smith has made things personal, bridges will burn and relationships will crumble. Smith's fan base will keep the man going until the day he dies, but what about his idea of releasing films made by other people under his methods of independent distribution? Smith wants to change the game but the game isn't ready to play ball yet and Smith's wish to personally call everyone out and insult those who have a differing opinion could affect the very people he's trying to bring up. 

All these thoughts, twitter rants and otherwise cloud the fact that Kevin Smith has made an "It's a nasty-ass $4mil horror flick with few (if any) redeeming characters." All the posturing, throwing the toys out of the pram and general unpleasantness should detract that Red State; part religious right horror, part action siege, is in my opinion, the strongest work he's done in years.

Smith, never really considered as a "visual" director has re-invented himself here, giving himself aesthetic that pushes the authenticity of the universe he's written. The drab and sparse art direction of the church, the dropped frame rate and use of handheld digital, the obtuse angles and awkward close ups all work here. There is a beauty in the ugliness of it all, reminiscent of Texas Chainsaw Massacre (The roadkill, the chainsaw dance during sunset) or The Wicker Man (the climax), that Smith manages to capture and he's done it by taking risks within himself. It's simple things like seeing corpses in a cold stock room while Michael Parks' demented preacher's whiskey smooth, middle American drawl sings psalms over the soundtrack or the offbeat editing which aids the uncomfortable vibe the film gives off.   

The discomfort is centralised by a titanic performance by one Michael Parks. Parks allows the Phelps-like Abin Cooper is both snake charmer and snake. The sweetness of his voice seems to never let you forget that there is sin behind those eyes. Parks' Charisma is what takes us through the film's middle act, a lengthy, character building monologue not only tells us all we need to know about the darker aspects of the church but also how easily Parks has charmed them. His words sound warm but the fear is there in harsh and Swift retribution which is quickly and silently dealt out without argument. While Parks is the charm, Melissa Leo is the hysteria. In a role which, while predicable and trite at times (See The Mist or The Omen for similar and better displays), never the less bounces off every well with Parks more "subtly" devious role. Rounding off a trio of solid performances is a straight edged display by one John Goodman, his face betrays the look of a man whose knowing, tired and still unsure about everything falling around him. 

Unsure is the most important word for Red State as it is a film that is constantly questioning the idea of trust and blind faith. Many characters place so much trust in those above them in command only for them to fall to a fate most heinous. Ideals of faith are questioned at all sides and as clear as this is a work of fiction, Once the bullets start flying there's the niggling feeling that this is where things can go. The shadows of Waco hover over the film and the mixture of the such themes and the films aesthetics help give off an unconventional and yet tenable feel to proceedings.

Smith's decision to create a film that deals with horror that's more closer to home is far more commendable idea than the spite of remakes and generic genre fare that the U.S (mostly mainstream) have had to contend with. It plays out almost like an American version of Frontiers but of course it's nowhere near as extreme (read gory). It's a shame that there are flaws that hang out for all to see. While I have no problem with the film flipping between genres or even tone (who knew that Smith could create action sequence as visceral as he does) the narrative that hangs everything together should be better, especially from a writer like Smith. Scenes often clunk together and don't feel as organic as they could. It's great having John Goodman in the film but do we really need him on the phone basically spouting off exposition so late in the game? I don't need lovable characters but Smith wish for no one as likeable takes away so much tension. To rack up the fear we need someone to latch on to truly. The teens we start off with a left behind as soon as we hit the compound, Cooper is a personification of evil and Goodman enters far too ate in the game.

We also have lots of secondary characters but why are they so silent? Why do many of the family members add nothing to the narrative in terms of character? With all the chaos that Smith gives us why is everything tied up so neatly? The script also features humour that doesn't have to be added? Do we really need the films last (off screen) line for instance? Maybe Smith wished to diffuse the situation slightly with a bit of lightness but I like the questions he asked and I would have liked the film even more if he didn't feel the need to answer everything.

Never the less, there's an edge to the movie that I really liked, something that keeps the attention and it's not Smith's wit this time round. It's the subject matter and the approach to proceedings. It's the coldness that hides behind that warm exterior of Cooper, it's the idea that the more "touched" members of society are stockpiling for a war they believe is coming and one mistake could set everything off. After watching Red State, I was considering re watching the film again. To squeeze even out of the juicy bits of the film. Smith's is retiring after Hit Somebody. Watching Red State makes me hope it's a sabbatical.