…Or using feminist theory to defend the work of Stanley Kubrick.
This is my thesis, to sum up everything I’ve done in college. I plan on making more videos like this, so please feel free to send me feedback.
Oh hey there, it’s been a while. I just wanted to talk about possibly one of my new favorite directors, Ari Aster, starting a blip with his 2018 feature debut, Hereditary. Mild spoilers ahoy!
After the death of her mother, Annie (Toni Collette) is doing her best to keep her shit together – after all, her mother was a source of incredible trauma for her and their family. But even after death, Annie’s mother wouldn’t cease to drive her crazy.
In terms of accolades, this film is probably the most underrated of 2018 next to Searching and Mandy (and probably Mute, but I haven’t seen it yet).
Halfway through the film Collette delivers a monologue that gives me chills every time – I was hoping that scene alone would gain some attention.
The beauty of this film as a horror piece is that you can’t tell if the chaos is grounded in the physical or the supernatural until the end. Even then either way can be arguable. Additionally I feel that every reaction to each terrible event is plausible, if not understandable.
Hereditary is a mental health awareness piece under the guise of supernatural thriller. Even Aster only considers it a drama. The tension is built up so beautifully, each extreme becomes an emotional crescendo. As creepy as it is, I love showing this movie to people so I can watch their reactions. Both Collette and Alex Wolf have fantastic performances, so come for the drama, stay for the coming of great Paimon.
After such a strong debut, sometimes a victory lap is in order.
Midsommar begins with Dani (Florence Pugh) and Christian (Jack Reynor), a one-sided toxic relationship held together by dependence and guilt. Things only get more awkward when Dani is reluctantly invited to what was originally intended to be a stag trip to Sweden with Christian’s friends.
The tension is palpable from the get-go, and things only get worse from there: their destination is within the Hårga – an isolated
cult commune with little room for modern amenities. Luckily for our party, they are to witness a midsummer event that the Hårga only celebrate every 90 years. When this festival kicks off with a gruesome ättestupa ritual, our novice anthropologists realize that they probably should have picked a different topic of study.
Pagan-influenced bloodshed aside, the focus of this story is what happens when selfish individuals enter a community of selflessness. In the case of Dani and Christian, we’re dealing with extreme anxiety and utter idiocy, respectively. Dani has been through so much trauma, she is an emotional void of sorts, constantly on the verge of a breakdown. Christian is clearly painted as an assholish coward throughout – avoiding the inevitable with Dani as much as possible while mooching off of his friends.
In spite of her emotional condition, Dani proves to be open to new experiences, slowly warming up to the Hårga’s traditions. Because the events taking place, we as an audience cannot know what daily life is like, and really if they’re on psilocybin all the time or exclusively during festivals.
Regardless, psilocybin is a psychedelic that makes one feel closer with nature as well as peers, so this commune in the middle of the wilderness is the ideal place to be on shrooms 24-7. In Dani’s case, when she’s isolated she’s left with hallucinations of her traumas, but when she’s with the Hårga, she has a sense of belonging – so when she finally genuinely smiles, you feel it. Christian’s experiences, however, are thwarted by skepticism and discomfort.
Midsommar is a love story in a way, in the sense of feeling connected with one another through experiences rather than expectations. But due to Dani’s impressionability, she is easily taken advantage of. It was almost reminiscent of The Witch when Pelle asks Dani regarding Christian, “does he feel like home?”
Despite the utter beauty of this undertaking, I keep ruminating on that Pelle claimed his parents were burned alive, implying they were previous tributes – but didn’t they say the ceremonies were every 90 years? I think it can be argued that due to the absolute communal nature of this, well, commune, through all the shared feelings and expressions, would it be so hard to believe that each elder could be called a parent? Or that past trauma is shared through generations to the point of being a constant. It’s fishing, but it’s possible. Or maybe 90 years isn’t literally 90 years. Or maybe I missed something? …Or maybe it’s just a plot hole.
Both films are unified in trauma and grief, with any hopes of closure dashed away before they can even be actualized. Additionally the idea that when one is vulnerable, any influence can be let in – both literally and figuratively. Cults also appear in both films, but they almost appear to be a backdrop for our protagonists – working behind the scenes while Annie and Dani slowly break from the inside out.
I’ve been going through Ari Aster’s short films, and I cannot wait to see what he does next.
When John Carpenter’s 1978 classic was unleashed to the masses, it revealed an underlying paranoia that evil lives and persists and can erupt at any moment, in any neighborhood. This evil is slow and calculating – more so, patient.
Halloween also succeeded in putting an expressionless face onto the boogeyman, which unfortunately also belongs to William Shatner. One aspect that we don’t often attribute to the original is this was the beginning of a horror staple: virgins live, sluts die.
Henceforth throughout horror history, the promiscuity of barely-legal women has been predictably met with horrific ends, but of course, not until at least a top is off. This sexist exploitation has plagued the horror genre for decades – but finally, the times they are a-changin’.
Forty years after the incident, we find Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) alone and well-armed: a paranoid agoraphobe who has been waiting for the day Michael Myers escapes his prison. The overt theme of this sequel is victimhood: A victim can live in fear or survive and conquer. What Halloween manages to do is make the story as much about Michael as it is about Laurie; so often do we focus on the monster, we forget to think about those who survive. Every survivor has a story.
This may be bold of me, but Halloween is the kind of sequel we need right now. We already know the monster, so this is the perfect opportunity to build on some broken characters.
We establish that Laurie’s behavior has wrecked her relationship with her daughter Karen (Judy Greer), but now she has time to bond with her granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak), who seems to be a mirror image of Laurie at her age. Laurie herself has become more or less a menace – even referential scenes swap Laurie in the place of Michael.
By retconning the series, the film has given wiggle-room for the viewer’s suspension of disbelief. For example, in removing the notion of familicide, Michael Myers is a much more realistically terrifying presence, stalking his old hunting grounds with wild abandon (well, as wild as a murderous, slow-moving giant can be). Again, not only are his victims not screaming down the street with their boobies a-floppin’, but we also get a better grasp of who they are, or rather, were. And surprisingly, the majority of the victims were men, one of whom (arguably) asked for it.
Though not necessary, I would recommend re-watching the first Halloween before seeing this one, just for the sake of appreciation. John Carpenter gave Halloween (2018) his blessing, and with good reason.
I took my sweet time getting to the theatre on this one, especially after each spoiler-free headline I caught was incredibly divisive – I mean, to think that the prequels could be considered canon over Last Jedi? It’s like everyone’s taking crazy pills. In lieu of the screaming, I thought I would talk out the good and bad of the latest in the franchise. If you don’t want spoilers, I’ll just tell you that I liked it – other than that, read no further.
The Thing That Made Me Literally Say “What the f*ck?” Out Loud
Yes, I am talking about Leia revealing her Force powers. I don’t believe that there was any doubt that she had some sort of Force ability (considering her bloodline) but some sort of hint within the film series would have been nice. Sure she didn’t have any Jedi training, but we could have seen her meditate or something like that.
Otherwise, having her Superman to safety so dramatically was utterly ridiculous. And personally, I think it would have been more appropriate if she had died then and there – hear me out:
Much of Kylo Ren’s character development is hindering on his internal conflict (okay, so he’s the embodiment of internal conflict) – I personally loved that moment of hesitation which lead to someone shooting Leia before him. If she had died, the audience would know that he would have had to live with the fact that he did not kill her in the end, furthering his self-doubt.
Now that I think about it, Kylo probably doesn’t know that she survived, so better yet, he still knows that he hesitated. There will always be doubt, but more on him later.
Finn’s Storyline / The Rebels
For the most part, Finn’s plot felt like busywork. Arguably the disastrous chain of events could be blamed on Laura Dern’s character, Admiral Holdo. Though I do believe that she was mostly a foil to Poe Dameron, to prove that there is benefit to strategy over impulse, it would have been most beneficial for her to maybe, I don’t know, explain this plan to him? Maybe it was just hubris on her part, like she had something to prove?
However, because the true Rebels made their own plans, we got to see a different side of the war, which I appreciated. Being that the main plot is so caught up in light v. dark, it was nice to see neutral parties, as well as how other parts/people of the galaxy is affected – and thanks to Finn and Rose, a new generation of rebels are inspired.
Unfortunately, a lot of this is lost in an overdrawn chase sequence. Additionally I dug Rose as a character, but the romance angle near the end seemed like too much too fast (not a fan).
The Death of Luke
Many folks took umbrage to how Luke met his end. After all, this was the greatest Jedi in the galaxy, and he Force-projected himself to death. Thematically, I thought this worked. The showdown with Kylo was incredibly satisfying, and Kylo knows that he could not best Luke in the end. Furthermore, Kylo has no idea that Luke actually died, so he lives on in legend.
I actually enjoyed everything with Luke – the angst, the bitterness, and ultimately the redemption. Many also hated the fact that he tried to kill young Ben Solo – but it was a subconscious fleeing doubt and nothing more – a misunderstanding that he had to own up to. I also almost cried with happiness when puppet Yoda came back to teach Luke a final lesson. So with his demise, I have to agree with Rey: he was finally at peace, and knew that everything was going to be alright.
I have mixed feelings about him. As a character, it’s great to have such a conflicted villain. On the other hand, his denial and outbursts are just childish and annoying. I want to see him use his failure to empower his rage – to own his mistakes to do better, to indeed let the rage flow through him – some confidence, goddammit. What do we have instead? Doubt and brooding. Lots of brooding.
Sure, he’s following Vader in letting his fear turn to anger, but if I recall, we didn’t really like Vader’s transition that much – it was better when we just knew him as a mysteriously powerful, unstoppable force. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good tragic villain, but they have to be a rare combination of well-written and well performed to gain a sympathetic audience.
Obvious marketing ploy is obvious. However, the porgs weren’t nearly as annoying as I expected them to be, and their origin is actually quite charming. The crystal foxes didn’t really bother me either – I took more offense at a salt-coated planet, but that’s just me.
Final Thoughts: Legends Among Us
I think there’s something wonderful about the common theme of inspiring legends as well as belief. I really like that no matter what, Kylo will always be wrong: even after utter destruction, the stories will always endure, and so will hope. Even though the film ends on the note of “out-with-the-old,” the legends will remain at the core.
Holy guacamole. What. Did. I. Just. Watch.
Well, let me tell you – if you haven’t watched the latest season of American Horror Story, go away for now. I also wrote about the other seasons here. Meanwhile, I’ll be here jotting down my thoughts and musings on this last season.
Now, I find hotels as eerie as the next occasional traveler, so I thought the concept of AHS: Hotel was interesting on a very base level. Add some real-world creepy inspirations? Great! Old Hollywood? Even better! Vampires? Well…they hadn’t really tackled them yet, so okay…
I’ll be frank. This season’s a hot mess. It’s a Jackson Pollock of concepts and casting, marred with copious amounts of sex and bloodshed. Not all of it was terrible – for instance, we were given a new hero, Liz Taylor (Dennis O’Hare).
Liz is awesome. She’s an ideal role model for the modern audience – confident, intelligent, and fierce as hell. However, everything was fine until for some reason, they decided to throw in a completely asinine romance angle with the Countess’ (Gaga) flame, Tristan (Finn Wittrock).
Now, I’m not man-hating for the fun of it, but what I’m upset about is that this angle came from absolutely NOWHERE. The only time we get any idea that there was any sort of chemistry is after we see Liz and Tristan in bed together – no buildup, no conversation, not even any eye-contact, for all I know. I suppose the heart wants what the heart wants, I guess. I’m just glad she got the happy(ish) ending she deserved.
Another character I loved? James Patrick March.
Honestly I never gave Evan Peters a second glance until Hotel. Finally, after four seasons of moping, we get someone charismatic, cartoony, and impossible to ignore. Think of James P. March as Gomez Addams and H.H. Holmes on coke.
Hotel was an incredibly divisive season, an odd combination of cartoony and violent – in some cases cartoonishly violent. It seemed as if the creators didn’t know where to draw the line in terms of disturbing content – or which direction this show was going, for that matter. I think the idea was to bridge the gap with the “Ten Commandments” story…or maybe the vampires? Jeezus.
The Ten Commandments
Admittedly, this was a very cool, bold way to start the season. Granted, it is a total Se7en ripoff – that, and hearing the phrase “Ten Commandments” over and over again is clunky and exhausting.
And when we learn the truth about our protagonist, John (Wes Bentley), I’m not sure if it was more unexpected or annoying. Much like Liz/Tristan, we had no leads of any sort – it just seemed so poorly thrown together. On the other hand, when John accepted his identity, that was a nice change of pace.
There seems to be a string of shrugging off events when things get too weird – for instance, when we are introduced to Countess’ erm, child, it goes on a wacky’s “Baby’s Day Out”-style adventure. As if that wasn’t stupid/annoying enough, there is literally a scene where John’s daughter, Scarlett, is very upset and crying, and then less than a minute later we see her chilling on the couch with some popcorn. What kind of poorly written bullshit is going on here?
Okay okay, that’s a little nit-picky, especially considering some bigger problems…
The Addiction Demon and Hypodermic Sally
…Who was this? Why was this? What purpose does this serve? Other than disturbing for disturbing’s sake.
Speaking of which, it was never really explained why Sally (Sarah Paulson) was sewing folks into mattresses. It made a nice eyecatch I suppose, but again, ultimately pointless. Like that Human Centipede-esque nonsense later.
On the topic of nonsense, last but not least –
To be fair, they never really call these creatures “vampires” – but for the sake of simplicity, that’s what I’m going with. I honestly enjoyed how this season played with this vampirism disease, especially when combined with other diseases. Though they did hit us over the head with the-ever-so-topical vaccination “debate.”
Upon the announcement that Lady Gaga was to be involved with this season of AHS, I honestly didn’t really care – I guess I was more looking forward to the sheer spectacle she would surely provide – and thusly delivered. I was more annoyed by the irrelevance of her vampire clan and their terrible hair-dos.
The Countess represented the glamour as well as the menace that LA has to offer (throughout time, so it seems) – an ideal seductress. Apart from that, we have a concept that’s terribly drawn out and ultimately uninteresting.
In A Nutshell
I’m sorry, I took some time writing this because I often found myself getting ranty and all over the place. Kind of like this season. Simply put, there were way too many ideas going on here at once; near the end, it was painfully obvious that they needed to tie these stories up. Yet, despite my complaints, I still enjoyed this season. It doesn’t hold a candle to Murder House, but at least it’s better than Coven.
If you didn’t notice, I haven’t posted much in a while. Perhaps it’s due to distraction or laziness, but also because like any red-blooded American twenty-something, I’ve been mooching off of my parents’ various cable subscriptions and marathoning old HBO shows. (Seriously, I think Oz changed my life. I’ll have to write about that one sometime.) …That and I renewed my WOW subscription. Anywhoo, I’ve been fortunate enough to stay active with the newest installment of everyone’s favorite Freudian fanfare, American Horror Story: Freakshow.
I’ve been a fan of this series since the get-go, and yes, I accept it’s flaws as much as I bitch about them with friends and co-workers and anyone else who will listen. If anything, I always follow each season ’til the end, even Coven. So I decided to write a bit about each – the good, the bad, the freaky, and the just plain awful. Spoilers ahoy! (Mostly pertaining to Freak Show!) I’m not gonna give any real plot synopsis, but overall if you haven’t seen it, watch it dammit – all but the latest seasons are on Netflix.
American Horror Story: making families shift uncomfortably in their seats since 2011. This was the beginning of something new and exciting, with an opening that dares you not to look away (not at all unlike that of Se7en‘s).
Granted, I haven’t seen this since it’s airing (or any of the other seasons), but needless to say, some things just stick with you. Being that this was a season of firsts, Murder House took some serious balls – we’re talking rape, S&M nightmares, school shootings, and straight-up child abuse. And this is on cable.
Now, it’s one thing to have shock factor, but fortunately we have a pretty gripping story to go along with.
That, and a new generation has fallen for Our Lady of Perpetual Ferocity, Jessica Lange.
I believe it was Entertainment Weekly that described Lange’s portrayal of Constance Langdon as “Southern Comfort with a hint of venom.” Lange would later prove that she can keep this balance consistent throughout the seasons, weighing each outrage with vulnerability.
In retrospect, Murder House was probably the most solid of the seasons, and one of my favorites. Next to Asylum.
Though Asylum polarized audiences, I believe this one is my favorite: it has a cohesive plot, exciting characters and just enough weirdness and camp. That, and I think that Dr. Thredson (Zachary Quinto) was probably, arguably, the scariest AHS villain to date (which I will happily defend).
I only have three gripes: lame zombie reveal (though Nazi experiments is a new angle), disappointing deaths of not one, but two amazing characters (granted, they were heavily linked), and the serial killer’s name was “Bloody Face.”
Some people hated the aliens, but I really didn’t mind them. I was just glad to see something different. Oh, and bravo James Cromwell – in only one scene, you destroyed my childhood memories of the kindly farmer who sang to a pig. Thank you.
I also have some soft spots for asylums and Ed Gein types – that kind of horror feels, I dunno, nostalgic? Yeah, that’s the best way to describe it. So I guess that’s another perk of following AHS – if you don’t like one kind of scary, another’s just around the corner!
By Asylum, I caught on to some tropes, reoccuring cast members aside:
Now that I think of it, this series might as well have been called Mommy Issues: Seriously, Call Your Mom. When it came to Asylum, I’m not sure which was more scarring: watching Sarah Paulson’s DIY abortion, or the fact that Lana Winters’ exposé on Briarcliff was practically a recreation of one of the most abhorring and infamous scandals in the history of Staten Island.
I wanted Coven to be good, sincerely.
It had so many chances to do something well, but it went wrong at every turn:
This is just the tip of the iceberg. I think Buzzfeed also made a nice list of everything wrong. (Also I stand corrected on one of my tropes – I think the murderous rape-baby stops here.)
Also is it weird that there was more racism in Coven (presumably modern day, mind you) than there was during the 1950s (i.e. Freak Show)? Speaking of which, moving on-
This is my favorite opening. Maybe I just like toy pianos.
Sideshows/freak shows have also always appealed to me. Again, just one of those weird things. Plus this season was filled with ’50’s kitsch and David Bowie – pretty much everything I love right there. Not to mention numerous references to Tod Browning’s Freaks, one of my favorites, but we’ll get to that later. Oh, and awesome job with that Elephant Man theme near the end!
On the whole, I enjoyed this season a lot. Even though there wasn’t really an overarching storyline, I felt that it worked well as a character study/spectacle piece. Though, honestly, I still find it troublesome that there was so much focus on the music videos (at least until it was realized that the show needed to progress).
At first, it made sense: it was Elsa’s show and she’s a singer. That’s obvious. Now the twins come in and they need to be special – they better sing too. And now we’ve got Jimmy all angsty so he’s headlining with Nirvana? I mean, I know they’re pushing for more Evan Peters (especially because he mostly just got drunk and sulked all the time halfway through), but that was really, really pointless.
Oh and speaking of pointless, what was the point of talking about Stanley’s big wiener if they’re never going to do anything with it? I’m sorry, but I was at least hoping it would be chopped off and put on display at that Morbidity Museum – which would be wonderfully ironic – of course, not that they’d show it, but it’s the principle of the damn thing.
Needless to say, I feel that Stanley’s demise (a là Freaks) was satisfying, but the end of the show was so rushed, they never brought him up again or did anything with him – kind of like how they never mentioned if the Lizard Girl’s dad even survived the tar-and-feathering (or if there were repercussions). I guess someone remembered that we couldn’t just be distracted by jingle keys any longer and the show actually had to be finished.
This brings me to Dandy.
If ever there was a character you could love to hate, it was this kid. I could seriously not look away. This was the epitome of villainy: a spoiled, rich brat who makes Kanye West look humble. He also progressed the most throughout this show, which made his ending so…disappointing. Especially after seeing what they did to Stanley – why not make Dandy’s death ironic, at the very least? The water trap was too easy. Easy and boring. There, I said it.
There was still plenty to enjoy: Sarah Paulson does a fantastic job as Bette and Dot Tattler, and they brought back Kathy Bates and Angela Bassett – plus we now have TV debuts of the likes of Mat Fraser, Erika Ervin and Rose Siggins. Like I mentioned before, Freak Show mostly served as a spectacle of characters, which was still fun to watch.
For now, it is still up in the air as to whether or not this was Jessica Lange’s last season. At first it was believed to be, but since that rumor, creator Ryan Murphy has been begging her to stay. Believing that Freak Show was her last, it makes the last episode, rather her last performance (more Bowie – yay!), to be particularly heartbreaking. Not as heartbreaking as “Orphans” though. That was like…jeeze.
Personally, I hope she stays.
I know I haven’t been going to the theatre less often lately, but honestly I’ve been too preoccupied catching up on Netflix. As we all know, Breaking Bad has been rocking the small screen ever since its emergence in 2008. Apart from the gripping, well-written story, I believe that the performances on this show are probably the most impressive displays of acting prowess I have seen in a long, long time. In order to discuss the metamorphosis from dead man to death dealer, I will do my best not to spoil key events of the show that are not already known by means of advertisement or whatnot. Granted, I’m still catching up myself (only getting what I can from Netflix) so I may be a little more in the dark than some. Regardless, I will do my best to dissect the psyche that is Walter Hartwell White.
The Birth of Heisenberg
In the beginning, Walter White is a pathetic little weenie of a man with a bad mustache. Walt is a high school chemistry teacher who also works at a car wash in order to make ends meet for himself, his pregnant wife, Skyler, and their disabled son, Walt, Jr. Just to paint a little picture of his family life, there seems to be a small power struggle between Skyler and the influence of his in-laws, while his own son prefers to be called “Flynn” as opposed to “Junior” – so the discontent with his home-life has been well-established.
After months of being afflicted with a pestering cough, Walt visits a doctor and discovers he has inoperable Stage 3A lung cancer. For some reason, Walt doesn’t tell his family about this discovery – not right away at least. I’m not sure if it is mentioned as to why, but I think it’s because he wants to regain a sense of control over his own life as well as the future of his family. Obviously, control is a constant issue with Walt.
Not wanting to leave his family in financial ruin, Walt takes it upon himself to find alternative means of income. Considering he’s a chemistry genius, cooking meth seems like a desperate but ideal outlet – he figures he can cook the stuff and have someone else handle the business end. No big deal right? Get in, get out – an easy business transaction with a huge payoff. Though he’s aware that his brother-in-law, Hank, is a DEA agent, this does not deter him from his easy-money scheme. After contacting former student/drug dealer Jesse Pinkman, their business is soon established, and Walter White is cooking meth so pure, it comes out looking like blue rock candy.
Once Walt’s blue meth hits the market, this causes all sorts of trouble with rival distributors, as well as earning attention from cartel. As these tensions rise, Walt builds a new identity to face these local mobs: Heisenberg. Behind this guise, Walt finds within himself the ability to be intimidating and thus earn respect. Now we’ve created the anti-hero.
Come season two, Walt is caught between being hunted by the cartel while struggling to keep his work a secret from Skyler. Jesse has become less inclined to help Walt due to the jeopardization of his friends/dealers. On top of this drama, his medical bills have become increasingly daunting. He needs to stay in this business, but will need more help in order to protect himself and his family. Walt’s choices not only determine the future of Walt and Jesse’s partnership, but we also witness the cogs in Walt’s brain turn as he determines what is really the “greater good.”
What we learn from season three is that fear is not only a great motivator, but also an excellent catalyst. In this season Walt becomes under the employ of Gustavo Fring, a fried chicken tycoon with strong ties to the cartel. Giancarlo Esposito plays this character exquisitely: this is a man with two faces, the exceptional and the terrifying. There is very little we know about Gus’ past, but from what we can tell, Gus understands the sacrifice needed to build an empire. It is only when Gus intimidates Walt and Jesse in order to keep them focused, that’s when things go downhill; Walt understands this man’s potential, truly fearing him while simultaneously envying his control. Ultimately, Gus acts as the catalyst for Walt’s full transformation.
It is in season four when the villain emerges from Walt. He believes Gus has driven him to take drastic measures to protect his family. Though it is true that Gus threatened his family, Walt never tries to call his bluff. It is this season that Walt performs actions that are desperate, cruel, and powerful. I’d give examples, but again, I don’t want to spoil things. I will say we also see the dynamic between Walt and Jesse shift even further – Jesse is teased with the idea of partner-hood, but Walt manipulates him to the point of near-insanity. One could discuss the growth and potential for our young accomplice, alas this article is all about Walter White.
As we enter season five, everything has been set into overdrive. We know that Walt is building an empire, but in the process has become a total monster. There is no longer the man who simply wants to provide for his family. For all Skyler can tell, he doesn’t care about his family, he wants control. The same message can be read by the audience, though some take this badassery to heart without realizing that the Walter White that we grew to empathize with is dead and gone.
Or is he? I don’t know – like I said, I haven’t seen the newest episodes yet.
Walter White began as an underdog, became an anti-hero, then morphs into a full-on villain. While his actions have been impressive, his intentions have often had bafflingly terrifying implications. It’s great to see the little guy win, but to quote JoBlo “even Tony Montana had his limits.” Additionally, Skyler’s behavior, though having received much flack, is completely justifiable. By all means, I am not saying that I am not a fan of the character – I just find this transformation to be incredible. I can’t wait to see what happens to him and Jesse. I want to know what becomes of Walt’s empire, and the aftermath that will surely reign upon his family. All I can tell is this is going to be good.
In memory of Gale Boetticher.
Ever see a teen movie that makes you question conventions about relationships – plutonic or otherwise? I mean, I’m sure you have. Ever about zombies? No, this isn’t Warm Bodies. I’m talking about Deadgirl.
This movie’s pretty darn nasty, but I think I have a penchant for finding things to discuss in regards to nasty things. On the surface, we’re basically looking at zombie-rape teen drama. What? I told you this movie’s nasty. Key phrase here, “surface.”
Deadgirl is about a pair of friends, Rickie and JT – your typical 20-something high school students who would easily fall in the loser/burnout category. One day they decide to skip class and do their typical loser/burnout things, such as get crunked and explore an abandoned psychiatric hospital. Deep within the catacombs they discover a something most strange – a naked girl strapped to a bed. Upon this discovery, we instantly discover the boys’ respective moral compass: Rickie wants to call for help, but JT simply sees a sexy little number looking for action. Insert feminist groan. Then JT inevitably finds out that this stranger is indeed a nameless, mute zombie, and becomes his own personal play-thing. Queue a far more disgusted groan…and a little bit of controlled vomiting.
Yes, I realize this is an incredibly extreme situation which transcends all we know as reality. I mean, there’s no way we’re dealing with an “average kid” who’s as twisted as JT. Well, except for maybe Daryl Sabara in World’s Greatest Dad. That’s for another day. When looking at this movie, I think it’s best to think in terms of extremity, as well as just pure rawness.
I see the Deadgirl herself less as a victim and more of a metaphor. Because really, I don’t think this movie was made with human rights implications in mind. Are zombies really a people? They’ve always been objectified, clustered as an ominous horde, like hornets or mimes. Furthermore , being that “extreme” is a common theme throughout this film, the catalyst for these boys’ dichotomies is something as putrid as it is mystifying (because I struggle to say “alluring”). Similarly Joann, the object of Rickie’s affection, is, well, objectified – he desperately clings to this construct of her, that same girl he fell in love with in his younger years, when clearly she has moved on. Such is the simplification of angsty teen romance. Just a note, the climax with Joann – best part.
Watching this movie is no walk in the park, but there’s something about it that gave it a special place in my weird little heart. It’s undoubtedly Donnie Darkoesque, which is not to say that it’s nearly as good, but that’s beside the point. It’s this atmosphere combined with its raw content that creates an original work that is either loved or hated. I mean, I really dig it – and I know I’m not the only one:
Forget what you’ve heard. Past any controversy, Deadgirl is a film beautiful in every way: about friendship, love, rejection, obsession, and all the horror that comes along with such teenaged emotions. See it and make it the classic it deserves. – Fangoria
…Or using feminist theory to defend the work of Stanley Kubrick.
This is my thesis, to sum up everything I’ve done in college. I plan on making more videos like this, so please feel free to send me feedback.
Like I said last time, I want to give Martin McDonagh some lovin’, so here it is, my (very) brief analysis/review of two very underrated dark action comedies, In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths.
In Bruges is an assassin story unlike any other. After a rookie (Colin Farrel) accidentally murders a child in his path, the big man sends him off to recuperate in kitschy Bruges, Belgium – only to have him killed off. We are presented a classic game of cat and mouse but with some weird twists, involving film making, tourists, suicide, and dwarfs.
It’s easy to see how a film like this can be seen as a cult hit: it had a limited theatrical release in combination with a layered bait-and-switch plot which doesn’t fail to satisfy. Admittedly, the ending is wide open, but never-the-less enjoyable. Simply put, there isn’t another film out there like this one, at least, not that I can think of.
… That is, until Seven Psychopaths came along. Granted, SP does have a bigger budget and greater star power, but it’s still inexplicably weird. Most of you may recall the trailer focusing more on the dog-napping plot, but like In Bruges the actual story is much more layered.
The focus is actually on a struggling screen-writer (again, Colin Farrel) trying to put together a story that will blow people away, basing it on lives of those he considers to be “psychopaths.” The result is an action-comedy-meta-explosion (metasplosion?). The film itself was fairly successful, though it received mixed reviews. Perhaps some people just thought it was too strange – I say it gives the movie flavor. Seven Psychopaths is a good time all around, but there is still heart – you just have to find it.
Both of these films are wonderful and gritty in their own right, and ultimately incredibly surprising. If you were looking for a typical shoot em’ up, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere. Now if you were after entertaining crime thrillers sprinkled with existentialist themes, you’ve come to the right place – and you’re among friends.
Next time on What You Should Have Watched, Bill Murray.
Sometime between Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Wrestler and Black Swan, Darren Aronofksy made a gorgeous sci-fi epic entitled The Fountain, a film which I notice isn’t talked about often. Why is that? I feel that The Fountain is a beautiful romance of Mayan mythology and multi-verse story telling that is very much overlooked. So I guess I’ll just break it all down for you – sorry but spoilers are ahead.
A Story Within a Story
Our film begins in the year 2005, where we learn about a neuroscientist named Tommy Creo (Hugh Jackman), and his ill wife Izzi (Rachel Weisz). Izzy has been diagnosed with some sort of unnamed brain illness, to which there is no cure. Izzi has accepted her fate, but Tommy becomes obsessed with the idea that death is a disease, and will stop at nothing until he finds a cure. After she dies, Tommy finally reads a book she had previously begged him to finish – a book she wrote about love during the Spanish Inquisition.
Cut to 16th Century Spain, Queen Isabella (Rachel Weisz) is under siege by the grand inquisitor and begs her betrothed, a conquistador named Tomàs (Hugh Jackman), to search for the Biblical Tree of Life in South America. After battling with countless Mayan protectors (and one with a kickass flaming sword), he finds the tree, and desperately start drinking the sap only to become one with the earth.
Then we have the year 2500 with Tommy as Tom, an astral monk soaring through the cosmos in a biosphere containing a tree – a tree that was planted on Izzi’s grave. Tom is on a mission to find Xibalba, the Mayan spirit world, said to be where souls are reunited. He has survived this journey because of his desire to be with Izzi once again, if not for eternity.
The Road to Awe
This all sounds quite crazy, doesn’t it? Some people would venture as far to say ridiculous. I don’t really understand why people have such a hard time suspending their disbelief, especially when it comes to science fiction. If you just go with it, the overall piece is just so beautiful, it’s really quite indescribable.
First off, if you haven’t guessed, the visuals are astounding. One of the coolest things about this film is that there were barely any CGI effects used – space was filmed with trick photography and shooting light through petri dishes. With such stunning visuals partnered with a powerful, driving score, really what you’ve got here is a fantastic setting for something splendid – in this case an epic romance.
What’s different about The Fountain is that it’s a romance that only deals with the relationship between Izzi and Tommy. By placing the focus on these two characters, and only these two characters, you get this wonderful dynamic between the two of them, which just lets you believe in love and destiny and sacrifice and all that mushy crap.
Tommy’s obsession is another interesting element of the plot, because I’ll be honest here, the plot really doesn’t move much. You’re there suffering with him, and you know there’s no point in finding a cure – that was the idea all along – Izzi knew that, and that’s all she was trying to say but he wouldn’t listen. Sometimes you just need to let go.
Death is Not the End
I think one of the most important aspects of The Fountain was how it portrayed death. By adding the relationship element, it’s like witnessing the seven stages of grief, but told through three different stories with the same ending: acceptance. At one point in the film, Izzi tells Tommy about when she went to South America and her guide told her about how his father died and they planted a tree on his grave. The tree grew and blossomed, and birds came and carried his father away with them – “death was his road to awe.” After she tells him this, she says that she is not afraid anymore.
This is probably one of the most beautiful metaphors for death I have ever witnessed in a film. Filled with comfort and wonder, you want Tommy to find that it’s okay to move on, death is not the end – that’s all Izzi wanted to tell him all along, that’s why she wrote Tomàs’ death. Sure that moment was confusing, ridiculous and a little frightening, but hey, we can’t always choose how we go. That’s just part of the process. I don’t know, maybe deep down I’m more of a romantic than I’d like to admit, but I’d rather go with a transgressive astral monk over a Nicholas Sparks piece any day. Gotta admit, it’s pretty groovy.
Next time on What You Should Have Watched, a modern film noir that isn’t Brick.