W-Cinema

Revolt of the Zombies (1936)

2012-01-26T17:10:00.001-06:00

In 1932, American producers Victor and Edward Halperin released what is now considered as the very first feature length zombie film, the highly atmospheric "White Zombie". Directed by Victor Halperin and starring Bela Lugosi as a powerful necromancer, the film received mixed reviews upong release, but has earned cult status thanks to its eerie expressionist visual design and its ominous atmosphere. Anyways, while modest, the box office was quite big for an independent film and allowed the Halperin brothers a greater budget for their follow up, "Supernatural". Unfortunately, they couldn't repeat the success and the brothers returned to more modest productions. So, hoping to recover themselves, the brothers decided to go back to what had initially worked and make a sequel to "White Zombie". Unfortunately for them, the brothers got into a legal battle with the company that had helped them to finance "White Zombie", which prevented them to promote the sequel, titled "Revolt of the Zombies". Though given the resulting film, it would had been hard to promote it anyway.

Set during World War I, "Revolt of the Zombies" begins on the Franco-Austrian frontier, where Armand Louque has find a priest from Cambodia, Tsiang (William Crowell), claims to have the ability to turn men into zombies. The priest is murdered by General Mazovia (Roy D'Arcy), who wants to create an army of zombies to conquer the world, however, he only gets part of the secret. The death of Tsiang prompts the Allied powers to send an expedition to Cambodia to destroy the secret of the zombies, thinking it may have fallen in the wrong hands. So a group is sent to find the city of Angkor Wat, which suppousedly was built using zombies. Louque is in the expedition, as is his friend Clifford Grayson (Robert Noland), General Duval (George Cleveland) and his daughter Claire (Dorothy Stone). Armand falls in love with Claire, but she in turn prefers Clifford, which hurts Louque's feelings badly. The expedition fails after several accidents take place, but a melancholic Louque stumbles upon the secret. So instead of returnig home, he decides to find the secret and prove himself worthy of Claire's love.

Written by director Victor Halperin himself along writers Howard Higgin and Rollo Lloyd, "Revolt of the Zombies" starts off with a most exciting and intriguing premise: the creation of an army of zombies to fight the war. These zombies are of course, of the classic Voodoo type and not the shambling corpses of modern horror filmmaking. Another interesting element is the fact that Louque, whose arguably the protagonist of the story, is more of an anti-hero, being seduced by the power in his determination to prove his worth. While Clifford and Mazovia are the archetypal hero and villian type of the 30s, Armand Louque moves between sides as the story unfolds. It's an interesting character development that unfortunately never really succeeds as the screenplay is a quite big mess. As soon as the expedition begins, the story focuses entirely on the love triangle, and leaves behind any trace of the horror that was at its roots. Of course, there's the development of Louque as an antihero, but the execution trades horror for melodrama.

In "Revolt of the Zombies", director Victor Halperin's work seems so tacky that it seems difficult to believe that he's the same man that crafted "White Zombie". While "White Zombie" has atmosphere, depth and artistry, "Revenge of the Zombies" feels like a poor imitation of the typical adventure serials of the time. Certainly, the Halperin brothers were in need for a hit at the time of planning "Revolt of the Zombies", and this need of commercial success may explain the differences between the two films. Having started his career in the silent era, Halperin's "White Zombie" had more in common with the silent German horrors than with big studio talkies. On the contrary, "Revolt of the Zombies" has little silence and instead places more emphasis on big expository dialogs. Also, the dark atmosphere of dread is replaced by the lively jungle adventure, and the horror tone traded for that of a melodrama. Changes that perhaps sounded good to draw more audiences, but that Halperin was just unable to pull off.

The acting is another of the film's problems, though certainly not its greatest one. A young Dean Jagger (years before his Academy Award nomination) plays Armand Louque, probably the film's most interesting character, as he begins the film as a weak willed man often ignored by his superiors, and later becomes the master of the zombies of Angkor. While perhaps the only cast member truly commited to his role, Jagger still delivers an over the top performance as the tortured Louque, brooding as his beloved Claire leaves him for his best friend. Unfortunately, Jagger is not the worst in the cast but the best, as Dorothy Stone, who plays Claire delivers a terribly poor performance as the love interest. Equally weak is Robert Noland's turn as Clifford, who never really stands out and limits himself to just play the archetypal hero on his looks alone. Same can be said of Roy D'Arcy, who looks far from his best years in silent cinema and delivers a poor imitation of Lugosi's character from "White Zombie".

As written above, the difference between "Revolt of the Zombies" and the original "White Zombie" is so abysmal that it's hard to believe that it was made by the same team, and yet it was. Even cinematographer Arthur Martinelli worked on both films with remarkably different results. Certainly, big troubles must have taken place at the top levels of the film's production, as the big decrease of the film's quality was general. Perhaps the root of the problem is in the decision of leaving out the horror tone and atmosphere of the first film, and instead developing the story as a melodrama set in the jungle. In fact, the most celebrated elements of "White Zombie" are left out and traded for bigger versions of its weakest parts. Halperin, who must had been more comfortable in silent cinema, seems lost at directing a sound film, with the characters reciting their lines as if was a theatre. The overall style of the acting is too stagy, as if the film was merely a filmed play. And not even a good play to begin with.

Perhaps one of the most dissapointing sequels of horror cinema, "Revolt of the Zombies" has little of what made "White Zombie" great and a lot of what could be find in any typical adventure serial from the 1930s. Granted, by 1936 times had changed and the existence of the Hays code meant a stricter censorship. However, the problems of "Revolt of the Zombies" seem to be more related to the Halperins' inability to understand their audiences. An inability to see which elements of "White Zombie" worked and which didn't, and a huge neccessity to make a hit. In their desire of making "Revolt of the Zombies" appealing to a broader audience, the Halperins forgot what made "White Zombie" unique and made the sequel a quite generic film.

4/10
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Barney Oldfield's Race for a Life (1913)

2012-01-23T17:13:00.002-06:00

Know during his lifetime as "The King of Comedy", Canadian filmmaker Mack Sennett was one of the greatest innovators of slapstick in the silent cinema of Hollywood. While also an actor, his greatest contributions were as producer and director at Keystone Studios, were he developed his trademark style of slapstick comedy and launched the careers of a notable group of actors, including Mabel Normand, Ford Sterling, the Keystone Kops and most notably, Charlie Chaplin. Having started his career as an actor at Biograph Studios, Mack Sennett's career owed a lot to legendary filmmaker D. W. Griffith, who directed him in several of his early short films. This experienced allowed Sennett to be a first hand witness of the development of Griffith's narrative style. "Barney Oldfield's Race for a Life" is a short film in which Mack Sennett actively parodies Griffith, particularly his common topic of last minute rescues. And to do it he had the aid of the most famous race driver of his time: Barney Oldfield himself.

In "Barry Oldfield's Race for a Life", Mabel Normand plays Mabel, a young beautiful woman in love with her boyfriend (Mack Sennett). However, a villianous man (Ford Sterling) also wants her, and makes several advances towards Mabel. The young woman rejects him strongly, and this enrages the villain, who decides to kidnapp Mabel and in vengeance, chain her to a railroad track. Then the evil man finds a locomotive and lets it loose in order to fulfill his revenge. When her boyfriend discovers this, he now must has to race to save her before the train kills her. Fortunately for the hero, the famous racer Barney Oldfield is in town, so he asks for the help of the legendary Oldfield to save Mabel's life. So both men jump into Oldfield's Blitzen Benz and race against the train, hoping to arrive to Mabel's spot before the locomotive kills her, in a dangerous adventure that will also involve a group of bumbling policemen, who also are on the race riding a small handcar through the railroad.

As written above, this Sennett production has a lot in common with D. W. Griffith's popular "last minute rescues" in the sense that it's based on the concept of having a trapped victim (Mabel in this case) and a hero running to save her from an impending doom (the train). It's a plot that Griffith had been doing since his earliest work ("The Adventures of Dollie", 1908) and had been perfecting ever since; and in fact, Sennett himself appeared in one of the best know of them: "The Lonely Villa". However, Sennett of course takes everything to the extreme to make a parody of it, with of course the inclusion of the staple of the company (the ineffectual police) and the celebrity of the day (Barney Oldfield). Certainly, the film's a cleverly devised cocktail of thrills, however, what's perhaps the greatest contribution to the history of cinema is one single iconic image: Ford Sterling as a mustahcoid villain tying Mabel Normand to the racetracks. An image so strong that nowadays is more famous than the film that originated it.

As a matter of fact, the image includes the two most talented members of the film's cast: Ford Sterling and Mabel Normand. While the film is suppoused to be a vehicle for Barney Oldfield and has Sennett himself as the protagonist, "Barry Oldfield's Race for a Life" belong entirely to Ford Sterling in his performance as the villanous man rejected by Mabel. In one of his most accomplished performances for Sennet, the original 'Chief Teeheezel'of the Keystone Cops takes the villain role and delivers a classy demonstration of how to properly overact. While the role is certainly an archetype, Sterling makes it his own and creates an icon. The talented Mabel Normand may not have a lot of space to shine in this film, but she showcases the natural charm and flair for comedy that made her a star. Unfortunately, his counterpart (and real life lover), Mack Sennett himself is not a particularly likeable hero, and his performance is quite weak. Barney Oldfield simply plays himself, and for the most part, isn't bad at it.

While there's a group of bumbling policemen on the race too, it's not clear if they are the classic Keystone Kops or a variation on the same theme. Since they are not exactly the stars of the film, it's hard to know (and the ending is particularly gloom for the policemen), though the basis is the same. Nevertheless, the movie is entirely based on the last minute rescue situation that has Oldfield as the star. This is perhaps the root of the film's problems, as neither Sennett nor Oldfield make for good protagonists. While the villain is well drawn, the heroes are very thinly developed. Certainly, Sennett achieves a great thrilling race sequence, following Griffith's technique to the letter and actually adding nicely the comedy elements. Nevertheless, there's some spark missing, and that would be the lack of an appropriate protagonist to balance Sterling's villain, as whenever Sterling is not onscreen, the film goes down. Perhaps making it a proper Keystone Kops film would had helped it.

Anyways, while probably not exactly one of Sennett's best films, "Barry Oldfield's Race for a Life" is without a doubt a movie of hight historical value, as the origin of one of the classic images of cinema. To fans of motor sports, it's also interesting to watch Barry Oldfield on screen, a legend of his time (he was the first driver to run a mile track in one minute flat or 60 miles per hour) who seems to be a tad forgotten in these modern days. While not entirely succesful, "Barry Oldfield's Race for a Life" is still a pretty fun and entertaining short film that in its parodic way, contains one of the best accomplished examples of the classic "last minute rescue" that Griffith had developed.

6/10
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The Drums of Jeopardy (1931)

2012-01-20T17:37:00.002-06:00

Though nowadays the name of Harold MacGrath is not exactly well known, during the first decades of the twentieth century he was one of the most popular authors in America. A regular collaborator in several of the major magazines of his time, MacGrath was also one of the first famous authors to write specifically for the big screen, like the lost film "The Adventures of Kathlyn". Such was MacGrath's popularity that several of his short stories and novels were also adapted to Broadway plays and movies. The 1920 novel "The Drums of Jeopardy" is one of the best examples of this, as only two years after its publishing, the novel became a stage play in 1922, and a film in 1923. Nevertheless, nowadays this work is perhaps best known for having its villain's name based on the artistic name of a young British actor who didn't want to be recognized as William Henry Pratt, but as Boris Karloff. Incidentally, in 1931, less than a year before "Frankenstein" made Karloff a superstar, a new version of "The Drums of Jeopardy" was released.

"The Drums of Jeopardy" begins in Czarist Russia and is the story of Dr. Boris Karlov (Warner Oland), a scientist who discovers that his daughter Anya (Florence Lake) has been dishonored by a nobleman and decided to take her life. Vowing vengeance, Karlov discovers that the responsible is a member of the Petroff family, and decides to destroy them. Time goes on and the Bolshevik revolution takes place, the Czars' rule comes to an end and with that the noble families of Russia are being hunted, so the Petroff family has gone to America on exile. Karlov, now a prominent Bolshevik leader, finds and murders the older Petroff, so the two younger brothers, princes Nicholas and Gregor (Lloyd Hughes and Wallace MacDonald respectively) are taken to the mansion of Kitty Conover (June Collyer) to hide under the protection of agent Martin Kent (Hale Hamilton) of the Secret Service. Each time a Petroff is about to die, he receives from Karlov one of the fabled Drums of Jeopardy, cursed gems that signal their doom.

Adapted to the screen by Florence Ryerson (whom years later would be one of the driving forces during the writing of "The Wizard of Oz"), this version of "The Drums of Jeopardy" is a mash up of genres that works like a film divided in two very clearly defined halves. The first half works like a tale of adventure, with Karlov hunting down the older Petroffs mercilessly; while the second half deals with the events that take place inside the mansion, essentially transforming the story into a murder mystery of the style that was so popular at the time. However, what perhaps is the greatest merit of "The Drums of Jeopardy" is its construction of the villain: Dr. Boris Karlov is driven by vengeance, and his thirst for blood transforms him into a quite sadistic foe. Nevertheless, while the character may be drawn as a caricature of a communist, his motivations are still "noble". While not entirely the sympathetic villain that Universal studios would perfect later, at times it kind of points into that direction.

Seasoned veteran George B. Seitz is the man at the helm of "The Drums of Jeopardy", and the fast-packed first half of the film does show Steiz' particular expertise gained crafting adventure serials during the silent era. In simple, yet effective set pieces, Seitz gives life to the threatening menace that Dr. Boris Karlov should represent to the Petroffs, and transforms him into a presence that seems to lurk around every corner. Seitz unfolds his film with a fast, appropriate pace, though later the rhythm slows down perhaps a bit too much for its own good during the second half. While owner of a style that put more emphasis on practicality than on artistry, Seitz does manage to create an entertaining film that makes great use of its budgetary limitations. The cinematography of Arthur Reed (who would make a prolific career in B-movies) has some nice touches, particularly during the second half, which takes place in an old dark mansion and his playing with light and shadows comes handy.

The cast is for the most part good, though it's certainly Swedish actor Warner Oland who's got the best role. As Dr. Boris Karlov, Oland hams it up perfectly, as the role of sympathetic villain allows him several dramatic moments of great quality. Nevertheless, Karlov is also a sadist, and Oland manages to make him creepier by restraining his act at the appropriate moments. It's certainly one of his best performances, as despite not being a complex role, Karlov is a character that allowed Oland to explore different sides of a villain character. As Nicholas Petroff, Lloyd Hughes is appropriate, though not particularly surprising in his turn as the hero of the film. However, his counterpart June Collyer is also another highlight of the film, easily overshadowing Hughes, and every other actor in the film, with the exception of Oland. The rest of the cast ranges from mediocre to good, though it's interesting to see Mischa Auer in an early role as one of Karlov's henchmen.

While at first sight it could seem that the only thing that "The Drums of Jeopardy" has to offer is the curious trivia of Karlov's name, it is actually an entertaining thriller that combines with a certain degree of success aspects of adventure serials and the murder mystery subgenres. While the novel has Karlov as an evil Bolshevik kind of character (and director Seitz plays on this by having Oland look like a mix of Lenin and Stalin's images), the screenplay of Florence Ryerson has a certain degree of empathy towards the character, that makes this mad scientist closer in spirit to the Frankenstein monster than to the Fu Manchu kind of character he is supposed to be. And it's in this aspect where Oland's performance finds a gold mine to exploit. One could only wish that "The Drums of Jeopardy" had been executed by most daring hands, as Seitz' directing, which opts to play it simple, doesn't seem to take full advantage of the material he had to work with, and it's perhaps the reason why the film feels more like a missed chance than like an entirely satisfying experience.

Certainly, "The Drums of Jeopardy" has not aged well, specially when one considers the films that were released merely months after it. Universal Studios would change the history of horror cinema with "Dracula" and "Frankenstein", and the world would be introduced to a new style of monsters. Gone were the days of murder mysteries and mastermind criminals (at least in major films, as b-movies would continue churning this kind of films for another decade), and it was now the birth of the movie monster. Films like "The Drums of Jeopardy" were soon forgotten, though in the case of this film, perhaps it would be nice to rediscover this product of its time. If only, to enjoy the remarkable work of June Collyer and Warner Oland.

6/10
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Yira, yira (1930)

2012-01-17T17:52:00.000-06:00

Certainly, one of the greatest figures of Argentina is without a doubt singer, songwriter and actor Carlos Gardel. The most prominent figure in the history of Tango revolutionized the culture of his time that despite having died tragically at the height of his career (in a plane crash), his name is the one most often associated with the culture and music of Argentina. Born in 1890, Gardel arrived to Buenos Aires at a very young age, and grew up in the Abasto neighborhood. Like many singers of his time, Gardel began his career working at bars, but soon his singing talent and charming look took him to the studio to make recordings in 1917. That very same year cinema found Gardel, and his talent made its way into the film "Flor de Durazno". Naturally, Gardel's career on cinema didn't make much progress in the silent era, so he focused on singing. However, by 1930 sound in film was now a reality, and so Gardel and cinema met again, in an early series of musical short films directed by sound pioneer Eduardo Morera.

"Yira, yira" (often known in English as "Go round... and round...") is one of those musical shorts, which basically consisted in an introduction to the song and then the execution of the song by Gardel himself. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is done by Gardel and the song composer, the legendary Enrique Santos Discépolo (at the time a young 29 years old man), with Gardel asking Enrique Santos about the meaning of the song. Enrique explains Carlos that the song is about despair, hopelessness and loneliness; to which Carlos answers surprised that such is the feeling he had received from the song. Enrique praises Gardel's singing, though Carlos wonders with a little naiveté if the song's main character is a good man despite the brooding tone. Enrique makes a joke about it, which Carlos doesn't seem to catch at first, though he later does and both men laugh. The film then cuts to Gardel's interpretation of Santos Discépolo's "Yira, yira", with a musical group.

As in most of Morera's shorts, the centerpiece of the film is Gardel's singing "Yira, yira", however, the introductions to the songs, while probably scripted by Morera or Gardel, give a glimpse of the magnetic personality that the famous singer had. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is twice interesting as it showcases Enrique Santos Discépolo, the composer of this popular tango. Whether the dialogs recited were scripted or are in fact improvised is sadly not known, though two things can be noted in the film: the great camaraderie and respect between both artists, and the natural charm and ease in front of the camera that Gardel displays. It's clear that both Morera and Gardel understood very well the possibilities of the film, and thus the image of the singer is carefully detailed in the brief introduction. Gardel is shown as a humble singer, respectful of the composer, and owner of a child-like curiosity. The fact that Morera makes the joke be on Gardel is part of this: Gardel owns the spotlight, but he shares it willingly with his friends. With his people.

Now, the interpretation Gardel makes of "Yira, yira" is one of his best, capturing in his performance the very same feeling of despair and loneliness that Enrique Santos Disépolo was explaining in the introduction. The touch of irony that the song has is not lost, though perhaps a bit diminished by Gardel's strongly melancholic performance, which adds a bit of optimism to the song. Tango singing (specially of Gardel's time) often requires a bit of dramatic emphasis on the voice, not only because of its common themes of loneliness and lost love, but also because of its very rhythm. In this aspect, Gardel delivers a masterful performance, and "Yira, yira" proves that Morera wasn't wrong when he decided that no matter what may had happened in the failed experience of "Flor de Durazon", Carlos Gardel was truly worthy material for cinema. In the introduction, Carlos Gardel wonders if the character is a good man. In his performance, it's clear that when Gardel sings it, the brooding main character is a good man indeed.

As expected from an early experiment in sound film, Morera's set up is fairly basic, with cinematographer Antonio Merayo framing both scenes (introduction and performance) in a simple yet effective manner. Certainly, Merayo's work is much more interesting when Gardel is singing, though that's perhaps the result of a directorial decision rather than a flaw on Merayo's side. "Yira, yira", along nine other of Morera's short films were later compiled in 1931 to form a longer movie called "Diez canciones de Gardel" or "Encuadre de canciones" (literally "Ten songs by Gardel" or "Assortment of songs"); however, Morera's shorts work much better on their own, as they were intended to be. In this aspect, Morera's Gardel shorts can be seen as precursors of modern music videos. Given the quality of Gardel's performance, and the fact that Morera's succeeded in what he was set to achieve (to prove Gardel could be a major film star), it can be said that his humble experimental short films more than fulfilled its goal.

10/10
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Abismos de Pasión (1954)

2012-01-16T18:02:00.000-06:00

With the release of his controversial yet highly influential feature length debut "L'Age d'Or" in 1930, Spanish director Luis Buñuel had already cemented his place amongst the surrealist movement of his time. Unfortunately, the film was banned due to the protests it generated, so Buñuel began to think about the next film. For his next project, he began to work with writer Pierre Unik in an adaptation of a famous novel: Emily Brontë's "Wuthering Heights". Sadly, the project never took off and instead, Buñuel and Unik began to work in the documentary "Las Hurdes". More than two decades later, Buñuel was now in Mexico working with producer Óscar Dancigers, who had helped him to return to filmmaking after years in exile. In 1954, Dancigers was preparing a comedy starring Irasema Dilián and Jorge Mistral, but the project was suddenly canceled. Still with Dilián and Mistral hired, Dancigers gave Buñuel the chance to make a film if he used those actors in the lead roles. It was in this conditions that Buñuel resurrected his "Wuthering Heights" project.

Titled "Abismos de Pasión" (literally "Depths of Passion"), the film begins in a rich but deteriorated estate located in the Mexican dessert. It is the house of Eduardo (Ernesto Alonso) and Catalina (Irasema Dilián), who live there with Eduardo's sister Isabel (Lilia Prado). Not entirely a happy marriage, the wild temperament of Catalina doesn't seem to get along with the quieter, calm personality of Eduardo, whose biggest passion is entomology. Still, there is relative peace at the household, until one day Alejandro (Jorge Mistral) returns. An orphan raised along Catalina and her brother Ricardo (Luis Aceves Castañeda), Alejandro had ran away tired of being constantly humiliated for his lack of status. Now a wealthy man, Alejandro has returned to buy Ricardo's estate and to see Catalina again. A deep passion exists between Alejandro and Catalina, a passion not unnoticed by Eduardo, who feels threatened by the presence of Alejandro. And this is only the beginning of Alejandro's vengeance.

Like most adaptations of Brontë's classic, "Abismos de Pasión" is focused only on the first half of the novel, though the condensation is far more extreme: it's dedicated only to the events after Alejandro/Heathcliff's return to the estate. Adapted by Buñuel himself, Arduino Maiuri and Julio Alejandro (in his first collaboration with Buñuel), "Abismos de Pasión" is "Wuthering Heights" stripped to its bare bones, to the core of its passion. The past is only mentioned, the future, merely hinted at, what truly matters in "Abismos de Pasión" is the present, in which Alejandro is back and has taken by storm the household of Eduardo/Edgar and Catalina/Catherine. While it could be argued that the script represents only a fraction of the novel, in fact what the writers have achieved is a perfect cinematic summarization of the core themes of "Wuthering Heights". This allows a pretty good development of the characters, not only of the two leads, but also of the microcosm that inhabits the estates.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Buñuel's vision of "Wuthering Heights" is how little it's actually changed from Brontë's novel, and still, it's undoubtedly a Buñuel film. There's truly a perfect marriage between Buñel's idiosyncrasies and his profound respect for the source (explicitly stated in a disclaimer at the beginning). The tone Buñuel conveys is one of depressive decadence, reflected in the stark atmosphere of the Mexican desert. As if it was a limbo, the characters live in the forgotten estate just existing, that is until Alejandro arrives, triggering the passions of both Catalina and Isabel. Without taking sides, Buñuel presents his characters without any sympathy or or apparent romanticism, showing them as the cruel monsters that they are. This is another aspect in which his "Wuthering Heights" rings true: it's a gathering of wicked people, and nobody, neither rich nor poor is free of sin. As in "L'Age d'Or", the theme here is the destructive force that results from repressed passion.

Unfortunately, it's in the cast's performance where "Abismos de Pasión" has its fatal flaw, more specifically, in the lead cast. As written above, Buñuel had no word in the casting as it was imposed to him, and in fact, perhaps with a little more of time dedicated to work it out the result may had been improved. Unfortunately, one element that Buñuel rarely enjoyed in his career was time, and it shows. As the capricious Catalina, Irasema DIlián rings true in intention and presence, and she is indeed a beauty that lights up the darkness of the desert. Unfortunately, the Polish actress is simply unable to hide her heavy accent and ends up lacking verisimilitude as sister of Ricardo and childhood friend of Alejandro (both speaking without accent). As the Heathcliff character, Alejandro, actor Jorge Mistral has some good moments, though he lacks the presence required to carry such a role, and unfortunately, he ends up greatly overshadowed by the supporting cast, who truly rise up to the challenge.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the supporting cast is made up of Buñuel's regulars (or soon to be regulars): the impossibly beautiful Lilia Prado (of "Subida al Cielo") plays Isabel, Ernesto Alonso (of "Ensayo de un crímen") is Eduardo, and Luis Aceves Castañeda (also of "Subida al Cielo") is Ricardo. The three of them are remarkable in their turn, but most particularly Alonso, whom makes a terrific work at making his Eduardo/Edgar a frail effete, in love with Catalina, but unable to match Alejandro's passion. This unevenness in the cast is the Achilles' heel of "Abismos de Pasión", as the difference between the lead and the supporting cast is so abysmal that's impossible not to notice it. It's tragic, as it spoils the experience of what could had been one of Buñuel's most symbolic and visually arresting films. While he keeps faithful to Brontë's text, visually the movie is full of Bulñuel's touches, from Eduardo's bug collection to Alejandro's servant reciting the darkest passages from the Bible, not to mention the mysterious behavior of Ricardo's mute son Jorge (the Hareton equivalent).

Despite its flaws, Luis Buñuel achieves in "Abismos de Pasión" the movie that perhaps gets closer to Brontë's spirit in terms of tone and atmosphere. In "Abismos de Pasión" Buñuel seems to understand that Brontë's novel is not Austen, it's raw, harsh, and cruel. There's wild passionate violence in its words, and Buñuel manages to translate it to images in a more accurate way that Wyler did in his polished 1939 version. It's for these reasons that it's so tragic that the cast involved has failed in their performance. A weak couple of lead actors and a heavy Polish accent undermine the foundations of what could had been a masterpiece, and leave it as only as a merely good film. Fortunately, a merely good film from Buñuel is still far more enjoyable than a merely good film from anybody else.

7/10
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Wuthering Heights (1939)

2012-01-13T16:50:00.000-06:00

When first published in 1847, Emily Brontë's novel "Wuthering Heights" received mixed reviews from audiences and critics, whom while pretty appreciative of Brontë's talent, were turned off by the novel's ambiguity, grounded on characters driven so much by passion that can be seen as cruel, hateful or unlikeable. Nevertheless, the tale of the unfortunate love between Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw would later receive its proper reevaluation, and earn its rightfully deserved reputation as a classic of English literature. And like most classics, Brontë's Gothic romance was soon seen as good material for an adaptation to the new medium of cinema. 1920 was the year the earliest version of "Wuthering Heights" was released, directed by British actor A.V. Bramble. Unfortunately, that version is apparently lost now, however, better luck had the following adaptation: a Samuel Goldwyn's production released in 1939. Directed by William Wyler and starring Laurence Olivier, this would become the most famous and better known version of Brontë's classic.

Like the novel, "Wuthering Heights" opens with a traveler, Lockwood (Miles Mander) arriving to the estate of the title, looking for a place to stay the night. Lockwood is received in a quite rude manner by the master of the house, Heathcliff (Laurence Olivier), but still, he is allowed to stay in an abandoned room upstairs. During the night, Lockwood is awaken by the voice of a woman calling him, and as soon as Heathcliff learns this, he runs away into the cold night. Lockwood remains puzzled, but then the housekeeper Ellen (Flora Roson) begins to explain how is it that "Wuthering Heights" ended this way. It all began when Heathcliff arrived to the estate, a poor orphan boy adopted by Mr. Earnshaw (Cecil Kellaway). Working as a stable boy, Heathcliff develops a passion for Catherine Earnshaw (Merle Oberon). However, she can't reconcile her love for Heathcliff with her disdain for his lack of status. Heathcliff leaves broken hearted, and swears vengeance over those who mistreated him for his social status.

Adapted by two of the most prolific scriptwriters of their time, Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur, "Wuthering Heights" follows the classic pattern of most adaptations of the story. That is, it focuses entirely on the first half of the book, and omits the second generation's story. This abridged version of the novel is entirely dedicated to detail the passionate love between Cathy and Heathcliff, from its roots in childhood friendship to the way it dooms their adult life. Like the book, it's narrated as a flashback, and a fair share of time is dedicated to source of Heathcliff's anger: his rivalry with Cathy's brother Hindley, his undying love for Cathy, and his grudge against the society that humiliates him due to his lack of status. Certainly, Hecht and MacArthur's screenplay seems more interested in exploring Heathcliff's psychology than Cathy, whose character seems somewhat reduced by this condensation of the source material, less a complex and passionate force of nature and more a merely capricious and passive spoiled girl.

What truly elevates "Wuthering Heights" above the typical costume melodrama of its time, is the remarkable work done by two men: director William Wyler and specially cinematographer Gregg Toland. Wyler's vision of "Wuthering Heights" plays with the ambiguity of the novel, lavish when the characters are young, stark when they are older, truly reflecting the Gothic atmosphere that's present in Brontë's novel. In Wyler's film, atmosphere is the key, and the brilliant work of Gregg Toland plays an instrumental role in building up such a haunting atmosphere. Painting with shadows, Toland creates images of great beauty in "Wuthering Heights", fully capturing the brooding mood of the novel in his depiction of the Yorkshire moors. Wyler's narrative is particularly fluid and dynamic in the way he uses camera movements to wander through Wuthering Heights and its surroundings. All in all, Wyler's technique is impeccable, though the film feels a tad rushed by its last third, probably the result of the condensed screenplay and of course, his famous clash with producer Goldwyn.

The cast's performance is another one of the film's greatest strengths, with a remarkable turn by Laurence Olivier as Heathcliff, in his debut in American cinema. While a bit old for the role, Olivier embodies nicely the image of the tortured Byronic hero of Brontë's novel, driven by his unconsumed passion for Cathy and his hatred for those who have scorned him. Olivier's performance is still a bit stagy, though he compensates it with a strong screen presence that often says more than his hammy delivery. As Cathy, Merle Oberon is effective, though nowhere near the level of Olivier's Heathcliff. Certainly her character is a tad underwritten, though Oberon does little to improve this. Quite the opposite is Geraldine Fitzgerald, who plays Heathcliff's wife Isabella and delivers a magnificent performance as the naive young woman in love with the wrong man. David Niven, who plays Cathy's husband Edgar is also underwritten, though Niven adds elegance and dignity to the role with great ease.

William Wyler's "Wuthering Heights" is a beautifully crafted film that manages to translate to the screen the passion of Emily Brontë's classic novel. However, certain elements prevent the film from being truly a masterpiece. Perhaps the most significant one is the way the screenplay seems to side with Heathcliff, leaving no room to other characters to breathe. The condensation of the novel may have had a hand in this, but it truly affects some elements, particularly Cathy's character, whose change from Heathcliff's loyal friend to ambitious socialité is perhaps too abrupt to ring true, and makes her character much less likable and difficult to relate (a problem since Brontë's characters aren't really likable to begin with). Cathy's husband Edgar is also diminished, and it would have helped to explore more the contrast of the differences between him and Heathcliff, beyond wealth and social status, that could have given more insight into Cathy's actions.

Nevertheless, those are probably minor quibbles result of a contrast with the novel, as such flaws do not really diminish the sheer power of Wyler's "Wuthering Heights". It's certainly a movie that demands to be seen, not only for the celebrated work of cinematographer Gregg Toland, but for the fantastic performance of Geraldine Fitzgerald (an actress often forgotten today). As a version of Brontë's classic, Wyler's "Wuthering Heights" may not be the most fortunate one, but judging it purely as a film, it's certainly up there with the many masterpieces that were released in 1939, often called (and not without a good reason) as the best year in the history of American cinema. Producer Samuel Goldwyn (who added the epilogue against Wyler's objections) considered his favourite, and he had pretty good reasons for that.

8/10
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Suchîmubôi (2004)

2012-01-11T16:58:00.002-06:00

In the year 2004, Katsuhiro Ôtomo, writer and director of the enormously influential anime, "Akira" (1988), returned to film-making after almost 10 years since his last directorial effort ("Memorîzu" or "Memories"), with another epic story of action and science-fiction named "Suchîmubôi", literally "Steamboy". In this film, Ôtomo dives into the sci-fi sub-genre commonly known as "Steampunk", stories often set in the 19th century where highly advanced steam machines are the fantastic technology of the time creating alternative history and settings. The Steampunk sub-genre shares many similarities with its "literary parent", cyberpunk fiction, so the idea of having the creator of one of the most celebrated works of cyberpunk fiction, "Akira", tackling a steampunk story is particularly interesting. Ôtomo's background and these similarities between the sub-genres force an inevitable comparison to "Akira", but while "Steamboy" won't revolutionize anime the way "Akira" did, it's one of the best feature length animated films of the decade.

Set in Victorian Britain, "Suchîmubôi" is the story of Ray Steam (Anne Suzuki), a young kid from Manchester who spends his free time working at a factory and inventing steam machines following the example of his father Dr. Edward Steam (Masane Tsukayama) and his grandfather Dr. Lloyd Steam (Katsuo Nakamura), both renowned inventors working in America. One day, he receives a box from his grandfather containing a small spheric steam machine, with explicit orders of not giving it to anyone except to famed inventor Robert Stephenson (Kiyoshi Kodama). The young Ray marvels at the device, and wonders about his grandfather's mysterious instructions. However, soon he finds his answers when he receives the visit of agents from O'Hara, the company where his grandfather works, violently demanding the spheric machine. Ray's grandfather appears too, and helps Ray to escape with the sphere, making Ray to realize that the small machine contains a power beyond his imagination. And everyone wants it.

"Suchîmubôi" is by all accounts a classic example of Steampunk fiction as it takes a historical setting and gives it a spin by adding the element of fantastic super science. Written by Katsuhiro Ôtomo and Sadayuki Murai, "Suchîmubôi" uses the sub-genre's setting and elements to tell a story about science, its possibilities and specially its consequences if handled in a bad way. Ôtomo uses the characters of the Steam family to describe what he sees as the two possible uses of science, and makes a sharp (although heavy handed) criticism to our modern capitalist society. In this way, it shares some of "Akira"'s themes, but "Suchîmubôi" has a decidedly more optimist tone, as it's essentially a story about the birth of modern science (in an exaggerated fantasy way of course) where mankind is still on time to learn the enormous responsibility of using science. Overall it's a pretty straight forward story of action and adventure, but the use of this themes through the movie makes the story really captivating.

As expected, the animation of the film is flawless, with a great (and often unnoticeable) combination of both traditional 2-D and 3-D animation that bring the incredible Steampunk machines to life. The movie has an exiting visual design, mix of real classic Victorian designs and Ôtomo's very own sci-fi style, paying honest tribute to the pulp adventures and Victorian literature that form the basis of the Steampunk sub-genre. Despite his limited output since "Akira", director Katsuhiro Ôtomo's visual narrative seems to be in top form, as "Suchîmubôi" has an exciting rhythm, pretty much in tone with the adventure inherent in the story. And this is another of the differences with "Akira": subtexts aside, "Suchîmubôi" is first and foremost, a tale of adventure, and to this effect Ôtomo keeps a fast pace that for his set pieces. And those set pieces truly showcase Ôtomo's great eye for visual flare, particularly in the epic finale, which is one of the best staged scenes in an animated film of the last years.

The voice work is of great quality, as director Katsuhiro Ôtomo has reunited a particularly strong cast for his film. Anne Suzuki makes an outstanding job as Ray, not only because the character is male (and she is female), but because the character is old enough to his voice be "manly". Suzuki makes Ray very convincing, as the young kid discovering the benefits (and dangers) of science. Masane Tsukayama plays Ray's father, giving a certain dignity and power to the character and avoiding most of the clichés this kind of character tend to have. On the same tone is Katsuo Nakamura, who in turn plays Ray's grandfather. Nakamura's eccentric character is effectively portrayed by the experienced actor, and is one of the highlights of the film. Finally, Manami Konishi plays Scarlett O'Hara, the young heir of the O'Hara company, making this spoiled little brat (by the way, a more than obvious reference to "Gone with the wind") annoying yet likable enough to make her a fine counterpart to Ray.

Probably the film's biggest flaw is that it's simply not "Akira", meaning that given that Katsuhiro Ôtomo's 1988 movie was such an important landmark in the history of anime, the expectations generated by "Suchîmubôi" were probably impossible to live up to. However, this doesn't necessarily mean that "Suchîmubôi" is a bad movie, it's simply a different experience than "Akira". In a way, "Suchîmubôi" is a simpler tale than "Akira", but this doesn't mean it's less remarkable. "Suchîmubôi"'s epic scope, apparent optimism and upbeat, colorful atmosphere doesn't mean it's only for kids. It simply reflects the timeframe in which it's set. A time where science is seen as the future, with great optimism and faith. And yet, despite this optimism, deep inside "Suchîmubôi" deals with the same dark subject that "Akira": Man must learn to use the science before it's too late. In this aspect it could be seen as a prequel of sorts (set several centuries before) to the world of "Akira", as the science in "Steamboy" seems to be getting advanced at a very fast pace.

In the end, the only real flaw of the movie is that despite having a runtime of 2 hours, the film feels rushed, and leaves one wanting for more; as if Ôtomo had not been able to condense his story in a tighter way, and often it seems that the plot is too complex for its own good. Anyways, while certainly less impressive than "Akira", there's a lot to enjoy in "Suchîmubôi", which stands as a fine piece of animation by its own merit. Director Katsuhiro Ôtomo spend almost 10 years conceiving and developing "Suchîmubôi", and the effort certainly payed off. With its excellent animation and captivating story, "Steamboy" is an excellent introduction to Katsuhiro Ôtomo's work. It's not going to change anime again, but Ôtomo's movie is still definitely one of the best.

8/10
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Jacob's Ladder (1990)

2012-01-06T17:48:00.000-06:00

One of the greatest misconceptions about the horror film genre is that it is a clichéd, predictable and juvenile entertainment based entirely on sex, blood and gore. Certainly, there are a lot of horror films that would fit that description without problem (and without shame), but the fact is that horror films go beyond that. And that misconception is so deeply ingrained in the mainstream audiences that often when a great horror film appears ends up as being labeled as a "thriller" instead of a horror movie, as if horror films were by default unable to present intelligence and quality. But they do, and a great example of a brilliant horror film that breaks that popular misconception about the genre is Adrian Lyne's 1990 masterpiece, "Jacob's Ladder". After having earned commercial and critical acclaim with "Fatal Attraction" (1987) and with a good reputation as maker of sexually charged thrillers, director Adrian Lyne tackled a much darker theme in this existential venture into psychological horror.

"Jacob's Ladder" is set in 1975, and is the story of Jacob Singer (Tim Robbins) a Vietnam war veteran who works as postal worker and is trying to start a new life with his girlfriend Jezebel (Elizabeth Peña) after his ex-wife Sarah (Patricia Kalember) divorced him. However, his sanity begins to fade as he is troubled by horrible hallucinations and increasingly severe flashbacks to his days in the war, his previous marriage, and the years before his little son Gabriel (Macaulay Culkin) died. The visions of monsters and the return of the horrors of the war start to become dangerous to Jacob as the hallucinations get more real each time. Jacob is contacted by one of his former Army friends, Paul (Pruitt Taylor Vince), who tells him that he is also having hallucinations. As Jacob's mind shatters, he also suffers mysterious threats to his life, and the murder of Paul gives ground to the theory that everything is the result of the Army's experimentation on the soldiers. However, there's something more in Jacob's soul.

Written by Bruce Joel Rubin, "Jacob's Ladder"'s hallucinatory trip to madness is easily one of the most captivating and vivid portrayals of the horror of insanity ever put on film, and most of the film's success is thanks to Rubin's cleverly devised script. Complex and multi-layered, Rubin takes Jacob through hell and back in his quest for an explanation to what is happening to him, but given the unpredictable nature of his mental condition, there is never an only answer to the bizarre series of events that happen in his life. Reflecting his particular interest in metaphysics and spirituality (a constant theme in his career, as exemplified by "Ghost"), Rubin explores ideas about life and death, and the nature of the soul. However, the tone and atmosphere of "Jacob's Ladder" is somewhat darker than in his other works, though without losing its symbolism. While the complex narrative may sound a bit too ambitious and contrived, Rubin makes it work and the final result is one of the most original movies (not just horror) ever written.

Know for his stylish visual narrative and strength in developing characters, director Adrian Lyne does a remarkable job (one of the best in his career) at giving life to Bruce Joel Rubin's story of insanity and horror. Particularly impressive is the camera experimentation to create the unsettling effects of the hallucinations, a visual imagery that proved to be highly influential ("Jacob's Ladder" is credited as an important influence on the "Silent Hills" videogames for example) due to their disturbing nature. The film's atmosphere as a whole is one of unnerving decay and disorder, meant to reflect the deteriorated state of Jacob's own mind. Cinematographer Jeffrey L. Kimball delivers his most accomplished work and captures the urban chaos of New York with great skill, adapting gracefully to Lyne's stylish vision and transforming the city into a nightmarish world in which nothing is what it seems. Lyne keeps the symbolic nature of Rubin's screenplay, sustaining the ambiguity, but without losing the story's humanity and soul.

The cast delivers a great job in "Jacob's Ladder", but certainly the highlight of the film is Tim Robbins, who plays the tortured Jacob Singer. In one of the best performances of his career, Robbins is simply perfect as Singer, capturing masterfully the inner horror of a man betrayed by his own mind. Playing insanity without resorting to clichés, Robbins transforms himself into the troubled soul of Singer and proves that he is certainly a vastly underrated actor. Cuban-American actress Elizabeth Peña is very good as Jacob's girlfriend Jezzie, giving an effective performance in its subtlety, though her character feels somewhat limited. However, it's worth to point out that the film is entirely focused on Jacob, so there's not much space for other actors to shine. In fact, the only other actor who manages to do it is Danny Aiello, who appears in a small but very important role as Jacob's chiropractor and only friend Louis, who acts as a spiritual guide in Jacob's attempt to understand his experiences.

"Jacob's Ladder" is definitely one of the most original films of the 90s, due not only to it's brilliant storyline, but also to the way Lyne crafted the film in a simple yet very effective way. Certainly, the film does contain some plot twists that may not be that original anymore, however, the beauty of "Jacob's Ladder" is in the stylish way the challenging complexity of the script unfolds. It's also remarkable how Lyne manages to keep the spirituality that's the focus of Rubin's screenplay, as the film has a powerful supernatural atmosphere that enhances the feeling of Jacob's world blurring the line between reality and insanity. The conspiracy thriller aspects are another good touch the story has, that Lyne allows himself to explore, but without losing the focus on the film's theme: Jacob's struggle with his own demons. Like the Biblical Jacob (that inspired themes of the film), Jacob Singer struggles with something beyond himself, and Lyne makes of this struggle a haunting experience.

The terms "psychological thriller" and "psychological horror" are used very loosely in recent times, however, "Jacob's Ladder" is a movie that truly represents what psychological horror is. With its delightful mix of mystery, suspense and horror, Adrian Lyne's "Jacob's Ladder" is a masterpiece of horror that serves as the perfect example of a story that uses horror to explore limitless possibilities. Perhaps its only flaw is that it hasn't aged that gracefully (it looks like a true product of the 80s, though that's perhaps a flaw of Lyne's visual style as a whole); nevertheless, the strength of the story is still as captivating as when released. As a film that explores the horror of conspiracies, "Jacob's Ladder" is a true horror gem.

9/10
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Ángel caído (2010)

2012-01-05T17:44:00.000-06:00

Through the history of Mexican cinema, with its penchant for stylish melodrama and musical comedies, full fledged ventures into the fantasy genre have been scarce, almost a rarity. Granted, the Mexican film industry has produced some of the best horror films in the world, and the Mexican culture has a long standing literary tradition of magical realism that has found its way into Mexican cinema in one way or another; however, to find more traditional subgenres of fantasy is particularly rare. Aside from the surreal work of Jodorowsky and Rafael Corkidi, there have been very few examples of purely fantasy films ("Zurdo" and "Historias del Desencanto" come to mind). It is because of this scarcity that the effort of newcomer director Arturo Anaya is particularly admirable, as he debuts with an ambitious fantasy film titled "Ángel caído", which is based on the first of a series of fantasy novels he wrote. Now, the effort and Anaya's determinations are without a doubt admirable, unfortunately, the end result well, not so much.

The story of "Ángel caído" (literally "Fallen Angel") begins in Italy, when a baby is taken to an orphanage by the police. Years later, the baby is now a young kid named Liutprando (Emiliano Zurita) or Liut for short. One night, a demon arrives to the orphanage searching for Liut, but the kid is miraculously saved by his Guardian Angel and taken to an isolated monastery in Greece. At the monastery, Liut is welcomed by brother Angus (José Alonso), a wise monk who explains Liut his true origin: he is a Sephyro, a half-human half-angel with supernatural powers. Liut is shocked at the revelation, but there's more, he also has inherited a mission from his father: to find the Sword of Fire, the legendary Sword that Liut's father used as Guard of the Garden of Eden. With this in mind, Angus begins to train Liut, who becomes a young man in the process (Sebastián Zurita). A clue is hidden at the University of San Rafaello, so Liut enrolls to find it. However, Luzbel the fallen angel (Carlos Cacho) is waiting for him.

As written above, "Ángel caído" is a film written by director Arturo Anaya, adapted from his own novel “Ángel Caído Sephyro, el canto segundo”, though given the long time of production the film had, it's difficult to say what happened first, either the film or the novel. The story can be divided in two parts, the first one chronicling Liut's childhood and his training at the monastery, and the second and main section of the film is dedicated to his time at the University and his battle against Luzbel's minions. While the setting is the real world, "Ángel caído"'s secret world of demons and angels grounds the story in the field of the fantasy epic film. At its core, Arturo Anaya follows closely the classic monomyth pattern to unfold his story, which is largely centred around Liut's heroic journey. An element of fish out of the water is added in the secodn half, as Liut's upbringing at the Greek monastery is put in contrast to the modern world at the University of San Rafaello, embodied in his dorm room neighbor Paul.

Despite working with an extremely low budget, director Arturo Anaya opts for a heavy use of special effects in his film, and surprisingly, many of them actually look fine. However, at times it feels excessive, not only in the sense that its low production values become notorious, but also as the amount of digital enhancement tends to darken too much the work of cinematographer Juan Castillero. "Ángel caído" is a case of digital cinematography being damaged in postproduction. While undoubtedly a bold effort, "Ángel caído" showcases the limitations of the unexperienced Anaya, not only in purely budgetary terms, but as a director. The story's pacing is quite uneven (the work of editing is pretty poor), often reaching extremely slow points only to follow it with sequences that seem rushed. Anaya's tacky visual narrative, which seems greatly influenced by television, doesn't really capture the epic feeling that his story pretends to have, and feels more apt for a TV series.

The cast is one of the film's weakest elements, though two cast members truly shine in their roles. Unfortunately, they aren't the protagonists, as Sebastián Zurita and Laisha Wilkins, Liut and Persefone respectively, aren't really that effective. Wilkins, though owner of a natural beauty, fails to be convincing as she doesn't seem to be fully into the project. On the contrary, Zurita shows passion and commitmet to his heroic role, but his skills aren't up to the challenge and ends up wooden and emotionless most of the time. Now, the two actors who truly give their best are José Alonso and the young Luis Caballero. As the monk Angus, Alonso is pitch perfect as the wise old man of this journey, and he steals a couple of scenes with his sharp comedic timing. Playing Paul, Caballero excels in his performance as Liut's spoiled rich friend, and truly gives life to the second part of the film with a vibrant performance full of energy. The rest of the cast is pretty average, and while Humberto Zurita shows his skills, he is reduced to a boring and clichéd role.

In fact, boring and clichéd are adjectives that unfortunately, extend to many other aspects of the film, as "Ángel caído", as laudable as it is as a low budget epic fantasy, it's marred by problems bigger than its low budget. In fact, while low budget could serve as an excuse for its technical problems, the real failure in "Ángel caído" is in a more basic, yet neccessary element: its story. Anaya's story is not only derivative and unoriginal (to be fair, most fantasy epics sadly have this same problem in one degree or another), it's also pretty thin in its development and lacks engaging main characters. While Anaya has done a good job in creating his mythology (borrowing from Christian Catholic elements), the human conflict is missed in his drama, and the virtuous Liut ends up being an uninteresting one-dimensional character. A shame, as the world and premise of "Ángel caído" certainly sound with the potential to make a remarkable work in the fantasy genre.

In the end, while the film does have certain flaws in its visual look, the special effects are pretty good looking for a film of its budget. In this aspect Arturo Anaya's team truly excelled, but unfortunately, the excuse of low budget can't save the film from it's fatal flaw, a problem that hamrs both big Hollywood films and indie features: it's poor excuse for a story. Unoriginal, unengagin, derivative and lifeless, "Ángel caído" is guilty of the worst sin a movie (regardless of budget) can commit: to be boring. As a bold venture into a genre largely forgotten by the Mexican industry, Anaya's "Ángel caído" is enormously admirable. As an epic fantasy film, it's a tragic failure. Hopefully Anaya will do better next time, because the very few good things in "Ángel caído" are truly good.

3/10

Muerte al invasor (1961)

2012-01-04T12:08:00.000-06:00

In 1961, a CIA-trained group of Cuban exiles launched an attempt to overthrow the recently formed Cuban government of Fidel Castro. The operation, codenamed operation Zapata, was supported by the US government and involved landing the beaches of Bahía de Cochinos (Bay of Pigs), east of the Zapata peninsula in Cuba. The invasion was unsuccessful, as the Cuban armed forces defeated the invaders within three days. The failed invasion had as main consequence a much stronger nationalism and greater support for Castro's government in Cuba. This conflict later became known in Cuba as The Battle of Playa Girón (Battle of Girón beach), and in the US as the Bay of Pigs Invasion. Given the great importance that Cuban government gave to cinema, the Instituto Cubano del Arte y la Industria Cinematográphicos (ICAIC) sent a team of war correspondents to cover the event. Amongst them was Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, who constructed a short documentary film about the invasion for the ICAIC's newsreel of Santiago Álvarez: "Muerte al Invasor".

"Muerte al Invasor" (literally "Death to the Invader") is composed of the images captured by Gutiérrez Alea and his team of cameramen: Mario Ferrer, Pablo Martínez and Julio Simoneau. The narration, quite probably written by ICAIC director Alfredo Guevara and voiced by Julio Batista, details the events of the invasion, chronicling the three days of battle while at the same time glorifying the efforts of the Cuban people and its leaders. Given its nature as a documentary meant for a newsreel, its propagandistic goal is more than evident, with the defeated invaders constantly labeled as traitors and oppressors from previous government. The US support to the invaders is also a point discussed extensively in the film, noting the US' effort to overthrow the Cuban socialist government, and describing the covert nature of the operation as an example of imperialist treachery. In fact the film's subtitle describes the invasion as an imperialist aggression. "Muerte al Invasor" is certainly a film with an agenda, so subtlety is not one of its assets.

There has been much debate about who was actually behind the creation of "Muerte al Invasor", with supporters from both Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and Santiago Álvarez claiming sole credit for the film. The film does show early signs of both directors' styles: traces of Álvarez' innovative "nervous montage" can be felt through the film, while on the other side, the images that make up the documentary have the distinguished style of Gutiérrez Alea. And speaking of the images, the images captured on the film are not only of great historical interest, there is a certain raw beauty in some of them that truly portray the spirit of a nation defending itself. Forgetting the jingoistic narration and without taking a political side, those images speak a lot about a young nation that still believed in an ideal, and fought for it. The eloquence of the images in "Muerte al Invasor" give ground to the argument for Gutiérrez Alea as the sole director, but in the end, this newsreel piece may have as much contribution from him, as from Álvarez and even Guevara.

As written above, "Muerte al Invasor" was clearly conceived as a propaganda piece, with its latent glorification of the Cuban nation and its relentless demonization of the imperialist invaders. And this is perhaps the weakest side of the film, as despite the power of its images, the narrative is slow and even dull. Narrator Julio Batista's lack of emotion doesn't help to this, as he remains calm and monotone in his speech, akin to the narrator of a science documentary. As a propaganda piece, it does fulfill its purpose, but it somewhat lacks the vibrant energy of Soviet or posterior Cuban propagandistic cinema. The film's true strength, is clearly in its images and montage, which showcases the talents of its makers and offers a glimpse to their posterior careers. The contrast in quality between the images on film and the written narration is so big that the film could easily work better without the narration. The eye of the young Cuban cinema was enough to tell the story of their victory, no need for added glorification.

"Muerte al Invasor" may not be the best example of the cinema of Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and Santiago Álvarez, though it's certainly a quite interesting film to watch to notice the development that took place for both two filmmakers, later celebrated stars of the Golden Age of Cuban cinema. In a film like "Muerte al Invasor", which clearly has its defined goal and political agenda, it's always difficult to separate the politics from the film, but in this case, whether one agrees or not with its arguments, one thing is clear: with their images and montage, filmmakers Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and Santiago Álvarez have truly captured the face and spirit of a young nation finding itself.

6/10
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Sky High (2003)

2012-01-03T17:55:00.000-06:00

After spending some years making independent projects with limited budget, Japanese director Ryûhei Kitamura became a household name after the international success of his epic mix of action and horror titled "Versus" back in the year 2000. The recognition earned by "Versus" allowed Kitamura to keep displaying his talent in action films like "Alive" and "Aragami", movies where he continued demonstrating his fresh and very dynamic style clearly influenced by the Japanese comic books (Mangas). Kitamura's style would reach a peak in his epic "Azumi", a martial arts film based in the manga of the same name, which could be considered as a masterpiece of his style. "Azumi" that many of his followers consider a masterpiece. After "Azumi", Kitamura directed several chapters of the popular TV series "Sukai hai", a tale of fantasy and horror also based on a manga. In the meantime, Kitamura directed a movie to serve as a prequel to "Sukai hai": an action film titled simple "Sky High" (the English name of the TV series).

"Sky High" is the story of detective Kohei Kanzaki (Shosuke Tanihara) and his bride Mina Saeki (Yumiko Shaku), and how their lives get shattered when on the day of their wedding, Mina is brutally killed by the mysterious serial killer that Kanzaki was trying to arrest, a criminal who removes the hearts of his victims. Now, Mina goes to the Gate of Rage, the place where the souls of all the murdered people go to make an important choice: whether to go to Heaven and expect the next rebirth, return to the Earth as a ghost, or to curse the killer and go to hell with him. Mina has 12 days to decide, but in the meantime, she decides to attempt to help Kanzaki to regain sanity, as Kanzaki is now decided to kill the assassin even if that means going to Hell for his sin. While this happens, Kanzaki has not only discovered the identity of the killer, but also the purpose: the killers need to obtain six hearts from the Guardians of the Gateway of the Afterlife to open the Gate of Rage.

As written above, "Sky High" was conceived as a prequel to the TV series "Sukai hai", so Kitamura's "Sky High" is basically the introduction to the extensive plot of "Sky High", the manga by Tsutomu Takahashi. The screenplay, by Kitamura's regular collaborator Isao Kiriyama, starts off with Kanzaki's attempt for revenge over Mina's death, but also spends its time focusing on Mina's own story at the Gates of Rage, as she contemplates what to choose for her afterlife. In this way the two main "genres" are defined, with Mina's side being more a fantasy horror story while Kanzaki's works like a crime thriller, complete with twists and turns as the main villain's identity and motivations are revealed. To this effect, Kiriyama's script is very well detailed and spends a good time into developing its characters and establishing the concepts that become familiar in the TV series. Nevertheless, behind the violence and horror, "Sky High" is a tale of romance, and it's this emotional aspect is what sets it apart.

As expected, once again Kitamura displays his mastery of the visual flare as the film is filled with his trademark energetic camera-work and remarkably done action set-pieces. Kitamura gives flesh to Kiriyama's screenplay in the same way as if he was drawing a comic book, giving chance to his imagination to fly by keeping true to the essence of the "Sky High" story. While "Sky High" is considerably less violent graphically than Kitamura's previous films "Versus" and "Azumi", this choice fits the stylish concept of the film, as despite all the visual eye-candy, it remains focused on the relationship between its two main characters, and an excess in gore would feel out of place. In fact, this focus on the characters is the film's greatest strength, as it allows to give more consistence to the fantastic situations the characters live, and give meaning to their actions. In "Sky High", Kitamura succeeds in balancing out the action and the romance in a natural and believable way, without sacrificing one element to benefit the other.

The cast ranges from average to very good, and this divergence in quality is certainly one thing that lessens the power of "SKy High". Nevertheless, for the most part it could be said that "Sky High" has a mostly effective cast. Leading the cast, Yumiko Shaku delivers a pretty good performance as Mina, and proves to be a good dramatic actress, not only a pretty face. However, her action scenes seemed a bit weaker when compared to other actors in the film. Shosuke Tanihara, who plays the tortured detective Kanzaki delivers the best acting of the movie, as he carries the film with a great attitude and a believable delivery of the part. It wouldn't be wrong to call Tanihara's performance the true heart of the film. Finally, Kitamura's regular collaborator Takao Osawa is excellent as the mysterious Tatsuya Kudo. As written above, the rest of the cast is mostly good, but nothing really spectacular, although the action scenes are excellently choreographed and performed.

While certainly "Sky High" has many of Kitamura's trademarks to its full potential, it's unfortunately not one of his masterpieces, as it contains a great deal of the usual flaws in Kitamura's cinema. As beautiful as it is in visual terms, "Sky High" is a bit overlong, mainly due to the excessive detail that writer Kiriyama gives to the story. Unlike "Azumi" (also scripted by Kiriyama), where the epic approach of the story suited a long and detailed script, "Sky High" relatively more intimate story feels unnecessarily long, and at times it seriously drags a lot. Perhaps a better work of editing or more concise scriptwriting could had improved the film a bit, as it would seem that the film gets a bit lost in the creation of its own mythology. Perhaps it's that "Sky High" seems to take itself too seriously at times, or perhaps Kiriyama tried too hard to synthesize the world of "Sukai hai" in the film. Anyways, despite its problems, "Sky High" is by no means a bad film, just perhaps one certainly that could had been a lot more.

In the end, Ryûhei Kitamura's "Sky High" is a very recommended movie, not only for die hard Kitamura fans, but for those with a taste for intelligent action films. The touches of horror and fantasy give the story a lot more depth and make it stand out among the many martial arts movies out there. It certainly offers an interesting and thought-provoking view on the after life, and contains several set pieces that display the remarkable talent for visuals that director Ryûhei Kitamura has. While a bit too long, "Sky High" is actually a very good, albeit flawed, film that can deliver great entertainment when watched on the right mood. It's certainly a fine introduction to "Sukai hai", which is probably what its producers intended in the first place.

7/10
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The usual New Year post (Top of 2011)

2012-01-01T15:34:00.000-06:00

Once again, a year ends and another one begins, and with that comes new things, new life events, new problems, new triumphs, and of course, new movies. The fabled year of 2012 is upon us, and so it's time to look back and see what did the year of 2011 left us. Personally, 2011 was a great year, not only W-Cinema seemed to resurrect (somewhat) and deliver more reviews, but I also may have learned a thing or two about life in the process. Life is good.

Back to movies, given that realistically, nobody can truly get a full grasp of what's released during in the year (because of different release dates for different countries or limited availability), I decided to make three lists. One dedicated exclusively to the Top of 2011 as per tradition in W-Cinema (that is, based on the original release date, meaning the IMDB date). Another to detail my theatre experience (since I live in Mexico, expect several films of 2010 in the list, which didn't arrive until the last year). And finally, a list chrinicling the discoveries I made during the year, that is, films from any other year that I just happened to watch for the first time during this year that ends.

Naturally, with every list, you may agree or disagree with it, but whatever be the nature of the feeling this humble lists incite in you, don't be afraid to stop by and comment. Opinions are greatly appreciated. An now, the lists:

Top films of 2011

I couldn't decide what to place in first place, if Woody Allen's heartfelt tribute to the City of Lights, or Verbinski's animated homage to Sergio Leone. In the end, I opted for Allen, as his "Midnight in Paris" is a superbly done exericise in comedy that is always intelligent, witty and charming. Pretty much what used to be Allen's trademark in the past. Is this a return to form? A new masterpiece? I don't know, it's not. But it's certainly a remarkably enjoyable film. Oh, and I did not find "The Tree of Life" as amazing as it claim it is.
1) Midnight in Paris (2011, Woody Allen)
2) Rango (2011, Gore Verbinski)
3) Miss Bala (2011, Gerardo Naranjo)
4) Moneyball (2011, Bennett Miller)
5) Source Code (2011, Duncan Jones)
6) The Lincoln Lawyer (2011, Brad Furman)
7) Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011, Rupert Wyatt)
8) Bridesmaids (2011, Paul Feig)
9) Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011, Brad Bird)
10) The Tree of Life (2011, Terrence Malick)

At the theatre 2011

My theatre experience, as expected, shows a lot of 2010 at the top places. The reason of this is simple: most of the best films of a given year that I see, are not seen during that given year. Four 2010 films appear at the top, and still, I have the feeling that they could probably end up not being the best of 2010. Who knows? Perhaps there's an unknown film from the Eastern bloc that I'll end up discoverying in the following years... Yes, once again I fell under the spell of Darren Aronofsky, but I don't mind to admit that "Black Swan", as unsubtle and loud as it is, is a film that works for me. But then again, "The Kids Are All Right" could also had been #1, so between both films, the decision was purely arbitrary.
1) Black Swan (2010, Darren Aronofsky)
2) The Kids Are All Right (2010, Lisa Cholodenko)
3) 127 Hours (2010, Danny Boyle)
4) Copie conforme (2010, Abbas Kiarostami)
5) Midnight in Paris (2011, Woody Allen)
6) Rango (2011, Gore Verbinski)
7) Miss Bala (2011, Gerardo Naranjo)
8) Moneyball (2011, Bennett Miller)
9) Source Code (2011, Duncan Jones)
10) The Lincoln Lawyer (2011, Brad Furman)

Discoveries of 2011

While I try to watch more modern films and recent releases, there is a lot in the history of cinema that I still have not discovered yet. This year gave me 10 films that simply left me breathless. It may sound preposterous, but the previous two lists have nothing on these 10 true masterpieces of cinema. Each one of them a landmark of filmmaking that rightfully earned its place in history. From the stylish "Laura" to the enigmatic "Zerkalo", each is a very well recommended movie to learn just how truly great an art form that humble invention call cinema can be.
1) Zerkalo (1975, Andrey Tarkovskiy)
2) Viskningar och rop (1972, Ingmar Bergman)
3) Paris, Texas (1984, Wim Wenders)
4) Nazarín (1959, Luis Buñuel)
5) Fort Apache (1948, John Ford)
6) Les quatre cents coups (1959, François Truffaut)
7) Paths of Glory (1957, Stanley Kubrick)
8) Viridiana (1961, Luis Buñuel)
9) Ladri di biciclette (1948, Vittorio De Sica)
10) Laura (1944, Otto Preminger)

La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía (1954)

2011-12-28T17:23:00.001-06:00

Having left his native Spain when Francisco Franco became dictator, director Luis Buñuel found himself unable to continue the promising career he had started in France. Luckily for him, he met producer Óscar Dancigers, who offered him to make a film in Mexico. Working for hire within the Mexican film industry, the surreal artist learned to make movies with commercial purposes with low budgets and tight schedules. Nevertheless, this didn't mean that the artistry of Buñuel's craftsmanship was lost in those movies done on commission. 1953's "La Ilusión viaja en tranvía" is probably one of the best examples of this, as it was originated with a purely commercial purpose: Servicio de Transportes Eléctricos, Mexico City's main Tramway company had suffered a lot of bad press due to the tragic collision of two trams (with many casualties) so, the management wanted a comedy film about tramways for public relations. Clasa Films, one of Mexico's biggest studios, took the job and hired Luis Buñuel to direct the film.

"La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" (known in English as "Illusion Travels by Streetcar") is the story of two friends, Juan Godinez (Carlos Navarro) and Tobías Hernández (Fernando Soto "Mantequilla"), better known as Caireles and Tarrajas respectively. Caireles is a mechanic of streetcars, while Tarrajas is a driver, both live in a poor neighborhood in Mexico city. One day, near Christmas, they are informed that their Streetcar, no 133, will be decommissioned, which upsets both friends. That night, they go to a Christmas party and get drunk, and the two friends decide to take Streetcar 133 for a last night ride. Caireles and Tarrajas ride the streetcar through the city and begin to take passengers without charge, but as the next day begins and their drunkenness fades, the two friends realize that they'll get in trouble if they don't take the streetcar back. Weird situations take place as Caireles and Tarrajas try to take the streetcar back, and in the process, Caireles will fix his problems with his girlfriend, the beautiful Lupita (Lilia Prado).

As written above, the story of "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" was provided by Clasa Films, specifically by producer Mauricio de la Serna, though it was adapted to the screen by two of Buñuel's main collaborators: Luis Alcoriza and Juan de la Cabada (along José Revueltas and Mauricio de la Serna himself). The result is a light comedy clearly designed to entertain, but that also has certain touches of irony and social commentary. At its most basic, it's a simple adventure in which the two antiheroes, Caireles and Tarrajas find bizarre and funny situations in their trip across the city. Practically a road movie but enclosed within the city tramway lines, the film is of a somewhat episodic nature, but what elevates it from the rest is the great development its characters has. In "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía", the journey is besides the point, what truly matters are the relationships between the characters: Caireles and Tarrajas' friendship, their enmity with the company and old worker Papá Pinillos, and of course, the romance between Cairles and Lupita.

While "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" was a work done for hire, the film is staggeringly similar to Buñuel's own "Subida al Cielo", and in fact it feels like a more polished and accessible version of that previous film. Like in most of his Mexican films, the commercial constrains of the project brings out the best of Buñuel's craftsmanship, and "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" showcases the master at the top of his game. However, the fact that this film is purely a comedy certainly allowed him to display his taste for irony and his sharp humor. Despite clearly not being his most personal work, there are several touches of his typical obsessions, particularly his jabs at the Church (most prominently the pastorela scene) and the sexualization of Lilia Prado's legs (incidentally, Prado also appeared in the aforementioned "Subida al Cielo"). While a comedy prone to absurd, the film's atmosphere is one of touching realism, with cinematographer Raúl Martínes Solares making a truthful portrait of life of the working class in Mexico City of the time.

As written above, the characters are the heart of the film, and the cast makes the most of this in their performances. Leading the cast as Caireles, Carlos Navarro is pretty good as the down on his luck mechanic who seems apparently unmotivated to make anything with his life. Navarro manages to make a charming rogue of a role that could had been easily an unlikeable character. However, the highlight of the film is comedian Fernando Soto "Mantequilla", who makes the most of his role as Tarrajas. With great charm and skill, Soto steals every scene he is in, showing a vibrant energy and dignity that makes his role more than a mere bumbling sidekick. In fact, there's a certain subtlety that refrains him from being an overacted archetype. And subtlety seems to be the key, as Lilia Prado's performance as Lupita is also subtle in her sensuality. If in "Subida al Cielo" she was a lustful temptress that represented wild desire, in this movie she is the voice of reason that unwillingly ends up in the middle of Caireles and Tarrajas' wild ride.

Agustín Isunza completes the main cast as Papá Pinillos, a retired streetcar worker who is decided to stop streetcar 133 out of loyalty to a company that has forgotten him. In fact, the four characters represent different sides of a sector of Mexican society that seems, like streetcar 133, on the verge of oblivion as the city progresses. The four are working class antiheroes, perhaps they are disenchanted, ignorant, angsty or old, but still, they are the people. It is in this aspect where the magic of "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" is, as Buñuel conveys the harsh aesthetic of "Los Olvidados" with the most heartfelt tone of comedy. It's still an exploration of the working class and their tragedies, but trading the cruel pessimism for a certain dose of tenderness that while odd in a Buñuel film, still feels strangely honest in its delivery. Interestingly, for a film made with the idea of give good name to the Tramway company, it does make the company a faceless villain, as Buñuel sides unabashedly with the working class.

Often considered a minor film in Buñuel's canon, "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" is one of the best movies he did during his Mexican period. While it certainly lacks the familiar touch of surrealism that his better known French films have, there are elements in the film that makes it particularly valuable. For starters, the time capsule quality the movie has, as it brings back a Mexico City captured in time like few movies of its period does. Also, there's Fernando Soto's brilliant comedic performance, but most importantly, the most remarkable asset of the film is big heart it has, as "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" is a film in which Buñuel allows himself to be tender. It could be argued that this is because of the commercial intention of the movie, but whatever had been the cause, "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" is a film that oozes magic, nostalgia, and yes, illusion.

8/10
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Él (1953)

2011-12-27T07:52:00.000-06:00

Celebrated as one of the most original and influential oeuvres in the history of cinema, the filmography of Spaniard filmmaker Luis Buñuel is a work rich in symbolism and artistry. Certainly, most of the praise focuses on the works Buñuel did in his late career, during his "French periods", dismissing the films done during his Mexican tenure. Nevertheless, while his career in Mexico was marred by low budgets, rushed deadlines and a big necessity for making commercial hits, it was also the period in which the master of surrealism cut his teeth, perfected his style and developed his very particular idiosyncrasies. In short, the period in which Buñuel grew from the young talent of "Un Chien Andalou" to the Surreal artist of "Le Fantôme de la liberté". Within the constrains of the Mexican film industry, the Spaniard master found the way to produce several of the most remarkable Mexican films ever done, and one of his most personal films was a dark melodrama titled simply "Él".

In "Él" (literally "He", but better known in English as "This Atrange Passion"), Arturo de Córdova plays Francisco Galván, a wealthy and respected man who meets an attractive young woman Gloria (Delia Garcés) at Church. Gloria, while somewhat attracted to Francisco, informs him that they can't speak to each other again. Francisco decides to follow her, but then he discovers the reason behind her words: she has a boyfriend, Raúl Conde (Luis Beristáin). Luckily for Francisco, Raúl is an old friend of his, so it doesn't take him much to orchestrate a way to woo Gloria away from Raúl. Gloria falls in love with Francisco, and the two get married quickly, nevertheless, Gloria's married life isn't the happiness she was expecting, as she begins to discover slowly that behind the exterior image of moral rectitude and impeccable behavior, is hidden a dominant and extremely jealous man. Francisco's jealousy begins to reach paranoid levels, and Gloria decides to escape from her situation.

Based on the autobiographical novel of the same title by Mercedes Pinto (which chronicled her first husband's mental problems) and adapted by Buñuel himself and Luis Alcoriza (his regular collaborator), "Él" is a sharp study on paranoia and mental degeneration, superbly crafted with a healthy dose of the writers' typical witty black humour. Nevertheless, "Él" is not only a tale about madness, as its multilayered screenplay conveys most of Buñuel's familiar thematic obsessions. Francisco is a wealthy churchgoer who has made for himself a public image of respectability and dignity. Nevertheless, this image is extremely fragile, as the slightest familiarity that Gloria could have with another man triggers in Francisco a violent jealous rage. The screenplay hints that Francisco's jealousy is the result of his repressed sexuality, having dedicated most of his free time to the Church (another of Buñuel's favourite targets). But still, Francisco is far from a simple insanely jealous character, being in fact, a pretty complex and human character.

The film also explores a pretty interesting visual narrative structure, being divided in three sections that allow to dissect the marriage of Francisco and Gloria. The first part details Francisco's courtship and culminates in their marriage, then the film flash-forwards several years into the future and finds a distressed Gloria meeting Raúl again, to whom she confesses her problems in a long flashback that makes the second part of the film. The final part returns to the present (and to Francisco) and details how advanced his madness is and the events that take place once he has found that Gloria has met Raúl again. Skillfully, the master unfolds his tale with a very smooth pace, and treats his subject matter not as a drama, but as a tale of suspense. "Él" is perhaps as close as Buñuel ever got to making a proper horror film. Visually, the movie is a joy to watch, thanks to the remarkable work of cinematography by the legendary Gabriel Figueroa, who captures the oppressive atmosphere of Francisco's household with striking angles and an expressionist touch.

Mexican actor Arturo de Córdova, a famous star of the Golden Age of Mexican cinema, delivers in "Él" one of the best performances in his career, leading the cast as Francisco Galván, the paranoid husband of Gloria. A popular leading actor of film noirs and complex melodrama, De Córdova was no stranger to playing charming gentlemen with tortured minds, having honed his craft in Mexican classics such as "Crepúsculo", "El Hombre sin Rostro" and "En la palma de tu mano". Nevertheless, it's in Buñuel's "Él" where he achieves perfection, delivering a performance that it's both captivating and repulsive, displaying a range that goes from the highest subtlety to the most violent outbursts. As Gloria, Delia Garcés is equally as impressive, playing the loving wife who has to suffer the irrationality of the man she thought was perfect. In Gloria's meetings with Raúl, Garcés manages to portray the humility and dignity of a woman who feels betrayed by herself and the world.

Perhaps the weakest link is precisely Luis Beristáin as Raúl, whom gets easily caught between the two towering performances of the lead actors. Nevertheless, this isn't really a big deal, given that the story revolves completely around Francisco and Gloria. Wickedly disturbing, but without losing entirely its black humour, "Él" is a powerful deconstruction of the machismo of society, with Francisco having first idealized his future wife Gloria, only to later accuse her mercilessly and irrationally of being an unfaithful wife when they are finally married. For Buñuel, this has its roots in the Church as an institution, as the religious Francisco tries to reconcile his preconceived ideas of woman as a saint and as a sinner, with no middle-ground in between. His unrealistic ideal of perfection gets tarnished when he lets his sexual desire to take over, and thus he proceeds to control by force everything he can, particularly when he feels weak or defeated.

One of the most personal films Buñuel ever did (in fact, he claimed it was the film where he had put the most of himself), "Él" is a masterful depiction of jealousy and paranoia, as well as a testament to the talents of both De Córdova and Garcés. Mixing perfectly comedy, drama and suspense, Buñuel crafts in "Él" a vivid portrayal of mental degeneration. Unnerving, thrilling, and yet delightfully funny, "Él" is a work that manages to work on multiple levels. Knowing that Alfred Hitchcock was a fan of Buñuel, one wonders if the revered British filmmaker got some inspiration from the film while developing his own masterpiece, "Vertigo". Like "Los Olvidados", "Él" is one of Buñuel's Mexican films that rightfully deserves more recognition as a masterpiece of cinema.

9/10
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El Bruto (1953)

2011-12-23T17:24:00.002-06:00

Forced to leave Spain when Francisco Franco became a dictator, celebrated filmmaker Luis Buñuel found in Mexico a home and a new opportunity to make movies again. Nevertheless, the movies he had to do in the Mexican industry were far from the experimental surrealism of his initial output, as the Spaniard master had to learn how to make commercial films. Nevertheless, in 1950 the master would return to form with "Los Olvidados" a masterpiece of Mexican cinema that proved that the young maker of "Un Chien Andalou" was still alive and kicking. Sergio Kogan, one of the producers of "Los Olvidados", hired Buñuel to make a film for his wife Rosita Quintana, and the result was "Susana", which began a partnership between them which would also produce two more films: the urban melodramas "Una Mujer sin Amor" and "El Bruto". Starring Pedro Armendáriz and Katy Jurado, "El Bruto" is a film that, while apparently average at first, it actually has a lot of Buñuel's political ideologies hidden beneath its ordinary construction.

"El Bruto" (literally "The Brute") begins with a conflict between the poor tenants of a building and their landlord, Don Andrés Cabrera (Andrés Soler). DOn Andrés wants to sell the land, but his tenants don't want to be evicted. Their leader, Carmelo (Roberto Meyer), encourages his neighbors to fight for their rights. Don Andrés' wife Paloma (Katy Jurado) advices him to simply leave them leaderless. To this effect, Don Andrés calls Pedro (Pedro Armendáriz), a strong worker at Don Andrés' slaughterhouse who is nicknamed "Bruto". Tall and strong, but a tad dimwitted, Pedro is a loyal worker for Don Andrés, whom he considers his mentor, so he accepts the mission that his boss has given him: to scare Carmelo away. Pedro faces Carmelo and beats him, but the frail and sick Carmelo dies from his injury. Don Andrés hides Pedro in his home, where he'll face the seductive Paloma, who becomes quite interested in him. To further complicate things, Pedro will fall in love with Meche (Rosa Arenas), not knowing she's the daughter of the man he killed.

Written by Buñuel himself and his regular collaborator Luis Alcoriza, "El Bruto" is by all accounts, a fairly typical urban melodrama of passion and betrayal. Nevertheless, it's actually a multi-layered story that hides several of Buñuel's deeper and most complex idiosyncrasies. Not only "El Bruto" lets loose Buñuel's most Marxist views by having the working class Pedro serving as a pawn of the bourgeoisie, it explores the conflict of Pedro as a pawn of Paloma's desire and specially, of Pedro as a pawn of his own biggest flaws: lust and ignorance. Pedro could be a working class hero, but his sexual desire takes him first to live with a "family of leeches" (his girlfriend's family), to become Paloma's boy toy, which will result in greater problems for him when he discovers love with Meche. The love triangle between Pedro, Andrés and Paloma has certain Oedipal echoes, as its implied that Andres' tutorship of Pedro has had more to do with hidden familiar relationship rather than a purely altruist impulse.

Buñuel's work as a director is remarkable, and while the low budget is notorious, he makes the most of what he's got and carefully builds up the story, unfolding each element of the story skillfully, showing his domain of the visual narrative. The strength of "El Bruto" is in its storyline, and Buñuel gives enough space to develop the characters and enhance the story's impact. In terms of style, "El Bruto" is closer in tone and atmosphere to his 1950 masterpiece "Los Olvidados", as there's an amount of harsh realism in his depiction of life in the slums that his more surrealist pieces lack. This is not to say that the master's touches of surrealism are entirely absent, but in "El Bruto", they are more carefully concealed, kept dormant until the climatic ending, which has a pretty "Buñuelian" moment of surrealism in its epilogue. Cinematographer Agustín Jiménez offers a polished and stylish work that gives the film a noir visual look that's perfectly fitting, as in fact, "El Bruto" works as a film noir of the slums.

The cast is another of "El Bruto"'s greatest strengths, as it includes several of the best Mexican actors of all time. Leading the cast as Pedro is the legendary Pedro Armendáriz, who delivers a remarkable performance as the strong but not very brilliant hero of the film. A famous lead actor, Armendáriz plays a complex figure in "El Bruto", a pawn of forces bigger than himself, belittled by his difficulty to fully understanding his world. Pedro is not an idiot, but his naiveté and ignorance makes him someone easily manipulable. Yet as good as Armendáriz is, it is Katy Jurado whom as Paloma delivers the best performance in the film. Jurado's sensuous and voluptuous figure, coupled with her commanding screen presence makes her an ideal femme fatal, and not only shows her power manipulating Pedro, but also her older husband, Don Andrés. Played by Andrés Soler, Don Andrés is an equally complex character, on one side a ruthless businessman who cares little for the working class, yet he is also shown as a loving son and loyal friend.

This complex duality is the other running theme in "El Bruto", where nothing is really black and white. Each character in the film seems to have two sides, as if Buñuel was stating that despite the appearances, no villain is entirely bad, and no hero is entirely good. Meche, the young daughter of Carmelo, is perhaps the only character whose entirely "pure", as if she represented the grace that Pedro requires to stop being Bruto and become a full man. Once again, duality is present in Pedro as Bruto, because Pedro, dimwitted as he is, knows that Bruto is not a nice name. He is fully aware of his limitations, and begins to resent being seen as nothing more than a brute. As much as he desires Paloma's sexual favors, deep down he knows he is not seen as Pedro, but as Bruto, a thing made to be used. And this is Buñuel's at his most Marxist, as he presents the working class as a property of the bourgeoisie, represented by Don Andrés (heir of an "old money" family) and Paloma (a social climber). His awakening and quest for redemption become the core of this melodrama.

Often dismissed as being one of Buñuel's most ordinary and commercial efforts, "El Bruto" is actually one of the best movies from his Mexican output. While the film has notoriously low production values, there's a lot to enjoy in "El Bruto", as it's one of the films that most represent Buñuel's political leanings. Certainly, the film lacks the visual impact of "Los Olvidados", the charming irony of "Él" and the sharp criticism of "El Ángel Exterminador", but still, this minor gem about an oppressed man looking for his place is an impeccably done urban melodrama. In fact, this severely underrated film just proves that the world of director Luis Buñuel is stretched beyond his better known works in surrealism.

8/10
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9½ Ninjas! (1991)

2011-12-21T16:20:00.000-06:00

In 1986, Adrian Lyne's erotic drama film "9½ Weeks" was released and, despite getting mixed reviews, the sexually charged film quickly became a tremendous pop culture reference of the decade, thanks not only to the performances of stars Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger, but to Adrian Lyne's stylish craftsmanship, that resulted in erotic scenes that have become simply iconic. And with the status of iconic pop culture reference comes not only tributes and homages, but also spoofs, and in this aspect "9½ Weeks" has been quite prolific, as most of the stylish set pieces conceived by Lyne have been the subject of a spoof in several films and TV shows: the food scene, the ice, and of course, Basinger's legendary striptease to the sound of Randy Newman's "You Can Leave Your Hat On". Certainly, some spoofs are more intelligent than others, and there are also spoofs that are downright idiotic. Unfortunately, Aaron Barsky's "9½ Ninjas!" (1991) is one film that rightfully belongs to this category.

"9½ Ninjas!" begins with the young Joe Vogue (Keaton Simons) receiving strange Ninja lessons from his Master (legendary Gerald Okamura). Little Joe doesn't seem like Ninja material, but his Master's patience and perseverance give results: flash-forward a few years and adult Joe Vogue (now Michael Phenicie) is not only a successful businessman, but also a killing machine. His deadly abilities come handy to save the beautiful Lisa Thorne (Andee Gray) from a gang of criminals who were bothering at the restaurant where Joe was having a sandwich. Lisa immediately falls in love with Joe, and tells her that the gang was actually hired by Andrew Gruber, an evil land owner who just bought her building and has been evicting everyone there. Joe decides it's not his business, however, a message arrives that makes him change his mind: Gruber has also bought his building and is evicting him as well. Now that the matter has turned personal, Joe decides to train Lisa and together stop Gruber, but Lisa has also certain skills she wants to teach Joe.

Written by Bill Crounse, John Morrissey and Don Pequignot, "9½ Ninjas!" attempts to spoof both Lyne's "9½ Weeks" the ninja action films that had enjoyed a huge popularity during the 80s (popularity reflected most notably in Golan and Globus' "Ninja" series and in the "American Ninja" series). Unfortunately, it fails on both accounts. Most of the humour is based on Joe's useless attempts to train Lisa, whom is more interested in taking him to bed than in becoming a ninja herself. While everyone in the film is in awe at Lisa's beauty (and her preference for revealing clothes), Joe seems unaffected thanks to his Ninja focus. In fact, this and other of his strange antics also come to play, such as his strange relation with her mother (also a ninja) and his dependence on a hand puppet called Mr. Ninja (voiced by Paul Jabara). The jokes in the film are of a quite simplistic variety, based mainly on the absurd situations the absurd characters are put into. For a film which claims to be an erotic martial arts action comedy, it's unusually innocent in its humour.

While there are sources that cite producer John Morrissey as the director under the name of Aaron Worth, most take Aaron Barsky as the real director behind the pseudonym. What is beyond any doubt is the fact that whomever had been the responsible of "9½ Ninjas!" did a pretty poor job in bringing everything together. Granted, the source material is an awfully constructed screenplay that doesn't give much room for improvement, but the film's simplistic work of direction seems to had been limited to just framing the scene, giving some encouraging words to the actors and then shooting it. Everything done in the worst 80s TV style. In fact, while released in 1991, it wouldn't be surprising to discover that the film comes from the late 80s, as it does feel older. Anyways, to the film's credit, Spaniard cinematographer Fernando Argüelles (whom would later work in the celebrated TV series "Prison Break") does a more than acceptable job, certainly more than what "9½ Ninjas!" deserves, particularly in the only two scenes when he's required to mimic Lyne's style in "9½ Weeks".

As written above, there is not really a good screenplay material to work with, though some of the cast members in "9½ Ninjas!" manage to do their job with dignity. Magda Harout, who plays Joe's mother Gladys is probably the best amongst them, as she truly adds some spark to her badly written role, and is perhaps the only one in the cast who truly understands comedy timing. In his limited cameo, Gerald Okamura shows a lot more of commitment than most of the main cast members, and along Harout, is probably the only one genuinely funny in his performance. The protagonists, Michael Phenicie and Andee Gray are pretty bad in their roles. Phenicie is effective and good looking, yet lacks the charm and energy to carry the film. Andee Gray is a beauty, but that's the only thing she brings on to her character. Character actor Robert Fieldsteel plays the evil Arnold Gruber, and while there's talent in his delivery, his role is probably the most ridiculous in the film. As a curiosity, Don Stark of "That 70's Show" fame can be seen as Gruber's servant Sledge.

Nevertheless, beyond its raw and simplistic craftsmanship, low production values and poorly talented cast, the real problem in "9½ Ninjas!" originates somewhere else: its terrible screenplay. Legendary Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa once said that not even a good director could make a good film from a bad script, and "9½ Ninjas!" is a certain proof of that. Spoofs are supposed to mock, comment or satirize their subject, but in the case of "9½ Ninjas!" this is largely forgotten as the writers merely included stupid or awkward situations in an attempt at absurd comedy. Any attempt at parodying the ninja subgenre or "9½ Weeks" is lost in pointless scenes that seem lifted from a very old TV show. certainly, "9½ Weeks"'s status as an icon of its generation suits nicely to parody, but while "9½ Ninjas!" could had taken a more risqué approach to spoof the exaggeratedly stylish erotic drama of "9½ Weeks", it opts for a quite stupid and childish humour that probably sounded good on paper, but executed was painfully bad.

Certainly, Adrian Lyne's "9½ Weeks", with its oversexualized characters, stylish cinematography and outdated fashion sense is a great material to spoof. It's a complete product of its time, and as such, prone to be the target of the most merciless of parodies. Unfortunately, "9½ Ninjas!" fails at achieving this, and in fact, for a film that claims being an erotic martial arts action comedy, it results being neither erotic, nor thrilling nor funny. A couple of jokes may raise a smile or two, but as a whole, "9½ Ninjas!" is an unfortunate failure for everyone involved. Far better parodies have been done of both martial arts films and that 80s classic named "9½ Weeks".

3/10

Ravenous (1999)

2011-12-20T12:35:00.001-06:00

The decade of the 90s isn't really know for its horror cinema, not even when Wes Craven's postmodern mix of horror and comedy, "Scream", seemed to reinvigorate the slasher subgenre in 1996. Nevertheless, as the decade reached its end, several horror films were released that proved that the genre was still alive and kicking. The independent spirit of "The Blair Witch Project" and the new wave of Asian horror started by "Ringu" paved the way for the renaissance that the genre experienced in the 2000s. Director Antonia Bird's "Ravenous" (1999) was also one of those films, an offbeat horror film that succeeded at being what most of the postmodernist clones of "Scream" failed to be: genuinely creepy and entertaining at the same time. A clever mix of horror and black comedy, Bird's "Ravenous" is a Western film that not only is intelligent and thought-provoking, it also allows itself some real fun thanks to the fresh and unpretentious approach of the film. This movie about cannibalism, is a nice surprise that it's not only a great horror film. It's a great film, period.

In "Ravenous", Guy Pearce plays Capt. John Boyd, a young member of the American Army during the Mexican-American War, who by lucky circumstances ends up becoming a war hero despite a shameful display of cowardice in the battlefield. As a "prize" for his dubious honor, Boyd is sent to Fort Spencer, a small and forgotten fort located somewhere near the Rocky Mountains. There, the troubled Captain Boyd meets the gang of misfits that form the military crew of Fort Spencer: the drug addict Pvt. Cleaves (David Arquette), the psychotic Pvt. Reich (Neal McDonough) and the perpetually drunk Mayor Knox (Stephen Spinella). As Boyd tries to get used to his new position, the group receives the visit of a stranger, a lost wandering man named Colqhoun (Robert Carlyle) who tells the group of army men his bizarre story of survival: according to Colqhoun, his wagon train got lost in the Sierras Nevadas and his group reduced to cannibalism to survive. The soldiers at Fort Spencer decide to investigate, and their own horror story will begin.

The debut work of writer Ted Griffin (who has carved himself a name as a screenwriter of thrillers), "Ravenous" deals with the dark and disturbing subject of cannibalism, but the clever way the script is written makes the ride a captivating and intriguing instead of morbid, thanks in part to the great set of quirky and fascinating characters that populate Fort Spencer. While it could be argued that Griffin's use of dark comedy diminishes the impact of the horror in movie, actually Griffin's witty touch of humor and irony is what truly adds the strange offbeat charm the film has; and by making his gang of undesirable misfits a lot more human and likable, Griffin has developed a story that almost works as an ensemble piece. With great character development that challenges twists the typical conventions (for instance, the main character, is truly one big unashamed coward), Griffin's "Ravenous" presents one of the most original stories in modern horror, one that doesn't shy away from dwelling into human's darker nature.

Director Antonia Bird takes a straight forward approach to translate Griffin's screenplay to the big screen, though there's a special focus on the characters that turns them into the driving force of the film and ultimately what separates it from the rest. Bird's "Ravenous" has the benefit of having as assets the remarkable works of cinematographer Anthony B. Richmond and production designer Bryce Perrin. Despite working on a budget, their work manages to make a pretty faithful rendition of the time period in which the story is set. Richmond's cinematography makes great use of the locations (The Tatras Mountains in Slovakia) and develops a nice contrast between the beauty of the natural landscape and the grotesque gore of the events that takes place inside the Fort. But even when the story aims for a graphic orgy of violence, Bird's heavy focus on the characters allow a deeper insight from the story beyond the violence. In "Ravenous", Bird succeeds in making cannibalism both repulsive and captivating.

Leading the cast is Australian actor Guy Pearce, whom delivers a remarkable performance in the difficult role of Capt. Boyd, as his job becomes making likable a character that in essence is really the antithesis of the classic hero archetype. Using more his body and facial expressions, Pearce's presence completely owns the screen even when his character barely speaks at all in the film. However, he is not the only one to shine in "Ravenous", as every member of the cast receives a chance to show off their talents. The highlight is certainly Robert Carlyle, who delivers an outstanding performance as the disturbed Colqhoun, a man driven by his obsession, or better said, by his addiction. The sociopath Colqhoun is a savage force of nature, and Carlyle makes the most of the role without resorting to cliché or caricature. Jeffrey Jones' Col. Hart gives dignity and the touch of black humor to the ensemble cast. And finally, David Arquette, Jeremy Davis and Stephen Spinella deliver restrained yet effective performances that complete this delicious black comedy.

Offbeat, grotesque and yet captivating, Antonia Bird's "Ravenous" is a pretty original and interesting take on the Western genre in which horror elements are added in an interesting and original way. Mixing elements from Native American folklore, Griffin and Bird have created a story that seems to be an allegory for addiction. The cannibals are addicts to the strength they receive from human meat, and ultimately, each member of the group is fighting for their own survival. Interestingly, director Antonia Bird is a vegetarian, so that can explain the added repulsiveness added to the meat consumption. While definitely not perfect, "Ravenous" is certainly a refreshing film that brings back introspective horror to the spotlight. Beyond the gore and violence, the horror is found in what Capt. Boyd is becoming: he and Colqhoun are not that different, and Boyd's gory journey is basically his way to come to terms with this. If the film has any flaw, it is definitely the somewhat slow pace it has, but that's more a quibble than a problem.

The ultimate human taboo, cannibalism is an act that encompasses uneasy feelings of both fascination and repulsion. From Shakespeare's "Titus Andronicus" to Ruggero Deodato's classic of exploitation "Cannibal Holocaust", cannibalism has inspired several works of art through history, as it's certainly a complex subject matter that will continue captivating the minds of authors for centuries. In the hands of Ted Griffin and Antonia Bird, cannibalism has resulted in one of the most original and refreshing horror films of the late 90s. A true gem in a decade with very few hits, "Ravenous" is part of those films that closed the 90s with a bang and foretold the horror revival of the 2000s. Grim and slow, but sill witty and funny, "Ravenous"' odd mix of horror and comedy in a Western setting is a terrific addition to the genre.

8/10
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The Runway (2010)

2011-12-09T17:40:00.002-06:00

In the 1980s, the small Irish town of Mallow, in County Cork, witnessed an odd story: a Mexican private plane heading to Shannon, Ireland, got lost in the heavy mist and ran out of fuel. The pilot, captain Rubén Ocaña, found the town of Mallow and made a dramatic emergency landing on the town's racetrack. The plane owner, an important Mexican business man, followed his trip and left Ocaña the task to save the plane, which was practically undamaged. Ocaña remained in Mallow until a runway was built next to the racetrack. In the meantime, he became a local celebrity in Mallow and was invited to participate in the town's annual celebration (which were taking place when his plane landed), and the town gathered to witness him fly when the runway was finally finished. The story of the Mexican pilot who landed in Mallow became a fun anecdote, and inspired Irish filmmaker to make a film about it, "The Runway", which only takes the core Ocaña's adventure as basis to tell a story of two different persons who become the best of friends.

Set in the 1980s "The Runway" is the story of Paco (Jamie Kierans), a smart 9 years old kid who lives in the small town of Dromeleen in County Cork, where nothing special ever happens. Paco is the only son of Grace (Kerry Condon), and he has never known his father, though knowing that he is in Spain, Paco is decided to learn Spanish. One night, Paco listens that something has crashed in the hills near his house, and discovers that a plane has made an emergency landing there. The plane has only one pilot, Ernesto (Demián Bichir), who can only speak Spanish, so Paco helps him out and takes him home. Ernesto turns out to be a Colombian pilot, and while he has lived a colorful life, Paco's translation convinces the town of Dromeleen that it's important to help Ernesto return home. The town, stagnated in an economic depression, suddenly finds new life when they receive the mission of building a runway for the plane. And in the meantime, a friendship will born between the tough Colombian pilot and the little kid.

Taking only the concept of a Latinamerican pilot landing in a forgotten Irish town, director Ian Power develops a story that, while being a pretty basic tale of friendship at its core, is imbued with a heartfelt warm and a whimsical tone that elevates it from the rest. Certainly, Ian Power isn't discovering anything new in "The Runway", as the story has all the necessary elements its premise could deliver: the cultural clash and the fish out of water element, the revitalization of the forgotten town, the arrival of a father figure for the lonely kid and of course, a blooming love story. Nevertheless, Power plays all the right notes in his construction of a family comedy, managing to make the movie to feel fresh and vibrant despite its apparently formulaic craftsmanship. And the key for this is the way Power develops his set of characters, the situations they face, and the relationships between them. While Ernesto and Paco are the core of the story, every secondary character receives enough attention to create a well developed group.

The real strength in "The Runway" is found in the great skill director Ian Power shows in his storytelling. With a lighthearted tone and a perfect timing for comedy, Power weaves a charming story of friendship that unveils smoothly in all its simplicity. Like an old time comedies, "The Runway" is made up by a series of improbable situations, beginning with the plane crashing (which as said above, actually happened). And yet, Power avoids making it an artificial or shallow. He grounds it heavily in reality, and while lighthearted, it does briefly touches on the unemployment and boredom lived in the town, as well as in the troubles that Ernesto faces in Colombia. Power gives space to his characters to grow, and that's where this sensation of realism comes. Nevertheless, the highlight of the film is the extraordinary work of cinematographer P.J. Dillon, who gives "The Runway" a beautiful warm look that perfectly captures the tone of the story, and gives the film a decidedly Irish atmosphere.

As written above, the heart of "The Runway" is in its characters, and the cast who brings them to life is particularly of great quality. The young Jamie Kierans shines in the film as little Paco, and makes a remarkable performance for his young age as the kid so eagerly in need of a friend that goes to a great length to protect the foreign stranger. Mexican actor Demián Bichir is also pretty good as the Colombian pilot Ernesto, though he is certainly overshadowed by his young costar. Actress Kerry Condon shines in her role as Paco's mother, showcasing not only her great beauty, but also a natural timing for comedy. Unfortunately, Condon's screen time is very limited, and could had been explored better. Veteran actor James Cosmo plays Sutherland, an old engineer who always gives Paco a hard time, but who becomes more involved with his community when he begins to repair the plane. Another highlight is Donncha Crowley's scene stealing performance as the bumbling mayor of Dromoleen, more interested in public relations than on actually helping.

Ian Power's "The Runway" isn't exactly a groundbreaking comedy film, neither in its visual style nor on its story. It's actually a mix of drama and comedy done in a quite classic style of storytelling; perhaps one a bit too traditional for its own sake, but one that works nonetheless. Originality isn't one of the film's virtues, and yet, this apparent lack of originality is fully compensated by something that can only be described as an enormous amount of heart. In its simplicity, "The Runway" aims purely for emotions, and succeeds in its attempt without any obvious sign of cheap emotional manipulation. Certainly, ever since its origins film has been all about manipulating the viewer's emotions; but director Ian Power, by just letting his characters drive the film, manages to make this manipulation invisible, accessible and enjoyable. It could be said that Power doesn't dare to go beyond with his film to challenge the genre or reinventing the wheel; but in the end, "The Runway" has a defined goal and it achieves it without problem. It entertains.

Lighthearted, whimsical and decidedly Irish, Ian Power's "The Runway" is an old school melodrama about two different souls who find each other and make a bond. It's also a story about a town waking up again, and finally, a tale of breaking cultural barriers. In "The Runway", Power offers an optimist and uplifting story that seems to state that the idyllic Ireland so often seen in movies is not to be found on its landscapes landscapes or its past, but on its people. In the end, the people, regardless of their origin, becomes the center of "The Runway", as a group of unemployed workers help a plane to fly again. "The Runway" is a simple story told in a very simple way, but sometimes simplicity is the key.

7/10
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The Thing (2011)

2011-11-29T01:02:00.001-06:00

Released in 1982, John Carpenter's "The Thing" was a suspenseful and somber apocalyptic tale of the first contact with a dangerous and aggressive alien lifeform. A remake of Howard Hawks' "The Thing from Another World" (and itself an adaptation of John W. Campbell Jr.'s novella "Who Goes There?"), the film had a cold reception from audiences who preferred Steven Spielberg's friendlier take on aliens: "E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial". While it ended up being a box office failure upon release, Carpenter's "The Thing" is nothing short of a masterpiece of horror filmmaking, showcasing Carpenter's talent for handling suspense and some of the most amazing special effects ever done (by Rob Bottin). Twenty nine years later, producers Marc Abraham and Eric Newman got the chance to make a remake of "The Thing", but found the task of surpassing it too overwhelming. Instead, production began for a prequel, dealing with the events that precede John Carpenter's film: the initial discovery of the Thing.

Set in 1982, "The Thing" begins with the discovery of a crashed extraterrestrial spaceship buried in Antarctica. The Norwegian scientific team that made the discovery contacts Dr. Sander Halvorson (Ulrich Thomsen) to lead the research, and he in turn recruits paleontologist Kate Lloyd (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), as the spaceship wasn't the only thing they found: there is also frozen corpse of a creature that seemed to have been frozen after exiting the spaceship. Kate joins Dr. Halvorson and his assistant Adam (Eric Christian Olsen) and travel to Antarctica to begin the excavation. Taking the block of ice to their station, the crew celebrates the discovery, but the warmth of the base has resurrected the frozen thing and it escapes from its ice prison. The Thing murders a member of the crew, Henrik (Jo Adrian Haavind) before it's burned to death by the rest of the team. Nevertheless, while the nightmare seems to be over, Kate discovers that the Thing is still with them, as it's able to replicate any life form. And it could be any of them.

As written above, in "The Thing", scriptwriter Eric Heisserer chronicles what happens before Carpenter's film. Around this premise, Heisserer builds up a story that, while following the pattern of Carpenter's film, it showcases a significantly different scenario. For starters, the story now has a female character in the lead role, which offers a different perspective with Kate being a young woman trying to make herself heard amongst a group of older men who also happen to be from a different country. This difference of nationalities also plays a big role in setting up the mood of distrust between the characters in the story, as it plays on the tension felt between the American and Norwegian members of the team. Heisserer's screenplay recovers elements from Hawk's film, like having scientists as main characters, and the dilemma of being forced to destroy what could be the discovery of the century. This results in a slightly different tone, as less paranoid (the scientists know what they are facing) and with greater emphasis on visceral horror.

Directed by Matthijs van Heijningen Jr. (son of famous Dutch producer Matthijs van Heijningen), this new take on "The Thing" goes to a great extent to replicate the look and atmosphere of Carpenter's film. In this aspect, the work done by production designer Sean Haworth and cinematographer Michel Abramowicz is remarkable, as they fully capture Carpenter's visual look. Like Campbell's novella, "The Thing" is a tale of isolation, and director van Heijningen captures this element nicely, particularly by having Kate alone with a dozen of men who may be against her. Van Heijningen adds his own touch with the shift in tone the screenplay demands: his horror is not fueled by paranoia, but by the horrid vision of the monster. The scientists' battle against the alien is a more direct affair and the Thing itself, this time designed by Michael Broom, is a formidable creature done by a mix of practical effects and CGI. Unfortunately, this approach comes with the bane of showing a bit too much of the monster for its own good.

The cast in "The Thing" is remarkably good, with May Elizabeth Winstead doing a great job leading the cast. As Kate Lloyd, she conveys the right mix of natural charm and strong presence her character requires, and she does a great job in making believable the development of her role from confused newcomer to the leader of the group. Ulrich Thomsen is equally as good as Dr. Sander Halvorson, the leader of the expedition, who feels his position threatened by Kate's leadership. Joel Edgerton plays American pilot Carter, a Vietnam veteran not really convinced with the way the scientists are handling the situation. Edgerton is a tad weak in his role, though certainly his character wasn't as developed as the others. Jørgen Langhelle who plays Lars (incidentally another soldier) is the polar opposite. Stealing every scene with his portrayal of the pragmatic Lars, Langhelle is a highlight of the film. As the other female in the team, Kim Bubbs is effective, though her character also suffers from being underwritten.

This lack of development in the characters is perhaps one of the film's problems, as some of the team members are left as mere stock characters meant to be canon fodder for the alien. Nevertheless, perhaps the greatest problem "The Thing" has is the existence of Carpenter's "The Thing" itself. Making a prequel of a masterpiece is a difficult task, and Van Heijningen certainly deserves kudos for making such a brave effort in delivering the film. He certainly succeeds in capturing perfectly the visual style of Carpenter's movie. Nevertheless, unlike its title character, Van Heijningen's "The Thing" isn't really an entirely perfect duplicate of the remarkable 1982's film. The shift in tone is a welcomed change, as is the female lead character; however, Van Heijningen's decision of showing a lot of his Thing may not be entirely fortunate. It's not that the monster doesn't look good (it does), but like all monsters, the more it's exposed, the less scary it becomes. And that's something Carpenter knew well.

On a lesser note, Van Heijningen's version of "The Thing" shows a certain American patriotism that feels a bit unnecessary; however, this is also something that could be traced back to Hawks' version. As it is, Van Heijningen's remake/prequel of Carpenter's "The Thing" can be seen as a heartfelt homage to two classics of horror cinema, and one that truly succeeds in actually being a fitting companion piece to the film it pays tribute. Certainly, Van Heijningen's film may not be entirely a true original, but it succeeds in bringing something different to the table, and in its use of suspense and graphic horror, it's easily one of the best horror films of this second decade of the century. Maybe not a perfect replica, but a remarkable attempt nonetheless.

7/10
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The Changeling (1980)

2011-11-25T20:57:00.000-06:00

Horror writer H.P. Lovecraft once wrote "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." Perhaps nothing represents best this notion than ghost stories, as since immemorial times, the mystery of death is one that has always been both fascinating and terrifying at the same time. Naturally, ghost stories found their way into film, and so ghosts and hauntings have been part of cinema since Georges Méliès's short films in the 1890s. Given their settings, ghost stories are definitely a mainstay of Gothic horror in film, and have been the basis for several of the subgenre's greatest masterpieces (Wise's "The Haunting" and Clayton's "The Innocents" to name just two). Peter Medak's 1980 film "The Changeling" continues this long tradition of ghost stories in a Gothic horror vein, by having at its core an ominous haunted mansion, and the terrifying journey that its latest inhabitant must endure in order to solve the mystery behind some serious ghastly disturbances.

"The Changeling" is the story of John Russell (George C. Scott), a successful musician and composer who has just lost his wife and daughter in a tragic car accident while on a winter vacation. Still mourning his loss but hoping to rebuilt his life, Russell moves to Seattle in order to teach music at the local university, and leases a huge abandoned mansion that belongs to the Historical Society, hoping to find the quietness to compose again. The mansion, named the Chessman House, is enormous in size and supposedly has been empty for twenty years. However, Russell begins to experience a series of supernatural events that make him begin to wonder if he is truly alone at the house. Noises and other occurrences point out to the presence of a child who lived there a long time ago. While reluctant at first, Russell decides to investigate the mystery in order to find peace for both him and the ghost, and begins to discover the secrets of the Chessman House's past and the mysterious events that took place there.

Based on a story by Russell Hunter (and supposedly based on his real experiences living in Cheessman Park, Denver), the movie was written by William Gray and Diana Maddox, who cleverly built a captivating tale of mystery that slowly unfolds as Russell's investigation takes place. Putting the genre's conventions to good use, the writers follow closely the classic Gothic pattern for ghost stories, keeping an appropriate balance between the horror and the mystery. And mystery is the key of "The Changeling"'s screenplay, as the plot is filled with many twists and turns that build up a story that works like a hybrid between detective fiction and horror film, with Russell being akin to a hardened tough guy on a difficult case. This focus on Russell's research is perhaps "The Changeling"'s main departure from its otherwise classicist approach, but it's one that truly makes the story very interesting, particularly because of the and the fact that the main characters are very well developed, elevating the story from its formulaic origin.

Director Peter Medak creates an enormously atmospheric movie that really takes good advantage of the story's decidedly Gothic style. With a superbly elegant and classy work of cinematography by John Coquillon, Medak perfectly uses his location to make the Chessman House itself an important character in the movie. It's not only a mere set, Medak makes it an extension of the presence that lives with Russell there, much like director Robert Wise did decades before in the legendary classic "The Haunting". And as in Wise's film, Medak's "The Changeling" succeeds in making a horror movie where the terror comes from simple and mundane objects instead of complicated special effects. In "The Changeling", a red ball can be a more terrifying element than any monster. Medak plays with what's unseen and unknown to create horror at its purest sense. The great focus placed on mystery and suspense is classic Gothic horror, and the film's heavy atmosphere of dread and somber tone truly make it a proud heir of the ghost stories that precedes it.

Better known for his remarkable performance in Franklin J. Schaffner's "Patton" (1970), George C. Scott once again shows his enormous talent as the tortured composer John Russell. Scott's acting feels natural and realistic, easily making his character come to life with an honest charm that makes hard not to feel identified with him. Certainly, Scott's image fits nicely in the film's context, as he creates a character tough enough to the task, yet sensible, fragile and wounded. George C. Scott's real life wife Trish Van Devere plays his character's counterpart, Claire Norman, a member of the History Society and the one who helped Russell to get the house. In a character that easily could had become a cliché, Van Devere delivers a natural performance that enhances the film's subtle mix of realism with dark fantasy, and while her screen time is considerably smaller, her performance is effective. The film has also great performances by Melvyn Douglas, Jean Marsh and John Colicos in the supporting roles.

Overshadowed by the better known horror films that were released in the same year (namely Kubrick's "The Shining" and Deodato's "Cannibal Holocaust"), Medak's "The Changeling" has many elements that make him one of the "forgotten" great horror movies of the 80s. With its classicist style and ominous Gothic atmosphere, it's certainly a throwback to a subtler kind of horror, more disturbing and unnerving than graphically shocking. In terms of style, Medak's "The Changeling" could be seen as the polar opposite to Spielberg and Hooper's "Poltergeist" (another great ghost story of the 80s), as both films tell the story of a haunted house, but with completely different craftsmanship. Restrained and simple, "The Changeling" may feel slow at times, particularly as it unfolds it's complex plot (which at times may be too complex for its own good); however, the slow pacing only enhances the suspense and tension built by director Peter Medak and ultimately benefits the movie as a whole.

"The Changeling" remains Peter Medak's most accomplished and remarkable film, as while his return to horror in "Species II" wasn't really bad, it was far from the supreme achievement he did in this film. Classy, subtle and restrained, "The Changeling" offered a modern take on the classic style of ghost stories, and left a mark that did found echo: the famous Japanese horror "Ringu" clearly borrowed certain elements from "The Changeling"'s plot and tone. With its haunting atmosphere of nightmare, superb work of cinematography and its appropriate slow rhythm, "The Changeling" is a worthy heir to the style of Gothic ghost stories that directors Wise and Clayton seemed to perfect in the 60s. A remarkable modern Gothic.

9/10
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Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö (1990)

2011-11-22T17:29:00.000-06:00

After the success of his 1988 film "Ariel", Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki produced the movie that would gave him international recognition: "Leningrad Cowboys Go America". A bizarre road movie about the misadventures of a Russian rock band in America, "Leningrad Cowboys Go America" would become a landmark in Kaurismäki's career. However, after this success, Kaurismäki decided to return to the themes he had previously explored in "Varjoja paratiisissa" and "Ariel", the stories of the underdogs, the losers, the dispossessed members of the working class who struggle everyday in the coldness of Helsinki to find something close to happiness. Titled "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" and released in 1990, the movie completed a thematic trilogy along "Varjoja paratiisissa" and "Ariel", which is now known as "The Proletariat Trilogy". Nevertheless, while similar, "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" is a bit different to the other two films, as it's one of Aki Kaurismäki's darker films.

"Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" or "The Match Factory Girl", is the story of Iris (Kati Outinen), a young lonely woman living a dull and monotonous life in Helsinki. Working at a dead-end job in a match factory, and supporting her uncaring mother (Elina Salo) and her forbidding stepfather (Esko Nikkari), whom she gives most of her meager salary. There's little joy in Iris' life, who spends her free time reading cheap novels and attending to nightclubs, hoping to meet the man of her dreams. Unfortunately, this never happens, and her social life is a disaster. One day she saves enough money to buy herself a new dress, much to the displeasure of her family who wants her to return it. Iris keeps it anyways and goes out, finally finding a dance partner in Aarne (Vesa Vierikko). They spend the night together, though Aarne thinks she is a prostitute and their relationship doesn't end well. When Iris finds out that she's pregnant, things get even worse, but she is also read to take revenge on the world.

While covering the same themes and obsessions as the other two films in the "Proletariat Trilogy", "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" represents a notorious break in terms of tone, as this time, Kaurismäki's trademark brand of dry comedy is downplayed and leaves room to a truly bleak and depressive tragedy. Like other Kaurismäki's anti-heroes, Iris lives with an iron-clad stoicism, facing the constant abuses from the people around her. However, for Iris there is no love or hope to inspire her, as the world seems to pretend that she doesn't exist. As if she was just another machine in the match factory, her life passes day after day in the same monotonous pattern. Heartlessness is common in Iris' world, and yet, amidst the big atmosphere of melancholy and despair, there are still brief glimpses of Kaurismäki's deadpan humor through the film. His comedy is not absent in "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö", just hidden, waiting to deliver a masterful lesson in irony that's the icing of the bleak cake that is "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö".

The dialog in "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" is minimal, yet remarkably efficient. Everything that needs to be said is said, not a single line is wasted, and if images alone can tell the story, then so be it. It is certainly a case of "less is more", a supreme triumph of simplicity in storytelling, as the minimalist approach Kaurismäki employs, as cold and distant it may look, surprisingly proves to be no less expressive than flashier visual styles. This minimalism, that Kaurismäki had been perfecting with each work, can finally be seen at its best in "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö", which reveals the Finnish director as a master of composition. With sparse camera movements, Kaurismäki conceives a visual narrative that's as efficient as it is economical, making of "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" to be almost a purely visual tale. The work of cinematographer Timo Salminen, Kaurismäki's regular collaborator is worthy of praise, as he captures the bleak gray world of Iris' Helsinki with realism and a certain degree of tragic beauty.

Yey, as remarkable as Kaurismäki's work of directing is, a huge part of the triumph of "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" is due to the effective performance of Kaurismäki's muse Kati Outinen as the match factory girl, Iris. In role completely different to the one she played in "Varjoja paratiisissa", Outinen truly creates a haunting portrayal of a tragic woman. With subtle gestures and deeply expressive eyes, Outinen says a lot with her silence, and in that expressive silence, she makes Iris to stand for every abused women, regardless of nationality. Perhaps even for every abused people, regardless of sex. As Aarne, Vesa Vierikko is equally great, making a painfully realist character that could had easily been nothing more than a mere archetype. In fact, most characters in the film could had been mere archetypes if it wasn't for the actors who play them. Case in point, Elina Salo and Esko Nikkari, who play Iris' parents. Particularly Esko Nikkari offers a remarkable performance that, like the film itself, says a lot in very few lines.

While certainly "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" offers a colder and darker vision compared to his previous films, Kaurismäki still remains a humanist in "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö", as while the film showcases a series of humiliations that Iris survives with naive stoicism, there is never a hint of miserabilism in the treatment. It's all frank and honest in its portrayal, something that could be seen as distant and harsh on Kaurismäki's part, but that it's actually a compassionate view without any trace of artificial dignity. This becomes clear as Iris begins to plot her revenge. Kaurismäki's dispossessed ones are never examples of "nobility in poverty" and in fact, Iris' tragedy slowly begins to show its true colors as a Kaurismäki comedy. The blackest, the bleakest, the most depressive and melancholic one, but a comedy at heart. The comedic turn that this tragedy makes is not a cheap one, it's not a betrayal to the tone set by the rest of the film, it's more like Kaurismäki's bittersweet irony raising up a wry smile.

Somber, depressive, yet powerfully evocative, Aki Kaurismäki's third part of the so-called "Proletariat Trilogy" may be a difficult film to watch, but it's certainly one that leaves a strong impression. "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" of "The Match Factory Girl", bears all the trademarks of a Kaurismäki minimalist film taken to the max: sparse dialog, slow rhythm, minimal camera movement. Everything is there, as a final statement of his thoughts about the reality of Finland's underdogs as he sees it. It's a harsh view, but an objective one. void of cheap romanticism, Kaurismäki's view on the dispossessed is, despite all the bleakness, a humanist one. Certainly the fate of Iris, the match factory girl is hard. But for a moment, she may be able to raise a smile.

8/10
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Ariel (1988)

2011-11-18T15:28:00.000-06:00

With a calm and candid twist on the romantic comedy called "Varjoja paratiisissa" ("Shadows in Paradise") released in 1986, Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki began to leave his mark in the history of cinema, developing his very particular style of deadpan delivery and ironic melancholy. After making a modern noir reworking of Shakespeare's "Hamlet" in 1987 (titled "Hamlet liikemaailmassa"), Kaurismäki returned to the themes of social alienation and absurd misery that he had previously explored in "Varjoja paratiisissa". The result was "Ariel", the second installment in a thematic trilogy about Helsinki's dispossessed that has been known as "the Underdog Trilogy", "the Losers Trilogy" and more famously, "The Proletariat Trilogy". As those names may imply, the central characters in those films belong to the working class, and their stories explore their struggles in the difficult economic panorama that resulted after Finland liberalized its economy. And all done in Kaurismäki's distinctive brand of black comedy.

In "Ariel", Turo Pajala plays Taisto Karurinen, a chain-smoking coal miner in his 30s who has spent all his life in the rural town where he works. When the mine is closed, Taisto's father (Erkki Pajala), also a miner, gives his 60s Cadillac to Taisto and commits suicide, but not before advising his son to leave the town. Taisto gathers his life savings and heads to the big city, Helsinki, looking for a better future. Nevertheless, the capital doesn't really give Taisto the best of welcomes, as soon after arriving he ends up beaten and robbed. Without job and without cash, Taisto's wanders through the city looking for a job, which he fortunately finds on the docks. Taisto's life then becomes a routine of day labor work and night rock n' rolling at a club, but everything changes when he meets Irmeli (Susanna Haavisto), a divorced mother of a young kid (Eetu Hilkamo) with who he begins a relationship. Seems like luck is finally smiling to Taisto, but things ain't easy for the dispossessed, as soon Taisto gets jailed for a crime he didn't commit.

Written by director Kaurismäki himself, "Ariel" is basically a tale of bad luck as Taisto's life often finds itself set back by the forces he can not control. From the closure of the mine he worked to his arrival to prison, "Ariel" is a story of hopelessness and absurdity at its most Kafkian sense. But unlike the works of the great Austro-Hungarian writer, Kaurismäki's stories are imbued by a bittersweet sense of compassion shaped in the black humor that's deeply rooted in them. There is no pessimism in "Ariel", just a honesty that seems to answer with stoic indifference the many setbacks and bad jokes of life. Taisto, the Kaurismäki anti-hero, finds himself stripped of everything upon his arrival to Helsinki, and yet, in this tragedy he finds himself self-confident for the first time. The self-confidence of someone who has nothing else to lose, and everything to win. With sparse, yet carefully constructed dialogs, Kaurismäki builds up a set of unforgettable characters that become the heart of this relatively simple story of love, crime and bad luck.

As a director, Aki Kaurismäki refines the stark visual style of "Varjoja paratiisissa", which in its austerity contrasts the harsh and cold atmosphere of Finnish urban landscape with the warmth that brings the people who live in it. There's a greater emphasis in the film about the state of Finnish economy, not explicitly stated, but implied by the subtleties of the characters' actions (and emphasis not found in the other films of the Trilogy). Kaurismäki's regular cinematographer, Timo Salminen, captures the bleakness of Helsinki's streets and nightlife, and nicely frames the hopelessness of Taisto's struggle. Salminen finds a strange beauty in the alleys, bars and docks of Helsinki, that shines naturally, without idealizing them. Kaurismäki's narrative is more polished than in his previous film, perfecting the slow pacing and the deadpan delivery of his comedy. Certainly, his timing is more precise this time, as in "Ariel" there's a greater emphasis on finding the humorous side of the absurdities of life.

Acting in the film is of great quality, with Turo Pajala leading the cast perfectly capturing the spirit of Kaurismäki's style. With great ability, Pajala manages to deliver his character's stoicism with enormous subtlety and style. There's a great naturalness in Pajala's performance that helps to make easier to enter into Kaurismäki's style. Subtlety is the key in Pajala's performance, and it's remarkable what he achieves with minimalist gestures and strong delivery. Unfortunately, Susanna Haavisto isn't that lucky, and her performance as Taisto's love interest, Irmeli is just average. Instead of subtle, she feels a bit forced and artificial in her delivery. Kaurismäki's regular Matti Pellonpää appears as Mikkonen, a convict who helps Taisto to break from prison. A familiar face in Kaurismäki's body of work, Pellonpää once again makes a good performance, perhaps a tad limited by the seriousness of his character, but ultimately fitting as a counterpart to Taisto's naiveté.

The rest of the cast is effective, and particularly worth of notice is young Eetu Hilkamo's performance as Irmeli's son Riku, who truly steals every scene he is in. All in all, "Ariel" is a strong entry in Kaurismäki's cinema, a mature work that displays a more developed stage of the minimalist style that the Finnish filmmaker had been experimenting since his debut. All of Kaurismäki's themes and obsessions appear in "Ariel", from its absurd take on irony, to its depressive working class setting, it's all there, as a statement of the direction that Kaurismäki was heading his work at that point. And for this reason, the same problems present in his cinema appear again in "Ariel", particularly the difficulty that may present his offbeat and highly idiosyncratic deadpan comedy. Deliberatedly slow and contemplative, the stark minimalism of "Ariel" could be off-putting to audiences expecting a more traditional comedy. It's certainly, an acquired taste. Nevertheless, "Ariel" has in Turo Pajala an actor with enough charm to make all work.

Taisto's journey, from his rural town to the depths of prison, isn't really any different from an epic adventure of grand scale. The hero of the tale still must sort out all kind of problems and win the favors of goddess Fortuna. The minimalist scale of this epic is only representative of what's probably the core of the Proletariat Trilogy: surviving this life is already a matter of heroism. The misadventures of Taisto, product of an apparently interminable streak of bad luck, feel all the more realist and human. Without cheap philosophy or arrogant pretentiousness, in this second exploration of the world of the dispossessed director Aki Kaurismäki uncovers the bittersweet glory of the common man.

8/10
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Varjoja paratiisissa (1986)

2011-11-17T17:05:00.002-06:00

In the early 1980s, cinema of Finland experienced a grand renovation, as a new generation of young filmmakers erupted to reinvigorate the Finnish film industry. At the head of this new era were the Kaurismäki brothers, Mika and Aki, whose film "Valehtelija" (released in 1981, directed by Mila and written by Aki) represented both a heartfelt tribute to the French New Wave and a rupture with the Finnish old-guard. Two years later Aki Kaurismäki debuted with the feature length film "Rikos ja rangaistus", an adaptation of Fyodor Dostoevsky's classic novel "Crime and Punishment". Its follow up, the absurd comedy "Calamari Union" gave more insight about Kaurismäki's idiosyncrasies, but it would be in his third film, "Varjoja paratiisissa" where the Finnish director would fully establish the path his vision of cinema was taking. The first part of a thematic trilogy (collectivelly known as the Proletariat Trilogy), "Varjoja paratiisissa" is an introduction to the bleak black comedy of Kaurismäki's Helsinki.

Known in English as "Shadows in Paradise" (the literal translation), "Varjoja paratiisissa" is the story of Nikander (Matti Pellonpää), a shy and lonely garbage man living in Helsinki. One day and old co-worker Esko (Esko Nikkari) proposes him to join a new company he is starting, and while Nikander accepts, the project is finished when Esko dies of a sudden heart attack. This event begins to affect Nikander, and gives him the courage to invite Ilona (Kati Outinen) to a date. Ilona is a supermarket clerk, lonely like Nikander but with the aspiration of leaving Helsinki for good. The date goes wrong and a melancholic Nikander gets drunk and ends up in jail, where he befriends Melartin (Sakari Kuosmanen), who later joins Nikander as a garbage man. Ilona loses her job at the supermarket, and decides to begin an on-again off-again relationship with Nikander, whom is surprised by this. However, this is only the beginning for the stoic garbage man, who harbors dreams of stop being a loser.

"Varjoja paratiisissa", written by Kaurismäki himself, is at its most basic, the story of a lonely man looking to give some meaning to his life. Romance ends up playing a central part in the plot, but "Varjoja paratiisissa" is by no means a romantic comedy, or at least, not one in the traditional sense. Nikander, the protagonist, has spend his life just existing, until the dead of his old co-worker triggers an urge to do something else in life. An impassible stoic man, Nikander tries, fails and tries again without making a big fuzz about it. On the other hand, Ilona's more desperate attempts to improve her condition make her a more impulsive character. Their pairing is odd, and their relationship a difficult one, but in the end, most couples in real life are this way. Love, in the bleak world of Kaurismäki, isn't the solution for the problems, but it certainly helps to make easier the handling of the absurdities of life. Kaurimäki's view of the underclass is neither condescending nor harsh, just bittersweet.

The tone of "Varjoja paratiisissa" is decidedly ironic, with Kaurismäki preferring deadpan delivery for his comedy instead of a more overstated or energetic one. This simplistic low-key approach, which would become one of Kaurismäki's most familiar trademarks, is strangely fitting in the gray coldness of Helsinki that the director captures through the camera of Timo Salminen (Kaurismäki's regular cinematographer), which oddly, gives a warm feeling to this coldness. In a way, Salminen captures the warmness of humanity, who struggles through the absurdities of life looking for meaning. The struggle itself seems to be the point in "Varjoja paratiisissa", which finds its humor in its characters' apparently pointless and pathetic quests. And yet, there's neither cynicism nor condescension in Kaurismäki cinema, but a more honest naturalist contemplation of the absurd. Ultimately, the quests prove to be neither pointless nor pathetic, as amidst all the depressive bleakness, there's always some enlightenment.

Playing an extrapolation of the character he played in Kaurismäki's earlier "Rikos ja rangaistus", actor Matti Pellonpää delivers a subtle, yet remarkable performance as the stoic Nikander. Practical yet naive, introverted yet courageous, Nikander is a man full of contradictions, and Matti Pellonpää manages to create a painfully realist portrait of Kaurismäki's perennial underdog. In his deadpan delivery, there's a great sense of honesty that permeates everything he says, and that prevents his performance from looking artificial or rehearsed. As Ilona, Kati Outinen is also a great asset of the film, as with simple gestures and mannerisms, she manages to transmit the great bleakness of Ilona's world, and her the struggle to survive it. The eyes of both Pellonpää and Outinen synthesize the underlying themes in "Varjoja paratiisissa": Nikander's stoicism and Ilona's desperate depression are reflected deeply inside their eyes. Also of notice is Sakari Kuosmanen's highly charismatic performance as Nikander's friend Melartin.

The stylish aesthetic of Kaurismäki's cinema is at the same time its greatest asset and its most difficult problem, as it is certainly an acquired taste. The deadpan delivery and the bleak outlook could easily be taken as dull or tedious, and in fact the slow pacing that Kaurismäki gives to "Varjoja paratiisissa" makes it reach at times a point of boredom. Certainly, Kaurismäki's style was not yet entirely developed at this stage, and this is best reflected in the uneven slowness of its pacing, which can get tiresome. While realist in its approach, the bleakness of its atmosphere may not be that accessible on the first instance, and may take a while to get the black humor that lays underneath its brooding tone. Nevertheless, once one gets past the initial shock, the charm of Kaurismäki's subtle comedy begins to be more notorious as the characters reveal themselves. With its simple story, the heart of the story is in the characters themselves, whom in their big humanity reflect hwo strangely funny can tragedy be.

While far from a masterpiece, "Varjoja paratiisissa" or "Shadows in Paradise", is an important film in Aki Kaurismäki's cinema as it's where his distinctive style began to shine. As part of the Proletariat Trilogy, it introduces the themes that would be better explored in the posterior films ("Ariel" and "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö"), and while it's brooding, melancholic pacing can be tiring, it offers a Kaurismäki willing to take risks to deliver a more honest work. Flawed, but enormously interesting, "Varjoja paratiisissa" may be a difficult film to like (perhaps Kaurismäki cinema in general is this way), but it's also one that offers a strangely warm joy found in the cold difficulties of life.

7/10
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Una mujer sin amor (1952)

2011-11-16T17:31:00.000-06:00

In 1951, Spanish director Luis Buñuel returned to the spotlight when he won the Best Director Award at the Cannes film festival for the Mexican film "Los Olvidados". Nevertheless, while this success allowed him greater control over his future projects (reflected in 1952's "Subida al Cielo"), the Spanish filmmaker still had to work within the constrains of the industry, an industry dedicated to its audience. The same year Buñuel released the surreal comedy "Subida al Cielo", he also made a more traditional melodrama dedicated to satisfy the commercial demand. That film was "Una mujer sin amor", which went on history as the movie that Buñuel disliked the most amongst all the film in his career. Certainly, the film's origins weren't really the best, as producer Sergio Kogan (who had previously employed Buñuel in "Susana") wanted to have another hit and asked Buñuel to simply copy André Cayatte's film version of Guy de Maupassant's "Pierre et Jean". Naturally, Buñuel didn't, and the result was perhaps the least Buñuel of the Buñuel films.

In "Una mujer sin amor" (literally, "A woman without love"), Rosario Granados plays Rosario, a young and beautiful woman married to an old antiquarian, Don Carlos Montero (Julio Villarreal). Their marriage is difficult, as Don Carlos is a dominant man, prone to scolding both his wife and son Carlos (Jaime Calpe). One day he is particularly harsh with his son, and the boy runs away from home, being found the following day by an engineer named Julio Mistral (Tito Junco). Don Carlos and Rosario are very grateful, and soon Julio becomes friends with the Montero family. Rosario and Julio begin an affair, as she confesses that she has never loved her husband, having married Don Carlos just for his money. Julio tries to convince her to run away with him to Brazil, but she refuses. Twenty years later, Carlos (Joaquin Cordero) and his younger brother Miguel (Xavier Loyá) have graduated from medical school, but suddenly, the Montero family receive the news that Julio has died in Brazil, and left all his money to Miguel. Carlos, begins to unveil the secrets of his mother.

As written above, "Una mujer sin amor" is a new version of Guy de Maupassant naturalist novel "Pierre et Jean", adapted to the screen by Jaime Salvador with dialogs by Buñuel's regular collaborator Rodolfo Usigli. Taking "Pierre et Jean"'s storyline as the basis, Salvador builds up a traditional melodrama centered in the person of the Mother. In Mexican melodrama, the figure of the sacrificed mother became a recurrent archetype, as an idealized moral center willing to suffer the misdemeanors of both her husband and her children due to her incommensurable love. An archetype that Buñuel turned upside down in "Los Olvidados" with the character of Pedro's Mother. However, in "Una mujer sin amor" the archetype is played seriously and becomes the focal point of the film in a consummately traditionalist manner. Not as a parody, not as a satire, but for real, a classic family melodrama of the most refined variety. But still, beneath the reverential traditionalism, the story lends itself to certain touches that makes it stand out amongst the rest.

In purely technical terms, "Una mujer sin amor" is impeccable. The greater production values allowed Buñuel to create one of the most lavishly realized films of his Mexican period. Gunther Gerszo's production design shines through the camera eye of seasoned cinematographer Raúl Martínez Solares, which works efficiently in the upper-class urban atmosphere of the story. Buñuel's visual narrative is at its best, as within the constrains of the melodrama genre, he succeeds in crafting a film with a strong identity of its own. It is certainly a typical melodrama, but one that stands out by the undeniable level of its craftsmanship. And yet, as traditional as the film is, it has its particularities. For starters, the story moves away from the brother's rivalry and remains focused heavily on the mother, Rosario. While Carlos drives this second half of the film, it's always Rosario's story what's being told. Not for nothing the title changed from "Pierre and Jean" (the sons in Maupassant's story) to "A woman without love".

As the woman without love of the title, Argentine actress Rosario Granados is remarkable as the sacrificed Rosario, a woman torn by a complex mixture of feelings: her regret for having married Don Carlos without loving him, her love for Julio, and her love for her sons. A woman with a lot of love to give, but who opts to repress her bigger love, her love for Julio. As in her previous film with Buñuel ("El Gran Calavera" in 1949), Granados once again displays a natural talent and strong screen presence. More experienced now, Granados also showcases a certain bittersweet subtlety that distances her from classic mother figures of Mexican melodrama. As her son Carlos, the young Joaquín Cordero is a highlight of the film, easily overshadowing Xavier Loyá, who plays his younger brother. As the elder Don Carlos, Julio Villarreal is delightful, building up a character that can go from nice to hateful in a whim. Titu Junco is sadly the weakest link, as his tenure as the engineer Julio isn't really a satisfying one.

Impeccably done, and beautifully looking, if "Una mujer sin amor" has a flaw is precisely how typical it ends up being. The fact that it's a work by the master of surrealism Luis Buñuel, only enhances the feeling that the film lacks that spark that the legendary Spanish filmmaker puts in his surrealist works. Certainly, "Una mujer sin amor" tackles themes that had been previously explored in countless melodramas, not only Mexican, but in general. In this aspect, there's nothing new, nothing fresh, no groundbreaking narrative structure, no outlandish visual style. Not even the black humor, so characteristic of Buñuel is present here. As it is, it's by all accounts just a film done for the paycheck. Nevertheless, it wouldn't be fair to dismiss "Una mujer sin amor" as quickly as Buñuel himself does, because within its genre, "Una mujer sin amor" is a film full of great style and a classy atmosphere. Certainly not what is expected from Buñuel, but it even makes a case for the independence of women, with Rosario's final speech taking a jab at traditionalism.

Closer in spirit to the cinema of Alejandro Galindo than to Buñuel's own filmography, it's not hard to see why Luis Buñuel dismissed "Una mujer sin amor" as his worst film: it's certainly the one that has less of his idiosyncrasies. Nevertheless, while its decidedly commercial purpose may overshadow its artistic value, the merit of "Una mujer sin amor" is the high level of craftsmanship that Buñuel had achieved by that point in his career. After having learned the hard way how to make commercial films for the Mexican industry, and having returned to glory with his masterpiece "Los Olvidados", the genius of Buñuel was now unleashed and found its way to shine even in the most typical and traditionalist story lines. It's impossible to deny that many directors would be proud to have "Una mujer sin amor" as their worst film.

7/10
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Die Nackte und der Satan (1959)

2011-11-15T15:34:00.005-06:00

After World War II, cinema in Germany, like many other industries, entered into a difficult period of reconstruction during the occupation of Germany by the Four Powers. The Federal Republic of Germany, or West Germany, had now access to cinema from around the world, and the American industry saw this as an opportunity to conquer the new market. Another problem for the film industry of West Germany was the fact that most of the country's film infrastructure, the legendary UFA studios, were in East Germany. Still, by the 1950s the film industry of West Germany kept a slow but consistent recovery, though it mainly produced what was soon called the Heimatfilm ("homeland film"), a very German genre of family dramas. The great popularity of these films gave the impression that the cinema of West Germany was a very provincial industry, though there were exceptions. An notable exception to this norm was "Die Nackte und der Satan", an offbeat horror film with a distinctive style echoing the glory days of German Expressionism.

In "Die Nackte und der Satan" (literally "The Naked and the Satan", but known in English as simply "The Head"), Michel Simon is Dr. Abel, a famous surgeon who has developed a serum that keeps alive dead tissue. However, Dr. Abel isn't that well and requires a heart transplant. His team, comprising Dr. Ood (Horst Frank) and Dr. Burke (Kurt Müller-Grad), is set to perform the operation. Unfortunately, things go awry with the transplant, but Dr. Ood decides to keep going. Dr. Burke protests but is murdered by the sinister Dr. Ood, who then proceeds to decapitate Dr. Abel in order to keep his head alive with his serum. The mad Dr. Ood is decided to help Irene Sander (Karin Kernke), a young hunchbacked lady he desires. To do it, Dr. Ood will perform a head transplant using the technology developed by Dr. Abel, who witness everything, horrified as he finds himself without a body. Lilly (Christiane Maybach), a dancer at the Tam-Tam bar, is the selected candidate to become the new body for Irene.

Written by Victor Trivas (who also penned Orson Welles' "The Stranger" and was nominated for an Academy Award for it), "Die Nackte und der Satan" certainly has an outlandishly grizzly premise. With its themes of head transplant and the isolation of a living head, it's difficult not to compare Trivas' story to the cult classic "The Brain that Wouldn't die" (1962); however, there's a great difference in tone between both films, as unlike its American counterpart, Victor Trivas' "Die Nackte und der Satan" is played as a more serious affair. The theme of degenerate human experimentation resonates strongly, with the duality of having the beneficial healing of Irene being grounded on the vicious actions of Dr. Ood. Duality is also present in Lilly, a beautiful model with a dark past akin to the classic archetype of a femme fatale. There's also, a greater emphasis on eroticism in the story that's surprisingly daring for its time, making of "Die Nackte und der Satan" a sexually charged thriller underneath its horror visage.

Also directed by Victor Trivas (who had not directed a film since 1935), "Die Nackte und der Satan" has a decidedly somber atmosphere, enhanced by a visual aesthetic that's reminiscent of the years of German Expressionism. This is not surprising, given that collaborating with production designer Bruno Monden was Hermann Warmm, the man responsible for the striking look of classics of the movement such as "Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari" and "Der müde Tod" (not to mention Dreyer's "Vampyr"). Through the camera of Georg Krause (another veteran of German cinema), director Trivas creates a moody piece that feels delightfully straight from a pulp novel. Despite their relative low budget, Trivas and his crew achieve in giving the film a dark beauty that fits nicely with its bizarre premise. Like the screenplay, Travis doesn't play his story for cheap thrills, and opts for a serious, darker approach that gives the movie an unsettling tone, enhanced by the surprising (considering the low budget) visual effects by Theo Nischwitz.

The cast in "Die Nackte und der Satan" is actually good, with Horst Frank delivering a strong, retrained performance as Dr. Ood. Crtainly, the character is the archetypal mad scientist of horror films, but Frank doesn't let himself loose with it and instead begins to build up the raving madness of Dr. Ood with welcomed subtlety, until the climatic ending. In her debut, Karin Kernke is for the most part good, as Irene, though oddly, she seems to lose her edge when her body is revealed. German sex symbol Christiane Maybach is quite natural and vibrant as Lilly, channeling bits of Marlene Dietrich's hardened persona in her persona. Nevertheless, perhaps the greatest surprise in "Die Nackte und der Satan" is to see legendary French actor Michel Simon (famous for Renoir's "La chienne" and "Boudu sauvé des eaux", as well as Vigo's "L'atalante") playing the kind Dr. Abel, reduced to just a head by Dr. Ood's evil. Simon is effective, though certainly his work is limited due to the real paralysis he suffered at the time of shooting.

In many ways, "Die Nackte und der Satan" feels out of time, not in tune with the cinema of the 1950s, but imbued by the atmosphere of a bygone era. The expressionist set design, the pulp novel atmosphere, the amorality of the characters, the theatrical acting; by all accounts the film could had been done in 1931. The presence of Michel Simon, Warmm and Krause just seem to confirm this, and this plays like a double-edge sword for the film, as while it gives the movie a nice ominous atmosphere, it also gives it an archaic visual look, as if it was a movie released 40 years too late. Nevertheless, this is not to say that the film is entirely stuck in the past, but it's definitely not exactly avant-garde anymore. Also, the fact that the film was done with a limited budget also plays a major role in the final result, as the film's shortcomings are enhanced by the lack of production values. Though production designer Hermann Warmm was not unfamiliar with budgetary limitations, the visual look is a tad cheapened by this.

In the end, it's hard not to think about "Die Nackte und der Satan" as something other than as an offbeat curiosity. With its heavily expressionist design and the ominous atmosphere it conveys, "Die Nackte und der Satan" is an interesting discovery for fans of German Expressionism. The serious approach that director Trivas takes on the story, results in a quite different film that could be expected given its strange premise, and actually plays like an intellectual version of one of those Mad Scientist horror films of the 30s. Decidedly a truly atypical entry in the cinema of west Germany of the 1950s, "Die Nackte und der Satan" is a tale of grizzly body horror that feels frozen in time. A bizarre curiosity, old fashioned perhaps, but bizarre indeed.

6/10
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Poster of the French release.

Wolf Blood (1925)

2011-11-14T17:13:00.001-06:00

Shapeshifting, the ability of certain people to transform into an animal has been present in the traditions of almost every culture in the history of humanity. The figure of the werewolf is perhaps the best known example of this fascination, as the mythological lycanthrope has been deeply ingrained in modern popular culture thanks to horror cinema. While vampires, ghosts and witches were well-known figures in Gothic literature before their transition to film, werewolves didn't had more background other than the many different folktales, loosely related between them. This lack of a solid bases resulted in a great freedom to experiment for the writers dealing with the myth of the werewolf, and it would be Curt Siodmak who would define the Werewolf in his seminal script for Universal's classic "The Wolf Man" in 1942. However, that wasn't the first werewolf film, as several movies before tried to make a film about shapeshifters. 1925's "Wolf Blood" is one of the them, an early attempt to bring shapeshifting to film.

In "Wolf Blood" (also known as "Wolfblood: A Tale of the Forest"), George Chesebro plays Dick Bannister, the new field boss of the Ford Logging Company, a lumber camp in the Canadian wilderness trying to compete with the powerful Consolidated Lumber Company. Their rivalry isn't really healthy competition, as Consolidated Lumber Company's aggressive tactics have grown more violent towards the employees of Ford Logging Company, who have even been shot. Bannister requires now the presence of his boss and a medical surgeon to treat his men, but his new boss turns out to be the young Edith Ford (Marguerite Clayton), who arrives with her fiancé, Dr. Gene Horton (Ray Hanford). Bannister falls in love with Miss Ford, but that's probably the least of his problems as he is attacked by rival loggers and left for dead in the woods. Fortunately, he is saved by a transfusion of wolf blood, though this fact begins the rumour that Dick is now a werewolf. Something that he begins to believe, as their rival loggers begin to appear dead. Killed by a savage beast.

Based on a story by Cliff Hill and adapted by prolific scriptwriter Bennett Cohen, the story in "Wolf Blood" has less in common with horror films of the same period and is actually closer to the westerns and adventure films that Cohen was churning out in the 1920s. In fact, other than the novel werewolf theme (which is actually introduced later in the film), the story is basically focused on Bannister's fight against Consolidated Lumber Company, and of course, the love triangle that's established between him, Ford and Dr. Horton. And taken in that way, "Wolf Blood" actually works despite its typical structure and obviously derivative nature. The werewolf aspect of the story, while certainly unexplored, makes for the memorable element of "Wolf Blood": when Dick too begins to believe he's actually a werewolf, the story enters a decidedly darker and more interesting tone. Unfortunately, this is merely a glimpse of what the story could had been if Cohen had been a tad more adventurous in his screenplay, though the ideas are there.

And it's in fact this glimpse what makes for the most remarkable sequence in the film, a visually attractive sequence that begins as soon as Dick begins to hallucinate about his new lupine nature. While the story is the usual fare of adventure and romance, directors Bruce M. Mitchell and George Chesebro at least had a less than typical idea for the film's visual look. With a pretty strong work of cinematography by Lesley Selander (whom later preferred the job of assistant director), "Wolf Blood" captures in a quite vivid manner the world of lumberjacks, in a series of pretty good shots of natural landscapes. And of course, the afore mentioned hallucinatory vision of the ghostly pack of wolves running through the woods is also a pretty remarkable achievement. Given their backgrounds, it's safe to believe that Mitchell was in charge of the visual look, while actor Chesebro handled the actors. Unfortunately, neither Mitchell nor Chesebro manage to take "Wolf Blood" beyond the usual B-movie fare, as the film has a pretty dated narrative style (even for its time).

Given that he was one of the film's directors, it's not surprising that the film's weight is entirely over George Chesebro and his performance as Dick Bannister. Unfortunately, the seasoned veteran of film industry (famous for his roles in Roy Rogers films for Republic) fails to deliver his best work, and is a tad hammy in his performance. Not to say that he is downright bad, but his work is certainly of a pretty average quality. Perhaps the handling of directorial duties was too much for him, as he never directed again and focused on his acting career. A lot better is Marguerite Clayton, who plays Bannister's love interest Edith Ford. As the young socialité, Clayton is actually believable in her role, and as stereotypical as her character is, at least she manages to give her a defined personality. As Dr. Horton, Ray Hanford isn't really amazing, though he does his job competently, albeit it could had been interesting if his character had been better developed.

Despite its clearly supernatural theme, there's little in "Wolf Blood" that would make it qualify as a horror film, as it is heavily grounded in the romance adventure kind of stories that were common in B-movies. Ultimately, this sadly undermines the originality of the film's novel premise, as while the themes are there, it all just feels unexplored, as if the filmmakers had opted to just play safe and go with the proved formula. Which is understandable, given that "Wolf Blood" was by all accounts an independently produced film; however, this doesn't justify the sloppy narrative style that Mitchell and Chesebro employ in the film, as even when compared to the movies done in 1925, "Wolf Blood" can't help but feeling a bit archaic. Granted, it has a couple of remarkably done sequences, but overall the result isn't entirely satisfying, and all in all the film can't help but feeling like a great idea that was left unexploited. Nevertheless, for an early shot at building a story out of werewolves, it probably could had been worse.

While not the first werewolf film (an unfortunately lost film from 1913, Henry MacRae's "The Werewolf" holds that honor), "Wolf Blood" is an interesting early werewolf film that has enough historical importance to be worth a watch. Certainly, it can be a disappointment if one expects a full-fledged horror film, but taken as what it is, a romance adventure with supernatural undertones, it's actually not that bad. A bit mediocre perhaps, but not exactly bad. Overall, "Wolf Blood" makes for an interesting watch if only to witness a quite different take on the werewolf myth, one done before the full moon, before the silver bullet, before Siodmak's classic "The Wolf Man" left its immortal mark in horror history.

5/10
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La plus longue nuit du diable (1971)

2011-11-11T11:31:00.004-06:00

According to folklore, there were female demons that appeared in dreams, taking the form of a woman in order to seduce men and have sexual intercourse. They were called succubi, or in singular succubus (the male counterpart is called incubus), and supposedly their visits not only represented a big risk of damnation for the soul, but also a rapid deterioration of physical health that could lead to death. With this mix of dangerous evil and sexuality, it was only natural that the myth of the succubus would enter fiction, and can be found in the works of authors ranging from Honoré de Balzac to Orson Scott Card. In film, succubi were naturally suited for the horror genre, and one of the films that explore this concept is an Italian-Belgian co-production from 1971, known in Italian as "La terrificante notte del demonio" and in French as "La plus longue nuit du diable", which could be roughly translated as "The Devil's Longest Night". The film also had several names in English, though the most common is "The Devil's Nightmare".

Also known as "Vampire Playgirls", "La plus longue nuit du diable" is the story of six tourists who travel through the Belgian mountains in a bus driven by Mr. Ducha (Christian Maillet). They find the road blocked and night is coming, but to their fortune, a farmer (Daniel Emilfork) tells them to go to castle Von Rhoneberg, where the Baron will surely allow them to spend the night. The group arrives to the Baron's castle, and to their surprise, they are informed that they were expected, so they enter the castle. Baron Von Rhoneberg (Jean Servais) gets to meet the group of travelers, which is made of young seminarist Alvin Sorel (Jacques Monseau), the old Mr. Mason (Lucien Raimbourg), Howard and Nancy Foster (Lorenzo Terzon and Colette Emmanuelle), and two friends, Corinne (Ivana Novak) and Regine (Shirley Corrigan). An eight guest arrives to the castle, Lisa Müller (Erika Blanc), a young and beautiful woman looking for refuge. However, her presence will trigger strange events related to the Von Rhoneberg curse.

Producer, Pierre-Claude Garnier, along writer Patrice Rohmm, wrote the screenplay for "La plus longue nuit du diable" with the central idea of having each of the guests represent one of the seven deadly sins. The succubus begins to murder the tourists using their vices to entice them and having them to die in mortal sin, so the Devil can collect their souls. A fairly original premise that makes for several interesting situations, as while most of the characters are merely archetypes of their respective sin, Garnier and Rohmm manages to built out of them a group of well defined characters. Particularly interesting is the relationship that's built between the seminarist and Lisa, as the young man begins a battle between his beliefs and his desires. Unfortunately, there's nothing more besides the seven deadly sins concept, as the theme of Von Rhoneberg's curse is only thinly explored, and there is also the odd inclusion of a subplot about a murdered reporter that doesn't go anywhere.

However, if the plot is thin, director Jean Brismée surely makes the most of it, as he makes of "La plus longue nuit du diable" an enormously atmospheric Gothic film of a surreal beauty. Two elements stand out in the film: the remarkable work of cinematography done by André Goeffers and the haunting, ethereal score composed by Alessandro Alessandroni. Giving great use to Goeffers' eye, director Brismée constructs a movie with the logic of a nightmare. Taking full advantage of the beautiful location he had for the film, Brismée conveys a nightmarish atmosphere of dread that give the film an ethereal mood. The dose of eroticism he adds to the film is appropriate, fitting the story's tone without detracting the attention to the horror in the film. In fact, "La plus longue nuit du diable" perfectly conveys that mix of malicious evil and sensuality that the succubi myths evoke. Alessandroni's score is perhaps the film's highlight, as he creates a haunting work of somber beauty, enhanced by the vocal work of his sister Giulia.

The acting is a mixed bag, as while there are some very good performances, others end up being too bland. As Alvin Sorel, Jacques Monseau is appropriate in his portrayal of a doubting young man, torn between the dignity he aims to represent, and his carnal desires. The gorgeous Erika Blanc (of "Operazione paura" fame) plays Lisa, the mysterious young woman who turns out to be the herald of the devil, the succubus. As Lisa, Erika displays her enormous talent to look both seductive and classy, often transmitting more with a simple facial gesture than with her lines. However, this facial expressiveness of her is shown best when her Succubus persona appears, as Erika Blanc manages to fully transform her image from one of great beauty to an horrific representation of Death. Certainly, the decision of having a subtle make-up helps, but it's Blanc who truly elevates the result. The rest of the cast is perhaps less interesting, with the exception of Daniel Emilfork, who's particularly chilling as the Devil himself.

"La plus longue nuit du diable" is a film of extremes, having elements of great quality yet at the same time being particularly weak in several aspects. Perhaps what harms the film the most is the bane of so many films: a poorly developed screenplay. Certainly, the seven deadly sins angle is notable in the way it's explored, and the film really takes off once the tourists begin to meet their demise. However, this happens later in the film, with the first part being not only the tourists' arrival and introduction, but the strange segment about the reporter. This is perhaps the strangest element in the film, as it serves no purpose other than to introduce the VOn Rohneberg curse. Anyways, it's a testament of Jean Brismée's talent how he managed to create such an atmospheric film out of such a thing screenplay. Also, the lack of budget is particularly notorious, as despite its great locations, the film does have pretty cheap special effects that deter from the viewing experience.

Despite its problems, "La plus longue nuit du diable" is a heavily underrated jewel of European horror that deserves to be better remembered. It was Jean Brismée's last film before retiring (he became a teacher at Belgium's Institut national supérieur des arts du spectacle et des techniques de diffusion) and showcases one of the best performances by the beautiful Erika Blanc. Certainly it's not a film that has aged well, but amongst the many horror erotica films done in the 70s, Brismée's take on the succubus myth is a remarkable work of great beauty. It's certainly tame for today's standards, but the important thing about "La plus longue nuit du diable" is its surreal atmosphere. It certainly lives up to its English title of "Devil's Nightmare", as that's the kind of logic the film has.

7/10
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L'autre monde (2010)

2011-11-10T15:43:00.002-06:00

One of the most interesting new concepts that resulted from the creation of the Internet was that of massively multiplayer online games, that is, games where multiple players use the Internet to enter a computer-simulated world. As technology advanced, the games have become more and more detailed in their depiction of virtual worlds, to the point that games like "Second Life" have even developed its own virtual economy. Certainly, this has also raised concerns about the security and privacy of these virtual worlds, particularly because of the malicious use that could be given to them. This idea of a new brave new virtual world to explore, where one can create an identity completely different than the real one, inspired French director Gilles Marchand (of "Qui a tué Bambi?" fame) to create a story of suspense with the concept of a computer-simulated world as the basis. The result is "L'autre monde", literally "The Other World", a somber neo-noir with certain echoes of David Lynch's "Blue Velvet".

Known in English as "Black Heaven", "L'autre monde" is the story of Gaspard (Grégoire Leprince-Ringuet), a young teenager who one day finds a cellphone in beach. Along his girlfriend Marion (Pauline Etienne), Gaspard reads the text messages in it and discover a strange relationship going on between a man called Dragon (Swann Arlaud) and the phone owner, Audrey (Louise Bourgoin). Full of curiosity, Gaspard and Marion track down Dragon and Audrey, and follow them to the nearby woods, where the couple has decided to commit suicide together. Gaspard and Marion try to save them, but they can only rescue Audrey, however, they chose not to reveal their identity to her. Days after that event, Gaspard grows more and more obsessed with Audrey, specially when he discovers that Dragon and Audrey met in the popular massively multiplayer online game "Black Hole". Gaspard makes an account in "Black Hole" and meets Audrey again, but this will literally take him to another world unknown for him, a world of deceit, lies and death.

With a screenplay written by Marchand himself and Dominik Moll (director of the remarkable thriller "Harry un ami qui vous veut du bien"), "L'autre monde" chronicles Gaspard's obsessive infatuation with Audrey, the story's proverbial femme fatal. Gaspard lives in what by all accounts is a perfect world: he lives in a paradisaical seaside town, has recently moved out of home to live in a flat with his friends, and on top of that has just started a relationship with Marion. However, Audrey represents a different world for him, a dangerous yet captivating world that's new and attractive to him (danger is sexy after all). And the novelty of this world is reflected in Black Hole, the online game she frequents. Marchand and Moll make of "L'autre monde" a tale of Gaspard's loss of innocence, as the world turns out to be a lot bigger than what he, in all his adolescent naiveté, thought it was. Gaspard's descent to darkness, and the use they give to the virtual world concept as a twisted mirror of reality is particularly interesting.

This duality between the worlds, Gaspard's real life and his online ventures are portrayed by director Gilles Marchand's use of computer generated animation. The virtual world of Black Hole is an animated noir nightmare perpetually in night time with a minimalist yet decidedly Art Deco design (as contradictory as that may sound). The animation is fluid and has a certain somber beauty, which contrasts with the one of the natural landscapes Marchard's captures in Gaspard's town. Cinematographer Céline Bozon captures the vibrant colors of summer, taking advantage of the locations to create a very natural visual look. In fact, visually Marchard's "L'autre monde" is a very attractive film, which reflects perfectly the way Gaspard's life changes as he enters Black Hole and begins to have a double life there. Duality is a key aspect in "L'autre monde"'s story, and Marchard handles well the mystery aspects of the film, proving himself a capable director and storyteller. Unfortunately, his skill fails to save the screenplays' worst flaws.

The acting is pretty good for the most part, though some of the younger cast members show their lack of experience in their performances. Leading the cast as Gaspard, Grégoire Leprince-Ringuet is really good as the teenager awaking to a world bigger than him. There's great realism in his performance, as he looks convincingly as both a curious innocent and as a malicious jerk. With the film based entirely around him, Leprince-Ringuet's under a lot of pressure, but manages to carry the film convincingly. As the mysterious and alluring Audrey, Louise Bourgoin is effective, though perhaps less convincing. While definitely a beautiful woman, there's a certain stiffness in her performance that plays against her role as femme fatal. Melvil Poupaud, playing Audrey's overprotective brother Vincent is far more successful, making a convincing portrait of a violent, unpredictable man not so happy with the young Gaspard approaching his sister. Pauline Etienne as Gaspard girlfriend is good, but her role is terribly underdeveloped.

And this is perhaps the greatest problem of what otherwise could had been an awesome neo-noir thriller: it's terribly underdeveloped screenplay. Marchard and Moll have created a fascinating tale of lies and deception that truly gives an interesting use to the concept of a second virtual life. However, there's a certain restrain, an unwillingness to actually take the premise to new grounds that it's all left as a mere cautionary tale about the dangers of spending too much time on the Internet. Something that wouldn't be so tragic if it wasn't for the fact that the film seemed to be aiming for better. In "L'autre monde" Marchard conveys all the necessary ingredients for a thrilling noir story (mystery, eroticism, treachery and darkness), but ends up in an anti-climatic tone that seems to betray everything that the film was achieving. Certainly, a disappointment, as the restrain Moll and Marchard show in the weak way they end the story makes the film feel like a TV movie.

"L'autre monde" has many good things going for it, beginning with the approach Marchard takes to portray the virtual world of Black Hole, and the overall noir atmosphere the movie has. However, the weak finale is certainly a disappointment, as it undermines everything that's built initially. And perhaps the disappointment is bigger given the fact that both Marchard and Moll have proved to be skilled in the construction of thrillers (the previously mentioned "Qui a tué Bambi?" and "Harry un ami qui vous veut du bien" are more than enough proof). All in all, "L'autre monde" or "Black Heaven" isn't really a bad film, it's just nowhere near the level its interesting premise could had been taken.

6/10
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Among the Fallen (2011)

2011-11-09T16:54:00.000-06:00

The 21st century has seen a rise in the amount of independently produced films made by dedicated cinephiles wishing to take their passion to the next level. The increasing amount of digital film equipment available at the consumer level has helped this cinephiles' desire to become independent filmmakers, as it allows them to obtain better looking results within the scope of their limited resources. The horror genre has been benefited by this, as many of these indie filmmakers decided to begin by making a horror film. It's certainly a genre that suits the needs of an upcoming storyteller, as it has a well-defined set of "rules" and a structure that can blend to any kind of experimentation. However, perhaps the most important reason a young filmmaker has to make an independent horror film is simply that the genre is fascinating. Young director Jay Shatzer certainly seems fascinated by horror in his debut, the micro-budget film "Among the Fallen", a brief (barely 60 minutes) but pretty interesting take on the zombie subgenre.

"Among the Fallen" is the story of Will Ashford (director Jay Shatzer himself), a young writer grieving the recent loss of his young wife Sophia (Erica Shatzer) and their unborn child. Depressed and melancholic, Will decides to go to an isolated cabin in the countryside in order to finish his novel and hopefully, overcome the grief that haunts him. However, what seemed like a peaceful location becomes a nightmarish trap for Will as the cabin is attacked by zombies. To make things worse, Will has several horrible visions that confuses his already unstable state of mind, and ultimately is forced to fight for his life. Tormented by his memories, Will must put himself together and fight the zombies with whatever he can find. However, the writer begins to wonder if all the bizarre events that are happening are real or just another hallucination created by his damaged mind. To find the answer, Will has to fight the monsters, who keep coming for him, and the night has just started.

In "Among the Fallen", Jay Shetzer takes the classic scenario of a horde of zombies attacking a cabin (seen as early as in Romero's landmark "Night of the Living Dead"), and gives it a spin by using the concept as an allegory of coping with grief. Ambiguous and heavily symbolic, Shetzer's story is constructed following the surreal logic of a nightmare. Will's visions begin to blur the line between reality and hallucination, reflecting the descent of his mind into madness. In fact, Shetzer's screenplay could be easily divided in two halves: one dedicated to the slow degeneration of Will's mind, and the other to his battle with the zombies. In this aspect, Shetzer makes of the zombie battle a thanatogical study, with Will literally dealing with his dead people in a quite gruesome manner. Interestingly, the screenplay lacks lines of dialog or narration, a bold movement that works as a double-edged sword for the film, as while it kind of makes it somewhat tedious, it also allows to pay attention to the visuals.

And it's in the visuals where Jay Shetzer's "Among the Fallen" stands out amongst the many independent horror films that are produced. And this is not related to the special effects, but to the gorgeous work of cinematography done in the film (camera by Scott Martin and Kevin Mitchell). With great use of visual composition as well as great knowledge of his digital medium, Shetzer builds up a quite visually attractive film that, unlike what could be expected, resorts to long takes and a slow rhythm to narrate its story instead of the fast editing that's common in modern horror, and surprisingly it works. Giving great use to Martin and Mitchell's camera to capture the oppressively melancholic atmosphere of Will's grief, Jay Shetzer succeeds in crafting a "contemplative zombie film" that truly reflects its thematic ambitions. Certainly, it's not a perfect work of cinematography (lack of budget is more than notorious at times), but Shetzer's visual narrative is easily the highlight of the film.

As an actor, Jay Shatzer is fairly good, considering the whole movie rests over his shoulders. While certainly not a great thespian, Shetzer delivers an effective performance that gets the job done without too much overacting. In fact, his subtle and restrained approach works nicely even when the character finally decides to fight back. This gives his performance a quite natural, realist look that makes for a good contrast with the adventure the character is living. As Will's wife Sophia (who appears in flashbacks through the film), Erica Shatzer is amazingly natural and real in her performance. Certainly, director Shatzer took a realist approach when filming the flashbacks, and it fits nicely within Will's nightmare, as the fragmented pieces of a past reality forever gone. The rest of the cast is effective for a zombie film, and the work done in the make-up department (Pat and Scott Martin) is pretty good for the budget, though certainly nothing amazing.

Slow, calm, and melancholic, "Among the Fallen" is the kind of horror film that resorts more on its ambiguity and its atmosphere to create a mood. While owner of a definite visual style and a marvel of cinematography (clearly Shetzer knew what he wanted and how he wanted it to look), it's hard to ignore the fact that its storyline is pretty thin, which sadly harms the film quite a lot. The use of the zombie film to make a metaphor for coping with grief is a pretty interesting approach, but Shetzer's leave its premise underdeveloped, and the result is a film of great visual beauty that struggles to keep things going. Perhaps, if "Among the Fallen" was shorter, it all would flow seamlessly and Shetzer's debut could find a place amongst the best horror short films of recent time. But as it is, it's a bit too tedious for a short film, and too thin for a feature length film. A bit more of screenplay development would had benefited the film a lot, maybe expanding the role of Sophia or developing further ways to keep the ball rolling.

Despite its shortcomings, Jay Shetzer's "Among the Fallen" is a nice surprise amongst independent horror films, since it's definitely different than the norm for zombie films. With its remarkable visual look and its ominous atmosphere of melancholy (plus welcomed nods to both Romero's films and Raimi's "The Evil Dead"), "Among the Fallen" truly shows that newcomer Jay Shetzer has a lot of passion for the genre and a pretty good understanding of the visual medium, two things that could take him to make greater things after this debut. While at times it gets tedious, "Among the Fallen" is well worth a watch if only to appreciate how Shetzer employs his gorgeous visuals to portray the dark descent to madness of a man tortured by grief.

5/10
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The Thing (1982)

2011-11-08T16:45:00.000-06:00

In 1951, the sci-fi horror film "The Thing from Another World" was released and became a massive commercial success for producer Howard Hawks, who apparently also directed it (though credit went to Christopher Nyby). The film had a tremendous impact in a young kid named John Carpenter, and it prompted him to pursue filmmaking as a career. After film school, Carpenter earned cult status with two independent films: 1976's "Assault on Precinct 13" and 1978's highly influential horror film "Halloween". Both film had shades of Hawks in their making, the former being a spiritual heir of Hawks "Rio Bravo" and the latter directly referencing "The Thing from Another World" by having the film appearing on a TV screen. After having his third major commercial success with the science-fiction adventure "Escape from New York" (1981), Carpenter was set to enter the world of major studio filmmaking. And the film that would mark his entry would be another direct Hawksian reference: a full-fledged remake of "The Thing from Another World".

Titled simply as "The Thing", the story begins in the winter of 1982, in a U.S. research station located in the remote territories of Antarctica. Suddenly, the members of the American crew notice a Norwegian helicopter coming their way, apparently chasing a Husky dog that runs towards the American base. The helicopter lands, and their pilots, showing sings of insanity, try to kill the dog desperately, accidentally shooting towards the Americans. Unfortunately, both pilots end up killed accidentally, leaving the Americans the task of figuring out what made them to be insane and chase the dog, which soon finds itself at home at the base. Being unable to report the incident, pilot R. J. MacReady (Kurt Russell) and Dr. Copper (Richard Dysart) venture to the Norwegian camp to find out more. To their surprise, they find the base destroyed, and the burned remains of a humanoid corpse with horrid features. Returning to the American camp, they'll Soon they'll discover that the dog the Norwegians were hunting wasn't a normal dog, but a thing from another world.

Adapted by screenwriter Bill Lancaster, this version of "The Thing" is a lot more faithful to its source (John W. Campbell's novella "Who goes there?"), with the monster as a creature able to imitate the crew members (or any living creature), a concept that was blatantly ignored by Hawks' version. This approach makes Carpenter's "The Thing" less a straight remake and more a completely different conception of Campbell's novella. As such, Bill Lancaster's script plays with mystery and suspense with great success, enhancing the sensation of paranoia and unpredictability of the plot with excellent results. Lancaster also builds up a great set of well-defined and complex characters, an instrumental element in the film, as a lot of the tension raised steams from the difficult relationships between the crew members, who trapped inside their camp, begin to distrust each other. Unlike Hawks' version, the film's tone is remarkably bleak and pessimist, as an atmosphere of impending doom begins to surround the crew.

In his seminal slasher "Halloween", John Carpenter placed more emphasis on suspense and atmosphere over gore and shock, and while "The Thing" makes great use of Rob Bottin's remarkable work of special effects, it still could be seen as an evolution of that style. Despite the extensive display of Bottin's work, there is still a greater focus on the ominous atmosphere of isolation, distrust and dread that's imbued in the film. Suspense in fact plays a major role in the film, as paranoia begins to grow within the American camp and everyone is suspect of being the Thing. With the great eye of cinematographer Dean Cundey (Capenter's regular collaborator), director John Carpenter creates a claustrophobic nightmare inside the American camp, which with the storm raging outside, becomes a haunting secluded location through Carpenter's vision. And as written above, the work done by Rob Bottin in the special effects department is simply amazing, a superb work of grotesque and absolute genius.

Since the tensions between the crew members make for a quite important element in the movie, the performances by the cast are instrumental for the success of the film, and in this aspect the cast of "The Thing" is also of great quality. In fact, the performances are so effective that one can almost cut the tension with a knife. Carpenter's regular collaborator Kurt Russel stars as pilot MacReady, a cynical man forced to be the man in charge as the situation gets worse. Wilford Brimley delivers another terrific performance as Dr. Blair, a scientist that goes insane figuring out the Thing's purposes. Brimley conveys perfectly the sense of despair that the whole station is, and in his character's madness is perhaps represented the crumbling of their hope. As the short tempered Childs, Keith David is also pretty good, being essentially MacReady's rival in the crew's leadership. Also of note is David Clennon's performance as Palmer, and Donald Moffat, whom adds a lot of dignity in his role as Captain Garry.

When initially released in 1982, John Carpenter's "The Thing" got a cold reception by both the critics and the audiences. Somber, dark and overtly pessimist, the film was seen as a shockingly grotesque spectacle and ended up overshadowed by Steven Spielberg's "E.T.", which had a quite different and friendlier approach to extraterrestrial beings. Nevertheless, Carpenter's take on "The Thing" stands as a monumental achievement in horror filmmaking, proving to be a nightmarish masterpiece that goes beyond its violence and gore, it's a dark venture into mankind's darkest fear: the fear of the isolation. Not only the crew is geographically isolated, they are suddenly alone amidst a bunch of strangers for, nobody knows who could still be human. In this aspect Carpenter surpasses Hawks, who left the monster as an outsider entity. Carpenter's Thing is astute, evil, and could be anyone in the crew; and as Dr. Blair and Captain Garry crumble demoralized by the Thing's menace, Carpenter makes the point that neither science nor military is enough to face it.

While certainly there are aspects in "The Thing" that haven't aged well, this remarkable film still stands as a wonderfully crafted work that shows the extent of Carpenter's talent as a filmmaker. While probably he'll always be remembered for his landmark classic "Halloween", the level of mastery achieved in "The Thing" makes it perhaps his greatest achievement. One of the most interesting and actually scary horror films of all time, "The Thing" is a perfect example of a remake that puts a different angle to its source and creates a powerful new story out of it. The student surpassing his master. Beyond the horror genre, John Carpenter's "The Thing" is probably one of the finest American films ever made.

10/10
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The Thing from Another World (1951)

2011-11-07T14:25:00.000-06:00

To most people, the name of John W. Campbell may not exactly ring a bell; however, Campbell was probably one of the most influential persons in the history of American science fiction. As the editor of the legendary "Astounding Stories" magazine, Campbell changed the name to "Astounding Science Fiction", and began to publish new young writers such as Lester del Rey, Robert A. Heinlein and Isaac Asimov; essentially shaping up what later was known as the "Golden Age of Science Fiction". Nevertheless, Campbell wasn't only a skilled hunter of new talents, he was also a prolific writer himself, using both his name and the pseudonym Don A. Stuart. Campbell's novella "Who Goes There?", published in 1938, is perhaps his most famous work, not only because of its literary qualities (it's considered one of the finest American sci-fi novellas of all time) but also because of its film adaptations. The first of this adaptations is the 1951 classic "The Thing from Another World", a movie produced (and perhaps directed) by none other than Howard Hawks.

"The Thing from Another World" begins when a North Pole base, Polar Expedition Six, requests an Air Force resupply crew. Captain Pat Hendry (Kenneth Tobey) is sent to the place, taking amongst his crew a reporter, Ned Scott (Douglas Spencer). As they arrive, they are greeted by Doctor Carrington (Robert Cornthwaite) and Doctor Redding (George Fenneman), whom inform them the reason of their request: a strange flying object crashed near their base, and they need to go and investigate. Pat's crew and the scientist travel to the crash site and discover that what crashed in the ice is actually a flying saucer. While they try to uncover the spaceship, the crew accidentally destroys it with the explosives, however, not everything is lost, as a frozen body is found in the ice nearby. The group excavates the body and take it back to their base, still in the large block of ice. A storm hits the base and leaves them without communication, and the strange being that was found at the crash site, begins to wake up.

Adapted by prolific scriptwriter Charles Lederer (though Ben Hecht and Howard Hawks himself also had uncredited but major participations), "The Thing from Another World" diverts significantly from the novella, and changes the basic nature of the monster. While in Campbell's story the monster was able to imitate humans (providing the suspense and paranoia), in Lederer's screenplay the Thing is an intelligent humanoid being with cellular structure related to vegetation. With this change, the story is less about the monster, and more about the social interactions between the crew and the scientists, particularly on the subject of how to deal with the Thing. On one side, the scientists of Dr. Carrington want to preserve the Thing alive, while Captain Pat Hendry wants to destroy it. Lederer takes the side of the soldiers, reflecting the general distrust of science that was felt after the Hiroshima nuclear bombs, and to a lesser extent, the Cold War paranoia, which was typical of sci-fi horror films of the Atomic Age.

Where "The Thing from Another World" shines is in the classy work of directing it has, which is by all accounts quite Hawksian. Though credited only as producer, there's some weight in the claim that it was Hawks and not Christopher Nyby who directed the film. And even if it wasn't Hawks, at least he had considerable input in Nyby's work. What is true is that "The Thing from Another World" is an action packed horror film that certainly plays the right notes and elevates its subject matter above the typical sci-fi fare. As written above, the tension in the film is entirely based on the friction between the human characters, and to this effects Nyby (or Hawks) put considerable weight in developing them and the difficult relationships between them. While they are essentially the basic archetypes of 50s science fiction (All-American soldier, mad scientist), a good effort is done in fleshing them out, and this is instrumental for the success of the film. Nyby and Hawks manage to make their monster a believable threat, something that most monster movies attempt and sorely miss.

Leading the cast as Captain Patrick Hendry, actor Kenneth Tobey delivers a good, restrained performance as the leader of the soldiers. Carrying the movie with his strong presence and natural charm. Subtle in his approach, there's a certain weight that he gives to his performance that makes his character feel trustworthy. Certainly, Tobey fits the classic 1950s hero role proficiently. Nevertheless, the film's highlight is Robert Cornthwaite, who plays Hendry's nemesis Dr. Carrington. Giving his role a calculated dose of malice, Cornthwaite makes a masterful depiction of a man driven by his obsession (knowledge) to the point of amorality, endangering the lives of everyone else. There's a bit of Melville's Captain Ahab in Cornthwaite's performance, and it's commendable the way he manages to portray his character's intelligence with minimal gestures. Margaret Sheridan plays Carrington's secretary and Hendry's love interest, and while her role is certainly limited, her work is pretty effective.

There's no doubt that "The Thing from Another World" is a classic of its genre, as amongst the countless sci-fi horrors from the 1950s, it has a certain class in its craftsmanship that elevates it above the many "creature features" that were produced in that era. Few horrors from the period manage to influx a premise like this (the vegetable monster) with the amount of gravitas the film has (1954's "Them!" would be another example). But certainly, for all its virtues, "The Thing from Another World" is not a film that has aged well, not only in terms of its technical merits, but also regarding its political ideology, which is clearly a product of its time. The film is fully imbued with the idea of treating any outsider as an enemy, and that military action should have more weight than any scientific approach (Dr.Carrington, embodies all the negative aspects of liberal and scientific views). In a way, it's the diametrical opposite to George A. Romero's 1985 film "Day of the Dead".

30 years after the making of "The Thing from Another World", director John Carpenter directed a remake of the film, more faithful (in plot and tone) to Campbell's classic novella. While this is perhaps a case of a remake proving itself superior to the original, Howard Hawks place as a classic sci-fi horror of Cold War remains unquestioned. While it does have several shortcomings and time hasn't treated it well, its enormous influence over science fiction cinema can still be felt. Though nowadays it's can feel dated and even archaic, Hawks' "The Thing from Another World" can still be an enjoyable film to watch, mainly because if had one element that no very few "creature features" of the same period had: class.

7/10
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Eragon (2006)

2011-11-04T13:56:00.003-06:00

Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Christopher Paolini, whose favorite hobby was to read fantasy books. Inspired by his favorite books and movies, Paolini decided to write his own fantasy stories, tales about worlds where dragons and magic existed, about the adventures of brave warriors and powerful sorcerers. Thus was the origin of "Eragon", Paolini's first completed book, which he self-published in 2002 with the support of his parents and their small publishing company. The young author got lucky, as the son of author Carl Hiaasen found a copy of this edition of "Eragon" in a bookstore. Hiaasen contacted his publisher and told him about Paolini, and soon the young writer had the chance of taking the story of Eragon to a greater audience. "Eragon", the debut novel became a best seller, and Christopher Paolini became one of the youngest writers in achieve success in fantasy fiction. Naturally, a movie version of the successful novel was the next step. Unfortunately, not everything came out as expected.

Eragon (Edward Speleers) is a young 17 years old teenager, who lives with his uncle Garrow (Alun Armstrong) and his cousin Roran (Christopher Egan) as farmers in the small town of Carvahall, part of the country of of Alagaësia, a fantastic land oppressed by the hand of its ruler, a man named Galbatorix (John Malkovich). After having eliminated his opposition, Galbatorix crowned himself king and rules Algaësia with an iron fist. One day, young Eragon finds a mysterious stone while going hunting, and to his surprise, what he thought was a stone is actually the rarest thing in the world: a dragon's egg. Soon the dragon is born, and Eragon finds himself being chosen by the dragon as her legitimate rider, and destined to be the hope of those who still want a country free of Galbatorix oppressive reign. With the aid of his dragon, Saphira (Rachel Weisz), and the guidance of an old warrior named Brom (Jeremy Irons), Eragon will finally be able to fulfill his dream of being a hero, a legendary Dragon Rider.

Ever since its first publishing as a novel, "Eragon" faced strong criticism due to the somewhat derivative nature of its storyline that more often than not tended to feel more like an imitation of classic works of the fantasy genre (such as "Lord of the Rings" or "Star Wars") than as an original work. Unfortunately, the adaptation to the big screen (by writer Peter Buchman) doesn't do much to deny the validity of those claims, and in fact looks precisely as a typical, clichéd carbon copy of previous (and better) fantasy stories. With major changes to the storyline, Buchman's work simplifies things and leaves "Eragon" void of the juvenile charm that prompted Paolini's novel to the best sellers lists. "Eragon" the novel wasn't a groundbreaking work, though it made for an new take on the classic "hero's journey" pattern; as adapted by Buchman, "Eragon" is a simplistic clone of "Star Wars" (itself perhaps one of the best versions of the "hero's journey" monomyth), lacking any identity of its own.

After having build up a career as visual effects supervisor in Industrial Light & Magic, Stefen Fangmeier debuts as a director in "Eragon", in an effort marred by the poor quality of its screenplay. As expected given his background, Fangmeier creates a visually arresting film, with a good array of great special effects that find their culmination in the realization of dragon Saphira, which in itself it's a remarkable technical achievement. Nevertheless, remarkable special effects aren't everything in a film, and "Eragon" proves again that cinema is all about the storyline, and no matter how good the special effects are, a lousy script tends to result in a lousy movie. Granted, good directing can make the exception, but Fangmeier's effort isn't enough to save the ill fated film, as his tacky narrative results in scenes that look beautiful but add little to the story, and in the end "Eragon" just feels like an incomplete, unfocused work that never reaches its potential.

The cast is another problem in the film, as the young inexperienced actors chosen to play the lead characters deliver a pretty average work that only makes the messy lines of dialog sound even worse than what they already are. Edward Speleers as Eragon is awfully wooden, and while he delivers the right amount of angst his teenage character requires, overall it seems that Speleers got the part based on his looks instead of his talents. Same case is the one of Sienna Guillory, whose bland performance as Arya never really becomes a believable role, looking dull and articial. Among the young cast the only saving grace is Garrett Hedlund as Murtagh, but his screen time is so limited that even when his performance is worthy, his character never goes beyond being a two-dimensional stereotype. Now, the adult cast has slightly better luck, starting with Jeremy Irons, who manages to deliver a dignified performance as Brom, but the highlight is Rachel Weisz as the voice of Saphira. Sadly John Malkovich goes over the top without adding depth to the villain he plays.

Director Stefen Fangmeier's lack of experience directing actors becomes notorious as there's no real balance between the cast's performances. Like other former Visual effects artists, Fangmeier shows great talent directing scenes based on physical actions and purely visual narrative (it's worth to point out that cinematographer Hugh Johnson makes a decent job); however his handling of dialog based scenes is pretty much disastrous. This results in an uneven quality in his storytelling, which feels dull and bland. However, the failure of "Eragon" should not be entirely blamed on the young cast or on its equally unexperienced director, but on the badly written screenplay that takes its storyline through every cliché in the post-Tolkien fantasy fiction. While being a film dealing with wizards and dragons, the film lacks any real sense of wonder, it just falls flat as simply another dull and average fantasy tale that unfolds its story without focus and without direction.

After the renewed interest in fantasy films sparked by the successful adaptations of J. K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series and Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings", many other adaptations of fantasy books began to be realized, in the hope of discovering a new successful franchise. Unfortunately for "Eragon"'s fans, Fangmeier's film version of Paolini's book is a quite uninspired film that failed to explore the story's potential. Full of clichés and common places, the screenplay only adds strength to the argument of derivative that Paolini's novel receives. While not entirely awful, "Eragon" is a subpar fantasy film; and the best sign of this is that the best acting in the film is done by an animated dragon.

4/10
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Macario (1960)

2011-11-02T17:09:00.000-06:00

Perhaps one of the most amazing figures in modern literature is that of the enigmatic author B. Traven, whom despite having been a successful writer during his lifetime, to this date the details of his life remain unsolved mysteries. Better known for having written the novel "Der Schatz der Sierra Madre" ("The Treasure of the Sierra Madre", basis for John Huston's classic film of the same name), very few is known about the mysterious writer, and even his nationality is a matter of debate (clues point to him being either American or German). What is know for sure is that at certain point in his life, Traven traveled to Mexico and became fascinated with the country's rich culture and natural beauty, as well as with its complex social issues. The novella "Macario" (published in German as "Der Dritte Gast", literally, "The Third Guest", but known in English as "The Healer") is another of his best known works, and the source novel of one of Mexico's most fascinating and beautiful films: Roberto Gavaldón's "Macario".

Macario (Ignacio López Tarso) is a very poor indigenous lumberjack during the Colonial Mexico, whose only dream in life is to be able to eat a roasted turkey all by himself, as he always has had to give up his meals so the rest of his big family can eat. On the eve of Mexican "Day of the Dead" celebration, his wife (Pina Pellicer) steals a turkey and hides it from her kids, as she is decided to make Macario's dream come true. The following morning she gives Macario the turkey for lunch, and the happy lumberjack rushes to the forest to eat it. Deep in the woods with his wife's gift, Macario is about to eat his cherished meal when three strangers ask him to share his food. Macario denies it to the first two, but feels compassion for the third (Enrique Lucero), who later reveals himself as Death. In exchange for the meal, Death gives Macario a water that has the power to cure everything. With Death's gift Macario will become a famous healer who'll receive the attention of the entire region, but also of the Inquisition.

Adapted by writer Emilio Carballido and director Roberto Gavaldón himself, the movie remains relatively faithful to Traven's story (itself an adaptation of the classic German fairy tale "Der Gevatter Tod", or "Godfather Death") and retains the mix of harsh realism and dark fantasy that lays at the core of the short novella. Like Traven's fable, the screenplay of "Macario" is filled with symbolism, enriched by the added details regarding the Mexican culture and the traditional celebration of the Day of the Dead. Not only the film begins during the Day of the Dead celebration, but several parallels are drawn between the Mexican tradition and the film's plot, particularly the personification of Death not as an enemy, but as a companion, as a friend to share a meal with. Traven's usual anti-capitalism can still be felt in Carballido and Gavaldón's screenplay, which several times points out the class difference between the poor family of Macario and the rich house of Don Ramiro, the wealthy landowner played by Mario Alberto Rodríguez.

As usual with Roberto Gavaldón's films, his direction in "Macario" is technically impeccable, though the film also proves that Gavaldón wasn't merely a technically proficient craftsman, but also an interesting and quite accomplished artist, worthy to be considered amongst the greatest directors of Mexican cinema. Like its source novel, "Macario" is heavily symbolic, with the Mexican death-related imagery playing a significant role in building up the powerful atmosphere of dark fantasy the film has (a particularly remarkable scene is Macario's nightmare, which shows an influence of Luis Buñuel's surreal cinema). The film as a whole walks the line between a sense of realism (reflected in the relationships between social classes) and one of full surrealist fantasy, which could make the film to be somewhat related to the magical realism. Legendary cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa makes one of his finest works in this film, capturing breathtaking images of supernatural beauty that enhance the dark atmosphere of Gavaldón's fable.

While Figueroa's photography is truly a highlight of the film, it's worth to point out that the cast also makes a wonderful job in bringing to life the characters of Traven's "Macario". 1960 proved to be an important year in the career of legendary actor Ignacio López Tarso, as he got his first important roles in this movie and in "La Sombra del Caudillo". As the lead character, Macario, López Tarso shows a great natural charm and a strong presence in his role, as well as a great skill for facial expression. While at times his performance feels a bit stagy, in "Macario" he already shows why he later was considered as one of the finest Mexican actors ever. "Macario" was also the first role of Pina Pellicer's and one of her best in her sadly short career (she committed suicide four years later). Her work is so full of realism and is so natural, that conveys a strong emotion despite her limited screen time. Enrique Lucero completes the cast with a haunting, yet charming performance as Death, that appears to Macario as a poor and badly nourished shepherd.

In many of Roberto Gavaldón's films, death and fate play instrumental roles in the story lines, and in "Macario" this is perhaps taken to its most symbolic extreme. But as written above, Death is not an enemy, but an ally for Macario. Not necessarily an evil force, but an element of balance. Macario is just able to twist that balance a little bit, as Death itself is still ruthless, and fate still is unmovable. Interestingly, the clearly defined evil force is actually human, shaped in the envy others feel at watching Macario's success as a healer. Again, Traven's anti-capitalism is present: evil is the all too human feeling of envy. While "Macario" hasn't aged that well (it's special effects for example, are terribly dated), the movie still retains its haunting atmosphere of dark fantasy, an unnatural charm perhaps better defined as "magic", that makes it captivating. The sheer beauty of Figueroa's images, coupled with the marvelous work of acting put together by the hand of Gavaldón result in a powerful and fascinating film.

While "Macario" went on to earn multiple awards across the globe (including an Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Language film), the film wasn't that well received in country as it was accused of being an artificial and overtly nationalist bait designed to win foreign awards. While the critics of its time may have a point in the film's use of folklore, "Macario" stands as an undeniable achievement of great technique and artistic value. Full of symbolism and owner of an impressive work of cinematography, "Macario" remains as one of Roberto Gavaldón's best films, and one of the last gems of the "Mexican Golden Age", which by 1960 was already in decline. An amazing example of Mexican filmmaking, "Macario" is a definitive classic of the dark fantasy genre.

9/10
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El Hombre Bestia (1934)

2011-11-01T17:09:00.001-06:00

Despite being a country that quickly adopted cinema as an art form, Argentina's filmmakers weren't too keen of venturing into the fantastic genres, and the themes of Argentine cinema remained based on the country's literary tradition. Comedy and drama derived from theater were the prominent genres of the silent era, and the arrival of sound didn't do much to change this, as it only meant that Argentina's rich musical culture would finally be translated to the screen. However, one man decided that Argentina could also produce fantastic stories, and in the early 30s began to produce what would become as Argentina's first horror film. That man was journalist Camilo Zaccaría Soprani, and the film was titled "El Hombre Bestia", an independent production done without money or talent, but perhaps with lots of passion. The film was presumed lost for almost 70 years, until it was finally found and released again in the year 2002. While it's good to see it again, this may be a case of a film whose historical importance is greater than its artistic value.

The story of "El Homre Bestia" (literally "The Beast Man") begins with Captain Richard (Saverio Yaquinto), a brave pilot during World War I, whom is forced to land in the jungle, crashing his plane. The captain survives, but is unable to return, and uses his survival skills to live in the jungle, when he becomes more and more savage as years go by, eventually transforming Richard into a feral man not too different from Tarzan. Twelve years after his plane crashed, fate plays on Richard's favor and another plane lands in the island. The savage Richard murders the pilot and uses the plane to return to civilization, however, loss of fuel forces him to land in the house of the strange Dr. Marchessi (Raúl D'Angeli). Now, Richard immediately captures the attention of Dr. Marchessi, who becomes interested in his beastly traits and manages to inject an experimental formula in the unsuspecting Richard. The formula transforms Richard into a crazed monster driven by lust, and begins to kidnap beautiful young ladies.

The screenplay, by C. Z. Soprani himself, is basically a collection of the many bizarre adventures that captain Richard endures, from his days as a pilot to his survival in the jungle, and later to his dealing with Dr. Marchessi and the manhunt that the families of the kidnapped girls organize to stop him. In fact, a lot of things happen in the barely 50 minutes of runtime the film has, clearly an indicator of Soprani's desire of creating a tale of action and adventure that had a bit of everything. Unfortunately, it all feels forced and contrived due to the poor organization the story has. And so, the tone and mood of the movie varies in every segment, as it initially begins as a tale of adventure which soon becomes a strange horror film as the story unfolds. In fact, Richard himself goes from being the film's apparent protagonist (the film often bears a subtitle translated as "The Adventures of Captain Richard"), to transform into essentially one of the villains, as Dr. Manchessi's formula makes him even more savage.

Like Carl Theodor Dreyer's classic "Vampyr", Soprani's "El Hombre Bestia" is somewhat of an hybrid of a silent film and talkie, with some scenes having intertitles and texts to follow the plot, while others have the recorded audio of the dialogs. However, unlike Dreyer's surreal tale of vampirism, in Soprani's film this is done without real care, and instead of looking more like a mere budgetary decision than like a purely artistic choice. And looking the film, it seems like budget was behind most of Soprani's directorial decisions, as it seems like many different scenes where done in the same locations, and Soprani shows a taste for borrowing archival footage for the most complicated scenes. Soprani's visual style feels closer to silent cinema than to the kind of filmmaking that was being done in the early 1930s, and the cramming of the many adventures of captain Richard is done without real care or sense of pacing, resulting in a tacky narrative that seems disjointed and even incoherent at times.

Acting in "El Hombre Bestia" is pretty poor, which given the lack of experience of the performers may be understandable. Like the whole visual style of the film, the acting also feels more at home in a silent film, even in the scenes where there's sound. Saverio Yaquinto, who plays captain Richard, isn't really that bad, playing efficiently the stereotype character of the feral man so often seen in many silent films about jungle adventures. Certainly he seems hammy in his role, though in his case this is more likely the result of a pretty poor direction, as his role becomes merely physical, and limited to performing stunts. The real problems begin with the actors not playing a silent feral man, which would mean everyone else, as they are all wooden at best, and atrocious at worst. Raúl D'Angeli, who plays the evil Dr. Marchessi is perhaps the worst offender, delivering a truly uninspired performance. Nevertheless, all things aside, in the end it all comes down to C. Z. Soprani's terrible job as a director.

Certainly, "El Hombre Bestia" is plagued with problems that make its enjoyment somewhat difficult. For starters, it's bizarre plot that includes almost every element from American adventure serials (war scenes, jungle peril, mad scientist, monster on the loose, detectives, and the list goes on) all crammed in about 50 minutes of footage, is something to consider. Without regards for logic or coherence, the story moves from episode to episode moved by weird circumstances that truly defies the strongest suspension of disbelief. Even for its time, it's a great leap to think of "El Hombre Bestia" seriously, which leads to the other problem the film faces: for a 1934 production, it feels more than antiquated, it's certainly archaic. Beyond the fact that its an hybrid of a silent film and a talkie, its plot sounds like something from the early years of silent cinema, where everything was new and unexplored. While certainly its low budget is behind many of its problems, it's not a valid justification for most of the many illogical things that take place in the film.

Probably when Camilo Zaccaría Soprani decided to make "El Hombre Bestia" he hoped it could rival with the popular American serials. It's definitely the style of film he attempts to reproduce in his movie, but sadly his ambitious were way beyond his skills. Still, the passion and love for the genre that Soprani had, can really be felt through its mish mash of outrageously weird scenes. The first horror film made in Argentina, "El Hombre Bestia", failed to find an audience and was quickly lost in time. It would take eight more years until Argentina could release its first masterpiece of horror (Manuel Romero's "Una Luz en la Ventana"). As a historical film, "El Hombre Bestia" is invaluable, as the action/horror film it wanted to be, it's pretty forgettable.

4/10
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The Manster (1959)

2011-10-31T17:30:00.001-06:00

Ever since first published 1886, Robert Louis Stevenson's popular novel "Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde" has served as inspiration for numerous works dealing with the concept of "split personality". Beginning with the 1887 stage play (by Thomas Russell Sullivan), the classic novel has been adapted dozens of times, all with different degrees of faithfulness to the source story. However, perhaps the most interesting versions are those that are not exactly typical adaptations of Stevenson's novel, and instead opt for a different angle that often carries only the splitting of the personality. Examples of this are 1963's screwball comedy "The Nutty Professor" and the comic book "The Hulk". Amongst this kind of versions is a Japanese American co-production realized in 1959 titled "The Manster", a tale of horror and science fiction which has earned a reputation as a schlocky camp classic due to its tacky special effects. However, it also has some pretty interesting elements that elevate it from being the typical monster on the loose story.

In "The Manster", Peter Dynley plays Larry Stanford, an American foreign news correspondent who has spent the last few years working in Japan. Tired of being far from home, there's nothing that Larry would want more than to return to his wife Linda (Jane Hylton), so he is eager to finish what will be his last assignment: an interview with the reclusive scientist Dr. Robert Suzuki (Tetsu Nakamura). Larry travels to the volcano where Suzuki has his laboratory, and soon becomes friends with him. However, what he doesn't know is that Suzuki has found him to be the perfect candidate for his ultimate experiment in evolutionary change. Dr. Suzuki drugs Larry and injects him with his new formula. When the reporter awakes, he doesn't remember anything, and eagerly accepts Suzuki's invitation to spend a week of vacation with him and his beautiful assistant Tara (Terri Zimmern). Vacationing with Suzuki, Larry soon forgets about his wife, and enjoys a life of alcohol and women. However, he is also changing physically, and something horrible is growing in his shoulder.

Written collaboratively by director George P. Breakston and William J. Sheldon, "The Manster" is by all accounts, a pretty much typical horror story of the 1950s. There's the general distrust of science that was common in Atomic Age horror, reflected in the science fiction origin of the monster, and in the person of Dr. Suzuki, who fills the "mad scientist" role. However, there are also certain elements that make it quite atypical for its time. For starters, the frank depiction of sex and violence the story has which, while by no means graphic (at least not for modern standards), it's certainly there: an uncontrolled sexual libido is the first thing that awakes in Larry as his transformation begins. Larry has been, in his words, "a good boy" all the years he has been in Japan, but after meeting Suzuki, he becomes a frequent visitor in brothels, and begins an affair with Tara. And this is related to the other element that sets the film apart from the rest: its "Jekyll and Hyde" theme makes it work as a thinly-veiled allegory of alcoholism.

Directed by George P. Breakston and Kenneth G. Crane, at first sight "The Manster" looks also typical in its execution, which is certainly quite simplistic; however, the directors also make some really good choices. To begin with, there's a real care in its portrayal of the Japanese culture. In "The Manster", it's more than just an exotic location, it adds up to the feeling of isolation and loneliness that the lead character begins to experience (the scene at a Buddhist temple is specially haunting). The sombre black and white photography by cinematographer David Mason is actually pretty good, and actually closer in spirit to film noir; something that's particularly appropriate, as the film deals with themes a bit more lurid than the usual fare. The degeneration of Larry is well-handed, for the most part, and the personality change the character undergoes isn't that far fetched. It's only when the remarkably poor special effects appear on the film when "The Manster" shows why it earned its camp classic reputation.

The acting is just slightly above the average, though for the most part the performances are good. As the lead character, Peter Dyneley makes an acceptable job in his portrayal of Larry Standford. Initially a somewhat stereotypical All-American husband, as Larry descends into his life of debauchery there's a good chance for Dyneley to showcase his talents, and often he does. Certainly he is not a great actor, though within his limitations Dyneley doesn't make a bad job. As Dr. Suzuki, Tetsu Nakamura is pretty mediocre, though his role is certainly the most clichéd in the film. Now, as his assistant Tara, the alluring Terry Zimmern is perhaps the film's highlight. Strangely, Zimmern never did any other film and vanished from the spotlight, so "The Manster" remains a testament of what could had been. The rest of the cast is pretty average, though Jerry Ito shows some passion at playing the typical detective a film like "The Manster" must have. Unfortunately, he receives the worst lines in the film.

And bad lines of dialog is a common flaw in "The Manster", which despite having a particularly original angle to its storyline, can't avoid resorting to common places and clichés in its screenplay. And this includes its ending, which is of a moralist nature, though this is hardly a surprise, considering the overall theme the film has. This double face, on one side a lurid tale full of eroticism, and on the other a moralistic story of the Atomic Age, is certainly fitting for a horror tale about a split personality, though one wonders how much would had helped a better constructed climax. Because the ending does feel unfortunately rushed and somewhat incoherent, a huge contrast to the first half, which chronicles Larry's degeneration with such a great care. It feels so different in tone and pacing that is as if the directors had been forced to do it just to meet the deadline. And of course, the film's great bane: it's incompetent special effects. It's true, "The Manster" can't help but looking awfully schlocky with those cheap make-up effects.

Certainly, it's difficult to talk about "The Manster" without discussing the camp value of its silly effects. It's certainly one of the most notorious aspects of the film, and one of the most unintentionally funny as well. Nevertheless, beyond its trashy visuals, "The Manster" is still a sombre tale. As a metaphor for the destructive effects of alcoholism (or any drug in general) the film makes pretty good points; and as a sci-fi tragedy, the movies does work nicely if one gets past its cheap visual look. More ambitious than its budget allowed it to be, "The Manster" is by no means a great film; however, despite its many obvious flaws, this offbeat "Jekyll and Hyde" tale is certainly worth a watch.

6/10
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Download "The Manster" (1959)

Santo en El tesoro de Drácula (1969)

2011-10-28T17:55:00.001-05:00

It's probable that when the young wrestler Rodolfo Guzmán took the name of "Santo" in 1942, he never imagined that he would become one of the greatest icons of Mexican cinema. As his popularity in the ring rose, Santo soon got offers to make films, and it would be in the silver screen where the masked wrestler would face his most bizarre foes. Vampires, international criminals, mad scientists and even aliens would be the sort of enemies that movie star Santo would have to defeat. Count Dracula himself challenges Santo in one of his most famous films, 1969's "Santo en El tesoro de Drácula", however, the film's cult status is due to the fact that there was a rumour of an alternative cut, one that added scenes of Dracula's harem of nude vampires. Titled "El Vampiro y el Sexo", this version was lost for years and its existence was source of constant debate amongst fans; until 2010, when the missing cut was finally found. Unfortunately, the discovery of the legendary lost version allows to find even more shortcomings in "Santo en El tesoro de Drácula".

In this adventure, Santo is not only a successful wrestler, but also a talented scientist, and with the help of his friend and colleague Dr. Sepúlveda (Carlos Agosti), Santo has made an astounding discovery in his research. Dr. Sepúlveda invites other scientists to his house, in order to hear about Santo's invention: a machine that allows its user to "experience" a past life. Naturally, the group demands proof of this theory, but Santo has not tested his machine with a human yet. Defeated, Santo laments his lack of proofs, but Santo's girlfriend Luisa (Noelia Noel), daughter of Dr. Sepúlveda, decides to test the machine herself and is sent back in time to Colonial times, where in a previous life she was the victim of Count Drácula (Aldo Monti). Unfortunately, her ancestor was turned into a vampire and faces destruction at the hands of vampire hunter Professor Van Roth (Fernando Mendoza). Santo manages to bring Luisa back to the present before she's killed, and she returns now knowing the location of Drácula's treasure. Santo and his friends, decide to go and find it.

The films of Santo do not have a straight forward continuity between them (like the James Bond fims), they exist most of the time as stand alone adventures with the basic theme of Santo being a wrestler whom also fights evil when he's not in the ring. This explains why sometimes he is a mystical warrior of unknown origin, others a suave Interpol agent, and yet sometimes he is a proficent scientist. "Santo en El tesoro de Drácula" (known in English as "Santo in: The Treasure of Dracula") belongs to this last category, and it's also one of his "horror themed" movies. Written by prolific horror writer Alfredo Salazar, the movie can be divided in two parts: first is Luisa's adventure, which is basically an abridged adaptation of Stoker's "Dracula"; and the second part is the typical Santo adventure set in modern times. Unfortunately, as interesting as this storytelling device could be, "Santo en El tesoro de Drácula" shows the worst vices of Salazar's writing: clichéd dialogue, ilogical actions and chaotic storyline.

Director René Cardona, one of the most prolific directors of Mexican cinema, had already directed many horror films at this point, including several Santo films. While perhaps not the most inventive of filmmakers, Cardona had proved to be an efficient craftsman able to tell a good story. Sadly, little of this ability can be seen in "Santo en El tesoro de Drácula", which he tackles with such a blandness that feels like the director wasn't really interested in the film. As written above, the film is divided in two parts, and it certainly feels like different two movies. The first half, the more decidedly horror one, is easily the best of the two, and even works like a small homage to Méndez' "El Vampiro" (1957) and Browning's "Dracula" (1931). The second part, which should be the best being that it's the one where Santo is actually involved, is tragically where Cardona opts for silliness, and where the chaos that is Salazar's story becomes all the more apparent.

Rodolfo Guzmán, Santo himself, was always better when playing his Santo persona as a more human character, and in "Santo en El tesoro de Drácula" he is able to show this. Away from the one-dimensional role of mystical warrior, Santo finds more freedom to built a true personality beyond the masked crime fighter. In this film, Santo is able to make jokes, feel despair, ambition and pain, all in all a more dimensional role than what he had done earlier in his career. And while the rest of the film points to absurd, Santo actually makes a great acting job, and manages to add dignity to a film otherwise marred by lack of interest. Despite not being a professional actor, Santo is the only one who seems to be serious about his job. Young comedian Alberto Rojas isn't that bad either, but his role as the over-the-top comic relief is so awfully written that he ends up being odious instead of funny. Noelia Noel plays Luisa, and while not exactly a good actress, she adds some vitality to the cast, and seems to be sincerely enjoying the film.

The rest of the cast is a lot less impressive. Italian actor Aldo Monti gives a terribly hammy performance as Dracula, and doesn't seem to be interested at all in the film. In fact, with the exception of Santo and perhaps Noelia Noel, it would seem as if nobody in "Santo en El tesoro de Drácula" was really interested in the film. Cinematographer Raúl Martínez Solares, another seasoned veteran from Mexico's "Golden Age", makes one of his worst jobs in this horror film. While the film's "normal version" can be found in black and white, the film was actually shot in color, and the "El Vampiro y el Sexo" version survives in the way it was intended. While in black and white the film could feel atmospheric, in color the lighting gives the film a bizarre style. The odd camera angles Cardona and Martínez Solares use through the film add another level of weirdness to this movie. On a final note, the nudity of "El Vampiro y el Sexo" version is actually an odd addition, as it contrasts badly with the ridicule silliness and childish naiveté of Alberto Rojas' character.

Now, all this elements certainly make "Santo en el Tesoro de Drácula" sound like a huge display of incompetence, but oddly, it's actually not that bad. Mediocre perhaps, but never downright bad. And the saving grace responsible of this is none other than Santo himself. The enormous charm and presence of the legendary wrestler actually, completely true to his own character, manage to give some sense to the whole thing. A sense that borders surrealism, but a sense after all. "Santo en El tesoro de Drácula" is an oddity amongst Santo films, and not only because of the infamous "El Vampiro y el Sexo" cut. It is odd because despite lacking coherence and despite not being really the best Santo film (far from it), it's actually entertaining. It just has a weird charm that for some reason, makes it work. Perhaps only Santo could pull this off.

5/10
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NOTE: All this DVDs are for the "normal version" in black and white. So far, no DVD has been announced for the "El Vampiro y el Sexo" cut.

Joey (1985)

2011-10-27T23:51:00.001-05:00

German director Roland Emmerich is nowadays best known as the man behind Hollywood blockbusters such as "Independence Day" and "The Day After Tomorrow", big budget science-fiction films where he has shown a taste for using a heavy amount of visual effects, a style that has earned him his fair share of detractors. While certainly Emmerich may not be the most original or artistic director in the history of cinema, it's hard to deny that his films have a very particular style of his own, a style that he had been developing from his early films, and that owes a lot to his "spiritual guides", the great masters of fantasy cinema of the 70s: George Lucas and Steven Spielberg (reportedly, watching "Star Wars" in his youth made him decide to become a filmmaker). Lucas' influence is clear in Emmerich's first movie, the sci-fi adventure "Das Arche Noah Prinzip", but his second film makes Emmerich's devotion to Spielberg all the more evident: the little fantasy film named "Joey".

Better known in the U.S. as "Making Contact" (where it was had 20 minutes cut), "Joey" is the story of its titular character, a 9 years old kid named Joey (Joshua Morrell) who after the tragic death of his father, begins to experience strange psychic powers. This powers allow him supernatural abilities like moving inanimate objects with his mind or setting things on fire. Joey soon even manages to apparently make contact with his dead father. Naturally, Joey's sanity is questioned by those around him, but the kid really doesn't mind. However, not everything is good for Joey as his newly found powers accidentally awake an evil supernatural force that had been contained inside the body of an old ventriloquist's dummy that Joey had found in an abandoned house. Flecther (Jack Angel) the dummy, possessed by the ancient evil force, claims to be the ghost of the ventriloquist and shows pretty similar powers to Joey's. Soon Fletcher puts the lives of everyone near Joey in danger as the evil Dummy has dark plans for Joey's special powers.

Written by Emmerich himself, along with scriptwriters Hans J. Haller and Thomas Lechner, "Joey" is has many classic elements of a supernatural horror movie on the lines of Tobe Hooper "Poltergeist" (a Spielberg production released three years before "Joey"), but done with the approach of a fantasy movie for children pretty much on the style of "E.T.", another Spielberg film. To be fair, while there are many elements and reference to classic sci-fi, the premise has its fair share of originality and in fact results in several pretty good scenes. Sadly, the script's overall development is quite typical of its time, and resorts far too much on the genre's clichés to work. Focused entirely on Joey, the film works more as a creepy adventure film than as an strictly horror movie, mainly because the story is written in a way that highlights the main character's fight versus the evil force over the horror created by the Dummy. This is not to say that there aren't any horror moments, they are there, and some actually work really good.

While done with a relatively low budget, Emmerich packs his film with very good dark visual imagery, and even in this early film there are signs that forecast Emmerich's taste for big budget special effects. It's really interesting what he achieves with his minimal resources, and it could be said that even at this early point in his career the director already knew the kind of films he wanted to do in the future (visual nods to George Lucas abound through the film). Cinematographer Egon Werdin crafts some nice atmospheres, particularly when the film veers towards horror territory, where the visual style gets closer to the afore mentioned "Poltergeist", a similitude that certainly can't be exactly unintentional, as "Joey" could be seen as Emmerich's ultimate tribute to Spielberg and Lucas. Unfortunately, "Joey" also shows what perhaps has been the downside of Emmerich's style through his career: the scenes with special effects work, whereas the ones without them show his shortcomings as a director.

The cast in "Joey" is sadly, really average in their work, and this is actually one of the film's weakest points (perhaps in fact "The" weakest). Unfortunately, the lack of experience of the cast (specially in the case of the kids) becomes increasingly notorious as the film unfolds, and given the fact that the director was also unexperienced at this point did not help (and honestly, directing actors has never been one of Emmerich's strengths). Anyways, the only actress with real experience, Eva Kryll, plays the role of Joey's mother and delivers easily the best performance of the film. Unfortunately, her character is really a small part and doesn't have enough screen time to allow her to display her talent. Josua Morrell, who leads the cast as Joey, could be the case of inspired casting, as the boy looks pretty natural in front of the camera. His delivery is a tad stiff, but actually manages to carry the film. The rest of the cast is where the problem gets evident, as most look pretty artificial in their delivery, even those in smaller roles.

An unexperienced young cast paired with an unexperienced young director is many times a deadly combination for any film, and "Joey" has this as one of its biggest flaws. The actors' delivery is pretty poor and Emmerich's uninspired direction (when there aren't special effects to support the action) results in a pretty bland storytelling. In fact, the film gets dull many times when the special effects are gone, as Emmerich fails to keep a good balance between the action scenes and the more expository, dialog-based ones. The screenplay is not without its problems, as there are times where serious plot holes show up, and it becomes clear that the three scriptwriters were unable to make a cohesive work that tied up every of their ideas (interesting plot points are introduced and later abandoned). Nevertheless, despite all this flaws, director Roland Emmerich manages to pull off an entertaining adventure out of this messy ingredients and, while definitely troubled, has some good elements for a children's horror movie.

Perhaps the best use "Joey" (or "Making Contact") can have is as an introduction to the horror genre for young children, as with its touch of fantasy and adventure, it could be attractive despite its darker imagery. Unfortunately, more experienced horror fans won't enjoy it as much as kids, and won't find things to like in Emmerich's first entry in the horror genre. "Joey", like Emmerich's other early films, certainly shows the young talent of a master of visual effects that, while probably not a very accomplished artist, still manages to make entertaining and attractive films that deliver good doses of entertainment. While lacking in many aspects, "Joey", or "Making Contact", is definitely a good tale of horror to enjoy with the kids.

6/10
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Choking Hazard (2004)

2011-10-26T16:43:00.000-05:00

Ever after American filmmaker George A. Romero reinvented the concept of the living dead in the silver screen back in 1968 (with his milestone classic "Night of the Living Dead"), hordes of flesh-eating zombies ravaging the land have become a recurring theme in horror films. The renewed interest in zombie films spawned by Danny Boyle's "28 Days Later..." in 2002 (which despite technicism, works like a zombie film) proved that the zombie subgenre was still more alive than dead, and soon a new generation of horror filmmakers brought more flesh-eating corpses to roam the screens. Czech filmmaker Marek Dobes belongs to this generation of horror directors decided to experiment with the zombie genre, and his 2004 film "Choking Hazard" is his take on the living dead. A comedy-horror in the vein of Edgar Wright's "Shaun of the Dead", Dobes' movie takes a jab at intellectuals by having as characters a group of philosphers trying to find the meaning of life. Certainly zombies know a lot about finding that.

In "Choking Hazard", a group of young people travel to an isolated hotel located deep in the woods, to join famous philosopher Dr. Reinis (Jaroslav Dusek) and take his course about finding the meaning of life. The group consists of nihilist slacker Verner (Jan Dolanský), the naive student Hanusova (Eva Nadazdyova), nymphomaniac Lefnerova (Anna Fialkova), and the course organizers, Nedobyl (Kamil Svedjda) and Krenovcova (Eva Janouskova). After introductions are done and the course begins, the group is joined by Mechura (Roman Izaias), a male porn star who got lost looking for the shooting location of his next film. Interested by the course's goal and seeing it as an opportunity to share his particular set of beliefs, Mechura decides to take the course. However, he is not the only one who will join this disparate group of characters, as a group of zombie woodsmen is on their way to the hotel, and they are hungry. The philosophy course will have to become a crash course in survival when the zombies arrive to the place.

Dobes' regular collaborator, scriptwriter Stepan Kopriva, working together with Martin Pomothy, wrote the screenplay for "Choking Hazard", in which they use as basis the most common plot for zombie filmes (group trapped in isolated location, surrounded by zombies) to conceive a comedy that aims to pokes fun on pseudointellectuals, theme that Dobes and Kopriva had tackled before in their previous short comedy film "Byl jsem mladistvým intelektuálem" ("I was a teenage intellectual"). In "Choking Hazard", Kopriva and Pomothy have built a good set of well-defined characters that, while certainly being based on stereotypes, prove to have a clear identity of their own. The style of comedy is that of ironic satire, with a decidedly preference for the absurd. While the theme of balance between instinct and reason appears constantly through the film, "Choking Hazard" opts for a visceral approach to comedy rather than an intellectual one. This doesn't mean it's stupid, as Kopriva and Pomothy achieve genuinely funny moments in their absurd way.

Using a stylish and pretty dynamic camerawork, director Marek Dobes crafts his film with refreshing creativity and a pretty good eye for the visuals. Cinematographer Martin Preiss makes a terrific job working with digital cinema, and makes great use of his indoors location (exterior night shots aren't that good, being sadly poorly lit). Dobes as well takes good advantage of the digital medium to enhance his visual narrative, and keeps his camera moving all over the place. With an aesthethic inspired by rock music videos and a joyful willingness to experiment, Dobes plays with editing techniques, visual effects and narrative devices that result in a postmodern, self-referential mash-up that enhances the absurd comedy of Kopriva and Pomothy's screenplay. The low production values the film had to work with are unfortunately notorious, particularly in the make-up department, which is really poor. However, the ironic comedy tone employed by Marek Dobes allows to ignore this and most of the rest of the film's technical issues.

In many modern low budget zombie films, acting tends to be pretty average in many cases (as naturally most are newcomers) but fortunately, acting in "Choking Hazard" is above the average of the genre. Leading the cast as nihilistic hero Verner, Jan Dolanský shows the talent and charm that makes an enjoyable protagonist. An all-around slacker constantly annoyed by Dr. Reinis' unstoppable philosophical babble, Verner is not an easy character to like, but Dolanský gives him a vibrant energy that sets him apart. Though the highligh of the film is certainly Jaroslav Dusek, fantastic scene stealer with his deadpan delivery as the blind Dr. Reinis. The rest of the cast is less stellar in their work, resulting in a mixed bag. Kamil Svedjda is somewhat effective as poseur pseudointellectual Nedobyl, but the female cast is pretty weak. With the honorable exception of Eva Janouskova, the women in "Choking Hazard" aren't particularly good (though to be fair, their roles are badly underwritten).

Nevertheless, the film's weakest link isn't any of the female cast, but musician-turned actor Roman Izaias. While having probably the most interesting character in the film (the male porn star with spiritual inclinations), Izaias appears terribly wooden and emotionless in his delivery. Anyhow, "Choking Hazard" may not have the best acting in a zombie film, though this is hardly the film's greatest problem, and taking into account the ansurd style the movie has, it is not really a bad thing. What truly does harm the film is the unfortunately uneven pacing director Marek Dobes gives to his story. Being at times too fast to catch everything, and at others too slow to the point of boredom, Dobes fails to keep his film moving at the proper rhytmn. Another point is his lack of good comedy timing: the ideas are there (and Kopriva writes genuinely funny ideas), but often the effect is killed by the botched delivery of the joke. Czech humor is famous for its use of ironic absurd, though "Choking Hazard" exaggerates a bit in this and comes far too close to ridicule at moments.

"Choking Hazard" is perhaps a mixed bag: a collection of great ideas marred by the shortcomings of inexperience. Perhaps that sounds like the typical justification for many independent horror films, but in this case it's genuinely true: through the film there are sparks of brilliance that show that the team of Dobes and Kopriva had the right mindset when crafting "Choking Hazard". Its absurd humor is perhaps hard to digest at first, but all in all, this Czech effort is indeed a nice comedy-horror entry in the zombie subenre. It is far from being in the levels of "Braindead" or "Shaun of the Dead", but it's a lot better than many similar movies. The team behind this one surely had a blast making it, and it shows.

6/10
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Senki (2007)

2011-10-25T17:33:00.002-05:00

In 1994 Macedonian director Milcho Manchevski debuted with "Before the Rain", a British-French-Macedonian co-production that went on to earn multiple nominations and awards across the globe (including an Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Language film), and made Machevski to become the most famous Macedonian filmmaker. Seven years later Manchevski returned with the offbeat Western "Dust", and even when it had a much less enthusiast response, cemented Manchevski's career as a director and landed him a job directing a chapter of the popular TV series "The Wire". For his third film, Manchevski returned to more familiar grounds and went back to his homeland, the Republic of Macedonia for inspiration. The result was "сенки" or "Senki", a tale of horror and mystery grounded in Macedonian folklore in which Manchevski attempts a more traditional narrative style, making it perhaps a more accessible job than his previous output. Still, despite "Senki" being a genre-film, Manchevski's style is still present and true to itself.

"Senki" (literally "Shadows") is the story of Dr. Lazar Perkov (Borce Nacev), a young doctor that seems to have everything: a great job at his mother Vera's (Sabina Ajrula) clinic, and a beautiful family with his young wife Gordana (Filareta Atanasova) and their little child. Nevertheless, Lazar lives under the shadow of his domineering mother and at odds with Gordana, whom is dissatisfied with their marriage. One night an angered Lazar leaves home for a night drive when he has a terrible car accident. Miraculously, Lazar survives, and begins to reconstruct his life. He moves to Skopje in order to start again, a decision that bothers Gordana who prefers to remain at their beach house. Alone, Lazar receives strange visits of a mysterious old lady (Joana Popovska) who speaks to him in a strange dialect. Lazar goes to the university to find someone able of translating the words, and finds help in Menka (Vesna Stanojevska), assistant and wife of an etymology professor. But the message hides a dark secret, and Lazar's trip through the shadows is about to begin.

With a screenplay written by director Milcho Manchevski himself, it could be said that "Senki" follows the classic pattern of ghost stories, with Lazar trying to discover exactly why is he being visited by ghosts, and what does he need to do to stop it. Strictly speaking, in terms of storyline there is no new ground here, but a close attachment to the traditional way; however, Manchevski spices this closeness to the classic formula with nice tidbits of Macedonian folklore, a rich set of well defined characters, and quite a puzzling and ambiguous mystery. To put it in another way, Manchevski's originality is in the details rather than in the plot. And in fact, ambiguity could be named as the key element in "Senki", as the intricate plot twists and turns making Lazar's journey more and more confusing with every plot twist. To be fair, Manchevski manages to keep the plot interesting despite this, but unfortunately, it does reach a point where the plot gets a tad too messy and convoluted for its own good.

But, if the story feels typical and formulaic, the work of Manchevski as a director gives "Senki" a very distinctive visual style that sets it apart from other ghost stories. With the beautiful work of veteran Italian cinematographer Fabio Cianchetti, Manchevski captures both the magnificent beauty of Macedonian countryside, and the gritty urban landscape of Skopje. Visually, Manchevski makes the point of having a sharp contrast between the abandoned natural life of the countryside and the nightmarish, overcrowded madness of the city. Interestingly, while resorting to traditional clichés of the genre (jump scares for example), Manchevski's deals with the supernatural forces in a less shocking way, a more lyrical or naturalistic one. Instead of having the ghosts noticeably otherworldly, the spirits in "Senki" walk the world as if they were still part of it, without any great display of special effects. Whether this was a budget limitation or a stylistic choice, the bottom line is that it does give "Senki" with a quite distinctive atmosphere of its own.

While perhaps not the best leading man in a ghost story, actor Borce Nacev makes an efficient job for the most part, capturing nicely the essence of his troubled character. Capturing Lazar's alienation, Nacev carries the film skillfully, though at moments he does seem a tad wooden and stiff. Nevertheless, his work is benefited by the revelation that is actress Vesna Stanojevska, who plays Menka. A classical musician making her acting debut, Vesna shows an enormous natural talent and a great ability to portray her intriguing character. Ambiguous, mysterious, and complex in nature, Menka is perhaps the character that would make or break "Senki", and fortunately, Vesna's performance is truly a wonder. Sabina Arjula, as Lazar's domineering mother is another strong figure in the cast, as she practically steals every scene she is in with her commanding stage presence. Less fortunate is actress Filareta Atanasova, who plays Lazar's wife Gordana, though to be fair, her role is underwritten to the point of being almost a mere caricature of the unfaithful wife.

As written above, "Senki" is not exactly the most original film in horror cinema, and on top of that, its traditional linear narrative may be a surprise to those expecting something akin Manchevki's previous films. Nevertheless, that's far from being a flaw being that Manchevski plays with the formula to make it his own, dressing it with his stylish visual style to give it a different flavor. While formulaic, "Senki" looks and feels unlike most ghost stories, despite being essentially the same tale, and that's perhaps the mark of a skilled storyteller. Now, the true problem in "Senki" is that at times it seems to ramble on for too long, reaching the point of getting a bit tedious. It is one of the cases where the story would had been benefited by some editing. This becomes all the more noticeable as the convoluted plot leaves a couple of loose ends untied, as if there had not been enough work in tightening the screenplay. However, this doesn't diminishes the enjoyment, though it prevents it from being truly great.

Perhaps "Senki" will go on history as one of Manchevski's "lesser films", but as a genre film, it certainly offers a different kind of ghost story that proves that a known formula can receive a breath of fresh air. It's definitely a film that follows that idea of "style over substance", though fortunately, Manchevski's style is a lyrical one that certainly guarantees a visual joy. In the end, "Senki" faces the problem of its audience's expectations: those expecting art-house exoticism may find it too Hollywoodish, while horror fans may see it as too unoriginal and tame for the genre. One should forget these preconceived judgments and enjoy "Senki" for what it is: not a masterpiece, but a ghost story with a different flavor.

7/10
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Sauna (2008)

2011-10-24T12:45:00.001-05:00

Traditionally, Saunas are specifically the Finnish bathhouses and the traditional baths that take place in them. It is certainly one of Finland's oldest traditions, where the sauna was considered a place not only to cleanse the body, but the mind as well, and even the spirit. It was also a place where Finnish women went to gave birth, and when the dead were washed and prepared for burial. It was more than a refugee from the outside cold of Finland, but basically a holy place where life and death got together and where a spiritual connection could be felt. For the Finnish, saunas became a highly important part of daily life. Many ancient beliefs exist around saunas, most of the related to the spiritual aspect of the bath: the cleansing of the spirit, and the washing of the sins. This ancient tradition serves as the basis for Finnish filmmaker Antti-Jussi Annila's film "Sauna", an atmospheric tale of horror set in the aftermath of the brutal Russo-Swedish war of the 16th century, in which Finland (being part of Sweden) was the battlefield.

"Sauna" is set in 1595, after the war between Russia and Sweden has just concluded and the borders between the two countries have been changed once again, making necessary to chart the new map of the territories nowadays known as Finland. Two brothers, Eerik (Ville Virtanen) and Knut (Tommi Eronen) are part of the Swedish commission assigned to the mission, Eerik as an experienced soldier, and Knut as the main's cartographer. Their relationship isn't exactly amicable, with Eerik feeling disdain of Knut's pacifist views, while at the same time Knut feels uneasy around his ruthless older brother, who keeps a tally of how many people he has killed. Traveling through the devastated Finnish land, the group begins to experience strange events, and the brothers are haunted by the dark sins of their past. Their sanity is put to the test, haunted by the spirit of a girl (Vilhelmiina Virkkunen). Confused and exhausted, the group arrives to a strange village. In the village's sauna, the brothers may be able to wash their sins, but there is a terrible secret hidden in it.

Written by screenwriter Iiro Küttner (who also penned director Annila's feature length debut "Jadesoturi"), "Sauna" is an interesting horror film that takes the concept of guilt as its central theme. Both brothers are guilty, and the guilt affects them in different, yet horrifying ways. The sauna of the title is the catalyst for the horror that will be unleashed on them, as their guilt begins to overpowers them, personified in the figure of the young woman. And yet, both brothers' personalities have been shaped by the war they just lived. Even Knut, whom perhaps wasn't as directly involved as Eerik, has found his life changed by the dehumanizing effects of the brutal war. In "Sauna", not only war is hell, but also leaves its surviving participants in a hellish purgatory. The difficult relationship between the brothers is also an interesting element that Küttner tackles in "Sauna", as both brothers are resentful of each other's different views on the war. In "Sauna", Iiro Knütter has achieved to write a strong low key horror film based almost entirely on character development.

Perhpas the greatest asset of "Sauna" is the ominous atmosphere of dread that director Antti-Jussi Annila conjures for his film. Giving great use to the remarkable work of cinematography done by Henri Blomberg, Annila captures in "Sauna" the strange beauty of violence, in the shape of the desolated Finnish lands ravaged by the war. Desolation is the key word of the film, as the vast cold outskirts of Finland seem to mirror the infinite desolation of the brother's souls. Through the woods and the swamps of Finland, the characters' journey mirrors a trip through a lonely purgatory with hell as final destination. Annila's film moves at a slow pace, but it feels all the more appropriate to discover the hidden secrets of these two characters, which are like two sides of the same coin: the scientist and the warrior, both dehumanized by the war and transformed in different yet similar monsters. In more than a way, their filial hate (which is more than mere rivalry) represent the Finns torn between Russian and Swedish domain.

The film is also benefited by having two great performances in the lead characters, particularly the case of Ville Virtanen as the tired soldier Eerik. Ville truly makes a haunting portrait of the tortured Eerik, whose only skill seems to be to kill people, and who feels tired and obsolete in times of peace. Fully dehumanized by the war, Eerik is a man without purpose, and Ville captures this desolation in a dramatic performance. While the film is seen through his brother's eyes, it is certainly Ville who carries the film with great strength, making him easily one of the highlights of the film. As Eerik's younger brother Knut, Tommi Eronen makes for a nice counterpart, playing the bookish scientist who embodies guilt and confusion as their damnation approaches. While apparently a pacifist, Knut has his own sins to wash, and Eronen manages to showcase the complex feeling of guilt that Knut has. The rest of the cast, while a lot less prominent, are truly up to the challenge and for the most part make a great job.

Highly atmospheric and slow paced, Annila's "Sauna" is not the kind of horror that's based on graphic shock, but instead it aims for a different kind of fear. An unnerving sensation of dread that's more disturbing than downright frightening, yet at the same time ultimately fascinating. Contemplative and even metaphysical, "Sauna" has a somber tone and, while not resorting explicitly to the old Finnish myths, there is an implicit spiritual connection to the supernatural at the heart of this tale of horror and madness. If there's any flaw in "Sauna", it must be that its plot line may get a bit too convoluted and ambiguous for its own good, and it certainly would had been benefited by some more minutes of runtime. Granted, this ambiguity is part of the film's charm, but the climax is a tad too rushed and short to be completely satisfying. However, despite this minor quibbles, "Sauna" is a wonderful journey to the darker sides of the human soul, and an unnerving story about two souls being consumed by guilt.

While sharply different in tone and style to his previous film "Jadesoturi", Annila's second film "Sauna" (alternatively titled "Filth" or "Evil Rising") showcases again the same vibrant originality showed in his debut, yet coupled now with greater maturity and a brilliant sense of aesthetic. Haunting and owner of a strangely captivating beauty, "Sauna" is a powerfully disturbing horror film that, despite not being particularly graphic or shocking, truly captures the horrific, nightmarish images of a soul tortured by guilt. Perhaps "Sauna" is not exactly a masterpiece of horror cinema, but it's a remarkable achievement by its own right and shows that director Antti-Jussi Annila and scriptwriter Iiro Küttner truly make a promising team. This tale of medieval horror is certainly, a beautifully haunting experience.

8/10
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La Casa Muda (2010)

2011-10-11T11:47:00.000-05:00

The cinema of Uruguay is not exactly known for its ventures into the horror genre, as outside the work of independent filmmaker Ricardo Islas (whom by the way, works and lives in the U.S. since 1997), the horror production of the South American country is exceedingly rare. So, with this in mind, the mere release of a new example of Uruguayan horror, Gustavo Hernández' "La Casa Muda", is certainly an event that creates lots of expectations. However, beyond its genre and nationality, "La Casa Muda" is a movie that has a couple more of interesting particularities that make it a unique film: it is one of the very first films in the world that are made using a handheld high-definition digital single-lens reflex camera (Canon EOS 5D Mark II to be precise), and on top of that, the majority of the film consists of a single continuous take (78 of a total of 86 minutes). Certainly, those three elements make "La Casa Muda" an interesting experiment to witness but, while Hernández succeeds in many aspects, "La Casa Muda" also has important shortcomings.

Translated literally as "The Mute House", but better known in English as "The Silent House", the film is the story of Laura (Florencia Colucci), a young woman who travels to an old cottage located deep in the woods, in order to help her father Wilson (Gustavo Alonso) to repair the place. Wilson has been hired by the own Néstor (Abel Tripaldi), as he wants to sell the house. Néstor gives Wilson the keys and leaves to the city, as father and daughter will spend the nigth there, and the work will begin the following morning. The two of them prepare to sleep when a loud noise is heard in the upper floor of the house. Wilson knows that the upper floor is too damaged and it's dangerous, so he asks Laura to wait for him while he goes upstairs to check out. Laura waits for her father, but something or someone viciously attacks Wilson and apparently kills him. Alone and in the dark, Laura begins to look for her father, knowing that something else is in the house with her, waiting, stalking, in silence.

Inspired by an unsolved case of the 1940s, director Gustavo Hernández and producer Gustavo Rojo wrote the story for "La Casa Muda", which writer Oscar Estévez adapted to the screen. In "La Casa Muda", the story follows Laura as she wanders through the house in the dark, looking for her father and trying to make sense of what's happening. The key is the mystery, and the writers play it well, leaving just enough clues to keep the ball rolling, and the plot twists with a touch of subtlety that aims to keep the film ambiguous until its revealing (and problematic) conclusion. And all the classic elements for a scary movie are there: creepy sounds, nursery rhymes, an abandoned house and a terrible dark secret. Certainly, "La Casa Muda" doesn't offer something new or original in its story, but that's never its intention. Instead, "La Casa Muda" is entirely based on the execution: the precise use of those clichés and atmosphere to tell its tale. And precision is key in this particular case, since the execution pertains one single long take.

And well, speaking strictly in purely technical terms, the execution of this feat is absolutely remarkable. Director Gustavo Hernández truly manages to tell the mystery of the silent house in apparently one long take, with his limited budget and his DSLR camera. Hernández' builds up his tale with great care, and a great emphasis on purely visual narrative. His great eye for compositions result in a real accomplishment for this kind of experiments: no shot (or better said, movement) is a waste. Instrumental for this achievement is without a doubt the remarkable job of cinematographer Pedro Luque, who must had faced a great challenge in bringing to life Hernández' vision. Specially the use of light and darkness (at times, only a candle lights the place). Certainly, not an easy feat to accomplish, though unfortunately, "La Casa Muda" is one of those films where the gimmick overshadows everything else. And sadly, not only because of the gimmick is amazing, but because everything else isn't that good.

Nevertheless, the work of actress Florencia Colucci truly receives praise, as she's the one who drives the film, with the camera following her wandering through the silent house. Coluuci looks pretty natural, and her reactions to the events in the house feel so real that add a lot of verosimilitude to her character. Granted, certain actions that Laura are more than questionable, though that's more the fault of the scriptwriters, because Colucci never feels artificial or over-the-top. Like Hernández and Luque's technical achievement, Colucci's performance as Laura is worhty of great praise, as she manages to add a lot of verosimilitude to a problematic screenplay and an underwritten character. As Néstor, Abel Tripaldi is effective and natural, though nothing really too amazing. Granted, neither Abel Tripaldi nor actor Gustavo Alonso (who plays Laura's father Wilson) are on screen that much compared to COlucci, so it could be said that both do their work efficiently given their limited roles.

Sadly, beyond its merit as a technical achievement, there is little to find in "La Casa Muda". Certainly director Gustavo Hernández creates a haunting atmosphere of dread, playing with silence, light and darkness, and he aims to the ancient fear of the unseen. However, he never really dares to go for something beyond and the story limits most of its time to follow a scared woman as she wanders through the somber house alone. And when it finally goes beyond, it opts for a dissapointing conclusion that not only is contrived, but ultimately betrays everything else that has taken place before. The ending credits include photographs that attempt to justify such twist but just make it worse. Anyways, even this unfortunate finale would be more forgivable if the journey to reach it had been more enjoyable, but sadly it's not. While Hernández' camera captures the actions with a certain dark beauty, the actions are tedious, as following Laura wandering around in the dark soon gets tiresome and boring.

British filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock once said that "Drama is life with the dull bits cut out". Perhaps those dull bits are the greatest enemy of films that attempt to be done in one single long take. Despite its haunting beauty, "La Casa Muda" fails to avoid that dullness, and leaves its character underdeveloped and alone. It's undeniable that Hernández achieved a lot with his very limited resources but, while it is true that pretty often "less is more" in filmmaking, Hernández' film went to the extreme and ended up at "not enough". In the end, there is enough "good" in Hernández "La Casa Muda" to make it worth a watch, but at the same time enough "bad" to make impossible to call it a satisfying experiment.

5/10
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Bleed (2002)

2011-10-10T14:47:00.000-05:00

During the decade of the 90s, producer Charles Band found great success with his studio Full Moon Entertainment, a company aimed to the production of low budget horror and fantasy films. With the "Puppet Master" series, the "Subspecies" series and films like "Shadowzone", Full Moon survived through the decade, despite the increasingly low budgets and production values. However, by the year 2001 the market had changed a lot, and Full Moon was forced to evolve. Full Moon became Shadow Entertainment, and following requests from the market, it abandoned fantasy horror to make an slasher film (due to the late 90s resurgence of the subgenre). To fulfill this request, one of the new names at Full Moon, Devin Hamilton, was commissioned to the task, in his debut as scriptwriter after having been involved in administrative positions in previous Full Moon projects. Co-directed by Hamilton himself along Dennis Petersen, "Bleed" was the name of the slasher that would start a new era in Full Moon, now as Shadow Entertainment.

In "Bleed", Maddy Patterson (Debbie Rochon) is a young woman that finally feels liberated from her oppressive home: she's moved to Hollywood, found a good apartment and has just landed the job of her dreams. And not only that, but it seems that Maddy has also found a nice boyfriend when she meets Shawn (Danny Wolske) at her new job. It seems that life finally smiles for Maddy after a long series of sad events in her past. One day Shawn takes her to a party with his old friends, Chris (Allen Nabors), Tillie (Orly Tepper), Peter (Ronnie Blevins) and Laura (Laura Nativ). After one too many drinks, the group tell Maddy about their secret club, a "murder club" where members have to kill somebody to enter. Naturally, they are just joking about it, but Maddy believes they are being serious and, hoping desperately to fit in, Maddy actually murders someone. As this happens, a mysterious masked killer begins to kill the members of the "murder club" one by one. Maddy will have not only to figure out who's the killer, but also to deal with the demons of her past.

Devin Hamilton's screenplay for "Bleed" follows the most typical and basic pattern for modern slashers with the addition of one interesting little twist: from the start of the film, the main suspect of the murders is the film's protagonist herself. All the clues seem to point to her, and in fact, her desperate attempt to join her boyfriend's "Murder club" actually makes her a killer for real. She has to prove not that she's not a murdered, but that she has only committed one proved killing. This twist makes of Maddy quite an interesting character, as it's far removed from the classic model of pure and virginal slasher film heroine. Her backstory also offers several points of interest that make her even more suspicious. Unfortunately, the rest of the characters aren't as developed as Maddy and are reduced to the classic stereotypes; and in fact, the whole screenplay feels tragically underdeveloped, with glaring plot holes and inconsistencies marring the film. A real shame, as the basic premise was not really bad.

The tandem of Hamilton and Petersen in the director's seat doesn't really do much to save the film, as they employ a pretty basic and raw approach to cinema that gives the film an outdated dull style, closer to early 90s television than to film. While some scenes in "Bleed" are actually interesting and even funny, the execution of them leaves a lot to be desired, with its simplistic narrative and unoriginal editing, and the overall look is pretty amateurish. Cinematographer Mike King has a couple of good shots (the jacuzzi scene for example, or the flashbacks to Maddy's youth), but for the most part makes a pretty poor job, particularly during night time; though to be fair there was probably no budget to get the appropriate lighting equipment. Nevertheless, not everything is bad about "Bleed", and Hamilton and Petersen achieve some good moments that feel like brief sparks of genius. Unfortunately, those sparks are rare through "Bleed", and end up overshadowed by what's bad about the film.

Leading the cast is the always reliable Debbie Rochon as the troubled Maddy Petersen, and to be fair, Rochon actually makes a remarkable job considering the material she had to work with. Easily the best thing about "Bleed", her performance is actually subtle and restrained, and she truly manages to make her character believable as both victim and murderer. It's actually a shame that the rest of the film fails to be up to the same standards. Her counterpart, Danny Wolske, is the whole opposite, looking wooden and fake, and perhaps landed the role based on his looks only. Allen Nabors fares a lot better, and his role as the jester Chris actually feels natural and believable, appropriately annoying or restrained according to the occasion. Orly Tepper also has pretty good moments, though her role ends up limited to a stereotypical caricature. Brinke Stevens, Lloyd Kaufman and Julie Strain have cameos, with Stevens completely stealing her scene as Maddy's domineering religious mother.

Given its low budget and poor special effects, it would be easy to rip apart "Bleed" on the basis of its cheap look. However, the main problem of Hamilton and Petersen's film is not its flawed execution, but a more basic one: its underdeveloped story. As written above, Hamilton gives his story a twist by having all the clues pointing to the protagonist, Maddy. However, while the plot has certainly good twists and manages to keep the mystery, Hamilton leaves huge plot holes that cheapen the story to the point that one could feel cheated by it. The lack of development of the rest of the characters doesn't help, as all that is known about them is that they are all a bunch of cruel and unsympathetic yuppies. Not exactly a group easy to like. Another problem would be the way the story unfolds, as directors Hamilton and Petersen give their film a pacing that feels quite slow at times, to the point of becoming a tad tedious. Nevertheless, the big problem of "Bleed" remains that sad feeling of watching a great idea wasted on a bad movie.

Beyond its flaws and virtues, there's one thing in "Bleed" that's impossible to deny: the filmmakers, Hamilton and Petersen, put a lot of heart into the project. Despite its many obvious problems, there is a certain sense of fun that shows that there was a lot of passion to make of it a good horror film. Certainly, the lack of experience and budget damaged the result, but "Bleed" seems to have more heart than many horror films, including many of Charles Band's newer releases. Hamilton's posterior effort, the mix of comedy and sexploitation "Delta Delta Die!" is a better crafted and funnier film, an overall improvement over "Bleed", which unfortunately may be interesting only to fans of Debbie Rochon or fans of independent no-budget films.

4/10
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Semum (2008)

2011-10-07T12:42:00.004-05:00

According to Islamic theology, the Jinns are mystic creatures made from smokeless fire by Allah, just like humans were made of clay. Like angels, they were ordered to bow to Adam, but Jinn were created with free will, and not every Jinn obeyed. Iblis was the first to disobey, and became expelled from Paradise, becoming Shaytan (Satan), the name for the beings who rebelled against Allah. Being frequently mentioned in the Qur'an, Jinns have an important place in Islamic folklore, with many stories being told about them. Turkish filmmaker Hasan Karacadag, disappointed by the horror cinema of his country, decided to create Turkish horror films that could reflect his Turco-Islamic vision and used the stories of Jinns as inspiration for his work. His low budget horror film "D@bbe" showed Jinns entering the modern media, in a story reminiscent of Asian modern horror. For its follow-up, 2008's "Semum", director Karacadag decided to tackle a classic theme in religious horror films: the exorcism.

In "Semum", Volkan (Burak Hakki) and Canan Karaca (Ayça Inci) are a young couple looking for a new house to start a family. The Karacas find a large new house in Istanbul that fascinates them, and decide to move. Everything seems normal and the Karacas begin their new life without problem; however, Canan begins to sense weird things happening in the house. Strange noises are the first sign, but soon she also experiences hallucinations and the terrible feeling that something else is in the house with them. Volkan is worried, but unsure about what to do to help Canan. Things deteriorate to the point that it's more than clear that Canan is not herself anymore, but the victim of Semum, a powerful servant of Shaytan decided to torment and destroy Canan's mind, body and soul. The initially doubting Volkan will now have to discover a way to help his wife before its too late, as Semum will destroy her without mercy. An exorcism will have to be done, in order to expel Semum from Canan's body, but the battle will not be an easy one.

Written by director Hasan Karacadag himself (and supposedly based on a real case), "Semum" follows the usual pattern for demonic possession films, but with the added element of being firmly based on Islamic mythology. Naturally, comparisons to William Friedkin's classic "The Exorcist" are inevitable, and yes, "Semum"'s plot indeed borrows several elements from Friedkin's film (in fact, Karacadag takes the comparisons as pretty valid), perhaps not to the point of being a carbon copy of it (like Turkish seventies film "Seytan"), but enough to make it feel derivative. Nevertheless, the Islamic elements give a quite different flavor to this tale of an exorcism, and Karacadag includes enough details to give his movie a distinctive personality of its own. Also, it is commendable Karacadag's effort to show a more realist vision of modern life in Turkey, away from any traditionalist view on Muslims. The characters are actually well defined, though the story tends to drag at times, which perhaps is the film's biggest problem.

Despite having to work with a low budget, director Hasan Karacadag manages to create a very good atmosphere of dread in "Semum", particularly during the first half of the film, which chronicles Canan becoming aware of the demon and her subsequent possession. Certainly, Karacadag employs clichés, but the use he gives them is more than appropriate and the result is quite satisfying. The work of cinematographer Seyhan Bilir is effective, nothing spectacular but does a fine job in creating a distinctive atmosphere for the film. Director Karacadag puts this to good use, and makes the most of it in some interesting set pieces, though it must be said that his visual narrative is perhaps too slow for its own sake, and while it never reaches the point of getting tedious, it does drag a bit. Unfortunately, this subtle style gets progressively abandoned for a more shocking one, a change that wouldn't be that bad if it wasn't for the fact that the digital effects in "Semum" are pretty poor, and its overuse in the climax cheapen the film enormously.

The acting is for the most part good, nothing spectacular but not too bad either. As Canan, actress Ayça Inci is perhaps the film's highlight, as her performance is pretty good, even when her character is possessed by Semum. With great talent and remarkable intensity, Inci creates two very different personas: the calm and sensitive Canan and the wild and hateful Semum. Easily the best actress in the film. Her counterpart, Burak Hakki playing her husband, is sadly less fortunate in his role, as his Volkan feels at times wooden and emotionless. Hakki certainly adds a strong presence to the role, and has pretty good moments, but for the most part he feels unsure. Certainly, his character is much less developed than Inci's, but his work is still unimpressive. Sefa Zengin is particularly effective in his role as a creepy and mysterious gardener, and achieves a lot with his strong screen presence. As Canan's friend Banu, Nazli Ceren Argon is also pretty good, though her character is a tad underdeveloped.

Perhaps the most biggest problem of "Semum" is that it's impossible to see it as derivative and unoriginal in its structure. Certainly, the Islamic angle is a quite interesting one and gives the film an identity of its own, but Karacadag stays to close to the formula to avoid his film ends up being seen as unoriginal. It's clear that in "Semum" director Hasan Karacadag not only tried to make an Islam-based horror film, but an Islam-based horror film that would appeal to a global audience. Unfortunately, in doing so he may had abused a bit too much of clichés. This also explains the degeneration the film has from subtle horror to an over-the-top display of special effects, which as written above, wouldn't really be bad if the compute generated special effects were good, since their low quality downgrade the value of the film. And this is a shame, since director Karacadag's vision shows a different face of Islam. one that's rarely seen, as it's often overshadowed by the ardent fanaticism of terrorists.

Like most films about demonic possession, the comparison to "The Exorcist" is a heavy burden for Hasan Karacadag's "Semum", as it's hard not to see it as a rip-off of Friedkin's film, with Islam instead of Catholicism. Nevertheless, despite its problems "Semum" manages to be interesting and entertaining during most of its runtime. Certainly, it's slow pace drags a bit, and the special effects are poor, but it's still manages to be a watchable horror film. Karacadag's "Semum" may not had been resulted the new model of Islam-inspired horror its director intended, but it's an interesting film that shows a promising future for Turkish horror. It certainly erases the memory of "Seytan" when talking about Turkish horror films about demonic possession.

6/10

Another 15 Overlooked Horror films for Halloween...

2011-10-05T00:08:00.003-05:00

Back in 2007 (when this blog first came to life), I compiled a humble list of 15 overlooked horror films to watch in Halloween, listing 15 scary movies that could make for a nice creepy night instead of the better known film series of "Halloween", "Friday the 13th" or more recently, "Scream" or "Saw". Not that there is anything wrong with watching those movies, but certainly there is more in horror than the classic mainstream films, so those 15 films could be taken as an "alternative option" to discover (or rediscover) some gems.

Now, almost four years later, here are another 15 overlooked horror films that, in the opinion of this humble writer, deserve to be better known, not only by hardcore horror fans, but the general public as well, as there are great material to enjoy during a dark scary night of Halloween.

Enjoy!

15. Las raisins de la mort (1978, Jean Rollin)

While better known for his surreal horror films about vampires, French director Jean Rollin also tackled the subject of the living dead, and in "Las raisins de la mort" ("The Grapes of Death"), Rollin made the very first French gore film. Inspired by Romero's "Night of the Living Dead", Rollin tales the story of a young woman whom during a vacation in the French countryside, discovers that the entire population of a village has been transformed into flesh eating monsters. A blind girl, two zombie hunters and a beautiful but mysterious woman will be part of her dangerous trip into zombie madness.
Buy "Las raisins de la mort" (1978)

14. La torre de los siete jorobados (1944, Edgar Neville)

Offbeat, haunting and strangely funny, Spain's first horror film still stands as a wildly entertaining tale of fantasy and mystery in which a young man is contacted by the ghost of an archaeologist, and receives the mission of protecting the late archaeologist's beautiful daughter from a mysterious gang of hunchbacked men. The plot thickens as the underground lair of the gang is discovered. Done under Francisco Franco's regime, this fascinating film was based on a novel by Emilio Carrere and features a striking set design obviously inspired by German expressionism.

13. Der Student von Prag (1926, Henrik Galeen)

A Faustian pact in which the young student Balduin wishes to be rich in order to be able of courting a young rich lady. The devilish Scapinelli fulfills his wish, in exchange for Balduin's mirror reflection. At first Balduin enjoys his new found wealth greatly, but of course, you can't always get what you want. A remake of the 1913 film, this version of "Der Student von Prag" reunites Werner Krauss and Conrad Veidt, as Scapinelli and Balduin respectively. With beautifully designed set pieces and a more decidedly expressionist style, this remake is truly a joy to watch.
Buy "Der Student Von Prag" (1926)

12. Sauna (2008, Antti-Jussi Annila)

In 2008, Swedish horror "Låt den rätte komma in" caught the spotlight everywhere, however, it wasn't the only remarkable horror film of that year. Finnish horror film "Sauna" was a low key entry that plays heavily in atmosphere and tone to tell a story of impending doom. Set in 1595 after the brutal wars between Finland and Russia, two brothers lead an expedition to chart the new borders of the country. One of them is a ruthless army man, and the other the scholarly chartographer in charge of making the new map. Their visit to a mysterious town lost in the woods will make their dark past resurface again, and the horrors of the war will prove to be no match for the horrors of the human soul. Moody, slow, yet implacably unnerving, "Sauna" is a great watch for a cold Autumn night.
Buy "Sauna" (2008)

11. Murders in the Zoo (1933, A. Edward Sutherland)

Grizzly sadism is not something one thinks when dealing with old cinema, however, before the days of the restrictive Hays Code there were horror films that truly pushed the boundaries about what could be shown in a movie. "Murders in the Zoo" is one of those films, in which Lionel Atwill, the beautiful Kathleen Burke and a quite young Randolph Scott are involved in a murder mystery in the zoo. Far from the fantasy realms of 19th century locations, "Murders in the Zoo" is a very urban horror film that is full of several brilliantly staged horror set pieces. Brutal for its time, "Murders in the Zoo" is a rarely seen gem that deserves a lot more of attention for its boldness to go further.
Buy "Murders in the Zoo" (1933)

10. Veneno para las Hadas (1984, Carlos Enrique Taboada)

Mexican director Carlos Enrique Taboada crafted a series of films through his career that earned him a reputation as master of horror. Titles like "Hasta el viento tiene miedo", "El Libro de Piedra" and "Más negro que la noche" cemented this reputation, but the fourth and last one, "Veneno para las hadas" is definitely a lesser known gem. Unlike his better known films, "Veneno para las hadas" is not a supernatural horror, but the chilling tale of a twisted friendship between two girls, a friendship grounded in fear. And yet, it carries the same Gothic style than his previous three. Certainly, this Mexican horror tale is one that can't be missed.
Buy "Veneno para las Hadas" (1984)

9. The Walking Dead (1936, Michael Curtiz)

The sole idea of Boris Karloff as a resurrected corpse looking for justice should be enough to make "The Walking Dead" an interesting flick. However, "The Walking Dead" is much more, as this classy monster movie is not only a top notch tale of revenge from beyond the grave, but also a surprisingly powerful meditation on melancholy, philosophy and justice. Directed by Michael Curtiz (of "Casablanca" fame), this forgotten gem features one of the best performances by Karloff, who truly proves that he was the king when it came to make horrible monsters with a human heart.
Buy "The Walking Dead" (1936)

8. Singapore sling: O anthropos pou agapise ena ptoma (1990, Nikos Nikolaidis)

Weird. Bizarre. Insane. Definitely unique. This Greek hybrid of film noir and horror certainly defies convention. Taking the plot of Otto Preminger's "Laura" (1944) as a basis, director Nikos Nikolaidis crafts a trip to the darker corners of the mind: torture, sex, sadism and incest are part of this mystery, all shot with a gorgeous black and white cinematography that truly captures the spirit of the film noirs that inspired it. While probably not everyone's cup of tea, "Singapore Sling" is an offbeat oddity that seems to demonstrate that even extreme films can have class.
Buy "Singapore sling: O anthropos pou agapise ena ptoma" (1990)

7. Felidae (1994, Michael Schaack)

In "Felidae" our young hero arrives to town and discovers a series of grizzly murders taking place in his new neighborhood. Decided to investigate further, he'll begin to experience terrifying visions in his nightmares as he uncovers the horrible truth. Sounds like the plot for an interesting yet typical thriller, right? However, the fact that it's animated and the characters are cats instead of humans elevates "Felidae" from a typical thriller to a masterpiece of horror in animation. Half film noir and half horror film, this tale of mystery literally believes that curiosity killed the cat. Definitely not an animation for kids.

6. Angustia (1987, Bigas Luna)

Horror receives a postmodern take in Bigas Luna's "Angustia", as the film begins following a lonely man dominated by her psychotic mother, who controls her son to use him as serial killer. However, this is a movie watched by a packed theater where a real serial killer is on the loose. To tell more would be to spoil the film, but what can be said is that the way the story is constructed, with real life intersecting "movie life", is a quite interesting narrative exercise. Taking as basis the serial killer concept that was being done to death in the 80s, Bigas Luna makes a loving homage to the experience of going to a packed theater to watch a scary movie.
Buy "Angustia" (1987)

5. Misterios de Ultratumba (1959, Fernando Méndez)

While "El Vampiro" is certainly the most famous film in director Fernando Méndez' filmography, his crowning achievement is a film unfairly less known. "Misterios de Ultratumba" (or "The Black Pit of Dr. M") is a masterful tale of Gothic horror that borrows elements from film noir to create a marvelously atmospheric story about two doctors and their bet to prove that there is life after death. With a beautiful work of cinematography and a stylish narrative, Méndez crafts a stunning film that never refrains from its atmosphere of doom. "Misterios de Ultratumba" carries a certain Lovecraftian vibe, and ranks amongst the best Mexican films ever done.
Buy "Misterios de Ultratumba (1959)

4. The Queen of Spades (1949, Thorold Dickinson)

"Beauty" is not always an element one expects from a horror film, but when it appears, it's more than welcome. British film "The Queen of Spades" is certainly a film full of beauty, from its breath-taking photography to its subtle classy style, this sadly neglected gem directed by Thorold Dickinson is one film that screams "beauty". Based on a story by Alexander Pushkin, the film is the story of a countess who has sold her soul in exchange for ability to win at cards. An officer also wants the secret, but discovering it will haunt him forever. A real jewel of Gothic horror at its best.
Buy "The Queen of Spades" (1949)

3. Captain Clegg (1962, Peter Graham Scott)

While better known for their new adaptations of "Dracula" and "Frankenstein", British company Hammer Films also ventured in different kinds of costume drama films, like pirate films. "Captain Clegg" (or "Night Creatures" as it was known in America) was an attempt to mix both genres in a pirate tale with horror elements based on the famous "Dr. Syn" novels by Russell Thorndike. Legendary Peter Cushing stars as the Rev. Dr. Blyss, the vicar of a small English coastal town where there have been reports of "Marsh Phantoms". Captain Collier is sent to investigate the mystery, but he'll discover more about the humble Reverend than what he expected.
Buy "Captain Clegg" (1962)

2. ¿Quién puede matar a un niño? (1976, Narciso Ibañez Serrador)

"Who can kill a child?" is the question that Spaniard director Narciso Ibañez Serrador poses in this deeply unnerving film based on a simple yet disturbing premise: if the children were out to get would you kill them? A British couple, Eve and Tom, are traveling through the Spanish islands and arrives to a small island, only to discover that no adult seems to be around. Only the children remain, but they don't tell anything. So, Eve and Tom suspect that something is wrong, and begin searching. They'll discover that the children have a secret plan for them. Deeply atmospheric and powerful in its delivery, "¿Quién puede matar a un niño?" is a classic of Spain's horror cinema.
Buy "Quién puede matar a un niño?" (1976)

1. Hangover Square (1945, John Brahm)

German director John Brahm is perhaps better known by his work in television, where he directed famous episodes of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents", "Thriller" and "The Twilight Zone" (notably "Time Enough at Last"). However, during the 40s Brahm directed an eerie mix of horror and noir set in Victorian London: "Hangover Square". With a marvelous work of cinematography by Joseph LaShelle, the ominous music of Bernard Herrmann, and a masterful performance by the ill-fated Laird Cregar in his last role. Subtle, classy, yet undeniably creepy, "Hangover Square" is a remarkably atmospheric tale of madness.
Buy "Hangover Square" (1944)

Demonoid: Messenger of Death (1981)

2011-10-04T19:11:00.000-05:00

By the early 60s, the Mexican film industry was beginning its slow but constant decline after the Golden Age ended. After a brief resurgence in the early 70s, the country's big financial problems and the stronger competition from foreign industries left the Mexican industry in its darkest hour during the late 70s and early 80s. It is during this difficult period when director Alfredo Zacarías crafted two ambitious horror films starring American actors: 1978's "The Bees" and this film, 1981's "Demonoid: Messenger of Death". Not exactly a newbie in the Mexican film industry, Zacarías began his career as a writer under the guidance of his father, director Miguel Zacarías, and later with legendary director Gilberto Martínez Solares. Soon Alfredo Zacarías started making films on his own and found success directing the light comedies of Gaspar Henaine "Capulina", however, Zacarías had big plans in mind and attempted to enter the American market with horror films. In the case of "Demonoid: Messenger of Death", the outcome wasn't really what was expected.

Also known by its Spanish title as "Macabra, la Mano del Diablo", "Demonoid: the Messenger of Death" stars Samantha Eggar as Jennifer Baines, the young wife of wealthy American entrepreneur Mark Baines (Roy Jenson), who is visiting the mining city of Guanajuato in Mexico as her husband owns an important mine that promises to be very rich. At the time when Jennifer arrives to Guanajuato, Mark is facing the refusal of his workers to go deeper into the mine, as they believe the place is haunted. Thinking it's all mere superstition, Mark and Jennifer decide to enter the mine on their own, and discover that the workers had dug out an ancient altar to the Devil, with the Devil's Hand as a relic. Mark doesn't really take the altar seriously, and grabs the Devil's Hand as a trophy for the triumph of man conquering superstition. However, soon he'll discover that the Devil's hand has a mind of its own and transforms it's owner into a psycho killer. Jennifer will have to escape from the Hand, that keeps possessing people in its attempt to kill her.

While the screenplay is written by Amos Powell (of Roger Corman's "Tower of London" fame) and David Lee Fein (who later would write "Cheerleader Camp"), the film is the brainchild of director Alfredo Zacarías himself, being that he wrote the source story the script was based on. The concept of a transplanted that controls itself is not new (any version of Maurice Renard's novel "Les Mains d'Orlac", like "Mad Love", proves it), but Zacarías adds interesting ideas to the mix, like the demonic possession angle and the transference of the demon from person to person so, unlike his previous work in "The Bees", it could be said that Zacarías succeeds in giving his story some originality. Sadly, the premise gets wasted as the plot lacks the coherency and the sense to put all the elements together and the result is a bizarre story that never really takes off. Ultimately, the plot degenerates into a series of vignettes where the hand goes from host to host, that only have the purpose of being excuses for having many scenes of severed hands.

Alfredo Zacarías' direction is tacky, sloppy, technically effective yet horribly slow and tedious, owner of an unpolished narrative style that feels outdated and unimaginative, as if the movie had been done for television and was 10 years older than its true age. To Zacarías' credit, he makes a couple of really interesting set-pieces for some of the film's goriest moments; however, the unfortunate work of cinematography by Alex Phillips Jr. (far from his best work), together with the notorious low-budget and the contrived and ultimately incoherent plot, end up diminishing the power those scenes could have. While Zacarías had proved to be good at handling with comedy, in "Demonoid: Messenger of Death" there seems to be a great difficulty in handling the dramatic tension and the suspense of the film. The few action sequences of the film are actually well done given the film's low budget, although again, with a somewhat archaic style in the execution. Nevertheless, Zacarías greatest problem arises from his inability to make the awful script work.

"Demonoid: Messenger of Death" has two pretty good actors in its cast, and both deliver some of the worst performances in their careers. To be fair, Samantha Eggar seems like she did her best with what she had to work and manages to carry the film despite the movie's more than obvious problems. The development of her character is almost non-existent, but Eggar at least makes her Jennifer a likable character. Still, her work is far from her delivery in Cronenberg's "The Brood" (1979). The experienced Stuart Whitman is sadly a lot less successful, playing the tortured Priest that tries to help Jennifer against the Devil's Hand. Certainly, his character is a bit more developed, though Whitman's acting is uneven, to the point of changing between different accents though the film without any apparent reason. The rest of the cast ranges from mediocre to downright awful, although it's hard to tell if it's completely the actors' fault given the poor way in which the script is developed.

It would be tempting to put the blame for the many flaws in "Demonoid: Messenger of Death" on the low budget the filmmakers had, or in the cheap looking special effects, or in the inability of the director to translate the story to screen competently; however, the real problem in "Demonoid: Messenger of Death" is the poor way the script was built. Everything else is just an extension of that. Contrived, rushed, and ultimately absurd, the story not only fails at fulfilling the potential of its premise: it never really goes somewhere. While the ideas thrown into the mix definitely look good on paper, the film's poorly developed screenplay contains bizarre scenes that are unintentionally funny at best, and ridiculous at worst. As written above, Alfredo Zacarías' work is good on the technical side (and it's remarkable what he achieved with low production values), but pretty poor in a purely narrative way. Zacarías has done better films when he has a good script to work with, but in "Demonoid: Messenger of Death", the lack of coherency of the plot simply make the film boring and tedious.

"Demonoid: Messenger of Death" is the sad case of an interesting and ambitious idea wasted by an awful story and subpar execution. While released in 1981 (on the wake of the release of Oliver Stone's similarly-themed "The Hand"), Zacarías' film was done a couple of years before, which may explain its relatively outdated visual style. Despite its many flaws, "Demonoid, Messenger of Death" is not without its good things (technically, it's not that bad of a film), though they are certainly overshadowed by its problematic screenplay. It certainly can be entertaining at times (and some absurdities are unintentionally comic), but in the end, "Demonoid: Messenger of Death" results being another good idea that was just badly developed and poorly executed.

4/10
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Veneno para las hadas (1984)

2011-09-23T16:36:00.000-05:00

One of the most prominent filmmakers in Mexican horror cinema is without a doubt Carlos Enrique Taboada, who thanks to four famous Gothic horror films cemented a reputation as a master of horror. Taboada's body of work extended to other genres, though most of them were less fortunate than his horror output (a notable exception being "La Guerra Santa"). "Veneno para las hadas", released in 1984, is not only the last film in Taboada's Gothic horror cycle, it was also the last film of his career. Unfortunately, it's the less known as well, mainly because it's more than a bit different to his other horror films, being an offbeat story about witchcraft told from the point of view of a child. After a five year hiatus after 1979's "La Guerra Santa", director Carlos Enrique Taboada returned to horror genre with "Veneno para las hadas" (known in English as "Poison for the faeries" and occasionally with the less inspiring title of "The Evil Faeries"), a strong drama with horror elements that closes the career of one of the most important figures in Mexican horror cinema.

Set in the late 50s, "Veneno para las Hadas" is the story of the strange friendship between two little girls. Flavia (Elsa María Gutiérrez) is the daughter of a very wealthy family who have just moved to the city, and in her first day of school becomes good friends with Verónica (Ana Patricia Rojo), a very smart and manipulative girl who is fascinated with witchcraft and claims to be a witch herself. An orphan living with her old grandmother, Verónica spends most of her time under the care of her nanny (Carmen Stein), who tells her stories about witches and magic. These stories find a fertile ground in Verónica's enormous imagination, and she begins to be deeply interested in becoming the most evil witch ever. Flavia, being more innocent and gullible, begins to believe Verónica's claims, specially as strange events start to happen around them. What at first began as an innocent friendship soon becomes a nightmare as Flavia is tortured psychologically by the possessive Verónica and her threats of using her witchcraft against her.

Written by Carlos Enrique Taboada himself (as usual), the film moves far away from the blatantly supernatural horror of his more famous films ("Hasta el Viento Tiene Miedo", "El Libro De Piedra" and "Más Negro Que la Noche") and focuses on a subtler and slightly more realistic kind of horror. In this aspect, it could be closer to his other offbeat horror film, "Vagabundo en la Lluvia", but the tone is completely different, as fantasy plays a big role in the story. In a sense, "Veneno para las hadas" brings back the theme of corruption of childhood found in "El Libro de Piedra" and gives it another turn of the screw. Now the darkness does not come from the ghost of a boy, but from a very alive girl. And then, Verónica is not entirely developed as a villainous evil child, but as a complex portrait of a troubled girl. The story unfolds at a very slow pace (at times too slow for its own sake), but it carefully develops the bond between the two girls and the morbid details of their bizarre relationship.

The most notorious feature in "Veneno para las hadas" is certainly the fact that director Carlos Enrique Taboada shots his film entirely from the children's point of view, even to the point of having the adult actors being shot from a child's perspective (Their faces rarely appear at all). This style, while certainly a bit gimmicky, allows a greater emphasis on the two main characters, and actually reflects the reality of their lives in relation with the adult world. While different, both girls share the loneliness of being outsiders in their families: Verónica's grandmother is too old to take care of her, while Flavia's parents are cold and even emotionally distant. The cinematography, by Lupe García, is kind of average but Taboada manages to put it to a very good use in creating haunting Gothic images that once again show a strong influence from Italian filmmakers. In this twisted ode to childhood, Taboada succeeds in crafting a fairy tale for adults that's all the more disturbing in its bleak realism.

Given that the film focuses on only two characters their performances are vital for the success of the film, and while certainly not entirely amazing, the overall result is quite positive. As the manipulative Verónica, Ana Patricia Rojo is an absolute joy to watch, as with great talent she can be both adorable and hateful at the same time. Despite her young age, her performance is remarkable in the complex role of the little girl who claims to be a witch, and it's easily the film's greatest asset. Unfortunately, Elsa María Gutiérrez as Flavia is a lot less fortunate, seeming at times a bit wooden and unprepared. Nevertheless, there are also moments of quite believable realism when her innocence is truthfully transmitted to the screen. As written above, the adult roles are for the most part minor and many times reduced to voice acting. While the work is effective for the most part, sometimes the dubbing is not entirely good, sounding a bit artificial and staged.

Taboada's final Gothic horror film is certainly a quite different kind of beast than his other Gothic set pieces, which could feel initially like a disappointment. It remains decidedly Gothic in atmosphere, yet follows a different kind of horror, subtler than in his previous films, yet somehow more disturbing. A horror that comes not from beyond the grave, but from the logical and inevitable consequences of people's actions (again, in a similar vein as "Vagabundo en la Lluvia"). Unfortunately, "Veneno para las hadas" is marred by an average work of cinematography and a terribly slow pace, which prevent the film from truly being flawless. Lupe García, a veteran camera operator, creates pretty bland images, that are only saved by Taboada's slick sense of visual narrative. However, the slow pace the movie has is probably what hurts the film the most, as at times it makes it drag a bit too much for its good, and gives the film a tone closer to television melodrama than to horror cinema.

Despite its flaws, "Veneno para las hadas" remains as one of director Carlos Enrique Taboada most original and captivating films, offering a profoundly bleak fairy tale for adults. While nowhere near as famous as "Hasta el Viento Tiene Miedo", and definitely not as polished as his Gothic masterpiece "El Libro De Piedra", this little gem is still a pretty good, albeit different, entry in the Gothic horror genre. While it was well received by audiences and critics, Taboada never made again a film after "Veneno para las hadas", and focused his career on television. A thematic conjunction of Taboada's usual themes and obsessions, "Veneno para las hadas" is truly a fitting closure to a great director's career.

8/10
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La Guerra Santa (1979)

2011-09-22T18:02:00.002-05:00

The Cristero War (or Cristiada) was a conflict that took place from 1926 to 1929, in which Roman Catholics formed an uprising against the Mexican government of President Calles, due to his enforcement of the anticlerical laws. What began with peaceful resistance, soon became a formal rebellion in 1927, and the rebels (known as Cristeros army and formed mainly by rural inhabitants), with the support of the Mexican bishops, began to pose a serious threat to civil order. Peace would only come with the ending of Calles' term as president, and despite grave difficulties (such as the assassination of president-elect Álvaro Obregón by a Catholic radical), an arrangement was reached with he Church and finally the Cristero War ended. The Cristero War left a profound impact in Mexico, as a Civil War in which Mexicans fought against each other instigated by religion. It certainly left a deep sentiment of indignation in filmmaker Carlos Enrique Taboada, as he would portray his vision on the conflict in one of his most accomplished films: 1979's "La Guerra Santa".

"La Guerra Santa" ("The Holy War") chronicles the story of Celso Domínguez (José Carlos Ruiz), a shy and cowardly inhabitant of the poor town of Rincón del Cobre. It all begins when the town's priest, Father Miguel (Víctor Junco), informs at mass that he will close the Church's doors and stop giving mass until the Calles' law is abolished. Father Miguel begins to manipulate the panicked population, convincing the men to join the Cristeros, the rebel army of Catholic loyalists. Celso is afraid of death and doesn't want to go, but seeing how the town begins to shun him, he reluctantly joins the army. Celso enters under the command of Colonel Ursino Valdez (Jorge Luke), a skillful strategist who believes fanatically in his mission and follows the advise of Father Soler (Carlos Cámara). In Ursino's army, Celso will be forced to fight and to kill, joining them in their ventures. The humble peasant will discover the horrors of war and the atrocities committed by both sides in the fratricidal war later known as the Cristero War.

Based on his own research on the subject, "La Guerra Santa" was written by director Carlos Enrique Taboada himself, who took the film as his most personal project. Bleak and full of hopelessness, "La Guerra Santa" is a story about an innocent and calm man being dehumanized and degenerated by the horrors of war. A symbol of the everyman, Celso expresses constantly his unwillingness to join the Cristeros, but does it out of peer pressure. Following the words of the priests, the Cristeros completely believe that their cause is right, and that everything done for the cause is good. However, under the fanatical leadership of Colonel Ursino, soon this "everything" includes raping and pillaging as well. Outspoken about his own anticlerical ideology, Taboada makes no secret about whose side he is on, and portrays the peasant army as the victims of the priests' manipulations who take advantage of their fears and ignorance. Taboada's thesis is that war is always hell, even those justified as "holy". Or better said, specially those justified as holy.

Director Carlos Enrique Taboada translates nicely the bleak tone of his screenplay and makes Celso's descent to hell a visually arresting anti-epic, in which the desert rural landscape reflects the abandon and solitude of the Cristero army. The war is experienced through Celso's eyes, and through him Taboada introduces a series of interesting characters that reflect his pessimism about humanity: the cruel and fanatical Colonel Ursino, the cold and ambitious Father Soler, Celso's amoral friend Jacinto, each one of them enters the conflict with the mission of fighting for God, but Taboada makes clear that God, if exists, has seemingly abandoned his army. A particularly moving scene between Celso and a captured atheist schoolteacher (Claudio Obregón) becomes the focal point in which Taboada centers his vision. Certainly, the film lacks subtlety in its approach and makes no concessions about its ideology, however, Taboada succeeds in crafting a moving portrait of a nation manipulated by its political and religious leaders.

The work done by the cast in "La Guerra Santa" is mostly remarkable, with José Carlos Ruiz delivering the best performance in his career. Certainly, there are moments in which Ruiz overacts a bit, though for the most part his delivery as Celso is of great quality, and his transformation very vivid and haunting. It's remarkable how subtle the change from shy villager to soldier of God is, as Celso looks the same, but something is just different. Equally remarkable is the work of Jorge Luke as the violent colonel Ursino. Luke perfectly portrays the fanatical side of his character without going going for the stereotype. The ruthless colonel is a fanatical, but he is not a caricature, on the contrary, he's vividly dangerous because of how natural Luke's performance is. As Father Soler, Carlos Cámara is pretty effective with his stoic and dignified look, which balances the wilder nature of Luke's Ursino. Nevertheless, Cámara's character is also flawed, and the subtlety of the actor makes the character multidimensional.

Not everyone in the cast is as good as Ruiz and Luke, and some are particularly bad (Roberto Ruy for example), though for the most part is one of the best casts that ever appeared in a Taboada film. In fact, "La Guerra Santa" showcases Taboada's talents at their best, with pretty good use of Miguel Araña's cinematography (which is not exactly special, but does the job right) and his great sense of rhythm resulting in a quite fluid storytelling. As written above, Taboada's film has the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but despite its lack of objectivity, in this ambitious anti-epic Taboada manages to avoid any degree of cheap sentimentalism. It is a tale of defeated people, but it's far from condescending with them. Perhaps its major flaw is once again, a Taboada too enamored with his screenplay to cut it, as there are a couple of vignettes in this war tale that seem either unnecessary or too long. Nevertheless, it's hard to deny that "La Guerra Santa" is one of Taboada's greatest achievements.

To the general public, director Carlos Enrique Taboada is better known as the mastermind behind four classics of Mexican horror: "Hasta el viento tiene miedo" (1968), "El Libro de Piedra" (1969), "Más negro que la noche" (1975) and "Veneno para las Hadas "(1984), his famous horror cycle. And this is not without a reason, as the rest of his varied filmography lacked the spirit and energy of his horror films. The great exception is "La Guerra Santa", an anti-war film in which Taboada was able to fully express his idiosyncrasies regarding religion openly. And this perhaps proves a common trait in Taboada's filmography: the quality of his effort depended on how involved the director felt about the project; and in the case of "La Guerra Santa", that was a lot. "La Guerra Santa" is an unfairly forgotten war film that's not only one of Taboada's best, but one of the best war films in Mexican cinema by its own right.

8/10
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Más negro que la noche (1975)

2011-09-21T18:43:00.000-05:00

In Mexican cinema, the name of director Carlos Enrique Taboada is forever linked to the horror genre thanks to four films that made what is nowadays labeled as his "Gothic cycle". Four horror films that quickly earned a cult status due to their high level of craftsmanship and their ominous Gothic atmosphere. Of the four, the first couple, "Hasta el viento tiene miedo" and "El Libro de Piedra" are the better known thanks to their repeated exposure in Mexican television, however, the last two are movies equally as haunting despite not having the same level of fame. The third film in the cycle, titled "Más negro que la noche" (literally "Blacker than the night"), was released in 1975, and meant a return to form for Taboada after having spent the first half of the 70s crafting a series of low budget thrillers with a chiefly commercial goal. In "Más negro que la noche", Taboada returns to supernatural horror in a story about a haunting in an old mansion involving a group of young female friends and a black cat. A cat that's blacker than the night.

The story in "Más negro que la noche" begins with a death. Old Susana (Tamara Galina) is a wealthy rich spinster who lives in a huge mansion with the sole company of her beloved cat Becker, and Sofía (Alicia Palacios) the maid. Susana dies of a heart attack, and the only heir of her vast fortune is her niece Ofelia (Claudia Islas), now a young woman who had almost forgotten about Susana. Ofelia shares an apartment with three of her friends: Aurora (Susana Dosamantes), Marta (Lucía Méndez), and finally Pilar (Helena Rojo), who stays with them as she is considering divorce from her husband Roberto (Pedro Armendáriz Jr.). However, the inheritance has a condition, Ofelia must take care of Becker until his death. While all her housemates dislike cats, they all decide to accept Ofelia's invitation and live in the mansion with her. Soon strange events begin to take place in the house, specially as the girls seem to have little respect for the past. And it all gets worse once Becker is found death.

As usual, the screenplay for "Más negro que la noche" was written by Carlos Enrique Taboada himself, and amongst his horror films, it is perhaps the most "traditional" and straightforward of the bunch. Lacking the ambiguity and the complexities of his other horrors, it is certainly a simpler ghost story; however, this by no means make it any less interesting. "Más negro que la noche" is practically an exercise in developing a horror story at its most classic style, as Taboada plays with all the elements one can find in a typical ghost story: huge mansion, creepy servants, naive young people, black cat, and the darkness of the night. And yet, all the typical obsessions in Taboada's filmography find their place in the story, particularly the major running theme in his films (and not only in his horror ones): selfishness is payed with death. Perhaps the most notable element of "Más negro que la noche" is how as the story unfolds, it borrows some elements from Italian Giallo, as Aunt Susana's vengeance manifests in a quite physical presence.

The story in "Más negro que la noche" may be simplistic, even clichéd; however, Taboada's film seems to be constructed with one single idea in mind: atmosphere. Atmosphere is the key word in "Más negro que la noche", which showcases a masterful use of lighting and camera-work to create an effectively ominous atmosphere of dread that begins to surround the four main characters. Stylish and elegant, Taboada's borrowing of Giallo elements does not limit merely to plot devices, but also to the striking visual style found in "Más negro que la noche", which shows a more than obvious influence from Mario Bava. In the film, Taboada once again excels in his visual narrative, which is fluid and dynamic, developing the story at a nice pace. Certainly, "Más negro que la noche" is a lot more plot-driven than Taboada's usual output, but this is actually beneficial for Taboada's style, which tends to be tedious in more character-driven situations. Ultimately, "Más negro que la noche" is visually, Taboada's triumph of style over substance.

Interestingly, the cast includes several actors who would later become big stars of Mexican cinema or TV (Helena Rojo, Pedro Armendáriz Jr. and Lucía Méndez), and for the most part the work done is effective. Unfortunately and exception is lead actress Claudia Islas, who plays Ofelia, as her turn is considerably weak and unconvincing. Certainly the lack of character development has a hand in this, but Islas' work pales in comparison with her three cast-mates. For example Helena Rojo, who plays Pilar, displaying a strength and passion in her role that Islas lacks. Susana Dosamantes is less fortunate, though she manages to come up as an effective actress that adds more than her natural beauty to the role. Her scene at the library is perhaps one of the film's highlights. Like Dosamantes, it would seem that Lucía Méndez was picked for the role based only on her looks, however, Méndez makes an acceptable role as the young and impressionable Marta. Veteran actress Alicia Palacios is a highlight of the film, as the loyal servant Sofía.

As written above, the film is an exercise of style over substance, and this is like a double-edged sword. On one hand, it's a masterful example of Taboada's brilliance when it comes to purely visual storytelling. But on the other, it's still a somewhat typical ghost story overtly reliant on the clichés of the genre. While this in no way demerits the film's craftsmanship (definitely one of Taboada's best in purely technical aspects), it certainly diminishes it's main impact, as ultimately "Más negro que la noche" can't avoid being a quite predictable movie with some pretty obvious twists and clichéd situations. In the end, this is after all a matter of taste, as certainly, a good classic ghost story never goes out of fashion, and in this way, "Más negro que la noche" certainly delivers the goods. It would only be advisable not to expect a groundbreaking narrative or unexpected twists, not even Taboada's familiar ambiguity or subtle subtexts. "Más negro que la noche" is set to be a traditional ghost story and that's what delivers.

As part of Taboada's thematic tetralogy of Gothic horror, "Más negro que la noche" certainly comes up as the weakest of the four, however, it is by no means a bad movie. As an stylish ghost story, "Más negro que la noche" ranks amongst the best of the 70s, with its striking visual style and its attractive cast, it's still a joy to watch. Despite its thin-layered plot, this gem of Mexican horror cinema is a quite satisfying ride full of thrills, perfect for a creepy night of scary movies. Perhaps Taboada's most accessible and commercial horror film, "Más negro que la noche" is the perfect introduction to the darker side of Taboada's filmography, a side that like Becker the cat, is blacker than the night.

8/10
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