House of Wax (1953)

The year of 1952 is widely considered as the beginning of the so-called "Golden Age" of 3-D filmmaking, as it was during that year when "Bwana Devil", the first color stereoscopic feature in 3-D was released. It proved to be a hit, and the enormous success of this new way of achieving 3-D prompted Warner Bros. Pictures to prepare a similar movie to compete in this trend. And to do it, it would resurrect a movie that in its time, also was the flagship for a technological advance: the two-strip Technicolor thriller "Mystery of the Wax Museum". So, 20 years after the release of Michael Curtiz' Technicolor murder mystery, Warner Brothers Pictures decided to make a brand new version of the movie using the new 3-D technology that was beginning to be very popular. Titled "House of Wax" and directed by André De Toth, the movie would not only become the most successful 3-D movie of its day, but also the first one with stereophonic sound and, probably its most important achievement, the film that would fully introduce the legendary actor Vincent Price to the Horror genre.

The plot actually follows very closely the original's storyline, although of course, with several important changes. In 1910s New York, Prof. Henry Jarrod (Vincent Price) is an unnaturally talented sculptor, whose wax figures are of an amazing beauty and realism. However, his refusal to make sensationalistic exhibits to attract more people to his Wax Museum enrage his financial partner Matthew Burke (Roy Roberts), so Burke decides to burn the place with Jarrod inside in order to collect the insurance money. Several months later, it is discovered that Prof. Jarrod survived, albeit badly hurt and with his hands and legs useless, but with the intention of reopening his "House of Wax" with the aid of a deaf mute student named Igor (Charles Bronson). At the museum's opening, a young woman named Sue Allen (Phyllis Kirk) makes a shocking discovery: the figure representing Joan of Arc looks extremely like her best friend Cathy (Carolyn Jones), who was just recently murdered by a mysterious stranger. It would be up to her to solve the mystery of this new house of wax.

Written by Crane Wilbur, the plot is essentially the same as in the original, being also based on Charles Belden's story and play; however, unlike the play and the original movie, Wilbur chooses to focus on the horror element of the story, transforming the whole tale of mystery into a classic Gothic story, almost in the style of Universal's horror films of the 30s (the movie is set in that decade). The main change in the narrative is that this time there is no mystery about who is committing the murders, the classic "whodunit" pattern of murder mysteries here is inverted in the so-called "howcatchem" and places the villain under the spotlight almost since the beginning. With this change, Wilbur makes the story a new kind of beast and really enhances the suspense, drama and darkness of the story. And since the mystery is no longer a subject of importance in the story, the characters and their relationships become a bit more developed as they become the center of the story, allowing the actors (specially Vincent Price) to showcase their talents.

Director André De Toth was probably the best suited to adapt Crane Wilbur's script to the screen, being already renowned by his psychological take on the films noir and westerns he crafted during the 40s. De Toth's take on the script is elegant and classy, yet with a certain touch of grittiness in the creation of the murders, and an ominous Gothic atmosphere very much in tone with the focus on horror that Wilbur gave to the script. With lavish set designs and an excellent use of color (wouldn't be hard to see it as an influence for the vibrant style of the British Hammer films), De Toth creates a beautiful film to look at with his usual brilliant use of cinematography (by Bert Glennon and J. Peverell Marley) that even without the 3-D effect still looks wonderful. His use of 3-D is notable in its originality and most importantly, on its subtlety (although there are two or three moments are obvious campy gimmicks to show off the 3-D). While the movie certainly loses some of its impact on TV, it's still a marvel of production design, with a great beauty to look at.

The cast is one of the film's best features, starting with Vincent Price, who after this movie his career would take him from being a reliable character actor to become an icon of the horror genre. In the role previously played by Lionel Atwill, Price creates a far more sympathetic character, as his unusual charm, suave screen presence and ease of word simply take over the screen and make the character very likable, despite having such a dark past. Price easily steals every scene he is in, and makes of Jarrod an unforgettable horror villain. Phyllis Kirk has a character meant to replace the wisecracking reporter of the original story, and while the character is transformed from determined adventurer to damsel in distress, Kirk's performance makes her very sensible and real, and far less weak and passive than what a role like hers could had been. A young Carolyn Jones (whom later would be famous in the TV series "The Addams Family") appears as Sue's friend Cathy Gray, and despite having very short scenes she showcases her great beauty and promising talent in a wonderful way.

With its gloomy atmosphere, gritty murder scenes and the unforgettable Price, "House of Wax" has truly enough to be rightfully considered as a classic of the genre. Sadly, the film loses a lot of its impact without the 3-D technology, as it leaves some of the most notorious 3-D scenes (particularly near the intermission) as obvious gimmicks that serve to no purpose other than to showcase how good the 3-D visuals look. I'm sure than on a 3-D projection the same scenes are wonderful, but without the technology, they really lose their magic and make blatant what should just be enjoyed seamlessly. While there are 3-D films that can be enjoyed on normal projections, those gimmicky scenes in "House of Wax" ruin the pace of an otherwise thrilling ride. Despite that tragedy, the film holds up very well, and regarding to how it compares to the original, the interesting thing is that despite having the same plot, "House of Wax" is a completely different experience due to its more horror-oriented plot.

And that would be the key of this remake: it's a different take on the story. Instead of being a rehash of a proved hit, De Toth's film opts for creating a new exploration of the story. Curtiz' film is modernist and sleek, De Toth's style is Gothic and ominous. A different style makes a different film. And that's something that many producers of remakes seem to forget, that a remake is the chance to try something new. A definitive must-see for horror fans, "House of Wax" may not feel the same without the impact of its 3-D visuals, but it still is a very influential film with superb direction, wonderful visuals and the excellent work of its cast. In the end, both "House of Wax" and the original "Mystery of the Wax Museum" make for an excellent double-bill where one can discover the excellent results of remakes done right.

8/10
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Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933)

In the late 20s, Hungarian director Michael Curtiz was a recently arrived foreigner working at Warner Bros. after having impressed legendary producer Jack Warner with the Biblical epics he crafted while working in Austria (he would make a Biblical epic for Warner in 1928, "Noah's Ark"). Part of that influx of European filmmakers that arrived in those years, Curtiz began to make himself a name as a hard working director who managed to work efficiently under the studio system, working in several films a year. In 1931 Universal studios had found success with horror films, and Warner decided to enter the game as well, and so Curtiz found success with the horror films "The Mad Genius" and "Doctor X", proving to be not only and efficient filmmaker, but also one able to make box-office hits. It was the success of "Doctor X" what prompted Warner Brothers to make another horror movie in the same style (in two-strip Technicolor), with the same same cast, and keeping Michael Curtiz as director. The result was the now classic, "Mystery of the Wax Museum".

In the film, Ivan Igor (Lionel Atwill) is an extremely talented sculptor of wax figures in 1921 London, however, his investment partner Joe Worth (Edwin Maxwell) thinks that Igor's business is not making enough money for both of them, and starts a fire at Igor's Wax Museum in order to collect the insurance money. Thirteen years later, Ivan Igor is tragically crippled and unable to use his hands, but with the help of his students he is finally ready to reopen his wax museum in New York City. In the meantime, the police is baffled by the case of several corpses stolen from the City's morgue, including the one of a famous socialité, model Joan Gale (Monica Bannister). The case attracts the attention of Florence Dempsey (Glenda Farrell), a young and ambitious reporter looking for the story that would launch her career. Dempsey immediately starts to investigate, and her suspicions lead lead her to important clues. Igor's strange obsession with Florence's roommate Charlotte (Fay Wray) will take her to uncover the dark mystery of the Wax Museum.

The key word in "Mystery of the Wax Museum" is "Mystery", as unlike it's better known 1953 remake (which focuses instead on more graphic horror and suspense), this version of Charles Belden's short story behaves more like a traditional, yet really captivating, murder mystery where the main character, Florence, must discover who is committing the crimes, and more importantly, "how". Adapted to the screen by Don Mullaly and Carl Erickson, the movie has a pretty nice twists, a good amount of suspense and a very original premise (for the time) that keep the mystery and suspense high as the plot unfolds smoothly despite the fast pace of the film. The fact that it was written before the days of the Hays code allows the film to include lots of sexual innuendo and situations that, while the Hays code would later consider immoral, do add a lot of the story. The characters are overall very well developed, and the addition of comedy (courtesy of Farrell's wisecracking character) works nicely within the creepy mystery of the story.

One of the lasts movies to be shot in the primitive two-color Technicolor system, "Mystery of the Wax Museum" has a marvelous bleached look that suits perfectly the modernist art-deco style of the sets designed for the film. As in "Doctor X", director Michael Curtiz allows himself to show the influence he received when working in Europe during the years of German expressionism, and gives the film an ominous dark look as Florence gets deeper inside the Wax Museum. While maybe not as visually striking as the Gothic horror of Universal Studios (or Curtiz' own "Doctor X"), the dark atmosphere of "Mystery of the Wax Museum" is still felt in the art-deco walls through the camera of cinematographer Ray Rennahan. Anton Grot's work of art direction is certainly, a highlight of the film, as it truly has a very unique visual style. The use of two-strip Technicolor is superb, adding a lot of emotion to the already atmospheric work of cinematography (the fire scene at the beginning is particularly great). The result is probably the best that was done using this technique.

The cast delivers performances of great quality, although it is of course difficult not to make comparisons with the performances of the better known 50s version. Lionel Atwill offers one of the best and most underrated performances of his career as the sculptor Ivan Igor, and while he lacks the charm that Vincent Price would give to the role, Atwill has a strong presence and dignified stoicism that makes him very believable as the tortured artist, victim of a misfortune that has rendered him unable to do the work he loved. Glenda Farrell's turn as Florence Dempsey is terrific in the classic role of the wisecracking reporter. Her comedic timing and joyful attitude truly elevate her role beyond the typical archetype of murder mysteries. In fact, Farrell manages to overshadow the more famous Fay Wray; who while looking stunningly beautiful in "Mystery of the Wax Museum", lacks the presence that would make her an icon in "King Kong". Granted, her role is probably the weakest and falls between the more interesting roles of Atwill and Farrell.

As written above, it's hard not to make comparisons, but while 1953's "House of Wax" tends to get the upper hand when compared to the original version, "Mystery" is by no means a bad movie, simply a very different one. Perhaps more than other horror films of the same period, "Mystery of the Wax Museum" focuses completely on the mystery aspect of the story, and while it does have its fair share of horrific elements, they are minimal when compared to Universal horror films, not to say the lavish Gothic horror of "House of Wax". True, "Mystery of the Wax Museum" certainly looks dated by today's standards, but the movie has a notorious modernist touch in its production design that makes it a quite interesting piece to look at. This, coupled with the suggestive lines in its dialog and fast wisecracking comedy give the film an edge, making it different than the norm. All in all, Curtiz' "Mystery of the Wax Museum" is a stunning tale of mystery which suffers, simply, of having aged badly.

Nevertheless, that's far from being an impediment for the enjoyment of the film. On the contrary, it allows (perhaps more than any of Universal horror films) to take a look at a 30s horror from a urban perspective. There are no Gothic castles, no somber cemeteries, instead we have a monster from the old world roaming the modern museums and apartment buildings of the new world. Quite a concept. Personally, I find in "House" and "Mystery" the perfect example of what a remake should be: a reinvention, as the two are excellent movies that explore the same story under very different angles. Overshadowed by the legendary Vincent Price film, "Mystery of the Wax Museum" is a very interesting movie that deserves to be rediscovered as a definitive must-see for those interested in horror movies of the 30s.

8/10
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Scaramouche (1952)

"He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad", such is the memorable line that begins Rafael Sabatini's classic novel "Scaramouche". This novel, a tale of adventure and romance set during the French Revolution and dealing with the exploits of a young lawyer who has to become first and actor and later a swordsman, certainly contained every element to become an instant classic of the genre. Published right when the new art of filmmaking was reaching the maturity of its silent era (1921), it didn't took too long for a film adaptation of the novel to appear, and in 1923 the legendary filmmaker Rex Ingram crafted the first version of "Scaramouche" with Ramon Novarro in the title role and a certain closeness to the source material. 29 years later, director George Sidney took the helm of a new version of Sabatini's classic, with Stewart Granger in the title and a greater focus on what's probably the best remembered part of the novel: Scaramouche's swordsmanship. The result: some of the most unforgettable swashbuckling scenes in cinema.

"Scaramouche" begins when Noel, the Marquis de Maynes (Mel Ferrer) is assigned the task of finding "Marcus Brutus", a writer who distributes pamphlets against the aristocracy. In the meantime, young man André Moreau (Stewart Granger) has just discovered that he is the bastard son of the Count of Gravillac, so he decides to go and meet him. On his way, Moreau finds the beautiful Aline (Janet Leigh) and feels attracted to her, only to suffer an awkward moment when he discovers she is his half-sister. The Marquis finds Marcus Brutus, whom is actually Philippe de Valmorin (Richard Anderson), André's best friend. De Maynes challenges Philippe to a duel, but the inexperienced Philippe is no match for the skilled Marquis. Moreau witness this and feels enraged, but he also ends up disarmed. Managing to escape from the Marquis, Moreau finds the comedy troupe in which his beloved Lenore (Eleanor Parker) performs, and decides to hide there as the character Scaramouche. And as Scaramouche, Moreau vows to improve his swordsmanship in order to avenge Philippe.

Adapted to the screen by Ronald Millar and George Froeschel, this version of "Scaramouche" is certainly far from a faithful rendition of the novel, but still, it actually manages to capture the very soul of "Scaramouche". While Sabatini's novel divides Moreau's story in three separate and well defined parts (as lawyer, as actor and as fencer), Millar and Froeschel combine the last two parts and use it as basis for the majority of the film. Surprisingly, it works remarkably well, as the writers manage to always have something happening in Moreau's adventure, while at the same time remaining true to the character's joyful attitude and idealism. Hardcore fans of the novel won't feel disappointed in this aspect, despite the modifications to the plot. The screenplay contains as well situations that in its time were considered risqué (and gave the movie trouble with the censors), and it is commendable how the writers managed to get away with them. It's also worthy to point out the witty dialogs the screenplay has, and showcases the great comedic timing and skill of the writers.

Lavish would be the best word to describe the beautiful and detailed work of set design and art direction that was done in "Scaramouche". The costumes, the decoration, the sets, it all translates perfectly the atmosphere of pulp romance novel that Sabatini's literary works exude. Director George Sidney makes great use of the production values he has, and with the expert eye of seasoned cinematographer Charles Rosher create a thrilling tale of adventure filled with non-stop action, comedy and romance. Sidney's effective balance of this elements helps "Scaramouche" to never lose steam, and his skillful, dynamic narrative translates the witty, literate screenplay to the screen with a vibrant freshness. However, the real highlight of "Scaramouche" is its now legendary climatic duel, a masterpiece of fencing choreography conceived by fencing master Fred Cavens. Having staged most of the greatest duels in Hollywood history (1926's "The Black Pirate", 1935's "Captain Blood", 1940's "The Sea Hawk", among others), Cavens made in "Scaramouche" his magnum opus.

Leading the cast is Stewart Granger as André Moreau, the happy-go-lucky, relaxed man who must don the mask and cape of Scaramouche in order to hide while his fencing skills improve. Granger has a lot of presence, and manages to transmit the charm and smoothness his character requires. However, Granger is far from being a one-note only buffoon, as he also handles nicely the dramatic scenes. All in all, an underrated lead actor that should get more recognition. Nevertheless, "Scaramouche" wouldn't be the same without Mel Ferrer, as the sadistic, yet chivalrous Marquis de Maynes. With his sophisticated air and touch of perverse maliciousness, Ferrer creates a powerful villain that can be both honestly sympathetic and irremediably hateful at the same time. Janet Leigh adds beauty and charm to her character, the sweet damsel Aline de Gravillac. However, it is Eleanor Parker whom shines the most, as the strong willed Lenore, a character that allows her to showcase her great skill for romantic comedy.

A wild ride filled with swashbuckling action and adventure, "Scaramouche" may not be as famous as the films with Douglas Fairbanks or Errol Flynn but, while it may lack the epic artistry of those films, "Scaramouche" it's definitely in the same league in terms of thrilling fencing action and overall pure entertainment. As written above, major changes were done in the adaptation to film, so those expecting a faithful rendition of Sabatini's novel may find this "Scaramouche" a tad simplified or diluted. However, that doesn't mean that Sidney's film is a different kind of beast, as the soul and essence of Sabatini's legendary character are still intact. Certainly, there is now a greater emphasis on action and comedy, that some characters are now missing and that the drama has been toned down (not to mention that the plot twists were considerably simplified); but in the end, it all feels in the end a simpler, yet more concise narrative. It could be said that "Scaramouche" is classic 50s Hollywood fluff, but it's Hollywood of great class and quality.

The film version of "Scaramouche", like Sabatini's novel that makes its source, is far from being a redefining work of its genre; it doesn't attempt to reinvent the swashbuckling film, nor to create a grandiose work of art. It's only goal is to deliver the best of everything that has made the genre fun. And it achieves this goal perfectly. With its remarkably witty dialogs, non-stop thrilling action sequences, fun screwball comedy and one of the greatest fencing duels captured on film, "Scaramouche" remains true to the spirit of the novel that inspired it and delivers first class entertainment. The gift of laughter that was one of Scaramouche's most noticeable traits, shines intact in George Sidney's version of the classic novel.

8/10
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Scream 4 (2011)

During the first half of the 90s, American horror genre found itself in a slow yet constant process of degradation, wearing itself out with an excessive regurgitation of the themes and plots of the previous decade. The slasher film, which had reigned supreme in the 80s, by the 90s it was reaching the limits of parody after cheap sequels and predictable plots. And curiously, it was parody what essentially saved the genre in 1996, when scriptwriter Kevin Williamson teamed up with filmmaker Wes Craven to produce "Scream", a post-modernist mix of ironic black comedy and graphic violent horror that referenced the history of the horror genre. "Scream" was a huge success and began a renaissance of the American horror. 15 years and two sequels later, Craven and Williamson got together again to resurrect Ghostface and the Woodsboro murders, and once again make an ironic comment about the current state of American horror films, the new multitude of sequels released, and the recent wave of remakes, reboots and "reimaginings".

"Scream 4" begins on the fifteenth anniversary of the original Woodsboro massacre, with the murders of two high school students (Aimee Teegarden and Brittany Robertson). The brutal killings coincide with the return of Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) to Woodsboro, in order to promote her book. Being in charge of the case, Sheriff Dewey Riley (David Arquette) asks Sidney to remain in town as she becomes a suspect when crime related evidence is found in her car. However, this is just a taunt by a new Ghostface, who now is not only after Sidney, but also after her young cousin Jill (Emma Roberts). In the meantime, Gale Weathers Riley (Courtney Cox), decides to use the new Woodsboro murders to resurrect her career in journalism, feeling stuck as the wife of a small town sheriff. Gale contacts horror fans Robbie (Erik Knudsen) and Charlie (Rory Culkin), looking for clues about the killer's modus operandi. Robbie and Charlie are convinced that the killer is following the new rules of horror films and is basically remaking the original Woodsboro murders.

The screenplay for "Scream 4" was chiefly written by Kevin Williamson, although an uncredited Ehren Kruger took over for rewrites. Still, "Scream 4" manages to recapture the wit and irony of the first part of the series, balancing effectively the elements of horror, mystery and comedy in a much better way than the bland "Scream 3" (an installment that perhaps took itself too seriously for its own good). The plot twists are plenty, and manage to keep things going at a nice rhythm while remaining true to the slasher formula and paying lovely homage to the horror genre while criticizing the current trends in horror. And this mix of homage and criticism had not worked that well since the original "Scream" (well, "Scream 2" had pretty good moments too). Maybe it's because of how the genre has changed in the last decade, but Williamson's screenplay feels, if not as fresh as the original, at least equally as sharp. As expected, "Scream 4" is pure meta-fiction, and while a tad overdone at times, its self-referential humour works quite well for the most part.

Back in town in Woodsboro is director Wes Craven, who tackles this new venture with his usual technical prowess and domain of the camera. Craven's body of work shows a fascination with modern myths, specially those in small American towns, and so he's right at home in a Woodsboro where the original killings are now deeply rooted in the town's dark mythology. After the poor "My Soul to Take", Craven's handling of suspense is in top form this time, and in "Scream 4" creates quite inventive set pieces in which he masterfully plays with suspense and mystery; toying with the unwritten rules of the slasher sub-genre . His technique may be filled with known tricks and familiar clichés, but Craven's skill lays in putting those clichés to good use, and the film has him displaying this skill at full strength. Instrumental for this is the work of cinematography by Peter Deming (also cinematographer of both "Scream 2" and "Scream 3"), who manages to create the proper atmosphere for the horrors of a small town.

The cast brings back old time regulars of the "Scream" franchise as well as introducing a new generation of characters to the vicious knife of Ghostface. Once again, Neve Campbell returns to Woodsboro as Sidney Prescott, the perennial survivor, whom after years of fighting against the demons of her past, must now face the Ghostface again. Campbell has talent, and certainly knows her character to a tee, although the film doesn't give her enough screen time to let it shine again, as the focus seems changed to the new generation. As her cousin Jill, Emma Roberts is more than adequate, having a strong presence that sets her apart from Sidney's vulnerability. A nice surprise is Courtney Cox, with her character having an interesting development that allows her to show a nicely restrained force in her performance. David Arquette is equally good, showing maturity without forgetting the fun goofiness of his old character. Erik Knudsen, Hayden Panettiere and Marley Shelton are also nice additions to the cast, with Shelton's comedic timing being a highlight of the film.

Unfortunately, not everyone in the film is that effective, and particularly poor are the performances of Nico Tortorella and Rory Culkin, as both seem to be sleepwalking through the film. However, a bigger problem is perhaps "Scream"'s own status as a classic from the 90s. It's hard not to compare (specially when the topic are remakes), and the comparison is not beneficial for this fourth chapter. What hurts the film the most is perhaps that lack of the freshness and vibrant energy of the original. Williamson and Craven are playing in familiar ground, and while this enhances their mastery, it also diminishes how groundbreaking they could be. 15 years don't go in vain, and ironic post-modernism is far from being original. As in part 3, there are times when it could be felt that the "Scream" series has turned into the same thing it criticized in the beginning. Fortunately (and unlike part 3), those moments aren't frequent, and in the end, the film's greatest sin is that its self-referential focus makes it more a film for "Scream" fans than for horror fans in general.

But well, even that's not that much of a bad thing. In fact, it could be said that "Scream 4" offers what the previous installment lacked: a proper conclusion for a horror film. Flawed perhaps, but satisfying indeed. Unlike the original "Scream", maybe this fourth installment will not redefine the rules of horror (at best it'll make fun of them), but it still serves as a reminder of what horror films are about. Beyond the shocking gore, the graphic violence and the outlandish plot twists, the horror genre it's supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be thrilling. And "Scream 4" is exactly that, a thrilling fun movie that once again asks us that old question of life or death: what is your favourite scary movie?

7/10
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Ukikusa (1959)

 In Japanese, "floating weeds" is a nickname used to metaphorically describe itinerant livelihoods, more specifically, to describe itinerant actors. Troupes traveling through the country with no place to call home, are like weeds floating on the water, moving without following any specific direction. Japanese filmmaker Yasujirô Ozu used this metaphor in 1934 to title one of the most important films in his career: "Ukikusa monogatari" ("A Story of Floating Weeds"), a family drama involving itinerant actors which defined many of his trademarks and essentially marked the maturing of his particular style. It also became one of his most successful films of his pre-war era. 25 years later, Ozu found himself with the chance of making a film of his choice for Daiei Studios, and so, his chosen project for Daiei was a remake of his own 1934 classic "Ukikusa monogatari". Naming it simply as "Ukikusa" ("Floating Weeds"), Yasujirô Ozu revisited his earlier classic after 25 years of social changes, style maturity and life experiences.

"Ukikusa" begins with the arrival of a troupe of itinerant actors to a seaside town during an extremely hot summer. The troupe's lead actor and owner Komajuro (Ganjiro Nakamura) has a very special reason to visit this town: his former lover Oyoshi (Haruko Sugimura) lives there, as well as their son Kiyoshi (Ayako Wakao). It's been 12 years since Komajuro's last visit, and now Kiyoshi is a grown-up man working at the post office with the dream of saving enough to go to college. Kiyoshi doesn't know that Komajuro is his father, as the old actor has always posed as his uncle, ashamed of his status as an itinerant actor. Komajuro begins to spend time with Kiyoshi, even when the attendance to their kabuki act is pretty poor. Sumiko (Machiko Kyô), the lead actress and Komajuro's new mistress, begins to suspect that Komajuro is up to something, and when he discovers that he is visiting his former mistress, she becomes jealous and confronts Komajuro about it. Komajuro decides to break up with her, but the enraged Sumiko conceives a plan to take revenge on Kiyoshi.

Written by director Ozu himself along regular collaborator Kôgo Noda, "Ukikusa" focuses chiefly on the intimate family drama triggered by Sumiko's discovery of Komajuro's son. Lies, jealousy and love are the main themes, which could give the notion that "Ukikusa" is nothing more than a conventional and lachrymose melodrama. However, there is more in the story than what seems at first sight, as it is also a character study about the aging itinerant actor Komajuro. Strict and possessive, yet well intentioned and profoundly human, it is a character full of contradictions that unnecessarily has complicated his own life with each lie he has told to Kiyoshi. Komajuro has played Kiyoshi's uncle for many years, in what ironically seems to had been his best role through his mediocre career as an actor, and the effects of this acts further complicate his goal of leaving the road. And like Komajuro, the characters are what make "Ukikusa" different to typical melodramas, as in Ozu's cinema what matters is not what the characters do, but what they feel, think and believe.

In essence, what matters is what the characters live, what they experience intimately in their relationships with each other; and to take the audience to this intimacy, Ozu places his camera right in the middle of the action. In the original "Ukikusa monogatari", Ozu's distinctive style was blooming; in this remake, his style has reached full maturity. Everything is set up to immerse the audience into the character's intimate world. With the placing of his camera, its static positioning and the centering of the actors during dialog scenes; Ozu forces us to stare almost straight to the characters and discover them, as if they were old acquaintances, old friends. It's worth to point out Kazuo Miyagawa's masterful work of cinematography, which creates some of the most beautiful images with his brilliant use of colour and lighting. It's interesting to see the legendary Miyagawa, noted for his tracking shots, working with the classic static compositions of Ozu. The result captures perfectly the images of daily life and makes them transcend into beautiful works of art.

As expected in a drama of such intensity as this, the performances by the cast are instrumental part in the success of the film, and in "Ukikasu", the actors make for the most part a remarkable job in this aspect. Actor Ganjiro Nakamura, as the film's de facto protagonist, creates a powerful and very human portrait of the aging itinerant actor Komajuro. In a complex role that can be both sympathetic and hateful at the same time, Nakamura makes a wonderful job in capturing the many faces of Komajuro Arashi. An equally powerful performance is that of the beautiful Machiko Kyô, who plays Komajuro's current mistress Sumiko. Certainly, her role is considerably smaller (more details about Sumiko in the screenplay would had been appreciated), but her talents exploit every frame she is in, particularly in the scene of the confrontation in the pouring rain. Actress Haruko Sugimura, who plays Oyoshi is more restrained, perhaps a bit too restrained, but this passive subtlety adds a nice contrast to Kyô's explosive Sumiko.

Actor Hiroshi Kawaguchi, who plays Komajuro's son Kiyoshi, is unfortunately the cast's weakest link, appearing wooden and stiff, and well below the high standard set by the rest of the main cast. The other cast members are pretty effective, and specially funny are the three actors played by Haruo Tanaka, Yosuke Irie and Kôji Mitsui (whom incidentally, played the actor's son in the original "Ukikasu monogatari"). All in all, "Ukikasu" is a beautiful display of the maturity of Ozu's style tackling a more conventional (more traditional perhaps) family drama than his usual. With a calm rhythm, beautiful visual compositions, and a subtle, very intimate narrative style, Ozu crafts his drama slowly, focusing not on unfolding the story, but on letting his characters breath and grow in the screen. The powerful, colorful images captured by Miyagawa's camera enhance the beauty of common daily life and serve as the words of Ozu's visual poetry, and this is probably what could summarize "Ukikasu", and perhaps Ozu's cinema in general: the poetry of daily life.

Slow and calm, Yasujirô Ozu's cinema may be an acquired taste, with his very Japanese style and that, in Akira Kurosawa's words, "dignified severity" that permeates his films. However, "Ukikusa" is a very rewarding film, and transmits a sense of intimacy with the characters that, rather than voyeuristic, it's more contemplative. Perhaps Ozu felt that there was room for improvement (like Alfred Hitchcock's 1934 and 1956 versions of "The Man Who Knew Too Much"), perhaps he wanted to make a final statement of his style using the film that began to define it, or perhaps he simply liked this story of floating weeds so much he just had to do it again; whatever the reason was for this remake, the result is an interesting showcase of Yasujirô Ozu's lyricism, and a powerful display of his full technique.

8/10
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Subida al Cielo (1952)

After becoming one of the most promising artists in Europe during the early 1930s, director Luis Buñuel faced exile when the Spanish Civil War began in 1936, truncating a career that seemed limitless up to that point. The years of obscurity were broke when producer Óscar Dancigers helped him to begin a career in the Mexican film industry in 1947. Adapting his talents to the budgets and style of Mexican productions, Buñuel began once again to develop his vision, and the master of surrealism would make one of the most powerful comebacks in the history of cinema: 1950's "Los Olvidados". While the film initially faced strong opposition (which forced him to direct a couple of crowd pleasing potboilers after it), its triumph in Cannes the following year finally earned Buñuel a certain freedom to work. And "freedom" is what best defines the film he made after this success: a surreal film inspired by the weird anecdotes of a trip that his friend, poet Manuel Altolaguirre, made by bus through the Mexican coastal towns. That film would become "Subida al Cielo".

"Subida al Cielo" (literally "Ascension to Heaven", but better known in English by the lousy title of "Mexican Bus Ride") is the story of Oliverio (Esteban Márquez), a young man living in a small coastal town in Mexico. Oliverio just got married to Albina (Carmen González), but he must interrupt the traditional wedding trip because of the illness of his mother Doña Esther (Paz Villegas). Doña Esther knows she is dying, but she also knows that her older sons will try to keep the inheritance for themselves. Esther asks Oliverio to make the trip to the town of Petatlán and bring Mr. Figueroa (Manuel Noriega), her executor, in order to settle her will. And so, a desperate Oliverio decides to leave his mother under the care of Albina, and take the only way to Petatlán: an old, rusty bus driven by the carefree yet eternally optimistic Silvestre (Luis Aceves Castañeda). But on the bus is also Raquel (Lilia Prado), a beautiful and lustful young woman whose only desire is to seduce Oliverio and make him ascent to her heaven.

Taking Altoaguirre's idea merely as the basis, the screenplay was ultimately written by Altoaguirre, Buñuel and Juan de la Cabada; with the collaboration of Lilia Solano, who helped to add realism to the dialogs. The result of this team of artists working with relative freedom is a wild surrealist comedy where Oliverio's difficult trip is filled with a wide variety of funny situations, absurd mishaps and unforgettable characters. Facing inclement weather, the forces of nature, the awfully poor state of the roads, sheer bad luck and last but not least, the constant advances of sexy temptress Raquel; Oliverio's journey becomes some sort of surreal variation of Homer's "The Odyssey", in which everything and everyone seem to be there to make the young man fail on his mission. It may sound like a bunch of odd situations randomly thrown in for laughs (and in full Buñuel fashion, to make fun of as many figures of authority as possible), but "Subida al Cielo" never digress and keeps things flowing nicely with sharp witty humor and great comedic timing.

In "Subida al Cielo", Buñuel returns to a theme he had already explored in "L'Âge d'Or" (and would explore several times later), which is having the success of a goal compromised by absurd characters and situations that prevent the protagonists from achieving it. However, unlike his earlier "L'Âge d'Or", Buñuel makes his story with a truly free spirit but without sacrificing coherence in the narrative, making "Subida al Cielo" one of his most accessible and fun works amongst his properly surrealist oeuvre. The tone is light-hearted for the most part, although the film does have its serious moments. In terms of style, it's particularly curious how despite its decisively comedic tone, "Subida al Cielo" has a certain atmosphere akin to Henri-Georges Clouzot's dark and somber thriller "Le Salaire de la peur" (1953), which is another movie about a difficult ride through the jungle. Buñuel's obsessions are everywhere: class, religion, death and most remarkably, sex. Sex incarnated in the beautiful Lilia Prado, whom in this film has a role in one of Buñuel's most amazing surrealist sequences.

As the lustful Raquel, Lilia Prado oozes sexuality and showcases a freshness and a strong presence that make her unforgettable. Unfortunately, Esteban Márquez fails to be a good counterpart, and in fact, it could even be said that as Oliverio, completely misses the mark as the protagonist. Wooden and barely expressive, Márquez lacks the necessary charm, style and vitality to be the film's hero, and one can't help but wonder what would had happened if Roberto Cobo (who plays one of Oliverio's older brothers) had taken the lead role. The assortment of characters that make the bus' travelers is one of "Subida al Cielo"'s most interesting elements, and the actors playing them truly create unforgettable roles (an achievement, considering the roles are basically archetypes). Specially worthy of recognition are Luis Aceves Castañeda as Silvestre, and Manuel Dondé as Eladio, the political candidate. Dondé is particularly fun in his role as a walking collection of small town politics' worst vices.

Wild, erotic and vibrant with life, "Subida al Cielo" is one of the most enjoyable films by the Spanish filmmaker. However, two major problems plagued Buñuel's shooting of "Subida al Cielo" and unfortunately, they became pretty noticeable in the final product: a major cut to his budget and unexpected changes to his schedule. With less money and less time than what had been planned, Buñuel had to rush the production and work wonders with what he had available. Certainly, it is commendable that despite those problems, "Subida al Cielo" still ended up being true to his own intentions; however, the last third (practically everything after the fabulous surreal sequence) does feel tragically rushed, incomplete or both. Reportedly, major changes to the screenplay had to be done and many scenes had to be omitted, and truly that explains that sense of incompleteness that can be slightly unsatisfying. Nevertheless, while a tragically flawed film, "Subida al Cielo" is still a quite enjoyable comedy to watch, and a powerful display of the talents of the surreal master.

A problematic shooting almost as surreal as the film itself, resulted in one of Mexican cinema's most enjoyable movies. Despite its shortcomings, "Subida al Cielo" has a charm and a freshness that remains strong even today. It's hard not to like the adventure of this old, rusty bus through the Mexican jungle, where every passenger seem to find themselves through the trip's many hardships. Life and death, love and lust, joy and tears; on its way to Petatlán, this Mexican bus ride contains everything that life is, in a playful and celebratory manner. Maybe that celebratory manner is the reason of the film's appealing, because morality aside (well, morality goes out of the window in Buñuel's films), "Subida al Cielo" is basically a celebration of life.

7/10
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Some Stylish Facts...

My dear friend, Dr. Morbius, mastermind behind the wonderful blog Krell Laboratories (a blog you should check out, as well as her equally insightful old website, Monsters of the Id), has picked me for her Stylish Blogger Awards, somewhat of an ongoing blogging event. What does this mean? Well, for starters it means that Dr. Morbius likes this humble place, which is in itself a great compliment. But also means that I should share seven "stylish" facts about myself, and tag seven more bloggers which I consider stylish enough for this. Well, her stylish facts were movie facts of course, so I'll refrain from breaking the laws and will have to do the same.

1) My first memory of attending a movie theatre is one visit to a cinema in the center of Mexico City, to see "Starchaser: The Legend of Orin" (1983) in glorious 3-D. However, that did not happen in 1983, as I wasn't even born yet; it should had taken place aroun '87 or '88. Anyways, I remember vividly the old school 3-D glasses, red and cyan, the popcorn smell, my younger brother asleep, everything. Now I know that "Starchaser" is mainly known as an animated "Star Wars" rip-off, but to me, it was the discovery of a new world. The world of cinema, as it was intended to be seen: on the big screen. Probably, I had been at a movie theatre before, but "Starchaser" is the earliest conscious memory of being in one that I have. Gosh, I still remember how cool it was the film's ending for me.

2) Since that early age, I became a devotee of home videos. In my house we had Betamax (which I still hold as the superior format, no matter what), and I began collecting bootleg tapes and recording things from TV. I was very young, and the first movies I remember having were a set of the "National Geographic Specials" series of documentaries. It included for example titles such as "In Search of the Great Apes" (1976), "Man: The Incredible Machine" (1986), and my two favourites: "Egypt: Quest for Eternity" (1982) and "Land of the Tiger" (1985), which I used to watch on a weekly basis (Egypt and tigers were two of my favourite things as a kid). That set was the beginning of my film collection. Amazingly, they musy still be around someplace at home.

3) As could be easily imagined given the content of this blog, I'm a also a devotee of horror films. The film that fully made me a horror fan was David Cronenberg version of "The Fly" (1986). I must have seen it around 1990 or 1991, and it blew me away. Never before had I seen a movie that disturbed me yet fascinated me at the same time. A monster so repulsive yet so tragically sad. The ending broke my heart (it still does), and I couldn't believe I was feeling sad for a monster. It was a whole new world for me in every aspect. Also, the whole thing mesmerized me: how in the hell could the filmmakers create that kind of monster? What was used to make it so real? I became a fan of "behind-the-scenes" videos after that. Oh, and it also left me a huge fear for skin-related diseases that I still have to date. Thank you David Cronenberg! "The Fly" (1986) is still a masterpiece, in my opinion, and it's one of those films I still try to watch at least once every year.

4) Still, movies were just enetertainment for me. A great source for enterteinment, but still nothing more than that. I roamed every mom-n-pop videoclub near my house looking for horror and sci-fi stuff to rent. And so, I discovered misunderstood gems such as the Godzilla films ("Gojira tai Hedora" and "Gojira tai Biorante" were my favourites), as well as the "Planet of the Apes" series. Films like "Adventures in Babysitting", "Big" and of course, "The Goonies" were also part of my usual movie viewing habits, which were based now mainly in the video stores and the tv. I did went to movie theatres, but mainly for big summer blockbusters. However, certain films made me discover more of what a director did at work, as they were unrelated films that carried a notorious and well-defined visual style: the films of Tim Burton. Not surprisingly, the 80s-90s Tim Burton's films became a hero for me and probably my earliest memory of wanting to become a filmmaker myself.

5) When I was fourteen, for some reason one weekend I decided to rent two films that changed my view on cinema forever: "Psycho" (1960) and "A Clockwork Orange" (1971). Granted, I may have not understood Kubrick's film as a whole, but "Psycho" did made me discover the magic of pre-1970s cinema, and the work of Alfred Hitchcock. The following weekend I rented the 30s version of "Dracula" and "Frankenstein" for a Universal double-bill and fell in love with B&W cinematography. Everything was different for me after "Psycho".

6) I kind of believe in the auteur theory that Cahiers du Cinema originated in the late 50s. I know that filmmaking is a collective work, but I find that there's always a certain vision that is followed. Of course, it is not always that of the director, it can be the producer's, the writer's or even the studio's. That said, I have five directors I hold in high regard. Perhaps I'll dislike some of their movies, perhaps even hate a couple of them, but they are my top 5 directors. The 5 names are Alfred Hitchcock, David Cronenberg, Luis Buñuel, Ingmar Bergman and John Ford. My goal as a filmmaker is not becoming rich and famous, not even to make a living out of filmmaking, my only goal is to make at least one film in the level of the ones made by those 5 directors, which I consider masters of the craft.

7) That said, in my quest through Luis Buñuel's filmography, I have found that I have not liked his most surrealist films as much as I have liked his most conventional films of the Mexican period. I could not get that much out of "L'Âge d'Or" (1930), and was initially confused by "El ángel exterminador" (1962), despite I did ended up liking it in the end. Still, I'd watch his enormously funny potboiler "La Ilusión viaja en Tranvía" over those two anytime.

8) I'd love to remake "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen". Not only because I love Alan Moore's comic book, but because I love the original incarnations of the main characters (and think Moore made them justics in the comic book). It may not be something deep or artsy, but the film version of the comic left me so dissapointed that I take remaking it almost like a moral duty.

8 1/2) I kind of hate Pauline Kael's work as a critic. These two last stylish facts were freebies.

And that would be it. Of course, there's more, as for me, movies have been an integral part of my life. Many nmemories of mine are related to films in some way or another, and so my fascination with cinema is deeply rooted in my soul. From that first time watching "Starchaser" in 3-D to yesterday's viewing of 2011's spy-thriller "Unknown" (at the cinema, holding my beloved girlfriend in my arms), movies are for me, magic. Plain and simple. Cinémagique, as Georges Méliès would probably describe it...

Now I'm suppoused to tag seven bloggers who may be interested in making this. Unfortunately, I don't follow many bloggers (I'd still consider myself new in this, despite having been in W-Cinema since 2007), and the ones I follow, have been dormant for months. And of course, I could not pick Dr. Morbius again, even when I admire her writing quite a lot. So, let's see...

From Scotland, old pal Kevin Matthews from For It Is Man's Number
From Chicago, the awesome Dr. AC from Horror 101
And if you know Spanish, be sure to check out Diez Martínez' Cinevertigo

See you soon at the movies!

P.D. The cat is there cause he's cool.

La Hija del Engaño (1951)

In 1950, producer Óscar Dancigers and director Luis Buñuel released "Los Olvidados", a monumental classic about life in Mexico City's slums. While nowadays regarded as a classic of Mexican cinema and one of the crowning gems of Buñuel's career, it stirred controversy at the time of its release, criticized by the authorities and panned by the audiences; and once again, Buñuel's career seemed to verge to the obscurity in which he had been since his exile from Spain. To avoid that, Buñuel kept a low profile and crafted a couple of potboilers to keep working in the Mexican industry, first "Susana" for producer Sergio Kogan, and later "La Hija del Engaño" for Dancigers. "La Hija del Engaño" (literally, "Daughter of Deceit") was special because it was a remake of one of the films Buñuel produced (but not directed) in his native Spain before his exile, "Don Quintín el amargao", based on a popular Spanish play. Writer Luis Alcoriza, another exiled from Spain, simply changed the setting to Mexico and kept the plot intact, as a nostalgic reminder of their Spanish origins.

The story begins in the humble house of Quintín Guzmán (Fernando Soler), an out of luck, yet honest salesman facing severe financial problems. His wife María (Lily Aclemar) feels angry and disappointed, but Quintín finds solace in his baby daughter Martha. One day his friend Julio (Álvaro Matute) offers him a deal in another city and Quintín decides to take it. Forced to return earlier than expected, a shocked Quintín finds María in bed with Julio, and his dormant anger is unleashed. After Julio escapes, Quintín forces María out of his house, demanding her to leave him alone with his daughter; however, María shouts that Martha is Julio's daughter. Quintín becomes even angrier and abandons baby Martha at the door of a rural house outside the city. Years go by, and Quintín has become a ruthless, bitter casino owner. One day he is informed that María is dying, and in her deathbed, she confesses that she lied that day: Martha is really Quintín's daughter. Now, Quintín must find his long lost daughter again, but he is going to reap what he sowed.

As mentioned above, "La Hija del Engaño" is a new adaptation of "Don Quintín el Armargao o El que siembra vientos..." (literally, "Don Quintin the bitter, or he who reap winds..."), a play by Don Carlos Arniches which became a great success during the 1920s in Spain. Writers Luis and Janet Alcoriza adapted it to Mexico, and kept the mixture of drama, romance and light-hearted comedy that made the play so popular. While the plot line sounds like the perfect basis for a powerful and deep family drama, "La Hija del Engaño" carries a fair share of comedic elements that transform the whole thing into a farcical situation, very much in tone with its roots in Spanish theatre. While this mix may sound odd at first, it actually works very well in this story filled with charming characters, witty lines and serendipitous situations. It could be said that the film is a criticism of machismo (and capitalism perhaps, as Don Quintín only succeeds financially when he enters the gambling business), but in the end it is more an entertaining farce than a morality play of some kind.

"La Hija del Engaño" is one of director Luis Buñuel's most conventional films (probably the most conventional after 1947's "Gran Casino"), in the sense that it lacks those subtle touches of irreverence that the surrealist master often added to his films. Even previous potboilers such as "El Gran Calavera" and "Susana" contained a greater amount of Buñuel's idiosyncrasies in them. In this case, given the film's origins in theatre and the fact that it's a remake from a previous film he produced, one could almost state that "La Hija del Engaño" is completely a product of Spanish nostalgia. Crafted in a traditional, restrained way, Buñuel simply lets the performances from his cast to be the driving force of the film, their lines and actions taking greater importance than any surreal visual flare. Still, certain elements make this updated "Don Quintín" to be a particular product of its era: its decidedly urban design, almost "noirish", with Don Quinín becoming akin to a gangster. The work of production designer Edward Fitzgerald is remarkable considering the low budget.

The cast as a whole really makes a great job through the film, making the most out of their characters and creating a new, very distinctively Mexican interpretation of "Don Quintín". In his third film with Luis Buñuel, Mexican actor Fernando Soler leads the cast as Don Quintín himself. As expected, Soler makes a quite powerful and imposing Don Quintín, filling the screen with his presence and creating a surprisingly natural character. This is probably Soler's greatest asset: he makes Don Quintín's transformation from good natured salesman to ruthless businessman quite believable. It would had been too easy to make it a caricature, yet Soler makes the best out of it. Also worth of notice is the work by comedians Nacho Contla and Fernando Soto, who play Don Quintín's henchmen. The enormously talented Soto shines in his role as the lecherous yet cowardly Angelito. Rubén Rojo fares better in this film than in his previous work with Buñuel ("El Gran Calavera"), and at times does become a nice counterpart to Soler's Don Quintín.

Oddly enough, the cast's weakest link are in the two main female roles: as Don Quintín's wife María, Lily Aclemar is too prone to overacting in her scenes. The classic excesses of acting in Mexican melodramas plague her performance and the result is an excessively dramatic rendition that contrasts negatively with Soler's restrained subtlety. Slightly better is Alicia Caro, who plays the daughter of deceit herself. Caro fails to portray the impetuously rebel yet naive personality of Martha, and her scenes at the rural house show a certain tendency to overact. It is only when she is in the big city and shares the screen with Rubén Rojo and Fernando Soler that she rises up to the challenge and truly delivers. The rest of the cast is quite effective, and honestly, the film works nicely despite its flaws and low budget. If "La Hija del Engaño" has a real sin, that would be simply just how conventional it ultimately is. The fact that comes from a respected master of surrealist cinema only increases the slight sense of disappointment one may feel when watching it.

Because while the film is certainly good entertainment of high quality, it's maybe just a bit too typical, too conventional, and too forgettable for its own sake. Even Buñuel himself would later claim that there was little that he could say about it because he just didn't remember much about the film. If anything, one can just feel that the cast and crew enjoyed the making of it, and that, at least in its inception, there was a genuine love from the side of Buñuel and Alcoriza in trying to adapt a cherished work of their youth at home, to their new Mexican audience. While a nice slice of Mexican cinema and a chance to see a different side of Luis Buñuel's work, probably "La Hija del Engaño" would disappoint those expecting a more surrealist kind of work. But as has been said previously in these pages, even Buñuel's most conventional potboilers have a discreet charm of their own.

7/10
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The Curse of the Werewolf (1961)

Story says that when a deal for a co-produced movie set in Spanish Civil War fell, legendary British producer Anthony Hinds of Hammer Films decided to use the already built sets in a horror movie of their own in order to at least recover some of the investment. With time and budget against him, Hinds decided to write the screenplay himself, getting inspiration from the legendary 1933 horror novel, "The Werewolf of Paris", by Guy Endore. Writing under the pen name of John Ender, Hinds made his very own adaptation of the classic novel, and titled it "The Curse of the Werewolf". The setting was changed from Paris to 18th Century Spain and the bits about the Franco-Prussian War suppressed, but the eroticism and the tragic Gothic horror were left there. Filmmaker Terence Fisher, Hammer's most successful director at the time (having almost singlehandedly developed Hammer horror with 1957's "The Curse of Frankenstein" and 1958's "Dracula"), was the man chosen to give life to Hinds' epic tragedy of a man born under the terrible curse of the Werewolf.


The story of "The Curse of the Werewolf" begins with the arrival of a poor beggar (Richard Wordsworth) to Spaniard county, where he becomes the victim of the Marques' (Anthony Dawson) sadism and finds himself a prisoner at the castle. Time goes by and many years later a beautiful mute servant girl (Yvonne Romain) refuses the Marques' advances and ends in the same cage as the beggar who, driven mad because of his captivity, brutally rapes the young woman. After that tragic event, the servant manages to escape from the castle, only to be found by Don Alfredo Corledo (Clifford Evans), who takes the woman home in order to take care of her. To his surprise, the girl was pregnant, and her child is born on Christmas Day; a day when according to an old legend, demons attempt to possess unwanted babies. Named Leon (Oliver Reed), the child becomes a young man; but the tragic circumstances of his birth have put him under a devilish curse: his soul and the demon battle over his body, making him to become a werewolf when the full moon shines over the sky.

As a writer, Anthony Hinds does a very good job at adapting this Endore's werewolf story, as while his story lacks the most lurid details of Endore's novel, he manages to keep the essence of the novel intact (its eroticism and darkness) despite being really a loose adaptation. The most captivating element of "The Curse of the Werewolf", is the way it handles the tragic nature of the curse, establishing it as an irremediable dark fate that ultimately awaits for Leon in the shape of a brutal change that he can't avoid to make. Leon suffers from a "disease" he didn't asked for, he simply was born with it. Hinds plays with this aspect of tragedy without excessive melodrama but with an overwhelming sense of impeding doom that makes the movie akin to a horror version of a Greek tragedy. Hinds' way to introduce his audience to Leon's story may be excessively long and slow (almost the entire first third is dedicated to the events previous to Leon's birth), but in the end it really pays off as one can't help but feeling captivated by this carefully constructed tragic myth.

In the early 60s, director Terence Fisher was now regarded as Hammer Films' best director, and his remarkable work in "The Curse of the Werewolf" is further proof that such claim was not baseless, as it's definitely on par with the previous classics he had made for the British production company. Fisher gives great use to the lavish sets and the production design by the ever reliable Bernard Robinson, and makes of "The Curse of the Werewolf" one of his most beautifully looking films. Arthur Grant's work of cinematography captures the colorful and vibrant style previously developed by Jack Asher (Hammer's previous regular director of photography), though perhaps less elaborate. Despite the budget constrains, Fisher creates a Gothic atmosphere of dread that suits perfectly Hinds' tragic story. Speaking of Fisher's take on the script, this is probably the film that better represents Fisher's obsession with the dual nature of evil, and he takes full advantage of his character's dilemma to create powerful scenes of suspense, drama, and subtle yet no less exotic eroticism.

The cast as a whole makes a really good job in "The Curse of the Werewolf", with Oliver Reed being simply perfect as the cursed Leon. Reed's natural charm and powerful presence on-stage really enhance his character's beastly nature. It's a great performance as a man who tries to be good despite having a beast inside. Amongst the many actors who have portrayed werewolves in film, Reed is probably the one who best captures the duality of man and beast. While Reed is without a doubt the star, the highlight of the movie is Clifford Evans, whose performance as Leon's uncle, Don Alfredo, is heartbreaking in its delivery, and certainly brings back good memories of Claude Rains in "The Wolf Man" (1941). Actress Catherine Feller, playing Leon's love interest, is probably the weakest link in the cast, although this doesn't mean she gives a bad performance, but her presence is easily overshadowed by her peers. Hira Talfrey and John Gabriel make an excellent job in the supporting roles of the film, giving the film a heart and completing the main cast of the movie.

"The Curse of the Werewolf" is one of Hammer's most enjoyable movies, combining perfectly period drama with horror, and being another great example or that classic "Hammer look" of brilliant colors and haunting atmospheres. As written above, it is also a story where Fisher's thematic obsessions could be exploited the best, and the tragic angle the story had, served as great basis for one of his most emotionally powerful films. However, it's safe to say that the movie suffers from some quibbles that lessen the film's power. The main flaw is perhaps the fact that the movie is too short for the kind of epic story the script attempts to narrate: it starts very nicely, slowly developing the tragic events with good rhythm, but all of a sudden, some scenes feel a bit too rushed, specially in the final third. Certainly the budgetary constrains had a hand in this, and it's a shame that the flow of the story is not constant as it does feel like a lot was missing. Low production values take its toll in the film's look, but it's still amazing what the production did with what they got.

Along with classics like "The Wolf Man" and "An American Werewolf in London", Terence Fisher's "The Curse of the Werewolf" easily ranks as one of the most enjoyable horror stories about werewolves ever told. The way it conveys the tragedy of the curse and Leon's futile attempts to control it make the movie an excellent film, not only within the horror genre, but in cinema in general. The duality between man and beast is a major theme of most werewolf films, but few manage to capture the internal struggle of the werewolf like this movie. More than 50 years after the release of "The Curse of the Werewolf" and watching how powerful it still is, it's safe to say that the botched deal that prompted Hinds to write this movie was one of the best happy accidents ever.

9/10
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My Soul to Take (2010)

Filmmaker Wes Craven has had extreme ups and downs through his career in the horror genre: he has redefined the genre and creating some of horror most iconic images in classics such as "The Last House on the Left", "A Nightmare on Elm Street" and "Scream"; yet, at the same time he's been responsible of creating unremarkable movies of a quality ranging from mediocre to poor, like for example "Shocker", "Vampire in Brooklyn" and "Cursed". Regardless of quality, if there's something that can be said of Craven's entire body of work is that a very specific theme continues to appear in each of his films: his particular vision of horror Americana. The monster that hides inside the suburbs, the real and imagined horrors of adolescence, the reality behind urban legends, and even the nature of reality itself; Craven has taken those themes to build up his modern American mythology. 2010's "My Soul to Take" is another slice of Craven's horror Americana, but unfortunately, it is far from being a high spot in Craven's career.

"My Soul to Take" begins 16 years ago, the small town of Riverton lived the horror of serial killer Abel Plankov (Raul Esparza), the Riverton Ripper. Plankov's murder spree ended the night when he escaped from the police and disappeared in the woods. Seven children were born that night, and soon went to be known collectively as the Riverton Seven, a light of hope after the nightmare the town lived. But legend tells that the Ripper would return to murder those seven children. 16 years later, the Riverton seven have lived with that local legend still haunting their lives, with some taking it as a legend, and others fearing it will come true. Adam "Bug" Heller (Max Thieriot) belongs to the latter group; a shy and innocent kid often taken as slow by his peers, begins to have nightmarish visions of the other teens getting murdered. His mental stability will be put to test when kids begin to disappear, and trusting only his best friend Alex (John Magaro), Bug will have to face his worst fear: the possibility that the Riverton Ripper legend will become true.

Once again, Wes Craven returns to familiar territory with a mix of supernatural horror and slasher film, all wrapped under a new urban legend of his creation: the Riverton Ripper. Interestingly, Craven sets up the origin of his legend, with the initial scenes depicting the conclusion of the Riverton murders. Flashforward 16 years later and the inhabitants of the small town of Riverton have developed their very own legend about their modern bogeyman; complete with a ritual that their heirs, the Riverton Seven, decide to perform every year to exorcise their own demons. Is the legend real or not? "My Soul to Take" is based on that question, on that doubt; and to Craven's credit, the premise is certainly promising. Unfortnately, the development of the story is pretty much a rehashing of typical elements of modern horror, elements that Craven himself helped to define in the 80s. Basically, the story begins to fall to pieces as every twist makes it feel less like an original film and more like an amateurish copy of Craven's own "A Nightmare on Elm Street" and "Scream".

In terms of execution, Craven still has that polished visual style he developed in the 80s, and "My Soul to Take" has a certain retro vibe that makes the film feel look like a product of that era. Cinematographer Petra Korner did a good job to capture that old school atmosphere of 80s teenage horror films: Riverton and its Ripper are truly at home within the elements of Craven's horror Americana. Unfortunately, all those stylistic reminiscences only make the film to look even more like a bad cover version of Craven's past glories. Full of common places, awful quick editing and some of the worst horror sequences ever directed by Craven; "My Soul to Take" crashes any hope to live up to its initial potential. Being a slasher, at least the murder sequences should be interesting but sadly, it features horror scenes shockingly unimaginative, badly set up and all in all not scary at all. Oddly, the only time when "My Soul to Take" begins to work is in the brief yet marvelous moments that develop Bug and Alex's friendship.

The acting through the film is pretty average for the most part, though some of the young actors do show potential. Leading the cast is Max Thieriot, playing the troubled teenager Bug. Wooden and stiff, Thieriot looks bored through the film, failing to capture the mixture of innocence and madness Bug has (though to be fair, it's not as if the characters were well written). Better luck has John Magaro, who plays Bug's best friend Alex. Showing good comedic timing, Magaro adds some life to the film, and is one of the cast's best elements. However, the real highlight is Emily Meade, who plays the feared leader of school's society, Fang. Meade shows real talent to build up a character, giving a lot of attitude to the role. However, like Magaro, all the effort is wasted during the last third of the film, where the film seems to betray itself and becomes another typical slasher. The rest of the cast is pretty mediocre at best, specially the adults, with Raúl Esparza being the only saving grace amongst them.

To be fair, not everything in Wes Craven's "My Soul to Take" is bad; as written above, moments that develop the character's friendship do feel like from a different film. Comedy and teenage drama are handled quite good there (the Condor scene for example), and makes one wonder if Craven would be happier at directing a teenage comedy instead of another run of the mill rehash of slasher clichés. And it is not that clichés are bad per se (done well, they work wonders), it's the poor way they are employed in "My Soul to Take" what gives it a pretty amateurish look. Lacking the post-modern black comedy of "Scream", the clichés make "My Soul to Take" to become the kind of slasher that Craven himself criticized with that film. In the end, the root of all the problems in "My Soul to Take" is its screenplay: a poorly developed script plagued with illogical twists, stereotypical characters, silly dialogs (including the killer's one-liners) and a poorly conceived mystery complete with an awfully directed scene of shocking revelations (that looks like something out of a soap opera).

The icing of the cake is the terrible decision of the U.S. distributors to convert the film to 3D in the wake of the popularity that format currently has. Since the film was conceived in 2D, the effect is minimal and ultimately a cheap ripoff. In the end, "My Soul to Take" is a pretty poor offering from legendary horror filmmaker Wes Craven, who seems to had been more focused on preparing "Scream 4" than in the making of this film. A typical rehash of common slasher elements, perhaps if "My Soul to Take" had been an early work from a novel director, its shortcomings would be a tad more forgivable. But coming from the man who redefined the genre, it's truly nothing short of a disappointment. Too bad, as "My Soul to Take" did have an interesting premise and a powerful initial sequence. It should be taken as a great example of how a group of great ideas are wasted when there is no real direction to follow.

4/10
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