Such odd stories would almost be enough to explain Maddin’s strange sensibilities, but perhaps more explanation is to be found in the re-enactments of his childhood. While his mother insists that Guy’s dad be included in them, they manage a compromise where they pretend Dad is buried in the living room and covered by an area rug. Again, it’s difficult to say what kind of relationship Maddin had/has with his parents, but as the film progresses we gain glimpses of explanation for some of his previous film’s autobiographical liberties–his mother did work at a hair salon (as seen in Cowards Bend the Knee), and his father apparently literally worked himself to death (like the father in Brand Upon the Brain!), disappearing along with Winnipeg’s professional hockey team.
My Winnipeg is a departure from Maddin’s last two films in many ways. It features narration by Maddin himself, and despite its often hilarious inventiveness, it is by far the saddest and possibly most accessible film he has made to date. Virtually everyone can relate to the anger of childhood haunts being torn down in the name of progress, and in the sadness of places still standing reduced to shells of what they were in our memories. Perhaps the most startling aspect of My Winnipeg is its almost unbearably sad final moments, when all jokes and artifice are stripped away and Maddin seemingly explains his obsession with imaginative autobiography, especially in regards to the places he lived. For anyone occasionally paralyzed by nostalgia for the places we loved when we were children, My Winnipeg will be painfully familiar despite being so intimately tied to Maddin’s personal experiences.
Naciye (2015)
Originally published on Film Monthly 24 April 2017
Turkish genre cinema has not traditionally been a big import to the States. Most of the films that end up playing on North American screens are arthouse fare like Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Winter Sleep and more recently Ceyda Torun’s cat documentary Kedi. When “Turkish horror” is invoked, most genre fans who are familiar with the phrase at all probably first think of 1974’s Seytan–frequently referred to as “Turkish Exorcist.” Like a lot of popular films from the period, that film takes a hugely successful Hollywood movie and blatantly steals almost everything from it as a remake on a tiny fraction of the original film’s budget. Turkey’s film history has seen an increase in its international profile in the last few years, including an excellent documentary on Turkish film history in Cem Kaya’s Remake, Remix, Rip-Off: About Copy Culture and Turkish Pop Cinema. At around the same time that documentary was making its festival rounds, a new Turkish horror film was often bumping into it at the same festivals. Can Evrenol’s Baskin was met with enthusiasm by genre fans around the world and was picked up for distribution by IFC Midnight. Shami Media Group is now hoping to replicate the success of that film by releasing the new Turkish horror film Naciye on DVD and VOD in the States, but it’s a very different beast from Baskin‘s supernatural grotesqueries.
Heavily pregnant Bengi (Esin Harvey) is having a difficult time nearing her due date. Her partner Bertan (Görkem Mertsöz) has rented an abandoned house on an isolated island to help get her away from the stress of her job and life in the city, but Bengi is not happy about it. There are deep-rooted problems in their relationship, much deeper than a simple change of scenery can hope to resolve. When they arrive at the house late at night at the end of a long ferry trip, it certainly doesn’t appear to be abandoned: the closets are full of clothes, it’s fully furnished, and there are family photos on display. While Bengi frets about what they’ve gotten themselves into, a woman appears banging on the front door and demanding to be let in. Naciye (Derya Alabora) claims the house is hers, and while Bertan is hesitant to call the police on the seemingly addled woman, Bengi senses Naciye is more dangerous than she appears. Soon the young couple finds themselves in a mortal struggle with Naciye and her mysterious cohorts, and it becomes clear no one will make it through the night unscathed.
Naciye is something of a take on the “home invasion” subgenre, but debut feature director/writer Lutfu Emre Cicek breaks the story up into a shattered-glass timeline. As the evening wears on, we see how Naciye came to claim the house as her own and learn the story of her family. The time leading up to Bengi and Bertan’s move runs on a parallel track, and all of the film’s “present” action takes place over the course of a few hours after the couple arrives at the house. It’s not confusing, really, but it is somewhat inexplicable. The juxtaposition of the different timelines doesn’t add much to what is a very straightforward story, although it does occasionally result in some solidly tense scenes. Unfortunately the film is marred by an occasionally grating, repetitive score that tends to fall back on a short, distracting motif that sometimes makes the viewer less concerned for the fate of the characters on screen than anxious for the scene to end so the music might stop.
Derya Alabora is effective as the demented title character, but she isn’t given much to do. There is certainly something to be said for the juxtaposition of her matronly character dishing out violent punishment on anyone unlucky enough to cross her path, though. The rest of the cast is fine, and the film looks and sounds like a much higher-budget production than it probably was. Despite its artful look and fractured timeline, Naciye is at heart a straightforward horror/exploitation film. In that way it’s not so far removed from such Turkish cinematic oddities as 1985’s Vahset Kasirgasi, a remake of Eugenio Martin’s Spanish-language psychological horror film A Candle for the Devil (1973). Naciye might have benefited more from a focus on straightforward genre thrills rather than existing as a sort of halfway point between Turkey’s prestige cinema and its “grindhouse” past, but for anyone interested in international genre cinema it’s certainly worth a look.
Nature’s Grave (2008)
Originally published on Film Monthly 6 August 2009
Ah, the remake. Bane of many film fans’ (and especially horror fans’) existence, there is no doubt that the remake is in no danger of disappearing any time soon. It seems like every day another old favorite is up for a do-over. When I recently read that a Candyman remake was being considered, I realized that the only way to deal with the remake is to make terms with it. After all, Zack Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead proved that even a remake of an undisputed classic can be successful when taken on its own merits.
I mention this because Nature’s Grave is actually a remake of a much-revered Australian thriller called Long Weekend. I’m not sure why the title was changed, perhaps to distance it from those who automatically dismiss remakes out of hand. Perhaps also to distance it from the original, which in some circles is considered a modern classic in its own right. Fans of the original will probably roll their eyes at the idea of a remake starring Jim Caviezel– likely forever to be best remembered as Mel Gibson’s relentlessly tortured Jesus in The Passion of the Christ– and directed by Jamie Blanks. If Blanks’s name sounds familiar, it’s because he scored a hit back in 1998 when he directed Urban Legend.
There’s no doubt that Blanks brings a certain slickness to Nature’s Grave. The film opens with wide, sweeping shots of gorgeous Australian scenery before introducing Caviezel and Claudia Karvan as Peter and Carla, a rich married couple whose relationship is on unsteady ground. Peter’s planned a getaway to a remote beach for a long weekend in the hopes that the change of scenery will help give both partners a change of perspective. Unfortunately, Peter’s kind of an ass: before stopping at a seemingly arbitrary point in the middle of some dense forest, Peter’s managed to run over a kangaroo, probably start a forest fire with a cigarette tossed out a window, and annoy some locals who insist his beach destination doesn’t actually exist.
The bulk of Nature’s Grave is made up of Peter and Carla bickering while ominous happenings occur around them. Neither of the characters are particularly sympathetic, but Peter starts off as an annoying jackass and slowly slips into an out-and-out villain. Carla initially seems like a whiny victim, but as circumstances become more dire she starts to assert herself more effectively. The evolution of the characters is intere
sting when contrasted with their increasingly volatile surroundings, and as the source of the couple’s troubles moves closer to the surface the more dangerous their environment becomes. It’s more of a character study than a traditional thriller, and while the film is heavy on the dialogue, the performances carry it a long way.
Fans of the original will be glad to know that Nature’s Grave is not just a “nature gets action-packed revenge” film. Blanks lets the relationship drama drive the story and takes his time putting the building blocks in place for some chilling moments later in the film, and the deliberate pacing will put off anyone looking for a revamp of, say, Food of the Gods. It’s deadly serious without being overly pretentious, and Blanks was clearly invested in the project– in addition to directing, he edited, scored, and served as executive producer. The final product is something quite different from most modern mainstream horror, a slow burner punctuated with effective shocks and characterized by a surprising restraint. On its own terms, Nature’s Grave is a solid little thriller well worth a look. Shame about that title, though– anyone not put off by the concept of a remake of Long Weekend may be just as likely to pass by a film with a title as lurid as Nature’s Grave!
Necromentia (2009)
Originally published on Film Monthly 29 August 2010
Due to its prominence on the cover of the DVD, it’s virtually impossible to avoid the easy marketing quote that no doubt will help sell Necromentia to certain horror fans: “Saw meets Hellraiser but better than both…” (so says Luke Thompson of L.A. Weekly). These are two things that are fundamentally similar enough that the concept of mixing them doesn’t quite add up: both are well-known horror franchises mostly preoccupied with elaborate torture, although one is set in a more “realistic” universe and the other is focused on the supernatural. Still, at the end of the day when you end up with chains sticking out of you, and you’re being dragged along a dirty floor, the question of whether the thing on the other end of the chain is a person or a demon is mostly academic.
Hagen (Santiago Craig) has been trying to keep the body of his dead wife Elizabeth (Zelieann Rivera) from succumbing to decay in the hopes that she will return to him. One night while closing up the barbershop in which he works, Hagen is confronted by Travis (Chad Grimes) and his mute sidekick Connor (Crow Garrett). Travis knows of Hagen’s necrophilia hobby and offers Hagen a deal: Travis can send Hagen into Hell to retrieve Travis’s brother, and at the same time save Elizabeth. Once these motivations have been established, the pieces are in place for the rest of the film, played out in a sort of anthology-style series of stories: Hagen’s story, Travis’s story, and the story of Morbius (Layton Matthews), the mysterious supernatural figure who seems to be running the show.
There is no question that Necromentia wears its influences on its sleeves. At worst, it simply feels like the product of picking up bits and pieces of other films off the shelf and sticking them together to see what fits. Naturally, there’s a lot that feels directly inspired by Clive Barker: an elaborate spell that must be carved into the flesh of a victim, a supernatural figure obsessed with torture and punishment covered in elaborate pain fetish gear, etc. And that Saw influence is everywhere. Everything is very gray and dirty, there’s a lot of barbed wire, and one supernatural monster is represented as an obese man with the head of a pig. Further, the film’s structure is roughly similar to Memento, wherein each segment appears to move further into the past, so the beginning of the film’s intertwined storylines is actually at the start of the third act.
Necromentia seems primed to appeal to horror audiences who are on the lookout for gore and don’t mind much else what happens during the movie. There’s plenty of blood and torture, and of course the implied necrophilia and the graphic sequences where Hagen does maintenance on Elizabeth’s body. The pig-faced man also performs a song complete with sing-along lyrics at the bottom of the screen that is probably supposed to be disturbing but instead comes off as “my dad is gonna be totally pissed about this shirt I got at Hot Topic”-level juvenile shock tactics. The film not only does not feature a single likeable character– which is fine, and can be interesting– but fatally does not feature a single character whose motives and actions really make any sense. In short, Necromentia is sadly just another torture geek show.
The Neon Dead (2015)
Originally published on Film Monthly 14 September 2016
It’s always exciting to see the results when special effects artists get in the directing chair, regardless of the outcome. Sometimes you get something with great effects and not much else; more rarely, the final product shows a lot of heart and handmade charm. Perhaps not surprisingly, the higher the budgets the more likely the film is to end up in the first camp. Artists who specialize in making the most out of extremely limited resources, though, are more likely to make something more idiosyncratic. Torey Haas’s The Neon Dead falls squarely into the second camp. Haas, a special effects artist, has made a highly entertaining and appropriately titled debut feature well worth a look for indie horror fans.
While preparing for a job interview, Alison (Marie Barker) walks in on a ghost brushing its hair in her bathroom. It’s not just a standard translucent spirit, though–it has a physical presence and leaves green slime behind. Alison manages to lock it in the bathroom just before a little girl raising money for her troop stops by and suggests Alison call local paranormal investigators Desmond (Greg Garrison) and Jake (Dylan Schettina). While the initial undead threat is taken care of easily, it quickly becomes apparent that the three are in way over their heads. Alison’s long-dead evil ancestor Drake (Andrew Puckett) has returned from the beyond and brought an army of undead creatures with him, and if he’s not stopped a powerful demon named Z’athax will be unleashed on humanity. Also, Desmond and Jake probably need to get back to their day jobs at the local grocery store before their boss discovers that they sneaked out again.
The Neon Dead lives up to its title, with garish lighting soaking nearly every scene in bright primary colors. While many low-budget features tend to have similar simple looks, the glow-in-the-dark color schemes popping out of the screen really set this film apart. Unsurprisingly, it also features some great practical makeup and effects ranging from simple glowing eyes to a giant stop-motion demon creature. In that respect, the movie is somewhat reminiscent of Steven Kostanski’s Manborg, another super low-budget genre movie that used its rough-hewn look to its advantage. Also like that film, The Neon Dead moves at a brisk pace and clearly shows off its video game influences with touches like occasional title cards that pop up introducing characters before key fight scenes. The humor here is a lot more straightforward and less absurdist than that film, though.
This approach works well enough, and the cast is fun and charming, but the relationships between the characters are not the main focus of the action. The hasty development of the relationship between some of the characters is the biggest weakness of The Neon Dead. They’re all likable and their performances are solid–even the little girl scout is pretty good–but the story is so busy zipping from set piece to flashback to fight scene that some of the character moments feel too rushed. As much fun as the rest of the movie is, that’s a pretty minor complaint. Overall The Neon Deadis a fun, fast, eye-popping independent horror film that definitely stands out in a scene crowded with dour post-apocalypse and/or zombie movies.
New Year’s Evil (1980)
Originally published on Film Monthly 12 August 2012
If the idea of a fairly inept sort of holiday themed slasher film starring Pinky Tuscadero from Happy Days doesn’t appeal to you, you are probably not the target audience for New Year’s Evil. And that’s OK! For the rest of us, the MGM Limited Edition Collection has delivered another long awaited “classic” on DVD for the first time. New Year’s Evil has gathered a cult audience among fans of 80s slasher films and the infamous Cannon Group production company, and anticipation of a DVD release began building when a new transfer began making the rounds on
cable and satellite on-demand services. MGM has delivered yet again with a clean, sharp widescreen transfer of this little-seen horror film, which has mostly faded into obscurity while its Cannon Group contemporary The Apple has become a minor phenomenon.
And New Year’s Evil has a little more in common with The Apple than just release dates in 1980 and that Cannon Group logo opening the film. Namely, New Year’s Evil has a lot of music, although it is not a musical per se. Fading pop star Diane Sullivan (Roz Kelly) is hosting a televised New Year’s Eve show, basically like Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve but without any bands that people actually are aware of or want to listen to. The show is pretty epic, running long enough to celebrate New Year’s in all four time zones in the 48 contiguous United States. While Diane has to deal with backstage drama– including her increasingly unhinged son Derek (Grant Cramer)– she also has to keep the show going, which means periodically introducing ridiculous bands to play entire songs to help pad the film’s run time.
Of course, there’s also the problem of a serial killer who lazily names himself “Evil” and calls Diane to inform her that each time the clock strikes midnight in a different time zone, he will kill again. And the fourth time the clock strikes, naturally, the victim will be Diane herself. Diane bravely continues with her awful New Year’s concert while bumbling police allegedly do their best to find Evil before he can strike again, but unsurprisingly (and typically for the genre) they mostly arrive on the scene just in time to find Evil’s victims in a way that the director hopes is visually interesting and/or scary. As the evening drags on and the bodies and suspects pile up, Evil’s reign of terror leads all the way to the television studio where his true identity and his motive are finally revealed.
The Unrepentant Cinephile Page 51
