The Unrepentant Cinephile

by Jason Coffman

  Ski School was released in 1990, later than a lot of similar Caddyshack/Animal House knockoffs like Up the Creek and Hot Dog… the Movie. This makes it a fascinating time capsule of a time after MTV had been firmly established as a major force in pop culture, and Marshak’s smarmy antics have a thick layer of irony that was absent from the smartass protagonists of earlier “snobs vs. slobs” films. The high-definition presentation of the film also highlights the eye-searing colors of the costumes, which would be a lot less vibrant by the time Ski School 2 rolled around in 1994. In fact, the two Ski School movies make for a fascinating double feature, given their release before and after the advent of “grunge”: for one thing, that second movie has a lot more flannel in it than the first one does.

  Aside from being a snapshot of a fairly embarrassing time in popular culture, Ski School lands in about the middle of the pack of this kind of comedy. It’s mostly pretty dumb and light, although a protracted prank to set up two of Reid’s flunkies to look like they’re gay is both painfully labored and mean-spirited. This turns into a running “joke” that Marshak and his bros keep harping on throughout the movie, further proving that Ski School exists in a world where basically everybody is a hateful jackass. That’s true of a lot of these kind of movies, but it’s more or less the defining characteristic of this one. Watching Ski School is like being trapped in a late 80s frat house for 90 minutes; if that sounds like fun, this is obviously going to be a must-buy. If not, it may still be worth a look for anyone curious about what pop culture looked like right before “Smells Like Teen Spirit” happened.

  Sleep Tight (2011)

  Originally published on Film Monthly 8 January 2013

  Many films live and die by the quality of their villain. Sometimes, though, filmmakers take a different approach and make the character who would normally be the “villain” of the story into the protagonist. This can be an interesting exercise when done well, but it can also be an unpleasant experience if done poorly. Sleep Tight is such a film, following the daily routines of a profoundly disturbed man as he does very, very bad things to people. In other hands, this could have been just a slog of misery, but in the able hands of director Jaume Balagueró (Darkness, Fragile, and the first two [Rec] films), it becomes a solid thriller shot through with jet-black humor.

  César (Luis Tosar) is the doorman in an old apartment building. He lives in a tiny apartment in the basement and spends his days sitting at the front desk, opening doors for the tenants, delivering mail, and doing small repairs and pet-sitting when they need it. While he is always courteous and friendly, this is a facade: César is a sociopath whose only joy in life comes from making other people unhappy. He uses his position to dig into the lives of the people who live in his building and cause them misery. As he reports back to his hospitalized mother (Margarita Roset), this is all too easy for most people, but there’s one tenant who won’t crack: Clara (Marta Etura), a cheerful young woman who always wears a smile.

  Naturally, César takes her happiness and optimism as his ultimate challenge. He makes Clara his special project, but complications arise thanks to a nosy little girl who lives across the hall from Clara’s apartment and, even worse, Clara’s boyfriend. Still, César finds ways to make Clara’s life difficult, although doing so begins to threaten his job as he spends more and more time away from the front desk and the building’s owner threatens to fire him. Eventually César finds himself in a race against time to bring Clara down before the little girl, Clara’s boyfriend or his boss find him out or put him in a position that would make his project impossible to complete.

  Sleep Tight is certainly not a feel-good movie. César is an unsettling character, but expertly played by Luis Tosar. Director Balagueró hits exactly the right tone, and wisely saves César’s worst for last. Throughout the film, César finds himself in situations where Balagueró wrings considerable tension from whether or not César will be caught, and the audience is likely to find themselves in the uncomfortable position of hoping he doesn’t, if only to see what new miseries he has in store for the tenants of his building. Sleep Tight ends with a devastating final move on the part of César that leaves no question what kind of person he is, and once again the audience is forced to consider what it means to empathize with him. Sleep Tight is one of the best horror films of the year, and Dark Sky Films deserves thanks for taking a chance on releasing yet another excellent horror film that had not found a home in the States.

  The Sleeper (2009)

  Originally published on Film Monthly 8 February 2012

  The trend of emulating past styles and eras of film keeps on truckin’, like the man said. The next month will see the release on home video and in theaters of such retro fare as Joseph Guzman’s Grindhouse/grindhouse tribute Nude Nuns with Big Guns, Stuart Simpson’s Russ Meyer/Roger Corman homage El Monstro Del Mar! !, and Troma’s highly anticipated Father’s Day. That’s an awful lot of nostalgia for one year already, but the list would not be complete without Justin Russell’s The Sleeper, a throwback to the heyday of the American/Canadian slasher film boom and the VHS culture that followed in its wake.

  The Sleeper opens with a pre-credits sequence set in 1979 in which a sorority girl is presumably murdered by the titular villain (Jason Jay Crabtree). After the credits, the action moves to 1981, when Amy (Brittany Belland) is approached by the girls of the Alpha Gamma Theta sorority as a potential pledge. They invite Amy to a party, and she convinces her best friend and roommate Ava (Ali Ferda) to join her. Before the party, the Alpha Gamma house receives an ominous prank phone call, and during the party Ava thinks she sees someone lurking outside the house. Things take a turn for the sinister after Cindy (Jessica Cameron) takes her boyfriend Bobby (Paul Moon) up to her room and then seems to disappear.

  While Bobby is worried something has happened to Cindy, the sorority house continues to get creepy calls informing them of who’s “next.” Each of the girls turns up missing as the Sleeper’s reign of terror continues unchallenged, but there’s still plenty of time for a mid-film dance sequence and some naughty pool hijinks in between the crude, nasty murders. By the time Bobby convinces local police detective Drake (E. Ray Goodwin) that something serious is happening, will it be too late? Who will survive, and will there still be enough left of them to pledge Alpha Gamma Theta?

  The Sleeper is a meticulous reconstruction of the look and structure of the slasher films of the early 1980s. It borrows liberally from obvious sources– Black Christmas is high on the list with its creepy “prank” calls and anonymous killer– and synthesizes them into a very enjoyable slasher vehicle. Some of the costume and hair choices might be out of place, but the fantastic score (by “Gremlin”), none-too-bright victims, tense stalking scenes and nonsensical ending absolutely nail the style and tone of the films to which Russell pays tribute and clearly loves. While the film looks perhaps a bit too slick in its DVD presentation to fool anyone into thinking The Sleeper is a genuine “lost” early-80s slasher film, the limited edition release provides a much more convincing format.

  Packed in an oversized box, The Sleeper limited edition presents the film on DVD and on a bright red VHS tape, complete with “50 cent charge if tape not rewound” sticker! The VHS is almost certainly the definitive presentation of The Sleeper, complete with incorrect aspect ratio (stretchy people!) and enough noise to convincingly replicate the look of a much-rented VHS tape. Additionally, the limited edition also features a replica flyer for the Alpha Gamma Theta party in the film, a nice touch that puts an already great limited edition release over the top. Horror fans who prowled the shelves of their local video stores in the 80s and 90s will likely get a kick out of The Sleeper, which sets a high bar for future retro horror replicas.

  Socket (2007)

  Originally published on Film Monthly 8 June 2008

  There are countless horror films made and released every year, many of which either go directly to DVD or float around film festivals looking for distribution and may or may not
ever see wide release. Out of all these films, it’s hard to say how many of them are made by or for a gay audience; thinking of the term “gay horror,” I can barely think of a handful. So it’s no surprise that Socket has been garnering attention in the horror community and among gay film fans. It’s a low-budget horror/sci-fi film, deeply indebted to David Cronenberg’s “body horror” aesthetic, that features gay characters. Unfortunately, other than this fact the film covers familiar genre territory, but it does so with the zeal of real horror fans inventively making the best of a limited budget.

  The film opens with Dr. Bill Matthews (Derek Long) carted into an emergency room after being stuck by lightning. As he regains consciousness, he learns that despite the electricity using his extremities as an exit point, his hands and feet are not burned. An intern named Craig Murphy (Matthew Montgomery) takes an interest in Matthews and gives him a mysterious number, which leads to a group of people who have all been struck by lightning and find themselves addicted to the experience of electric shock and the “order” it brings to their lives. Matthews quickly escalates the group from an old generator with alligator clips to a medical-grade defibrillator and finally, with the help of an electrician in the group, sockets and plugs implanted into the flesh (neatly portrayed with some effectively creepy makeup). Matthews soon accidentally learns that he can siphon electricity from people, and the story follows his descent into murder and insanity as he comes to require “live” electricity to satisfy his urges.

  Socket moves forward at a very deliberate pace in its first half, spending a lot of time setting up its characters and their relationships. Matthews is fretted over by his best friends Carol (Rasool J’han) and Olivia (Allie Rivenbark), he has a sometimes-friendly rivalry with fellow doctor Emily Anderson (Alexandra Billings) and his relationship with Murphy is given quite a bit of screen time (including more than a little sex and full-frontal nudity). The performances by Long and Montgomery are mostly very good, but the supporting cast, in true indie horror form, is all over the place. The emphasis on character will likely test many horror fans’ patience, but about halfway through the film starts to ramp up into surreal body horror territory with the introduction of the flesh-plugs that pop Wolverine-style out of the character’s wrists.

  The storyline obviously owes a major debt to Cronenberg’s adaptation of J.G. Ballard’s Crash, which has a very similar setup: a couple is involved in a car accident and learns of an underground group of car crash fetishists who are only sexually aroused by the experience of automobile accidents. Switch “car accidents” with “electricity” and the launching point for both stories is virtually identical, but Socket goes in a much different direction than Crash. Where Crash basically becomes a porno with a series of sex scenes in and around cars, Socket instead moves into territory more similar to Cronenberg’s early films (especially Rabid), but without those films’ often apocalyptic bent.

  Aside from the characters’ sexuality, it would be hard to distinguish Socket from any number of similar low-budget horror/sci-fi hybrids, which is likely part of the point. It suffers the same basic strengths and weaknesses as any independent horror film (including an often-infuriating sound mix), but writer/director Sean Abley’s clear devotion to the Cronenberg canon ends up working in the film’s favor. It’s not hard to find independent filmmakers influenced by Cronenberg, but it’s fairly rare to find one doing such an able and appropriate tribute to his work. The film also diverges from most independent horror in its careful attention to character, which is one of Socket‘s strong points. While most indie horror films are content to introduce characters only to knock them off, Socket wants you to get to know the characters so that when terrible things happen to them later on, you’ll really feel it. Socket is well worth a look for the horror fan looking for a good low-budget take on vintage Cronenberg, but if you’re looking for something totally new and original you may come away a bit disappointed.

  Some Guy Who Kills People (2011)

  Originally published on Film Monthly 4 July 2012

  Kevin Corrigan is very likely a familiar face to many film fans, even if they don’t know him by name. He’s appeared in dozens of films and television shows, one of those character actors whose appearance on screen is happily greeted with “Hey, it’s That Guy!” And so it makes some sense that the promotional materials for Some Guy Who Kills People, Corrigan’s first real starring vehicle, point up the fact that the film was executive produced by John Landis. Landis isn’t just a more recognizable name, though– the association with horror/comedy classic An American Werewolf in London invoked at the mention of Landis’s name is entirely appropriate for such an unusual film, a deft mix of low-key relationship comedy and slasher thrills.

  Ken Boyd (Corrigan) is fresh out of what his best friend Irv (Leo Fitzpatrick) refers to as “the loony bin,” and is stuck living at home with his frustrated mom Ruth (Karen Black) and working with Irv at an ice cream parlor. The job mostly entails serving ice cream in the shop, but also requires Ken to sometimes don a chocolate mint cone outfit, either on the street in front of the shop or (much less fortunately) at private events. At one such event, two big things happen in Ken’s life: first, he meets a sweet stranger named Stephanie (Lucy Davis), and secondly, after the party the “birthday boy” is found murdered. In this case, though, the “birthday boy” was in his 30s, and he tormented Ken in high school. Ken appears to have more on his schedule than just dressing up like a giant ice cream cone.

  Complicating matters for Ken is the fact that his mom is dating Sheriff Walt Fuller (Barry Bostwick), and that Amy (Ariel Gade), the 11-year-old daughter Ken hasn’t seen since her infancy, has just learned of his existence and wants to get to know her dad. The body count continues to rise as alumni of Ken’s high school class keep turning up dead, all while Ken tries to learn how to be a father and tentatively approaches dating Stephanie. Can Ken juggle the responsibilities of parenthood and a new relationship while the evidence mounts and the Sheriff is over for dinner every night? Or are things really as straightforward as they seem in the small town of Greendale?

  Some Guy Who Kills People is a great horror/comedy, shot through with a surprising sweetness. The relationship between Ken and Amy is the best part of the film, mostly due to the chemistry between Corrigan and young Ariel Gade. The interplay between them and Karen Black as Ken’s mother is natural, and they make a believably wonky family. Barry Bostwick nearly steals the show with his very funny performance as the stumped Sheriff, who provides the biggest share of the film’s laughs. Still, this is a movie called Some Guy Who Kills People, and it certainly delivers on that score, too– this may be the sweetest film to ever feature graphic decapitation and throat slitting. Director Jack Perez pulls off a tricky balancing act here, though, and the violence is never too strong to overshadow the film’s humor and heart. Some Guy Who Kills People is one of the best horror/comedy films to come along in quite some time, and John Landis is no doubt proud to have his name at the top of the DVD cover.

  Sonno Profondo (Deep Sleep) (2013)

  Originally published on Film Monthly 4 September 2014

  The neo-Giallo has become a popular style among independent filmmakers over the last few years. The relative success rate for these films has been all over the place, which also reflects where the films are coming from: Italy, France, Spain, Australia, America, etc. Now we can add Argentina to the list of countries contributing films to the Giallo renaissance, with filmmaker Luciano Onetti’s experimental Giallo Sonno Profondo (Deep Sleep). Shot with a minuscule budget and crew (Onetti’s name makes up a good chunk of the credits), Sonno Profondo takes an intriguing approach to the typical Giallo mystery: it is presented almost entirely from the first-person perspective of its villainous lead character.

  After a typical pre-credits Giallo flashback (a small child picks up a straight razor, an adult’s hand tries to take it from them), the film opens with someone taking photos of a woman silhouetted against a window, putting on garter
s and stockings. She is stabbed by a black-gloved killer who then flees into the night. Soon thereafter, the killer receives a manila envelope with photos of the crime and a key for a locker at a local hospital. After that, a phone call threatening revenge for the murder sends the killer to the hospital to find out what’s in the locker. Meanwhile, we are introduced to the photographer, another mysterious figure wearing white rubber gloves, and so begins a thoroughly bizarre cat-and-mouse game that seems to take place both “now” and in one of these figures’ distant past.

  Sonno Profondo absolutely nails the look of a battered 70s Giallo film print. The “film noise” used to get this effect never becomes distracting or obnoxious, mostly because filmmaker Onetti knows enough about the look of film to give all the images a slightly faded look, as if the color is being drained from the image. Even more impressive is the period detail–aside from a few small things that crop up, this really looks like something that was shot in the 1970s. Onetti’s camera lingers on typical Giallo iconography: creepy dolls, leather gloves, shiny weapons, creepy children’s drawings, etc. The music and sound design are similarly convincing, recalling the scores to countless Giallo classics. From its look, sound, and tone, Sonno Profondo is utterly convincing.

  However, in its actual content, Sonno Profondo is unquestionably something that could not have been made in the era it so expertly mimics. With only a handful of actors and a few lines of dialogue, Onetti puts all of the storytelling heavy lifting squarely on the film’s imagery and sound. While pacing is a typical problem in many Giallo films, they at least have actors to watch and dialogue to listen to even when there’s nothing too crazy happening on-screen. Removing all but the barest skeleton of the story, Onetti miscalculates in thinking that using only the most visually interesting parts of the Giallo will result in a compelling film. The approach works well at first, with a tense chase scene in a hospital, but after that the lack of forward movement in the film’s storyline becomes a bit tiresome. Fortunately Onetti knows well enough to keep things brief, though, and at 67 minutes the film never overstays its welcome.