Tag Archives: Horror

10 Cloverfield Lane (2016)

17 Friday Feb 2017

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I don’t know what dangers wait
Within the dark beyond the door.
Since entering in safety’s gate,
I’ve heard that horrors populate
The world outside and nothing more.

I feel the urge of tempting fate
And venturing where none explore,
But such is not up for debate.
I’m told the danger is too great,
And no one’s looking anymore.

The threats without intimidate,
But those within are growing sore.
And if I realize it too late,
I fear my safety will stagnate
Within the dark inside the door.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

Who could have foreseen a follow-up to J.J. Abrams’ 2008 monster movie Cloverfield eight years later, especially when the first trailer for 10 Cloverfield Lane was released just two months before its release? I actually haven’t seen Cloverfield yet, but this not-quite-sequel is its own animal, following neither the first’s found-footage style nor apparently any of its characters. Instead, it’s a tense and claustrophobic thriller with only three main characters locked in an apocalyptic bunker.

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While many have lauded 10 Cloverfield Lane as an outstandingly pleasant surprise from last year, my praise will be a bit more muted, but I don’t mean to write it off completely. It was indeed a pleasant surprise if for no other reason that no one expected it, and when an unexpected film is as effective as this one, there’s nothing wrong with giving due acclaim to the film and its debuting director Dan Trachtenberg. Particularly praiseworthy are the three central performances. Mary Elizabeth Winstead plays Michelle, a woman who awakes from a car wreck to find herself trapped underground by a creepily benevolent John Goodman. This Howard gradually explains that some disaster has occurred on the surface, and after rescuing her, he has graciously allowed Michelle and another local named Emmett (John Gallagher, Jr.) to stay in the confined comfort of his well-furnished safe space. The simple but menacing setup is reminiscent of M. Night Shyamalan in his heyday, and we’re never quite sure what to believe. Is Howard prudent or just crazy with his conspiracy theories, and are Michelle and Emmett better off staying inside, placating his demands, or trying to escape? Goodman is brilliantly unpredictable here, and even if there’s not a lot of development for the other two, having to deal with him is enough to spark concern for his captives.

For all its strengths, one thing that 10 Cloverfield Lane does not have is much in the way of originality. Many times I was reminded of two similar films: Misery, with John Goodman taking the place of Annie Wilkes’ possessive caretaker, and 2015’s underrated Hidden, where a family resides in an underground bunker in uncertain fear of what lies above. Putting these two concepts together essentially gives you 10 Cloverfield Lane, and even when it breaks free of the bunker for a slam-bang awesome finale, it still had echoes of War of the Worlds and The Terminator. Another point of comparison is Trachtenberg’s 2011 short film Portal: No Escape, which begins very similarly with a woman awaking in an austere cell with no memory of how she got there. It was that short that helped get Trachtenberg enough notice to earn him the director’s chair, so the parallels there aren’t surprising. (The short also proves he’d be a great choice to direct a feature-length Portal movie, and I, for one, hope it’s soon. You can check it out here.)

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It’s unfortunate that 10 Cloverfield Lane lacks the originality of Misery or the emotional resonance of Hidden, but even as an amalgamation of prior ideas, it’s an impressively constructed nerve-jangler that balances shock and restraint and turned its world into a viable franchise overnight. With a third Cloverfield-universe film called God Particle slated for this October, there’s no denying the success of 10 Cloverfield Lane.

Best line: (Howard) “People are strange creatures. You can’t always convince them that safety is in their best interest.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
451 Followers and Counting

 

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948)

31 Monday Oct 2016

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If Frankenstein or Dracula
Appeared and had his back to ya,
Would you be voiceless in surprise
Or too afraid to paralyze?
Perhaps you’d wake the neighborhood
With every bellow, if you could,
Or call a hotline in distress
Until they hear what you confess
And hang up on your craziness.

Perhaps you’d try to call a friend,
Who might be quick to condescend
If you appear at your wits’ end.
Perhaps you’d flee, still shivering,
But by that time your dithering
Would let the monsters notice you
And do what monsters tend to do.
Next time don’t wait to prove it’s true.
_________________

MPAA rating: PG

Okay, one more horror review for October, if this can be classified as horror. After I covered an anthology from the ‘70s, a classic from the ‘80s, and a modern cult classic, my VC thought I should review a much older and lighthearted member of the genre.

I can’t say I’m familiar with Abbott and Costello, but I enjoyed their antagonistic pairing in the spirit of Laurel and Hardy and predating Gilligan and the Skipper. In Abbott and Costello’s case, though, the thin one is gruff and bossy (Bud Abbott), while the stout one is the absentminded goofball (Lou Costello). My VC actually had the two confused until I told her who was who and rattled her perception of the universe.

The film itself is a fairly entertaining crossover, with Abbott and Costello meeting not only Frankenstein (Glenn Strange) but also Dracula (Béla Lugosi) and the Wolf Man (Lon Chaney, Jr.). Dracula plans to transplant the brain of Wilbur Grey (Costello) into the Frankenstein Monster, while the Wolf Man, Lawrence Talbot, tries to save him in between full-moon transformations. This was actually the last appearance of Chaney as the Wolf Man, and the only other time Lugosi played Dracula other than his famous 1931 film.

The presence of the monsters is really the only thing that would classify this as a horror, since the title duo ensure there are plenty of witty one-liners and slapstick. The horror-comedy combination actually reminded me a lot of Scooby-Doo, such as how Costello would scream and mutter about seeing a monster while incredulous Abbott would arrive just as the creature disappeared. I was actually surprised at how many aspects of the film seemed to have been copied by later ones, such as a hidden revolving wall anticipating the bookcase scene in Young Frankenstein. The monster-filled climax featured Dracula and the Wolf Man fighting and was like a CGI-less version of the final battle in Van Helsing. Even the very last gag was blatantly ripped off in the final scene of last year’s Goosebumps.

If Scooby-Doo is as scary as you want to get, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein is a fun little caper, the last for the original three Universal monsters. The ending isn’t very decisive, but between the title pair’s friendly bickering, the spooky Gothic sets, and the presence of classic horror legends, it’s an amusing romp even decades later.

Best line: (Abbott as Chick Young) “Get up on your feet. It’s only a dummy.”   (Costello as Wilbur Grey) “Dummy nothin’. It was smart enough to scare me.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2016 S.G. Liput
416 Followers and Counting

 

The Babadook (2014)

30 Sunday Oct 2016

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If it’s in a film or it’s in a book,
It might be as real as the Babadook.

Believing in fairies is darling and cute;
What is the worst they can do?
Believing in him will put him in pursuit,
And now he is after you.

You may say there’s no Babadook;
Deny it all you like.
It’s just a silly made-up book,
Until you see him strike.

The thought of him will mean he’s there,
Which means he always is.
The Babadook is everywhere,
When he decides you’re his.
____________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (might be R for intensity and brief language, but actual content is closer to PG-13)

In the proud tradition (and bad habit) I’ve adopted of watching a scary movie alone at night (also done with The Others and The Conjuring), I decided to investigate the universally lauded Australian horror The Babadook. Like the other fright fests I mentioned, I found it to be very much my kind of horror: one with more focus on atmosphere than jumps, featuring complex relationships and psychological distress, and almost devoid of blood. But dang, is it frightening! Poltergeist is a walk in the park next to this top-hatted creature feature.

The story centers on Amelia Vanek (Essie Davis), a struggling mother still deeply grieving her husband’s death and quietly resentful of her young son Samuel (Noah Wiseman), who was born the day his father died. Samuel continually causes problems at school and obsesses over monsters he imagines himself fighting with homemade weaponry. Then comes an innocent bedtime story, where a randomly chosen pop-up book takes a swift left turn; how many books from your childhood ended with “You’re going to wish that you were dead”? After that, Sam becomes convinced the Babadook from the book is real, much to Amelia’s annoyance. When she learns that her denial makes the creature stronger, though, it begins to target her, turning her exasperation with her son into madness.

For her directorial debut, writer/director Jennifer Kent did an outstanding job with developing the mood of unease to which most horror films only aspire. With inventive camera angles and muted colors, the Vanek’s home becomes a breeding ground of anxiety, and after the picture book mentioned three knocks as the creature’s call sign, I liked how there were three knocks anytime someone was at the door, instilling worry regardless of who was really there. As I’ve said before, the most effective scares are often the simplest, and The Babadook doesn’t need set pieces or creepy dolls to freak out the audience. The most intense moment stems from the knowledge of a barely glimpsed something present, against which Amelia can only cover herself with her blanket and hope she is wrong. It’s the kind of visceral tension that hits on a child-like level. The fact that we only see flashes of the Babadook’s shape and long fingers only makes him more mysterious and frightening, a newly invented boogeyman for the ages, especially when he says his own name like some diseased Pokémon.

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What makes The Babadook so intriguing is its symbolic nature. While it can be enjoyed as a familiar haunted house picture, it also puts an emphasis on the mother/son dynamic. When Amelia falls under the Babadook’s influence, she lashes out at Samuel, and we’re left uncertain how much of her rage is possession and how much is simply being released for the first time from pressure and lack of sleep. Samuel may seem like an irritating problem child at first, but his initial belief in the Babadook allows him to defend his mother, prove his love for her, and convince her to banish her oppressive grief. On a more conjectural note, the Babadook might also represent the demonic spirit behind all these news stories of murder-suicides that no one seems to comprehend, and Amelia and Samuel are just the latest to fall under its influence. Either way, the resolution is far different from the usual “evil-wins-to-scare-another-day” ending that most horrors try to spin into a sequel, and it makes clear the film’s bittersweet metaphor of grief.

As much as I admired The Babadook and acknowledge it as one of the most chilling films I’ve seen, there is one aspect that I think allows The Conjuring to edge it out in my opinion. They both depict evil being confronted by familial love, and while that’s enough for the purely secular Babadook, The Conjuring also utilizes religion in its arsenal against the malevolent spirit at work. I appreciate that the dark presence is subdued in both films, but the role of Christianity tips the scales for James Wan’s film and makes its conquering of evil more convincing in my eyes. The Babadook still has a meaningful end, though, especially when taken more allegorically than literally.

Although some of the editing is a bit choppy toward the beginning, I see why The Babadook is considered a modern classic. Because of its cult following, they’ve even distributed copies of the Babadook’s disturbing storybook; who would want one of those around the house?! With an emotional backbone, intense performances, and moments of unbearable suspense, it’s got more than the usual chills and thrills and doesn’t rely on gory effects to make an impact.

Best line: (crazed Amelia, to Samuel) “I AM YOUR MOTHER!!!”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2016 S.G. Liput
415 Followers and Counting

 

Poltergeist (1982)

28 Friday Oct 2016

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Hearing of hauntings may trouble a tenant
And give them some pause and concern.
A bump in the night or mysterious light
Conjures notions of ghosts who may fancy a fright
To make known their unholy return.

Yet others believe their house couldn’t be haunted.
It’s mortgaged and newer than most.
But those are the ones who don’t know what they did
Till a closet or tree tries to gobble a kid.
Sure, then they’ll believe there’s a ghost.

So if you see signs of a spook or a spectre,
You’d best take it seriously.
Don’t wait for a coffin to pop from the floor
Before getting the heck out of Dodge evermore.
Less sequels the sooner you flee.
_______________

MPAA rating: PG

This is it, the movie I’ve been avoiding for years. I saw Poltergeist for the first time when I was about ten years old (I think), which was around the same time I saw Aliens. While I didn’t seem to have a problem with chest-bursting extra-terrestrials, I consider Poltergeist the movie that traumatized me, and it was all because of that one scene. Not the tree scene or the steak scene or the giant demonic head jumping out of the closet. No, it was the clown! I could handle the entirety of Stephen King’s It (albeit some years later), but a single jump scare involving a clown doll made me swear off this movie for over a decade!

However, now that I am my more mature self, I decided to brave Poltergeist once more, and truth be told, it’s not that bad. By that, I mean it’s a decent haunted house film, but it’s nowhere near as nightmarish as I recalled. With Steven Spielberg as writer and producer, the film’s pre-horror opening has an E.T.–style charm, setting up the Freelings as a typical happy suburban family.  Craig T. Nelson and JoBeth Williams are sympathetic as Steven and Diane Freeling, cutely fascinated by the supernatural occurrences they notice until they discover that their home sucks…literally. Trees suck you in; closets suck you in; swimming pools full of corpses suck you in; it’s a madhouse!

The creepiness begins early with young Carol Anne (Heather O’Rourke) in front of the iconic snowy television but remains mild for a while, and even after Carol Anne is abducted by the ghosts, a few touches of humor keep the film lighter than the dark mood most horrors try to achieve. Except for a rather shocking hallucination in a bathroom with the only violence to speak of, the film doesn’t aspire to full-blown horror until the end, starting with the infamous clown and going all-out with a scream-filled finale.

There are a few logic issues I couldn’t help noticing, particularly that the title doesn’t seem to fit. A parapsychologist (Beatrice Straight) helping the Freelings talks about how poltergeists are connected with a person, like Carol Anne, while hauntings are linked to a certain location. While Carol Anne’s importance seems to support the former, the end reveals that, no, it was the house and thus a haunting. A minor complaint, I know, but it’s true. In addition, the timing of the finale may make sense for horror pacing (false sense of security and then boo!), but it seemed odd after the house was supposedly “clean,” throwing the spiritual mumbo-jumbo and wisdom of Zelda Rubinstein’s psychic medium into doubt. Plus, while most of the acting is solid, the constant yelling of “Carol Anne!” and the screaming at the end (“What’s happening?????!!!!!!”) are a little overdone.

 Poltergeist is a horror classic for good reason, not only offering some manageable, mostly kid-friendly frights in a decade full of slashers but also explaining why the cable companies got rid of the late-night snow. Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen scarier and more compelling horrors since, like The Conjuring and the film for my last Halloween review for Sunday, but Poltergeist has lost much of its fear factor, for me at least. I suppose it’s like the basement in Home Alone or any number of scary things from our childhoods; with light and a little perspective, they aren’t so scary after all. Except that clown! It still gives me the willies.

Best line: (Carol Anne) “They’re here.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2016 S.G. Liput
415 Followers and Counting

 

The House That Dripped Blood (1971)

26 Wednesday Oct 2016

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Here is the house you’re considering renting,
A beauteous country estate.
Feel free to explore, though I mustn’t forget
Some minor concerns to relate.

I’d humbly suggest to stay out of the den;
A strangling there once occurred.
And that closet is full of the clothes of a tenant
Who vanished with nary a word.

The master bedroom is a sticking point too,
We couldn’t get all the stains out.
And stay out of the basement; not one is alive
Who’s journeyed down there with a doubt.

What’s that? Oh, you think this is not the right house.
Perhaps that decision is best.
I hate to lose tenants; I’ve told you of four,
But I won’t even mention the rest.
____________________

MPAA rating: PG

Ever since I outgrew trick-or-treating, I haven’t really celebrated Halloween much, so while other bloggers have been dedicating all of October to horror films, I tend to keep my distance. However, because ‘tis the season, I’ll be reviewing three horror films leading up to Halloween. They’re from three different eras too, the first of which being the horror anthology The House That Dripped Blood. Doesn’t that sound charming?

Now with a title like The House That Dripped Blood, you might have certain expectations for this film, but honestly this has got to be one of the most blatant examples of cinematic false advertising ever. Yes, there’s a house, but throughout the whole film, there’s not one drop of blood. Not that I’m complaining since I try to steer clear of gore in general, but didn’t the producer think people might be disappointed when he replaced director Peter Duffell’s original title Death and the Maiden with the more lurid name?

As an anthology, the film is made up of four smaller stories, all involving new tenants of a foreboding country home. One involves a horror writer (Denholm Elliott) whose character seems to jump off the page; one is about a waxworks museum that lures in two men (Peter Cushing and Joss Ackland); one features Christopher Lee as a stern father who hires a teacher to look after his potentially dangerous daughter; and the last sees a horror movie star (Jon Pertwee, the third Doctor Who) obtain a vampire’s cloak. All of the stories are relatively well-told, with the first two clearly being the best for suspense, but there’s very little that this film does that has not been done better elsewhere. I don’t watch many horror films, and I could tell that.

The biggest issue I had was the focus on the house. The film’s frame story stresses the house as a constant in each tale, but the truth is that the house never seems that involved or important. The supernatural elements that cause each story often come from outside the home, making the house’s significance feel rather shoehorned in.

The House That Dripped Blood works best as a curiosity. We get to see a host of British thespians going through the horror movie motions, but elevating the material with their mere presence. The first story also felt significant as a possible partial inspiration for Stephen King’s The Shining. While the resolution goes off in a different direction, Denholm Elliott’s writer character seems to become more unhinged by the mysterious happenings in the house, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been typing “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

The House That Dripped Blood is nothing overtly special, with four stories that often lapse into boredom before the “horrifying” climax, but for those who prefer horror that’s tame, mildly creepy, and very British, it’s a decent enough experience.

Best line: (Paul Henderson, the famous actor) “That’s what’s wrong with the present-day horror films. There’s no realism. Not like the old ones, the great ones. Frankenstein. Phantom of the Opera. Dracula – the one with Bela Lugosi, of course, not this new fellow.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2016 S.G. Liput
414 Followers and Counting

 

King of Thorn (2010)

21 Sunday Aug 2016

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The world was collapsing
With panic forecast
And death in the news everyday,
Yet we were persuaded
That one short sleep passed
Would sweep the dark future away.

We woke to a nightmare
More dire than the last,
Confronted and hunted and trapped.
We slept to thwart death,
Which would not be outclassed
By sleepers with secrets untapped.
________________

MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be R)

One movie-watching emotion that I especially love and rarely get the chance to experience is the feeling of having my mind blown. The best example I can point to for that would be Inception, and to a lesser extent The Prestige, both Christopher Nolan features with unspoiled twists and a provocative narrative boldness. All too often the twist is either spoiled for me (Predestination, The Sixth Sense) or it’s not all that surprising (The Usual Suspects, Interstellar), so when a film provides me with that rare blend of shock and wonder, I treasure it. King of Thorn did just that.

I had heard that this anime film was a combination of Inception, Aliens, and Lost, and…that’s exactly what it is, with a little Matrix and Akira thrown in for good measure. In the first scene, we see a woman commit suicide by jumping off a building, but when she lands, her body shatters, revealing the effects of a new fatal disease dubbed the Medusa virus. This plague that turns humans to stone quickly becomes a worldwide pandemic; in response, the Venus Gate organization selects 160 infected individuals to be put into a Cold Sleep until a cure can be found. When the diverse group is awakened from stasis, surrounded by thorny vines, a horde of monsters attacks them, thinning the herd (not unlike the plane crash at the beginning of Lost) in a scene sure to make you even more afraid of falling down an elevator shaft. Only seven survive, including timid Kasumi, who had to leave her twin sister behind and now must survive with the others and escape from this nightmare.

Now the typical viewer might think that they slept in stasis for hundreds of years to awaken in a post-apocalyptic future, and that’s actually exactly what the characters assume at first. But let’s just say there’s more to it, a lot more. Almost every character has a secret or a past trauma, and the plot twists just keep coming. Like Lost, the film even teases suggestions of what is really going on. Is all of this a dream? Did Kasumi and her sister somehow switch places? There’s no way I’m going to spoil it, though, and I guarantee you that you’ll be kept guessing right up to the last ten minutes.

Because King of Thorn is so packed with plot, from repeated flashbacks that slowly reveal more to overly explanatory references to Sleeping Beauty, it’s not surprising that not everything gets a resolution. Some plot points are dropped without a second glance, and the ending doesn’t even try to address a major uncertainty. Plus, even if I think I understand how everything came about, I’m not sure I get why it all happened the way it did, perhaps due to the significant omissions from the manga the film is based upon (which everyone who’s read it seems to agree is better than the film). Yet the fast-paced action and thought-provoking narrative made up for these faults. If you’re one of those people who hated all the loose threads in Lost, King of Thorn will leave you equally perplexed; but I for one didn’t mind at all, and I know quite a few friends and fellow bloggers who would find this film fascinating. I’ve already introduced it to a friend of mine, and he loved it.

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On the down side, it’s a film worthy of an R rating, with gruesome killings and a little nudity toward the end. Yet, the gore was far from constant, and like Aliens, it’s the kind of violence one can easily see coming and just turn away from at the right moment. At least, that’s what I did. As for the question of whether to see the subtitled or dubbed version, both have their strengths. The English dub features accents that make it clear that the survivors are from around the world (British, Italian, American, Australian), but it also has the foul language one would expect from an R-rated horror thriller. If you care about avoiding profanity, the original subtitles have far less.

Despite the few negatives, King of Thorn is an exceptional sci-fi thriller that played with my mind in the best way and even managed to touch the heart. The cast of characters are all unique and sympathetic as their back stories are clarified, and the music adds to an epic sense of mystery, especially in the early scenes. (The song “Edge of This World” also earns entrance to the End Credits Song Hall of Fame.) The animation beautifully brought to life both the thrilling and the grotesque, and even if some might complain about the occasional merging of 2D and 3D animation in the action scenes, I didn’t find it distracting. In the days since I first saw it, King of Thorn has only risen in my estimation, and while it might further mess up my original Top Twelve Anime List, I think I’ve got another favorite to add.

Best line: (Marco) “Even if you’re overcome by unspeakable loneliness, endure it and encourage someone who can follow where you left off.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2016 S. G. Liput
404 Followers and Counting

 

Hidden (2015)

04 Wednesday May 2016

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The shadows all deepen,
While silhouettes creep in,
And light gives its nightly allowance to dark.
Most men surely worry
Of menaces blurry,
Of dangers and strangers too hazy to mark.

But when the sun’s gleaming
Is more home to screaming,
The shadows will rapidly lose their unease.
If dark once forbidden
Keeps us safe and hidden,
The risks of the light are our new enemies.
___________________

MPAA rating: R (could maybe be PG-13)

I have no idea what possessed me to watch an R-rated horror thriller sight unseen, without the complete knowledge of what to expect that I usually obtain before venturing into the genre. I hadn’t really read many reviews of this under-the-radar film from last year, but this is one instance where I’m glad that I didn’t.

Hidden is not just one of the best horror films I’ve seen of late, but really two films in one: first, a post-apocalyptic drama about a family locked within an underground bunker, and second, a heart-thumping “they’re-out-there” thriller with a shrewdly concealed twist. While my VC felt the setup was a bit too long, it was the family part that won me over. Alexander Skarsgård as Ray plays one of the most endearing father figures I can recall, encouraging his young daughter Zoe (Emily Alyn Lind of Won’t Back Down) with good humor, tender comfort, and imaginary trips to the world before whatever disaster hit. Rounding out the trio, Andrea Riseborough is the anxious mother, intent on enforcing her four Mom rules: 1. Don’t be loud; 2. Never lose control; 3. Never open the door; and 4. Never talk about the Breathers, who lurk outside in search of the family.

Despite the R rating, Hidden is fairly subdued for a horror, with hardly any language and the violence brief and often off-screen. Like The Conjuring, I tend to think the R is for its general intensity, though it’s nowhere near as chilling as that film. I think most horror connoisseurs will find it rather tame, but it’s an ideal nail-biter for wimps like me who prefer tension over gore. There were moments where my hand instinctively covered my mouth (especially when I noticed a spider dangling not far from my face at one point. I hate when that happens!). My VC felt that certain motivations didn’t entirely make sense to her, but I liked how everything was from the family’s point of view.

I don’t want to spoil Hidden. It’s best seen with no expectations. Perhaps the best way I can describe it is like a Twilight Zone episode directed by M. Night Shyamalan on one of his good days. The twist and the overall tension might be main selling points, but the marvelous acting by all three stars, especially Lind, is its greatest strength. The best horror films make you care about the characters before throwing them into alarming circumstances, and Hidden does it exceptionally well.

Best line: (Ray, encouraging Zoe on their 301st day in the bunker) “301. Now we shouldn’t have been around for any one of those days, but when we needed it, we found this shelter, and it’s given us food, a home, a life. And for all we know we could be the only ones left, the only ones still alive. So every one of those marks is really a miracle.”
(Zoe) “A miracle?”
(Ray) “That’s right, a miracle. This food is going to allow you to live another day, and that means another hash can be drawn, right?”
(Zoe) “Yeah, I guess so.”
(Ray) “So you see, those nasty, cold, mushy beans on your plate, they’re really their own kind of miracle too.”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2016 S. G. Liput
385 Followers and Counting

 

The Raven (1963)

21 Thursday Apr 2016

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write in the voice of a minor entity in some myth or fairy tale. It’s not exactly a myth, but I chose the bust of Pallas, a.k.a. Athena, in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” and took the message in a different direction. It may not have much bearing on the film, but it let me experiment with one of my favorite classic meters.)

 

As I waited, stern and stonely, with my master, looking lonely,
Watching as he excavated stacks of books he rarely read,
Never had I seen him sadder since he placed me with a ladder
Up above his chamber door, a bust of Pallas’ pious head.

Since his lover had descended down where all Earth’s tales are ended,
He had dwelt in constant sorrow for his loveliest Lenore.
Being just a statue modest of a lesser-known Greek goddess,
I could offer little comfort perched above his chamber door.
Rather poor was our rapport.

Feeling life was but a blooper, there he sat within his stupor,
Only moaning now and then to prove he wasn’t lifeless yet.
Suddenly, a sound’s ascension, almost too minute to mention,
Brought both his and my attention to the latest cause to fret.

First, the door decreed a knocking, as if someone there were stalking,
But he only found a shocking emptiness no guest would fill.
Then again we heard the slightest tap, and Master, not the brightest,
Opened up the window widest to investigate the sill,
Letting in more than a chill.

From the darkness of the window (I would not have let him in, though)
Flew a fateful sable raven, harbinger of darkest dread,
And my master, undecided if this bird by fate was guided,
Let the impudent intruder perch upon my marble head.

Though he was a learned scholar, he did not have many callers,
And this visitor perhaps had made him giddier than before.
Thus, he started conversation with this bird in desperation,
And to Master’s consternation, it replied with “Nevermore,”
Just the one word “Nevermore.”

This shock made him rather edgy, and as if he took a pledge, he
Started questioning the raven, asking it about Lenore.
The same response it kept dispatching, while my forehead it kept scratching,
And the Master grew more vexed with each retort of “Nevermore.”
That’s not easy to ignore.

When he even started yelling at the raven so compelling,
I considered maybe telling Master he should not accost it.
How I coveted to curb him, but I wished not to disturb him.
Hearing bird and statue speak, he’d surely think that he had lost it.

When he’d tried his guest to banish and it did not seem to vanish,
Master seemed to then accept its pilfered place above his door,
But the levelheaded raven, solid in its stolen haven,
Then proceeded to reproach in words exceeding “Nevermore.”
This is what the raven swore:

“Forces far beyond my ken have bid me speak like mortal men
In enigmatic utterances open to interpretation,
But the sight of your rebelling from my simple fortune-telling,
Even here within your dwelling, makes me sure of your stagnation.

Here I see a wealthy scholar wallowing in inner squalor,
With his grief a clenching collar, all because of lost Lenore.
In this bitterness you’re tasting, you are palely, daily wasting
Life and love and all the blessings thou art foolish to ignore.
Once they’re gone, they’re nevermore.”

Well impressed at this debating raven once so irritating,
I was now anticipating how my master would reply.
Slowly, he arose from sitting, set his jaw to keep from spitting,
And with venom not unwitting bade the raven quickly fly.

“If I wish to sit in mourning, keep your useless words of warning.
Even your persistent perching, I will manage to ignore.”
Still, I rest here, sick and saddened at my seeing Master maddened;
Still he sits, more scared of life than of the Raven’s “Nevermore.”
Closed below me is the door.
__________________

MPAA rating: G

Not to be confused with the 2012 thriller of the same name, this film version of The Raven is actually a 1963 B movie, one of director Roger Corman’s eight adaptations of Edgar Allan Poe works. It starts off in familiar territory, with Vincent Price as Dr. Craven, the unnamed griever of the poem who in this version is a reclusive magician. In contrast to his famous villainous roles, Price is a kind and unassuming figure, not nearly as obsessive as the character in Poe’s poem or mine, and when the titular raven enters his chamber, he earnestly asks if he shall ever see his lost Lenore again. The raven replies, in Peter Lorre’s voice, “How the hell should I know?” before explaining that he is a cursed sorcerer in need of a potion to turn him back into a human. What follows is a rather amusing and fun fantasy, with a quest to stop the evil magician Dr. Scarabus (Boris Karloff).

Price, Karloff, and particularly the easily irascible Lorre are all game players in a film that any of them might have considered beneath them. Accompanied by a jaw-droppingly young Jack Nicholson, the three magicians partake in a twisty game of cat-and-mouse and wizard duels to see who comes out on top. Interspersed with the B movie melodrama and macabre moments are clever little scenes of comedy, such as the characters removing and carefully folding a coffin cover only to toss it on the ground over their shoulder. The Raven departs widely from its source material and can hardly be called fine cinema, but it’s an unscary, good-natured horror-comedy on the level of the original Scooby-Doo, with a surprisingly worthwhile moral.

Best line: (Dr. Craven) “Instead of facing life, I turned my back on it. I know now why my father resisted Dr. Scarabus. Because he knew that one cannot fight evil by hiding from it. Men like Scarabus thrive on the apathy of others. He thrived on mine, and that offends me. By avoiding contact with the Brotherhood, I’ve given him freedom to commit his atrocities, unopposed.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2016 S. G. Liput

383 Followers and Counting

 

Coraline (2009)

07 Thursday Apr 2016

Posted by in Movies, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was a tritina, which has three set words to end each line in a pattern of ABC, CAB, BCA, and a final line with all three words in it. I decided to use the form for a creepy effect.)

 

Hark to the promise of pleasure and play.
Heed all the whispers that bid you come in.
Enter and leave your old world at the door.

Rest and don’t fret at the slow-closing door.
We’re glad that you had a good reason to play.
It’s been quite a while since a human came in.

I told you, don’t worry about the way in,
Or out for that matter; I’ve hidden the door.
It’s time that we all wear a smile and play.

I’m so glad the door brought in someone to play.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG

While I enjoy various kinds of animation, stop-motion isn’t my favorite. I love Chicken Run, but I’m less dazzled by the more macabre usages of this kind of puppetry, like The Nightmare before Christmas. That being said, stop-motion does lend itself to an unnatural movement perfect for creepiness, and Coraline utilizes this uncanny quality judiciously. From the first masterful shots of needle-composed fingers sewing up a little girl’s doll, it’s clear that experts of both animation and spookiness have put their craft on display.

Based on Neil Gaiman’s novel and with a Roald Dahl sensibility, Coraline first applies its technical finesse to the real world, as Coraline Jones (Dakota Fanning) and her parents move into a ramshackle apartment building. Coraline explores the neglected gardens and meets the eccentric neighbors and ultimately becomes bored and disgruntled at her surroundings. Then she finds a mysterious door which leads to an alternate universe where everything dull and mundane in the old world is bright and colorful and fun. Her Other Mother (Teri Hatcher) and Other Father are everything she wishes her parents could be, except they have buttons for eyes, and she has second thoughts when they want to sew buttons on her eyes.

Coraline cleverly manifests how a dream can so easily segue into a nightmare. Everything is fun and innocent at first (although some cartoon nudity goes a bit far), but as soon as Coraline becomes wise to her Other Mother’s sinister plans, the wondrous quickly turns monstrous. This disquieting wonderland is a perfect outlet for the animation, and many of the stunts and deft camerawork make one wonder how the filmmakers accomplished so much fluidity within the confines of tiny detailed models.

Perhaps because Tim Burton wasn’t involved, Coraline’s dark fantasy won me over, making it probably my favorite of the creepy genre of stop-motion animation. Some of the characters are still unnecessarily weird for my taste, but the central adventure has a winning blend of awe and fright that will make children think twice about too-good-to-be-true reveries.

Best line: (Other Mother, to Coraline) “They say even the proudest spirit can be broken…with love.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2016 S. G. Liput

375 Followers and Counting

 

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

11 Friday Dec 2015

Posted by in Movies, Poetry, Reviews, Writing

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Evil comes in many forms,
In the loner and the swarms,
In the wielder of the knife,
In the prober of your life.
Though it hides or means to try,
It draws your interest and your eye.

Dark are deeds we’d never do,
Yet they still are dared by few.
Justice runs to halt the spread,
But if it wins, there’s still the dread.
Evil loves to carve its notch,
But why do any choose to watch?
_________________

MPAA rating: R
After years of hearing how great it is and seeing most of Anthony Hopkins’s performance through clips, I decided to finally watch the Best Picture of 1991. The Silence of the Lambs is everything critics have praised over the years: a dark mystery, a dramatic powerhouse, a compelling character study of two opposing forces, one seeking justice and the other too demented to be fully understood. It is both Hopkins’s and Jodie Foster’s finest hours, winning both of them Academy Awards, as well as Oscars for Best Director and Best Screenplay. And it is a great film which I have little desire to see again. The Silence of the Lambs is one of those movies that I can admire without being able to fully embrace as a favorite, more due to my personal sensitivities than to any flaws on the film’s part.

It’s an ingenious setup, pitting an eager but untested FBI agent-in-training (Foster) against the memorably evil serial killer Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine) with the aid of the even more memorably evil killer Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins). Clarice Starling is a woman trying to prove herself to her superior Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) and to save other women, who are being killed and skinned by Bill across the Midwest. Jonathan Demme’s directorial tactic of filming actors as they look directly into the camera is even more effective than in his next film Philadelphia (which perhaps served to compensate for the allegedly homophobic aspects of Silence). As Crawford or Lecter or various men stare at Clarice and by extension the audience, it feels as if she is being sized up, measured, evaluated as an asset, a threat, or a toy. It’s an uncomfortable sensation but unique and intriguing enough to constantly hold our attention and keep us and Clarice on our toes.

Of course, the most remarkable element of the film is Anthony Hopkins, who amazingly won Best Actor for only sixteen minutes of screen time. He’s unflinchingly malevolent yet unsettlingly polite, a performance so captivating that it nearly dwarfs the rest of the film (hence, Best Actor rather than Best Supporting Actor). As diabolical and conniving as Lecter is, it’s Levine’s performance as Buffalo Bill that I found deeply disturbing. While Demme used much restraint in depicting the violence, Bill’s perverse cruelty doesn’t leave the mind easily, and I’ll probably just skip his scenes whenever I attempt a rewatch. It’s a wonder Levine has been able to move on from such a vile role.

Beyond Bill’s foul obsessions, I suppose my tepid appreciation stems from the fact that The Silence of the Lambs made me consider why serial killers are so popular. I don’t mean the supernatural types like Freddy Krueger (though I don’t like them either), but the modern focus on potentially real people who commit horrendous acts. Real-life killers like Ed Gein and Ted Bundy have inspired films like Psycho and Silence of the Lambs, and serial killers are still trendy in TV shows like Dexter and Hannibal. What is it that is so compelling about these experts of violence? Most people would never dream of committing such acts, and yet we watch them or hear about them; we study their modus operandi and are fascinated.

The Silence of the Lambs offers some insight into its killers, whether it be the deductive clue-chasing of the FBI agents tracking Bill down or the dehumanizing way Bill refers to his victims as “it.” Lecter represents the enthralling, psychological aspect of these butchers, while Bill epitomizes the disgust. It’s fascinating, yet I can’t help but feel guilty and repulsed by my own fascination. The Silence of the Lambs is a masterfully disturbing thriller, but I don’t often like being disturbed. I don’t want Hannibal Lecter inside my head.

Best line: (Hannibal Lecter, with his most iconic line) “A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Sssffff.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

348 Followers and Counting