So for the first real entry on this blog in well over a year I am totally not doing what I said I was going to when I gave you that list of things I’d be reviewing and strayed far and wildly into something TOTALLY NOT ON THE LIST. If you have a thing about lists, this probably just completely rubbed you the wrong way. And if that’s the case, I’m sorry, but also, seriously, lighten the hell up. Because this gem of a movie rolled into my hometown for ONE WEEKEND ONLY and I did the only sensible thing a creepy confection in my position could, flapped her hands wildly going “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD” and then proceeded to high-tail herself down to the only theater playing it. If you’re questioning this level of excitement, just what the fricking trailer, and if afterwards you’re still all Mr. “meh, whatever” … well then I don’t think this relationship is going to work after all, I’m sorry honey, we can discuss who gets the kids on which holiday.
Now tell me that doesn’t look magical to you. Or you know what. Don’t. Because you’ll make me angry, and you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. I rip off my clothes and go on a path of destruction, mowing down people in my path, and knocking over furniture. I don’t actually get bigger or turn green or anything, I usually just come home tired and embarrassed, while my poor roommate tells the cops how sorry she is for my immature behavior and promises to try to make wear some sort of covering in public, and you know, stop punching children….
Wait… what was I talking about… and how did I get here? Oh yeah. Anyway, ANYWAY.
Here is the premise of the film at its most stripped down and basic: 26 film makers are given the task of each creating a film that has something to do with death, with the catch that it must also somehow relate to an assigned letter of the alphabet. These short films come to us from all corners of the globe and span a wide gamut of genres and subject matter; from the comical and camp, to downright artsy fartsy, from freaking disturbing, to the incredibly tragic, and then there’s a couple in there that you just sit, blinking slowly, and going “…. The fuck?”
I will not lie to you dear readers, not all of the shorts are good. In fact, some of them made this girl just sit there, scowling in contempt and making a disapproving clucking sound. However, I was at no point bored, nor did I zone out. Which is, frankly, a huge accomplishment, since I generally have such issues with spacing that I have on three separate occasions walked straight into sign poles, and each time it was so sadly ironic I would have laughed if not for the metal buzzing sound in my ears and the mother bitch of a headache, since they were ‘stop’, ‘no parking’, and ‘yield’, respectively. Hell, I zoned out halfway through writing this sentence.
It’s hard to really write a particularly succinct review about a movie that is a collection of shorts, especially when half the fun of them is trying to guess what word they’ve chosen for their assigned letter, and to the credit of the film makers, very few of them were an obvious choice. So here’s the thing; if you want a movie where you’re going to be constantly engaged by the material, then yeah, see it, totally see it. But if you’re prone to fainting or some other form of general sissarey (yes I just made that up, but it’s my word now, and I’m getting it copyrighted) you’re gonna want to take a pass on this one. Maybe go to the bigger theater down the road, catch that new Nicholas Sparks movie, that as far as I can tell is about a girl who cries a lot because she has to ride her bicycle around a quaint beach town.
Your delicate modern, sensibilities, will be offended, there's just no way around that, Gertrude, I'm sorry. Hell, at points my sensibilities were offended and that takes doing. But despite the fact that there are large clumps of this film that are offensive, and even occasionally hard to watch, I'm going out here and saying watch it. It takes chances, and generally speaking, I'm more offended by a movie that leans towards the safe and throws me something trite and predictable, than I am a movie that makes me queasy at points and at others makes me wonder if I'm actually just going mad very slowly. And sure, maybe I'm a little biased here, because when I saw it I had basically the perfect viewing experience a midnight showing with only six other people, in an awesome, tiny art theater with ridiculously good popcorn. Maybe I would not have this level of affection for it if I'd just been sitting on my couch watching it. Maybe. But I would still respect the novelty of it. And that ought to count for something, right? No? Geez, don't be such a buzzkill...
Well, that's it for me, for now at least, but you can look for more of my slightly off-kilter views on things soon.
But now this girl is going to bed.
HI KIDS! Wow, I feel like it was not so long ago that I was all "yeah, I'm gonna start updating again, ALL THE TIME. Really! I mean it!" And then I promptly did no such thing. Wow. I suck. Sorry about that.
I mean, I could sit here and make excuses to you about how being a perpetual university student eats my life and I've barely had time to watch a movie lately, let alone review one. But you deserve better then my whining, so we'll skip that bit. Especially since I know that most of my fellow horror bloggers have a real life that they manage to upkeep as well as their blogs. But, like I said before, I suck, so let's move on.
Eden Lake was the movie I watched to reward myself for making it through the summer semester without defenestrating anyone. I had this whole "If I just get through finals, then I can watch Eden Lake, and eat pizza, and all will be right with the world".
I'm not entirely sure why I decided this movie was going to be my reward, but I did.
No. Wait. Scratch that. I know exactly why I decided this movie would be my reward.
And his name is Michael Fassbender.
I could watch a movie that starred him as a shut in. And the entire film would just be him pointing to various flower pots he'd collected over the years and explaining why he liked them. And I would be happy.
I would come away from that film going "Ah yes, today was a good day indeed." The man is glorious, I'm just saying.
So I set out to watch Eden Lake, and when it was over it had fully solidified for me two facts with which I was already pretty certain of going into it.
1) Michael Fassbender is an exquisite creature who should always do movies that involve him getting shirtless, and preferably, wet.
2) There is no way in Hell that you will get me to go camping.
( seriously, if Michael Fassbender, Eli Roth, AND Benedict Cumberatch showed up at my door and asked me to go camping with them ... well, okay, I would go if that happened. But it would give me pause.)
I went into this film convinced that camping is evil. I am a girl of my creature comforts. Don't get me wrong, I love nature, I do; but at the end of the day I like to come home to a hot shower and a clean bed that consists of a pillow-top mattress, with an extra layer of padding on top of that to make it all marshmallow-y. It was long ago established by one of my best friends that in some sort of a grimy hostage situation I would get us all out by the sheer fact that 24 hours without soap would make me go bat shit crazy, and punch a hole through the nearest wall through which me and my fellow captives could escape.
Long story short, me and camping are like oil and vinegar. But enough about me, let's move on to this movie about people who are crazy and actually enjoy camping and sleeping on the ground and other madness.
Meet Jenny (played by the always adorable, even when portraying a complete psychopath, Kelly Reilly) and Steve (played by Michael "sexy shark" Fassbender). Jenny is a school teacher, and I have no idea what the Hell Steve does for a living, maybe he's a swimsuit model or does toothpaste commercials or something, maybe he just gets paid to sit around and look pretty, who knows. They decide that they're going to escape to a remote lake for the weekend that Steve used to go to when he was younger or something.
Steve has the master plan of using the opportunity of this little get away to finally pop the question to Jenny. Because sleeping in the dirt is some people's idea of romantic. It's not mine, but we established that.
There are, at this point I should note, layers of foreshadowing and foreboding occurring now. In the night that they first arrive, apparently to spend the first night in a little B&B, because SLEEPING ON THE GROUND ISN'T FUN, the locals come off as ... prickly to say the least. The couple are either ignored or treated to clipped responses, and then get to enjoy the fine folks being generally awful and back handing their children. Now maybe this is the naive little California girl in me talking, but I thought that trailer trash was something that just happened here in the states. Apparently England has it too, well color me surprised.
The next bit of "this is your sign, just turn the Hell around and go back NOW" comes when they actually reach the titular lake, only to find the surrounding area fenced off to be redeveloped into a gated community. Jenny, in an unknowing voice of doom asks at this point "Who are they so afraid of?"
Oh Hunny. You don't even know. You don't EVEN know. Just let me hold you.
When they get to the lake is when we meet the band of merry miscreants who will be our antagonists for the evening. Hoodies. Yay hoodies!
What starts out as a minor confrontation between Steve and the leader of the pack of delinquents, Brett (played by Jack O'Connel, who I can't hate, because he will always be Cook from Skins for me, and I love Cook from Skins), which escalates to their car being stolen and demolished, which FURTHER escalates to the teenagers hunting Jenny and Steve through the woods.
Because camping is bad.
If you go camping you will be hunted down and tortured by psychotic hoodlums.
That being said, I hesitate to classify Eden lake under the umbrella of "torture porn". Because unlike many of the films that are classified as such, the torture isn't really the central focus of the film. It's more in the vein of a thriller in the sense that more of it is about the chasing and the game of cat and mouse and by today's standards, the violence is really quite tame.
The aim here, I believe, was not to make the violence itself be what is shocking to the viewers, but have the perpetrators of the violence and the victim/villain relationship be what makes you honestly uncomfortable. It's incredibly common for a movie to pit adults against one another, but less common to have a group of minors be the antagonists - which can make the viewers uncomfortable on two fronts: First, the idea of what many people consider to be children acting in such a fashion, and Second, the idea that adults would be forced to retaliate, and how far would you be willing to go against a group of, so called, children?
That dynamic is considerably more rare. Though it has been called up in such films as The Children and Who Can Kill A Child, or even such instances at The Bad Seed and The Omen. A plot line in which adults know they must fight back against the younger generation has a way of making an audience a little squirrely.
There is, I feel worth noting, a very interesting psychology within the group of teenagers. The leader of the gang has rather obvious psychosis - in a crazier then a shit house rat kind of a way. But he is not, cut and dried, the worst of the bunch. A fair number of his comrades are equally happy to hunt down and potentially murder Jenny and Steve. And then there is the lone female of the pack, who records the acts of atrocity on her cell phone without so much as a blink.
If Horror Movies are the forum through which movie makers air their fears and dissatisfaction with the world, then Eden Lake can be seen as following in the footsteps of George Romero's trend of social commentary. The message at the core of Eden Lake is not just the fear of what today's youth is becoming; but also a horror at the generation that not only raised them to be such monsters, and then washes their hands of them when they begin to act in the manner they were taught.
And honestly, Jack O'Connell's performance is damn good. You really believe that he will go twenty kinds of ape shit on you if you cross him. And yeah, I was a little biased, like I said before. And sure, in multiple parts I was like "nooooo, he doesn't mean it, not my Jack." Damn my love of skins.
And really, characterization is the strong point of Eden Lake. Even though I have read a fair deal of reviews that contradict this statement. No. You guys are wrong. I can't hear you. Lalalalalalalalalalalalala.
The characters are developed just FINE thank you so much. You really really like Jenny and Steve. You're rooting for them. Goddamit, you WANT them to make it out okay and get married, and go live somewhere very very industrialized and NEVER GO CAMPING AGAIN. I was definitely pulling for them, and no, not just because Michael Fassbender is much too pretty die somewhere that dirty.
And really, if you want to get into characterization and psychology. Let's look at Jenny for a minute.
Kelly Reilly is really a very underrated actress. Who I really should gave a grudge against for the simple fact that she has the ability to keep getting cast in rolls where she gets to make out with Spooky's favorite boys. Seriously - Dead Bodies with Andrew Scott, Sherlock Holmes with Jude Law, and now Michael Fassbender. You bitch. No, I'm kidding, I love you.
Jenny begins the movie as this fragile, non confrontational character. While Steve is ready to tell people off and huff and puff when things irritate him, Jenny is just as happy to let them blow over so no one needs to raise their voice. But as she is pushed she grows from mousey damsel to the sort of heroine you hope for in these kinds of movies. And did I mention she does this all in some of the cutest dresses I've ever seen? Sure, I don't think most people of the camping-oriented persuasion would find her clothing choices good for the great outdoors, but meh. If anything I think the choice to have her run through the movie in demure, feminine clothing, was kind of a brilliant choice.
It's like they said "look at her, she's supposed to be this delicate thing who has small animals do her hair in the morning as she sings. But look what she can become." In this aspect Jenny is much like a heroine in a fairy tale like the Brother's Grimm. But not by Disney. Not by a long shot.
And much like a Grimm's fairtytale you do not just walk away from Eden Lake feeling good about the world. You feel like you need to take a long shower and then watch kitten videos on Youtube for the next three hours. You feel disoriented and more then just a little uncomfortable.
And for that I really do have to applaud them.
Okay, Okay, so strictly speaking, Eden Lake is NOT what I would consider "my kind of a horror film". If you know me, you know I like my horror movies a bit more in the supernatural and psychological department, and less in the "BLOOD BLOOD EVERYWHERE" fashion. Especially since I feel like these days you can't throw a rock without hitting a movie that is just about blood.
I've got news for you Horror Movie Industry, blood all over the place doesn't scare this girl. Hell, that's just a typical Friday night in the Pie household. I think you sincerely underestimate the sheer volume of bandages this girl goes through on a weekly basis. When you're as accident prone as me, blood is about as shocking and uncommon as a roll of toilet paper.
That being said, Eden Lake is not a bad little film. It has a message and it gets it out there. And from a cine-phile point of view it is shot BEAUTIFULLY. I know you can't tell from my grainy screen caps, but there are points when the camera pulls back to show wide angles of the all the nature and is AMAZING. The framing of shots and the subtle score of the film are really just lovely. It's odd to think of a horror movie as pretty - especially when people are getting brutalized and hobbling through a forest caked in their own blood, but seriously, it is PRETTY.
While I don't see myself running out to buy Eden Lake, I don't consider the evening I spent watching it to have been a waste either. And let's not forget the valuable message it has brought to us all:
DON'T GO CAMPING
I know this girl won't be any time soon.
Well, until next time kiddies.
Stay out of trouble AND the woods.
In a totally unbeknown to me coincidence, I sat down to write this review today and noticed that many of my fellow horror bloggers have been participating in "Women in Horror Month". I didn't even know that there was such a thing, but it seems mildly serendipitous that I should be reviewing a book by one of the undisputed Queens of horror during in such a month, Poppy Z. Brite.**
**Note, this article was published years prior to Poppy Z. Brit’s transition, as such this article contains outdated language, and we support William Joseph Martin whole heartedly here at TGDH
Now, that all aside, let's get onto the meat (oh God, that was a regrettable turn of phrase to use in context with this book) of the review.
If you strip Exquisite Corpse down to its bones, (another regrettable phrase, wow, I'm batting zero), it's a love story. A really, really, twisted love story. Even though the two lovebirds in question don't even meet until a little over 3/4 of the way through the book; it's clear, in retrospect, that everything that comes before their meeting is Z foreshadowing their eventual romance, they are each other's destiny if you will. And if you won't, then take it outside, your negativity is bringing down the room.
In a relationship that would put Bonnie and Clyde to shame, our protagonists Andrew Compton and Jay Byrne are two serial killers with the Atlantic Ocean between them. However, as they discover when they finally meet up, they are cut from the same cloth, as they are incredibly similar in their preferences. The main difference between the two - Andrew likes to kill boys, then screw them, then keep 'em in his flat until they smell, at which point he throws them in the Thames.
Whereas Jay likes to screw boys, then torture them to death, and then, finally, eat them.
WHAT A CRAZY RANDOM HAPPENSTANCE AM I RIGHT?!
However, it stands to reason that Jay must be a good deal craftier, because while we begin the book with Andrew wasting away in a British prison, Jay is rumbling the about the streets of New Orleans, picking up transient pretty boys. The first part of the book mostly parallels between these two, Andrew's goings on in England versus Jay's in America. And whilst Jay is busy seducing his dinner, Andrew is pulling off an elaborate jail break that involves fooling everyone into thinking that he's dead and then busting out of the Morgue and pretty much slice 'n dicing his way to the airport. And without spoiling much of the journey of the book for you - he ends up in New Orleans.
Beneath the plot line of Andrew and Jay's eventual love at first sight encounter, there are two subplots; the first of a Vietnamese boy named Tran who is interested in Jay, and has a rocky past including an abusive relationship with his psychotic, HIV positive, ex-boyfriend. The other sub-plot is the HIV/AIDS epidemic in general, to the point that it is almost a character in the work. A third serial killer, if you will. Most of the supporting characters are HIV positive in the work, and it does deal quite sensitively with the subject matter of the men who are slowly dying of the disease. And it's an interesting juxtaposition against the relatively quick, gory, deaths of Jay and Andrew's victims. And its all set against the already macabre associated backdrop of New Orleans (thanks Anne Rice), which is an apt enough location. This is essentially a modern Gothic novel, and what says Gothic better then the French Quarter and above ground mausoleums.
So on a psychological level, that was incredibly interesting. However, as you can imagine with a book about two serial killers in love it is extremely graphic. The details of the murders, necrophilia, and cannibalism leave nothing to the imagination - to the point that I occasionally felt squeamish. ME! I watch slasher movies while eating spaghetti with tomato sauce! So, really, that should tell you something.
Without sounding too prudish, I should also note that it is downright pornographic in points. If Z doesn't pull punches with the violence, then she sure as hell doesn't when explaining sex to the readers. And if I'm admitting that I got a bit squeamish with the gore, I will have to also admit that some of the sex scenes had me clutching at my pearls and lamenting my delicate modern sensibilities, in a full on southern accent.
But I don't want you going into the book, should you choose to read it, thinking it is nothing but "sex,sex,sex, graphic murder, eating people, some more sex" ... sure, there is plenty of that. But there is also plenty of interesting psychology tucked inside as well, especially since roughly a third of the book is told from the perspective of Andrew Compton, so literally, the mind of a serial killer. So, if you're interested in abnormal psychology, or serial killers this might well be your cup of tea. But, like when I reviewed Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted, I feel that it's only responsible for me to warn you that if you don't have a strong stomach you should put this book down, now, really.
It's okay, just set it down on the table and walk away. Nobody is judging you, we're all friends here.
So, if you feel like curling up this Valentine's Day with a really warped love story, then PZB delivers that. If not, I don't know, there's always Jane Austen or something. With or without zombies or sea monsters.
So until next time kids, play nice, tip your waitresses, you know the drill.
Some of you may, or may not, know that I basically heart Chuck Palahniuk more than what probably lies in the realm of human decency.
Sure, sometimes I have a hard time remembering how to spell his last name, and yes there is the matter of that pesky little restraining order (I kid, I kid). But in short, I pretty much devour every book of his as soon as I can get my mitts on it.
However, I was somewhat resistant to reading Haunted for awhile. This is largely because instead of being just one large storyline, it breaks off into sub stories told by each of the characters. And, generally speaking, I don't usually go for 'anthology' type books, mostly because I like to have the entire novel to get to know the characters, get a feel for them. When it's a bunch of short stories I usually feel like the individual tale ends before I have gotten anywhere in the neighborhood of giving a good, and honest, damn about the characters.
Well, a pox on me for being such a ridiculous ninny! Why I thought good 'ol Chuck would fail me this time, when he never has in the past, I don't know. I'm a silly bitch.
So the essential idea of Haunted is this; Seventeen people sign up for a three month Writer's Retreat. They are to be completely cut off from the outside world during that time, and are told that this will be the time to write the masterpiece of their career.
No real names are allowed, and everyone is allowed only one suitcase. In theory, none of the participants are in any real danger, the only real trouble is that no one is allowed to leave before the three months is up, and the retreat is below ground and remote enough that escape is highly unlikely.
The real trouble comes from the seventeen writer's realization that rather then create their own master works, they are going to gain a fortune telling their story to the outside world. Of how they were held captive, tortured, forced to survive without heat or food.
None of this is actually inflicted on the writers by the people organizing the retreat. It's the writers themselves who become their own villains, even though, for the sake of the story, they have painted the organizer and his assistant as their villains and captors. So it really isn't that surprising when the writers begin to die off one by one, and with each one who bites the dust the others don't mourn; they just discuss how they will have to split the royalties in fewer directions.
On the side of the core narrative of the goings on in the retreat, as told by an unnamed narrator. Each character has a side story, and each story has to deal with what dark secret drew them to hideout in the retreat.
As the title would suggest, each of the writers is, in fact, Haunted.
Throughout the course of the book comparisons keep being drawn between this little group of writers, shut off from the outside world, and the Villa Dioda. For those of you not in the know, this is where Mary Shelley, Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, and John Pollidori holed up; this resulted in the writings of both Frankenstein and The Vampyre. And it's an easy enough comparison to draw, and, more than likely, since it is Palahniuk who gives us this parallel, that this was in fact what inspired him to write Haunted.
However, this is really not the comparison that most came to mind for me whilst I was reading this novel. Throughout the whole thing I could not help but be reminded of Jean-Paul Sarte's No Exit, and it's chilling, most infamous line:
Hell is other people.
For those of you unfamiliar with Sarte's work, No Exit is about three completely unrelated people who die and end up locked in a room together. After a bit they realize that they are in Hell and each one speculates on who is the torturer and what torment they will receive. It soon becomes evident that there isn't a torturer, it's just the three of them, locked in a room together, for all of eternity. The only torment stems from the way they treat each other. Which leads to the one character's realization that "Hell is other people".
And, considering that all the harm that comes to the players of Haunted comes from themselves, is it any wonder that No Exit was the first thing that came to mind? I didn't think so.
Do I recommend Haunted, yes, but NOT IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH. This novel is really quite grisly at points, considering one of the short stories called Guts, Palahniuk read aloud and reportedly has had multiple faint from listening to it. Also it was a story controversial enough that it got a Highschool teacher sacked for having his students read it.
So really, bare that in mind, and I don't even think that it's the most disturbing part of the book. HOWEVER if that is something that you can get past it's a GREAT book, not my favorite of his works, but still pretty damn amazing in this girl's opinion.
Well, ladies and jelly-spoons, today's offering is a bit of an oldie, but it's like what they say about re-runs; "If you haven't seen it before, then it's new to you".
So, I will grudgingly admit that this girl didn't even know of this film's existence until about a year and a half ago, but I guess that shouldn't be so surprising, considering the sort of reception 'Peeping Tom' got when it was released caused it to get relocated to the status of 'cult film'.
Sure, by today's standards, 'Peeping Tom' is about as disturbing as moldy pudding, but this was England in 1960, stiff upper lip and what have you, through that lense its understandable that at the time it was considered pretty much the filthiest thing ever.
I'm not going to say that there aren't themes in 'Peeping Tom' that even by today's standards aren't a bit risque, but in our modern age of films like 'Hostel', 'The Hills have eyes', and Hell, even 'Silence of the Lambs', this film is shot in such a tasteful fashion that you almost can forget that there are some deeply warped psychological themes at work here. Almost.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Much to my disappointment, the lead of this film is not, actually, named Tom. I guess that would have been to kitsch, but whatever. His name is Mark Lewis (I still think that is should have been Tom), he works as a 'scene puller' for a movie studio. I don't know tons about making movies, but as far as I could tell its got to do with setting the optimal scene up so all the camera man has to do is press the button. Mark also works part time taking erotic pictures for small newspaper store.
A little odd, but meh.
Anyway, Mark is a pretty quiet unassuming kind of a guy. Except for the fact that he likes to murder prostitutes with his tripod, whilst filming their expressions as they bite it.
But, you know, who doesn't ...
He also spends almost every night in his little home theater re-watching his snuff films. This is pretty much the extent of his social interaction until one night when he comes home from a long night of staking prosies and runs into his downstairs neighbor Helen.
She's having a party for his 21st (yeah, right, 21st) birthday. She tries to get him to come join the party, but, being the socially awkward thing he is, Mark declines and scurries upstairs to his apartment.
Now too long after this Helen traipses upstairs with a slice of cake and wiggles her way into his apartment, and his home theater. Once inside she pretty well browbeats Mark into showing her one of his little films. A bit pushy, but hey, some people like forthright broads.
Mark has enough common sense to not show her one of his 'stabby-stabby' productions, and instead pulls out a reel that introduces us to the undercurrent of the film that is possibly even more disturbing then the obvious one of Voyeurism.
The film that Mark shows Helen is one of him as a little boy that his father took. Apparently, Daddy was a psychiatrist, and a pretty warped one at that. His main focus was studying the effect of fear on people, specifically children. So he experimented on his own son, and filmed the results. We aren't shown what, exactly, the old man did to young Mark, but leaving it to the viewer's imagination lets us assume the worst possible.
And so lays our groundwork for Mark as a serial killer; his fascination with viewing everything through the lens of a camera, and his further fixation on fear. The only thing not surprising about this whole thing is that Mark doesn't have Daddy's bones under the floorboards or something.
Despite the fact that any sane person would have taken their fashionable taffeta party dress and ran like hell, this actually sparks a sort of romantic relationship between Helen and Mark.
Go figure.
Their little romance is pushed a long by the fact that Helen is writing a Children's book about a child with a magical camera, and she wants Mark to collaborate with he for the pictures of the book. He agrees, giddily, even.
While on one hand he is having a sort of sweet, childish, romance with Helen, he is still making his snuff films on the side. Adorable, right?
Early on in their courtship, Helen's blind mother's "spidey senses" go off about Mark, and despite her warning her daughter against him, Helen goes along merrily with her beloved serial killer.
But when one of Mark's victims for the sake of cinema is high profile enough that it gets a full on investigation going, Mark starts to lose his cool a bit, and enter into a downward spiral, eventually leading to the film's conclusion.
Okay, the plot is a little simple, but if you are able to get beyond that, 'Peeping Tom' is a psychological goldmine.
Voyeurism is definitely the prevailing theme in this film, and its done quite cleverly if you're willing to give it a good look.
The opening of the film is shown entirely as though you are looking through the lens of Mark's camera. This makes the viewer, the audience, into the predator. Stalking the first victim from the street, up to her loft, and closing in on her face as she is killed in a way that makes you feel like you're even hovering over this woman, and delivering the final blow yourself.
In this sense its a commentary on society and its desire to look at the grisly/uncomfortable. 'Peeping Tom' is just an analysis on mankind's need to stop and stare at car wrecks. Ironically, the same public that loudly denounced 'Peeping Tom' as "nauseating" and "vile", are the same people who slow down to look at a freeway accident, with no intention of helping the people involved.
Mark is just one person made into an analogy for the majority of mankind.
And another thing is, beyond the fact that, yes, Mark is totally a cold-blooded serial killer, he is still a character that you feel sympathetic towards. The way he acts with Helen is so charming its ridiculous, he becomes a little boy around her. Especially when you take into account that this was a guy who didn't really get to have a childhood thanks to dear old dad.
I will admit, that at first I had trouble with Mark as a lead. Mainly because through all of it I felt like I was watching Graham Norton's deranged uncle.
tell me you don't see it
But once I got past that, he was kind of endearing. But then again, I've been known to sympathize with the protagonist anti-hero in these types of things.
Right, so, should probably wrap this up because I'm running out of things to say that won't be just long rambling nonsense. So let's tie this up here.
Is 'Peeping Tom' worth watching? I think so. I can see how it is considered a classic, and I also see how it can be seen as a compliment to Alfred Hitchcock's 'Psycho'. No, I don't think it's for everyone, and I'm pretty sure that by today's standards it's too slow moving for a lot of people. And it's not a gore fest by any stretch of the imagination, in fact the murders are very subtle. At the heart of it, 'Peeping Tom' as actually a quite sensitive movie, and I think that if most of the critics who slammed it took a closer look at it, they would see that it actually a quiet, repressed, almost heartbreaking portrait of a psychologically damaged little boy trapped in the guise of a grown man.
So, a little while back I saw over at The Final Girl Film Club that the new movie to review was Tobe Hooper's The Funhouse. And I thought "Well, heck, that's in my netflix queue anyway." So, to the top of the queue it went. I will admit that I had more than a little bit of trepidation in watching this one. I know that I am in the horror fan minority here, but I'm really not the biggest fan of Mr. Hooper.
With the exception of Poltergeist, which only sort of counts since it was largely Spielberg's baby, I haven't really liked anything he did. I know, I know, everyone will swear up and down that Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a milestone in the horror genre, and that it has such iconic scenes associated with it.
Sorry guys. I just don't like it. I will be honest, however, and tell you that I pretty much automatically dislike anything that has cannibals associated with it. I can't help it you guys, everybody has their thing, mine is cannibals.
But we're getting SO far off topic now. Enough about Tobe Hooper's other productions, we're here to talk about The Funhouse right now. Which, I'm going to go out on a limb here by saying, is my favorite of Hooper's works. Excluding Poltergeist, but we already covered that.
The Funhouse is essentially a Brother's Grimm-esque coming of age tale, modernized, and hidden under the guise of being a typical slasher film. Like the titular funhouse itself, the film is all about what goes on as far as the surface, and then the gritty things happenings that are hidden beneath that.
At first glance, The Funhouse is almost formulaic.
Step 1: Get a group of teenagers together.
Step 2: Introduce some sex and drugs into the mix (with the exception of the mandatory virgin)
Step 3: Teenagers come upon some sort of danger/madman/hillbillies/undead killing machine
Step 4: Said danger will then pick off teenagers one by one
Step 5: Token Virgin goes up against the Big Bad, with some sort of blunt instrument.
Step 6: The virgin escapes alive, older, wiser, and in need of about thirty some-odd years of intense therapy.
Throw in some insane carnies, a weird-ass dark ride (if you don't remember what a dark ride is, shame on you, and go back and refresh your memory), tons of jiggling boobs, and you have the outer shell of The Funhouse's infrastructure.
I'm not saying that escaping terrifying, potentially inbred, carnies is not a key factor to the film. It is. And if you don't really want to have a long think about things and watch the violence, that is potentially enough. However, there is so much more to this film than simply running through plywood sets whilst dodging the Elephantman's ugly cousin.
You just have to know where to look.
To fully understand the heart of the film, you have to understand the film's heroine. Meet Amy Harper.
Amy is in that frightening state of her teenager years in which she is uncomfortably sandwiched between her need to "grow up" like her "cool adult friends", and the crippling fear of what dangers will befall her as soon as she shirks the mantle of childhood in exchange for that of a grown woman.
As much as she wants to be a woman, so much that goes along with it essentially scares the crap out of her. But our little Amy is willing to put on a brave face and stride forward into the great unknown, despite the urge to puke from sheer terror at any moment.
The subtle workings of an after-school special are at work here as well. In the opening, as we see Amy primping for her date, in the background her father tells her how he "doesn't want her going to that damn carnival". Her mother, on the other hand, is busy voicing her disapproval of 'Buzz', the boy who will be taking Amy out.
Basically, Amy's parents tell her "SEX WILL KIIIIIILL YOU"
It was a lot like the Sex Ed bit from Mean Girls
Amy more or less tells her parents that they are full of it and flounces out of the house in her nifty wedge heels. We can wag our fingers and tell her that she should've listened to her Daddy until the cows come home, but if she did then we really wouldn't have a movie.
The aforementioned boy, Buzz, is picking Amy up so they can meet their friends Richie and Liz for a double date at the ominous carnival. I'm not really sure how Buzz fits into this group, because he looks like he's in his late twenties. But whatever. Liz, who I believe is Amy's best friend, is in an established, sexually active relationship with Ritchie. It's fairly evident that Amy not only looks up to Liz, but that Liz's opinion holds a fair amount of sway. I.e. if Liz is doing something, Amy wants to as well.
It's obvious how uncomfortable and inexperienced Amy is where sex is concerned. She shrinks away from Buzz when he starts to come on too strong in the car and is fairly rigid when he attempts to charm her while the four teenagers travel through the carnival. However, after a discussion of her virginity and "saving herself" in one of the Carnival's derelict bathrooms with Liz, Amy seems almost determined to loose her virginity. Even though it's not so much that Amy wants to because she genuinely likes this Buzz fellow, but because it's something that would make her more like Liz.
Sex scares Amy, but she's going to give it the old College Try. So she becomes progressively chummier with Buzz, even thought there are numerous moments where you can still see that she is uncomfortable through her facial expressions. Much like the other instances of Amy's susceptibility to peer pressure, when Ritchie makes the ludicrously moronic genius suggestion that they spend the night in the funhouse ride, Amy foes along with it. Despite the fact that it's, you know, a really really bad idea.
Especially since it becomes apparent that the only reason Ritchie wants them to stay the night in the funhouse is that it seems like a freaky place to, well, get your freak on. So to the funhouse they go, and while our happy couples are in the process of getting down to the nitty gritty there is a general disturbance from beneath the floorboards. Our merry band groups together and peers through the floor boards where they witness probably the creepiest part of the entire movie.
One of the carnies, dressed in a Frankenstein mask is propositioning the carnival fortune teller by means of grunting and waving money at her. It's a short lived encounter, as our boy Franky is not exactly a sexual dynamo, but the woman is still planning on keeping the hundred dollars she, pardon the pun, squeezed out of him. This makes hulk mad, and he murders the her to get back said cash.
Further proving to dear, sweet Amy that, oh yeah, SEX KILLS.
Needless to say, our band of heroes goes from "Hey look! It's Live Weird Porn!!" to "HOLY CRAP! THERE'S A KILLER ON THE LOOSE!". Except with way less panic then that, because they only make a fairly half-assed attempt at escape, despite having just witnessed a murder and knowing that there is just no way that this is going to end well.
So after some unenthusiastic shuffling around wiggling door handles, they decide that the best plan of action is to go back to the scene of the crime and sit on their asses doing nothing. Because that is OBVIOUSLY the best decision. After some time Frankenstein boy comes back with his angry hillbilly daddy in tow.
His daddy is pretty "hey man whatever" about the fact that his satanic offspring has offed a woman until he realizes who she is. And then he goes a bit apeshit because she's a fellow carnie. If she'd just been a local girl then, you know, who cares. But since she's part of the carnival THIS IS WAY BAD LIKE WHOA.
Ritchie, being the fine specimen of humanity that he is, of course, manages to give the chillun's location away. Because he's awesome, and so, of course Hillbilly and son know that the only way to handle this situation is to eliminate all witnesses. Which, of course, leads to our intrepid heroes flailing around the freakish insides of the ride whilst being chased, and picked off by some of the most bizarre characters to grace the slasher genre.
But here's where The Funhouse deviates from the general slasher film. Because Amy manages to not be our general slasher film heroine.
Generally speaking, the Final Girl of any horror film's general arc is that she makes the progression from the victim to the empowered hero. Notice I used the term hero and not heroine. That is because, as nearly any text book on horror will tell you, the Final Girl's genesis has a tendency to stem from her taking on more masculine traits and leaving behind being a scared little girl. That is not the case in what happens with Amy. And that is a big part of why I don't consider Amy in the usual class of Final Girl.
If you will recall, at the very beginning of this entry I said that I viewed The Funhouse as "essentially a Brother's Grimm-esque coming of age tale". This is largely because Amy is more of a Grimm's Fairytale Heroine then a Final Girl.
For my money, Amy is an almost perfect parallel to Snow White.
She is essentially innocent, and despite the frequent opportunities that arise to sully her innocence, she escapes the tale with it intact. And like Snow White, the temptations to corrupt Amy's innocence are also potential threats to her life just as much as to her vulnerability.
In the original tale of Snow White, the Queen tempts her with more than just the apple. First there is a corset - meant to give her an adult womanly figure- or suffocate her, as it turns out. Then the poisoned comb to make her look pretty an appealing to the opposite sex. Things that are supposed to make Snow White appear as an adult woman, further more, Snow White is being pressured to appear as such. These trials we can almost think of as being embodied by Liz and Ritchie, Amy's pressures to lose her innocence.
Whereas, the poison apple can be the analogy for Amy's pressure to lose her virginity to Buzz - and in a more biblical sense, to the apple of knowledge that Eve ate - to gain the knowledge of adulthood.
Also, like Snow White, Amy must deal with the abandonment of her parents in the face of grave danger. After Snow White's mother dies, for the rest of the tale her father pretty much checks out, and no point even tries to help his daughter. Likewise in one scene in The Funhouse, Amy's parents actually arrive at the Carnival to collect her younger brother. Amy sees them through a fan vent in the side of the funhouse and calls out to her parents. While her little brother appears to see her, the adults don't even glance in her direction. Like Snow White, Amy is on her own, no adult is going to help her.
Like is the case in most Grimm fairy tales, Snow White is not self rescuing. She does not take up a sword, march on the castle, and have a showdown with her Wicked Stepmother to reclaim her rightful thrown. In turn, Amy does not have the usual Final Girl moment of heroism, where she finds a large blunt object and stamps determinedly towards the villain to bash his brains in and save the day.
In this respect, Amy is not only like Snow White, but, honestly, like many of us would really act thrown into this situation. Your first instinct is not always to go into "Badass" mode. Most of use would behave just like Amy. We would run into the night, screaming like a banshee. Furthermore Amy doesn't, really defeat the villain, it's more dumb luck than anything else that saves Amy. Which, really, is more relate-able. That's normal, that's human
And while further delving into the symbolism that we can link to Snow White, Amy's suitor, Buzz, can almost be cast as the role of the Huntsmen. Buzz is, initially, a danger to Amy, he is older and more mature than her. Further linking the theme of sex and death, The Huntsmen initial role is to kill Snow White, and initially Buzz's role is to defile Amy.
Neither of these men perform their initial function. The Huntsmen cannot kill Snow White, and Buzz does not taint Amy's innocence. Both, however, essentially put their necks on the chopping block so that the innocent girl is given a chance to escape her would-be killer. Buzz takes on the Hillbilly brigade single-handedly so that Amy can make a break for it, in a scene that is almost direct remake of the forest scene in Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
The biggest difference, for Amy, is that at the end of this tale there is no prince to rescue her. There is no glass casket, or seven dwarfs. However, whereas in Snow White, her death-like sleep and awakening is the symbolism of her coming into herself as an adult, Amy's voyage through the funhouse can be scene as such.
Also unlike Snow White, there is no Happily Ever After storybook ending for Amy. Nor riding off on a white horse into the sunset. Amy's "happy ending" is that she gets to limp out into harsh light of the morning after, clothes torn, and on the verge of nervous collapse.
But not everybody can get that Disney ending right?
Right.
So, fairy tale allegories aside, The Funhouse is not perfect, though enjoyable. The special effects makeup is a little wanting, our lead villain is ... interesting looking, but by no means something realistic. Also on the subject of the villain, you don't really understand enough about him to feel anything towards him, empathy or otherwise, and to have a truly good villain, you have to actually like them a little bit.
There are points in which the characters actions make less than no sense, but that's a common trait in slasher. As is the fact that they really are not all that fleshed out. But still, I like to care a little bit about someone, you know, so I can be at least a little disappointed when they kick the bucket. I like to root for people even when I know that they're going to drop like flies.
On the other hand, Tobe Hooper artistically outdid himself in this one. It's beautiful to look at. The colors are rich, and there are some scenes that are shot so well it is almost jaw-dropping. So, really Mister Hooper, good job there. I may be alone in this, but I feel like The Funhouse kicks Texas Chainsaw Massacre's ass and takes its lunch money.
So that's what I got babies, even if you don't want to sit down and look at the film in an academic sense, it's good to just look at. Basically, it's a decent night in.
Okay Parasomnia, I don't know if it's that I set my sights to high with you or what. But Son, your father and I are very disappointed in your behavior. I mean, really now, your trailer looked so FREAKING AWESOME. I guess I really should have known better, it was, after all, it is a William Malone movie. And, while I will admit to a very guilty love of Fear Dot Com, he also did the extremely shameful House on Haunted Hill remake.
Alas! Alack!
Apparently, my relationship with William Malone's films, is very similar to Lewis Black's relationship with Candy Corn. Every single time I go "Oh boy! This film is going to rock!.... SON OF A BITCH!".
I have no one to blame but myself. Curses. I don't want to blame me, so I'll blame Bono.
Okay, wow, really short attention span, I got COMPLETELY off topic there. So Let's look at the meat and bones of the plot here before I get heavily into the opinion part.
Our little tale starts out with Danny.
Danny is a sad sad boy who has just been dumped by his girlfriend. Who didn't just dump him, but also threw out his couch while he was at work.
Danny "works" in a record store, and I use the word "work" very loosely here, as all he seems to do is stand around talking about obscure 1960's Brit-Pop with a fellow co-worker.
When Danny isn't "working", or lamenting the loss of his living room furniture, he likes to visit his friend the crackhead at the local mental research facility. Whilst visiting his friendly neighborhood speed freak, Danny discovers that just down the Hall is a psychopathic serial killer named Byron Volpe. Volpe is in a single cell room tethered to the walls, with a bag over his head.
Apparently eye contact alone can make you fall under Volpe's influence. He has supposedly convinced his girlfriend/wife/trained monkey to jump off a building and the judge at this first court appearance to park on railroad tracks.
The Doctors and our friend the crack head all spend a good amount of effort telling Danny DOOOOOOOOOON'T LOOOOK IIIIIIIIIIIIIN TO HIS EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYES! All he has to do is look at you and you apparently become a gibbering idiot completely under his sway.
As far as I can understand it, Volpe is, essentially, Hypnotoad.
Let's compare shall we?
But more on Hypnotoad Volpe later, We've more pressing matters to discuss. I suppose, like, you know, the rest of the "plot".
Whilst young Danny is staring at the freak show on display in Volpe's room, he notices the room next door and its catatonic occupant. And, like any man whose lost his girlfriend and his living room set in 24 hours, he naturally decides that this girl is the woman for him. Apparently, they met once when they were little kids for about five minutes, and that's all the introduction he needs ... weirdo.
The attending physician comes in and explains that this is Laura and she suffers from a medical condition known as Parasomnia or "Sleeping Beauty Syndrome". (The science of this part is completely off, but I'll get into that later.) Laura's condition causes her to spend more time asleep than awake, waking up for intervals of anything from two minutes to half an hour before conking back out for another week or so.
So far this doesn't seem so bad to me. Sleeping 80% of your life is somewhat ideal as far as I'm concerned, for the most part dreams are way better than reality.
However, once we are shown what Laura's dreams look like, well, I think it would be time to start loving mass quantities of caffeine, because the inside of this girl's head is downright unpleasant.
But everybody loves a sleeping broad, so Danny diligently visits her all-the-time, until one day when he learns that she is going to moved to a different facility so her condition can be studied by a doctor who specializes in sleep disorders. Although, apparently, he kind of sucks, since he's been involved in quite a few malpractice suits and a couple of his patients have gone belly up under the watch of the good doctor.
In Danny-land this is UNACCEPTABLE LIKE WHOA and he devises a "cunning", and by cunning I mean overused and kind of crap, plan to "spring her out", by which I mean kidnap her.
Because, you know, nothing says successful relationship quite like Stockholm Syndrome.
Once he gets her home it quickly becomes apparent that the amount of time she has spent asleep and not interacting with the waking world has given her basically the mentality of a seven year old. And so Danny does a lot of bathing her while she's unconscious and feeding her, and what have you.... which is, you know, not weird, or creepy, or anything. (I won't lie, this was probably the aspect of the movie that gave me the heebie jeebies more than anything else).
But moving right along... it turns out that Danny was not the only person who was freakishly obsessed with Laura. Our good friend Volpe apparently digs catatonic women as well.
Despite the fact this girl is virtually never awake, Volpe seems to feel that they have a deep personal connection. Whatever dude.
Apparently Volpe has found away inside Laura's head and her dreams, so on the subconscious plain he has more interactions with her than anyone. On account of this, he also has a fair amount of control over Laura - to the extent that he can get her to carry out his murdering sprees for him while he's still in the clink.
Naturally, Volpe manages to escape and all Hell breaks loose, and him and Danny have to have a big testosterone filled showdown over who gets to have Narcolepsy girl.
Okay, so the plot, pretty damn minimal.
It's like; "Let's take Sleeping Beauty and The Phantom of the Opera and mash them together which a bunch of faulty science and people who can't act their way out of a paper sack."
Patrick Kilpatrick (wow, what a name), who plays Volpe, plays his role competently. However, our good friend Danny, played by Dylan Purcell, could easily have been replaced with a plank of wood that had a face drawn on it and we would have gotten a pretty similar result.
I don't feel that I can really analyze Cherilyn Wilson's performance, considering she spends the whole movie either lying around asleep or running around yelling "DANNY!" at the top of her lungs.
For all I know given a different role she might be a superb actress, or she could be better off in roles with virtually no lines. Who knows? Not me.
Acting aside, here's the part where I rip the movie open and poke at its insides, in order to tell you what did and didn't work.
I have mentioned the incorrect science/psychology of the movie multiple times, so that probably would be a good place for us to start.
First and foremost, there is no singular condition known as "parasomnia". Parasomnia is a classification for a fairly diverse group of sleep disorders; somnambulism, night terrors, teeth grinding, confusion arousals, and restless leg syndrome. Not a singular condition that entails that the patient spends more time asleep than awake.
And parasomnias are in no way connected to "Sleeping Beauty syndrome", which, while a legitimate condition, is also unrelated to what Laura suffers from in the film.
In truth, Sleeping Beauty Syndrome, or Kleine-Levin syndrome, is more about being excessively lethargic and hallucinating.
So, as someone who knows at least a little bit about abnormal psychology, I was pretty confused as to why Malone felt the need to essentially name drop existing conditions, but then completely fabricate the science behind them. At the point it would have made more sense to just invent a condition all together, because anyone who knows anything about these things will immediatly start going:
"AAAH! AHH! YOU'RE WRONG! THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!" while pointing animatedly at their Television set.
It's a pet peeve of mine, I know a lot people would probably be able to watch without knowing or caring that the science is made up. I know, I should be able to just suspend disbelief or something while I'm watching this movie. But, Goddamit, if you're going to try and pull semblances of reality into this fantasy AT LEAST DO SOME FREAKING FACT CHECKING OKAY???
Wow... sorry about that... where was I?
Oh yeah...
Danny and Laura's relationship.
It's creepy.
I mean creepy LIKE WHOA. Danny knows nothing about Laura when he shanghais her, other than that she's 'real purdy', and due to being asleep all the time, probably won't be able to throw his living room furniture out the window.
But after he saves/kidnaps her, and actually has something resembling a conversation with her, it's pretty obvious that she's basically a little kid in a fully developed woman's body. Even if her outsides are all grown-up THIS IS JUST PLAIN WRONG.
Sure, Volpe has a thing for her too... but he's a psychopath, so I don't really question his motives. Danny, however, is supposed to be our lovable hero with a heart of gold. But essentially, this whole thing makes him look like a pedophile.
The only scenes in the whole film that legitimately gave me the willies were once based around Danny and Laura's interactions. In one he takes her out for ice cream, she's never had ice cream in her life and has no idea how to eat it.
After it falls off the cone she proceeds to eat it with her hands, getting ice cream all over her face. Danny, without any semblance of humor, tells her how he just finished getting her cleaned up and GOD now he's going to have to bathe her again. While Laura spends a lot of the movie not seeming to know what is happening around her, at that point even SHE is looking at Danny like "Ew... there is something wrong with you."
In another scene Danny comes home from work to find Laura dressed in a cheerleader outfit. She's happy to see him and does one of those "give me (insert letter of choice here)" cheer. But, like I mentioned before, she's pretty much a kid, so it's just a mess of letters with no correlation to each other. She tells him that it spells "home", however, and rushes to hug him to show him how glad she is that he is back. Danny, on the other hand, just snaps at her that it "doesn't spell anything".
Generally, he treats her like a moron. He's like a more judging, whiny, version of Humbert Humbert, from Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. But we're supposed to like him, he's supposed to be the knight in shining armor with a moral compass that always points to north. In truth, I found him creepier than Volpe.
So, that alone, made it a little difficult, at points, to watch this movie.
I am not going to tell you that there is absolutely no reason to watch this film. Or that it had no merits whatsoever. Because the only redeeming quality in this movie, is exactly the one that makes me keep, like an Alzheimer patient, watching William Malone's films.
Visually it is ABSOLUTELY STUNNING.
Parasomnia is much like most modern pop music. Ignore the words and just enjoy the catchy beat, and you will probably like it. That's pretty much the case here.
While the plot and the script are really quite wanting, I think that if you watched Parasomnia on mute, with some Chopin or something on in the background, it would be a fairly enjoyable experience.
I know that modern horror movies have gotten a certain amount of flack for their tendency to saturate shots with colors in order to enhance mood. I think that's just stupid, color saturation can turn a ho-hum shot into something mysterious if done right. And in Parasomnia, it was done COMPLETELY RIGHT.
The touches of blue permeating throughout the film give it not only a moody, but utterly surreal visual quality. It makes the film look like you are observing a dream that someone else is having. It's gorgeous, it's one of Malone's tricks that, for me, saved his earlier film Fear dot com.
Furthermore, the dreamscapes inside Laura's head are basically amazing. They're like if you took MirrorMask and The Labyrinth, mooshed them together, and then ran them through the filter of Gore Verbinski's interpretation of The Ring (which, in my opinion, was one of the only somewhat successful US remakes of a foreign horror film).
I feel pretty confident in my feeling that had the whole movie had the look and feel of the last fifteen minutes, I would probably have loved it. Seriously you guys, its beautiful.
The problem is, the last fifteen minutes or so, are basically a completely different movie. It goes from being a character study of Danny and his interactions with Laura to being a portrait of Volpe and the inner workings of his brain, and how he translates these things into visual representations via art and music.
It truly would have been better on all grounds, including more interesting, if Volpe had been the center focus for the whole film, instead of a fringe character only brought in a few times to move along the plot - until the end.
Dears, Darlings, Spooky Do's .... I just don't know what to tell you kids. On the one hand I want to tell you to run as far and as fast from this movie as you can, because it is going to be 103 minutes of your life that you will NEVER GET BACK.
On the other hand, some of the visuals almost make up for that...
I don't know guys. I just don't know.
Parasomnia's flaws far outweigh its strengths ... but in the end its up to you to do the right thing, you know, like Smokey the bear would tell you... or something.
But if you do watch it, and you hate it, this girl will give you no sympathy. No, no my dear, all you will get is a disapproving look and a wag of the finger.
Well y'all, this girl actually has a bit of time before her in which she is going to be watching TONS of horror movies. In fact,as soon as I am done writing this here review I'm gonna go watch another one! Wooooooo!
Yes darlings, that's what this girl does when she has the apartment to herself for a week. She doesn't throw parties, or rearrange furniture, she sits in her arm chair and does her damnedest to overdose on horror films. So how happy was lil 'ol me when I turned on the TV and FearNet on demand was running [Rec], which I've been meaning to watch, but other things kept demanding to be at the top of my netflix queue, and you know how that is.
How exciting! And you know what, I wasn't disappointed. And that's kind of rare for me. That's not to say that [Rec] is perfect,because it isn't, but for what it is, it's quite good. And is furthering my opinion that these days Spain is churning out some pretty amazing horror.
So here's the basic rundown of what [Rec] is about:
The film opens with no sort of credits, no title card telling you that what you are about to experience is 100% REAL YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW, it starts like it would if you were watching lost footage. Young, adorable reporter Angela Vidal, is doing a piece for her show "While you're asleep". She is covering the job of local Firefighters, shadowing the firefighters on one of their "typical nights".
The beginning is actually really cute. Angela is sweet and flirtatious with the Firefighters, who seem more than happy to have her around, letting her try on their hats and showing her around the firehouse. I won't lie, two minutes into the movie and I already liked Angela and was secretly routing for her to take the coveted title of 'Final Girl', but that is neither here nor there.
For awhile there's a lot of Angela swinging her arms and telling the cameraman, Pablo, how nothing is happening and how she is getting bored. But then, oh joy of joys, the Firehouse alarm goes off, and the boys are called out. A resident is apparently trapped in their apartment, and of course, firemen Alex and Manu are more than happy to let Angela and Pablo ride along with them.
Once they arrive at the apartment they are greeted by a group of police and a lobby full of nervous apartment occupants. Apparently, the resident in question is an old woman who lives upstairs, no one has been able to get into the apartment; but they sure heard an awful lot of bangin' and screamin' up there. Manu assures the nervous tenants that everything will be fine, they have tools, they'll have the apartment open in a jiffy.
So, up the stairs they go, the firefighters, a couple of sanctimonious police officers whose names I can't remember because they were kind of douchebags, and Angela and her cameraman. Once the door to the apartment is cracked and our intrepid heroes venture inside, it is obvious to even the bluntest tool in the shed that there is something gravely amiss here. The old woman is standing in a corner soaked in blood and looking crazy as a shit house rat. Apparently, this isn't concerning anyone though, and the authority figures of the group schlep on over to Granny Batshit with lot's of "hey, everything's fine. You're fine, I'm fine, the suns out, ain't life dandy"? speak.
To the surprise of NO ONE, the crazy bitch launches at one of the policeman; because her stomach was making the rumblies that only human throats would satisfy. The firefighters manage to wrestle the lunch meat man away from the old woman and more or less subdue her. Manu instructs Alex to stay up here with the woman and not let her do any more crazy shit, whilst he and the other, more sanctimonious police officer, drag the shrieking, blood squirting man down to the lobby.
This does nothing to help the level of hysteria amongst the residents. Because, let's be fair, nothing ruins a decent night like a bleeding man squealing like a stuck pig in your lobby. Minor chaos erupts as the residents begin to be increasingly more shrill in their demands to know 'just WHAT in the name of God's ass is going on here'. This is, of course, when Alex takes the swan dive from the top of the stairwell and splats on the lobby floor.
Things go from bad to worse, because this about the time that the electricity in the building gets shut off, and the apartment is flooded with bright lights from outside, whilst a voice informs them via bullhorn, that "The health authorities have sealed off the building for health reasons". And because of something called a BNC threat, which we later learn translates to biological, nuclear, or chemical threat.
This, dear readers, is when all Hell breaks loose. The building is entirely sealed off, complete with plastic dropped from helicopters, and armed men in biohazard suits outside of the complex. But this is also the point when Angela turns to the camera, and in a deadly serious voice tells him:
"Fuck what they say, we have to tape this, people need to know what happened".
Generally this is the sort of thing that would make me put my hands up and shout "DONE!" in regards to the character. Because, generally, this is the sort of thing done out of sheer narcissism, but there is something in the earnest way that Angela handles herself and the situation that I couldn't help but find it endearing.
And remember that police officer who got attacked, and the poor fireman who was hefted down the stairs by the crazy old lady? Oh yeah, they're starting to act just like the woman, because, you know, they got bitten.
Fortunately it doesn't take long for our little troupe to figure out that getting bitten makes you into grey faced, blood thirsty, assholes. UNfortunately, the grey faced, blood thirsty, assholes, are not the George A. Romero shambling variety. You know, the kind that if they manage to catch you, you probably deserve to die because they travel about a centimeter every two hours? Nope, these guys barrel at you for all they're worth.
Fast zombies, or not zombies, whatever they are ... are harder to stay away from. So the residents of the condemned apartment complex fall one by one, the slowest, and most useless go first.
Okay, so this movie is more or less the mutant offspring of "28 Days later" and "The Blair Witch Project", if it were raised by George A. Romero's "The Crazies". And if you have a problem with "the shakey hand-held cam" business, you'll want to give this one a wide birth. HOWEVER, what thoroughly endeared [Rec] to me, and set it apart from others in this genre (namely, Paranormal Activity and The Blair With Project) is how intensely character driven it is.
There is a tight grouping of central characters and you actually care about them. You like them, you want them to come out swinging, and not become one of the rage filled bumbling hoard. Angela and Pablo's relationship is touching, even though you never see Pablo, but instead see the events through him. But even as shit hits the fan, Angela always looks first to Pablo, and he, in turn, is quick to take a hold of her hand and comfort her as it gets tenser.
Generally the faux-documentary type of movie doesn't do it for me. But the tight, almost claustrophobic, way it is filmed via hand held camera gives the viewer a sense of the tense urgency of the film. You feel involved, you're in the thick of it with them.
There is no "happily ever after" wherein everything is tied up in a neat little bundle, but the ending had a twist to it that I actually found surprising, which is rare. Usually reveals in this type of film are contrite, or so obvious you feel beaten over the head with it. But this leaves more questions than it answers, along with a deep unsettled feeling in the stomach.
Yes, there are flaws. Yes, there were multiple times during the film that I found myself shouting "YOU HAVE A GUN! JUST SHOOT THEM!", and I won't lie, a few of the characters you are fairly pleased to see get it. Nonetheless, I was fairly impressed with [Rec]. So really kids, see it, it kicks Paranormal Activity's ass and takes its lunch money.
'Candyman' was one of those movies that came out in the period of time in which I was too young to be allowed to view such cinema. I'm not going to date myself here by saying just how old I was when said film came out, but I was young. And I was a pretty damn sheltered kid.
So basically, 'Candyman' entirely passed me by. But it is a personal goal of your humble narrator to go back and reclaim the movies that came out whilst she was but a tiny confection, or before I even began baking, so to speak. Also, the 'Candyman' urban legend is one of those ones that every little kid was tortured by, at least in my childhood he was basically the male version of Bloody Mary (although Miss. Mary caused much more fear in this Pie than the man with the candy ever did).
But there is a trouble with movies in the vein of being recreations of Urban Legends, as a child these were things that scared the ever living crap out of you. The man with the hook for a hand was always waiting in some ally, Bloody Mary was in every friggin mirror, the Bogeyman was always either under the bed or in the closet, and let's not even get started on the babysitter with the killer upstairs business. So here's the thing, how is a movie ever going to be able to even touch upon the complete and utter horror these things instilled in you as a child? It's impossible, that's just a fact. Learn to love it.
So basically, I was geared up to snort and poo-poo my way through 'Candyman', as I have through all film adaptations of Urban Legends that I have seen before (although, the 'Bloody Mary' episode of Supernatural was actually a pretty darn good try). I won't lie, I kind of wanted to hate this movie.
But Goddamit, I didn't. In fact, I found amazing merits buried in it. And you know, I could probably have dismissed this movie as rubbish all together if they hadn't had such an amazingly strong female lead to carry the entire movie on her shoulders.
Dears, Darlings, and fellow Spooky-Dos meet our Intrepid Heroine, Miss Helen Lyle.
She is smart as a whip, obnoxiously gorgeous, and will spend the whole movie having life and the world essentially crap all over her.
The movie opens with Helen interviewing a college girl who tell her a story that is "the scariest things she's ever heard, and it's totally true". It turns out to be a story about the aforementioned guy version of Bloody Mary crossed with the "Hook man" legend. Long story short, horny teenagers say Candyman's name five times in a mirror, he show ups and fillets the girl. And her roommate's friend's boyfriend totally knew the people it happened to.
Which is how we learn that Darling Helen, along with her awesome best friend Bernadette are graduate students working on a thesis about Urban Legends.
Helen's husband, Trevor, is an enormous Douche-bag who teaches at the university where Helen and Bernadette were interviewing college freshmen about what urban legends they'd come across. So, of course, he decides to make a lecture about Urban Legends to his class (which is who knows what, maybe Anthropology?) and ruin their study collection possibilities by wising the kids up to it all.
Helen is, justifiably, torqued. Trevor, the douche who is also rather obviously giving "extra credit", if you get my meaning, to one of his students, all but tells Helen that she is being a hysterical female and he is not going to let her silly little thesis interrupt his teaching schedule.
We're less than ten minutes into the movie and I'm hoping that Trevor gets terribly, terribly maimed.
But anyway, sweet hubbie's bastard tendencies force Helen to look further than college freshman for her study group. But she lucks out whilst typing up the interview she had with the freshman that opened the film, a woman cleaning the classroom she is in comments upon it. This leads Helen to interviewing said cleaning lady and her co-worker, which then leads her to a rendition of the legend that actually corresponds with a crime that happened in the Projects.
So Helen, in true Nancy Drew fashion heads out to the place the grisly murder took place, dragging reluctant voice of reason Bernadette along with her. In the projects the 'Candyman' legend is alive and kicking, so to speak, and everyone and their mother alternates between living in abject fear of him, and blaming him for all the normal hoo-ha.
Helen is an educated woman and is not to be bothered with superstition, so she insists to these people that their own personal Bogeyman is complete Horse Feathers. And as such COMPLETELY DAMNS HERSELF.
In true Freddy Kreuger fashion Candyman understands that the only way to exist is through other's faith in his legend. So in true "shun the non-believer" fashion he reveals himself to her, creepily, in a parking lot. Insisting that either she let him kill her or he will make her pay for the loss of faith she has caused within his congregation. Trouble is, I won't lie, Candyman looks pretty Badass whilst being a total creeper, and I wasn't exactly mad at the dulcet tones of his smooth baritone voice.
Which is when everything goes to Hell in a hand basket, so to speak. Candyman brutally murders people left and right and sets Helen up to take the fall, insisting that the slaughter will continue until she gives herself up. And we aren't just talking in a "give up and let me kill you, you difficult woman" way, it's all pretty down right sexual. Almost romantic, in a frightening sort of "Phantom of the Opera" way.
But Helen, God bless her, she is one tough cookie. Horrible, horrible things are happening all around her and she keeps on fighting. And looking perfect the whole times, yes, even when she is drenched in the blood of those that Candyman has slaughtered, and having a near hysterical meltdown, she still looks basically awesome.
But it is only when all the shit starts to hit the fan that the real reason I found myself enjoying this movie began to pick up. No, it's not just because this movie had a villain I could get behind, which is important to me and all, but not the big reason here. The allegory between Urban Legend, belief in something allowing existence becomes a subtle, and amazing theme.
Helen, herself, is not unlike Candyman. No, she doesn't go around gutting people with her festering hand with a hook jammed in it, granted, but she only exists as long as she is believed in, as much as he is.
She begins the movie, strong, vibrant, confident in her existence. But this is when she has the, supposedly, happy marriage, a wonderful best friend, and the respect of her peers. As this all falls apart, as there is suddenly a lack of people's belief in her Helen seems to be feeling herself disappear, much in the way Candyman described himself as doing when the legends were not to be spoken of him any longer.
Taking out the twisted romantic aspect of the Candyman's feelings toward Helen, he is offering her something that douche-bag Trevor, or anyone else really did. A chance to truly exist because she will always be remembered, believed in. Even if it is only for the crimes that Candyman has perpetuated and framed her for.
And yes, I have acknowledged that it is sick to think of 'Candyman' in the sense of being a romance. But there is a highly romantic aspect to it, more romantic than you can perceive between her and Trevor. Even before things began to go south we were more than reasonably sure that that her sorry excuse for a husband was having one of those "special" teacher relationships that involve lot's of staying after school for "extra credit assignments".
And once the going gets even remotely rough Trevor is more than willing to throw his hands up and be done with her, more than anything else because this is the perfect excuse for him to move in with his barely legal trollop. And when confronted with this, Trevor essentially counters with a "yeah, but you're a crazy person who killed people, even though you were never proved guilty, so I put all your stuff on the lawn with a 'free to a good home' sign on it."
Well, not in so many words, but you get the picture.
Candyman, in his own psycho way, is sort of the Byronic love interest for Darling Helen. He offers her eternity with him. They'll live forever so long as there are people who will speak in whispers about them, and he is happy to have that forever include her in the main focus of it.
I know it's wrong to think it, y'all. But it is a little bit sweet.
Sweet in a "I probably shouldn't have stopped seeing a therapist" kind of a way, but eh, I've seen the Phantom of the Opera a bazillion times and I still get upset every time Christine chooses that tool Raul over the Phantom. Sure the Phantom murdered truckloads of theater folk, but didn't he also write her the loveliest songs? I'm just saying.
But Helen proves that she is firmly the hero of this story, because she believes she can be strong. Once she shakes the shackles of her horrible marriage, and even avoids the seductive lure of the Candyman, she truly comes full circle and is truly in her own by the end of the film.
Which is why I can't be mad at this film.
I don't consider myself a feminist, but the strong female character that was Helen is arguably one of the strongest women in Horror cinema. Yes, I know everyone always looks first and foremost to Sigourney Weaver's character Ripley. But I argue that the self-rescuing Helen should be considered at least as highly. After all Helen fends off an evil that cannot be jettisoned out an air lock, because it exists in the very fibers of the mind.
And she never has to walk around in her panties to do it either.
