WORLD WAR Z (2013) movie review

World War Z (2013) d. Forster, Marc (USA)

Ostensibly based on Max Brooks' bestseller, one has to wonder why producer/star Brad Pitt even bothered to option the rights considering how far the final product strays from its source material's tone and structure. That said, as far as epic Hollywood undead extravaganzas go, this one gets far more right than wrong in doing what it sets out to do.

Eschewing Brooks' reflective oral history take on the zombie apocalypse, screenwriters Matthew Michael Carnahan, Drew Goddard and Damon Lindelof instead deliver a linear narrative, with ex-government operative Pitt and his family caught up in the escalating tumult, depicting with ground level immediacy scenes in their native Philadelphia that are presumably echoed around the globe.

Regardless of one's personal predilections in the slow/fast zombie debate, there's no denying that the supercharged undead horde visuals - wheeling and turning like flocks of birds - are impressive and elicit a genuine emotional charge. Pitt does fine work as an ordinary extraordinary man in hyper extraordinary circumstances. Within the fevered pace and pitch, it's slightly frustrating (especially in a post-Walking Dead world) that the gore quotient falls decidedly on the dry side of the fence. A few memorably juicy set-pieces (the head/crowbar extrication moment comes to mind) would have gone a long way - the bloodless route feels, well, kind of anemic.

For his part, Forster seems equally at home balancing scenes of mayhem and pandemonium (airplane attack, the anti-zombie wall) with quieter human moments, but his finest hour might be when he ramps everything down to a whisper for an outstanding suspense sequence in the abandoned hallways of a disease research center.  The open ended conclusion indeed lends itself to the prospect of sequels, but it also satisfies in a classic "hopeful start to a long road ahead" fashion.

Taken at face value, i.e. it's not the novel, it's not Walking Dead, etc., WWZ survives as a fine slice of big budget monster movie making.

THE CONJURING (2013) movie review

Conjuring, The (2013) d. Wan, James (USA)

Celebrated real-life paranormalists Ed and Lorraine Warren, central to the investigation of the Amityville Horror case, are the focus of this atmospheric if slightly generic haunted house/possession thriller. The two are presented as level-headed researchers, keen to find the natural causes of strange noises and/or unusual happenings but with a firm belief in the supernatural and prepared to use whatever tools necessary to suit the situation. Their latest case comes to them in the form of a Massachusetts residence recently inhabited by a struggling young family, the Perrons, with numerous bizarre and increasingly violent events taking place within after they uncover a hidden stairwell leading to an abandoned cellar filled with the former owners' possessions (pun intended).

There are still a few clunkers designed for laughs, but the overt comic relief elements present in Insidious are largely absent here; the sober tone suits the film and solid performances aid the cause. Patrick Wilson, often insufferably dull, delivers a relatively inoffensive straightforward turn as Ed with 70 sideburns in place. Vera Farmiga, who has also trod genre ground before with Joshua and Orphan, provides a delicately shaded turn as Lorraine who is strong but visibly weakened by her repeated and ongoing interactions with the other side. Lili Taylor is all nervous energy and simple laughs as the troubled Perron matriarch, running a house of young daughters while the pragmatic Livingston ekes out his living as a long haul truck driver.

Screenwriters Chad Hayes and Carey Hayes handily address the "why don't they simply leave the freakin' house" house dilemma - one that plagues most haunting tales - twofold: 1) we are told that Taylor and Livingston have all their money tied up in the house and 2) the Warrens explain that the malevolent spirit may have already attached itself to one of the family members in the form of possession. Though often predictable in its unfolding, the scare sequences are quite effective, including a climactic wingding that ranks favorably alongside those of The Last Exorcism and The Exorcism of Emily Rose.

Despite the wunderkind status he's achieved with the success of Saw and Insidious (two problematic yet wildly lucrative films), Wan remains a capable if unremarkable director. However, I don't think it's any great stretch to say that Conjuring represents his most successfully realized work to date, as its grounded approach relies more on solid characters and cultivating impressive suspense/mood rather than relying on overblown aural jump scares. Perhaps it was the "based on a true story" element that kept him in check - if so, he would do well to seek out more of the same.

STREET TRASH (1987) Blu-ray Review

Street Trash (1987) d. Muro, Jim (USA)

In spite of its status as one of the great "melt movies" of our time, it's important to remember the title is not "Tenafly Viper" - the noxious brew that leads several unfortunate souls to their oozy doom - but Street Trash. It's at its heart a character piece, one that in no small way resembles Elmer Rice's Street Scene in its presentation of a memorable motley band within a subculture that usually occupies the periphery rather than center stage. That such shocking and reprehensible incidents of necrophilia, murder, rape, theft, assault, shoplifting, racial slurs and blatant misogyny are handled with such buoyancy and glee is the film's secret weapon, especially when presented with such artistic flair.

Muro's assured Steadicam calls to mind such manic live-action cartoons as Raising Arizona and Bad Taste, while producer/writer Roy Frumkes (expanding from Muro and Mike Lackey's original short student project) populates the story with boldly drawn and thickly grimed characters, all possessing a moral compass pointing due south.

Right in stride with the excess on display are the ripe-to-bursting incarnations by the assembled cast, all of whom ride the line of absurdity to perfection: Lackey's skungy, grungy layabout, Bill Chepil's musclebound mean-spirited tough cop, shaggy lord of the junkyard Vic Noto, R. L. Ryan's obese and sleazy junkyard owner, Jane Arakawa's sweet sentimental ingenue, Nicole Potter's vanity-free, gorgon-like nastyfest as Noto's braying pseudo-bride, Tony Darrow's insult-spewing small time mafia boss and James Lorinz's scene-stealing acid-tongued doorman in his employ.

But as anyone who has experienced the film firsthand can testify, the film's true star is unreservedly Jennifer Aspinall's rainbow-hued splattery meltdown effects, bubbling and splashing across the scene with abandon.

Equal opportunity offenders include Vietnam flashbacks, severed penis/"hot potato" games, or a scene where black shoplifter Clarenze Jarmon - after stuffing his pants full of raw chicken, cantaloupe and salad dressing - accuses black shopkeeper Kevin Simmons of discrimination. Several instances of sexual violence against women are also showcased, though every offender meets a correspondent comeuppance in the end. Even so, there is such a sense of juvenile lunacy that it's difficult to generate any true righteous ire.

This is an enthusiastically overt exercise in ridiculousness, and even if we never develop any true affection for these awful people, we do find ourselves invested in their serpentine and interlocking fates. It might be a stretch to compare Frumkes' work here to Robert Altman's celebrated ensemble efforts, but it's a gentle stretch at that, especially while witnessing Lorinz and Darrow's fevered improvisational verbal jousting.

Of the plentiful supplements on Synapse's recent Blu-ray release - many of which ported over from their outstanding two-disc DVD issue in 2005 - the jewel in the crown remains Frumkes' two-hour retrospective documentary, The Meltdown Memoirs. No stranger to the format, the Document of the Dead veteran tracks down all the featured players before and behind the lens (including a young P.A. by the name of Bryan Singer), the notable exceptions being Muro (who still contributes a candid and informative audio commentary track) and Arakawa (who is showcased in a new interview of her own exclusive to the BR).

For many of these players, Street Trash represents the apex of their screen careers, although Muro has certainly gone on to bigger and better things as one of Hollywood's premier camera operators and Aspinall humbly makes mention of her status as "the Susan Lucci of the [makeup] Emmys." All are generous in their sharing of memories from the no-budget trenches, and the ramshackle, rambling structure suits its subject; if the movie wasn't endearing enough on its own, listening to the behind-the-scenes misadventures only heightens one's appreciation for the final result. Other assets to be tallied include a separate commentary track by Frumkes, the original short film, a half dozen deleted scenes, and several scandal inducing trailers.

Thoroughly underrated and criminally overlooked by all but the most dedicated and adventurous, now is the ideal time to dive deep into the Trash pile. For more information or to purchase, visit Synapse Films' website at http://synapse-films.com/dvds/horror/street-trash-special-meltdown-edition-blu-ray/

MEN IN SUITS (2012) movie review

Men in Suits (2012) d. Woodward, Frank H. (USA)

As any discerning horror fan knows, practical effects will always rule the day over those plinked out on a keyboard. There’s something about the physical impact of a space-occupying element that cannot be denied, and one of the best examples comes in the form of a genuine monster on set. Be it a Predator, the xenomorphs from Alien, or even Robot Monster’s awesome diving-helmeted lovelorn extraterrestrial, there is nothing quite like a guy-in-a-suit flick.  Now, at long last, filmmaker Woodward, who cut his documentary teeth on Anchor Bay’s Masters of Horror behind-the-scenes featurettes, has created a fascinating and compelling 90-minute lovefest for the unsung heroes beneath the fur, flippers, fangs and zippers of some of the genre’s most memorable creations.

Superfan/Gorilla Man Bob Burns is on hand to talk about the various ape movies of the 30s and 40s, but it was 1954’s one-two punch of Creature from the Black Lagoon and Gojira that really launched the 50-60s heyday of bipedal beasties menacing the masses, an era highlighted by Paul Blaisdell’s memorable monsters for It Conquered the World and The She Creature, a wealth of Japanese kaiju, Forbidden Planet’s Robby the Robot and many others.

These in turn gave birth to George Lucas’ awesome Star Wars creations, the aforementioned Predators and Aliens, and on to Guillermo del Toro’s ongoing employment of the venerable Doug Jones under pounds of latex and servos.

As the title indicates, the attention is deservedly lavished upon the men and women (both short and tall) who bring these creations to life and the hardships endured in so doing. Haruo Nakajima (Godzilla a dozen times over) talks about the exhausting weight of the original Toho rubber suits while Tom Woodruff, Jr. (Monster Squad, Pumpkinhead) discusses how suit performers’ incredible efforts are often overlooked since studio execs think of them as little more than stunt men.

Brian Steele (Hellboy, Doom) brings a rock n’ roll sensibility in depicting the dedication required to endure the grueling 12-18 hour days while the soft-spoken Jones exudes ineffable charm and wit voicing the frustrations of relative anonymity despite years of industry service.

Woodward even takes us behind the scenes of Joe Lynch’s long-delayed Knights of Badassdom to witness upcoming monster man Douglas Tait’s first fittings all the way through to his first night on set, complete with inside intel on cooling vests, walking techniques, specific training, and aligning his performance with the animatronics stick jockeys and puppeteers standing just outside the lens.

Not to diminish Andy Serkis’ achievements, but it’s always surprised me that the Brit actor’s motion capture performances (Lord of the Rings, King Kong) received such acclaim while his practical contemporaries labored in obscurity (and continue to do so).

 
Hats off to Woodward for finally lifting the masks to show the artistry, stamina and heart within those uncomfortable and unwieldy bags of cloth, hair, silicone and what-not.

A long overdue and fascinating tribute, Men in Suits is available for purchase at Amazon.com. For more info, visit www.wyrdstuff.com

--Aaron Christensen, HorrorHound Magazine

THE MANSON FAMILY (2003) Blu-Ray Review

Manson Family, The (2003) d. VanBebber, Jim (USA)

I first heard about The Manson Family, and its uncompromising creator Jim VanBebber, in 2005 when it made its DVD debut courtesy of DarkSky Films.  Through the various press articles that surrounded the completion of this legendarily extended gestation process (principal photography began in 1989), as well as a terrific article in FAB Press’ Flesh and Blood Compendium, I slowly formed an image of VanBebber as a mad genius who either couldn’t or wouldn’t allow his passion project to leave the nest.  Upon finally catching up with the film proper, I was impressed with the man’s attention to detail and his vision, although a little put off by the somewhat ham-handed modern-day bookending device.  The final evaluation: This was a worthy effort, certainly a suitable companion piece for 1976’s celebrated TV-movie Helter Skelter, which was promptly filed away in the DVD library under “M” and thought little more about.  Until now.

 

One of the great things about Severin’s outstanding 10th Anniversary Blu-ray re-issue is that it provides the opportunity to revisit the film with eight more years of cinema viewing in general (and genre cinema in particular) under our collective belts.  After enduring the recent onslaught of remake and brainless found footage fever, the appreciation for a true filmmaker’s vision and dedication resonates even stronger.  Ironically, The Manson Family remains VanBebber’s most recent feature effort, even though a decade has come and gone since it was given its finishing touches and sent out into limited theatrical release in 2003.  The film met with wildly divergent reviews, from glowing to scathing, condemning it to a barely visible existence on home video. 

But the fact is, this is not – nor do I feel it was ever intended to be – a mainstream offering.  It’s too trippy, too dark, too violent, too rough around the edges, too infused with with VanBebber’s personality and individuality.  However, this is exactly why it should be embraced by the adventurous and appreciative cinephile.  This is a film with something to say, with its own voice and vision and fierce agenda.  It’s a rebellious beast, one that dares viewers to remain unaffected by these heinous crimes from forty years ago.  One that refuses to mythologize its murderous band’s leader, but spreads the guilt equally among the individuals who held the blades and committed the acts.  (Note the film’s title – each of these people made a choice to do what they did.  The reduction of Charles Manson from puppet master to petulant patriarch ably sets VanBebber’s account apart from many other, more exploitative efforts.)

The acting is occasionally less than polished, but for the most part the ensemble members acquit themselves admirably.  The kaleidoscopic narrative bounces from 1969 with the drug-taking, free-loving Spahn Ranch days to more recent talking head confessionals by the family members.  (Due to financial issues, many of these “documentary” sequences were shot years later, such that the performers have actually aged appropriately on camera.  It’s a welcome, rarely achieved verisimilitude, although I’m sure VanBebber would have much rather had it otherwise.) 

  

Leslie Orr and Maureen Allisse make indelible impressions as Patty Krenwinkel and Sadie Atkins respectively, perfectly capturing the childlike adoration of their chosen leader, as well as embracing his espoused hedonistic and delusional philosophies.  When they are ultimately urged to violence, their immoral glee is barely restrained.  Also noteworthy is Marc Pitman’s Tex Watson, whose character arc mirrors the film’s as he grows from naïve hippie to protective clan member to crazed murderer to repentant prison priest following his conviction.

VanBebber himself also puts in a strong supporting performance as Bobby Beausoleil (imprisoned for the Manson-directed killing of Gary Hinman), although his modern scenes are marred by a large and patently false mustache.  Considering the effort expended to maintain the illusion of the Ohio-lensed locations standing in for sunny and mountainous California, it’s an odd misstep.  Marcello Games plays Manson suitably wild-eyed and mysterious, but he’s actually given more power by his limited screen time, leaving the other characters’ testimony to tell his tale.

The film naturally climaxes with the infamous Tate-LaBianca killings of August 8 and 9, 1969, and VanBebber presents them as the senseless, needless acts of cruelty that they were.  There is a sense of immediacy and danger in these scenes and viewers are not spared the gory details.  But even though the project may have been born of an exploitation mindset (producer and cinematographer Mike King originally proposed a Manson film as a quickie follow-up to VanBebber’s 1988 audacious lowbudget auctioneer, Deadbeat at Dawn), there is great respect and care given such that the bloody set-pieces carry an emotional toll.  We see the victims’ flesh repeatedly stabbed by blades, listen to their pleas fall on deaf ears, watch life ebb from their eyes.  These are tough scenes to take…as they should be.

The director juxtaposes his authentically scratched and muddied documentary-style footage of the family members actions and confessionals with the cleaner aforementioned bookending scenes set in 1996.  These observe an Unsolved Mysteries-type true crime TV show host (Carl Day) as he prepares a segment about the titular criminals and America’s continued fascination and glorification thereof.  Simultaneously, we observe a group of tattooed and pierced Goth kids getting high, engaging in unconventional sex acts, and preparing various weapons for an undisclosed mission.  It’s a fairly predictable and none-too-subtle framing device, showing that not only do the disenfranchised and violent youth of America still exist in the corners of ungoverned society, they’ve embraced a madman as their hero.  VanBebber’s intentions are honest, but a bit too on the nose in the end. 

Severin has ported over several of DarkSky’s 2005 double-disc DVD’s special features, including David Gregory’s indispensable 76-minute making-of doc, The VanBebber Family.  In it, VanBebber comes off as extremely lucid and intelligent, calmly explaining that - in spite of the multitude of financial frustrations that kept the film languishing in the cinematic ether - he simply wasn’t willing to give up on or compromise what he felt was an “important story.”  Many of the featured players before and behind the camera appear as well, and while some express mild disappointment over the project’s seemingly endless encounters of the unlucky kind, they all state unerring devotion to their fearless leader and seem pleased with the completed product. 

Also included is Alex Chisolm’s intriguing if clunky 2001 documentary In the Belly of the Beast, which follows VanBebber’s presentation of the Manson Family workprint-in-progress at the 1997 Fantasia Film Festival.  Chisolm also gives equal face time to Nacho Cerda, on hand to premiere his notorious short film Aftermath, as well as Richard Stanley (showing the director’s cut of Dust Devil), A Gun for Jennifer’s Todd Morris and Deborah Twiss, and a very young (and obnoxious) Karim Hussein struggling to complete his own problematic labor of love, Subconscious Cruelty.  There’s also a 14-minute excerpt from Nikolas Schreck’s Charles Manson Superstarwhich provides undeniable evidence of its subject’s enduring and magnetic insanity.

New to Severin’s release are a 10-minute interview with composer/rock star Phil Anselmo (who shows that, despite good intentions, his gifts lie not in the realm of extemporaneous speaking), as well as a few deleted scenes.  But what should have been the major coup - that of a long-awaited VanBebber commentary track - turns out to be dull and lifeless.  The director observes several times that “this is a hard film to talk about,” and while he does offer a few new tidbits not revealed in the making-of doc, he also abandons his chair a little past the hour mark, saying, “I didn’t really want to do this…I think I’ll just let the film speak for itself.”  It’s both surprising and disappointing, to be sure, but considering the wealth of extras already available, it’s forgivable.

 

Finally (yes, there’s more!), this Blu-ray edition marks the debut of VanBebber’s new short film, Gator Green.  Unfortunately, like his other shorts My Sweet Satan and Roadkill: The Last Days of John Martin, it’s hard to believe that these slapdash affairs were made by the same artist.  Where Deadbeat at Dawn is fiercely energetic and captivating (watching VanBebber perform his own stunts is utterly breathtaking) and Manson Family’s maturity and craft elevates it above other true-crime programmers, the short format only seems to serve as a place for VanBebber to showcase dodgy acting, thin storylines and DIY gore effects.  In fact, Gator is easily the least of the three; a half-assed yarn about a sleazy backwater bunch who feed other sleazy characters to their resident toothy reptiles.  Yawn.  After sitting through endless accounts and evidence that VanBebber is capable of making great films, it’s troubling that this is what we’ve been waiting 10 years for.

Despite these minor complaints, there is no question that this 10th Anniversary release is more than worth picking up.  Congrats to Severin for picking up the Manson Family mantle with such gusto and care (including new cover artwork by Shock Festival’s Stephen Romano).  Place your order now at Severin Films

http://www.severin-films.com/2013/05/28/the-manson-family/

Fool's Views (6/10 – 6/23)

Back again, ladies and gents.

This week got a little more lively, especially once Artist Ensemble’s production of The 39 Steps got up on its merry feet and started trucking. Not sure what sparked the desire for an 80s ninja fix, but that was a lot of fun. With a couple independent horror efforts (one glossy, one decidedly not) to round things out, it wasn't such a bad little stretch of road.

Click on the movie titles for the full review (where applicable). As always, feel free to leave your two cents worth – we’ll make sure you get some change back.

Enjoy!


HORROR:

Detention of the Dead (2012) (1st viewing) d. Mann, Alex Craig (USA)

Swamphead (2011) (1st viewing) d. Drover, Dustin / Propp, Justin (USA)




CIVILIAN:

21 Jump Street (2012) (1st viewing) d. Lord, Phil / Miller, Chris (USA)

Damn Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill for being so damn likable and talented. There’s no way this big screen update of the late 80s TV series about youthful looking cops posing undercover as high school students should have been as much fun as it was. And yet, it was.

Mystery on Monster Island (1981) (1st viewing) d. Simon, Juan Piquer (Spain/UK)

On the other hand, with J.P. Simon (the man who gave us Pieces and Slugs) at the helm, and small but worthy supporting roles from Peter Cushing, Paul Naschy and Terence Stamp, this adaptation of the Jules Verne story should have been a lot more enjoyable. Instead, it's a lazy and cheap yarn about oats-sowing callow youth Ian Sera who finds himself shipwrecked on the titular isle, with monsters that would have been booted from H.R. Pufnstuf. Manservant David Hatton’s shrieking hammy histrionics are the final nails in the coffin and on the chalkboard. Three words: Banana Gatling Gun.




CHEESY 80S MARTIAL ARTS ACTION:

Revenge of the Ninja (1983) (1st viewing) d. Firstenberg, Sam (USA)

This follow-up to Golan-Globus’ wildly successful Enter the Ninja transmogrifies that film’s villain Sho Kosugi into our peace-loving, ass-kicking hero, battling the mob and duplicitous business partners. The baddies’ plan is to smuggle heroin inside Kosugi’s handmade Japanese dolls, and they’re not above murder, kidnapping or extortion to get what they want. Impressive stunts and luscious blonde fashion model Ashely Ferrare’s no-panties-under-her-gi stylings make up for the goofy dialogue and wooden acting. That’s Kosugi’s real-life son Kane playing…his onscreen son Kane.

Ninja III: The Domination (1984) (2nd viewing) d. Firstenberg, Sam (USA)

Aerobics instructor Lucinda Dickey (yes, the star of Breakin’, Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo and Cheerleader Camp) gets caught up in mystical intrigue when she is possessed by the spirit of slain evil ninja David Chung, and it’s up to shadowy good ninja Sho Kosugi to straighten things out. Loopy as hell third installment jumps the shark in a big, big way, but there’s no denying the cheeseball entertainment factor – the opening golf course scene where Chung (or at least his stuntman) kills off about 800 police officers is a bona-fide classic, as is Dickey’s seduction scene of naïve cop Jordan Bennett by pouring V-8 down her front.

Last Dragon, The (1985) (1st viewing) d. Schultz, Michael (USA)

I don’t know how this escaped me growing up, but I’m glad I waited to see it until my turkey-loving palate was refined enough to receive its full glory. Motown legend Berry Gordy served as executive producer, and the result is a mish-mash of every embarrassing 80s cliché from outrageous wardrobe choices to musical non-talents like Debarge assaulting the eardrums. The mononymic romantic pairing of gentle kung fu soul Taimak and hairspray sponge Vanity creates fewer sparks than two washrags in a wooden basin, but the scenery chewing showdown between arcade king Christopher Murney and “Shogun of Harlem” Julius Carry more than makes up the deficit. The fight scenes as Taimak pursues “the Glow” are passable, and the choice dialogue and cheapie effects sweeten the deal. Sho’ Nuff.



2013 Totals to date: 158 films, 149 1st time views, 83 horror, 48 cinema

THE WALKING DEAD (1936) movie review

Walking Dead, The (1936) d. Curtiz, Michael (USA)

A real disappointment, even for Karloff fans (and especially for those thinking they're picking up source material for the AMC zombie series). Boris stars as an ex-convict framed for murder who is then put to death in the electric chair. But as his innocence becomes apparent, semi-mad doc Edmund Gwenn brings him back to life…with a Lindbergh heart? (There’s a mildly amusing bit with Gwenn uttering, “He’s ALIVE.”) But then Karloff develops some sort of extrasensory ability to recognize those that railroaded him, and begins to show up at their places in the middle of the night.

But does he exact any kind of firsthand revenge? Nope, he just stands there while his victims freak out and fall out of windows or under trains or what have you. It’s like director Michael Curtiz and his quartet of screenwriters didn’t want to sully Karloff's character’s victim status by making him an actual villain. I’m all for suspension of belief, especially when it comes to the older genre flicks, but even a Fool has his limits.