Self-Quarantine Mini Reviews Volley 2

In this ongoing series, we will be sharing brief micro-reviews of all the films i’ve been watching/re-watching since the country went full clusterfuck. Because aside from staving away weight increase, and cabin fever, what else is a die hard film geek to do?

ON WITH THE SHOW!

You Were Never Really Here (dir, Lynne Ramsay 2017) Ramsay adapts a short story by Jonathan Ames about a troubled ex-soldier (Joaquin Phoenix) who’s life as a hitman and retriever of trafficked children goes up against a terrifying network after a job that goes off a little too easily. A case of a brilliant director working in material that on the surface seems to be on a separate planet from their usual work. And yet somehow, there is a grizzled poetry to the way the film portrays manmade monsters as possibly the only ones capable of confronting true monstrosity. In a way, the film hews a little too close to our political reality right now, which is perhaps why I had a harder time sitting through it. Phoenix, is desolate and at times deeply frightening as a man hollowed out and haunted by what he has seen and done, yet may see new life on the other end - fraught with terrible visions as he may still be. Ramsay seems ready to confront the evils that persist long after corporeal evils have long been vanquished from the Earth.

Opera (dir, Dario Argento 1988) A legendary diva loses her ability to perform a wildly avant garde production of Verdi’s Macbeth, which allows young up and comer, Betty (Cristina Marsillach) to take her place. And what follows is gialli and horror legend, Dario Argento’s last truly effective fever nightmare as murder begin taking place around Betty’s world. With a twist; she is often tied up and forced to watch as each murder takes place. Daria Nicolodi’s final film for Argento, makes for some inventive images, and genuine shocks. It’s an Argento piece, which means strange tangents, and the occasional plot mechanism that doesn’t really connect in any functional way. But to hell with sense, this is the stuff of bad dreams. Wait until the killer decides to amp up the kills, making for a final third among the best of his varied, yet indelible career.

Delirium (dir, Lamberto Bava 1987) Why, Lamberto Bava, why? Not quite a horror film. Not quite softcore porn. By this point, it is so clear that Bava isn’t interested at all in giallo films, and is just going through the motions as long as some skin could liven up the shoot. He wants out, and it’s obvious. And it’s only made worse by way of some seriously dated sexual politics. Sure, it’s 1987. But give us something that feels like an inevitable conclusion. As it is, it simply reinforces the worst of the era’s impulses, and does little to recover the sheer invention Bava displayed when he directed DEMONS (1985) just two years before. And no, no amount of Serena Grandi can save this catastrophe from the pile as it never lands on what kind of film it really wants to be. It’s almost unwatchable despite some truly striking creature hallucination effects.

Blood And Black Lace (dir, Mario Bava 1964) Sometimes you have to go back to your roots to understand what made a particular movement so powerful to so many. Based on the classic run of yellow jacketed mystery novels, the gialli pretty much movement found its footing in Italian cinema with this gorgeously filmed descent into murder, mayhem, and bizarre twists galore as murders surround a fashion studio and its many statuesque models continues to mount. Well established story backbones, and bare minimum characterization do wonders for a genre that later descended into bizarre mechanisms, and often superfluous experimental camerawork. Here, it all feels like a hellbent three strip technicolor nightmare that is surprisingly brutal for its time. Worth digging up the most recent restoration to watch on the biggest screen possible should such subject matter not bother anyone. I don’t remember Cameron Mitchell ever looking this cool. 

Love Letters (dir, Amy Holden Jones 1984) Holden Jones’ personal request from Roger Corman after the mild success of her Slumber Party Massacre (1982) is a dramatic hard left centering on a young college radio DJ (Jamie Lee Curtis, in a career changing role) about to repeat history by having an affair with a married man (James Keach) It’s a Roger Corman production boldly breaking away from the usual genre fare he usually bankrolls for this small, challenging drama that seeks to more than reinforce arguments for traditional morality, it also highlights how hard emotions are to keep out of even the simplest excursions away from it. There is a murkiness here that turns this into a fascinating little character study. Curtis does a great job as a person unable to back away from a flame she herself imagined couldn’t spread. Matt Clark, is also great as her long suffering father. Perhaps the only real pained element here is the stipulation that the film required nudity. It’s pretty clear Jamie Lee, isn’t terribly comfortable. Thanks, Corman.

More to come soon!

Flattening The Curve PRESENTS: MACABRE (1980)

Yes, you know why we are all here. And why I’m doing this. Turns out we require a functioning government in order to keep the public safe from potential disaster. And since we currently don’t have one of those, the days ahead will be rife with long-neglected viewings covering a broad spectrum of backed up material.

Some great, others bizarre beyond belief.

Welcome to the Quarantine..

And so we make our second entry by further delving into the deepest, darkest recesses of the fabled Amazon Prime library, with the debut feature by Lamberto Bava. Son of legendary italian filmmaker, Mario Bava, his name had particular presence to younger me by way of his associations with Dario Argento. 1985’s Demons, being a particularly strong personal influence upon my interest in foreign horror. Looking back, his credits go further back toward his work with fellow helmer, Ruggero Deodato and others. But his real hat toss was his strange southern fried nightmare machine, MACABRE which had long eluded me despite having a reputation as “the head in the refrigerator” movie.

Wait, what?

Yes, set in New Orleans MACABRE tells the tale of a well-to-do wife and mother of two, after experiencing what could possibly be the most horrific day of one’s life, (Seriously, if there was ever an argument against spousal infidelity, this is it) is forced to rebuild what remains of it by moving into her once lovenest, only to exhibit increasingly unsettling behavior one year after double tragedy. Most notably the nightly moaning heard by the blind son of her building’s recently deceased landlady. Is our central character sneaking in a new lover every night? Or is something far more sinister at play? And what of her estranged daughter, and husband who wants nothing to do with her? Considering the film’s reputation, a lot of gas is leaked out once you know the secret. But it is a hoot to see just how far Bava and cast go to take this scenario to its absolute worst case scenario.

Now, please pardon the secrecy as so much of this film requires a cold viewing to fully digest its often sluggish 90 minutes. But what I can add here is that the film as a whole seems to imply that a certain apple doesn’t fall terribly far from the tree, and that the story as a whole is played like a ticking timebomb to a nasty reveal complete with one of the more outrageous punchline scares ever attempted. It is sincerely daffy on every front, the finale to this one.

Better still? The role of Jane Baker, is played by THE MOM FROM XTRO, Bernice Stegers! (No, seriously. I had no idea this was the case upon starting it.) Making her the early 1980s queen of crazy horror. I’d definitely suggest a Bernice Stegers double feature for the truly daring. And while MACABRE, isn’t half the committed mad that is XTRO, i’d still consider it for a group screening if only for the chuckles and conversations that would follow.

Still can’t get that final gag out of my head.

it’s like my child self came up with it, and somehow noone on set stopped me.