Werewolf movies are really few and far between, but when my local reviewer (in whom my faith is limited) declared Ginger Snaps to be the best made in the last 30 years, I took notice. I'm not sure where he got that figure from, but what are the contenders? An American Werewolf in London, most would say. It is a tolerable movie with effective bursts of humour, but stagy and overblown, with a completely unsatisfying end. What then - Wolfen, Silver Bullet, The Howling and its sequels? Wolf? An American Werewolf in Paris? No way. Perhaps the Neil Jordan's very odd and very Freudian In the Company of Wolves. John Fawcett's marvellous Ginger Snaps is close to the spirit of that movie than the others I've mentioned.
In the wake of Hannibal, here is a movie to remind me that gloss makes a horror movie less scary, not more. From its opening moments, Ginger Snaps seems drab and real, and is almost as evocative in its gray atmospherics as Halloween (or early David Cronenberg). Its moment of horror are, for once, actually shocking - the first attack on Ginger is scarier than anything in The Blair Witch Project. But it was only after the movie was over that I became really unnerved - here is a rare horror film scarier in its implications than in the gore on the screen. It has something to say about parental neglect (a telling moment is when Mimi Rogers as the mother says she's happy that her plan was working - letting her daughters come to her), STDs (to which lycanthropy is explicitly connected throughout), addiction and obsession, and even the spectre of violent sister-sister incest is palpable (as mother-daughter in The Exorcist). And menstruation. Blood is a consistent visual symbol from the first scene to the last; in fact, this is the only movie I've seen that might earn its R rating for "explicit scenes of menstruation." Carrie is the tale of a menstrual initiation gone terribly wrong, and so is Little Red Riding Hood. But this movie trumps them both - a psychoanalytic scholar could really sink his teeth in here (no pun intended). Even the title can be read different ways - is it a reference to what a werewolf's jaws can do? Or is it a description of what happens to Ginger's psyche (when her animalistic side takes over before she beats up another girl, there is an audible snapping noise on the soundtrack). I'd like to think it characterizes the essential difference between her and her sister Brigitte. Ginger may snap, but Brigitte never does.
I also admired the persuasive logic with which the story unfolds. I like that the Hollywood rules for dealing with werewolves (which Hollywood invented) are quickly swept aside. And when a character says "There has to be a cure, or else there'd be more of them" I was shouting "YES!" - monster movies always seem to ignore that fact. The research into herb lore to try to find a cure seems plausible and leads to a plausible solution (which, I would be remiss in not noting, seems a homage to The Werewolf of London.)
Copious praise must go to Emily Perkins in the lead role as Brigitte. She is completely believable from start to finish in what begins as a very unsympathetic role. But what a role it is! The character has a complete arc. She gets to play sullen, concerned, excited, scared, subtly in love (this is handled with particular grace), brave, determined, emotional, level-headed, crafty, she gets to surrender to her animal impulses and she gets to fight them off. She even manages to bring off a tender scene played with a hunk of animatronics! I cared about her character deeply, I felt a need to protect her. How rare for a horror film! Neve Campbell has nothing on this girl. I want more of her.
Mention must be made to the curious similarities to American Beauty, from uncomfortable dinner table scenes between parents and sullen daughters to a smart and resourceful drug dealer as the nominal hero. I wonder if these were intentional or unconscious.
There is a lot of humour in Ginger Snaps, but not of the tiring self-referential Scream variety. It is as cold and dark and bloody as the movie itself. Flaws? A few - I could have done without the occasional bursts of tuneless rock music on the soundtrack, but those were blissfully few. A few of the characters are overdrawn; the camera compositions are sometimes too studied. And, unusual and effective as the ending is, we needed to see one other thing before the curtain in order to complete the plot and the theme alike (those who've seen the movie should know what I mean). The ending is meant to be ambiguous, but this is a point where it should be unequivocal. Still, these are minor complaints. I'm not sure if it will be released in the States, but it's well worth a look, perhaps on video. But for Memento, this is the best movie I've seen yet this year. It's the movie that's restored my faith in the cinematic horror genre.
In the wake of Hannibal, here is a movie to remind me that gloss makes a horror movie less scary, not more. From its opening moments, Ginger Snaps seems drab and real, and is almost as evocative in its gray atmospherics as Halloween (or early David Cronenberg). Its moment of horror are, for once, actually shocking - the first attack on Ginger is scarier than anything in The Blair Witch Project. But it was only after the movie was over that I became really unnerved - here is a rare horror film scarier in its implications than in the gore on the screen. It has something to say about parental neglect (a telling moment is when Mimi Rogers as the mother says she's happy that her plan was working - letting her daughters come to her), STDs (to which lycanthropy is explicitly connected throughout), addiction and obsession, and even the spectre of violent sister-sister incest is palpable (as mother-daughter in The Exorcist). And menstruation. Blood is a consistent visual symbol from the first scene to the last; in fact, this is the only movie I've seen that might earn its R rating for "explicit scenes of menstruation." Carrie is the tale of a menstrual initiation gone terribly wrong, and so is Little Red Riding Hood. But this movie trumps them both - a psychoanalytic scholar could really sink his teeth in here (no pun intended). Even the title can be read different ways - is it a reference to what a werewolf's jaws can do? Or is it a description of what happens to Ginger's psyche (when her animalistic side takes over before she beats up another girl, there is an audible snapping noise on the soundtrack). I'd like to think it characterizes the essential difference between her and her sister Brigitte. Ginger may snap, but Brigitte never does.
I also admired the persuasive logic with which the story unfolds. I like that the Hollywood rules for dealing with werewolves (which Hollywood invented) are quickly swept aside. And when a character says "There has to be a cure, or else there'd be more of them" I was shouting "YES!" - monster movies always seem to ignore that fact. The research into herb lore to try to find a cure seems plausible and leads to a plausible solution (which, I would be remiss in not noting, seems a homage to The Werewolf of London.)
Copious praise must go to Emily Perkins in the lead role as Brigitte. She is completely believable from start to finish in what begins as a very unsympathetic role. But what a role it is! The character has a complete arc. She gets to play sullen, concerned, excited, scared, subtly in love (this is handled with particular grace), brave, determined, emotional, level-headed, crafty, she gets to surrender to her animal impulses and she gets to fight them off. She even manages to bring off a tender scene played with a hunk of animatronics! I cared about her character deeply, I felt a need to protect her. How rare for a horror film! Neve Campbell has nothing on this girl. I want more of her.
Mention must be made to the curious similarities to American Beauty, from uncomfortable dinner table scenes between parents and sullen daughters to a smart and resourceful drug dealer as the nominal hero. I wonder if these were intentional or unconscious.
There is a lot of humour in Ginger Snaps, but not of the tiring self-referential Scream variety. It is as cold and dark and bloody as the movie itself. Flaws? A few - I could have done without the occasional bursts of tuneless rock music on the soundtrack, but those were blissfully few. A few of the characters are overdrawn; the camera compositions are sometimes too studied. And, unusual and effective as the ending is, we needed to see one other thing before the curtain in order to complete the plot and the theme alike (those who've seen the movie should know what I mean). The ending is meant to be ambiguous, but this is a point where it should be unequivocal. Still, these are minor complaints. I'm not sure if it will be released in the States, but it's well worth a look, perhaps on video. But for Memento, this is the best movie I've seen yet this year. It's the movie that's restored my faith in the cinematic horror genre.