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Reviews
Party Down (2009)
Genuinely Funny, Oddly Niche Whilst Exuding Mass Appeal
One of the few US 'sitcoms' I find genuinely funny in a LOL way, Party Down is amusing, entrancing and compulsively watchable (which perhaps says more about me than the show).
However, the fact that Party Down SE1 was cancelled for its apparent lack of audience appeal, after which its cast were recalled because it suddenly caught on in popularity, (to make three seasons, with a fourth very much in the offing), says even more about its originality, witty dialogue and engaging, charismatically-portrayed characters.
Party Down stands up as an enduring comedy which, in its notoriety as an exceptionally unique and funny show routinely attracts some of the established stalwarts of the Hollywood entertainment industry for guest appearances. And when it calls its cast to return for new seasons, the making of new episodes remains consistently attractive to its cast, who have seen their careers take full flight since its inception and they clearly enjoy their experience of making the show which is an energy that very much translates to the experience of watching the finished product.
As far as the talented cast list goes, Party Down started off like a 'to-watch Who's Who of the early 2000's guaranteed stars of the future' prediction list and, with each new series remains increasingly anticipated and enjoyed by all who were initially captivated by it from episode one onward, until the excited anticipation of hearing speculation of it being renewed for a least another season in 2024.
The unexpected and throughly undeserved cancellation of Party Down after just one series serves as an indication illustrating the difficulty producers and streaming services encounter in the contemporary market when attempting to accurately gauge the success of a new show.
Surely, with the example of Party Down being subject to the wholly unexpected and unfair travesty of it being denied continuation after being met with such wide appeal and resonance within its (eventual) audience, this difficulty of measure was especially amplified when looking at this, an exceptional and unusually themed show, featuring equally quirky characters and a wide ranging hybrid of varying situational possibilities unique in comparison to numerous others slotted within a genre.
As such, it took a little longer than perhaps once traditionally expected of a show this 'different' to find and grow what has become its target audience.
This being well and truly accomplished, the enduring charisma of Party Down is that each episode features the intrigue of some mysterously different and unexpected setting, an often surprise twist (or two) containing plot, and charismatic, relatable, 'everyman' type, modern characters, all of them acted with warmth, authenticity and a crafty comedian's perfect comic timing, elements which have seen its appeal continue to grow in popularity (and repeated viewings) for more than a decade, with an eager and excited anticipation of each new episode within its now, firmly established audience.
The House and the White String (2020)
Aren't Movies Meant to Run Over an Hour?
Offered on Amazon Prime as a feature length film this shonk job of 'movie' had plenty of potential to be an unusually quirky and really frightening film, but instead it petered out after 30 minutes of repetitive and unimaginative monologue, unbelievable 'scared breathing' and even less frightening manifestations of a ghost you were pretty much expecting from minute one.
There was a lot of potential in this non movie/short film which the film maker either didn't notice or chose to ignore. Understandably, (but in no way justfiably), it looks like it was made during the initial full blown lockdown period of the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic and as such there was a severe limitation on any production, but there could have been so much more, should the film maker have paced it and simply employed a few more creative elements to build the initially successfully induced tension before prematurely revealing the 'ghost' and silly ending.
It almost had as much potential as was achieved by The Blair Witch Project which relied upon long scenes of nothing but darkness to build its tension, and that was the highest grossing film in history for its comparitive initial outlay to return ratio(!), so that's an indication of how much the makers of this film really missed the boat with what this could have been.
Despite it being picked up by streaming service like the one earlier mentioned and thus aapparently made a ldegitmate 'movie' through their dubious classification regime, of which this wasn't the only deceptively scant, offending offering, instead of the film creating goodwill with its original quirkiness and clever economy of cast and setting, it caused me to feel like I'd been ripped off becase I was expecting a full length feature and not merely a 40 odd minute rush job which the poorly orchestrated travesty of amateur make up artistry saw this thing quickly become when it was brought to its sudden and utterly illogical end, much like a cheap, pulp horror comic storyline where the production team were clearly far more intereted in receiving their day's end paycheue than in any way providing the public with a satisfying story, I regret to say there's not much more to this film than a house supposedly abandoned (and yet the lawns were illogically meticulously maintained and the tinterior clean and tidy after apparently a rotting corpse was left to fester in the bedroom whilst murderous squatters, not noted for their conscientious adherence to exquisite home care regimes abused the space for 12 solid weeks yet left it looking like home help just dusted it) so, between that unbelievable number of elemental failures to convey truth and numerous pieces of clean white string that looked like they had just been cut from a ball of newly purchased twine and inexplicably stuck onto a mirror with a chunk of whatever bodily fluid was most immeditely accessible, just like the short and intriguing title, with this disappointment that's about all you're going to see.
I'm cancelling Amazon Prime in protest at their scurrilous practice of flogging 40 minute bombs as feature films, mainly because I don't believe anyone who elevates themselves on blocks of cash really is above the rest of society's expectations of what they ought to receive when watching a movie nor does this automatically see them inherit the right of arbiter of popular culture with the soverign right to reclassify short films as movies and thereby to ripoff those paying their actual hard earned money for what they don't receive.
Insidious: The Red Door (2023)
Wish It Had Stayed Closed!
I'm not usually one for reviewing films I don't like, but the 'Insidious' franchise, with this installment, has raised my critical ire to such a degree that I can't sleep.
There's much thats very telling about a former cast member's decision to refuse stacks of cash at a volume sufficient to overflow a supermarket shopping bag, preferring instead to see their formerly well established character at the outset revealed declared dead and in the process of being buried at tbeir funeral as the initial opening scene, in which we quickly learn that even the long term, quadruple feature inhabiting married couple are equally as well sick and tired of one another as also of this franchise we'll soon be, that even after the lifetime bonding caused by the shared experience of nightmare level terror trauma, even they are at the stage where they no longer share the same house, that's also very telling of a story line vehicle that's obviously grown as stale as a back of the bookcase hurled poltergeist engaged battle flung milk soaked bread slice... and that's bordering on rotten!
These, as subtle as a newspaper wrapped brick through a jeweler's front plate glass window elements ought to have been enough to have dissuaded multiple branching, franchise blooming Leigh Whannel (former onboard ABCTV Australia live to air nationally broadcast Saturday morning rock and roll youth oriented music and culture show "Recovery' staff film reviewer made so good it's dreams do come true level inspiring to any up and coming anything at all, ever) but, with the danger of scraping off even a shred of the heatshield speed skin that encases the rocket that he, Mr. Whannel, has proven himself to be piloting, even he's chosen to open his hand and release when it's certainly obvious that this installment was, at last glance ,even to one formerly unencumbered by the pressures of commercial broadcasting to lipstick the pig constraint free reviewers eye such as L. W. has been, Hollywood aimed and honed for decades and clearly enough for his pricelessly cultivated critical perception skills to notice, from atop of his gold mountain, that this little number never ought not to have been granted the main spotlight in the center of the third rings, but rather, quietly led by its solid gold nose ring around the back of the glue factory and, with gentle click, unserrupticiously retired.
Whether The Red Door was made as a concession to first time director and star Patrick Wilson, or as simply another quick cash brick grab, it's hard to discern, because either way, what's been delivered this time round the old rattler is 24 minutes of wholly extraneous preamble which, without one of the most devestatingly precisely orchestrated jumpscares of all the cinematic history of that genre device cliche's existence, leaves us only with a couple of slightly malevolence themed background approaching blurs and some almost unrelated human drama aspiring featurette, all of a suddenly derailed by an onslaught of reminders that this was meant to be horror, not melodrama, like an unexpectedly received communique in the form of a videotaped release of scripted propaganda sent out to the world's news media organisations by some cold war jungle prison camp controller featuring a camp inhabiting POW marine long thought lost in action but alive right unexpectedly here onscreen and reciting a prepared propaganda heaped fully scripted description of conditions by reporting how great it is here, whilst the onlooking TV audience realize he's clandestinely employed small burns in his t-shirt front to communicate secretly a Morse coded message to the watching outside world, the communique -Someone please, get me outta here' before the plot again descending into the as usual sudden occult maelstrom onslaught of hardly relatable scenarios alien, but for coincidence, to the previous three or four films, leaving us only to wonder- how short a shrift would any other attempt at a horror script this feeble have received in Tinsel town, should it instead not have arrivved in a 24 carat gold embossed stamped envelope with the preamblle to its title, reading-'Insidious Franchise'?
To that amount of time, I'll wager nought!
.
The Mephisto Waltz (1971)
Essential Viewing for Aspiring Horror Film Makers
After unsuccessfully ploughing thriugh numerous contemporary efforts at what passes for a 'horror' film on streaming services for hours andcoming up exasperated, it's a pleasure to have discovered this gem.
There is so much that could be learned by today's fake gore splattering, artless homonculuses even through a single viewing of this film, (despite its minor shortcomings). I experienced true engagement and legitmite emotional connection resounding in chills and fright throughout, so well considered, visually sumptuous and mesmerising was every aspect of this feature.
It successfully evoked a sense of period and place through artful photogrpahy, perfect casting, stylish costuming, ornate set decoration and superb characterisation built through an economy of gestural and expression filled acting skills reflecting true talent and refined ability within the players.
These elements, when combined with dialogue involving only the most concise and necessary language permitting the acting to work as a vehiicle conveying essential concepts economically and thereby enhancing the overall atmosphere of tension and intrigue through a well thought out plot concealing the next eventuality, (as opposed to today's wannabes caked in poorly applied, grotesquely formed, rubber and crimson streaked oil paint, effectively leaping out from a shadow filled broom closet and feebly shouting "Boo!" at the audience).
The Mephisto Waltz stands as a historical marker reminding us that it takes genuine ensemble artistic and storytelling ability to create a film worthy of an audience's attention by providing first and above all a story that begs telling. In this case, one that leaves the majority of today's sad looking fare lying lean and sunbleached as a discarded and aged dog bone!
Somehow Related with Dave O'Neil & Glenn Robbins (2018)
Australia's Two Most Premiere, Esteemed, Elder Statesmen Comedians, Glenn Robbins and Dave O'Neil Star.
I am writing this review of the Somehow Related podcast not only because Dave O'Neil and Glenn Robbins requested their audience to (please) do so (and, seeing the absence of any reviews at all on this site, I can see why they felt compelled to ask!)
But also, I write this review because the show is utterly worthy of vastly greater public exposure, so that you, another member of the general public, who's apparently been missing out this entire time, might also very much enjoy 'listening in' on the psychological meanderings of Glenn Robbins and Dave O'Neil as they muse upon and deduce the seemingly tenuous connections between subjects as diverse as polystyrene and asteroids, ghost Yowies and steel ball bearings, sightings of aliens and roulette wheel number pattern frequencies, such is the format of the show where each week two otherwise seemingly unrelated topics, between which they must find some shared connection, are presented by 'Samantha', their alluring, digital, female co-host (who loves being on the show so very much that she does it for free!)
On the way toward the conclusive answer to the mysterious connection between these two subjects, we may hear from amongst various joyful recollections of fast food gorging experiences, memories described vividly and verbally relived with unbounded passion. Ranging from these intimate moments of salted battered ecstasy to reflective and candid tales recounting the fickle circumstances of what has manifested whilst living day to day in contemporary Australian society as one deemed 'famous' and what a topsey-turvey, seesaw ride between sore affliction and excited exaltation that this has proven to be!
In Somehow Related (for absolutely free and at no cost at all to you) you may experience a personable and relaxed half hour (or more) enjoying the interesting and engaging, humorous conversational antics of Australia's two most premiere, esteemed, elder statesmen comedians, Glenn Robbins and Dave O'Neil, both of whom have been consistently in strong demand for personal professional appearances for decades in Australian film, internet, TV, print, radio, on stage and in advertising, for both private and public media entities alike.
So prevalent are Dave O'Neil and Glenn Robbins within the Australian cultural comedy entertainment scene that at any given moment you may listen to any one of their over 40 episodes worth of appearances in the show Somehow Related, alone!
Importantly, in the case of Glenn Robbins, he is (at the time of writing) making regular appearances on various national TV channels advertising for a major car manufacturer, their most important recent advancement in transportation technology and conveying this message effectively, unobtrusively and comically, effectively in the way only Robbins can, in the guise of his bushman character, Russell Coight, (who is destined to surely eventually equal Crocodile Dundee in terms of screen success, should someone have the bright idea of writing a full length feature film script featuring some similar tale as that of Dundee, filled with the dark and slapstick humour for which Coight has become a crowd favourite).
This endeavour engaging Robbins at untold expense to the unnamed car manufacturing entity, represents a significant amount refelcting his telents, an amount that you, lucky prospective new listener, will never have to pay to listen to the candid, lengthy conversations of which Somehow Related consists, as it is available to you absolutely for free, nix, nada, nilch, zilch and the sum total of nought point nought nought!
Many episodes of Somehow Related also contain a comedy sketch featuring the two subjects in question and it is during these that the comedic skills of our hosts emerge at their most powerfully hilarious, leaving listeners laughing out loud and myself often wondering 'why haven't we long ago seen a sketch comedy show centering around this duo, commissioned to receive guaranteed national and international success'?
Who knows?
Maybe we will and you'd better hurry up and subscribe to Somehow Related before it's gone and it's too late!
Or, if you don't, their popularity may wane and then such a show may indeed never manifest!
Oh, the conundrum!
(Can I have my money now?)
Speak No Evil (2022)
Not 'horror', it is a misguided attempt at that genre, instead a vehicle for 'terror'.
As a story this is a disappointing examination of human inter relations that is almost completely without merit as it serves no particular purpose and addresses nothing in particular which might advance society as a whole.
That being said, I gave it three stars for the fact it was proficiently made technically and the acting was reasonable, considering the guff they had to work with, I grant it value despite my overall repulsion with it as a vehicle for an apparent agenda that does nothing but serve to disenfranchise strangers from granting one another that basic level of trust which in civilisation we traditionally imbue toward our fellows, an element of destructiveness which this film serves effectively as an attack upon.
The direction of it's plot is thin, weak, obvious and predictable that few would imagine it dare to actually exploit those aspects of human depravity which eventually did in lieu of a well thought out story.
It's logical holes render it unbelievable as a scenario because there's no way the killers would have gotten away with the suggested large number of abductions and murders they did when there's a photograph of them on the fridge in the house of the family that's disappeared and, most likely, a plethora of other swathes of likewise evidence sitting waiting around in the homes and the memories of the friends and families of the many other victims, just waiting for the numerous police investigators to make swift arrests.
As a metaphor for political or socio-sexual situations, it serves little to no value either, if these could in any way be applied to this story. However it's so repulsively barren as not to compel any such deeper examination and I didn't bother thinking upon it other than for it to cause me to ask myself why it was that anyone would imagine this a suitable tale to release upon society and, when they did, what good did they imagine would come from its existence?
Neither of these aspects clearly crossed the mind of the writer, who also, lazily, didn't consider the obvious implausibility of the situations portrayed. The willingness of an audience to engage in 'suspension of disbelief' comes through their enjoyment of entertainment and not through the rejection of 'entertainment' that served only to frustrate and reflect the most gruesome aspects of people, with no desire created in the audience to engage on a level more deep than superficial.
In respect of those comments I consider this film not a horror movie, but as an act of social terrorism with so few redeeming features as to serve no good in this world, even as supposed entertainment, since it was so poorly considered that, instead of making a potential social statement about real world issues of human slavery, child sexual exploitation and potentially organ harvesting, all of which it could have included as possible and logical motivations for the perpetrator/protagonists' otherwise inane and profitless act of brutality but which it failed even to permit the viewer to consider.
Instead what we were presented with was as purposelessly nonsensical as it was distasteful, and that was at a level we once used to call, 'from the bottom of the barrel'.
Climax (2018)
A Common Source of Infectious Irritatability Defying Logic Whilst Claiming to Own It.
Noe claims to make films for his own enjoyment alone and without concern for any of the interests of his audience. In regard to that particular sentiment, with 'Climax' he has purged upon us his masterpiece. Yes, it represents his artistic climax but a plight for his audience upon whom he self-admits his cinematic expressions 'a blight'.
Resultant to Noe's highest aspiration culminating in this repulsing spectacle, we ought to expect that the thin string binding that ring of individuals who once, unsuspectingly, were prepared to be included in that number making up the public audience to dwindle quickly down to an amount so minuscule that it become economically unsound an option in the future Noe ever again be granted funds enough to 'entertain himself alone' in a likewise manner equaling contempt for the entrance fee paying public.
(However, in a world as pretentiously removed from the valuation of logic or profound understanding that the highest form of popular art/cinema is a synthesis between meaning and medium, it's more likely Noe's particular brand of self indulgence will instead receive considerable endorsement from likewise poseurs with even less comprehension and veritably nothing beyond their mentors' morbid, self flagellating, wreck obsessed carnality to regurgitate, ie those to whom Nope''s work appears a beacon of hope as the highest form of contemporary fine art in cinema, (an institution popularly considered worthy of respect when its ideas prevail in a manner relatable to the general public, when comprehended as intelligent, meaningful valuable because they understand how to present themselves in an entertaining manner.)
Noe ought now be treated like any other self admitted anti-artist, to whom self indulgence and lack of conscientious regard for that section of the public with the desired expectation to be in some way entertained reigns as all important, to be refused the ability to create another film which claims itself a rightful place within the popular culture through the appropriation of populist terms through expectations cultivated with the unopposed application of the 'thriller' and 'horror' genre tags.
That is, unless the lifetime determination 'chronic rip off artist' is also one of Noe's highest artistically motivating aspirations?
Licorice Pizza (2021)
Your Sense of Wonder is Required.
This film is refreshing in that you never know what to expect next nor, in terms of genre, what it is that you're watching. It in no way contains cliches.
Like what's best (and worst) about life, Licorice Pizza defies the obviously formulaic, which is what makes it both outstanding and, in terms of a contemporaneous social document, quite important. (The scene in which the two main protagonists sit in a diner in silence together each reading the newspaper serves as just one example).
It's a quirky, hip, youthfully joyous romance, reminiscent in mood to a kid built tree house. The dialogue is often fast paced, much like a lot of 70's films, which took advantage of the non conformist sentiments then prolifically permeating society, (and the mainstream media then representing it) which sees the film's characters coolly challenging one another's opinions with all the ease of well oiled beatnik poet in full flight.
Similarly, the story moves in a freely organic manner, which is ultimately intriguing. (Disappointingly however, in today's world, where people seem to require advance warning of anything unexpected, it's obviously failed to tantalise the imagination of other (re)viewers, hence the numerous negative estimations preset here on IMDd). I was genuinely surprised to encounter negative reviews of this film!
If you lived consciously through the 1970's then this is a film you can perhaps relate to, (and especially if this was in the Hollywood area). I found it difficult to see how it was classed primarily as comedy. At times it proves hilarious, but it's not here just for laughs, although when the plot moves into scenes designed explicitly for humour, it works well.
These comic aspects and one particular section, left me wishing for a more comprehensive examination of those real life characters parodied. That is, the part involving Sean Penn and Tom Waits which left me relishing the idea of a full length feature, based around the crazed antics of 'old Hollywood' type actors and directors living in an ego and alcohol excess fueled fantasy world where the imaginary camera never stops rolling and they're constantly playing up ever more irreverently to try to gain and enchant its attention.
If you like your films photographed in a style which emulates traditional cinema, this is one where the entirety of the older style craft of film making has been rendered intact, since the director apparently deliberately avoided the digitisation process of the negative, (to which the majority of today's cinema is routinely subject) and, much like the argument for vinyl records (licorice pizzas), retaining a more 'fuller bodied sound' as opposed to their lesser digital counterparts, the results of this aspect of the creative process return images with a quality reflecting the physical world in a manner clearly obviously lacking in other films where this process has not been included. The results of this extra effort very much enhance the visceral representation of reality with all the sumptuous colourful vibrancy often anecdotally associated with that period of the late 60's early seventies.
In many ways the entirety of this film falls within the boundaries of that previous description, hence Paul Thomas Anderson's use of an otherwise seemingly unrelated title for his film, 'Licorice Pizza' one seemingly cryptic that makes reference to the supposedly antiquated* outf=dated and obsolescent analogue style of music recording as opposed to today's digital technology based production 'superiority'.
Like the times of the late 60's early 70's, this movie is unpredictable and requires the involvement of the unfettered imagination in the same way where once it was integral, in that time previous to the internet search engine delivering the sum of all knowledge to us at a keystroke, when we were forced to wonder about a subject in order to answer the unfathomable question mark(s) left behind after, say, a group conversation speculating over a topic of which none were expert in. Similarly, that spark of imagination is here integral to the experience of watching this film immersively.
In the same way that sense of mystery was once simply an unavoidable aspect of the everyday, Licorice Pizza doesn't seek to serve up to you everything in a single spoonful. It teases out and relies upon your engagement to make it the experience watching a film truly can be (for those willing to invest their minds in the experience). It seems here in the 2020's that someone's still asking us to, 'turn on, tune in and (if not to also) drop out'!
*(yet today taking shape as a reinvented innovation, see Jack White's Third Man Records, for example.)
The Discarded (2019)
No one cares THAT MUCH about student debt!
There could have been a good movie here if only someone decided to question the motivations behind the actions driving the story whilst it was still in embryonic script development stage but, obviously, no one ever bothered and the result is that what we've got here is a film that's confusing, preposterously outlandish, illogical and just plain silly.
The pretense of the scenario is based upon the crushing conscientious weight of student debt for which people are apparently wholly prepared to live for years on end in concentration camps with armed guards, brutality, attacks dogs and all of those other atrocities that the civilised world in which this film is apparently set, (you wouldn't know, since they don't bother giving you any idea about which country this movie is set in), countries that have spent the last 70 years since the end of WWII legislating and outlawing out of existence through rules and laws designed to ensure nothing of the kind ever again has any chance of happening, and yet, for some crazed reason, the makers of this film expect us to somehow throw aside all comprehension of these aspects of modern life and fully accept that some corporation somewhere deemed it 'best business practice' to incarcerate the student loan debt laden poor with a cruel regime of suffering that would, in any real world scenario, see their board of directors quickly locked up for decades and their company sued until a meter deep layer of earth on their company head office building site had been bagged up and flogged off in order to settle the masses of damages lawsuits.
If you're prepared to initiate 'nuclear response level logic wipe suspension of disbelief' then this film may be, for you, a peak viewing experience, whereas, for myself, it's logical flaws so voraciously made themselves glaringly and prominently omnipresent that I couldn't stomach another second of it in under the first 30 minutes.
However, if you detest logic then prepare yourself to enjoy-
People who live in a slick, 21st century environment in some unnamed nation where people live on the street in the manner of 15th century peasants, dealing daycare services for babies (that magically disappear after one scene) from the back of a car which are paid for with a handful of spare change,.
Heads of medical departments who think pressuring staff into sex to keep their job a valid option something that would actually occur in the manner in which this film believes it possible.
Unmolested by law, 'work camps' utilising armed guards, barbed wire and complete lack of heavy earth moving equipment as best practise for their end goal.
I'm sure it later revved up to suck hard enough to empty a carcass of bones in under ten seconds were it a domestically available vacuum cleaner, but I'm not prepared to suffer another minute of it to find out as early on I deduced its 'resolution' point ending, and how we were going to get there, (with ample gratuitous violence employed whilst boyfriend rescuing girlfriend, escaped the camp).
My only remaining question would then be-
"Guys, maybe you need to locate your baby?"
Smiley Face Killers (2020)
Not Really About the Killers
Firstly, to be fair to him, I've never read a Bret Easton Ellis novel.
I have formerly been impressed by the adaption that was, 'The Canyons', even though, (spoiler alert), the apparent dismissal of the Hollywood movie star vampire victim kidnapping subplot aspect ruined for me, what could have been one of the great modern films of all time, had it remained there intact.
In The Smiley Face Killers the establishment of a few sparse personal details about the characters, in particular the main one, Jake, takes precedence, unnecessarily overloading the movie, managing to dispel most of the tension whilst almost wholly ignoring the fascinating, macabre nature of these bizarre killers, whom the title misleadingly presents as the actual center of precedings, (which they totally are not!)
What we see is the victim and his friends, whilst the presence of these mysteriously robe shrouded, murder obsessed freaks, almost supernaturally endowed with ninja level skills of stealthy, self concealment, woefully neglected, when what the audience hungered for was more detail regarding them and their antics, past, future and present, such as the title misleadingly promises.
Instead of this their presence hovers at the periphery, in the shallows and thoroughly incapable of creating that sense of foreboding they're integrally necessary for thus leaving the audience by midway through subconsciously relishing the main character's demise, in the vain hope that some more of the promised, title-implied story might be revealed, (which it, patently, is not).
As such, what we have here is essentially an overly long short idea with virtually no subplot and a half of the back of an envelope's worth of main plot, loaded with promisingly suggestive elements, literally begging to lead to a greater fleshing out, yet altogether failing, miserably, to tantalise, hence all the let down feeling audience member reviews accompanying this one.
As someone else here wittily remarked, Crispin Glover 'must have been late on a car repayment, to even have agreed to appear in this film' and one can only wish they'd hired anyone else to slap on the prosthetics and play his role, instead directing whatever fee he was promised into the budget required to create each and every scenic element missing from what might have then made for quite an exceptionally well developed example of its genre.
The Pale Door (2020)
Deceptive Poster-Avoid Like the Actual Plague.
Back in the days of videotape rentals, there existed a scam wherein the cover art for an obscure, little known movie took up more of the movie budget than did its plot, scripting, acting, sets, costuming and overall production.
In this manner, real stinkers stayed moving on and off shelves, robbing blind the public of both their money and their precious leisure time for years on end, and all because of some really great cover art concealing the fetid putrescence within.
Here in the 21st century, with way more than one born every minute, this archaic scam has been revived by the innate charlatans of the movie world and this dreadful stinker of a poorly acted, dismally directed, preposterously storied and drearily boring waste of time, effort and money on the part of all concerned, has managed to expound the worst aspects of these snake oil patent medicine salesmen turned movie producers' shenanigans.
So much about this film could have been really great and when you look at the fine example of poster art it presents as apparently representative of its content, just remember, to 'never judge a book (or a movie) by its cover' and in this case, it's far worse than the art its poster uses to promise it is good, in fact, it's multiply worse.
I turned it off about 30% of the way through when I realised I'd seen it all before, not very good, but done better, and herein they were only going to make, for the remaining portion, the worst example of another version of the same, judging from the slow pacing and shockingly bad everything about the first half and what I'd seen of the ho hum 'big reveal'.
Avoid like the actual plague.
Let's Dream (2021)
Bound to become a cult classic
Please ignore one sentence 'reviews' on here written by those who lack the sympathetic comprehension to either understand or appreciate what's not been produced by the run of the mill, industrial cookie cutter film machine.
They're upset they've encountered a challenging film defeating their capacity to understand and, through the ignorance of their attack stance, prove themselves among those who fear the unique and original such as you too will find yourself experiencing if you open your mind and join with the maker of this film who admonishes us all in the directive, Let's Dream.
Among 2020s crop of unrewarding, usual, cliched, jump scare and gore strewn attempts to revitalise various supernatural genres, all of them done to proverbial death in past decades, Let's Dream leaps out from the cinematic field as an homage to imaginative originality, sublime performances, concise, evocative, poetic, whimsical dialogue and as a prime example what greatness may be achieved when determined passion combines with talent and artful skill to create, (from an obvious low budget base), the riches of a cinematic marvel, bound to become a cult classic for its atmospheric oddities, ethereal evocations and fascinatingly entertaining content.
Let's Dream stands out as an example expounding what may be achieved through the power of an original imaginative idea when combined with artfully considered photographic and location choices and skillfully directed acting, thus invoking a sense of otherworldly atmosphere necessary to convey the viewer's imagination to a place of synergy with great success.
Unusually, in a film filled with much tension and intrigue, it manages to achieve these elements of the thriller, blisteringly, by utilising a most unexpected and disarming technique, that is, by employing not fast cut but instead a meandering pace to its unpredictable, mysterious and intriguing narrative, one that ebbs and flows like a REM sleep vision or the quiet meditation of a daydream, albeit one saw toothed with jagged edges, indicating all is not well with the assurance of a phantom moon.
At one end of the narrative spectrum this film serves as a timely reminder of the importance of getting our act together and mitigating the negative effects of climate change before our entire history as a global culture winds up as an archaeologically retrieved series of files on a thumb drive collected by an alien race whilst passing by and stopping in at, what was once known as an inhabited, livable planet, and at the other, it may be interpreted as a reflection of the inner narrative of the consciousness within the individual as a part of, and apart from, the journey we're all upon (like it or not) as a society, moving toward a comprehension of self awareness within the universe as a whole.
Time does not permit an exhaustive litany of interpretations, but Let's Dream has an abundance to offer, such as its title suggests. This review would be incomplete without mentioning the triple threat that is Let's Dream's lead actor, director and writer, an artist emanating charismatic star quality boundlessly and bound, no doubt, to be recorded within the pantheon of movie making history as one its true greats-a legitimate classic 'movie star' of the highest caliber and of the most venerable, old Hollywood style order.
Under the Cover of Cloud (2021)
Check Out the Clouds
What makes this film great is the inclusion of the apparently extraneous detail in which the narrative appears to conceal its intent, as though 'under the cover of cloud'.
For those who are likewise interested in how human beings authentically interact with one another on a genuine day to day level, that viewer will be rewarded if they make a little space in their life for the couple of hours that this gentle and subtle film expands to cover.
Ignore the reviews here that seem to reel back in an overtly critical, chokingly ignorant, cultural cringe overdose, and as such, miss the point completely as to what this film is about and for what purpose it serves to better the human race.
Of course, a film of this type is not going to please those who expect their cinema to excite and titillate the senses to the point of nervous evisceration, but to the average human being, seeking to experience the simple, unique human interactions of, and connection to, a small islander community in as close to an utter naturalism as any fictionalised film might conjure, it is a triumph as a genre breaking, (uniquely Tasmanian) work, apparently easily capturing a rare form of authenticity and realism, achieved with skillful artifice.
The naturalism in each scene serves as a triumph of the cinematic art, captured as though a clandestinely shot documentary one can imagine being presented later to the 'actors' as a surprise to each of them and in that sense its content may be confronting, mystifying and alien to the majority of viewers expecting traditional 'players'.
As an aside, as a Tasmanian myself, I can well see in the naturalism of the anthropological feature, the 'traditional Tasmanian islander banter stye of conversation', which in this sparsely inhabited island population serves as a defense mechanism ritual tool is subconsciously employed to identify other like minded types.
This film's sense of place is intimately portrayed through visions of the Tasmanian landscape, mountains beaches and coastlines, sweeping hills and rarely a flat piece of ground, an unruly landscape impossible to tame, noted as malevolently imposing and threatening, under brooding skies and ever failing light, photographed in a manner only a well seasoned Tasmanian visionary might evaluate its subtleties.
This film is paced precisely like a specifically Tasmania-centric story ought to be, that is, not speeding toward an obvious explosive cavalcade of climatic resolution but, like the passenger physically and symbolically leaving big city Sydney at the beginning on slow moving sea borne vessel, it is a departure from the standard fare of mainstream hurl-burly commercial film, instead existing as a segment pruned from something vastly more challenging to create, real life, and to some extent, as a new cinematic experience foreign to many, at times,it may prove challenging to watch. But then again, who ever said it had to always be easy?
In its obscurity of style, tone, pace, place and character, and by including and encapsulating naturalistically the apparently extraneous details of the location and culture in which it was made it eloquently conceals its narrative intent, successfully revealing with base authenticity, the little seen or experienced 'Tasmanian way of life', something necessarily obscure and alien to the majority. Succinctly, it thereby successfully encapsulates, on an intimately personal level, what constitute our most meaningful and valuable experiences in life. Great Art may reflect what it is to be human, and in doing that with a quietly reserved gusto, this film qualifies as superb.
The Marshes (2018)
A Pitful Premise Promises Initially Then Descends Into Sheep Drench Flavoured Boredom
Firstly, I'd like to apologise to the poor unfortunate actors in this 'feature', as I know jobs are hard to come by in Australia and it's not your fault you wound up in this utter stinker. You guys deserve better, and I hope each of you has a chance in the future to perform in a movie not so exploitative of the public as to sucker them into suffering what this film was, ie, completely trite trash unworthy of viewing by any member of the human race, despite how heinous their crimes.
This is a film that felt like the writer just gave up trying after the first few minutes, but went on regardless, and no one bothered to read the script until after they finished shooting and even then no one cared.
With all seriousness, I wonder how something this pathetic could ever have been made? Surely Shudder productions paid in advance, not caring what schlock they ended up with, just as long as it had 'Australian' written on it so they could sucker that geographic region of the earth into wasting their money paying a subscription fee, no doubt, to them, the artless charlatans.
The end product conformed to their Mills and Boon romance novel formula-style concocted awful cliche of movie style that they so often present, composed of mangy old three leggers they've rustled from the glue factory reject pen, to populate their list of 'Shudder original horror classics' (give me a break!), which they insultingly claim fits into the horror genre (like my head fits into a ballerina's slipper).
The only true horror was in my mind's eye as I suffered the comprehension that this bomb really had sunk so low as to attempt to turn the Australian folk song 'Waltzing Matilda' into a horror movie, and in doing so, stuffed it up utterly and completely. Of course this song's nature, as a public domain status tune and therefore free from fee type source material, suited the miserably stingy nature of this production, which gave nothing and reserved any imagination it might have utilised instead for something completely unrelated, (if at all endowed with such a faculty which evidently the 'executive creative team' were not).
I felt true fear only when I realised others would unwittingly also be watching, and when considering how much more of it I'd have to endure if successfully able to say I'd watched it all, which, in the end, I just could not.
What were the protagonist's motivations? Did not a hamburger appeal to his tastes? What flawed logic addled by use of far too many stimulants lead the writers to think him in any way at all frightening? Only in my confusion expecting to be entertained was there anything like fright. Was he a ghost or a man? Who really cares anymore, if at all, ever? Why put in any effort toward junk that falls so short of what even a bad film promises?
This film serves as an example of tedium of the highest order. I've never seen a movie before where I fast forwarded to the end to prove to myself the inevitable utterly predictable and unsatisfactory ending I'd assumed all along would and did come, and it did come, and then, exactly as I'd expected, but even more anti-climatically than in my despair I'd imagined it capable of failing to attain.
This film hearkens back to the days of the massive tax breaks offered to film makers when every man and his dog strapped on a discount film camera without reading the instructions, drunkenly started shooting and made it up as they went along, thinking only of the tax credits their novelty prophylactic business was going to receive as result.
It was as though the film makers threatened a ten year old kid on a bus to scribble out a picture of anything at all on the back of an envelope and that then served as their entire script, had so little thought or effort been put into making something worth watching (which it was not) and which, by writing this much about this dour lemon, has granted to it way more interest by myself and all the unfortunate others than ever does it deserve to receive, such an affront to the concept of entertainment does it serve.
Avoid at all costs, including self blinding, and, once again, to the actors, please, do not hurt yourselves-it was clearly not your fault.
Ghost in the Graveyard (2019)
Laughable, if not so deplorable
One of the few films I've endured that was actually improved greatly by regular loss of consciousness throughout.
Exploitative to the point of using as fodder, and thereby, by default, attempting to undermine the value of a text sacred to the Christian religion, the prophetic book of Revelation (no less), it really is an example of the worst kind of derivative and cliche-ridden, ill considered schlock produced upon this earth, in that it derides the viewer's intelligence merely by virtue of the fact that it even exists, (and as far as criticisms go, that's really saying something!)
A few of the times I accidentally, (and unfortunately ), awoke, I wondered if I'd somehow discovered a rare gem of a film that was actually some type of crossover hybrid between horror and comedy, (if that were at all even possible, as it would have been a work of genius if anyone could have successfully pulled it off), but I quickly realised, before almost immediately being repelled by its inherently boring nature and falling straight back to sleep, that it really was seriously posing scenarios for us to consider as plausible, such as that of a father who did not know his own daughter's memories of her mother were non existent (because what father knows such an intimate detail about their own kid?) and this illogical script inadequacy revealed just before Dad refers a customer in his shop to the 'gift' section in order to purchase a can of rat poison, (because, after all, where else in your shop would you keep such an item?)
I really pity those actors associated with this production, in the same way that I pity those whose reputations were forever destroyed by being cast members of 'Manos the Hand of Fear' who were also tainted forever by their association with a mega bomb. But, unlike those cast members who decided the only remedy to their predicament was to quickly suicide, I'd like to refer those who have found their careers in tatters after being linked to this mess, to please, by all means, seek professional assistance before making such a dire move.
Remember, tomorrow is another day, and, fortunately, this movie is really so very, very toxicly bad that few, if any, will choose to remember, beyond the last frame, anything that happened or anyone who was cast in it, and rightfully so, because it thoroughly and wholeheartedly stank.
a con perpetrated (most likely) by review writing bond slaves in ultra low wage countries, forced to write lies praising it on behalf of the various unscrupulous and immoral production houses associated with the making of this distastefully grotesque and unentertaining, cankerous eye-sore, which is tantamount to an act, similarly mean in nature, to that of great depression era second hand dealers stuffing gear boxes of worn out jalopies with straw in order to fleece by swindling the last few dollars out of dust bowl refugee farmers, desperately attempting to make it to California, and thereby leaving them on the side of a road somewhere, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with nothing, broke, lost, miserably depressed, ripped off, and alone... which, in itself, sums up and serves as the most perfect metaphor of all for this potential strong contender for the top award winner in the competition for all time worst film of the 21st century.
I strongly recommend the entire human race to avoid 'Ghost in the Graveyard' at all costs, (including, if necessary, violently inflicting deafness and blindness upon self and others), and especially, (given the dire nature of today's entertainment industry), to also avoid it's most likely and inevitable sequel.