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Reviews
Cuck (2019)
Contrived Character Study
I am a fan of dark and perverse stories driven by obsessed characters. The psychologically driven drama, the atmospheric horror, these character driven trips into cinematic madness can be especially memorable. These films are indebted to film noir; and like all good noir, even if they are sanitized above the surface, there is a macabre underbelly. There is human wretchedness just beneath the skin, and the line between hero and antihero is never all that clear. The weakness in "Cuck" is that there is no such subtlety. The performances are really top notch, but the lack of subtlety in the writing makes the story more propagandistic than it needed to be. There is no character arc for any of the characters, and though good films do not always have to have recognizable arcs this story would have been much more compelling if we had seen the protagonist descend from a basically good, if socially awkward, man into a tormented killer. Given what happens at the end, the story would have been so much more poignant if he had shown real love for his old, debilitated mother at the beginning, rather than always regarding her at best as a senile burden to be avoided. Moreover, when we first encounter the protagonist he is already an unctuous basement dweller who gets his jollies from alt right media. We do not see him fall to his grave. He is already down there rolling in the muck. Moreover, we never see him try to struggle against his darker nature. Even his one attempt at dating a woman he meets online serves to highlight just how screwed up he is. Also, does he have to embody every anti-social conceit of the stereotypical alt right incel? As an illustrative aside, Norman Bates in the novel "Psycho" was much like the protagonist in this film - fat, slovenly etc. Alfred Hitchcock smartly abandoned much of this characterization in the film "Psycho." So instead of an obvious, on the nose pervert we see a Norman Bates who is capable of kindness and who battles (and ultimately loses to) his personal demon (symbolized by Mother). If in "Cuck" we had had some reason to empathize with the protagonist, his descent into hell really could have hit us hard. Instead, we have a guy who will not even hug his mother back when she embraces him. It is a funny scene, but it is emblematic of a character already beyond any hope. There is no struggle, no real tension, and therefore instead of a flesh and blood character we are witnessing a "case study" of an alt right incel loser. We the audience are like the jury hearing a one-sided, contrived description of the defendant in a closing argument. Whether or not the description is accurate or over the top, the closing argument (the message of the film) is too heavy handed for good cinema. It may work as a propaganda piece, but if that is the objective then it should have been a short. Given the long running time the lack of any subtlety in the characterizations, the obvious foreshadowing of what will happen later, the unambiguous symbolism of the cuckold incel, etc. turn what could have been at least decent propaganda into a tedious and self-important "message film." On the plus side, the graphic sex scenes are well done. They are not at all gratuitous in that they serve to highlight the intrinsically cuck nature of the protagonist. It would have been so much better for the story if the protagonist had been more than simply a stereotypical cuck, but since he is that and nothing more the sex scenes work in that context.
Terminator: Dark Fate (2019)
Heartless CGI Spectacle Not "Made in China," but "Made for China"
There have been a lot of reviews pointing out the over abundance of cartoonish CGI effects, the "girl power" theme so common nowadays in superhero action films, the utter betrayal of the first two Terminator films, etc. All of this is true and sadly predictable. American viewers need to remember that this film, like so many other action packed, CGI monstrosities, is not really made for them. Domestic box office is not entirely irrelevant, but it is less important considerably than revenue from the overseas market. The box office return in China is most especially important given the huge fan base there for American entertainment. So long as the characters and the storyline do not inflame the Chinese censors, mediocre movies here can be blockbusters over there. Most overseas fans have never seen the first two Terminator films. Therefore, they have no particular fidelity to the canon storyline, the original character arcs, etc. Hollywood producers are very aware of this overseas cultural detachment from the earlier films. There is little profit motive then for them to remain faithful to the canon. Now that may explain their willingness to jettison the first two Terminator films, but why all the "girl power" and the political correctness? In part, we can attribute this to the ideological bias of most Hollywood writers and producers. More so, the powers that be in Hollywood believe that the "girl power" and the SJW themes will appeal to the Millennials and, therefore, keep the film in their good graces over the long term. Over the long term the domestic revenue stream comes increasingly from monetizing the film's social media impact. As Millennials are much more a factor in social media than the middle aged types like myself who loved the first two films way back in the day, the studio is much more focused on placating them than on appealing to the older hardcore fans. It all comes down to dollars and cents, and the result is yet another franchise film that pays lip service to its own legacy while provide a generic action packed spectacle to overseas and younger viewers who frankly do not care about what has been lost.
Halloween (2018)
Well crafted studio film without the dark suspense of the original
Halloween (2018) is a well crafted film that manifests the professional filmmaking acumen we would expect from a major Hollywood production. Especially when the film focuses on the survivalist life Laurie Strode carved out for herself since her first encounter with The Shape, and the familial dysfunction that resulted, the dialogue and the visual storytelling are adept and, at times, even compelling. We believe that Laurie is trapped inside her fears. We care that her granddaughter tries to maintain a normal relationship with her. The theme of women's empowerment that becomes more central in the third act therefore has greater resonance than it would have had if this family backstory had not been pursued as well as it was. The film works then when focusing on Laurie Strode overcoming her own lifelong demon and, ultimately, turning the story's predator into prey.
The problem with Halloween is everything else. As a horror, Halloween disappoints. Much has been written already about the lack of "atmosphere" and "building dread," especially in comparison to the first two films. For the most part, those insights are true. Michael Myers kills, often much more viciously than in the first film, and since the film abandons Halloween II (meaning no sibling rivalry and no Samhain curse) he kills without any motive other than the fact that he is "pure evil." Nevertheless, in order to keep the story pace moving (perhaps in acknowledgment of the relatively limited attention span of younger audiences today) the film does not take the time to show Michael stalking his victims. He does not slowly creep out from the shadows. He just steps into the frame with his weapon of choice in hand and dispatches his next victim. In that respect, he is more like Jason Voorhees, and thus I was not all that surpised when I heard some people in the theater audience tonight chanting the "ki ki ki ma ma ma" mantra from the old Friday the 13th movies. Michael is an incredible force who can smash a human head with one stomp of his boot heel, as Jason could knock off a human head with one punch, but like his counterpart in the later Friday the 13th movies he is proportionately less scary as he is more violent.
Graphic violence, like the infamous "jump scares" we see all too often in horror films nowadays (especially in the Blumhouse variety), actually releases tension in favor of the cheap thrill. Part of the genius of the original Halloween is that there is almost no blood in the film. Moreover, in that first film, most of the murders are obscured by darkness (the boyfriend stabbed to the wall) or haziness (Annie's death inside the parked car seen through a fogged up windshield), which invites us to extend our own imaginations to the scenes. Also, the murders in that first film always happen in one continual shot. There are no fast cuts which allow us to see the murder happen from multiple angles. The result is that we witness the murders as if frozen in one spot not too far from the action. The fact that we see multiple angles of the murders in Halloween (2018) makes those murders "more cinematic" and, therefore, "less visceral." We see the violence, but with all that sophisticated editing we are always reminded that this is a movie.
Detractors have commented that there is too much comedy. If we see Halloween (2018) as more of an action than a horror film, then the comedy is appropriate. It is all too apparent that the filmmakers are trying to appeal to the post-Scream, meta sensibilities of younger audiences; and perhaps they are correct in acknowledging that audiences today would much rather be entertained than frightened. I prefer the dark menace and the slower, creepier pace of older horror films (Black Christmas, 1974; The Shining, 1980). I think that may have to do with the fact that as a man in my mid-forties I grew up before the Internet and social media. I read books (the old fashioned kind that are bound in leather and collect dust) and learned to appreciate the slow and steady build to the heart thumping climax. Today's instant gratification culture does not seem to have the patience for that, and I think that that is reflected in how films now are edited. That is also reflected in the preference of the sudden thrill or the cheap laugh over the "slow build." Would Kubrick have been able to distribute The Shining in today's marketplace? For that matter, would Carpenter have been able to find a mass audience for the original Halloween in our times? Or would those classic horror films, if released today, have been relegated to the niche community of horror enthusiasts. I suspect the latter.
I have a few more quibbles with the film. Apart from Jamie Lee Curtis, who really captures the unsettling brew of weakness and strength in Laurie Strode, the acting is mediocre, though that is to be expected with a mainstraem horror or action film. There is virtually no character development for the victims, apart from the father, so we really do not care when they are dispatched. There is subtle foreshadowing of the plot twist with the doctor in the third act, especially in what the doctor says to the podcast interviewers before the opening credits. Nevertheless, the plot twist is too extreme and, as such, works against that suspension of disbelief needed for a film like this. I did like the ending, though. Fire symbolizes purification, and for Laurie in the end burning away the psychological entanglements of the past is frankly more important than making sure The Shape is dead. Ultimately, this is Laurie's story, so the redemptive value of the film is in Laurie freeing herself and her loved ones from that protective prison in which she has been hiding for the past forty years.
The Twilight Zone: The Jungle (1961)
Atmospheric Horror in the City Streets of the Twilight Zone
Based upon the other reviews I have read here, "The Jungle" is either one of the best or one of the worst entries in the series. I count myself among those who favor it. True, the story is predictable. The characters are archetypal. The message is one with which we are very familiar in the more environmentally and culturally conscious twenty-first century. Nevertheless, this episode is a master example of atmosphere and pacing. The essence of horror is primal and irrational. It is the fear that our own rational and civilized lives may not keep the monsters at bay. Given Rod Serling's rational humanism, I find it most interesting that he chose this story, since the story is fundamentally a refutation of the twentieth century conceit that progress can and should stamp out the primal nature of man. The clear connotation is that there is something intrinsically good about the untamed wild. It can and will protect itself from our own hubris, and we civilized men therefore are best advise to go only so far in trying to subdue it. In terms of the atmosphere, the most unsettling shots are the subtler ones - the cold breeze rustling the moonlit trees, the beasts chirping or growling in the distance, etc. What happens to the cab driver seems arbitrary at first, but then makes sense in retrospect. "The Jungle" has taken over, and there will be no easy escape for our protagonist. Without giving away the ending, I shall say that it is especially remarkable given the times. Though offscreen, it is raw and unforgiving, which is as it should be given what has transpired up to this point.
The Twilight Zone: The Odyssey of Flight 33 (1961)
Did this episode inspire Stephen King?
I have been watching the entire series on Netflix, and part of what amazes me about TZ is the extent to which the stories have influenced literature, television, and cinema since. I am not going to give away any plot details except to say that the story calls to mind Stephen King's "The Langoliers" from "Four Past Midnight." Whether or not King actually thought of this episode when constructing his story, the "Bermuda Triangle" idea explored in this TZ episode and in King's novella is a common theme in popular science fiction and horror. In all such stories, the question is: How close are we to the edge of reality as we know it? Is it possible that with a little push (a sudden surge of speed), we can find ourselves far from the world with which we are familiar. The connotation is that everything we hold dear is tenuous at best. All it takes is a snap of God's fingers, or the whims of fate, or an angel's cough, and all of a sudden we are spiraling into an inexplicable state of existence or mind. Is there anything (or anyone) on whom we can rely? Is there any permanency? Ever since the rise of philosophical Modernism, and then Deconstructionism, and the concomitant retreat of the Realists, the underlying philosophical, political, and cultural mindset has embraced change, sometimes for the sake of a certain ideal, sometimes for its own sake. There is a lot of good that can come from this - innovation, reform, diversification. But fear is the stepchild of a world of constant flux, a world on the edge, and so it is no surprise that how we experience fear plays such a prominent role in science fiction (TZ) and in horror (King). Interestingly, in past cultures marked more by an embrace of what is permanent and traditional, stories more often explored love. It is no coincidence that the Ptolemaic Medieval World, a world of philosophical absolutes and clear dogmas, saw some of the greatest odes to chivalric love. In this respect, TZ is eminently modern and contemporary. Some of the story lines may be outdated (the stewardess telling the cabin how one of the "girls" hopes to be picked up for a date when they land in NYC), and the special effects are certainly primitive , but the mindset underlying stories like "The Odyssey of Flight 33" is as modern as any edgy tale about the imminent loss of humanity or degradation of our environment. If the line between worlds can be as thin and as mercurial as what we see in this story, then it is not hard to imagine fantasy and reality, or technological advance and dystopia, bleeding into one another without any notice. What marks modern times: We are all cast adrift trying to find our way home without a dependable compass or beacon.