Halloween II - (film review)

          There seems to be an unwritten consensus that a Director’s (Unrated) Cut is ultimately better than the theatrical version.  This belief leads most movie-buying consumers to instinctively go for the UNRATED version as opposed to the THEATRICAL EDITION when choosing which DVD to buy.  I should know, I’m one such consumer.  However, this is myth.  Giving a director complete creative control over their film(s) does not always equate to a better version of the film.  I think there is something to be said for a group of individuals who collaborate over direction of a film, or what is to be included in it.  Of course, this also has it’s problems, so perhaps the winning formula is a mutual respect for a well-intentioned group effort.

            There are a number of ‘Director’s Cut’ that I loathe over the original theatrical versions: The Ring Two, Friday the 13^th (2009), and Jennifer’s Body, to name a few.  The added footage only detracts from the set pace of the film, and in some instances makes the movie much more absurd than they originally were.  Rob Zombie’s Halloween (and now, Halloween II) falls into this category.  I originally watched the version of Halloween that was floating online just prior to the theatrical release—a version that featured a number of different (and more effective elements).  The next version I watched was the over-bloated and supremely offensive ‘Director’s Cut’, which included a reprehensible rape scene, dimwitted teenage girl speak (which reflects Zombie’s massive disconnect from realistic dialogue) and a number of highlighted redneck absurdities.  I most recently decided to view the Theatrical edition to see if there was any salvaging to be had from a dialed down version of this unwieldy misstep.  To my surprise the disturbing rape scene was replaced by a much more viable police transport scene and the dimwitted dialogue was incredibly dialed down—the redneckness however, remained (but I have come to accept that a Rob Zombie film comes littered with these types of character tropes).  Halloween II (Director’s Cut) is another instance of ego come to destroy a rather good film.

            Zombie is becoming a much better filmmaker.  Either that, or I’m becoming much more tolerable to his unique style.  House of 1,000 Corpses is horrendous, I could not finish watching the film for I felt my life being sucked out of my eye sockets; The Devil’s Rejects was incredibly overrated and overacted with odd bits of interesting filmmaking dispersed throughout; and Halloween had about 40 minutes of incredibly disturbing horror executed with surprising authority—it is unfortunate that we have to sit through 40 minutes of tripe to get there.  Halloween II, the theatrical version, is Zombie’s best film yet and the progress shows.  The dialogue, although rough and amateurish, is at times better, the direction is a little more sharp, and the photography and visual representation of uncalculated chaotic rage is superb.

            This film is a good film for a number of reasons, and ultimately the good parts outweigh the numerous flaws (only in the theatrical version)—in many ways the flaws are more tolerable knowing that there are interesting aspects waiting just beyond the insufferable ones.  The most interesting aspects of this film involve how the main characters deal with the aftermath of being brutalized by a malevolent killer.  The atmosphere here is dark and Zombie understands that these characters cannot bounce back into normality so soon after such traumatic events, which is commonplace for continuing characterization in sequels of franchises.  What is most interesting here is the degree to which affect arises.  Laurie is completely messed up, seeking counseling and addicted to prescription medication, whereas Annie is more demure and solemn from the encounters with Myers.  One character has grown from the situation while the other has digressed—an interesting juxtaposition and avenue for these characters to take.

            The visual oppression of grainy film quality complimented by darks grey hues contribute to the overall feel of this film.  It is less scary and more sad, impressing upon us that this is the second time Myers has come down on the little town of Haddonfield.  The tragedy is thick in the air lending a kind of sophistication to the slasher genre that has never really been present in previous efforts.  In addition to this omniscient sense of doom, Myers’ character is interestingly augmented by visualizations of white and black representations of his mother and child-self.  These bizarre visualizations elevate the slasher genre into a territory not frequently navigated, if ever.

            The family in this film is the ultimate implosion of chaotic rage.  These are powerful motifs in the slasher genre (see Friday the 13^th), but are often executed with little depth or analysis into how this institution contributes to such potent emotions.  Here Zombie offers an explanation into the psyche that drives Michael Myers—something that was only briefly attempted in the vastly inferior Curse of Michael Myers.  The fantasy sequences here are visceral and raw, and the symbolism is quite apparent.  No doubt it is these very sequences that drove every critic and/or audience member to dismiss the film altogether, for such depth has no place in a fun slasher film, right? 

            Despite the interesting avenues and directions Zombie decided to take this franchise into, there are some rough edges that detract from the overall enjoyment of the film, and most of them come from the supposed representations of reality.  The reactive responses between characters in dialogue are simply too unbelievable.  For instance, when Laurie is freaking out with her therapist, her therapist prompts: “Have you been doing your breathing exercises?”, to which Laurie responds: “Breathing exercises?!! Breathing exercises?!!...”, indicating to the audience that she does not know what these breathing exercises are and that they sounds ridiculous.  However, the way the therapist approaches the topic there is an implicit notion that the two have discussed breathing exercises in the past.  If this were the case, then ultimately Laurie’s response should have been: “No, they do nothing!” (or something to that effect).  This is but one minor example of a number of continuing dialogue problems in the film, luckily these portrayals of ‘reality’ do not detract from the fantastical elements.  Also, the character of Loomis is completely mishandled and annoying—whoever told Malcolm MacDowell he could act should be shot.  He is the WORST actor in this and the previous installment chewing the scenery and over-adlibbing way too often that it pulls the audience right out of the film.

            However, once again, the detrimental faults with this film can be (in my case) overlooked given the unique originality that Zombie drives this latest installment into a franchise that has been jump started more times than any other franchise (remember the Busta Rhymes entry?).  The faults are more prevalent in the Unrated version here then in the theatrical cut, so I urge those who have not seen it to rent or buy the theatrical version (as you will not be able to download it online)—absolute power corrupts absolutely.  The value of others involved who act as second or third editors to Zombie’s sometimes unwieldy films is priceless.
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GRADE: Theatrical Edition - 85% (A); Unrated Director's Cut - 78 (B+)

The House of the Devil - (film review)

            Certain horror films play on fast paced action to offset the vast lacuna of substantial dialogue and creative editing, and for the most part this tried and tested horror filmmaking tactic seems to work.  Occasionally, there are films that opt instead to hold on camera angles that are shot a few steps back, stay focused on the reaction of a character who is being threatened, or concentrate less on the intention to scare and more on the desire to convey an emotion.  Such is how The House of the Devil plays.

            When I first discovered this film it was from an iPod Touch application that sporadically mistakes new releases for older films—for the duration of the release of Halloween II this app believed it was made in 1981 and starred Jamie Lee Curtis and Donald Pleasance.  I was intrigued enough to watch the trailer of The House of the Devil, and upon ingesting it I was fervid to watch this remarkably enticing film.  I actually believed it was a film from the 80s and thus accessible enough to either download (no, I don’t do that!), or available to rent at my local specialty video rental store—hell, I was even willing to buy a copy because in these days if you are willing to shell out close to $25 for you and a partner to watch a film in the theaters, it almost seems justifiable to spend an extra $5 to purchase and own it on DVD.  Upon researching the film I realized that it is a film made in 2008 and currently showing at the Tribeca Film Festival.

            I finally had an opportunity to view the film tonight, and unfortunately for those living in Canada, it won’t be until February that you’ll be able to properly (read: legally) watch it.  The pace of the film borders a slow burn, however in light of the subject matter the pace is perfect, any faster and the unintentional ‘silly’ factor would have set in.  Also, its intended to be a film of the early 80s, not an homage to films in the 80s.  I can’t remember films from that era that were this taught, well-paced, aptly directed, and exceptionally executed, which may be its unintended flaw—as realistic as it aims to be, it is ultimately better than a majority of films from that period.

            There is very little in the way of current social significance in the content of the film, instead what we see are the horror tropes that festered in the early 80s/late 70s which have inscribed in audiences the typicality of horror films from there on in—the exploitation of teenage girls at the hands of creepy elderly individuals whose malicious intent it is to violate them.  These tropes have been established early on, prior to the 80s, and have managed to become staples of horror fare.  They have been analyzed by a plethora of film theorists who explain the ‘last girl’ phenomenon as a psychosomatic visualization of internalized sexual desires.  The girl(s) is violated through satanic rituals as a metaphorical representation of her internal psychosexual desires—she fights against her captors in the same way that she fights against her sexual urges.  All of this holds true for The House of the Devil, however, where those films may exploit the internal psychosexual desires of the girls by having them threatened while being nude, or stripped during their attack, this film maintains a more classy respectable representation of its female heroine.

            In addition to the successful stylistic and narrative devices used to great effect in The House of the Devil, its most successful feat is the omniscient sense of dread that looms with every shot and in every corner.  In a review by Michael Gingold of Fangoria, he states that “even the introductory scenes on campus carry an eerie sense of isolation” (Gingold 2009).  This isolation, astutely acknowledged by Gingold, exudes a subtle, practically unnoticeable degree of omniscient oppression upon the viewer—there’s a clarity that something monumentally profound and irreversible is about to happen (this may be obvious given the film’s title, however the severity of what is to come is nevertheless offset by its revelations).  There is never a doubt that the film will end badly, but given the likeableness of the film’s two unsuspecting lead characters, one hopes for some exit, some kind of potential escape, even if it is apparent that there will be none.

            Despite the slow burn execution, there are a few moments of unexpected shock and horror, occurring so quickly that the slow pace shortly afterwards is welcomed to ease the audience back into a film that just scared the crap out of them.  However, I would be remiss to label the occurrences in the film ‘horror’, but rather unrelenting and lingering disturbance, which drives the viewer to internalize his/her dread, lingering long after the scene or movie has completed—much in the same way that Paranormal Activity does.

            In addition to the film’s merit within the horror genre, it is overall, a superbly executed film, warranting an analysis beyond the paradigmatic lens that hinders most reviews of horror movies.  The dread is real, the isolation exquisite, and the malignant malevolence of the heroine’s attackers and their intentions with her, are horrific.  The satanic-worshipping subgenre of horror has had an iffy track-record, however given this brilliant inclusion I wouldn’t be surprised if more Devil-infested films were on the roster in the near future.
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Grade: 88% (A)

The Children - (film review); Grace - (film review)

            When I was a wee lad I got spanked for misbehaving—never hard enough to really hurt, but enough to sting, and never more than three times at once.  My acts of misbehaving ranged anywhere from throwing a fit in public or in front of company, to talking back and disrespecting my elders.  In recent years this form of child discipline has been greatly frowned upon and slowly pushed out of practice—anyone now who practices spanking is shamed into believing that they are committing a form of child abuse.  In many cases, this spanking as child abuse may be true.  However, I have grown to maintain a constant love for my parents, while learning to respect and consider the rights of those around me.

            Not being a parent myself, but an uncle of four nephews and one niece (and counting) and an avid observer of family dynamics, I’ve noticed a rather disturbing trend in the approach of child rearing and their lack of discipline (not to say this is entirely the case with my niece and nephews).  I regard this as the ‘my-child-is-the-most-important-thing-in-my-world-and-yours’ syndrome.  It implies rather obviously that parents excuse child behaviours as being acceptable at all times, in all contexts, no matter what the repercussions or ramifications.  Children are granted free range of everything, and everyone else is expected to adjust their actions to accommodate the standards parents have set (“Won’t someone please think of the children?”). 

The protection of ‘innocent’ and easily impressionable child minds is the justification for right wing (and many liberalist) organizations to argue against the exposure or representation of queers in media, educational institutions, and families, or the backbone of the censorship movement.

            These themes are all too prevalent in both films The Children and Grace.  Years ago I watched Isaac Webb’s First Born (starring Elizabeth Shue), a zealous film that turned the dissonance and disconnect of a mother and her child (which is expected to occur from the moment of conception) into a taught terror film.  Although the movie had it’s problems I was fascinated at how it represented the diverse relationship of parent and child in a manner that works against the social gender roles that have been indoctrinated by patriarchal regulations.  This belief that there is a natural connection to nurture their child in women is a socially constructed fallacy.  This connection generally only exists if there is proper social support to help nourish this fabrication.  As good as I think First Born is, I admit that both Tom Shankland’s The Children and Paul Solet’s Grace are far superior (the former more so than the latter).

            In Grace, a mother/child relationship sees the desire to provide the child with absolutely everything it needs for nourishment and sustenance, at the cost of devouring the very life-blood of the mother.  Madeline insists on carrying her stillborn child to term and shortly thereafter manages to resuscitate it back to life through feeding it her blood.  It takes some time for Madeline to realize precisely what is happening here, but once it is clear, she becomes eerily disturbed at what she is required to do to provide her child with the means to live.  This disturbance however does not stop Madeline from actually following through with murder in order to obtain blood for her child to feed on.  The symbolic strength of the need for blood is a potent device that Solet uses to startling effect here.  Grace not only requires her mother to provide her own life for hers, but at times necessitates the need for others to offer their lives.  Grace is the monster in this film and an interesting monster at that.  Instead of tormenting her victims and killing them by force, she remains perfectly still and by the sheer fact of being a child and the social implications that surround how a child is to be loved and cared for, manages to reek havoc and mayhem through the actions of those who love her most.  Grace is easily defeatable, however the socially ingrained desire to conceive of and raise children in order to obtain the picture-perfect family dynamic is so potent and strong that Grace becomes the most dangerous and effective monster to date.  Everyone around her dies in effort to vie for who will take care of her most (even at the expense of their lives), while she remains perfectly still.

            Shankland’s The Children, is similar in ways, but imagines a scenario where a newborn like Grace is three or four years older and is capable of her/his own violence.  The perceived happiness that comes along with raising a family is the main focus of the first act of this film, until young Pauly becomes weirdly unsettled.  Needless to say, this plot device is hinted at but never expressly explained—it is some type of viral disease that affects the children in disturbing ways.  Subsequent reviews of this film hinge on the surface of its core.  Brad Miska (http://www.bloody-disgusting.com/film/2197/review) of Bloody Disgusting, and Michael Gingold (http://fangoria.com/reviews/2-film/3412-fantasia-09-the-children-film-review.html) of Fangoria, both discuss the difficulty of the parents’ decision to harm their children for their own perseverance.  For Miska and Gingold, the most complicated aspect of the film is how those who are the life and joy of these parents soon becomes their worst nightmares.  What is lacking in this (albeit correct, but ultimately pedantic) interpretation is the actions of the parents once the hardcore violence becomes evident.  The children are sensed to be nearby the violent acts but cerebrally intuited to have no part in the macabre at hand.  The parents know who is responsible for these acts and yet they refuse to believe it, instead prefer to point fingers at the less ‘innocent’ teenager, or suspect adult—for there could be no possibility of the involvement of the children in these violent actions, could there?  This denial becomes so strong that a husband prefers to believe the accusation that his wife (with help from her teenaged daughter) maliciously intended to kill their own four-year-old son without any prior precedence to lend plausibility to this scenario—even though they both appear visibly hurt (the daughter with blood dripping down her face, and the mother with her knee protruding from her leg).  Why would his wife kill her own child without some kind of provocation?  Would he really believe that she harmed Pauly for some fleeting reason, unless it was absolutely necessary?  Does he think so little of her? Ironically, it is the husband who would be suspected of harming his child as he is seen moments earlier spanking him—of course this is met with communal disapproval, spurring one parent to superiorly utter: “We don’t hit kids here.”

            They sure don’t hit kids—even if they’ve become menacing terrors bent on manipulative terror and torture.  It seems to me that Shankland decided to pen a scenario whereby the “my-child-is-the-most-important-thing-in-my-world-and-yours” syndrome is tested and exploited.  The only character willing to believe the violent manipulation and severity of the children’s behaviours is the teenage daughter.  She does not have children of her own and she has matured enough to comprehend the internalizing manipulation of children in ways that objectively discerns proper bratty behaviour—and so, she becomes the film’s heroine.  Although it may be difficult for the mother Elaine, to harm a child and give them much needed discipline (as Miska argues in his review), she later manages to decipher the difference between ill-intended violent childlike behaviour over the life and consideration of her teenage daughter, Casey (who may not be as socially ‘innocent’ but still deserving of respect).  She drives over her younger daughter to save Casey—so ultimately Elaine has learned to step outside of the socially accepted role of ‘child-comes-first’ to manage the situation properly, giving every party involved consideration and respect.

            These two films, The Children more so than Grace, manage to forcefully address common social misconceptions over the rearing and care for children in ways that require us to examine our own implications in this disturbing, albeit well-intentioned, trend.  I’m not trying to argue that nurturing or caring for children is an innately wrong thing to desire, only the need to place this care above and beyond the consideration and respect for others and yourself.  I argue that these films are less about the difficulty in raising children, and more about commenting on the social trends of over-protected and overly privileged child rearing.  These ideas are even more interesting if you consider that Tom Shankland, Paul Solet, and Isaac Webb, are all men.
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The Children grade: 86% (A)
Grace grade: 80% (A-)