The Hateful Eight

A vast, snowy landscape is the introduction to the eighth film directed by Quentin Tarantino, The Hateful Eight. Reuniting him with some old pals like Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Tim Roth, Michael Madsen, Bruce Dern, Walton Goggins and being joined by Demian Bachir, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Channing Tatum, this is his most violent film in a decade. It is also the first time (not including Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Vol. 2) that Tarantino has done two films of the same genre back to back. That genre is one that has influenced his entire career: Spaghetti Westerns.

It is unfortunate that the western has fallen from grace around the world, for it was once, as Andre Bazin (the father of the "auteur theory") wrote, that the western is cinema par excellence. Why? Because cinema is movement, and the galloping horses and fights were "usual ingredients" in these films. How ironic it is that Tarantino is the one who might resurrect the genre, for his films are very talky with (for the most part) few fights. Here, the vast majority of The Hateful Eight takes place in a wooden mountain pass in the midst of a terrible blizzard. It's not a tale of morals, as many famous American westerns are, but instead a mystery featuring the most vile, violent humans imaginable. This is appropriate because the Wild West was a horrifyingly violent, despicable time in human history, not some romantic period in which we should strive to return to. Tarantino gets this. He's a director (or, if you must, auteur) who understands that details are important. He is helped enormously in this regard by utilizing a score by legendary composer Ennio Morricone, the 87-year-old musical genius returning to the genre after a 40-year absence. His score here is awesome, helping to immediately set the mood in which our roughly eight or so characters find themselves trapped together.

The first two we meet are Daisy Domergue and John Ruth. Daisy is played by Leigh, and it's one of her very best performances. She's a notorious gang member captured by the bounty hunter Ruth (Russell), a rugged monster with a gravely voice and a John Wayne-like way of speaking. Ruth may be a cruel animal (it's probably Russell's most diabolical role ever), but he's on par with Daisy in viciousness. Ruth is transporting Daisy to a town called Red Rock, where she will be hanged. The trouble is he is trying to outrace a terrible storm. Along the way, he is joined by another bounty hunter, Major Marquis Warren (Jackson), who is also transporting persons (though these ones happen to be dead), and a man claiming to be the sheriff of Red Rock, Chris Mannix (Goggins) joins as well. While Ruth seems to like Warren, Mannix and Daisy are both explicit racists, and they make it known. Speaking of racists, at the mountain pass, the elderly Confederate general Sandy Smithers (Dern) is resting, as is a British hangman named Oswaldo Mobray (Roth), the quiet "cow puncher" Joe Gage (Madsen), and a Mexican employee of the mountain pass named Bob (Bachir). They're all cold characters in a cold world.  

Say what you will about Tarantino, but few other writers can create dialogue like him, and perhaps even fewer directors have such nostalgic love for the traditional looks of classic Hollywood. He and his cinematographer Robert Richardson filmed this in 70 mm, which also is a bit ironic considering there are not a whole lot of landscape shots of rural Wyoming but instead a claustrophobic cabin (though this 70 mm is effective for the close-ups of the eyes, an important feature of Sergio Leone's Spaghetti Westerns). That being said, Tarantino also frequently uses violence that will disturb many viewers; it's not Greek-like and unseen like in Reservoir Dogs. With The Hateful Eight, the violence is quite explicit, and the movie itself is inferior to his previous Western, Django Unchained, and his revisionist World War II drama Inglorious Basterds.

Act Two is when the movie suffers a bit as it falls into a pit of exposition for practically each character; in essence, there is too much telling and not enough showing. This is, for better or worse, the talkiest Tarantino film ever. There is unnecessary repetition of a "comic" scene involving the opening and shutting of the door. After an hour, we finally have all of our characters assembled in this room, and one of the most interesting to watch is Dern's fiery Confederate general and his feud with Warren. Dern is a master of acting and a joy to watch. Madsen is gruff, and yet his scene where he is humiliated by Ruth is actually rather touching. Roth is hyperbolic, but there's a point to it, revealed in the third act. Tarantino rarely (if ever) is political, but when Roth's character tells Warren that slavery "was a long time ago," Tarantino makes it clear that he embraces Black Lives Matter (and that he has been vocal in his criticism of police brutality). Finally, Tarantino's movies are not for everyone. His films have malicious characters spewing loads of vile lexis (for lack of a better word) out of their mouths. Speaking of spewing, there is a particularly memorable scene involving such a literal act, and it demonstrates perhaps Eli Roth's influence over Tarantino's recent works.

Channing Tatum shows up and there's still 45 minutes left in the movie. Indeed, the film sometimes feels more like we're reading a mystery novel than watching a Western. And despite a less interesting second act, the final section of the The Hateful Eight really helps save it, making the film holistically quite a good one. Perhaps one day Tarantino will be thought of as one of the individuals who helped resurrect the Western to excellence.         

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White Christmas

From the very first frame, a color palate of red, green, and white (with eventually a consistent dash of blue) set the audience for certain amount of holiday cheer. Seriously, there is some well-done color here. Most films directed by Michael Curtiz that you might think of off the top your head--Casablanca, Yankee Doodle Dandy, Angels with Dirty Faces, Mildred Pierce--have cinematography that is sharp and dark. But sometimes, like in The Adventures of Robin Hood, there is such bright color, and here, the cinematography of Loyal Griggs made with Vista Vision and Technicolor loudly visualizes the awesome costumes by Edith Head. There are few other films I can think of that have this kind of color. This reason alone might be good enough to watch the 1954 holiday film White Christmas.

There is a pretty good cast in this Christmas classic, perhaps more memorable than the cast of the film that more or less was its spiritual predecessor: Holiday Inn. Both feature Bing Crosby in the lead at one point singing the immortal song "White Christmas," as well as a hotel trying unique ways to get guests for the holidays (or in this case, just the big one in December). The comic relief of Fred Astaire is instead provided effectively by Danny Kaye, and there's more comedy from Mary Wickes, playing the hotel's feisty housekeeper. But this is a movie that tries to tug emotionally not simply with humor. Case in point is the movie's opening scene, where it gets its famous song out of the way pretty quickly. It's 1944 in Europe as American army men are taking a Christmas break watching a vaudeville show by Crosby and Kaye's characters. After a more upbeat number, Crosby sings "White Christmas," the song that won an Oscar for Holiday Inn. The men are moved. From a personal perspective, being away from home in the desert heart of Islam in a country where Christmas is illegal, as I have for the past five years, has really made the song, a favorite of mine, far more poignant. However, my complaints have no merit when one thinks of the reality of wartime soldiers in any country being away from home during a time meant for celebrating being home with one's family. The film only requires Crosby's exceptional voice and the soldiers sadly staring at the ground to provide a really effective opening. From there, though, it's not exactly the most memorable of classic holiday films, but it's an enjoyable one nevertheless.

Crosby and Kaye become Wallace and Davis, post-war hits, topping radio and awing their audiences. But despite their success, Crosby is miserable, unhappy, and lonely, according to Kaye, or at least "happy for the wrong reasons." They are in a business where the women they meet are young and ambitious, so Wallace (Crosby) is not opposed to the idea of settling down necessarily but is more or less convinced that he won't find the love of his life anytime soon. Davis (Kaye), however, is adamant that they try. The two go to see a sister act, and (despite genuinely looking for talent) they meet the Haynes sisters (Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen), and there is immediate chemistry, though less so with Betty (Clooney) and Wallace. Betty thinks Wallace is cynical for believing that everyone has an angle in virtually every decision they make. This disagreement is a major impetus for trouble between the two later in the film.

I mentioned that the rest of the film isn't exactly memorable, and it's true. What will likely stick out in your mind after watching it is the following: the quasi-drag number Wallace and Davis provide, a moment where the two really seem to be having a riotously fun time; the practically angelic dance between Vera-Ellen and Kaye in which they virtually fly over water; the musical number "Snow" the four of them sing on the train, which is basically the only non-"White Christmas" song that could stick in your head; and finally, the really endearing performance by Dean Jagger, who plays the army general Wallace and Davis fought under and who owns the hotel the four leads end up in. The Vermont hotel is struggling to get guests in, especially with the lack of snow in December. He's poured just about everything into the hotel, and yet business is slow. Wallace and Davis are determined to help him out by bringing in a number of terrific musical performances to his hotel to attract customers. Here, the movie is similar to Singin' in the Rain whereby the numbers have no relevance in advancing the plot but are still quite fun to watch. And also, Jagger's performance as the fatherly retired general is the one performance that really will send shivers down your spine.

Vera-Ellen in particular is marvelous to watch dance, and it becomes obvious that the other three--even Kaye--cannot keep up with her. The dancer John Brascia may not have any lines, but he is the only one who can come close to match her dancing skills, and keep an eye out for the handsome George Chakiris making a brief pre-stardom appearance as one of the dancers in an act with Clooney. Vera-Ellen's great dancing is matched by the wonderful singing of Clooney, the charisma of Kaye, and the voice of Crosby. Most folks don't particularly like the sound of their own voice when they hear it, but how could this possibly be for Crosby with that nearly perfect bass-baritone voice of his?

Still, there's almost nothing worth remembering in the third act beyond the final fifteen minutes when it suddenly becomes a Christmas movie, though Clooney's "Love, You Didn't Do Right By Me" scene is iconic, or at least it should be. Is White Christmas the best Christmas movie? No. Is it better than Holiday Inn? No. Is it satisfactory for the holiday season. Absolutely.

Merry Christmas.
  

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Star Wars: The Force Awakens

There has been an awakening...have you felt it? Those words, terrifyingly spoken by a character we know now to be Snoke, were the introductory lines we heard right after Thanksgiving 2014 in the first of three terrific trailers for the first Star Wars film in a decade (not including the not-so-well-received animated film from 2008) and the one featuring most of the original stars since 1983. Fans have indeed felt it: Episode VII made more than $14 million dollars alone in its first day of release, and it will undoubtedly be the film of the year in that sense. But does it deservedly rank as the single greatest Star Wars film ever, as Rotten Tomatoes claims? That's a bit more complicated.

By now many fans know that producer Kathleen Kennedy, George Lucas' hand-picked choice to lead Lucasfilm in the post-Lucas era, convinced J. J Abrams, the man who helped reboot the Star Trek franchise and who initially turned down the chance to direct The Force Awakens, to direct it when she asked him, "Who is Luke Skywalker?" Luke (Mark Hamill) does appear, as does his sister Leia (Carrie Fisher), but of the three original stars, Han Solo (Harrison Ford) appears the most (and receives top billing), but even he takes a bit of a back seat to the three newer protagonists: Rey, Finn, and Poe Dameron. So the makers deserve enormous credit for bringing back the original three plus, Anthony Daniels as C-3PO and Peter Mayhew as Chewbacca, but also credibility for assembling an incredible list of some of the most talented newer actors: John Boyega, Oscar Isaac, Daisy Ridley (in her film debut as Rey, the lead), Lupita Nyong'o, Gwendoline Christie, Domhnall Gleeson, Adam Driver, and Andy Serkis. Filling out the acting list is Swedish legend Max von Sydow and Abrams' frequent collaborator Simon Pegg. Even if The Force Awakens were a bad movie, it would be worth seeing it simply to see all these actors.

The Force Awakens takes place decades after the Empire fell in The Return of the Jedi. Out of the Empire's ashes comes the First Order, an authoritarian government in conflict with the Republic and its only Jedi, Luke Skywalker. Skywalker, however, goes into a bit of a depression after a particularly tragic failure and goes into a self-imposed exile. Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) is sent on a mission to retrieve part of a map to Skywalker but is hunted by the First Order's Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), a Darth Vader "fan-boy", and General Hux (Dumhnall Gleeson), two sort of sibling rivals for the love and attention of the mysterious Dark Side leader Snoke (Andy Serkis). In a powerful opening sequence, Stormtrooper FN-2187 (played by John Boyega and renamed Finn) goes into a Saving Private Ryan-style state of shock and has had enough of the First Order's violence. After Kyle Ren captures Poe in an attempt to retrieve the map to hunt down Skywalker, Finn breaks out with Poe and escapes to the desert planet Jakku, where they become separated. Poe's droid BB-8 survives the hunt and finds Rey (Daisy Ridley), a talented scavenger, and eventually Finn, and then the three of them become hunted by the First Order. They escape in the only "piece of junk" ship they can find: the Millennium Falcoln. But it's original owners (you know who) want it back, and sure enough they are successful. As you can see, while this movie contains maybe a bit too many parallels to the original trilogy, it's a complex but not too crowded and complicated story line and an exciting one.  

The author of a Lucas biography, Dale Pollock, is just about the only person who has read the outlines for all nine of Lucas' original stories and has said that this trilogy is the best. But as Vanity Fair reported earlier this year, Disney (the new owner of Lucasfilm) and Kennedy decided to go in a different direction. It would be interesting to see just how different Lucas' version and the final version are, but my hunch is that going back to the genesis of these stories, our original heroes were always meant to be supporting roles in this trilogy. Hamill even hinted at this in an interview with Gene Siskel back in the 80s promoting The Return of the Jedi.

There are a lot of grand moments here. The reunion of Han and Leia, separated and not particularly interested in each other anymore, is a powerful and touching moment, one of the best in the film. But there was one scene in particular that made me fairly angry. It's a scene that is executed with enough gravitas and emotion to be an impressive one, but it's one that left me disturbed and puzzled. That's sort of the basic element of this movie: it's so well-crafted that it's difficult to dislike, but it's not a masterpiece. To use Star Wars vernacular, Abrams has learned much, but he is not a Jedi yet. The Force Awakens may not look as breathtakingly fresh as those first films from 1977-1983, but it still looks like much more painstaking effort was put into it than the films from 1999-2005 were. Still, while The Force Awakens is far superior to The Phantom Menace or Attack of the Clones, I couldn't help but like Revenge of the Sith better, though I suspect I'm in the minority. But here's one aspect that I think most folks will agree with me: the villains here are not nearly as interesting as Star Wars villains of the past. A Star Wars movie is sometimes as strong as its villains, and whereas the films of old featured Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, Grand Moff Tarkin, Boba Fett, Jabba the Hutt, Darth Maul, and Count Dooku, the strongest villain here (Kylo Ren) is essentially Vader-light, with his only truly impressive moments being his frightening temper tantrums. The Palpatine-like character is Snoke, in another motion-capture performance by Serkis (who appeared in similarly filmed roles in The Lord of the Rings, King Kong, The Adventures of Tintin, and the Planet of the Apes films). (Serkis' company, The Imaginarium Studios, which focuses on motion-capture film making, has provided consultation for Godzilla, The Avengers: Age of Ultron, and The Force Awakens.) But despite how impressive the technology has looked in some of the movies mentioned, Serkis gives Snoke a menacing voice but a visual that looks dated and not consistent with the tenacity of the rest of the film. While Snoke looks silly, the rest of the film has a look of determination. Abrams and team deliver on their promise to feature more sets, practical effects, make-up design, and puppetry, using what seems to be a limited amount of computer-generated imagery. What CGI that does appear is mostly well-done by Industrial Light & Magic.    

But all in all, there were only three moments in this film that made me completely thrilled: the first time we see Han and Chewie, the first time we see Leia, and the first time we see Luke. Some moments, though, are actually funny, with Boyega, Isaac, and Ford providing most of the humor. Finn enthusiastically hopes to storm the enemy's base with no plan. When confronted by Solo on this lack of preparation, Finn excitedly tells him that they will use the Force. Solo is not impressed. "That's not how the Force works," he grumpily tells him. C-3PO (with a red arm for some reason) and R2D2 appear, but BB-8 does more than a fine job standing in as the new it-droid; he even gives Finn a thumbs up, certifying audiences' love for him with his puppy-dog eyes and WALL-E characteristics. The droid was created by Disney Research to be a practical part of interacting with the actors, and he is part of the unique combination of characters new and old, a combination that got just the right amount. And this movie is a sign that perhaps the times are a-changin', because The Force Awakens is a Star Wars movie with a feminist bent: it's the first time we see a woman fight with a lightsaber, Princess Leia is now General Leia, and there's even a lady Stormtrooper (Captain Phasma, played by Game of Thrones star Gwendoline Christie).

I'm shifting back and forth between criticism and praise, so let me be clear: This is a good movie. Abrams' team (especially the production designers Rick Carter and Darren Gilford, costume designer Michael Kaplan, and creature-shop head Neal Scanlan) have created a Star Wars movie that more or less looks like what a Star Wars movie should look like, shunning the excessive CGI of a decade ago.

But is this the best Star Wars movie ever? No. Is it even the third of fourth best? No to that as well. But by my count, there will be a total of about 20 Star Wars movies (three trilogies plus three stand-alone films to be released within several years, as well as about six spin-offs and specials, including the infamous Holiday Special), so fifth best out of about 20, I assume, ain't bad. Ultimately, if you like Star Wars, you will like The Force Awakens, and I am confident that the next two will be entertaining escapism as well. The Force is strong with this one.        

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Tangerine

Sean Baker has directed a film with an iPhone, a movie that starts with two transgender L.A. prostitutes sharing a doughnut on Christmas Eve. "Merry Christmas, bitch!" is one of the first lines spoken by one of the prostitutes, someone who has just been released from prison. Let's just say that your right-wing uncle would probably be more interested in seeing Spectre and talking about it during yesterday's Thanksgiving dinner, but this new movie by Baker and his team is a superior movie. The movie is called Tangerine (not to be confused with the Estonian-Georgian war production Tangerines from last year, which also is a recommendable film), and there have been increasing calls for it to be nominated at next year's Academy Awards after making its debut at Sundance this winter. (Baker and the two main trans actresses were all nominated for Independent Spirit awards earlier this month.)

These two sex workers, Alexandra (Mya Taylor) and Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez), begin their chat with a revelation that Sin-Dee's boyfriend and pimp Chester (James Ransone) has been cheating on her with a "real fish" (you might need to visit Urban Dictionary if you need help understanding that term). Alexandra tries to calm Sin-Dee down; it's "all about our hustle," she tells her, "and nothing else." Sin-Dee, however, is furious, and begins her day-long Christmas Eve hunt for Chester's "real fish." The story takes us in Act II on three different routes, as Alexandra has had enough of the drama Sin-Dee is partaking in, and the two temporarily go on their separate ways. A third major character makes his way into the story: Razmik (Karren Karagulian), an Armenian immigrant taxi driver, and at first it's not clear how his story is related--he may be Chester, for all we know. Razmik is a family man and appears to be competent at his job, chitchatting with a lady whose dog has just died or making sure a Cherokee man terribly drunk is okay. It eventually becomes evident that Razmik takes time away from his work to cruise; he picks up a (cisgender) worker, and Razmik suddenly is disappointed at what he finds down under. Eventually, though, he gets his release when he meets Alexandra, who calls him a "sight for sore eyes," and they have a quickie while going through a car washer. When Ramik learns that Sin-Dee is back, he gets an immediate crush--the difference in his demeanor when he's at home having Christmas dinner with his family and when he's on the lookout for Sin-Dee is obvious yet subtle.

Taylor and Rodriguez are untrained actors, but they both act better than most of the other (trained) actors involved. Baker has said in interviews that using only phones and not film cameras helped both of them avoid nervousness. Taylor in particular really shines. On the street she is a tough negotiator, and when a transaction goes wrong, she tells her shady customer, "You forgot I have a dick, too." A fight breaks out. What would the inspiration this kind of unique story be? I don't know, but it is engaging nevertheless.

There is an eclectic array of music in the movie, with immediate shifts from classical to hip hop and "Toyland" from the Laurel and Hardy movie Babes in Toyland throughout. The result is that it's practically a musical. Most viewers will probably tell you that (while it may take a while), it's difficult to believe that this is a full-length feature film shot entirely on smartphones. Part of the reason why it looks so good is because of its post-production work; the polluted hues of L.A. are augmented to give the movie a professional look. Boom mics and other audio technology were also used, which probably was the only thing on the street that gave it away that an actual movie was being shot.

Sin-Dee's actions become hard to watch and difficult to justify as she aggressively and violently tracks down Chester's supposed new girlfriend (one of his cisgender prostitutes, played by Mickey O'Hagan); her actions toward Dinah, the new girlfriend, are scenes that become increasingly disturbing, more so due to the fact that those who witness it do nothing to stop it. When it's not disturbing or revealing or funny or dramatic, Tangerine can probably best be described as surreal. Your conservative uncle might lecture you about our "lack of morals" in a movie depicting prostitution, drugs, and such, but Tangerine is a film with an incredibly diverse cast featuring a story about people, some of whom do bad things, but real people (in scenes that are admittedly sometimes hard to buy). Spectre, on the other hand, is a movie celebrating a mass-murdering quasi-rapist. So really, who should be the one doing the explaining? "Tangerine" might be considered unique for the average moviegoer, but it's one you should see: an enjoyable, well-crafted film, all shot on an iPhone.

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7 Days of Halloween: The Hound of the Baskervilles

Mr. Burns of The Simpsons has a simple command to "release the hounds," and it could have its origin in The Hound of the Baskervilles, the 1959 adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's third Sherlock Holmes novel, directed by Terence Fischer, which starts with an aristocrat sending loose his fiendish hounds to attack other human beings. From there, the movie is an aristocratic back-and-forth whodunit featuring a diabolical hound of hell, summoned to forever haunt the Baskervilles family, and of course, it features the most famous English detective in history trying to figure out who--or what--is really causing all this mayhem.

Hugo Baskervilles (David Oxley), a cruel aristocrat, was the Gaston before there was Gaston. This guy is horrifyingly cruel to his servants, one of whom he nearly kills and another (the first servant's daughter) he stabs in the heart, just before he appears to be destroyed by some kind of terrible beast. Fast forward to the early 20th century, where Dr. Mortimer (Francis de Wolff) is reading to Detective Holmes (Peter Cushing) and Dr. Watson (Andre Morell) the spooky legend of the curse, but being men of science, Holmes and Watson are naturally skeptical. They do, however, agree to investigate. It's here where we meet the last of the Baskervilles, Sir Henry, played by the late, great Sir Christopher Lee, who is made up to be more handsome and a lot less grotesque than his previous outings with his friend Cushing at Hammer; his nice suits replace the rotting flesh and attire of Frankenstein's creature.

Because Henry's uncle, Sir Charles, has been killed mysteriously, Sir Henry is summoned from Johannesburg to run Baskervilles Hall in England. He, like his uncle, suffers from a heart problem, and when a tarantula is found in Henry's boot--a tarantula that could easily kill a man with a heart condition, Holmes tells us--Holmes suspects that foul play is involved. What adds to all these characters' angst is that a criminal has escaped from a nearby prison and could be the one engaging in all this mischief. But it could also be Henry's mysterious and angry-looking neighbor (played by Ewen Solon) and/or his Spanish daughter (Marla Lindi). Or it could be Dr. Mortimer, who has received a considerable sum of money from the will of Sir Charles, or it could even be Sir Henry himself who killed his uncle. One way or another, Mr. Holmes does not believe that there is any sort of supernatural "hound of hell" on the loose haunting about, ready to avenge what happened centuries before.

Lee became critical of how gruesome and disturbing horror films have become in recent years, and I can't imagine this adaptation of Doyle's famous story being scary to basically anyone, even in 1959. But that's not the intent, is it? Despite having never read the original novel or seen any of the other numerous adaptations (I have a DVD of the Basil Rathbone version but have never watched it), it's my understanding that this is not a horror story (but maybe I'm wrong). Why should it be scary, despite all the mist and howling our characters periodically hear? Still, as one of them mentions, "there is more evil around us here than I have ever encountered before."

The acting here is decent; Lee portrays Henry as a sympathetic figure, especially considering how helpless he is. Cushing is a joy to watch, as usual. Miles Malleson shows up in a fairly humorous comic relief part as the local bishop (and who, I think, we're at one point supposed to all suspect as being behind all this trouble). Cecil, the Spanish girl, is a somewhat interesting character bitter about being in England but intimately drawn to Henry. There's a hint of class warfare metaphors sprinkled throughout this film, and it really comes into focus during the scenes featuring these two. The reveal at the conclusion is a bit odd and slightly disappointing, but it is a thrilling climax nonetheless. It's better than The Curse of Frankenstein or Horror of Dracula. The Hound of Baskervilles is not perfect--"elementary" might be an appropriate adjective--but it's good fun and very much recommendable.      

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7 Days of Halloween: The Descent

I once went spelunking in rural Pennsylvania when I was in Boy Scouts. I feel very fortunate that the experience was nothing like "The Descent." In my experience, like that of virtually every human in recent human history who has gone caving, the scariest thing is when your guide tells you to turn off your helmet light so that you can see just how dreadfully dark it is under the earth. I might have been as pale as the grotesque creatures featured in "The Descent," the 2006 horror movie directed by Neil Marshall about a spelunking trip gone wrong, but I'm fairly certain there were none of them when I went caving, and if there were, they certainly left us alone.

Forgive me for the digression, but "The Descent" made me think of the recent discovery of homo neladi in a cave in South Africa, and how it has not provided an answer as to how those skeletal remains got there in that secluded cave area. Some think they were deliberately put there as burial grounds, some think they became accidentally trapped there, some think they were deliberately trapped there. Either way, it would be frightening to be trapped there with no way out and such primitive, if any, technology. Just imagine adding dozens of bat people who only make their way to the surface to hunt. That's the situation six British women find themselves in.

The six of them meet in North Carolina for their epic trip. Their leader, Juno (Natalie Mendoza), explains the symptoms they could experience while being down there: claustrophobia, hallucinations, and the like. (It does make one wonder why people do this sort of thing in the first place.) Predictably, the women become trapped and find themselves in the wrong cave. Being lost in the woods, like in "The Blair Witch Project," is scary enough. I can't possibly imagine being lost in a cave. Juno reveals to them that she left the guide book in the car, and they argue and shout for a while. They find caving equipment from a hundred years ago and ancient, possibly pre-history, paintings. Fascinating to see, perhaps, but something else is wrong: not only are they lost, but they are being hunted. Something is clearly down there; some kind of humanoids that make odd echolocation noises to hunt for their food. They are some kind of creatures who've evolved to live in the dark caves. In a movie sense, they're like a hybrid of vampire, zombie, and general monster, biting the neck, eating the body, and hiding in the dark. There's a pit of graves that only further reveals the reality that they are in terrible danger. Like in many other horror movies, they become separated; it becomes fight-or-flight to the extreme.

The caves are a convincing set design at Pinewood Studios by Simon Bowles that make you wonder if they actually filmed it in a cave or not, and there are thunderous trumpets provided by David Julyan's score that heighten the intensity of the scenes. Sam McCurdy's cinematography is also spot-on; occasionally, we are able to see what the characters see in the dark through their hand-held camera, and these are the spookiest moments. Obviously, the makeup effects by Paul Hyett of the creatures are terrific. And there's lots--lots--of blood, an almost "Carrie"-like amount. Despite all these great elements, it doesn't equal a great movie.

The biggest flaw is this: Caves are scary. Being in the dark is scary. Being hunted is scary. Being hunted by those things (whatever they are) is scary. But if your movie, with all those elements, is not scary enough that you need to insert nightmare sequences and characters accidentally bumping into each other, bats and birds flying out, and other formulaic parts, you've done something wrong. Nightmare sequences in horror movies, in my opinion, are usually cheap. They feel almost as if someone has mandated their insertion simply to fill a scare quota. So, too, it is here. The main character, Sarah (Shauna Macdonald) experienced an awful tragedy a year before while white-water rafting when her husband and young child were killed in a car accident. This is a scary enough scenario that nightmare sequences are unnecessary.

That doesn't mean I didn't like "The Descent." I did, and I recommend it. I actually thought it would be far scarier. It oddly brought back memories of my Boy Scout days, but it also made me think that I probably would never go spelunking again. It's a wonder if "The Descent" did for caving what "Psycho" did for showers.  

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7 Days of Halloween: Nosferatu

The first time I saw "Nosferatu," the first adaptation of Bram Stoker's "Dracula," was in high school, and regrettably, it was a DVD of the 1998 "remastering" with an introduction from David Carradine and a soundtrack provided by the metal band Type-O Negative. However, this newest version, released in 2006, is a fine compilation of various surviving German and Czech copies of F.W. Murnau's adaptation, the most famous "Dracula" you might not have heard of. And if you do find yourself hunting for "Nosferatu" this Halloween, go for the 2006 version and listen to James Bernard's score instead of Type-O Negative.

Taking place in 1838, Nosferatu is, as we're told, a word that sounds "like the deathbird calling your name at midnight." The story is meant to be a retelling of a supposed "Great Death" in Wisborg. We meet Hutter, a young lawyer played by Gustav von Vangenheim. (While the overacting universal in virtually all films of the Silent Era is certainly prevalent here, Von Vangenheim is probably the worst offender in this movie.) Hutter is madly in love with his young wife, Ellen (Greta Shroeder), but he must be separated from her for awhile as he attends to a trip into the "land of phantoms" to secure a building purchase of a mysterious count named Orlok (Max Schreck). His trip there will provide the modern-day viewer with views of beautiful German architecture, nature, and a trip down film history lane, as he or she will see an example of pre-color coloring using chemical reactions to create a blue hue for nighttime and sepia for indoors.

Hutter on his travels laughs off the locals' warnings about werewolves in the forests, vampires, and "bad feelings." He journeys on until he reaches Orlok's estate. Here there's another technological antique: Murnau used fast-motion, which was probably quite the novelty in 1922, to show us the entrance of Orlok's hearse. (Francis Ford Coppola understood the neat effect but made it more appealing to an audience in 1992; for the same scene in his adaptation, he simply used slow-motion.) Hutter may be a pretty forgettable character, but Schreck's portrayal of Orlok is probably almost as iconic in cinema as Bela Lugolsi's Dracula. If you don't believe, observe the character of Petyr in the recent comedy-horror mockumentary "What We Do in the Shadows." Instead of the sensual eroticism of Lugosi, Christopher Lee, or Frank Langella, Orlok is a frightening figure of long fingers and ghoulish, exaggerated features: grotesque, large ears and obvious animal-like front teeth. Upon first seeing a picture of Hutter's wife, he remarks how nice her neck looks.

The cinematography of "Nosferatu" by Gunther Krampf and Fritz Arno Wagner may not be as oft-mentioned as that of other Expressionism landmarks like "Metropolis" or "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," but it still influences filmmakers today, as is evidenced by last year's Australian horror film, "The Babadook." "Nosferatu" certainly is not terrifying by today's standards nearly a century later, but it does possess the required traits of spooky tales of wonder: coffins filled with rats, ghostly quiet sea shots, and the fear of disease. Orlok soon makes his way to Wisborg and begins feasting. Unlike the vampire of Stoker's novel, those the vampire bites do not turn into vampires themselves; they simply die (even though we never get an explanation as to why Hutter, who initially thinks he's been bitten by mosquitoes, doesn't).

After the epidemic scenes in the ship, basically right after Orlok rises from the coffin, the movie starts to bore in Act IV and especially so in Act V, where, unlike the previous acts, not much happens. Orlok basically goes on the hunt for Ellen; here we see the famous shadow up the stairs moment. He finds her and is about to feed. What happens next basically concludes the film in an anticlimactic ending, where the only conclusion one could have is that you better hope that vampires aren't fans of wearing watches. Still, "Nosferatu" is pretty much required viewing for film buffs and historians.    

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7 Days of Halloween: 28 Weeks Later

From the very first attack, there seems to be about a thousand things happening simultaneously. But just as with the first film ("28 Days Later"), "28 Weeks Later" dispenses with one complication of these kinds of horror films: these monsters can run, and they are a hell of a lot meaner than any other zombie in any other film or show. And not only that, but they keep the zombie tradition that is ubiquitous in these films: anyone--your partner, your parents, your children--can be infected and turn on you. This might truly be the most horrifying aspect of this horror subgenre.

As the title suggests, it has been 28 weeks since the massive epidemic known as the rage virus decimated England. Most of the infected have died from starvation, and an American-led NATO force is brought in to return the survivors, temporarily house them, and keep them safe. Here we meet a variety of characters: Robert Carlyle, one of those rare actors who has a screen persona and presence that is so remarkable yet ordinary, is a family man who is separated from his children but still has his wife. The two of them are with a group of survivors in the beginning of the movie, and they are quickly attacked and most are infected. He escapes and leaves his wife behind. The ethics and morality of his decision--and whether or not there was something he could actually do to save her--I'm sure are on the minds of viewers as they watch the film. Because of the various changes the father goes through, Carlyle likely was quite enticed at the thought of playing him. He's reunited with his children (Imogen Poots and Mackintosh Muggleton), who were in Spain at the time of the outbreak. Among the other cast members are part of the American forces: Rose Byrne is a medical officer, Harold Perrineau is a helicopter pilot, Jeremy Renner (a year before his Oscar-nominated performance in "The Hurt Locker") is a sniper, and Idris Elba is a hawkish general willing to do anything to contain the situation.

Teenagers aren't always the most responsible people in the world, but it's hard to believe that the teenage daughter would take her younger brother back to their home away from the protected zone (and without notifying their father) simply to find some of their nostalgia items. But that they do. I won't reveal what happens next, but it's pretty much a nasty domino effect, all because of their field trip.

This film will probably satisfy horror fans but it safely relies on the usual tricks. There are nightmares, things that go bump in the night, strobe lights, gore, and a lot of blood. It's far grosser than I remember the first one being, so much so that I had to turn away several times. This is a film that is in love with the color red--it's in practically every scene. In addition to the copious amounts of blood, the emergency lights are red, the boy's hoodie is red, and the Americans order a Code Red to destroy the infected. At times it seems like it's the only hue in the entire palate.

One of the reasons, I suspect, that so many people are turned off from horror movies is how bleek a picture these movies paint of the world. They frequently play to our fears not simply of the dark, of aliens, of ghosts, monsters (real and imaginary) but also our fear of germs, infections, the apocalypse, turmoil, and biochemical warfare, among others. "28 Weeks Later" marries the two, though sometimes when watching the film (which I'm convinced will one day have a sequel), one wonders how necessary some of the imagery is. It's more ambitious than its predecessor and just as dark, but it also becomes a bit boring half-way through despite remaining migraine-inducing. It's a truly gruesome film, at times inconceivable yet spooky nevertheless.

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7 Days of Halloween: Scream

From the beginning of the iconic opening scene featuring Drew Barrymore, "Scream" makes it unconventionally known that it is the Hollywood horror movie so well aware of the tropes of the genre that it doesn't mind totally embracing them. Barrymore appears briefly as a young high school student ready to watch a scary movie one evening when she receives a bizarre call from what could sound like a deeply perverted man. She remains calm and tells him he has the wrong number. "It happens; take it easy," she says before hanging up. The man calls back. "You should never say 'who's there?'" he teases. "Don't you watch scary movies?" He even references "Nightmare on Elm Street," one of director Wes Craven's most recognized horror films before he directed "Scream" in 1996. "The Exorcist," "Basic Instinct," "Psycho" and others are mentioned by characters throughout the movie; this might be the most self-aware film of all time. Craven even makes a practically Hitchcockian cameo by appearing in a split-second cameo as a school janitor, dressed remarkably similar to Freddy Krueger.

It's a spooky intro, even a bit disturbing, but it's not horrifying. But it is bold in its declaration that it's not only willing to show young teenagers get sliced up, but it's even not afraid to show what audience members likely thought would be the main character killed so quickly. Anybody can die at any moment in this movie, even if they're young. As SoHo's lyrics claim in the conclusion song, "Whisper to a Scream," "We are, we are, we are but your children finding away around indecision. We are, we are, we are rather helpless."

Other high schoolers are introduced in this Kevin Williamson-penned story, originally titled "Scary Movie" before wisely being renamed by the Weinsteins. If the audience didn't know who these young stars were in 1996, they probably do by know: Neve Campbell (as the main protagonist), Rose McGowan, Jamie Kennedy, Matthew Lillard, David Arquette. To add more star power, television stars Courtney Cox and Henry Winkler also appear in characters the polar opposite of what they're most famous for. (Instead of being the super cool greaser of youth, Winkler here is a harsh principal who is way too comfortable pointing a pair of scissors at juveniles' faces.) Roger L. Jackson provides the voice of Ghostface, the nickname for the audience of the villain, throughout the four films. Skeet Ulrich is Sidney's (Campbell) boyfriend, and one gets the impression that Craven did everything he could to make him look just like Johnny Depp in "Nightmare on Elm Street," the movie that launched Depp's career.

Craven, who passed away this past September, was criticized in the past for his depiction of violence. When asked about this by Terri Gross in 1980, he discussed not only witnessing the carnage in Vietnam on a nightly basis in front of his TV screen as being sort of a muse for him, but also him shooting a rat as a young boy for fun. "And it took a lot of killing to kill that rat," he said, "and it continued screaming for a long time. I'll tell you, when I was done I was totally drained. I was totally shocked by what--not only what I had done for amusement, but how fiercely that thing struggled to stay alive. And that moment never left me. You know, I never again hunted, never killed. But I remembered how hard just a rat struggled to be alive. And somehow I was able to transfer that to, you know, the thought of any human being--anything, how fiercely we all hang onto life." This is certainly true for the Barrymore character, as she does everything to hang on to life, trying to call out for her parents, returning home, but unable to produce any kind of audible cry. It's nice to know that even if Williamson created a fun slasher whodunit with a bit of dark humor in it, Craven was fluent in the terrible reality of violence and its impact on ourselves.

It's nice that this is a unique horror film that is self-aware, but throughout the movie there's one movie reference after another: "Carrie," "The Silence of the Lambs," and "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre." In essence, "Scream" is a little too self-aware. Every character has an opinion on these movies and their flaws; there's even a character named Randy (Kennedy) who's so in love with horror movies that he stops the watching of "Halloween" to explain to them that just in case this mysterious slasher shows up, there are certain "rules" to follow. He says, "You can never have sex"; this brings a chorus of boos from his audience. Next, never drink or do drugs. Finally, "never, ever, under any circumstances, say 'I'll be right back.'" Stu (Lillard), the untamed bro, mentions that he's going to grab another beer and asks if Randy wants one; Randy replies yes. "I'll be right back!" is Stu's obnoxious reply, and all the youngsters start howling away.

Campbell basically set herself up to be the scream queen successor to Jamie Lee Curtis, and she does a fine job. Most of the other actors don't do much, but in this type of movie, not much is required of them other than to scream (no pun intended) and look really, really scared.

"Scream" may have its flaws, but it's certainly an engaging whodunit with a twist every five minutes. Everyone's a suspect--even Sidney's father--and in almost 20 years since its release, it's aged pretty well for the most part. I personally get disturbed watching people being sliced up by their fellow human beings, especially when it's young people. And at least now, it's not particularly scary. I do recall seeing "Scream 3" when I was thirteen years old in the cinema and being terrified by it (without having seen either of the first two), but with "Scream," I simply mostly had fun. Like this year's "Trainwreck," it mocks its genre's tropes while warmly embracing them.

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7 Days of Halloween: Star Trek ("Wolf in the Fold")

There's no starship but instead a room that can only be described as a brothel or a strip club featuring yet another scantily clad female, providing another example of how "Star Trek" in some ways was one of television's most sexist shows. Captain Kirk (William Shatner), Dr. McCoy (DeForest Kelley), and Montgomery Scott (James Doohan) find themselves in a "completely hedonistic society," as Bones claims. But have no fear--it's a fine, foggy night, according to Mr. Scott, and that is an understatement. There actually isn't just fog but a Hammer-like excess of fog, then a scream. Kirk and Bones run to the scene outside the bar and find only Scotty, who had left earlier with the lady, in a terribly panicked state with a knife that has stabbed her a dozen times. Scott cannot remember what happened. The only thing we know for certain is what Bones, as expected, tells his captain, as he does often does in this show: "She's dead, Jim."

This is the introduction to one of the least appreciated episodes of the original "Star Trek" series from the 1960s. "Wolf in the Fold" was written by Robert Bloch, who is most famous for writing Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho"; he also wrote the teleplay for "Catspaw," another horror-inspired episode of the second season of "Star Trek" (and a far weaker episode than "Wolf in the Fold"). It might be considered odd that "Star Trek" took such a departure, but such departures would become somewhat precedent. Despite being a science fiction franchise, some episodes (most famously, perhaps, being "The Trouble With Trebbels") were quite funny, and the films could be compared to westerns ("The Wrath of Khan"), comedy ("The Voyage Home"), political allegories ("The Undiscovered Country"), action (2009's "Star Trek"), and horror ("First Contact").

Kirk, McCoy, and Scott find themselves on the planet Argelius II when the crime happens. John Fiedler (recognizable to today's audiences probably primarily as the voice of Piglet in the "Winnie the Pooh" series and as a juror in "12 Angry Men") appears as an administrator from a neighboring planet (the Argelians are so peaceful that they have never had a need for a police forces), and he serves (at times in harmony and at times in conflict) with Kirk as the principal detective in what soon becomes a great detective story. Soon, the situation deteriorates, as a lieutenant from the Enterprise beamed down to add to the investigation is also killed, and again Scotty is the suspect. The prefect decides to have his wife, a descendant of ancient priestesses, conduct a ritual to find the source of these murders. She grows louder and louder in her cries during the ritual, describing an over-powering, great, monstrous, terrible evil that possesses a potent hatred of women. The lights vanish, and there's another scream. The lights come back on; she's dead, and guess who's holding her dead body?

The episode becomes more and more thrilling and suspenseful, like a great murder mystery, one that these days might be called "old-fashioned." Kirk convinces the Argelians to take everyone back to the ship, where the ship's computers should be able to detect who the murderer really is. Now, our murder mystery horror has become a great courtroom scene, as Kirk questions Scotty and the other suspects. Scotty tells his version of the third murder, that something was in his way as he tried to make his way toward the priestess. Someone? Kirk asks. No. Something.    

Alright, now this is where the article will engage in some spoilers, so if you like "Star Trek," and if you like a good, old-fashioned murder mystery, I encourage you to stop reading and watch the episode. Here we go: Kirk, Spock, and the others believe that the evil spirit the priestess mentioned is none of than a favorite subject of Bloch's: Jack the Ripper. Now we're back in the horror genre, as the evil spirit jumps from being to being, taking over parts of the ship; the spirit feeds on fear, and it will do what it can to frighten the ship's members. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy quickly devise a plan to combat it; one part involves Spock feeding the haunted ship the full amount of Pi to essentially keep it busy, and the other part involves McCoy drugging everyone up. If the evil spirit enters a tranquilized body, McCoy assures his captain that the only danger to the rest of them is that it "might take up knitting" (another example of Bloch's humor).

A note on the sexism: this episode is notorious for it. Jeff Bond writes, "If you're planning on introducing your feminist girlfriend to 'Star Trek,' 'Wolf in the Fold' might not be the best starter episode." Spock makes a shocking remark that "women are more easily and more deeply terrified, generating more sheer horror than the male of the species." I agree with Bond completely, but would only add that if you're dating a feminist, it might not be a good idea to watch "Star Trek" at all with her. Not only do virtually none of the episodes or films pass the Bechdel Test, but James Kirk treats women no better than James Bond does. In another episode in season two, "By Any Other Name," the crew team up to trick superior humanoid conquerors into getting angry (the humanoids' Achilles' Heal). McCoy gives one of them "vitamin supplements" to make him irritable, Spock riles up another in a game of chess, Scotty gets another one terribly drunk, and Kirk, as expected, seduces the final one. Much has been written on Nichelle Nichols' groundbreaking role as Uhuru, but she often was not given much to do other than to inform Kirk of incoming transmissions. "Star Trek" has its flaws, and one of them is its portrayal of women. If you like "Star Trek," you'll have to accept that.

That major flaw aside, "Wolf in the Fold" is, as mentioned, a fun, funny, and surprisingly thrilling and cryptic episode, and a nice one to watch this Halloween season.  

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