Alice In Gialloland

In the years-long marathon that is my Netflix queue, many a film has steadily gained traction as others in front of it veer off into Instant Watch territory for faster viewings. Alice, Sweet Alice is one of those pseudo-classics that has sat on my radar like a squished fly outside the windshield wiper’s reach, the kind of thing I know I should address but just never had to energy to do.

Why the hesitation, you ask? It’s on Bravo’s Scariest Scenes list, and I dig most of what I’ve seen from there (at this point, probably 90% OF that list). It features a creepy mask AND, more importantly this month, a vertically challenged killer with short little legs and a sharp long knife.

But…well…it’s also considered by many to be an American giallo, and the last time I tried that, I was stuck with the frustratingly promising Eyes of Laura Mars.

See, it’s not that I despise that subgenre with the same venom I spew towards something like Katherine Heigl’s Life Is Hard vehicles. It’s that most of the giallos I’ve watched offer SO MUCH POTENTIAL only to waste it all on a convoluted, unsolvable whodunit plot that interrupts what I always feel could just be a good movie on its own.

But there are exceptions, and with the promise of an undersized stabber on the loose, I delved in.

Quick Plot: Karen (a debut performance by Brooke Shields) is a pretty and perfect little girl about to make her first communion, much to the annoyance of older, more imperfect sister Alice (Paula E. Sheppard) who prefers to pass the time catching cockroaches in a jar, taunting the obese landlord, playing with the freakiest non-killer doll in cinematic history, and sporting a costume store mask to threaten the prissy Karen.

I love this kid.

During communion, Karen is strangled to death by Alice, or at least, someone with an identical yellow slicker and plastic mask. After the horrific discovery, most blame falls on the already unliked by most older sister, though her divorced mother Catherine refuses to accept such a theory, even after her grumpy Alice-abhorring sister Annie is stabbed in the feet by a raincoat clad mask-wearing doppelganger.

Alice, Sweet Alice was filmed in New Jersey in 1976 on a meager budget that probably couldn’t have bought a pair of Calivn Klein jeans. Director Alfred Sole had made only one film before this one (and sadly, just two more after) yet his strength behind the camera on this one picture easily matches some of the decade’s best. The killer’s attack on Aunt Annie (not the pretzel) is filmed with a wonderfully manic madness that proves incredibly unnerving in its controlled messiness. 

Like so many genre filmmakers, Sole cited Don’t Look Now as a key influence on his work and it shows, both in the obvious visual references (a yellow slicker homage to Roegg’s red) and in some thematic elements, particularly the undercurrent of Catholicism. The music pounds away with each act of violence, something that might feel weary if used today but in the slightly artificial context of the film, works perfectly well. Sole’s imagery is gorgeous, with some sequences (including a blood-stained pavement from an overhead shot) lingering long after the story fizzles.

SPOILERS BEGINETH

And yes, fizzle it does, kind of. In keeping with the giallo rule of Someone Random Being The Killer, Alice proves to be innocent (though still bratty) as the real culprit is revealed to be none other than the heavily accented Italian housekeeper to the family priest. I GUESS she is a short woman, so that’s okay enough for the Doll’s House in February. And hey, her motives, though a tad muddled, are also appropriate for a Catholic-inspired Italian homage (Mrs. Tredoni might have found a soulmate in Don’t Torture a Duckling). But at the same time, the twist just feels…silly. The character had previously seemed to be something of a joke, making the initial unmasking a true laugh-out-loud moment for me. Oddly enough, this happens far earlier in the film than most of its kind, thus leading to a 20 minute or so final reel that’s not terribly uninteresting, but just feels so devoid of the tension that came earlier.

SPOILERS ENDETH

High Points

Paula E. Sheppard is quite good as the misbehaving Alice, capturing the angry child on the verge of teenagerhood to perfection. The fact that Sheppard was NINETEEN YEARS OLD when playing the twelve-year-old Alice makes this even more impressive. Never once did I doubt that the actress was around Alice’s age, and that in itself is quite a testament to Sheppard’s performance

One thing a lot of giallos will always have over their ‘80s slasher spawn: character. From Alice’s chubby cousin to sympathetic psychiatrist, virtually every supporting character is both believable and interesting

Low Points

Kitten violence alert! Kitten violence alert!

Lessons Learned

God always takes the pretty ones

An added perk of being a landlord is that when someone dies, you get free cake

Wallpaper design in 1976 was a very big laughing matter

The one good thing about getting your period: you will finally lose that weird, inexplicable love of creepy two-faced dolls

Rent/Bury/Buy

Because of its subgenre conventions, I had my share of issues with Alice, Sweet Alice. That being said, this is a genuine gem, an excellently made, actually scary little movie made by a talented and disciplined cast and crew. The DVD doesn’t look spectacular, but there is a good-natured and quite informative commentary from Sole and a few more crew members, making it well worth a buy if found at a good price.

A Melancholy Bridezilla

On a recent(ish) episode of Girls On Film, the ladies and I drooled over the briliance of Nicholas Roegg's Don't Look Now. In terms of visuals, it's arguably one of modern cinema's most influential genre films while also boasting excellent performances and a solid base of emotional connection. I would give it four stars without a blink, but here's the funny thing: I don't in any way agree with its theme.

Don't Look Now is ultimately a film about fate and predeterminism. Sure, there are other forces at work, but in my SPOILERY opinion, we are never to believe that Donald Sutherland's character ever really had a chance. His death was scheduled as soon as we first caught that glimpse of red on his slide, and no amount of dwarf ducking could prevent it.

I am not a believer in the idea that one's fate is ever sealed, but in no way does that detract from my appreciation and enjoyment of Don't Look Now. I bring this up because Lars Von Trier's Melancholia is a film that I simply don't agree with, one so seeped in a literal depression and conviction that the world might as well explode because it has virtually nothing good that deserves to survive.

I disagree, and unlike a film that works on other merits, I don't think Melancholia is otherwise strong enough to stand on its thesis.

But it's still really pretty.

Quick Plot: A gorgeous overture follows plays over striking imagery as Earth meets what we'll later learn is the comet Melancholia. Sticks are whittled, children carried, horses fallen, and explosions imminenent as we move into the main meat of the dinner, Chapter 1, Justine.

Played by a wonderfully understated Kirsten Dunst, Justine is a beautiful bride and successful copywriter faking smiles on her wedding day. The groom is kind and handsome but dull as a prison spork and the venue--a sprawling golf course estate owned and lorded over by millionaire brother-in-law Keifer Sutherland--as cold as it is luxurious. Though the wedding photos are worthy of a magazine spread, the marriage--SPOILER ALERT, if that's possible when the first five minutes of the film tell us the world blows up anyway--ends before morning as Justine's depression is simply too crippling for any anniversary.

The second part of Melancholia focuses more on Justine's put-upon older sister Claire, played by Antichrist goddess Charlotte Gainsburg. It's been some time since the failed wedding and the new, more pressing issue of the upper class is the movement of Melancholia. Claire worries that it will hit Earth, while her husband (Sutherland as John) insists the world is safe. Once a now dingier and Dunstier Justine arrives, the dangers of cometary collision become more pressing.

Melancholia presents two different viewpoints on the state of the world: one that it's a place worth saving because it has good in it (Claire) and the other, that it's a giant wad of chewing gum with hatred and awfulness sticking out every germ-ridden end. Since this is a film by Lars Von Trier, you can guess which side wins.

And that's my ultimate problem with the film. Yes, it's also quite slow and (duh) pretentious, but I often say the same about Michael Haneke movies and ultimately deal out positive reviews. Like Von Trier, Haneke doesn't necessarily see the world as an oyster and often focuses on extreme acts of onscreen cruelty, but there's usually some point or theme to think upon later with some agreement or intelligent rebuttal.

But what is that for Melancholia? That the world is best seen as something to be destroyed? That it's not fit for a pleasant, imaginative child like Claire's son Leo to play in? Where Haneke's The White Ribbon was a deceptively simple town biography about the absence of innocence, Melancholia feels like an overly beautiful diatribe on how the whole world should just go to hell.

I suppose that if you're viewing the film as a portrait of depression, maybe it achieves success. Justine's progression from uncomfortable bride to the calm in the light of a meteor does work from a certain perspective. It's validation for her negativity, as is the all-too easy (SPOILER ALERT) suicide of John, the previous symbol of cultural normality. That John would leave his family at their hour of need just feels easy, much like my main beef with the villain's final act of cowardice in The Woman.

How is Justine's stick fort any stronger a symbol than Claire's idea of sipping wine with classical music? Are we supposed to stand behind Justine when she insults her sister for wanting to survive? I do think Melancholia gave me a window into Justine's world in its first half, as her inability to play the perfect wife felt true and sad, rather than grating or disrespectful. It's the film's latter half that ruffled my Bjork swan dress feathers, the idea that this is not a world worth fighting for and to pretend differently is just a lie. I like wine and scenic porches and the innocence of youth, and if using those things to confront death means I'm wrong, then I just don't understand why sitting on grass surrounded by sticks is that much righter.

Okay fine: when the apocalypse hits, I'm making nachos and drinking a bottle of Ommegang Three Philosophers Ale. I can't lie to you. 

High Points

In a depressing movie about the end of the world, every touch of dark humor counts and nowhere is this more apparent than Udo Kier's wedding planner


Though she doesn't reach the ungodly levels of Emily Watson, Kirsten Dunst finds the perfect notes to convey Justine's inner workings without ever resorting to easy showiness

Low Points

The aforementioned premature death of a key character feels like a cheat and I'm still miffed about it

Lessons Learned

American accents are a recessive gene

Putting your boss in your wedding party does not excuse you from working on your wedding day

The apocalypse is going to be realllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllly pretty

Tree of Melancholia

Film critic Jim Emerson had an interesting writeup of Melancholia, but his comment sections were even more enlightening. One reader started to draw comparisons to Tree of Life, which got me to thinking how the two films play together. Aside from their obvious compatibilities (both using small family stories behind the backdrop of the universe's death), the films do seem to look at our relationship to the world with different conclusions. I'm not itching to rewatch either anytime soon, but when I do, I'm definitely making it a double bill. 

See/Skip/Sneak In

While he's no flawless Paul Verhoeven, I consider myself a fan of Lars Von Trier, even when I can't say I like his work (meh to Dogville and Manderlay). Personally, Melancholia doesn't come near the heights of Breaking the Waves, Antichrist, or Dancer In the Dark because I just can't get behind the film's thesis. At the same time, it features some truly spectacular use of sound and imagery, along with the typical good female performances that come standard with a Von Trier tale. If you're not familiar with his work, then I certainly wouldn't start here (I'd say Emily Watson's mind-blowing work in Breaking the Waves is the best primer) but those who look forward to seeing whatever wackiness comes out of the world's craziest Dane will definitely get SOMETHING or another out of Melancholia. For me, it goes in that second tier and falls a little lower due to its negativity.


But what can I say? At heart, I'm just a cockeyed optimist.

Audio Pleasures On Everything You've Ever Needed to Be Audio-lly Pleasured

What do Donald Sutherland's mustache, armpits, cake, backpfeifengesicht, the unsexiness of the cast of The Reef, Buffy the Vampire Slayer's ex-boyfriends, Fred Savage and Martin Short rapings, and baby tossing have in common? 

His mustache is thinking...

All get their due in this week's episode of Girls On Film, now available for FREE download or stream. The ladies and I head on a whirlwind worldwide tour, stopping in Venice to watch the aforementioned Sutherland's afro make love to Julie Christie's aforementioned armpit in Nicholas Roegg's classic Don't Look Now, then paddling our gondolas over to Hong Kong (it's a long journey that takes a good 20 years) for a discussion of John Woo's Once a Thief. 

It's free! It's feminine! It magic for your ears and ready for the exploiting!


Get it. Before he gets you...