Film Atlas (Canada): My Winnipeg

Country: Canada

Title: My Winnipeg (2008)

Director Guy Maddin tries to escape his beloved and behated hometown of Winnipeg and, thereby, his past, by riding an impossible somnambulistic night train in this largely-fictional, highly-fantastical “documentary.” Trapped in quasi-nostalgic reveries full of mixed emotions he tries to “film his way out” by reenacting the mildly traumatic minutia of his childhood using his mother (actually actress Ann Savage in her final role) and a crew of hired actors to play his siblings and pets. His dead father, deemed unnecessary to the experiment, is exhumed and placed under the living room rug.

This loosely anchors Maddin’s guided tour through Winnipeg’s local history which encompasses events both real and surreal, drawing as much from dreams and distorted memories as from newsreels and history books. Highlights include visions of sleep-walking strollers jingling the keys (which they are legally allowed to keep) of their former residences, the Winnipeg General strike, corrupt ‘man pageants’, a three-story pool, a romantic stroll past horrifically frozen horses, the failed amusement park Happyland, a strange compromise between rival taxi companies, the television show ‘LedgeMan’ about a suicidal jumper getting talked back to safety week after week and much more.

Maddin’s fervent imagination never fails to surprise but two things remain consistent in his work: his obsessive and stormy relationship with Winnipeg and his adherence to archaic silent-era film styles. My Winnipeg is his tribute to the ‘city symphony’ genre although there are sequences in the style of German expressionism, gothic surrealism and silhouette animation. Yet sharing Maddin’s encyclopedic knowledge of historical film techniques isn’t necessary to appreciating his unique sense of humor which plumbs the absurdity of our desire to mythologize our personal and communal pasts.

Maddin’s tongue-in-cheek revelations about the city’s supposed supernatural affinity (municipal séances, the ghosts of hockey players, his oft-repeated incantation of “the forks, the lap, the fur… the forks beneath the forks!”) is his desperate escape pod from the banality of documentary truth. He’s equally fast and loose with biographical honesty in his overtly-Freudian dissection of his relationship with his mother, comically failing to disguise a fairly conventional middle-class upbringing while highlighting the suspect quotidian details that shaped him. Most successful of all is the blend of sincerity and satire, reverence and ridiculousness in his treatment of Winnipeg; lavishing it with the kind of monumental cinematic treatment usually reserved for the likes of New York City or Paris. The result is both a heartbreakingly touching love letter and a hilariously vibrant send-up unlike any other film.

Sharing a language with their conspicuous neighbor has been a mixed blessing for Canadian cinema, providing it a readymade audience but also making it highly susceptible to cultural imperialism. Perhaps that’s why Canada has so often distinguished itself by fostering oddball auteurs. In addition to Guy Maddin’s docufantasia, my Canadian shortlist included films by body-horror maven David Cronenberg, challenging provocateur Atom Egoyan, prolific animation pioneer Norman McLaren and structuralist experimenter Michael Snow. I'd also recommend the sociologically and emotionally confrontational documentaries of Allan King, like A Married Couple, which similarly deconstructs family life, and, more recently, Sarah Polley's very different but equally original take on the autobiographical investigation of family called Stories We Tell.

My Favorites:

The Sweet Hereafter

The Saddest Music in the World

Possible Worlds

My Winnipeg

Jesus of Montreal

Stories We Tell

Videodrome

Thirty-Two Short Films about Glenn Gould
Good Riddance

Dead Ringers

Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance

Away from Her

Careful

The Adjuster

The Central Region

The Decline of the American Empire

A Married Couple

Goin' Down the Road

The Silent Partner

Exotica

The Red Violin

Incendies

Cube

Family Viewing

Atlantic City

The Brood

Major Directors:

Denys Arcand, David Cronenberg, Atom Egoyan, Claude Jutra, Allan King, Zacharias Kunuk, Sarah Polley

Sundance 2010

Sine I've not posted this year, I've let slip the chance to have topical discussions about the 2009 year-in-review, various Oscar-related issues and my experience at Sundance. But to assuage my guilty conscience I will briefly summarize the latter.

Katie and I stayed in the mountains next to Salt Lake City with our good friend Exactly Why at her gorgeous home and got to try a lot of local cuisine. We made it to 6 movies, already ably reviewed over at Exactly Why's blog. I'll give a quick rundown in my own words:

The Red Chapel - A subversive documentary about a 'spastic' Danish comedy team that travels to North Korea for a tense and awkward cultural exchange. The film says as much about the ethics of the comedians and film crew as it does about the country and ultimately runs the gamut from outrageous to depressing. Wry and thought-provoking, I can't fault Sundance for awarding this their International Documentary award.

Obselidia - A gentle road-movie romance about a reclusive collector of obsolete things and a woman who runs a silent movie theater. While it was thankfully not overly-precious (like too many of the recent rash of 'quirky' indie hits), it can be a bit on the preachy side, though I felt its heart was largely in the right place. Great acting, a comfortable script and an assured pacing made this a very charming and worthwhile little film.

Enter the Void - Gaspar Noe (Irreversible) brings his latest experiment to its third audience (after controversial Cannes and Toronto screenings) and it is both his most abrasive and most visually daring yet. Enter the Void is told primarily from the drifting perspective of a drug dealer's disembodied soul seeking reincarnation as he shifts in and out of his past and the grim present of his sister's deteriorating life as a stripper in neon-lit eye-searing Tokyo. Noe's trademark whirling camera antics are impressive, and yet unpleasantly dizzying and ultimately tedious. Working with an interesting concept and no shortage of auteur flare, the film struggles to find somewhere to end and, after 155 minutes and half a dozen opportunities to walk away with a dignified finish, bellyflops into an audacious, ill-adviced and hilarious finale (think orgasms, CG and a verrry intimate POV). Noe came out afterwards and confessed that we weren't supposed to laugh. For all that, I kind of admire the film, in that no-holds noble failure type of way.

Incidentally, when asked during the Q&A about his next project, Noe shyly admitted it would be an out-and-out porno. He didn't sound like he was kidding. With Lars von Trier (Pink Prison), Steven Soderbergh (The Girlfriend Experiment), Crispin Glover (It Is Fine. Everything Is Fine), and Kevin Smith to name a few, there seems to be more of an uptick in serious artists interested in the subject matter than I can remember since P. T. Anderson's Boogie Nights .

Tucker & Dale vs Evil - A spot-on horror comedy that presents a common film scenario (teens on a campy trip beset by villainous locals) from the sympathetic side of the rednecks. Tyler Labine and Alan Tudyk (Firefly) are perfectly cast as two lovable hillbillies who rescue (not kidnap) a beautiful psych student and befriend her while her former pals get themselves killed with such persistence that Tucker and Dale believe them to be a violent suicide cult. The semi-gimmicky plot actually manages to sustain itself pretty well and the film earned constant laughs from me, my friends and the entire audience. It is actually more entertaining than most of the films it riffs on, such as Friday the 13th, The Hills Have Eyes, Wrong Turn and even Deliverance.

Buried - Ryan Reynolds wakes up in a coffin and soon receives a cell phone call that if he can't arrange for a million dollar ransom, he will be left to suffocate. The camera never cuts outside of his tiny confines, creating an incredibly tense and utterly claustrophobic nightmare scenario that manages to stay exciting during every minute of depleting oxygen. The films even manages a good deal of creative visual variety through changes in angle and light source; the yellow of a lighter's flame, the faded red of a flashlight, the cold blue of the cell phone, the eerie green of chemical glow sticks and the amble use of pitch black create a balance of mood and practicality. Though contrived, it is easy to overlook the weaker plot points. The film easily earns a spot amongst the great low budget horror films of the digital era.

Splice - Speaking of which, Vincenzo Natali, the Canadian wunderkind behind low-budget high-concept horror classic Cube, unleashes his new genetics-experiment-gone-wrong thriller. Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley play a pair of married researchers whose gene-spliced anti-body incubator becomes a beloved pet and eventually a surrogate child. The film plays like an even-more-allegorical modern-day Frankenstein where far more than just medical ethics gets ludicrously violated. The acting and effects are top-notch, but the script may be an acquired taste. Fans of early Cronenberg or anyone willing to mix parenting woes and childrearing psychology with science-fiction and horror conventions will certainly enjoy.

Overall Sundance was a wondeful experience and I felt like all the films we saw were either highly entertaining or at least very interesting. I hope to go again next year. Katie has recently moved out to Vernal, Utah (where there's a good chance I'll one day join her) so we may be "right next door" in the midwestern 3-4 hour sense.

Review of Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance

On our plane ride into Heathrow, Katie sat next to a small, unassuming lady in her late seventies. As they did a little talking, it turned out that she was Alanis Obomsawin, a well-regarded aboriginal American filmmaker from Canada (neither of us had heard of her, but I probably should have) on her way to London to introduce one of her documentaries at the British Museum. On our final day in London, we made an effort to visit the museum and check out the film. It surpassed my every expectation.

“Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance” covers the Oka Crisis, a confrontation between Mohawk Indians living on a reserve near Oka (not far from Montreal) and the Canadian military. A local land development interest gained government approval to expand a 9-hole members-only golf course onto a burial ground and sacred pine grove belonging to the Mohawk nation, reigniting a 270 year battle to officially regain their territory.

The Mohawks blocked incoming construction equipment and Quebec Security was called in. After shots were exchanged, a police emergency response team bungled the situation, firing tear gas that the wind swept back into their own position, forcing a retreat. In the chaos, the Mohawks seized an abandoned bulldozer and used it to crush police cars and push them into a barricade. Other Canadian first nations pledged support and the nearby Kahnawake reserve captured a major highway bridge. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police and eventually the Canadian military took over, leading to a 78-day high-tension standoff.

Alanis Obomsawin arrived early in the debacle and was one of the few filmmakers or journalists to evade the military-enforced media blackout, chronicling the incident from within the heavily-patrolled, razor-wire perimeter. While Obomsawin covers the history and context behind the incident, the power of her documentary comes from her extensive firsthand footage.

Obomsawin rarely appears in front of the camera and her interview style is minimalist and encouraging, allowing her subjects to open up and express themselves. Although the scarcity of leading questions might have threatened to make the film lose focus, the editing keeps things tight and smartly relevant. Her unobtrusive use of irony and humor points out the absurdity and hypocrisy of the Canadian government’s reaction (like running razor-wire underwater) without trivializing the complexity of the situation and the emotions involves.

One of the most thought-provoking aspects of the film is the way it captures the clash between colorful individuals standing up for their modest rights and large institutions, especially the Canadian military. The individual soldiers hide behind the usual unthinking platitudes like “I’m just obeying orders” and “I have a mission to accomplish” instead of relying on their own moral compasses. The result is that their behaviors are akin to mental illness symptoms, including denying verifiable facts, showing indifference towards the suffering in front of them and adopting self-induced stone-faced autism as a way of avoiding questions, confrontations and emotional involvement.

The military is seen using fear and intimidation tactics, suppressing press coverage and frequently breaking promises. And yet hardly any soldier openly expresses dissatisfaction with their vocation or the institute they serve, and certainly none try to redress the wrongs. While this isn’t surprisingly to anyone familiar with military psychology or history, it’s disturbing to see it occur in modern society and within the armed forces of well-regarded democratic country. One has to wonder whether the military can be too effective, especially when it removes the ability for self-analysis and self-correction through the use of individual consciences and becomes merely a tool in the hands of political and commercial powers.

But I’m getting into the dangerous territory of mixing my own interpretation with the film’s less-pointed, less-systematic approach. In truth, while the directing and editing take a very sympathetic viewpoint, the film is not overly wrapped up in a private agenda and truly seems committed to honesty. Obomsawin covers the death of a police officer by the Mohawks and shows occasionally unflattering footage of individual Mohawks who, at times, lack maturity, temperance or eloquence. She depicts their internal struggle with balancing self-respect with survival, the fractured opinions on how to handle the situation and the difficultly in controlling feelings of anger and vengeance.

Obomsawin is of Indian heritage herself (albeit a different tribe), but her own vested interest is really much wider than purely first nation issues and concerns the larger scope of human rights for voiceless minorities everywhere. I hadn’t even heard of the Oka Crisis prior to seeing the film, but she draws us into the fate of Kanehsatake Mohawks in a way that is quick and natural despite the fact that many viewers will have little in common with the tribe. My own circumstances are much closer to the non-Mohawk suburban community of Oka, who are seen in the documentary reacting with outrage, apathy, paranoia, racism and even violence primarily over the mere inconvenience of traffic jams caused by the barricade. It’s a bit sobering to reflect on how I might have reacted had I been in their shoes.

On a less serious level, the movie is action-packed and well-crafted, making for a riveting two hours that doesn’t suffer from the “talking head” and “clipart” syndromes that drag down many otherwise noble documentaries. The film isn’t susceptible to the self-indulgence and cult-of-personality accusations that plague Michael Moore and Morgan Spurlock and its sincerity is refreshing without being cloying. It’s informed, impassioned, judiciously paced and just about everything else a documentary should be.

In retrospect, I wished I’d spent my plane ride interviewing Alanis Obomsawin about her work, goals and future plans rather than watching “Twilight” (2008) as an in-flight movie. Damn my social awkwardness and vulnerability for vampire drivel.

Walrus Rating: 9.0

You can watch the entire film here.

Review of Possible Worlds

[Images: (Top) A window washer spies a corpse and (Bottom) a crime scene is cordoned off in the time-spanning fade that opens Robert Lepage’s heady SF mystery “Possible Worlds.”]

Inspector Berkley has had five murder cases recently, but the latest is a little different. There is no motive, no murder weapon and only a single item stolen: the victim’s brain.

The rightful owner of the brain is George Barber (Tom McCamus), a man who is sometimes a brilliant investment consultant; though it depends on which world you catch him in. George Barber is something of an exception; he shares a single consciousness across every version of himself in the infinite set of all possible worlds. He has trouble keeping track of which parallel universe he’s in, but stays fixated on the one constant that anchors him: his love for Joyce (Tilda Swinton), who is sometimes an aggressive corporate day-trader and sometimes a shy and withdrawn scientist. It isn’t clear which version of George Barber has been killed, or at what point in his timeline, or for what reason.

[Images: Character actress Tilda Swinton (Caravaggio, Teknolust) takes on multiple related roles as warm lover, tempestuous swinger and total stranger in the many world’s of George Barber. Reason to rejoyce, says I.]

“Possible Worlds” (2000) is a gorgeous, enigmatic sci-fi film with an inventive take on the parallel universes theme. It’s a surefire hit for SF intellectuals who prefer thought-provoking writing to glitzy special effects. The hipster crowd should take note, as this is perfect material for impressing your peers. It belongs on this generation’s short list of requisite cult SF, though it remains unduly obscure in the US. In Canada, where the film was made by talented director Robert Lepage, it was nominated for a Best Picture Genie.

While I’m here, let me put together what I think that list would look like (in alpha order):
1) Cube (also from Canada)
2) Dark City
3) Donnie Darko
4) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
5) The Fountain
6) Pi
7) Possible Worlds
8) Primer
9) Save the Green Planet!
10) Solaris (2002 remake)

Much like the weather in my northern neighbor, “Possible Worlds” is awfully cold, especially for a love story. The film has a blue hue, an aquatic theme and a lot steel modernist architecture all contributing to an atmosphere of emotional distance and drifting humanity. The shallow focus cinematography wraps things in an uncertain haze, a fitting compliment to the shifting realities where relationships, encounters and emotions are always familiar, but never the same.

[Images: I bet the art director has a really clean house.]

Even the dialogue has a whimsical monotone, a little too heavy with coded portents, but cleverly woven into the film’s metaphysical themes. The script has bits of Becket thrown in and scraps of other abstract thinkers as well, and though the odd delivery can occasionally feel like a muddled mindgame, the top-notch cast smooths over the rough spots.

The emphasis on science, deduction and clinical detachment are doubtlessly influences from John Mighton, the mathematician who wrote the original play. He’s no bore though, and he’s clearly as interested in the energy of the imagination and the gravity of the heart as he is in philosophical set theory (from which the title comes). His penchant for deadpan comedy sneaks into dozens of memorable moments, including a absurdist linguistic episode where two men speak in a language of only three words (“slab,” “block,” and quite rarely, “hilarious”) and occasional exchanges between Inspector Berkley and his deputy, Williams.

Inspector Berkley: “Williams, suppose the man you were talking to were having an affair with the wife.”

Williams: “Yes.”

Berkley : “…and he killed the husband.”
Williams: “Yes.”
Berkley : “Why would he remove the victim’s brain?”

Williams: [Long Pause] …I have a few other leads.”

One of Lepage’s most impressive feats is the way he almost begs us to solve the mystery, leaking clues in every conversation, but also in the set design, associative editing and sound mixing. It culminates in a fine twist, one which is fair enough to be worked out by the viewer (though for the record, I was pretty late on unraveling it), without hinging the film’s satisfaction on the revelation. It’s the type of thing that needs to be seen twice, if only to catch all the hints, connections and misdirections.

[Images: What does it all have to do with a coffee machine, a sensory deprivation tank, parallel universes, eternal love and the weather? That’s a secret I won’t tell.]

[SPOILERS, this paragraph only] “Possible Worlds” uses a premise that has appeared elsewhere, specifically in “Open Your Eyes” (1997) and its American remake “Vanilla Sky” (2002). Both of those films, in turn, borrow many ideas exactly out of Philip K. Dick’s 1969 novel “Ubik,” without attributing any credit. While “Ubik” is a fantastic novel and a deserving SF classic, neither of its cinematic progeny quite lives up to the potential. “Possible Worlds” was originally written in 1990 (predating the other two films) and with more diverse influences. It develops its ideas in different directions and provides what I consider to be the definitive take on the world-inside-the-mind concept. I would guess that Cameron Crowe was familiar with “Possible Worlds” when he made “Vanilla Sky,” considering the conspicuous cameo role (as an LE case worker) played by Tilda Swinton.

There is a lot to say about the film-craft in “Possible Worlds” if I were going to really cover the ethereal music, the graceful camera movements and the mismatched sequencing. Instead, I’d like to spend a little extra time just admiring the beauty of my favorite scene transition. It takes us from the new age art of Joyce’s apartment into one of George’s dream sequences:

[Images (from top to bottom): (1) A protruding sculpture-painting on Joyce’s wall seen from a side-angle. (2) As the camera pans, it begins to reveal itself as a perspective painting with multiple vanishing points. (3) Seen straight on, the illusion of receding vanishing points becomes complete. (4) Heralded by a thunder clap, the house from the painting springs into being as the dream begins. (5) George enters the cabin, where things will only get stranger.]

If you’re familiar with any of the other films in my modern-hipster SF list above, then you already have a reasonable idea of whether you will like this film or not. I give it a hearty thumbs up and am eager to start lending it around to friends (sadly, it is no available on Netflix, but it can be found easily on Amazon). The only reason why I haven’t already passed it on was that I wanted to take screenshots and I knew I wouldn’t be able to put it in my DVD drive without watching the entire thing again.

Walrus Rating: 9.5

Poor Little Animated Shorts: Platinum Edition

This set of shorts includes, respectively, the top rated films according the animation industry, international critics and popular vote.


Title: What’s Opera, Doc (1957)
Director: Chuck Jones
Time: 7 minutes
Availability: On Looney Tunes Golden Collection Volume 2 DVD or online here.
Review:
An abbreviated version of Richard Wagner’s opera “The Ring of the Nibelung,” this short is purportedly the industry’s most highly regarded cartoon, topping the animator poll “The 50 Greatest Cartoons.” Elmer Fudd plays a Viking on the hunt for a rabbit (Bugs Bunny) who disguises himself as the Valkyrie Brunnhilda atop an obese equestrian to woo and eventually break Elmer Fudd’s heart, with tragic consequences. Jones admits to lavishing the project with far more time than usual, evident in the operatic visual extremes and the emphasis on pictorial humor and timing over wordplay and slapstick gags.

Along with “The Rabbit of Seville,” also by Chuck Jones/Warner Brothers, this is one of the great send-ups of opera, managing to earn both low brow and high brow appeal through its fun exaggerations and clever grasp of staging and music conventions. It remains one of the best known and most beloved cartoons of the golden era.

Title: Tale of Tales (1979)
Director: Yuriy Norshteyn
Time: 30 minutes
Availability: Masters of Russian Animation: Volume 3
Review:
“Tale of Tales” is a multi-layered allegory which touches upon national history, personal introspection and universal fairy tale tropes. Norshteyn, considered one of the greatest Soviet animators, structures the film as a series of interconnected memories which merge, recede, nest and shift in a fluid series of symbolic and nostalgic passages. At least three main stories are distinguishable: the tale of a childlike grey wolf in post-war USSR, a young artist at the beach with his fictitious creations and a festival on the eve before the WWII draft goes into affect. The art is a dreamlike collage of painted photographs, exquisitely detailed drawings and decorative landscapes peppered with cutouts creatures. Norshteyn demonstrates a brilliant sense of lighting, making scenes shimmer, glow and sink into shadow with expertise and instinct. His music is a similar collage of classical, tango and poetry.

Soviet censors freaked out when Norshteyn first submitted his work, worrying frantically that the film contained all sorts of social and political hidden messages. They were largely barking up the wrong tree, failing to understand (or perhaps understanding all too well) that the power of “Tale of Tales” came from its spellbinding humanist honesty and emotionally reflective tone. It has since grown to be regarded as one of the landmarks of short cinema and has been voted the greatest animated film of all time by international juries in 1984 and again in 2002. Other masterpieces by Norshsteyn include “The Hedgehog in the Fog” and “The Battle of Kerzhenets.”

Title: The Man Who Planted Trees (1987)
Director: Frederic Back
Time: 30 minutes
Availability: On DVD or online here.
Review:
Based on the popular story by Jean Giono, “The Man Who Planted Trees” is narrated by a traveler who happens upon a silent shepherd in desolate foothills of the Alps. When, as young man, he first meets the quiet, recluse, he is impressed by his stoic determination to carry out a self-proscribed task: to plant 100 acorns in the treeless valleys every day. The narrator revisits the site every few years, with absences during the first and second world wars to which the shepherd remains oblivious. After decades have passed, the entire region has become a lush “natural” forest which is declared a national park and celebrated by the local officials, tourists and immigrants who never know about the man who steadfastly planted trees. The art style has a water-colored warmth to it that flows like wind and water and fits well with the environmental themes and good-natured optimism. Originally made in French, Christopher Plummer provides the English narration.

“The Man Who Planted Trees” has long reigned atop the IMDB shorts list and quite deservingly so. The green, humanist themes occasionally border on melodramatic, but the sweeping allegorical charm is quite genuine and moving while the deft skill at story-telling is so realistic that for years many believed it to be a true story. A beautiful film, it should be required viewing (or reading) for all ages.

Poor Little Animated Shorts: Feline Edition

Title: Bad Luck Blackie (1949)
Director: Tex Avery
Time: 7 minutes
Availability: On Google video and YouTube here.
Review:
A tiny white kitten finds herself endlessly harassed by a sadistic bulldog, until a chance alley encounter with Bad Luck Blackie, a black cat who happily accepts commissions to incur bum luck on animal abusers. Simply by trotting past causes some grave misfortune to befall his victim, usually in the form a heavy object that befalls on their head. The dog is subjected to a rather senseless succession of cranial injuries including my personal favorite: he wields a lucky horseshoe to counteract the bad karma only to get conked on the noggin by three horseshoes from heaven… and the horse. When the villain contrives to paint Blackie white, it’s up to the kitten to save the day.

“Bad Luck Blackie” is the undisputed king of things-falling-on-people’s-head comedy, a joke that manages to stay funny despite repetition because of the brisk pace and surprising variation. There is a lot of graphic wit selling the physical comedy, including visual echoes on leitmotifs like stairs and B&W color, but the main driving force behind this being my favorite Tex Avery short is the fun-loving, zany violence (and the clear implication that Blackie is a hobo cat).

Title: The Cat Came Back (1988)
Director: Cordell Barker
Time: 7 minutes
Availability: Available to watch online at the National Film Board here.
Review:
This animated retelling of the vintage 1893 song “And the Cat Came Back” describes Mr. Johnson’s failed attempts to get rid of a rather destructive and tenacious cat. He tries abandoning it in the woods and even drowning it in a sack, but upon returning home he always finds the feline hard at work dismantling his property and lacerating his livelihood. The animation style is not particularly attractive, using the stout character design and wavy uncertain lines typical of Richard Condie and Cordell Barker, but the unkempt, dynamic visuals fit the manic music and mini-tragedy arc.

The National Film Board of Canada has helped produce many popular animated and stop-motion shorts including “The Big Snit” and “Every Child.” They also provided a lucrative home for experimental shorts auteur Norman McLaren, whose "Pas de Deus" and “Neighbours” (a personal favorite, dealing with escalating Cold War politics) should have gotten full reviews, but you can at least watch them through the links. “The Cat Came Back” is a good example of some of NFBC's best output, setting a catchy song to a memorable story and aiming for a broad appeal despite moments that might offend the sensitive (humane society alarmists in this case).

Title: Cat Soup (2001)
Director: Tatsuo Sato
Time: 35 minutes
Availability: Available on the self-titled DVD.
Review:
“Cat Soup” is a spirit-quest about a young cat named Nyatta who tries to pull back his sister from Death himself. He succeeds only in splitting her soul in twain and must take his zombified sibling on a journey through a phantasmagorical underworld to revive her. His adventures take him to a circus presided over by God, a desert where a liquid elephant marches and a dinner where he’s not on the guest list but the menu. Except for the plushie-potential character design this short defies most anime conventions (and even there the vacuous giant-eyes are more of a mockery than a rehash) and stands out as a creative tour de force that dips into ancient myths and contemporary psychoses with equal imagination.

“Cat Soup” was brought to my attention by “Mad Dog” Mora, and it has since maintained a place in my all-time pantheon of great films (not limited to animation or shorts). Few works ever break the mold so completely and do so while never sacrificing execution just for the sake of novelty. The DVD may cost a pretty penny, but the film itself is worth it and the disc case keeps up the experimental gimmickry with its pink gel-filled cover on which you can push around suspended character cutouts.

SLIFF 2007 Coverage Part 1

I finally have a break in my SLIFF schedule (morning of Day 4) long enough to right up some coverage. So far the 2007 St. Louis Film Festival has been a great time and I’ve been particularly impressed by the number of directors, actors and documentary subjects in attendance. I’ll be giving short reviews of the films I’ve seen including shorts and also voicing my reactions to the various Q&A sessions.


Title: Honeydripper
Director: John Sayles
Country: USA
Score: 7.5
Review:
John Sayles is not only a well-recognized director, but he’s also a safe bet year-after-year and so I think he was a fine choice to open the festival on Thursday. If you are at all familiar with his prolific output, you’ll know exactly what to expect from this one: superb ensemble cast, small-town regional feel, regular people who talk in with a layback ease, class and race issues, etc.

“Honeydripper” is about an African America family trying to keep their Alabama bar (a rundown live-music venue called The Honeydripper) above water despite a failure to tap into youth culture or wealth. A bit predictably, they stage an all-out concert with a famous musician, Guitar Sam, to raise enough dough. The twist comes when he fails to show up and drifter with a new-fangled electric guitar gismo steps in to fill his gig.

While this film is on par with Sayles consistent seal of quality, it never rises into greatness. The acting and dialogue are strong (as usual), but the familiarity of the script and the obvious trajectory of the plot arc don’t generate much excitement. There is a half-hearted attempt at magical realism that I wish would have been more pervasive, because in its current state it lies awkwardly on a single character: merely a clichéd combination of Tiresias and “the spirit of rock and roll.” The issues of class and race aren’t interrogated in much earnest, but they make up in sincerity what they lack in originality.

QA:
It was great to see Sayles in person and he had quite a cadre of cast members along with him. Sadly, the audience got off to a bad start with a barrage of awful questions. The most interesting parts of this session were stories from Sayles life and career, which revealed a man who has waged a grassroots war for funding and cultural diversity over a lifetime of shoestring classics. My least favorite answer was his closing comment, wherein he blamed the gluttony of wannabe indie filmmakers for the difficulty of getting financial backing. It seemed pretty sour, especially since I’ve always believed more new voices, ideas and artists can only be a positive development. As an admitted outsider, the problem in my eyes seems to be that studios don’t want to take a risk on anything new or different.


Title: The Collector
Director: Feliks Falk
Country: Poland
Score: 7.0
Review:
Lucek is a debt collector who takes far too much pleasure from his job. When we first meet him, he’s trying to seize medical equipment from a failing hospital while the machines are still hooked up to critical patients. Lucek has no friends or family, but subsists on his smugness, power lust and a loveless affair. He’s so effective at his job that even his coworkers are jealous and the police find him despicable. Surprisingly, Falk and actor Andrzej Chyra succeed in making him almost likable, since his petty need for success and societal revenge are so terribly human.

Unfortunately, the film is a bit facile in its narrative and thematic preoccupations. It doesn’t take much experience with previous variations on the plot to know that a run-in with an old flame and a nearby suicide with shake him to his foundation and cause him to rethink his deeds. What is interesting is that his redemption has its cuteness tempered by outside corruption. It soon becomes obvious that his victims are not as innocent and honest as they seemed and that his attempts to right his wrongs will not be met with gratitude. I like this type of mixed salvation more than wholesale fantasy.

Andrzej Chyra is good in the lead and the supporting cast does well in their own right although they work best as sounding boards and points of comparison for Lucek’s selfishness and single-mindedness. The film’s transitions are set to hip, dance music while Polish architecture flows past Lucek’s car. It’s a concession to style that is not so overt in the rest of the film, and shows an admirable effort to keep the pacing quick (mostly this works) in a story arc that is usually stretched into false epicness.


Title: Darius Goes West
Director: Logan Smalley
Country: USA
Score: 9.0
Review:
“Darius Goes West” is a documentary road movie that is deservedly swooping up every award it has competed for (15 at the current count). It tells the tale of Darius Weems, a teenage wheelchair-bound victim of Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy who takes a trailer from Athens, Georgia to California in the hopes that MTV will custom mod his chair as part of their show, “Pimp My Ride.” Having never left his home county before, Darius and his roadcrew friends visit national landmarks and two oceans, testing the wheelchair accessibility of the country along the way.

Darius is a genuine and compelling young man, with a lot of drive, humor and intelligence. He composes raps on his trip as part of his correspondence with MTV and shows an enthusiasm for everything he encounters that seems more active and cheerful than most people who can walk and expect to live past 30. One doesn’t feel pity for Darius (he wouldn’t want you to), one feels admiration. He’s the type of guy you’d want to hang out with because he feels good about himself and makes everyone around him feel good, too.

These days, “inspirational” is almost a dirty word for me. It’s been co-opted by Hollywood, the AFI and every indie filmmaker who knows that emotions sell more tickets than talent. However, “Darius Goes West,” is inspirational in the most real and honest ways and though the camera is out of focus occasionally and the recap ending is a mess of editing, the film more than makes up for it with it with insightful inadvertent character studies, corporate indictment (without any trace or sarcasm or bitterness) and kinetic, welcoming realism.

The audience had an especially audible reaction to a segment where Darius laments that the only really dispiriting moments on the trip were when places weren’t wheelchair accessible that really should have been. Right after he speaks the line, the camera cuts to the St. Louis arches. Ouch! There really is no excuse. I think I’ll actually write an email to them and suggest they get a ramp installed.

I was amused that Darius frequently comments that no one knows who Jerry Lewis is (the leading television advocate for awareness about DMD), but that every teen watched “Pimp My Ride.” I’ve seen Jerry Lewis in several films without ever having seen or heard of the MTV show Darius loves. It sort of made me feel like a crotchety elder (at 22).


Title: The Memory Thief
Director: Gil Kaufman
Country: USA
Score: 9.0
Review:
So far this has been my favorite of the festival. Kaufman’s debut film stars Mark Webber (“Storytelling,” “Dear Wendy”) as Lukas, an aimless, overly-sensitive tollbooth operator. He starts to read “Mein Kampf” when a neo-Nazi throws it at him and later gets yelled at by a Holocaust survivor (Allan Rich) who sees the book. This starts a chain-reaction that draws Lukas into a fascination with Holocaust survivors and their testimonies. He takes a part-time job at a Holocaust archive transcribing tapes and observing interviews. Far from a healthy attempt to acknowledge, explore and understand the past, Lukas is in a freefall of pathological obsession and over-identification.

Comparisons to “Taxi Driver” are inevitable with this claustrophobic character study. The gradual curvature of Lukas’s descent into madness is perfect and provides handholds for dozens of tough themes and deep debates to grapple. His friendship with Mira, the attractive daughter of a Holocaust survivor he longs to interview, provides a level-headed alternative to Lukas, but the director is smart enough to give them both lines that sound morally and ethically correct (and natural) so our loyalties bounce around constantly. Lukas’s motivations and intentions are beautifully blurred into a complicated complex of victim, survivor, violator and savior all without having lived through the historical events or even being Jewish.

Gil Kaufman has discovered a cavern dark with moral grays and he intelligently shines a flashlight on endless miles of controversial catacombs. Though he doesn’t illuminate a way out, the mental spelunking should be required exercise for anyone interested in fictional treatments of global tragedy.

QA:
I was truly surprised that Gil Kaufman was actually there for a Q&A after the film, because it must take a lot of bravery to deal with the possible negative reactions. Indeed, one Holocaust survivor in the audience had issues with a thinly-disguised surrogate for Steven Spielberg (not very sympathetically portrayed) and even I’m not sure how I feel about the director using actual interview footage (conducted by himself with full permission). I look forward to seeing more from Kaufman in the future.


Title: Hear and Now
Director: Irene Taylor Brodsky
Country: USA
Score: 6.5
Review:
Irene Brodsky grew up with parents who were born deaf. At the age of approximately 65, they both decided to get cochlear implants. Brodsky films their decision, the surgery and the aftermath.

The compelling human interesting story packed a fairly full auditorium despite two screenings (most of the films only have one). I had to admit that I was curious how the couple would react to their first sounds and how it would change their lives. It is enormously endearing to see their first experiments: listening to footsteps and flushing toilets, going through the carwash twice in one day just to hear the sounds and noting that geese make the most annoying of all noises.

This is story about Brodsky’s parents, and she admitted this right away in the following QA. Considering that her parents are fascinating, creative, witty and loving, they certainly make a watchable pair that won instant audience sympathy. Sadly, the film fails to do anything more than simply present these two likable senior citizens, although early in the film there are some windows into the life of a deaf family. The audience doesn’t really gain any insight into the surgery, the debate in the deaf community, the effort and progress of mastering hearing or the perspectives of others who have undergone the surgery in different circumstances.

QA:
The questions from the audience were perhaps more revealing than the film itself and helped to voice some of my problems with the film and the events themselves. One hearing-impaired audience member was rightly outraged that the film was not fully subtitled meaning that he did not understand quite a bit of it. As a big proponent of subtitling all films, I had to agree with his shock and wondered why Brodsky insisted that it was an “artistic decision” to release an untitled version.

More disturbing, was the lack of post-operative surgery and speech-recognition training that was brought up by several questioners. How could an informed director who has made four films on deafness, not provide her parents with the care and aid universally acknowledged as requisite by medical professionals? I also felt uncomfortable with Brodsky parading her parents onstage “for questions” (mediated through a sign-language translator) and then misinterpreting every question as being directed at her own life and her career.


Title: Crossroads (1928)
Director: Teinosuke Kinugasa
Country: Japan
Score: 5.5
Review:
Kinugasa’s restored 1928 film, is one of the first great works out of Japan. It tells of a dirt poor brother and sister who live in the pleasure district slums of Tokyo. The brother falls helplessly in love with a snide geisha who disdains him, shrugging him off for more amusing company and driving him to duel a rival lover far above his skill level. Blinded by ashes in his eyes, not to mention jealous rage, the young ronin attacks the rival and thinks he kills him, driving him to fear and guilt that are actually unfounded. He flees to the protection of his sister, a diligent seamstress who would do anything to protect him. While her brother moans in pain and loss (not realizing his blindness is temporary), the unfortunate girl fends off a fake police constable, eventually agreeing to sleep with him if he agrees not to arrest her brother. The decision ends in a real murder, completing the tragic inevitability of their sorry lot.

Kinugasa masterfully assays the possibility of pain, suffering and sadness in the Japanese lower class. His visuals are a hallucinogenic nightmare of spinning, whirling carnival games that create a macabre gaiety upon which to foreground the misery of poverty, yearning, rejection and fear. Yet the film never gets deep inside the heads of its characters and one feels like they exist simply to have fate and society conspire against them. The imagery becomes quickly repetitious and film mires after only half an hour with camera positions revisited too often and the story held back for the big dramatic finale.

Musical Accompaniment:
Live music was provided by a team of avant-garde players that mixed classical Japanese instruments and modern polyrhythmic dissonance. Not really my type of thing, but it did fit the onscreen action and gave the whole film a somewhat ghostly, unnatural resonance.


Title: Water-Themed Shorts
Directors: Various
Country: USA
Score: 3.0
Review:
Before “Crossroads” a series of seven locally-made water-themed shorts were shown:

Electric Water – A quick formalist experiment with high-contrast close-ups of ripples. Super-imposing these almost made it interesting, but mostly this was boring and not nearly structured or selective enough to be mesmerizing, which was clearly the goal.

Two Rivers – Water on statues. 50/50 documentary/meditation. Worked for about a quarter of its running time.

Meditations on Maya – Somewhat interesting formalist investigation of waterfalls and other natural phenomena mirrored into unusual, dynamic symmetries.

The Source – Water as texture and visual pattern. Great theme for an elegant quickie, but botched by lack of material and inexperienced framing.

Suds – A camera pointed out of the front window of an auto as it goes through the car wash. It says something really bad that this was my second favorite of the entire batch.

Rolling Shoals: Skipping Rocks – A handful of the shots of rocks being skipped on water. The last one was played slower than the rest. The examples chosen were not particularly impressive and the editing was awful. I think this could have worked if it had been a single shot of an amazing rock-skip played in extreme slow motion.

Touch – Easily the best. Reverse-silhouettes of a man and women reveal videos of waves and other water movements. The effect makes the water look like it is the skin and substance of the actors. Careful timing and camera movement over the naked close-ups caused various effects and interpretations of the liquid. This film actually succeeding at being fresh, thought-provoking, beautiful and even sexy. The other filmmakers could learn a lot.

Musical Accompaniment:
The shorts were all silent, with music inflicted by an avant-gardist who was allowed to design his own “water-based instruments.” I was so excited for this to be cool, but it was embarrassingly bad and only marred the films.


Title: Jamie Travis Shorts
Directors: Jamie Travis (duh)
Country: Canada
Score: 8.5
Review:
This was a “retrospective” of shorts by 28-year-old Canadian Jamie Travis. His darkly surreal films are moody celebrations of graphic design, kitschy formalism and retro revisionism. I found all of them to be funny, delightful and, above-all, aesthetically astute. They have the dour suburban malaise of a Wes Anderson film with the unpredictable visual quirkiness of Lynch.

Patterns Trilogy – These were three films about a young couple that live in the same apartment building. The first two parts take the perspective of the girl and boy respectively and the final part brings them together in climactic musical sequence. The focus is often on visual patterns, but the motif is extended into the habits of daily life, the clichés of romance and the cycle of emotional reactions. The use of color, texture, pattern, design, framing and split-screen was fairly brilliant, creating a satisfying whole that wallows in everything from glossy 60’s interior design to the fatalistic rollercoaster of puppy love.

The Saddest Boy in the World – From the same country that brought you “The Saddest Music in the World” comes this miniature biography of a green-eyed tyke in an all-green world. The boy is a stirring, endearing sad-sack who quietly drowns in a pool of his own neglected tears. In the opening shots he prepares to hang himself, while flashbacks inform us of his depressing life. He is friendless and the victim of endless misfortunes (including being kidnapped and returned after no money was paid), filmed with irresistible deadpan humor and the warped perspective of youth. The combination of comedy, craft and bizarreness made this an easy pick for my favorite short in the festival so far.

Why the Anderson Children Didn’t Come to Dinner – Three small children and a mother form the core of the most dysfunctional family of all time. They are all reserved, compulsive eccentrics who can eek no joy from their sterile lives. The mother cooks psychotic quantities of unappetizing food and reacts violently to the presence of brown eggs in her cartons of whites. The children carry out unusual behavioral disorders that are finally revealed as odd escape routes into a realm of fantasy further removed from reality than even their current circumstances.

Vampire Week Part 4

Rank: 20
Title: Hour of the Wolf
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Country: Sweden
Year: 1968
Review:
Bergman considered this his only true horror film (though much of his work is filled with psychological terror), and though it never uses the word vampire (neither does “Cronos,” “The Hunger” or “Near Dark” for that matter) there is reason to include it on the list. The ambiguity lies in the manifestation of vampirism which may be corporeal, but could just as likely be hallucinogenic or dream-vision.

Johan Borg (Max von Sydow) is a reclusive painter who is tormented by inner demons and apparently outer ones as well. He isn’t sure what to make of his unsettling visions or his fear, insomnia and erratic behavior as time and loneliness erode his sanity. His only comfort is his wife (Liv Ullman) who loyally tries to understand and empathize with her emotionally-distant husband – to the point where she begins to experience his hallucinations. These phantoms take the form of a faceless woman, who instructs Mrs. Borg to read her husband’s diary. The secret she finds inside splits their relationship apart and plunges them both into a deeper circle of hell.

Even by Bergman standards, the first half of “Hour of the Wolf” is pretty slow-moving stuff. The breakdown of marriage and existential crisis themes have been done better by Bergman both before and after, but the horrific visions are definitely worthwhile. They build towards a creepy crescendo in the film’s latter half, particularly when the action shifts to enormous castle. Therein lives an undead family of aristocrats, the only other occupants of the island, and a haunting dread that shatters the souls of our unfortunate protagonists.

The film is deeply personal, with references to Bergman’s youth and own marital difficulties. It’s far from biographical, considering that the tone is so other-worldly and the links to reality so tentative, but one can sense the director’s familiarity with the psychological circumstances. The B/W cinematography is beautiful though depressing. Every character, every prop and every acre of fallow earth seems cruelly blighted by an uncaring god. Don’t expect this film to cheer you up, but it might make you feel thankful you aren’t Borg or his wife.

The hour of the wolf, if you are curious, is the one just before dawn when most deaths occur and phantoms have their strongest hold.


Rank: 19
Title: Dracula: Pages from a Virgin’s Diary
Director: Guy Maddin
Country: Canada
Year: 2002
Review:
See full review here.


Rank: 18
Title: Versus
Director: Ryuhei Kitamura
Country: Japan
Year: 2000
Review:
While “Versus” includes vampires and so qualifies as a vampire film, it could equally be counted as a zombie romp, samurai epic, yakuza flick or martial arts opus. In addition to a genre adoration that would do male teen proud, Kitamura demonstrates a hyperactive excitement for comic carnage taken to the nth degree, and his enthusiasm is infectious.

A reincarnated samurai-turned-yakuza thug escapes from jail to meet up with his trigger-happy gang in the aptly named “Forest of Resurrection”. When a dispute breaks out over a recently kidnapped girl, one of the flunkies gets killed and immediately returns as a zombie; that’s when it occurs to the gang that they’ve been burying bodies in these woods for years. The corpses take that reflective moment as their cue to rise from the grave.

An all-out frenetic battle ensues, with expressive, free-flying camerawork and uzi-rate editing. From this point on, the movie is essentially one continuous fight scene with government agents (hot on the heels of the escaped convicts) joining in along with vampires, demon lords and more. Flashbacks invite us to watch the waging of this war in previous centuries (allowing for some samurai showdowns), and the ending gives us a taste of the cyborg-enhanced future hell that awaits in the next iteration.

The outrageous excess and no-holds action is violent enough to offend parents and senators but is treated with an eye-winking nonchalance that makes it more amusing than terrifying. I’m not quite sure whether Kitamura knowingly satirizes low-attention-span action fodder, but he certainly outdoes it and makes us laugh in the process. Most of the shock and humor comes from the jaw-dropping gumption of the director and choreographer, who leave us constantly aghast that they went so far. The lack of realistic grounding does have its downside, though, and neither the characters nor the story pull the audience in. The two-hour running time easily exhausts its welcome, proving that pacing isn’t all about quick cutting and combat.

Best enjoyed with a bowl of popcorn and a group of friends who like kung fu and gunplay at least as much as horror.

[Image: First off, let me apologize for selecting the worst of the several poor DVD versions as my introductory image. I took one look and couldn't resist using it, although the film isn't nearly as cheesy as this cover would imply.]

Rank: 17
Title: Daughters of Darkness
Director: Harry Kumel

Country: Belgium

Year: 1971
Review:
One of the best and earliest of the lesbian exploitation vampire films, “Daughters of Darkness” remains one of the few in its denigrated subgenre to bear redeeming fruit. The plot loosely adapts from Fanu’s “Carmilla,” moving all the action to grandiose hotel eerily empty in the cold non-tourist season. Countess Bathory (Delphine Seyrig recalling her enigmatic performance in “Last Year in Marienbad”) and her nubile secretary/lover Ilona Harczy are the only guests. Though they look young and beautiful, the aging hotel clerk and a homicide detective recognizes the countess from her last visit, 40 years before.

Stefan and Valerie, a pair of runaway honeymooners whose marriage is already off to a bad start, decide to check into the relic of bygone majesty and try to relax in the dour village. Bored and brooding, Stefan and the three women lounge around in the opulent hotel lobby, where it quickly gets difficult to tell who is seducing who. Kumel languidly brews the tension over a fatally erotic undercurrent. Some dark secrets are exposed and the stage is set for a series of sexual power plays. Hardly any blood is spilt until the last act, when deadly emotions and frustrations boil to the surface and vengeance comes calling.

Kumel proves his superiority to Jean Rollins and Jesus Franco (the two better-known “luminaries” of the lesbian vampire subgenre) by giving audiences plenty of sexually-charged sequences and ample nudity without seeming as sleazy as his rivals. The cinematography is marked by dreary weather, crumbling sumptuousness and an old-world vibe torn by bold scarlet gashes (dresses, lips, blood). The acting is OK, led by the icy, elegant Delphine Seyrig, whose performance is echoed by Catherine Denueve in “The Hunger” (1983). The deep-seated unhappiness of the protagonists is allowed to mire in public view, while the mysterious allure of the countess’s siren beauty serves as a lure driving the others to wreck their lives against her shore.

Audiences expecting purely art-house antics or a maximum of blood and breasts will probably both find stretches of disappointment, but the balance means an arresting vampire film straddled on the art/exploitation borderlands. If you prefer more sex and less moodiness, try “Vampyres” (1974) (also called “Daughters of Dracula”), and for those who prefer the reverse, try the classier “Blood and Roses” (1960) or “The Hunger” (1983).

Rank: 16
Title: The Last Man on Earth
Director: Ubaldo Ragona and Sidney Salkow

Country: USA/Italy

Year: 1964
Review:
Vincent Price stars in this adaptation of Richard Matheson’s novel “I Am Legend,” the first of several versions that would include “Omega Man” (1971) with Charlton Heston and the upcoming “I Am Legend” (2007) with Will Smith. Though far from brilliant, this bargain bin (public domain) low-budget flick is surprisingly entertaining, grim and thoughtful.

Dr. Robert Morgan (Price) is the last man on Earth. He earned that distinction when an epidemic turned the planet’s population into vampire-zombie hybrids. Flashbacks detail the scramble for a cure, the mass burning of bodies and the final descent into post-apocalyptic collapse. Morgan, who is immune to the disease, has spent months foraging and staking by day and holding out in his suburban makeshift fortress by night. The army of undead foes he battles are not much of a serious threat; they shamble with the lethargic gait of brain-dead zombies and suffer the vampiric weaknesses of garlic, fire and light.

Eventually the doctor encounters another human and, lucky for him, it’s an attractive babe. She seems a bit unhealthy and behaves suspiciously, foreshadowing the inevitable catch: she’s actually an agent from a community of infected rebels who use regular serum treatments for temporary resistance to the disease. Her intentions aren’t exactly pure, but he uses his own blood to cure her anyway. The whole ‘flesh and blood granting salvation’ quickly spirals into a weird Jesus metaphor with a fittingly Biblical ending fit for long contemplation.

The empty, bombed-out sets owe their minimalism to budgetary constraints as much as any intentional evocation of an existential wasteland, but the results are powerful nonetheless. Like the monsters, the pacing is slow, but it helps capture the tedious, grinding half-life of the haggard hero. When things pick up in the final act, our patience is repaid with increased action, interest and symbolism.

“The Last Man on Earth” paved the way for many later psychological horror films especially 1968’s “Night of the Living Dead,” which has a similar look and setting. The inner torment of Morgan’s character is fairly severe. For starters, he witnesses his entire family die. Then there’s the former laboratory colleague that leads nightly zombie assault on his modest home; as a nasty reminder of Morgan’s failure to develop a cure. When he finally meets another survivor, he discovers that he’s already murdered some of her people in the past (mistaking them for vampires) and that she intends to kill him. The depressing tone continues into the ending, which holds little hope for humankind. However, a glimmer of redemption may exist for the new breed.

Vampire Week Part 3

Rank: 25
Title: Black Sunday (The Mask of Satan)
Director: Mario Bava
Country: Italy
Year: 1960
Review:
When I was first compiling the candidates for my vampire countdown, Mario Bava was the only director who I was sure would make the list twice. “Black Sunday” (1960) (also known as “The Mask of Satan” and a plethora of other titles), Italy’s answer to “Dracula,” is the better known of the two, although it isn’t quite as fun as my other pick.

The film begins in the 17th century, where Asa Vajda and her sorcerer lover are put to death for witchcraft. The first shot is of fire, but Asa isn’t lucky enough to be merely burnt alive. Instead she is branded with a searing iron and then has a mask with inward-pointing spikes nailed into her face. The terrifying scene famously intercuts between Asa’s reaction and a first-person view of the mask heading towards the camera lens. It is interesting that while the film has many scares to come (perpetrated by the vampires), none are quite as brutal as this first act committed against them.

A sudden downpour prevents her body from being burnt into oblivion, and so instead she is buried in the crypt of her ancestors. Centuries later she is accidentally discovered by a pair of traveling doctors (Kruvajan and Gorobec). They can see her face through the glass cover and break it to retrieve a trinket. When a bat startles the men, Kruvajan cuts his hand on the glass and the blood trickles onto the lips of Asa’s corpse, slowly setting about the process that will revive her (the scene is echoed in many vampire films to follow, such as “Underworld”).

Using witchcraft, sorcery, telepathy, hypnotism and plain old-fashion deception, Asa regains control of her castle, revives her unholy groom and begins murdering all those who stand in her way. Complicating things further is Gorobec’s budding romance with kindly local girl Katia (played by Barbara Steele, who also plays Asa). Asa plans to drain Katia’s blood to gain eternal life, and she has some pretty dastardly tricks up her sleeve to accomplish her plan.

Bava assembled some of the finest B/W sets since the heyday of classic 1930’s horror, and though it makes his images seem a couple decades out of date, it does brilliantly revive the haunted, labyrinthine castles and cobweb-strewn crypts of yesteryear with loving care and craftsmanship. Barbara Steele’s enormous deer eyes and thick black mane allow her to alternate between demonic animalism and innocent beauty in her dual roles. The rest of the cast is less memorable, but also not as bad as your typical Italian horror production. Bava pulls out all the stops for his exciting climax, a structural emphasis that can be seen in the ending twists and signature shocks of his later gialli.

Rank: 24
Title: Dracula (Horror of Dracula)
Director: Terence Fisher

Country: UK

Year: 1958
Review:
Terence Fisher’s “Horror of Dracula” (1958) remains one of Hammer Horror’s best works and it continues to be well-received be genre enthusiasts today (something which can’t be said for most of Hammer’s canon). Though based on the Bram Stoker novel, it makes bold and interesting departures that result in a movie that still feels fresh and able to surprise – even to those over-familiar with the story.

It starts with the arrival of Jonathan Harker at Dracula’s lair. This version has Harker as a mild-mannered librarian, and when Dracula heads out to fetch some books for him, a desperate woman appears and begs for rescue. Harker reacts with confusion, but it is later revealed that he is actually undercover and intends to kill the evil count that night. His plans are shattered when the damsel in distress turns out to be an undercover vampire (such intrigue!), and though he succeeds in staking her, Dracula is alerted by her screams and subjugates Harker, turning him into a minion of darkness!

The plot switches over to Harker’s fiancée Lucy, her brother Arthur, his wife Mina and Van Helsing, who is initially not welcomed by the distraught skeptics. Helsing eventually convinces them to help him, although not until after Lucy has been killed, revived and staked. They begin a frantic search for Dracula’s coffin, but an unexpected person beats them to it and they fail. Soon Mina is acting strangely (for example, receiving scars from crucifixes that touch her skin), tipping off the men-folk that Dracula has already chosen his next victim. That night they guard all the entrances, but Dracula still gets to Mina’s bedside. After all the twists have been pulled, it’s time for a fairly lack-luster showdown redeemed by an enthusiastic death sequence.

Low production values and unexceptional directing don’t do too much damage to this film, which is probably best remembered for the winning pairing of Peter Cushing (as Van Helsing) and Christopher Lee (as Dracula). The two help raise the acting out of the poor house, although their subsequent pictures were not always as successful; Hammer disgorged at least four lamentable sequels in an attempt to milk this one for all it was worth. Their female costars are not given as juicy of roles, but this adaptation became notorious for the then-scandalous sexuality of Dracula’s bond with Lucy and Mina. Dracula’s nightly visits are greeted with frank lust by the woman and his erotic appeal contrasts interestingly with Jonathan as a reserved librarian and Arthur as a prim husband.

.

The script is a welcome reworking with sprinkles of plot twists and British humor. However, make sure to keep expectations low if you are unfamiliar with the output of Hammer Studio. If you do find yourself enjoying this film, check out Fisher’s next best film, “The Devil Rides Out” about a satanic cult.

Rank: 23
Title: Night Watch
Director: Timur Bekmambetov

Country: Russia

Year: 2004
Review:
“Night Watch” (2004), based on the books by Sergey LuKjianenko, launched Russia’s most successful movie franchise (it outsells “Lord of the Rings” in its home country) and gave audiences an interesting new take on the old vampire legend. In this revisionist tale, the world is balanced between the forces of light and darkness (OK, nothing new there) and supernaturally gifted prodigies from either sides take shifts guarding the 12 hour periods intrinsic to their rivals. Hence the Day Watch patrols the daytime activities of the good guys while the Night Watch keeps the vampires at bay.

Anton Gorodetsky is an unassuming citizen of a bleak, black-rimmed Moscow when he starts to catch glimpses of the future, not to mention impossible agents invisible to everyone else. He is soon identified as an “Other” who is destined to use his special powers for either the light or dark alliances. Several years after he makes his decision, Anton comes across Egor (a boy who may tip the balance and trigger a final war) and Svetlana (a young woman with a cursed vortex spinning above her head). It’s clear that the century long truce is about to fall apart, and Anton is at the center of it all.

Timur Bekmambetov’s blockbuster production has a little trouble finding its identity. The grimy, lived-in Moscow locations are great, with a busy mise-en-scene that shows hard-work and attention to detail. Unfortunately the CG is occasionally weak and far too overdone. It has the visual bluster of a slick Hollywood knockoff that is willing to let poor acting and dialogue slip, so long as the effects seem impressive. It is certainly a bit of a shame because the central story is quite interesting and hints at an off-screen universe replete with a history, mythology and sociology of epic scope and grave import. The acting could use a boost with Konstantin Khabensky’s Anton managing his working-class average-Joe side but choking on the serious and emotional segments.

.

The film has two sequels, “Day Watch” (2007) and a TBA finale. Reports are that “Day Watch” is superior even to the first part of the trilogy, but I haven’t seen it yet.

Rank: 22
Title: Planet of the Vampires
Director: Mario Bava

Country: Italy

Year: 1965
Review:
Few attempts at combining vampire horror and science-fiction have worked, but Mario Bava’s “Planet of the Vampires” might be my favorite for the sheer camp pleasure that results from trying. This Italian feature has a smattering of psychedelic 60’s charm, eerie atmospheric horror and pulp-comic space opera all rolled into one.

The starship Argos picks up a distress signal from an unexplored planet. They are able to approach, thanks to their meteor deflection device, but are assailed by a telepathic bloodlust and only barely manage to pull themselves back from a self-destructive orgy. Their sister ship, the Galliott, is not so lucky and ends up crashing on the surface. The Argos crew lands and starts to search the hostile surface, a bleak landscape of barren rock, curling fog and deadly magma. Patches of vividly colored light (in Bava’s greens, pinks and purples) streak through the darkness.

An expedition to the Galliot discovers that all of the crew is either missing or dead. Strangely, the corpses look less like crash fatalities and more like homocides. The bodies are buried, but they don’t stay stiff for long – soon the Argos is being terrorized by their own undead (which look and act more like zombies than vampires, but oh well.). A few screaming beauties and ray-gun battles later, a desperate escape attempt is mounted, but it only leads to the laughably “terrifying” twist ending.

Bava flutters his trademark eye for visual flamboyance, seemingly unaware that he has almost no budget and a cast of untalented hacks. In fact, the international medley of actors was unable to communicate with each other or the director. Bava just let them speak whatever language they were comfortable with (legend has it that some scenes originally have four different languages being mumbled) and then [poorly] dubbed over them later. The props are a couple of sorry scraps left over from other films, and set designer Giorgio Giovannini was forced to use mirrors, multiple-exposures, creative relighting and varied camera angles to give the impression of a large landscape. When it works, it works, and when it doesn’t, it’s certainly quite amusing.

.

Though campy, “Planet of the Vampires” is often credited with helping inspire many serious sci-fi horror outings. The synthetic black uniforms, for instance, with their yellow trim and lightning bolt insignias would influence costume design for decades to come. One of the most famous sequences, where crewmembers from the Argos find the derelict debris and skeletal frames of a giant doomed forbearer (long ago killed by the same power that has trapped them), is cited as an influence on the H. R. Giger set designs in “Alien.”

Rank: 21
Title: Rabid
Director: David Cronenberg

Country: Canada

Year: 1977
Review:
Cronenberg’s low-budget second feature is a vampire-themed voyage into body-horror that is not for the squeamish. Rose (porn star Marilyn Chambers) is the victim of a ugly motorcycle crash in the quiet countryside. As she lies in critical condition at an experimental plastic surgery lab, a pair of doctors make the ethically dubious decision to try out their latest method in a bid to save her. Their grafts of highly adaptive tissue are miraculously successful, but have unpleasant Cronenberg-esque side-effects, like an evil orifice that opens in her armpit and a phallic stinger that emerges to suck blood.

Rose, now an unwitting abomination, breaks free to feed on the populace, which spreads a rage-inducing bloodlust disease that soon threatens all humanity. Securing any possible chance of survival requires locating the haywire patient amidst the nightmare of bloodthirsty zombies (similar in nature to “28 Days Later”).

.

This grim, gore-soaked shocker is not as well written, shot or directed as other Cronenberg films (even his earlier “Shivers” is better), but it’s hard to care when the point is the grisly mayhem and unashamed violence luxuriously poured before the spectator’s eye. Rarely (outside the 70’s indie circuit) do even horror films ever get so unremittingly pessimistic. The cinematography is dirty and grainy, but packs the immediacy of a news camera capturing a bloody riot. The story is rather simple, short and nasty, but suffices to set up one terrifying scene after another. There is just enough sympathy earned by the monster and her string of male morsels for the audience to care, and a handful of unsubtle commentaries on sexual and social behaviors to make you think – if you want to.

Review of Dracula: Pages from a Virgin's Diary

First of all, I should mention/warn that there has been a recent slowdown in my writing, which will probably increase the spacing in my posts for a little while. I have been busy working on another computer program (see Delivergrid and Urban Blight) and when it is finished I will make it available as usual on this site. It isn't movie-related (again, as usual), but the topic (cryptography) has been of great recent interest for me. And now onto the review!

Over the years there have been many interesting interpretations and appropriations of the vampire mythology (see “Martin” (1978) for instance), but very few of them have been ballets. Canadian director Guy Maddin’s version is. Other films have updated Bram Stoker original tale for the modern day, Maddin’s 2002 “Dracula: Pages from a Virgin’s Diary” adapts the Royal Winnipeg Ballet’s version of the popular story for an audience of the past. Specifically, a silent era audience.

After a credit sequence of faces superimposed onto antique frames, the film kicks off with a faux-alarmist series of intertitles lamenting the “invasion” of Britain from the East. “Immigrants! Others, from Other Lands!” With typical Maddin absurdity, his vampire tale masquerades as a metaphor for xenophobia, a sentiment not treated with much seriousness by the director, but granting the film an impression of subtextual hysteria.

[Image: Evil blood, of course, represents the oozing encroachment of Oriental/occult influence.]

Lucy Westernra (subtle) is the first of Dracula’s victims. Her newfound reckless behavior manifests itself at a ballroom dance where she playfully rejects three suitors in favor of Renfield (an asylum patient who eats bugs) while swinging on a suspended chair. After biting her fiancé and collapsing from illness, Dr. Van Helsing is called in and you can guess his diagnosis.

A long series of blood transfusions restores some rosiness to Lucy’s cheek, but a bed full of garlic can’t save her from that night’s invasion of gargoyles. Dracula is mistakenly invited into the home by Lucy’s dying mother (who then dies) and is reunited with his chosen midnight bride. The vampified Lucy goes on a baby-killing, man-seducing streak before Van Helsing catches on and leads a posse to free her soul from her animated corpse.

[Image: It’s like Where’s Waldo but with Waldo replaced by a Victorian belle and the elaborate scenery replaced by garlic cloves.]

Having staked his beautiful foe a few times over, Van Helsing determines to get to the real (other) heart of his troubles, by tracking down Dracula. Torturing Renfield proves fruitful, revealing that the next victim is Lucy’s friend Mina. She has recently set out for a convent where she hopes to nurse her fiancé, Jonathon Harker, the diary-writing virgin of the title. The two lovers get interrupted barely a dance number after their reunion by the caped Asiatic vampire. Van Helsing arrives and together with Harker he sets off to Dracula’s lair.

Fans of Maddin’s work will already be quite familiar with the general style: black and white cinematography with low-key (high contrast) lighting, color tinting, irising, vignetting, expressive acting and intertitles. Everything you could want to recreate the look and feel of vintage silent era European cinema. The visual extremities are a mixed bag. While I liked the dyes and soft edges, it didn’t seem to have much consistency, meaning or added value.

The CG enhancements range from pleasantly subtle (I love the gentle pink of Lucy’s cheek as she starts to revive, romantic but with a hint of the darker blood-tones more frequently shown) to painfully distracting (Dracula shoots his red cape at the scene for one transition). A scene involving computer-inserted snow lacked any sense of depth and ruined the atmosphere by having camera movement. Unfortunately, the snowflakes unnaturally parallel the camera and appear to move horizontally in perfect uniformity. Generally I think that the CG should have been avoided where it draws attention to itself, clashing with the otherwise olden techniques.

Maddin brings his trademark idiosyncratic humor, overturning the cinematic conventions of yore with nods and winks at his audience. There are plenty of sly absurdist touches like the sign of the cross transformed into a dance move or a castle gate with loaded with overt sexual symbolism.

The central gimmick around which the film revolves (beyond the antiquated style) is the ballet choreography set to Gustav Mahler. Viewers can either admire the ballet for its own sake or at least appreciate its unusual application. Standouts include a synchronized exorcism, pole-dancing gargoyles and a line of dancing men exploring a cave with choreographed flashlight movements.

Though highly original, ambitious and well executed, one can’t help but feel that the ballet could have been so much more. None of the sequences stands out as a brilliant show-stopper and most suffer from a bit of a repetitive encirclement motif. Though the cast is comprised primarily of the original theatrical ballet performers, nothing particularly impressive or eye-catching happens in the choreography other than synchronization. At 75 minutes, the film is far from tedious, but more effort could have been done to innovate and vary the routines.

Another problem is that Maddin’s style does not particularly compliment the dancing. His quick and choppy editing and virtuoso cinematography distract from the performances and reduce whatever expert choreography is going on into a sequence of blurred (courtesy of Vaseline applied to the lens), fogged, softly-focused, overshadowed, brief and jarring images. The clarity and grace of the dancing is often undermined unnecessarily. While other films, like his 2000 short “The Heart of the World” used the quick cutting to imitate/celebrate/lampoon Soviet Eisenstein techniques, the speed feels inappropriate here. In some sequences, like the one involving pole-dancing gargoyles, the full potential for visual humor or even artistic admiration was lost in the obscuring darkness and some important shots are even outright eclipsed by foreground material.

So while the film easily sustains itself and provides no lack of stylish atmosphere cobbled from gothic literature, German Expressionism and Maddin’s lush imagination, it felt like it didn’t fully cash in on its premise and potential. The narrative is disjointedly divided into two halves, Lucy’s and Mina’s, with neither really rising above the oft-told story or seriously attempting deeper levels. The dancing is enjoyable, but not breath-taking. The visuals are arresting, yet not fully polished are well integrated. The dry humor and dense surrealism are probably the highlight, but they don’t live up to the Canadian’s masterpiece, “The Saddest Music in the World” (2003).

Fans of Maddin, ballet or vampires should definitely see this film. For others it will probably be more of an interesting artistic oddity (a fever dream according to the film) than an entertaining or enlightening experience. It gave me a much-needed dose of one of my favorite directors, almost enough to cure the sorrow at finding out Maddin’s latest work, “Brand Upon the Brain” (May 2007), will not be coming to any theaters in Kansas or Missouri.

Walrus Rating: 7