Fantasia 2016 Review: The Rupture

“Don’t fight it. Let it happen. This confusion is all part of the process.”

This advice is repeated, often in a beatific manner, by the mysterious group of captors who are intent on, among other things, helping the audience navigate the actual film. It has been a decade since Seven Shainberg’s previous film, Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus. He returns once again to defy expectations with, Rupture, a tight indie horror picture that poses big questions in a claustrophobic package.

Beleaguered single mom Renee is on the cusp of a get away from it all weekend, a skydiving trip with her girlfriend. After struggling with her son to get his homework done and drop him off at his father’s house, on the cusp of her weekend of freedom, her car is run off the road and she ends up strapped to a medical gurney in a laboratory compound in the middle of nowhere. In an alternating series of uncomfortable mind games by the mysterious cult of captors, and various escape attempts by Renee – who shows signs of impressive resilience under pressure – the film finds its rhythm in the three loud clacks of the heavy-door lock mechanism opening and closing between visits.

Noomi Rapace, an unconventional leading lady who often serves a spry chameleon on camera is no stranger to body horror. She endured one of the most wince-inducing sequences in recent mainstream cinema, namely the Xenomorph hysterectomy in Ridley Scott’s Prometheus. This might have been a key reason for her casting as the resourceful Renee, who blossoms, in her way, as she is seriously fucked with, both mentally and physically, by her captors. She is restrained, caressed, cajoled, subjected mercilessly to her worst fear (arachnophobes beware, Rupture would make a skin-crawly double bill with Dennis Villeneuve’s Enemy) and bears witness to scenes that would not be out of place in a Saw sequel.

Shainberg’s approach is to keep the body horror in kind of a mellow holding pattern (shades of his S&M approach in 2002’s Secretary). He wants us to wallow in Renee’s predicament without the kind of transparent gamesmanship typically involved in these sorts of genre pictures. We are allowed time to consider some of the questions the film asks, while the ‘nuclear-candy’ colour palette keeps our baser visual senses simulated. Cinematographer Karim Hussain pushes the envelope of his neon-carnival-nightmare work on Hobo With A Shotgun, by wedding it to the more subtle frame composition of something like 12 Angry Men. As Renee’s world is forced into ever smaller spaces, so too does the camera, which becomes lubricated with sweat and blood to allow for the squeeze. Some of this careful work is undermined by a few moments of picture-breaking CGI, which took me out of the movie hard enough to think about the wrong question, “was there a simpler, better way to show a certain key image?”

Nevertheless, Shainberg and his co-writer, Brian Nelson use the frame-work of an ‘escape-room’ narrative to probe the extremes of the human condition. How fear and trauma can destroy, but under particularly delicate circumstances, it can also temper towards greatness. Rapace is game with what the filmmakers are aiming to put her through, and she is ably supported (or rather manipulated) by a rogues gallery of top performers including Peter Stormare, Lesley Manville and Michael Chiklis, all of whom chew the scenery on Qualuudes. Are they aliens, religious nuts, government think-tank operatives, or highly resourced self-help enthusiasts? In the end the reasons matter less than one might think. In this kind of filmmaking, it is all the same process, only Shainberg bends things towards his own idiosyncratic ends.

Fantasia 2016 Review: Terraformars

I learned something from filmmaker Edgar Wright a long time ago, when he presented Riki-Oh! The Story of Ricky. There is a certain kind of narrative silliness in screenwriting that can only be labelled a ‘Why didn’t they do that in the first place?’ movie. Takashi Miike’s Manga adapted bug-hunt on Mars, Terraformars is ridiculous, grotesquely violent, card-board thin on both premise and characterization, and is a delightful second only to Riki-Oh, as exemplar of kind of film.

For several hundred years, the government has been terraforming Mars for colonization by importing significant amounts of moss and cockroaches to kick-start a biosphere and an ecosystem. Now that the planet is has the right climate for human habitation, there is the problem of getting rid of the bugs. To do this, a shady Tokyo executive, with an acute hair and fashion sense, is charged with hiring the scum of the earth – Yakuza, serial killers, illegal immigrants, teen prostitutes (!), hackers, and crooked cops – to eliminate the infestation on mars. This being a Japanese science fiction film, they are of course turned into a transforming (a play on the title Terraformars) Sentai team, each with their own special super-attack and wikipedia introduction screenshot. You see, the bug problem is one of hyper-accelerated evolution, these are not trillions of tiny little squash-able critters that run from the light, but a more movie-friendly problem of highly evolved CGI super-roach-men that exist on the surface in hordes. This explanation is almost redundant, because the movie is content with reams of exposition to everything, important or not, two or three times, in the very definition of goofy excess; a recent Miike tic, that has evolved out of control not unlike the bugs here.

Miike’s Sukiyaki Django Western was, at its core, about story and image appropriation from one country to another, he’s done his fair share of remakes (including 13 Assassins and Hara-Kiri) and his recent action nail-biter, Shield of Straw cheerfully pilfered the style and rhythm of Tony Scott. With Terraformars it is wholesale image-thievery of the science fiction of Ridley Scott.

The film opens in a Tokyo-sprawl version of Bladerunner (complete with the police driving flying Spinners), before moving into the aesthetics and plot points of Alien, Prometheus and even The Martian. No matter though, much of the homage remains second fiddle to Miike’s signature anarchy of ultra-violence. He has a CGI generated army of bugs that he can use as a World War Z zombie horde, a Power Rangers group melee, or a Street Fighter II one-on-one tango.

Interspersed throughout are Lost-styled flashbacks for the rogues gallery of ‘heroes.’ Some of these are distracting, because character motivation seems not the point here, but most of them are mercifully short, and the films nearly two hour runtime is not as punishing as many Manga adaptations.

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After the Credits Episode 193: Littlest Hobo Media Spew – June

Outcast; a possession thriller done right

Outcast; a possession thriller done right

Colleen is still MIA (something to do with a job that is making her super tired) so Dale (Letterboxd) and I (Letterboxd) forge ahead without her to talk about some of the stuff we’ve been enjoying of late – from the tube and all the great stuff currently on TV to what we’ve been reading and listening to.

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After the Hype #148 – Deadpool

postbanner2DEADPOOL

 

We’re joined by special guests Matt Lantrip and Chris Ortiz to discuss the Merc With A Mouth. That’s right, we’re talking DEADPOOL. No, not THAT Deadpool. The good one where his mouth isn’t sewn shut and he shoots lasers out of his eyes. This is the one where Negasonic Teenage Warhead steals all her scenes without speaking. THAT Deadpool. Chimichangas.

PLUGS: BUT THAT’S JUST MY OPINION PODCAST | TWITTER | PERSONAL TWITTER | INSTAGRAM

 

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Sunday Video Essay: The Darjeeling Ltd.

Everyone has a favorite Wes Anderson movie – or some just don’t like any of them. But for those that love to argue about which is his best, the only way you can be wrong is if you haven’t seen them all at least twice. Almost no other director is as auteur as Wes Anderson in my mind… OK, maybe Almodóvar, Wes Anderson is auteur in not just visuals, tones and style. He auteur in that his films (all of them; yes, even Fantastic Mr. Fox) take at least two viewings to fully take in. Love them or hate them, I insist you give them each a fair shake. And by fair shake I mean watch it again.

This fellow sticks by his Darjeeling Limited love. And I can support that. Even though Tenenbaums is still my personal favorite. Enjoy this defense piece Adrien Brody, Jason Schwartzman and Owen Wilson, starring in Wes Anderson’s The Darjeeling Limited.

 

Blu-Ray Review: The Ox-Bow Incident

Director: William A. Wellman
Screenplay: Lamar Trotti
Based on a Novel by: Walter Van Tilburg Clark
Starring: Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Frank Conroy, Anthony Quinn, William Eythe, Mary Beth Hughes, Marc Lawrence
Country: USA
Running Time: 75 min
Year: 1943
BBFC Certificate: PG


Back in the early days of Hollywood, up to the end of the 30’s, the western was primarily a B-movie genre. They tended to be cheap, throwaway bits of fun with a clean cut hero saving the girl or town from outlaws or Native Americans. Films like John Ford’s Stagecoach brought them out of the shadows though and they started to be big business, even if they were still fairly straight forward in terms of plot. William A. Wellman’s The Ox-Bow Incident in 1943 helped usher in a new era though. Bringing in darker themes, mirroring modern issues in this period setting, the film is thought to have been the first ‘psychological western’. It didn’t make much money at the box-office, but The Ox-Bow Incident received critical acclaim and helped pave the way for films that took ideas and storylines from film noir and transposed them to the wild west. Examples of this can be seen in Station West in 1948 and The Furies in 1950.

The Ox-Bow Incident opens with two cowboys, Gill Carter (Henry Fonda) and Art Croft (Harry Morgan), riding into the quiet Nevada town of Bridger’s Wells. They enter the local saloon and hear from local ranchers that there have been a spate of incidents of cattle-rustling recently and the culprits are still at large. After a bit of a drunken dust-up between Carter and one of the locals, a rider rushes into town to say that one of the townsfolk has been murdered and his cattle stolen. It seems clear which way the killer/s will be travelling, so the local men (and one not-so-feminine woman named Ma) come together to form a lynch mob to chase him down and put him to their own brand of ‘justice’. The local judge (Matt Briggs) and a good man named Arthur Davies (Harry Davenport) think the matter should be handled through the courts, but the mob won’t listen. Davies joins the group to try and steer them away from anything drastic, as do Carter and Croft, although they might only be joining to avoid any blame being put on them, being outsiders. Also joining the mob is ‘Major’ Tetley (Frank Conroy) and his soft-hearted, possibly homosexual son Gerald (William Eythe), who is being dragged along by his father to “make him a man”.

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