4th Feb Removal
WHAT a generic title! I know my memory for names was never the best, even before I took all those bumps off the top rope, but I've been calling it 'Retrieval', 'Revival', 'Resolved'...Still, boring title, generic cover and misleading Lovefilm synopsis aside (and they have the WORST synopsis writers on god's green earth; they could make Gone With the Wind sound like Mandingo), this one was actually worth my time. I am made of surprise.
Though it was obviously made for less money than Avatar's second unit's weekly doughnuts and coffee expenditure, it actually looks good; had a real camera! Possibly more than one! And still my heart, a microphone that picks up dialogue! Le swoon. Also, real actors that have been in other things, including Billy Burke: yes, Bella Swan's perennially-nonplussed father from the Twilight Saga; known affectionately to Rifftrax fans as Mustache Dad! He is one of the few things (apart from copious alcohol or a recent concussion) that makes sitting through any of those wimped-down-high-school-Langella-Dracula fanfilms bearable to a viewer whose age or IQ reaches double digits, and he's quite the dawg in this one too; yes, a mustache is evident, plus beard, and so at various times are a rather nice suit, and some unsuspectedly-rocking tattoos.
Louche Mustache is the cooler associate of a sad little schlub with a distracting resemblance to Sam Raimi after a fortnight without sleep (after the reviews of Spiderman 3, for example), who's having a really bad time of things. Glum Raimi's on the outs with his missus and son, and appears to be having some version of PTSD that led to him being institutionalised for a while (under the care of oh hi Elliott Gould; thanks for keeping your shirt buttoned up this time), and now has him under on the sort of heavy-duty medication regimen that means he probably shouldn't drive, drink alcohol or operate heavy machinery. It's okay, though; he's found a cleaning job where he drives from house to house with a large industrial vacuum cleaner. Oh. Well, don't worry; at least he won't take the offer from the wealthy douche householder at his newest job (who's paying him $5,000 cash off the books to clean the whole house right here, no questions asked, and including the suspiciously pinkish stains on the white shag rug) to share several bottles of rich dick's mysteriously-missing-wife's red wine, though? Oh. He makes poor decisions, is what I'm saying here; is that coming across?
Well, I'm sure the one-percenter-prick is just catching up with some overdue spring cleaning, what with all the heavy steamer trunks being shifted around, and there's no sinister implication to be drawn from privileged twatwaffle's butcher-knife fondling, and bottle-smashing fits of rage. At all. I must confess that imperious arsehole was the highlight of the film for me, and what a tall cool drink of paraffin he is; imagine that someone built a robot duplicate of Stephen King (quite poorly), then programmed it to be nothing but an arrogant jackass with a smug face you'd like to rearrange with a pickaxe handle. He's played by Oz Perkins [elephant in the room lives here], who also has a co-writer credit, and I choose to believe that he wrote his own dialogue, because it rings out of his mouth like Donald Trump tossing a fake nickel into a blind man's cup.
I like this one; the plot turns, but does not swerve, it's funny, and seldom runs out of steam, or into the 'yes, I know what's coming, sweet lord, can we just GET THERE, thankyou?' that seems to be a hazard with many thrillers that aren't quite as clever as they think they are. It deserves to be watched by more people than just (judging by the IMDB's "People who liked this also liked..." recommendations) Kelly Brook completists and/or chronic masturbators.
Showing posts with label 500 films in 50 weeks; needs a catchier label. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 500 films in 50 weeks; needs a catchier label. Show all posts
Tuesday, 4 February 2014
Thursday, 30 January 2014
Film is cheap, but talent is expensive
The Great American Snuff Film
Hmm, so; the 'Great' 'American' 'Snuff' 'Film', eh? Well, it's definitely...American, I suppose.
As for the rest...A more accurate title might be 'Cheap American Student Film', since it's firmly in the "We gots a camera, a scrapyard, and we know two girls willing to roll around on the floor covered in fake blood? We gots a MOVIE!" school of film-making.
In the place where a plot would normally be, we have two social rejects (thin Adam Savage and his accomplice, mid-90s WCW undercard wrestler who's taken one too many chairshots to the noggin), lots of wrecked cars, and two female friends of the production tied up on a trailer floor in shorts and tanktops.
They (and we) waste time with clumsy molestation attempts from the lost Dudley Brother, and 'brandings' with obviously-not-lit cigarettes that leave no burn marks, while waiting for Monotone Man to cease his endless voiceover droning and get around to killing them. It does make few feeble attempts to add in some True Crime-y details (David Parker Ray and Lake and Ng, mostly), and even claims to end (after the 'film' itself finally sputters to a halt) with some 'authentic snuff footage', but if you believe that tall tale, then I have this (guaranteed-not-swamp)land in Florida that I can sell you...
Hmm, so; the 'Great' 'American' 'Snuff' 'Film', eh? Well, it's definitely...American, I suppose.
As for the rest...A more accurate title might be 'Cheap American Student Film', since it's firmly in the "We gots a camera, a scrapyard, and we know two girls willing to roll around on the floor covered in fake blood? We gots a MOVIE!" school of film-making.
In the place where a plot would normally be, we have two social rejects (thin Adam Savage and his accomplice, mid-90s WCW undercard wrestler who's taken one too many chairshots to the noggin), lots of wrecked cars, and two female friends of the production tied up on a trailer floor in shorts and tanktops.
They (and we) waste time with clumsy molestation attempts from the lost Dudley Brother, and 'brandings' with obviously-not-lit cigarettes that leave no burn marks, while waiting for Monotone Man to cease his endless voiceover droning and get around to killing them. It does make few feeble attempts to add in some True Crime-y details (David Parker Ray and Lake and Ng, mostly), and even claims to end (after the 'film' itself finally sputters to a halt) with some 'authentic snuff footage', but if you believe that tall tale, then I have this (guaranteed-not-swamp)land in Florida that I can sell you...
I only hope that none of these clowns has a wife/partner/mother that needed them to repaint the spare room, clear the yard or refinish the basement in the weekend this film took to make; that would be the saddest thing of all...
Tuesday, 21 January 2014
Why does it burn when I slash?
19th January The Burning
I told you it was a Miramax film! In fact, their very first. Just a bit different from their era of "Yo, middle classes: here's a book and some frocks, now give me a frigging Oscar", but still, it's all cool; New Line like to pretend they're not the House That Freddy Krueger Built, too.
One from my 'Somehow, I have never managed to actually watch this' list; I know, you'd think I would have, since it's a summer camp slasher film from the early 80s, with Tom Savini on the makeup duties; why am I not already there, at least since it's been available uncut for the last couple of years here in the UK? Part of my 'thinking' behind this 500 films in 50 weeks project is to have a whole year of 'one day's; as in "I'll have to get around to watching that one day".
Well, for The Burning, that 'one day' is today; witness the touching and doubtless Oscar-bait story of how grumpy drunk camp caretaker has his face accidentally burned off (don't mix naked flames and grain alcohol, kids!), is unsuccessfully rehabilitated, and (after a brief stopoff on the set of Maniac, apparently, in order to pick up a hooker, and butcher her when his melty-face look fails to turn her on) returns to the campsite to slaughter every mother's son in the place
How does it measure up against the campsite slasher subgenre's Ur-Text, Friday the 13th?, or the swaths of subsequent knockoffs?We have the Summer camp setting of course; an open and active one this time, that appears to cover ages 10 to mid-20s, or early-40s if you factor in the camp counsellors (even with hair, Jason Alexander does not look under 35). There is smoking of dope, and dipping of skinny, and pointing of view...or possibly viewing of point...? Anyway! killer's POV, with heavy breathing, and shears in shot. Effects are stellar, of course: SAVINI; need I add more? With a splendid burn makeup on the vexed caretaker-killer Cropsy (that makes Two-Face from The Dark Knight look like even more of the CG howler it truly is - how come his eyeball doesn't fall out?), and a jawdropping scene (restored for the first time in the UK) that de-builds a raft full of growing bodies 50 different ways in 5 minutes.
Unusually, the film is a lot more 'ethnic' than the homogenised norm for camper-slayers; though there are still fewer non-white faces than the front row at a Trace Adkins concert, at least everyone ISN'T a Gentile; including the Final Boy, who's more Leo Sayer than Jamie Lee, and sports an awesome Kotter 'fro that could deflect chainsaw blades on its own, and in a pinch can be used to hide small woodland creatures.
I told you it was a Miramax film! In fact, their very first. Just a bit different from their era of "Yo, middle classes: here's a book and some frocks, now give me a frigging Oscar", but still, it's all cool; New Line like to pretend they're not the House That Freddy Krueger Built, too.
One from my 'Somehow, I have never managed to actually watch this' list; I know, you'd think I would have, since it's a summer camp slasher film from the early 80s, with Tom Savini on the makeup duties; why am I not already there, at least since it's been available uncut for the last couple of years here in the UK? Part of my 'thinking' behind this 500 films in 50 weeks project is to have a whole year of 'one day's; as in "I'll have to get around to watching that one day".
Well, for The Burning, that 'one day' is today; witness the touching and doubtless Oscar-bait story of how grumpy drunk camp caretaker has his face accidentally burned off (don't mix naked flames and grain alcohol, kids!), is unsuccessfully rehabilitated, and (after a brief stopoff on the set of Maniac, apparently, in order to pick up a hooker, and butcher her when his melty-face look fails to turn her on) returns to the campsite to slaughter every mother's son in the place
How does it measure up against the campsite slasher subgenre's Ur-Text, Friday the 13th?, or the swaths of subsequent knockoffs?We have the Summer camp setting of course; an open and active one this time, that appears to cover ages 10 to mid-20s, or early-40s if you factor in the camp counsellors (even with hair, Jason Alexander does not look under 35). There is smoking of dope, and dipping of skinny, and pointing of view...or possibly viewing of point...? Anyway! killer's POV, with heavy breathing, and shears in shot. Effects are stellar, of course: SAVINI; need I add more? With a splendid burn makeup on the vexed caretaker-killer Cropsy (that makes Two-Face from The Dark Knight look like even more of the CG howler it truly is - how come his eyeball doesn't fall out?), and a jawdropping scene (restored for the first time in the UK) that de-builds a raft full of growing bodies 50 different ways in 5 minutes.
Unusually, the film is a lot more 'ethnic' than the homogenised norm for camper-slayers; though there are still fewer non-white faces than the front row at a Trace Adkins concert, at least everyone ISN'T a Gentile; including the Final Boy, who's more Leo Sayer than Jamie Lee, and sports an awesome Kotter 'fro that could deflect chainsaw blades on its own, and in a pinch can be used to hide small woodland creatures.
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