E-Film News: Blood Runs Cold

A snowy retreat turns into a fight for survival in Swedish horror Blood Runs Cold (2011)

You'd think that beautiful twenty-somethings would have learned to stop visiting dark, creaky houses in the middle of the night by now, but as a horror fan I'm glad they haven't. In fact, they're at it again in Blood Runs Cold, a new Swedish slasher in the classic mould of Carpenter's Halloween (1978). The last blood-soaked Swedish export to reach UK shores was Tomas Alfredson's Let The Right One In (2008), a beautiful coming-of-age vampire movie, but this looks like more of a full-on limb-lopping affair, and y'know what? I can't wait. According to the press notes, the story goes like this...

Following a busy year of relative success in the record business, Winona heads back to her tiny hometown in the remote outskirts of Stockholm to stay at a house her manager has rented where she can relax alone and hopefully find inspiration to write some new songs. As a snowstorm brews and night begins to fall, she manages to find the house but is disappointed to discover it's not the luxurious retreat she was expecting.

Shortly after settling in, Winona becomes unsettled by the creepy creaking sounds of the old house and decides to head to a bar in town for refreshments and some company. There, she bumps into a former boyfriend and a couple he knows and invites them back to the house for a few drinks. At the end of the night, with everyone either too drunk or too tired to drive home, they decide to crash until morning. But as the four friends prepare to sleep, an unknown presence stirs within the house, one that has been watching and waiting for the moment to strike.

What's obvious from the trailer (viewable below) is that director Sonny Laguna is pulling no punches. The trailer indicates a healthy blend of dread-filled atmosphere and bloody axe murders, and both seem to come at a pretty unrelenting pace! Indeed, at a brief 80 minutes this looks to be a return to the classic slasher formula, but with added (frost)bite for good measure. Shot on a shoestring $5,000 budget, Laguna is clearly realising a passion project here, and he seems to have pulled off a rip-roaring success. The film is available to buy on DVD from October 3rd, and I should have a review coming for you soon. Stay tuned...

VHS Quest #12. The Legend Of Billie Jean (Matthew Robbins, 1985)

Hit me with your best shot... The Legend Of Billie Jean (1985)

"ATTICA! ATTICA! ATTICA!" roared Al Pacino to the protesting mobs in Sidney Lumet's sweltering heist drama Dog Day Afternoon (1975), perfectly encapsulating the reactionary social conscience of 70's cinema. The silver screen took up arms in these turbulent times, raising a big V sign to the establishment, taken to mean "fuck you, and thanks for nothing." But the 1980's - largely defined by cheesy romance, big hair and epic choruses - saw America settle down and give rise to its youth. MTV was launched in 1981, and computers entered the home shortly afterward. Not only did somebody care about what teenagers had to say, but they were actually helping them to say it (case-in-point: John Hughes). In 1983 Cyndi Lauper released her hit single 'Girls Just Want To Have Fun'. Just like the boys, they did, but liberty took a hit in 1985 when international superstar Rock Hudson died of AIDS (many teen dramas would later deal with the repercussions). This was also the year that The Legend Of Billie Jean - a cynically engineered kids vs. adults flick tailor-made for the Generation X crowd - hit cinemas. Like so many others, Billie Jean Davy (Helen Slater; future Supergirl) was idealistic and hopeful of life. Some jerk broke her brother Binx's (Christian Slater) scooter. All she wanted was the $608 owed in damages, but instead she got the adventure of a lifetime...

Actually, that last statement is a little misleading, and my reductionist history of two decades hardly provides sufficient context, but this is a review, not an essay, and I simply think it's important to get a feel for the time Billie Jean came from. Let's expand the plot. Binx's scooter is stolen by local asswipe Hubie (Barry Tubb), who appears to have never matured past fifth grade, where he was likely that bully who always took your lunch money. The strong-headed (and bleach blonde) Binx fights to reclaim his scooter, but comes home bloodied and bruised with the vehicle in matching condition. The next day Billie Jean takes a bill for $608 to Hubie's father, Mr. Pyatt (Richard Bradford), who instead insists on raping her over weekly installments starting at $50. Turns out the apple doesn't rot too far from the tree. Naturally she fights back and Binx shoots the scumbag in the shoulder ("he said it wasn't loaded!"). They become outlaws and yada, yada, yada - you can pretty much pick it up from here. It's worth mentioning though that two of Billie and Binx's friends tag along for the ride; Ophelia (Martha Gehman) and Putter (Yeardly Smith, voice of Lisa Simpson), seemingly for the purpose of rationale and comic relief respectively.

All you really need to know about Robbins' film is that its title originates from the Michael Jackson single (simply Billie Jean) which in 1983 made MTV an overnight sensation. Seeing as this movie is nothing but a fusion of popular song and wardrobe selections from the channel's heyday, involving a plotline where the kids successfully rebel and all adults are either cops or perverts, it's no wonder that the film fell flat on its ass at the box office. The Legend Of Billie Jean is Exhibit A in the case of what happens when studio execs try to get down with the kids, and its reputation as nothing but an advert for MTV withstands - but y'know what? I kinda liked it anyway...

Because for all of its flaws - and boy, you'll need two hands to count 'em - Billie Jean is actually a really fun little flick, and its naivety proves quite charming. The screenplay develops Billie and Binx into believably rounded characters, and although it also takes certain liberties for the sake of entertainment - the cringing sight of Binx in drag pops to mind - they're generally quite consistent too. You buy Billie as the pretty, vulnerable Texan gal, but you also buy her as a determined and confident young woman who has been forced by society to grow into tougher skin. The zipper jacket, arm band and cropped hair are a little superficial, but Slater (a terrific actress) make a real effort to dig deeper, and I'd be lying if I didn't say I was behind her all the way. It's her performance which the film really relies on, and thankfully she's up to the task. It's also interesting to see Keith Gordon pop up here, playing a bored rich kid who offers himself as a hostage to get closer to Billie. Gordon was actually a pretty solid actor during this time, having appeared in killer car flick Christine (Carpenter, 1983) the year before. But he's most notable for his underrated directing career, so let me take this opportunity to point again toward Waking The Dead (2000), one of my all-time favorite films.

The great thing about Billie Jean is that even the scenes which don't work are entertaining, such as when a neighborhood of kids recruit Billie to save one of their friends who is being beaten by his father. "You're really her" he says, suddenly cowering in fear. It's a false note, but what's important is that the filmmakers have their heart in the right place; it's about empowerment. There's another awkward moment where a bystander turns his hand to bounty hunting, resulting in a car chase which ends with Putter getting her first period. "When do I get a diaphragm?" she asks, as the audience retreats into a place of deep discomfort. But again, there's a real sincerity to that scene, and kudos to the filmmakers for trying it out - they're really attempting to connect with that younger audience, and their failure is an incredibly respectful one. The film ultimately ends on a moral charge, and that's disappointing, but it's certainly so much better than most would have you believe. In fact, Pat Benatar, who wrote the theme song 'Invincible', often refers to this as the worst film ever made. A critic she is not.

In retrospect we can clearly pinpoint what went wrong with Billie Jean, and it's simply that trends were changing at a faster rate than the studios could keep up with. 1985's other big draw was Back To The Future (Robert Zemeckis), in which a geeky college kid travels time and gets the girl. MTV struck gold with that one too when Huey Lewis And The News' 'The Power Of Love' became a hit off the back of the film's popularity. But a later song from their discography better defines the MTV crowd: Hip To Be Square. Indeed, Generation X just weren't the rebellious type. This, ladies and gentlemen, was the time of the nerd. A time when Michael Anthony Hall could be a star. Now he'd be the comic relief in a film where perfectly formed furnishings like Taylor Lautner would play the lead and get the girl. For shame.

Starship Troopers (Paul Verhoeven, 1997) Blu-Ray Mini-Review

Yeah, I think we'd better run... Casper Van Dien stars in Starship Troopers (1997)

Wickedly blending class politics, militarist satire and bloody bug-splattering action, Paul Verhoeven's sci-fi spectacular has gained a true cult following over the years, now regarded by some as the last great science-fiction film of our time. It's easily watched as a high-calorie slice of B-grade monster movie pie, but Starship Troopers actually works on multiple levels, and makes several interesting comments on the perception of war...

Consider it. The 'enemy' bugs are never defined characteristically, and the film keeps us ignorant to their origins and intentions. It seems clear in this futuristic world, where humanity has pioneered combat-equipped spacecraft and a military unit to boot, that we ignited the conflict. The Federation have the ability to mobilize and colonize, and my guess is that one day they discovered a primitive species which knew nothing of technology, and so sought to defend themselves. I propose that we started this war, yet the film is definitively one-sided in who its heroes are. The bugs are a (literally) faceless enemy, representing nothing but a threat on white middle-class life in a clean, fascist utopia. Free of litter, upward built, filled with smart, genetically beautiful people - this is a world that works, and I shudder to consider the secrets it has brushed under a governmental carpet to thrive in the way that it has. There's a good chance that we're the bad guys.

The film is loosely based on Robert A. Heinlein's 1959 novel Starship Troopers (originally published as a magazine serial under the title Starship Soldier), but pays little attention to its story or politics. Verhoeven has his eye turned to America, perfectly embodied by Casper Van Dien's patriotic chisel-jawed hero Rico. But the screenplay is also smart enough to create convincing human relationships, and despite some cornball lines and clichéd situations the love triangles and competitive camaraderie work well; they build up characters we care about, and whose fates bring weight to the action. Speaking of action - it's some of the best ever filmed. Mixing of state-of-the-art CGI with practical models, the film still looks absolutely breathtaking, and the siege set-piece (you'll never forget it) makes incredible use of space, employing impeccable mise-en-scène to get a geographical sense of the action, and gauge the intensity of the threat. It's action on an epic scale; bloody and exciting.

So, it turns out that Starship Troopers is worthy of its weighty reputation. Before tonight's viewing I hadn't seen the film since my adolescent Channel 5 years, when the satire flew right over my bug-eyed head. Now I see it for what it is: pure jingoistic camp, locked n' loaded and with tongue firmly in cheek. And boy, do I love it.

The Disc/Extras

Incredible image and sound; I'm constantly blown away by the clarity of Blu-Ray, and Starship Troopers is one of my best experiences to date. The special effects were first-class for their time, but what's remarkable is how well they stand next to some of today's blockbusters. I was forced to consider a few I'd seen this year - On Stranger Tides (Marshall, 2011) and Green Lantern (Campbell, 2011) for example - and Verhoeven's film looks better than all of them. Extras include scene specific commentary, a short Making Of doc, the original theatrical trailer and screen tests from Casper Van Dien and Denise Richards. A little vanilla, but solid enough.

Once Upon A Time In The West (Sergio Leone, 1968) Blu-Ray Review

Men born for dying... Charles Bronson (left) and Henry Fonda (right) in Once Upon A Time In The West (1968)

"The rhythm of the film was intended to create the sensation of the last gasps that

a person takes just before dying. 'Once Upon A Time In The West' was, from start

to finish, a dance of death."

- Sergio Leone.

Once Upon A Time In The West opens on a moment of fleeting serenity, disrupted suddenly by an amplified soundscape of fear. Were it not for the appearance of three men (Woody Strode, Jack Elam, Al Mulock) these deafening sounds would not even be audible. The slow dripping of copper water, beating at the rim of a hat. The incessant buzzing of a hungry fly, attracted to the leader's stubble. The slow cracking of a pair of knuckles, soon to be clenched around the helve and trigger of a gun. It is the impatience and anxiety of these men which draw attention to the most ordinary of sounds, now suspended in the dense atmosphere. Composer Ennio Morricone had originally devised an orchestral score for this sequence, but the irritation of a creaky old mill builds a sense of dread impossible to recreate through music. Rasp. Buzz. Crack. And then, two hours behind schedule, a train rolls into its station, carrying with it a passenger known only as Harmonica (Charles Bronson). This branding is typically literal of the Western genre, naming a character after the audience's sole identification with their person. Why, we ask ourselves, does Leone linger upon this ambiguous figure? Harmonica stares intensely, unmoved by the chance of death. "He not only plays", says Cheyenne (Jason Robards), later in the film. "He can shoot too." This much is also proven by the opening, as a simmering blister of animosity erupts into a gust of quick-cut violence, leaving the three assailants stone cold on the station floor (most bodies in the film are observed in aftermath). Woody Strode was once a staple of John Ford's Westerns. It would seem deliberate that Leone kills him in the opening minutes...

This scene also introduces key motifs which Leone will repeat throughout the film - not just the amplification of sound, but also the juxtaposition of extreme close-ups with magnificent landscape shots, such as the crane shot which first establishes the town of Flagstone. The second scene is structurally similar to the first, as Brett McBain (Frank Wolff) awaits the arrival of his new bride Jill (Claudia Cardinale). A great feast has been prepared for this occasion, and the family are united in celebration. Characters once again inhabit a silent landscape, where even the smallest of sounds arouse an audible echo. It soon becomes clear that they are not alone, and after another flurry of violence (the camera sweeps past the action with something approaching carelessness) we are introduced to Frank (Henry Fonda), hired gun of disabled railroad tycoon Morton (Gabriele Ferzetti), whose very name suggests death. The camera at first focuses on Fonda's intoxicatingly blue eyes, ordinarily associated with kindness and heroism. His duster coat dances in the wind. Brett and Maureen (Simonetta Santaniello) lie bleeding as little Timmy (Enzo Santaniello) stares down the barrel of a revolver. Morricone's score has now kicked in, playing Frank's main theme (a distorted guitar later to be homaged by Hans Zimmer in John Woo's US films). We know what's going to happen, not only because Frank represents an unambiguous evil, but also because this entire scene has continued the established structure of the first. Frank fires a round, and Fonda's screen image was forever changed.

It would be easy for me to essay the rest of the film in this fashion, but I don't wish to delay your viewing any further. It's a truly extraordinary work, impeccably structured and designed, and for my money remains the greatest Western ever made. It approaches the West (not yet defined, for Flagstone is a town under construction) romantically, especially in the way it references classics such as High Noon (Zinnermann, 1952) and Johnny Guitar (Ray, 1954), which Dario Argento and Bernardo Bertolucci specifically worked into their treatment. Morricone composed the entire score before filming began so that Leone could play it on location, and choreograph his camera around its rhythms. Consequently the film has an incredible poetry, often operatic in tone, and yet Leone doesn't rush toward the crescendo. He allows his characters to, as hinted by the quote which opens this review, dance their way to the inevitable. Both Harmonica and Frank have the chance to kill each other before their final duel ("I didn't let them kill him, and that's not the same thing"), but they understand that their day will come. These men were born for dying. It's this ritualistic pattern which Leone creates, wherein the fates of his characters are already decided, which lends the film a feeling of mourning. It mourns for the West itself, looking to the unreachable expanses of its landscape, its rocky foundations and frontier towns. And it also looks to the lone rangers, with vengance burning behind their eyes. It looks at their faces. Each one is perfectly composed, boxed into a frame which could resemble a coffin. Peckinpah would bring brutality to the West with The Wild Bunch (1969) the following year, but what he would miss is the pause for feeling; for the moment a man realizes that he's drawing his last breath, and accepts that this fate was likely brought about by his own actions. Violence begets violence. Never was this more true than in Once Upon A Time In The West...

The Disc/Extras

It'll come as no surprise to learn that Leone's masterpiece looks stunning on Blu-Ray. The 5.1 DTS-HD sound mix is crystal clear, perfectly enhancing the effect of those amplifications; Frank's theme will also thunder around your living room, stirring the darkest regions of your soul. The image has also been digitally remastered, but fans will be pleased to know that despite technical tinkering the film has lost none of its authenticity, and retains that dust-swept earthiness which creates such an unsettled atmosphere.

The extras have been directly ported from the 2003 Special Edition DVD, but they're pretty expansive and I suspect that any additional materials would only have covered old ground. The commentary, which includes filmmakers John Carpenter, John Milius, Alex Cox and Bernardo Bertolucci, star Claudia Cardinale, and film historians Sir Christopher Frayling and Dr. Sheldon Hall, is absolutely fascinating. Each has something of interest to say on a specific chapter or scene in the film, and the track perfectly balances information on the production history, theoretical context (pinpointing Leone's references in the Western genre), shot-by-shot analysis, and friendly anecdotes, most of which are fresh (or at least were at the time of recording). It's truly captivating, and undoubtedly one of the finest commentaries I've ever heard.

Elsewhere there are three documentaries, 'An Opera Of Violence', 'The Wages Of Sin' and 'Something To Do With Death', which all cover similar ground to the commentary, but are still highly watchable.

The original theatrical trailer is a given, but the package is rounded off by a production stills gallery (Bronson's steely gaze consumes most frames, as does the beautiful Cardinale), and also a gallery of then-and-now shots from key locations in the film. This is perhaps nothing more than a nostalgic slideshow, but fans will be interested to see how little some of the environments have changed; indeed, the McBain house still stands in almost perfect condition. There's also a short doc on railroads, which details their history and place in the cinema. A fun little feature, and it finishes off an essential package.

Once Upon A Time In The West rides onto Blu-Ray on September 5th.

Attenberg (Athina Rachel Tsangari, 2010) Review

Touching from a distance... the world of Attenberg (2010) proves a cold, disquieting place...

In 2005 Greek writer/director Athina Rachel Tsangari formed Haos, the Athens-based production office which in 2009 birthed Dogtooth (Giorgos Lanthimos), an incendiary drama about language, politics and planets; human or otherwise. Attenberg is Tsangari's second feature as director, and it (sort of) tells the story of 23-year-old Marina (Ariane Labed), who seems to have been raised in hermetic isolation by her architect father Spyros (Vangelis Mourikis). He looks upon the contemporary world with fear and disdain, referring to the twentieth century as "overrated." The landscape Marina now finds herself in feels somewhat like a blown-up scale model; the vision of a listless industrial town not yet fully realised, but still housing a form of life. Into Marina's life comes Bella (Evangelia Randou), a sexually advanced girl of similar age. In the opening scene they kiss with tongues. "It feels like a slug" declares a repelled Marina. Also in-tune with Dogtooth, Attenberg's aesthetic is distanced - almost sterilized - and shot through with a cold, indifferent lens. Blank and undefined spaces expand beyond the characters, appearing almost alien in nature. Lanthimos' film subtly revealed a company named KEOPE, who specialize in construction, housing and land development. Perhaps these worlds are connected? Perhaps the factory estates depicted in each film are in fact the same? Work doesn't seem to be moving very fast, which suggests a reflection on Greece's current economic climate.

I'm sorry to keep making comparison with Dogtooth (I know Tsangari doesn't like it) but there are so many ways in which the worlds feel connected that they're impossible to take apart. For example: an affectation toward and mispronunciation of language, disturbingly un-erotic sexual experimentation, a borderline incestuous father/daughter relationship, and finally a comment on species (Spyros at one point uses the phrase "we mammals", seemingly understanding humans and animals to be as one). Both films come from Haos. They share Thimios Bakatakis as cinematographer, and the engineer with whom Marina falls into bed with is played by Lanthimos. She doesn't love him, and I suspect she wouldn't know how to. It's possible that Marina is autistic, but nothing so specific is acknowledged in the screenplay. It seems certain that she has some kind of learning disability, and lives by instinct rather than intelligence. It also seems possible that she could have come from a home like the one in Dogtooth, where children are trained like dogs. Overall the film struck an odd note with me, somewhere between fascination and tedium. I'll say this: it's entirely inaccessible, but wholly compelling, and one of the most strikingly confident visions the cinema has produced in years.

The truth is, I don't really know what to think of Attenberg yet. I'm sure I like it more for having seen Dogtooth, and much of my fascination with Tsangari's film has arisen out of comparison with that one. I realize now how much I appreciate the precision of Lanthimos' vision, and the fact that his film never leaves Father's house (save for some obscured driving scenes and distanced shots of the factory). I think Attenberg's scope sometimes allows it to lose focus, and that its structure probably shouldn't allow for the amount of meandering Tsangari indulges in. I question her sincerity. But I think she has big plans for Haos, and even if it doesn't now, Attenberg will make sense in time. That time will be marked by vast colourless spaces, extending for miles beyond characters who are unshackled from the scholarly, sexual and moral principles of Earth. It's a New Wave alright, and I can't wait to see it develop...

The Shortlist: Best Movie Titles

The full list can be read at MultiMediaMouth: Best Movie Titles

Final Destination 5 (Steven Quale, 2011) Review

Yeah, I think we'd better run... disaster strikes again in Final Destination 5 (2011)

You can say one thing for Death: he doesn't hang around. It's not even 24 hours after a group of twenty-something co-workers (all impossibly attractive and sporting splatter-proof hair) have survived a tragic bridge collapse, and the Grim Reaper is already devising increasingly imaginative ways to bump them off. The group (assorted clichés) were going on a team building holiday, but halfway across the bridge Sam (Nicholas D'Agosto) has a premonition that they're all going to die. Yada, yada, yada - we've all been here before, and the price of your (3D) ticket will include some exposition of its own. Don't let that put you off though. After all, Death doesn't hang around...

I've always been a fan of the Final Destination franchise, and Part 5 mostly lived up to my weighty expectations. The formula itself is faultless: a fatal accident occurs, our protagonists escape and Death's ground rules for resettling the balance are established. Quale's shorthand is effective and from here the film slots tongue firmly into cheek, ramps up the suspense and lets rip with all manner of viscid executions. It's a wild ride with a wicked vein of dark humour, but most refreshing in this entry is the fact that everyone's game for a little self awareness. Jacqueline MacInnes Wood is incredibly beautiful as Olivia, the token hottie, but she's burdened by a pair of glasses. Because of this she's self conscious, and decides upon laser eye surgery. A lesser director would have exploited the actresses looks and the character's vacuity, such as the way cheerleaders were toasted at a tanning salon in FD3 (Wong, 2006), but he instead plays upon her human aspect - her insecurity. Olivia is a bitchy character but we sympathize with her, and the fear ratchets up when she's left alone with an eye exposed to major heat. Unable to move she begins screaming, and the camera closes in on her juicy orb. It's a deeply squirm-inducing scene, and I must admit to having felt quite uncomfortable. But then the film makes its fatal error...

I kid you not: every death is an anti-climax. Olivia's sequence inexplicably ends with her falling out of a window, and similarly womanizer Isaac (P.J. Byrne) gets squashed by a Buddha after several more interesting possibilities are abandoned. The first death belongs to gymnast Candice (Ellen Wroe), and Quale's setup is masterful. He establishes so many red herrings - a pin, water dripping near an exposed wire, a creaky exercise pole - that the audience is never sure where to look, and he protracts the sequence to unbearable lengths in order to elicit genuine tension. Several intakes of sharp breath later and the scene had ended. I won't reveal how, but it's unfathomably disappointing. There's real intelligence in the way Quale realizes his death traps, so it's a shame that he doesn't know how follow them through to a satisfying climax.

3D is perfunctory for most studio releases these days, but FD5 plays the technology for its strength: thrusting limbs into your lap. Flesh For Frankenstein (Morrissey, 1973) was the first film to realize 3D's true capabilities, employing the gimmick for slithering entrails and gloopy prosthetics. Even earlier than that were a series of sex films which used the pokey illusion to enhance the fleapit experience. It should speak volumes that the most successful 3D film of all time (financially speaking) is 1969's The Stewardesses (Silliman Jr.), a high-flying softcore sensation which promoted "leggy lovelies" as its unique selling point. Here a character is impaled onto a yacht and the 3D's emphasis on her still-beating heart provided one of several solid jump scares. The opening bridge collapse (specifically choreographed around the limitations of the technology) is a stunning sequence only improved by the way 3D utilizes space. Even the opening credits are a barrage of shattering glass, nails and knives, all set to a pumping score by Brian Tyler. There are no pretensions here - no talk of immersive worlds or supposed depth. It's all about that core concept: limbs in your lap.

The final scene links us back around to the original Final Destination (Wong, 2000) in an interesting but questionable way. It makes sense within the narrative framework of FD5, but poses difficulties for the chronology of the following four movies, and the new trilogy which will happen should Quale's film be a box office success. It's an ill-conceived concept, but I still can't wait for Part 6...