trryancy Reviews

I Spit on Your Grave (1978)

Any good intentions severely undermined

[1/10 · 18 September 2005]

In reading the reviews, I think it best to dispense with the plot summation. I feel compelled to comment due to how, time and time again, those driven to comment on this lurid, artless film keep missing a huge, glaring point- this film, when it gets down to it, is really more soft-core fetish porn than a film about righteous revenge. 'Day of the Woman' has got to be the cheapest, most cruelly hypocritical tagline ever.

The cover art on the video ought to be the first tip off- a woman, scantily clad in something torn and tight-fitting, scratched up and filthy, clutching a machete in her grubby, ravaged hand. But this woman has no face, not even a head, nor is there any man, her presumed rapist who's about to get it, present. The focal point in the picture is her mostly bare back, perky buns and taught thighs, not the woman herself, nor her experience, but her physical, sexual image. How now is that not extreme objectification, when the ravaged body, free from any personality, any human face, is blatantly eroticized- when THIS is the film's visual selling point? This is the absolute farthest thing from empowerment I can think of.

In the ensuing- and flimsy- story that follows- precious little time is spent on character development. All we are allowed to know about Jenny is that she is a New York writer who enjoys the great outdoors. Right away we get treated to a full-frontal and fully gratuitous nude scene, and it isn't very long afterward that the gang rape actually occurs. The rape itself is grueling, graphic, and painfully, unnecessarily long- it is this scene, not the killings, that are the climax of the film, indeed almost the whole point. After Jenny, left to die, manages to get it together, recuperate, and exact her revenge upon the scum that did this to her, it's all pretty dull from there on, actually. There is no effort on the director's part to build up any suspense, and the killings themselves are far less graphic and gory than the rapes, less detailed, and surprisingly occupy much less screen time than you expect. Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but Jenny delivers death with no relish, no triumph, no hesitation, or anguish- not one tenth of the emotional energy present during her violent gang-rapes, not even buy the guys getting whacked. Jenny could be knitting a sweater, for all the emotional expression in either her face or voice. Really, these were some of the most boring slayings I've ever seen in a horror film.

In the end, it's all about the rape, and you find yourself left with the feeling that this film is actually geared toward men who secretly find the visual image of rape kind of hot, and eases the guilt by letting the lady have her revenge, so they can pretend that's actually what they came for. It was what I, for one, came for, and was sorely disappointed. I can't think of one redeeming thing to say about this poorly acted, visually unappealing, lurid piece of celluloid. In fact, that probably IS the nicest thing I could have said about it.

Re-Animator (1985)

A craptastic cult classic

[4/10 · 15 April 2005]

Don't get me wrong- this movie blows. Yet, I can see why it's considered a cult classic. Some films are just so bad that they're good, so stupid they're brilliant; this is a perfect example of just that kind of magnanimous suckiness that makes you love a movie even though you know it's a piece of crap. 'The Re-animator' is to horror films what "Dr. Who" is to TV- lovably campy dreck.

This quality is apparent even from reading the plot synopsis on the back of the video cover: "Now Herbert West has a problem on his hands". Well, um, yeah! Most people's problems go something like, "Uh-oh, I 've overdrawn my bank account," or "Oh, great, a huge zit just before my big date!" But "Help, my legion of zombies are out of control, and they're turning against me!"- HUGE freakin' problem, if you ask me.

This film is pure camp, and shamelessly overdone. The creepy guy (Jeffrey Combs as Herbert West) is just too creepy for his own good- the ultimate geek-weirdo stereotype rolled into one, like Steve Urkul meets Dr. Frankenstein. It renders him amusing as opposed to scary, and yet still completely unlikeable.It's completely inexplicable why his nice, straight-arrow roommate gets sucked into his deviant experiments in resurrecting the dead (as the results yield no life, just violently reactive meatpuppets) and continues to stick by him even after every single experiment goes horribly, horribly wrong.

West, for his part, is somewhere between stubborn and just plain crazy- he brushes off the atrocities that follow his experiments, convinced that if he can just get the right specimen as quickly following the exact point of death as possible, he will unlock the secret to conquering mortality. He finally- almost- gets it right when he murders his professional rival and brings him directly back to life, sans head, but death and disfigurement has unfortunately had an aversive effect on this guy's character; and it's always bad when a person who hates you now knows all your secrets and quite literally has nothing to lose. The other zombies are just wild-eyed monsters who appear confused, enraged, and in excruciating agony all the time, but don't possess much of a rational thought process, making them the ultimate candidates for evil minions. Even better, West's rival has discovered that even individual body parts can be animated can be put to use all on their own. Don't expect anything to make very much sense after this point; but don't expect it to be very frightening either. A lower intestine bursting through an abdominal cavity and unraveling itself like Inspector Gadget's arm so it can grab ahold and wrap itself around you like a boa constrictor is pretty gross, but just too ridiculous to give you genuine willies.

If you, like me, need things to be at least somewhat logical, then you probably won't get into this, but who's a big enough snob to make fun of you for loving it? Lovecraft fans beware,though: this adaptation really has nothing to do with the actual story other than the basic premise.

Van Helsing (2004)

Requires a high tolerance for stupidity

[4/10 · 14 April 2005]

The only reason I rated this film a four instead of a three is because it held my attention. I may not have been bored, but I was, however, extremely annoyed, almost to the point of being offended. It felt as if the filmmakers gave their their audience no credit for intelligence whatsoever, confident that if they give us enough big-name stars, splashy special effects, PG-13 sexiness, and fast food promo tie-ins that we will gladly shell out $8 bucks for admission and $5 for popcorn and go home happy, without offering us anything of actual quality.

Essentially, Van Helsing is a cartoonish genre blend of sci-fi, fantasy, thriller, and comedy. Yet, the real comedy in the film is unintentional; some points in the film are just so dumb you can't help but laugh. Why is Kate Beckinsale dressed like a cross between a matador and a dominatrix? Why dose she go out to fight vampires wearing high heels and heavy jewelry? How is it that she gets thrown across the room several times over without ever messing up her hair? Why does the entire region of Transylvania appear to consist of a single village? How is it that Beckinsale and Jackman fall into a river, yet five minutes later are completely dry? Why is a woman is the most remote part part of Eastern Europe in the 1880's wearing a pair of crack-riding spandex pants? How is it that Jekyll/Hyde doesn't bleed when he gets an entire arm lopped off? It seems these are not considered important details by the film makers, who assume viewers are either not going to notice or not going to care. Well, I noticed, and I cared, but that's just me.

On that note, they also take huge liberties with historical accuracy, right from the very beginning of the film. Van Helsing the creature- killer refers to Mr. Hyde as a "deranged sociopath", a term which had not yet been invented in the 1880's, before the practice of psychoanalysis was known. Not long afterward, another character refers to Istanbul, which back then was still called Constantinople. Throughout the film, Van Helsing liberally sips absinthe from a flask. Not many people have seen absinthe before, but it is a cloudy, key-lime green color. In the film, it is transparent and bright emerald green, like Nyquil. Furthermore, absinthe was served in an almost ritualistic manner that involves burning a sugar cube over the glass before imbibing; only a rube would go around sipping from a flask. It is also mildly hallucinogenic and even quite toxic in large amounts, which is why it's now illegal. Van Helsing would have been a complete idiot to go around swigging it like it's Red Bull.

Although the film uses classic horror films as a point of reference, there's really nothing scary about it at all. Practically every classic horror story ever known is mishmashed into the plot, no matter how briefly; all that's missing is 'The Invisible Man' and 'The Mask of Fu Manchu', and that's probably just because the writers couldn't think of a way to fit them in. Some people may call this ambitious; I think it's just silly.

If none of these issues bother you, go ahead, rent it; everyone is entitled to turn off their brain for a couple hours a day. But if you consider cogent plot lines, character development, intelligent writing and a cohesive narrative indispensable, you might want to skip this.

Candyman (1992)

Intriguing concept, but just not that scary

[5/10 · 14 April 2005]

The clip showed on the Bravo TV "Scariest Movie Moments" special grabbed me with the promise of surreal atmosphere and charismatic villains, and something about actor Tony Todd was positively magnetic. On all of those accounts, the film did not disappoint. Unfortunately, though, it rated pretty low on the chill factor. While not an unworthy film in and of itself, as a horror film, well, what's the point if it doesn't in the very least inspire you to double-check if you locked your doors before you can to bed?

The plot centers around a Chicago grad student investigating a local urban legend about a supernatural serial killer, summoned through a mirror Bloody Mary style, who is reported to be stalking the projects. The graduate student, Helen, is as cynical as anyone would be, until the myth turns out to be real, and the Candyman (Tony Todd, marvelous) begins unraveling Helen's life and eliminating her loved ones as a very peculiar way of going about seducing her. And as far as dead serial killers go, the Candyman, with powers of hypnotism and a startling, yet not altogether unpleasant, appearance, is surprisingly effective, mingling psychological terrorism and emotional manipulation with tenderness and naked vulnerability.

Tony Todd, standing 6'5", with the resonant voice of James Earl Jones and the dignified elegance of Sidney Poitier, lends a poetic beauty and even a deep sense of sympathy to his character, who in his own way is a victim too. The Candyman already knows the pain that he is inflicting upon others, and thus seems just as empathetic as he is vicious. However, this might actually work against his character; instead of dreading his appearance, as Helen does, I actually looked forward to his screen time, and his sad eyes make his character very convincing. (In a way, Todd's physicality has already done half of the work for him.) Instead of relating with Helen's terror, confusion, and growing desperation, I identified with the Candyman's loneliness and hopelessly romantic, brokenhearted spirit. Really, I just felt too sorry for him to be afraid of him.

For her part, Virginia Madsen is adept in a somewhat underdeveloped character. She is eminently watchable, and her beautiful, limpid eyes draw you in, even if the plot doesn't. Not that it is a bad plot- it seems that there is potential here that wasn't fully realized, though I'm not quite sure what it is. Perhaps it just failed to tap into my personal fears- some people have told me that they find this film positively terrifying. I believe I would have enjoyed this film more if it had been more the Candyman's story rather than Helen's, if we were allowed to get to know the Candyman as well as we are allowed to get to know Freddie in the first 'Nightmare on Elm Street' film. As we know, the victims and even the heroes of a horror franchise are ultimately disposable; it's the villains that we come back for (as wonderful as Jodie Foster was in 'Silence of the Lambs', it was really Hannibal who ultimately engaged the viewers, not Clarice). Yet there is something to be said that although I considered this a mediocre film, I still plan on watching the sequel, because I was nevertheless left wanting to know more.

Blue Velvet (1986)

I have no idea why this film has been touted as a masterpiece

[2/10 · 9 April 2005]

...and it isn't because I don't get or appreciate surrealism or because I missed the element of satire. I 'got it' alright. I just don't want it.

The story begins when naive college boy finds a human ear in a grown-over abandoned lot near his father's home, puts it in a bag, and takes it to the police station, where his discovery is greeted with a diffident, "Yup, that's a human ear alright." A conversation with the town sheriff's teenage daughter reveals that it might have something to do with a mysterious and glamorous lounge singer. So Jeffrey does what anyone would do- break into her apartment and spy on her, of course. And finding him hiding in her closet, listening to her phone conversations and watch her undress, the lounge singer, Dorothy, does what any woman would do under the circumstances- give him oral sex, of course! It practically goes without saying! The two of them embark on a lopsided affair that never fully blossoms, while Jeffrey woos sweet teenage Sandy on the side. Meanwhile, wrapped up in unstable Dorothy's sexual psychodrama, Jeffrey plays some cross between detective and knight and shining armor to a damsel in distress, and revels in Dorothy's co-dependent clinging, all the while knowing that this affair could get him killed.

Dorothy's lover/stalker/tormentor is a ragingly nuts, repulsively perverted mafia a-hole named Frank, in the most disgustingly creepy role in Dennis Hopper's proud legacy of playing scary, nutbag freaks. Frank's infantile-yet-violent, jack rabbit dry-humping perversion, not to mention his obliviousness to how obnoxious and repugnant it is, is enough to make you never want to have sex again. Yet, Frank and Dorothy are both quite obviously insane- what's Jeffrey's excuse for his bizarre, irrational choices? The fact that he is apparently sane and fairly intelligent makes it all the more annoying. Every single character in the film is so annoying to me that I want to smack 'em upside the head, but the two women in the story are just plain pitiful.

Sandy and Dorothy are sort of a Betty and Veronica/rose white-rose red case. Dorothy is an older, glamorous, beautiful brunette, while Sandy is a younger, pretty, virginal blonde. Sandy is the least stupid and irritating character in the beginning, but I lost patience with her after she immediately forgave Jeffrey for his affair with Dorothy with very little explanation or effort from Jeffrey, then continually pins the blame on herself for "dragging him into this" when the situation is quite the opposite. Sandy puts herself in harm's way for Jeffrey even though he has lied to her, and at the close of the film is in the kitchen happily making him lunch while he lounges around in the back yard. For his part, Jeffrey just seems like a melodramatic sap who's "in love" with whoever's there at the moment. You really can't tell if his feelings for either Dorothy or Sandy have any depth to them.

What really works my nerves, though, is the woefully corny dialog, with absurdly over-earnest lines like, "Why is there so much trouble in the world?!?!" and "You're my special friend!" Not to mention, "I looked for you in the closet last night." Granted, all these lines are kinda funny, but are they supposed to be? And who's the joke on, the characters or the viewer. Either way, if it weren't for my roommate being there to mock it with me, I would have turned this movie off about 15 minutes into it.

How movies like this gain backing, let alone a cult following, I'll never know. But when it comes to satirizing suburbia, though, give me John Waters any day.

Hellraiser (1987)

Intelligent film works on all levels

[8/10 · 9 April 2005]

I don't get scared by movies, but if I could, this one would do the trick. As far as fright flicks go, this is the cream of the crop. A must-see for all self-respecting horror fans; I can't imagine anyone being disappointed.

The best horror films, whether they rate high or low on the gore factor (and this one is about as high as it gets without pushing into NC-17 territory), work by engaging the viewer's most powerful, negative emotions. This one works overtime to evoke feelings of disgust, right from the get-go,focusing on the the mysterious peddler's filthy fingernails as he passes over that all-important puzzle box.Images like rats, flies, roaches, maggots,rusty nails, musty attics,and clear, slimy-gooey mucus/protoplasm stuff abound throughout the film. Whatever really makes makes you unbearably, squeamishly uncomfortable, it's probably in here somewhere, and not just in the visuals. The film touches on a host of disturbing, emotionally distressing themes, some fleeting, others more thoroughly. What's your personal sore spot? The death of a parent? Infidelity? Depraved sex? Creepy old houses? Hospitals? Incest? Being stalked? Personal betrayal? Necrophilia? Your family being threatened from someone outside? The fear of your own buried potential for violence, of going insane, of going to hell? Whatever it is, there's something here to gnaw at virtually anyone's rawest nerve- but better yet, it also provides eventual relief from all.

The most fascinating element to me was the contrast between human and demonic evil. While the latter is the most horrifying, the former is by far th most evil. There's even a certain purity to the cenobites- they'll do horrible things to you, yes, but they won't lie; they have no reason to. I had the feeling that while the cenobites could not exist without human depravity, human depravity could very well exist without the cenobites, so who's the real monster here. There aren't too many innocent victims here, and most of the characters basically get what they deserve.

I have only one gripe about this film- the blood. It's very, very, unconvincing- it looks like Smucker's strawberry flavored pancake syrup. With all the effort that went into making awesomely awful monsters, you'd think they'd gotten some halfway decent blood. Oh, well.

The Last House on the Left (1972)

Gritty realism makes for an effective piece

[7/10 · 4 April 2005]

The problem with movies these days is that the majority of them are so slick, they never allow you to forget that it's a movie. Every last person from the school teacher to the garbage man is exceptionally good-looking, truck stop waitresses have nicer clothes and apartments and better teeth than you do, and people get the crap beat out of them without messing up their hair or tearing their designer threads. People even look great when when they're lying in their hospital deathbed or bleeding by the gallon in an alley. What's to be scared of? We know this isn't our world.

That's why looking back at 'Last House on the Left' is such an excruciating shock, especially comparing it to any one of Wes Craven's latter films. It is alternately graphic and discreet, perfect in it's imperfection. When Phyllis Stone (Lucy Grantham)is beset from all sides getting stabbed by Krug and his cronies, her mouth drops open, her eyes roll back in her head, her knees give out; it is only her attackers holding her up that keeps her from crumbling.Stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen,her pants start to fall off; her goofy-looking underwear are a droopy fit, and you can see a faint trace of an unshaved bikini area. Her body is every bit as realistic as her response. It also isn't clear at what point she actually dies, and it seems like you can almost feel her pain. The whole way through, it all seems very much like what really happens in a crime of this sort, and how it would feel to actually be there.

Part of this effect is due to the camera angle; not enough credit is given to how much cinematography dictates the narrative. Most movies have either an omniscient viewpoint, where the viewer seems to be on the inside looking out, or from the vantage point of one particular character, or alternating between different character's eye view. LHOL positions you on the outside looking in, like an unnoticed interloper. You can see what's happening and yet are helpless to act.

Another element that makes the film so tremblingly smart is the characterization of the killers themselves- as normal people who just happen to be extremely violent, and you have no idea why. If you were to meet them, it seems, you wouldn't like them, but it probably wouldn't occur to you to be scared of them, either;they just seem like a bunch of goofy punks. That is, except, for David A. Hess's Krug Stillo, who comes of as just about the nastiest, most vile- and undoubtedly REAL- villain ever, with a certain crude, smirking animal sexiness that only serves to make him that much more threatening. (Hess, in fact, probably makes the movie).

Although this film could have been done better- get rid of some of the cornier tunes and the lame comedy sequences with the bumbling, stupidly unfunny cops- it still manages to accomplish exactly what it was going for, which is more than can be said for about 80% of the films that have ever been made. Lets just hope that some starved-for-original-ideas horror pimp doesn't ruin a good thing by trying to remake it; cross your fingers.