The Infinite Napkin

There’s two movies here, and they are so opposed that this potentially fun little movie flops under the weight of its own crane shots.

Any, and I mean any, movie that posits that a sorority full of cute girls are actually murderous aliens from outer space is fine with me. I love college horror movies and their fun conceits. Now if this were a fun movie, then it’s great. The movie was shot in Canada, so there’s money to be had (they support the arts up there, eh) for this overall well-shot B-movie. There’s even a crane shot, a pricey one. The boys are horny, they spy on cute girls undressing, and discover their terrible secret. Awesome.

But the movie decides in turns to take itself really really seriously and then mildly seriously. Only one of the actors seems to know what to do here–Kim Poirer, who is a pretty close lookalike to Elisha Cuthbert. She has a cute attitude about the whole thing and tries to carry the true spirit of the movie, but the writer, the director and the other actors are pushing hard against her.

There is one exception, made all the more glaring by the way the line is melded in with all the earnest shouting the actor does around it. He’s frying monsters with a flamethrower. One begs for mercy, explaining that they’re from the Belt of Orion and they’re the last whatevers. The young man shakes with intensity and shouts “Belt of Orion? How about the belt of O-fryin’?!” Fwoosh. A fun movie? Awesome moment. Here, it’s a what-the-hey moment. Props also to Elias Toufexis, who takes a pretty unforgiving virgin nerd buddy role and gives it something more. Luckily his arc involves Kim’s character, so there are parts of the movie that work great.

Many of the funny bits work, but the movie overall was not meant to be funny. Weird. Why can’t it be 1988 again? Even Dave DeCoteau isn’t making David DeCoteau movies any more.

Funny how diddling around with your Netflix queue can land you with the most curious double features. BREAKHEART PASS is me revisiting the Charles Bronson movies of yore. I remembered watching it but didn’t remember it all that well. There was a time where I wasn’t wild about Westerns; even now, only some of them work for me. But BP was written by Alistair MacLean, better known for his spy novels than his westerns.

The plot certainly screams out spy movie, because I can’t tell you much of it without ruining it or circumlocuting to the point where you suspect I haven’t seen it at all. Let’s try this: A train with a territorial governor, a doctor, a priest, a US Marshall and his captive, and an army regiment (or whatever’s smaller than that…I forget) are headed out to a fort where a typhus epidemic is in full swing. First, two officers disappear, then others, one by one. See the typhus epidemic is…okay I have to stop there. It’s a slick movie, well into the time where Jill Ireland’s presence is contractually mandated for Charles Bronson to be there (did he think if he wasn’t watching her all the time she’d just up and run back to David McCallum?). Lots of character stalwarts are here, including Richard Crenna, Ed Lauter, Charles Durning, on and on.

There’s a solid mystery in play and you’ll scratch your head raw if you think about it too hard. I have a little spot above my ear that tells me when it’s cold because of this damn plot. Like any solid spy thriller, things play out, and things are the way they are. Any good thriller on a train has to work hard to keep things scary and credible, and this does well.

I think the success of David O Russell must be at work behind the appearance of movies like JUNEBUG and THUMBSUCKER. JUNEBUG, which I saw and I guess I didn’t mention here (oops), was a great film about stillness, familiarity. Much of it had an awkwardness that really played well. THUMBSUCKER is more of a fantasy–I bet Keanu Reeves as your dentist charts somewhere on the overall fantasy-o-meter for this country. This one really felt like I HEART HUCKABEES, except, well, I really liked THUMBSUCKER. IHH at the end of the day was too artificial for me, despite my enjoyment. THUMBSUCKER has people I really like doing what they do best. Vincent D’Onofrio and Tilda Swinton as parents of a young man who still sucks his thumb when he worries. And being a sensitive young man, Justin worries about everything.

The arc of the movie follows Justin trading in his thumb for ADHD treatments, then winning, then finding that freedom is more important than clarity. Even Reeves is good in this. The world needs more competent fantasies like this one.

If you’d told me that one day Dario Argento would be adapting a story from CREEPY about a hyper-sexualized girl with a hot bod and a face like a shovel impact seducing a cop and dragging him into a nightmare of sex and half-eaten cats, well I’d have been pretty happy to hear it. Even though Argento has always been less sure-footed when it comes to sex (although THE STENDHAL SYNDROME is pretty good and OPERA doesn’t suffer), he’s always turned in something watchable.

But this just feels empty. The idea is great and provocative, but that kudo’s for Bruce Jones. The makeup is downright freaky (courtesy of Greg Nicotero) and the effect is exactly like you’d think. Jenifer has a lot of messy hair and she keeps it over her face mostly. The story asks men a telling question–if you could have an amazingly hot nymphomaniac with an extremely unfortunate face, would you? Steven Weber’s character, the cop (the character is a serious stereotype–no name required)–well, he would go for it. From there we should go farther, however, and we don’t.

The other characters sound like drunken people at a party where you put this conundrum to the crowd: “Ugh! She’s hideous!” “Wow, awesome rack!” Once the cop gives in to Jenifer, his life spirals into poop. She’s fun to bounce around with (and Argento does little to convince otherwise in the multiple sex scenes), but she has a thing for eating cats, little neighbor girls and the like.

There are several references to her being mentally disabled as well; she only speaks in moans and grunts despite having a functional mouth. Watching this, I kept getting the feeling that the cop’s real problem in life was that Jenifer was killing kids and wildlife, not that he was boinking a developmentally disabled woman who he’d just rescued from a life of abuse just because she’s so darn hot and all. This is an idea that could have gone way into good fertile horror ground, but the gimmick stays a gimmick.

After the second meal and the third sex scene, I gave in to sleep. There was nothing visually interesting about this; there was an awful lot of coasting on the main idea, so much that it felt like they were having a hard time filling out an hour. Maybe the ending redeems it. Maybe I’ll get around to it.

Yeah, I went to see SNAKES ON A PLANE, which must be the Midwest title, because whenever I hear other people say it they add stuff. Me, I call it SNAKES ON A PLANE, except I say it like Sam Jackson.

I went prepared for something to laugh at and admire in its own demented way. When I saw the cast list unfold, I started to get a little worried–Julianna Marguiles? Davis Koechner? Rachel Blanchard (Okay, she did CARRIE 2, but still)? Keenan Thompson? These are good people. Twenty minutes in, I’m trying to decide if the setup is meant to be as stilted and as Cliff Notes to The AIRPORT Movies as it seems. I’m even waiting for a fat elderly couple to proclaim “We’re from Luuuuuubock, Texas!”–that’s every. Single. AIRPORT. Movie.

But the truth is, the movie’s a stone hoot. It’s funny and scary. Herpetologists will scoff, but who’s chasing their movie dollar anyway? It has one gotcha scare that actually works, in an age where none of them do–that’s just the sound guy trying to burst your eardrum mostly. And on top of all the cgi snakes, there’s something I haven’t seen much in this new horror age–slime. Latex effects have progressed just like cgi, but latex has been losing out in the horror of late. You can make some scary stuff with cgi and with the right lighting and compositing you can make someone look like they’re right next to it and in peril. But take a latex effect of a little boy’s arm gushing pus and venom and blood and you have a squirmy audience on your hands.

The funny people make the most of their screen time, and the director seems content to let them shoulder the load. This is what we call a good decision around seenby.us. The stuff added after the film wrapped is pretty obvious, and is there just to get the R rating, although Sam Jackson’s “Get these (you know) snakes of this (yeah that word) plane!” line would have been sufficient. There’s a lot of genital discomfort in this flick. I was worried it was headed down the leaning on the woman victim thing until the guy went to the bathroom. Ouch.

Marguiles and Blanchard do a great job with what they have. Only someone from TV can actually sell the cliched lines the way Marguiles does. Marguiles is a very good actress, but tv folks have that knack for selling overserious lines that movie people just can’t do. That’s why soap stars made the best super-heroes for the longest time. Blanchard is seriously under-rated as an actress. Everybody who’s worked before this movie acquits themselves very well.

This is one of my favorite types of horror movies. There’s a couple ground rules and no cheats. You’re on a plane. There’s lots of snakes. Boom, them’s the rules, jack.

It’s ok to go and laugh at the movie, too. It’s fun both ways. In a year without SLITHER, I’d say it’s the year’s best horror movie. As it is, it’s the best one about snakes since SSSSSS!

It’s been a crazy month, with conventions and all manner of travel and fun. So it’s time to take a breath, hold my nose and gently blow out the movie eustachian tubes.

In the order that I remember them…

PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE–I remember watching this as a kid and not one bit of the Rock stuff stuck with me. I had this weird sterile vision of all the bits with the Phantom running around scaring me. You know what? That guy’s still scary.Alice Cooper was the first rock villain, but the Phantom is a bad-ass second place. It is the purest Brian de Palma I’ve seen. Sure de Palma has been shooting for Hitchcock Jr. status for years and it’s really hurt him at times–though I bet Hitch would have loved doing MISSION IMPOSSIBLE. Hitchcock was such an obsessive storyboarder that cgi in his day would have sent him on a few Coppola-style wild goose chases with the tech before pounding our eyes out with something truly great. Watch Dario Argento on this. He’s been dinking around with computers and may just get that next great eye-popper out before he dies.

de Palma is sure-footed in this insane Faust farce, even when you think the script will lame the movie out by actually using an adaptation of Faust as the central bone of contention between Evil and, um, Angry? Watching it now, the music business is still pretty well skewered, even if the entrenched moguls of yore aren’t the only game in town anymore. I am also amazed by Jessica Harper, who really can sing. Between doing this, Suspiria, Inserts (I know, I know, it’s five people acting like they’re in separate movies, but still…), My Favorite Year…she’s even putting out children’s albums now.

The Phantom has changed a bit for me. He went from frightening to plain awesome. His birdlike movements, the voicebox on his chest the size of a sewing machine, and the helmet designed to make use of his one good eye make for a hell of a visual, time after time. PHANTOM is one hell of a super-hero movie. Unlike the praises I sung about MY SUPER EX-GIRLFRIEND, this film takes the fetishism by the ears and rides it off into the sunset. Plus it’s a super-cheap DVD.

TALLADEGA NIGHTS: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby was almost primed to disappoint after seeing the Borat trailer before it. I almost had a stroke laughing at that thing. The Ferrell/McKay team’s urbane counterpart, the Guest/Levy duo, have been moving towards using their improv movies to tell a specific story. Ferrell and McKay are not to be outdone, producing a work even funnier than ANCHORMAN: The Legend of Ron Burgundy because there’s less of the reality-bending humor and more of the funny springing from consequence and character.

Why has it taken this long to get John C Reilly into one of these movies? The man is an improv machine. On the Boogie Nights commentary, Paul Anderson says you have to tell Reilly “Cut!” or he will not stop. He. Will. Not. Stop. Sacha Baron Cohen has the calling card he needs for American Comedy big time as Jean Girard, a character that could have been a nasty caricature, instead of a nasty caricature with motivations and a character arc beyond “he tries to defeat our hero and fails utterly”. There are amazing turns by Gary Cole (one of the best utility hitters around, John C. Reilly’s level), Leslie Bibb, and Molly Shannon (who almost runs away with the whole movie by explaining why she loves NASCAR). Jane Lynch is wonderful as always and this is turning into a mash note, but I had a great time watching this.
C.S.A. CONFEDERATE STATES OF AMERICA was the movie that got rained out when I went with Dan and Lisa to watch it at the Bijou here. The second the DVD was available, I pounced. Presented as a standard History Channel style 90 minute documentary from a world in which the South prevailed in the War of Northern Aggression, you get commercials and news along with the documentary. The varied styles are all spot on, cheap and hacky in all the right places. Director Kevin Wilmott has a keen eye for this stuff and it shows. Something in this will make you cringe–I bet even Dave Chappelle said “Damn!” at least once if he saw it. Amazing, essential watching.

Did a lot of rewatching over the break, too–DEMON LOVER DIARY in particular. I’m evangelizing.

More catch-up later as I recall them.