If you're a director searching for a low-cost solution to filmmaking, what could be better than limiting your film to one actor and one location? Of course, eschewing the bells and whistles of modern cinema means you better have a pretty fantastic script to back it up: it has to be entertaining simply through its storytelling. Director Rodrigo Cortés has hit the jackpot with Buried, a film with a story so stark it could almost be a play.
Paul Conroy (Ryan Reynolds) wakes up in darkness. He flicks on his Zippo lighter and finds that he is inside a coffin, under the ground. An American truck driver delivering supplies in Iraq, the last thing Paul remembers is his truck being attacked by a group of Iraqis with automatic rifles, and now he's here. His phone rings—except it's not his phone, it has Arabic text and terrible reception—but he does what anyone in the situation would do: he starts making calls. But between the bad reception, being put on hold and getting answering machines—the things that tick you and me off in everyday life—have become the difference between life and death for Paul.
I hesitate to reveal any further twists, but be assured that the suspense moves quickly and organically. Cortés builds layers of ticking bombs—the phone's battery life, the oxygen level in the coffin, etc.—and by the end the tension has ratcheted to near-unbearable levels. The inherent claustrophobic nature of the coffin itself is enhanced by the seemingly infinite threat of darkness that wraps around Reynolds' body, licking menacingly at him with shadows created by the Zippo.
Reynolds himself was something of a revelation to me; I suppose I haven't been paying enough attention to his transformation into a thoroughly fine actor. I've seen a number of his films, but here he plays Paul as a believable everyman who finds himself caught up in the bureaucracy of war, and that comedic timing he's known for is a godsend in easing just enough of the tension to allow it to continue to build. But it's in the moments where Paul's frustrations reach their limit that I found Reynolds most relatable. He's asked to single-handedly carry the film and it's a pleasure to see that his charmingly one-note performance from Van Wilder will not define him forever.
It remains to be seen whether Buried can break out of the "indie" box in which it finds itself (pun noted, but not intended). Although releasing through horror giant Lionsgate, the single-location novelty is a double-edged sword for a broader public, who may find the phone calls repetitive and action-less, and be disappointed not to see more of Reynolds' comedy or a big action scene. The film is comparatively small when stacked next to something like a Saw sequel, but it is definitely not an experimental work and its aspirations lie squarely in the realm of entertainment.
Buried is the epitome of a good idea well-actualized. Variations on the story have been done but here the focus is solely the man and the coffin, and never straying from that core focus is a bold move. "Hitchcockian" is a term bandied about far too freely these days, but I do think it's the sort of film that the master of unyielding suspense would love. Buried certainly would have made a damn fine episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
Cross-published on Ornery-Crosby and Twitch.
Distribution possibilities don’t allow me to give an outright review, but I thoroughly enjoyed this successful overview of the American horror film. Visually, Andrew Monument's Nightmares in Red, White and Blue (2009) [official site] resembles one of those TV docs that pop up around Halloween time, counting down the scariest moments of what-have-you, but while those programs want only to be top ten lists of memorable movies, Nightmares takes it a step further by contextualizing those successful scares. More than any other film genre, horror is an industry that has grown along with its viewers, adapting to what makes its audiences afraid—World Wars, genocide, government paranoia, etc. Even trashy film can be a wonderful chronicler of the human experience, directly or indirectly, because it will always be a product of the times in which it was made. With talking heads from horror bigshots like John Carpenter, Wes Craven, and George Romero and narrated by Lance Henriksen, I have to say: I took a class on the horror film in college and Nightmares is very much a condensed but equally insightful version of that information, for thousands of dollars less in tuition.
Cross-published on Ornery-Crosby and Twitch.
Future X-Cops (Mei loi ging chaat, 2010) is a paint-by-numbers, sci-fi action flick that's doing gangbusters in China but is unlikely to make it past the bargain bin here in the US. The reason for its success abroad is simple: Andy Lau is one of the world’s biggest superstars. They used to call him the "Chinese Tom Cruise," but I think Lau's publicists would prefer to steer clear of that comparison these days. Still, it's hard not to compare the relative slump the two stars find themselves experiencing in 2010, with Cruise's Knight and Day pulling in the smallest opening weekend in 15 years for the one-time sure thing, and Lau slumming it in Future X-Cops. A possible thread regarding Lau's intentions here leads to his relationship with director Jing Wong, who coincidentally directed a film called Future Cops with Lau back in 1993. That film was a Street Fighter parody with no relation to Future X-Cops, but the possibility remains that this is a case of old friends scratching backs. It better be because, contrary to what X-Cops would indicate, Lau is not usually this bad an actor.
Here are the numbers Lau and Wong paint in Future X-Cops: In the year 2080 the world has been saved from an energy crisis by a scientist who has invented a giant shield that envelopes the earth and soaks up solar rays. The loss is so devastating for the energy companies that they create a team of cyborgs to assassinate the scientist by going back in time to 2020 and stopping him from ever inventing the solar shield. Super-cop Kidd Zhao (Lau) travels back as well, to protect the young scientist and to seek revenge for the loss of his own wife.
It's a simple set-up and, although it bars the film from bringing anything terribly original to the plate, it could still be a good time. After all, I cannot count on ten hands the number of horror films that tread familiar ground and still emerge as pieces of relevant cinema. But X-Cops unfolds as you would expect, with some broad humor and a misty-eyed love story, hoping to cover all the bases. As a sci-fi fan, the film's worst insult is that it relies on visual effects and I've seen better CGI in pictures 10-years-old, including a few Asylum pictures(!). I considered enjoying X-Cops on the level of camp but found myself incapable of submitting to an experience that never decides whether it wants to be funny, thrilling or romantic. A somewhat novel scene at an amusement park did cause a smile, and bad guy Kalon is played seriously by Siu-Wong Fan of Ip Man (2008) and Riki-Oh (1993) but he's not really on screen enough to chew any of the cheap-looking scenery.
If you're a Lau or STV Chinese-action-flicks fan, you're likely steeled for a film like Future X-Cops already. Anyone else is looking for action in all the wrong places.
Cross-published on Ornery-Crosby and Twitch.
I wonder how often filmmakers work backwards from a good title, as director Júlíus Kemp has admitted to doing with Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre (2009). The film itself seems to work its way backwards as well, opening threateningly with real whale-hunting footage and a gritty look, but perhaps sensing its slim chances of living up to the similarly titled Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), Reykjavik drops the grit about a half hour in to focus on black comedy. It's a smart move, and the film is often darkly funny, I only wish the filmmakers had gone back and reworked the whole thing because I can see a lot of viewers shutting it off before they get to the good stuff.
After the whaling footage we are introduced to an international cast of harpoon fodder—a rich Japanese couple, a drunk Frenchman and a few other forgettables—and everyone speaks in their native language or terribly stilted English. The realities of working with such a diverse cast make the "getting to know you" phase of Reykjavik feel like everyone is playing charades. It's hard to spot those often clearly-defined heroes or villains—well maybe you can pick out the villains. Initially, it's hard not to compare Reykjavik to Texas Chainsaw, no matter how dissimilar they wind up being. The villainous family are whale fishermen down on their luck, similiar to Texas' family of slaughterhouse workers, and they come to the faux rescue of the whale watchers after a violent accident. Then there's the casting of Gunnar Hansen as captain of the troubled boat. Having played the chainsaw-wielding Leatherface in the original 1974 Massacre, Hansen is a well-known name to horror fans and a big reason Reykjavik is getting so much play at horror-themed festivals like Holehead.
Once you get to the actual massacre, Reykjavik drops the pretenses of plot and becomes kind of fun. It still feels like it was written in one sitting, but now those numerous narrative inconsistencies bring big dumb applause. It can be hard to tell how much is meant to be taken as comedy, but at some point I decided I was going to have a good time with it and that was not hard to do. The harpoon I mentioned earlier is particularly enjoyable, the violence fairly brutal and the character reversals completely off-the-wall. It never makes any real sense, but in its own way Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre is better than most STV horror. Still, I imagine its best days will be on the festival circuit. Watching with a crowd of like-minded fans, all of them playing spot the reference, is the kind of mindless experience that we go to these festivals for.
Look at that, I went the whole review without a single Eyjafjallajökull joke.
Cross-published on Ornery-Crosby and Twitch.
I always assumed that kappa meant cucumber in Japanese, leaping to the conclusion as a result of an immodest consumption of kappa sushi rolls over the course of my life. I now know that kappa are green goblins that live in Japanese ponds, and who specialize in swimming and sumo wrestling; it is because the kappa's favorite food is cucumbers that the sushi received its name. These gaijin-centric facts are revealed early on in Death Kappa (2010) by a self-identified Professor Tanaka who speaks directly to the camera, and including them for viewers indicates the producers' awareness of the appeal of low-budget Japanese filmmaking in the West. Thanks to the unexpected success of splatter hits Tokyo Gore Police (2008) and Machine Girl (2008), producers Yōko Hayama and Yoshinori Chiba are familiar with the tastes of Western audiences and the first half of Death Kappa, with its similar barrel-scraping budget and gleeful stupidity, is familiar ground.
The story goes that a young girl promises to protect the kind kappa who lives near her grandmother's house. The kappa is pretty gross looking, with a turtle shell on his back and hair in all the wrong places, but that's part of its charm. This particular kappa also loves terrible J-pop and dances around in the backyard before being suddenly ensconced by a team of renegade Japanese soldiers accompanied by a woman dressed like Female Convict: Scorpion who wheels her dead grandfather around in a wheelchair and who wants to use the kappa to create an army of "amphibious weaponized fishmen." To be honest, I don't understand half of what I'm talking about anymore, but I figure if you pay too much attention to the details of Death Kappa you're missing the point. I've made films and I can recognize a group of people just having a great time making movies.
Around the halfway point, the film jarringly switches directions and becomes the kaiju film touted by the trailer. As fun as all the goofy evil-scientist stuff is, the kaiju portion is way more entertaining, with large sets full of miniatures and projections and attack planes with clearly-seen strings attached. The kappa, now huge-ified, must battle a monster whose name I didn't note but I'm pretty sure rhymes with Legolas, as the Japanese army attempts to stop them both. It's immensely silly to watch little remote-controlled tanks and death rays shoot pop-pops at a man in a rubber suit. You'll never catch me declaring Death Kappa a good film, but it never pretends to be. It's good for a laugh. Two laughs? Well, mileage will vary.
At 75 minutes, Death Kappa will be either just the right amount of fun or a real struggle, depending on how funny you find watching the big rubber suits crush plastic models. Boys will be boys, after all.
Cross-published on Ornery-Crosby and Twitch.
SF IndieFest's Another Hole in the Head (Holehead) always prefers that you have a good time over a good film. This year's line-up continues the gore and guffaws, and some of the films manage to be wholly original through sheer gumption and insanity. Titles like Mil Mascaras vs The Aztec Mummy and Ticked-Off Trannies With Knives seem to only encourage audiences to come to the showings drunk, and the programmers' obsessions with Miike and The Machine Girl bring the latest iterations of each, but for my money Holehead's best films might be the older ones on the bill: The Exterminator (1980), Lady Terminator (1988) and Metropolis 1984 Redux.
The Exterminator—A classic of crap genre film, The Exterminator is a NY anomaly of gleeful macho-isms and vigilante justice in the wake of Death Wish (1974). Opening with a bang in the jungles of Vietnam before taking to the streets of The Big Apple, The Exterminator has some great scenes of slo-mo action and gore but struggles with a scattered narrative and pretty piss poor action hero—but those are both pros and cons for a film of this ilk. Robert Ginty as John "The Exterminator" Eastland has a droopy face and very little motive to do in a lot of the street punks he murders, but luckily there is only a single city cop on the case and he'll never catch Eastland because he keeps taking time off to go on dates. Made in 1980, The Exterminator still has that gritty '70s grindhouse look and feel, and it even takes a stab at an ending that reflects post-Vietnam paranoia. Doesn't work though.
Lady Terminator—Killing two male fantasies with one stone, this Indonesian production beat its inspirators by 15 years in bringing a female Terminator to the screen. Mixing island fantasy with sci-fi, the female Terminator of the title is actually the reincarnation of The South Sea Queen, a demon who seduces men and then cuts off their you-know-whats. The differences barely matter though, and Lady Terminator does more than pay homage to the 1984 classic, fully recreating the eye gouge at the sink and the "Come with me if you want to live." With die-hard pacing, '80s fashion and Indonesian pop music, Lady is easily one of the better cheapo action flicks of the '80s, Indonesia or otherwise, and sports some great-terrible dubbing.
Metropolis 1984 Redux—Yep, that Metropolis. Having really enjoyed the 1927 silent classic, disco-star Giorgio Moroder pulled some strings and re-cut his own version, tailor-made for 1984 audiences. The man behind Midnight Express' "Chase" theme and the mastermind of Donna Summer's best hits re-scored the film and added a bunch of crazy colors, but the core remains. In addition, Moroder re-imagined a lot of lost scenes from the original cut, but managed a product 40 minutes shorter by making most of the inter-titles subtitles. Is it blasphemy? Well, for the haughtier of film fans there can be no doubt, but Moroder's release did gain the film a new audience who would not have otherwise seen the film and his redux version has its own charms stemming from a time-capsule candy coating and terrible Freddie Mercury theme song. Sure, there were probably a bunch of kids who treated Metropolis 1984 Redux like a planetarium laser show, but let's not pretend we're above something as fun as a laser show.
Cross-published on Ornery Crosby and Twitch.
If you're a director searching for a low-cost solution to filmmaking, what could be better than limiting your film to one actor and one location? Of course, eschewing the bells and whistles of modern cinema means you better have a pretty fantastic script to back it up: it has to be entertaining simply through its storytelling. Director Rodrigo Cortés has hit the jackpot with Buried, a film with a story so stark it could almost be a play.
I hesitate to reveal any further twists, but be assured that the suspense moves quickly and organically. Cortés builds layers of ticking bombs—the phone's battery life, the oxygen level in the coffin, etc.—and by the end the tension has ratcheted to near-unbearable levels. The inherent claustrophobic nature of the coffin itself is enhanced by the seemingly infinite threat of darkness that wraps around Reynolds' body, licking menacingly at him with shadows created by the Zippo.
It remains to be seen whether Buried can break out of the "indie" box in which it finds itself (pun noted, but not intended). Although releasing through horror giant Lionsgate, the single-location novelty is a double-edged sword for a broader public, who may find the phone calls repetitive and action-less, and be disappointed not to see more of Reynolds' comedy or a big action scene. The film is comparatively small when stacked next to something like a Saw sequel, but it is definitely not an experimental work and its aspirations lie squarely in the realm of entertainment.
