Van Diemen’s Land

Moody, extremely well photographed and about cannibals, Van Diemen’s Land can’t help but remind me of 1999’s Ravenous–only, you know, good.

Where Ravenous was hokey and sensationalized–a “bad guy,” double-crosses, boppy music behind life-and-death chase scenes–Van Diemen’s Land looks spooky and subtle, so much so that you might not even catch after one viewing of the preview what the movie is actually about. Which is awesome.

Out now in Australia, no date is set for a US release, and I’m not expecting one. But definitely something to look out for on DVD. Any movie about eating people where I can use the word “subtle” is more than okay in my book.

*And the award for Unbridled Tagline Awesomeness goes to: “Hunger is a strange silence.” Ughhh, poetic and simple like a shiver.

Broken Embraces

I haven’t seen enough of Almodovar’s work. “Almodovar.” Some might say that giving yourself the 1-word name self-branding treatment is unspeakably pretentious (I might agree), but with the kind of respect the artist formerly known as “Pedro” garners from his movies, I’m pretty sure he can do just about whatever the hell he pleases.

What I love about Almodovar’s stuff is how color-oriented it is, the bold reds and blues, always easy to look at. You can even see it in the poster. And there seems to be a duality going on in Broken Embraces that celebrates that, one between reality and fantasy, or maybe memory and present day, where each side warrants its own style, one light and fresh and grounded, pretty, and the other broken and disjointed, cold steely hues and a steady cam.

But it’s not only that; I haven’t seen enough of Penelope Cruz‘ work, either. She’s an absolute monster in Vicky Cristina Barcelona and seems to really be reestablishing herself lately, becoming a regular with Almodovar, working with Woody Allen, playing next to Ben Kingsley in Elegy. There’s something about powerful female leads. I can’t put my finger on it but they almost seem to have some kind of extra layer that men don’t have, something more surprising, maybe. Am I alone on this?

Broken Embraces has already made rounds (to rave reviews) at festivals and will be in US theaters (in NY and LA) later this year. If you don’t live there, well, besides being square, you should probably make it a Netflix.

The Attic Door

Child actors are so hit or miss with me. The little girl in The Fall? Brilliant. Anikan in Episode I? Well…that’s too easy. But you get what I mean.

Kids are rarely great performers and almost never seem like actual kids. And that’s what I worry about in The Attic Door. But besides their two iffy lines of dialogue, the atmosphere coming off this thing is killer and leaves me literally aching to see what in the name of all things holy is up in that attic.

What the filmmakers call on their blog a “haunting and romantic story about growing up,” the teaser for The Attic Door is deliciously vague–carnivorously vague. What we get are these disjointed tidbits of information: 1) the kids are alone, by themselves in an empty house tucked away in a sandy, golden, empty part of the world, and 2) there’s something they’re afraid of. A ghost, maybe. Or whatever’s in the attic. Or whatever.

I honestly can’t find a date to expect The Attic Door, even in limited theaters. This is a tiny, tiny movie and it seems from the creators’ site that they’re scraping whatever money they can together to get it distributed. So keep an eye out.

Until then, you’ll just have to get your jollies from the puffy shirt that kid’s rocking in the still above. Pretty sure that makes him the first pirate.

Runner Ups (click the titles for trailers):
Pirate Radio
Not that this looks bad, but biopicish-type films just usually aren’t my cup of tea. That being said, Phillip Seymore Hoffman stars, and in my book, he’s hands down one of the best working actors today and maybe the most intense living actor of our time. I’ll at least consider anything he’s a part of. And plus, it’s a cool story. The very idea a ship full of people infected with a case of stickittotheman neosis sailing off to rock feels more like a righteous fable in today’s age of factory-line pop than anything else. In theaters this Friday.

Antichrist
The only reason I’m not including this in the main list is because it’s already out in limited markets. Nowhere near me, of course, but I’m sure in Chicago and NY it’s available. Starring Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg (The Science of Sleep, I’m Not There) as “He” and “She,” Antichrist is about, well…it’s hard to say: a psychiatrist, a patient, nature, religion, sex. The trailer is surreal and darkly beautiful, telling of a woman’s imagined (or maybe not) journey toward the Garden of Eden. Before the Garden, though, are the woods, and “Nature is Satan’s church.” This movie looks trippy and bodacious.

One of the craziest scenes in Chan-wook Park’s 2003 crazyfest Oldboy is one where the main character is fighting a line of thugs down a hallway. If memory serves, the shot is a static side-view, and he’s just raking them all down, one by one. Then he picks up a hammer and when he raises it, the screen freezes, and a dotted line is drawn from the metal in his hand to the skull of some hapless goon who’s about the meet its business end. It’s awesome. And grotesque. …And awesome. …But grotesque.

Then there’s the scene where someone gets a tooth pried from their head with a hammer’s end. Oh, and the one where some dude gets his tongue cut off. Oh yeah, then there’s the whole *premise* of the movie and its gruesome payoff (which I won’t spoil if you haven’t seen it).

Point is, Oldboy is hardcore, the kind of hardcore you mostly only see in foreign films. It’s brutal, the violent portrait of a man who’s driven insane by a 15-year state of forced solitude with no explanation, and how he’s one day set free to seek answers and revenge. The character is desperate and tragic, locked for the better part of his life in a hotel room where gas is pumped in every night to put him to sleep and the the words: “Smile and the world smiles with you. Cry and you cry alone.” are written on the wall. So he smiles, by himself in an empty room with long unkempt hair and a worn and tired face. I’m telling you, it’s hard to watch.

Now I ask you: Does that sound like a prime vehicle for Steven Spielberg?

In case you haven’t heard about this atrocity, ad-wizards over at Dreamworks hatched up a plan awhile ago to Americanize Park’s film. Okay, no surprise there. But what made it insane was who they had lined up to do it: none other than long-time blockbuster tycoon Steven Spielberg–and Will Smith, who’d be wielding the hammer.

First, let’s get the platitudes out of the way. Yes, Spielberg is a more than capable director. He’s a legend. And Will Smith? I love the guy. Fresh Prince, in my oh so humble book of convictions, is one of the few, few sitcoms that was able to totally get away with having one of those random serious episodes about loneliness or social injustice without it seeming random or cheesy–and I credit not just the writing but Smith’s performances (I’m thinking specifically of the episode where Will’s father abandons him for the last time and Will loses it, screams to Uncle Phil, breaks down and the episode fades out in silence). Ali or Hitch–I’ve got nothing but respect for the guy.

That being said, he’s still Will Smith. And sure, I like to fancy myself an open-minded guy, but I’m sorry, the original Oldboy isn’t even a full 7 years old yet and this combination just seems so off-the-wall and out-there and…(what’s another cliche for “random”?)…oh: from left-field that you have to wonder who the first jackass was to pitch it.

To lighten the blow, Spielberg’s version wasn’t to be a straight remake of Park’s Oldboy but a adaptation of the Oldboy manga series. So it wouldn’t have *technically* been a “remake.” But still. There’s no way you’re watching this thing and not comparing it to the Korean original.

Keep in mind, it is still possible for the project to be picked up by another studio and completed, but let’s just enjoy this while we have it, shall we? What’s that old saying? ““Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift—that’s why it’s called the present”? Well, today consider me a proverb-spouting optimist.

Celebratory Carlton dance!

Here’s the trailer for Chan-wook Park’s Oldboy. If you haven’t seen it–such a definite must:

A Tale of Two Sisters
Director Ji-woon Kim
Release: June 13, 2003
**** 4/5

I’m going to impart to you words of wisdom that were once given to me.

My friends and I, we were about 15 when The Ring came out and my brother was the first to see it. When he came back, he’d tell me if it was any good, worth my important 15-year-old time. And it turns out it was. He came home excited, not wanting to say too much except that I had to see it. But there was one more thing, he told me–and this was the pivotal part: “You better bring your crappin’ boots.”

It was one of those lines that made no sense if you broke it down but I understood immediately: the movie was so scary it’d make you crap your pants, the crap so big that it’d proceed down toward your shoes. Obviously. See, in cases like these, cases of terrifying cinema, your footwear becomes exceedingly important. What do you do right before the final shot of Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Simply apply your crappin’ boots. What’s on the agenda right around the 70min mark of [REC]? Crappin’ boots. And in the case of A Tale of Two Sisters, well, let’s just say you might want to want to dust off the old CBs and slip those puppies on. Because you’re definitely gonna need ‘em.

From Korean writer-director Ji-woon Kim, A Tale of Two Sisters follows sisters Su-mi and Su-yeon as they, along with their father, move back into their old house with their absurdly creepy step-mother after a time away, alluded to early on, to “get well.”

This is one of those rare horror movies that feels like it wasn’t actually made by a horror director*. And by that I mean that it seems more concerned with setting a tone, creating a mood and cementing its style than it does with just scaring you. Which is exactly what makes it horrifying. The film-making here is careful and meticulous, each shot more tender and ominous than the last. Whether it’s the film’s lush coloring, vibrant use of sound or conscious pacing, Kim feels in complete and absolute control of every frame, not just building tension and mystery, not just drawing you further and further in like some kind of hypnosis, but delivering images, quietly and consistently, both beautiful and terrible, terrifying and poetic. From an aesthetic standpoint alone, the film is like a flipbook of framed paintings, a perfectly orchestrated symphony of strange.

*note: feels the way other films do when their directors dabble outside their niche–like John Landis making An American Werewolf in London, or Sam Medes’ Jarhead, or Ang Lee taking on the comic genre for Hulk. Say what you want about any of those but each has a “genre-exception”-type quality about it, all interesting results.

At its heart A Tale of Two Sisters is a ghost story. But it’s as much about family and relationships and love as it is anything dark or grim–which is maybe what makes it work so well. There’s a real helplessness to watching characters you’ve grown to know, and like, and feel for, going down roads you know will inevitably end in tragedy. There’s this great heartbreaking quality about it.

And I often miss opportunities to write about good movies or episodes or whatever else because of procrastination–I let them sit in my draft pile until their shine wears off and I lose the passion. But I forced myself to do this one while everything was still fresh, its memory and affect. Because I want to remember it.

I want to remember sitting by myself with the lights off and grinning, saying “ohmygodohmygodohmygod” to no one as images reflect off my face and the absurdly creepy step-mother walks briskly up the stairs to Su-yeong’s room. I want to remember being not just impressed with the movie’s scares but actually scared by them, waking up the next morning and for one irrational and glorious half-second imagining fingernails scraping against the floor or a girl crawling across my carpet, feeling a pit flash through my stomach right before I remember, oh yeah, I’m supposed to be an adult. All of it. I want to hold onto the experience of that first watch, not just because ones like these don’t happen that often but because, in a way, these moments kind of encapsulate an odd in-between time for me. Between college and real life, FL and possibly NY, sundown and when I finally fall asleep. Which is weird to think about but seems important to acknowledge.

Anyway, the last 30minutes or so of the film get a little muddled, but their repercussions (and it’s so hard to talk about without spoiling anything) are just absolutely brutal. And the style is never, ever, compromised.

A modern horror film with style? Oh yeah, this one’s special. Screen it in surround sound and make sure all the lights are off.

Oh, and don’t forget your crappin’ boots.

(Or not. Even though it doesn’t really ruin anything, personally, I’d skip it. It’s flashy and over-dramatic. Better to go in fresh. Just sayin’.)