DA SWEET BLOOD OF JESUS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Spike Lee Remakes Glen & Randa

Da Sweet Blood of Jesus (2014)
Dir. Spike Lee
Scr. Lee & Bill Gunn
Starring: Stephen Tyrone Williams, Zaraah Abrahams, Elvis Nolasco, Rami Malek

Review By Greg Klymkiw

If Spike Lee went knocking on Studio doors (maybe even a few smaller companies and/or, God Forbid, a European country or three), I can't for a second believe he'd NOT be financed for Da Sweet Blood of Jesus.

Here's the pitch:

- A contemporary remake of cult horror classic Ganja & Hess.

- A passionate supernatural love-story between two insanely attractive people who are afflicted with a blood-sucking form of vampirism rooted in an ancient African ritual sacrifice blade.

Hess (Stephen Tyrone Williams) is a suave, sexy anthropologist and multi-millionaire African art collector living on a sprawling, gorgeous estate in Martha's Vineyard. Lafayette Hightower (Elvis Nolasco), a colleague from the museum Hess presides over, pops over for a visit, but after some erudite conversation he reveals how mentally unstable he is and stabs Hess with the ages-old sacrificial blade. Hess fights back and kills Hightower, then disposes of the body in his basement freezer. Rich people do things like this.

When Hightower's gorgeous wife Ganja (Zaraah Abrahams) comes a calling in search of her husband, she and Hess hit it off and soon the smouldering turns to a drillin' and a soderin' in the master boudoir. Mmmm, they make some sweet, crazy lovin' and it's not long before they seal their union with marriage.

What Hess doesn't tell Ganja is that he's now a blood-sucking vampire, thanks to being stabbed with the grim Ashanti Blade by her estranged, dead and frozen hubbles. When she discovers the body, she goes a tad bunyip, but Hess calms her down with his mellifluously sexy voice and suggests she join him for eternal life as a vampire. That this offer provides as eternal prongin' with the schwanzen de Hessen, Ganja is prime. Lots more fornicatin', blood suckin' and killin' follows.

Eventually Hess seeks redemption for his actions, in spite of how much fun they've been. Ganja understands, but wants the party to continue. A mutually satisfactory agreement is arrived at.

- That's the long and the short of this pitch, baby. Sex, vampires, lotsa blood, more sex, more killing, more blood and to top this ice cream sundae off with a nice, juicy cherry, there's gonna be some mighty fine lezbo action - all of this shot with Spike's visual aplomb and dappled with cool, young, up-and-coming musical artists for a song score, plus the styling of a Bruce Hornsby jazz score throughout.

So seriously, who wouldn't be financing this movie? Spike could have pieced the dough together tout suite, but no, he made a big deal about not even bothering to try and instead, turned to crowd funding via Kickstarter. Hell, he could have saved up his per diems from his gun-for-hire gig on the dreadful Hollywood remake of Old Boy, but instead, he went cap in hand to his movie-loving fans and raised $1.4 million (USD) in exchange for "perks", but giving him complete ownership of the film and not having to divvy up any shares of the sales, nor, for that matter needing to recoup the cash used to make the film. (One hopes his cap in hand is a "Forty Acres and a Mule" ball cap.)

I wouldn't hold this against Lee if I didn't doubt his belief in not being able to finance the picture through the usual channels. Most of all, I'd especially not hold it against him if his remake of Bill Gunn's classic Ganja & Hess was actually worthy of fan support. Lee's film is slick, to be sure, and his cast is first rate, but given that the movie is an almost blow-by-blow remake with only the most cursory updating (so much so he had to give Gunn a co-writing credit), it's a shame Lee's picture has no discernible tone, none of the mordant wit of the original, none of the genuine creepy-crawly and most of all, bereft of Gunn's strong political, social and historical context. I'm sure Spike thinks his picture is not sans the items that made the original so great, but here's an eye-opener for you, Spike: it is.

His movie isn't bad, but it's no work of art and certainly no classic. That's what Bill Gunn achieved over forty years ago. What you owe yourself, however, is to buy both Ganja & Hess and Lee's soulless remake. Watch them both (Gunn's first, and Lee's second). It'll make for an engaging evening of movie-viewing, though the bottom half of the double bill will definitely be Spike Lee's version.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two-and-a-half-stars

Da Sweet Blood of Jesus is available on a gorgeous Anchor Bay/Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada Blu-Ray transfer, sans any extras which might have offered some illumination.

ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Good Xmas Family Fun For All

Plop this in front of the brats
and get some shuteye

Alvin and the Chipmunks (2007)
dir. Tim Hill
Starring: Jason Lee, David Cross

Review By Greg Klymkiw

As far as family-friendly Christmas-themed movies go, Alvin and the Chipmunks is never going to be considered a perennial favourite in the mold of It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Carol or Miracle on 34th Street, but it does provide solid entertainment for the kiddies (lots o’ laughs from anyone 10 or under) and mild entertainment for anyone older (lots o’ smiles and a few chuckles) – especially anyone old enough to have sentimental memories of the “original” Alvin hit songs and TV series from the late 50s/early 60s and the 80s animated revival.

Alvin, to the uninitiated, is the head of a squeaky-pitched trio of singing chipmunks who are pals with the loser songwriter David Seville who hits the big time when he stumbles upon the furry ear-shattering musical stylists. Seville, in the original cartoons, spends much of his time chipmunk-sitting his charges and keeping those pesky, but warm-hearted little songsters from getting into all manner of troublesome hijinx. He also bellows out the immortal, stern cry, “A-a-a-a-a-a-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-vin!!!!!” whenever he discovers something is amiss and realizes that it’s probably the work of the troublemaking-est chipmunk of them all.

The 2007 big screen rendering of these characters, is pretty much more of the same, only with live-action “adult” characters and digitally animated fur-balls. Within the confines of a simple, predictable feature-length tale, Dave (the mildly offensive, barely palatable Jason Lee) discovers the chipmunks, becomes their surrogate Dad and eventually loses them to smarmy Ian (a very funny David Cross), a dastardly music promoter. The sleaze ball, in familiar fashion, exploits the chipmunks, screws Dave, but gets his ultimate and well-deserved comeuppance when goodness prevails and all are reunited in grand fashion.

It’s quite the emotional whirlwind – for seven-year-olds, mostly.

What makes the movie relatively agreeable to less-discriminating adults (and those, like me, who should know better, but have a soft spot for squeaky-voiced chipmunks) is the genuinely funny and, at times, endearing musical numbers. In fact, that insane, insipid, and utterly insidious “classic” Chipmunks Christmas song “Christmas Don’t Be Late” will never leave my brain. Initially left behind in the fog of my wayward childhood, the song has been reintroduced to me by this movie and is now emblazoned, carved, burned and branded into my very soul. My God, I feel like Barbara Steele at the beginning of “Black Sunday” who receives the mark of Satan from a hooded executioner. My psyche has been thoroughly scarred forever by those trilling chipmunks. The fur-balls and their squealing, while never at the forefront of my thoughts, are lodged in there like an admittedly oxymoronic migraine of pleasure.

In case you’ve forgotten the lyrics, let me inflict them upon you. The tune will come ever so quickly to you and remain there forever. Besides, I shouldn’t have to suffer alone:

Christmas, Christmas time is near
Time for toys and time for cheer
We've been good, but we can't last
Hurry Christmas, hurry fast
Want a plane that loops the loop
Me, I want a hula hoop
We can hardly stand the wait
Please Christmas, don't be late

The brainchild behind the chipmunks was the late actor and songwriter Ross Bagdasarian and frankly, there’s no denying his impact upon popular American culture. As a young man, Bagdasarian appeared in the original (and legendary) Eddie Dowling Broadway stage production of William Saroyan’s Pulitzer-prizewinning play “The Time of Your Life”. Bagdasarian and Saroyan, cousins and fellow Armenian-Americans shared a love of the arts and most importantly, sentimentality and whimsy. (In fact, the cousins actually co-wrote the song “Come on-a My House” which became such a huge hit for the legendary songstress Rosemary Clooney.) Alas, unlike his more celebrated older cousin Saroyan, Bagdasarian won no Oscars or Pulitzers. He did, however, snafu a couple of Grammy awards, and in so doing, entertained and delighted millions of children (and a few of those aforementioned adults who should know better).

This particular legacy, which is nothing to be sneezed at, acquits itself very nicely in this fluffy, harmless feature. And for those inclined, the two-disc DVD version includes a handy-dandy digital copy of the movie suitable for iPods and iPhones. This is especially handy for chipmunk-obsessed kids on long car rides. Just make sure they’re watching with earphones so the journey can be chipmunk-free for the driver.

So feel free to stuff your little nipper’s stocking with the version that includes the Blu-Ray, DVD and digital copy. Whilst Alvin and his chipmunks yearn for a Christmas that does not come late, the rest of us can yearn for a Christmas that comes as early as possible and dissipates as quickly so that life, in all its splendour, can move on.

And maybe, just maybe, with the kids plugged into iPods, it can be a peaceful Christmas for all.

And to all, a goodnight.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two and a half stars

Alvin and the Chipmunks is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment.

INTERSTELLAR - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Nolan finally achieves a smidgen of competence.

Interstellar (2014)
Dir. Christopher Nolan
Starring: Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway, Jessica Chastain, Michael Caine, Matt Damon

Review By Greg Klymkiw

There isn't one single Christopher Nolan movie I've ever liked. He's humourless, pretentious and worst of all, he's a veritable Blind Pew when it comes to directing action scenes (which is a bit of a problem since three of his pictures are superhero movies). However, Interstellar is cause for a thimble-sized celebratory quaff o' bubbly since I was able to actually sit through the movie and not hate it - too much. Basically what we're dealing with here is an almost 3-hour-long cerebral-style sci-fi soaper involving a dying Earth and a whack of astronauts searching for habitable planets beyond a black hole that opens up into a faraway galaxy.

First of all, the movie has no major action set-pieces for Nolan to screw-up. The handful there are genuinely have an accent on suspense and Nolan handles them reasonably well. Also, the picture is replete with low-key dialogue scenes in a claustrophobic spaceship which allows for some fine acting from Matthew McConaughey as the ship's captain, Anne Hathaway as the science officer (and daughter of Michael Caine, the back-on-Earth mastermind of the endeavour to save the human race) as well as the always astonishing Jessica Chastain as McConaughey's back-on-Earth scientist daughter.

For such a long, humourless picture, it almost never feels dull and offers a compelling-enough journey to keep us in our seats. There's one humungous problem, however. The ride provided is decent enough, but there isn't a moment when we don't know where the movie is headed. The predictability-factor is disappointingly up there.

I defy anyone to not figure out the big secret in the early going when McConaughey's daughter (as a little girl) begs him not to go on the journey. I annoyingly tried to explain to my wife where the movie was headed and she asked me politely to keep my mouth shut. "Oh come," I insisted, "It's going to have worm holes and time travel elements, so how can it not be . . . " At this point, my daughter sharply cut me off with an aggressive finger to her lips and a loud, "Ssssshhhhhhh!!!!!"

I also defy anyone to not figure out from the very moment we meet Matt Damon that he isn't all he's cracked up to . . . oh, I'll shut it!!!

The movie is perfectly watchable, though, and based upon its relative competence I'd suggest that maybe, just maybe, Nolan has figured out how to make movies. Interstellar still bears the Christopher "One Idea" Nolan imprimatur - he'll never shake that, but at least you'll not be checking what time it is every five-to-minutes.

THE FILM CORNER RATING:
**½ Two-and-a-half-stars.

Interstellar screens the world over via Paramount.

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REFUGE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Canadian Premiere Toronto After Dark Film Fest 2014

It ain't easy surviving the apocalypse.

Refuge (2013)
Dir. Andrew Robertson
Starring: Carter Roy, Amy Rutberg, Eva Grace Kellner, Sebastian Beacon, Chris Kies, Travis Grant, Mark Ashworth

Review By Greg Klymkiw

There's a whole lot of been-there-done-that-been-done-lots-bigger-and-better comprising the experience that is Refuge (earlier entitled The Mansion) which makes my heart go out to the filmmakers even more than those who would merely attempt a low-budget, slapdash rehash of movies like John Hillcoat's fine adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's The Road. That said, this post-apocalyptic science fiction chamber drama with thriller elements is not without fine performances, intelligent writing (via helmer Andrew Robertson and co-scribe Lilli Kanso), superb use of remote, evocative locations and first-rate production design and art direction.

Our familiarity with this world on film is simply one of the biggest problems facing Refuge. The accent on character and family is admirable and its handling of both suspense and violence is not without merit, but given its modest budget, one might have hoped its makers would have attempted to push the envelope further in order to deliver something that felt more original.

They don't, though, and we're left with a film with considerable merit, but few surprises that provide the kind of frissons which would otherwise allow us to forgive a few of the picture's lapses in logic which seem due to a clumsy flashback structure which might have been a problem inherent in the screenplay or the result of exigencies in production and post-production.

Focusing on a couple and their young daughter (Carter Roy, Amy Rutberg, Eva Grace Kellner), a next door neighbour (Chris Kies) and a wounded outsider (Sebastian Beacon) who brings a backstory of violence and being on the run with him.

The latter is what sets off a chain of unpleasantness when a gang of nasty psychopaths follows his trail to the backwoods mansion and our protagonists are forced to leave their refuge behind, now all on the run from the marauders. Things settle into a backwoods cat and mouse until the predictably inevitable grand showdown.

There's nothing especially wrong with the film, but its familiar tropes are enough to make the experience quite underwhelming in spite of its quality.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two-and-a-half Stars

Refuge has its Canadian premiere during the 2014 Toronto After Dark Film Festival.

ZOMBEAVERS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Toronto Premiere - Toronto After Dark Fest 2014

BABES & BEAVERS are BEAUTIFUL BEDFELLOWS

Zombeavers (2014)
Dir. Jordan Rubin
Starring: A whack o' babes, guys, old people & beavers

Review By Greg Klymkiw

If you see Zombeavers and complain that the movie was nothing more than nubile babes and their boyfriends getting attacked by zombie beavers and turning into half-human-half-zombie-beavers themselves, then you're pretty much a fucking idiot.

Make no mistake, this is what you're going to get:

A couple of inbred truck drivers spill a load of toxic waste into the water near a beaver dam.

A gaggle of babes is headed up to the cottage for a weekend away from their dopey, horny boyfriends. The guys show up anyway. Soon, between boink-o-rama shenanigans, the toxic-waste-infected beavers begin to feed.

A few of our hapless babes and hunks grow beaver teeth and are greedily looking to feed. They are. after all, beavers now.

In addition to the aforementioned scintillating plot, you will be party to some of the crudest, most sexist and borderline misogynist jokes imaginable. There will be topless sunbathing and, for those so inclined, geysers of blood.

The film is mercifully short and if I was to say I didn't enjoy every second of it, I don't know how I'd ever be able to look at myself in the mirror ever again - at least not without thinking, "Asshole!".

So, please, if you're planning to see a movie called Zombeavers, rest assured it's exactly what you're going to get.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ 2-and-a-Half Stars.

Zombeavers receives a Toronto premiere at TADFF 2014.

MY OLD LADY - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Israel Horovitz adapts own play for feature directing debut at age 75

Maggie Smith. Kevin Kline. Head of boar.
What could possibly go wrong?

My Old Lady (2014)
Dir. Israel Horovitz
Starring: Maggie Smith, Kevin Kline, Kristin Scott-Thomas

Review By Greg Klymkiw

That 75-year-old writer Israel Horovitz has remain tethered to the theatrical roots of adapting his play to the big screen is not the main problem plaguing his belated feature-length directorial debut. The source material and, by extension, his screenplay for My Old Lady, is afflicted with a kind of narrative schizophrenia.

It's not, however, without some merit.

When we first meet Mathias Gold (Kevin Kline), he's penniless. Happily, his rudderless life in New York is behind him as he's depleted what little dough he had to fly across the pond and secure the Parisian home willed to him by his estranged and recently deceased father. Real estate values in Gay-Paree being sky's the limit, especially the choice property he's come into, Mathias feels like he's finally hit the freedom-58 jackpot.

His series of failed marriages, unpublished novels and flopper-roo suicide attempt seem like so many dust bunnies sucked up into a vacuum cleaner. Before hitting the big 6-0, maybe, just maybe, he's going to do some real living.

This, however, proves easier said than done. He is, after all, in France. It seems dear, departed daddy purchased the property under the perverse real estate laws of le beau pays de la romance and he's stuck with the original owner, the 92-year-old Mathilde (Maggie Smith), until she dies. Now, at this ripe age, you'd think it wouldn't be a problem, but the terms of such a purchase, known as a viager, stipulates that the rightful property owner must pay the original owner a generous monthly stipend. If these payments ever go into default, the buyer loses the property to the original owner.

Mathias has no money. None. Zip. Nada. He also has no home. Until he can figure out how to make the monthly payments, he's also forced into renting a room from the old lady. They do snipe ever-so amusingly and eruditely at one another. Never fear, though, Horovitz doesn't take us into some kind of sickening Harold and Maude wannabe territory. Mathilde, you see, has an unmarried, middle-aged, but super-hot daughter Chloé (Kristin Scott Thomas). She hates Mathias's guts, almost from the second she lays eyes on him, but I think you know where all this is going to lead, mais non?

Hmmmm, can love be round the corner? Well, not soon enough.

If My Old Lady simply settled into a drawing room romantic comedy with the trio verbally jousting until a few spanners in the works are overcome and everybody just damn well lived happily-ever-after, then we'd have been handed an innocuous well-played trifle. This would not have been the end of the world. Even I could have lived with that.

Unfortunately, a whole series of dark secrets begin to unfurl and plunges us into a half-baked melodrama we're supposed to swallow. Don't get me wrong, I love melodrama and I respect Horovitz for trying something akin to dramatic suicide, but the fact remains is that it simply doesn't work. The movie goes off the rails quite dreadfully and just keeps chugging its wheels until tedium and utter disbelief becomes the order of the day.

The movie does, thankfully, wrap itself into a nice bow with some funny bits just as we're about to throw in the towel, but it's too little too late. As a film director, though, Horovitz does manage to jockey things smoothly until his writing begins to tumble into a murky abyss. The verbiage, when it's funny, is pretty crisp and even the monologues (when they're not too deathly serious) don't feel stilted. Horovitz opens his play up - it is Paris, after all, so why not get a few good eyefuls of it, but occasionally he errs in opening up, seemingly for the sake of opening up. This is never something I'm happy to see when it feels forced and here it's too often shoved down our throats.

By the picture's end, we're left with a bit of a dog's breakfast, but when things click, they do so very nicely indeed. Finally, though, the glue that holds the entire thing together is the presence of Smith, Kline and Thomas who give it their all. It's not quite enough to save the picture, but I do suspect admirers of this trio will find some morsels of engagement in their very solid performances.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two-and-a-half Stars

My Old Lady is in a modest theatrical release throughout Canada via dFilms.

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FRONTERA - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Contemporary Border Hopping Western in limited Theatrical via VSC

Frontera (2014)
Dir. Michael Berry
Starring: Ed Harris, Michael Peña, Eva Longoria, Aden Young, Amy Madigan

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Frontera has the misfortune of being a watchable drama about the dangers facing "illegal" Mexican migrant workers crossing over the border into America. I say "misfortune" because the huge number of similar films has yielded several with which the bar has been set extremely high, one that Michael Berry's superbly acted and gorgeously photographed film is simply unable to reach due to its middling script (co-written by Berry with Louis Moulinet). If a picture can't come even remotely close to Robert M. Young's groundbreaking neo-realistic-styled Alambrista, Tony Richardson's stunning, existentialist-male-angst thriller The Border and the more recent docudrama Who is Dayani Cristal?, it's pretty much going to be the cat in the bag, with said bag in the river.

This is what befalls Frontera, a modest drama which offers us a multi-character narrative full of by-the-numbers story beats, that are not without some merit, but cumulatively add up to something feeling a lot more made-for-cable than a theatrical feature. Peña plays a Mexican who gets railroaded into a murder rap after he crosses the border into redneck Arizona territory on land, too coincidentally belonging to retired ex-lawman Harris. Peña's pregnant wife, Longoria, knowing her husband is a good and decent family man follows his path, but gets kidnapped by unscrupulous Mexican smugglers who are little more than ransom-seekers.

Adding a standard TV procedural sub-plot to the already-crowded proceedings, Harris smells a rat and begins investigating the murder all on his lonesome, butting heads with new sheriff Aden Young who is, in fact, trying to cover up the identity of the real killers. Alas, all these connected threads proceed predictably, since from the beginning, there's no real mystery as to who's who and who's done what. It all feels like a matter of running time before everything's sewn up in favour of the disenfranchised over the corrupt.

What's finally served up here is something that Ed Harris and/or Michael Peña admirers might enjoy if they're in a laid-back channel-flipping or V.O.D. mood. Those simply drawn to the subject matter, might be less enthralled. The political and social implications of America's ludicrously two-faced and corrupt border policies are all touched-upon, but frustratingly take a back seat to familiar melodramatic turns.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two-and-a-half Stars

Frontera is in limited theatrical release via VSC and currently screens at the Magic Lantern Carlton Cinemas in Toronto. It's availability on home entertainment platforms is inevitable.

My reviews of Alambrista can be found HERE and Who is Dayani Cristal? is HERE.

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TUSK - Review By Greg Klymkiw - TIFF 2014 - TIFF MIDNIGHT MADNESS

WALRUS FETISHISTS
UNITE!
MANITOBA'S
INTERLAKE
A HOTBED
FOR TUSK LOVERS
FROM AMERICA!

Tusk (2014)
Dir. Kevin Smith
Starring: Michael Parks, Justin Long, Haley Joel Osment, Genesis Rodriguez, Johnny Depp

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Beware of Bifrost, Manitoba. If he's not careful, a dude can be turned into a walrus in that neck of the Interlake Region. In fact, that's what's been happening thereabouts in a remote mansion in the woods. It's the home of serial killer Howard Howe (Michael Parks), a crusty, poetry-spouting ex-seaman who, as a lad, was rescued from certain death by a walrus, but forced by hunger to eat his blubbery pal. Since that fateful day, Howe returned to his home in Canada and traversed the highways and byways above the 49th parallel, luring young men into his clutches, drugging them, then butchering them on an operating table in one attempt after another to create a walrus out of a human being. When Wallace Bryton (Justin Long), a crass American podcaster comes to Winnipeg, he finds his way into Howe's clutches. Though he's butchered beyond recognition, the lad might find salvation in the form of his best friend (Haley Joel Osmont), his hot girlfriend (Genesis Rodriguez) and a dogged Quebecois detective (Johnny Depp) with a penchant for Gimli Sliders. Now, if any of this sounds remotely stupid, that's because it is. Written and directed by Kevin (Clerks) Smith, one of the more prolific indie American directors, but aesthetically, one of the laziest, Tusk takes the booby prize for being the best film set in Manitoba, but filmed in North Carolina.

Other than 70s icon Michael Parks deliciously chewing the scenery with a few genuinely hilarious monologues penned by Smith and an almost unrecognizable Johnny Depp mugging his way through a pretty damn funny performance as the Joual-spouting inbred from La Belle Province, I can't actually say this is a particularly good movie, but it is intermittently damn entertaining.

Part of it is surely the idea of walrus-obsession. They're damn cute creatures and look uber-cuddly with those rolls of blubber, long whiskers, sad eyes and humungous tusks, so already the movie has a bit of a leg up on pretty much any other movie. As well, the picture is jam-packed with all manner of stereotypical references to Canada and that's always worth celebrating. In fact, Smith even has the appalling poor taste to provide a backstory (and monologue) for Michael Parks detailing his own character's childhood of painful sexual abuse in orphanages.

For some reason, though, I can't find it in me to take a dump on Smith for any of this since the movie alternately creeped me out and made me laugh. I do, however, fault him for continuing to be an unbelievably lazy filmmaker. The movie is a structural mess and goes on for at least 15 to 20 minutes too long, but if you're in the right frame of mind and/or a sick puppy and/or stoned out of your gourd and/or harbour a deep-seeded walrus fetish, there are certainly considerable pleasures to be had (including, YES! Fleetwood Mac doing "Tusk" on the soundtrack).

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two-and-a-half-stars

Tusk has its world premiere at TIFF 2014 in TIFF'S MIDNIGHT MADNESS.

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'71 - Review By Greg Klymkiw - TIFF 2014 (TIFF DISCOVERY SERIES)

Belfast. 1971.
Not the safest
place for a
Brit soldier
to get lost in.

'71 (2014)
Dir. Yann Demange
Scr. Gregory Burke
Starring: Jack O'Connell

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Barely out of their teens and thrust immediately from basic training into the hellfire of war must surely have been traumatic enough, but for the lads in the British Army during the early 70s, the sense of horror and disorientation must have multiplied exponentially when they found themselves fighting on what they would have perceived as their home turf. Not that the "troubles" in Northern Ireland were ever really as familiar to the rest of the United Kingdom as their own backyards, but still, they'd have been amongst English-speaking citizens, living in homes not far removed from the architecture of their own and round every corner, neighbourhood pubs would've had the brew of mother's milk amply flowing out of the taps. Alas, the incongruities of burning wrecks of British Army vehicles everywhere, bombs going off at random, children pelting them with plastic bags full of urine and at times, those same children bearing firearms, all would have seemed like a living nightmare.

From a tersely efficient screenplay by Gregory Burke, director Yann Demange flings us into Paul Greengrass herky-jerky realist territory as we follow the fresh young British private Gary (Jack O'Connell) as he's separated from his platoon during a massive street riot and finds himself smack in the middle of the most violent section of Belfast, the border separating the Loyal Protestants and the anti-Brit, anti-Protestant Catholics. There's not much more to the movie than the sheer tale of survival over the course of one night, but for much of the picture's running time, it's genuinely suspenseful - at times, unbearably so.

The period detail is especially impressive and contributes immeasurably to painting a portrait of a city under siege by its own inhabitants. Burke and Demange do, however, let us down during the final third as they set up and follow through with a cliche-ridden and predictable cavalry-to-the-rescue climax. The whole thing at this point feels so false, unearned and not in keeping with the rest of the picture, that even the potentially powerful aspects of its denouement lack the sort of clout the filmmakers appear to be yearning for. The 70s grittiness the picture adheres to, but then abandons, is such a crashing disappointment that it comes close to negating everything about the picture that works quite splendidly.

THE FILM CORNER RATING:
**½ Two-and-a-half-Stars

'71 plays at TIFF 2014 in the TIFF Discovery Series.

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MY OLD LADY - TIFF 2014 (Special Presentation) - Review By Greg Klymkiw

Maggie Smith. Kevin Kline. Head of boar.
What could possibly go wrong?

My Old Lady (2014)
Dir. Israel Horovitz
Starring: Maggie Smith, Kevin Kline, Kristin Scott-Thomas

Review By Greg Klymkiw

That 75-year-old writer Israel Horovitz has remain tethered to the theatrical roots of adapting his play to the big screen is not the main problem plaguing his belated feature-length directorial debut. The source material and, by extension, his screenplay for My Old Lady, is afflicted with a kind of narrative schizophrenia.

It's not, however, without some merit.

When we first meet Mathias Gold (Kevin Kline), he's penniless. Happily, his rudderless life in New York is behind him as he's depleted what little dough he had to fly across the pond and secure the Parisian home willed to him by his estranged and recently deceased father. Real estate values in Gay-Paree being sky's the limit, especially the choice property he's come into, Mathias feels like he's finally hit the freedom-58 jackpot.

His series of failed marriages, unpublished novels and flopper-roo suicide attempt seem like so many dust bunnies sucked up into a vacuum cleaner. Before hitting the big 6-0, maybe, just maybe, he's going to do some real living.

This, however, proves easier said than done. He is, after all, in France. It seems dear, departed daddy purchased the property under the perverse real estate laws of le beau pays de la romance and he's stuck with the original owner, the 92-year-old Mathilde (Maggie Smith), until she dies. Now, at this ripe age, you'd think it wouldn't be a problem, but the terms of such a purchase, known as a viager, stipulates that the rightful property owner must pay the original owner a generous monthly stipend. If these payments ever go into default, the buyer loses the property to the original owner.

Mathias has no money. None. Zip. Nada. He also has no home. Until he can figure out how to make the monthly payments, he's also forced into renting a room from the old lady. They do snipe ever-so amusingly and eruditely at one another. Never fear, though, Horovitz doesn't take us into some kind of sickening Harold and Maude wannabe territory. Mathilde, you see, has an unmarried, middle-aged, but super-hot daughter Chloé (Kristin Scott Thomas). She hates Mathias's guts, almost from the second she lays eyes on him, but I think you know where all this is going to lead, mais non?

Hmmmm, can love be round the corner? Well, not soon enough.

If My Old Lady simply settled into a drawing room romantic comedy with the trio verbally jousting until a few spanners in the works are overcome and everybody just damn well lived happily-ever-after, then we'd have been handed an innocuous well-played trifle. This would not have been the end of the world. Even I could have lived with that.

Unfortunately, a whole series of dark secrets begin to unfurl and plunges us into a half-baked melodrama we're supposed to swallow. Don't get me wrong, I love melodrama and I respect Horovitz for trying something akin to dramatic suicide, but the fact remains is that it simply doesn't work. The movie goes off the rails quite dreadfully and just keeps chugging its wheels until tedium and utter disbelief becomes the order of the day.

The movie does, thankfully, wrap itself into a nice bow with some funny bits just as we're about to throw in the towel, but it's too little too late. As a film director, though, Horovitz does manage to jockey things smoothly until his writing begins to tumble into a murky abyss. The verbiage, when it's funny, is pretty crisp and even the monologues (when they're not too deathly serious) don't feel stilted. Horovitz opens his play up - it is Paris, after all, so why not get a few good eyefuls of it, but occasionally he errs in opening up, seemingly for the sake of opening up. This is never something I'm happy to see when it feels forced and here it's too often shoved down our throats.

By the picture's end, we're left with a bit of a dog's breakfast, but when things click, they do so very nicely indeed. Finally, though, the glue that holds the entire thing together is the presence of Smith, Kline and Thomas who give it their all. It's not quite enough to save the picture, but I do suspect admirers of this trio will find some morsels of engagement in their very solid performances.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two-and-a-half Stars

My Old Lady via dFilms is a Special Presentation at TIFF 2014. Visit the festival website HERE.

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MONSTERZ - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Ringu director Hideo Nakata explores mind control @FantAsia2014

Mind Control is not without merit when you're a monster.

Monsterz (2014)
Dir. Hideo Nakata
Starring: Tatsuya Fujiwara, Takayuki Yamada, Satomi Ishihara, Tomorowo Taguchi, Motoki Ochiai

Review By Greg Klymkiw

A young boy discovers he can telepathically control the minds of others. This comes in mighty handy when he manages to force his abusive father to snap his own neck. When the child reaches adulthood, he has the power to control anyone's mind and can even force large swaths of people in his purview to enter a state of suspended animation. This comes in especially handy when he wants to rob banks - mostly for fun. When he meets another young man with similar powers, all hell breaks loose.

Hideo Nakata (Ringu, Dark Water) is one of Japan's finest directors of horror and here he chooses to remake Haunters, a 2010 Korean film and even manages to trump the original. That the original is not especially good, is wherein the fault lies.

Nakata certainly creates a few creepy and fun set pieces and cannot be denied his natural virtuosity. That said, the film feels like a J-Horror version of such teen-oriented American franchise items like the Twilight and Hunger Games series. When the young man is wreaking havoc, all's well, but as it becomes more mano a mano rivalry gymnastics, not even Nakata's great style can breathe much life into this hoary horror of ponderous been-there-done-that.

THE FILM CORNER Rating **½

Monsterz had its Canadian Premiere at FantAsia2014 in Montreal.

THE HARVEST - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Samantha Morton porks into the New Kathy Bates - @FantAsia2014

Ladies and Gentlemen,
presenting the heir apparent to Kathy Bates in MISERY:
Samantha Morton in THE HARVEST.

The Harvest (2013) ***
Dir. John McNaughton
Starring: Samantha Morton, Michael Shannon, Peter Fonda, Natasha Calis, Charlie Tahan

Review By Greg Klymkiw

A pudgy, pushy small town doctor (Samantha Morton) and her subservient hubby (Michael Shannon), a male nurse no less, are treating their terminally ill little boy (Charlie Tahan) at home. The lad is very lonely. When he's befriended by a new girl in the neighbourhood (Natasha Calis), Porcine Mama gets her back up and refuses to let her son have a friend. Kids will be kids, though, and they persist in surreptitious play-dates. This annoys Mama to no end and she becomes even more unhinged than when we first met her.

She foists verbal, psychological and eventually physical abuse on her crippled dying son. Dad, being a male nurse, and therefore (of course) subservient, can barely stick up for the lad. It doesn't take too long for Samantha Morton to give Kathy Bates in Misery a run for her money in the psycho sweepstakes. As well, Morton is porking out to Bates dimensions, though it's still a case of close, but no cigar in the chub department.

This very strange film feels like an ABC Movie of the Week from the 70s. This is not necessarily a bad thing since there were plenty of decent thrillers to come out of that wave of small-screen cinema. That said, The Harvest isn't in Duel territory, but closer to the vicinity of Bad Ronald, Crowhaven Farm, A Taste of Evil, The Failing of Raymond, Revenge and any number of others which blended melodrama with suspense and often starred actresses just slightly out of their prime like Shelley Winters, Jane Wyman, Suzanne Pleshette, Hope Lange, Barbara Stanwyck - all of whom delivering terrific performances in spite of either chubbing out and/or indulging in too much plastic surgery.

And Samantha Morton is no slouch in conveying the requisite just-past-prime-time evil harridan gymnastics. It's impossible to take one's eyes of Morton - not for the same reasons 17-years-ago when she charmed us in Woody Allen's Sweet and Lowdown, but rather because her commitment and intensity is full-steam-ahead evil. She creates a seemingly flawed, but ultimately psychopathic child abuser and as the film progresses and reveals, something a whole lot worse. It's a great performance.

Sadly, the rest of the cast just isn't quite up to her level of thespian muscle-flexing. Michael Shannon, stout yeoman as always, is genuinely good, but it's painful to watch him slinking around so cretinously. Yes, I know, I know. He's playing a MALE nurse and as such, can only convey a subservience that's in line with that of a whinging castrato.

The real problem are the child actors. They have no chemistry, zero screen presence and their abilities fall somewhere in the contemporary continuing TV series range of acting. Given the importance of these characters to the film, their sub-par emoting really drags the movie down.

The Harvest just doesn't have the old snap, crackle and pop stylistics of the director John McNaughton of old. He handles the suspense admirably enough, but visually, the movie seems flat and a bit lifeless. This is certainly a far cry from the man who gave us Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer and (hubba-hubba) Wild Things. Clearly he wanted to stretch his wings here into some manner of To Kill a Mockingbird territory, but it ends up just feeling a bit dirge-like. Given that we're dealing with a fat harridan abusing her crippled terminally ill child, where in the hell is the humour? I'm not kidding. This movie needed some genuinely nasty nyuck-nyucks.

I will say, I did - in spite of everything - enjoy Stephen Lancellotti's writing. The screenplay initially offers an original take on the thriller genre, but about halfway through the movie when I was able to easily piece together where it was ultimately going, I felt like I was just putting in time on the old punch clock. Predictability reigned supreme and each mark it hit that I assumed it would hit, felt like a traitorous stab in the gut.

It seems like McNaughton wanted to be a kinder, gentler genre filmmaker with The Harvest, but I do hope this is a temporary aberration on his part. The melodrama is all there, but the grimy, gritty and dirty sludge bath one really wants from a picture like this is woefully missing.

The Harvest had its International Premiere at the 2014 FantAsia International Film Festival in Montreal.

CLOSER TO GOD - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Cloning Thriller an O.K. Modern Frankenstein take @FantAsia2014

Closer To God (2014) dir. Gary Senese
Starring: Jeremy Childs, Shelean Newman, Shannon Hoppe, David Alford, John Schuck

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Bouncing Baby Elizabeth has just been born. She's a clone created by Dr. Reed (Jeremy Childs) and after years of research and plenty of failures, it looks like he's finally hit pay dirt. When word leaks, all hell breaks loose. The media has a field day, various government authorities plot all manner of legal attacks, the hospital is besieged by crazed born-again Christian protestors and strange visitors wander halls they shouldn't even be in. When Reed has the cloned baby and his lab moved to his palatial country estate, the circus follows him and now his family are virtual prisoners in their own home (which is surrounded by armed security guards).

Though things seem well with the baby, something is still amiss. Years earlier, the good doctor conducted cloning experiments with a local couple and the results were not at all successful. In fact, something that shouldn't have survived, has. It ain't pretty and it's mighty angry.

A new kind of hell will soon break loose.

Closer to God is a reasonably effective low-budget take on the Frankenstein story which is certainly watchable, but falls short of the calculatingly chilly style of Cronenberg's early work that it most resembles. Writer-Director Gary Senese attempts to infuse his film with an intelligent discourse involving ethical issues and the struggles between science and religion. Alas, it's missing the excruciating tension of films like Shivers, Rabid and The Brood, but worst of all, it's bereft of the perverse nature of those pictures. Because it takes itself so very seriously, Closer to God is also missing anything resembling humour. Given its ultimately pulpy roots (less Mary Shelley, more Universal Horror Franchise versions dolloped with cool Cronenbergian aspirations), the movie plays out like a straight-to-VOD time killer with a tiny bit more brains than the usual dross clogging the airwaves and cyberspace.

Its underpopulated locations - both exterior and exterior - betray the low budget, especially in the small number of bodies used for the masses of protestors and structurally, the story doesn't adequately blend the subplot involving the experiment gone wrong so that what little suspense the film actually has, comes far too late in the proceedings. The story also relies too heavily on flashbacks to fill in details of character and logic, so much so that we're taken out of the forward trajectory the film needs to work as the thriller it aspires to be.

The performances are an odd mix of wooden (almost all of them) to genuinely superb (Jeremy Childs), but perhaps the best thing that can be said here is that the wonderful character actor John Schuck is a real sight for sore eyes in his all-too-brief role as the good doctor's lawyer. Most will remember Schuck from his second-fiddle role in the long-running McMillan and Wife TV series, but those who care anything at all about movies will remember him as a part of Robert Altman's company of players during his richest period of the 1970s (he portrayed, among other immortal roles, the "Painless Pole" in M*A*S*H and the lowlife Chicamaw in Thieves Like Us).

Closer to God isn't awful, but given the subject matter, it falls considerably short of its promise. My hat is off to Senese for attempting to deliver an old tale in contemporary garb, but close is still "no cigar".

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two-and-a-half Stars

Closer to God enjoyed its International Premiere at the 2014 edition of the FantAsia International Film Fest in Montreal.

ANTISOCIAL - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Standard Low-Budget Thriller Signals Arrival of Talented Director

Antisocial (2013) **1/2
Dir. Cody Calahan
Starring: Michelle Mylett

Review By
Greg Klymkiw

The final 20 minutes of this low budget Canadian horror film's 92 minute running time features some truly mind-splitting gore and suspense. From a directorial standpoint, the movie kicks into the sort of high-gear one wants from a low budget genre film and though Writer-Director Cody Calahan's feature debut has a few frissons slithering throughout, much of its first two-thirds is a slog on a number of fronts.

Basically, it's a one-star movie boosted a notch by a terrific climax and the potential of its director to eventually make a good movie. The setup is typical of most no-to-low budget genre items - a group of college kids are trapped in a house while an infection rages outside and in addition to threats of the external variety are those from within as the college kids start catching the plague - beginning, middle and end of movie.

Ho-hum. Been there. Done that. The only thing that's going to keep us watching is a combination of directorial flourishes, new twists on the now-stale set-up/backdrop and, of course, good writing (if not narratively, at least on the level of character and dialogue).

On the directorial front, Calahan (the first assistant director and co-producer of Monster Brawl and Exit Humanity) knows a thing or two about delivering scares in a solid fashion. Alas, there are weird pacing and spatial issues when he's not focused on pure terror. For example (and there are many similar such scenes throughout), we get two characters in a room, bad shit happens in there, the other characters come upstairs to see what's wrong, we cut back into the room, a long conversation takes place, we wonder why the characters in the hallway who have expressed considerable interest and urgency haven't burst in long before this and then, when the lines of dialogue (which aren't especially good anyway) have been uttered, the door opens and the rest of the characters saunter in.

At least when stuff like that happens in an Ed Wood movie, it's funny.

As a director, Calahan seems either incompetent or uninterested in pretty much everything other than visceral thrills which, yes, he can handle well enough. A good part of the problem, however, is the writing and for that, he merely needs to look in a mirror. Though derivative of much better films like Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Pulse, Calahan's script at least steals a good idea from it by rooting the source of the evil in computers. The nice twist is that it manifests its victims via a Social Networking site. This is good. Tons of potential. Alas, the possibilities - narratively and thematically - are not mined in any intelligent way.

It sits there, ever-so nicely, like the good idea it is.

"Look at me, Ma. I'm a good idea, but my writer isn't doing anything with me."

"Don't worry, child, someday he - or someone, will."

As far as the characters go, they're pretty much stock for this kind of movie. Is it always necessary to populate these films with vapid college kids who really have no depth beyond the perfunctory? Of course, it isn't, but this is exactly what Calahan does. We get a group of dull, average losers with pretty low and petty personal stakes. One might charge Sam Raimi with a similar crime in his first Evil Dead outing, but his viciously black sense of humour, the appearance of the genuinely brilliant Bruce Campbell and the utterly creepy, horrendous shit he puts them through makes it a winner all the way. Calahan probably needed to remember that washouts of the kind he's populated his film with REALLY need MAJOR punishment.

The dialogue is especially wretched and of the variety wherein something happens on-screen and one of the characters tells us and his fellow characters what we (and they) have just seen. The first time this happened, I was close to throwing in the towel, but hung in hoping things would get better.

Even the tropes of substandard straight to video genre fare are handled with a kind of dull conservatism in Calahan's film. The initial symptoms of the infection include copious bleeding from facial openings like the ears, eyes and nose plus paranoid hallucinations. That's okay, I guess, but when I think about the blood parasite infecting Barbara Steele in David Cronenberg's first feature Shivers by slithering up into her vagina, or the disgusting pustules all over the deformed baby's face and the gloopy blood it coughs up from its mush-filled infected mouth in David Lynch's first feature Eraserhead or the little girl stabbing her mother repeatedly with a garden trowel in Romero's first feature Night of the Living Dead, nosebleeds just don't cut the mustard.

Rectal and vaginal bleeding, however, might have been what the doctor ordered to grease things up a bit. I suggest that next time Mr. Calahan listen to his knowledgeable G.P.

Eventually Calahan's virus-infused victims turn into raving homicidal maniacs. I can live with this, but again, I think back on Cronenberg's Shivers where the infected victims become raving homicidal SEX maniacs. In fact, Calahan's characters could use a little sex to begin with, but instead we get the main female character moping around from being knocked up by her loser boyfriend who dumps her via social networking just prior to her heading off to do remedial work after flunking a criminology test. Ugh! She's not only a drag, but stupid.

She is, thankfully, a babe, but even though the actress playing her is indeed a knockout, we know there won't be any boinking going on when she hooks up with her handsome male friend who seems vaguely more intelligent and far more worthy of the supple charms twixt her thighs than the bonehead she was being dinked by.

Worse yet, another vapid couple gets it on in the bedroom, but ONLY manage to strip down to their undies. Come on, for Christ's sake! Can we get a little bare breast action from the babe or a smidgen of schwance from her studly male partner? No. It's not that kind of movie. (Though actually, it IS that kind of movie, but too precious to deliver the goods.)

The nice thing about low budget genre features is when, like the aforementioned Monster Brawl and Exit Humanity, the movies - for whatever flaws they possess - at least try to do something different and go well beyond the tropes.

That doesn't happen here, but if you do bother with the film, I can assure you that in its final third, on a purely visceral level, the film will wag a drill in front of your face and bore itself into your skull.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, IS entertainment!!!

Antisocial is available on a DVD edition via Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada. The extras are a surprising bones only because the commentary track is better than most. The Director and Cinematographer indulge in annoying anecdotal items less than is usual in these things, the transfer is fine and the accent is on screen-specific elements with respect to the making of the film. The added Behind the Scenes, however, is perfunctory stuff. Feel free to order Antisocial and other great titles from Anchor Bay by clicking directly on the Amazon links below band in so doing, contribute to the ongoing maintenance of the Film Corner.

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5 SHORT FILMS/ 1 NIGHT - Reviews By Greg Klymkiw - Reviews of recent CCE nominees screening at Toronto's illustrious Royal Cinema: THE ARCHIVIST, METHOD, ROSBILT, SUNDAY PUNCH, WALK THE MOON

5 SHORT FILMS / 1 NIGHT: The Canadian Cinema Editors (CCE) presents a screening at The Royal Cinema of 5 short films all nominated at this years annual CCE awards.

Editors:
Paul Day,
Ray Savaya,
Erin Deck,
Mark Fifield,
Richard Mandin

Directors:
Gregory Smith,
Roman Tchjen,
Jeremy Ball,
Allan Powel,
Maire Tacbas

All 5 films are feted in this delicious presentation of the finest in Canadian Short Drama. This is a great opportunity to see such diverse pieces the way they were meant to be seen - under the roof & on the big screen of one of Toronto's premier exhibition venues, The Royal Cinema, with its gorgeous sound & projection.

5 SHORT FILMS / 1 NIGHT

Reviewed in Alphabetical Order

The Archivist (2013) **½
Edited by Richard Mandin
Written and Directed by Jeremy Ball
Produced by Glen Wood and Jordana Aarons

Starring: Pip Dwyer, Jesse Aaron Dwyre, Peter Messaline

Review By Greg Klymkiw


The Archivist was part of "Stage to Screen", a commemorative project created the visionary young producer Glen Wood of ViDDYWELL FiLMS in collaboration with The Ontario Heritage Trust (and co-produced by Jordana Aarons) to mark the 100th anniversary of Toronto landmark The Elgin and Winter Garden Theatre Centre. Emerging filmmakers were invited to scout the theatre and present a concept for their short film. Six films were selected for production to take advantage of the venue’s historic architecture and atmosphere. This visually impressive dramatic fantasy involving a projectionist at loggerheads with his boss when he actively investigates a series of mysterious disappearances in a movie theatre, proved to be the second weakest of the group of aforementioned shorts (three of which were dazzling, one of which was solidly and artistically ambitious and one that was relatively inconsequential). Ball's film was certainly closer in quality to the upper half of the equation, though proved to have more style than substance. Its most egregious sin is one that might be overlooked by audiences, but the picture has the faint aroma of "Calling Card" wafting from it. The picture is very well crafted, but in that "Look Ma, we can make a movie" manner so many short films are cursed with. The end result is something that's not really about much of anything at all. In its defence, plenty of big budget mainstream feature films are also adorned with such attributes.

Method (2013) ***
Edited by Paul Day
Directed by Gregory Smith
Written by Peter Mooney (from Smith's Story)
Produced by Kevin Krikst and Sonia Hosko
Starring: Shawn Doyle, Sarain Boylan, Katie Boland

Review By Greg Klymkiw

A cop interrogates a woman. It sounds simple enough, doesn't it? Deceptively so, since life (and good movies) are never, ever that simple.


Driving the intensity of this confrontation are highly personal elements: the woman needs to testify against someone close to her and the cop is personally connected to a crime victim. It can't get more intense than this and Method is a classic set-up for a short film. That said, though, the picture breaks a few important narrative barriers, thus allowing for layering that stems from the simplicity and not the horrendous other way round where emotional and thematic levels take precedence and the whole thing crumbles into transparent didacticism. Opening with a breathtaking cut that sucks you in immediately, then settling into a more conventional cutting framework for, as you'll discover, very good reason, until the piece continues along with a trajectory - dramatically and stylistically - that's unexpected, to say the least.

rosbilt (2013) ***1/2
Edited by Mark Fifield
Directed by Marie Tacbas
Starring: Ross Stuart
Produced by Mike Kirkwood

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Utilizing elements of classic Cinéma Direct as pioneered by Michel Brault within the context of creating a slice-of-life narrative in documentary film is best achieved when the hand of the filmmaker can be felt via carefully selected and placed dollops of footage that advance the story with methods of more conventional tools such as the spoken words of the subject.

These words, derived through interview and/or simple directed conversation, then transformed into naturalistically-derived narration from said subject allow for greater adherence to "manipulated" (in the best sense of the word) storytelling, flying in the face of Direct Cinema and/or even that of strict cinéma vérité. To achieve this successfully in a short film, as it is in rosbilt, is quite often nothing short of a miracle as the "breathing space" is going to automatically be restricted by the parameters of both the running time and the choice to present the material within a shorter framework. Focusing upon the unique skill and artistry of the film's central subject, Ross Stuart, we're allowed a slice-of-life glimpse into the creation of musical instruments - banjos, ukeleles, etc. - cobbled expertly together from materials not automatically associated with generating exquisite, practical implements that will emit gorgeous music. It's a lovely film that works perfectly as a short, yet inspires the notion that rosbilt could also work perfectly as a segment within a much larger film devoted to unconventional methods and materials used to create implements that bring aesthetic beauty to people in ways they'd never imagine.

Sunday Punch (2013) ***
Edited by Erin Deck
Written and Directed by Alan Powell
Produced by Matt Code and Alex House
Starring: Jessica Greco, Ennis Esmer, Rod Black, Art Hindle

Review By Greg Klymkiw

A filmmaker using Cinéma Direct and Cinéma Vérité to create a blend of (literally, as you'll discover) kitchen-sink domestic drama that borders on qualities of Neo-Realism is, frankly, hard enough to achieve with any degree of success.

To then spin things and practically morph into creating drama within a re-creation of a reality television episode is to lay oneself open to the considerable potential for either folly and/or slick but ultimately hollow trick-pony gymnastics. Happily, Sunday Punch melds these implicitly disparate elements into a movie that's as fun, sprightly and clever as one would want, yielding a supremely entertaining and original work that offers-up a funny, biting and affecting tale of acrimony within a simple, but layered love story. That the film features sports announcer Rod Black offering play-by-play and Art Hindle dispensing colour commentary (similar to his hilarious work in the original indie feature Monster Brawl) borders on some kind of mad genius.

Walk the Moon (2013) ****
Edited by Ray Savaya
Written and Directed by Roman Tchjen
Produced by Vaishni Majoomdar
Starring: Nina Iordanova, David Sherwood, Ethan Singal, Rod McTaggart

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Walk the Moon is one of the finest short Canadian films I've seen this year (possibly in quite a few years) and signals great things to come from its entire creative team. Led by an exquisite performance from Nina Iordanova as a deaf teen adjusting to a new school, a fractious relationship with a parent and how the fear of silence in this delicate stage of a child's life compounds her decidedly dour state, yields a genuinely heartfelt affair which also roils with undercurrents of darkness. Deftly and with great artistry, this is a movie that cascades from present tense to flashbacks and through dreamscape with astonishing maturity at every level. The intelligent use of soundscape is subtle and effective, blending ever-so gorgeously with the astonishing visuals, delicate pacing and a careful attention to nailing the picture's dramatic beats. This is a deeply moving film - as much for its thematic and narrative content as for its virtuosity. The film contains cuts and images that are breathtaking, yet rooted firmly in the narrative trajectory and as such, I was not only dazzled, but compelled to shed more than a few tears. Bravo!

5 Short Films / 1 Night plays Tuesday, June 17, 2014 at 7:30pm, The Royal Cinema, 608 College Street in Toronto, $5 - Members, $7 - Everyone Else. For further info The Royal website HERE.