THE POSSESSION OF JOEL DELANY - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Flawed 70s shocker offers far more effective chills and thrills than the new Hispanic-tinged "Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones" - thanks to Santeria!

After I slice and dice these kids,
I'll go on to star in MANDINGO.

The Possession of Joel Delaney (1972) **1/2
dir. Waris Hussein
Starring: Shirley MacLaine, Perry King, Edmundo Rivera Alvarez
Review By Greg Klymkiw

Santeria is some scary shit and has largely been ignored by horror films. This might have something to do with the fact that it’s a religion and therefore politically incorrect to drag it into the realm of such a “lowly” genre. That said, political correctness has never reared its ugly head when Catholicism or other religions are delightfully exploited for similar purposes, so one can only gather that either Liberal-minded creators are happy to exploit the dominant European religions, but unable to bring themselves to do so for the saintly Third World blend of Jesus-worship and voodoo or it might be that they just haven’t had their thinking caps skewed in the direction of Santeria. That said, this 70s thriller goes whole hog on the Santeria front and includes one freaky exorcism sequence that blends very cool Latin musical stylings with all the shrieking, convulsing and chanting you can handle.

The Possession of Joel Delaney is seriously flawed, but still manages to effectively raise the hackles on a number of fronts – not the least of which is its creepy, deliberate pace as we’re treated to the tale of a wealthy, fur-laden New York housewife (Shirley MacLaine) who slowly comes to realize that her messed-up lay-about brother (our title character – marvelously played by Perry King in his first feature film role) is possessed by the spirit of a now-dead serial killer who delights in severing the heads of his female (‘natch) victims with one Mother of a switchblade.

It’s a movie rife with all sorts of interesting shadings – undertones of incest, the wide gap between rich and poor, the dichotomous cultures of WASPS and Puerto Ricans and, most fascinating of all, the backdrop of Santeria. Unfortunately, the movie is marred by some really clunky direction and a clutch of dreadful performances.

Director Waris Hussein seemed an unlikely choice for this film adaptation of Ramona Stewart’s very cool novel which kept this feller up for several late nights as a kid – clutching a flashlight under the blankets to keep reading, but to also ward off fear of the dark. Hussein’s previous directorial attempts included the extremely entertaining counter-culture kiddie sleeper hit Melody (replete with a classic BeeGees score and that double-infusion of Oliver star wattage Mark Lester and Jack Wild) and the whimsical, delightful Gene Wilder comedy Quackser Fortune Has A Cousin In The Bronx. He clearly seems out of his element with this material and it’s certainly one of the oddest studio pictures I’ve seen from this period since it equally balances some really effective sequences with moments that raise Ed Wood to the heights of Bergman.

He ain't Warren Beatty
He's My Brother

Even Shirley MacLaine (the reincarnation-believing estranged sister of Warren Beatty) seems weirdly unsuited to the requirements of the picture. She handles the rich-bitchiness of the role with considerable assuredness, but many of her other emotions feel forced and even annoyingly shrill. The latter performance flaw is especially odd when she’s called upon to be vaguely caring and/or maternal. It’s so insanely uneven that one can only think she felt she was slumming and wrong-headedly thought she needed to mix things up to keep it interesting for her. MacLaine isn’t, however, the only one rendering a bad performance. Many of the American and British actors in the film feel like foreigners dubbed into English, though are clearly WASP-ish thesps recorded mostly with synch sound. Only Perry King is dubbed with regularity, but at least that makes sense for the character since his voice is only replaced when he's speaking Spanish in the serial killer’s demon spirit. In fact, King delivers solid work and it’s clear why he went on to become a popular leading man in the 70s.

Aside from King, the only performances of note come from the Puerto Rican actors Hussein cast in supporting roles. One of the most memorable and stirring appearances in the picture comes from Edmundo Rivera Álvarez as the Santerian exorcist Don Pedro. He’s only on-screen in two scenes, but he is so riveting – blending compassion with religious fervor – that one almost wished he had more scenes. In fact, it might have been far more interesting to expand his role to the size of that of Max Von Sydow’s in The Exorcist (that little 70s possession picture that has definitely outshone this one). Interestingly, Álvarez was a prominent actor, director and playwright in Puerto Rico who, in spite of his prolific work in his home country never found a place in mainstream Hollywood cinema and died in relative poverty and obscurity.

For all its problems, though, The Possession of Joel Delaney is still a picture worth seeing – especially for fans of the horror genre. It has enough creepy moments to keep one glued to the screen. It’s also yet another bold DVD release from Legend Films – taking an obscure picture from the Paramount catalogue and getting it out in the world for all to see. And for a glimpse at a small, but dynamic performance by Edmundo Rivera Álvarez and the Santeria action, it’s worth catching up with.

PARANORMAL ACTIVITY: THE MARKED ONES - Review By Greg Klymkiw - The Dreaded Hispanic Fifth Wheel

More of the same found footage activities of the paranormal kind come our way in this fifth instalment of the ghostly horror series about witchcraft and demonic possession captured by people who seem to do nothing else but shoot every second of their lives through home video cameras.

Come join me at
Satan's Tupperware Party!

Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones (2014) *
Dir. Christopher Landon
Starring: Andrew Jacobs, Jorge Diaz, Gabrielle Walsh

Review By Greg Klymkiw

After seeing the first Paranormal Activity, I hoped there'd never be a sequel. I knew this was wishful thinking, but when I see a picture that feels perfect, I don't want its existence besmirched by an endless barrage of substandard instalments that deliver more of the same, but go out of their way to generate useless backstory and fleshing-out. After seeing the first film, I felt delectably walloped, but was also left with enough questions about what had occurred that they enriched the experience by lending an air of mystery to the proceedings. I didn't want to know that Katie was the target of an ages-old conspiracy of witches carrying out demonic possession, nor did I want to know the reasons why. What happened in the first film was enough.

Even still, I'd gird my loins appropriately and then faithfully see each and every new instalment. Parts II and III of the followups, though bereft of the power of the first, were surprisingly fun, creepy and offering enough jolts to satisfy me on visceral levels. Part IV, though, seemed like the beginning of the end and the latest instalment comes close to tarring and feathering Oren Peli's original offering.

I might be possessed, but I still
brush my teeth twixt hauntings.

The Marked Ones is set against the backdrop of California's Hispanic community. Given how scary Santeria is - at least for this fella - I thought that maybe we'd go into somewhat different territory. Alas, this is something that's never exploited for what it could have been worth.

What it barfs up instead is a Hispanic kid with a video camera discovering weird stuff in an apartment below his own family's abode.

A well-known witch in the community boasts a series of odd comings and goings including a pal from school. The pal is always distant and in a hurry. Lucky, for all concerned, we're treated to a ritual involving the naked old witch and a gorgeous young lovely displaying full frontal nudity. However, what follows is pure tedium until the last 20-or-so minutes when the filmmakers deliver a close-but-no-cigar fright-fest.

This, of course, is hardly enough to save the picture.

A clutch of Hispanic kids break into the apartment after it's been sealed with police tape after a grisly murder and then, more of the same - weird noises, odd images and the ever-mounting dread that a kick-ass climax will ensue. The movie briefly skirts with Hispanic gang involvement, but this is never properly fleshed out. Like all the sequels, we never get a sense of the characters and hence, don't really care what's going to happen.

This is all more retreading on a well worn series and the only new element is that the filmmakers have ensured a whole new marketplace amongst Hispanic audiences. Replete with vaguely ethnocentric trappings, one expects appearances from either Topo Gigio and/or The Frito Bandito.

How the mighty continue to fall - this time to the strains of La Cucaracha.

"Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones" is in wide theatrical release worldwide via Paramount.

THE CONJURING - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Audiences and critics desperate for non-formula summer fare settle for the dull formula of haunted house horror distinguished only by a fine cast working valiantly with middle of the road material that feels, on the surface, more original than the usual fare, but isn't.

The Conjuring (2013) **
Dir: James Wan
Starring: Vera Farmiga, Lili Taylor, Patrick Wilson, Ron Livingston

Review By Greg Klymkiw

A working class family moves into a dream home in the country. Once they've loaded all their worldly goods into the spacious, but decidedly creaky old manor, Dad (Patrick Wilson) notices that their uncharacteristically-whimpering dog refuses to enter.

Gee, what could this mean? Might there be a problem?

"Ya think?" we answer with another question, in the parlance and manner of Miley Cyrus as Hannah Montana.

Well, once all the bumps in the night start making themselves known, once a mysterious room in the cellar is found crammed with all manner of odd, creepy items (which in and of itself screams, "Get the fuck out of here!"), once Mom (Lili Taylor) keeps finding huge, painful bruises all over her body, once the kiddies are being grasped and pulled out of their beds by an unseen force, once Mom is home alone with a servant of Satan clumping about on its cloven hooves whilst hubby hits the road (he's a truck drivin' man, good buddy), it's pretty clear as crystal that there indeed might be some sort of a problem. Enter a couple of ghost hunters (Vera Farmiga, Patrick Wilson) and before you know it, all hell breaks loose - literally - because the malevolent presence is not ghostly at all - but, wait for it, kiddies... you betcha! You got it! You win the Kewpie Doll! It's demonic - a presence as mighty as Satan himself.

Oh, and it's a true story.

Luckily, for us, The Conjuring presents another presence within its competently dull framework - one that's neither ghostly nor demonic, but is in fact that nice Ukrainian girl from New Jersey who's garnered a fair number of nominations and awards for some good films, but has, more often than not, appeared in a huge swath of mediocre and downright dreadful pictures. As per usual, though, she's riveting in everything and her performance here is just as terrific as one expects her work to be. This lady is never just cashing a paycheque.

In fact, I always hope with every movie she appears in, that Vera Farmiga, a beautiful, expressive and intense actress if there ever was one, will have finally nabbed a role to propel her to the kind of stardom earned by Meryl Streep at a similar stage in her career. In fact, Farmiga strikes me as having all the potential in the world to be the Streep of her generation. Alas, aside from always being so much better than the vast majority of films she's actually in, Farmiga still hasn't been blessed with a role in a movie equivalent to the likes of early Streep roles in The Deer Hunter or Kramer Vs. Kramer and as she's grown by leaps and bounds with every year, there's been a dearth of decent movies to match her formidable talent. The few good films she's been in (The Departed, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas), Farmiga takes a back seat to the male pyrotechnics (in the former) and, uh, the Holocaust and those cute little boys (in the latter). Her one genuinely great picture, Down to the Bone, was a few years ago now and relegated to indie status. Even her acclaimed and much-deserved Oscar-nominated performance in Jason Reitman's competently and almost agonizingly glib Up in the Air soars well above his picture which she elevated with her presence.

That The Conjuring is a big hit, fat with inexplicably ecstatic critical notices, might signal to the uninitiated that this is, indeed, IT. Well, her performance is unquestionably great, but once again, Farmiga is doing stellar work in an artistically cellar-dwelling picture. What might be the most positive outcome of this picture is that she'll now get a flurry of fine Streep-worthy roles in a passel o' decent pictures and possibly even gain more credibility for her burgeoning directing career.

As Lorraine Warren, the better half of the famous, real-life married couple who presided over a vast assortment of hauntings and demonic possessions, including the notorious Amityville Horror case, Farmiga stabs deeply into the role of the spiritual medium with a quietly nerve-jangled fervour. Like many great actors, she slices through flesh, fat, muscle and sinew, then hacks into the bone to reach the marrow. Here, though, it feels like Farmiga is doing more work than the connect-the-dots screenplay by twin brothers Chad and Cory Haynes who are responsible for writing some of the worst contemporary horror and suspense films including Whiteout, The Reaping and the utter dreck that is the House of Wax remake.

In fairness, while the screenplay for The Conjuring leaves a whole lot to be desired, it's practically a masterpiece compared to their previous efforts. For me, the most offensive story element is that the root of evil in the film is a demonic curse placed upon the land the home rests upon (and the surrounding areas) by a witch who murdered her children and committed suicide - resulting in a couple of centuries worth of hauntings, possessions and mysterious, often violent deaths. Look, I love horror movies - including several classics involving witches, but this is the 21st Century, folks, and we all acknowledge that women were abused, tortured and murdered by Christian zealots and the male patriarchy they represented to keep them in their place. The misogynistic aspects of the "evil" permeating the film is simply appalling.

I can deal with demons or Satan - though I'm usually more fond of ghosts - but using the female-hating trope of witchcraft as the origin of Satan's work is so boneheaded and frankly, given the film's popularity - especially, I suspect, amongst right-wing, God-Squad organized religion nuts - is tantamount to being little more than an insidious form of propaganda. This might not have been the intent of the screenwriting twins and director James Wan, but ignorance is frankly NEVER an acceptable defence. I'm all for bringing God and faith BACK into the equation of fighting evil in horror films, but the movie feels vaguely like Christian propaganda without the obsessive artistry of, for example, Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. Wan (Saw, Insidious) has never been an exciting director and frankly, to pull off demonic possession so that it REALLY knocks the wind out of you requires directors with some panache (Friedkin, Raimi, et al).

Wan's direction is certainly competent and he gets a few nods for attempting to create suspense via atmospheric horror rather than the usual pyrotechnics, but the screenplay is so boringly unoriginal that all we're finally left with IS Farmiga's richly layered performance. It's impossible to take one's eyes off her to such an extent that when she's not onscreen, the movie suffers immeasurably. Not that the other performances are bad, mind you - far from it - but the underlying material is so grocery-list-like that anyone surrounding the 110% served up by Farmiga is virtually blown away by her considerable gifts. Watson, Taylor and Livingston (as well as the rest of the cast) all acquit themselves admirably, but it's Farmiga who elevates her role and the material to stratospheric heights.

"The Conjuring" premiered at the FanTasia 2013 Film Festival in Montreal and opened to worldwide release via Warner Bros.