Showing posts with label Sequel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sequel. Show all posts
Saturday, 17 September 2016
BLAIR WITCH - Review By Greg Klymkiw - TIFF 2016 - Decent sequel to 1999 original
Blair Witch (2016)
Dir. Adam Wingard
Scr. Simon Barrett
Starring: James Allen McCune, Callie Hernandez, Brandon Scott,
Corbin Reid, Wes Robinson, Valorie Curry
Review By Greg Klymkiw
Having directed a couple of solid low budget genre films like You're Next and The Guest, Adam Wingard (with longtime screenwriter partner Simon Barrett) continues in this tradition with this very decent direct sequel to The Blair Witch Project. When I first saw the original found footage film by Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez in 1999, all I allowed myself to know about it is that, given the title, it would be some kind of horror film about a witch. I was also aware it had a huge buzz from its Sundance film festival screening and that there was a huge internet campaign behind it. That's it. That's all I knew.
Now, if truth be told, my first helping of The Blair Witch Project blew me away. I loved it. The found footage business, the late 90s penchant everyone had to camcorder their way into moviemaking (as the characters in the film do) and the mounting creepy-crawly tension knocked me on my formerly lardy posterior. I didn't buy that it was "real", but I bought into the conceit as I was quite enamoured with the clever approach and, for me, genuine chills and jolts of terror. I kind of detested the grungy youthful characters, but at least the actors played them well enough that I was gradually drawn into their plight in spite of my curmudgeonly detestation of these rejects from Kurt Cobain fandom.
Not that this sort of thing had never been done before - the brilliant David Holzman's Diary by Jim McBride in 1967 not only creeped me out, but I actually DID believe that what I was seeing was real. When I found out the picture was a "fake" documentary, it was still so layered and intelligent that I've had no problem watching it many times.
However, The Blair Witch Project did little for me on repeat viewings. I quickly filed it away in my movie-soaked-brain-file-folder with the label: "clever-conceit-clever-moviemaking-but-not-much-else-going-for-it". And there the picture stayed.
As such, I had no real investment to like or hate Wingard's sequel, but like it I did.
Utilizing a multi-camera approach, Wingard's picture takes us back to the haunted Maryland woods with a bunch of college kids and a couple of local inbred guides. Searching for the original young lady who disappeared in the first film and a mysterious old house that purportedly houses the witch, our attractive cast goes through the motions of the first forty five minutes of prepping and wandering.
The last forty five minutes is where things get mighty creepy and ramp up to a thoroughly nerve-jangling climax. There's not much in the way of new ground covered here, but good goddamn, when it delivers the thrills and chills, it delivers with a whole lotta kick-ass.
Oh yeah, and the movie has babes in it.
One can't really ask for more.
THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars
Blair Witch is a Midnight Madness presentation at TIFF 2016.
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Friday, 21 August 2015
SINISTER 2 - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Real Filmmaker secured to direct sequel to horror hit. The results? A terrific horror thriller that tops its predecessor.
Sinister 2 (2015)
Dir. Ciarán Foy
Scr. Scott Derrickson, C. Robert Cargill
Starring: Shannyn Sossamon, James Ransome, Robert Sloan, Dartanian Sloan,
Tate Ellington, John Beasley, Lea Coco, Nick King, Lucas Jade Zumann,
Jaden Klein, Laila Haley, Caden Marshall Fritz, Olivia Rainey
Review By Greg Klymkiw
Trinity and sprockets are before us.
The whirring and clicking of an old projector accompanies the jerky, garishly-coloured images from an old 8mm home movie. As always with layman-captured images from the past, there's something alternately beautiful and creepy about them. These, however, get mighty creepy, mighty fast. This is no ordinary family highlight reel.
Splayed before us is a skull-shaped crop circle in the middle of an Illinois cornfield. Its centrepiece is a disturbingly aberrant midwestern Golgotha with three people bound to crosses: a contemporary Jesus, Dysmas and Gesmas hung like scarecrows against the black of night, the eerie scene lit by the headlights of a half-ton, the victims' heads hooded and twitching in terror with shrieks, wails, cries and moans, all begging for mercy. The first crucified figure is doused in gasoline and set on fire as he screams, howling in agony as he burns to death.
These visions are thankfully ripped away from our purview as the frail Dylan Collins (Robert Sloan) bolts upright from under his covers. To those who've never seen 2012's Sinister, you've just witnessed a nightmare. To the rest of us, we know immediately that we've been slammed face-first into the horrific netherworld of the demented, serial-killing demon Bughuul (Nick King) and thanks to a drawer-filling shock cut, he even puts in a brief appearance in the lad's bed.
How's about them All Hallows Eve Apples?
Happily, Scott Derrickson (director-writer of Sinister 1) and co-scribe C. Robert Cargill skilfully use this and the next two sequences to set-up our characters and situation so the film efficiently and effectively introduces the Sinister-world, by doing double-duty for both the initiated and uninitiated to dive into the macabre universe of Sinister 2.
A gorgeous cut leads us to a pair of boots as they leave the front passenger door of a truck and firmly rest upon the sidewalk above the curb, the owner's hands meticulously and firmly retying the laces. The composition of the shot is imbued with malevolent qualities and we briefly think this might be a killer preparing to mosey on into a kill.
No such luck on that front, but more creepiness follows as we see that "boot-man" is none other than the unnamed friendly deputy (James Ransome) from Sinister. A regal middle-American church towers behind him. Once inside the Lord's House, he finds himself within a confession booth, facing a Priest (John Beasley) who catches on that the fella isn't Catholic, nor wanting to really make a formal spewing of his sins. The Priest immediately recognizes the man as the Deputy from the "Oswalt case" which, cleverly and simply allows the audiences to get some subtle expositional backstory as well as informing us that the events the Priest refers to are of a sensational nature that must surely have made national headlines.
What the Deputy needs is some manner of assistance in the area of dealing with something both evil and supernatural. "You want me to tell you to use a cross, some Holy Water and say, 'The Power of Christ compels you?' the cynical Priest offers. "Will it work?" asks our Deputy. "No!" affirms the Priest. The acting, timing and humour here make us realize this is no run-of-the-mill horror sequel. Following up seriously the Priest urges the Deputy to give up his pursuits, but he does indeed offer an excellent note:
"You don't stop evil, you can only protect yourself from it."
Another astonishing cut, wherein the sound begins slightly over the shot leading into the next one, features the clicking, squealing sounds of what appears to be the creaky old projector from the beginning, and in fact, it takes a few seconds to realize what we're actually seeing. It is the wheels of a shopping cart in a supermarket being pushed by Courtney Collins (Shannyn Sossamon), a babe-o-licious yummy mommy alternately shopping for groceries and trying to keep her eyes on a mysterious guy who seems to be following both herself and her two rambunctious boys Dylan (the young lad from the opening scene) and older brother Zach (Dartanian Sloan).
Courtney's instincts are right and she manages to get her kids out of harm's way by blasting out of the store, into their car and out of the parking lot, leaving the mysterious follower behind. Courtney has been on the run from her abusive, rich, powerful husband Clint (Lea Coco) who has been sending all the private dicks money can buy to track her down. He might have found the area of Illinois they're in, but luckily, she and the boys are holed up in a property her friend owns that's located deep off an old country road - a creaky ancient farmhouse attached to a long-abandoned chapel. Because Courtney specializes in restoring antiques, the joint is full of furniture she can work on while the kids have the time of their lives.
Unbeknownst to them, the trio is living on the unhallowed ground occupied by the chilling, supernatural Bughuul. His specialty is attacking families through one vulnerable child in the family unit. This is what befell the Oswalt family (headed up in the first film by Ethan Hawke) and it's on the verge of happening here. The Deputy (who is no longer with the cops) is obsessed with using a grid he's put together of where Bughuul will strike next and he shows up on the old homestead to burn it down (as has been his wont in battling the ancient evil). Surprised a family is living there, his plans go awry. Now, he must, as the Priest cautioned "protect" this family "from evil".
This is going to prove a tad challenging since young Dylan has befriended some really creepy kids who keep luring him into the basement to watch 8mm snuff films in which each of the kids are seen to kill everyone in their respective families. The mass murders are carried out with the help of Bughuul. Once the dirty deeds are done and committed to film, he claims the soul of the survivor to become part of his army of procurers. Though he looks horrendous in every respect, the demon scores points for his mega-taste in arcane modes of creating art through which his evil is funnelled - ham radios, 78rpm phonographs and now, 8mm film. (It's like the long-forgotten technologies to create art in olden times is what makes him a kind of Guy Maddin-like surrogate for a demon serial killer. Gotta love that!)
It becomes very clear that Sinister 2 is not only well-written, but seems tailor-made for a director with a number of thematic and storytelling arcs which allow him to use his unique approach to filmmaking to raise a horror franchise sequel well above its normal station.
Keep in mind my penchant for knowing as little about movies before I see them. All I knew going in was that I'd be seeing a sequel to a horror picture I genuinely enjoyed. As the key creative credits were not display until the end, I had no idea who directed the picture. Something seemed familiar, but only at the bitter end of the its unspooling did I slap my forehead and proclaim, "Of course!"
You see, Sinister 2 carefully parcels out the scares and delicious gore within a story which places emphasis upon the tribulations of a single mother, the very real horror of an abusive husband stalking her, the loneliness and fear a young boy is fraught with due to his lifetime of being beaten by a scum bucket Dad, the genuine sibling rivalries which occur normally in life but are exacerbated by demonic forces and last, but not least, the potential for love and healing between both Courtney and The Deputy, and maybe, just maybe, the creation of a loving nuclear family.
This was a film that moved, tantalized and finally, scared the living shit out of me. Upon discovering that it had been directed by the supremely gifted Ciarán Foy, whose first feature Citadel was one of the most exciting debuts I'd seen in years, I was both floored and delighted. Foy has a great eye, sensitivity-galore, an unabashed familiarity of using personal life-experience to bolster fantasy and the kind of showmanship and genre smarts to generate terrific horror pictures. He's going to make some genuine classics and masterpieces. Citadel is pretty much in that territory. Sinister 2 delivers a first-rate sequel to a very decent horror movie, but does so by upping the ante in all respects so that it outdistances its predecessor by leaps and bounds.
He's the real thing, but it's also proof that contemporary Hollywood should seek out genuine filmmakers and artists (as they have here) instead of the usual assortment of hacks they normally dredge-up these days. It's a winner all the way and I can hardly wait to discover Foy's next film.
THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** Four Stars
To read my previous (and extensive) writing on Foy's work, click HERE (in-depth analysis of Citadel, HERE (an in-depth interview) and HERE (original review during its Toronto After Dark Film Festival run).
Sinister 2 is a Focus Features/Gramercy Pictures theatrical release.
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Thursday, 11 September 2014
[REC]4 APOCALYPSE - TIFF 2014 - TIFF MIDNIGHT MADNESS - Review By Greg Klymkiw
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| A babe and bloodletting. Not much else. |
[REC]4 Apocalypse (2014)
Dir. Jaume Balagueró
Starring: Manuela Velasco
Review By Greg Klymkiw
The terrific Spanish horror franchise [REC] has proven to be a consistently entertaining regular dose of zombie-infection madness since the first instalment burst upon the scene in 2007. The simple premise had babe-o-licious reporter Manuela Velasco and her crew following a rescue team into a decrepit Barcelona apartment complex where they're beleaguered by crazed zombies. The found footage conceit made perfect sense and worked beautifully.
Though the second instalment was decent, it felt like more of the same until the terrific third feature in the series which transposed us to a yummy blood spattered wedding that cleverly utilized wedding video footage. Alas, [REC]4 is the supposed final chapter, but it's a pale shade of what preceded it.
This time round we find ourselves stuck on a research ship with a whack of scientists conducting gruesome experiments to find an antidote for the infection. Onboard is Velasco, plucky and kick-ass as per usual, plus we get a few laughs out of the Dementia-afflicted matriarch from the [REC]3 wedding.
Our heroine, it seems, is carrying the gloopy-gloppy slithering parasite which is the infection's host. Complications predictably set in and the antidote is far from ready to go. Needless to say, the infection begins to afflict crew members and in no time we've got an all-out zombie-fest aboard ship. There's also the threat of a ticking time-bomb in the form of the ship's possible destruction in case the experiments go completely out to lunch.
It's a fair enough premise for this sort of thing, but the movie feels worn and tired-out. There's plenty of gore, but the scares and tension never adequately materialize since the movie is afflicted with a been-there-done-that "quality".
Worse yet, the found footage approach has been pretty much jettisoned, but for some reason, the whole movie is shot in the annoying and unjustifiable shaky-cam-herky-jerky ADHD-afflicted editing for absolutely no reason. The style feels sloppy and not-well-thought-out, resulting in plenty of yawn-inspiring moments.
Those looking for gruesome violence will not be disappointed, but anyone seeking genuine thrills and chills will feel they're simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The movie bombards us with so much sound and fury that it finally adds up to much ado about nothing, save for bloodletting and not much more. The only positive note is the wonderful Velasco who is, as always, gorgeous and certainly worth eyeballing for ninety minutes.
THE FILM CORNER RATING: ** Two-Stars
[REC]4 is unspooling at TIFF 2014 in the Midnight Madness series. Visit the TIFF website HERE.
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Thursday, 21 August 2014
SIN CITY: A DAME TO KILL FOR - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Rodriguez-Miller Noir Sequel Too Little, Too Late
Sin City: A Dame To Kill For
Dir. Robert Rodriguez, Frank Miller
Starring: Mickey Rourke, Josh Brolin, Eva Greene, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Powers Boothe, Julia Garner, Jessica Alba, Rosario Dawson, Jamie Chung, Dennis Haysbert, Bruce Willis, Stacy Keach, Christopher Meloni, Jeremy Piven, Christopher Lloyd, Jamie Chung, Marton Csokas, Ray Liotta, Juno Temple, Jude Ciccolella, Jaime King, Alexa PenaVega, Lady Gaga
Review By Greg Klymkiw
The biggest sin this movie commits is being more boring than a soused, fat, old, skunk-pussy whore trying to pathetically coax a hard-on from a flaccid dick, but failing miserably with every attempt to inspire even a half-mast to poke through the globs of cellulite folding over a fetid, purulent orifice of love. This is especially disappointing since nine-years-ago, Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller grabbed us by the short and curlies with the stylish, audacious and supremely entertaining Sin City. This time around, the neo-noir magic just isn't there. In fairness, the overwrought visual palette of high-contrast black & white splashed with snot-balls of garish colour hasn't lost its appeal, nor has the extreme violence. What's dishearteningly awry in this installment of short, loosely-connected pulp stories is that they're simply no match for the compelling, original nastiness that slugged us repeatedly in the face like a solid pistol-whipping that felt like it was never going to end. In fact, we didn't want it to end. I would have been happy for Rodriguez and Miller to keep smacking away at my flabby mug with some cold, hard, black steel. Here, though, we're constantly compelled to check the time on our smart phones every ten minutes or so and on occasion, the temptation to open up a game app like Bejeweled is stronger than the pull of the thundering Niagara Falls when you insanely hop the barrier and creep too close to the edge.
Alack and alas, the five stories in this prequel/sequel are simply not as good as those in the previous outing and the hard boiled overripe dialogue feels way more machine-tooled. The latter element jackhammers away at us with such force that it pretty much numbs us to the few decent lines peppered throughout.
Happily, Rodriguez and Miller don't save the best for last. The first tale, "Just Another Saturday Night" genuinely captures a fair bit of the old magic and sets us up to expect a ride as crazed and original as the first. We focus on everyone's favourite pug-ugly muscle-packed hood Marv (Michey Rourke) flaked out on a lonely stretch of highway overlooking The Projects and he's got no idea why he's there. The dead bodies strewn about provide enough clues to retrace his steps from earlier in the evening. His adventure-laden flashback includes ogling Nancy Callahan (Jessica Alba) gyrating onstage at Kadies, stopping some rich young scumbags from torching a drunk, stealing a police car in pursuit of the well-to-do filth, following them into the projects and engaging in a delicious spree of mayhem.
So far, so good. It's just after this point where, aside from a handful of bright spots, our hearts sink. "The Long Bad Night (Part I)" isn't bad, mind you. Johnny (Joseph Gordon Levitt) joins a card game in Kadie's back salon which is presided over by A-1 dirt-bag Senator Roarke (Powers Booth). With babe Marcie (Julia Garner) in tow for good luck, Johnny cleans up. The Senator is pissed at being humiliated. A big secret is soon revealed. A certain someone gets their fingers broken with a pair of pliers. And revenge, is sworn. Close, but no cigar with this tale, and we're on to the next dark segment.
"A Dame to Kill For" is surprisingly the weakest of the bunch. Too bad it's the centre-piece. A prequel to the first film's glorious "The Big Fat Kill", the story features the pre-plastic surgery Dwight McCarthy (Josh Brolin). He was played by Clive Owen in the previous picture and Brolin is a decent enough replacement. Unfortunately this long, deadly-dull tale involves his old flame Ava Lord (Eva Green) hinting at needing protection from her sexual deviant rich hubby Damian Lord (Marton Csokas) and the powerful manhandling Manute (Dennis Haysbert, replacing the late, great Michael Clarke Duncan). The convolutions involve a whack of femme fatale manipulations, a couple of cops Mort (Christopher Meloni) and Bob (Jeremy Piven), one of whom goes rogue, the return of hot whore Gail (Rosario Dawson, looking very bored) plus the deadly assassin Miho (Jamie Chung, a lame replacement for Devon Aoki). There's a too-short appearance by Stacy Keach as the sweating, corpulent, repulsive mobster Wallensquist and even a supernatural angle involving witchcraft.
The whole thing plays out like molasses.
The only decent stuff is the first few minutes involving Juno Temple as a whore marked for death by a slimy Ray Liotta, but it's disappointingly short and dispatched ingloriously in favour of and as a lead-in to the aforementioned nonsense with Ava. Eva Green is often wonderful, in spite of how dreadful this segment is and it might be great to see an entire feature devoted to her character. Green, to be blunt, is definitely as boner-inducing, if not more so than in Zack Snyder's 300.
"The Long Bad Night (Part II)" is a completely inconsequential tale of Johnny's attempted revenge upon Roarke and its only pleasures are to be found in Christopher Lloyd's great cameo as a heroin-shooting private doctor whom Johnny hires to straighten out his broken fingers.
"Nancy's Last Dance" involves our gyrating stripper "daughter" of Bruce Willis (who appears as - I kid you not - a ghost) and her desire to kill Roarke who's eventually going to rub her out to avenge the death of his "Yellow Bastard" son from Sin City. And no, this is not a case of best-for-last, but thanks to a great sequence with Marv and Nancy zipping along on their respective motorcycles and a genuinely decent blood bath in Roarke's mansion, the tale is more akin to being not-bad-for-last.
Powers Boothe, by the way, is always terrific as Roarke and he, like Eva Green, demands his own movie.
The addition of 3-D adds nothing and as per usual, renders everything murky in all the wrong ways.
THE FILM CORNER RATING: ** 2-Stars
Sin City: A Dame To Kill For is an e-One release. It's also a humungous flop at the box office.
Dir. Robert Rodriguez, Frank Miller
Starring: Mickey Rourke, Josh Brolin, Eva Greene, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Powers Boothe, Julia Garner, Jessica Alba, Rosario Dawson, Jamie Chung, Dennis Haysbert, Bruce Willis, Stacy Keach, Christopher Meloni, Jeremy Piven, Christopher Lloyd, Jamie Chung, Marton Csokas, Ray Liotta, Juno Temple, Jude Ciccolella, Jaime King, Alexa PenaVega, Lady Gaga
Review By Greg Klymkiw
The biggest sin this movie commits is being more boring than a soused, fat, old, skunk-pussy whore trying to pathetically coax a hard-on from a flaccid dick, but failing miserably with every attempt to inspire even a half-mast to poke through the globs of cellulite folding over a fetid, purulent orifice of love. This is especially disappointing since nine-years-ago, Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller grabbed us by the short and curlies with the stylish, audacious and supremely entertaining Sin City. This time around, the neo-noir magic just isn't there. In fairness, the overwrought visual palette of high-contrast black & white splashed with snot-balls of garish colour hasn't lost its appeal, nor has the extreme violence. What's dishearteningly awry in this installment of short, loosely-connected pulp stories is that they're simply no match for the compelling, original nastiness that slugged us repeatedly in the face like a solid pistol-whipping that felt like it was never going to end. In fact, we didn't want it to end. I would have been happy for Rodriguez and Miller to keep smacking away at my flabby mug with some cold, hard, black steel. Here, though, we're constantly compelled to check the time on our smart phones every ten minutes or so and on occasion, the temptation to open up a game app like Bejeweled is stronger than the pull of the thundering Niagara Falls when you insanely hop the barrier and creep too close to the edge.
Alack and alas, the five stories in this prequel/sequel are simply not as good as those in the previous outing and the hard boiled overripe dialogue feels way more machine-tooled. The latter element jackhammers away at us with such force that it pretty much numbs us to the few decent lines peppered throughout.
Happily, Rodriguez and Miller don't save the best for last. The first tale, "Just Another Saturday Night" genuinely captures a fair bit of the old magic and sets us up to expect a ride as crazed and original as the first. We focus on everyone's favourite pug-ugly muscle-packed hood Marv (Michey Rourke) flaked out on a lonely stretch of highway overlooking The Projects and he's got no idea why he's there. The dead bodies strewn about provide enough clues to retrace his steps from earlier in the evening. His adventure-laden flashback includes ogling Nancy Callahan (Jessica Alba) gyrating onstage at Kadies, stopping some rich young scumbags from torching a drunk, stealing a police car in pursuit of the well-to-do filth, following them into the projects and engaging in a delicious spree of mayhem.
So far, so good. It's just after this point where, aside from a handful of bright spots, our hearts sink. "The Long Bad Night (Part I)" isn't bad, mind you. Johnny (Joseph Gordon Levitt) joins a card game in Kadie's back salon which is presided over by A-1 dirt-bag Senator Roarke (Powers Booth). With babe Marcie (Julia Garner) in tow for good luck, Johnny cleans up. The Senator is pissed at being humiliated. A big secret is soon revealed. A certain someone gets their fingers broken with a pair of pliers. And revenge, is sworn. Close, but no cigar with this tale, and we're on to the next dark segment.
"A Dame to Kill For" is surprisingly the weakest of the bunch. Too bad it's the centre-piece. A prequel to the first film's glorious "The Big Fat Kill", the story features the pre-plastic surgery Dwight McCarthy (Josh Brolin). He was played by Clive Owen in the previous picture and Brolin is a decent enough replacement. Unfortunately this long, deadly-dull tale involves his old flame Ava Lord (Eva Green) hinting at needing protection from her sexual deviant rich hubby Damian Lord (Marton Csokas) and the powerful manhandling Manute (Dennis Haysbert, replacing the late, great Michael Clarke Duncan). The convolutions involve a whack of femme fatale manipulations, a couple of cops Mort (Christopher Meloni) and Bob (Jeremy Piven), one of whom goes rogue, the return of hot whore Gail (Rosario Dawson, looking very bored) plus the deadly assassin Miho (Jamie Chung, a lame replacement for Devon Aoki). There's a too-short appearance by Stacy Keach as the sweating, corpulent, repulsive mobster Wallensquist and even a supernatural angle involving witchcraft.
The whole thing plays out like molasses.
The only decent stuff is the first few minutes involving Juno Temple as a whore marked for death by a slimy Ray Liotta, but it's disappointingly short and dispatched ingloriously in favour of and as a lead-in to the aforementioned nonsense with Ava. Eva Green is often wonderful, in spite of how dreadful this segment is and it might be great to see an entire feature devoted to her character. Green, to be blunt, is definitely as boner-inducing, if not more so than in Zack Snyder's 300.
"The Long Bad Night (Part II)" is a completely inconsequential tale of Johnny's attempted revenge upon Roarke and its only pleasures are to be found in Christopher Lloyd's great cameo as a heroin-shooting private doctor whom Johnny hires to straighten out his broken fingers.
"Nancy's Last Dance" involves our gyrating stripper "daughter" of Bruce Willis (who appears as - I kid you not - a ghost) and her desire to kill Roarke who's eventually going to rub her out to avenge the death of his "Yellow Bastard" son from Sin City. And no, this is not a case of best-for-last, but thanks to a great sequence with Marv and Nancy zipping along on their respective motorcycles and a genuinely decent blood bath in Roarke's mansion, the tale is more akin to being not-bad-for-last.
Powers Boothe, by the way, is always terrific as Roarke and he, like Eva Green, demands his own movie.
The addition of 3-D adds nothing and as per usual, renders everything murky in all the wrong ways.
THE FILM CORNER RATING: ** 2-Stars
Sin City: A Dame To Kill For is an e-One release. It's also a humungous flop at the box office.
PLEASE FEEL FREE TO ORDER ANYTHING FROM AMAZON BY USING THE LINKS BELOW. CLICKING ON THEM AND THEN CLICKING THROUGH TO ANYTHING WILL ALLOW YOU TO ORDER AND IN SO DOING, SUPPORT THE ONGING MAINTENANCE OF THE FILM CORNER.
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Tuesday, 12 August 2014
THE EXPENDABLES 3 - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Finally, a major studio action film that's actually well-directed.
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| MEL GIBSON - a man among men in The Expendables 3 - MEL RULES! |
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| Amongst the many smelly fellas is MMA Champ and MAJOR BABE who KICKS ASS - Ronda Rousey |
Starring: Sylvester Stallone, Jason Statham, Antonio Banderas, Jet Li, Wesley Snipes, Dolph Lundgren, Kelsey Grammer, Randy Couture, Terry Crews, Mel Gibson, Harrison Ford, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Kellan Lutz, Ronda Rousey, Glen Powell and Robert Davi
Review By Greg Klymkiw
There are no two ways about it. The Expendables 3 is unbelievably moronic, but this will hardly matter to anyone, especially those who love a first-rate action movie, because for once, a major studio picture of this ilk is so superbly directed, that your jaw will continually be dropping at the astounding set pieces. The first five minutes alone is worth the price of a full admission (for those so kick-assedly inclined).
Involving a heavily armed speeding train, a heavily armed helicopter and, lickety-split, a runaway speeding train headed for a maximum security prison, there is not a single shot or cut during this sequence that doesn't milk your gonads dry.
From the opening sequence to the last, there are no sloppy compositions, no stupid herky-jerky camera-operating and no useless quick cuts just for the sake of cutting fast, though the fast cuts employed are done so for good reason - all that remains onscreen are bulky, buff men with guns, knives, machetes, formidable fisticuffs, superior firepower all-round, several astounding rescues, a superb sense of spatial geography during the ludicrous amount of carnage and, need we even mention, lots of shit blowing up really, really good.
For some reason, it took three writers to come up with the plot to this movie. That alone seems unbelievably stupid, but no matter. All three scribes (including star-producer Stallone) have gone to the wall to come up with a suitably flimsy excuse to generate action sequences. If they were dreadfully directed action sequences like you'll find in most blockbusters these days, that'd be one thing, but they're not, so don't blame me if you walk out of the theatre saying, "Fuck, that was stupid!" It's no more or less stupid than anything else you'll see and it's at least made by a real filmmaker who knows how to deliver in a classical fashion blended with some of the contemporary nods to ADHD-afflicted audiences.
Stallone and his expendables (with the addition of Wesley Snipes to the team) are on a mission to nail a scumbag for the CIA. That's original, mais non? They hightail it to Somalia (where else?) and though they appear to decimate the entire population of the country, they're unable to capture their quarry. It turns out that he's the turncoat who formed the expendable team with Stallone and whom everyone thought was dead.
Not only is he not dead, he's Mel-fucking-Gibson!
Given that one of Sly's team is badly wounded and near death and that new CIA-head-honcho Harrison Ford is mightily pissed off, Sly decides this job is personal. He refuses to risk the lives of his dear team members, fires them, and signs up a whole new team. That the team includes the ravishingly gorgeous MMA Champ Ronda Rousey means you have yet another good reason to see the film - this lady is thoroughly scrumptious, kicks ass better than any of the buff senior citizens and she will inspire major boners (or wetness for lassies so inclined) when she's holding and firing any number of hot, glistening rods o' death.
Add an unbelievably obnoxious Antonio Banderas to the mix, one idiotically hilarious one-liner after another, Jet Li doing no martial arts, Arnold Schwarzenegger smoking cigars and madman Mel Gibson chewing up every available piece of scenery as the loathsome villain and you've got a movie for the ages (or at least, Saturday afternoon).
And don't fret, the three screenwriters were smart enough to make sure the original team of expendables are not left out of the eventual carnage. After an insanely delightful skirmish without them in Bulgaria, the whole kit and caboodle go up against an entire army in the middle of some godforsaken country which might be Kyrgyzstan (or some other country with "stan" on the end of it).
It might also be worth mentioning that the three screenwriters came up with a line of dialogue to rival Stallone's famous "Crime's the disease, I'm the Cure" quip from Cobra. At the last minute, Sly finds out he has to capture Mel Gibson alive so he can be taken to face a war crimes tribunal in The Hague.
Stallone's response: "I AM The Hague!"
THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***½ Three-and-a-Half Stars
The Expendables 3 opens August 14, 2014. Fuck the pirated download. See this movie on a big screen. If you love action, it'll be worth the big bucks.
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Monday, 14 July 2014
DAWN OF THE PLANET OF THE APES - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Chuck Heston, why hast Thou forsaken me? Why must I put up with this abysmal contemporary reboot?
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| 2014: Boy-crush hug twixt Jason Clarke & Andy Serkis 1968: Hot open-mouth kiss twixt Kim Hunter & Chuck Heston |
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| 2014: When men are wimps 1968: When men are men among men 2014: When women are bedraggled hags 1968: When women are Linda Harrison as "NOVA" |
Dir. Matt Reeves
Starring: Andy Serkis, Jason Clarke,
Gary Oldman, Keri Russell, Toby Kebbell, Kodi Smit-McPhee
Review By Greg Klymkiw
I pity all of you. Some came of age to (Ugh!) Star Wars, others came of age to (Ugh!) John Hughes or (Ugh!) The Goonies, yet others came of age to (Ugh!) Toy Story or (Ugh!) Jurassic Park, and even worse, many came of age to (Ugh!) Harry Potter, and then, perhaps worst off of all are those who will come of age to (Ugh!) stupid, noisy superhero comic book movies and those who will be completely bereft of originality will come of age to (Ugh!) reboots like Rise of the Planet of the Apes and its (Ugh!) dull, mediocre sequel Dawn of the Planet of the Apes. What's next? Afternoon of the Planet of the Apes? Tea-Time of the Planet of the Apes? Night of the Living Dead Planet of the Apes? Seriously, all of you not only have my pity, but my condolences for childhoods that could really be little more than living the death of a thousand cuts to thine brain and soul. About the best that can be said in favour of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is that it's not as dreadful as Rise of the Planet of the Apes. This is predominantly due to the fact that it has a real director, Matt Reeves (Cloverfield, Let Me In) at the helm. Alas, he struggles valiantly, but unsuccessfully with an utterly boring screenplay and no real reason (artistically) for the picture to exist.
In fact, the entire reboot exists only to fill the 20th Century Fox coffers with dough from a lot of desperate and stupid movie-goers. The Original Five (kind of like the N.H.L.'s Original Six) is a perfectly fine series of films and frankly, Franklin J. Schaffner's original 1968 Planet of the Apes is not only a bonafide masterpiece, but it's so terrific that it holds up beautifully to this day on levels of both storytelling and craft that dazzles. As everyone knows, the first picture took us on a thrilling journey to a topsy-turvy planet by way of time travel and subsequent films offered a series of entertaining, often exciting and boldly satirical adventure films which perversely added up to one massive time warp - one which led to a never-ending cycle of the same mistakes wrought by humanity and an ever-present and always inevitable reality that nuclear annihilation is, was and always would be the end result.
The sheer genius of this within the context of popular entertainment is one thing, but that each film was infused with buoyant snap, crackle and pop by way of thrilling classical adventure always tempered with great humour - some black, some satirical and often, just plain hilarity emanating naturally out of the drama - is what made the original film and its sequels immortal.
The reboot is dull on several fronts, but the most egregious flaw in its storytelling is to begin, literally, with the beginning. The second big problem is just how dour, serious and irredeemably humourless the whole thing is. There's one laugh in all of Dawn that's surprisingly clever - so much so I won't ruin it for you save to note that it's rooted in the kind of satire so prevalent in Schaffner's 1968 original and that wended its way through the sequels - and involves an ape equivalent to the antics of a Steppin' Fetchit or Mantan Moreland to curry favour with the "dominant" race in films of yore.
Dawn begins ten years after Rise. The virus which sprouted in the last movie has decimated almost the entire human race. In the city of San Francisco, those humans who were resistant to the terminal illness, live in isolation and fear that their meagre power supply will soon run out. The apes, on the other hand, are living idyllically in the forests of northern Cali and getting stronger and smarter. Caesar (Andy Serkis) is still their leader, but his authority is being challenged by Koba (Toby Kebbell), a violent warmongering ape. The human beings are led by Dreyfus (Gary Oldman), a stirring orator of the fascist variety who grudgingly allows Malcolm (Jason Clarke) a few days to try and peacefully negotiate with the apes for access to the nearby power dam in order to get San Fran up and running again.
Malcolm drags Alexander (Kodi Smit-McPhee), his sensitive (Ugh!), artistically-inclined son and Ellie (Keri Russell), his (Ugh!) supportive, loving and oddly haggard nurse girlfriend along with a few other fellas to do their power dam magic. Everything twixt human and ape in the jungle seems reasonably "Kumbaya, My Lord" until bad apes pull bad shit and bad humans pull bad shit and hell breaks loose.
Eventually, order is restored, but a storm's a brewin' with imminent all-out war for the next sequel.
Dullsville!
Both the performances and characters of the humans are strangely lacklustre and the apes (save for Caesar and Koba) are indistinguishable from one another - a far cry from the indelibly-etched characters on both sides of the equation in the 1968 classic and its sequels. While there is an inevitability of doom and despair in the 60s/70s Apes pictures, nothing is ever oppressively dreary and predictable the way it is here.
Reeves handles some of the action sequences with the sort of aplomb one would want, but because we have no real investment in any of the characters, his efforts are all for naught.
There's a lot of noise and thunder here, but finally, this is a film which is perfectly emblematic of the sheer unimaginative roller coaster amusement park rides that major studio films are transforming into. The 3-D, as per usual, adds nothing to the proceedings save for inducing headaches and muting the colour and sharp contrast of the visuals.
Again, all I can do is offer my pity to audiences so starved for a good picture that they're willing to suffer through this unoriginal mess that been crapped upon them by a studio system that's increasingly losing its way into a miasma that I suspect cinema might have a hard time recovering from.
Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is in humungously wide release via 20th Century Foz and predictably drawing in audiences throughout the world.
For more elaboration on the Original Five and my vitriol about Rise of the Planet of the Apes, feel free to read my review of that film HERE.
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