mother! - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Aronofsky's Worst Movie Unleashed @TIFF2017

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REBECCA - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Hitchcock/Selznick Classic on the Criterion Collection

Joan Fontaine, Laurence Olivier, Judith Anderson
in creepy crawly Hitchcock/Selznick romance.

Rebecca (1940)
Dir. Alfred Hitchcock
Prd. David O. Selznick
Nvl. Daphne du Maurier
Scr. Robert E. Sherwood, Joan Harrison
Starring: Laurence Olivier, Joan Fontaine, Judith Anderson,
George Sanders, Gladys Cooper, Nigel Bruce

Review By Greg Klymkiw

"She was incapable of love or tenderness or decency." - Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier) in Alfred Hitchcock's Rebecca

Rebecca is a creepy-crawly romance. Make no mistake, though - it is indeed a romance, but damn (!), the picture makes your flesh squirm and the cherry on the sundae is that it's often so suspenseful that you occasionally feel like being one big screaming-sissy-pants-baby.

There aren't many American feature films as great as this one - it's in a class all its own. The finished product is the result of easily the most combustible producer-director partnerships in movie history. Auteur American producer David O. Selznick (Gone With The Wind) teamed up with auteur British director Alfred Hitchcock to adapt the wildly best-selling gothic romance novel by Daphne du Maurier and in so doing, yielded a film that was as modern and sophisticated for its period that has also stood the test of time - so well, that it's still more dazzlingly original than most films made these days, or for that matter - ever!

Hitchcock, however, seemed to downplay the worth of Rebecca, going so far as to say that "it's not really a Hitchcock film", but rather David O. Selznick's picture. Hitch couldn't have been more wrong, though. The movie is pure Hitchcock. He just didn't realize it.

The story that unfurls is one of obsession and on the surface, pure gothic romance. When the ultra-rich widower Max de Winter (Laurence Olivier) meets a plain, nameless (yes, nameless!) travelling companion (Joan Fontaine) at a Mediterranean seaside resort, he falls madly in love with her and whisks the young woman off to be his wife and preside over his mansion Manderley. Of course, the rambling old estate is haunted - mostly by the lingering memories (and perhaps even the ghost) of de Winter's dead first wife Rebecca.

Once ensconced in the stately manse, Max is often busy with business matters and it's up to his fresh new wife to take up her duties as "lady of the house". This is easier said than done. The house is still adorned with all the touches bestowed upon it by the late Rebecca (who died tragically in a boating accident on the raging seas that the mansion overlooks). Even her bedroom, with all its clothing and accoutrements has been preserved as she left it the night she died.

The creepy old housekeeper Mrs. Danvers (the chillingly dour Judith Anderson) does everything she can to remind the young woman what a pale shade she is to the deceased former lady of the house. The new bride assumes Max wants her to replace Rebecca, but in actuality, the title character, as we are reminded constantly, can never really be replaced. If the young bride is to keep both her sanity and her new husband, she needs to create herself in her own image, not that of a dead woman.

As the film progresses, more and more hints are dropped that things, as they so often are in life, are never what they seem. Madness, infidelity and, perhaps, murder most foul lurk in ever dark corner and the picture stealthily makes its way to a climax that is as nail-bitingly suspenseful as it is wildly and gloriously romantic.

This was indeed a great producer-director collaboration. Many of Selznick's instincts about the material were right and he insisted upon fidelity to the original writing of Daphne Du Maurier - something Hitchcock had a clear distaste for, but ultimately acquiesced to. Good thing. What this resulted in was not only a great picture, but whether Hitchcock could ever admit it or not, Rebecca proved to be an important transition picture in his development as a filmmaker and led the way to his rich period during the 50s and eventually gave way to the other great and perfect tale of obsession, Vertigo. I'd go so far as to suggest that without Selznick, Vertigo might have never eventually happened, or at least not as successfully.

Selznick was a filmmaker. A real filmmaker. So too was Hitchcock. The combination was explosive, but yielded a work of lasting value.

Rebecca is available on a new Criterion Collection Blu-Ray/DVD and easily one of the greatest home entertainment triumphs in years. This stunning new 4K digital restoration of the Hitchcock/Selznick classic features an audio commentary from 1990 featuring film scholar Leonard J. Leff, an isolated music and effects track, a new conversation between film critic and author Molly Haskell and scholar Patricia White, a new interview with film historian Craig Barron on Rebecca’s visual effects, Daphne du Maurier: In the Footsteps of “Rebecca,” an extraordinary 2016 French television documentary, a making-of documentary from 2007, footage of screen, hair, makeup, and costume tests for actors Joan Fontaine, Anne Baxter, Vivien Leigh, Margaret Sullavan and Loretta Young, a casting gallery with notes by director Alfred Hitchcock and producer David O. Selznick, Hitchcock interviewed by Tom Snyder on a 1973 episode of NBC’s Tomorrow, a Tomorrow interview with Fontaine from 1980, audio interviews from 1986 with actor Judith Anderson and Fontaine, three radio versions of Rebecca, from 1938, 1941, and 1950, including Orson Welles’s adaptation of the novel for the Mercury Theatre, the theatrical rerelease trailer, an essay by critic and Selznick biographer David Thomson and selected Selznick production correspondence, including with Hitchcock and on the box, a gorgeous cover painting by Robert Hunt.

POOR AGNES - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Fantasia 2017 presents gender-reversed serial killer

Serial killer in the birthplace of Paul Shaffer.

Poor Agnes (2017)
Dir. Navin Ramaswaran
Scr. James Gordon Ross
Starring: Lora Burke, Robert Notman, Will Conlon

Review By Greg Klymkiw

These days, when the first image in a movie is an aerial shot of a lone house in the deep woods, the heart usually sinks because it signals the inevitability that we're probably going to be spending most of the remaining running time at that location in a picture of the no-to-low-budget variety. This doesn't have to be a bad thing if the content is worthy, but Poor Agnes gets off to a very wrong start with the opening voiceover accompanying this familiar image as the title character intones:

"Men murder whores. Women murder their babies. What does that make me?"

Uh, I don't know. A whore, perchance? Maybe. But, you see, Agnes (Lora Burke) is clearly alive and continues to utter some pseudo-poetic nonsense from her bed with a heavy tone of portent. She's not dead and as such, not a whore murdered by a man.

We follow her into the basement as she opens a freezer full of meat to select a little something for dinner. She considers the array of comestibles, selects decidedly, but before slamming the lid shut, our ruminating lassie glances over to the back corner of the freezer and regards the frozen head of a grown man, his face locked into a ghoulish death grimace.

Phew!

She is not a woman who's murdered her baby nor a whore murdered by a man. Agnes is, however, a killer. If she isn't, how did that frozen head get there? In any event, we are grateful, since she gets an answer to her vaguely rhetorical, if not downright existential question.

And so it is that Agnes has lived for over a decade in this beautiful old country house in Thunder Bay, Ontario (birthplace of longtime David Letterman bandleader Paul Shaffer) with no visible means of support. At one point she reveals that her now-dead parents left her quite a sizeable estate, but she proves, time and time again, to be such an inveterate liar that it's impossible to believe this or anything else she says. Given that the script is littered with bonbons that strain credulity, it feels like something shoehorned in to explain her lack of anything resembling a livelihood (save for killing a parade of men and occasionally pawning their belongings).

When a private detective (Robert Notman) shows up to question her about an old boyfriend who's been missing for ten years, sparks fly twixt the two. We get plenty of provocative quipping a la Billy (Double Indemnity) Wilder (though in reality, the repartee comes closer to approximating the already-derivative banter Lawrence Kasdan belched out in Body Heat). Well, before you can spit out the title of James M. Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice, the couple are grappling amorously with each on the kitchen counters and floors. No coitus interruptus, either. Our dick-for-hire finishes bareback inside of her and in no time, she trains a double-barrelled shotgun in his direction, plunges a hypodermic needle into his arm, renders him unconscious, chains him up, tortures him and slowly employs Stockholm Syndrome techniques to turn him into her acquiescent boy-toy.

Agnes is a firm believer in the spice of life that is variety and soon kidnaps another hapless fella. Now she's got our submissive detective to become a willing participant in torturing her new victim and, it seems, possibly killing him.

If it wasn't for the brave star-making performance of leading lady Lora Burke (she fires out her lines with the straight-faced panache of Barbara Stanwyck, Rosalind Russell and even Jean Arthur - pretty amazing that she's playing a serial killer), it would be near impossible to swallow any of the film's proceedings. Though screenwriter James Gordon Ross has clearly done his homework on the machinations of Stockholm Syndrome, it's simply not enough to buy all the opportunities the kidnapped dick has to escape and/or fight back. His character is weirdly underwritten. Though at one point, when a grocery cashier notices his wrist bruises and happily chirps, "You're a sub!", these "qualities" in his character are merely trotted out as a script convenience rather than being skilfully woven into the narrative.

One of the stupidest (and jaw-drippongly WTF) moments actually occurs when another private detective shows up at Le Maison de Agnes to ask questions about the missing dick. He reveals that the character has a reputation for "hanging around in low social circles" (more convenient character shoehorning) and even more ridiculous is when he says to Agnes, "Don't take it personally, but, are you a prostitute?" I'm sorry. What experienced detective, or anyone for that matter, would ask a question like this? It's an idiotically offensive question and in fairness to the script, Agnes reacts appropriately to it, BUT what is this line of dialogue doing there in the first place? Yes, it might be intentional on the part of the filmmakers to add a dollop of the kind of patriarchy women must put up with, but the delivery of the line is so absurdly chipper and oh-so polite that it's not only unintentionally funny, but brings into question the intentions of the film, submerged or otherwise.

Poor Agnes often feels vaguely misogynistic. While I'm grateful to the filmmakers that they provide no real reason/explanation for Agnes's psychopathic tendencies, what feels horrendously machine-tooled is the idea of taking a typical serial killer story (which always involves men kidnapping, torturing and killing women) and reversing the gender roles, for no other reason than this - they can! They seem to think (at worst) it's "cool" and at best (if we can call it that), that they're making some sort of point about sociopathic tendencies in women (and by extension, how they are treated and/or ignored in the movies). Either way, this is not good enough. The whole thing feels rotten to the core. It's too bad. The director clearly has some talent for more-than-adequately capturing the visceral elements of suspense and the leading lady serves up one of the best performances I've seen in a long time, but neither of these things are enough to wash out the foul taste the picture leaves in one's mouth.

The movie just doesn't add up. It's impossible to buy that Agnes has been doing this for years and has never been caught, especially considering some of the mistakes she makes during the final third of the film which seem to conveniently ignore how meticulous her murderous machinations have been. I usually try to avoid writing about independent films that are this mediocre, but the combination of the moral repugnancy of the whole movie with its considerable flaws, forces me to do so. Too many "critics" and even those who should know better, might potentially fall for the picture's trick-pony styling and sometimes it's important to not just point fingers at the myriad of studio pictures sharing these woeful attributes.

I was also tempted not to mention the boneheaded scene wherein Agnes wanders through the empty hallways of a school, the walls adorned with children's artwork and comes upon a sign that reads: "Torture Survivor Meetup". (Yup, she attends to get torture ideas.) I cannot help myself. This bears mentioning. Sorry, most self-help group meetings avoid such signage, but even if they didn't, the timing of the cut to the shot of the sign inspires unintentional howls of laughter. And, MEETUP? What is this? A kaffeeklatsch for victims of torture?

No surprise. There's far too much in this movie that feels unintentional and its intentions feel wrongheaded.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **

Poor Agnes enjoyed its World Premiere at Fantasia 2017.

COLD HELL (aka Die Hölle) - Fantasia 2017 Review of Stefan Ruzowitzky Thriller by Greg Klymkiw at "Electric Sheep - a deviant view of cinema"

A WITNESS. AN EXTREME MUSLIM SERIAL KILLER.

Read Greg Klymkiw's **** 4-Star Fantasia 2017 review of Stefan Ruzowitzky's terrifying thriller Cold Hell (aka Die Hölle) at "Electric Sheep - a deviant view of cinema" HERE.

KILLING GROUND - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Psycho Aussie Inbreds at Fantasia 2017

As you can see, it's best to avoid Australia.

Killing Ground (2017)
Dir. Damien Power
Starring: Harriet Dyer, Ian Meadows, Aaron Pedersen, Aaron Glenane,
Maya Stange, Julian Garner, Tiarnie Coupland, Liam Parkes, Riley Parkes

Review By Greg Klymkiw

It's not an especially good idea to go camping in Australia. The Down Under hinterlands are full of slavering White Trash inbreds hell-bent upon raping wives, girlfriends and daughters in front of their menfolk and eventually, slaughtering the whole lot of them. It can't be any other way - at least not in the movies.

Killing Ground follows a young doctor (Ian Meadows) and his girlfriend (Harriet Dyer) on a long drive into the Oz wilderness for a happy, carefree vacation. They're madly in love, of course, and the pristine beauty of the natural world around them inspires a marriage proposal under the big, clear skies.

Things couldn't be better. Unfortunately, the lovebirds haven't seen enough cautionary Australian exploitation films in the grand tradition of Road Games, Wolf Creek, Primal, et al. Lurking just round the corner are a pair of avid wild pig hunters (Aaron Pedersen, Aaron Glenane) who have a little more on their relatively feeble minds than bagging some snuffling porcine delights. These fellas need to do a little porcine snuffling themselves.

When our couple happen upon a lovely spot, they notice a tent nearby. Nobody appears to be inhabiting it, even though there appear to have been signs of recent life. Oh well, those folks must be enjoying a nature trail. Well, they tried to enjoy a nature trail. Writer-Director Damien Power's screenplay affords us a glimpse into what happened to a hapless hubby and wife (Maya Stange, Julian Garner), their pretty teenage daughter (Tiarnie Coupland) and infant son (played by identical twins Liam and Riley Parkes).

And what happened ain't pretty.

The film affords us a glimpse into the family's encounter with the aforementioned psychos and whilst we enjoy the couple's idyll, we know it won't last long.

Killing Ground is a creepy, terrifying tale of survival that takes us into Deliverance territory. Making his feature film debut, Power parcels out the suspense with the skill and aplomb of a master and though his screenplay offers little beyond its derivative mechanics, he peppers it with more than enough twists and turns of the fresh variety whilst adding a structure that skilfully plays with timelines to keep us riveted.

And once again, we get another good reason to avoid vacationing in Australia.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ****

Killing Ground enjoys its Canadian Premiere at Fantasia 2017

MOST BEAUTIFUL ISLAND - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Chilling Indie Thriller at Fantasia 2017

What we don't see is what's really terrifying.

Most Beautiful Island (2017)
Dir. Ana Asensio
Starring: Ana Asenio, Natasha Romanova, Larry Fessenden

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Illegal alien.

In America this is the disparaging term they like affixing to someone looking for a better life. Yes, they are foreigners. Yes, they have entered the country illegally. In the vast majority of cases, these are people seeking the American Dream - honest, hardworking folk escaping poverty and/or political persecution/upheaval. They look to America as their saviour. America doesn't want them.

The real question though, is this: should these people want America?

Luciana (Ana Asensio) is one such illegal alien. She lives on that Most Beautiful Island, Manhattan. She's there to escape a turbulent, tragic, mysterious past. Life might have been hard before, but it's harder now. She goes from one menial, low-paying job (all under the table) to the next. But then, salvation comes. Her fellow illegal, a Russian "model" (Natasha Romanova), tells her about a job that will pay $2000 for one night and comes with the bonus of more if "she does good".

Luciana will be a party hostess. Apparently, there are no sexual favours involved. She's given specific instructions. Attire is a black cocktail dress. She must bring nothing with her, save for a mysterious black purse with a lock on it (that she's provided in the basement of a Chinatown restaurant). Oh, and she absolutely must have no identification on her.

A good offer? Well, in America, all such offers are too good to be true.

What follows is one of the most terrifying extended sequences committed to film in some time. (And yes, on film - Asenio's picture is gorgeously shot on Super 16mm.) Luciana finds herself in a dank basement warehouse presided over by a mean-looking doorman (Larry Fessenden). The room is populated by several gorgeous young women, all attired in black cocktail dresses, standing in a circle under murky, soft lights. A door opens. A group of affluent, well-dressed reprobates of both sexes enter. They inspect the black-frocked illegal aliens and whisper amongst each other. Once they leave, the women continue standing. Eventually, one of them is summoned. She's led into the other room.

Something is going to happen and it takes a good long time.

Most Beautiful Island is a terrific debut feature. Writer-director-star Asensio captures the lonely, desperate lives of illegal aliens with an indelible sense of observation that borders on Neo-realism. The final half of the picture, once Luciana enters the secret, horrifying dangerous world where illegal aliens are used as pawns for the rich in a deadly game, is unbearably suspenseful. Asensio paces these sequences with a creepy-crawly slow burn and it's impossible to sit still. Squirming is the order of the day for anyone watching this section of the film.

One element that's with me still is being in that room with those women while, one by one, they are summoned. What goes on behind the closed doors is not known to us, nor to the women. All we know is that it's not going to be good, whatever it is. That said, I have to admit I experienced minor disappointment once we were allowed to enter the room of reckoning. What occurs certainly works on a purely visceral level - this cannot be denied. However, even though what's revealed is rooted in something that is based in reality, it felt like a comedown to actually see what it is.

You see, what's scary is what we don't see. Lord knows there is a grand tradition of this that goes back to the groundbreaking work of Val Lewton and a little part of me wishes it stayed that way. Alas, audiences these days are inquiring minds that need to know. What they get is genuinely horrific, But damn, I keep imagining a movie where the horror of what we didn't see was maintained.

But that's okay. Most Beautiful Island is plenty scary.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ****

Most Beautiful Island enjoys its Canadian Premiere at Fantasia 2017.

BUSHWICK - Review By Greg Klymkiw - The Apocalypse comes to Brooklyn at Fantasia 2017

House of Worship, World of Shit, Apocalypse!!!

Bushwick (2017)
Dir. Jonathan Milott, Cary Murnion
Scr. Nick Damici, Graham Reznick
Starring: Dave Bautista, Brittany Snow, Angelic Zambrana

Review By Greg Klymkiw

You've just got off the subway with your boyfriend and are looking forward to introducing him to your Granny in Brooklyn. The platform is strangely empty until, naturally (it is the Bushwick district after all), a young gentleman in flames from head to toe barrels by, screaming in agony. As you and your beau ascend the stairs, you do so with trepidation - not only because a fiery human shishkebab just passed by, but now you can hear screams and gunshots. Your boyfriend bravely suggests you wait inside so he can go out to take a peek. Wrong move. He returns, near death, his flesh seared like charred corned beef. Once the love of your life expires, it's onwards and upwards.

What pretty young Lucy (Brittany Snow) discovers is Hell on Earth. People are rioting in the streets, looting is rampant and heavily armed military personnel in snappy, though scary-ass fascistic black uniforms (replete with helmets and dark, reflective faceplates) are firing into the bodies of innocent bystanders at will. She barely escapes certain death and hides out in a basement suite in the bowels of a nearby apartment building. The idyll doesn't last long. A few slavering gang banger thugs assail her.

Luckily, she's in the apartment of caretaker/janitor Stupe (Dave Bautista, WWE/MMA champ and the hilarious Drax in Guardians of the Galaxy), a tough-as-nails military veteran who dispatches the scumbags handily and saves her ass. This mismatched (clearly) pair become partners in survival as they wend their way through a veritable apocalypse.

America is under attack - by itself, it seems. A deadly army of redneck Southern secessionists has attacked the northern states and have concentrated their efforts in various New York boroughs, assuming, since they're ignorant racists (as most Deep Southerners must surely be) that they'll be able to have an easier time conquering "ethnics". Uh, not too bright, fellas. "Ethnics" fight back.

Bushwick is blessed with a first-rate screenplay that offers a simple, solid narrative coat hanger to deliver edge-of-the-seat suspense and plenty of action, but most off all, is infused with plenty of social/political layering and gorgeously-etched character shadings. This should come as no surprise to anyone who knows the name of the film's lead co-writer, the estimable Nick Damici, a terrific character actor who's also penned several brilliant scripts for director Jim Mickle (Mulberry Street, Stake Land, We Are What We Are, Cold in July). And yes, the script is always the thing, but it helps that co-directors Jonathan Milott and Cary Murnion handle the proceedings with skill, efficiency and verve. Often utilizing several long, gorgeously shot takes, their camera whirs and glides (and not in annoying shaky-cam) with the kind of expert action movie precision that puts many of its big budget studio blackbuster cousins to shame.

The big bonus here, is that both script and direction are blessed with a perfect combination of humanity and cynicism. Bushwick is an exceedingly dark picture and happily, it feels like it would have been at home and comfy amidst any number of classic dystopian 70s science-fiction/action thrillers. The picture gave me gooseflesh and by its nasty, shocking, horrifying conclusion, I was truly, deliciously, orgasmically spent.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ****

Bushwick, a Search Engine Films release, opens theatrically August 2017 in Canada and enjoys its Canadian Premiere at Fantasia 2017.

EXPERIMENT IN TERROR - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Restored nail-biter @ TIFF BellLightbox

Blake Edwards serves up the epitome of cool.

"Take off your clothes. You want me to take them off for you? Then take them off."
- Ross Martin as Red Lynch in Blake Edwards's Experiment in Terror.

Experiment in Terror (1962)
Dir. Blake Edwards
Scr. The Gordons (Mildred & Gordon)
Starring: Glenn Ford, Lee Remick, Ross Martin, Stefanie Powers

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The villain's name is Lynch. The heroine lives in a neighbourhood called Twin Peaks. The square-jawed, monkey-suited hero is an F.B.I. agent.

Doing the math, geek?

Don't worry. Even if it's not adding up for you, there's plenty more on display than mere cinema-geekery in Experiment in Terror, the consummate 1962 thriller by Blake Edwards that puts most contemporary nail-biters to shame. (Yeah, Get Out, I'm talking to YOU!)

Late one fine San Francisco evening, gorgeous bank teller Kelly Sherwood (Lee Remick, dolled-up in only the finest array of designer wear) is accosted in a suburban garage, from behind naturally, by a dark figure who manhandles her appropriately, guessing her measurements with dazzling precision.

He demands, through a gravely asthmatic voice, that she will steal $100K, following his instructions to the letter. Oh, and she better not go to the police. If she disobeys him, he plans to rape and murder both Kelly and her lithe little teenage sister Toby (Stefanie Powers). Hell, he might still do it anyway. Just for fun.

What's a girl like the impossibly gorgeous Kelly Lynch to do? Well, call the F.B.I. of course and be lucky enough to get the handsome agent John Ripley (Canada's own Glenn Ford) on the line. Big mistake. No sooner does she get off the blower when the predatory attacker suddenly appears, belts Kelly to the floor and crunches his nicely-polished black shoe on her throat. He knows everything. He sees everything. And she better not screw up.

What follows is a terror-infused cat and mouse game. Villain Red Lynch (Ross Martin) is quickly revealed to us (and the cops), but he's one slick dude and though he might be arrogant and totally bat-shit crazy, the man is a mastermind. Every step of the way he manages to outsmart the cops and the picture spins like a whirling dervish through several edge-of-the-seat set pieces and finally climaxes during a ball game in a packed-to-the-rafters Candlestick Park.

Some might find it a bit strange that such a crackling terrific thriller came from Blake Edwards. Yes, he did indeed deliver the hugely successful Breakfast at Tiffany's, the ubiquitous Pink Panther series, 10, one of the best romantic comedies of the 70s and the beloved gender-bending musical-comedy Victor/Victoria, so he's not the first guy one thinks of as someone who's going to deliver a picture as downright throat-catching as Experiment in Terror. But you know, Blake Edwards can and has been cool. He was, after all, the creator of the hard-boiled private-dick series Peter Gunn and here he assembled a top-flight cast, dazzling Phillip Lathrop black and white cinematography on location in San Francisco and a jazzy, jangling score from Henry Mancini.

And then there's Ross Martin as rapist, forger, armed robber and psycho killer Red Lynch - he's easily one of the nastiest, scariest villains in screen history. His thin lips, Cheshire grin, over-the-top wheezing and off-the-Richter-scales slime-bucket attitude all contribute to the creation of a gloriously chilling and, dare I say it, cooler-than-cool madman of the highest order.

He looks great in drag, too. Well, uh, not really "great", per se, but Jesus Christ, I'd hate to meet him in the Ladies Room. Oh, and in Experiment in Terror, we most certainly do meet him there. Damn, it's scary!

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** 4-Stars

A restored digital print of Experiment in Terror plays at TIFF Bell Lightbox.

POPULATION ZERO - Review By Greg Klymkiw - How To Get Away With Murder in the U.S.A.

In Yellowstone National Park:
You can legally get away with murder,
a bear once chased a burning bison and
a documentary filmmaker buys a really stupid hat.

Population Zero (2017)
Dir. Adam Levins, Julian T. Pinder
Scr. Jeff Staranchuk
Prd. Tyler Levine

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Three young men go camping in the majestic Yellowstone National Park. They are shot at point blank range. Their killer calmly turns himself in and confesses to his crimes. He cannot be charged with murder. After serving 60 days for illegal possession of a firearm in a national park, he goes free.

Documentary filmmakers Julian T. Pinder and Adam Levins want answers. Why does an American constitutional loophole exist so that anyone - I repeat, anyone, can commit an act of first-degree homicide (or any crime of their choosing) in a tiny stretch of the Yellowstone National Park?

That is the question.

This mere 50-square-miles of parkland spills over into Idaho and Montana, but since it is federal land, the powers-that-be have morphed the entire shooting match (as it were) into Wyoming's federal district.

Sure, American Presidents commit murder all the time whenever the country engages in spurious wars, but if, say, President Trump was a guest on The Late Show and he blew Stephen Colbert's head to smithereens with a handgun, even he would face murder charges. If, however, he went camping and ran into Stephen Colbert on this isolated stretch of Yellowstone in Idaho or Montana, he'd be able to rearrange Colbert's face with a shotgun blast and not be charged with murder. That is because President Trump would not be able to face a jury since the population of this region is zero and every American has the God-given right to face twelve peers.

With Levins operating the camera and Pinder on camera, Population Zero is a quest for truth. Who were these young men? Why were they murdered? Who was their killer? And why, oh why, did he get away with murder - legally and constitutionally?

As documentaries go, Population Zero is a strange duck. Sometimes it feels like a cheesy piece of true-crime reality TV blended with a kind of Michael Moore-like filmmaker-as-obsessive hunter/detective. It's ultimately better than the former, but its dalliances with the latter are mildly flawed since the filmmakers' personalities, agendas and back stories don't quite connect with their quarry, nor are they adequately presented in contrast.

All that said, Population Zero is compulsive viewing. As things ramp up, especially when the filmmakers uncover increasingly shocking clues and get closer to the killer, the film is flat-out chilling and during its last third, genuinely scary. It's one thing for this geeky pair to interview family and friends of both the victims and the killer, it's quite another when it seems like the whack-job, who has all but disappeared upon release from jail, begins leaving a trail of clues for the filmmakers - intentionally. Along the way, the filmmakers also uncover an environmental tragedy in Williston, North Dakota which, actually might tie-in to the horrible crimes.

I had certainly heard about the oddball American constitutional loophole (God knows, I listen to enough George Noory, Art Bell, Linda Moulton-Howe and other alt-news personages to be acquainted with it), but what forced me to keep watching (in spite of suffering as co-director Pinder insists upon wearing one of the ugliest hats I have ever seen anyone choose to wear) is that the story of these three sweet young men being murdered and their killer getting away scot-free was completely new to me. I try not to pay too much attention to world events, but when the film ended, this fella was scratching his noggin furiously over the fact that this was one item, the mass killing in the park (and subsequent constitutional controversy), that had inexplicably slipped well below his radar.

It turns out that there's a very good reason for this. If you want to know why, stop reading, watch the movie, then come back and read the rest of this review.

Exhibit A: a press release
Exhibit B: a producer

As any of my regular readers (and friends and colleagues) know, I do everything in my power to know as little about any movie I see before I see it: No trailers, no puff pieces, no reviews and even averting my eyes to posters, ads and social media babbling. When I get press releases for new movies, I never read them - or rather, I can't help but read the first few lines when I open email missives from the publicists.

In the case of Population Zero, all my eyes bothered to register was the title (a pretty good one), the logo from A-71 (a very cool Canadian boutique distribution company) and, conveniently positioned on the right-hand bottom of the credit block, the name of the film's producer Tyler Levine (a former student from when I taught at the Canadian Film Centre).

OK. Three good reasons to request a screener link (yeah, critics almost seldom pre-screen indie films in theatres). Password-protected Vimeos are the cinema of choice. Besides, I have the luxury of not bothering to review movies I don't like, so if the movie stinks, I can turn it off and not write about it. (Oh, don't worry, I STILL enjoy crapping on any bad movie I am forced to sit all the way through.)

So I watched this movie. All the way through. Then it ended.

So why the hell had I never heard about this crime (and lack-of-punishment) before?

I went back to the press release. Ah, this is NOT a documentary. It is a narrative constructed AS a documentary. Pretty decent job, dudes. You fooled the shit out of me. I also should have wondered why some of the documentary subjects looked familiar. Uh, a few of them are character actors on TV and in the movies.

I do wonder how I'd have responded to the movie if I knew, from the get-go, that it was a fake doc. Well, I'll never know now. What I DO know is that it's a damn enjoyable movie as it stands and I highly recommend that everyone stop going to see movies knowing what they're going to see. It's so much more edifying.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars

Population Zero is being released in Canada via A-71 Entertainment.

HOUNDS OF LOVE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Sickeningly Effective Aussie Thriller Will Shock

Preamble: Between 1990 and 1992, loving Canadian couple Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka kidnapped, tortured, raped and murdered three schoolgirls (including Homolka's little sister). Bernardo, on his own, and sometimes in collusion with Homolka serial raped dozens of women. The final numbers of those raped and/or murdered might never be known. Bernardo will be behind bars forever. Homolka struck a grotesque plea-bargain and today walks free. These crimes continue to haunt Canadians. Any such crimes will shake anyone's foundation, but that these acts of evil against women were committed with the willing complicity of a woman in the leafy, seemingly safe suburbs of Canadian cities seems so unthinkable, so appalling that the idea of any dramatization of similar acts seems beyond the pale.

During Bernardo's trial, I personally attended the courthouse on the morning audio tapes were played of Bernardo raping one of the schoolgirls. I staggered out at the official recess and never returned. What I experienced that morning is branded on my brain forever.

Watching Australian filmmaker Ben Young's horrifying thriller Hounds of Love brought it all back. Though Young's film is only loosely based on similar cases in Australia, I could not help but be transported back to the horrible experience of hearing Paul Bernardo calmly barking out orders to his weeping victim. Hounds of Love is, first and foremost, a thriller. No two ways about it - the film's intent is to scare the shit out of us. Was it necessary for Young to make this film? Was it necessary to subject myself to it? Is it necessary for anyone to see it? Read on.

Aussie thriller will resonate chillingly with Canadian audiences aware of schoolgirl killers Bernardo/Homolka. 

Hounds of Love (2017)
Dir. Ben Young
Starring: Emma Booth, Stephen Curry,
Ashleigh Cummings, Susie Porter, Damian De Montemas

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Through the driver's side window of a slow-moving car, teenage girls in school uniforms play volleyball within a caged court. Their movements are so dreamily-measured that one thinks the scene is unfolding in a series of still-life images. Once the car is parked, we catch sight of two steely eyes peering forward in a rearview mirror. From this perspective, we're afforded a series of closeups involving the almost lethargic slow-motion movements of the athletic young girls. All we see are body parts - knees bending, thighs jiggling ever-so slightly, breasts pressing forward under crisp white shirts as hands clutch a volleyball and thrust it forward.

These young women are reduced to faceless objects of desire.

Eventually, we're handed a new perspective. Through the driver's side window of the parked vehicle, we watch as the girls leave the court - some in cars, others on foot, but all in groups. All that is, except for one.

The car starts. The quarry is clear. The hunt is on.

Mayhem will follow.

Hounds of Love marks the feature film debut of Australian writer-director Ben Young and there is no denying that he's crafted a thriller with intelligence, resonance and sheer-DNA-hardwired filmmaking bravura. Inspired by two notable true-life serial killings in the Land Down Under (the "Night Caller" and "Moorhouse" murders), Young's film is set in 1987 amidst the sunny suburbs of Perth in which demented couple Evelyn and John White (Emma Booth, Stephen Curry) stalk, kidnap, torture, rape and murder teenage schoolgirls.

Much like the aforementioned Canuck killers Bernardo and Homolka, the pair use the safety net of being a "normal couple" to dupe teen runaway Vicki Maloney (Ashleigh Cummings) into their bungalow of horror to have their way with her. John has wifey Evelyn wrapped round his finger and she's a willing participant in these grotesqueries.

Young's screenplay pays special attention to layering the characters - in particular the used/abused wife and her sorrow from losing her two biological children in a custody dispute from a previous marriage and victim Vicki's woes due to her parents' recent break-up. Much of the film is a survival tale in which the teenager uses her wits to get wifey onside by exposing how little hubby John actually cares about her.

I will admit to being more than a little mixed about this subject matter being used to raise hackles. This is clearly something that happened and will continue to happen in real life and though Young handles the proceedings with considerable "taste", it's impossible to watch the film (or even think about it afterwards) without feeling the bile rise.

Still, this is first-rate filmmaking. There are a number of suspense set pieces that will have audiences squirming. The synth-driven score and clever use of period music is especially effective. I guarantee that "Nights in White Satin" by the Moody Blues can NEVER be listened to in the same way EVER AGAIN after the manner in which Young employs it here.

Though I understand why Young has written the harrowing final act to focus upon the whole notion of a mother's love for her child (children), there's something a touch too pat about the Silence of the Lambs nod employed as a key turn in the events. It's not exploitative (at least not in the wrong way), but so much of the film (especially the astonishing performances delivered by the picture's key trio of players) has a sickening ring of truth to it and one can't help but feel that we're left with a denouement that's resorted to the kind of trope that the film goes out of its way to avoid.

Still, the picture is a shocker and directed with the skill of a master. The fetishistic qualities of Young's "eye" conjure up the sort of frissons employed by Master Alfred Hitchcock himself. One can only imagine what terrific pictures Ben Young has in store for us.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** Four Stars

Hounds of Love is an ABMO Films presentation that opens May 12, 2017 at:
Toronto – Carlton Cinemas – 20 Carlton St.
Ottawa – Mayfair Theatre – 1074 Bank St.
and May 19, 2017 at:
London – The Hyland Cinema - 240 Wharncliffe Rd.

PART THREE - NETFLIX IS POO, SHUDDER IS GOLD: More Reviews By Greg Klymkiw of OPEN WINDOWS, THE BATTERY, THE EDITOR, THE LAST DAYS ON MARS, THE LAST EXORCISM and THE MACHINE

More SHUDDER Mayhem Reviewed Below:
OPEN WINDOWS, THE BATTERY, THE EDITOR,
THE LAST EXORCISM, THE LAST DAYS ON MARS
and THE MACHINE

I tried Netflix for the free one-month service. It took one day to realize I would never pay for it. Shudder launched October 20, 2016 (in Canada, the UK and Ireland). It took about one hour to decide it would stay with me forever. Netflix was stuffed with unimaginatively programmed product: bad television, (mostly) awful mainstream movies, a lame selection of classics, indie and foreign cinema, plus the most cumbersome browsing interface imaginable. Shudder, on the other hand, is overflowing with a magnificently curated selection of classics, indie, foreign and mainstream cinema, plus a first rate browsing and navigation interface which allows for simple alphabetical listings as well as a handful of very simple curated menus. Yes, Shudder is all horror, all the time, but a vast majority of the product is first rate and, depending upon your definition of horror, there is plenty to discover here that's just plain great cinema!

Who can resist a babe in an open window?

Open Windows (2014) ***
Dir. Nacho Vigalondo

Starring: Elijah Wood, Sasha Grey, Neil Maskell

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Open Windows is the clever title of the equally clever and often nail-bitingly suspenseful thriller by the young Oscar-nominated Spanish director Nacho Vigalondo (Timecrimes, Extraterrestrial). It's his first English language film and a definite corker. Dazzlingly directed and acted with aplomb by all concerned, this drawer-filling cyber thriller achieves the near impossible by placing much of the onscreen action within a myriad of "open windows" on a computer screen. Read my full Film Corner review HERE.

Time to kill some zombies, mais non?

The Battery (2013) **1/2
Dir. Jeremy Gardner
Starring: Jeremy Gardner, Adam Cronheim, Niels Bolle, Alana O'Brien

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Before the New England zombie apocalypse, Ben (Jeremy Gardner) and Mickey (Adam Cronheim) were pro baseball players, but these days they're moving surreptitiously through the woods and backroads, their only contact with anything resembling a human being is the occasional zombie which, of course, will need to be dispatched. Predictably, the guys are polar opposites. Ben's no-nonsense "gotta-keep-moving-like-a-shark" attitude is what keeps them alive and his insistence that they always make time for games of pitch-and-catch is what keeps them human. For Ben, baseball, or at least the vestiges of the once great unifying force of America is the only thing as important as staying alive. The sheer relaxing physicality of it offers a kind of Zen to their seemingly pointless lives. Read my full Film Corner review HERE.

Serial killers worship
the John Paizs cult classic CRIME WAVE.

The Editor (2014) *****
Dir. Adam Brooks, Matthew Kennedy (Astron-6)

Starring: Adam Brooks, Matthew Kennedy, Paz de le Huerta, Udo Kier, Laurence R. Harvey, Tristan Risk, Samantha Hill, Conor Sweeney, Brent Neale, Kevin Anderson, Mackenzie Murdock, John Paizs

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Okay, ladies and gents, strap-on your biggest vibrating butt-plugs and get ready to plop your ass cheeks upon your theatre seat and glue your eyeballs upon The Editor, the newest and most triumphant Astron-6 production to date and easily the greatest thrill ride since Italy spewed out the likes of Tenebre, Inferno, Opera, The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh, The Beyond, Strip Nude For Your Killer, Don't Torture a Duckling, Hitch-Hike, Shock, Blood and Black Lace, Twitch of the Death Nerve, Kill Baby Kill and, of course, Hatchet for the Honeymoon. You'll relive, beyond your wildest dreams, those films which scorched silver screens the world over during those lazy, hazy, summer days of Giallo. But, be prepared! The Editor is no mere copycat, homage and/or parody - well, it is all three, but more! Directors Adam Brooks and Matthew Kennedy have created a modern work that holds its own with the greatest gialli of all time. Read my full Film Corner review HERE.

Decent demon possession mock-doc 4 U.

The Last Exorcism (2010) ***
dir. Daniel Stamm
Starring: Patrick Fabian, Ashley Bell, Iris Bahr, Louis Herthum, Caleb Landry Jones and Tony Bentley

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I suppose we have to thank The Blair Witch Project for all the mock-doc shaky-cam thrillers of the past 15-or-so years. I don't even like it much. The movie had a vague visceral effectiveness upon a first viewing, but the real test for all these pictures is how pictures hold up on repeated viewings. The original Blair Witch Project doesn't hold up to that kind of scrutiny at all. And now we have, from producer Eli (The Bear Jew) Roth, a very effective horror picture directed by Daniel Stamm which, presents its nerve jangling tale of demonic possession with a reasonable degree of intelligence and style. It's also held up nicely to repeated viewings. Read my full Film Corner review HERE.

THE LAST DAYS ON MARS gives new meaning to
the appellate, "the red planet" - blood red.

The Last Days On Mars (2013) ***
Dir: Ruairi Robinson
Starring Liev Schreiber, Elias Koteas, Olivia Williams, Romola Garai

Review By Greg Klymkiw

An international crew exploring Mars for signs of life have sadly come up short. In their last days, however, a natural disaster on the planet loosens up a living entity that begins to wreak unexpected havoc. Well, we do expect havoc, but the manner in which it grips the crew is deliciously, scarily unexpected. Life, of course, does not have to mean tangible upright forms - it can also be bacteria, disease and/or mutation. Whilst some might find elements of the tale derivative of Alien and/or The Thing (among others), the writing is generally infused with intelligence and strong attention to character. Besides, familiarity does not always breed contempt. Read my full Film Corner review HERE.

She's Hot. She's Deadly.
She's Artificial Intelligence.
She has a Moral Centre.
Watch the fuck out.

The Machine (2013) Dir. Caradog W. James ***1/2
Starring: Caity Lotz, Toby Stephens, Sam Hazeldine

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Two scientists. One's a babe (Caity Lotz). The other's a handsome single Dad (Toby Stephens). Once they're teamed up to develop artificial intelligence, they become a formidable force. They're working for a scumbag (Sam Hazeldine) who wants to use their research and development to create ultra-weapons to go to war with China. The Babe is getting too peace-nikky for the scum-wad's liking and is assassinated. Handsome Single Dad transforms her into a walking, talking, killing machine.

Hell will break loose. And it indeed, does.

And indeed, with The Machine, we get another intelligent, thrilling, well-written science fiction film on a shoestring from dear old Blighty that puts studio-generated product to shame and even provides a sort of unofficial prequel to Blade Runner, but without that film's pretension. Read my full Film Corner review HERE.

NETFLIX is poo, SHUDDER is gold.

SHUDDER is the all-new streaming service devoted to horror. Available in Canada, UK and USA, SHUDDER is expertly CURATED by programmers who know their shit (and then some), including TIFF's magnificent Midnight Madness king of creepy (and head honcho of Toronto's Royal Cinema, the best goddamn repertory/art cinema in Canada), Colin Geddes. It's fucking cheap and notably, cheaper than that crapola Netflix. Get more info and order it RIGHT FUCKING NOW by clicking HERE!!!

THE UNSEEN - Review By Greg Klymkiw - BLOOD IN THE SNOW FILM FESTIVAL (BITS) 2016

The Unseen (2016)
Dir. Geoff Redknapp
Starring: Aden Young, Julia Sarah Stone

Review By Greg Klymkiw




The first time I encountered the astonishing Australian-Canadian actor Aden Young was in the late, great Paul Cox's 1994 Tasmanian-set classic Exile. In that film, Young plays a man exiled for stealing a few sheep, which not only embodied his character, but did so in perfect tandem with the director’s trademark humanity. Young's performance in the film left me a shuddering mass of tears, as well as a kind of transcendent elation.

British Columbia-based Canadian writer-director Geoff Redknapp has chosen Young to star in his very odd blend of thriller and family drama (with dollops of Cronenberg-like body-decimation horror). Young's performance binds the picture's disparate mélange of genre elements together. When he's on-screen, which thankfully is a lot, the picture transcends some of its more TV-movie-esque family drama elements.

Young plays Bob Langmore, a northern British Columbia laborer estranged from his wife and teenage daughter, Eva (Julia Sarah Stone). When she goes missing, he must re-assess his responsibilities as a man and father, as well as his ties to a criminal underworld. Adding insult to injury, Bob’s cursed - as is Eva. To reveal the nature of this curse, or rather, affliction, would spoil the picture, but it's worth mentioning that first-time feature director Redknapp is a highly acclaimed and sought-after special effects veteran. Use your imagination here until you see the film.




The film, in spite of its thriller/horror elements, is not especially thrilling, nor is it even scary. It is, however, occasionally creepy, and that’s always a good thing.

The picture works its magic best when it focuses on the working class/crime elements of the story as they impact the father-daughter relationship. Again, Young proves why he's one of the world's greatest actors - we can't take our eyes off the guy and he continues his Paul-Cox-enflamed ability to move us deeply. That said, he's given a run for his money by the compelling performance of Julia Sarah Stone as his daughter. The camera loves her and she's got definite star potential.

Redknapp’s picture feels like his screenplay, especially with the domestic issues, was been worked over one too many times by a few story “experts,” but, as a filmmaker to watch, he’s got the potential to go the distance.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars

The Unseen makes its Toronto Premiere at the Blood in the Snow Film Festival 2016.

KIDNAP CAPITAL - BLOOD IN THE SNOW (BITS) FILM FESTIVAL 2016 - Review By Greg Klymkiw

Kidnap Capital (2016)
Dir. Felipe Rodriguez
Starring: Paulino Nunes, Johnathan Sousa, Michael Reventar, Pedro Miguel Arce

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Canadian-born filmmaker Felipe Rodriguez and a top-tier ensemble cast deliver a riveting "horror" film rooted in the horrendous reality of an Arizona Drop House. Ruthless, organized criminals kidnap Latin American illegal immigrants who are tortured, raped and even murdered. The goal of the mobsters is to secure ransom money. Alas, many of those they kidnap are forced into begging for their lives to friends and family members who are hardly equipped to fork over cash and must, in turn, go into deep debt to rescue their loved ones.

The film focuses upon a basement full of victims, and Rodriguez directs his claustrophobic thriller with a blend of neo-realism and straight-up, nail-biting tension. That the stories are rooted in factual accounts is sickening enough, but the reality of the film's expertly-delivered mise-en-scene is what keeps our jaws agape.

What we experience in Kidnap Capital as mere viewers is happening to people each and everyday. Hats off to Rodriguez and team for making a movie that represents the exploited in a film, one that is not only exposing a terrible injustice, but does so with the highest levels of artistry.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** 4-stars

Kidnap Capital enjoys its Toronto Premiere at the Blood in the Snow (BITS) Film Festival 2016.

NOCTURNAL ANIMALS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - TIFF 2016 - Arty Vehicle Runs On Empty

MICHAEL SHANNON: Great Actor in search
of a Great Movie (or even good one).

Nocturnal Animals (2016)
Dir. Tom Ford
Nvl. Austin Wright
Starring: Amy Adams, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Shannon, Aaron Taylor-Johnson,
Isla Fisher, Armie Hammer, Laura Linney, Andrea Riseborough, Karl Glusman

Review By Greg Klymkiw

There's a scene in Tom (A Single Man) Ford's mostly dreadful Nocturnal Animals when Texas cop Sam Andes (Michael Shannon) steps out of his car onto the dusty, lonely flatlands which harbour a grisly crime. As his foot hits the dry earth, he begins to hack so violently that each cough sounds like the burst of gunfire from a .44 Magnum. Every wheeze is a death rattle. We fear for him, as does his companion who inquires into his well being once the horrendously desiccated croup-eruption draws to a close. Andes takes a deep breath and nonchalantly replies, "Yeah, I'm okay." Shannon's delivery is so perfectly timed that we let out a healthy belly laugh.

He's ready for action. The grisly crime scene awaits.




That we care so much for this character's well being is certainly a testament to Michael Shannon (no matter what film he's in). It's impossible to take one's eyes off the guy. Even when he's stuck in a dog's breakfast of a movie, his mere presence is usually enough to keep us watching. The broad strokes of the character he plays, a soon-to-retire homicide dick dying of lung cancer, who takes the law into his own hands with a pair of rapist-killers, certainly provides enough material for Shannon to deliver an astonishing performance.

Alas, he is ultimately a great actor in search of a good movie.

The very ubiquitous and extremely dour Amy Adams.

Nocturnal Animals is based on a novel by Austin Wright called "Tony and Susan". Though I have not read the novel, I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest that Nocturnal Animals is a better title - at least for the movie. The title, in addition to Michael Shannon, is the only good thing about Tom Ford's picture. It's probably one of the worst indie arthouse movies I've seen in quite some time. It suffers from an accent on preciously composed shots of people looking dour and a screenplay ("written" by Ford) that vomits up a whole whack of on-point dialogue and provides a clunky, almost literary structure (purporting to be cinematic).

In a nutshell, the movie forces us to meander amongst three different through-lines.




First of all, we get the story of a gallery owner (the ubiquitous Amy Adams) and her cheating husband (Armie Hammer), both of whom are facing potential financial ruin. As we suffer through all of this, we learn that wifey was once romantically involved with a penniless academic (Jake Gyllenhaal) who had dreams of being a great novelist.

The second through-line delivers flashbacks to this doomed romance and we learn that Ubiquitous Amy dumped the lad for financial stability, doubting her beau's ability to ever be a novelist. The third, and most problematic through-line is when Amy gets a manuscript of her former love's novel (which is about to be published) and the movie rubs our noses in fictionalized versions of both characters in a tale of rape, murder and revenge.

Now if any of this had been infused with a trashy, pulpy sense of fun, and/or even some Douglas Sirk-like melodrama (to match the movie's visuals), then perhaps it might have been palatable. Unfortunately, director Ford drags us through a dreary, humourless and pretentious mess that simply tries one's patience.

Jake Gyllenhaal looking dour: Regrets, he has a few.

Other than Shannon's character, there really isn't a single entity in this entire movie that feels remotely real, let alone worth spending any time with when the lights go down. Wifey Amy Adams is a total sourball from beginning to end and one can't really blame Hubby Hammer for grabbing a bit on the side.

It's also no wonder her gallery is suffering financially. The film opens with a series of arty-farty slo-mo shots of whorishly dolled-up BBWs, bumping and grinding with dour abandon (of course, they wouldn't be having any fun in a movie like this). Eventually they are turned into living still-lives on a variety of IKEA slabs for the edification of a whole whack o' rich knobs who are guzzling free booze and nibbling upon cheese in Amy's gallery.

Eventually I kept thinking - no wonder she's going broke. Does she have to pay all these porkers to prostrate themselves in her tony whorehouse of capital crimes against fine art - every fucking day?

This, at least, is a pretty good question. God knows we don't really have too many others whilst we suffer through horrendous dialogue like:

"What right do I have to not be happy? I have everything. I feel ungrateful not to be happy." This, followed by this dopey response: "You are just awfully hard on yourself."

"You and your mother both have the same kind of sadness in your eyes."

Or how about this scintillating exchange?

UBIQUITOUS AMY: "We are not right for each other."

DOUR JAKE: "We are perfect for each other."

UBIQUITOUS AMY: "No, we are not perfect for each other, though we might have been perfect for each other if we didn't live in the real world. But I live in the real world and I need a life that is more structured. I want to be the person that you want me to be, but I just can't."

Or, how's about this spitfire?

"I'm not scared, I'm unhappy. I'm just really really unhappy."

Adding to the mix of crappy dialogue, we're also forced to put up with a whole passel of portent during a litany of irony like:

When Ubiquitous Amy gets a paper cut whilst opening Dour Jake's manuscript.

When Dour Jake showers in the "novel" and Ubiquitous Amy showers in "real life".

When Ford delivers a shot of the raped/murdered mother and daughter of the "novel" lying together nude and pathetically juxtaposes it with a "real life" shot Amy's daughter lying nude with her lover.

It never seems to end.

The hits just keep coming.




Worst of all, though, are the final moments in which Ubiquitous Amy dolls up for a meeting with Dour Jake to talk about his novel and catch up on old times. She ends up wearing a hideous green dress which resembles the dress Scarlet O'Hara made out of the curtains of Tara in Gone With the Wind. Rhett Butler certainly saw through Scarlet's ruse. We wonder if Dour Jake will have a similar response. Alas, we never find out. Nocturnal Animals predictably ends with Ubiquitous Amy being stood up.

This all seems thoroughly appropriate. The whole movie deserves to be stood up.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *½ One-and-a-half-stars
Nocturnal Animals is a TIFF 2016 Special Presentation and is a Focus Features and Universal Pictures Canada release.