S. DARKO: A DONNIE DARKO TALE

SYNOPSIS: Seven years after the tragic death of her brother Donnie, Samantha Darko is still mourning him and the loss of the loving family that fell apart after he died. Her home life in shambles, 18-year-old Sam impulsively decides to join her rebellious best friend Corey on a cross-country drive from Virginia to California in the hope of becoming a professional dancer.

When their car breaks down outside tiny Conejo Springs, Sam and Corey are stranded in the hot and dusty town with little money and no connections as they await the arrival of a new water pump. Wild child Corey quickly finds a friend in Randy Holt, the town bad boy, but Samantha is restless and has no interest in socializing. The morning after the girls arrive, a meteorite destroys a local farmer's windmill, leaving a huge crater in its wake.

Plagued by weird and prophetic dreams that spill over into her waking life, Samantha searches for some kind of meaning in the people around her. But she finds only the fanatical cliches spouted by Jesus freak Trudy Potter and Pastor John Mellit of the Born Again Church, the heedless partying of Randey and his friends, and the petty suspicions of small town gossips.

Sam and Corey have a bitter falling out that ends in catastrophe. Without realizing it, they become links in an invisible chain that connects them to a missing child, a disturbed Gulf war veteran and a dangerous hole in time and space. Only a sacrifice of the highest order will return the universe to its proper time and place, and the clock is ticking.

REVIEW: 7 years after her brother's death, Samantha Dark sets out on a road trip with her friend Corey. The mission entails traveling from Virginia to CA with the hopes of becoming professional dancers. While mid transit their car breaks down in the little town of Keneo Springs and local Randy Holt comes to their aid. While they await there car repair, the 2 girls take up temporary residence at a local hotel. After which a series of events begin to unfold that make this quick stop a unforgettable moment in there lives.

To round out a bit of the collection of events and personalities we have Justin Sparrow, a Gulf War vet who just avoids a meteor collision after being visited by a spectral warning, Jeremy Frank a local nice boy who becomes transformed after purchasing the fallen meteor piece, A ufo obsessed hotel manager, A church group that suffers an arson attack burning of their establishment, A strange glowing blue feather, a lost boy and his apparition and a rather close nit paranoid town.

Our main characters Samantha and Corey present themselves as almost complete polar opposites. Samantha is quiet, cold and stand-offish who we later find had serious issues with her brother's death to the point of suicide. In her spare time she reads the book "Philosophy of Time travel" to try and understand some of the previous events of her life. Corey on the other hand, is a sharp-tongued free spirit rebel who seems to enjoy the randomness of the journey with a one-day-at a-time attitude.

Much like the film Donnie Darko, the movie is hallucinary, dreamlike and flows in the form of a puzzle. We are quickly introduced to a town with its own set of peculiarities. Quaint but overflowing with a subtle someberance and yet still on the verge of an impending event that waits to implode the entire universe they know.

Director Chris Fisher provides a number of supernatural moments that appear to work themselves into the events taking place. Often those who are called upon are seen projecting a spectral protrusion that is only best described as a visualized life force extending from one's body. After life books call this the spirits umbilical cord that connect the body and the soul together. (take note)

S. Darko delves into the arena's of time travel, quantum physics and the after life without really truly letting you know at any point in time. The film itself I guess will have several watchers running to the reviews columns shortly after to try and make sense of what they just watched. Really though the ending is the key. Without giving it away the writers are saying in bold letters that alternative universes are among us at any point in time. We lack the ability to change it once in motion but the question is always pertinent as time moves forward.

This notion has been revisited several times in science fiction films in the simplest of questions that .....what if you go back in time and step on a butterfly? (The Butterfly Effect).

S. Darko is not that kind of film but the message runs the same course of thinking. The other elements to keep in mind is that much is science fiction both used for eye candy and a premise that runs a bit off the beaten path In all the movie is a pretty solid piece of work that excels in acting performances and mystery. For most though the mystery might be a bit much to handle for feeble minds. Especially those who are closed mind to the Quantum physics arena.

Far too much is ambiguous to the point of a messed up dream or Lynchian experience to the effect that you feel disjointed through 98 percent of the movie. Though with all that said, it still is a pretty decent film. It's just I feel that many will shrug there shoulders in a state of confusion trying to grasp the rather more intellectually based subject matter thrown at them.

Additional high points go to the fantastic score that plays out moody and triumphantly grandiose. S. Darko in the end is a mind boggling exploration of alternative universes and small town affairs.

- review by Bonedigger from www.horrornews.net

Posted by RobG at 03:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Laid to Rest

A guy in a mask chasing a girl. This is how director Robert Hall describes his goal in making Laid to Rest. One can view this two ways: either as one director’s reverent take on a tried and true archetype, infused with his own original touches; or as a hackneyed play on a formula that is well overdone to begin with. I can understand why Hall had this aim in mind. As the unholy trio of masked slashers (Leatherface, Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees) are now being refashioned for a younger generation, the timing is ideal for young bucks to establish their own pantheon of monsters that they hope will last for decades to come. What Hall accomplishes with Laid to Rest is a movie that has a great visual flair, but ends up being more of the same.

After a creatively filmed montage that indicates what is to come, a girl wakes up to find herself in a coffin. Having no idea who or where she is, she flees the “deathbox” and her pursuer, Chromeskull, a name that refers to his ornate mask. On the road, Tucker, a local man, picks her up and, feeling sympathy for her, brings her home. When Chromeskull arrives and dispatches Tucker’s wife, he and Princess, as he names the amnesiac, run away and eventually add Stephen, an oddball who invokes Steve Buscemi in both look and acting style, to their group. The three try to survive a night of terror as Princess struggles to discover her identity, and how she is connected with Chromeskull.

Laid to Rest is one of the most visually arresting horror movies I’ve seen in years. DP Scott Winig lights the film brilliantly, as is evident in the scene in the barn, where light beams through the cracks between the wood, creating a play of shadows. The bluish hues are pitch perfect for a horror film, harkening back to Dean Cundey’s work on some of John Carpenter’s earlier films, and Winig uses some challenging camera angles. Adding to the visuals are the wonderful practical effects, done by Eric Porn. Leaning not too heavily on CG, Hall creates kills that are grounded in reality, which is commendable in this day and age.

If only I could commend Hall on his plot. The problem is, everything in this film has been done ad nauseam before, and done better. While Kevin Gage and Sean Whalen craft likable, believable characters that fans will likely root for, Chromeskull is the typically unstoppable killer, who gets shot several times, stabbed in the eye more than once and generally pummeled, yet the damage leaves him with no ill effect. This would be easier to swallow had Hall’s script given some explanation for it. Without one, it breaks suspension of disbelief. Chromeskull’s obsession with filming his victims is a contemporary take on Michael Powell’s excellent film Peeping Tom. But Powell’s film is a statement on psychosis and our sometimes dark obsession with the moving image; Hall’s film makes no profound statements, as Chromeskull’s camera is just a cool toy. Worst of all, once Princess overcomes her amnesia, her realization of self is far from a satisfying payoff. Perhaps Hall should have thought twice about using it, as amnesia is almost always a weak plot device in fiction.

The special features pay off nicely for fans of the film. First up is “Postmortem: The Making of Laid to Rest,” a 32 minute look behind the scenes. Hall and wife/producer/actress Bobbi Sue Luther take us through the production from inception to editing and score. Along the way, various people involved in the film chime in, including just about every actor in the film. The doc is a little too heavy on self-praise, but it gives some solid background on the project, including the benefits of filming in Maryland. “Torture Porn: The SFX of Laid to Rest,” is much shorter, running about 8 minutes, and focuses on the creation of the very explicit gore in the film. Let me note here that Laid to Rest is not a film for the squeamish. The ultra-violence will turn the stomachs of more sensitive fans, and really worked as a turnoff for me. The featurette itself, however, is a nice piece. Hall and Luther also provide a commentary that is lively and informative; the pair’s natural chemistry comes out in their discussion of the film. Some bloopers, deleted scenes and trailers round out the package.

Laid to Rest is a beautifully filmed movie, but for all its visuals, it’s nothing horror audiences haven’t seen 67,000 times before. Only the most undiscriminating slasher fans will find its plot or its killer satisfying. Hall’s aim was to create his own addition to the new pantheon of slashers, but ultimately, fans will probably find Chromeskull forgettable not long after the end credits roll.

--Phil Fasso

Posted by RobG at 10:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Island of Dr. Moreau (1977)

The greatest power of science fiction is how it anticipates things to come. Sci-fi novels predicted such things as tanks, widescreen TVs and, most apropos to this review, genetic research long before scientists could ever glean the possibilities of their existence. One of the great forebears of sci-fi was H. G. Wells. Having read his major novels, I often wonder just how he could be so far ahead of the curve; it’s almost like he travelled forward in a time machine (oh wait, he wrote a novel about one of those too), saw all these wonderful, modern contraptions, and then jaunted back to his contemporary times to write them down. Though not his most popular or influential novel, The Island of Dr. Moreau has always been my personal favorite. Not because it’s his best effort (though it can stand shoulder to shoulder with his others), but because of American International’s 1977 film version. The movie really worked on me as a child, with its man beasts running wild in the isolated forest, ready to leap out at any second. Watching it as a man, I find it’s not very frightening, but it still has some power for entirely different reasons.

The movie opens with three men in a rowboat. Lost at sea, only two survive to land on the titular island. As the hero Braddock heads off to seek help, his crewman gets dragged off by unseen creatures, a number of which follow Braddock, who falls in a hole that’s obviously been set as a trap. He awakes to find Montgomery, a hunter who works for Dr. Moreau, a pioneer in the science of vivisection who fled into exile under the ridicule of his peers. Free of the scientific community’s restraints, Moreau has created a whole society of “manimals,” hybrid beasts that answer to their master’s Laws, or suffer in the House of Pain, their name for Moreau’s laboratory.

The film’s greatest strength is how closely its script adheres to the source material. Much of the dialogue about the Laws and the House of Pain are direct quotes from Wells, and even when the scenes and dialogue differ from the novel, they remain within the spirit of the text. The shift from vivisection to genetic research is seamless, because the results are still human/animal hybrids that become a society. At their epicenter is Moreau, an oppressive leader who has made himself into their God. Though his cause may have been noble once, he has corrupted it to give himself power over creation. In some sense, he is another variation of the archetypal mad scientist, but sharply delineated in both Wells’ novel and the film to make him stand out just a bit. In one of his more understated performances, Burt Lancaster carries the role with just a tinge of a wild gleam in his eye; repressing the wild energy that he brought to most of his roles, Lancaster plays Moreau as a man who teeters just on the edge of insanity, instead of being way over it.

The major problem with the film is that the manimals just aren’t frightening. Sure, they were scary when I was 10, and Moreau was on the late show at 1 a.m. But watching it recently, I concluded they’re just... cuddly. Though the makeup effects turn actors into convincing animal/human hybrids, the creatures do not look intimidating at all. The way they move, they don’t menace, and even when they growl, they are about as scary as a malfunctioning Teddy Ruxpin. It doesn’t help that the plot restrains their animal side until later in the film, but even when they revert to the more bestial in the film’s final act, the damage has already been done. If the manimals would have appeared more monstrous, I’m sure the movie would have scared me as much today as it did all those years ago.

The film only became frightening for me again when I stepped back and analyzed what it was saying. The theme of man tampering with nature and becoming God resonated strongly, as Moreau eventually turns on Michael York’s Braddock and attempts to turn him into a manimal. Moreau, the jealous God, wields his powers against Braddock when it becomes obvious that the young lady on the island, played by Barbara Carrera, finds Braddock more attractive because of his physical appearance, thus preferring the animal over the intellectual; later, when Braddock raises up his lifeless body before the manimals, it’s a mock crucifixion. The message is clear: Even when its intentions are noble, science can go dangerously awry when left unchecked in the hands of men who think themselves godlike. Looking through Braddock’s eyes, I found myself trapped on an island with, for all intents and purposes, a madman and a society of monsters, a scary proposition. The claustrophobic atmosphere and the stark score by Laurence Rosenthal plays nicely on themes of isolation.

In the hands of AIP, The Island of Dr. Moreau was never going to hold itself up against the greatest science fiction films of all time, and its snuggly manimals do little to help the cause. But the movie holds firm on the frightening ideas projected by H. G. Wells so many years earlier, ideas that seem ever so prevalent in a world of swine flu and genetically engineered hamburgers. And therein lies the true fright.

--Phil Fasso

Posted by RobG at 10:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

ZOMBIE STRIPPERS

Back in my early 20s, when I was delving into world literature at Stony Brook University, my cousin Laurie Foos turned me onto absurdist literature. Around that time, she had just published her own novel, an absurdist piece called Ex Utero that became a well-received first effort. Leaning on her expertise, I took her advice and picked up The Rhinoceros, an early 20th century play written by Ionesco. In its bizarre way, it comments on how people embrace or resist change in a world in which chaos has swept away all logic, as the residents of a French town inexplicably turn into rhinos.

About now, I’m sure you’re asking me, “It’s great and all that you read some pretentious French play that’s older than my great-grandmother, but what the Hell does that have to do with naked hotties eating people, Phil?” You can blame writer/director Jay Lee and Lee’s wife/producer Angela, who have the unmitigated gall to foist Zombie Strippers on its most likely unaware audience the premise that the film is based on The Rhinoceros. The actors and filmmakers try to further this myth in the extras, but its claims to this lineage couldn’t be more ridiculous.

I reviewed Zombie Strippers in a First Look when it previewed in New York, and all I said then still applies. It still plays as two different movies, and would have fared much better if it had dropped all the forced philosophical fare and just aimed at being a dumb yet fun shoot ‘em up. But watching it in 2009, I have one extra problem with it; after the first 100 days of President Obama, all the political satire falls terribly flat. Political in jokes only work if they’re timely, so potshots at the Bush administration and Haliburton don’t resonate at all. As for the zombies, the makeup effects fare much better than they do on many low budget undead films, but the siege scene in the film’s first act is run of the mill, as are many of the attack scenes that follow. The scenes with the dancers themselves work best, because they distinguish Zombie Strippers from every other zombie film I’ve ever seen. Most impressive (I missed this during my initial viewing), the cinematography and editing are high end, and mask the fact that the film is a low budget affair. But nice camera work and cutting cannot save a bad film. And a bad film it is.

Zombie Strippers boasts an assortment of extras, starting with a commercial for Sony Blu-Ray discs; seeing Spider Man appear on this DVD is beyond bizarre. Perhaps Marvel Comics will have him visit an undead titty bar in his fourth blockbuster. “The Champagne Room: Behind the Scenes of Zombie Strippers” runs 7 minutes, and acts as a typical making-of featurette; the cast and crew all involve themselves in happy talk that make it sound as if the movie and all parties involved are groundbreaking and brilliant. “The Designing Room: How to Glam a Zombie” runs 4 minutes and offers a brief look at the special effects makeup with effects artist Patrick Magee; surprisingly, it shows very little of Magee at work. This is a shame, because his stuff in the film is impressive.

There are also 37 minutes of deleted scenes, with optional commentary by the director and Englund. The film is about 20 minutes too long as it stands, so an extra half hour plus would’ve made for an excruciating experience. Legal Affairs wouldn’t let Lee use the name “Haliburton,” but amazingly, across the disc he manages to mention the company ad nauseam, as he does here. He also mentions the connection to Rhinoceros during the elongated strippers’ introduction, as he explains the character Sox represents Ionesco’s Logician, but I still do not buy it. I came away from the scenes with the knowledge that Robert Englund is a very intelligent, well spoken man, who understands a lot about characterization and plotting.

The final extra is the commentary, which features director Lee and stars Jenna Jameson, Robert Englund and Joey Medina. Ironically, the commentary spends much time discussing things other than Ionesco; instead it focuses largely on the nuts and bolts of production and acting technique. Englund’s intellect balances off Jameson’s lack thereof; every time she opens her mouth, she solidifies every single stereotype ever leveled at strippers and porn stars. It’s a good chat, but if Lee is going to boast about the connection to Rhinoceros all over this disc, this would have been the forum to elaborate. In failing to do so, he disappoints. But as Medina asserts, most people who love zombies and strippers could care less about commentaries.

After a second pass, I still cannot recommend Zombie Strippers. It’s good for a few laughs and has some quality gore, but it’s disjointed and runs too long. An assortment of extras do nothing to improve the film, and several claims to inspiration from Ionesco fall short. If you want to invest four hours of time in quality entertainment, read The Rhinoceros. It doesn’t sport any reanimated corpses or boobies, but it sets an absurdist standard that Lee’s zombie flick does not even close to approach.

--Phil Fasso

Posted by RobG at 10:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)