-
REBECCA: A Visually Striking Adaptation Does its Damnedest to Escape the Shadow of its Predecessors
While Ben Wheatley’s modern turn on Daphne Du Maurier’s novel pales in some respects to past incarnations, there’s much to admire in this vivid and psychologically charged return to Manderley
Much like how the memory of Rebecca De Winter lingers like a ghost among the living characters in her titular film, so does Rebecca’s previous incarnations hang over Ben Wheatley’s latest awards-season take of the story for Netflix. There’s a hubris in taking on everything from Du Maurier’s original novel to Hitchcock’s classic film that fits well with Ben Wheatley’s unabashedly experimental and cerebral filmography — and while this Rebecca may not wholly live up to the reputations of its predecessors, there’s much to love in its director’s take on a thrilling, engaging slice of seaside suspense.
The film follows an unnamed traveling companion (Lily James) who finds herself swept up in a Monte Carlo romance with Maxim De Winter (Armie Hammer), the wealthy, recently-widowed owner of one of the most famous houses in Britain — Manderley. When their romance threatens to be cut short, Maxim brings his lover home as the new Mrs. De Winter, to the chilly reception of Manderley’s staff — presided over by the impenetrable, unshakable head housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers (Kristen Scott Thomas). As The New Mrs. De Winter struggles to with the thrust-upon responsibilities of being the Lady of the House, she also contends with the inhumanly perfect reputation of her romantic predecessor, Rebecca De Winter— a woman idolized by everyone who remembers her. Such a long shadow draws Mrs. De Winter deeper into crippling isolation and paranoia — one that may or may not be deliberately fueled by those closest to her.
Wheatley’s take on Rebecca, working from a screenplay by Jane Goldman, Joe Shrapnel, and Anna Waterhouse, injects a noticeable vitality into what has since been a more emotionally restrained manor drama. Taking as much influence from his previous sparse character dramas as it does from similar current films like Paul Thomas Anderson’s Phantom Thread or Darren Aronofsky’s Mother!, Wheatley and his scribes create a far more visually palpable air of paranoia and dread. There’s rarely a moment where we leave James’ point-of-view, which in well-balanced combination with Jonathan Amos’ quick-cut editing and Laurie Rose’s drifting, whip-focus cinematography, creates a persistent feeling of becoming increasingly untethered from an already anxiety-laden reality. Whether it’s the quickly averted eyes or hushed gossip from the surrounding staff, or a reoccurring murmuration of birds ominously lilting above Manderley, one can never be quite sure whether James’ anxieties are real or a hallucination. Wheatley’s Rebecca is one that eagerly explores the rich interiors of Mrs. De Winter’s psyche as visually as possible — one that gives a greater depth of characterization to a protagonist who, down to her lack of a given name, must fight for her own sense of agency and self-determination throughout the picture.
On that note, Lily James’ performance shines throughout Rebecca. Already having turned in near spotlight-stealing performances in Baby Driver, Yesterday, and Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again, James infuses the frailty of Mrs. De Winter with a modern feminist streak rebellion. While she threatens to fall victim to the subtle schemes of Mrs. Danvers, the pressure to live up to the unseen yet seemingly undead Rebecca, and the expectations of everyone else who crosses her path, James ensures that Mrs. De Winter’s arc isn’t one that’s wholly reactionary to the other characters, but one of increasing resolve to never become beholden to them. As such, James further separates Wheatley’s Rebecca from its past incarnations by pushing the identity crises of its main character further into a more well-rounded reclamation of her own personal agency.
Armie Hammer and Kristen Scott Thomas also turn in fine performances in their own right. Hammer’s Maxim is both stoic and cool while guarding a more tender, wounded interior. While this Maxim may lack the alluring passivity of Laurence Olivier’s De Winter, Hammer replaces it with a more brash, openly sexual machismo that can easily turn on a coin to a more visceral, violent temper that James grows to fight back against. Scott Thomas plays Mrs. Danvers as almost a mirror image to her employer, fiendishly guarding her memories of Rebecca as if they were among the valuable items she treasures in Rebecca’s former bedroom, which she repurposes as a morbid, color-drained shrine to the dead. Unlike Judith Anderson’s more brooding, subtly villainous turn, Scott Thomas’ Danvers is more openly mourning of her past charge, which finds its outlet in using the new Mrs. De Winter as a target for her rage. Each scene between James and Scott Thomas feels like a dangerously lopsided battle of wits, with Scott Thomas morphing between grieving mother, cruel superior, and scheming psychopath whenever is most convenient for her to take the upper hand.
Where Rebecca shines most, though, is its lush, visually-charged cinematography and production design, by former Wheatley collaborator Leslie Rose and Sarah Greenwood, respectively. This Rebecca relishes every opportunity to be in color, from the dazzling romance of the film’s Monte Carlo first act to the fire-lit inky shadows of Manderley’s cavernous halls. The newfound abundance of color also allows for many strikingly innovative moments of teamwork with the film’s costume design, as Mrs. De Winter increasingly blends into the walls of Manderley (notably in Rebecca’s former bedroom) as her identity seems to slip away. The world of Rebecca feels remarkably lived in as well, from the manor’s storied grounds, to a ramshackle boathouse nestled in a nearby seaside cliff, to the cobblestone streets of the tiny village both preside over. In a story wholly about the lingering effects of the past, each crevice of these settings feel like they possess their own untold stories — as if the secrets of Manderley were among many others kept hurriedly out of view.
The trouble with Rebecca, though, is in how much Wheatley and his script seem insistent on bringing all of the film’s secrets to light. While the film revels in the shifting troubled psyche of Mrs. De Winter, there isn’t much left to the audience’s imagination. A dizzyingly effective break in reality as she navigates a chaotic ballroom sequence is undercut by a nuance-free scene where the characters chant “Rebecca, Rebecca” to a trapped James; and where Hitchcock never felt pressured to show the titular character onscreen, opting for a more invisible presence brought out by Danvers and others’ remarks, James often dreams of a faceless, blink-and-you’ll-miss-her figure in a red dress — literalizing the source of her frequent anxieties, and in such a way that undercuts one of the film’s more climactic sequences.
They’re two sequences, in addition to a climactic confrontation between James and Scott Thomas, that speak to an overall urge in Rebecca to openly confront its more intriguing subtleties. In bringing all its secrets to light, however, Wheatley and his writing team rid much of Rebecca of its more fascinating ambiguities. We are given additional exposition into the nature of Danvers’ and Rebecca’s relationship, which leaves little to be desired — in addition to more explicit plot details involving the seedy Jack Favell (a deliciously hammy Sam Riley) that could have been easily inferred indirectly. While Rebecca’s lavish visual environment is a major boon for this version, its insistence on an equally no-stone-unturned approach to revealing its characters’ motivations does more harm to its aims than good. The most interesting ghosts of this Rebecca felt, well, far more dullishly tangible — like turning on a bedroom light to reveal that shadow in the corner to be nothing more than an awkwardly-placed chair.
It speaks to an almost lack of trust in its audience to fully catch on to the material, or worse, an attempt to distance itself from Rebecca’s predecessors by fleshing out their seemingly missing pieces. However, it’s the lack of that information that made those past versions most memorable. In the context of Wheatley’s past embrace of more elusive, ambiguous elements in films like Kill List and A Field in England, this proved extremely disappointing.
There’s still so much to like in Wheatley’s Rebecca, though — especially Wheatley’s beautiful externalization of his characters’ interior worlds, and how the film’s actors remain equally committed to giving a much more fleshed-out and complete arc to the roles they play. They allow Wheatley’s film to make its own unique mark, an ability questioned by some upon the project’s initial announcement. But literalizing much of Rebecca’s more salient ambiguities undercuts many of the film’s positive aspects. Given the greater success of its past incarnations, only time will tell if this impacts Rebecca’s ability to fully escape its ghosts.
Rebecca premieres globally on Netflix on October 21st, 2020.
-
Trick or Treat 2020: Two Cents Survives a Night Inside a HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL
Two Cents is an original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team will program films and contribute our best, most insightful, or most creative thoughts on each film using a maximum of 200 words each. Guest writers and fan comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future entries to the column. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion.
The Pick
William Castle didn’t have the same sort of budgets, ambitions, or technical abilities with which the likes of Alfred Hitchcock could astonish and terrify paying audiences with movie after movie.
But what did William Castle have?
Gimmicks. Soooooo many gimmicks.
For The Tingler, Castle rigged theater seats to buzz and, well, tingle audience members during a scene where the eponymous fear-eating monster snuck into a movie theater. For Homicidal, the film was promoted with a “Fright Break”, a 45-second window leading up to the film’s climax during which cowards unable to handle the thrill and chills could leave the theater and get a full refund. For 13 Ghosts, a unique form of 3D, dubbed “Illusion-O”, was trotted out that allegedly made the ghosts all the more vivid.
But perhaps Castle’s masterpiece of tawdry-but-you-gotta-love-it gimmickry was House on Haunted Hill (not to be confused with The Haunting of Hill House). The film was promoted as using “Emergo”, which amounted to theaters being set up with pulley systems so during Haunted Hill’s climax, in which Carol Ohmart comes face-to-skull with a vengeful skeleton, a prop skeleton complete with glowing red eyes would fly over the audience.
Divorced from these theatrics, House on Haunted Hill is beloved as a precursor to the slasher genre and as the film that cemented Vincent Price as a gleefully ghoulish horror lead (Price had already starred in House of Wax, but that was something of a false start. After this film he began working with Roger Corman, at which point for better or worse he was locked in for life).
House on Haunted Hill stars Price as eccentric millionaire Frederick Loren who invites a group of complete strangers to join him at a party for his hateful wife Annabelle (Ohmart). The ‘party’ is to be held at what is reputed to be the most haunted house in the world, with the guests each $10,000 each…if they survive the night. Not all of them will.
House on Haunted Hill was a huge success, especially given its tiny budget. How much of that success was down to kids going over and over again so they could throw shit at the plastic skeleton as it went overhead is anyone’s guess. No less than Alfred Hitchcock took note of Haunted Hill’s profits, leading him to devise his own low-budget shocker, sprinkled with some attention-grabbing gimmicks.
That movie? Psycho.
But we’re not here to talk about that movie! We’re here to enjoy perhaps the deadliest game of trick or treat ever captured on film. So lock the gates and stand back from the windows, because here we go.
Next Week’s Pick:
Who could be so arrogant as to presume to remake Night of the Living Dead, the film that invented what we now understand to be the zombie genre, a landmark work of not only horror but of American independent cinema? What lousy hack would DARE tread upon such sacred ground.
Well, it turns out no one actually got paid for the original Night of the Living Dead despite all its success, so George A. Romero decided to supervise a remake of his own movie and actually make a dime or two out of the deal.
Night of the Living Dead ’90 is available to stream on Hulu.
Would you like to be a guest in next week’s Two Cents column? Simply watch and send your under-200-word review to twocents(at)cinapse.co anytime before midnight on Thursday!
Our Guests
House on Haunted Hill isn’t especially scary, even by the standards of its time, but it is a lot of fun. The story is a bit of a mashup of Agatha Christie and an “old dark house” story, elevated by its cast — especially Elisha Cook and Vincent Price. Price in particular knows exactly what kind of movie this is, and brilliantly walks the line between horror and camp. The result is a near-constant level of dry wit that always stops just short of winking at the audience or spoiling the spooky atmosphere. In other words, Price makes it clear that he is having fun without being funny about it. It is also less gimmicky than William Castle’s subsequent horror films, The Tingler and 13 Ghosts, although I’d love to see it in a theater equipped with “Emergo.” House on Haunted Hill is the cinematic equivalent of a carnival spook house, and on that level it is a perfect counterpoint to the harder-edged staples of the Halloween season.
Verdict: TREAT (@T_Lawson)
Austin Wilden:
Beauty lying in simplicity sums up what works about House on Haunted Hill. From the moment we first see Frederick and Annabelle Loren together with their loathing clear as crystal, the question becomes less whether the house is truly haunted than which one of them makes it to the end. (Though I will admit there was a portion of my own viewing that was framed more by the former question than the latter.) Vincent Price and Carol Ohmart portray the couple’s open disdain for each other with fantastic conviction; both playing contemptible characters behaving horribly towards each other even before murder comes into play.
In contrast to these two cold characters, House on Haunted Hill left me in a warm mood. Maybe it brought back cheerful memories of playing murder mystery games at parties or the charm of Price is just that effective. This movie made me happy.
Though it’d be hard not to be cheered up by any movie that has the credit “Skeleton as Himself.”
Verdict: TREAT (@WC_Wit)
When I think of spooky I think of House on Haunted Hill. it’s a movie based on unease, on having you questioning everything at every second. Is this place really haunted? Are they just playing a game? Is there really a murderer? Can they trust each other?
Despite having watched it multiple times, I still find myself exploring every option until the film clicks into place and (mostly) reveals the game. It’s all a bit of fun, and isn’t dissimilar from a fun haunted house.
There are two huge components in making all of this work. The first is Ennis House, which is so otherworldly and mysterious that it feels like it’s hiding secrets. The house looks like a character, with Frank Lloyd Wright taking much of the credit there.
The second is Vincent Price, who once again relishes every word coming out of his mouth. He embodies the same spooky fun that the movie does, and he’s the gear that makes everything tick. He underlines every scene, accentuates every twist and makes this a wonderfully spooky treat.
Verdict: TREAT (@hsumra)
The Team
This is the perfect Halloween movie. Halloween, after all, is a time for sharing spooky stories and fun/mean pranks and the giddy barbed joy of scaring someone/getting scared. What could be more perfect for the season than a movie about various people combining old-timey flim-flam with Grade-A ghost stories to try and scare each other to death? Price is the perfect avatar for this tone, playing things completely serious but unable to keep that macabre delight out of his delivery as he chews on every overwrought speech.
House on Haunted Hill is ludicrous and silly even for its genre/era/budget-range, but the central And Then There Were None hook is a solid enough super-structure onto which Castle can hang every sort of scare scene that comes to mind even if the film plays so fast and loose that it can’t really satisfy as a genuine mystery. But any time things seem to be slowing down, Castle trots out Elisha Cook Jr. to stare into the lens and pontificate on the unholy evil that is assuredly coming to kill them all, and that’s worth the price of admission right there.
Verdict: TREAT (@TheTrueBrendanF)
It’s been quite awhile since I’d seen this film, and I didn’t remember much more than the skeleton rising out of the vat at the climax, so this was almost like going in fresh — save that I’ve since seen the zany remake a couple times.
Vincent Price is clearly the top draw for this charmingly spooky murder mystery, delightfully serving up every line deliver with wit, charm, and a dash of poison — giving the picture the elevated playfulness that it needs, without ever actually hamming it up.
Add to that the legendary sadsack character actor Elisha Cook serving as a sort of Greek chorus to the film’s events as both participant and narrator, and the result is a gleeful spook-filled haunted house tale with two of the era’s most familiar faces.
Verdict: TREAT (@VforVashaw)
Next week’s pick:
https://www.hulu.com/movie/night-of-the-living-dead-489126cc-2c4e-40dd-ab7e-0afb5308d422
-
Ruby Rose IS: THE DOORMAN
A Ryuhei Kitamura Joint
I don’t honestly know a whole lot about Ruby Rose.
I understand (sans research) that she broke out in the latter seasons of Orange Is The New Black, which I never got to. She had a non-speaking sign language role in John Wick 2 and definitely left an impression there. I understand her to be an openly LGBTQIA star who played Batwoman for a single season of a tv show before dramatically dropping out. And now, here she is anchoring her own action film! It’s clear from her look and roles that she’s got an edgy vibe she is going for. How does she do in the lead role here? I’d say: just fine! At no point did I feel her performance or action chops significantly detracted from the movie. In fact she mostly sells the tough soldier vibe and dispatches of her enemies pretty effectively. It’s not immediately clear how many of her own fights and stunts she did, but that’s a good thing in that stunt doubles at least aren’t used to an extensively distracting degree. When Rose needs to be more soft hearted and familial she feels slightly less effective, but never dipped into being bad. I wouldn’t say I’m totally sold on her as a leading action star but I’d also be happy to check out a few more of her performances as well.
In The Doorman Rose plays elite soldier Ali, whom we meet amidst a protection assignment gone wrong when she displays incredible courage under fire but nonetheless ends up the only survivor of her convoy. Soon she’s a civilian struggling to find work in New York City, troubled by PTSD. When her uncle throws her name into the hat as a doorman at a luxury apartment building, it seems like a great fit. But not only has the uncle set her up to (unbeknownst to her) reconnect with her estranged niece, nephew, and brother in law who live in the building, but there’s also a Die Hard style team of professional criminals prepping to pull a heist as the building is being emptied and renovated. You better believe Ali is going to kick some ass and reconnect with some family!
The Doorman had a splashy trailer and Rose as a top-billed lead of her own action film intrigued me as well, but when I saw it was directed by Ryuhei Kitamura, I knew I’d have to check the film out as soon as possible. One of the most kinetic Japanese action directors of this era, Kitamura exploded onto my radar with Versus and Azumi in the early 2000s and frankly, he’s done pretty awesome work with his English language projects like The Midnight Meat Train, No One Lives, and Downrange. The Doorman humorously takes the “Die Hard In A ______” formula and… puts it right back into a building where it first began. I love the Die Hard clone subgenre and feel that it is alive and well. In fact, The Doorman is the second new Die Hard clone film I watched THIS WEEK. And it’s the superior one. (Sorry, Welcome To Sudden Death).
Kitamura always brings movement, energy, and even a kind of clarity to his action set pieces. Even with splashy camera work and tons of visual energy, you always know where you are, who is fighting, and it always looks cool. That remains the case here. In fact, when (perhaps unfairly) compared to the lifeless Welcome To Sudden Death, it becomes clear how much an assured director with an identifiable style can really make standard direct to video action fare pop a little.
There’s also a little fun to be had with Jean Reno as the heavy, spearheading this robbery to locate lost artwork hidden by a former (Nazi? Or KGB agent? I forget) adversary of his who’s developed dementia and lives in the building Ali now works in. Weirdly, this entire plotline is almost beat for beat the same as the villain’s plan in another 2020 Die Hard clone Force Of Nature! In both films there’s an ailing/elderly ex-Nazi hiding lost and priceless artwork in an apartment building that’s being robbed by an elite group of thieves. Reno traipses through proceedings somewhat above the fray; a softer, gentler Hans Gruber. There’s not much of a character there, but Reno’s presence is always welcome.
The Doorman is unrepentantly a Die Hard clone. And that comes with plusses and minuses. On the one hand, the formula is getting long in the tooth and the subgenre itself is quite crowded. This is evidenced by the lifeless Welcome To Sudden Death (itself a remake of a clone), which is far worse than The Doorman, but which released within weeks of one another. Die Hard clones are comfort food. You’re not going to get a game changer with any of them, most likely. They are, by nature, a riff on a classic formula. What’s important, then, is whether each individual clone offers enough of a clever change up or effective execution to stand out from the pack or at least be entertaining. The Doorman provides perhaps just enough fun (with Kitamura’s style) and flair (with Rose’s edgy female spin) to become a mild recommend.
The Package
The Blu-ray features one single featurette in which all the actors talk about finding the humanity of their characters and how The Doorman is really all about bonding and human connections. Which is humorous, because The Doorman provides lip service to those themes at best, and has way more fun when Kitamura is just pulling cool camera tricks and Ruby Rose beating people down. I think the movie looks pretty good but there’s not a whole lot of reason you’d likely need to own this Blu-ray unless you’re a (ahem) die hard fan of any of the talent involved.
And I’m Out.
The Doorman hits Digital/On Demand October 9th & Blu-ray & DVD October 13th, 2020 from Lionsgate.
-
Michael J. Fox & James Woods in THE HARD WAY [Blu-ray Review]
It’s always true, but in this case they REALLY don’t make them like they used to
When your buddy cop action comedy’s denouement takes place atop a massive physical 3D billboard sculpted in the likeness of Michael J. Fox and suspended above New York City’s Times Square… you know you’re DEEP into “they don’t make them like they used to” territory.
And honestly, for good or for ill, watching 1991’s The Hard Way from director John Badham and producer Rob Cohen here in 2020 was somewhat of an experiment in generational comparison. In general I loathe the concept of hurling the term “dated” at a film. It’s almost always used as an insult or to heap scorn upon anything that isn’t the newest/latest/best. Yet, having grown up on a steady diet of films of The Hard Way’s ilk, but watching this particular buddy cop action comedy for the first time in the accursed anno domini two thousand and twenty, one couldn’t help but experience something akin to time travel.
Everyone in the formidable cast of The Hard Way seems to have gotten the memo that this was to be a “good time at the movies”. James Woods’ Det. John Moss is your typical high strung, rules-flaunting movie detective who only works alone, has no trouble cracking a few skulls to get some information, and will stop at nothing to put a stop to (all-time great character actor) Stephen Lang’s absurdly over the top serial killer known as “The Party Crasher”. Michael J. Fox’s Nick Lang is the pretty boy coddled Hollywood star who’s looking to break into more serious roles and finagles an extended undercover ride along assignment with the extremely uncooperative Moss. We’ve all seen this part of the movie before. Moss and Lang will get on each other’s last nerve until the finale, when they’ll realize the need to depend on each other to take down the Crasher.
But the supporting cast here is astonishing and worth highlighting. On Moss’ department you’ve got Luis Guzman and L.L. Cool J (perhaps his first screen role, packaged along with the generous usage of eternal banger Mama Said Knock You Out in the soundtrack) as co-workers and Delroy Lindo as the angry police chief. Moss is also kicking off a fledgling dating relationship with Annabella Sciorra (whose daughter happens to be Christina Ricci, with this film and The Addams Family both hitting in 1991). On the Hollywood side of things, Nick Lang’s agent is played by none other than the legendary Penny Marshall. It’s an embarrassment of riches when it comes to a stellar ensemble cast working together at pivotal times in their careers.
Screenwriters Lem Dobbs and Daniel Pyne know exactly what they’re doing with the tried and true formula of The Hard Way. By 1991 the buddy cop action comedy is a well established genre in its own right, with seminal films like Lethal Weapon, 48 Hours, Beverly Hills Cop, etc, having long since set the template. The angle here comes in sending up Hollywood culture with the over the top Nick Lang character poking fun at self-serious and clueless superstar behavior whenever possible. Hollywood LOVES movies about movies, and loves making fun of itself too. The script keeps things moving briskly and sprinkles in some inventive action set pieces as necessary, many of which involve the aforementioned Nick Lang billboard. The biggest problem, perhaps, with the script, is simply that it is never quite as funny as it thinks it is. Fox’s antics as Lang are amusing fairly frequently, but never quite laugh out loud funny. And with Woods and Fox working overtime to get laughs out of us, it feels like the film is trying very hard but never quite achieving what it’s going for.
And in terms of how unavoidable it is to view this film through a 2020 lens, it’s unfortunate but must be commented upon. Star James Woods has become an outspoken troll via his social media accounts and has managed to make his personal life so toxic that it’s hard to enjoy his on screen angry cop persona in a year marred by rampant mistreatment of African Americans at the hands of law enforcement. In fact, there’s even a scene when Moss breaks into the apartment of a young black gang and threateningly roughs them up for information. It’s so very uncomfortable and Lang is just soaking it all in with wonder as inspiration for his next gritty cop role. You almost can’t help but wince as this lighthearted comedy makes a point to elevate the heroism of Moss even as he trods all over literally everyone in his path.
The Hard Way has its moments, and is generously sprinkled with charm throughout. It just never quite rises to the levels of some of director John Badham’s other work, such as Bird On A Wire or even Stakeout (though my memories of that one are hazy and that might warrant a revisit). Michael J. Fox is as likeable as they come, but even he borders on insufferable as the film congratulates itself for sticking it to Hollywood. And Woods got so far with this asshole persona that he seems to have carried it over to his personal life to make anyone who engages with him on social media suffer along with him. But while The Hard Way does indeed trod in some offensive tropes and self-congratulation, it’s hard to get TOO mad at a movie featuring a giant action set piece on top of a massive, mechanical Michael J. Fox face.
The Package
Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray release of The Hard Way also coincides with another Michael J. Fox release: The Secret Of My Success. The Blu-ray looked pretty fantastic to my untrained eye. And you get a commentary track here with Director John Badham, Producer/Second Unit Director/Fast And The Furious spawner Rob Cohen, moderated by film historian Daniel Kremer. It’s a fun commentary with Badham and Cohen clearly having a strong affinity for one another and talking extensively about the shorthand they were able to establish in making several films together.
Fans of the film will be pleased with this release, one imagines. Newcomers, like me, may find a few chinks in the film’s armor, but can likely still manage to have a good time.
And I’m Out.
The Hard Way hits Blu-ray 10/6/2020 from Kino Lorber Studio Classics
-
INVINCIBLE DRAGON is Sadly… Quite Vincible
Not a Shining Moment For Hong Kong Action
Up and coming martial arts legend Max Zhang has already shown himself to be quite a presence in such films as Kill Zone 2, Ip Man 3, and Master Z: Ip Man Legacy. He even came out of the most unfortunate Escape Plan: The Extractors relatively unscathed. Here he plays Kowloon, a Hong Kong detective on the hunt for a serial killer taking out female police officers (including his own fiancee). While Zhang very much shined as the lead in Master Z, he can’t save this outright dud.
Before enumerating the various ways that Invincible Dragon simply doesn’t work, I’ll go ahead and share a few positive takeaways. Rising female action star Juju Chan (Wu Assassins, Savage Dog) gets an opportunity to show her skills as the mysterious yoga instructor Lady. Her battle with Kowloon on a subway car stood out as one of the better fight sequences in this action-heavy film.
Dang. You know? I hate to say it, but that’s really all I’ve got in terms of positivity. It’s actually hard to overstate how much I disliked Invincible Dragon. It was a very tough watch. As a huge fan of the golden era of heroic bloodshed films from Hong Kong, I just remember the time when Hong Kong cinema was the absolute arbiter of “cool”, showing the world how action cinema is done. Invincible Dragon feels like it’s trying to be badass at every turn, but just not hitting the mark.
Zhang isn’t necessarily the problem, what with his super sharp haircut and undercover goth look. But he’s saddled with a frankly dreadful script from Fruit Chan and Kee-To Lam. It’s a mystery without suspense featuring a killer without menace. It’s a rogue cop story without any soul. It’s a melodrama without any drama. And while this is really my first introduction to UFC star Anderson Silva either as a fighter or an actor, I’d have to say he really should stick to the former. I’m generally loath to say things like this, but Silva’s performance here is show-stoppingly bad. I assume he’s a native Portuguese speaker asked to film his dialogue sequences in English. And when he and Zhang are either trading combative grunts or threats with one another or attempting witty banter, both in broken English, the work just does not translate well, at least to this westerner. They’re not backed up by the aforementioned script, either.
Another element that maybe just didn’t land for me as a westerner that perhaps could have played differently to a native Chinese audience was the supernatural theme at play. Kowloon translated apparently means “9 dragons”, and our titular hero is tattooed with a giant dragon whom he saw in a vision during a near-drowning incident as a child. There’s this theme running throughout of what both dragons and tattoos symbolize, and Kowloon calls on the spirit of a very literal dragon god throughout the movie. It’s a shoddy CGI dragon that really plays poorly against the attempted slick/gritty Hong Kong street action of the rest of the film. Eventually this dragon spirit, still looking visually rough and cheap, physically intervenes in a giant fight sequence in a way that is supposed to be redemptive or dramatic (I believe), but simply fizzles into a slapstick climax that’s shockingly unsatisfying and ineffective.
I don’t know how others may react to Invincible Dragon, and I don’t even know if it was a big hit in its native China or not. I remain on the Max Zhang train and will continue to seek out his work. But it seems perhaps the filmmaking work of Fruit Chan and the acting work of Anderson Silva really aren’t for me. I hope others who check out the film find more to enjoy than I did, but I really struggled to make it through this one and found the mystery taking me exactly where I thought it would from the beginning and offering no surprises to keep me invested.
And I’m Out.
Invincible Dragon hits Digital, Blu-ray, & DVD October 6th, 2020, from Well Go USA Entertainment.
-
Trick or Treat 2020: Two Cents Film Club Investigates Tim Burton’s SLEEPY HOLLOW (1999)
Two Cents is an original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team will program films and contribute our best, most insightful, or most creative thoughts on each film using a maximum of 200 words each. Guest writers and fan comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future entries to the column. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion.
The Pick
The spooky season is here and we’re officially kicking off our annual Trick or Treat series with 1999’s delightfully macabre Sleepy Hollow!
Believe it or not, Tim Burton and Johnny Depp collaborating on a big-budget update of Washington Irving’s “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” was once seen as a risky gamble for any studio to take up.
Bear in mind: Burton was coming off a string of disappointments and outright flops, capped off by the high-profile cancellation of his Superman reboot after a year of expensive development.
And Johnny Depp had never had a movie hit $100 million domestic, instead headlining either blandly successful programmers or arthouse masterpieces that made absolutely no money.
But the Edward Scissorhands/Ed Wood boys struck fried gold with their third collaboration. Sleepy Hollow originated as a passion project for make-up maestro Kevin Yagher (he created both Chucky and The Cryptkeeper) looking to make his directorial debut with an amped up, gory horror riff on Irving’s venerable old spook story.
Yagher developed the project with Se7en scribe Andrew Kevin Walker, devising a story where this time, the Headless Horseman was an actual… you know… headless horseman, on a murder rampage through the sleepy hollow of Sleepy Hollow. Only upstart big city detective Ichabod Crane with his bizarre new techniques of ‘forensic’ ‘evidence’ stands a chance against besting a decapitation-crazed demon.
Sleepy Hollow eventually became such an expensive commodity that the studio didn’t trust Yagher to deliver. He remained on supervising the gore and creature make-up, while Burton took over as director. He in turn brought in Depp, and the two spun Walker and Yagher’s supernatural procedural into a giddy Gothic bloodbath.
Audiences came out in droves to see heads roll, but Sleepy Hollow remains underdiscussed in the Burton canon. It isn’t one of his early masterpieces that made him an icon for a generation of outsiders, nor is it one of his infuriating future disasters that made said generation question how devoted they should have ever been to the dude.
To kick off this Trick or Treat season, let’s amble through the fog and see just what there is to find in Sleepy Hollow.
Next Week’s Pick
Vincent Price! William Castle! Ghosts! Ghouls! Skeletons! Acid Baths!
What more could you want out of spooky season?
Join us as we pass a night in the original House on Haunted Hill! Available in black & white and color versions on Prime!
Would you like to be a guest in next week’s Two Cents column? Simply watch and send your under-200-word review to twocents(at)cinapse.co anytime before midnight on Thursday!
Our Guests
I’d forgotten what a banger Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow is. While it departs pretty significantly from the source material (which in my youth was very much a strike against it), the film very smartly takes the concept and makes it more cinematic. In fact, it’s perhaps as close as Burton has ever come to making his own Hammer-style horror film — and not just because several actors hail from that era of filmmaking. Much as Hammer transformed Dracula and Frankenstein, so too does Burton adapt “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” into a rollicking horror-adventure along the lines of Night Creatures or Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter.
It has most of the Tim Burton hallmarks: an exaggerated gothic aesthetic, a Danny Elfman score, and plenty of actors from his stock company of players. Plus, because it’s 1999, Johnny Depp hadn’t quite degenerated into a a goofy accented, silly hat wearing caricature of himself! In fact, I kind of love the idea of a detective who thinks he’s in a Poirot story finding himself trapped in a world of gothic horror.
Sleepy Hollow was very much the end of an era for Tim Burton. He has made other good films since (I love me some Big Fish), but from the 2000s on they were few and far between — and no film since has shown the focus and consistency of style and purpose demonstrated here. Plus there are few things spookier than a wild-eyed Christopher Walken with razor-sharp teeth.
Verdict: TREAT (@T_Lawson)
Brendan Agnew (The Norman Nerd):
You gotta love a movie that just can’t stop hitting solid triples.
There are few pairings of Director + Material more obviously ideal than “Tim Burton and a playful Hammer horror take on The Headless Horseman,” and if everyone making Sleepy Hollow had run on autopilot, you’d probably still have something fairly watchable. But everyone here feels like they’re in on the bit and down to play with it (even Christopher Lee for all 90 seconds he’s in this thing), and there’s not really much that genuinely doesn’t work. Every time something like Christina Ricci’s obvious Dark Secret threatens to be boringly predictable, it instead has a canny spin that deftly compliments the way this tale twists the original Washington Irving story.
Also, it’s just chockablock full of Cool Spooky Shit. You got witches and wicked aristocratic conspiracies and ghosts and bugs crawling out of corpses’ necks and a sword fight with a dude with no head and nighttime carriage chases and bleeding trees — my point is, you know what you’re getting. Sleepy Hollow delivers precisely what’s on the box with the just right blend of quirk and confidence and everyone involved at or near the top of their game. It never reaches the artistic or emotional heights of an Ed Wood or Big Fish, but that really doesn’t matter.
Because, if I wasn’t already clear, this movie has a SWORD FIGHT. Against a dude. WITH NO HEAD.
Verdict: TREAT (@BLCAgnew)
Austin Wilden:
Making Sleepy Hollow into a murder mystery is a strange but effective way of getting a feature length film narrative out of Irving Washington’s original short story. Especially since Washington’s writing invites skepticism on the part of the reader about whether there was a real Headless Horseman or if it was a simple prank by Brom Bones to take advantage of Ichabod Crane’s cowardice and superstition. A detail of the story Burton’s movie nods to briefly. Doing a coinflip on Crane’s character to make him the sole skeptic in a story about the explicit presence of the supernatural abandons that part of the original in favor of bright red blood splatters, witchcraft, and satanic bargain driven conspiracies. A monumental shift from the source like that leaves it as far from the source as any adaptation until the TV version that brought Crane and the Horseman into the present day to do battle.
With all that said on the matter of adaptation and the spirit of the source, Sleepy Hollow is the right blast of spooky fun to kick off October. It contains some of Burton’s absolute best visuals in a career defined by them, a few unfortunately aged late-90s CGI shots notwithstanding. An unselfconscious camp horror feature that also has the courtesy of throwing in Christopher Walken to complete the crazy picture.
Verdict: TREAT (@WC_Wit)
The Team
@Brendan Foley:
For several years, I would start every October with a viewing of Sleepy Hollow. It’s just about the perfect Halloween movie: A spooky/silly/gory cocktail of ghosts and witches and demons and all kinds of repressed sexuality.
OK that last one isn’t Halloween specific but still.
Sleepy Hollow finds Burton indulging in all of his favorite fetishes, but with an actually coherent and well-crafted screenplay underlining his flights of Goth fancy. There are themes and richer ideas to be found in Walker’s screenplay that ol’ Timmy Bushy-Hair doesn’t care to dig into, but in this one specific case he was in the right to keep things surface-level.
Sleepy Hollow is just so much damn fun, from the design and execution of the Horseman, to the desaturated color palette mixed with the explosive red of the painterly-applied blood, to the treasure trove of esteemed British character actors lining up to get shish-kebabed by Darth Maul.
Sleepy Hollow left that regular rotation a couple years back, just because I had begun to find it the tiniest bit tiresome after so any viewings. But watching it now, I remember what an utter delight it is, from the first decapitation to that final gruesome kiss.
Verdict: TREAT (@TheTrueBrendanF)
One of Tim Burton’s most entertaining films, Sleepy Hollow is a sad reminder of what could have been: the R-rated horror film is, to great dismay, one of a kind. A stylish, action-filled delight that indulges his gothic sensibilities, keen storytelling, occasional flights of ghoulish whimsy which recall his earlier stop animated sequences (the witch’s popping eyes are such a Burton moment) along with stylized violence and a quirky Johnny Depp performance. Unfortunately he turned a corner here, and while I do like several of his later films, well, they’re just not the same.
I’m thrilled to see our other commenters make note of the film’s Hammer-esque qualities. It’s something I’ve never considered, in part because Sleepy Hollow is so quintessentially American.
It’s been several years since I’ve seen this, and one thing that stands out to me much more now is what a rich supporting cast of wonderful faces we have, filling out the town’s secretive circle of leaders and citizens (as well as cameos and brief opening set in New York City). The casting really is incredible, with Burton reteaming with many favorite collaborators. And let’s not underserve Ray Park (who that same year also appeared as Darth Maul, one of the few great parts of The Phantom Menace), who brings so much character to the movement and combat of the Hessian in his silent, headless form.
Verdict: TREAT (@Austin Vashaw)
Next week’s pick:
-
Criterion Review: THE ELEPHANT MAN
David Lynch’s heart-wrenching adaption of the life of Joseph Merrick finally arrives on Blu-ray in a brilliant 4K restoration
The Elephant Man follows the story of John (né Joseph) Merrick (John Hurt), a 21-year-old man suffering from congenital birth deformities that permanently enlarged portions of his skull and skeleton. Initially exhibited as nothing more than a circus freak under the cruel showmanship of Mr. Bytes (Freddie Jones), he is rescued by Royal London Hospital physician Frederick Treves (Anthony Hopkins), where John is given not just proper medical attention, but a care and dignity that’s evaded him for most of his existence.
Regarded as the sophomore feature that catapulted its director from the arthouse of Eraserhead to mainstream audiences, The Elephant Man has developed the unintentional legacy of being one of David Lynch’s most accessible, audience-friendly films. Nothing could be further from the truth — while The Elephant Man is definitely more straightforward in terms of storytelling, much of Lynch’s power to both confound, horrify, and evoke other visceral reactions from his audience remains on full display here. Set near the turn of the century in Victorian England, huge factories have begun belching black smoke in the sky, coating everyone below with soot; workhouse employees are regularly chewed up by the machines they tend to; and the only respite for the poor, though frequented by the perversely curious upper class, is to gawk and jeer at those in traveling freak shows — for at least they have it worse. It’s a world that treats all of its inhabitants as inhumanely disposable — but what’s more horrific is how even under these conditions, there’s the compulsion to lift oneself up by keeping others downtrodden.
While the film is free of the bizarre babies and radiator women of Eraserhead, to say nothing of Twin Peaks’ Bob or Mulholland Drive’s Man Behind Winkie’s later in Lynch’s career, there’s still monstrous forces at work throughout The Elephant Man. They’re found in everything from a quickly-averted glance, to a shutdown of a freak performance in the name of decency, to a mobbing throng of onlookers eager to get a peek underneath Merrick’s self-imposed one-eyeholed hood. At the same time, though, a deeper understanding of Merrick’s condition offers not just a deeper glimpse of the very human man beneath it — the act of understanding and empathizing with Merrick helps those around him reconnect with their own sense of goodwill. Confronted with Merrick nearly being ejected from the hospital, Treves and the hospital staff manage to engender the compassion of everyone from notable actresses (Anne Bancroft) to her majesty Queen Victoria herself. Throughout, Merrick also finally gets the opportunity to participate in aspects of the world long denied him — he showcases not just a knack and appreciation for conversation, but for art, architecture, and theater.
One of the most remarkable achievements of The Elephant Man is that it never roots itself in one singular perspective, let alone the perspective of the titular character. It opens with Treves’ search for Merrick in a back alley and continues his pursuit of his potential new patient, but then lingers with Merrick in the hospital as the initially cold staff either overcome or sink deeper into their surface repulsion of him. We also stick alongside Merrick’s cruel original caretaker, his street urchin lackey, and the other circus “freaks” who at one point lead Merrick to his own emancipation. Lynch’s roving eye, helmed here by DP great Freddie Francis, remains steadfastly equally empathetic to everyone in the film — moments of compassion are found for them all, while each of them are defined by how much compassion the characters dole out in return. That’s not to say that love and decency are a commodity to be traded like other Victorian wares — rather that kindness is, as always, the most important virtue we can cherish and bestow, and what separates humanity from the horrible among us.
Absent for years in the American market and only available on Blu-ray overseas, The Elephant Man was vibrantly restored by Studiocanal in 2019, and has been given further incredible treatment for home video by The Criterion Collection. Criterion’s package collects all previously-extant Elephant Man-focused special features from Studiocanal’s past releases overseas. New to the set is a newly-recorded excerpt from Lynch’s memoir/film analysis book Room to Dream, presented here as an oral history of The Elephant Man’s production that’s incisively and hilariously told by Lynch and his book’s co-author, Kristine McKenna. Also included are print excerpts from Lynch on Lynch as well as the first widely-printed letter describing Joseph Merrick’s “elephant man” to the British public.
While the film may have a similarly-stacked 4K UHD release in Europe, make no mistake — this is by far the definitive release of The Elephant Man, amassing a king’s ransom of special features that provide a rich history of both the film and its real-life inspiration, while also presenting the film as vividly and viscerally as possible.
Video
Criterion presents The Elephant Man in a 1080/24p HD video transfer, sourced from a new 4K restoration of the original 35mm negative undertaken by StudioCanal in 2019, which was supervised by David Lynch and digital colorist and frequent Lynch collaborator George Koran. English SDH subtitles are provided for the feature film, while special features go unsubtitled. As with Lynch’s other Criterion releases, there are no chapter stops provided for the film.
Freddie Francis’ lush black-and-white cinematography is lovely displayed here — the softer shadows of The Elephant Man’s previous releases now take on a richer, sharper gradient, as evidenced in the film’s opening freak show sequence and the foggy cobblestoned streets of London. Textures and reflections have greater detail — note in particular the alternating sterility and grime of the Royal London Hospital, as well as in the beads of sweat and furrowed brows of the doctors attending Merrick and the extensive makeup work on John Hurt’s Merrick.
A noted error in the StudioCanal restoration, a missing fade-to-black at 1:40:17, is also present on this disc as it was on the 4K UHD released in Europe this year.
Audio
Criterion presents The Elephant Man in a 2-channel stereo track sourced from the film’s original magnetic print master, restored in tandem with the film’s negative. While a 5.1 channel mix was created for the film’s original Blu-ray release abroad, this was a post-conversion undertaken from this original stereo mix. As such, Lynch, his restoration team, and the team at Criterion have chosen to present the mix for the film as closely to its original theatrical presentation as possible.
There’s an equally rich spectrum of sound design throughout the mix — one especially favoring richer bass thrums and the harsh, pitchy hiss of steam. Dialogue is crisp and clear, where previous releases sounded more muddled (especially in Merrick’s initial lines of dialogue).
Special Features
- Room to Dream: A 70-minute audio recording of co-author Kristine McKenna and Lynch reading from their 2018 Lynch hybrid memoir/analysis, focused on the production journey of The Elephant Man — including the unconventional shepherding of Lynch and the film into the Hollywood system by semi-silent partner Mel Brooks; locating strange Victorian props (including the death cast of Joseph Merrick) across England; and fruitful collaborations with John Hurt vs. conflicting ones with Anthony Hopkins. A constant throughout is Lynch’s sincere, headstrong vision — one intimidated yet undaunted by the studio system pushing him forward.
- Archival Interviews with the film’s cast and crew, including 2009 interviews with David Lynch and lead actor John Hurt, a 2018 interview with stills photographer Frank Connor, and a 2019 BFI Q&A with producer Jonathan Sanger.
- David Lynch at the AFI: A 1981 audio recording of a Q&A between Lynch and colleagues at his film school alma mater.
- The Terrible Elephant Man Revealed: A 30-minute archival making-of featurette with much of the film’s cast and crew, including Mel Brooks and makeup supervisor Christopher Tucker.
- Joseph Merrick, The Real Elephant Man: An archival featurette featuring Royal London Hospital Museum archivist Jonathan Evans and a king’s ransom of photographs, letters, and other historical material surrounding the real-life case of Joseph Merrick.
- Mike Figgis and David Lynch: A 20-minute 2006 interview between Lynch and the director of Leaving Las Vegas circa the premiere of Lynch’s last theatrical feature, Inland Empire. Here, Lynch focuses on his process of creativity, his origins in painting and photography, and the patience required to develop ideas to their full potential.
- Clapper Board–John Hurt: A 1980 archival interview with John Hurt by Chris Kelley for UK’s Granada Television to promote the theatrical release of The Elephant Man.
- Skintricks–Christopher Tucker and John Hurt: Excerpts from a 1988 episode of a Dutch television program that features The Elephant Man’s lead actor and makeup designer discussing their approach in creating a functional re-creation of Merrick’s physique, accompanied with their extensive period reference material.
- Promotional Material: A theatrical trailer and 3 radio spots for the film’s U.S. release.
- Some Weird Breeze of the Essence of This Beautiful Soul: An excerpt from Lynch on Lynch, collecting interview pieces from 1993–1996 that feature Lynch’s recollections of making The Elephant Man.
- Some Fitting Place: An 1886 London Times letter by Royal London Hospital Director Francis Calling Carr Gomm (played by Sir John Gielgud in the film), beseeching the public’s assistance in their care of Joseph Merrick. This letter is one of the first, if not the first, widely-distributed accounts of Merrick and his condition.
The Elephant Man will be released on Blu-ray and DVD courtesy of The Criterion Collection on Tuesday, September 29th.
-
Alejandro Jodorowsky Screen Comparisons — ABKCO vs Anchor Bay
This article contains several comparisons contrasting new ABKCO Blu-ray transfers with prior DVD and Blu-ray editions. The frames aren’t necessarily exact matches, but should give a solid indication of the visual differences.
Last week, ABKCO Films and Arrow Video released their deluxe Alejandro Jodorowsky Blu-ray set spanning four Blu-rays and two audio CDs, giving fans a definitive edition of these films mastered from new 4K transfers. Being a big Jodorowsky fan myself, I thought why not break down every US based edition and compare them, because naturally that’s what an obsessive media collector like myself would do. So here’s my breakdown spanning 2007’s Anchor Bay release, the 2014 Anchor Bay Blu-rays and the most recent offering from ABKCO Films set with new transfers approved by the director himself.
After culling through these sets, its easy to see ABKCO and Arrow have definitely delivered on their promise of a definitive edition of these films. While Fando Y Liz is the most dramatic of the upgrades here on the set, since all that existed previously was a badly framed DVD, both El Topo and The Holy Mountain have definitely been improved upon as well, with a more natural color palette and less DNR than the previous releases.
But don’t simply take my word for it, check out the screenshots below.
Fando Y Liz — Comparisons
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 El Topo— Comparisons
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:33:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:85:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:33:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:85:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:33:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:85:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:33:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:85:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:33:1 aspect ratio 2020 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 1:85:1 aspect ratio 2020 The Holy Mountain — Comparisons
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020 
Source: Anchor Bay DVD 2007 
Source: Anchor Bay Blu-ray 2014 
Source: ABKCO Blu-ray 2020
-
Unboxing/Comparisons the Alejandro Jodorowsky 4K Restoration Blu-ray Box Set — VIDEO
Last week saw the release of the definitive collection of the early works of the surreal cinematic master Alejandro Jodorowsky, thanks to a new Blu-ray box set mastered in 4K from the original negatives. Abkco Films was kind enough to send over a copy over for me to review and here are my first impressions, digging into this beautiful set after going through some of the discs for my comparison post.
-
THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME: An Epic of Midwestern Misery That Comes Full Circle
Antonio Campos’ saga of interconnected tragedy is a satisfying, exhausting reckoning of all-American ambition
Beginning in the years just after World War II with haunted veteran Willard (Bill Skarsgard) and continuing along through the Vietnam War with his son Arvin (Tom Holland), The Devil All The Time casts a wandering eye on the souls that crisscross the backroads between Cold Creek, West Virginia and Knockemstiff, Ohio. There’s also a gospel preacher by way of a simpering Elvis (Robert Pattinson), a pair of cuckolding shutterbug serial killers (Jason Clarke and Riley Keough) who pick off hitchhiking “models,” and a small town cop ambitious to become his town’s next Sheriff by any means necessary (Sebastian Stan). While blood and friendly ties unite a handful of them, most of these characters will remain blissfully unaware of the festering connections between them until the few moments before they meet their maker.
There’s a justified jadedness in how most cinema’s treated American nostalgia. Films like Night of the Hunter, Blue Velvet, The Virgin Suicides, any book of Stephen King’s you can pull off the shelf, to the currently-airing Lovecraft Country — all encourage a voyeuristic glimpse at the vices and traumas that linger behind the veil of American wholesomeness. With a collective blind trust in our families, the law, religion, and other institutions we trust to keep our shaky world together that progressively eroded in the years since World War II and especially after Vietnam, there’s much to dismantle and critique in how such picturesque beauty occluded the darker parts of human nature. While most films in this area take umbrage at more nebulous time periods in this era, it’s particularly interesting how The Devil All the Time situates itself in between the one of the most cinematically idealized Wars and a conflict whose mass bloodshed and ideological failures led to a noted disillusionment towards American exceptionalism. Here, amidst a mess of conflicted, gruesome characters hiding behind masks of virtue, Antonio Campos illustrates a complex, jaded ethos that tries to rectify personal ambitions with cosmic insignificance.
In the wake of one of The Devil All the Time’s numerous senseless tragedies, career-driven Sheriff tries to console a grieving boy that, well, “some people are just born to be buried.” It’s a heartless, impersonal ethos — but one that many of the film’s characters irresistibly take to heart. Skarsgard’s Willard sacrifices Arvin’s dog in a doomed attempt to trade its life for his dying wife’s; Pattinson’s Preacher Teagardin creates a revolving door of abuse victims among his congregation, protected by his patriarchal power over the community like a wolf preaching to sheep; Stan’s authority as a Sheriff only goes as far as his own personal business interests, victims be damned; and, in acts that lead the film’s narrator to brand him a “sick fuck,” Clarke’s Carl captures his victims’ last moments in snapshots to get closer to God — as if this act of simultaneous creation and destruction may imbue him with the same sense of omniscient power. Most, if not all of the characters of The Devil All the Time use each other to move onto greater things that they believe are owed them. One by one, though, these characters meet their own undoing — often by each others’ hands in a fatalistic game of dominoes masquerading as coincidence. There’s always a sense of a greater, more nihilistic power at work, reveling in the characters’ blindness to the ties that bind them — by effect, the American dream of individual success, power, and self-worth becomes nothing more than a ritualized sense of denial.
The cast sells this spectrum between delusion, dour acceptance, and rebellious rage well — of particular note are Pattinson’s skin-crawling preacher, Eliza Scanlen’s unabashedly pious Lenora as his victim, Holland’s vengeful, rebellious Arvin, Bill Skarsgard’s wounded, ferocious Willard, and Harry Melling’s murderously self-deluded messiah figure. All five sincerely devote themselves to the fickle world they inhabit, either trying to somehow coax the world to bend to their will, to understand its meaningless machinations, or survive whatever curveballs threaten to knock them off their feet. All the players, though, imbue their roles with a consistent sense of ambitious yet self-defeating naivety, eager to see more of the world that exists beyond their reach but just as eager to engage in self-destructive acts that keep them rooted firmly in place. While some stories may feel more imbalanced than others, Campos bobs and weaves between their story to keep this sense of potentially monotonous cosmic inevitability threaded with a wonderful amount of suspense and unpredictability, not to mention a wickedly engaging lurid pulpiness that others might discard in favor of more aims fitting of other prestige ensemble dramas.
Where The Devil All the Time falters most, though, is in the world these characters inhabit. While production designer Craig Lathrop’s meticulously detailed sets and Lol Crowley’s love of both magic-hour and grimy overcast cinematography both deserve commendation, one can’t help but feel that the worlds of Coal Creek, Meade, and Knockemstiff exist in more of an Americana amalgamation of pop culture influences than period America proper. Campos creates such a microscopic view of Midwestern Gothic whose actions and consequences feel far too, well, deliberately isolated from real-world consequences. Despite short years of collecting fourteen noted victims in a seemingly clustered area, Clarke and Keough’s serial killers don’t seem to rise to expected infamy — even as Keough anonymously tips off authorities where to find their bodies. And despite the variation of racial and class strata that existed within West Virginia and Ohio through the 1960s, the three cities of The Devil All the Time feel like one homogenous entity, as if these locations were separated more out of storytelling necessity rather than out of significant thematic concern — with all taking on the generic identity of crumbling, White Anytown, USA. In differentiating itself from similar jaded films like the ones described above, this lack of defining identity seriously kneecaps Campos’ film from making as lasting of an emotional impact as it so clearly labors to do. It’s hard to give a damn about a sense of national generational trauma when it’s too universal and generic to establish a deep emotional specificity.
Which, thankfully, is where Campos’ adaptation of Donald Ray Pollock’s novel picks up most of the slack. While the characters’ world may feel disconnected from the world at large, Campos and his brother Paulo Campos make their situations feel like an increasingly closing circle that, by the end, swallows up all but one of them whole. Throughout, each of them faces situations that create an engaging dialogue with the audience about whether things like retribution or revenge are only satisfying or meaningful if their full value is understood by other people. In a world that feels so hell-bent on crushing them under its wheel, what does it mean to finally get the karmic closure or comeuppance that they strive for?
The answers, and their relative validity, varies for each of The Devil All the Time’s wicked souls — but the arduous and rewarding impact of the journey towards them is one that cannot be denied.
The Devil All the Time is now available to stream on Netflix.
