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THE EXORCISM Has a Soul Worth Saving
“We can’t always save people, but we can forgive them.”
As a fan of Kevin Williamson, I’m always intrigued whenever the writer/creator/director/producer attaches himself to anything. Sure, not every project is a grand slam (anyone who remembers The Secret Circle can attest to this), but there’s no denying that Williamson has a knack for shepherding and/or developing fresh and clever projects that almost always entertain, regardless of whatever form they’re in. It’s because of Williamson’s reputation that my interest was definitely piqued when I saw his name attached as producer to The Exorcism, a horror film directed by Joshua John Miller. The movie opens spectacularly with a sequence in which an actor alone on a movie set is killed off in a very Kevin Williamson-like manner. It’s a promising start to a movie that ultimately fails to find a balance between earnest drama and hokey jump scares to satisfy fans of any genre.
In The Exorcism, Russell Crowe stars as Tony, a former A-lister whose career was derailed by his substance abuse issues. A new chance for professional redemption comes in the form of a leading role in a horror movie where the newly sober actor is to play a priest tasked with performing an exorcism. At the same time, Tony is attempting to salvage a relationship with Lee (Ryan Simpkins), his estranged daughter following the years lost to his addiction. However, Tony’s attempts to rebuild his career and his personal life soon become threatened by a dark force that seems to be taking him over as the film shoot progresses.
Going into The Exorcism, it would be safe to assume that the film would be a new offering in the subgenres of demonic possession and the practice of making movies. Yet Miller is so taken with the character-driven side of the script, that the horror elements and Hollywood commentary both get largely left by the wayside. Sure, several jump scares and harrowing sequences are thrown in for good measure, but none of them ever rise up beyond the dime-store variety. Even the horror moments which were meant to pay tribute to the greatest exorcism movie of all feel forced and uninspired. At least The Exorcism has an interesting physical space going for it. The movie’s sprawling set functions as a great playground for the action to take place in. With understated lighting and the closed-off sparseness of the set itself, The Exorcism is wonderfully devoid of the kind of moviemaking flashiness that was in every inch of The Fall Guy. Carrie Fisher once said that the film set is the most unnatural place in the world, which makes sense given the way the set of The Exorcism feels. While the actual space comes across like a real place, as the movie progresses, a dark menace starts to take over that, in its own way, only adds to the magic and allure of film sets in general.
It’s unclear whether Miller and company realized this, but The Exorcism has the dread-filled atmosphere down even without the frights. This is all due to the movie’s compelling main character. There’s something incredibly endearing and heartbreaking in watching this once-prominent actor trying to make it again. One of the movie’s strengths is that its portrayal of Tony goes against the onscreen image of the fallen movie star. Tony is shown to be a broken man trying to put himself together in a professional world that has very little room for humanity, despite cheering for redemption. Regardless of where a person comes from, it’s almost always a humbling experience to witness someone fight their way back to the person that they once were before their own darkness took over. Atonement plays a big part in The Exorcism as Tony fights to prove to both Lee and the industry that he has conquered his demons and has returned as a complete person again. It’s when those demons (both personal and supernatural) start to take Tony on once more that he is put to the ultimate test. But the subtle and gradual rebuilding of the relationship between him and Lee coupled with the latter’s struggle to love her father amid her disappointment in him is what gives The Exorcism a real soul.
Much has been written about Crowe’s outside troubles in the past and the suspicion that he might now have gotten to that stage of his career where he’s looking for a quick paycheck and phoning in his performances rather than giving it his all. Nothing could be further from the truth when it comes to his work in The Exorcism. Crowe is trying here, genuinely, just like his character. The actor has foregone any hint of vanity and allowed himself to slip into the skin of a man who has so much regret, yet still has just enough fight in him to try and make it back. It’s a role that allows for some great moments of vulnerability from the actor, which he delivers with a kind of openness that he’s seldom been allowed to show before. The Oscar winner is certainly in good company. Simpkins delivers a heartbreaking turn, while David Hyde Pierce anchors the film as a priest called in as a technical advisor on the film Tony is working on.
Even if the jump scares in The Exorcism aren’t plentiful or all that effective, there’s still a genuine pull in seeing Tony try and fight to make it through his own darkness. Miller’s film is nowhere as strong an offering as The Final Girls (his 2015 screenwriting debut) but is still incredibly powerful due to its worthwhile illustration of showing how the demons inside a person can manifest themselves. One can only imagine this had to have been a healing, cathartic project for Miller to create, which is probably why he shies away from going the full Linda Blair route for as long as he does here. If The Exorcist fails as a horror movie, it succeeds as a testament to the battle of the human soul and spirit against the everyday demons that are all around.
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THE BIKERIDERS Makes One Want to Root for the Other Gang
“This is our family. You and me, kid.”
Earlier this year, The Guardian celebrated the 100th birthday of Marlon Brando by ranking his top 20 performances, according to critic Peter Bradshaw. Nearing the top of the list was 1954’s The Wild One, considered by many to be the quintessential film about motorcycle culture ever made. Seeing Brando in the movie all these years later, it’s easy to see how his immersive and compelling performance helped catapult him toward the kind of acclaim reserved for only the most gifted of actors. Looking back, The Wild One and Brando’s performance in it are also reminders of the many parodies and send-ups that both have inspired in the decades since, with some imitators going for laughs and others simply existing as tribute. Jeff Nichols’ The Bikeriders represents the worst of these knockoffs. It’s the kind of movie that wants the world to believe it’s paying homage when secretly, it’s pretending to offer its own take on a genre that didn’t need to be revisited, let alone revitalized.
In The Bikeriders, Kathy (Jodie Comer) finds herself falling for Benny (Austin Butler), one of the key members of the Vandals, a local motorcycle gang in the Midwest. As the two become close, the presence and influence of Johnny (Tom Hardy), the leader of the Vandals, threatens to come between them. Amid the triangle, however, there is a change happening within the group that will put loyalties and lives to the test.
Before I start knocking The Bikeriders, I should at least mention the few aspects within it that do manage to succeed where almost everything else about it fails. The look and feel of the film is spot on. Despite its shortcomings, Nichols and his team have done the appropriate research to create a world largely devoid of the colorful 1960s and is instead brimming over with a stark meat-and-potatoes mentality. There’s a realistic bleakness to the environment of The Bikeriders where hope and promise seldom exist, but brotherhood and an undeniable freedom do. The realism extends to the various fight sequences where every member of the Vandals is seen getting pummeled at one time or another, sometimes with injuries that go beyond the generic kinds found in movies. This is vital in making sure that the gang isn’t seen as being superhuman, but as a collection of real flesh and blood men whose fearlessness is their greatest weapon. Aiding this is the somewhat plotless nature of the film. Although a framing device is put in place early on, much of The Bikeriders abandons the traditional storytelling structure to simply follow the gang in their world, wanting nothing more than to observe them as they naturally are.
I’ve been a longtime supporter of the plotless film. Sometimes, there’s nothing more involving than seeing characters simply and organically exist in their natural world without the burden of what Quentin Tarantino once dubbed the “plot rock.” In so many ways, watching the people on the screen be people is the very essence of great cinema. I’m a fan of the plotless film, but not the meaningless one. Despite the fact that Nichols has taken so much time and care to emulate films such as The Wild One, many key ingredients seem to be missing. The biggest of these is nuance, which is an omission that becomes harder to ignore as the film devolves into nothing more than just a series of lifeless scenes strung together. Although I’m sure an attempt was believed to have been made, there’s simply nothing remotely diverting here, from the forced tensions to the phony motivations. It’s almost as if everyone in front of and behind the camera set upon the project to create an imitation of a TCM film. The movie is too influenced by films from the era it’s trying to replicate that it can’t help but succumb to the fantasies such titles put forward. With little else to do, The Bikeriders has no choice but to drown in its own conventionality.
There aren’t performances in The Bikeriders so much as there are imitations of performances. Butler spends most of his time competing with Furiosa‘s Anya-Taylor Joy for the lowest amount of onscreen dialogue. When Butler does speak, he employs the remnants of his Elvis Presley voice to recite whatever instantly forgettable lines he’s been tasked with delivering. Comer, meanwhile, comes across as a cartoon, although one blessed with the movie’s only good scene, which she admittedly nails. Hardy, who recently stated in the press that he didn’t want to parody Brando, ends up parodying Brando. Finally, Michael Shannon as a fellow rider and Mike Faist as a documentarian pop up just enough times to remind you that they’re in the movie as well.
It’s more than a little mind-boggling to see a movie have one of the most popular actors of the day in its cast and proceed to underutilize him in every conceivable way. This begs the question: Does a movie sold on Austin Butler’s presence really even need Austin Butler? The Bikeriders sure believes it doesn’t as evidenced by the fact that more focus was put on the actor’s hair and biceps than on any real development of his character. As for the movie itself, some may try and sell this as one of those films where the point is that there is no point in an effort to justify loving the flash of it so much, that they didn’t mind (or perhaps even notice) the nothingness of it all. Perhaps a documentary on such real-life subjects would have been better because the world of the Vandals does feel like a fascinating one to those of us who don’t know it. But within Nichols’ film, there’s nothing; no revelation, no feeling of exhilaration, no catharsis. Just a collection of wooden scenes with no bones. Once the credits begin to roll, all that’s left is a movie that’s finished.
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THE BIKERIDERS Holds a Mirror Up to America
A complex and compelling feature that showcases the magnetism of Austin Butler
The image of a biker brings to mind two things. The first is a somewhat romanticized view of a modern day cowboy, embracing both the freedom of the road, and also finding brotherhood with his fellow bikers. The other is a more menacing one, from a motley looking cohort of brash, loud, folks accompanied by guttural throttling. This duality is often present in any demographic, and in The Bikeriders, writer/director Jeff Nichols (Mud, Take Shelter, Loving) uses the two extremes to serve as a mirror to a period of American history, as the glory days of the 50s rolls into more troubled times.
Adapted from the 1967 book and photojournalism of Danny Lyon, The Bikeriders charts the rise and corruption of a Chicago based biker gang that eventually grew to be only rivalled by the Hells Angels. Starting in the early 60s, we meet the gang through Kathy (Jodie Comer), a well-raised young woman who after meeting a friend in a local biker bar falls for the charms of Benny (Austin Butler), a reckless but smooth member of the Chicago Vandals (a change from the Chicago Outlaws to avoid…repercussions). He also happens to be the protégé of the gangs founder Johnny (Tom Hardy). A love triangle of sorts emerges as both Kathy and Johnny vie for the affections and attention of Benny, whose free spirited nature challenges their current and future relationships. As time goes on, America goes through social and economic shifts, but the brotherhood of the Vandals continues to grow. New blood bringing an element of danger and unpredictability to its ranks, one to be ignited by the the allure of power.
These tapes and interviews gives the film a core of truth, from which comes a compelling narrative, with Johnny as a King (of sorts) worrying about his legacy and succession, grooming and positioning Benny as his heir (despite Kathy’s pull), and as time goes on, the problems of pretenders to the throne. The film can roughly be split into two eras. The first a golden age as these men find solace with easy other and in their revelries and roughhousing. The gang is more of a clubhouse and social group, where wives, girlfriend, and even kids make appearances. Playfully the core members are introduced, a real cross section of working class men, with their own quirks and dreams. A breezy, romanticized period where the club is (for the most part) the escape from problems rather than the source of them.
The second phase reflects the changing of the times. The Vandals become a victim of their own success. Not only growing in size, but with the rise of chapters in other cities cropping up. An influx of new (bad) blood and a generational shift. Events such as the Vietnam lead to an influx of traumatized veterans into the ranks of the club. any group is the sum of its parts and if you stack those who feel abandoned, ostracized, abused, and exploited, that type of thing festers. For the core members, they’re getting older and priorities are shifting. They want to stay true to their colors, but the changes challenge that. It’s no longer about cracking a beer, it’s about smoking a join, or injecting a vein. Rituals and rules becoming increasingly absurd, and in some cases dangerous. Behavior tilting toward the criminal. The Bikeriders isn’t an overt immersion in the political and social history of America, but Nichols leverages the the gang and the people in it as a mirror to the mood and moral state of the country.
One of the more interesting creative choices in the film is how Kathy serves as the most prominent voice, in terms of narration and offering perspective. It adds a welcome counterpoint to proceedings, as we see this club as outsiders ourselves. Comer crafts a character that feels almost anthropological, bringing humor, blunt commentary, and nuanced incisiveness to bear. Her skepticism helps to ease the film into its later stages, and some of her early concerns become almost prophetic. Johnny apparently founded the gang after watching Marlon Brando in The Wild One and Hardy draws from these seed to bring a similarly inspired ethos and attitude. A blunt and at times weary force, that exudes a paternalistic nature for his crew. Most talk will center around Austin Butlers who just sizzles in the film. It’s brooding turn that captivates the attention as he works the room, people, and camera. It brings to mind Brando in The Wild One, Newman in Cool Hand Luke, or Gosling in Drive, as something that cemented their burgeoning star status. The trio deliver performances attuned to the material, revved up to give the film the full throttled feeling it needs. Mention must also be made of the transient delight that is Michael Shannon as biker Zipco, and the other supporting performances from Emory Cohen, Karl Glusman, Beau Knapp, Damon Herriman, and Norman Reedus, all adding wonderfully realized texture to the film and their respective journeys.
Nichols crafts a truly compelling feature. What begins as a romanticized road trip through the inception and rise of a biker brotherhood, gets a splash of cold water in the face of the shifting political, economic, and social scene of America changes. Warmly lit by cinematographer Adam Stone, with impeccable period detail, and a perfectly curated soundtrack, The Bikeriders oozes it’s era. Something that makes it’s depiction of the slow creep of change, and its impact on those we grow close to, all the more poignant.
The Bikeriders rolls into theaters on June 21st
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KINDS OF KINDNESS is a Brutal and Unflinching Exploration of the Fragility of the Male Ego
To be honest, I almost walked out of Kinds of Kindness. I was thinking it to be some sort of shallow and quirky everyman story from the opening scenes and trailer. But after about twenty or so minutes just what Yorgos Lanthimos was cooking began to fill me with equal parts excitement and dread.
After deconstructing and annihilating the female role in cinema in Poor Things, the Greek auteur is back with yet another film shot shortly after Things wrapped, starring most of the same cast, this time demolishing the fragile male ego. Like Things, Kindness is a brutal and unflinching look this time at men through three triptych fables all starring Jesse Plemons as different characters, in stories that all appear to happen in the same world. It’s something that, like its predecessor, forces the viewer into a pure reactionary state on the first viewing, demanding another, to side step the more shocking moments and to fully mull through the dense layering of thematic tissue presented.
The first story has Plemons, who appears to be a successful businessman, who we soon discover has made a bizarre masochistic pact with his boss (Willem Dafoe) for his idealistic existence. This has his boss controlling every aspect of his life down to the hour, what he wears, to whether or not he can have kids with his wife. He’s never said no, sacrificing everything for this fictitious career and station, that is until his boss asks him to get into a car accident possibly killing a man. This story digs into how a man will give up everything including his identity to achieve this toxic idea of masculine success. It’s a stark and sometimes absurdist look at both sides of the power dynamic, as we see not only Jesse’s POV, but his wealthy boss who treats those around him like his playthings.
Next up Plemons is a cop whose explorer wife (Emma Stone) has gone missing. This story is essentially an exploration of that moment, when you wake up next to someone you’ve known most of your life and you have no idea who they are, but from a toxic male POV. This has Plemons’ character experiencing paranoid episodes when his wife finally returns and he swears it’s not her, forcing her into some graphic and disturbing lengths to prove her love/identity. You don’t know who to believe here, and Plemons manages to never lose the audience as he just delves deeper and deeper into this paranoid psyche taking us with him. While there’s some really shocking bits with graphic violence and sex in this particular story, it never manages to overwhelm the emotionally raw performance Plemons and Stone masterfully put forth.
Finally, we take a step back from Plemons, and I have an idea this is because this story is probably the darkest of them all. Emma Stone plays a woman who has left her family to join a bizarre water-obsessed sex cult run by Willem Dafoe, but is expelled when she is sexually assaulted and “contaminated” by her husband, Plemons here plays her cult/work husband. This story digs into the selfish nature of man, and how these actions destroy lives. Stone here is also careful not to lose her agency or fall into a victim role as she tears around on screen in a bright purple Dodge Challenger, kidnapping those that she think could be the cult’s prophesied messiah to get her back into her leader’s good graces.
While Kindness is a bit more visually restrained than Poor Things, it’s still as idealistic and as ambitious as its predecessor. The production design is equally impressive with these spaces our characters inhabit feeling like natural organic extensions of their counterparts, and lived in rather than staged for a real estate ad. There’s also some really interesting costume choices that really help to make each iteration of the characters stand out, without feeling too cartoonish. The film feels very documentary-esque in its visual language. This rather grounded cinematography is paired with a rather stark and anxiety inducing score that is less melodic and more into accentuating moments. It’s definitely a choice, that definitely works in favor of this film that relies so heavily on its ability to push the viewers’ comfortability.
Plemons as a leading man surprised me, he does an excellent job at remaining accessible to the audience, while he does go to some pretty strange and dark places as you’d probably expect. He does this with a raw vulnerability that has the actor tackling three completely different, yet equally engaging characters from story to story. Stone also goes really weird here again and is tasked with some more prickly personas than before. The pair’s awkward chemistry only fuels the absurdist trajectory of the narratives as Lanthimos really surprised me at the intensity and depth he’s able to take his players in some of these situations, while never losing them or the audience. Speaking of chemistry, just to hammer its point even further the film toys with a homoeroticism between most of the male characters that is going to scare off those not ready to learn the lessons here.
Kinds of Kindness feels like the Yang to Poor Things Yin. Like that film it’s a hard pill to swallow and given the intended audience, most men are probably going to attempt to endure this film by uncomfortably laughing their way through it. But just below the surface is Lanthimos dealing out some hard lessons that are as relevant as ever to those male viewers this time around who didn’t get the warning shot of his previous film. It’s admittedly hard to watch because of the utterly unfiltered honesty embedded in Plemons’ performance that’s both toxic as it can be completely vulnerable at the same time. While I’ve always enjoyed his work over the years, Kinds of Kindness is nothing short of a revelatory gift for actor who takes us on a trio of psychological journeys that are profound as they are profane.
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THE EXORCISM Strikes a Sinister Mood – But is That Enough?
Upon seeing a cassocked Russell Crowe scowling on the red and orange-hued marketing materials of The Exorcism, opening in theaters today, viewers might ask themselves two questions: Is this a sequel to last year’s The Pope’s Exorcist? And if it’s not, what possessed the actor to headline another unrelated exorcism movie?
Upon seeing the film, though, I can see how this might have appealed to him. Crowe went from an actor playing a priest in an exorcism movie to an actor playing an actor playing a priest in an exorcism movie. It’s a bit meta, in a self-referential way. (update: Since writing this I’ve learned that The Exorcism was actually shot before The Pope’s Exorcist – which does nothing to demystify this situation).
Occult-themed movies often have stigmas or rumors of being cursed (something that anyone who’s stepped foot on an excorcism film set is surely aware of), and The Exorcism explores the idea of a cursed film production.
Crowe plays Anthony Miller, a washed up actor trying to find his groove and revive his career after a years-long slump marked by alcoholism and the death of his wife. After clawing his way out of the bottle and trying to repair his fractured relationship with his teenage daughter Lee (Ryan Simpkins), he’s ready to stage his comeback by starring as a priest in a new exorcism movie, even scoring Lee a spot in the crew as a PA so they can work together. But despite his best intentions, Anthony’s grasp on reality quickly slips as he pours himself into his role in the supernatural thriller.
Unfortunately the film, directed by veteran actor Joshua John Miller, is a rather dour and dimly lit affair, deeply moody and atmospheric, but in a way that’s overall kind of languid and dull. The film does go to some scary, unsettling, and violent places, but rarely in a way that feels “fun” (more often, these events strain credulity with non-sequitur narrative logic). I generally felt a little impatient with it – despite a relatively short 93 minute runtime.
But there’s stuff I liked as well. The film’s finale felt a little long in coming but I enjoyed the climactic payoff and the way it plays out. The cast is good, and I especially liked seeing David Hyde Pierce play one of the cooler characters, a priest who’s working on the film production as a consultant and gets caught up in the spiritual warfare. The film has a sub-current acknowledging and condemning sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, but the story is also spiritually reverent and faith-affirming in its own way – a perspective I found somewhat refreshing.
And when a bearded Russell Crowe puts on a suit coat and thick-framed bug-eye glasses? He looks just like Guillermo del Toro – almost to where I believe it had to be intentional – and that kind of made me chuckle.
A/V Out
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NAKED ACTS: A Vital Voice on Black Women in Film
The feminist film from 1998 is given new life in a digital restoration and remaster now out in select theaters
Jake-ann Jones (Cicely) in Bridgett Davis’s NAKED ACTS. Naked Acts has been digitally restored and remastered by Lightbox Film Center at University of the Arts (Philadelphia) in collaboration with Milestone Film, with support from Ron and Suzanne Naples. A Milestone Film release in collaboration with Kino Lorber During recent research for her award-winning Black Film Archive, historian Maya S. Cade rediscovered Bridgett M. Davis’ Naked Acts within the archives of the Indiana University Black Film Center and Archive. Cade championed this independent feminist film, which played very limited screenings upon its original release in 1998, for restoration. Thanks to her advocacy, and support from other organizations, a digital restoration and remaster is now playing in select theaters nationwide. Although the film is decades old, the filmmaker’s voice and the themes within the work seem geared towards today’s audience.
Cece (Jake-Ann Jones) is eager to tell her mother, former Blaxploitation actress Lydia Love (Patricia DeArcy), that she’s been cast in a new film… and she won’t have to take her clothes off for the role. Or so she thinks. Upon further discussion with film producer Marcel (John McKie), Cece is told that the production of this movie about an artist and his models will require nudity. She confronts Joel (Ron Cephas Jones, Luke Cage, This Is Us), her director and former/current paramour, who agrees with Marcel about the nudity being necessary for the work. He tells her it’s “no big deal.”
Jake-ann Jones and Ron Cephas Jones in Bridgett Davis’s NAKED ACTS. Naked Acts has been digitally restored and remastered by Lightbox Film Center at University of the Arts (Philadelphia) in collaboration with Milestone Film, with support from Ron and Suzanne Naples. A Milestone Film release in collaboration with Kino Lorber Here writer/director Davis turns a critical eye on the male gaze and how women’s bodies – particularly Black women’s bodies – tend to be treated in film. Body image is a central theme, as Cece recently lost weight and is reluctant to look at her own naked body, never mind exhibit it for others to see. Through flashback early in the film, the audience is shown hints of childhood sexual abuse, providing context for such a response.
There’s a biting wit to Naked Acts, even as it deals with troubling issues. It’s refreshing to hear such an outspoken female lead. I laughed out loud at the scene of her trying to make herself cry and failing (although this is obviously another effect of her childhood trauma). Cece’s sharp tongue reflects the unflinching viewpoint of the film’s scribe and director.
The generations of women in Cece’s family represent the limited options for Black women in film history. Her grandmother who had little choice in her roles speaks for the actresses of “classic Hollywood” restricted to maid or servant roles. Lydia could take on better roles but was still objectified and exploited within her films. And Cece, in the ‘90s, shows a tendency towards directing (although she may not know it yet) in her desire for a sense of control on set.
In a world in which women continue to be seen as objects by some, Davis’ film shines new light on women in film. Naked Acts is one of the more bracingly honest looks at moviemaking I’ve seen. I’m grateful that we’re offered a new opportunity to celebrate and learn from this fascinating work.
Naked Acts plays at AFS Cinema on June 19 and 24.
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CORMANIA!!! Two Cents Film Club Gazes Upon the Ill-Fated FANTASTIC FOUR (1994)
1994’s unreleased Marvel movie is the subject of this week’s Roger Corman Retrospective
Two Cents is a Cinapse original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team curates the series and contribute their “two cents” using a maximum of 200-400 words. Guest contributors and comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future picks. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion. Would you like to be a guest contributor or programmer for an upcoming Two Cents entry? Simply watch along with us and/or send your pitches or 200-400 word reviews to [email protected].
Long before Warner Brothers repulsively canceled the release of a completed DC Batgirl movie to write off as a loss, Marvel had their own cinematic late-term abortion: a low-budget Roger Corman-produced Fantastic Four movie that was announced and completed, but withdrawn immediately before its planned release. For many years, a leaked version of the film was a holy grail for collectors scouring tape-trading circles and seedy booths at comic and sci-fi conventions, before the internet eventually opened up its availability to anyone curious enough to give it a watch.
Reports and opinions vary on whether the film was ever truly even intended to release, with a prevalent notion held by many (including Stan Lee) that the film was produced solely as a means of the property’s rights-holder Bernd Eichinger to retain the license, lest it would lapse. (If so, it worked – Eichinger would go on to produce the blockbuster 2005 and 2007 Fantastic Four films directed by Tim Story).
Ostensibly fearing that the lackluster finished project would sully the Marvel Comics brand, an agreement was reached to cancel the ill-fated project – with Avi Arad purchasing the finished film from Corman and overseeing its destruction.
One thing that’s certain, though, is that while men in suits were doing shady business, the film’s unfortunate cast and crew genuinely believed they were making a real movie and were robbed of its release.
Ed Travis
Corman’s The Fantastic Four falls into that uncanny space of “not as bad as I was expecting after years of rumors, but still not good” that only so many movies can really ever fall into. I actually have childhood memories of seeing images of The Thing and Doctor Doom on the cover of some Starlog or Fangoria type of magazine on a rack at a mall bookstore and then had all these high expectations, only for the film to never come out and exist only in whisper and legend as infamously terrible and unreleasable.
So it was a thrill to finally check out the movie (I assume I watched a bootleg link or something as I believe it’s never been officially released?). Honestly, even if I’ve never been a huge Fantastic 4 guy, but the film kind of works in the way that something like a Disney Channel sitcom works. It’s digestible, has a beginning, middle, and end, is inoffensive and family friendly, and has a cool costume, a laugh here and there, and a neat set or two. But imagine a Power Rangers episode stretched into feature length that also isn’t good at action or martial arts in any way, and that’s what you’ve got with this one.
I’m glad I put my childhood curiosity to rest and viewed it as part of this Corman exploration we’re doing together, but no one really needs to seek this out as it’s just kind of a competent project that offers neither thrills, nor chills. Flame… eh?
(@Ed_Travis on Xitter)
Austin Vashaw
The legend of The Fantastic Four looms large, and generally outweighs the rather inoffensive and ho-hum movie that’s neither as bad as its often made out to be, nor good enough to warrant any kind of reappraisal. It’s also neither the best nor worst Fantastic Four movie; it’s certainly better than the well-crafted but charmless 2015 film.
The story of the film’s unorthodox journey into cult oddity (which is recounted in the very worthwhile documentary Doomed! The Untold Story of Roger Corman’s The Fantastic Four) is ultimately more interesting to me than the film itself, and though I was mulling over what it says about Corman as a producer, it’s not really clear. It seems he may have just been caught in the middle of Marvel’s bad business.
The film itself is merely okay, clearly straining against its budget but delivering something at times tonally similar to (but much cheaper than) contemporary fare like The Shadow and Batman Returns, most noticeably in scenes featuring the Penguin-esque secondary villain “The Jeweler” (whom I initially mistook for Mole Man) and his gang. I actually found the film’s cheap special effects endearingly silly, and felt the costumed version of “The Thing” is pretty effective, especially in consideration of the shoestring operation.
One callout, though – did we really need to see Sue Storm introduced as a child who crushed on a college-age Reed Richards? I get that she’s an adult later 10 years when the pair enter into a relationship, but was this really the best setup to tell this story? I would propose that it’s… not.
@VforVashaw on Xitter
Justin Harlan
As folks like Ed have already said on this post and beyond, this movie basically plays like an old school Power Rangers episode. Unfortunately, it’s also one of the lesser entries of that Saban classic series, as most episodes of MMPR are more compelling than 90% of this film. There weren’t a ton of truly memorable moments for me outside of Johnny Storm uttering the phrase “Holy Freud Batman!” when Reed proposed that the element that gave them their powers was turning their greatest perceived weaknesses into their greatest strengths.
The film is far less interesting than the story of the film. As Austin notes, Doomed! is a very worthwhile watch and follows the story of this film beginning to end. I recommend everyone watch that instead.
I do, however, always love when everyone’s favorite Police Academy Commandant, one Eric Lassard, makes an appearance. So I guess, there’s that too.
(@thepaintedman on Xitter)
CORMANIA!!!
Our June block of films pays respect to legendary independent producer and director Roger Corman, who passed away in May. We’ve covered many of his films before, including here on Two Cents, but for Cormania, we’ve curated an eclectic lineup of films that we feel say something about him not only as a producer and director, but as a rebel and visionary as well.
Got something to say? We’d love to have you join us!
Final Selection:
June 24 – LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS (1960)
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Criterion Review: Michael Powell’s PEEPING TOM
Michael Powell’s feature is a bold and disconcerting now, as it ever was.
Watching Peeping Tom for the first time, there’s a feeling of unearthing something seminal. Originally released in 1960, initial reception was one of repulsion over the themes and characterization of it’s protagonist. Soon, the psychological horror thriller came to be dominated by the work of Hitchcock. After falling by the wayside, Michael Powell’s (The Red Shoes, Black Narcissus) film has garnered new appreciation, for it’s ambition, marriage of style and substance, and disturbing imprint upon the genre, and future filmmakers who venture into it’s stable.
Mark Lewis (Carl Boehm) works at a film studio as a camera assistant (focus-puller), with a side gig as a photographer, taking glamour photos for a local newsagent. But his heart lies with making a film of his own, one centered around his obsession of capturing with his camera, the last moments of human life. A twisted vision that stems from childhood trauma, weaves through a tangential love story, and ultimately works to explore the psychology of this damaged man, and serve as a critique on the nature of art, especially forms centered around the moving image.
Peeping Tom is slang for a voyeur, with origins dating back to the 1800s and the key witnesses to Lady Godiva’s naked ride. This voyeuristic immersion is at the core of both the film’s story and potency, as it draws from both derivations of it’s meaning. The thrill and enjoyment of watching both the pleasures and pain of others. Working from a layered and lascivious script from screenwriter Leo Marks (Sebastian, Twisted Nerve), Powell crafts a Freudian-tinged exploration of trauma and abuse, and the personal and wider social fallout that follows. The “male gaze” is often cited as a caustic element in cinema, and is leveraged as a deeper and more disturbing element here. For Mark, it’s not just the act of murder, but twisted or unconventional imagery. What might shock a ‘normal’ person, instead appeals to him. Fueling a portrait of his inner psyche, this and the slasher vibes of the film add to the sense of unease. As the viewer, you also become complicit in assuming a position of voyeur too. With the complexity of the script, and nuanced work of Boehm, find sympathy in this monstrous character, a conflicting position that surely added to the unpalatable nature of the film upon initial release.
The darker moments of the film contrast with a black streak of humor, some of it verging on the smutty and playful side. What is fascinating is that beyond human psychology, the film leverages an exploration of obsession and artistic intent through the cinematic lens. Peeping Tom isn’t just about a filmmaker, it takes shots at the film industry as a whole, and the state of British cinema, at least at that moment in time. A meta-quality is woven in, films within a film, that offers commentary on stereotypes, nepotism, chauvinisms. Some of it subtle (Powell himself playing Mark’s father for instance) and some of it not so much. The director of the film that Mark works on is quite literally blind. The caress of a camera, the blinkered pursuit of creativity, an artistic dream, Mark isn’t too dissimilar from other creative types in some ways, while in other respects his means to an end are starkly repulsive.
Peeping Tom is a sumptuous looking film, where the visuals and lighting lend as much to its impact as the plot and character. Powell’s direction is remarkably assured, with each perspective, blocking, and framing choice adding meaning and potency. Aligned to Otto Heller’s cinematography, it results in a film where style matches substance, crafting a visceral punch of storytelling.
The Package
Criterion delivers an all new 4K scan of the original 35mm negative, one approved by Thelma Schoonmaker, yes, that Thelma Schoonmaker. Her perspective comes not only as as renowned film editor, but as Powell’s wife. The results are pretty remarkable, with an image that is bold and resplendent. Detail impresses, from facial details to clothing, from camera equipment to the hubub of the city in which it all unfolds. Colors are verdant, supporting the films tonally informed shifting palettes, running the gamutfrom blues to greens to the notably bolstered reds. Enhancing this are inky blacks and crisp whites. The transfer is free of artifacts, and presents a nice sheen of grain. There are some instances where colors and image soften slightly, but likely down to source material.
- One 4K UHD disc of the film presented in Dolby Vision HDR and one Blu-ray with the film and special features
- Two audio commentaries, one featuring film historian Ian Christie and one featuring film scholar Laura Mulvey: Christies track is insightful, largely tackling the themes of the film while weaving in tidbits about the production, cast, and crew. Mulvey’s effort is more interesting as it dives deeper into the psychological aspects of the fill, analyzing human behavior, language, symbolism, and other visual means of storytelling
- Introduction by filmmaker Martin Scorsese: An introduction to the film from a Powell fan
- Interview with editor Thelma Schoonmaker: who as mentioned earlier, was Powell’s wife. So there’s a professional and personal element to this conversation
- Documentary about the film’s history, featuring interviews with Schoonmaker, Scorsese, and actor Carl Boehm: A worthy watch
- Documentary about screenwriter Leo Marks: Surprisingly fascinating, giving a little life history on the man, covering his childhood and most notably his time working for MI6 during World War II. Beyond this, it also delivers several interview segments that serve to give insight to the making of Peeping Tom
- Program on the film’s restoration: A great addition, especially in this burgeoning 4K age. It showcases not just the work that went into the restoration, but the care and respect behind handling a piece of art and being true to its original form
- Trailer
- PLUS: An essay by author Megan Abbott. In the accompanying 32 page liner booklet, which also contains an introduction penned by Martin Scorsese
- New cover art by Eric Skillman
The Bottom Line
Peeping Tom is something of a landmark of the genre, not just through blending blending psychological horror with a lurid slasher, but in it’s viscerally potent and immersive approach. This release includes a host of superb extras that go a long way to fleshing out the films influence, significance, and commentary. Criterion’s release gives a new lease of life to the visuals, but Peeping Tom is as bold and disconcerting now, as it ever was.
Peeping Tom is available on via Criterion 4K now
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THE BIKERIDERS Explores the Depth of the American Man’s Soul
Jeff Nichols’s latest blends heart, tension and dark humor to create the Goodfellas of biker movies
As far as American icons go, the biker has proven among the most versatile. From The Wild Ones to Easy Rider, motorcycles have served as a vital symbol for unfettered freedom, beckoning towards the vast highways across the country, inviting the viewer to explore. Of course, similar to the cowboy or the gangster, this freedom comes at a price, and rarely do fables around bikers escape this harsh reality. To be a biker is to be unfettered from the expectations of society, but the ultimate price paid is almost always fatal.
Jeff Nichols’s newest film, the Bikeriders, firmly exists within this tradition, but attempts to explore the themes underlying these myths and traditions. The characters in Bikeriders are aware of the biker myth (both Wild Ones and Easy Rider get passing nods within the text of the film,) as well as the sneering association society has of their culture. Yet they still choose to ride, or perhaps more potently are too tied into riding that they can’t simply walk away without losing a portion of themselves. In equal parts romantic portrayal and cautionary tale, Nichols has created the Goodfellas of biker movies, and added a necessary piece of the canon.
Based on the work of photographic documentarian Danny Lyon, Bikeriders is centered around two interviews, one in 1965 and one in 1973, of Kathy (Jodie Comer), a woman who finds herself falling into the orbit of Chicago motorcycle club the Vandals. Through her lens we see an unraveling of the culture around these bikers, and the odd idiosyncrasies that command their reality.
Kathy’s narrative encompasses a sprawling cast of character, all embodied by top-of-class character actors, but is really the story of two men: her husband Benny (Austin Butler), an unpredictable but mostly soft-spoken, cool-eyed rebel, and Johnny (Tom Hardy), the founder of the Vandals. Butler and Hardy more or less share the center of the story, as portions of the narrative focus on Benny’s erratic behavior, before shifting to the drama surrounding Johnny attempting to hold together a rapidly expanding movement he began. By balancing these two narratives, Nichols finds his spine to hang a sometimes meandering plot, providing an overarching duo to explore the seemingly vast world of Midwest biking culture.
Butler in particular extends his streak of movie star performances, his bright eyed magnetism holding the frame with captivating command, giving Benny a depth and soul. In some portions he seems to be channeling James Dean, invoking the spirit of the prototypical cinematic model for restless American rebellion. But as happens with all of Butler’s best performances, there is a vulnerability just beneath the surface, that all of his recklessness is covering up a deep-seeded lack of purpose past the colors.
But Hardy steals the show whenever the plot is given over to his hands. At the heart of Nichols’ narrative is an exploration of how men have always longed for a sense of purpose and belonging, and that is never quite as crystalized as in Johnny’s journey. Inspired by bikers he sees on TV, he enters the fold as a means of creating something larger than himself. He admits to focusing more on the club than his own family, controlling the movements of his band of wayward souls with as tight a grip as he can, but as the numbers expand he can feel himself losing control. When control was the whole point, to be able to create a microcosm of the universe where he had the say.
This focus on aimless and anxious men’s need for a sense of place is perhaps where Nichol’s parable is most potent to contemporary viewers, reflecting headlines of unnerved male Americans being driven to fraternal groups with perhaps less than noble aims. Not to say that the Vandals are a one-for-one model of how a group like the Proud Boys comes to be, but there is a sense that both are filled with men who feel like they lack direction. And in reality, the appeal is hard to deny. The most romantic tinges of the film are not in Kathy and Benny’s tense marriage, but between the Vandals themselves, and the great sense of camaraderie their club provides. You can see the appeal of the club more in campfire conversations and teasing than in impromptu midnight rides.
At its core, this is what Bikeriders portrays most captivatingly: the means and lengths that men will go to to feel like they have a place in the world, a sense of dominion. And the danger and violence that surrounds that is part of it, especially when outside forces like the Vietnam War unsparingly changes the American psyche. Just like Goodfellas, it provides a compelling rationale for why someone would fall into an objectively dangerous lifestyle, but doesn’t back away from also portraying the dangers and ultimate price associated. The tension between those two creates an impactful film that explores the depths of men’s quest for purpose, and the dangers that can cause. -
CORMANIA!!! Two Cents Film Club Takes a Bite Into Classic Corman Production – Joe Dante’s PIRANHA
1978 Corman/Dante collab Piranha is next up in a month of honoring independent film legend Roger Corman
Two Cents is a Cinapse original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team curates the series and contribute their “two cents” using a maximum of 200-400 words. Guest contributors and comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future picks. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion. Would you like to be a guest contributor or programmer for an upcoming Two Cents entry? Simply watch along with us and/or send your pitches or 200-400 word reviews to [email protected].
James Cameron, Francis Coppola, Gale Anne Hurd, Sylvester Stallone, Jack Nicholson, James Horner, and Martin Scorsese all have something common: they all got their start working with Roger. And that’s FAR from a comprehensive list. Amazingly, it’s not an exaggeration to suggest that Roger Corman may be the single most influential filmmaker of the last century. As a director, he pioneered the art of crafting movies with low budgets and high returns. As a producer, he perfected it. His productions have lent a start to scores of actors and filmmakers, including many of the biggest names in Hollywood.
This month on Two Cents we look back on the legacy of a legend and say THANK YOU, in our own way, to the late, great Roger Corman.
Next up is the 1978 creature feature that truly launched Joe Dante’s career. As noted above, Corman liked to take a chance on young, lesser known filmmakers… and, in the case of this film, it paid off. One of Corman’s most recognizable films and the film that put Dante on the map, some will argue Piranha simply a Jaws ripoff and others love it so much that they have given it true cult status. Both of these arguments hold weight, of course. Is it a Jaws ripoff? Indeed… but it’s also so much more to many of us.
Without further ado, we celebrate the master with a look at Piranha!
Ed Travis
Sure it’s an unrepentant Jaws rip-off, but hot damn it sure is a fun one! I had a blast with Joe Dante and Roger Corman’s Piranha, and it felt like the kind of movie that everyone involved had a blast making as well. Cheap without feeling lacking, funny on purpose, and paced like a race against time, this little slice of the 70s knows precisely what it is and welcomes the viewer along for the ride.
I was particularly impressed with the creative low budget ways that the crew found to depict a school of raging killer fish. Sure, there are some cheesy effects that don’t really work. But most of the time the rubber fish on the end of poles shaking around, paired with fun sound effects and tons of fake blood, make for a pretty effective threat.
And all the gore effects and massacre set pieces dispense with any of the subtlety that Jaws may have offered and deliver a better time at the movies than any Jaws sequel ever provided. Oddly despite having seen the more recent 3D and DD reboots, as well as generally being a Joe Dante fan, this was my first ever viewing of Piranha and I’m only sorry that it took the passing of Roger Corman for me to finally check this out. It’s a fun example of what Corman was able to do when he set a filmmaker like Dante loose and you better believe I’ll be checking out the James Cameron-directed sequel as soon as I can.
(@Ed_Travis on Xitter)
Austin Vashaw
Piranha isn’t necessarily the greatest film to come out of the Corman factory, but it is a superbly entertaining one and certainly demonstrates one of the famed producer’s most critical acumens: the ability to identify and develop talent. Joe Dante (Gremlins, The Howling, The Burbs) got his start cutting trailers for Corman before getting the chance to occupy the director’s chair. Piranha, his solo directorial debut (after being teamed with Allan Arkush on Hollywood Boulevard), may be thought of as a Jaws knock-off, but it’s stylistically pretty unique, and you can already start to see the the emergence of the Dante brand: humor mixed with horror, a love of monsters, distrust of bureaucracy, and of course an exceptional supporting cast. A mix of genre veterans like Kevin McCarthy, Barbara Steele, and Keenan Wynn, and many future repeat collaborators, including McCarthy, Belinda Balasky, Paul Bartel, and most notably Dick Miller.
Like Martin Scorsese, James Cameron, Francis Coppola, Ron Howard, Jack Hill, and many other beloved directors, Joe Dante is absolutely representative of how Corman could attract great people and help them grow – while consistently making fun movies and turning a profit in the process.
@VforVashaw on Xitter
Julian Singleton
Despite being a rip-off of Spielberg’s Jaws, I ended up seeing this film before both Spielberg’s film and even Dante’s later Gremlins. It worked wonders for getting me to go swimming in the lakes and rivers of nearby San Marcos, where Piranha was actually shot. Revisiting the film, I completely forgot just how hilarious it really is. Dante’s script, co-written by none other than John Sayles, has some amazing one-liners (“They’re eating the guests, sir.”) that pepper the right amount of laughs among the bubbles of blood.
Bradford Dillman does his best James Brolin impression as a self-serious stoic, macho hero; Heather Menzies-Urich is a wonderfully gung-ho heroine matching him at every turn. I totally forgot that Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ Kevin McCarthy shows up as the ill-fated scientist, as well as Dick Miller stepping into Murray Hamilton’s shoes as a slimy waterpark owner. All of them sell the increasingly bizarre and gory shenanigans with aplomb, delivering as much gravitas to this as they would have to Spielberg’s original film.
What especially bowled me over was the editing – the tension was so high every time these demonic fish struck, with each cut nipping at the viewer like the razor-teeth on screen. It heightens the fantastic effects work by legends Rob Bottin and Phil Tippett early in their careers, turning submerged rubber puppets on sticks into the stuff of nightmares.
Piranha has the right amount of tongue-in-cheek humor coupled with amazingly economic screen craft, which epitomizes just what a producer like Roger Corman brought out in the creatives he took under his wing.
(@Gambit1138 on Xitter)
Justin Harlan
If you know me and my wife, you know that one of our greatest pleasure in this life is watching underwater creature features. From classic predators like Jaws to underwater sci-fi like Leviathan to the shittiest of “shitty shark movies”… we can’t get enough. Naturally, Joe Dante’s 1978 Piranha is amongst the ones we rewatch annually. While the over-the-top big budget remake and sequel from more recent years are a blast, the sequel deserves its flowers, and the 80s TV remake is fun – none are on the level of Dante’s original in terms of overall enjoyability factor.
Almost everything hits perfectly. The weird science monologuing can get a bit tedious, but the absurdity of the monologues even makes those enjoyable in their own way. In fact, if you were to rewatch this film while partaking in some medical grade cannabis edibles, those particular scenes just may rank among the best. If you need proof, just know that I have done the research… for scientific purposes, naturally.
(@thepaintedman on Xitter)
CORMANIA!!!
Our June block of films pays respect to legendary independent producer and director Roger Corman, who passed away in May. We’ve covered many of his films before, including here on Two Cents, but for Cormania, we’ve curated an eclectic lineup of films that we feel say something about him not only as a producer and director, but as a rebel and visionary as well.
Got something to say? We’d love to have you join us!
Upcoming picks:
June 17 – FANTASTIC FOUR
June 24 – LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS (1960)
