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Documentary THE PIGEON TUNNEL Tells the Story of Spy Fiction Author John le Carré – in His Own Words
Now streaming on AppleTV, The Pigeon Tunnel is a new biographical documentary of David Cornwell, more famously known by his pen name John le Carré.
A celebrated author, Le Carré worked for the British Secret Service in the 1950s and 1960s before going on to write numerous famous novels, mostly in the spy genre. Anyone unfamiliar with the writer has doubtlessly still heard, at least, of the many adaptations of his works, which include The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, The Tailor of Panama, The Perfect Spy, and The Constant Gardener.
I include myself among that number; for when I pressed ‘Play’ I didn’t really know much about the man or his work. Even so, the documentary is a fascinating study, traversing the realms of both history and literature (and, to a lesser extent, film). The film takes its title from the author’s own 2016 autobiographical work The Pigeon Tunnel: Stories from My Life, and the analogy behind that title – and why it’s rattled in the author’s head for many decades – sets a fascinating stage.
Le Carré passed away in 2020, making this posthumously-released interview feel like something of a final statement if you have that knowledge in mind (the film itself maintains the illusion of a living conversation).
The film introduces its subject matter before diving into it, and even being mostly unfamiliar with the man, I found it was satisfactorily explanatory and engaging. Its narrative is relayed in an interview format, which is to say that you hear le Carré’s story told in his own words. On learning about le Carré’s life, I though it a noteworthy comparison that he experienced a similar arc to other British personages of the era, like Roald Dahl, Ian Fleming, and Christopher Lee, who drew directly from their careers in Intelligence and military service to foster their creative outputs in literature and film.
Le Carré recounts his unorthodox and motherless childhood, which shaped his person. As the son of a career con artist, Ronnie Cornwell, le Carré experienced two educations: the street-level scheming of his father, and the formal schooling at upper crust academies into which his father secured his enrollment, by hook or by crook.
These conditions fostered an outsider mentality and a knack for deceit, elements which helped him secure employment as an agent for both MI5 and MI6 in a tumultuous era, creating a foundation for his written works. Le Carré’s experiences naturally influenced his novels, and unlike the pulpy adventures of Ian Fleming, his works, and the characters that populated them, were unglamorous, unheroic, morally ambiguous, and it was this voice which differentiated his stories.
Having little knowledge of le Carré’s life or works, the film was to me a learning experience; perhaps those more familiar might have different feelings or stronger opinions. I’m not sure that I have much of an opinion on the film for film’s sake, but as an education I found the subject matter both engaging and worthwhile.
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THE BARE-FOOTED KID: Shawscope Vol. 2 – Roundtable Reviews
Cinapse is all about cinematic discovery. This Shawscope Volume 2 column is, therefore, a watch project for our team, and guests, to work through this phenomenal set from Arrow Video. These capsule reviews are designed to give glimpses of our thoughts as we discover these films for ourselves. Some are kung fu cinema experts, some less so; all are excited for the adventure.
The Hong Kong-based Shaw Brothers Studio cranked out a staggering number of feature films over its lifetime. With worldwide influence continuing to this very day, their contributions to cinema are myriad and undeniable. Arrow Video has curated a second volume of titles; an intentional way to wade into the deep waters of the Shaw Brothers. Beyond capsule reviews, our team also offers thoughts on the set curation and bonus features. Watch along with us, join us in the comments, or reach out on social media (linked below) if you’d like to submit your own
Ed Travis
A whole host of legends show up to bring us The Bare-Footed Kid (1993), which is the final film of the Shawscope Volume 2 set, and a fitting one at that as an almost an honorary Shaw Brothers film made as Shaw was pulling out of the film business. A remake of Disciples of Shaolin, which was recently released on Blu-ray from 88 Films and which I reviewed for Cinapse, we’re taken on a journey of heroic tragedy. Young up and coming singer and actor Aaron Kwok here plays the titular kid Kuan, our avatar for this story who arrives broke, clueless about the ways of the world, shoeless, and yet gifted in martial arts. He’s looking for a place to call home and finds it at Maggie Cheung’s fabric dyeing business. Legendary beauty and talent Cheung is captivating as ever here, bound up in a doomed romance with Tuan (the equally legendary Ti Lung), a heroic former general on the run and living under the radar. As things play out, Kuan will learn the ways of the world and be tempted by the path of wealth and corruption. He’ll attempt redemption but at the cost of the home and belonging that he felt under the roof of Maggie Cheung’s Proprietress’ home and under the tutelage of Ti Lung’s Tuan. There will be bloodshed. I mean, come on, this is a remake of a Chang Cheh film as directed this time by up and comer Johnnie To, who would go on to become one of the greatest filmmakers in Hong Kong, especially in the telling of Triad tales. Legend has it that Chang Cheh and Lau Kar Leung had a professional split working on Disciples Of Shaolin, and so Leung was brought back to this updated version to take another crack at the choreography and it’s a gorgeous representation of the style at that time, with grandiose wire-work, gorgeous cinematography, and larger than life action sequences. The Bare-Footed Kid may not be a masterpiece to speak of, but the combined talent in front of and behind the camera absolutely elevates this tragedy-tinged adventure.
Brendan Agnew
In addition to retooling Disciples of Shaolin, there’s a lot in The Bare-Footed Kid that recalls Chang Cheh’s other “young martial artist comes to the big city and gets tragically embroiled in mob shenanigans,” The Boxer From Shantung. However, while those previous Shaw joints are more deliberate in tone and pacing, Kid gets a shot of energy from both the physicality of newcomer Aaron Kwok and Johnnie To’s dynamic and exhilarating direction. The Shaw Bros. “house style” had shifted dramatically with the ‘80s/’90s HK action boom, and coming hot off of The Heroic Trio, To proves himself as adept at capturing period wushu as he was at more modern action. At 86 minutes, you’d think there wouldn’t be much time for side characters and narrative diversions, but The Bare-Footed Kid makes remarkable use of its supporting cast (not just Ti Lung and Maggie Cheung as star-crossed lovers who’s dynamic points a straight line to Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon), and gives the audience ample time to settle into the neighborhood with its various characters and rivalries even as the titular kid is trying to find his feet. For all that there’s a lot of familiar “explosive action, comedic aside, dramatic pivot, tragic revelation” sequences to the story, there’s also a great deal of patience as the film both waits to unleash the full prowess of Kwok’s Kwan Fung-yu. When To does cut loose, in scenes involving either Kwok or Ti Lung (in fantastic “elder statesman star shepherding new talent” mode) or variations on both, it’s intoxicating that you can’t wait for the next one while also being terrified of what the eventual fallout would be.
Cheung really proves to be the film’s secret weapon in how it hones its tragedy to a razor edge, in spite of her “Lady Boss” character potentially coming across as underwritten on the page. There’s so much that she and Lung are able to communicate in the silences between them that there’s space for you to really feel the longing and are allowed to sit with it in spite of the film’s otherwise breathless pacing. While Kwok is undeniably the breakout star of the film, the presence of stalwarts like Ti Lung and Lau Kar-Leung in front and behind the camera brings a weight that belies the occasionally silly interludes and allows the final reel to really slam home.
Dan Tabor
It’s bittersweet ending our watch of the Shawscope set with 1993’s The Bare-Footed Kid, the loose remake of Disciples of the Shaolin. This film itself is an odd hybrid of the newer style of grittier, more realistic martial arts epics made popular by Shaw competitors like Golden Harvest, merged with the classic “Shaw on a Set” aesthetic. The film has one of my favorite Chinese auteurs Johnnie To, who’s probably best known for his rather gritty gangster epics, adapting the material and infusing it with his trademark nihilistic sensibilities. The story of a naive martial artist who is drawn into a dispute between two rival textile factories, is elevated with a more epic and melodramatic feel thanks, not to only To, but the likes of Aaron Kwok, Maggie Cheung, Ti Lung and Jacklyn Wu in some truly engrossing performances. While I would have personally liked to end on a lighter and higher note, I get the journey that’s been curated here as we definitely have an evolution of both style and storytelling on this set that’s been nothing short of a joy to experience.
And We’re Out.
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Looking Back at DON’T LOOK NOW
“What is it you fear?”
For many of a certain generation, myself included, the first time they had ever heard about 1973’s Don’t Look Now was on Bravo. The channel was doing a horror compilation clip series centering on the greatest horror moments in movie history and had chosen the film’s ending for inclusion on their impressive list. I can’t recall where in the lineup Don’t Look Now featured, but I do remember being so shaken by the ending, that it haunted me even though I had almost no clue about its context. Even describing the ending scene to friends elicited reactions of fright. Ever since then, whenever I’ve seen Don’t Look Now mentioned, it’s almost always its ending that gets cited. Watching it on Criterion’s new Blu-ray release, it’s still just as powerful. However, what many who saw the infamous clip on the Bravo segment failed to realize, was that leading up to that ending was one of the most poignant and slightly chilling tales about ghosts and romance ever made.
When the tragic death of their young daughter disrupts the tranquil life of Laura (Julie Christie) and John (Donald Sutherland), the couple tries to move on by relocating to Venice where John’s current job of restoring an old church keeps them distracted from dealing with the event. However, a series of murders, a chance meeting with a psychic named Heather (Hilary Mason), and the presence of a small child in a red raincoat all lead the couple to suspect that their daughter is still around and is still trying to reach them.
Don’t Look Now has rightfully been considered one of the greatest ghost stories of the 1970s, if not the 20th century. This was the case almost immediately from its initial release. But the film isn’t the conventional kind of ghost story with spooky apparitions running around. True, a small figure resembling the dead child can be seen scurrying the streets of Venice, but it’s the atmosphere and the way director Nicolas Roeg captures it that brings the chills. Following a brilliant intro, the movie’s eeriness wastes no time being front and center. The introduction of Heather intensely staring at John from across the restaurant is punctuated with off-putting angles and inventive use of mirrors. Brief glimpses from what appears to be the ghost of the dead child aside, the old Venetian buildings give off such a surreal darkness that only aids the efforts of the story and allows for plenty of the sort of interesting zooms and far away shots Roeg indulges in, all of which keeps the audience on their toes.
As the film progresses, it starts to go for broke in several ways without compromising its beauty and quiet haunted quality. There’s a great amount of suspense in the extended church sequence where John is dangling from a rope attached to the scaffold as the result of a mishap. What seems like an accident can’t help but feel like the spirit of the dead child seeking revenge on the father who failed to protect her when she needed him to. Later on, the fleeting sight of a woman who looks like Laura on the gondola with Heather is where the turn really happens for John. From here, everything about the landscape changes on him and everyone he encounters looks at him suspiciously, harkening back to an earlier piece of advice from the psychic that he should leave. A late-in-the-game phone call with Laura in which she prattles on but he is unable to hear her clearly shows that his sanity is being tested and that he is being haunted, whether he knows it or not.
But Don’t Look Now is the story of a marriage above all else. It’s the story of two people who experience passion, despair, and the widest of gulfs that could destroy a couple this much in love. There’s a slightly closed-off feeling we get when we first meet John and Laura. Even though we spend very little time with them before their daughter’s death, it’s enough to suggest that they are the only ones who exist in their world. Post-tragedy, the pair are seen as a couple getting on with things. Yet their clinging to each other in the aftermath of their child’s demise is sending them in opposite directions, even though their chemistry and their shine as a couple remains the biggest constant in their lives even after everything that’s happened. The film’s iconic love scene remains that; a sensual and beautiful sequence that shows a couple both in love and trying to survive the shared tragedy they’ve gone through. John and Laura appear open enough to talk freely about their past, but as the world around them begins to transform, death and the past appear to be intent on tearing them apart.
Much like the Daphne DuMaurier short story it came from, Don’t Look Now certainly pulls a hat trick in terms of the genre it belongs to. The film’s murder sub-plot (a string of random killings are taking place around Venice, further putting Laura and John on edge) feels like an element that’s meant to be a key part of the story but is only present when another character brings it up. This hurts the film but doesn’t succeed in taking away from it thanks to its portrait of a fractured marriage and the two haunted figures at its center. If I sounded a little flippant earlier about the ending of Don’t Look Now, please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t mean to dismiss the story’s conclusion, but instead, explore how both the romance and the sense of feeling haunted only help to elevate the ending even further than before. Today, the ending manages to feel even more pulsating and riveting than it ever has. Thanks to the sounds of footsteps the water flowing in the Venice canal, and the fog swallowing everything in sight, it remains one of the greatest horror endings to one of the decade’s finest titles.
Don’t Look Now is now available on Blu-Ray and DVD from The Criterion Collection.
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Audiences Prefer Blondes? Hayley, Jean Enchant in THE TRUTH ABOUT SPRING & MOMENT TO MOMENT
“Did you mean it when you said I’m not the worst-looking thing you ever saw?”
There were different sides to the blonde movie star that was popular in the 1960s. Where blondes of previous eras fell into either bombshells or vixens, by the time the middle of the 60s had rolled around, the image of blondes on the big screen had greatly expanded to include women who had different looks and approaches to acting. Stars like Doris Day and Debbie Reynolds were the epitome of the all-American woman with their apple-pie looks and knack for singing and comedy. On the flip side, Marilyn Monroe and Kim Novak both oozed a sexuality off-screen which fit well with the vulnerability their characters showed on screen. Meanwhile, starlets like Jane Fonda represented the newer generation, combining a movie star persona with method acting.
Just like the blondes of the 1960s were different, so too was the audience’s relationship with them. This allowed each actress the chance to create her own niche and establish personas which not only endeared them to the moviegoing public but helped cement them as their own kind of movie star. In their distinct ways, Jean Seberg and Hayley Mills illustrated almost perfectly what made the blonde movie star of the 60s such a fascinating element of cinema. Both women were cut from very specific cloths, yet they each exhibited that special kind of magic and stardust that wowed both the camera and the people watching them on the screen.
Out of all the blonde actresses of the era, Seberg was perhaps the hardest to define, despite the way she was able to bewitch both critics and audiences. Although much of her early assignments for American studios didn’t yield the results that made a movie star, her work abroad did. Arriving in France just as the new wave was starting to take off, Seberg took the lead role in Jean-Luc Goddard’s Breathless, which garnered her instant acclaim from all who saw it. Apart from a memorable turn opposite Warren Beatty in Lilith, Seberg mostly confined herself to European-based projects, which made her one of French cinema’s most recognizable faces. The secret to her success wasn’t always easy to pinpoint, but could indeed be traced back to the fact that she was able to come across as both international and American, displaying an ethereal, goddess-like quality that eluded many of her contemporaries.
On the opposite side of the blonde movie star spectrum sat Mills, who won serious praise with her first credited film, Tiger Bay. The movie was a smash and it wasn’t long before Walt Disney got wind of the youngster and cast her in his big-screen remake of Pollyanna. The film was a rousing success, leading to a five-year contract with Disney, which would ultimately help cement her status as a bona fide movie star. As the studio’s leading lady, the young actress had collected an Oscar and made a string of hits for the Mouse House, including The Parent Trap and That Darn Cat!. Mills’ precocious mix of girlishness and gumption endeared her to legions of movie fans and despite her British accent, the actress managed to give off an all-American feel that made most everyone fall in love with her.
Recently, Kino Lorber released two of the actress’s less-heralded titles, the 1966’s melodramatic thriller Moment to Moment and 1965’s family adventure The Truth About Spring. While mostly forgotten today, each film shows the power Mills and Seberg had and why their work still endures to this day.
Set in gorgeous Italy, Moment to Moment centers on a neglected military wife named Kay (Seberg) finds herself caught up in a passionate infatuation with a young, handsome Naval officer named Mark (Sean Garrison). With her husband, Neil (Arthur Hill) away, Kay’s desires for Mark only grow stronger until one night when things get out of hand and he ends up dead at her very own hands. Desperate to avoid guilt, Kay goes to great lengths to avoid suspicion from the Italian police and her very own husband.
Mervyn LeRoy proved to be more than an exceptional filmmaker through helming among other titles, Gypsy and The Bad Seed, showing his ability to move between genres. But that magic approach was largely absent in Moment to Moment. The movie is rich in stylistic flourishes, with the colors bouncing off the screen, giving the whole experience a dreamy lush quality. The trouble here is that Moment to Moment was made two decades too late. The film is the kind of pure noir that might have starred Barbara Stanwyck back in the day, but by the 1960s, what was once considered noir was oftentimes being dismissed as a soap opera. However, with elements such as dressing Seberg in Yves Saint-Laurent for the entire movie and favoring an ending that ends on a baffling high note, LeRoy’s film doesn’t do much to help itself escape that branding. Seberg, who by this point had established herself as an international film icon, may seem miscast but ends up being responsible for all the instances of tension and desperation, both of which were necessary for Moment to Moment to work on the rare times it does.
Meanwhile, in The Truth About Spring Disney’s leading actress is lent out to Universal for a tale about a teenage girl named Spring (Mills) raised on the sea by her ship captain father Tommy (John Mills). When Tommy’s run of conning and outsmarting pirates and gold hunters seems to have come to an end, he enlists Spring to help locate some long-sought-after buried treasure. But Spring’s interests lay in the idea of a life of her own on land and in attractive law student Ashton (James Macarthur) who is along for the ride as well.
It’s clear to anyone watching that Universal was eager to capitalize on the success Mills had with Disney, even going so far as casting her father John (fresh off his success with Swiss Family Robinson) as her character’s father. Therein lies the core problem with The Truth About Spring; the film is an assortment of tropes used in much better films, leaving this one lacking any kind of real adventure. The romance is only passable, the stakes don’t feel so high, and even the treasure hunt (an easy aspect to make exciting) feels rather boring. The only part of the film that works is Mills. Watching how the actress guides Spring from a curious girl to a feisty young woman is genuinely engaging and is the kind of character work that she always managed so well. Leonard Maltin always claimed that no matter the quality of the film Mills was in, she never let her audience down, and in some cases, carried the material to higher levels than they sometimes deserved through the openness and vulnerability she showed in front of the camera. The Truth About Spring is a pure testament to the appeal, talent, and power of a Hayley Mills performance.
The love that movie crowds had for both actresses wasn’t strong enough to propel either film to box office success. The Truth About Spring and Moment to Moment received lousy reviews and dismal box-office returns, leading some to question how powerful each actress’s bankability was. But the bombing of the two films can’t be blamed squarely on Mills’ or Seberg’s pull with audiences. Each title belonged to a genre that had long been put to bed by the time the cameras rolled. Moment to Moment recalled the noir heyday of the 40s, while The Truth About Spring felt like the kind of second-rate Disney fare that mid-60s audiences were already growing tired of. It’s true, looking at each movie today, they just weren’t up to the standards each actress’s fan base wanted to see her in at that point in time. But with the decade in film moving quickly to stark realism and boundary-pushing stories, this pair of titles was simply too out of touch.
The parallels between Seberg and Mills would extend beyond their hair color and industry standings. Following these releases, both actresses more or less worked exclusively in their native countries with mixed results. There would be the flops, of course. Seberg’s turn in Paint Your Wagon is far from her finest moment, and Mills couldn’t seem to find much success despite being front and center of the British independent film scene of the late 60s and 70s. But there were also successes as well. Seberg found herself in one of the biggest movies of the year with Airport, while Mills had a substantial hit following her first post-Disney outing, the charming comedy The Trouble with Angels. It should also be pointed out that neither actress was immune to scandal during their time. Seberg got into trouble with the FBI due to her activism around the same time that Mills made headlines for marrying her much older director Ray Boulting.
If Moment to Moment and The Truth About Spring don’t exactly cry out for the kind of reappraisal that’s being given to so many forgotten works today, the filmmakers behind them did at least have a sense of what their respective leading ladies were capable of. It should be clear to fans watching them that any success the movies enjoy is purely because of what the two actresses bring to them. Neither movie showed the best of Mills or Seberg. Yet in both instances, the camera remained somewhat aware of the power each one displayed whenever they stepped on set and how they could always count on audiences to fall in love with them a little bit more every single time.
Moment to Moment and The Truth About Spring are now available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Kino Lorber.
Airport, Breathless, Debbie Reynolds, Disney, Doris Day, Film Noir, Hayley Mills, Home Video, Jane Fonda, Jean Seberg, Jean-luc Goddard, Kim Novak, Kino Lorber, Lilith, Marilyn Monroe, Moment to Moment, Movies, Paint Your Wagon, Pollyanna, Swiss Family Robinson, That Darn Cat!, The Parent Trap, The Trouble With Angels, The Truth About Spring, Universal, Warren Beatty -
THE HOLDOVERS Settles in for a Long Winter’s Emotional Journey
“I find the world a bitter and complicated place, and it seems to feel the same way about me.”
As a lover of cinema, God knows I would never want anything but the utmost success for any and every film that deserves it. This is especially true for The Holdovers, one of the year’s most beautiful offerings that’s full of character, style, and the kind of heart that still makes one believe in a kind of cinema that many feel has been lost in the direct-to-streaming age. I want The Holdovers to succeed, and I want it to find its audience. But there’s something so incredibly charming, genuine, and intimate about this tale of three lost souls who find each other and themselves during the most emotional time of year that I fear would be diluted and lost if exposed to a widespread audience. Don’t misunderstand me, I would love it if everyone walked away from The Holdovers feeling just as touched as I was. But I would also be just fine if it remained a special gem of a movie that gets continuously discovered by those who feel like it was made solely for them.
The Holdovers takes place in a snow-covered northeastern boarding school for boys called Barton where the faculty and staff are looking forward to departing for the Christmas break, especially Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti), a caustic history teacher whose only wish is to be left alone for the holidays. But Paul finds his simple dreams dashed when he is drafted into being left in charge of Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa), the lone remaining student who has nowhere to go for the break. Together with kitchen manager Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), who is still mourning the loss of her son, the trio settles in for a Christmas none of them asked for.
One of the most intoxicating aspects of The Holdovers is how much it borrows from the filmmaking styles of the 1970s. Anyone who caught the film’s trailer before release would know this going in. But from the opening moments when the score and title cards start up, the audience finds themselves smack dab in the middle of the decade which the film has managed to bring to life once more. The cinematography, costumes, and all the other aesthetics are each seeped into the time and are matched in ways that can’t be captured on the screen outright. The movie’s tone is a wonderful blend of both poignancy and humor, with all of its moments evolving organically. Meanwhile, the narrative structure adopts a free-flowing sensibility, allowing the story to travel where it naturally should rather than hitting expected plot points. The Holdovers also proves itself to be a worthwhile echo of the times through the sense of isolation and uncertainty felt by people who are simply existing in the only ways they know how. Yet despite the homage it pays to the era of cinema it’s so clearly in awe of, none of the 70s flourishes ever overwhelm or sacrifice any story or character moment for the sake of style.
Style aside, it’s the characters that make The Holdovers as involving a film as it is. Each of the three has accepted the notion that society has written them off and made each of them into a stereotype. But Paul, Angus, and Mary are such richly drawn portraits of the kinds of people found in the real world with great idiosyncrasies and hidden depths that no one would see unless they stopped and looked closely. These are people whose fears don’t have to do with loneliness or being misunderstood. Instead, it’s the suspicion that where they are in the current moment is the most the universe has to offer them. The Holdovers features one of my favorite storytelling themes; that of broken people finding one another. However, instead of helping to mend each other, Paul, Angus, and Mary give each other the space and belief that they can mend themselves. While one character is grieving, another is lost, and the other is afraid. Both Paul and Angus are stunted youths of sorts and their forced pairing gives way to an unexpected coming-of-age tale for both of them. Meanwhile, Mary’s best moments come when she’s by herself. Free from her cooking and managing duties, the times when she’s forced to be alone with her grief are when she’s at her most open as a human being.
You’ll be hard-pressed to find a better collection of acting teams this year than this one. Each performer is so utterly committed to their character and exhibits a true kinship with the broken person they’ve been charged with bringing to life. Giamatti balances a true wit along with a genuine longing in what may be the performance of his career, while newcomer Sessa digs into Angus’s pain and disappointment with an honesty that keeps him compelling. Finally, Randolph, an actress whose versatility continues to impress, gives such a radiance and strength to Mary, exploring her character’s pain in the most delicate of ways.
In today’s landscape, it seems that a film experience isn’t considered complete or whole unless the audience watching can relate to the characters on the screen. In 2023, characters must be relatable, likable, and possess no flaws that might be considered dark or ugly to be sure that audiences reward them with sympathy. But The Holdovers doesn’t ask for audience sympathy. Instead, what director Alexander Payne and writer David Hemingson are asking for their characters is empathy; empathy for them as people who carry with them complexities both exposed and hidden. This is a movie that knows the majority of those watching cannot on the surface relate to a rich prep school kid, a stuffy teacher who doesn’t have time for anyone on the outside, or a woman having trouble showing the grief that’s inside her. Yet the people in The Holdovers still manage to touch us in so deeply human a way, that it doesn’t matter whether or not we can relate to their pain; we can feel it.
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A Chat with Demián Rugna writer/director of the best Possession flick of 2023: WHEN EVIL LURKS
After a limited theatrical engagement, the visceral Argentinian possession flick When Evil Lurks is hitting Shudder just in time for Halloween. The film generated a ton of well deserved buzz on the festival circuit, with its fresh take on the well-tread sub-genre and is here to do something a bit different. It manages to do just this right out of the gate by taking God out of the equation. This one change, oddly, sets in motion some very rich world building, since it’s what’s inferred with this that really imbues the premise with some very intriguing subtext. Writer/director Demián Rugna then spends the film dropping more and more bread crumbs in between some truly garishly brutal set pieces that continue to build the bigger story around the nightmarish events that unfold on screen.
As far as horror releases go in 2023, few come close to Lurks in my book, even that other reboot/sequel to the film that started it all. It’s as gnarly as it is intelligent in how it never does anything that feels arbitrary or not with some implicit purpose in its nihilistic narrative. I actually saw this film after I failed to get into a screening at Fantastic Fest this year because every screening was essentially sold out. So expectations were very present for this story of two brothers who are hunted down by a bloodthirsty entity after not abiding by the rules of the possession, causing it to spread throughout their small rural community. Not for the squeamish, the film is as gory as it is dense with metaphors and that’s not an easy combo to come by.
In anticipation for its Shudder drop last week I got a few minutes to speak with writer/director Demián Rugna about the project. English wasn’t his first language, but we still managed to talk about not only what inspired the film, but what he has in store for this world next, which I can’t wait to revisit.
What was the development of the script like and what prompted you to want to make a possession film?
Demián Rugna: We have a lot of fields in my country, a lot of plantations, and they are contaminated by pesticides. Those pesticides have left the workers on those lands with a lot of diseases. They are usually poor people, and I thought, what about if instead of cancer, these poor people who live in this condition have a demon? That was my first step in the genesis of this script.
I love the idea of making a possession movie, but without religion, but trying to find a different way to do exorcism, and make it almost impossible.
Speaking of which, one of the first things that sets this film apart is the fact that, you’ve disconnected God from the exorcism genre. Are you religious at all?
Demián Rugna: No, not at all. Nothing of religion in my life. I hate religion.
I do believe there’s something over us, from beyond. But I’m not a guy who has a God or saints. I belong to a Catholic culture. My country, all Latin America is Catholic. But I’m not inspired by religion. I’m inspired by movies that have religion. (laughs)
Courtesy of Nicolas Colaneri. Well, that said taking God out of the picture, you managed to insinuate through dialogue and circumstances some intriguing bits of world building. Does that history exist somewhere?
Demián Rugna: I tried to show this world as it already existed. I mean, when you watch Star Wars, you start in the middle of the mythology, not in the beginning of how the empire destroyed the rebels. You’re in the middle and that’s what I tried to, start in the middle of this trouble. Everyone knows there’s a myth, and I guess it works and you as the audience, minute by minute need the information. And I am giving it to you in little pieces, in dialogue, in action.
And I guess it works.
It works well! Are we gonna get to see the other pieces to the story? Are we gonna get a sequel?
Demián Rugna: Yeah. There’s a lot of studios that want to explore this world. I don’t know if I will be part of this world though going forward. I hope so, because I invented it, and I know where I am going, because I’m the owner of it.
I appreciate that while the violence is brutal, it’s really only used to accentuate or illustrate certain points in the film; it’s not gratuitous. So how did you choose when to deal out that violence?
Demián Rugna: I tried to make a different movie, one that I am terrified of. It’s still a horror movie, but not a jump scare movie.
But the idea is to prepare the audience for something really cruel. Evil is coming. All the characters are afraid of what is going to happen. When it finally happens, the idea is okay, this is the first stop in this journey into hell.
Now, do you have rules set up for this sort of evil, for this “rotten”, do you have a bible if you will, or are you still building that?
Demián Rugna: No, I’m still building that (laughs). I have a lot of abstract ideas, but I need to control that because I need to make it understandable in the movie.
Finally, I really enjoyed the Father/Son angle in the movie, and how you have a male protagonist, but he is still vulnerable and relatable. This role is usually for a final girl, why change up the formula?
Demián Rugna: Thank you for the observation. I decided to make this character a male, because whether he is demon hunting or running away from the real demons – at the same time, this is a man who is running away from his inner demons. He has a really bad past. He is already damaged, and all the people think he’s crazy. He’s running away from the demon, but his demon is in his head. He cannot run away from himself and Ezequiel Rodríguez really transformed that character onscreen (for the role).
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MEG 2: THE TRENCH 4K/Blu-Ray Review: Giant Shark Enthusiasts Will Be Disappointed
The piece below was written during the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike. Without the labor of the actors currently on strike, the art being covered in this piece wouldn’t exist.
Five years ago, The Meg, a mid-budget creature feature released during the dog days of summer (i.e., August), opened to enthusiastic audience responses and, more importantly for The Meg’s producers, a reasonably positive spend-to-revenue ratio. Then and now, The Meg’s international take was more than enough to greenlight a sequel with international action star Jason Statham, once again loosely based on one of Steve Alten’s Meg-related novels. Gone, though, was The Meg’s original director, Jon Turteltaub (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, National Treasure, While You Were Sleeping), inexplicably replaced by indie horror favorite, Ben Wheatley (In the Earth, High-Rise, A Field in England) in the directing chair.
In the interim between The Meg and Meg 2: The Trench, Jonas Taylor (Statham), renowned rescue diver and occasional eco-warrior, and Suyin (Li Bingbing), an oceanographer and scene partner, decided to cohabitate, Taylor became a stepfather to Meiying (Shuya Sophia Cai), Suyin disappeared (literally), presumed dead in an underwater accident, and Taylor moved into primary caregiving duties, sharing custodial duties with Meiying’s surviving uncle, Jiuming Zhang (Jing Wu), a billionaire and corporate CEO of a forward-looking tech company (or something). Jiuming also doubles — or rather triples — as head of the marine institute, Mana One, located off the coast.
While Jiuming splits corporate responsibilities with Hillary Driscoll (Sienna Guillory), a wealthy financier who — as expected in any Chinese-funded co-production — steps into the likely villain role (i.e., Westerners can be out-and-out villains, Chinese characters can’t be). Just as inexplicably, Jiuming has dedicated most of his waking, non-corporate life to “taming” Haiqi, a super-sized, prehistoric shark (aka a Megalodon) found as a pup several years earlier. Using super-advanced acoustic technology (i.e., a whistle), Jiuming tries to prove that humans and giant, prehistoric sharks requiring a high-protein diet can somehow coexist in the Earth’s oceans.
Highly unlikely, of course, as Megalodons, born and raised in captivity or not, will only see humans as a bite-sized snack. Still, Jiuming pushes forward, including co-leading the latest two-vessel exploration of the world below the Mariana Trench’s thermocline layer. While Taylor captains one submersible, Jiuming captains the other, and Meiying, apparently on perpetual break from schooling, predictably stows away aboard Taylor’s vessel. Since turning back isn’t an option, Meiying remains onboard, a de facto member of the crew.
After an encounter with an entire Megalodon family, the team is forced to ditch their research vessels and — the most unconvincing, murkily lit, under-rendered set piece in the entire film — walk across the ocean floor, hoping to reach a newly revealed mining operation managed by an old adversary of Taylor’s, Montes (Sergio Peris-Mencheta). Apparently, Montes sees Taylor as his white whale and he’ll do anything, including sacrificing anyone and everyone, to separate Taylor from his mortal coil.
Contrary to the pre-release trailers and TV ads, the underwater scenes take up the bulk of Meg 2‘s running time. It’s not until well past the halfway mark that Taylor and a reduced combo crew resurface near an oil exploration platform, battle the equivalent of pirates (mercenaries), and find themselves fighting not one, not two, but three newly emergent Megalodons (plus Haiqi) along with a few other ravenous escapees from below the thermocline layer. Cue all manner of PG-13-related chomping by the Megalodons and their associates on villains and non-villains alike.
The frenetic third act culminates not back at Mana One or the oil exploration rig, but in an oceanside vacation resort, the perfect location for the “fun” (random tourists receiving the treatment they so unjustly deserve) promised by the aforementioned trailers and TV ads. While Taylor and Jiuming strike heroic poses, the other Mana One survivors, including the always-in-trouble Meiying try to get either help from offsite authorities or avoid becoming a snack for any one of the ambulatory, four-legged beasties that have emerged from the deep.
Practically humorless right up until the third act, bogged down by a surplus of expendable characters, while relying on nonsensical plot turns (forget science-based logic), Meg 2: The Trench all but scuttles the reserves of goodwill generated by its predecessor developed over the course of its two-hour running time. With barely competent, forgettable set pieces (trench walk excepted, but not in a positive way) sinking an otherwise promising premise (more and bigger Megalodons unleashed on the world) and likely ending the series before it reaches trilogy status.
Special Features (4K/Blu-Ray)
The Making of Meg 2: The Trench
Up From the Depths: Even More BeastsMeg 2: The Trench 4K/Blu-Ray is now available for purchase via the usual online and offline retailers.
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4K UHD | Blu-ray -
FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S Leans Heavily into the Game’s Lore for a Shockingly Satisfying Adaption
After nearly a decade in development hell, and a laundry list of “attached” directors, the Five Night at Freddy’s theatrical adaptation is finally hitting the big and small screen just in time for spooky season. Given most of its audiences who first discovered the game have since grown up in the time it’s taken to produce the film, the film is not only taking advantage of the nostalgia those original fans have, but it’s also looking to catch those that are still just discovering this property. I fell down the rabbit hole of FNAF, as the fans call it, around the release of the second game back in 2014. This was after seeing the creepy animatronics on the merch that made me wonder, ‘how scary could this kid’s survival horror game in fact be?’ The answer was pretty damn scary to be honest, and while those jump scares lured me in, what kept me coming back was the rather bleak and engrossing lore game creator Scott Cawthon had woven into the game involving missing children and a child predator who was never caught.
The film itself is a rather faithful adaptation to the first game’s story and follows Mike Schmidt (Josh Hutcherson) who in order to keep custody of his younger autistic sister Abby (Piper Rubio) takes a job at the now defunct Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza (Think a creepier Chuck E Cheese) as a nighttime security guard. While he thinks he’s keeping the riff raff out of the derelict property, he soon discovers he’s keeping the creepy animatronics that come alive at night in. Abby, who is a completely new character to this universe, works to not only infuse the film with some real stakes, but it also gives the story a much needed heart. This is because Mike is understandably a rather scary, paranoid mess. He’s got a good heart, but he’s suffering from severe PTSD after witnessing the abduction of his younger brother and the resulting erratic behavior is only amplified by the fact that he’s hunted at night by a giant animatronic bunny .
Thematically the film tackles the loss of innocence through its narrative threads and the sometimes terrifying consequences on the psyche. To be honest almost all the adults in FNAF are damaged in some way or another. We’re introduced to Mike through his recurring nightmare of witnessing the abduction of his younger brother when he was still a child, and we then witness how that event destroyed not only his life but his family as well. While watching over Fazbear’s Pizza he meets Vanessa (Elizabeth Lail) a cop, who knows way too much about Freddy and has her own daddy issues to contend with. It’s an interesting dynamic already that is compounded by Abby, the young outsider who feels strangely at home with these homicidal animatronics. Through her eyes, we’re able to see Freddy and company as something more than a threat, since she has yet to lose that childlike innocence the animatronics covet.
Given Cawthon is a writer on the project, it’s definitely as canon as you can get and I think that fact might have been one of the reasons behind the revolving door of directors that eventually landed on Emma Tammi. She’s only got a handful of credits to her name currently and in my mind cracked the approach at dealing out the scares, while keeping the film kid friendly given this is a property aimed at tweens. That time in development also allowed the project to migrate from Warner to Blumhouse, another great fit, and for the Jim Henson company to come on board for the film’s animatronic characters. The practicality of Freddy and company allow them not only to feel much more organic on screen, but allow Abby to have small yet noticeable interactions with Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, Foxy and Cupcake that are full of the kind joy and wonder that can’t be faked.
(from left) Bonnie, Freddy Fazbear and Chica in Five Nights at Freddy’s, directed by Emma Tammi. As a fan of the games, this film scratched the itch of a live action adaptation and delivered something much more nuanced and emotionally complex than what I would have expected. Hutcherson’s take here, of someone just trying to get by while struggling with his trauma and raising his kid sister, really caught me off guard with how real he played it and how it managed to ground the world of the film. It shows there’s very consequences here, while perfectly illustrating how when innocence is stripped from someone at so young an age it forever leaves them looking to recapture that, whether it be a human or homicidal animatronic bear. What director Emma Tammi understood was fans of this property don’t just want the scares, but the lore as well, which invests you in these weird characters and their fates and brings us back again and again.
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THE MIST Thrills and Chills in 4K UHD
I don’t know if this is accurate or my mind playing tricks on me, but my memory of my first viewing was that I really hated The Mist. I know, being young is a helluva thing. I remember the staggering ending sticking in my mind and being the reason I went back to the film. Looking back on it, I can only assume I mistook a visceral reaction for a negative one. What matters now is that I’ve long come around on The Mist and am here to sing its praises.
The setup is simple: following a major storm, David (Thomas Jane) goes into town to grab supplies along with his son, Bill (Nathan Gamble), and his neighbor Brent (Andre Braugher). At the supermarket, filled with locals, everyone notices the sirens and mobilizing police and military outside the store. One of their neighbors, bloodied and panicked, runs into the store and warns everyone about the mist and what lurks inside it. Barricaded inside the store, the film turns into a pressure cooker that is electric. Afraid of whatever’s in the mist, afraid of what happens if they leave the supermarket, afraid of what happens if they don’t leave the supermarket, and, ultimately, afraid of their neighbors. Every second of the film is unsettling and is a constant showcase for its tremendous ensemble.
It’s hard to pick a favorite performance because everyone is so good, so I’ll say that on this rewatch Andre Braugher stood out most. But that’s liable to shift to someone else next time I watch it. As Brent, Braugher is perfectly antagonistic toward David from the jump. Once in the supermarket, Brant’s character blossoms into a character who seems to be at odds with everyone. Not in a villainous way, but in the weary way of someone who has been hardened by life and has deep skepticism of everyone. Brent’s not a crotchety middle-aged man, he’s a guy trying to survive in a world that routinely justifies his self-preservational instincts.
The other standout performance goes to Marcia Gay Harden as the religious zealot Mrs. Carmody, who is certain that the mist and the dangers within are signs from God. In a situation where strong personalities are fighting to be the voice of reason, hers is the most terrifying. The terror comes from her certainty and in situations where nobody knows anything, the person with the most conviction gathers the most traction. The group dynamic Darabont explores is potentially the most interesting aspect of the film. He offers up so many perspectives, each believable in their desperation, that highlights how easy it is for people to splinter and turn on each other at the exact moment they should be coming together.
The Mist is a blistering social commentary, but, above all else, it’s a rollicking monster movie. Giant tentacles, flying creatures, big things, little things, it’s all nightmare fuel. Darabont maintains a balance between the threats the monsters and humans pose that ensures the audience never has a break from the relentlessness of the situation.
I’ve now seen The Mist a handful of times, including multiple viewings since receiving the review copy, and it plays better each time. Nowhere is that more evident than the film’s ending. I’ll dance around specifics for those who haven’t seen it, suffice to say it’s one of the ultimate gut punch endings you’ll ever see. It’s harrowing, cynical, and almost unbearably hopeless. I love it. When I first saw The Mist, the bleakness of the ending played like a sick joke that I couldn’t help being amused by as a know nothing 22 year-old. Now, as a parent and someone more world-weary, the ending hits so much harder in every way. After spending the entire film fighting to maintain hope, the remaining characters finally abandon that hope and accept the inevitability of their situation. And then… the final revelation hits and the audience is left devastated. It feels weird to say I love the ending given how dark it is, but Darabont earns every emotion in the film and that’s especially true of the closing moments.
If you haven’t seen The Mist, now is a great time to do so. In the litany of Stephen King adaptations, I don’t know if it’s the best, but it’s my favorite. Befitting a movie that absolutely rips from start to finish, Frank Darabont’s adaptation of Stephen King’s The Mist makes its 4K UHD disc debut with a truly spooktakular release. If you’re a fan of the film, and even if you’re not, this is a must own set. It includes 4K and Blu-ray copies of the film, in color and black and white, while carrying over the robust special features of previous editions. Those older features, like the commentary between Drabont and producer Denise Huth, are so good and informative that they nullify any potential disappointment over the lack of newer material.
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Criterion Review: THE OTHERS
(L to R) Alakina Mann, James Bentley and Nicole Kidman in The Others. Courtesy of Criterion Collection. Despite its box office success, Alejandro Amenábar’s 2001 thriller The Others was a challenge to find in recent years. I bought a used DVD set some years back when I couldn’t stream it anywhere. While I’m not a regular viewer of scary movies, there’s something special about this film that makes me miss it when I haven’t seen it in a while. Thankfully, Criterion Collection is releasing a wonderful 4K BluRay package so fans and newcomers won’t have to hunt so hard.
Based in the Channel Islands – filmed in the director’s homeland of Spain – Nicole Kidman leads the cast as Grace, a woman confined to a large estate, caring for her two children who are deathly allergic to sunlight. It’s 1945 and she awaits her husband’s (Christopher Eccleston) return from the war. As she walks a trio of new staff through the house, we learn the important rule that “no door must be opened without the previous one being closed first.” This keeps young Anne and Nicholas from exposure to daylight creeping in through the windows of outer rooms.
Fionnula Flanagan and Eric Sykes in The Others. Courtesy of Criterion Collection. Unsettling, dissonant scoring (along with writing and directing, Amenábar composed the music for The Others) hints that something isn’t quite right about this situation. Soon after the housekeeper (Fionnula Flanagan), gardener (Eric Sykes) and mute maid (Elaine Cassidy) start on, strange occurrences begin to happen. Locked doors are found opened. Anne (Alakina Mann) swears she’s met a boy named Victor in her room and tells of an old woman who wants to ask her questions. Grace feels the cautious world she’s created for her children is falling apart.
The framing of shots is carefully constructed in The Others, as if a visual display of Grace’s control. In the interview on the Criterion package, Amenábar speaks of using static camerawork for restraint. Grace’s love for her children is overwhelming, her strict nature shown through their homeschooling lessons and her threats of being sent to Limbo for misbehavior. Darkness and light are twisted metaphors here as the children are thought safest kept in the dark (literally and figuratively). As in obvious influence The Haunting, the house in The Others turns into a character itself.
Amenábar’s haunting thriller is notable, not only for opening up further opportunities for Kidman to carry a commercial film, but for its dedication to detail. There’s something new to notice and appreciate in each viewing. Like Kidman notes in one of the Criterion package’s new supplements, “I hold it an absolute treasure.”
Nicole Kidman in The Others. Courtesy of Criterion Collection.
The many special features on the Criterion package (available in 4K and BluRay) include:
- director-approved 4K digital restoration
- a director’s commentary track (en español with English subtitles) by Alejandro Amenábar
- interview with director Amenábar and film critic Pau Gómez. Amenábar discusses the influences of the film, from exploring the inner world of his childhood to the impact of Hitchcock and the 1980 horror film The Changeling. The filmmaker says the character of Grace is based on his mom and credits Kidman with adding more dimension to the role.
- A Look Back at The Others. This 2023 short from StudioCanal UK includes appearances and memories from the director, producer Fernando Bovaira, actress Kidman and actor Christopher Eccleston.
- a 2002 making-of short (along with many other behind-the-scenes glimpses)
- footage from auditions of Alakina Mann and James Bentley
