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New Label ‘Film Masters’ Launches with Definitive Release of THE GIANT GILA MONSTER and THE KILLER SHREWS
The Giant Gila Monster and The Killer Shrews have settled into a prominent place in the cult film landscape, thanks in part to their public domain status which has made them staples for TV broadcasting, MST3K-style riffing, and of course endless grey-market releases on DVD and VHS. If you collect genre movies, chances are these films have found their way in your collection – maybe many times over.
Unfortunately public domain status can also have an adverse impact on a film’s commercial viability – restoring a film is an expensive and difficult process, and kind of a risky move in the face all those cheap knockoff DVDs. But in recent years, several titles like Night of the Living Dead, The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, and Dementia 13 have finally received gorgeous new editions.
New label Film Masters has only showed their hand on a few releases so far, so it remains to be seen what will be the full scope of their outlook and output, but from the handful of announced titles so far, it looks like they’re taking on the challenge of breathing new life into public domain titles.
Their first release takes on Ray Kellogg’s The Giant Gila Monster and The Killer Shrews – even fans of the films may not know that these films originated as a double feature, so their pairing is a particularly appropriate one.
vintage advertisement for the double feature In short, this is the definitive release of these movies for the foreseeable future. Both films are restored in HD, and offered in 1.85 widescreen versions in addition to their traditional 1.33 aspect ratio. They look better than ever, and the discs include some neat extras, most notably a documentary on Ray Kellogg.
Many of the screen captures in this review offer both the 1.33 and 1.85 versions for comparison.
The Giant Gila Monster
Don Sullivan stars – and sings! – in this creature feature that appeals to a drive-in crowd with lots of teenagers, hot rods, and rockabilly. A handful of mysterious disappearances draw the attention of a rural town and their harried sheriff (Fred Graham). Sullivan plays the lead role of Chase Winstead, a kindhearted grease monkey and aspiring singer who ekes out a living fixing cars and also serves as the informal leader of the local pack of hot-rodding kids. Chase and the sheriff work together to investigate the unusual activities, eventually discovering they’re the work of a (say it with me) giant gila monster – captured in live action by filming a real one, sometimes against miniature backdrops and never in the same shot as the cast.
Despite the monster movie setup, the film is quite wholesome and gentle, and even yielded “The Mushroom Song” (aka “Laugh, Children, Laugh”), which has found some life outside of the movie, sung by Chase to encourage his disabled sister as she struggles with her leg braces.
Sullivan’s charisma in the role somewhat offsets the film’s inherent silliness, and helps makes this an enjoyably watchable flick.
The Killer Shrews
On making a delivery to a remote island, boat captain Thorne Sherman (James Best) becomes embroiled in the plight of the geneticists working there, who have accidentally created a pack of voracious oversized shrews that are now roaming the island.
Having ravaged all the ecosystem’s natural prey, the dog-sized (and very clearly dog-portrayed) rodents are now hungry for humans.
It’s the lesser film in the pairing, but also the meaner, with some action and peril – including both human and animal threats – that feel a little more present and threatening than a languid gila monster lumbering off-camera.
The film has a multi-racial cast but the non-white characters are in stereotypically subservient roles. Sherman employs a black shipmate, to whom he speaks disparagingly (though a more generous reading might argue that they enjoy a friendly banter). The scientists similarly employ a Mexican character as a caretaker – no points for guessing which two characters get picked off early.
Note, this restoration appears to be cobbled from a few (I can identify at least three) different sources. Most of it is high quality restoration obviously sourced from clean 35mm, comparable to The Giant Gila Monster. The film’s last 10 minutes – presumably where an archival reel is lost or unusable – dips into a slightly lesser quality which is virtually unnoticeable (still in a good resolution but lossy). I didn’t notice the change myself while watching, but picked up on it while capturing screenshots with more scrutiny. I did notice one brief scene where the restoration drops into a third, much lower VHS-like source for about 16 seconds. This is shown below.
Acknowledging the dated and kitschy nature of these low budget cult movies, the idea of a restoration may raise the question: Does looking better actually make these movies better? And the answer is Yes, absolutely. I’ve seen both movies before on TV or home video, in an enjoyable but dismissive sort of way. I definitely enjoyed this Blu-ray a lot more – the boost in clarity obviously makes things easier on the eyes, but seeing these films in good quality also gives them more earnest appeal in terms of their craft, low budget though it may be. Don Sullivan in particular is an easy performance to get behind in The Giant Gila Monster, and The Killer Shrews manages to evoke an eerie and slightly surreal vibe, despite its dogs-in-costume antagonists – its plot of squabbling characters trapped in a house under attack notably predates a similar setup perfected by George Romero almost a decade later in Night of the Living Dead.
It’s easy to dismiss a movie as trash when it looks like trash – in pristine quality they do have more to offer.
On that note, here are some additional shots of both films – in many of them I’ve included both the 1.33 and 1.85 versions of the same frames (or close to it as I could manage) for comparison. Since I’ve seen both films before, I opted to watch the 1:85s this round. It’s not how they were designed to be watched, but works well – and they are arguably more immersive this way.
The Giant Gila Monster
The Killer Shrews
The Package
Film Masters has released The Giant Gila Monster and The Killer Shrews as a Blu-ray double feature. Each movie gets its own disc and comes with extras. The package includes a notably beefy 24-page booklet with essays by Don Stradley and Jason Ney discussing the context and history surrounding the films, including some focus on producer Gordon McLendon.
The Giant Gila Monster is described as having a “newly restored 4K scan from 35mm archival materials”, while The Killer Shrews is noted only as “a restored HD print” (which makes sense given the multiple sources I identified). Both films are offered in 1.85:1 (widescreen/cropped) and 1.33:1 (original) formats
Special Features and Extras – Disc 1 (The Giant Gila Monster)
- Original restored 35mm Trailer (1:40)
- Feature commentary from the Monster Party Podcast by Larry Strothe, James Gonis, Shawn Sheridan, and Matt Weinhold
- Archival interview (1:32:53) with actor Don Sullivan by author Bryan Senn (audio with background animation)
Special Features and Extras – Disc 2 (The Killer Shrews)
- “Ray Kellogg: An Unsung Master” (16:12) documentary by C. Courtney Joyner and narrated by Larry Blamire (Ballyhoo Motion Pictures) – analyzing the career of director Ray Kellogg, who is a more successful filmmaker than these two films on their own might suggest.
- Commentary by author James A. Ney, who also contributed to the booklet.
- Radio Spots (12:43) – 8 spots for Gila Monster, 9 for Killer Shrews
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Fantastic Fest 2023: Morality Tale Meets Mexican Standoff at THE LAST STOP IN YUMA COUNTY
Francis Galluppi’s enthralls and entertains with his debut feature
Murphy’s law states, “If something can go wrong, it will go wrong”. This feels like the mantra that’s drives the fate of the many characters in The Last Stop in Yuma County, who all find themselves on a fateful collision course as greed competes with survival in a calamitous, crime thriller.
Yuma County Arizona, the year 1981. A knife salesman (Jim Cummings, Thunder Road) pulls in to top up his depleted gas tank. A delayed delivery, dry pumps, and 100 miles to the next stop, see him directed by gas Station owner Vernon (Faizon Love, Elf) to wait at the diner next door. A local establishment, just opening up for the day after the Sheriff (Michael Abbott Jr., The Death of Dick Long) drops off his wife Charlotte (Jocelin Donahue, Doctor Sleep, House of the Devil) for her shift. During small talk over the pouring of a coffee, another car arrives carrying two travelers also meeting the same predicament. Before long they recognize these men, Travis (Nicholas Logan, Dark Winds) and Beau (Richard Brake, Barbarian, Vesper), as the perpetrators of a bank robbery a few towns away. En route to Mexico, these brothers need gas to make their getaway. Suspicions are soon aroused as an attempted phone call to the Sheriffs office sparks the robbers into action. A hostage situation unfolds where the men hold the diner and its inhabitant’s hostage until either the gas truck arrives, or someone with a full tank does. As time ticks away, new arrivals add to an already combustible situation.
The opening credits sequence lets the audience in on a secret, that gas truck isn’t coming. A camera panning across the wrecked vehicle and its dead driver off the highway while the playful composition Love is Blue by Paul Mauriat plays. An early glimpse at the dance between mirth and macabre that informs the film. What does arrive is a smorgasbord of faces (many familiar to genre cinema fans) providing a constant drip of fresh energy and more fuel for the fire within this precarious situation. Elderly couple Robert (Gene Jones, The Sacrament, No Country for Old Men) and Earline (Robin Bartlett, The Seventh Day) contrast with the Bonnie and Clyde styled pairing of Miles (Ryan Masson, Proximity) and Sybil (Sierra McCormick, The Vast of Night), although they prefer the stylings of Holly and Kit from Badlands. Local farmer Pete (Jon Proudstar, Reservation Dogs), who’s just after some biscuits and gravy. We even get a visit from befuddled Deputy Sheriff Gavin (Connor Paolo, Stake Land) whose coffee run that might be their best opportunity to get a cry for help out.
This pressure cooker scenario is cooked up by writer/director Francis Galluppi, with The Last Stop in Yuma County serving as his debut feature. The plot is simple, but the setup and execution is anything but. Dripping in new ingredients to this mix and letting them boil away, Galluppi builds tension, making great use of the space, sight-lines, the emotions on show, and the physicality of the folk in this diner. There’s also a skilled shorthand on display in terms of sketching out these characters and their shifting stances as danger becomes more apparent, they see an opening for escape, or a chance to lay their hands on the loot from the bank robbery. An interesting moral quandary that is well explored, as are the unpredictable elements of human nature that fuel choices, especially greed and plain old stupidity. Much of this feeds the emotion, and rich vein of black comedy that runs through the film.
The film is brimming with talent who all make the most of their scenes, big or small, to leverage in emotion. Brake excels with his chewing of dialogue and seething menace, while Jim Cummings, whose comedic timing and delivery is (as usual) perfection. Donahue is truly endearing and provides the beating heart of the film.
Despite the grey areas the film deals with, it’s aesthetic is on the other end of the spectrum. Arizona’s sunny skies and a dusty 70s aesthetic brought to life by textured production design and retro set decoration from Charlie Textor and Karli Watlan are beautifully lit by Mac Fisken‘s cinematography. A simmering score from Matthew Compton is punctuated by some devilishly good musical tracks from Lou Christie, Roy Orbison, the Grass Roots, and more.
There’s a sense of polish about every aspect of The Last Stop in Yuma County, and real consideration about every creative choice. The film certainly feels like an homage in many ways. A tribute to neo-noir with a dash of Western thrown in for good measure, bringing to mind the works of both Peckinpah and the Coen Brothers. But Galluppi’s own craft and vision is clear. Leveraging an enthralling Mexican standoff as a means to drive home how greed is anything but good, as well as plant a marker attesting to his own talents. A superb debut feature and straight up, one of the most entertaining films of this year’s fest.
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FANTASTIC FEST 2023: CALIGULA: THE ULTIMATE CUT All Hail Caesar!
Caligula was one of those films I didn’t get to see until much later in life. Of course I had heard about it being produced by Penthouse, was gory and that it contained hardcore sex scenes. While going through the films of Tinto Brass a few years ago, I finally watched Caligula and really didn’t expect it to send me down the rabbit hole, I am still in today. That original film was a bit of a tonal mess. There was of course the promised explicitness, since it was produced by Bob Guccione, owner of Penthouse, but there was something lopsided about performances from great actors who were at top of their game. The takes were a bit all over the place from scene to scene, but sometimes they were perfectly keyed in, to the point it made me curious to know if there had been an issue with the edit.
I’m fascinated by films that fall into the “What If” category, which I realized was the case for Caligula, which had a VERY troubled production. Bob Guccione was looking to bring porno chic to the next level, by doing a big budget spectacle that had both explicit nudity AND big stars, like a Ben Hur or a Spartacus but with hardcore sex. Tinto Brass was recruited for the project after Salon Kitty with a script by Gore Vidall. The script was eventually rewritten from scratch and by the end of the chaotic production the film had doubled in budget, Brass was locked out of the edit by Guccione, and new hardcore footage was shot to insert into the film. Several crew understandably asked to have their names removed from the film and a legend was then born.
What if Caligula had been finished as intended by its director?
Earlier this year it was announced that Thomas Negovan had spent three years culling through 90 hours of raw negatives and audio to try to solve this question, thanks to Penthouse giving him access to their archives. With the Brass now 90 and suffering from dementia, Tom used the many versions of the script that were written and rewritten for the project during the shoot. Early on, when Gore had begun making rewrites difficult for Brass, McDowell stepped in for revisions that would continue to evolve throughout the shoot giving Tom several options for any given scene. But this new Ultimate Cut managed to recycle none of the original footage from the film, which makes it nearly a new film altogether. I’ve been looking forward to this screening since all of this was announced, and I got to check it out at Fantastic Fest where McDowell himself attended stating in his intro that after forty plus years his original performance was finally being seen.
While Caligula isn’t a completely different film plotwise, the performances of not only McDowell, but Mirren – whose screen time has been upped from 20 minutes to nearly an hour – really make this film finally live up to its long lost potential.
Caligula is the story of the very real Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, nicknamed Caligula, or as it translates, “Little Boots”. In a short five year reign as Caesar of Rome, he earned a reputation for being one of the most depraved emperors of the Roman Empire, which is why he was chosen by Bob Guccione as the subject of his big budget porno-chic epic. In the film, after ascending to the throne by having his great uncle Tiberius (Peter O’Toole) killed, Caligula falls prey to the ambition and greed that his uncle warned him of in his final lesson before his death. When Caligula’s sister – whom he was also sleeping with – dies, the power drunk Caligula then descends into madness as he attempts to tear down the corrupted bureaucracy from the inside out, and is assassinated. His antics include faking an invasion of Britain, naming his horse head of the senate, and forcing the wives of the Roman senators to work in his Imperial Brothel to raise money for his war chest for his fake invasion.
I felt given current events this thematic move of destroying it all and starting fresh was shockingly hyper relevant given the current sociopolitical landscape today. Caligula’s attacks on the senate are primarily due to their corruptness, having grown fat off the land and were more interested in their own personal wealth, rather than serving the will of the people.
The biggest difference here, between the many available cuts and the Ultimate Cut presented here, is the consistency of performances and thematic tissue that now feels wholly intentional and brings the film together. Thomas Negovan resurrected an unnerving and powerful performance by Mcdowell. While he is near reptilian in the first few acts as Caligula ambitiously eyes the throne, there are a few vulnerable respites showing his love for his sister. With how cutthroat the power struggle is and how treasured a commodity actual trust was in the Roman Empire, it in a very twisted way makes sense that some would look to their family for relationships. Where this invokes the other big change is Helen Mirren’s role as Caesonia, Caligula’s wife, who is full fledged player in this game and is a chaotic force to be reckoned with. Caesonia is a real ride-or-die for her husband and that makes her much more endearing and nuanced than her previous incarnation.
The last half of the film was the most surprising for “fans” of the original and has McDowell really going to some unexpected places with his character, intertwining his reptilian ambition with madness, paranoia, chaos and a real sense of dare I say regret? It’s something that on a whole gives the film a real trajectory and narrative purpose. The score also has been completely redone, leaving behind the retro Ben-Hur/Spartacus feel for something more contemporary in the realm of the 80s, and it helps further guide the audience along with these new performances and their journeys. Thomas Negovan also begins the film with a new animated sequence that shows the origin of the legendary dance that earns Malcom Mcdowell’s character his nickname of “Little Boots” and it’s a rather striking way to introduce us to Caligula and his world. Dancing is another thematic touchstone in this Caligula that has been brought to the forefront in this Ultimate edition. The act of asking someone to dance is used as a sign of asserting dominance or control of another and the repetition of this in the film only emphasizes the power struggles at play.
This really feels like the film that was originally promised by Bob Guccione back in the late 70’s, when he referred to it as a “package of excellence”. While this new Caligula doesn’t fundamentally morph the film into something more palatable for general audiences, what it does is get us as close to the original intent of the filmmakers as we will ever get. It still features plenty of nudity to signify the decadence of the Roman Empire which mirrors the late 70s disco cocaine aesthetic. I do think it’s definitely one of the best performances by McDowell, along with Mirren, and the new edit really makes this a much more coherent and tragic story that is definitely worthy of reappraisal and rediscovery. The Ultimate Cut addresses everything from performances to pacing, making this the best possible version of the film. It also shows how much weight of a film sits on the shoulders of editors and directors. Even if you have the kinds of performances unearthed here, there’s still a chance they might see the light of day.
But thankfully the “what if” has finally been answered and Caligula is the transgressive erotic masterpiece it always could have been. All Hail Caesar!
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FANTASTIC FEST 2023: THE DEEP DARK is Claustrophobic Cosmic Horror
Surprising amounts of period detail and a kitchen-sink approach to horror make Mathieu Turi’s creature feature a frighteningly good time
Searching for a way out of 1956 Morocco, Amir (Amir El Kacem) forces his way onto a bus bound for the coal mines of northern France. However, Amir is assigned to “Devil’s Island,” a mine notorious for the physical toll taken on its workers. When a rich professor charters use of the mine, Amir is roped in with a small crew to guide him into the deepest depths a thousand meters down in search of a mysterious archaeological discovery. But when the crew’s only way out crumbles, they realize far more ancient things are also lurking with them in the deep dark.
Mathieu Turi’s period horror film is a lean, mean creature feature that manages to evoke a wide range of Francophone frights, including claustrophobic suspense and dread, buckets of gore, and plenty of cosmic terrors for knowing fans of weird tales.
What immediately impresses about The Deep Dark is the efficiency at which Turi introduces his group of protagonists. Amir’s novice mineworker allows the audience similarly familiarize themselves with the sociopolitical dynamics of 50’s era French mineworking. The mines are at once a melting pot of cultures but also a breeding ground for xenophobia; while fellow workers may be French, Italian, or Spanish, all are seemingly perturbed by the presence of newer, cheaper workers from Morocco (while all championing their own immigrant roots). Playing to a storied tradition of skills-based stock characters akin to The Thing and The Descent, Turi also establishes how their day-to-day skills contain the seeds of their own survival once the movie shifts gears from social drama to full-on horror.
The terror of The Deep Dark cleverly plays with the primal suspense that a dark enclosed space can provide, whether it’s the sound design of screams bouncing around theater walls or the briefest glimpses of something terrifying as it passes through the light. One of the most memorable sequences plays into the era’s usage of flashbulbs in photography, as an ill-fated character uses them to reveal just how much closer he is to death. Turi’s ruthless expedience just as well applies to The Deep Dark’s horror, finding new, quick, and memorable ways to use what could be a repetitive setting to his advantage.
The production design, shockingly revealed to be all practical locations in a post-film Q & A, is equally impressive. The winding twists and turns of the mines are nail-bitingly unpredictable, with a unique unease to be found when natural cave formations give way to carved brick, ancient inscriptions, and cave drawings of elder gods. The design of the film’s central creature thankfully employs practical effects with fleeting instances of CGI, lending it a bone-cracking grossness that makes the characters’ terror feel achingly genuine.
The Deep Dark may not ultimately reinvent the wheel when it comes to its shocks, but the film’s unique period setting is rich with detail and thematic depth, and its kitchen-sink blend of horror makes this subterranean shocker well worth a watch.
The Deep Dark had its international premiere at Fantastic Fest 2023. It is currently seeking U.S. Distribution.
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FANTASTIC FEST 2023: UFO SWEDEN is a Soaring Scandinavian Sci-Fi Wonder
The latest from Sweden’s Crazy Pictures is a reverential retro action flick that resonates with the whole family
In 1988, young Denise’s father abruptly goes missing after he makes a breakthrough correlating the weather and gravity phenomena of their small Swedish town Norrköping with the possible existence of UFOs. Almost a decade later, Denise (Inez Dahl Torhaug) is a rebellious young teen in foster care with more than a flair for tech and hacking–leading her into frequent clashes with the authorities. Tomi (Sara Shirpey), the officer who first picked up Denise after her father’s disappearance, tries to protect Denise from anything that’ll lead her down a bad road. When a Saab possibly belonging to Denise’s father falls from the sky into a rural barn, Denise’s path leads to her father’s old UFO organization, UFO Sweden. They’re a lovable ragtag group led by Lennart (Jesper Barkselius), a former Swedish Meteorological and Hydrological Institute (SMHI) researcher fired after providing Denise’s father with the confidential research that eventually led to his disappearance. Denise and the misfits of UFO Sweden must confront their shared past as they investigate new leads that may not just reveal the fate of Denise’s father, but the existence of life beyond Earth. But SMHI and Tomi have other plans for Denise and the group…
Many recent American studios have tried to recapture the wide-eyed wonder of Amblin, Joe Dante, or Richard Donner features of the 80s–but many of these projects, from Super 8 to Stranger Things, shortchange a story from emotionally connecting with their audience–leaning on their retro setting and modern VFX as a fatal crutch rather than a springboard for something new or meaningful. UFO Sweden, however, supercharges its story with an unflinching sense of heart, wonder, and importantly consequence–giving its characters an unerring drive to explore the unexplainable, with their actions fueled by an emotional heft that leads to even deeper reactions by the world around them. Film collective Crazy Pictures creates a modern sci-fi tale that wears its inspirations on its sleeve–yet never ceases to be blazingly original from start to finish.
The shining center of UFO Sweden is a fierce and funny lead performance by Torhaug, whose Denise turns the heartbreak of losing her Dad into a journey of self-discovery: first by rediscovering the passions for exploration that connected Denise to her father, then following that path to the found family she desperately needs. Once her mind’s set on something, Denise wreaks whatever havoc she needs to to achieve it–something that alienates society at large, but are virtues prized by the reclusive outcasts of her father’s former group. The ensemble work done here is wondrous–with the five other members of UFO Sweden each either winning over the audience or quickly earning our suspicion as they get closer to or lightyears away from the proof they’ve always sought after. Karl-Saucer (Niklas Kvarnbo Jönsson) is never without a trusty bit of Aurelite he thinks will block signals from aliens; Töna (Isabelle Kyed) and Mats (Mathias Lithner) are the studious yet stubborn muscle of the group, with Töna perpetually with a cigarette in mouth; and Gunnar (Håkan Ehn) seems more interested in searching for a reason to keep the group in their basement office with coffee and tarts than actually getting out into the big unknown. Barkselius as leader Lennart, however, is a towering, wounded man who can’t help but try to find something in the skies no matter how much that search has harmed him in the past–with Denise acting as both an opportunity to change things but also as a totem to how much he hasn’t. All of these actors, however, are united in their addictive enthusiasm to find the truth that’s supposedly out there–which easily becomes infectious to audiences as their quest teases out some pretty stellar interstellar proof.
The journey there isn’t a safe one in the slightest for the UFO Sweden crew. Aside from police chases and explosive property destruction, there’s some damn effective emotional reckoning at play. Denise and the collective investigative team have some pretty buried trauma they need to confront, and everyone’s attempts to do so range from cathartic to toxic. Other supporting characters, namely Shirpey’s Tomi, have fantastically antagonistic and potentially disastrous arcs coming from places of otherwise good-natured intentions. Where other films might play things safe with tidier resolutions or redeeming character arcs, UFO Sweden tempers its wide-eyed joy with a mature approach that acknowledges how much work–from investigation to reconciliation–still needs to be done. Along the way, it’s a film that satisfyingly and thrillingly rewards the explorative spirit, creating found families, and making peace with the past.
The film’s special effects sequences, created through some serious homegrown ingenuity by the Crazy Pictures collective, put many bigger budget pictures to shame. Sure, we get plenty of the Abrams/Spielberg lens flares throughout, but the sparingly-used special effects sequences are jaw-droppingly practical, from the opening barn crash to a finale inspired by the best of Contact and Interstellar. They feel so tactile in ways that modern Star Wars or Indiana Jones films just can’t be when it comes to blankets of green-screen action, which in turn gives the actors at the center of the chaos genuine visuals to react to.
The resulting wonder is wholly genuine–for us as much as it is for them. It’s the thrill of that chase that makes for some of my favorite Fantastic Fest titles–from 2019’s The Vast of Night to 2021’s Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes. It was revealed in our screening’s intro that UFO Sweden was meant to premiere at last year’s festival but sadly wasn’t done in time. From the thrilling story, captivating characters, and dazzling sci-fi visual wizardry on display, this handmade epic was undoubtedly worth the wait.
UFO Sweden had its U.S. Premiere at Fantastic Fest 2023. A 2024 release from XYZ Films is in the works.
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Fantastic Fest 2023: KILL Gives India Its Own Gory/Great RAID-like
Handily my most anticipated film of Fantastic Fest 2023, Kill did not disappoint in its US Premiere with director Nikhil Nagesh Bhat in attendance.
It is my lifelong love of action cinema that finally got me to start dipping my toe into the mighty juggernaut of the Indian film industry. Stars like Vidyut Jamwal, Tiger Schroff, and Hrithik Roshan have been doing pretty incredible action work now for a decade or more, and when an Indian action film breaks out internationally it’s probably something that is now on my radar and that I’m interested in seeking out. It helps that filmmaker S.S. Rajamouli has also come along and delivered such global bangers as Bahubali and RRR, which truly ended up besting the action cinema coming out anywhere else in the world. So Indian action cinema is not only doing fine, it’s actually in a place where it’s schooling the whole world.
So, what’s the big deal about Kill then?
Kill is more like an Indian indie film, and while Indian action is already phenomenal, this is unlike anything I know of that is coming out of India. More in conversation with such cinematic bloodbaths as The Night Comes For Us or The Raid, Kill is lean, very mean, and stripped down to where there’s very little room for song and dance numbers. (I’ve actually really come around on the song and dance numbers India delivers, for what it’s worth). Nikhil (he introduced himself by his first name and pointed out you can’t say “Nikhil” without saying “Kill”) let us know that this is his very first action film and both wrote and directed the project. Unlike most action movie scripts which indicate an action scene but leave the details to the action team, Nikhil wrote out every single beat. He said the result was a practically unreadable screenplay, but it set the stage for the intricate choreography of the film.
Kill is also the latest entry in action cinema’s hallowed subgenre of “Die Hard On A …” movies! The Raid meets Die Hard On A Train is a reductive but not inaccurate way to describe Kill. So in a way, you know what you are in for; but what my review presupposes is: maybe you don’t. Nikhil made an honest plea to preserve spoilers in our coverage of the film and that will be easy enough to do. But there are some twists and turns that will shock and surprise even the most hardened action movie buffs.
Much like The Night Comes For Us before it, Kill is so bloody and brutal as to dabble into horror film territory. But the fun kind of horror, almost like a slasher film where our hero happens to be the unstoppable killing machine. Our super handsome lead is breakout actor Lakshya as Amrit. He’s a special forces commando who gets on the wrong train with his brother (also a commando) Viresh (Abhishek Chauhan) and fiancee Tulika (Tanya Maniktala). Soon dozens of goons, who are essentially a massive family of robbers, begin to shake down the train and death and mayhem follow. If there’s anything to ding Kill for, it’s that there’s really no dimensionality to the plot here. But that just leaves room for the intricate and glorious fight choreography they’ve got in store for you. Perhaps the most fun element of Kill is that you’ve got an entire movie that deals exclusively in close quarters combat. The crew built a couple of train car sets that allowed for “Transformers”-like flexibility and created opportunities for truly memorable one-on-one and melee battle sequences confined to a hallway or a bunk bed cubby or a cramped bathroom stall. For all that claustrophobia, however, the action is crisp and clear. I do think at times the visual rhythm of Kill is so quick and trusts the viewer keep up, that at times I might have needed to catch up to exactly where we were on which train car, etc. But I suspect that has more to do with me than the filmmaking, as it’s really quite stellar.
There are a few specific details that really stood out for me, and which are largely spoiler free. Our villains are a surprising bunch, as they’re a massive crime family. When their ranks are dwindling, they’re truly shocked and traumatized, even as the clear villains of the film. Grown men are shown to cry and weep over the loss of their uncles, fathers, sons, etc. Over and over our villains are taking this personally and vowing vengeance. It’s a unique dynamic that honestly does add some humanity and tragedy to the whole affair. There’s also a title card drop here that caused our audience to erupt in applause, so keep an eye out. I’d also be remiss not to highlight leading man Lakshya. He has the kind of fresh-faced vibe that Iko Uwais brought to The Raid, but when he gets to killing, he does it confidently and frighteningly. I don’t know anything about this man but he’s wholly convincing as a life-taking commando with unending tricks up his sleeve (and seemingly an unending supply of blood pumping in his veins).
With a few kills that truly made my physical jaw drop open, and a few sequences that left our midnight crowd cheering and hollering, Kill very much lives up to the hype. Nothing will ever be The Raid ever again, but Kill earns its place in the conversation among the titles it pays homage to. Casual audiences will have little patience for the guts and gore, but action cinema fanatics already know they not only want to see this one, but need to prioritize it. I do wonder how Indian audiences will receive this film, or if its longevity and success will rely on it being embraced by the global market. But I suspect gorehounds the world round will embrace Kill with open, blood-soaked arms.
And I’m Out.
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Fantastic Fest 2023: OUT OF DARKNESS Reminds Us to Fear the Darkness, Within and Without
Andrew Cumming delivers a homegrown, hominid horror, rooted in antiquity and primal fears
This piece has been updated to reflect the change in the film’s title to Out of Darkness, originally it played at Fantastic Fest as The Origin
Out of Darkness (originally entitled The Origin) opens with a flicker in the darkness. A campfire on the shoreline of what comes to be known as Scotland, 45,000 years ago. Gathered around are the remnants of a tribe. Wrapped in furs, armed with spears, sharing a story in a language that is unfamiliar. They are few in number, after escaping hardship, and surviving a sea-crossing to this island in search of a better life. Instead of that which was promised, they find a barren land of wind-lashed plains and foreboding forests. Starving, and exposed to the elements, they set out for a rocky hilltop in the distance and the hopes of shelter. Their perilous trek soon becomes more stark as they become aware of something moving around them after the sun sets. In the dark, one of their own is snatched away. Fear engulfs the group as they realize that their attempts to survive have only just begun.
The campfire provides more than just exposition for the flight of these people, but also their backstories and the pecking order within this extended family. Adem (Chuku Mudu) is the alpha male who deigns to be swayed by others opinions. By his side is his young son Heron (Luna Mwezi), and partner Ave (Iola Evans) who is carrying his second child. Rounding out the core is Adem’s more hesitant younger brother Gierr (Kit Young), and the elder of the group Odal (Arno Luening) who treads a line between offering counsel and conflict to his leader. Lastly in the pecking order if Beyah (Safia Oakley-Green), a ‘stray’ the group picked up along the way. They each have their own skills they bring to the group, hunter, healer, forager. It’s in this community they should find the strength to survive, but instead they mine conflict. Two philosophies emerge, the first that this force in the dark is an animal that can be killed, the second, that it is a demon that must be appeased. A battle of wills with all their lives on the line.
Director Andrew Cumming, working from a script from Ruth Greenberg, expertly mines human (and animalistic) instincts to build an atmosphere of paranoia and fear, and a story where the right and wrong choices play out in a game of life or death. One of the most interesting aspects is the ascent of Beyah, (an enthralling debut performance from Oakley-Green), who is gradually buoyed by the mismanagement of the situation, and begins to challenge the group, as well as her role in it. A stone age final girl you’ll come to root for, mostly.
While Out of Darkness certainly shares some DNA with films like The Descent, The Ritual, and Pitch Black, it carves out its own unique space through its immersion in antiquity. The film’s Q&A shared insight into the archeological finds that inspired the story, with the narrative adding in levels of mysticism and cultural facets that nicely build out this era. Most notable is the use of a linguist to develop a fictional language called “Tola”. Guttural, but poetic, it’s a key aspect of how immersive the film is. Frenetic editing from Paulo Pandolpho adds to the chaotic air, occasionally tempered by still moments, where attempts to fortify a position or catch a breath reinforce the relentlessness of this dark-shrouded threat. Cinematography Ben Fordesman skillfully uses minimal lighting to dramatic effect, illuminating the strengths of both performers and production. Sound design is superb, leveraging every rustle, creak, or snap in the forest surrounds, while the score from Adam Janota Bzowski (Saint Maud) delivers an era-appropriate bombardment of drums and horns.
All these elements combine to create something familiar, but ancient in tone. A propulsive, paranoia-infused, paleolithic survival film. The (original) title, and tale told in Out of Darkness could speak to our own first steps into this new land. In a way, framing these people as the original colonizers. The negative connotations of this term holding up to scrutiny in the film’s climax. But interpreted in a more primal sense, it could also speak to our enduring fear of the dark. This is where the film truly makes its mark. By immersing us in an era where our enduring savage instincts meet those of the time, reminding us to fear the darkness, within and without
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Fantastic Fest 2023: 100 YARDS: A Grand, Character-Based Martial Arts Epic
The Chinese film industry in recent years has not really been putting out stuff that compels me in the ways that the glorious golden age of Hong Kong cinema used to. Between the government censoring the kinds of ideas and styles that can really be explored and the push towards massive blockbuster cinema that can be sold globally, I’ve been more often than not put off by tons of GCI, superheroic antics, and the like. Call me old fashioned, but I’m simply more interested in seeing grand and gorgeous stories from the Chinese film industry. Some of those massive epics they’re cranking out are actually quite good, but it took something like 100 Yards to come along to remind me of what I love about Chinese martial arts movies.
Loaded to the gills with talent that I’m frankly not super familiar with, 100 Yards feels exciting as a calling card (at least for me) for the talent involved. Written and co-directed by Xu Haufeng, it turns out my unfamiliarity with Haufeng is not for lack of accomplishment, but rather simply my own ignorance. 100 Yards was also co-directed by someone named Xu Junfeng, who has no presence on IMDb, but Haufeng came up as a novelist and writer (The Grandmaster) who began directing movies years back. 100 Yards certainly displays the clarity and confidence of a filmmaker who has something to say with his characters and a knack for dynamic, clean, classic martial arts sequences.
The film is quite sprawling, with a bit of a Game Of Thrones vibe in its obsession with succession and control of various houses. We meet Jacky Cheung’s Young Master and Andy On’s Apprentice early on when their father and master, respectively, tasks them to duel at his deathbed for control of their martial arts school. This will be the first of seemingly dozens of duels, interspersed with trickery, politics, lessons learned, and romantic melodrama. I’d be disingenuous if I claimed to understand everything that was going on in this 1915-set tale, as it felt like lots of very time period and culture specific things were happening that my western ass isn’t informed enough to have all the context for. But that shouldn’t scare fellow westerners away because I’m here to tell you that the story is loaded with strong characters and twists and turns and keeps you invested even if you might not catch it all.
There’s not really a villain in 100 Yards. Jacky’s the heir apparent of the school, and Andy’s the top protege. At times the story seems to be about the “young master” learning about the real world out from under the protective eye of his father. At other times it seems to be about the “apprentice” discovering the final remaining secrets of a hidden martial arts form that is only spoken of in whispers. At other times the fairly prominent female roles in the film are explored and 100 Yards wrestles with not only the succession of the young master and apprentice but also the women in power in the martial arts circle and what they must do to preserve what they have.
What’s great about 100 Yards is it explores a whole bunch of potent human and societal issues all whilst whipping a ton of ass. I’ve been digging deep into classic Shaw Brothers titles for the last couple of years and while there’s virtually no end to the amount of martial arts prowess in those titles, gripping narratives are fewer and farther between. Here we aren’t just stringing together plot points to get to the next action set piece, but rather digging into a particular time and place and doing the “what to do now that the master has passed away” trope with a thoughtfulness and attention to character work that really matters. The action is clean, crisp, and cool as hell. But the characters are also fleshed out and more than simply embodiments of their martial arts styles. In the end our guys kind of settle into a new future and a new reality they’ve forged on their own, rather than simply inheriting what had come before. It just takes a dozen or so badass battles to get there.
And I’m Out.
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FANTASTIC FEST 2023: CONANN is a Queer Fantasy Epic through Bertrand Mandico’s Phantasmagorical Glitter Covered Lens
Easily one of my most anticipated films at this year’s Fantastic Fest was Bertrand Mandico’s follow up to the surreal lesbian acid western After Blue – Conann. His latest uses some of the same actors, settings and even characters, from his recent short Rainer, a Vicious Dog in a Skull Valley, that was the story of a stage director (Christophe Bier) producing a female version of Conan the Barbarian during the pandemic. Exploring similar themes of that short – what an artist will endure for their art – the director makes a pact with the humanoid dog faced demon Rainer, to get his play made and it doesn’t go well as things do when pacts with demons are made. This is the same demon that shows up in Conann, which could be interpreted in two ways – Conann is the meta theatrical adaptation of said play, or that the character of Rainer has a special interest in this specific subject and that is why he appeared to this particular director as well.
Conann begins in ancient Cimmeria as envisioned through Bertrand Mandico’s phantasmagorical black and white glitter covered lens. A 15 year old Conann (Claire Duburcq) is taken as a slave by a tribe of all female barbarians after her mother is killed in front of her by their leader, Sanja (Julia Riedler). When Sanja’s leather jacket clad dog faced advisor Rainer (Elina Löwensohn) takes a special interest in the young girl, seeing her as someone who will become the “most barbaric of all the barbarians”, he assists Conann to begin her ascendancy to power, documenting it with his ever present camera, a stark contrast to the more period fantasy medieval surroundings. There’s a lot to unpack here as the film’s first act comes to a close as Conann not only poisons Sonja’s regime of troops, but is then killed by her 25 year-old self.
While this particular kill easily signifies the death of innocence. Conann’s lust for power triggers a 10 year cycle of reinvention and reincarnation, every 10 years as she continues up the proverbial ladder. The film uses this aspect that each new Conann is played by a different age appropriate actor to explore a few metaphors, the most pertinent and obvious being the sacrifices forced upon a woman of oneself to rise to power in the patriarchy. When Conann finds love, she takes a reprieve from ancient Cimmeria and her quest for power in the Bronx in the late 90s. It’s here the film sheds a bit of its metaphorical baggage and takes on a more intimate and autobiographical point of view. After an accident, this Conann, who is a stuntwoman in this time, is laid up at home recuperating, when she is caught cheating on her significant other.
Conann is then forced to make a choice by Rainer, between her blood drenched glory still awaiting her, or love, which throws the rest of the film into a downward spiral with the story reaching the depths of hell. Conann’s perversions only grow from there, as the fantasy elements are used to expand or highlight particular metaphorical readings of the story. The film is as dense as it is lush, with each new iteration of Conann telling its own distinct story. You could easily just pull apart the five different Conann’s and derive a meaning for each woman’s life and cause for having to kill herself in continually grotesque and horrific ways. This vicious cycle continues until the film reaches its gut-turning pinnacle set piece that reaches back to the price an artist is willing to pay for his art. It’s here at the culmination of the film, that it shows how truly vicious and grotesque the cyclic nature of Conann’s existence has become.
Like its protagonist Conann is so much more brooding and ambitious than After Blue with Bertrand Mandico toying with time, narrative and character here in ways that multiply the interpretations of this tale the more you gaze into Conann’s infinite abyss. The visceral and captivating story is one of love, regret and art and the price paid for all three. It’s not a particularly easy pill to swallow, or pleasant to look at, but that’s kind of the point here, nothing is pleasant, and nothing is easy as it seems. My only hope after viewing Conann is that Bertrand Mandico has something equally or more impressive to cap this fantasy sci-fi trilogy off with, because bringing these two together could easily make this a queer work for the ages.
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Criterion Review: THE TRIAL
The piece below was written during the 2023 WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. Without the labor of the writers and actors currently on strike, the art being covered in this piece wouldn’t exist.
Orson Welles’ staggering The Trial enters the Criterion Collection this week with a 4K UHD release as worthy of deep exploration as the film itself.
In one of the set’s supplements, Filming “The Trial”, Welles conducts a lengthy Q&A session at the University of Southern California. He fields questions from the mundane (“how much did the film cost?”) to the deeply personal and philosophical (talking about whether or not he believes in the existence of evil in the world). He proves to be the ultimate raconteur, mixing thoughtful answers with casual humor. Even the question about the budget, arguably the least interesting Q&A topic, elicits a compelling answer when Welles says he spent $80,000 of his own money and that he didn’t actually make anything on The Trial. One thing that comes up a couple times here and elsewhere throughout the release is Welles’ claim that The Trial is his best film. True or not, The Trial is as rewatchable and dense as anything Welles produced.
Beginning with one of the best opening sequences you’ll ever see, the film kicks off with the literal and figurative awakening of Josef K. (played by Anthony Perkins) as he is arrested for unnamed reasons. In a lengthy, circuitous conversation that grows increasingly harrowing, K finds himself entering a hellish descent with no escape. Throughout the picture K impotently rages against the bureaucratic machinery that can, and will, swallow up anybody at any time it so desires. In the Q&A, Welles says “I see monstrous bureaucracy as the villain of the piece,” and the cynicism inherent in that statement trickles down to the people that keep the machine running. The metaphor of a man waking up and immediately being subsumed is full of so much righteous anger that it practically pulsates through the screen. That verve drives K forward, propelling him deeper and deeper into a man made Hell from which there is only one escape.
By his own account, K is a rule follower, punching in, doing his work, punching out, then going to sleep in order to do it all over again. Early in the film K fondly describes the systemic hoops in place to keep the average person from getting to him. Like the average person he is, K is perfectly content getting along just to get along. Once he finds himself on the opposite side of that dynamic, he becomes a leper. K talks a lot throughout the film about following the rules, guidelines, procedures, and protocols, be it himself or other people. The futility of passivity has turned K, and us, into suckers dangling over the steels jaws of “the system.” The joke it of all being that we’ve been told all along that systems like the government or justice are in place to protect us and bring some sense of order to the world, when really the main purpose of “the system” is self-preservation.
Perkins is tremendous in the film, his tall and gangly body oozing with unease at all times. He plays K as a ball of nerves, and each revelation, conversation, and twist of the plot just knots him up even more. Clarity only brings more confusion and Perkins’ physicality is a perfect vessel for this. K doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere he goes, often literally. Welles frames K so that he towers over nearly everyone he encounters. Welles also uses tighter shots with K’s head nearly at the top of the frame, as if it’s closing in on him. In wider shots, K feels like a man floating through space. Both shots create a claustrophobic feeling. Welles simultaneously emphasizes the idea it’s impossible for K to fit in anywhere or exert any control over his situation. When K walks through never ending rooms or stands in the towering courtroom, he may as well be floating through space or the ocean.
I’ve seen The Trial a handful of times over the last couple weeks as I’ve tried to get my head around it to find something unique to say. The deeper into the movie I go, the more my head spins. That’s meant as a compliment, because Welles packs so much into the film that you can watch, examine, and excavate it as much as you want and still feel like you’re just scratching the surface. Being in over your skis with regard to The Trial practically makes it an interactive experience.
For those wanting to fully immerse themselves in the experience of The Trail, Criterion is happy to oblige. The highlight of the special features is the aforementioned Q&A, recorded in 1981, 20 years after the film’s release. The perspective Welles has on the film, adapting (and altering) Franz Kafka’s novel, and filmmaking in general is invaluable. The commentary track by Welles’ scholar Jospeh McBride is quite academic in terms of analysis and insight. As someone who spent a great deal of time with Welles, McBride only brings a uniquely personal perspective to him commentary. Rounding out the supplements are a pair of interviews with Welles, DP Edmond Richard, and actor Jeanne Moreau, as well as an essay by novelist Jonathan Lethem.
