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KINGDOM OF HEAVEN: The Ridley Scott Director’s Cut is the Definitive Crusades Epic [Two Cents]
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Two Cents is a Cinapse original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team curates the series and contribute their “two cents” using a maximum of 200-400 words. Guest contributors and comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future picks. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion. Would you like to be a guest contributor or programmer for an upcoming Two Cents entry? Simply watch along with us and/or send your pitches or 200-400 word reviews to [email protected].
Any cinephile worth their salt is going to have a soft spot for epic pictures. The grandest tales told on the biggest screens with the hugest visuals conceivable to mankind, and the runtimes to match. This month’s “Epics Revisited” programming highlights the Cinapse team’s curated list of some of our top films that were significantly altered (and improved) by their Director’s Cuts. Often these are titles that are drastically different than what was initially released theatrically.
The Pick: Kingdom of Heaven: The Director’s Cut (2005/2006)
To close this topic out, we go to one of the prime examples of “better in the director’s version” from a filmmaker who’s no stranger to historical epics. Only five years after the Best Picture-winning Gladiator (and, notably, less than four years after 9/11), Ridley Scott delivered a sweeping saga of both cynicism and romance that has a lot to say about waging war in the Middle East. Forced by 20th Century Fox to cut his original version of 194 minutes, Scott had to chop out major character details, entire subplots, and even major players in the story in order to bring it under 2 1/2 hours. Imagine if Fellowship of the Ring were an hour shorter and didn’t include Boromir, and you have an idea of the handicap at play. However, after screening to near-universal acclaim in late 2005, Scott’s Director’s Cut received lavish a 4-disc release in May of 2006, and immediately joined Blade Runner on the shelf of “Ridley can deliver a masterpiece if you don’t screw with him.” Now, it’s more or less accepted as the only version of the film worth considering, and our crack team will spell out why.
The Team
I was deeply moved by the Kingdom of Heaven Director’s Cut. I didn’t bother to revisit the theatrical cut, but recall it having no real impact on me. I can see why a studio would want to chop this down into an action film, and why it really didn’t work in that format. Ridley Scott’s Kingdom of Heaven really isn’t a clear cut tale of right versus wrong or good versus evil, or even redemption versus damnation. It’s a nuanced character exploration that requires its epic scope to truly help us see into the hearts and minds of the men and women at its center. Broadly, it is a tale of the Crusades in which the Christian soldiers are the main characters. One could be forgiven for thinking this endeavor unwise. However, Oscar-winning writer William Monahan was up to the task of portraying men and women, Christian and Muslim, healthy and leprous, with humanity and complexity that yields epic emotional payoffs in the midst of massive Crusade warfare–which was never going to be black-and-white enough for mainstream audiences.
Orlando Bloom’s Balian of Ibelin is a complex lead, a murderer who nevertheless does the hard work of redemption and eventually “saves” Jerusalem through compromise. A mutual respect arises between Balian, who is leading the Crusaders in defense of Jerusalem (in a massive and stunning set piece), and his “enemy,” the revered Muslim general Saladin (Ghassan Massoud). Generally, a leader laying down arms and allowing the invading army to grant them safe passage home isn’t the stuff of rallying cries and patriotism. But here in Kingdom of Heaven’s Director’s Cut, we’re given space to see the measure of Men, to understand that character and actions matter, and the victory of lives saved and sacred cities left intact becomes clear.
Not only that, Balian and Saladin’s appreciation for the humanity of the other, and the character they’re willing to display against baser desires for bloodlust, has much to say to modern audiences. To be clear, this isn’t a diatribe on the virtues of compromise (nor is the film), but rather Monahan seems to be extolling the virtues of character, and a willingness to make hard choices that aren’t immediately expedient. Balian’s long and painful journey grants him many opportunities to sacrifice, to lead, to learn, and to trust. It resonates deeply today in a landscape starving for these virtues.
I happen to be in the very fortunate position of having only ever seen the extended director’s cut of Kingdom of Heaven. I’d seen bits and pieces of the theatrical on cable and knew its reputation as a lackluster, severely compromised effort in the midst of a pretty historic run for Sir Ridley. When I finally did sit down and watch the director’s cut, it immediately skyrocketed to the top of my personal rankings of Scott’s films.
I’ll be honest: Ridley has typically been a director I admire more than I especially love. Alien is a masterpiece like no other, but other highly regarded entries in his career (your Blade Runners, your Gladiators) don’t really do anything for me. There’s a lot I appreciate about those movies, but they never connect on any real emotional/visceral level.
Kingdom of Heaven, though, Kingdom of Heaven is rich and messy and human in all the ways that Scott can typically be cold and cordoned off. In depicting the siege of Jerusalem, Scott finds empathy for each side of the conflict and for the participants at every level. From kings wrestling with the fates of nations to lowly soldiers just trying to scrape their way to survival, Kingdom of Heaven builds a tapestry of our imperfect and quarrelsome species and mounts the argument that if God is anywhere, He/She/It/Them resides in those imperfections and in those quarrels.
Alien may still clinch that top spot (because, well, it’s Alien), but Kingdom of Heaven is epic cinema at a scale and skill level beyond easy comparison.
“What man is a man who does not make the world better?”
Kingdom of Heaven is perhaps the Ridley Scott film whose difference between theatrical and extended versions couldn’t be more stark. While the original version was a disjointed and melodramatic mess, the director’s cut transforms it into a profound exploration of faith, religion, and power, set against the backdrop of the Crusades. Coupled with its roadshow format, restoring an Overture and Intermission, Kingdom of Heaven feels so damn momentous, a cinematic event whose epic runtime, intricate details, and thematic depth make it stand apart as Ridley Scott’s best film.
Seen through the eyes of Orlando Bloom’s artificer-out-of-water Balian, audiences leave the grim, frozen comforts of France to be plunged into the towering battles and shadowy intrigue of the Crusades. Echoing the blend of ordinary characters and extraordinary circumstances of his later Oscar-winning screenplay The Departed, William Monahan expertly balances the staggering scale of combating religions with the more intimate, personal conflicts of Balian and those who surround him. The film opens as a father reconciling with a son and evolves into that son evolving his father’s legacy, gradually expanding in scope to entwine the personal and romantic with the political, cultural, and divine. This intricate blend grounds us deeply in Scott and Monahan’s take on such a turbulent era of religious and social history, making larger social shifts frequently hit home as the only the best epic tales can do. There’s so many wonderful little character details, too, that speak to the level of Kingdom of Heaven’s historical research as well as Scott and Monahan’s dedication to fully realizing the world of their story. Whether it’s children placing toy boats in the flows of newly-constructed aqueducts, Balian reacting to seafood like first seeing aliens, or a Viking using his braids as napkins during a campfire meal, there’s so much in Kingdom of Heaven that makes it feel like an organic, vibrant world.
What makes Kingdom of Heaven Ridley Scott’s best film, though, is its nuanced depiction of religion, succinctly distinguishing between systems of belief and control. Released at the height of the Iraq war “Crusade,” Kingdom of Heaven refuses to oversimplify its characters to fit cartoonish definitions of good and evil in ways that mirrored current foreign policy. Christians and Muslims alike span wide spectrums of heroic and corrupt, with plenty of them willing to rely on their faith to justify atrocities. The scene where Templars devolve into chants of “God wills it!” is particularly chilling, as they use religion to rationalize their greed. Scott and Monahan also grant Kingdom of Heaven an ambiguously supernatural perspective in David Thewlis’ Hospitaler/Angel, who sharply critiques these hypocritical institutions while emphasizing moral integrity. Where Balian goes to spiritually significant places and feels nothing, the Hospitaler sources true holiness not in iconography or ritual, but in actively deciding to be a good person–which stands in sharp contrast to the violence around him, offering moral clarity amid chaos. It’s Scott quantifying and questioning his audience’s demands for epic violence to match an epic tale, a through-line makes the film’s ending not one of failure, but one of immense grace and true power.
It’s a bold moral stand at a time of immense political and religious division, and it’s not surprising that Kingdom of Heaven’s calls for compassion went unheard during its original butchered release. The film’s themes of faith and power are more relevant today than ever, and its technical and narrative depth cement Kingdom of Heaven as the crown jewel of Ridley Scott’s near-unparalleled body of work.
My first thoughts on seeing the theatrical cut of this film in May of 2005 were, to paraphrase Gilbert and Sullivan’s Pirate King from Penzance, “there are the remains of a great movie about Kingdom of Heaven.” It was immediately apparent that there was serious filmmaking muscle behind this venture, from Harry Gregson-Williams’ soaring score to the climactic siege of Jerusalem that–even in the compromised cut–stood out as a set piece for the ages. And it was the film that made me pay attention to Eva Green just before she took her place as one of the greatest strengths of the rebooted James Bond franchise in 2006’s Casino Royale. However, every time the film seemed to be about to say something interesting, it would abruptly cut itself short and rush to the next scene, often jumping through narrative at a pace so uneven or with so little satisfying build-up that the end result was muddied and frustrating.
Then I saw the “real” version of the movie, and it was crystal clear both why it was cut down but also why it never should have been. Epics like Braveheart and Gladiator are far more narratively immediate and viscerally satisfying than what Scott is attempting here. However, that complexity and the film’s refusal to give the audience an easy out is what makes it so rich in the context of its time and so enduring nearly twenty years later–at least to most. Axel and Ulric of Geeks With Shields write “The Director’s cut of the movie does a lot to clean up the weird story beats. But doesn’t really solve the core issues of bad history and the weird, not subtle, political subtext. Ridley Scott is a director capable of making great films. Just not ones with a historical setting.” And Kingdom of Heaven will absolutely throw historical accuracy to the side in favor of the narrative, and often has little time for subtlety. This is a story about the great and little evils that people do in pursuit of their desires, from power to redemption to basic human connection, and the script by The Departed‘s William Monahan balances a wide ensemble circling the throne of the titular Kingdom, and while it features several outright villains, it steadfastly doesn’t pick a side as “right.” This movie looks the audience square in the eye and says that fighting for wealth and land in the Middle East is a fool’s errand, and that all have claim to Jerusalem.
It’s also asking a lot of Orlando Bloom, who is especially ill-served by the theatrical version essentially speed-running him through a very basic “Redemptive Hero’s Journey” and resulting in him being the least interesting piece on a board populated by some of the best actors of their time. However, the Director’s Cut of the movie lets you into Balian’s journey from emotionally-ravaged blacksmith and socially awkward engineer to a leader who commands the respect of kings. The shorter version is unable to dull Green’s movie star charisma, but robs her Queen Sybilla of most of her complexity (not to mention all the scenes her son) as well as the deliberate parallel grief she comes to share with Balian. What seems perfunctory cliche in the version that hit theaters becomes a melancholy romance poignant in its depiction of broken people finding a way to scrape a bit of happiness from the uncaring jaws of war.
Kingdom of Heaven has been fortunate to outlive its theatrical failure, standing as a monument to Scott’s talent as a filmmaker who can deliver period battlefields of massive siege towers and thundering ballistas as effectively as intimate character moments where a drop of spilled wax can shatter a person’s entire world. It’s a film that calls for communication and understanding amid greed and fanaticism and the lust for revenge, and insists that its never too late to rise above what we thought we were.
That’s going to close us out for our Best Forgotten Epics. Many thanks to everyone who contributed to ensure that these gems don’t go undiscovered for long.
OCTOBER: Found Footage Horror Curated by Julian Singleton in Honor of His NOROI Commentary Track
We couldn’t be more proud that our friend and colleague Julian Singleton had the opportunity to record a commentary track on his favorite horror film Noroi: the Curse for a major upcoming home video release from Arrow Video: J-Horror Rising! In celebration of Julian’s passion we’re dedicating spooky month to exploring some of his top found footage recommendations.
October 7 – Lake Mungo (Tubi – 1 hour 28 minutes)
October 14 – Incantation (Netflix – 1 hour 51 minutes)
October 21 – Horror in the High Desert (Tubi – 1 hour 22 minutes)
October 28 – Noroi: the Curse (Available on Shudder October 15 – 1 hour 55 minutes)
And We’re Out.
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Fantastic Fest 2024: Chatting with Zoë Bell for RAZE’s 10 Year Anniversary
One of my favorite things that transpired this year was getting to sit down and chat with Zoë Bell who was at Fantastic Fest repping the 10th anniversary of Raze. For those that haven’t seen Raze, it’s the story of a group of women who are kidnapped and forced to fight to the death on camera for a group of wealthy men led by Doug Jones who watch from the shadows. Each woman has someone who’s life depends on their participation and Zoë Bell plays Sabrina, a veteran who is brought into the tournament and is just trying to see her daughter again. While the first time I saw the film years ago, I enjoyed the film simply for its gnarly hand to hand battle, watching it today, it’s hard to ignore the subtext of a group of women forced to fight one another for the entertainment of a group of wealthy men.
With nearly a decade experience and perspective now under her belt, it was great to chat with Bell about her role as not only Sabrina, but as a producer. I soon discovered I wasn’t too far of the mark at my take on the film and Bell also informed me on how she influenced the film for the better. If you’re a fan of Raze Bell drops some great bits on not only the development from short to feature, but the production and the ending, which Quentin Tarantino didn’t hold back about how he felt about it.
You were doing this thing that was kind of unheard of at the time where you were transitioning from a stunt woman into a leading woman. So what was that experience like for you?
Zoë Bell: You know, Death Proof was it really. But I dunno quite if this sounds how it should, but it wasn’t really my choice. Like, I certainly hadn’t gone as a stunt woman, I would like to graduate into acting – I had been interested in the idea more while doing Kill Bill, it was Quentin’s fault, basically. It’s entirely Quentin’s fault. I’ve had this thing, like if I’m feeling like, ‘oh, I don’t wanna do it’, and I recognize that feeling and then I recognize it as fear. Once I’ve recognized it as fear, the other voice in my head is like, ‘wow, now you’re gonna have to do it’.
Dan: Zoë Bell has fear?
Zoë Bell: Hell yeah, she does. Sorry, is that really disappointing? (laughs) Acting scared the sugar outta me. Still does, terrifies me. But once I did that, then I was like, I kind of have to pursue this a little bit more. Raze came to me as a short film, which was basically Rachel Nichols was the lead and at the very end I come in, we have the fight, and that was the end of the short.
But as we were raising money, and this is now a long time ago, and it was my first time as a producer, so it’s a bit hazy. But I said I would come on as a producer, because I wanted to have some insight as to what happens in that part of the process. I had always been afraid of the production office.
I was like, Ugh, don’t go there. I don’t know. It’s money and numbers and people in suits and so I was like, fuck it. I should probably find out a little bit about it. So I got involved as a producer and then I don’t even remember how it came about. Some of the conversation we were like, well shit, if we get a little bit more money, we could make it into a feature and I would be the lead of that. And as a producer it was my first time really being like, ‘oh, I have some insight and I want to have a voice in this character, the story and the development of both of those things’. That was when I went, ‘Ooh, this is like crack’. I want more of that, I love the collaboration, it’s sort of like doing a puzzle, you know?
When the premise first came to you, what was your thoughts on it? Because, for me its kind of, this metaphor for the way men sort of view women in the entertainment industry. How you’re all sort of like put in this battle royal out to fight it out.
Zoë Bell: It’s just basically every audition room in La (laughs)
That’s exactly what I thought I was watching, it for this interview. I remember watching it when it first came out, but watching it now, that subtext really jumped out at me and it was still as relevant as ever. What kind of influence as a woman coming into this project over the script and what not?
Zoë Bell: Lots. I was deeply involved in that and I remained very appreciative of that and I thoroughly enjoyed the process and found it really satisfying for exactly what you are alluding to. When it first came to me, it was definitely more like women in prison. Like pin-up, get your tits out. No judgment about those movies and their existence.
No. If you’re doing exploitation, you’re doing exploitation, that’s fine.
Zoë Bell: Hundred percent.
But the thing is, is like the players are even rather conservatively dressed.
Zoë Bell: That was me. That those outfits are mine. I was like, I already know I want ’em in white wife beaters and gray sweats. Like that was just the, and I want ’em all in the same outfit.
In Raze, stunt performer and actress Zoe Bell plays Sabrina, a woman kidnapped and forced to fight for her life in an underground tournament. And some rolled it up their one pants leg, which back in the day meant you were a Billy Badass.
Zoë Bell: Its like the school uniform. That’s how you get to see people’s personalities is how they wear the clothes they’re given. Even though they’re all the same, you still see different things about them. That was really appealing to me, and there was something about the whole sort of the dehumanizing of these women by making them all wear the same thing. There is something, innate, especially when it’s done in a negative connotation and situation such as being imprisoned and forced, to fight to the death (laughs). It’s inherent. So, when we started developing it for me, I was like, ‘Hey, if I’m playing Sabrina, you know, like the street fighter of it all, how do we, how do we avoid that trope or how do we do something different?’
If we are doing this as women, very few women in my life, just because it’s a tournament would willingly kill people. Like in order to get to the place where they are committed to killing someone, especially an innocent person and another female, that’s not showing them any danger except for they’re under the same duress. I was like each of these women have to have a reason. Like what would mine be? And for me at the time, I was like, it’s my brother. Like if you had my brother, I will kill you. If I can, any other situation just about, I don’t know that I would be able to bring myself to do it.
Once we started tapping into that, then it was like, ‘Ooh, what if each of these women has someone?’ So it’s really like, you don’t have a choice, if you don’t fight or you don’t win, that person dies, like that. Now you’re talking about, that drive to fight and to kill is coming from somewhere real. That was an important piece for me also. Then it’s like, oh, this is interesting. Like if you’ve got a young girl who’s never fought before. How would she fight if you’ve got someone who’s a soldier, who knows how to fight, does she want to hold back? Is she willing to, you know. So, it just became like using action in pursuit of character study was really engaging for me.
Speaking of which, how involved were you in the choreography of the fights, because there’s a conscious effort to make sure not to lose the performances of the characters and maintaining them throughout the fights?
Zoë Bell:I was very involved with fights, obviously. James (Young), our coordinator is a champion. He’s gone on to do, like Marvel stuff. He’s a British guy. He is amazing and was really, open to, I mean I had very honest conversations with him, where I was like, I’m definitely gonna have a lot of opinions. Don’t take it personally collaborative is my jam. But, I definitely have very strong thoughts about these things and I know what I’m wanting, what I’m looking for. You know, he was really cool about it and very open about it, which was great. I dunno if he had a choice, but he did very well with not having a choice. He’s just brilliant in terms of piecing together choreography as well. So when I was speaking I could see him going, oh, I understand what you mean.
A huge part of what we do is interpreting what someone’s vision is and then giving it back to them as best we can. Yeah. And he did a great job of that. For me as a performer, it was great actually because it was like getting to use my physicality, which has for a long time had been my comfort zone. That is my place of peace. Ironically, (laughs), you know, as an athlete, that’s that place that I know achieving it is the goal. I know I’m capable. It’s just a matter of getting to it, or completing it, but using my physicality to access that kind of emotion was something that had come about. I think I’d been doing it my whole life, just not consciously and then on Kill Bill Quentin sort of made me conscious of it in a way that then I got to really play with and raise it.
I have to ask have you ever kicked somebody’s ass in real life?
Zoë Bell: In real life? No, I punched a guy once. Well, I guess I, I punched him, and I put him on the ground. So I guess it worked, but it was just one punch. He definitely was asking for it.
The irony is I’ve never liked sparring. I’m that girl who would be sparring, but every time I actually made a connection I would apologize. I’m like, ‘oh, sorry’. I don’t get a kick out of hurting people. Taking hits is like, yeah, it’s not my favorite thing, obviously, but it’s not something I’m unaccustomed to and if I’m in the mode, it’s just part of the parcel. But I struggle watching fights still. If I’m in the wrong mind frame or I see someone’s parent looking like at their kid getting, hit. I’m about to emotionally throw up. I’m definitely not a fighter mind at, at all. And I know that’s disappointing for a lot of people.
Finally, was that always the ending? Like, it’s bleak, but was that always the ending?
No, it wasn’t always the ending. And again, it’s sort of vague now, the actual process that we went through. But my memory is, I mean, this is a spoiler alert! But we had definitely discussed her surviving and it was definitely, Josh, the director felt pretty strongly that she shouldn’t. He had his reasons that that made sense to me at the time. I was definitely all for her surviving. I definitely had sort of as a beginner, as a baby lead actress, also being a stunt girl and being from New Zealand – I shied away from being like, she should survive because I made it about me. So in my head I was like, I don’t wanna be fighting so that my character doesn’t die. Like if he creatively wants her to die, I had no ego in it.
But my desire to make it clear that I didn’t have an ego, stopped me from sort of speaking creatively as loudly as maybe I would have. Also, I wasn’t the director on this movie. People have very varied responses to the ending. Quentin rang me having seen this movie in the theater, which was, oh, I so stoked, he went to see it in the theater last day it was in theaters. He rang and left a voice message and he was super complimentary about it compared it to Battle Royale, which is high praise coming from him, ’cause it’s one of his favorites.
He basically was like, some amazingly complimentary Battle Royale reference and then he said, but I fucking hate the ending! (laughs). I was like, oh bugger, I get it. His thing was spoiler alert again. But his thing was, if you’re gonna flip up a card that says “Sabrina versus everyone”, she needs to just kill everybody. (laughs). And if you put the audience and Sabrina through what you’ve put everyone through, you deserve her to win. I was like, that’s really interesting, especially coming from him. ’cause he is not averse to like, flipping an, an ending, you know?
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Fantastic Fest 2024: THE CHILDREN OF THE WICKER MAN Tell of Robin Hardy’s Homespun Horror
Exploring the real-life fallout of making the cult classic for the director and his family
In 1973, The Wicker Man hit British theaters, but many didn’t even notice. A small scale roll-out, with a limited amount of promotion, it’s distributor British Lion was all too cautious with a film it didn’t understand or appreciate. In the years and indeed decades that followed, The Wicker Man has become the benchmark for folk horror, and is regarded as one of the greatest British films ever made. The cost of it’s production isn’t just measured in terms of budget and box office, but is also be gauged by the friends and family of it’s director Robin Hardy in a far more personal way . A man who we come to know as a flawed but driven character, whose choices and priorities over the course of his life left behind a cherished feature, but a fractures series of relationships and individuals in his wake.
The legacy of The Wicker Man has been explored previously, Burnt Offerings from Mark Kermode perhaps being the standout. The Children of the Wicker Man has an altogether different approach. The dive was precipitated by one of Hardy’s son Justin (one of 8, children that Hardy had apparently acknowledged) taking receipt of a portfolio of documents belonging to his late father’s estate. Within were a number of legal documents, production materials, and other artifacts that centered around his father’s professional career and personal life. After realizing that these materials offer a perfect way to piece together their past, and better understand some of the choices their father made, Justin enlists his half-brother Dominic, and support from filmmaker Chris Nunn, to document their work, and their journey to the key people and places that can make sense of it all.
As a self-confessed fan of the film, it’s fascinating to get an alternate perspective on things. These documents include original scripts, sketches of characters, production schedules, contracts, letters concerning funding support from his then wife, and a wealth of personal letters. Together, they offer a roadmap to into their father’s life and thinking from a few years prior to production on the Wicker Man. Covering battles with the studios, the involvement of Christopher Lee, casting decisions, crew conflicts, financial and legal troubles, and the ever deepening friction with his collaborators, most notably the film’s screenwriter Anthony Shaffer (Sleuth). A man who sat down with Hardy and hammered out the story over a day at the latter’s home, drinking two bottles of Scotch as delivered by a young Dominic. Interviews with surviving cast and crew add outsider context, with a large portion of the film comes from thoughtful ruminations and unvarnished sharing of memories, thoughts and feelings as Justin and Dominic visit locations such as their childhood homes, places where Hardy held court celebrating the film in the years after release, and shooting locations. A highlight is a trip to the town used in the film and the botanical gardens where up until a few years ago, they were still finding the artificial flowers used to dress the setting to craft the immortal location that was Summerisle.
The mismanagement of the film by new forces at production company British Lion which impacted it’s release and box office is where the impact on the family crystalizes, and Hardy’s flaws and foibles come to the fore. The film’s introduction made reference to some of his more philandering and lascivious qualities, and it’s kept relatively PG in the documentary itself, likely to keep the peace with other siblings and avoid washing (really) dirty laundry in public. We’re witness to Hardy’s streak of self-sabotage, not limited to this single production, but certainly exemplified by it. His signing away of royalties to the film’s profits in favor of a quick payout early on being one such example. It’s also made clear how Hardy displayed a recurring pattern of abandonment, a pain that united these half-brothers and drove them to face it head-on. You could approach what unfolds with a cooler logic and ask, is The Wicker Man really to blame? You could equally point fingers at British Lion for their failure to promote the feature for instance. The film certainly works as a focal point for this family, drawing attention and ire, but it’s legacy cements Hardy’s culpability, as once again he repeated his penchant for abandonment, even in the face of family related issues such as financial problems or illness. This time in favor of absconding to America and the circuit of screenings popping up across college campuses as the film began to secure it’s cult status. Hardy clearly has a charming and disarming nature, you don’t get to 8 kids (and possibly more), by multiple women without that kind of quality, and his legacy is much burnished by his engagement on the film and academic circuit over the years. There is something poignant about this creative work being reassessed and embraced. Indeed, this cherished status is not lost on the brothers, and goes some way to the cathartic denouement that brings the film to an end.
The documentary has something of a rough around the edges quality, intentionally imparted according to the film’s Q&A, and it does lend to a family scrapbook feeling. There is a bit of redundancy to a series of title cards that are used to breakup the film into chapters, with verbiage usually being reiterated verbally. Some ardent Wicker Man fans may feel they don’t get enough of a dive into the film’s productions wider legacy, but the good news is that the treasure trove of documents the brothers inherited, and a spate of excised footage recorded but unused for Children, will be used to fuel to crafting of a follow-up documentary, with a working title of Wickermania. This will chart the impact of the film and it’s legacy, notably how it’s impacted film, music, culture, and even the practice of Paganism itself. It should provide a nice complement to The Children of the Wicker Man, where through deconstructing their father through filmmaking, Justin and Dominic use the very medium their father used to imprint such harm upon them. It’s poetic in a way, and speaks to how artistic creativity and pursuit of a dream can be a force for good, but can come with a cost.
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Fantastic Fest 2024: Digging into LITTLE BITES with Director Spider One and Star Krsy Fox
Photo via: Instagram spiderone One of my biggest surprises of Fantastic Fest was Little Bites, the latest film by Spider One, lead singer of Powerman 5000 and sibling to Rob Zombie. I came to the film thanks to one of its stars Barbara Crampton, who was discussing her latest collaboration with the director after starring in not only Little Bites, but their latest on twitter, that’s mentioned later in this interview. The film produced by Cher (Yes that one!), stars Krsy Fox and explores domestic abuse through the guise of a vampire film. The film focuses on Mindy (Krsy Fox) a troubled young woman (Krsy Fox) who is a familiar/walking blood bag to a vampire, who has his sights on her young daughter. It’s a bleak and rather heartbreaking portrait of abuse, that uses genre as an effective vehicle for delivery and I can’t recommend it enough.
The film is currently on the festival circuit and while it will soon be streaming on Shudder, the theatrical presentation is well worth a trip, thanks to not only being able to experience this with a live audience, but the sound design on this is top notch. After my screening at Fantastic Fest and I got a chance to not only speak with the film’s director Spider One, but his jack of all trades lead here, who turns in a transformative performance, while also being the film’s editor, producer, start and sound mixer.
So, firstly, I have to ask about the title card at the beginning of the film produced by Cher. How the hell did that happen?
Spider One: We ask ourselves that every day? How the hell did that happen? Because, I mean, I grew up watching Sonny and Cher. I’m that old. It’s very, very bizarre scenario.
Krsy Fox: Her son, Chaz Bono and I are best friends, and I was at her house for a little birthday dinner for him that she hosted, and she started asking questions about these indie horror films we were making. I remember thinking like, how does she care about this? Like, why is she even asking? But, I thought she’s just being nice. But getting to know her a little more, she’s a wonderful, very kind person, but she’s very smart and very direct, you know what I mean? And I was like, oh, wow, she really was interested in this.
Some time went on and she had kept bringing it up to Chaz, and Chaz ended up coming on board for our last film Bury the Bride and it went very well. When Little Bites, came about and the script was done, and we’re about to start production on it – on Mother’s Day, I remember she was like, ‘I’m in, I wanna do this film with you guys’, (laughs) and we’re like, this is crazy. So, we just, shot the film and we took it to her house and watched it in her theater with her and got her notes. And it’s just been a really surreal experience.
Spider One: I mean, talk about nerve wracking. You’re sitting with an Academy Award winner and we’re just like, what? Four or five of us Watching the movie with Cher and I’m just like, oh God, I hope she doesn’t walk out. Remarkably, she really loved it, and she was very complimentary of all the performances. It was such a relief and you know, you can count on one hand someone of that caliber and entertainment, so it’s been amazing.
Krsy Fox: Yeah. Not to mention, every question or is backed by extreme experience and knowledge where that’s not always the case.
And, the stories she would tell you about shooting Moonstruck, or, The Witches of Eastwick, like ‘that reminds me of this’. And you’re just like, you could listen to her talk for hours.
Little Bites is this rather impressive look at domestic violence through the guise of a vampire movie. Like, how does that take even cross your mind? It’s such a great take.
Spider One: I’ve always thought that the real power of horror and science fiction, historically has been to take a subject you couldn’t talk about and represent this social issue with a robot or a monster.
Like Planet of the Apes.
Spider One: Yeah, exactly. Planet the Apes, Godzilla, you know, every, every generation has their atomic bomb. I think that sometimes nowadays that goes missing, because we can now talk about so many things. But for me, it’s just such a fun way to tackle things that are somewhat universal for all of us, whether it’s protecting a child or abuse, or even just feeling like, where do I fit in the world?
For me, you could tell Little Bites without a monster, but it wouldn’t be as fun, you know? So, to create this unique creature that kind of represents all of her fears, all of her insecurities as a parent.
You’re literally at a certain point stacking some rather poignant metaphors here.
I mean, just the idea of the pressures of protecting a child can slowly eat you alive. I think anyone who is a parent at some point in their life feels like they’re exhausted, they’re tired. The world is crashing down. Your mother thinks you’re doing a terrible job. The other parents seem to have it all together, but, it was just a fun space to play in.
So, Krsy, we all kind of known a character like Mindy. How did you find her, and did you know a someone like that? Because it just felt really truthful to people who would have experienced that in their lives.
Krsy Fox: Thank you. I’m a mother as well and I would do anything for my daughter, so I connected initially with that. But also, you know, of course we’ve all struggled with different things, whether it’s personal abuse or someone close to you and watching that. I just really tried to take in those feelings of fear and anger and trying to control it all at the same time. It was a hard character to live in because she basically never gets to be happy.
I just really deeply related to it, with like my personal life and certain things growing up. But then also I’ve had friends who’ve had such deeper struggles, and I’ve kind of gone through it with them. To me, yes, it is about parenthood, but it’s also about substance abuse and, struggling with that and struggling with just abuse in general.
I just think that those are topics that are really heavy, but really important. I like that she’s a survivor, but a flawed survivor. It isn’t necessarily a happy ending, but it’s something that she overcomes some things throughout the movie and she gets some power and, and she figures out how to stand up for herself.
Now, Spider we’ve seen vampires almost for centuries on film since its inception, but this character feels somewhat on its own plane, like it’s rooted in what we know, but it’s also got that extra layer that if they were real, that’s what I kind of think would happen. How did you come up with that mythology and how well is it like thought out?
I mean, it’s funny that people are using the word vampire, which I never even thought of, but I suppose he is a vampire. I guess that’s the most relatable, I just sort of think of him as own his own creature. The thing with Agyar, you know, is that his form? Or if there is just one Agyar or maybe everyone has their own Agyar? I think it would take on a different form depending on your life. But in terms of conceptually coming up with this monster, I mean I knew from the very beginning that I wanted to him to be human enough, because it was a real acting job. He wasn’t just kind of grunting in the corner.
To try and find this unique space in the monster world where, we’re not doing the silent killer, you know, like a Jason or a Michael Myers. Sort of just walking with a mask on, and we’re not doing something like a caricature, throwing one liners out. I wanted to create this creature that his psychological torture, was equally as painful as his physical torture to sort of represent all of her fears and insecurities in life. Then creating a look for him that clearly isn’t human, but we didn’t want to go overboard with prosthetics, where now we can’t really relate to his. We wanted to see him to be able to, to put on a real performance. So I hope we succeeded. We were really thoughtful about how we revealed him very slowly. You get a little bit more and a little bit more as the movie goes on, until finally we kind of see all of him at the end.
Krsy, yesterday Barbara Crampton brought this up in the Q&A and and my literally hit the floor. So, not only did you edit this film, you did the sound, and I really hope people see this movie in the theater, because the sound design really enhanced the experience and just make it that much scarier.
How did that all come together and how collaborative was that process for you two? Because as an actor, that’s got to be great because you have so much control over your performance at that point.
Krsy Fox: It’s great because I’m not just a producer that I have my name on the movie because I’m in it. I do everything. It’s a strange thing to edit a film like this, where it’s just all yourself. You get really sick of yourself. The one thing that was helpful with this movie is that I really don’t look like myself and I’m not acting like myself. So those are the types of films I have an easier time editing. So what I usually do with the films is, actually when we wrapped this film, Spider went on tour for a month, so it was a great time for me to get sort of my first cut. He was gone so I could focus.
I got a first cut and then I would send him scenes often while he was on the road and then we’d talk on the phone and get his thoughts. But we’re very aligned. When it comes to our prep and working with our DP, I’m sitting in on every meeting, I know what he’s looking for, I’m on set the whole time. I remember which takes he was connecting with. It’s not like it’s way out there and I’m going through 7,000 clips and I have no idea. It’s a quick process and once I get my first cut, he’ll have some thoughts, but it’s never really a big challenge. The sound design with this one was really cool and we did work with a company that mixed it and they did a great job, but it was important to be disgusting and scary and also very minimalistic. Whereas there’s other films where I’m like, every single time someone turn turns their head, you hear it.
When this one hits it hits!
Krsy Fox: To make it effective, you have to have the space and the silence and we tried to be really mindful of that. When we got into the music side of it, what I like to do if I’m not scoring the movie, which I did do some of the music in Bittle Bites, but like 99% was this amazing composer Roy Mayorga. We really wanted it to feel like seventies. All of his equipment was really from that time period, he had such a great sensibility in the films he loved. What I did was, I put in some temp music and I’m like, this is the direction, this is where we like the scene to go. This is where he would like it to build. And he just took it from there and I just think really did an amazing job with the music. Which was really exciting because at that point I was like, if I have to sit here and look at myself anymore, I’m going to jump out the window. So, it was nice to have someone else come in and do that.
But it’s usually a very great collaborative process. The only time we wanna kill each other is if I’m like, let me get my first cut, and then we can do it, then we’ll go through it.
Spider One: I know when to stay outta the world.
Krsy Fox: It’s sort of like all of our films. We all do a thousand jobs and everyone just kills themselves to make these films and that’s why there’s so much heart in them, we all do it just because we love them.
I agree 100% and it really came across on screen yet last night. So, what do you have planned next? Are we going to get another creature feature?
Spider One: Well, the next idea is already finished. We shot it. We have a movie we actually just finished the first edit on.
Oh, wow.
Spider One: It’s called Big Baby, which I describe it best as like a meta slasher. Because I’ve always wanted to have the benefits of making a slasher film, you know, the character and fun kills. But I didn’t want to make, you know, six teenagers go into a cabin and each one gets, you know.
Yeah.
Spider One: So, Big Baby is the next one. It’s about a screenwriter whose creations come to life and haunt him and the lines between reality and his fictional story are blurred and it’s a true descent into madness for this guy. So we’re very excited about that movie. Very scary. And it deals with a six foot five hulking man in a baby mask and a onesie. So, get ready for that.
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Fantastic Fest 2024: SISTER MIDNIGHT is a Blood-Draining and Delightful New Take on Vampire Lore
Debut director Karan Kandhari finds an exquisite balance between camp and creeps in challenging cultural institutions
Uma (Radhika Apte) arrives at her new husband Gopal’s (Ashok Pathak) home in Mumbai under the cover of darkness. However, it’s many minutes into Karan Kandhari’s Sister Midnight before they–or she–exchange any words. Thrust into an arranged marriage with a man she’d only met a handful of times, Uma’s adrift in a sea of domestic expectations. She can’t cook or keep a house, earning her scorn from her nosy neighbors. Moreover, others blame Uma and Gopal’s mutual awkwardness around each other solely on her. If Uma wasn’t complaining or standing up for herself, instead being wholly servile to her husband’s every whims–he might be more interested in her and they’d fit in more with the neighborhood.
At first, Sister Midnight plays like a whimsically deadpan skewering of Indian social norms, full of bright colors that clash the characters’ blunt and harsh treatment of one another. These contrasting elements, and the natural humor found within them, would be at home in the films of Wes Anderson or even his more bleak satirist counterpart Roy Andersson. However, it’s the director’s keen eye for the gender-based cultural specifics of Uma’s low social standing in Indian society that allow Kandhari’s direction to truly sing, and forge an emotional foundation for Sister Midnight’s bittersweet, cynical tone.
Apte’s cutthroat performance makes it thrilling to watch Uma come into her own. Already fiercely independent from the start, she gives her new circumstances an even shot before Gopal’s bemused avoidance underscores how Uma’s new home is far more comparable to a prison. She finds no solidarity with her fellow housewives, and when domestic life allows a mysterious illness to take hold, all anyone can focus on is Uma’s skincare routine–highlighting colorism as another otherizing aspect within a society already rife with inequality. Doctors, in turn, barely listen to Uma’s needs, wanting to treat her incessant headaches and whitening skin with flat Coca-Cola. While Uma’s harsh callouts of everyone’s off-putting behavior further her isolation, Apte and Kandhari seize each opportunity to position Uma as a straight-woman for the irrationality of such behavior.
It’s a fascinating, brutal dynamic comprising Uma’s world, which Kandhari mines for both comedic and dramatic tension–and that’s before Uma gets a taste for blood.
While the film’s unique tone is already enjoyable, it takes quite some time for Sister Midnight to reveal just why it was making its debut at Fantastic Fest. To Uma’s surprise, drinking the blood of animals cures her illnesses; ironically, becoming a vampire provides Uma with an injection of the life drained from her as an arranged bride. It’s a thrilling new take on vampire stories within this context–while Kandhari plays up the laughs in Uma’s haphazard attempts to keep her new rituals a secret, he doesn’t position the act of being a vampire as a world-ender for Uma. Rather, she seizes opportunities to change her appearance and forge new bonds with nonjudgmental Hijra in the neighborhood. In juxtaposing Uma’s nightly journeys with her coworker who doesn’t want to leave his job as an elevator operator, or a gaggle of salarymen who silently drink at individual tables at a bar, Kandhari also suggests that becoming a bloodthirsty creature may make for a better life than being a member of society’s living dead.
Kandhari’s underplayed playful tone extends to his world-building. Aversions to sunlight and other touchstones of Vampire lore make nuanced appearances here, as well as how the animals Uma drains over time come back to life as cartoonish stop-motion creatures. When we least expect it, they emerge from underneath Uma’s hiding place under her bed, screaming and whistling with zany new vigor far surpassing other human beings. To Uma’s surprise, some of these creatures form a bizarre attachment to her, becoming a loyal flock to her reluctant surrogate motherhood. And, in an interesting pivot, Gopal slowly learns Uma’s secret–while they don’t develop the chemistry expected of them as husband and wife, they manage to eke out a mutual helpful bond and admiration, something Sister Midnight suggests is more meaningful for them in the long run.
Kandhari’s ability to infuse his social critiques with such a rich blend of comedy, drama, and horror makes his debut feature film one of Fantastic Fest 2024’s most memorable outings, anchored by a ferociously punk rock performance by Radhika Apte.
Sister Midnight had its North American premiere at Fantastic Fest 2024, where it won Best Picture in the Next Wave Features category. Magnolia Pictures has acquired the film for future US Distribution.
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Fantastic Fest 2024: GET AWAY is a Bloody Good Time
The latest from Nick Frost and Steffen Haars delivers folk horror with a gleeful twist
There’s nothing like a nice get away. A holiday, a vacation if you’re stateside, whatever you call it, a chance to kick back, indulge in some pleasures, and recharge your batteries. That’s the idea for the Smith family anyway, with father Richard (Frost), mother Susan (Aisling Bea), and their son Sam (Sebastian Croft), and daughter Jessie (Maisie Ayres) all on the road heading toward a killer vacation. Their destination, the secluded Swedish island of Svälta. Their visit coincides with the festival of Karantan, an event that marks the anniversary of a tragic family that afflicted the island. Ritualistic performances, masks and costumes, and a play that depicts events precipitated by four English naval officers, which resulted in the deaths of hundreds of locals due to their blockades and ensuing starvation. A celebration, but not for a particularly cheery event.
Despite being warned off my the mainlanders, the Smith family catch the last ferry over to Svälta and receive a frosty reception that soon becomes openly hostile. The only friendly face is their creepy AirBnB host (Eero Milonoff), who himself seems to be ostracized from the community. The family set their determination on enjoying the trip as best they can, while the villagers note the symbolism of four Brits arriving on the 200th anniversary of their historical event, and soon the town elder (Anitta Suikkari) is championing a return to the old ways, unaware of the bloody consequences already set in motion.
Director Steffen Haars (New Kids Turbo) and writer/star Nick Frost (Hot Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead), reunite after their splatter infused Krazy House earlier this year for another blood-soaked affair, one but which trades in the zaniness for a more off-kilter edge. Frost’s script is sharp with just the right amount of silly worked in. As an expat myself I’m all too familiar of that feeling of venturing over to the mainland as it were. A holiday on the Continent, visiting a small town, or distant region, whether in Greece, Spain, France, or yes Sweden, where a certain frostiness, cautious gaze, and a denial of an ability to speak English (even is heard fluently earlier) makes for an unwelcoming surrounds. It’s evocative of some of the tropes of folk horror, outsiders arriving at a community and picking up on an otherworldly vibe. With Get Away it’s smartly and hilariously leveraged into a sharp black comedy. Quirky villagers, with their curt ways, dry tone, and antiquated language, convey the a sense that this is a place that’s a little unstuck in time, and in service to an older way of doing things. That’s even before the ritualistic garb is pulled out of storage. Haars well works the rental house and it’s secrets, to carve out a little mystery element that offers up a complementary side-plot. A quaintly clean Swedish aesthetic adds to the offbeat feel, as does the remote, but picturesque surrounds, with Finland (the shooting location) providing an authentic stand-in for Sweden. In all, the setup and setting deftly pull from folk-horror tropes to add just the right level of unease around this family.
Where the film excels is in the family unit itself, played by a quartet that convey a palpable sense of fun about being involved. In the face of hostility they largely adopt a forced politeness, a consequence of British etiquette, and the resultant exchanges with the local deliver gem after gem. Patience wears thing and a war of words escalates, never felt more strongly that in a withering assault on the moistness of a local’s waffles. There’s a sense that this is a dysfunctional unit working through some issues, likely in therapy, as they take care over their language, and use affirming words and titles to reinforce familial bonds. This work on boundaries often gives way to bickering, especially among the siblings, with some withering retorts. And while the family is at odds with each other, it’s delightful to see them rally the wagons when they come under threat from those outside their group. Ayres, in her first theatrical role, delivers a gem of a performance, that plays wonderfully off the drollness of Frost, the snark of Croft, and the dry wit of Bea.
There is a a twist that comes to tee up the final act, one that you’ll probably see coming. Even so it will likely enhance your gleeful anticipation for what’s to come. The reveal itself is a little clunky in its execution. A sudden shift into a riotous final act, rather than something that is milked as much as it could have been, for comedy and dramatic effect. It’s a small bump in the road on a trip that is quite simply a bloody good time with a gleeful twist. Get Away offers up feast of violence, but never loses sight of delivering a laugh as well as a dismemberment.
Get Away will hit theaters courtesy of IFC Films on December 6, 2024, and find its way to Shudder in 2025.
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Fantastic Fest Folk-Horror: THE SEVERED SUN and WITTE WIEVEN
If you want to get me in the door, tell me you made a folk-horror movie. Honestly, I’ll turn up for any horror movie, but folk-horror is the quickest path to my heart, whether we’re talking about small-scale stories of ritual gone wrong or grand-scale Old World meets New World cultural clashes. It’s just My Jam.
So I was thrilled to find that this year’s Fantastic Fest lineup featured a couple of films (at least) that felt right up my alley, and thanks to the fest’s online screening room, I was able to pair them as a double feature from the comfort of my couch. The films are the English film The Severed Sun and the Dutch film Witte Wieven, and thankfully for me, both turned out to be wonderful exercises in folk-horror atmosphere.
But it wasn’t just subgenre that linked these features, it turns out. They’re set in different parts of Europe, in different periods of time, but both are potent studies of women pushed to the brink when the systems of power that govern their lives prove either ineffective, dangerous, or both. In The Severed Sun, we meet Magpie (Emma Appleton), a woman caught in an abusive marriage within the isolated spiritual commune run by her father (Toby Stephens). Desperate for some sense of control over her own destiny and her own suffering, she murders her husband and makes it look like an accident. But the locals aren’t buying Magpie’s story, and her future gets even more complicated when a mysterious beast from the woods starts invading the community and picking off locals.
It’s not hard to parse the thematic content at the heart of this, nor is it meant to be, but what The Severed Sun lacks in mystery it makes up for in atmosphere. Director Dean Puckett shoots his film in a vivid juxtaposition of handheld close-ups and wide, pastoral static shots, blending the chaos of Magpie’s life with the seemingly idyllic world in which she lives. It’s a style that reminded me of classics like The Blood on Satan’s Claw and Witchfinder General, and indeed it feels like something that UK studio Tigon might have dropped somewhere in about 1971, in a very good way.
Then there’s Witte Wieven, another story of a woman wronged who takes matters into her own hands. In this case, that woman is Frieda (Anneke Sluiters), a wife in a Medieval farming community who’s desperate to be a mother, as much because she’d like a child as because the deeply Christian community around her expects it. Driven to frustration by her own fertility issues, and by the presence of the local abusive butcher who’s allowed to walk free, Frieda’s life changes when she runs into the dark woods around the village one day, chased by said butcher, and discovers something lurking there that might change her life.
Again, thematically, you can see where this is going, but Witte Wieven is not hobbled by predictability, nor is it entirely predictable. You can see the vague scaffolding that Frieda’s climbing in this film, but director Didier Konings successfully immerses her into a world so lush and shadow-filled that you can’t truly see exactly where things are going until they exploded in sometimes orgasmic gouts of blood and emotional revelation. The violence in this film is particularly well-staged, there’s great creature work, and the mist-soaked visuals will remind you of recent folk-horror hits like Hagazussa and You Won’t Be Alone.
Bottom line, I loved both of these movies, as much for their differences as for their thematic, visual, and atmospheric similarities. If you’re a folk-horror devotee like me, I urge you to seek them both out, and maybe even pair them together if you can. This is a subgenre that remains not just alive and well, but full of strange magic not yet revealed.
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AZRAEL: Samara Weaving Versus the Post-Apocalypse
After premiering at SXSW, Azrael, the latest by E.L. Katz (Cheap Thrills), is set to open this week theatrically today. The film has Katz teaming up with one of my favorite genre writer/directors Simon Barrett (You’re Next) to deal out their take on the post-apocalyptic horror film. The film stars Samara Weaving in the lead as Azrael, and if you’ve seen any of the young actor’s films you know when it comes to genre she’s essentially the female equivalent to John Wick in a flick and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Azrael, named after the angel of death, is a film that leans into the young actor’s action chops for his mostly silent narrative that has her delivering a rather impressive performance without saying a word, but I will explain.
Transpiring post rapture, the film follows Azrael, who was once part of a cult that have renounced the sin of speech by undergoing a surgery on their vocal cords, signified by a cross scar on their throats. As the film begins, Azrael and her partner are being hunted down by the cult, who are led by a rather ominous pregnant woman, that we get the impression has some kind of ties to the events that are to transpire post rapture. The film is essentially a cat and mouse game, as Weaving spends the film living up to her namesake dispatching cult members as she does, to save her partner who is taken in the first act. This all while we glimpse just what Azrael’s role is in this story as the film goes full on folk horror in the remaining moments.
While Weaving is a known quantity in the action/horror genre, without the ability to speak, she’s left to craft a nearly silent performance here and she just annihilates it. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and for a role that to most that would have been a handicap, Weaving uses her piercing blue eyes to convey everything from love, loss to complete bloodlust. She’s opposite a cast of characters that at times feel like lambs to the slaughter, there’s not too much invested in building out the lore, which would be my only quip here, I just wanted to know more. Because no one really speaks for the entirety of the film, it’s hard to extrapolate exposition; which – given this is one of my favorite sub-genres – hurt the film for me.
That being said, as a post-apocalyptic horror film, Azrael most definitely delivers the blood soaked goods. Weaving is just a beast here. Of course she’s going to end up covered in viscera throughout the film, as she kills her way through the supporting cast, but I kind of expected that. What I didn’t expect, however, is her ability to elevate the material through an unnerving physical performance made mostly up of her facial expressions. Also the fact she has a legitimate love interest here, who didn’t set her up to be hunted by his family and gives some real meat to her character. Azrael is a solid piece of sub-genre that tells its story through a collection of lenses that tell a familiar story, but with a savage folk horror twist.
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Fantastic Fest 2024: I, THE EXECUTIONER Perfects the VETERAN Formula
South Korean writer/director/actor Ryoo Seung-wan is quickly establishing himself as one of the top tier filmmakers working in his homeland today, and I, The Executioner somewhat perfects a formula that he began with Veteran in 2015. In terms of tone, this now franchise of Veteran and I, The Executioner somewhat bookend the incredible South Korean cop/action/comedy franchise starring Ma Dong-seok known as the Roundup series. I don’t believe they’re related in terms of filmmakers or stars or a “shared universe” or anything like that. But they certainly share a vibe that is incredibly crowd pleasing and satisfying, and worth noting if anyone is seeking a “vibe check” before they check out I, The Executioner for themselves. You’ll be getting a cop thriller with plenty of laughs, as well as sophisticated fisticuffs.
It’s shocking that Veteran is almost 10 years old, and this is only the first sequel to that highly successful and influential Korean crime film. I personally didn’t see Veteran until just a few months ago, but after watching most of the Roundup series over the last couple of years, it hit me that Veteran sort of walked so that those films could run. In Veteran, seasoned detective Seo Do Cheol (Korean star Hwang Jung-min) is determined to get his man no matter the cost, and the cost will be dear. The system weighs heavily against him as he tries to take down a criminal who is rich and well connected. It’ll take his entire dedicated team of fellow officers, who are portrayed as goofball losers with hearts of gold, incorruptible outcasts, to close the case. They’ll bend rules, endure angry calls from their spouses, and get their man no matter what. It’s a solid enough formula that wouldn’t have fully gelled without a truly hateable villain that the audience wants to get got as much as the lead characters do. But that dogged, rag tag, comical team of South Korean detectives has become somewhat of a genre unto itself with 4 Roundup films playing in that same sandbox.
But what about, I, The Executioner? I mentioned all those previous films to say that I, The Executioner feels like somewhat of a warm cinematic blanket for fans of South Korean crime/action films as it almost perfects the formula that so many similar films have laid out. Cheol is as stubborn and dogged as ever, complaining about the low wages and high sacrifice of being a detective and monkeying around with his brothers in arms. This time around, a Robin Hood style serial killer seems to be emerging (although his bosses won’t believe him). Known as “Haechi”, our killer is terminally online, and only kills people who seemingly committed heinous crimes and got away with them. So Haechi kills killers, often recreating the deaths of their victims in his own killings. He’s a vigilante serial killer, to some extent, so the public kind of loves him and I, The Executioner very much highlights the complications of social media and true crime YouTubers whipping up public opinion into a frenzy. It’s a great, chaotic set up to throw our lead detectives into. Cheol is tasked with protecting a guy he largely views as a scumbag, and who got out of being punished for a crime Cheol believes he committed. Cheol and his team have to walk a fine line of being cops who bend the rules, but who will do what’s right when the time comes. And Cheol will stop Haechi if it kills him.
Seung-wan writes and directs here, and what’s most impressive about I, The Executioner is the remarkable tonal balance it achieves, even more successfully than Veteran did. The world around Cheol is a chaotic one, with his son struggling with bullying at school, a serial killer on the loose, bosses who won’t back him up, and the internet in a speculative whirlwind that places his team in a media firestorm. The tension is ratcheted up to 11 not just for our characters but in the style of the film as well. But within that stew I, The Executioner brings tons of laughs, and also presents a credibly threatening villain with real heavy duty stakes. Then top all that off with some high energy chases and action set pieces, and you’ve got something special, if familiar, going. All the stops are pulled out to ensure you are entertained in a way that only South Korean cinema can really deliver.
I would recommend I, The Executioner to anyone who enjoys a good police procedural. It’s accessible whether you’ve seen Veteran or not. If you love thrills and laughs, this will have a lot to offer. Fans of Veteran or The Roundup films will know what they’re in for here, but the ride will prove worth it even for the familiar. I, The Executioner is one of the most straight up entertaining and furiously paced films I caught at Fantastic Fest 2024 and I’d welcome a third installment of Seung-wan and Jung-min’s madness.
And I’m Out.
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Fantastic Fest 2024: AJ GOES TO THE DOG PARK is Pure Cinematic Serotonin
Toby Jones, who most probably know from his work on Regular Show and OK KO debuted his first feature length live action film, AJ Goes to the Dog Park at Fantastic Fest yesterday, and the best way to describe it’s the cinematic equivalent to the chilly side of your pillow after a long day. The film has the vibe of a group of friends who got together to make a wholesome family movie and that’s because it was. The film stars Toby’s childhood friend AJ Thompson, who would star in his short films he made growing up as the titular AJ. The three year passion project resulted in a film that was so delightful, I can’t wait to recommend it to friends and families looking for something off the beaten path.
AJ loves his simple life in Fargo, North Dakota and his routines. He loves his buttered toast, falling asleep to youtube videos with his two chihuahuas after a long day and taking his puppies to the local dog park to play. Almost as soon we meet AJ, there’s a recall on his butter, his TV’s youtube app is no longer compatible and when AJ thinks it can’t get any worse, the dog park now has desks and computers and has now been turned into a blog park! Looking to restore order to his world and give his puppies back their park, AJ decides he’ll run for mayor. But in Fargo, North Dakota, he can’t just win the election, he has to complete a series of Herculean tasks that involves: fighting, fishing, scrapping, scraping and sapping in that order to become the mayor and restore order.
Sitting down, I really didn’t know what to expect except dogs – given the title. There were indeed dogs and they were adorable. What transpired is this PG hybrid of peak live-action adult swim and I Think You Should Leave, that’s hilarious as it is wholesome. The humor is a rapid fire mix of cool dad jokes, absurdist sight gags and slapstick, conjuring essentially a live action cartoon onscreen and it completely broke me more than a few times with its rapid fire barbs. That humor is paired with a rather prickly heart and message of not losing focus of the important things in life, as AJ becomes so focused on his tasks he forgets why he was doing them in the first place.
AJ healed my soul a little bit and left me with a warm and fuzzy feeling leaving the theater. AJ Goes to the Dog Park is pure cinematic serotonin and will leave you with a spring in your step and song in your heart, and not enough films can claim that, and dogs.
