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CFF 2023: THE ELDERLY is a Nightmarish Look at Aging Through a Geronotophobic Lens
The Elderly which just screened at the Chattanooga Film Fest is a Spanish thriller that is a nightmarish look at aging through a gerontophobic lens.The film starts the plot boiling with an octogenarian woman’s suicide, during a record setting heatwave in the near future. We then follow her husband Manuel (Zorion Eguileor) who goes to live with his son Mario (Gustavo Salmerón), who’s understandably worried about his father’s well being. However, Mario’s new and expecting wife Lena (Irene Anula) isn’t too happy with their new house guest, while their daughter Naiai (Paula Gallego) couldn’t be happier. For the first act, the film is a really sincere take on family, grief, and mortality, while also throwing in some red flags from Manuel that are easily dismissed due to dementia. Manuel’s been hearing voices and randomly murmurs that he plans to kill his entire family the following night.
But he’s just old and his wife just died, and old people say crazy things sometimes.
From there Raúl Cerezo and Fernando González Gómez continue to build on that base turning up the heat both narratively and metaphorically with family drama, while also dropping more disturbing outbursts from Manuel that could be simply due to the stress of losing his wife of 50 years, the heatwave or something much more sinister. The ensemble here is just sublime and that is what really makes this narrative as completely engrossing as it is. There’s some very personal themes at work here as the film dissects this family dynamic and how they cope with grief, while also attempting to heal and move on. The drama is heightened by the sweltering heat wave that covers our cast in sweat and fills the entire frame in an amber haze, as time here is told by the increasing temperature rather than a ticking clock.
The Elderly somehow manages to take the wonderful interpersonal drama and emotional cache it builds up in the first two acts and throw that into the woodchipper for a third act that culminates in gut-wrenching bloodbath. Its thematic interpretation in that last 20 minutes wasn’t exactly what I was expecting, but it was something that the more I’ve ruminated on, only made more sense. I think that’s the impressive part here, is just how much of that is baked in the script from the get-go just waiting to be unleashed. Raúl Cerezo and Fernando González Gómez have crafted a film that feels akin to Hereditary meets Invasion of the Body Snatchers and I can’t recommend it enough. It’s the kind of familial horror and that’s a real rarity, in that by the time things get weird, you’re completely and totally vested in these people, their relationships and their fates.
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RUBY GILLMAN: TEENAGE KRAKEN Beautifully Blends Family Dramedy and Kaiju Antics
Ruby Gillman (Lana Condor) in DreamWorks Animation’s Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken, directed by Kirk DeMicco. A time-honored tradition in children’s entertainment is the conflict between older generations and youth. Be it a misunderstanding, a conflict with expected tradition and personal desire, or just a general since of distance, a conflict between the young protagonist and their family serves as the backbone of countless films for audiences that are meant to identify with that younger hero.
This theme really picked up steam in the films of my own youth. I saw countless movies based around the struggle to pull away from a perceived oppression, often leading to reconciliation between the parental figure and the viewpoint character. This was most often met with a loosening of the reigns, giving the hero more freedom, or at the very least understanding, that the familial expectations were unreasonable all along.
These themes have certainly not slowed down, though the complexity of their representation has deepened over time. The narrative of “parents just don’t understand” evolved into explorations of shared, generational trauma, as exemplified in films such as Coco and Encanto, where parental oppression was a manifestation of past pain and structured as a means of protection. This recontextualization of the complications of the family dynamic has become a seemingly ever-present bedrock for family entertainment; it just was the central conflict in Pixar’s newest, Elemental. As does the newest outing from DreamWorks, the excellent Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken.
What separates Ruby Gillman from the pack however is its surprising carefulness with these topics, specifically in the area of presenting a parental perspective that is neither shallow nor tortured. Rather the film opts for a complicated family dynamic where no side of it is completely in the right or the wrong, but rather operating under their own perception of best intentions. The conflict then comes from a lack of clarity, and leads to escalating stakes. It is less intergenerational trauma as it is a distance based on silence, secrets and lies, an immediately recognizable real hurdle for all families to tackle directly.
This complex, but relatable, depiction of a tricky family dynamic is just one thing that Ruby Gillman has going for it. It is also amusing and charming, using a dynamic animation style that grabs you from the first moment, and utilizes visually dense humor, melding mile-a-minute visual gags alongside DreamWorks’ more traditional patter humor. It is centered around a predictable but engaging adventure, and taps into a sense of youth culture that is simultaneously current and universal. And it taps into the visual iconography of Japanese kaiju films, without leaning into self-parody. After last year’s The Last Wish and The Bad Guys, it continues the studios hot streak of films that engage genre filmmaking in creative and surprising ways.
The titular Ruby is indeed a teenage kraken, though for the film’s language, kraken’s are blue-skinned, boneless creatures that are traditionally sea-dwellers. That “traditionally” caveat does a lot of work here however, as Ruby’s family (specifically her mom and dad and little brother) live on land in a small oceanside town, posing as “Canadians” to anyone who might have questions about their unusual appearance. A junior in high school supported by her squad of intellectual weirdos, Ruby is mostly concerned with fitting in, getting good grades, and asking her crush Connor out to prom, all while staying out of the water, her mother’s one non-negotiable rule.
This all escalates when Ruby has to save Connor from drowning by diving into the ocean, only to soon after grow to a monstrous size. Because not only is Ruby a kraken, but turns out she is a giant kraken, capable of growing to massive size as well as harnessing incredible powers. Facts her mother never told her before. When Ruby learns more about her heritage from her Grandmamah, who turns out to be the Queen of the Krakens, it creates a rift between her and her mother. This rift grows even wider once Ruby befriends Chelsea, a new girl in town who is also secretly a mermaid, the sworn enemies of the krakens.This is the balancing act that Ruby Gillman performs deftly, balancing a fun sea-based adventure about giant monsters and mystic wars between krakens and mermaids, with the dynamics of a family dramedy, where the emotional stakes are re-establishing good faith. To this end, Ruby Gillman shares a lot of DNA with Turning Red, another film in the intergenerational trauma genre. But what Ruby Gillman is able to pull off more successfully is depicting this rift as multi-faceted. Ruby’s mom, Agatha, as voice acted by Toni Collette, is not simply a well-meaning but pig-headed parental figure who is making the same mistakes of her own childhood. Rather, she is someone who is trying to protect her children from a war that they owe nothing to; by contrast, from Grandmamah’s (Jane Fonda) perspective, Agatha neglected her duty, walking away from her birthright as protector of the sea.
These aren’t easy dynamics to take a simple side on, nor are the expectations place on Ruby especially fair or reasonable. As voice acted by Lana Condor and portrayed in an elastic, squash-and-stretch animation style by DreamWorks’ army of veteran animators, Ruby is a perfectly portrayed youth hero: equal parts cool and approachably nerdy, uncomfortable in her skin but instantly likable, she navigates discovering colossal truths about her family history with a sort of even-handed tact that makes her easy to root for. It would be perhaps a step too far to call Ruby Gillman the film hip, but in its “star”, it has created one of the most immediately winning heroes in the studios historic career.
The overall structure of the story that Ruby Gillman tells is admittedly unremarkable, predictable and somewhat pulling from tropes from other films, but it is in these margins that it really wins, with strong personality that elevates fairly stock-standard story beats to something that rewards the viewer, that provides a world that draws them in. Family dynamics are complicated, and most films engage with those tricky navigations with a sort of sledgehammer approach, suggesting that intergenerational conflicts are primarily caused by older generations simply not recognizing their children’s needs. But sometimes the process of discovering those needs require bursting through those conflicts, finding means of expression and providing avenues to grow in conversation with people who love us the most.
And sometimes it requires turning into a gigantic monster. -
THE DRAUGHTSMAN’S CONTRACT is a Lush and Lurid Debut from Peter Greenaway
The theatrical debut from one of Britain’s most commanding and controversial auteurs arrives on Blu-ray in a breathtaking 4K restoration
The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover was a monumental film for me–Peter Greenaway’s film was a provocatively sensual epic through human depravity and cultural appreciation, one that served as a hell of an introduction to the British auteur’s esoteric, deeply immersive, and rigorously experimental filmography. Today, much of Greenaway’s filmography has been challenging to come across in the States, with much of it relegated to out-of-print DVDs of now-dubious quality. However, thanks to the efforts of the British Film Institute, much of Greenaway’s work has been intensively restored–and Zeitgeist Films and Kino Lorber have acquired a handful of these viscerally effective new presentations for US audiences eager to discover these challenging and spellbinding works.
Chief among these new releases is Greenaway’s theatrical debut, The Draughtsman’s Contract. Set in 1694 Restoration England, the film follows the toxic relationship between Mrs. Virginia Herbert (Janet Suzman), the wife of a wealthy estate owner, and Robert Neville (Anthony Higgins), an egotistical and lecherous draughtsman (architectural drafter). Mrs. Herbert’s impotent husband is well known among the British aristocracy for caring about his sprawling manor and its gardens far more than his own family; in an attempt to rebuild her relationship with him, Mrs. Herbert is determined to hire Mr. Neville to create 12 intricately-detailed drawings of various angles of the estate. Completely disinterested in anything beyond his own intellectual or libidinous curiosity, Mrs. Herbert and Neville enter into a contract for his employ that not only includes room, board, and a sizable payment for his work, but also sexual favors that Mrs. Herbert must grant to Neville upon the completion of each drawing.
However, as Neville further antagonizes the members of the household–from Mrs. Herbert to her daughter, Mrs. Talmann (Anne-Louise Lambert), and her snobbish German husband (Hugh Fraser)–he stumbles upon another secretive aspect of the Herbert estate. Stray clues have appeared amongst Neville’s chosen landscapes, including a ladder propped against a window, a shirt tossed amidst some trees, and riding boots abandoned in a meadow. Here, Greenaway’s film devilishly shifts from a lurid period drama into a far more sinister and intriguing register; amidst its litany of artistic and thematic symbolism, The Draughtsman’s Contract aims to be an ancestor of Agatha Christie’s murder mysteries. Each clue in Neville’s drawings may point to the covered-up murder of Mr. Herbert–and those who wish to keep such matters buried may now be drawn to place suspicions on Mr. Neville himself.
Greenaway’s love for intricate detail in each of his frames finds its origins in this debut feature. Evoking baroque paintings lush with thematic or emotional suggestion, The Draughtsman’s Contract hides many of its elusive answers within stray details lurking at the edges of what we can see…while showcasing the lurid and depraved behavior such an era sought to repress. For all of its exacting replication of Restoration-era life in Britain, Greenaway revels in the provocative actions of the characters who must do whatever they physically or emotionally must in order to maintain illusions of social etiquette or status. Woven within such static imagery and frenzied emotion are vast libraries’ worth of symbolism pulling from centuries of literary or artistic history, each providing intriguing clues to the motivations of both Greenaway and his characters. It’s a testament to Greenaway’s early command as a director that he pulls off such elaborate, head-spinning tapestries of dense referentiality and potentially repulsive human behavior–all to reveal just how much beauty and brutality anyone is capable of regardless of their stature in society.
The Draughtsman’s Contract is a fantastic debut film from Greenaway whose ambiguous approach to its mystery and myriad details lends itself to rewarding repeat viewings, especially in this vibrant restoration by the British Film Institute.
Video/Audio
Kino Lorber and Zeitgeist Films present The Draughtsman’s Contract in 1080p in its original 1.66:1 aspect ratio, sourced from a 2022 4K restoration by the British Film Institute. The restoration is accompanied by a 2.0-Channel DTS-HD Master Audio track, also restored by the BFI. English SDH subtitles are provided for the feature film.
Curtis Clark’s lush, painterly cinematography is vibrantly restored in this new release. Natural and manmade textures are beautifully rendered, from polished wood interiors and elaborate wigs and costumes lit by candlelight to the lush greenery of the estate’s exteriors. The image is free of print damage while retaining grain levels that lend a welcome depth to Clark and Greenaway’s deliberately constructed tableaux. The opening scenes, set in claustrophobic vignettes featuring the film’s lead characters, have a warm candlelit softness that directly contrasts against the sharp black shadows that permeate the edges of the frame, which gives way to clearer imagery with greater depth of field as the film continues and the central mystery deepens. The 2-channel surround track places Greenaway’s witty dialogue and Michael Nyman’s thrumming score front and center, with occasional sounds of nature on the sonic periphery yet never intruding on these main elements. Dialogue is crisp and distinct, while Nyman’s score creates a propulsive sonic landscape from period-inspired compositions and modern synths.
Special Features
- Commentary: A 2003 archival track featuring writer-director Peter Greenaway. Greenaway conducts an academic yet involving guide through his debut film, noting crucial decisions during production that served his exacting vision yet remained honed to the practicalities of a short shooting schedule, as well as further explanations for some of the film’s more obscure historical and thematic elements. Of particular focus are historical contexts for the film’s Restoration-era setting, which carries weight on the characters’ relationships and motivations that may go unheeded by modern or non-British audiences.
- Introduction by Peter Greenaway: A 2003 archival introduction to The Draughtsman’s Contract by the film’s writer-director, beginning by Greenaway’s recollection of how he began his transition from the art world into filmmaking through the British Government’s Central Office of Information, his creation of mock-documentary The Falls and other TV films, leading to his seizing the chance to create a theatrical film on the behest of the British Film Institute.
- Short Films: Four original shorts by Greenaway are included–Intervals (1969), Windows (1974), Dear Phone (1976), and Water Wrackets (1978).
- Behind-the-Scenes Footage: Five minutes’ worth of BTS footage of one of the film’s climactic scenes featuring Anthony Higgins, Janet Suzman, and Anne-Louise Lambert, in addition to on-set interviews with Suzman, Greenaway, and Higgins.
- Deleted Scenes: Just over ten minutes’ worth of deleted scenes, including Neville’s absurd search for the right chair in which to do his sketching, Noyes’ cheeky tale about a lord and a cure involving Watercress, Neville inquiring Virginia about the mysterious death of Mr. Herbert, and Neville impatiently waiting out a spot of rain on the estate.
- Interview with Composer Michael Nyman: An except from a 2002 National Film Theatre interview, Greenaway’s regular composer discusses with David Thompson how he began his collaborative relationship with Greenaway, and his stylistic influences on The Draughtsman’s Contract.
- Restoration Trailer: A modern 2022 trailer for the BFI’s restoration of the film.
The Draughtsman’s Contract is now available on Blu-ray courtesy of Kino Lorber and Zeitgeist Films.
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CFF 2023: SUBJECT is a Transgressive Tour de Force
Subject, which I just caught virtually at the Chattanooga Film Fest is not a film that’s easily recommended due its subject matter, but that said it’s definitely a worthy watch for those interested in darker forays of cinema. The film follows Willem Peters (Stephen Phillips) on his way to prison for a sexual assault. His transport is held up at gunpoint and he is offered a choice by the hijackers: go directly to prison, or participate in an experiment for a chance to have his sentence commuted. Of course he takes the deal, and ends up in a dark cell where he is surrounded by cameras and tasked with making daily observations on a dark creature, who from a plate glass window spends its time silently gazing at Willem. As the film progresses Willem’s sanity and his past are unraveled as director Tristan Barr plunges the depths of this man’s diseased mind.
What starts off as more of a found footage foray into dark sci-fi, slowly devolves into a transgressive deconstruction of power and fear. What that film lacks in budget, it more than makes up for it with its dense and chilling narrative filled with unflinching metaphors. Director Tristan Barr is careful to keep the reins in on where we as an audience are to stand with Willem, as we gaze at both monsters through the safety of our screen. It’s through shards and crumbs of found footage we see his life pre-cell. We see hard drugs seep into his life, and after the death of his wife from cancer it allowed other more terrifying demons to operate unchecked on his children through him. We then witness Willem fall prey to a similar power dynamic of fear, intimidation and eventually assault by the creature who spends every waking moment transfixed on its prey
Subject is a transgressive tour de force by lead Stephen Phillips, who spends the majority of the film solitary, emotionally naked and completely lost in a thankless role that’s as inhuman as the thing behind the glass. But that’s the point here and it’s something that will challenge most viewers since we are not simply there to take pleasure in his descent or cheer him on, but to see and attempt to understand the shift of power on our protagonist and how the film uses that to deconstruct abusive relationships. Just to drive home that point, there’s a therapist who regularly checks in on Willem, whose sole purpose is making sure he doesn’t get too complacent and hopefully understands this experiment is as much about the predator he is speaking to, as the one behind the glass.
You can still buy badges for virtual CFF here and you can catch SUBJECT on ScreamBox in August 22nd!
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Take Me Down to the ASTEROID CITY
“The world will never be the same.”
Wes Anderson has provided an output like no other; a collection of films that finds humor in the minutiae of everyday life that hold up just as much now as they did when first released. The writer/director has found both arthouse and commercial success with films that manage to feel classic without coming off as antiquated. This is due in large part to the literary feel his movies possess as well as their uniqueness, both of which have helped to establish Anderson as his own singular cinematic voice. Anderson remains the rarest of breeds; one of the few auteurs whose projects can count on notable actors, good-sized budgets, and healthy distribution. Still, some are firmly not in the Anderson camp with some moviegoers feeling his brand of filmmaking is too precious with regards to his visual flair and penchant for the quirky side of society. His latest effort, Asteroid City, doesn’t look to alter opinions about Anderson’s cinematic trademarks, most of which are present and accounted for this time around. However, should his detractors be willing to give him another chance, they may find an Anderson at his most experimental.
Set in the 1950s, the film takes place in the titular Asteroid City, a two-stop town where a collection of young scientists known as “stargazers” and their parents gather to attend a convention. Among them are a grieving widower (Jason Schwartzman), a beautiful movie star (Scarlett Johansson), and a crotchety grandfather (Tom Hanks), among others. Together with the town’s motel manager (Steve Carell), an Army general (Jeffrey Wright), and a renowned astronomer (Tilda Swinton), the large group find themselves sequestered together when an unexpected event takes place.
Everyone going into Asteroid City will be expecting the kind of Anderson-flavored romp that the film’s trailers have promised. There will be a collection of assorted actors playing characters that recite one sharp-witted Anderson-ism after another with a precise flow that finds the humor of whatever situation is taking place. All of this happens in another Anderson world that feels like an art installation come to life, this time with a variety of sherbet colors. The world Anderson has constructed in Asteroid City is certainly a comment on the Eisenhower era of perfection and pastels when life felt prosperous and exciting, especially in the way of technical innovation. The film’s take on nostalgia here is certainly a loving one, at least from a surface point of view. But Asteroid City finds its creator delving a bit further, exposing the absurdity of the decade and everyone’s instinct to excuse or altogether ignore the reality of the world they’re living in. Anderson takes this further by also looking at the somberness of the 1950s and the sort of wandering quality that ran underneath the picturesque façade. Whether pondering the afterlife or the idea of aliens, each of the key characters in Asteroid City finds themselves questioning the meaning of the world they live in and their own place within it.
There’s a dual side to Asteroid City not shown in any of the film’s marketing. Divided into acts of a play, the film’s main story takes occasional black-and-white breaks where we see each of the central characters as actors in a stage production of the very movie the audience is watching. Presiding over them is Schubert Green (Adrien Brody), the tortured, slightly temperamental playwright whose work has consumed him to the point that it has cost him his marriage and his sanity. It’s hard not to see Schubert as a testament to the great Rod Serling, especially in the way he revises his play while interacting with those starring in it. These scenes are actually very reminiscent of an episode of Night Gallery titled “Midnight Never Ends,” a Serling-penned tale about two strangers who insist they’ve met before though they can’t remember where. The episode ends with the reveal that both of them were creations of a blocked writer who is struggling with where to take the people he’s created. I can only assume that Anderson himself is familiar with the episode and that the inclusion of the black and white scenes represents his own Serling-like moments as an artist. Anderson has created such a bevy of memorable characters and distinct worlds, it only stands to reason that at some point he has grappled with his creativity and has reconciled such struggles enough to expose them to his audience.
From a performance standpoint, Asteroid City contains one of the most eclectic ensembles ever to populate a Wes Anderson film. Longtime familiars like Schwartzman, Wright, and Swinton show up once again to help bring Anderson’s nuanced quirkiness to life in the ways they’ve proven themselves capable of before. Elsewhere, Anderson novices like Hanks, Johannson, and Carrell find themselves instantly at home and become instantly in tune well with the filmmaker’s very specific level of comedy. Whether a stalwart in the director’s company of players, or one that is new to the fold, the performances remain firmly in the vein of Anderson’s storytelling world.
The comparisons of Asteroid City to Anderson’s last offering, The French Dispatch, are inevitable. Refreshingly, however, the only real parallel between the two films (apart from some of the aforementioned returning cast members and a typically lush aesthetic) is the way Anderson is continuing with a newfound desire to experiment even further with the intricate worlds he so lovingly creates. Here he has crafted two worlds as different as can be that are also unmistakably Wes Anderson. Both worlds offer up moments of playfulness and pensiveness. The film shows the different sides of the writer/director as a visual artist, while also giving an insight into his psyche, all of which is wrapped up in a story set during one of the most influential periods of American history. How will Asteroid City fit into the canon of Wes Anderson films? My guess is that time will be kind to it. But in 10 years, most (if not all) of Anderson’s admirers will be able to see the film as one of his most vulnerable moments as an artist and recognize Asteroid City as perhaps his most sensitive of works.
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Criterion Review: Seijun Suzuki’s BRANDED TO KILL [4K-UHD]
![Criterion Review: Seijun Suzuki’s BRANDED TO KILL [4K-UHD]](https://i0.wp.com/cinapse.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/image-8.png?resize=1140%2C476&ssl=1)
An alluring blend of sex and violence with a stylish and surreal sensibility
The class of tradition and modernity is often a favored theme in cinema, especially in Japan, where the countries storied history contrasts with its accelerated advances over the past few decades. The Japanese New Wave that started in the 50s saw a collective of filmmakers embrace this clash, and shake off the conventional approaches to movies and dare to deal with more controversial subject matter. Seijun Suzuki was one of the standouts, and with Branded to Kill (Koroshi no rakuin), he crafted a film so surreal and bold, that studio executives exiled him into the wilderness for nearly a decade.
The film centers around Goro Hanada (Joe Shishido) the #3 ranked killer in the Japanese underworld. A a killer for hire, one sexually charged by the smell of cooking rice. A fumbled assignment sees his fate end up in the hands of Misako (Anne Mari), who leverages her position as an object of desire to task Hanada with a series of nigh impossible jobs, each deepening their bond, plunging this hitman into greater trouble, and eventually setting him on a collision course with famed killer the No 1 (Kôji Nanbara).
A straightforward plot, but this synopsis does not convey the creative absurdity that permeates Suzuki’s film. A pulpy, subversive thriller that flits with both action and eroticism. Creative kills, discomforting closeups, and a hallucinogenic immersion in the psyche of this killer give the film an edge that counters the pop aesthetic and expressionist style the filmmaker embraces, to greater conviction as the story unfolds. Among the abstract weirdness standout scenes that in this day and age might be confused for product placement, here speak to cultural shifts, and the the cosmopolitan sheen that Tokyo had started to showcase on the world stage in this era. A minimal score from Naozumi Yamamoto draws from the loose, improvisational style and sounds of jazz and complements the stripped down, but intricately wrought aesthetic. Even with its monochrome look, Branded to Kill is infused with dynamism and depth through the assured hand and wild imagination of its director.
The Package
Criterion presents an all new 4K transfer, one derived from an original 35mm negative by the Nikkatsu Corporation and the Japan Foundation. The sheer level of detail on show is a true standout. Also impressing is the density of the image, the range of contrast and grayscale, solidity of the blacks. Criterion’s 4K showcases an image that is truly detailed, crisp, and beautifully fluid. Any film shot in black and white can show all manner of flaws and failings in a film, especially at 4K, but this image is a true showcase for the film. The release includes both 4K and Blu-ray discs, the latter containing a collection of extra features.
- Interviews with director Seijun Suzuki and assistant director Masami Kuzuu: An overall look at the production of the film, from conception, to on-set experiences, and the release of the film. This includes the backlash against the director by the studio. Packs plenty into a 13 minute runtime
- Interview with Suzuki from 1997: Recorded during a programmed retrospective of his work by the Japan Foundation. The prolific director spends around 15 min talking about the various aspects of his approach, and some key films in his output
- Interview with actor Joe Shishido: The actor gets a chance to show off his comedy chops as he also chats about his collaborations with Suzuki. The best piece of entertainment among these extras
- Original Theatrical Trailer:
- PLUS: An essay by critic and historian Tony Rayns: Within the liner booklet, which also contains information on the films new restoration
- New Cover by Eric Skillman
The Bottom Line
Seijun Suzuki rejects tradition and shakes up not just the formula of a thriller, but upends filmmaking, with a film that straddles that line between bonkers and brilliance. Branded to Kill is a a truly alluring work, blending sex and violence with a stylish and surreal sensibility. Criterion’s 4K is the perfect showcase for the visual feast on display.
Seijun Suziki’s Branded to Kill 4K-UHD is available via Criterion now
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THEY CAME TO CORDURA Spotlights Tab Hunter’s Finest Moment
“One act of cowardice doesn’t make a man a coward forever, just as one act of bravery doesn’t make a man a hero forever.”
This pride has a bittersweet feeling for me since it also doubles as the fifth anniversary of the death of Tab Hunter. One of Hollywood’s biggest heartthrobs of the 1950s, the actor started his career as a contract player at Warner Bros. before making a name for himself as a full-fledged leading man. His work in films such as Damn Yankees, Lafayette Escadrille, and That Kind of Woman was sold on his all-American image, which usually ensured audience interest. His frequent pairings with Natalie Wood made him the object of desire to countless female fans, while away from the studio, Hunter worked at his craft by starring in live television plays (not too often done by major movie stars) and stage productions.
As most fans now know, the greatest role Tab Hunter ever played was Tab Hunter. For the majority of his life and career, Hunter was successful at keeping the fact that he was homosexual a secret, thereby forcing himself to play a part even when he wasn’t on a set. It wouldn’t be until the mid-00s that the matinee idol would reveal his sexuality to the world. If the secret he fought so hard to protect caused him to channel any anguish or nervous energy into his work, it showed. Throughout his career, Hunter fought against his dreamboat looks to be taken seriously as an actor, giving a series of performances that only grew stronger and deeper the more he delved into his craft.
Recently, Kino Lorber released a new Blu-Ray reissue of 1958’s They Came to Cordura, a stirring western that also features one of Hunter’s best performances. Set during the 1916 U.S. war against Pancho Villa, an officer (Gary Cooper) is tasked with recommending four men for the Congressional Medal of Honor and guiding them and a prisoner (Rita Hayworth) to the town of Cordura. During the trek, however, the definition of honor is tested by each individual.
They Came to Cordura got some much-publicized criticism (most famously from John Wayne) at the time of its release, and it’s easy to see why. The film (much like the novel it’s based on) challenges the notion of honor as well as those who are deemed fit enough to declare a soldier a hero. The film exposes the dark side of those men who are classified with the label of hero, exploring what their mentality has become as a result of what they’ve witnessed and experienced. The movie’s unflinching look at how a man’s humanity can be torn away remains hard to take but also offers up a fascinating insight into the cost of battle most would prefer not to acknowledge.
In the film, Hunter plays Lt. Fowler, whose fearless acts during battle have earned him a citation for the Congressional Medal of Honor. This stuns him at first. Of all the men being led to Cordura, it’s his arc which feels the most full circle. Fowler is a man beholden to both his pride and arrogance. He’s a determined soldier who defines his existence by his heroism. Fowler is humble, but also strategic, with the former characteristic shielding the latter. Like most servicemen, Fowler is careful with his emotions. He lives and dies by the military code, but when his character turn happens, it’s not without him facing his conflict between loyalty to duty and pure primal instinct. When he eventually gives in to the intensity of the situation he’s in, he begins to lose his grip on his sanity and becomes the antithesis of who he thought he was.
Fowler proves to be the film’s most plum part, and Hunter seemed to have realized this by the way he takes charge of the character. The actor carefully guides Fowler through his situation with an air of empathy that allows the audience to see how someone like Fowler can end up being pushed to the brink, mentally. The sensitivity Hunter shows towards his character echoes the maturity he’d developed as an actor by that point. With They Came to Cordura, the pinup boy for thousands of female movie fans had turned into a student of acting with the ability to turn out a compelling character portrait that in a just world would have garnered him an Oscar nomination. Perhaps the reason Hunter’s work is so good in the film is because it’s slightly reminiscent of his own struggle with himself.
They Came to Cordura should have done more for Hunter than it did. Despite what may be his best performance on screen, the actor was never able to shake that pretty boy image that largely defined his career in the eyes of others. Apart from a supporting role opposite Fred Astaire and Debbie Reynolds in the romantic comedy The Pleasure of His Company, Hunter found himself relegated to lower-quality films as a result of audiences’ changing tastes. However, his resurgence thanks to his work in the likes of Polyester, Lust in the Dust, and Grease 2 made him an icon for a new generation.
What’s always been interesting about Hunter’s coming out was that it was done without much ceremony. The coming out of someone as adored and lusted after for decades as Hunter was should have had more of a bombshell factor than it did. But the response to Hunter’s revelation mirrored that of the life he led following his announcement, which was itself quiet, grounded, and peaceful. It’s fair to say that Hunter wasn’t the biggest flag-waver the community ever had. Still, there’s something so undeniably inspiring about someone finally living the life they were always meant to after spending decades letting their outward persona define them. That will always be worth celebrating.
They Came to Cordura is now available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Kino Lorber.
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FIVE SUPERFIGHTERS: Shawscope Vol. 2 – Roundtable Reviews
Arrow Video Cinapse is all about cinematic discovery. This Shawscope Volume 2 column is, therefore, a watch project for our team, and guests, to work through this phenomenal set from Arrow Video. These capsule reviews are designed to give glimpses of our thoughts as we discover these films for ourselves. Some are kung fu cinema experts, some less so; all are excited for the adventure.
The Hong Kong-based Shaw Brothers Studio cranked out a staggering number of feature films over its lifetime. With worldwide influence continuing to this very day, their contributions to cinema are myriad and undeniable. Arrow Video has curated a second volume of titles; an intentional way to wade into the deep waters of the Shaw Brothers. Beyond capsule reviews, our team also offers thoughts on the set curation and bonus features. Watch along with us, join us in the comments, or reach out on social media (linked below) if you’d like to submit your own
Ed Travis
Whether you love Shaw Brothers films or hate them, it can’t be denied that these bad boys follow formula. Sometimes the ingredients mix together for magic. Other times they feel rote and paint-by-numbers. Unfortunately, Five Superfighters falls into the latter category for me. Braggart wandering kung fu master whips the ass of a few young fools’ master. Those young fools make a pact to split up, train with whatever masters they can find, and meet back up in 6 months to get their revenge. But these idiots (young people are always idiots in Shaw Brothers films) don’t so much as leave a note for their master. So, feeling abandoned in his time of need, the master slides into alcoholism. The young idiots train up, their master receives some encouragement from a neighbor and kind of gets his drunken kung fu on, and eventually they all fight this boring-ass villain that set them all on this course. The “train up to avenge my master” trope is not a problem in and of itself, but this one doesn’t infuse much heart or soul into the age-old formula. It’s also filled with unfamiliar names and faces to me (which is a little odd since I’ve now seen dozens of these movies). It does appear that writer On Szeto has no less than 170+ writing credits to their name so I’m thinking we’ll encounter them again, but I’m not familiar with director Mar Lo or really any of the leads. All this said… the martial arts are, as always, spectacular, and these actors all do impressive work. It’s just a pity that the story doesn’t back up the martial arts with anything to latch onto so it becomes very forgettable.
Dan Tabor
Given last week’s rather dour entry, this week’s Five Superfighters was a perfect kung-fu palette cleanser. The film again features Monkey Style, and has one of the most absurd premises yet, and I mean that in the best way possible. The film features a wandering kung-fu critic – if you will – who challenges both teachers and students to see if they are up to his standards. After beating a monkey style kung-fu master he inspires that particular teacher’s pupils to go away for six months, and improve their skills to prove to the critic their master’s kung-fu is worthy. These six months will eventually land them on their master’s birthday, so this is essentially a birthday present.
While the bulk of the film is your standard training film, with some spectacular hand to hand battles, what throws this film over the top is when the three disciples go out into the world looking for masters. One of them happens upon an older woman who learned kung-fu from her blind father. The student witnesses her effortlessly dispatch a man who wishes to be the widow’s next husband. The student never officially requests to be her student, and I think it’s because of her gender and age and instead attempts to secretly learn kung-fu by spying on her nightly practices and working for her making bean curd.
It’s not only how the film depicts this particular character – she wasn’t portrayed as “cute” or a damsel in distress, or a simply a conquest, that makes this a stand out entry as far as gender roles in these films goes. While toiling making bean curd for her during the day, at night he is only able to spy on her practicing alone to attempt to learn her leg heavy style. It’s only when the student meets her father, does the student throw himself on another man’s mercy to learn kung-fu. Instead of robbing her of her agency here, the father says he can not teach the student because his daughter’s rigorous curd making techniques have put him on the path to their family style already making her his teacher. I mean he still doesn’t throw himself on her mercy but it’s a definite step in the right direction.
Justin Harlan
The oddly named Five Superfighters features far less than five actual “superfighters” and the story really isn’t about most of them. In a movie that starts off hot and has such a fun title, it’s a bummer to quickly realize it’s a generic, mid-level entry in the Shaw catalog. Like so many other films in the classic Kung Fu genre, it’s about a quest for revenge… and, even while there are some really fun fight scenes, a video gamesque soundtrack that makes for some extra fun elements, and a few laugh out loud moments, it’s ultimately just another Kung Fu film.
I watched this film just a day ago and have already forgotten most of what it’s about that isn’t just me repeating that it’s a standard revenge film. The most standout things about the film were the idea that the main antagonist was a man who traveled around from town to town “correcting” bad Kung Fu. He primarily seemed interested in mocking the teachers and proving to them how their methods weren’t working. He never seemed too keen on actually helping anyone learn better. This premise, coupled with the first 10 minutes or so, were the top things about it. Sadly, it fell into a trap where it didn’t deliver on its early promise.
Admittedly, I may just have a bit of Shaw fatigue settling in, as happens when working through a collection such as this, but I’m excited by next week’s return of the great Chang Cheh and his Venom Mob!
And We’re Out.
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MAD HEIDI is a Grindhouse Throwback that Understood the Assignment
While it may be unthinkable to make a nazisploitation film in the year of our lord 2023, after watching Mad Heidi I learned, it’s not completely impossible.
Believe me, I’ve seen my fair share of crowdfunded films “grindhouse” throwbacks, and Mad Heidi, which hits theaters for one night only, this Wednesday, June 21 at 7:00 p.m thanks to Fathom Events, is one film that finally understands the assignment. I initially sat down to watch the film thanks to the trailer that ran before Shin Kamen Rider, which looked, actually, kind of terrible – but in the best way possible. When I was asked if I wanted to review the film before its Fathom engagement, I agreed because of THAT trailer. Shockingly, that had to be the worst representation of this film possible, because Mad Heidi was a hell of a good time and has set a new bar for the kind of genre that can come out of a crowdfunding campaign, that scratched every genre itch a fan like myself could have.
I mean it also doesn’t hurt that the film raised nearly 3 million either.
The film itself takes place in this bizarre modernized, yet timeless storybook world of Heidi, as our 20 something namesake (Alice Lucy), is falling hard for Goat Peter (Kel Matsena), portrayed here as a black man. Peter brings the blaxploitation and is a smooth talking, lederhosen wearing cheese dealer. Goat cheese, hence the name – for the lactose intolerant. The crux of the nazisploitation angle in Mad Heidi is that the Swiss government is portrayed as a bunch of lactose loving, goose steppers who are out to eradicate the country of the dairy intolerant. After Heidi’s man is killed for selling goat cheese, she’s out for revenge and quickly lands in jail. It’s there this revenge-o-matic then becomes a women in prison film, with all the tropes, and skin you’d expect. From there we jump down the list of ‘ploitations as Johannes Hartmann and Sandro Klopfstein clearly know their way around their sub-genres, checking the boxes and delivering the goods every time they switch gears.
It genuinely feels like every cent of that 3 million is on screen, from the picturesque cinematography of the Swiss Alps, to the very ample and well executed gore and action set pieces contained in the 95 minute runtime(!). While the production itself is better than most, Mad Heidi primarily works thanks to its lead Alice Lucy. She quickly, and believably, goes from bright eyed Heidi, to a hardened killer who flawlessly cycles through anguish, pathos and ultimately disgusted satisfaction whenever needed. She carries this craziness on her very capable shoulders opposite Casper Van Dien as the heavy, who is visibly having the time of his life as the leader of Switzerland, President Meili. While Lucy and Van Dien pull the lion-share, the rest of the cast here are more than able to support their leads, turning in some great moments, that act as flourishes to the overarching tale of Mad Heidi.
Mad Heidi REALLY surprised me, and after that trailer, that wasn’t an easy task. The film was a pure dose of old school sleaze, that from start to finish as its trying to hit every sub-genre, while continually upping the madness. Cheese zombies anyone? Kung-fu fighting nuns? Veterans on a rampage? This film has simply everything a genre fan could crave. I was just in disbelief of how well executed all these forays and twist and turns were embedded in the narrative. It felt like one of those 70s Italian mashups like Hell of the Living Dead, where you’ve got a cannibal film, that turns into a zombie film, that hits another four genres – just not as cheap. Instead, Mad Heidi is a buoyant and entertaining trip down 42nd Street reading all the marquees imaging the film that could combine all of them. That said, I only wish I could have experienced this in a packed theater for the first time, because it’s going to rip.
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Glorious Animation and a Relevant Story Make ELEMENTAL Essential
“Elements cannot mix!”
It’s interesting to imagine what the pitch for the hit Pixar movie Inside Out was like back in 2009. There could not have been a more unorthodox meeting taking place in Hollywood that day than director Pete Docter convincing then-studio head John Lasseter that a movie where all the characters were feeling, not people, but feelings, would be the next hit for Pixar. But Docter was given the green light, the movie was made, and a hit was born. This month the studio makes a similar gamble, this time with the elements of the earth (fire, water, air, and earth) for Elemental, their newest release. The notion of crafting a whole storyline around the four main elements does sound appealing, but just as with Inside Out, the question of whether or not such a concept can be sustained long enough to actually convey a story of substance remains. If Elemental does anything right, it proves it can.
Set in the sprawling landscape of Element City, Elemental centers on Ember (Leah Lewis), a young fire element who plans on taking over her father’s fire store in the predominantly fire-heavy community of Fire Town. When a series of failing pipes bring along a small flood of water, along with a water element Wade (Mamoudou Athie), who makes his living as a city inspector, the future of the store is thrown into peril. Enlisting Wade’s help, Ember goes to great lengths to save her father’s store, including stepping outside of Fire Town and looking at the other elements in a way she hadn’t before.
Elemental‘s story is both timeless and timely. Packed with the kind of animation, sight gags, and emotion that is now being successfully catered to both kids and adults, the film can touch on a myriad of traditional themes without feeling dated or stale. Ember is the perfect character for this kind of story, emblematic of many people who are the children of immigrants, and whose family history is with them through every step of their own journey. It’s the immigrant’s experience that emerges as the most predominant and truest of all the themes within Elemental. Throughout the course of the movie, we see Ember do her best to live up to whatever expectations and obligations she feels are being thrust upon her, due to the influence of her family’s history, while also doing the kind of battle most adult children of immigrants come up against. In the course of Elemental, we see Ember grapple with culture vs. identity, tradition vs. progress, and most importantly, where her own ambitions fit into the equation. Ember’s ambitions are perhaps the biggest component of her overall journey as it forces her to imagine a life not dictated by the one she always thought she should have.
When Elemental becomes the most telling is when it shows the extremely timely side of its story. The cultural (read racial) tensions are boldly presented here whenever any two different elements are seen existing in the same space. This is especially true in the movie’s opening moments when we see Ember’s parents who have just arrived in Element City being refused apartment after apartment by other elements. It’s an act that rubs off on them and to some extent Ember, as they treat any non-fire element who enters their store with suspicion, or at the very least, disdain. Ember’s journey with Wade, though done out of desperation to preserve her family’s legacy, shows an effort on the young generation’s part to break away from all of the ways of the past and forge the path that helps to end the cycle. Ember’s dinner with Wade’s feelings-heavy family and his struggle to eat some of the flaming hot food served at her father’s store are moments of humor that also speak to the willingness of young people to step out of their cultural comfort zones. But the biggest struggle for both Ember and Wade is in their future as a potential couple and whether or not the former has enough faith in the latter to give them a chance.
I sincerely hope that Elemental becomes the hit it deserves to be, especially since its marketing push has been curiously quiet, much in the way last fall’s wonderful Strange World was. But regardless of marketing, no one can accuse Pixar of not taking risks when it comes to the types of projects they put out. Elemental follows in the tradition of the aforementioned Inside Out and even Soul (still the best movie of 2020) as a high-concept story featuring ideas that might not seem tangible on the surface but are more universal than most could’ve guessed. These are the stories kids need to watch. While most animated movies have always sought to impart important life lessons amid entertainment, they have now entered a new phase of being both highly imaginative and invaluably authentic, showing the world and the complexities of people as they exist today.
