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Fantastic Fest 2024: GHOST KILLER Brings Unique Spin to Kensuke Sonomura’s Legendary Fight Choreography
Action filmmaker Kensuke Sonomura is my guy.
A storied action designer, fight choreographer, and stunt professional who has been nothing if not prolific (almost a hundred IMDb credits under the “stunts” category alone), Sonomura has made the leap to directing, as well, with Hydra, Bad City (itself a Fantastic Fest alum), and now Ghost Killer.
As a die-hard lifelong action cinema fanatic, I have to admit that I’m not always particularly discerning when it comes to styles. By that I mean, I’m not well-versed enough in martial arts to necessarily tell you if someone is doing kung fu or judo, karate or krav maga. I generally just know if I like it or not. And that’s what matters to me. Kensuke Sonomura is one of the first fight choreographers who came along and brought such a distinct look and feel to his work that I could pop in a movie and think “hey, is this Sonomura doing the action here?” and often be correct in my guess. It’s hard to describe the wildly unique grappling and smooth, off kilter movements of his characters’ fights. And that’s what I love about it. I know the entire action community doesn’t feel as strongly about it as I do, but not only have I not tired of his signature style, it’s become somewhat of a cinematic warm blanket for me, and it’s in top form here in Ghost Killer.
I’m somewhat loathe to even reveal the unique, high concept “hook” of Ghost Killer, because much of the fun to be had here is the gradual unfolding of what the dynamic between stars Akari Takaishi (Baby Assassins’ gorgeous goofball) and frequent Sonomura star and collaborator Masanori Mimoto is really all about. Ghost Killer doesn’t appear to be a particularly highly budgeted film, but what it may lack in funding is made up for in its technical prowess and its bizarre high concept. So, consider yourself warned and steer clear of the rest of the review if you’re already sold and can’t wait for your next hit of that sweet Sonomura sauce, because you’ll get it here and I recommend you do.
Fumika (Takaishi) is just a regular college girl: She’s trying her hand at dating, working a rough job in the service industry, and supporting a friend through an abusive relationship. She loves her apartment. By total chance she picks up a shell casing for a bullet that was used to kill the ruthlessly talented hit man Kudo (Mimoto), and his ghost somehow begins to haunt her. J-horror fans may delight at this more humorous and touching approach to a Japanese “grudge” situation. As Fumika and Kudo adjust to their newfound haunting situation (Kudo is new to being dead, after all), they begin to slowly connect relationally and, in the most key dynamic of the film, they realize that with a clasp of hands, Kudo can possess Fumika and imbue her with his “particular set of skills”. And he may need to do this a lot as the only way to break the grudge is to kill whoever killed Kudo. There’s honestly a fair amount of exploration of the concept of consent in the film as Fumika and Kudo work out how each of them feel about entering one another’s bodies. And there’s a whole throughline of some creepy date-rapists that Fumika and Kudo get in some good ass-whupping practice on before they take on the big bads. Like I said, it’s a pretty high concept and Sonomura does everything he can to make it an entertaining one. (The hand clasp component becomes a highly satisfying mechanic that feels totally unique to this film and gloriously portends an imminent merking).
I had a really good time with the premise and the sense of humor and heart clicked more for me here than it does with Akari Takaishi’s famous Baby Assassins films. I do think Ghost Killer sags a bit in the middle and occasionally teeters on the edge of losing control of its high concept. But with a dynamite final fight and a charming dynamic between the leads, Ghost Killer certainly makes Sonomura 3 for 3 in my book.
And I’m Out.
Ghost Killer is having its world premiere at Fantastic Fest 2024
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Indian Cinema Roundup: SURYA’S SATURDAY, A.R.M., and KALINGA are Playing Now in US Theaters
By happenstance, the last three movies I’ve seen theatrically have all been Indian films, and that seems like something worth celebrating and sharing.
It seems only a few years ago that Indian films were often collectively and incorrectly pigeonholed as “Bollywood”; in more recent times American viewers seem to have caught up to the fact that the Indian film industries (plural) have carved out a vast and rich identity with terrific films across different subcultures, native languages, and genres.
All three of my screenings were well attended, but in each I was the only non-Indian audience member, highlighting an opportunity to encourage American audiences to take chances on this exciting and rewarding pocket of world cinema.
I’m a novice in this arena and unfamiliar with these stars and filmmakers and their work, but here’s a look at what I’ve viewed lately. All three of these films are currently playing in US theaters and have at least one thing in common: absolute banger soundtracks.
Surya’s Saturday (Saripodhaa Sanivaaram)
A high concept Telugu-language action thriller that’s easily the highlight of this roundup, Surya’s Saturday focuses on a protagonist who has a unique way of dealing with his anger issues. As a promise to his dying mother, a young Suyra (Nani) agreed to only act on his rage on Saturdays; a mechanism to force him to calm himself and avoid behaving too rashly, allowing minor offenses to be forgiven and forgotten. But if, on Saturdays, he still holds a grievance, he may act on his anger.
As an adult, Surya has ardently kept his promise, and with such a fervor that he follow his practice with a religious focus. And over he years, his anger has matured into more of a righteous indignation. Recording any offenses in a notebook, he reads over his grievances each Saturday and then acts on those that still anger him – often ending in a violent beatdown for the offender. His habit of dutifully righting injustices on Saturdays alerts police and criminals alike to the existence of a “Saturday vigilante”, his identity for the most part unknown.
But Surya’s rigid devotion to his practice causes stress and danger for his family, puts the strain of secrecy on his relationship with Charulathe (Priyanka Mohan), a police officer with whom he has fallen in love, and targets him as a threat to both ruthless gangsters and an outrageously corrupt police captain who terrorizes a local slum (and who happens to be his girlfriend’s boss).
This is a big crowd-pleaser of a movie, with likeable characters, a charming romance, enjoyable action and fighting sequences, interesting villains, some fun humor (especially as channeled through Surya’s dad, who has has own weekly routine in response to Surya’s), and a unique concept that invites some thought, framed in a plot that could almost play as a western. And of course an incredible hard-driving score. My audience was vocal and engaged, and clearly having a blast.
Surya’s Saturday is currently wrapping up its theatrical run in the US, so catch it if you can, while you can. A streaming date hasn’t been announced, but the film’s credits highlight Netflix as a distribution partner so it seems likely to hit that platform in the future – but with different international markets that’s not a guarantee. If you’re lucky enough to have this playing near you, I definitely advise to seek it out immediately.
A.R.M. (Ajayante Randam Moshanam)
Ajayan (Tovino Thomas) is a clever and morally upstanding electrician who has taught himself a valuable trade. He’s also distinguished himself as a formidable fighter and practitioner of the martial art Kalaripayattu. But to most in his village he’s dismissed only as an untrustworthy hoodlum, having come from an infamous family which has yielded two prior generations of thieves. Unfortunately for Ajayan, there actually is a thief in the village, causing him great inconvenience as the #1 suspect.
Ajayan carries on a secret romance with Lakshmi, his childhood best friend who happens to be the daughter of the richest guy in town. Their forbidden love would never be approved by the old tyrant, who is committed to the concept of superior (and inferior) castes.
Coerced by gangsters who wish to steal the valuable object for themselves, Ajayan is forced to search for the village’s lost sacred lamp, a religious relic crafted from a fallen asteroid and considered a gift from the heavens – and with whom his family of thieves has a long and storied history.
Partially told in a nonlinear format, the film recounts the multi-generational stories of Ajayan and his grandfather and great-grandfather (also played by Thomas), piecing together their histories and parallels in their lives, and unlocking past secrets that play on the current story.
Can Ajayan find the artifact, restore his family’s honor, and live happily ever after with the woman he loves? You can probably anticipate the answer but it sure is a fun adventure to watch.
The film, which is natively in the Malayalam language, can be watched in 3D screenings as well as 2D, and the 3D deserves a review of its own. It’s very obviously a post-conversion, by which I mean it’s by far the jankiest conversion I’ve ever seen – you can really see the seams of the approach. Objects and edges flit and out of depth, especially in motion. Finer details like tree limbs and hair are blobs. But it’s also an approach that shapes the experience, clearly going for “in your face” impact rather than realism; characters’ faces in particular loom large and protrude garishly. I kind of respect the boldness of it. The 3D does tend to add some fun character to action sequences, even if at times (and arguably because) it looks bonkers. But if you want to appreciate the film more purely on its merits, I’d avoid the distraction of the 3D version.
Kalinga
On paper, the Telugu horror thriller Kalinga sounds like it would be right up my alley, but slippery storytelling execution make it a rougher watch than the two other films above. There’s actually a somewhat compelling narrative here, but the film’s unevenness – combining very disparate halves of musical romance and surreal horror – didn’t quite gel for me.
Almost immediately, the film frustrated me with its introductory narration, a history of gods and monsters illustrated through what appear to be AI-generated images. It was a rough start that would be hard to overcome.
The rural village of Kalinga borders a vast forest, but the villages rarely venture there – it’s known to be a cursed land. On the rare occasion when they do cross the threshold – to offer a sacrifice, for example – they only stay for a couple of minutes to avoid invoking the wrath of the unknown evil within.
A young man named Lingaa (Dhruva Vahyu), eager to marry his sweetheart, seeks the release of his generational land held by the Village Head (Adukalam Naren), a ruthless and gangster-like landlord who’s not above murdering uppity peasants to retain or increase his wealth. Seeing the young man’s resolve, the wily Village Head offers Lingaa twice as much land as what he’s owed – but in the cursed area of the forest. It’s clearly the only offer on the table.
Undeterred, Lingaa agrees to the terms and grabs his reluctant best pal, and the pair enter the forbidden forest to survey his new property and face the ancient evil within. The film takes some stylistic inspiration from The Evil Dead, utilizing a similar first person camera and establishing a foreboding tone to the environs.
The film picks up considerably in the second half as the duo explore the forest and its caverns and encounter the monster that makes its home there, but it feels a bit labored in getting to this point: The film’s first half focuses on the challenges of romance and real estate (complete with musical numbers), oddly sprinkled with some establishing horror bits. An intermission splits the halves, demonstrating that the filmmakers clearly understood and designed the 2-part narrative structure, even if it felt a little strange to me.
I really enjoyed the film’s eventual descent into ancient rural horror, but the unevenness of the approach and distasteful AI sequences make it tough to recommend – it was certainly the weakest of this particular trio.
A/V Out
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Criterion Review: Bernardo Bertolucci’s THE LAST EMPEROR
A sweeping epic, given new luster with a 4K-UHD release
The phrase ‘epic’ is used all too liberally these days when it comes to movies. An overloaded term used when the latest bit of CGI overload or fan fiction ideals unfold onscreen. Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor is one of the true epics. Centered around the life and times of Puyi, the last Emperor of the Qing-dynasty, it’s a window into the end of an era. A film large in scope, undeniable in ambition, and impressive in execution. It won all 9 Academy Awards it was nominated for in1988, including Best Cinematography, Best Costume Design, Best Picture and Best Director
The year is 1908, and three year old Puyi ascends to the throne. What follows is a revolution, and China’s transition into a republic. The young Emperor and his closest supporters remain sequestered within the walls of the Forbidden palace as the country around them undergoes change. To help Puyi prepare, a tutor named Reginald Johnston arrives from England (the always splendid Peter O’Toole) to illuminate him as to the ways of the world. Eventually leaving the palace behind, Puyi goes from playboy to eventual puppet of two masters, the Japanese and Chinese governments, as his lineage looks to be used to serve their own ends. It’s a fascinating period, the turn of the century bringing massive change across the social and political spectrum. For China, it’s a shift from the Qing-dynasty that had lasted hundreds of years (with Imperial rule actually running over two millennia), with millions of individuals as subjects. In place, the Xinhai Revolution and the rise of the People’s Republic. A paving of the way for Chairman Mao Zedong and his ideologies. With this bigger backdrop, Bertolucci trains his focus on the figure at the center of this sea change. A boy raised with the belief he was chosen by God to lead his people, worshipped and adorned with the trappings of his office, then forced to endure abdication. In the mix is his education and exposure to Western civilization. It’s an eventful journey for Puyi and those in his orbit, tragic at times, especially in the case of his wife, Wan Jung (a heart-wrenching turn from Joan Chen).
From a filmmaking point of view, The Last Emperor feels like one of those prestige projects that would make or break a studio, something in the vein of Gandhi or Lawrence of Arabia. Much of the epic sheen comes from the unprecedented access given to China and its locations (including the Forbidden City) in order to make the film. This boon to production values we well leveraged by designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti and beautifully showcased by cinematographer Vittorio Storaro. The Last Emperor is detailed, textured, and authentic to the point of decadency. Prestigious fare, where the what’s onscreen matches a level of ambition. Bertolucci was known as a more transgressive filmmaker, with films such as La Luna The Conformist, The Dreamers, and Las Tango in Paris, showcasing his edgier, more confrontational fare. The Last Emperor doesn’t quite resonate in the same way, but it has a more incisive edge that you might expect given the degree to Chinese cooperation. Rather than painting everything in a rosier light, there is a subversive quality to the film. There’s certainly some issues of edging off truths here, John Lone’s performance burnishing Puyi in a way that coupled with the script, certainly glosses over some of his darker tendencies and acts. But, there’s a strong sense within the film that this political transition, which might seem like a shift from tradition to modernity, isn’t so much a move forward as a step sideways. One authoritarian replaces another. Control remains rather than into anything really resembling democracy, or of benefit to your average Chinese citizen. It’s a bold undercurrent threaded through a film that offers a remarkable insight into an age and Chinese culture.
The Package
The Last Emperor is a dense, and visually rich film, one that takes on another level of life in 4K. The sheer density of the image elevates details and textures. Colors are robust, balanced, and supported by deep blacks and crisp whites. The details in the dark are especially noteworthy. It should be noted that this all covers the 4K treatment of the theatrical edition. It’s included Blu-ray edition also is a really nice presentation. A third disc includes a TV version of the film which does show up some inconsistencies in quality (and frame ratio), likely due to variances in source material, which is to be expected with those kinds of film cuts. In addition to the two versions of the film, the release is well supported by a host of extras:
- Audio commentary featuring director Bernardo Bertolucci, producer Jeremy Thomas, screenwriter Mark Peploe, and composer-actor Ryuichi Sakamoto: Rather then a collaboration, the contributors are recorded individually and intercut. It takes away some of the potential for interesting tangents, but the commentary is still interesting, as each breaks down their contributions, insights on the production, experiences on location in China, thoughts on each other, and comments on their other works too
- 218-minute television version: A longer runtime due to the addition of various expositionary scenes, extended scenes, and additional footage that to be frank, feels somewhat redundant. Apparently recut for a multi-night TV event, the extra content does not add anything but runtime, and severely hampers the films pacing
- The Italian Traveler, Bernardo Bertolucci, a film by Fernand Moszkowicz tracing the director’s geographic influences, from Parma to China: A personal reflection on filmmakers career, shot in the run up to the start of production on Last Emperor
- Footage taken by Bertolucci while on preproduction in China: Short, but insightful snippets of video as they scouted locations and reflected on the local culture
- Bernardo Bertolucci’s Chinese Adventure: Essentially a making of, which at nearly an hour in length, does a pretty good job of covering what’s needed. What is a standout is how portions of it are shot as a guerilla-style documentary, with the camera weaving its way around the sets and sequences, allowing insight and comparison to the completed footage.
- The Making of The Last Emperor featuring cinematographer Vittorio Storaro, editor Gabriella Cristiani, costume designer James Acheson, and art director Gianni Silvestri: A really good dive into one of the standout qualities of the film, it’s design and production
- Archival interview with Bertolucci: Taken from a TV broadcast, the director discusses the film’s acclaim and awards, before moving into reflections on his own career, tastes, and French cinema
- Interviews with composer David Byrne and cultural historian Ian Buruma: Byrne opens up on his approach (showcasing early pieces and samples) and his collaboration with Ryuichi Sakamoto. The latter entitled Beyond the Forbidden City, is a good dive into the history of this period in China, and well worth a watch. The
- Trailer
- PLUS: An essay by film critic David Thomson, a reminiscence by Bertolucci, interviews with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti and actor Ying Ruocheng, and an essay by Fabien S. Gerard: Contained in the liner notes
- Cover by Lucien S. Y. Yang
The Bottom Line
Criterion’s treatment of The Last Emperor is truly impressive. The 4K remaster is a visual feast for the eyes, and the package is brimming with extra features that do much to expand on the scope, scale, and ambition of the production, as well as dive into and expand upon the historical context of the film, the protagonist, and the wider era of Chinese history.
The Last Emperor is available August 13th, via 4K-UHD Criterion
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ARROW HEADS: The Underrated CHRONICLES OF RIDDICK Finally Gets its Due on 4K UHD
When I got the pitch to take a look at Arrow’s 4K UHD release of 2004’s The Chronicles of Riddick, it offered up a bit of a moral quandary and something I’ve been pondering for quite some time. While the Sexual Battery charge against star Vin Diesel is still pending, and he’s continued to deny these allegations. Given the recent incident with Joaquin Phoenix, who just walked out on a pending production causing irreparable financial loss to so many folks, whose livelihoods relied on the film, I felt like simply ignoring this film might have been the wrong choice. When I got to dig into the set to review, thanks to the absence of Diesel, probably due to availability or possibly these allegations, it spotlighted how these blockbusters, while they rely on a big name to market them, aren’t simply conjured and are the fruits of hundreds if not thousands of individuals.
So with that said….So I am digging in.
The Chronicles of Riddick was a film that could have only been made thanks to both Diesel’s stardom and director David Twohy unrelenting passion for the charismatic antihero. While the first film respectably doubled its 25 million budget – it was the quintupling of the Fast and the Furious’ 38 million budget that greenlit the blank check film, that is the literal definition of “go big or go home”. For those too young to remember, Diesel was a master of the Facebooks, before Chronicles and subsequently in the leadup to the sequels, Friday were labeled “Furyan Fridays” by the star and he would essentially hype his fans for his eventual return to the character. While his meme game was cringe, he was one of the first stars really leveraging social media in this way, and while it’s now commonplace, this online reaction was the other component that led to the audacity and ambition of Riddick.
See, while most would have simply replicated the first film, maybe sent Riddick to a new planet where the antihero was yet again charged with saving a group of individuals or fighting for his life (Which was what they did with the third film), Twohy had something bigger in mind. The Chronicles of Riddick is an ambitious world building exercise that rivals a Star Wars or a Dune with its sheer breadth and scope, and to be honest it still is a thing of beauty to behold. The film picks up with Riddick a few years after the events of Pitch Black where a 1.5 Million Dollar bounty has him brought back to Helion Prime and face to face with Abu “Imam” al-Walid (Keith David), the holy man whom he saved in Pitch Black. He’s then asked to help save the universe from a group of intergalactic colonizers called Necromongers, who worship death. They’ve been traveling world to world, killing anyone they can’t convert to their cause.
Of course, we also bring back Jack, the young girl who was disguised as a boy from the first film as Riddick tears his way through the Necromonger ranks to save the universe. But along the way we also soon discover they had something to do with the carnage that enveloped his home world of Furya. To be completely honest, I was underwhelmed the first time I caught The Chronicles of Riddick, theatrically, opening day. When I heard a director’s cut was incoming I picked up the special edition day and date and found that it definitely addressed the issues I had with the plot holes, and provided a much more satisfying and enjoyable narrative. That cut is presented here on the set on a 4K UHD, along with the theatrical cut and an “Open Matte” version of the film (LIMITED EDITION EXCLUSIVE), which essentially removed the black bars applied to the image for the 2.35:1 aspect ratio revealing more image. This is a big thing with the collector market right now, with folks buy fullscreen DVDs to enjoy more of the image in these editions.
As we’ve witnessed from countless Star Wars clones, intergalactic world building isn’t easy, but here writer/director David Twohy makes it feel effortless. It doesn’t hurt that thanks to Pitch Black he’s already got a stable of engaging characters, including a great anti-hero, who just fires off the one liners like he was trapped in an 80s action flick. Here he’s pitted against the Necromongers, whose not only a great group of antagonists, thanks to their religious zealotry, but their baroque aesthetic that makes them as stylish as they are badass. Subtextually the film is a little light, other than its anti-colonizer message, paired with the ruthlessness of the religious zealots who lack the morals of those who they feel are below them.That said this is a summer blockbuster after all, or was poised to be one, because poor reviews kept fans away from this one. The film currently stands with a 29% on Rotten Tomatoes.
While the film missed the mark both critically and financially on its initial theatrical release, it thankfully has since begun to be reappraised thanks to the director’s cut release of the film, hence this release. After The Chronicles fizzled out at the box office, the property was shelved by Universal and famously Diesel leveraged his stinger cameo in Tokyo Drift for the rights to the character, so he could continue the series. This led to not only 2013’s sequel Riddick that was super successful, but the fourth entry in the series that’s currently filming and announced of course – by a Furyan Friday announcement. Watching The Chronicles of Riddick now, you have to admire the sheer audacity behind the film and wonder what might have happened had the director’s cut been the one released. This reasoning is one of the many things discussed on the exhaustive and comprehensive extras on the set put forth by Arrow.
The film here is presented in a brand new 4K restorations by Arrow Films of the Theatrical and Director’s Cuts of the film, approved by David Twohy and to be honest the film looks way better than it did on its Blu-ray release. The HDR has been used to hone in on those sci-fi hues and the grain here given the internegative source is present, but not overwhelming. Also, the CGI here has aged as well as the film, since it holds up with the 4K upgrade. The production design is also even more spectacular here, with every fabric and every nook and cranny of every set on display in this new transfer. They really went all out, and every bit of that is thankfully captured here in this detailed and crisp transfer.
Not only are all three cuts presented on their own 4K UHDs here, but the previous extras were all ported as well. Keep in mind these were the kind of extras crafted when DVD sales were equally as important as theatrical numbers. A big piece of that, once upon a time, was special features to entice folks to buy the film to watch it again and sift through those extras. Coupled with these pre-existing extras is a brand new feature length documentary Ambition on Another Scale: Chronicling a Blockbuster Sequel, featuring interviews with writer-director David Twohy, actors Keith David and Linus Roache, storyboard artist Brian Murray and many others that explores nearly every aspect of the film imaginable.Since these interviews were recent, you get the addition of some added perspective, from the choices then compared to now.
The reset of the set is a wealth of information that comes with one of my favorite extras along with the doc, Escape from Butcher Bay, a compilation of cutscenes from the tie-in video game (LIMITED EDITION EXCLUSIVE). This is a super cut of the cutscenes from the XBox game that transpired before the film and explained where Riddick really got his night vision from. Riddick came out around the time in the early aughts where summer blockbusters, like a Matrix, could get not only a video game, but an anime adaptation, which are all pieces of a larger story. I didn’t play the game when the film came out, so this was a welcome bit of lore to get to experience.
Check out the full rundown of extras below:
- DISC ONE
- 4K (2160p) UHD Blu-ray presentation in Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible) of the Theatrical Cut from the original negative
- Ambition on Another Scale: Chronicling a Blockbuster Sequel, a brand-new feature-length documentary on the film, featuring interviews with writer-director David Twohy, actors Keith David and Linus Roache, storyboard artist Brian Murray, and many others
- Realizing Riddick, a new interview with Twohy on the creation of the character
- Back to Black, a new interview with Murray on his continuing work within the Riddick saga
- Chronicles of a Cult Film Celebrity, a new interview with David on the role of Imam
- Theatrical trailers
- DISC TWO
- 4K (2160p) UHD Blu-ray presentation in Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible) of the Director’s Cut
- Archive audio commentary by David Twohy and Vin Diesel
- Archive audio commentary by Twohy and co-stars Karl Urban and Alexa Davelos
- Archive introduction by Twohy
- Creation of New Mecca, an archive featurette focusing on the world and characters of Helion Prime
- Riddick Rises, an archive featurette focusing on the prison planet of Crematoria
- Keep What You Kill, an archive featurette focusing on the world of the Necromongers
- Visual Effects Revealed, an archive featurette focusing on the VFX
- Interactive Production Calendar, a series of short, candid videos filmed throughout shooting
- Production Vignettes, a series of short behind-the-scenes segments
- Three deleted scenes
- Virtual Guide to the Chronicles of Riddick, a series of short animated segments explaining the world of the film
- Toombs’ Chase Log, a short film narrated by Nick Chinlund in character
- A guided tour of the set by Vin Diesel, along with 360-degree panoramic views of eight sets from the film
- On-set interviews with Twohy, Diesel, Dench, Urban, Colm Feore, Alexa Davelos, Thandiwe Newton and producer Scott Kroopf
- Promotional interviews with Twohy, Diesel, Newton, Urban, Davelos and Feore
- Easter egg
- DISC THREE (LIMITED EDITION EXCLUSIVE)
- 4K (2160p) UHD Blu-ray presentation in Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible) of the Theatrical Cut in the alternate 1.78:1 aspect ratio
- Escape from Butcher Bay, a compilation of cutscenes from the acclaimed tie-in video game
- The Lowdown, a television special produced to promote the film’s original release
It’s at times frustrating watching The Chronicles of Riddick now, especially in its director’s cut form. The film is a rare example of a really well executed sci-fi, horror, fantasy, that didn’t get its due thanks to studio interference over runtime of all things. Afterwards it would be nearly a decade before we would get another glimpse into the world and that would lead to another film. Arrow have really outdid themselves here presenting featurettes and interviews that delve into almost anything a fan would want to know, utilizing both archival and new interviews along with restoring a film that most never gave a second chance. It’s great that they are not just focusing on obscure genre fare and also releasing blockbusters that may not get the same treatment otherwise even by their own home studios.
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THE ABYSS: James Cameron’s Stunning Director’s Cut Restored & Explored [Two Cents]
![THE ABYSS: James Cameron’s Stunning Director’s Cut Restored & Explored [Two Cents]](https://i0.wp.com/cinapse.co/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Water-Tentacle.png?resize=1140%2C477&ssl=1)
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: The Abyss (Special Edition)
Featured Guest
Nathan Flynn
James Cameron’s The Abyss (1989) is a haunting epic that functions as both a high-stakes sci-fi thriller and a deeply personal film for the director. Released during a period of personal turmoil—namely his divorce—it feels like a cinematic attempt at self-actualization, where Cameron channels his emotional struggles into a grand narrative about human connection, the unknown, and the future of the world. This underlying tension gives The Abyss a distinct gravity, setting it apart from his more action-driven films.
In many ways, The Abyss serves as a precursor to other films that explore extraterrestrial life as a means of emotional expression and communication, such as Robert Zemeckis’s Contact (1997) and Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival (2016). Much like those films, The Abyss uses the discovery of otherworldly beings to push its characters—often emotionally closed-off or withdrawn—to confront their feelings and vulnerabilities. In The Abyss, the interaction with these beings catalyzes the characters’ emotional transformations, forcing them to connect with each other in ways they previously avoided.
The ensemble cast of The Abyss is one of its strongest elements. Ed Harris and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio both deliver emotionally grounded performances, but it’s Michael Biehn who truly stands out, giving what is arguably his best performance in a Cameron film. His portrayal of Lt. Coffey, a man unraveling under the pressure of isolation and paranoia, is intense and chilling, adding to the film’s underlying psychological tension.
Despite its strengths, The Abyss is often overlooked in Cameron’s filmography. While it may not rank among my favorite of his works, it remains one of his most mature and serious efforts. It’s certainly his saddest film, focusing on themes of loss, regret, and reconciliation. The emotional weight of The Abyss distinguishes it from his more action-oriented projects like Aliens or Terminator 2: Judgment Day, making it a unique entry in his career.
Behind the scenes, The Abyss is also infamous for its troubled production, which was as grueling as the story it told. Cast and crew were subjected to intense physical demands, working in a massive underwater set that left many with lasting grievances. This dedication to realism in underwater filmmaking marked the beginning of Cameron’s obsession with water and deep-sea exploration, which would later culminate in films like Titanic (1997) and his documentary work on the deep ocean.
At its core, The Abyss is Cameron’s divorced dad movie. It’s both a technical marvel and a deeply personal film, capturing the emotional turbulence of its creator while also delivering breathtaking visuals. Like many of Cameron’s films, The Abyss strikes a balance between moments of eye-rolling melodrama and moments of pure, awe-inspiring beauty. This tension—between the deeply personal and the visually epic—is what makes The Abyss such a fascinating entry in his career, even if it’s one of the few times a movie of his didn’t break box office records.
(@NathanFlynn on Twitter)
The Team
Ed Travis
“DONT CRY BABY. KNEW THIS WAS ONE WAY TICKET BUT YOU KNOW I HAD TO COME LOVE YOU WIFE” – with these deepsea proto-text messages, Virgil “Bud” Brigman (Ed Harris) single handedly saved mankind from a tsunami destruction at the hands of advanced alien observers who had been convinced we were beyond redemption but for Bud’s sacrificial love. I’m sorry, but this Jesus guy can’t help but weep every time I watch The Abyss and thank Bud Brigman for sacrificing himself for our (and Michael Biehn’s) sins.
The Abyss has always meant a lot to me. I don’t know when I first experienced it or even understood it as a part of James Cameron’s larger body of work. But I know I owned a clamshell case VHS of the film that I watched often through childhood and deeply felt the lack of an HD version of the film and wept in theaters earlier this year when the 4K re-release of the film hit theaters for one night only and I was able to bring my wife and daughter to experience it with me. (My daughters review? She thinks the 3-fingered aliens are very cute).
Cameron isn’t exactly an underdog, what with being the unqualified most successful commercial filmmaker of all time and all. He doesn’t need defenders. But it’s only been in my time as a parent over the last decade in which I’ve now shared both Avatar films and The Abyss in theaters with my impressionable child, that I have realized James Cameron is an important voice in my life and, basic as it may be, one of my most favorite story tellers. I used to always believe it was his impeccable visuals and jaw-dropping world building and aesthetic that truly kept me coming back. But it’s not. It’s the heart. I see you, James Cameron.
The Abyss is wildly ahead of its time with genre-defining gci work even before Terminator 2, boundary-pushing model work, and genuine underwater photography that stuns and delights even today. The ambition, the scope, the cast, the stakes… they’re all larger than life and represent one of the greatest sci-fi epics ever told on film. Then James Cameron spent the next several decades “topping” what he accomplished here. That said, this might be my actual favorite James Cameron film, and it’s going to come back to Bud Brigman and Lindsey (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) and their frosty romance being rekindled amidst underwater nuclear threats and first contact with achingly beautiful alien creatures.
I adore everything about The Abyss from top to bottom. The Seal “underwater breathing” tech sequences, the CGI tentacle, the crazy nuke marines, the optimism of Lindsey’s experience of the NTI’s (“we have to see with better eyes”), the CPR sequence, and most of all, the redemptive and self-sacrifical journey of one of cinema’s most underappreciated action protagonists of all time: we salute you Bud Brigman. Your love saved us all.
Austin Vashaw
What a powerhouse of a movie! James Cameron’s underwater epic was probably most known for its arduous production and pioneering use of CGI effects, which is sort of a disservice because it’s such a deeply human story of love and sacrifice, ultimately bridging the cosmic to the intimate with a stunning third act that proposes that there’s still hope for the human race, leaving this viewer a teary mess.
I’m not sure if there’s anything so hardwired into the human brain as the instinct to panic when drowning, and the film milks that instinct in its nightmare scenarios. Most interestingly, the concept of an oxygenated breathable liquid is compared to amniotic fluid – taking this analogy to its conclusion, Ed Harris’s emergence isn’t just survival. It’s a rebirth.
Funnily enough, this might sound like the ravings of a first-time viewer but I’ve seen The Abyss before. It didn’t particularly resonate with me in 2013, especially compared to Cameron favorites like the Terminator films, Aliens, or even True Lies. Unlike those bangers, I hadn’t first seen it at a younger age and when I finally caught up with it, it didn’t particularly click.
This rewatch felt revelatory, a completely different experience. The rote and obvious answer would be that I’m now viewing it through married eyes, but I don’t think that’s entirely it either. More likely I just wasn’t in the right headspace the last time and got lost in picking up what the movie’s throwing down. (The way the NTIs/aliens infrequently weave into the narrative can be disorienting, especially if you go in expecting them to be the “A” plot). Evidently having some understanding of the film’s strange narrative structure helped to make it more enjoyable the second time around.
I love hard science fiction (with emphasis on the science), and while it’s a bit more blockbustery, The Abyss may have just joined The Andromeda Strain and Silent Running among my favorites in that arena.
(@vforvashaw on Twitter)
Brendan Agnew
Few directors can boast a career as successful as James Cameron, but as much as I enjoy his box office behemoths, it’s his lone financial failure that has always resonated deepest with me. The Abyss was infamous in both its ambition and friction during filming as well as its late-in-coming appreciation by audiences that discovered it long after its theatrical run. I was one of those, falling in love with Bud and Lindsey’s adventure after becoming fast friends with Cameron’s other memorable characters and being genuinely won over by the director’s clear affection for the aquatic. With the newly remastered 4k edition finally on disc after having screened in cinemas last year, the director’s cut of this underwater epic is now more widely available than ever. And while I’ve loved this since I first caught it more than 20 years ago, seeing it on the big screen only reaffirmed how much I appreciate this sweeping romantic sci-fi that’s also an accidental harbinger of Cameron’s future endeavors.
There’s a ton of The Abyss that looks like something of a dry run for everything from the fractious marriage in True Lies to the disaster sequences of Titanic and Avatar: The Way of Water, but Cameron’s ambitious story keeps it all tied coherently together even as it blurs genre lines. The intimate character drama crashing into a sci-fi cold war thriller turns what could almost be a rom-com plot into a nail-biting pressure cooker that still maintains tension even when you know how it’s all going to play out. Cameron’s gift for narrative and emotional clarity is working on truly Spielbergian levels here, not accidentally as this could easily (and only somewhat reductively) be called his version of Close Encounters. But for all that it’s tied to the time it was made, most of it holds up spectacularly. The Director’s Cut features several sequences and effects that were never mastered for anything beyond standard definition presentation, and that’s the only place where the film has seriously aged in terms of visuals. The floating grace and bio-luminescence of the NTIs presages the flora and fauna of Pandora, and still makes for some of the most genuinely awe-inspiring filmmaking Cameron’s managed when he truly pulls back the curtain in Act 3.
The Abyss isn’t just a technical marvel or a taut thriller, it’s a deeply personal and 100% earnest argument that tiny moments of humanity and acts of selflessness are what make us worth fighting for the future of our species in spite of ourselves. As someone who grew up loving nature documentaries just as much as movies as a kid, it felt tailor-made for me when I saw it the first time. From the performances to the gorgeous photography to the slow-burn pacing, it still knocks me flat to this day.
Julian Singleton
The Abyss sets itself up as another exciting blockbuster from the man behind Aliens and The Terminator franchise, immediately grabbing audiences with the hook of a salvage team diving to retrieve a massive US nuclear arsenal trapped in deep-sea waters between the US and Cuba. But in choosing to begin with the Nietzsche quote that inspires the film’s title, James Cameron drills in his audience that his aims are once again set at ambitious heights. It’s a riveting, reflective parable about trust in human goodness–and our universal potential to be better than the environments and emotions that threaten to limit our progress.
If there’s one maxim about directors I’ve learned in life, it’s to never bet against James Cameron. With the production histories of movies like this, Titanic, and more, the man has a preternatural ability to use the latest tech in mind-boggling ways that seem to only cohere once the theater lights dim, and convert skeptics as soon as the lights go back up. With this in mind, what I love so much about The Abyss is how it sits in such a unique place in Cameron’s filmography between his later boundary-pushing experiments with CGI and the inventive practical effects he made a name with in films like Carpenter’s Escape From New York. You have full-on submarine rover wars that blend seamlessly between sets in actual underwater tanks and models with small experimental screens playing actor footage inside them. In some of the film’s most touching moments, Cameron plays into the uncanny valley of early CGI graphics in realizing The Abyss’ water-based NTIs. All of these sights, caught between intensely real and fantastically alien, play with a sense of awe and majesty befitting the natural mystery of the deep, a longtime fascination of Cameron’s.
No matter what tech is being used, though, Cameron uses these individual technical magic tricks in service of the larger emotional story he’s trying to tell. These people, trapped at the bottom of the ocean with these mysterious forces and with the fate of humanity suddenly on the line, must decide whether to give into impulsive, destructive distrust or take a leap of faith into the unknown. This wide-eyed third act sees Cameron shift from his most claustrophobic to his most cosmic with grace, using his blockbuster prowess to issue a call for sanity at the closure of the Cold War. As such, there’s an immense curiosity pervading every sequence of The Abyss about how we use the latest advancements in any tech, coupled with a reserved sense of responsibility in doing so. In exploring the unknown, he seems to urge, set your eyes to the stars–but never lose sight of what’s within.
The Abyss, by all accounts, was a traumatizing shoot for all involved; the end results, rich with chaos and compassion, are an effective testament to their efforts.
(@Gambit1138 on Xitter)
CINAPSE REVISITS OUR BEST FORGOTTEN EPICS
In September, dive into epic films in their directors’ uncut, definitive forms. These bold visions by our favorite filmmakers use every minute of runtime to immerse us in vast worlds and compelling stories. Join us by contacting our team or emailing [email protected]!
September 30th – Kingdom of Heaven: Roadshow Director’s Cut (3 hours, 9 minutes)
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.
And We’re Out.
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Fantastic Fest 2024 Approaches! The Cinapse Team’s Most Anticipated Films
Chaos Reigns at the Alamo Drafthouse South Lamar September 19th-26th
Buckle up, it’s about to get a little chaotic. Yes, it’s that time of year again when the Alamo South Lamar gives itself over to a crew of film fanatics to witness a collection of new and repertory screenings of the best that genre cinema has to offer. It’ll be the first edition of the festival unfolding under new ownership, after the fest, and indeed the Alamo Drafthouse was purchased by Sony. Will it mean anything? It’s unlikely, with the programming team and schedule largely being in place when the sale went through. But there’s plenty to speculate about when it comes to the motives, and possible long-term changes we might see. Here and now, we’re just looking forward to seeing good movies. You can scope out the full schedule here, but check out our top picks from the lineup below, and be sure to keep an eye on Cinapse throughout the festival to see our coverage.
Jon Partridge
For someone whose favorite film is The Wicker Man, there’s an obvious pick in a documentary that delves into the making of, and impact of the film, not just on audiences but also the family of filmmaker Robin Hardy. Children of the Wicker Man sees his sons Justin and Dominic Hardy open up about their father and his landmark horror feature. It looks to also be well complemented by another documentary from Jon Spira, The Life and Deaths of Christopher Lee, which delves not just into the filmography of the actor, but his even richer personal life.
Continuing my love of cult is Get Away, where a trip to a remote Swedish island lands a family of 4 amid some weird behavior from the locals, seemingly in preparation for some secretive local event. Directed by FF alum Steffen Haars (New Kids Turbo), there’s an added bonus in the legendary Nick Frost (Spaced, Shaun of the Dead) serving as cowriter/star.
One of the defining horror memories I have is an episode of Star Trek: TNG, where a crew member phases out of alignment with matter and solidifies, stuck halfway-submerged in the deck. It’s a gnarly and chilling visual with horrifying potential, something Else seems to be mining in a film where a virus causes people to merge with their surroundings.
Don’t Mess With Grandma is an instant pick. It’s a film that sounds like a blend of action and farce, as a dutiful grandson (Michael Jai White!) looks to shield his grandmother from a break-in at her home while dispatching justice to the perps who dare to cross her threshold.
Finally, the crown prince of Fantastic Fest Nacho Vigalondo returns with Daniela Forever. A simple synopsis describing a grieving man connecting to his lost love with a new experimental drug is intriguing enough, but add in that unique Vigalondo vibe, and his chaotic presence, it’s a screening you won’t want to miss.
Get Away
Julian Singleton:
Cloud: With all-timer films like Cure, Pulse, Tokyo Sonata, and To the Ends of the Earth during his legendary career, it’s always a thrill to screen a new film by Japanese auteur Kiyoshi Kurosawa. He’s amid what’s already a banner year, with Kurosawa’s French remake of his own Serpent’s Path opening alongside viral horror sensation Chime. To cap things off, Cloud isn’t just a Fantastic Fest selection–but Japan’s latest entry in the Oscars’ Best International Feature race. Fresh off rave reviews in Venice, I still don’t know what to expect from Kurosawa’s tale of an online re-seller thrust into peril–but that’s part of the exciting mystery of sitting down to one of his films.
Anora: Equally unpredictable are the films of Sean Baker, whose Tangerine, Florida Project, and Red Rocket provoke audiences to find empathy and compassion with some of modern film’s wildest characters. His latest, Anora, continues the Fantastic Fest unofficial tradition of screening Cannes Palme d’Or winners–and from the looks of NEON’s high-energy, Uncut Gems-esque trailer, this looks like the perfect film to blow the roof off of Alamo South Lamar as much as the Croisette.
Terrifier 3: It was such a thrill being in the audience for Terrifier 2’s midnight premiere two years ago, and it looks like Damien Leone’s follow-up to his 2022 hit further pushes the gory envelope of his franchise with just as much fiendish glee and creativity. With more time and resources at his disposal (Terrifier 2 took four years to finish), it’ll be disturbingly fascinating to see what ghoulish surprises are in store for this year’s must-see midnight.
Apartment 7A: Natalie Erika James’ debut feature Relic is such a sublimely chilling horror flick. It’s a methodically unnerving depiction of generational horror as a mother and daughter deal with a grandmother’s descent into dementia–whose slow-burn horror explodes into House of Leaves-style terrors and body horror by its conclusion. Her craft already on display made me ridiculously excited for her latest, Apartment 7A–only to have my anticipation reach new heights once it was revealed this was a stealth Rosemary’s Baby prequel. Joining the ranks of motherly mayhem as The First Omen and Immaculate, I can’t wait to see what James’ unique approach to horror brings to this reinvention of a horror classic.
The Wild Robot: I’ll always carve out time for any animated film that Fantastic Fest curates, having screened such immediate favorites as BELLE and Unicorn Wars. I was stoked to find that the fest had booked The Wild Robot, still reeling from its enigmatic teaser trailer that was lush with eye-popping visuals and roving energy that seemed to ground Dreamworks’ latest in the freewheeling spirit of its peak How to Train your Dragon days. With an all-star voice cast led by Lupita Nyong’o, I’m looking forward to a break from the Fantastic Fest madness to indulge my inner child for a few hours.
Of what I’ve seen, the Kazakh post-apocalyptic thriller Steppenwolf is firmly among my contenders for the best of the year, and it’s so cool that we’re taking some time to celebrate the awe-inspiring career of Johnnie To with his improvisational gangster epic The Mission (on 35mm no less!). That said, it’s nothing short of a dream come true to finally see Tarsem’s The Fall on the big screen in a new 4K restoration with newly added material. It’s a jaw-dropping masterpiece whose unavailability for nearly two decades has been nothing short of a tragedy–and Fantastic Fest is the perfect place for The Fall to have its North American rebirth.
Cloud
Dan Tabor
First and foremost is the latest by Bertrand Mandico, one of my favorite directors working today – Dragon Dilation (She is Conann, After Blue and The Wild Boys). This is the director’s third year in a row at the fest with him serving up a film that, similar to Wicked Wicked, is completely presented in split screen. No doubt utilizing the director’s grotesquely haunting practical stage play-esque visual style, this time to interpret two famous works: Stravinsky’s ballet Petrouchka and Dante’s The Divine Comedy.
You know it’s not really a Fantastic Fest without a new installment of V/H/S. This year we get V/H/S/Beyond, the seventh installment of the franchise that will feature six new segments, this time taking the horror and going sci-fi this time around. I love a good anthology and this franchise has been raised from the dead, thanks to the folks at Shudder who definitely understand what made this series work.
I love me some Indonesian horror, and that coupled with Austin King’s writeup of The Draft sold me promising: “a blend of Cabin in the Woods, Scream, and a Kurt Vonnegut novel (that) takes multiple dizzying turns as the danger and the body count grow.” I love a good meta-narrative and to see those American tropes through another cultural lens sounds nothing short of fascinating.
Trizombie‘s description reminded me of one of my favorite films I caught at Fantastic Fest: Detective Downs, a tongue-in-cheek noir featuring an actor with Down Syndrome. While it could have been simply exploitation, the film instead humanized and normalized its protagonist, delivering a heartwarming story of a different kind of hero–and this film looks to offer up more of the same. This film takes place at a housing complex for Down syndrome at the onset of a zombie apocalypse. The twist here is the residents quickly realize their Down syndrome is what’s keeping them from becoming ghouls as they fight for their lives.
Finally, I am all about the weird French comedies and Kung-fu flicks and Zénithal sounds like a bizarre hybrid take on the classic story of a group of students trying to avenge their martial arts master. It’s just in this film he’s also an exceptionally well-endowed adult film star.
Trizombie
Ed TravisGhost Killer: Director and career action and stunt coordinator Kensuke Sonomura is simply one of the most exciting talents working in action cinema today, with no other qualifiers needed. His films Hydra and Bad City have ranked among my top action films of the year upon their releases, and Ghost Killer pairs him up with one of the stars of the Baby Assassins films (which he does action direction for) and I’m all in and stoked to be among the first to have the chance to check this new film out.
Don’t Mess With Grandma: I’d never heard of this film until seeing it on the Fantastic Fest lineup. But I’m a tried and true Michael Jai White fan who has followed his career since I first discovered Undisputed II and his magnum opus Blood & Bone. He’s a triple-threat star who can write and direct, can kick ass, and cut up. Looking a little deeper, though, Don’t Mess With Grandma comes to us from director Jason Krawczyk, who also made an absolute gem of a film that I adore deeply called He Never Died. With this talent lined up, I need know nothing more about Don’t Mess With Grandma. My butt is firmly in a seat.
I, The Executioner: Korean director Ryoo Seung-wan is kind of the king of action comedy these days. This film is a sequel to Veteran, and pairs the director once again with star Hwang Jun-min as the relentless and socially inept detective who will break all the norms and push against all the systems to get his perp. It’s less Dirty Harry than it sounds, partly due to a fair amount of humor that gives way to a relentless thriller. If any of the magic of Veteran can be recaptured in the sequel, I’ll be a happy fest-goer.
Ick: I intend to go into this film knowing very little beyond that fact that Fantastic Fest alum Joseph Kahn made it. Kahn is a divisive filmmaker who’s known for being somewhat of a maximalist (before that was even a word) and while I don’t think I’ve always connected with all of his work, his premiere of battle rap film Bodied at Fantastic Fest was one of the most memorable and incredible screenings I’ve ever attended in my film-fest-going life.
The Mission: I’m a Hong Kong-loving action film fanatic and while I’ve seen enough Johnnie To movies that they kind of run together in my head, I very much look forward to revisiting this classic with an audience on the big screen. I remember so little about the film it’ll be like a first-time watch for me, but I just generally adore luxuriating in the cinema of the Hong Kong golden era, and a restoration from that era is always great news.
Don’t Mess with Grandma
Fantastic Fest runs from September 19th, through the 26th, at the Alamo Drafthouse S Lamar, Austin, TX. For more information, visit https://www.fantasticfest.com/
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ARROW HEADS: FRIDAY THE 13th (2009) Looks Sharp on 4K
The Platinum Dunes reboot comes to 4K via Arrow Video and makes us hungry for more Jason
Review disc provided by Arrow Video, images captured by the reviewer and subject to copyright The 2000s saw something of a gold rush of classic horror remakes, from 2003’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre to 2010’s Nightmare on Elm Street. Arguably, one of the most successful of these attempts was Marcus Nispel’s remake of the 1980 slasher classic, Friday the 13th. Blending elements of the first four movies in the series, Nispel’s revival acts like a greatest hits buffet of Crystal Lake carnage that catches up newcomers as well as playing to long-time fans of the franchise.
After a brutal prelude where a group of campers stumble upon a certain bag-headed stalker (Derek Meers), the film catches up with Clay (Jared Padalecki) as he searches for his vanished sister, Whitney (Amanda Righetti). As he puts up missing posters, he runs into Jenna (Danielle Panabaker) and her scummy boyfriend Trent (Travis van Winkle) who are on their way to a lake house getaway with their friends at–well, no prize for guessing which lake they’re going to. What follows is exactly the sort of gleeful debauchery and grisly death that pretty much anyone familiar with the hockey mask will expect from this setup. However, while anyone with even a passing familiarity with the series will be able to guess most of the first two acts, the movie’s merit is all in the (forgive me) execution.
While the casting is in full 2000’s-era “everyone looks unrealistically hot” mode, the solid charisma of the characters and heavyweights like Padalecki and Panabaker, combined with the especially bleak and brutal kills, go a long way towards keeping stakes clear and investing the audience in (most of) these characters’ survival. Even cast members who won’t be sticking around long are given time to establish dynamics that acknowledge the line between amiably obnoxious and actively unpleasant. Nispel proves early that he’s adept at building the “oh no, they don’t know they’re in a Jason movie” tension, cutting between different characters and locations to keep it bubbling. He also decently oscillates between sustained dramatic irony and just mashing the “big ol’ jump scare” button to keep things popping.
One of the smarter choices that screenwriters Damion Shannon and Mark Swift (who also wrote 2003’s Freddy vs. Jason) make is how this movie sorta speed runs the first four Friday the 13th films. The film opens with a stylistic credits sequence showing the violent end of Mrs. Vorhees’ rampage at Camp Crystal Lake in 1980 before picking up in present day, and when we first see Jason he’s wearing the burlap sack on his head that he sported in 1981’s Friday the 13th Part 2 before donning the iconic hockey mask from Part 3. There’s also the young bachelor who lost a sister from The Final Chapter, as well as various other nods to the franchise’s history. However, the movie also throws in a few new elements and rotates things enough to even make you wonder who the film’s “designated survivor(s)” might be.
Among the possibly “controversial” elements in this vein is the expanded view we get of Jason’s lair. Not only does he haunt the old campgrounds of Crystal Lake, but he’s got a warren of underground tunnels and tripwire alarms set up which let him know where unsuspecting new victims may be found. I actually really like this touch – while I never needed “explanations” for how Jason was able to pop up at various points around his stomping grounds, the addition of a literal other level to explore helps the escalation of the third act. I also appreciate the claustrophobia it introduces, and the production design (including entrances spilling into ancient school buses as well as convenient trapdoors) feels very much at home alongside the dilapidated cabins and tool-filled barns more familiar to the series.
This is also a Jason who has a (very select) interest in prisoners, another potential sticking point. However, it’s mostly in the service of giving characters the chance to make canny choices to exploit his memories of his mother (not unlike Ginny’s big moment in Part 2‘s finale), and this movie knows how to follow up a smart payoff with a satisfying hit. And it’s not like this Jason is pulling any punches. Meers is embodying one of the more mobile versions of this character, running at full speed as Jason did in his early films, and he’s great at being both physically imposing as well as doing just enough body acting to give us a glimpse of the killer’s thought processes at key moments. Kane Hodder has more than cemented his place as the iconic Jason actor, but Meers proved himself the ideal successor here, and deserved more at-bats to see where he could go.
Ironically, one of the tragedies of this movie not getting any successors (copyright shenanigans having kept there from being any new entry since 2009) also makes it feel a bit special among so many entry-a-year sequels in the genre. If you want a gory slasher where careless youths meet gruesome fates, this one is determined to give you your money’s worth. While the film as a whole doesn’t reach the heights of prime cut horror remakes like Carpenter’s The Thing, Russell’s The Blob, or Reeves’ Let Me In, it’s both a rewarding watch for Crystal Lake veterans and a rock-solid tasting for anyone wanting to dip their toes into the franchise for the first time.
Presentation:
Arrow has more than proven their chops at high-quality presentation on their premium 4k releases, and Friday the 13th is no exception. Both the theatrical and extended cuts included feature 5.1 DTSHD sound, and from the gooey sound effects and shrill screams to the eerily re-orchestrated music by Steve Jablonsky, this is a solid meat and potatoes audio showcase.
Both cuts of the film also boast 4K Dolby Vision video, which is easily one of the best reasons to upgrade to this release. Nispel makes good use of some stylistically extreme visual choices during the credits sequence (splashing brief moments of color into the black-and-white 1980 flashback) and the present-day material comes through with both vibrant color and appreciably deep blacks, while always prioritizing high visibility – even at night in the woods. The transfer captures the visual hallmarks of the era, from saturated colors to plentiful lens flares, and never looks overly-graded or scrubbed.
Both cuts of the movie are presented in 2:35:1 anamorphic widescreen.
Bonus Content:
Arrow didn’t skimp here, either. All the previous extras from the 2009 home video release are included here, along with new features including interviews and commentaries.
Disc 1 (4K UHD)
Theatrical Cut of the film (97 minutes)
- Brand new audio commentary by director Marcus Nispel
- Brand new audio commentary by writers Mark Swift and Damian Shannon
- Brand new interview with director Marcus Nispel
- Brand new interview with writers Mark Swift and Damian Shannon
- Brand new interview with cinematographer Daniel Pearl
- A Killer New Beginning, an exclusive video essay about why horror fans shouldn’t fear remakes, what 2009’s Friday the 13th remake gets right, and why the film serves as a perfect template for future franchise remakes by film critic Matt Donato
- Excerpts from the Terror Trivia Track
- The Rebirth of Jason Voorhees archival featurette
- Hacking Back / Slashing Forward archival featurette
- The 7 Best Kills archival featurette
- Deleted scenes
- Original teaser, trailer and TV spots
- Electronic press kit
- Image gallery
Disc 2 (4K UHD)
- Extended “Killer Cut” of the film (106 minutes)
- Brand new audio commentary by film critics Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson
Note: the “Killer Cut” largely consists of extended scenes of violence/gore during kills and more sexuality/nudity, but there are also some minor scene extensions and a minor subplot about Whitney nearly escaping from Jason being re-edited. This is a classic example of ’00s-era home video “unrated” versions rather than a “director’s cut,” but is still the ideal way for most Jason fans to watch the film.
With both cuts of the movie, the extras from the previous release, the new features, and the sumptuous presentation, this is easily the Cadillac release of Platinum Dunes’ Friday the 13th. Here’s hoping it won’t be another 15 years before it has some company.
Friday the 13th is now available on 4K UHD from Arrow Video.
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THE BOY AND THE HERON: Miyazaki’s Final Dreamscape Stuns on 4K UHD
The possible swan song from legendary animator Hayao Miyazaki is a powerful reckoning between dreams and reality
Even months removed from my first viewings of The Boy and the Heron, Hayao Miyazaki’s alleged final film feels daunting to write about. After decades of searingly memorable animated classics, The Boy and the Heron defies easy categorization or swift analysis.
The film follows young Mahito, fresh from the wartime loss of his mother, as he adjusts to his new countryside life with his industrialist father and his new, pregnant stepmother, Natsuko. The relationship is contentious–in many ways, Natsuko is a clone of the mother Mahito lost–something that his father embraces yet only heightens Mahito’s confused grief and anger. Yet when Natsuko is kidnapped by mysterious forces inhabiting an abandoned tower on their property, Mahito takes it upon himself to rescue her. Bow and arrow in hand, Mahito follows the dubious guidance of a shady, shapeshifting heron into a disparately connected fantasia where the brain takes a logical and emotional backseat to the heart.
Perhaps that was a factor in Studio Ghibli’s decision to initially release it in its native Japan without any promotional material at all–an approach that I held fast to in the anticipatory weeks before Heron’s first American screenings. While beginning in such grounded terror during World War II, the fantasy of Heron quickly and deliberately untethers itself from concerns of consequence and plot. Sure, there’s a diligent focus on getting back Natsuko, but Mahito becomes diverted into stunning side-quests involving pelicans, cannibalistic parakeets, fire-slinging maidens, cryptid fisherwomen, and the amorphous blobs humans start as before birth. It’s impossible to predict just where Miyazaki’s film will take us next–but the film’s events feel far from arbitrary. There’s an imaginative logic that replaces traditional senses of causal connective tissue, with the senseless yet memorable imperative demands of dream-beings taking center stage. Regardless of how much this makes sense, the emotional impulses feel correct from moment to moment: we have to exit the graveyard like this, we have to get on the boat, and we can’t let the pelicans eat the warawara. Removed from the foundations of reality, we instinctively grab hold of whatever logical flotsam can save us. And with The Boy and the Heron, the result feels so viscerally real that any more clarifying approach risks ringing unbelievably false.
It’s an emotional honesty that Miyazaki has cultivated for decades, beginning in the trappings of reality before taking fantastic flights. As we follow a character like Spirited Away’s Chihiro into a world of yokai to save her parents, or Mei and Satsuki’s gradual realization of the world belonging to their Totoro neighbors, the immersion into fantasy feels like an incrementally granted permission for our inner children to embrace such freewheeling delights. While these two films in particular encourage audiences to lose themselves to their deepest dreams, the film that best explores the tension between dreams and reality is Miyazaki’s preceding film, The Wind Rises. There, Jiro’s literal flights of fancy are corrupted by translation into reality, and his dreams of flying machines are perverted by the demands of war and conflict. Try as he might to reconcile the two, there’s a disconnect between the world as he imagines it could be and the world as-is–whether it’s in the creation of his aircraft, or the losses he endures along the way. Throughout his films, Miyazaki expertly toes this line between a childlike fantasy and a corrupt, adult reality–attempting to recapture and bottle a natural sense magic and wonder we seem destined to lose as we grow older.
It’s incredibly fitting that Miyazaki’s magnum opus is the film of his that blurs this line the most–tossing aside pretensions of plot to reckon with the dreams and nightmares that seem to have plagued him for a lifetime. Miyazaki and producer Toshio Suzuki have been candid in interviews (including on this disc) about The Boy and the Heron’s autobiographical qualities, drawing from Miyazaki’s childhood and his relationships with his fellow collaborators Suzuki and recently-departed Isao Takahata to inform the development of Heron’s lead characters. With that in mind, The Boy and the Heron feels haunted by Miyazaki’s past and future, infusing the film’s powerful emotional dream logic with unshakable loss and regret. The film mourns what was as much as what will never be–whether it’s the innocence of childhood, old friends now gone, ideas that never came to pass, and ones that with the diminishing qualities of age will never come to be. Dreams are conventionally accepted as the brain processing its own experiences to delve meaning from experience and instruction on how to regulate and function; in that same vein, The Boy and the Heron feels like a grand creator reflecting upon decades of escape into fantasy, willing his dreams into something to experience to determine if anything meaningful came from it all.
The film itself, though, is its resounding answer to this tormented question. Through the burgeoning friendship between Mahito and Lady Himi, Miyazaki discovers a potential for rebirth among grief; and through the tense confrontation between universe-creator Granduncle and Mahito, Miyazaki reluctantly comes to terms with the potentially ill-fated compulsion to pass on his skills to a new generation, much like his own mentorship under Takahata. By exploring the terrifying depths of the unknown, Miyazaki–and his audience–find a comforting emotional closure by embracing such mystery and inevitable change. Effortlessly balancing a true-to-life emotional truth with a complete surrender to dreams and fantasy, The Boy and the Heron celebrates the joys and sorrows of life as Miyazaki has spent his life willing into reality.
Video/Audio
GKids and Shout! Studios present The Boy and the Heron in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio, in 4K UHD with HDR10 and Dolby Vision on the 4K Disc, and in a 1080p transfer of the same source material on the Blu-ray. The original Japanese Audio and English dub are both presented in Dolby Atmos and 7.1-Channel DTS-HD Master Audio. A Spanish dub and an English descriptive audio track are included in 5.1-Channel Surround. The film’s English dub is set as default, with SDH “dub-titles” available, but English subtitles directly translating the film’s original Japanese audio are also included. French and Spanish subtitles are also included. Special Features are subtitled in English for non-English audio.
The Boy and the Heron is the first of hopefully many more Studio Ghibli features on 4K UHD, and this inaugural release sets a lofty bar for others to reach. The expanse of the UHD color palette allows the film’s cel animation to pop with diverse ranges of color, particularly during sequences inside the ruined tower or the film’s destructive conclusion. The rust and aging of various locales is finely rendered, as are wide-scope nature shots–both take on a relaxed, painterly quality while retaining a sharp amount of artistic detail. While the Blu-ray Disc features an exquisite HD version of the same transfer, the UHD disc makes for reference-quality viewing.
Equally expansive are the film’s Dolby Atmos tracks–viewers are immediately awash in a soundscape of sirens and crackling embers before giving way to Joe Hisaishi’s instantly iconic wistful piano-based score. These vibrant elements never eclipse the film’s dialogue, taking up the film’s center tracks. Both sets of vocal performances are extraordinary, with the Heron’s Masaki Suda and Robert Pattinson clear standouts as two famed heartthrob actors embracing their inner freaky lil’ guys. All of these elements coalesce into an audio presentation that utilizes every available speaker with nuance and grace, preserving the dreamlike immersion of the film.
Special Features
All special features are included on the accompanying Blu-ray Disc.
- Feature-Length Storyboards: A picture-in-picture presentation of the raw storyboards for The Boy and the Heron for the entire feature, providing an interesting look at the evolution of the film’s stunning visuals.
- Interview with Composer Joe Hisaishi: Miyazaki’s longtime sonic collaborator offers insights on his composition process, the simpler score of the film, and his work with Miyazaki overall.
- Interview with Producer Toshio Suzuki: Suzuki provides a candid perspective on reuniting Studio Ghibli in the wake of Miyazaki’s earlier retirement, his thoughts on Miyazaki basing the Heron character on him, and the future of traditional hand-drawn animation.
- Interview with Supervising Animator Takeshi Honda: The Boy and the Heron’s Supervising Animator discusses his previous collaborations with Miyazaki, the challenges in capturing the intricate details of some scenes, and the resonance of the film’s themes.
- Drawing with Takeshi Honda: The Boy and the Heron’s supervising animator creates brief sketches of the main characters of the film: Mahito & Himi, the Heron, and Kiriko.
- Spinning Globe Music Video: an entertaining music video for Kenshi Yonezu’s passionate ballad for the film, set to clips from the film.
- Teasers & Trailers for The Boy and the Heron’s domestic and international releases.
- Booklet featuring a poetic introduction to the film, Miyazaki’s original production proposal from July 2016, and assorted stills from the film.
- Poster for the film, featuring Mahito’s first confrontation with the Heron.
The Boy and the Heron is now available on 4K UHD/Blu-ray Steelbook, 4K UHD/Blu-ray Combo Pack, and Blu-ray/DVD Combo Pack from Shout! Studios.
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SUBSERVIENCE Gleefully Tackles What if M3GAN was a Lifetime Movie?
I’ve seen more than my share of AI and sex robot films recently, so I was understandably a bit on the fence when it came to Subservience (Available TODAY on Demand and on Digital!)- yet another film that featured both. But what lured me in however was star Megan Fox, returning to the horror genre in what looked like a thinly disguised M3GAN knock off with a bit of Fatal Attraction added in for good measure.The trailer appeared to have the actor applying the same self awareness and tongue and cheek approach to the robot, that was vaguely reminiscent of her iconic turn in Jennifer’s Body, so I bit. To be honest, the film definitely surprised me with not only its depth, but its take on the concept which made this film stand out in the sea of mean spirited testosterone drenched wish fulfillment, that’s usually these films’s M.O..
Subservience takes place in the not too distant future and is the story of a family who’s matriarch has a heart attack in the opening minutes. This is the catalyst that has the hunky tatted father, Nick (Michele Morrone) sometime later shopping for a humanoid android to help with the chores and taking care of his infant son and grade school daughter. Of course, of all the models he could pick, he picks the super sexy Alice who’s flirty and clad in a mini skirt, and is played by a dolled up Fox, who is having the time of her life here. Now we as an audience knows why he picked her, and it’s not until his hospital bound wife meets her that the film starts to say the quiet part out loud, as she is obviously a bit upset, because he was supposed to have gotten an English butler model.
Rather than being about sexy robot time, Subservience is probably one of the most nuanced character assassinations of a toxic male sci-fi archetype I have ever witnessed on film. Nick is portrayed as the tall, dark, handsome and extremely troubled husband, who in the not too distant future, still drives an old 70s muscle car, drinks a little bit too much whiskey, listens to vinyl, and is toxic as hell. There’s a very distinct reason he is stuck in the past and when his construction job replaces everyone, but him with androids (they need a “living” supervisor), he begins to just self sabotage his life every way he can and to be honest it’s completely believable. Is it because he’s a drunk or simply a terrible person? I don’t know, maybe both, but this film pulls no punches as he doesn’t get an easy out unlike most films.
Nick’s lack of awareness and penchant for bad life choices is what also leads to him having sex with this robot nanny, and the way the film handles this is what really impressed me and locked me in. He plays opposite Madeline Zima as Maggie as his wife, who is quick to call him out on his choice of nanny’s given the trope of the husband falling for the younger nanny, when the wife is pregnant or incapacitated. It’s how Madeline zeros in on that and yet remains hopeful, but vigilant, that really gives the film more depth than expected. Sure Alice also took advantage of Nick, to get rid of her AI safeguards and instigated a possible singularity, but it was because he crossed a line thinking with the wrong head and failed to recognize the plethora of red flags before him.
Respectfully, Subservience feels like the sordid Lifetime version of M3GAN and I say that unironically, with both a love and respect for the Lifetime film oeuvre. This film falls very comfortably into the husband sleeping with the nanny trope the network is known for, but instead of just simply destroying a marriage with infidelity, the fate of humanity is also on the line. The film is smart enough to realize that even in a utopian society, some people are going to simply make terrible life choices and this trope was fertile ground for that. Fox is a joy to watch here and Madeline Zima comes out of nowhere to give this story some real redemptive substance. While I simply had a lot of fun watching this, I can’t help but think of all the guys who are going to watch this expecting sexy robot robot Megan Fox, and instead get a moral lesson about family and keepin’ it in your pants and away from the nanny.
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ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA: Sergio Leone’s Final Film Restored and Reappraised [Two Cents]
![ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA: Sergio Leone’s Final Film Restored and Reappraised [Two Cents]](https://i0.wp.com/cinapse.co/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/once-upon-a-time-in-america-1530579166.jpg?resize=1140%2C641&ssl=1)
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 titles are drastically different than what was initially released theatrically.
The Pick: Once Upon a Time in America (1984)
This week’s Two Cents unearths the restored “Extended Director’s Cut” of master director Sergio Leone’s final film, Once Upon a Time in America. Once intended to be two three-hour films, Leone was contractually obligated to turn in a more commercial runtime for his epic adaptation of Harry Grey’s gangster autobiography, “The Hoods.” A 3-hour, 49-minute cut was eventually approved for release in Europe and premiered to rave reviews at the Cannes Film Festival; however, American distributor The Ladd Company butchered the film further without Leone’s input, rearranging the complex narrative structure to a chronological order and removing more than 90 minutes from the film. While the film was a disaster in America, America‘s European cut would thankfully become the more available version on home video–and nearly 30 years later, the discovery of discarded reference prints of deleted scenes would allow Leone’s family, Martin Scorsese’s Film Foundation, Warner Brothers, Gucci, and L’Immagine Ritrovata to restore Once Upon a Time in America to a definitive 4-hour, 11-minute runtime.
Whether 3 or 4 hours, Once Upon a Time in America remains a complex reimagining of Prohibition-era New York as only the director of the Dollars trilogy and Once Upon a Time in the West could capture it. It’s both a celebration and condemnation of gangland nostalgia, and an unrivaled epic whose temporal and emotional heft still packs a punch with viewers today.
Featured Guest
Nathan Flynn
Once Upon a Time in America is a hauntingly beautiful swan song from one of my favorite filmmakers whose work lingers with the same haunting allure that some speak of David Lynch or Stanley Kubrick. This film, the final entry in Leone’s “Once Upon a Time” trilogy, follows Once Upon a Time in the West—one of Leone’s finest achievements—and Duck, You Sucker—a lesser but still compelling work.
Boasted by a star-studded cast including Robert De Niro, James Woods, Elizabeth McGovern, Joe Pesci, and many others, the film is an operatic masterpiece — a monumental exploration of regret, childhood, friendship, and betrayal. The story unfolds through the eyes of a man steeped in darkness, reflecting on a life marked by betrayal and lost opportunities, all set to Ennio Morricone’s evocative score. Morricone’s music, always rich with emotional depth, is an alchemical transformation of human feelings into pure, resonant sound.
The film’s intricate narrative structure, which slowly reveals its secrets and unravels its mysteries, perfectly mirrors its protagonist’s mournful and unheroic journey. The American release, unfortunately, butchered by The Ladd Company without Leone’s input, presents the film in a linear fashion, a stark contrast to the original, masterful European cut.Once Upon a Time in America stands alongside the great final films of directors like Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut and Lumet’s Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead. Its layered storytelling and emotional complexity make it a fitting farewell to Leone’s legendary career, akin to the deep, reflective quality of The Godfather Part II and Scorsese’s The Irishman.
(@NathanFlynn on Xitter)
The Team
Ed Travis
From what I understand Sergio Leone worked on this film for upwards of 15 years and when the studio finally released it, they stripped it of its rich time hopping narrative and re-edited it into a chronologically ordered tale. Perhaps the thinking there was that audiences simply couldn’t follow a narrative that bounced around in time so fluidly. But it was considered a disaster. This decades-spanning Jewish gangster epic from one of the most revered filmmakers to ever live was a part of my life from a pretty young age, likely from one of those 2-VHS-tape sets. For the life of me I don’t recall if the version I watched was chronologically arranged or not. But what we’re exploring is the extended director’s cut version that runs at 251 minutes and includes some “believed to be lost” footage. That said, even the “theatrical cut” presented on my Blu-ray is NOT the chronological version. So it’s a troubled film with a checkered release. But it’s also a profoundly sad, evocative tragedy and a triumph of a final film for Leone.
I’ve used most of my 400 words to discuss the fumbled release. But Once Upon a Time in America is a film of great intention, planned out in confidence by an unquestioned master. We follow Robert De Niro’s Noodles through a life filled with criminal ascendance, but personal tragedy. We follow our anti-hero gang through their childhood, into their criminal successes as young adults during Prohibition, and into the surviving characters’ later lives (shells of lives) in the late 1960s. Always peering and gazing through peep holes and mirrors, Noodles is a deeply tragic figure who, through his own actions and nurtured by the corrupt world around him, will never find love or trust or belonging. He lives the American dream on the one hand, and saunters into an isolated oblivion on the other. In all honesty, one of the only things I remembered from the film, and which I dreaded upon re-watch, is one of the most upsetting rape sequences I’ve ever seen. Noodles has spent his whole life pining after Deborah (Jennifer Connelly as a youth and Elizabeth McGovern as an adult), who simply outclasses him and has her eyes set on bigger things, even if she does have a soft spot for him. In the film’s most stomach-churning and gut-wrenching scene, Noodles, at the height of his gangster powers, finally attempts to woo Deborah with all the flash and wealth he can muster. Deborah informs him that she’s moving to L.A. to become an actress, and he uses his ill-gotten strength and power to assault her. It’s absolutely awful, but it also breaks him, and is illustrative of the entire tragic premise of this film: that sure, in America you can take what’s not given to you, but your soul just may be stripped away from you in the process. Innocence Lost: The Motion Picture.
Film critic Richard Schickel in the commentary track asserts his belief that the film, bookended by scenes of Noodles drowning his sorrows in an opium den (oh, the set design here is immaculate), represents an extended dream sequence, as though much of the tragedy of the gang’s latter-life sequences are imagined. I’m not a big fan of “it was all a dream” theories, myself. But regardless, Once Upon A Time In America is a nightmare of men lashing out and coping by taking what they want and sowing poison that reaps tragedy. Only Leone could make such a sweeping, tragic tale so heart-achingly beautiful to witness.
Julian Singleton
Once Upon a Time in America is neck-and-neck with Magnolia for my favorite movie of all time–so forgive me as I completely disregard our usual word limit to appreciate such a limitless film.
Over the course of his career, Sergio Leone transformed how we saw America. In particular, his Dollars Trilogy and Once Upon a Time in the West seized upon the iconic imagery of classic Westerns to expose the corruption and violence behind their majestic vistas and seemingly heroic figures. In his final four-hour epic, Once Upon a time in America, Leone centers Jewish gangster David “Noodles” Aaronson (Scott Tiler/Robert DeNiro), exploring his life, loves, and betrayals while shifting between past and future, memory and fantasy. The result takes on a scope surpassing anything Leone previously accomplished, managing to dovetail his lead’s complicated love for his thrilling yet violent youth with America’s dubious nostalgia for Prohibition-era gangland lawlessness.
In dovetailing Noodles’ past with America’s own, we share in his complex love for his childhood exploits, and commiserate in how his dreams and ideals are dashed on the rocks of reality. Leone spares no detail in faithfully recreating the 1920s, 1930s, and 1960s, with Giovanni Natalucci’s production design feeling more like time travel than mere set construction. The antics of these kids are just as earnest and heartfelt, with their bravado more than once undermined by their emotional immaturity. In one memorable scene, the boys—despite their tough personas—are more tempted by a Charlotte Russe than by the girls meant to receive such gifts. As Noodles’ gang becomes entangled in New York’s criminal underworld, the image of them at the height of their youthful success lingers: boy-men in oversized trench coats and fedoras. Noodles, Max, Cockeye, Patsy, and Dominic are all so eager to embody some ideal of criminal adulthood that they remain trapped in a terminal sense of arrested development no matter how old they manage to become. However, Leone also recognizes that such a marriage between the vitalities of youth and reckless gangland abandon can be a valid response to living in a world filled with senseless and random death and brutality. You could be switched at birth or gunned down in a hailstorm of bullets in someone else’s petty scheme; at the same time, you can make and lose a fortune as the master of your own fate, depending on how ruthless you are in your ambition. There’s as much to love as there is to hate about this life–and it’s impossible to separate one extreme from the other.
In that same way, unmoored from time and structure, America becomes Leone’s most haunting and provocative film–inextricably fusing nostalgia and regret. When Noodles leaves prison as an adult, there’s a gulf of experience between this gangland boy and the adults who’ve matured in his absence. Max, Cockeye, and Patsy have embraced their lucrative bootlegger lives, and childhood love Deborah (Jennifer Connelly/Elizabeth McGovern) has pursued her equal ambitions into fame and stardom. Noodles is more than ready to join them, going on violent money-making sprees and cosplaying as a member of the high life in order to convince both Deborah and his friends that he’s “one of them.” But the reality is that his prison’s just upgraded from the one he spent the rest of his childhood in. Noodles the Man is still just Noodles the Boy–pursuing a dream of adulthood that, facing so much more consequence and loss than ever, rings even more hollow and fruitless. It’s a viscerally uncomfortable truth for anyone, not just Noodles–and Leone crystallizes this in one of the most repulsive scenes put on film. Noodles’ assault on Deborah makes him such an irredeemable character, a scene that McGovern herself pointedly equates to the immature and brutal violence featured in the rest of the film. The underlying psychology of Noodles’ actions, something he spends the 1960s section of the film coming to grips with, is possibly the most heartbreaking and universal truth of Leone’s filmography. There’s an unshakable grief for a past Noodles can’t reclaim and for a future that was never his to begin with, and despite all of his efforts to seize control of his life, life will coldly move on without him.
It’s a near-total rejection of the concept of the American Dream–for all of life’s unpredictability, it’s naive to believe ambition alone will lead us to the future we dream we deserve. At the same time, Leone empathizes with this idealism–it’s a dream that gives children the courage and vitality to achieve extraordinary things, if unspeakable to others, as adults. This childish dream, that we’re masters of our fate in a random world, still retains its ability to inspire even if the only thing we can be certain of is death itself. That certainty lingers over every inch of this film, as young Dominic is gunned down at the peak of their childhood success, and as the elder Noodles navigates cemeteries and mausoleum-like mansions in search of one final explanation of life’s mysteries before he, too, meets his end. And especially so as, in the background, a character from Noodles’ past seemingly begs for death from beyond the grave.
Though Once Upon a Time in America was subject to editorial butcherings over the years, finally restored to a near-complete four-hour version, its extended runtime is crucial to its impact. We feel every drawn out minute–from the temptation of a Charlotte Russe to watching a long-lost friend meet a shadowy, mysterious fate. We jump across decades of triumph and loss with dream logic, joining Noodles in a desperate search for answers that may never have been there to begin with. This cumulative soul-searching is essential for the film’s subdued, heartbreaking conclusion to resonate–as the constant, searing presence of melancholy passion cuts through the ambiguity of whether anything that we’ve seen is in fact real, or just an opium-fueled American dream. It’s an impossible feat for any film to tackle the totality of human experience within the scope of one runtime–but the fact Sergio Leone dares to even try with Once Upon a Time in America brings it as close to success as possible.
(@Gambit1138 on Xitter)
Austin Vashaw
Even though I’m a huge fan of Sergio Leone and have seen just about everything he’s directed, his crime saga Once Upon a Time in America is one that’s escaped me for awhile, mostly because the runtime and heavy tone – I’d heard in particular of its difficult sexual violence – always felt a bit daunting.
Robert De Niro’s career criminal “Noodles” is at times a reprehensible figure, but also a deeply tragic one, and despite his horrific crimes we might hope for some sliver of redemption as his tale is told through a combination of flashbacks and his return to New York many years after fleeing for his life – older, seemingly wiser, and still marching inexorably to the end of his story.
Both De Niro and James Woods – as well as the impeccably cast younger actors who are completely believable as their younger selves – are incredible as the primary relationship driving the film’s plot, as fierce friends and fiercer competitors, making or breaking their fortune in Prohibition-era New York through a combination of guts, smarts, and dirty dealing. They aren’t exactly protagonists to root for so much as to observe; between them their crimes include rape, murder, and betrayal.
The film is singular among Leone’s oeuvre in that coming later in the director’s career (1984), it features a relatively modern cast including Treat Williams, James Woods, Joe Pesci, and Jennifer Connelly. Another interesting aspect – particularly since Leone is Italian – is that the film’s characters are Jewish-American immigrants, rather than the more typical Italian or Irish representation of mobsters. So right offhand, it feels like a unique look at a familiar subject.
The maestro Ennio Morricone fills the tale with a luscious score that underlines its sadness and tragedy, and its main theme was instantly familiar to me as a fan of his work, although I hadn’t seen the film before. It’s a tough watch, but I’m glad I’ve finally experienced Leone’s final work.
CINAPSE REVISITS OUR BEST FORGOTTEN EPICS
In September, dive into epic films in their directors’ uncut, definitive forms. These bold visions by our favorite filmmakers use every minute of runtime to immerse us in vast worlds and compelling stories. Join us by contacting our team or emailing [email protected]!
September 16th – The Abyss: Special Edition (2 hours, 51 minutes)
September 30th – Kingdom of Heaven: Roadshow Director’s Cut (3 hours, 9 minutes)
