It Follows (David Robert Mitchell, 2015)

The unceasing sense of dread from the first to the last frame of It Follows, is something that thousands of other horror films reach for, but find beyond their grasp more often than not. Due in no small part to employing a cinematographic language grown from the bones of early John Carpenter, It Follows is successful in creating the kind of movie going experience that leaves the viewer searching the frame from edge to edge for some clue to where the danger will come next. The wide angle and long takes lend themselves well to instilling and developing the sense of dread and anxious suspense that take elements of the films narrative and express it through the kind of visual language that work on the viewers subconscious. The result is that the anxiety, tension, dread and fear that the narrative is trying to build and that the characters are supposed to be feeling is mirrored very directly by the audience.

The STD as the delivery mechanism for horror isn't a completely new invention by any means. Cronenberg's classic, Shivers, along with the very well done and unfortunately under recognized Contracted (currently available to stream on Netflix) use it, but It Follows strays away from the kind of body/biological horror the other films of this variety use and instead heads off into supernatural territory. Shockingly enough, as horrifying as they are in real life, STD's aren't an often used story element in horror or sci-fi, which works in the films favor. Heading away from the science fiction aspects that have been at the center of previous films that have attempted to incorporate STD's, puts even the more seasoned film goer at the disadvantage (or advantage, depending on the particular viewers preference) of not being able to refer to previous incarnations of the idea for frames of reference as to where the story might be going. That alone is an unusual feat and deserves recognition.

The It of It Follows is never fully explained, which is to film maker David Robert Mitchell's credit. The basic conceit at the center of the story being that one character transfers the attentions of the shape shifting It to another through intercourse. It is going to follow until It kills you. It can look like anyone and the only way to get rid of It is to give It to someone else.

This is not a film as concerned with neatly tying up it's story and plot as it is with putting the audience through the experience of It following. The success of the film and it's often unsettling and sometimes genuinely frightening moments are due to that focus. Where most other horror films are obsessed with the origin of the horror, vanquishing it and the story that happens in between those two points, It Follows leaves basically all of those tropes behind. What we're told about the thing stalking Jay, the teenage protagonist, comes from the person who gave it to her and who is very clearly an unreliable source for definitive information. This lack of concrete understanding serves to add another layer to the sense of dread the cinematography creates by putting the audience in the position of knowing no more about what's trying to kill her than she does, but always seeing it coming. The tension derived from that unknown heightens the stakes behind every decision her character makes, because there isn't any absolute. There is no magic incantation, no scientific wizardry, no definitive way for Jay to get free from Its pursuit. There is no solution, and we can see It coming.

When it does take on some of the tropes of so many past horror films, they are dealt with in a way that expresses the reality of this very unreal experience. Engaging to some degree in the "kids have to figure it out on their own and save the day" kind of story that was extremely popular in the eighties, It Follows leaves the territory of the heroic and delves directly into the relationships between the group of teenagers with a remarkable precision. As fantastic and unreal as a supernatural STD is, the relationships between the kids are very real, and very much filled with the kind of uncertainty that is a hallmark of the mid to late teens. In that way, the film is actually more real and more truthful than even most of the mainstream dramas that attempt to delve into the world of being a teenager.

As easy as it would be to read the film as the kind of puritanical trash so many other horror films trade on and use as currency, there are aspects of it that suggest something much more interesting is happening. There is a very real connection between what Jay experiences and the experiences of victims of rape, sexual assault or anyone who has experienced PTSD. Few films, even the more lauded mainstream "issue" films that attempt to address it, have been as good at conveying the feeling of constant danger, anxiety, and hyper vigilance that are the real power of the results of sexual assault that are most damaging in the long term. Other films may express the injustice and brutality of those experiences, but this film conveys the actual feelings, and it's easy to wonder if the title It Follows is as much about the experience following being assaulted or raped, because it certainly puts the audience more directly into that experience than most films would even begin to consider because most of them lack any real understanding. This isn't something the usual "sex gets you killed" puritanical garbage would ever attempt to portray. Those films lack any empathy for the victim. It Follows isn't begging for the audience to feel pity for Jay, it's trying to make them feel what she feels, and it does so damn well. Maika Monroe, who plays Jay, imbues the character with a combination of traits and emotions that makes her very real in this very unreal world, and is able to move fluidly from being a pro active agent for her own well being to being someone who can barely grasp the reality of their situation without ever stumbling into the territory of making that transition seem false, forced or without base. She can convey a kind of watchful distance from the other characters, then also convey an immediate, urgent need for it all to just stop and all of the emotional territory between in a way that makes Jay a very real, very human character that gives the audience the window into that very same experience. None of this seems designed as something Maika Monroe or David Robert Mitchell are making a definitive comment on so much as making them a part of the overall experience.

Time and setting are also really interesting parts of what make the film work. It is timeless, in the sense that the costuming and set design give no real sense of when the film takes place. It's as likely to be present day as it is to be some slightly alternative version of the 80's or 90's. As time is such an important factor in giving people some degree of mooring and context for the understanding and world view of characters and their environment, it just adds to a dream like quality that is at the outer edge of the films atmosphere. The only real indicator of time are some of the locations which fit directly into the rest of the film in that they could be now or thirty years ago, and then a preoccupation with urban decay as an indicator that there was a time before, that time is gone, and the present the film takes place in isn't nearly as prosperous. Being set in and outside Detroit, there's no lack of urban and suburban decay for the characters to wander through, and the sole conversation in the film that the main characters have is much more a description of their relationship to it as children than it is on the decay itself.

In conjunction with that, there are virtually no present adults in the film. Jay's mom is almost entirely absent, except to show that she is absent as a formative influence or means of support for her daughter. With those few exceptions, the perspective we're given on the adults comes from Jay and the few friends who are attempting to either help her or keep her from losing her mind, because they aren't all completely sure that what she is experiencing is actually real. Between the decay and blight of the past being so much a part of the setting and the narrative suggestion that the adults are dealing with their own demons, the time and setting become a part of conveying the sense of helplessness and hopelessness that contribute the sense of anxiety in the film. These teenagers seem doomed to a world that is in a state of constant decay and if they're parents are any indication, their future seems to be a struggle with hopelessness and decay, even without the addition of a supernatural force trying to kill one of them.

David Robert Mitchell doesn't seem to be making any kind of definitive comment about any of these weightier, heavier themes so much as meditating on them in a general way or using them as a way to make the overall impact of the experience of watching the film have more weight and resonance. What is interesting about their inclusion in the film is that they do mimic the way they work in real life. They are peripheral in the film, and in the lives of people who are experiencing them, they often seem peripheral and distant as they're going about the more urgent necessities of their daily lives, but as distant as those larger issues and ideas may seem, they are having an effect on daily life. Most of us are just trying to get through our days, and though we may be aware that our past experiences and our environment have some effect on us, it's not something we're objectively conscious of. They are things that muddle around in the backs of our minds while we're doing what needs to be done to live and survive. In that way, Mitchell has made a film whose emotional exactitude between the urgent necessity of the immediate situation at hand and the way the past and the environment influence it is pretty amazing.

It Follows isn't a standard horror film. Audience going to see it specifically because it's being hailed as "The scariest movie in a decade" are probably going to be disappointed. It's too unusual and too methodical for the majority of modern horror audiences. It's not preoccupied with telling a fairy tale story as much as it is providing a cinematic experience that recreates or instills it's characters emotions in it's audience as effectively as possible. It has much more in common with The Shining than it does with The Haunted, and even though The Shining is now consider a classic, must see of the horror cannon, it's less linear approach will have much less mass appeal. It's interesting, effective film making with more attention to emotional detail than to hitting the requisite plot points and it creates an incredibly effective atmosphere of dread that will be a welcome departure for more discerning film and horror buffs.

Horror on Netflix Watch Instantly

Netflix has become the most popular streaming service. With that in mind, I put together a list of the horror films they currently have available through their Watch Instantly streaming service. This is just a list of the films that are worth watching for one reason or another. It may be that the film is particularly creepy or funny, disturbing or thought provoking, had a particular cultural impact or is just plainly well made. It just means that for one reason or another I'd suggest seeing the film. They're only listed in the order I found them, with the exception of sequels or franchise entries, they'll be listed together. I've also included links directly to the films through Netflix. If I've reviewed the film previously, I've also included a link for my original review.

Cabin In The Woods (Drew Goddard, 2012)

My first reaction to Cabin In The Woods is that I now completely understand why it sat on a shelf for three years. It's going to inspire a rabid following. The throngs of movie goers who go to see something like Transformers: Dark Of The Moon and think it's a really great movie, are not going to like this film... at all. I wouldn't be shocked if it inspires a visceral hatred in that audience. It has no interest in being that kind of movie, though I could be also be wrong about that, because on a purely visceral level, it delivers an out of control freight train of imagery and sound. Unlike a Transformers film though, it does so completely coherently. The real problem for that audience is going to be that it's going to make them uncomfortable in certain ways the majority of the casual movie going public is not interested in being subjected to, whether they're completely conscious of the reason they feel uncomfortable or not. It's all there, and even as the subtext of the film is never, for one second, ham handed and patronizing, it's there. On top of that, the unconventional nature of the narrative is going to throw them for a loop, which means the subconscious picking up on that subtext isn't going to be lulled into a quiet coma or easily ignored. The chances are pretty good that this is going to be a film with a life like that of Fight Club. It will inspire a rabid fan base among some of those who have seen it in theaters and who will evangelize for it enough that it will be a much more successful film once it's release to Video On Demand, Blu-Ray and DVD. At the same time I do think a lot of people are probably going to have a vicious hatred for this movie. 

This film does succeed in doing something incredibly rare though. It succeeds in it's narrative and pure presentation, while also being a kind of weird experiment at exactly the same time. Most films that make the attempt to do both, end up being successful with one aspect, and missing aspects of the other part in a way that is noticeable during the film's viewing. Much of what works in this film is due to the fact that it has a manically paced forward motion that does not slow down for a second. There is so much packed into this film that it's kind of astounding that writers Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard were able to pull all of it off as well as they have. More often than not, when a film is paced this quickly, and bubbles with this much energy, it's a method used to cover up the things in the film that don't work. If the film makers don't give the audience enough time to digest what they've just seen and throw some entirely new scenario, dilemma or set piece at the audience before they have time to really think about it, the audience doesn't think about it until after the film is over. If they enjoyed the experience of seeing the film, and realize later that things don't quite work or really fit together when they think about it, they're still much more likely to be charitable toward the film because the initial experience was satisfying. That's not what's happening with Cabin In The Woods. This is the kind of film that will hold treasures on repeated viewings, little things the interested viewer didn't pick up initially. The real beauty of that pace is that in this instance, there is no realization that there is this kind of grand experiment playing out (in the narrative, and also between the film and the audience) until the film is already over. If anything is going to save this film with the kind of mass audience film studios generally love to court, it's going to be the fact that the pacing and the writing make it an extremely entertaining experience. The tension and the laughs, combined with the Mach 4 speed of the film translate into something that feels at first like the most fun forms of pure cinema entertainment. Considering it later is going to reveal just how much is going on in this film, and just how well all of that works within the narrative and in the films structure.

That's just the entertainment value of the film, of which there is more than enough to go around. The real feat is that there's a smartly written comment on film making, horror films, and audience expectations deeply woven into the texture of the film and the surface narrative. That narrative subtext works just as well or better than the narrative on the surface, and for the audience that's been following the film since production was announced five years ago, it adds yet another layer by being a reflexive comment on the fact that it sat on a shelf for three years because no distributor was willing to take a gamble on it until Joss Whedon was attached to The Avengers (and having now finally gotten the opportunity to see Cabin In The Woods, I'm even more excited about The Avengers). This isn't to say Cabin In The Woods has any pretensions about being either an art film or some kind of masterwork of socially conscious film making, but that it's creative team aren't bound to the idea that film has to necessarily be either entertaining or have something else to say. It's a pretty perfect example of the idea that both can be achieved in the same film with some deft writing and direction.

Cabin In The Woods isn't a horror film, even though that's more or less how it's being marketed. It's part horror film, part science fiction, part adventure movie and part meta commentary, jam packed into 95 minutes. Lionsgate's marketing department deserves a pass on this one though, because they're not necessarily misleading the audience with the trailers and commercials they've put out. Giving away any more than they do would be a detriment to the audience experience of seeing the film for the first time. That said, in some aspects, the marketing campaign is going to work in their favor, and in some aspects, it's not. For the kind of horror audience that has a dedicated love of the genre as a whole (including literature) it's going to be one of the more exciting and thoughtful films they've seen in a really, really long time. There's been a lot of comparison to Scream in the reviews and press about the film, but ultimately, that's both a lazy and unfair comparison. Cabin In The Woods is taking a perspective on horror films closer to that which Network took toward television news. It's satire and it's commentary aren't as omnipresent, but it is very much the same kind of laughing at, making fun of and being somewhat disgusted and horrified by. Some people will probably also connect the film with some degree of commentary about reality television, and though I can see how one might find that in the film to a certain degree, it's a tenuous connection, and I think it's pretty obvious that's not exactly what the film makers intended. Like a number of the films which have attempted to make some commentary about reality television, Cabin In The Woods definitely has a few questions for it's audience, but that's a larger cultural connection not specific to either this film or reality television more generally. Tonally, and as far as the goal the film is attempting to achieve by it's conclusion, it probably most resembles Fight Club. There's some really dark humor, some shockingly graphic content, some hard questions asked of the audience that will be uncomfortable for the casual film goer, but will present some really interesting discussions and ideas for the kind of movie goer who appreciates it when a film does attempt to engage them this way and still sees film as a viable medium for asking these kinds of questions.

The performances in the film are all at least effective. There's no one in this film that sucks, and that may not sound very complimentary, but there's so much going on and the film is moving at such a rapid pace, there isn't a whole lot of time for any single performance to really shine. None of the performances feels false or out of place, none of them rip the audience out of the experience of the films narrative. Richard Jenkins and Bradley Whitford are given the best lines and the meatiest parts in the film when the narrative is taken as a whole, but even they don't have the kind of premium screen time that's going to highlight exactly how good they are in the roles they're given. They've been given the best comedic moments in the film and they're also central to both the surface narrative and the meta narrative under the surface. There's a lot of potential in a feature length comedy pairing the two actors, because they compliment each other really well, are recognizable enough to most audiences that their familiarity will convey the kind of trust an audience puts in it's lead actors, but not so recognizable they come with the kind of associations that are attached to more recognizable leading men.

IMDB has the estimated budget for the film at thirty million dollars, and every cent of it is on the screen. For your average American film in the multiplex, thirty million isn't really all that high of a budget, but Goddard makes great use of it. Considering the production values that so many celluloid crap fests churn out with a considerably larger budget, Cabin In The Woods looks and feels like much more expensive film than it ultimately was. It's packed with effects of the digital and practical variety. There are some pretty gory moments, and the third act of the film is a wonderland for horror fans, in every conceivable way. The effects are all effective and like the performances aren't necessarily meant to be eye popping or revelations of any kind on their own, but serve the story exactly the way they're meant to. There were no moments of really bad effects eliciting the kind of grown I'm prone to in a film with a budget of this size. Again, there are films with budgets twice and three times Cabin In The Woods that have much, much worse effects, both digitally and practically.

For those who might be interested in the meta narrative aspects of the film, but might also shy away from the horror aspects, don't be too worried. There are a few really bloody sequences in the film, but they Goddard doesn't linger on the gore in the way many horror films do. They have a purpose, they convey that purpose and then he's done with them. As a whole, the film skirts the line between the expectations of gore hounds and a more general audience admirably. If there's any place it might disappoint two prospective audiences simultaneously, it's in the gore aspect. General audiences will probably find it slightly gorier than is to their liking, and the gore hounds of the horror set will probably walk away having hoped for slightly more blood and bodily dismemberment. There are very few instances of violence occurring in the actual frame, so the opportunities to present gore fans with the kinds of effects they thrill and wonder at are minimum.

So who should really go to see Cabin In The Woods, and what audiences are actually most likely to really enjoy it? It's a tough question to answer. There's a whole lot to enjoy about the film. It's definitely entertaining, and isn't self indulgent enough for the meta narrative to get in the way of general audience appreciation for it. At the same time, it flouts the conventions of the horror genre (and the film many people are going to be expecting to see as a result of the marketing) in a way that's going to seriously piss some of them off or leave them feeling unsatisfied with the theater experience of the film. Others are going to find fault with the lack of exposition it dedicates to one of the larger aspects of the story. It's all there, definitely, but there's a good deal of information that's either inferred through dialog and isn't directly explained or is portrayed visually. The kind of audience that likes it's story spoon fed to it is going to be alienated by the degree to which it treats them like they should be able to keep up without all that exposition. Anyone who finds the concept of meta narratives deeply annoying, is going to dislike it.

Anyone whose taste in movies fits those descriptions shouldn't go see it. It's definitely worth seeing, and worth the price of admission, but for those audiences, it's probably best to catch it on VOD, Netflix or what ever other form they choose. It's the kind of film that's worth seeing for what you don't like about as much as for what you do.

The audience most likely to get enjoyment out of this film is the one that is least cynical about film in general. The casual theater goer who walks into any theater, hoping they're going to get ninety minutes or two hours worth of entertainment and expects nothing more, is going to enjoy it. There's no shortage of entertainment value. There are aspects of this film that are going to blow those people away, and they're going walk away saying, "Holy shit. I didn't think you could do that." The third act is going to give them something they never knew they wanted.

In a similar vein, those of us with a more dedicated love of film as something more than just idle entertainment (and that's not meant as a slight to those who do see it that way), and are able to go into a theater and hope that a film succeeds at what it sets out to do (and see anything beyond pure entertainment as an added bonus) are going to find this a really satisfying experience. There's enough going on in the meta aspect to be worth the time of unpacking it and considering it. It's well crafted and obviously a labor of love by two quixotic film makers. This audience will appreciate it for at least what it tries to do, even if they find it a little light on the more satirical commentary aspects.

Then there are two audiences who are going to have a deep, passionate love for this film. The dedicated horde of Joss Whedon fans are going to absolutely fall in love with it. They enjoy and appreciate anything he does, but this is going to really hit the sweet spot for them. It has all of the aspects of Whedon's work they've fallen in love with in the past, and it ties them together in the kind of ways they find interesting, creative and quirky. I'm a casual fan of Whedon's work. He's an obviously gifted writer, with an ear for dialog and imbues most of his work with a really big, gooey, non-apologetic heart. I appreciate and respect that, but I can't be counted among the kind of Whedon fans who were responsible for making enough of a clamor that his television show Firefly ended up getting the chance to make the jump to feature film as Serenity, and got a second network to pick up Buffy The Vampire Slayer after it was cancelled on it's first network. They are a passionate, dedicated lot that very few creative professionals are fortune enough to be the attention point for. For those folks, there are little bite sized chunks of everything Whedon has been doing that makes him distinct as a creative voice.

The other audience that is going to come away from this film with nothing but the highest respect for it is the one I probably most fit into. People who have a deep passion for film, and came to that passion through genre films, and aren't completely cynical about either. Every second of it has something that genre fans are going to pick up on in one way or another, and in exactly the opposite way that Scream attempted to do this. It's not just throwing all of that on top of a well crafted giallo type of mystery in order to say, "Hey, remember how cool all this is? Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge." It's not cynical in that way at all. It's not trying to draw ten bucks from your wallet with a passing reference to the fact that it recognizes the things that made you a fan of film and genre fiction. It's doing a lot more than that. It's speaking directly to you, about your relationship to the kinds of horror films coming out in theaters today from the creators perspective, not from the studio perspective. It's speaking as directly to a number of other types of audience as well, but the truth is some of those audiences aren't going to pick up on that fact, and some of them are either going to find it insulting or lacking in enough "substance" to be worth considering. I'm going to call bullshit on the "substance" argument right now, because there's a whole hell of a lot of substance in there, it's just not packaged in the kind of self serious way that particular audience tends to find most appealing. Like the kind of audience that is going to be irritated by the lack of exposition for certain aspects of the film, the audience that will complain about "lack of substance" in the "message" of the film like to have those things laid out for them in the most crystal clear way with the least possibility for misunderstanding, with a heavy dose of "indie," "art house" or whatever other necessary vehicle they demand to satisfy their own sense of self importance. In short, if you have a love for genre films as being truly equal to any other variety of film (and possibly more important in the larger cultural sense) this is a movie you're going to enjoy and understand more thoroughly than just about every other conceivable audience. I'll discuss much of this in more detail in the next part of this review where spoilers will be allowed.

Cabin In The Woods is one of the best horror films of the last decade and one of the best deconstructist horror films of all time.