Showing posts with label film review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label film review. Show all posts

Sunday, March 29, 2015

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.


Monday, December 08, 2014

The Babadook (Jenifer Kent, 2014)

In many ways, this story has been around for centuries. The basic plot of an item of some kind being a gateway/prison for something evil, parasitic and malignant isn't new. The Renaissance and the dawn of the Age of Reason saw books becoming a primary carrier for these supernatural infections. That some terrible thing might be released by reading a book has been a staple of Western horror since.

The reason these kinds of stories continue to exist is that their basic, simple structure lends itself to retelling from almost any perspective. With a little ingenuity, they can still be something different than the hundreds of other versions that have preceded them. The Babadook is one of the most sharply written and directed versions of this story that has been around for a while.

It's extremely disciplined, cutting storytelling. Beyond it's familiar, simple set up lies something much heavier and carries a heavier impact. It is an encapsulation of the fears of every single parent. There are a few aspects that are probably more specific to single mothers, but any single parent would identify with the horror this film is really laying bare. They are probably fears every parent has, but would only be intensified at the prospect of being a single parent, the kinds of things that will keep people from divorce and in a bad marriage because of the fears of what single parenthood will be. In more ways than not, it's about the fears and emotional life of being a single mother, and it is in that reality that the horror of the whole story really blooms.

Pan's Labyrinthe, The Devil's Backbone, and The Orphanage are all horror films that have an emotionally resonant core. Where they tend to deal with innocence and childhood, The Babadook deals with the loss of innocence that is being a single mother. It is as emotionally charged as the best of the horror films Guillermo Del Toro has either written and directed or produced, but it reaches for those emotions in a very different way. Where those films reached for them through sentimentality, adventure and discovery, The Babadook reaches for them through the very grinding world of the everyday. This films doesn't rely on turning your stomach to be the source of its horror, it relies on grabbing your heart and squeezing it while setting off every possible psychological alarm bell it can. It's creepy, disturbing and pushes some very primal buttons, but not once does it seem forced or as if it's trying to hard.

Essie Davis plays Amelia, mother to Samuel (Noah Wiseman). Essie Davis carries this film in a performance the film it needed in order to succeed. Like the storytelling, it's honest, disciplined, and displays an excellent understanding of the line between being able to reach intense emotions and being over the top. As a team, writer/director Jennifer Kent and lead Essie Davis have created something that is a deeply creepy, disturbing, intense and emotionally charged experience. What she brings to the film gives it everything it needs to work, and Jennifer Kent tells the story in a way that is efficient, but that it still has enough breathing room to feel like it's unrolling in front of you organically.

There is a sense of the extreme and emotionally repulsive that is so well honed that instead of pushing the audience out of the story and into a focus on their own discomfort, it draws them further in. Make no mistake, The Babadook has some gut wrenching scenes that are part of what the more hard core of horror fans are looking for, but none of them come from some kind of graphic physical violence or injury. It has some shocking moments, but the intention is always about more than just being shocking. All of them are coming from a kind of emotional core that makes this film anything but generic, cheap and lazy. On top of that core, it layers a creepy dread, some intensely scary moments and works its themes throughout the story with a deft hand.

The art direction and set direction are underlying components of what add to the films success. The environment is palpable but never steps in becoming a character. It's a thing lurking around the rest of the story, adding to the atmosphere the script creates, and the general tenor of each scene. The book itself is the foremost example. It is both credible as a children's book in it's use of language and its drawings and art, but deeply disturbing at the same time. In many ways, it is the best possible example of the things that make the film successful and give it a unique place in its genre. 

Jennifer Kent and The Babadook deserve to be recognized for something else. There is only the slightest dusting of visual effects. They are so perfectly used and sparingly applied that at absolutely no point do they become part of what gives the film and it's story impact. They heighten the impact when they are used. There are two very different conversations that can happen surrounding visual effects in a film, whether they are digital or practical effects. One is about the quality of the effects and the other is in how they are used. This film brings both of those conversations together by taking the idiom "less is more" to it's furthest logical conclusion. There are effects in the film. What their quality is can't actually be separated from how well they help heighten the sense of dread and creepiness. 

It's the kind of film that will be as effective for cinephiles who are looking for something meaty and smart as it will for someone just looking for a good chiller that will follow them home and give them the creeps when they turn out the lights. It's guaranteed to draw some fire from cultural critics of every possible variety as well, when they get around to finally seeing it. It's certain to be a conversation starter among more analytical audiences. With the exceptions of those who universally dislike horror films, the gorehound sect of the horror community, and anyone who just hates the idea that single parents and single mothers in particular, every other possible audience going to enjoy it. In that lies the films real genius. It never sells out and becomes something that feels generic and impersonal, but it is also able to tell its story in a way that expresses something that is as close to actually being universal as storytelling can get without becoming generic, pandering or manipulatively sentimental. Time will really tell whether or not this is the best horror film of the year, but it deserves to be in the running, and it if the decade between 2010 and 2020 has enough great films in it that The Babadook doesn't make it into that discussion, film goers and horror fans will have been lucky to experience one exceptional decade.

Similar to:
Pan's Labyrinthe 
The Devil's Backbone
The Orphanage
Mama
The Taking of Debra Logan
The Possession
Lovely Molly
The Exorcist