The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: The Seventh Seal (1957), directed by Ingmar Bergman

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Dance of Death", by Andrew Bird

       When many people think of the works of Ingmar Bergman, there’s a good chance that what they envision is pretty similar to that one popular skit from that one popular comedy show, Mystery Science Theater 3000: Movies cloaked in deafening silence, where frigid, Teutonic people toss vague comments at each other as they stare off into the distance, contemplating the meaning of existence. Rather basic for a spoof, I believe they center it around herring because that’s literally all that Sweden’s allowed to be associated with, but I think the fact that the parody even existed speaks to Bergman’s talents and creative vision. Fellini was a great director, as was Truffaut, Kurosawa and the like, but how many people beyond the hardcore cinephiles would recognize a spoof or satirization of their films? Bergman, however, by being so famously dour, stands amongst the likes of Hitchcock and Lynch in that his ‘reputation’ preceedes him. You step into a film 5 minutes in or 10 minutes in or an hour in and you instantly know it’s a Bergman film. That’s power, ladies and gents. That cinematic immortality.

       Of course it’s also possible that the MST3K guys were just making an in-joke and none of viewing knew or cared what the fuck was going on, making that beginning paragraph all bullshit, but we’re down to the wire and I’m writing on fumes here. Anyway, my first non-MST3K taste of the work of our esteemed Mr. Bergman was the Virgin Spring back in Marathon ‘14 (and yes, fucking hell I’ve been doing this for too long), a tragic story of lost innocence and revenge. Since I’ve been bringing back so many other filmmakers back from the past, I figured he was long overdue for a return. A big return, and how much bigger can you get than a film that was referenced by Bill & Ted and Last Action Hero? This is the last time I’ll get to utilize that lead in this month, so let’s make it count with The Seventh Seal.

       Sometime in the middle of the 14th century, knight Antonius Block and his squire J return home to Sweden after spending a decade fighting in the Crusades. While resting on a beach Block is approached by Death, intent on taking him away, but instead Block challenges the reaper to a game of chess, wagering his life on the outcome. The gamble earns him some respite and Antonius and J make the long trip back to Block’s estate, but said trip is anything but peaceful. Sweden has been hit with the infamous Black Plague, and any sense of reason or order is being drowned out under the screams of hundreds or even thousands of the dead and dying. Why is this happening? Is this some punishment from heaven for some unknown transgression? Does god even exist, that he would allow these things to happen? These are the questions that Antonius and his traveling companions face as they make their journey further and further into a world gone mad. Yet no matter how mad it gets, no matter how far they go, death is never far behind.

       So as you’d expect from a film where Death is a character, this movie is about death. How we confront the inevitability of death, on an individual level as well as a collective one. Which is interesting, because it allows for a shift in tones without ever generating a feeling of whiplash. The scene where a parade of people are whipping themselves and crying for god to protect them from this disease they do not and cannot understand (one of the most tragic moments in the film) can fit right alongside a scene where Death kills a guy by sawing down the tree he’s resting on because that’s the way she goes, sometimes a person’s death is a huge tragedy and sometimes their dumb ass fell out of a tree. Antonius’ desperate search for proof of god’s existence to justify the suffering fits right alongside J’s war-hardened nihilism for the same reasons, the looming sense of manic dread in the face of what seems to be the apocalypse is counteracted by songs about farting and horses acting like crows. Even the ending is this mixture of light and darkness, of endings and beginnings. Death comes for us all, The Seventh Seal seems to imply, but you can’t let that keep you from living.

       This is also the beginning of Ingmar Bergman’s collaboration with Max von Sydow by the way, which would last until 1971’s The Touch. Seeing him here and in the Virgin Spring those jokes about Bergman films being silent and dour gain some weight, but I found Antonius’ stoicism barely containing this geyser of self-hatred and existential panic rather compelling. I found he was often overshadowed by the stronger personalities, most commonly J, but I believe that was Bergman’s intention, that Block’s experiences had made him withdraw from the world and fed into his depression. It’s a bit of a trip to watch his work here and remember that thirty some years later he’d be playing a side character in Dreamscape, a movie that most people haven’t even seen, much less set it alongside Ingmar Bergman’s most famous film. What a wild career this dude has had, from Swedish classics to Flash Gordon to The Force Awakens.

One thing I do find a bit weird in hindsight is how much emphasis pop culture places on the chess game portion of The Seventh Seal. Chess is an important part of the film of course, kicking off the plot and setting up scenes but the amount of chess playing in the film is actually quite small, you could count the number of moves made on screen with one hand. Prior to this review, I thought The Seventh Seal WAS the game of chess, some kind of bottle movie where Death and the protagonist played each other for an hour and change, interspersed with conversations about philosophy and meaning (and no, you can’t have my idea Jim Jarmusch). It’s still a film about the struggle between man and death, but I guess the competition with the grim reaper aspect of The Seventh Seal is more appealing than the ‘struggling against the inevitability of death and an indifferent universe’ thing. Maybe Antonius should have challenged him to a fiddle contest.

       The Seventh Seal is probably one of those movies that’s too good to be on a Halloween movie list, but since I’m the one writing the reviews, it’s going in anyway. There’s nothing in the way of spooks, Death is the only fantastical bit here and he’s just some bald dude in a robe, but it does deal in some heavy subjects which can be scary to think about when you’re lying in bed trying to sleep. Yet there’s this calming presence to this film as well, a feeling of peace not unlike those childhood days after a good night of trick-or-treating. The perfect atmosphere to end this long, dark marathon of the soul, a perfect film to recommend. Hope you have a good time, and I hope to see you again on the next review.

Happy Halloween!!! 

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Alphaville (1965), directed by Jean-Luc Godard

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Computer Age", by Neil Young

       Of all the filmmakers that made up what film historians now call the French New Wave, it seems to me that none can quite top Jean-Luc Godard. Francois Truffaut had his successes, as well as a fantastic book on Alfred Hitchcock, but he also stank up the joint with his adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. Louis Malle had a fruitful career as well, but I can’t say the work of his that I’ve covered (My Dinner with Andre and his segments in Spirits of the Dead) really blew me away. Godard, however, seems like the romantic of the group. Full of big ideas, big emotions, who unabashedly attacked film like a painter would attack a canvas. His films can be very polarizing, in fact I think the trope of weird arthouse cinema was in part inspired by him, but if one defines the purpose of cinema as a means of self-expression, of eliciting an emotional response from the audience, then Godard’s place in the annals of history is assured. If nothing else you’ve got to give him a smidge of respect for inspiring other famous directors like Martin Scorsese, and that smidge is just enough to buy him the penultimate place in this year’s Marathon. What a shock, eh? Did I leave you breathless?

       At 24.17 Oceanic Time, in perhaps another galaxy entirely Ivan Johnson, a reporter for the Figaro-Pravda newspaper in what is known as the Outer Countries, arrives in the city of Alphaville. Alphaville is a technological marvel, a society whose every aspect is managed by an enormous super-computer known as Alpha 60, the invention of the city’s chief figure, Professor Leonard Von Braun. Sounds pretty cool at first, until you learn a while back Alpha 60 obtained consciousness, and his views on humanity has transformed Alphaville into a mindless dystopian state, where the toughs at Civil Control routinely arrest and execute people for illogical thinking, every other lady seems to have been branded and brainwashed into soulless comfort women, and words like ‘love’ and ‘why’ are practically nonexistent. Poetry, music, art, theater, all relics of those inferior civilizations that aren’t ruled by a couple hundred pounds of psychopathic silicon. All things that Ivan Johnson enjoys, being from the Ouer Countries (New York to be specific). Except his name isn’t Ivan Johnson, newspaper reporter, it’s Lemmy Caution, secret agent. And his job isn’t to write an article on Alpha 60’s creator Leonard Von Braun, it’s to kill him.

       A science fiction film noir set in the future  whose principal theme deals with modern society’s over-reliance on machines to the detriment of its humanity. Throw in a megacorporation and Jean-Luc Godard would have preempted the cyberpunk genre by 2 decades. Not exactly of course, I don’t think the internet was even science fiction in 1965, but it’s fascinating to watch this and see the roots of films like Blade Runner. Particularly the first half of the film, dealing with Lemmy’s investigation and culture shock dealing with this weird ass society, and you’re subconsciously waiting for him to pull his gun out and gun down some Replicants. I love sci-fi and I love film noir, hardboiled detectives, femme fatales the works, so the more I can get that combo in me the happier I am.

       The second half isn’t as tight. Keeping in mind that certain nuances in the script are going to be lost in translation, although I’m sure the people at Kino Lorber do great work, there’s a certain point where things just stop making sense. Not in a ‘suspension of disbelief’ kind of way, I legit couldn’t understand what the fuck the characters were going on about. Conveniently enough this also where Godard starts getting ‘artsy’, like suddenly cutting into a dark room where Lemmy and Natacha (our love interest) pose around each other, or ‘hey these 5 seconds are going to be photo negative, enjoy!’ The exact kind of thing that you would expect get mocked if the name on the poster wasn’t Godard, and maybe still then. Things which I wouldn’t necessarily mind given the kinds of film that pass through here, but on a first impression comes across as pretentious. Why is a computer talking about becoming a tiger?

It’s also worth noting that there isn’t much of anything in the vein of special effects in this sci-fi movie. In fact if you had somehow stumbled upon it while channel surfing you wouldn’t be able to tell this is a science fiction movie at all until Alpha 60’s toad of a voice came up or someone mentioned the word galaxies. I think it works out fine, but if European science fiction tends to be about the ideas rather than the American position of the spectacle, then Alphaville might be the most European science fiction film ever made.

       I’m also not entirely sold on our main character, personally speaking. The stoic detective/investigator is a common trope in film noir, and I think that actor pulls that off well, but in the context of the film it seems a bit strange. After all, the entire point is that Alphaville is full of these robotic people and yet Lemmy doesn’t come across as any more emotional than any of the other characters. He’ll say things but he won’t express things. You could chalk that up to his nature as a secret agent, but it ends up having to force the issue somewhat at the end to give the larger cultural conflict between Alphaville and the Outer Countries some weight. 

       This is also another one of those movies that loves to use and reuse music stings, specifically a 2 second burst of swelling brass that will turn out to be a greater monster than Alpha 60. I don’t know if this would be a universal issue, but when I was watching it with headphones the horns were mixed so loud that I actually had to turn down the volume of the movie because it was physically painful. A tolerable experience if the context of the scene called for it, but of course if I’m writing about it. Godard apparently had an addiction because he constantly drops this cacophony in the film, even when it makes no sense to do so. Oh, you’ve got a 10 second scene of Lemmy showing pictures to passersby on the street. Better pretend this is a dramatic scene then! Just outright souring the viewing experience.

       Alphaville is a film that’s long been on the Marathon to-do list, and perhaps the expectations of what it could be ended up overshadowing what it actually is. It’s a fascinating film for the time though, a spiritual ancestor for properties like Blade Runner and I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream, and I think overall Godard managed to push some interesting ideas while still making an accessible movie. Which wasn’t always the case with his films, from what I’ve heard. It gets the recommendation, as well as the award for Easiest Halloween Costume. Forgo logic and pig out on candy and popcorn this Halloween instead.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Drunken Master (1978), directed by Yuen Woo-Ping

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "8 Drunken Gods", by Chow Fu-liang

       Bruce Lee may have been the pioneer of what we know of as the martial arts genre of film, but I don’t think anyone can deny that Jackie Chan was its greatest innovator. With a style honed by the rigorous acting training he underwent as a child for the Peking Opera , a natural gift for comedy and a willingness (if not desire) to put his body through hell for the sake of the movie, Chan not only firmly established himself as one of the top dogs of Hong Kong/Chinese action cinema, he also found great success in the West as well with such films as Rush Hour and Shanghai Noon. I first discovered him as a child through the animated series Jackie Chan Adventures, one of my favorite shows back in those days, and even if didn’t match up 1 to 1 with Chan’s actual life, it did put his name in my head, and later pushed me towards his films. Bruce Lee was undoubtedly a legend, but that legend was confined to a couple films and a role in short-lived superhero show. Jackie Chan, on the other hand, WAS martial arts to me for a long time, and when I think of martial arts movies, his name is the one that immediately comes to mind. Not Bruce Lee, not Jet Li or Tony Jaa, but Jackie ‘remember that time I dressed up as Chun-Li from Street Fighter?’ Chan. So if the newly established guidelines state that we get in at least one martial arts film a year, it only makes sense that he would eventually make an appearance. A proper inauguration, if you will.

       His 37th or so film of that decade, his fourth film of 1978, and his second with director Yuen Woo-Ping (the first, Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow, having come out earlier that year), Drunken Master stars Jackie Chan as a young Wong Fei Hung (or Freddie Wong, depending on your dub), a real life Chinese folk hero, martial artist and acupuncturist. The son of a well-respected martial arts master, Hung is something of a lazy punk, relying on his natural talents in kung-fu to get out of the messes he finds himself in. When he finally pushes things too far his father arranges for him to be taken in by Master So-Hi for one year, in the hope that he will find discipline through training. Despite appearing like a feeble old drunk, So-Hi reveals that he is more than a match for the over-confident and rebellious Hung, possessing an incredibly bizarre and powerful kung-fu that astounds anyone who comes up against it. Hung, deathly allergic to strain or work of any kind bristles at the idea of the harsh training So-Hi, but it’s training he’ll need, as an assassin with deadly kung-fu roams the land. Can Wong Fei Hung become the Drunken Master, or will he die on his knees? You’ll have to watch to find out.

       If you’ve never seen a Jackie Chan movie before now I can’t think of a gateway film as good as Drunken Master. You’ve got the long takes of quick, intricate and acrobatic fight choreography, the use of props in said choreography, the comedic aspects, everything that defined Jackie Chan as an action star wrapped up in one movie. Not only that, but this is a Hong Kong action movie, which means they’re not selling you a sports car with nothing under the hood. You came for fights, and Drunken Master packs them in as much as they can. With weapons and without, in multiple styles, all the while Jackie Chan (in his physical prime) flips and move through space like gravity forgot his name. It’s amazing to see, almost as if Jackie and the crew are doing their very best to make sure every minute in this 2+ hour movie doesn’t go to waste. If only some of the other filmmakers in this Marathon had taken notes.

       As for cons, well as as a story there’s not to say, there’s not much of a plot or character development beyond ‘guy trains in martial arts to beat people up’. There’s also the fact that use of martial arts in this film emphasizes acrobatics and theatrics, which means it can lack the visceral energy that made The Big Boss and Enter the Dragon such great films. In terms of comedy Drunken Master has a tendency towards the childish and cartoonish at times, including fart and poop jokes, which might turn more serious minded people away. Then there’s the English dub, which has some issues beyond the trope of kung-fu movies having bad dubs. Aside from shoe-horning English names here and there, Wong Fei Hung and his dad becoming Freddie and Robert Wong for example, I just found Jackie’s voice actor rather annoying to listen to at some points. Of course Hung’s character does a lot of whining, but there’s something about the tone of it that struck my ear the wrong way. Definitely a movie you’d want to go subs not dubs for, or you could get up off your ass and learn Mandarin. I mean, unless you’re a coward or something.

       A lot of films get labeled as popcorn movies, occasionally in a derogatory, ‘turn your brain off’ manner, but Drunken Master is an example of this at its best. So much work, so much blood, sweat and tears shed all so that we can see Jackie Chain act like an idiot and beat the shit out of people with chairs and Hong Kong audiences drank it in like fine wine, Drunken Master making over twice what Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow managed to rake in. I loved it too, which is why it’s getting the unabashed full recommendation. It might not seem like Halloween fare, the only horrors here are the horrors of alcoholism, but if you need a fun break from the spooks then this should be your first stop. Drinks are on me. 

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Confusion Na Wa (2013), directed by Kenneth Gyang

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Dirty Money", by Antibalas

       Although there have been plenty of films relating to Africa, referencing Africa, it seems like only recently that I’ve started seeing an influx of films from Africa, made by Africans. ‘Nollywood’ I think it’s labeled on netflix, although if that’s in reference to Hollywood or Bollywood I’m not sure (depends on the amount of musical numbers I guess). I don’t know why they seemed to have suddenly appeared, perhaps a subtle sign to an almost inevitable proxy war between the U.S. and China over political and economic influence in Africa, or maybe someone just got a good deal on some streaming rights. Either way the films are here, and as it was with The Precinct and Azerbaijan, I’m interested in seeing how the people of Africa approach the medium of film. So I picked one to cover for the Marathon and watched it, and now you’re reading the ‘review’ I wrote for it. Crazy how these kinds of things happen huh?

       Released in 2012 by Cinema Kpatakpata and winner of numerous film awards, including Best Film by both the Africa Movie Academy Awards and the Best of Nollywood Awards, Confusion Na Wa is Kenneth Gyang’s sophomore film, following Blood and Henna the year before. Set in an unnamed city in Nigeria, Confusion presents us with a large cast of characters, each with their own set of problems: Emeka the well-off philanderer, Bello the timid office worker, Kola, the son of an overbearing and conservative newspaper owner, and so on and on. All seemingly unrelated, yet when Emeka’s phone, full of salacious texts from his mistress, is stolen by an easy-going thief named Charles, they find themselves being drawn together, and a web forged of connections slowly reveals itself. Which wouldn’t be too bad except someone is definitely getting a bullet in the head, and I think everyone agrees that’s not a good time.

       That end bit makes it sound like some kind of thriller, but Confusion Na Wa is actually a comedy, mainly in the existential sense, although there are a couple of good gags near the end. The ‘confusion’ that the title refers to is of people confronting the fact that ‘things just happen’. ‘Bad things happen to good people’ is the staple of gallows humor, and yet in Confusion Na Wa even the answer to what is ‘good’ has been lost in the shuffle of a seemingly chaotic world, where people and events are constantly and continuously shaped by factors that we have little to no control over. It’s a direction that might be overplayed, especially these days, but Gyang pulls off the ever-increasing coincidences well. 

       Similar to a film like Midnight Cowboy or The Bicycle Thieves, Confusion Na Wa is a film as well as a living time capsule of its setting. I’ve never been to Nigeria myself and I doubt I’ll ever have the chance to go, but when I watch this film, I feel as if I’ve caught a glimpse of its essence. What separation, if any, Gyang tries to put up between the film and the real world is struck down by the sheer noise of life that permeates throughout, the near constant sounds of bustling traffic for example. I feel as if I could close my eyes and feel the hot sun on my face and smell the aromas of car exhaust and nearby street vendors. I don’t know how much of it was intentional and how much was just the reality of filmmaking in Nigeria, but it’s very naturalistic feel that helps bring the audience into the correct state of mind. Which might sound like I’m blowing smoke up Kenneth Gyang’s ass, but coming from a place with a little wear and tear itself it’s nice to see a city that feels lived in, in a manner of speaking.

        That’s also why I’m giving Confusion Na Wa a pass on things like their minor characters being a bit wooden, a builder uses the tools he has on hand. However one thing that threw me through a loop was the use of music stings. Not the songs, which were damn good, but these little musical cues that pop up at multiple points in the film. One example comes to mind during a scene where Emeka gets a call from his wife when he’s with his mistress. During the conversation, suddenly this keening, dramatic bit of piano swells up out of nowhere, as if he were cradling her dying body rather than weaseling out of a conversation, and then just as soon leaves. It comes completely out of left field and feels so overwrought compared to the energy of what’s actually taking place on screen that the disconnect is palpable. This happens several times over the course of the film, with different music even, and every time it makes a scene that would be perfectly fine and properly dramatic with music at all into a farce. This being a comedy and the first of Kenneth Gyang’s films that I’ve seen I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say it was intentional, because otherwise it’s a bizarrely nonsensical choice. The kind of undercutting yourself you’d see in Garth Mahrengi’s Darkplace. 

       Although Confusion Na Wa is rough around the edges, it shows that Nigeria is easily operating artistically on the same level as the rest of the world, so it gets the recommendation. Now all they need to do is crank out some trashy budget genre films, and they’ll have a place on the Marathon for a long time to come. 

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Save the Green Planet (2003), directed by Jan Jun-Hwang

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

         One of the most popular debates the world’s got going, in science fiction circles and otherwise, is the existence of aliens. One side says that not only is alien life in general an astronomically low prospect, but that meeting an intelligent alien species is a nigh-on impossibility, given the incredible distance between Earth-like planets and the required level of development needed to devise the technology to traverse it. The other says that not only do intelligent aliens exist, but they are intimately connected with humankind; Using their alien technology to build ancient monuments like the Pyramids and Stonehenge, abducting us at night and anally probing us, mutilating our cattle and circling our crops, and all we need is one quick Naruto run down to Area 51. Are the aliens benevolent, using their advanced abilities for the good of humankind? Or are they the vicious, despotic sort? No matter what alignment they are, no matter which side of the debate you’re on, the fact of the matter is that someone needs to work security for the species. Someone needs to save the green planet that we call home, or at least make a movie about it. Conveniently, that’s where we’re at today.

        While returning home from an evening of drunken revelry, Man-shik Kang, CEO of a prominent pharmaceutical company, is abducted by a couple wearing trash bag ponchos and strange helmets. When he awakes, he finds himself strapped in a chair in a dank and murky room, no clothes, no hair, and seemingly no chance of escape. The man (who we later learn is named Byun-goo Lee) and his wife Sooni explain to him that he’s been captured because they know that he’s not human. Not because he’s a capitalist, which is the simplest way to determine inhumanity, but because he’s literally not human. Man-shik Kang is in fact an alien from Andromeda, and in seven days when the lunar eclipse happens the Prince of his species will arrive, bringing with him doom & destruction. Well Lee isn’t going to stand for that, so he’s going to make Kang admit that he’s an alien and make him call off the invasion by any means necessary, and he’s got a lot of painful means at his disposal. Never mind that Lee seems a little unstable, or that Kang and Lee’s history runs far deeper than it appears on the surface. Byeung-Gu Lee is here to save the green planet, and he’s not going to let anybody stop him. Not Kang, not the cops, no one.

        At first, Save the Green Planet seems like it might’s be Seoul’s contribution to the tired ‘torture porn’ horror subgenre, popularized by films like Saw, Hostel, and Human Centipede, albeit with a bit of a humorous twist. However, as the story unfolds you discover that this is more than Korea’s Misery. Although centered around aliens, Save the Green Planet deals in the things that are far too familiar: Mental illness, how we are affected by the loss of a loved one, taking or rejecting personal responsibility, revenge and even unconventional love. The film is far more nuanced than it seems at first, the best kind of bait-and-switch, and I found myself quickly and deeply empathizing with Lee and Sooni’s plight much more than I expected. I was even driven towards emotion at the climax, non-negative emotions to be precise, which has only happened with a few movies this Marathon. A sudden and unexpected surprise if ever there was one.

        Save the Green Planet is also one of those movies where I can’t think of any actual flaws, although that could be because I pulled an all-nighter to do this. The film’s just under 2 hours but it flies by, the acting is good, the score is excellent, Lee’s house is the perfect mix of beauty and darkness, it all just works. If I’m going to criticize anything, I’d say that the ending is arguably hit-or-miss,  making sense thematically while also undercutting the scenes before it. Also, while we’re given explanation for who the Andromedans supposedly are and what their plan is, I still found myself a bit lost on the point of it all. Not that I suppose it should make sense given it comes from Lee’s mind, but it was a bit of a head-scratcher, although it could have been lost in translation. Some of the jokier moments are a little broad too, but you’ll probably be too invested by that point to care..

        I went into this movie thinking it would be a pro-environmental movie since Boiling Point replaced Godzilla vs. Biollante, but what I got instead was this tragi-comic dramatic thriller about this guy who builds mannequins and pops pharmaceutical methamphetamine. What a trip! I really enjoyed it, so it gets a hearty recommendation from me. You might need a pick-me-up afterwards, but Save the Green Planet would be a nice treat going into Halloween.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Boiling Point (1990), directed by Takeshi Kitano

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Ichiro Goes to the Moon", by The Baseball Project

       Quite an interesting fellow, this Takeshi Kitano. I first knew him as the creator of the bizarre Japanese game show ‘Takeshi’s Castle’, which was redubbed as ‘MXC: Most Extreme Elimination Challenge’ on Spike TV in the early 2000s. Later on I became aware of him as the brains behind Takeshi No Chousenjou, or Takeshi’s Challenge, an infamously shitty game for the Nintendo Famicom which was made with the intent of confusing and frustrating its players, like forcing players to wait five actual minutes for a code to appear or sing a several minute long perfectly (the Famicom controller featured a built in microphone). That this guy was a filmmaker, a relatively successful one at that was this nebulous thing in the back of my mind, like I knew it was true but I had no idea what to make of that information. So I avoided it for years, until the winds of fate shifted me in his direction and I said ‘fuck it’. I feel like he’d want it that way.

‘Beat’ Takeshi’s second feature-length film, released only a year after his debut Violent Cop, Boiling Point centers mostly around Masaki, a young man with a personality not unlike a boiled cabbage. Masaki lives a simple life, drifting between his job at a gas station and pinch-hitting for a shitty neighborhood baseball team known as the Eagles, until his lackadaisical attitude ends up getting him in trouble with the Otomo Group, a local branch of the Yakuza. Masaki’s friend and coach Iguchi, himself a former gangster, attempts to resolve the conflict only to receive a beating for his trouble, and subsequently disappears, supposedly traveling to Okinawa in order to buy a gun so he can kill the bastards. Masaki then decides that he too will travel to Okinawa and buy some killing machines, and the whole sordid tale unfolds from there. I don’t know where the boiling part comes in though.

Taken on its own, something like Takeshi’s Challenge might have seemed like a conceited vanity project, but after watching Boiling Point you realize that this is just the way Beat Takeshi rolls. The whole movie is like trying to have a drunken conversation with your girlfriend’s disapproving parents; The long pauses, the sudden shifts to other subjects, the awkward conversations, and of course the explosive bursts of violence. It’s all natural though, there’s never a sense that he’s riding someone’s coattails or trying to follow. Where other directors have their visions sullied by outside interference, Beat Takeshi has made the exact movie he wanted to make, i.e. full of Yakuza and designed to weird people out. You might not respect it, but you have to recognize it.

       Combining bleak, nihilistic or absurdist humor with the ‘crime’ genre is a pretty popular combo, especially in the late 80’s-early 90’s when Kitano stood side by side with filmmakers like the Coens and Quentin Tarantino, but I think Boiling Point might be a case where things got a little too absurdist for its own good. Progressing the plot feels like it takes at least half the film, and even when we do progress we are subjected to endless amount of faffing about in the process. Which can have a certain appeal when you’ve got the cast to support it, which is not the case with Boiling Point. Aside from the character Takeshi plays himself there’s nobody in this movie that’s all that compelling, especially Masaki, who as I mentioned loses out to a block of wood in a charisma contest. Which means that those 90+ minutes very crawl along at a snail’s pace, as we are subjected to Kitano’s pretentious attempts at being edgy and lolrandom. 

       This is his second movie though, at least in terms of directing, so I guess we can give him a little leeway in that regard. For fans of gallows humor by way of gangster movies Boiling Point might be the thing to cure what ails you, to others it’s just a sign that the water for their instant ramen is ready. Either way it’s not a must-watch movie, and I don’t feel an urge to recommend it. The choice, however, is always yours.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: The Aerial (2007), directed by Esteban Sapir

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Libertango", by Duo Bensa-Cardinot

       From Spain to Argentina, as our next film is Esteban Sapir’s The Aerial. The year is XX, several years since a mysterious incident stole the voices of everyone in the city, rechristening it The City Without A Voice. Everyone that is except the alluring and apparently faceless The Voice, beloved singer, and (secretly) her son Tomas, who in a monkey’s paw like deal gets to have a face but no eyes to see. Life finds a way in this City Without A Voice, but the ruthless Mr. TV (three guesses as to what he’s the boss) has in motion plans that not only threaten The Voice, but everyone. It’s all up to Ana, the little girl across the street and her parents to help The Voice and Tomas, thwart the machinations of Mr. TV, and save The City Without A Voice from a grisly fate. Also people inflate like balloons sometimes, if that’s your particular fetish.

       With most of the cast rendered unable to speak, it should come as no surprise that The Aerial decided to take the plunge and become an actual ‘silent movie’. However Esteban Sapir wasn’t interested in just paying homage to the silent movie era, he takes it to its logical conclusion. The city isn’t just some elaborate model ala Metropolis, it’s a vast papier-mache city, with mountains made out of newspaper and snow that looks like someone took a cheese grater to a bar of soap. The characters don’t just communicate through text, words are a known physical presence, able to be manipulated. The music shifts from keening, anxious strings and booming drums into jazz and salsa at the drop of the hat, never missing a beat All the little film tricks that made audiences head spin in 1926 find their way here, their obvious presence only adding to the surreality of a world of faceless women and guns that fire onomatopoeias. There are plenty of filmmakers that have utilized elements originating from the silent era, particularly the German Expressionist movement, I feel like The Aerial is the first movie I’ve seen tackle the medium on a conceptual level. A bit like every other thing written by Grant Morrison if you’re a comic book fan, or It’s Garry Shandling’s Show, if you’re a fan of obscure 80’s show from HBO.

The downside of going high-concept and surreal is any points you try to make are in danger of being lost in the white noise of weirdness, and that same has to be said of The Aerial. At a certain point in the film, I want to say half way in but I don’t know if it was that late, the film introduces some overt political themes, with Mr. TV and his minions representing Nazis and Ana and the protagonists representing the Jewish people. Which in and of itself is fine, you can never beat enough Nazis, but the problem is that the film up to that point was about human balloons and singing women without faces. It’s very jarring. While the subtext of Nazi ‘silencing’ Jewish voices becomes obvious after a moment’s thought, and art styles like surrealism have their origins in socio-economic criticism, that the film tries to make this point in such a fanciful, fairy-tale like world the film ends up making that real world issue feel abstract and ephemeral. Which is not what you want if you’re trying to make a statement in my opinion, and considering this film has a scene where a character is strapped to a giant swastika, I feel like that was the director’s intent.

       Still I will not deny The Aerial is a unique film, possessed of a unique charm and style. I can’t think of anything quite like it except maybe The American Astronaut, and that’s mainly because they’re both in black & white and got a bit of a ramshackle look to them. If you liked that movie, or you like weirdo movies (silent or otherwise), or you take a lot of psilocybin, then this is the film for you this Halloween. Slip on your headphones, grab a fresh box of TV Food, and have yourself a good time.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Moon Child, or El niño de la luna (1989), directed by Agustí Villaronga

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "The Host of Seraphim", by Dead Can Dance

       If there’s one thing people love to talk about, christian and nonchristian alike, it’s the Antichrist. The normal Christ was fine, sure, raising the dead and feeding the hungry and all that jazz, but we already know his deal. The Antichrist, however, could be anybody, and indeed when you bring it up it seems like everybody will have their own opinion on who it is. Popular politicians are the Antichrist, homosexual people are the Antichrist, Muslims are the Antichrist, and so on and on in that fashion. Someone once said that if Jesus himself were to actually reappear on Earth, then even he would be derided as the Antichrist, and I don’t know if that’s too far off from reality. I mean it’s a way to push blind hatred onto the world while avoiding the actual confrontation with the root issues of the world’s problems, so no wonder you see it so often, but at this point I have to wonder if there’s anyone on Earth that isn’t some kind of demon or Antichrist. Joe Pera maybe, but everyone else is to be determined.

       With how popular the Antichrist witch hunt is in real life, it is no wonder that we’ve seen more than a fair share of books, comics, music albums, and of course movies on the subject. Richard Donner’s The Omen, Marathon alum Rosemary’s Baby, and our film today, Moon Child, from Spain’s Agustí Villaronga. Based on the 1923 novel by the famous occultist Aleister Crowley, the film stars Enrique Saldana as David, an orphan boy who possesses not only telekinetic powers, but the belief that he is the legendary Moon Child, which is apparently a big deal although it’s never exactly clear what that even means. It is those abilities that brought him to the attention of a mysterious cult, who are not only collecting psychic children, but are also getting ready to bring about the birth of the Moon Child, with the ultimate intent of ruling the world or whatever. As David is the Moon Child, or at least thinks he is, he develops a relationship with the chosen progenitors, Edgar and Georgina, and decides to help them escape. It’s a cross-continental race against time as David travels toward his ultimate destiny, which is probably important.

        The first thing that came to mind while watching Moon Child was that of Dario Argento’s work, like Phenomena or Suspiria. The Center where is cult is headquartered,  its large opulent architecture adorned almost saturated white in places, emblazoned with this hexagonal logo, feels in line with Argento’s aesthetic, although that’s probably the closest Moon Child ever gets to that level of hyper-stylization. Beyond that though VIllaronga just has a great eye in general, from the crumbling ruins in a North Africa desert to an old woman’s shack it all looks great, period-appropriate (I assume the movie takes place in 1923 as well) but with some wear and tear to it. Something which you don’t often see in more modern period pieces, which like to assume everything from the 20s was dry-cleaned, waxed, and covered in gold leaf.

       Villaronga also takes a cue from Argento in bringing in a band to compose the score for his film, in this case goth rock/darkwave/tribal ambient band Dead Can Dance, even going a step further and casting DCD vocalist Lisa Gerrard as the Moon Child’s mother Georgina. If I’m being honest I never took much notice of the music; Not because it was bad, just that it blended into the scenes to the extent that it became ‘invisible’, so to speak. Which is arguably what you want in a score, music which doesn’t separate itself from the film in your mind, but maybe I just wasn’t paying much attention. A good rule of thumb in these reviews is that if I don’t specifically mention the music, it’s probably okay.

       As you might have guessed from the film summary though, the film is a little obtuse. What is a Moon Child? Who is this cult and why do they want to ‘create’ a Moon Child in the first place? Since when did psychic powers exist, and why is the cult buying up psychic kids if they’re already gunning for the Moon Child? How is David a ten year old boy but is also trying to ensure his own birth like some kind of Back to the Future scenario? All those questions and more will not be answered during the film’s runtime. Yeah, you’re likely pointing an accusing finger at me and say ‘you love to name drop David Lynch and you’re complaining about things being obscure?’, but with Lynch films the intent never seems to be on telling so much as it is attempting to evoke emotions or ideas. Moon Child is more concrete, and thus these questions become more relevant. Why should I care if David succeeds in his quest or not if I don’t know what the quest is, or why it needs to be done? Even if it’s a fairy tale you know why Red Riding Hood does what she does and why the wolf does what it does, and if Moon Child is trying to work the fairy tale vibe like it looks to be doing, then the foundation needs to be built.

       It also doesn’t help that I never found myself caring about the characters. In a two hour movie it feels like the main characters barely interact with each other, and when they do it feels off, like the tone is off. It’s especially bad with David, who is supposed to be having this grand adventure and people are so attached to him or whatever and yet never changes in a tangible way once in the movie. If two hours of looking at some kid’s slack-jawed, wide-eyed stare sounds good to you than this is your Godfather, but honestly I got sick of him early on the movie and nothing ever challenged that opinion. If you want to usher in a new age for mankind you might want to pick someone with a little more charisma, is all I’m saying.

        Moon Child isn’t a bad movie, but for a two hour picture it takes a while to really get going, and even then it stays under the speed limit the whole way through. If you’re into occult stuff, Crowley and tarot cards, shit like that then I would recommend it as an experience, but folks who like a little flash and thrills are probably better off with something like Suspiria or The Omen. If you need your Antichrist fix this Halloween, there’s plenty of options.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: The Precinct, or Sahǝ (2010), directed by Ilgar Safat

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Girls on Film", by Duran Duran

       As the years have gone by and the Marathon has grown to be pretty much the only thing I do on this blog, the decision of what movies I want to cover for the list has undergone some changes as well.That the Marathon be open to genre films other than horror was the first and perhaps most obvious choice, but another that I’ve decided to adopt permanently is that the final 10 films would be dedicated to foreign films, meaning ones not from the U.S., Canada, or Great Britain. We’ve seen attempts at it back in Marathon ‘16, and again in ‘18, but this is hopefully going to be the full and proper debut of it. As for why I decided that this was to be how it is, besides to honor the fact that many of my readers tend not to be from the U.S., Canada, and Great Britain, it’s simply because it’s interesting to me. It’s interesting to see perspectives and cultures other than my own, and it’s especially interesting to see how that is filtered through the medium of film, genre films in the case of our blog. So why not celebrate it, even if being the top 10 on an obscure blog in the bowels of the internet is the worst kind of celebration? Why not, if it’s there to be seen? 

I dunno, I’m feeling very philosophical tonight I guess.

Released in 2010 and former Oscar contender for Best Foreign Film, Ilgar Safat’s Sahǝ, or The Precinct, is the first film I’ve covered from the country of Azerbaijan, a country I’ve never visited but am sure is lovely. Zaza Bejashvilli stars as Garib, a well-known photographer of the artful and erotique. Garib is engaged to be married to Sabina, another artist, but an unexpected letter from London about work in Africa threatens to derail their relationship, until they are actually derailed and their car careens off of a cliff. The two are picked up by a passing pair of police officers, but instead of being taken to a hospital, they are taken to ‘the precinct’, a dingy place that seems to contain no one but their boss. The boss seems equally uninterested in the couple’s plight, seemingly taking great pleasure in harassing the two and charging them with illegal and immoral behavior. Soon however, it goes beyond mere accusations and insinuations: The boss knows Garib, knows things about him that he thought he had left behind years ago, the sins that he had tried desperately to forget. A story about a young Garib, a woman named Alina, and the sordid tale that unfolds.

       The first thing that comes to mind when watching The Precinct is probably the 1990 Adrian Lyne film Jacob’s Ladder, or more accurately the Silent Hill series of video games that were inspired by that film. I mean the protagonists are taken to a dilapidated building with strangely threatening people, which leads into the protagonist exploring their past mistakes set to ominous music, throw in some monsters and the Konami logo and you’d be all set. The Precinct never goes full on horror though, as the focus (and a good chunk of screen time) is centered on the flashback to Garib’s past. Comparisons could also be made to A Christmas Carol or some other kind of morality play, where the sinner (Garib in this case) is put face to face with their sins thanks to some kind of supernatural force, with the intent of having them repent and mending their ways. Personally I would’ve liked to see some intense surrealist visuals, as has been made clear with Wild at Heart and Die Farbe previously, but then it probably wouldn't have gotten that Oscar nomination, so I guess it was best to stick with the depressing childhood trauma.      

I also like the fact that The Precinct felt, at least the version I watched, like it was filmed on actual film, rather than the digital stuff we’re used to nowadays. I could be wrong about that, I don’t know how prevalent the technology was in 2010, but I hope I’m not because I’ve always enjoyed the feel of ‘analog’ films. Maybe it’s because I grew upin the waning days of VHS tapes and CRT televisions, but there’s a metaphorical layer of dust movies back then that gave them a sense of reality when compared to the cut and dry, laminated movies of today. Which might all come across as pretentious drivel, as how the film was made was not by choice but by necessity, based on the equipment available to them, but either way I like the look, so I felt like mentioning it. People like to say that the best art is made under rough conditions, although that might just be the excuse they use not to pay artists.

       It’s definitely the movie to watch if you care about Garib in particular Sabina, by contrast isn’t much of a character, and who doesn’t seem to care much for anything beyond Garib marrying her. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things I suppose, as is it a story about Garib and how he came to be who he is today, but considering that there are only four named female characters in the film; A nude model named Janet (who has the most awkward dialogue in the film), Sabina, the man-hating mother-in-law, and Alina (who has her own set of problems as it turns out). Not the strongest cast, in that case. I mean if the film is trying to make a point about the degrading nature of pornography, and it’s brought up too many times for it not to be, it seems to be from a distinctly male-centric point of view, of how making it and selling it affects the male characters, and the women are neutral figures in the process. I mean you could even attribute Garirb’s ultimate actions in the film to base guilt over actual remorse, although that might be me getting a little too analytical.

       To be honest, going into this I was expecting something with a few more bells & whistles, but what I got was still a decent little mystery movie. Good music, good acting, a couple thrills and a slightly eerie vibe in what ends up being an engaging drama. I don’t know if it would have won the Oscar even if the film that had won it wasn’t there, but it was nonetheless an entertaining film. It gets the recommendation, throw it on a double feature with Jacob’s Ladder or maybe even Lost Highway this Halloween.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Die Farbe, or The Color Out Of Space (2010), directed by Huan Vu

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Colors in Space", by Explosions in the Sky

       While the works of H.P. Lovecraft have been enormously influential on a good portion of the world’s pop culture, inspiring comics, cartoons, novels and the occasional anime, it’s never had as much like when it comes to cinema. There’s been many a movie that’s made the claim to ‘Lovecraftian’, it’s true, but many of those movies only go as far as the body horror or fleshy tentacles before they grab their ball and go home. Even Re-Animator, a movie I’ve heaped no small amount of praise over the years, is guilty of this to a degree, although the sequels take it to another level. They’re all so obsessed with bringing visuals to indescribable beings that they forget the essence of Lovecraft’s work. The paranoia, the feelings of absolute despair and isolation, the inability to trust one’s own senses, that’s just as important to the idea of ‘Lovecrftian’ fiction, if not moreso, than a giant frog with an octopus head. Which conveniently enough leads directly to our film today. Who would have thought?

       Known in its native country of Germany as Die Farbe, Huan Vu’s The Color Out of Space is an adaptation, naturally enough, of H.P. Lovecraft’s classic short story of the same. A search for his missing father leads up-and-coming scientist Jonathan Davis to a small village in Bavaria's border. While there, he meets a man named Armin who has in fact seen his father; Not as he is in the present day however, but as he was during his days in the U.S. military during the postwar period. Quite a coincidence, and yet that coincidence was merely a part of a much larger tale. A story of a meteorite that crash-landed on a farm not too far from the village they’re in now. Not just a rock from the heavens, but one with the texture of plastic, the ability to endlessly generate heat. A rock that holds deep within its core a color. A color unlike anything ever seen on Earth before, one that grows brighter and brighter as everything around it withers into ash. Plants, animals, people, nothing is safe. Nowhere is safe.

       The Color Out of Space has been one of my favorite of Lovecraft’s stories for a long time now, and I think a part of that was due to its seemingly unfilmable nature. The scares in this scary story don’t come from a horde of rats scurrying about in the walls after all, or some giant monster rising from the sea. They come from a color, something natural and yet completely alien, and the things that happen to people and the world just by being close to it. The horror is in how non-discriminatory it is, extremely malevolent and yet seemingly as neutral as the sunset. In a world familiar with nuclear fallout, pollution and other such silent killers it hits much closer to home than it did in the time it was written. It’s also the only bit of horror literature I can recall that’s ever significantly unnerved me, so that’s another reason I hold it in such high regard. 

       Luckily, Huan Vu seems to be coming from the same direction as I am, as he treats the story with great care. The slow build from curiousity and confusion into despair and their ultimate fates is done quite well, I’d say an equal balance of show and tell. I also think the choice to film in black & white was also the correct choice. Not just in the fact that you’re covering a story from the 20s, but it gives the titular Color that much more prominence when it finally appears, even if pink isn’t a color that is inconceivable to the human mind. It’s also rather subtle, but I like the way the Color’s influence works in black and white as well, from the dark grey of life to the dusty, almost white grey of death. In look and tone, Die Farbe gets Lovecraft right.

       That being said, I found myself not really caring much for the Jonathan Davis plot, which never breaks from feeling like it was bolted onto the story in order to give an excuse for why the story is taking place in Germany rather than America. There’s also some prominent examples CGI near the end which brought me out of the film a bit. Now of course practical effects can be a strain on time and budget, and is useful for things that would be extremely difficult or impossible to do otherwise (such as the climactic last scene with the Color), but when I see something on screen that’s running at 1080p while everything around it is 720p so to speak, then I am divorced from the reality of the scene. I am made aware that this is a film, that this is an actor pretending to be scared of an empty room, and the fear and tension of the film up until that point is seriously diminished, if not killed outright. You could argue that practical effects wouldn’t look much better, but the point is that there’s a difference when something has ‘weight’ and when it doesn’t, it comes through in the performance and and ultimately in the way that the mind processes it. In my opinion anyway.

       Ultimately I did enjoy Die Farbe/The Color Out Of Space though, in spite of the times the seams were showing. The films looks great, as you’d expect from rolling countryside, the music is haunting, even overwrought at times, the cast does well (special props to the guy who plays Past Armin, as he does much of the heavy lifting), and as I said before the tone is captured right, so there’s no choice but to recommend it. Human powerlessness and insignificance in the face of an uncaring and dangerous might be a myopic and perhaps defeatist worldview, but it does make for some spooky stories as it turns out, and if that’s what you’re in for this Halloween then this is the right film for you. And remember to always stay hydrated.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Tales from the Hood (1995), directed by Rusty Cundieff

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "The World is a Ghetto", by Geto Boys

       Collecting separate pieces of literature into one work has been a thing since books started being more than something monks did in between making wine and cheese, but for whatever reason I’ve always associated it with horror fiction above all else. Perhaps it comes from that classic image of a group of people telling ghost stories around a fire, doing their best to scare their friends while being scared themselves that does it, or that the nature of horror lends itself to short, explosive bursts of suspense, making them easily digestible and so taking several in one go sounds practical. I dunno, but that’s how it seems to go for books and, occasionally, films, as we’ve seen in previous Marathons with Tales from the Crypt and Spirits of the Dead. So why not do it again this year?

One dark night, three young men travel to a mysterious, almost anachronistic mortuary, on the basis of picking up a lucrative amount of drugs that the mortician had discovered (by force). When the three arrive however, the macabre mortician (played to eerie effect by Clarence Williams III) isn’t in the mood for drug deals. He’s interested in the dead, and the events that up to their demise. Tales of killer dolls and monsters lurking behind your door at night, of killing and being killed, or hatred and death. Tales from the hood, as the title says, and tales which for these three young men might be closer to reality than they’d hope…

       From the title you might assume Tales from the Hood is taking cues from Tales from the Crypt, and in some cases that comparison is accurate. Both feature a framing device with an eerie narrator relates stories in a location associated with death, both like to dig into a bit of the old comic aesthetic (especially the final story in this case), both like a little gallows humor here and there. However, where Crypt was all about the darkly ironic twists, especially the television series, Tales from the Hood is geared towards social commentary. All four stories, although featuring supernatural elements, center around issues that directly impact African-American communities: Police brutality, domestic violence, gang violence and so on. Subjects which they tackle unflinchingly, and honestly hit harder than the things in the film that we would label ‘horror’. In that way Tales from the Hood is the most effective film we’ve covered so far, even if its presentation is a tad tongue in cheek. That gallows humor coming into play, perhaps.

       I’m also reminded a bit of Rod Serling’s second show Night Gallery, in that the segments tend to be faster paced and narratively direct. There are four stories in total in Tales from the Hood not including the framing device: “Rogue Cop Revelation” (featuring Wings Hauser), “Boys Do Get Bruised” (featuring David Alan Grier), “KKK Comeuppance” and “Hard Core Convert”, all of which are clear in what they mean and what they’re trying to say. Of the four I’d say I was most partial to the final story, “Hard Core Convert”, which at first seems to be heading in A Clockwork Orange territory before suddenly veering into something reminiscent of Ambrose Bierce's “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”, which I honestly didn’t see coming. It’s also the segment which I think maybe moves a bit too quick for its own good, probably could have been expanded on a bit more if they wanted, but that’s the way she goes when it comes to anthology movies. 

       Consistency, I guess the name of the game here is today. The stories work, the performances work, the direction and the special effects work, it all works. Which may be a matter of course in regular film, but I’ve covered two other anthology movies before this and there’s always been at least one segment there that could’ve been cut. Not so with Tales from the Hood which, countering Tales from the Crypt and Spirits of the Dead, has a sense of uniformity that feels and functions like a complete film rather than a couple of stories tied together by nothing more than someone’s personal preference. It may not have anything have flashy as ‘Nightmare at 20,000 ft.”, but then who remembers anything about The Twilight Zone Movie beyond that segment? Who even remembers there was a Twilight Zone movie? Besides the guy who’s probably going to blog about it at some point, I mean.

        I feel like I might be talking in circles here, or that I’m not being as descriptive as I should be, but I can’t think of much else to say. Tales from the Hood is good. I enjoyed watching it, I think other people would enjoy watching it, so I’m recommending it. If you do decide to throw this on your Halloween film queue this year however, you might want to avoid the sequel, Tales from the Hood 2. Similar in structure, yet lack much of the charm and soul of the original. The choice, however, is yours to make.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Wild at Heart (1990), directed by David Lynch

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Love Me Tender", by Elvis Presley

       Sometimes you just get into those kinds of moods, you know? You get a sudden urge to eat salty foods or watch ice hockey, and the feelings won’t subside until you bite the bullet and do the thing. So it is with me and the films of one Mr. David Lynch, guru of transcendental meditation and all around weird guy. It’s been a while since we last saw him, Blue Velvet in Marathon ‘17 to be precise, and I knew from the moment I was crafting this year’s list that he needed to make an appearance. The question was, what film to go for? The Elephant Man? Inland Empire? A ‘proper’ review of Eraserhead after all these years? I mean it’s not like we’re spoiled for choice, Lynch’s career isn’t defined by a Hitchcockian work ethic, but a choice still has to be made. What to choose, what to choose…?

       So I just went with the one with Nic Cage in it.

       Our story begins in Cape Fear, somewhere on the border between North and South Carolina. Sailor (Nicolas Cage) and Lula (Laura Dern) are just about the most prototypical of young lovers that you’re ever gonna see, a fact which infuriates Lula’s mother Marietta Fortune, so much so that she hires someone to try and kill him. It fails, although Sailor ends up in prison a few months for manslaughter, and when the release date finally rolls around he and Lula ditch Cape Fear and hit the road for sunny California, the land of hopes and dreams. Marietta Fortune takes that about as well as she did before, only this time she goes to a man named Marcellus Santos, a man intimately connected with both Lula and Sailor’s past and one with varied, dangerous connections. Will Sailor and Lula’s love managed to withstand the machinations of Lula’s mother and Marcellus Santos, or will the yellow brick road lead them down the path to ruin? And yes, that is a Wizard of Oz reference, one of approximately 5 hundred you’ll be hearing when you watch this movie.

       With critical darling Blue Velvet still only a couple years old, and Twin Peaks taking the television world by storm, Lynch was arguably at the peak of his popularity in 1990, and it shows in Wild Heart’s production. Not only do we have Angelo Badalamenti working his magic on the score, but the movie feels absolutely stuffed with talent, both new and old additions to the world of Lynch. Nic Cage, Laura Dern, Willem Dafoe, Crispin Glover, Harry Dean Stanton, Isabella Rossellini, Grace Zabriskie, Jack Nance, and that’s just a portion of the folks in the opening credits. It’s like Lynch had suddenly received a big fat inheritance from a deceased relative and this was the result of the subsequent shopping spree. 

       Ironically though, aside from Dune, Wild at Heart might be the least Lynchian Lynch that I’ve covered so far. Sure, you’ve got the blending of the old and the modern, bizarre cast of characters that speaking nonsense, the veneer of placidity that masks the grimy, horrific truth that are staples of many Lynch works, but not presented quite the same way. In films such as Lost Highway, the main character’s dialogue could damn near fit on one sheet of paper; In Wild at Heart it feels as if there’s almost constant dialogue, Sailor and Lula can’t seem to exist in each other’s company without delving into each other’s most innermost thoughts. Rather than the long, pregnant pauses of Mulholland Dr., Wild at Heart is a wild (natch) beast; Scenes will suddenly explode with energy, music blaring, what have you, we constantly cut away from scenes for flashbacks and such, about every other one actually being relevant to the story. It’s a different kind of Lynch behind the camera here, or at least it feels like it, and this Lynch likes to play things fast and loose.

       Angelo Badalamenti returns to music duty this time around as I said, and in many ways it’s just as eclectic as the film itself. From the smokey, smooth jazz straight out of Twin Peaks to death metal in the blink of an eye, with some stops at big band, blues, garage rock and folk along the way. All stuff that I enjoy by the way, so even if it does get a bit herky-jerky it’s probably one of my favorite soundtracks for a David Lynch film so far. 

       I’m not sure how I feel about Wild at Heart though, if I’m being honest. Sometimes it feels like a continuation of Blue Velvet, where the innocent ‘dream world’ our characters attempt to exist in is intruded upon by the ‘real world’, with Sailor and Lula’s constant references to the Wizard of Oz (a story which ultimately reveals itself to be a dream) being the obvious nod to that. Other times it feels like some kind of ketamine-laced fairy tale, complete with evil mother figure, as our protagonists take the archetypal journey, face the archetypal trials and learn the archetypal lessons in hallucinatory and dissociative ways. Which on paper sounds fine, but in execution it can come off as tone deaf in areas that he should and has treated seriously, and bizarrely gooy in others, not in the way we’ve come to expect.It’s almost as if Wild at Heart was an attempt by Lynch to create his own Raising Arizona and the styles just do not mesh well together.

       Of course a lot of people were sold just on the fact that the words ‘Nic Cage’ and ‘David Lynch’ were in the same sentence, and yes, if you ever wanted to see the star of National Treasure belting out Elvis Presley songs then this is the movie of your dreams. Other than that it’s actually a rather mellow performance from him, perhaps because he’s working next to amazing actors like Laura Dern and Willem Dafoe that he doesn’t need to take things off the rails. Still, listening to the guy from Con Air talking in an exaggerated Elvis drawl for 2 hours is something you need to see to believe.

       A magic realist road trip crime thriller romance movie. Even now I’m still not sure what to make of it, but I guess if it’s still got me thinking about it now then that’s a good sign. Wild at Heart gets the recommendation from me, for better or worse you can always count on David Lynch to provide a unique cinematic experience. Grab your favorite snakeskin jacket and a bowl of popcorn and treat yourself to a weird Halloween.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: Society (1989), directed by Brian Yuzna

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Sex and Dying in High Society", by X

       Of all the people that I name drop on this blog, Brian Yunza is not one one of them. From the longest article I’ve written to the shortest, the appearance of his name could probably be counted on one hand, and yet this blog probably exist without him. After all, he was the producer on Stuart Gordon’s 80s cult classic Re-Animator, one of the films I covered in the very first Halloween-based thing I ever did for the blog, which has become my trademark, for better or worse. He also directed its sequel, Bride of Re-Animator, which I covered in the first proper Marathon, which was one of my favorite movies of that year. He also directed Beyond Re-Animator, one of my least favorite films of the year that it was featured, but then not every ball you hit can be home run after all. So in recognition of his contributions to Marathon history, I figured there could be no greater honor than covering yet another one of his films. Not only that, but a complete Yuzna original this time around; No Stuart Gordon or H.P. Lovecraft to steal the spotlight. From 1989, it’s Society.

       Bill Whitney (as played by Billy Warlock, who Obscurus Lupa fans might recognize as Baywatch’s Eddie Krama) lives a pretty charmed life. He’s Beverly Hills Academy’s star jock, he’s on his way to becoming class president, he’s got a cheerleader girlfriend, oh and his parents are filthy stinking rich. Yet all is not well in this modern day Xanadu. Aside from the fact that his parents are always fawning over his sister Jenny, there’s just something...off. Something not quite right, and it’s left him in a state of paranoia, at least according to his psychiatrist. Billy’s fears are completely legitimate however, at least according to Billy, and they are completely justified when David Blanchard, Jenny’s ex-boyfriend, provides him with a secret recording that paints the Whitney family in a damnable light. The smoking gun? More like a key to hell, as this tape will lead Billy to discover that what he thought the Whitney family was, and what he thinks Whitney family is now, pales in comparison to the truth.

       Society is the kind of movie that, like many horror movies of the time tries to spin a lot of different plates at once. At first it seems like it’s aiming for a psychological thriller, in the vein of Rosemary’s Baby or The Believers. Then it takes a straight turn right into body horror territory courtesy of Screaming Mad George (who you might recall from The Guyver), concurrently with some social commentary that comes out of the blue. Very ambitious, bringing to mind not only Yuzna’s previous work on Bride of Re-Animator, but films like The Stuff and Night of the Creeps as well. Although this is right on the edge of the decade, this feels like prime 80s splatterhouse territory, and at this stage of the game we’re all well aware of my feelings for that sort of cinema.

       Society is a film that implies a complex narrative and a subtle build to suspense however, and having seen two other Brian Yuzna movies at this point, complex and subtle are not in his wheelhouse. There’s nothing wrong with going over the top, especially when it comes to cult horror movies, but for that to be effective you have to establish where the top is, the reality from which surreality springs. While those Screaming Mad George special effects are certainly a treat,its effect in the story is equivalent to downing a shot of espresso after inhaling a line of cocaine. It’s too much, and in hindsight not only is nothing ever properly explained, there’s no real justification for why the plot of the movie even happens at all. Even Yuzna seems to recognize that at some point, as it feels like he originally forgot to write an ending to his movie and what we see on screen is what he hastily wrote in the margins when the crew called him out on it. Again, if it were just about the horror it wouldn’t be a problem, but because it seems like there’s an attempt at saying something bigger here, there needs to be a few moments of respite.

       What we also see in Society is an internal struggle on tone. Yuzna seems conflicted on what he wants his film to be like, The Thing or The Ruling Class, so he decided to compromise by shoving comedy haphazardly into the most intense moments. Now horror and comedy aren’t strangers, from Get Out to Fright Night we’ve seen it done, but in Society it seems out of place and flat out stupid at worst. Not stupid in the good way either, as in the slapstick of Evil Dead II. Bad stupid, the kind of stupid that makes you wonder if the director really thought it was a good idea. So it was with Beyond Re-Animator, so it was with Screaming Mad George’s The Guyver, so at this point you can’t deny it’s not a conscious choice, I just dunno. I can see the argument of the last act being some kind of Bosch-like vision of hell, with our protagonist being tortured with bizarre and horrible sights, but I end up rolling my eyes and wondering if the director is actively insulting my intelligence. I don’t like that feeling, and I don’t think that’s Yuzna’s intention, but when I see someone literally pretending to be an asshole and farting on people it raises some red flags. Makes me wonder if I really did like Bride of Re-Animator all those years ago, or if I’m being blinded by less than a decade old nostalgia.

       I’m probably being a bit too harsh on Mr. Yuzna though, as well as Society. I know there’s people out there that are going to be super into the 80s gore, and there’s a Dark City defense there of being not entirely unlike its peers that gives it a certain feeling of originality and mystery, so despite it not quite hitting the right switch for me I’ll give it the recommendation in case it does it for you. Fair warning though, you might want to avoid any pasta for at least 24 hours. Trust me, you’ll be better off.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: The Hitch-Hiker (1953), directed by Ida Lupino

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Hitchin' A Ride", by Vanity Fare

       I guess the reality of filmmaking existing largely as a boy’s club doesn’t really settle in until pretend to review movies for a living like yours truly. I mean I’ve covered over a hundred films now on this blog and it wasn’t until I was compiling the list for this year that I realized that I had only reviewed around 6 movies in total that had been directed by women, an incredibly small amount even for the niche field of genre films. Worse yet, aside from the Wachowski’s Matrix, none of them were movies that I had actually liked, which is just the way it goes sometimes but something that still sent me down the rabbit hole of self--reflection for a while. So this year I’ve made a conscious effort to get more women and their movies in the Marathon, the first being Rachel Talalay’s Tank Girl (which didn’t turn out that well), and now with Ida Lupino. While not a household name these days back in the 50s she was pretty well known as an actress, and pretty unique for stepping behind the camera and directing some films herself. So why not just reach into the proverbial bag and pull one out?

       Released by RKO in 1953, The Hitch-Hiker, our film begins with a murder. Several murders in fact, all committed by a man named Emmett Myers under the role of a hitch-hiker. A tragedy to be sure, but one that leaps from the newsreels into reality when Gilbert and Roy, two camping buddies that took a last minute detour to Mexicali, pick up a hitch-hiker who happens to be Emmett Myers. Myers has a burning need to get to the town of Santa Rosalia, a 500 mile trip, and in lieu of gas money he’s brought a loaded revolver pointed as their heads. It’s the proverbial road trip from hell, as Gilbert and Roy struggle under the heel of Myers, knowing every moment that each step closer to Santa Rosalia is a step towards their own grisly demise. Based on a true story, so the film’s opening says, but then aren’t they all these days?

       So yeah, a scary hitch-hiker movie about two decades before Ted Bundy made everyone assume all hitch-hikers were serial killers, pretty ahead of its time in that regard. It’s also interesting to see how...I don’t know the proper word, ‘natural’ it feels, that Lupino were aiming for a recreation of actual events rather than just being a noir film. Things such as having scenes where the Mexican characters are just having conversations with each other with no attempt to translate it for the audience beyond context clues, or having the Mexican and American authorities planning things out. It ends up making The Hitch-Hiker feel less like a true crime film, years before true crime was a proper genre, and more an extended cut of the live action sequences in Unsolved Mysteries.

       The thing that would make true crime so popular wasn’t just about recreating actual events however, it was in taking those events and crafting a narrative around them. In the premier true crime novel for example, Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, Capote crafts this detailed profile of the killers, giving you an insight into the kind of people they are and why they did what they did. Not to say that isn’t done with Myers, but by and large it’s a very black and white (natch) view of things, where he does bad things because he’s bad and that’s as far as one needs to think on the matter. Which might work if you just need an antagonist, but if you’re trying to make a real person then you’re going to have to go a bit deeper than that.

       There’s also the issue of tension in the film. Of course you have the overarching issue of Myers holding Gilbert and Roy hostage which is the crux of the film, but the film doesn’t often push beyond that initial suspense. By which I mean the points of emotional peak, where the scheme is on the brink of being discovered, Myers is about to kill someone, etc. Again like with Myers, those scenes are there, but Lupino never lingers on them, drawing out the tension. You get the impression of them and then they’re gone. Missed potential, but it’s got that kind of charm that films of a certain place and time exude. A movie that could only have been made in the 50s, you know the type.

       The Hitch-Hiker is a no-frills crime thriller, giving you some crime and some thrills in a nice package and not a cent more. In that regard, I have no problem recommending it, it’s simplicity makes it easily watchable. Like I’ve said before with other movies however, if you’re not a fan of the older filmmaking styles there’s nothing here that’s going to blow your mind. Give it a try this Halloween, and while you’re at it look into the other films by Ida Lupino as well.