By Nadia Dalimonte Marin Ireland in The Dark and the Wicked (2020) Chopping carrots hits differently now. The latest horror film from Bryan Bertino of The Strangers fame lives up to its title. The Dark and the Wicked is a deeply unsettling story whereby the home intruder is a demonic spirit that whispers unspeakable things into people’s minds. The story takes place on a secluded farm inhabited by a family who come together to care for a dying member. Death is near, but not in the way that they expect. The darkness that grabs hold of this family is a constant presence made clear from the beginning of the film, and it’s a presence that mutates on different levels as the story progresses. The spirit latches onto a particular vulnerability that each character possesses.
Disturbing occurrences happen in the span of one week, with title cards displayed for each day, and the madness gets wilder deeper into the week. On the worst Monday of their lives, siblings Louise (Marin Ireland) and Michael (Michael Abbott Jr.) arrive at the family farm to assist their mother and be there for their father (Michael Zagst) on his deathbed. Tense family dynamics are palpable right through the door. Their mother (Julie Oliver-Touchstone) gives them a frosty welcome. She is grieving her husband slipping away, and neither sibling knows how to approach the subject with her. But there is a lot more to Mother (Julie Oliver-Touchstone) than meets the eye, as her ominous diary entry would prove, and each passing day is more revealing. She’s been suffering another loss, that of her mind, to something or someone in the house that is dead set on infesting her husband's soul. The director lingers heavily on characters from behind, as if someone is watching them. The camerawork makes for a completely nerve-wracking experience of waiting to see or trying to prepare for what’s on the other side of the room. It’s an interesting choice because as the camera lingers on the characters, and sometimes on objects, threatening shadowy figures show up matter-of-factly. Sometimes it takes away from the threatening tone being established, and sometimes it works wonders. One chilling scene early on shows a shadow simply stood in a darkened hallway as a character walks by without noticing. Objects are also given focus, as if a spirit is lurking inside. There’s a stunning, eerie shot of Louise and Michael standing still in a room full of mannequins. There is an unrelenting sense of dread that washes over all the characters, one by one. The film builds on each of their personal fears slowly being manipulated. Some characters fall immediately into the spirit’s grasp while others can fight off the fear a little longer. In any case, there is no hiding place good enough to conceal the fear that lives within. For the protagonists, the fear of losing their parents is immense. Louise feels the added terror of being alone should something happen to her estranged brother. All of this fear manifests through spine-chilling imagery, specific to each character, that gets the scare job done to say the absolute least. The strong use of shadows, lighting, and haunting imagery bears a striking reminder of Ari Aster’s Hereditary. The two films are dramatically different on the whole, and this is not a quality comparison of the two, but there are some similarities in terms of using those features as effective reveal techniques and manipulating imagery to evoke emotion. A parallel can also be drawn thematically in that here is a dysfunctional family trying to grieve as a wicked force latches itself onto them, preying on vulnerability. Plenty of intriguing questions are raised about how quickly fear can spread over the psyche. Committed performances by a talented cast, with Marin Ireland being the MVP, bring an emotionally resonating layer to the afterthought of this nightmarish film. With the exception of some obvious-looking CGI in the final act, and an ineffective final scene, The Dark and the Wicked is like watching a waking nightmare unfold with no escape.
0 Comments
By Nadia Dalimonte Emidio Lopes in Pressure Play (2020) Writer, producer and director Eric Bizzarri brings a strong subject matter onto the screen with the short film Pressure Play. The story follows Fraser (Emidio Lopes), an introverted teenager playing on his school basketball team. He and his teammates are subject to a toxic sports culture perpetuated by their abusive Coach Riggs (Andrew Bee). Emidio’s concerned mother Julia (Rachel Peters) notices changes in her son’s behaviour and demands the school take action.
Pressure Play is solid as an exploration of how young men are pressured to act a certain way, and how such expectations put a barrier on safe spaces for communication. The film works best when examining how this all plays out in the school environment versus at home from the protagonist's perspective. There is a clear sense that something is going on behind closed doors, and the film does a good job of creating that atmosphere. The character work is not quite as consistent. There is a strong sense of subtext with the coach’s introduction and how it affects the team. As soon as he walks into the auditorium during a practice one day, the young men go quiet and continue playing. That moment alone says a lot about who the coach is. His presence encourages silence, further bringing to light the lack of avenues people have to discuss his behavior openly and make him accountable. It’s a clear and effective establishment of character, so the added scenes of him using some despicable language feel unnecessary in the film. The story focuses intently on Fraser’s point of view as a young man experiencing inner conflict, as he tends to keep his emotions withdrawn. While his exploration of the character would be more intriguing to watch in feature length, Emidio Lopes has such promising talent and gives a great performance as Fraser. Another resonating feature about the film is the use of sound. There’s a great dialogue-driven scene that incorporates practical sound effects (i.e. a phone ringing) to create score. Other moments have an interesting manipulation of sound and music that puts you further into Fraser’s introverted mind. While there is some untapped potential in Pressure Play, the director has a resonating voice and his film is certainly a promising one that sparks absolutely necessary discussion. By Nadia Dalimonte Watson (2020) From award-winning documentarian Lesley Chilcott, Watson dives into the life of Captain Paul Watson, the co-founder of Greenpeace and founder of Sea Shepherd. He has spent most of his life sailing across the world to protect the ocean’s wildlife and its habitat from destruction. His advocacy goes beyond spoken word and into territory of aggressive confrontation, as he challenges the cruel illegal activity of whaling vessels, seal hunters, and shark finners. In the words of Paul Watson, he can’t bear witness to this kind of activity. He takes matters into his own hands with what he refers to as aggressive non-violence, which sometimes puts him in dangerous situations for the purpose of raising awareness.
The narrative anchor of Chilcott’s documentary is a collection of one-on-one interviews with Watson. He tells his own story of how he became a fully engaged activist, and at what cost (both personally and professionally). His work had him out at sea most of the time, keeping him away from family responsibilities back home. He was known to physically put himself in harm’s way, whether it be standing in front of a whaling vessel or taking a seal from the hands of a hunter. At 19 years old, he had the audacity to start directly challenging the people profiting from cruelty, which landed him in hot water from numerous angles. His aggressive activism, once commended early on for shining a light on Greenpeace, was later condemned and he was forced out of the organization. According to Captain Watson, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened, because he then founded an anti-poaching organization called Sea Shepherd. This meant he got to continue his work, on his terms, in turn influencing a sea of volunteers eager to share their passion. Chilcott paints a passionate and flawed portrait of a man willing to put the ocean first by any means necessary. The documentary begins with a commentary on the fascination human beings have with whales’ intelligence and size, among other features. The sheer beauty, curiosity, and self-awareness of these creatures are a marvel. Starting the narrative in a loving embrace with whales, and ocean life in general, further enforces the urgency of protecting them (and of course their habitat). Captain Watson is positioned as the protective hero, and being exposed to his work having not known about it provides a strong sense of encouragement about his accomplishments. This kind of positioning doesn’t leave a lot of room for critique, and there are some moments that fall flat, particularly when the documentarian tries to raise the stakes with certain questions. But listening to his insight is incredibly inspiring, mainly when on the subject of his work. The documentarian balances interview clips of him with a combination of breathtakingly beautiful underwater shots and often times horrific archival footage of cruelty. The stark contrast shown between the beauty of ocean life and the harsh reality of what’s being done to it further drives the point of this documentary home. One particular moment caught on film, where Watson and his team try to rescue a whale in a position that is vulnerable to an approaching whaling vessel, depicts why Watson devoted his life to this work. The narrative of Watson often poses the question: ‘if not me, who will stand up for these creatures and Earth?’ The ocean is home to three quarters of life on the planet. If the ocean dies, we die. The devastating effects of climate change and continuous illegal activities that threaten the ocean’s living space give this documentary a burning urgency. Watson leaves behind a depressing but encouraging feeling that there are people in the world acting beyond words to make a difference and raise awareness on this subject. By Nadia Dalimonte Ibrahima Gueye and Sophia Loren in The Life Ahead (2020) Sophia Loren returns to the screen with a spellbinding performance in The Life Ahead, a resonating film about trauma, acceptance, and the need for formative teachers in life. This is a performance of vitality and fragility that is so breathtakingly lived-in. Her face is a canvas of the life her character has lived. Her expressions are a stunning portal to emotional moments that come and go in waves, as her character’s health sees a slow decline. It’s not hard to savour every moment of Loren’s work as she plays her first role in decades, and a leading one at that. Given the combined tenacity and compassion of her character, it’s a treasure that this was the role to lure her back onto the screen. The camera is magnetically drawn to her majestic presence, to no surprise and to compelling delight.
The Life Ahead marks the third collaboration between Loren and her son, director Edoardo Ponti (first the feature Between Strangers in 2002, followed by the short film Human Voice in 2014). Set in seaside Italy, Ponti brings a devoted lens to the story of Holocaust survivor and former sex worker, Madame Rosa (Loren), as she reluctantly takes in an ambitious 12-year-old Senegalese boy, Momo (Ibrahima Gueye), who is just as reluctant to be placed under her care. The two have a shared unfortunate history that harks back to the beginning of the film. Momo, studying a crowd of people shopping at a street market, fixates on an elderly woman carrying a bag full of antiques. Not just any antiques…she intends to sell them in exchange for rent. Spotting her vulnerability, he steals her bag and stores it away. The doctor he lives with discovers the bag and brings Momo to Madame Rosa’s apartment, a refuge for children of sex workers. Momo is made to return the bag and apologize to Rosa. But the underlying reason for this visit would soon change the course of the characters’ lives ahead. Doctor Coen (Renato Carpentieri) pleads with an insulted Rosa that she do him a favour and care for the boy, just for a few weeks. Otherwise he’ll be placed with child services. She agrees after much convincing, and Momo joins two children of immigrant women. Friendly neighbor Lola (Abril Zamora), mom to one of the two children, stops by on occasion to check in. Zamora is trans and plays a trans woman, which is refreshing for that reason (especially given very troubling Hollywood representations) in addition to the fact that her being trans doesn’t become a talking point in the narrative. She just is. The first bit of the film sees Rosa and Momo keeping to themselves, each harboring the residue of their pasts and resisting opportunities to bond. Momo keeps busy mostly outside trying to make a living from dealing drugs, while Rosa has her hands full trying to make a living by raising three children. Rosa’s firmness and Momo’s stubbornness clash, but what begins as an antagonistic relationship develops into a friendship, as the two lonely souls discover through unexpected bonding that they are kindred spirits. Their shared connection peels back the layers of the characters’ life stories and gives the film wings. Edoardo Ponti adapted the story from Romain Gary’s best-selling novel, and one of the most well-known in French literature, The Life Before Us. Ponti changes the original setting of Paris to the Italian port city of Bari, translating themes about who and what gives life meaning. The evolving definitions of home and family are explored through internal observations and reflections from the film’s protagonist, Momo. The story is told from his perspective in the heart of Bari, where he tries to find a sense of place among a labyrinth of unwelcoming settings. One of the reasons Doctor Coen persuades Madame Rosa to take Momo in is because the boy, who we learn is an orphan, doesn’t have a nurturing figure in his life. His childhood is quickly maturing from his surroundings and circumstances. In the place of his mother, who died when he was 6, he has visions of a protective lioness that he conjures up when he feels the most vulnerable. The lioness appears at two key moments in the film - once in close proximity and again from a distance, evoking the growth of his character. In his first feature film role, actor Ibrahima Gueye has the task of going toe-to-toe with the legendary Sophia Loren, and he’s remarkably nuanced. He has winning chemistry with Loren and carries the film with an instinctive expression, fulfilling a crucial nucleus for the story as his character is at the heart of it (particularly in the second half). Momo’s protective lioness bears strong parallels to Madame Rosa’s secret den, a hidden safe space in her building that she retreats to when she feels overwhelmed by growing PTSD from her experiences in Auschwitz. She also suffers from early dementia, which freezes her in paralyzing spells. Rosa has a strong determination to keep these experiences to herself, even though on more than one occasion Momo and the other children discover her in a worrying state. The film is a powerful exploration of two people carrying a lot of emotional weight and, through a strongly shared kinship, learn to open their hearts. The director has an acute understanding of the level of patience needed to bring this bond onto the screen in a way that feels inherent rather than rushed or forced. The final result is helped by stunning work from Loren and Gueye, plus their remarkable chemistry that makes the destiny of their characters especially moving to watch. The Life Ahead is releasing November 13th exclusively on Netflix. By Nadia Dalimonte Emma Louise Webb, Caroline Ward, Haley Bishop, Jemma Moore, and Radina Drandova in Host (2020) With a compact runtime of 56 minutes, Host is one of the more effective horror genre films to come out in recent years. The film was made during the COVID pandemic, which gives it a resonating specificity and adds a layer of uneasiness to an already troubling story that takes place entirely on a Zoom call. The story follows six friends who hire a medium to hold an online séance during lockdown, but their call takes a dark turn when an evil spirit invades their homes.
Cyber horror films are very much a sign of the times, as our dependency on technology in everyday life is on the rise. Host, a narrative that takes place using computer and screens, evokes a nearly claustrophobic feeling as the characters are confined to one kind of setting. With such close proximity to the people on screen, from beginning to end, the performances can make or break this immersive experience. One of the biggest triumphs of Host is how good the acting is all around. Each performer creates a believable sense of fear slowly washing over them as the film progresses. The cast make it incredibly easy to suspend disbelief and watch in horror as the characters struggle to overcome a spirit so unsparingly evil. Another great accomplishment, the most impressive one, is how this film manages to fuel a genuinely scary and chilling narrative that gets the job done in less than an hour. Once the setting is established and the horror kicks in, the thrills are steady. The sense of utter hopelessness is palpable in each pixelated frame, as the characters are limited to where they can go in a pandemic. There is nowhere they can safely escape to at the drop of a hat. The confined spaces raise the stakes as the demonic spirit becomes increasingly ruthless in response to a disrespectful invitation, which the medium strongly warned everyone from the start to avoid doing. Clocking in with a short runtime, and made with a tiny budget, Host is a fully realized nightmarish séance story that never loses tension. The direction is wicked and succeeds at leaving behind an on-edge afterthought, made more effective when watching on a computer screen. While the film falls into some traps of characters doing questionable things, the strong cast help build an effective atmosphere that is scarily relevant and enjoyable to watch. |
Archives
April 2024
Categories |