¡QUÉ HORROR! 2019

Candidate #11

PIERCING

(January 2018)

"The victim has to be a prostitute, but what type? And she has to speak English. The terror must be in English.”

Reed (It Comes at Night’s Christopher Abbott) is a man up to no good.

His meticulously murderous plans (which involve rope, chloroform, and an icepick) go soaring out the window though when he meets Jackie (Mia Wasikowska).

That’s the basic set-up of Piercing, the sophomore feature of Nicolas Pesce, on the heels of his audacious and disturbing debut, The Eyes of My Mother.

Pesce adapts the script from the novel Piasshingu by Murakami Ryū, the man also responsible for bringing us Ōdishon, upon which Miike Takashi’s Audition is based.

Let’s let that sink in for a moment, shall we?

“Look at your face… the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, I just want to hit you. Not just like a little slap on the cheek, I want to punch you with my fist as hard as I can.”

Now, having established Piercing’s pedigree, I should make it clear at the offset that it is not as viscerally unsettling as The Eyes of My Mother, nor is it as shockingly violent as Audition (though it does have its twisted moments).

And while there are similarities between the narrative arcs of Piercing and Audition, Pesce’s adaptation is clearly its own kind of animal.

“Imagine me lying here and you looking down at me. And these sheets getting wet with all sorts of things.

“Just think about what that could be like.

“Think about it.”

Of particular note are the stylistic flourishes Pesce deploys, among them, transporting the action to an unspecified setting composed of a cityscape of miniatures, and utilizing some tracks from classic giallo, among them, Goblin cuts from Dario Argento’s Profondo Rosso and Tenebre.

(Pesce himself has described Piercing as “… very much my take on a giallo film.”)

He also subverts the audience’s instinctive reactions to a pair of easy listening standards in two notable sequences in the film, juxtaposing the overly familiar music against a canny use of sound to evoke substantial levels of disquiet.

“I mean… odds say you should probably just kill her no matter what.”

So if all that sounds like your cup of red ant--and so long as you keep in mind that Piercing is not as extreme a horror title as either The Eyes of My Mother or Audition--then you’d do well to check this one out.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

Parting Shot: I’ve never been a particular fan of the Ju-On films that I’ve seen, which have always struck me as far more interested in scares and shocks rather than character and plot.

The English-language remakes helmed by Ju-On creator Shimizu Takashi weren’t much of an improvement in that area either.

But with Pesce taking the reins on the Grudge reboot, I’m mighty curious to see what he brings to the table.

(Piercing OS’ courtesy of impawards.com.)

A Rundown of the 13 (+1) Best Horror Movies I've Seen in the Past Year

[10 of 13]

AKU NO KYÔTEN

(LESSON OF THE EVIL)
(November 2012)

“And the shark, it has teeth,

And it wears them in its face,

And a knife, has Mackie Messer,

Of the knife, one sees no trace”

Based on the novel by Yûsuke Kishi, Takashi Miike’s Aku No Kyôten reunites the director with his Sukiyaki Western Django star, Hideaki Itô, who here, essays the role of the charming, psychopathic high school teacher, Seiji Hasumi.

Centered around and grounded by Itô’s commendable performance, Miike effectively highlights the terror of inexplicable violence and the horror of betrayal by a trusted figure of authority.

His familiar flourishes of violence offset by bizarre notes of odd humour will be found here, and props should also go out to him as well, for excellent usage of “The Ballad of Mack the Knife”/“Die Moritat von Mackie Messer.”

Given that we are treated to a “To Be Continued” by film’s end, I can only hope that Miike returns for the sequel.

As I’ve said before concerning Miike, I may not like all of his films, but there’s always something interesting going on in each of them, and in Aku No Kyôten, he brings his innate Miike-ness to the table, ensuring that the narrative content (basically a psycho who gets his bugf*ck crazy on with his students) is kept involving and occasionally, rather bizarro.

Which is what we really need, if we’re to keep this story going in any possible sequel…

For those unfamiliar with the more ultraviolent entries of Miike’s oeuvre, be advised that Aku No Kyôten becomes a rather difficult watch by the time we hit the third act, particularly in light of the current climate of school violence in countries like the United States.

You have been warned…

(Aku No Kyôten OS’ courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com & twitchfilm.com.)

¡Qué horror! 2013

Candidate #10

AKU NO KYÔTEN

(LESSON OF THE EVIL)
(November 2012)

“And the shark, it has teeth,

And it wears them in its face,

And a knife, has Mackie Messer,

Of the knife, one sees no trace”

Based on the novel by Yûsuke Kishi, Takashi Miike’s Aku No Kyôten reunites the director with his Sukiyaki Western Django star, Hideaki Itô, who here, essays the role of the charming, psychopathic high school teacher, Seiji Hasumi.

Centered around and grounded by Itô’s commendable performance, Miike effectively highlights the terror of inexplicable violence and the horror of betrayal by a trusted figure of authority.

His familiar flourishes of violence offset by bizarre notes of odd humour will be found here, and props should also go out to him as well, for excellent usage of “The Ballad of Mack the Knife”/“Die Moritat von Mackie Messer.”

Given that we are treated to a “To Be Continued” by film’s end, I can only hope that Miike returns for the sequel.

As I’ve said before concerning Miike, I may not like all of his films, but there’s always something interesting going on in each of them, and in Aku No Kyôten, he brings his innate Miike-ness to the table, ensuring that the narrative content (basically a psycho who gets his bugf*ck crazy on with his students) is kept involving and occasionally, rather bizarro.

Which is what we really need, if we’re to keep this story going in any possible sequel…

For those unfamiliar with the more ultraviolent entries of Miike’s oeuvre, be advised that Aku No Kyôten becomes a rather difficult watch by the time we hit the third act, particularly in light of the current climate of school violence in countries like the United States.

You have been warned…

(Aku No Kyôten OS’ courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com & twitchfilm.com.)

 

A Rundown of the 13 Best, Most Recent Horror Movies I’ve Seen
[8 of 13]
HOSTEL: PART II (June 2007)


[Director Eli] Roth manages to keep things tight and engaging, as both groups on either side of the torturer’s chair, spiral deeper into the blood-caked labyrinth, and move inexorably towards the fateful meeting in the infamous factory.
Along the way, we catch glimpses of the psychology of torture and murder, the pitiless commodification of human life, and the cruel vagaries of business.

Read the entire review here.

(Hostel: Part II OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

SUKIYAKI WESTERN DJANGO
(Review)

As genres go, the western is one that I’m not particularly inclined to.
But when a director like Takashi Miike takes on a western, having his Japanese cast speak English (most, perhaps even all, phonetically), well, that’s a ride that’s pretty much irresistible.
The result is what is arguably one of his most stylized and bizarre films, and if you’ve seen Miike, you’ll know that’s saying a lot.
Miike’s ode to the spaghetti western (specifically, Sergio Corbucci’s Django), Sukiyaki Western Django dives into the conventions of the genre with cheeky glee and introduces us to the archetypical mysterious stranger (here dubbed “The Gunman,” and played by Shura Yukihime‘s Hideaki Ito) who arrives in a town besieged by the rivalry of two clans, the Heike and the Genji, as the colour-coordinated scoundrels vie for a legendary treasure of gold that may or may not exist.
What follows is a gonzo mash-up of western, comedy, and cartoon violence, with some Shakespeare thrown in for good measure.
It’s an interesting, though not altogether successful hybrid.


First off though, the film looks great, the most visually interesting feature I’ve seen from him thus far.
Shot by cinematographer Toyomichi Kurita (who also lensed Miike’s “Imprint” for Masters of Horror, and, curiously enough, three of Tyler Perry’s recent films), the arid brown palette of the conventional western is here punctuated with bursts of Technicolor lunacy, and some very atypical costume design by Michiko Kitamura, who worked on Miike’s Koroshiya Ichi (Ichi the Killer) and “Imprint,” as well as Kazuaki Kiriya‘s Casshern.
Oh, and since this is a Miike film, we get bursts and splashes of the warm red too.
But while the vibrant look of the film goes a long way in keeping the audience’s interest in the on-screen action, it’s in the humour where Miike kind of loses me.


Sukiyaki Western Django has that goofy Japanese sense of humour (seen in some of Miike’s oeuvre), only magnified, because of the choice of having the actors spout words and phrases like “skivvies,” “nook and cranny,” “lily-livered,” and “whistle Dixie” in their stilted, Japanese-accented English.
Fun, yes, perhaps even reminiscent of the English-dubbed spaghetti westerns that inspired the film, but a little too often, just plain distracting.
With that singular choice, Miike crosses the line to the no man’s land where the stylized narrative conventions a director chooses to utilize play out as contrived, calling undue attention to themselves and ultimately, the induced artificiality of the entire endeavour.
Much of Robert Rodriguez’s Planet Terror walked drunkenly on this line, and on occasion slipped over it. In Sukiyaki Western Django, the basic premise smashes through that line with oblivious glee, and could very well be the singular element of the film that could make or break a viewer’s approval.


There are also some other strange choices, like having the town sheriff (Kiraware Matsuko no issho‘s Teruyuki Kagawa) be a man quite literally divided, as not only is he caught between the two clans, he’s also apparently afflicted with a split-personality, a character note that’s played mostly for laughs and gets annoying and overly screwball very quickly.
Now, it’s entirely possible that the character of the sheriff is emblematic of the bizarre nature of the spaghetti western itself: an Italian co-opting of an American genre, a hybrid of two apparently disparate elements.
But even if that were indeed the case, the character itself is an annoying fixture in the film’s proceedings, only serving to compromise the work even further.
And then when Heike chief Kiyomori (Koichi Sato, from J-Horror entries Rasen and Kansen) really gets into Henry VI…
I don’t know…
It should be noted though that I do appreciate the reversals going on here. That even as some of the most widely known spaghetti westerns looked to the samurai film for inspiration—such as Sergio Leone’s Per un pugno di dollari (A Fistful of Dollars) hearkening back to Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo—so now does Miike tip his own sombrero back.


This may not have completely revved up my engine, but it’s a fun, rowdy homage just the same, and another freaky feather in the director’s aforementioned sombrero: though Miike is perhaps most widely known for the shocking transgressive cinema of films like Odishon (Audition) and Koroshiya Ichi, he’s also done J-Horror (Chakushin Ari; One Missed Call), ostensible family entertainment (Yokai Daisenso; The Great Yokai War), and straight-up drama (Sabu).
Miike is nothing if not prolific and versatile.
And to be perfectly honest, I’m constantly fascinated by Miike not necessarily because I love every film he does, but rather because they’re never boring and invariably prove to be interesting in one way or another.
Miike makes brave cinematic choices. Of course, not all those choices will turn out to be sound, but the mere fact that he’s willing to not only consider them, but also actually make them, highlights him in my books.


In the end, I may not exactly love Sukiyaki Western Django, but it’s safe to say I haven’t seen anything like it from Miike before, and I certainly didn’t see anything quite like it among its fellow 2007 films.
So if you’re willing to check out a brazenly visual western with the decidedly tangy flavour of stylized violence and screwball humour, a steaming bowl of Sukiyaki Western Django may be just your thing.
(And if you’re a QT fan, you’ll definitely want to see this…)

(Sukiyaki Western Django OS’s courtesy of joshuazimmerman.com and rowthree.com; cast image courtesy of screenhead.com.)

ONE MISSED CALL
(Review)

Eric Vallete’s English-language remake of Takashi Miike’s Chakushin Ari (which was itself Miwako Daira’s adaptation of the novel by Yasushi Akimoto) was originally scheduled for an August 24 2007 US release.
That soon changed to a January 4 2008 release. Now, a release date change of this sort is more often than not a bad sign. Coupled with its ultimate release falling in the early—or as defined in the Hollywood dictionary, “dead”—months of the year (another bad sign), where studios have perennially tossed their less than desirable product, a stigma began to taint One Missed Call even before it opened.
Still, I hoped for the best, and bolstered by that creepy-a$$ one-sheet, gave it a fair look-see.

With a handful of variations here and there, the set-up is pretty much that of Miike’s Chakushin Ari: Beth Raymond (Shannyn Sossamon) bears witness to a number of her friends falling prey to prophetic cell phone calls—signaled by an eerie ringtone—that serve as harbingers of their doom, before she gets her own call, and must solve the mystery lest she end up facing her own apparently impending death.
What Vallete and One Missed Call screenwriter Andrew Klavan so clearly fail to capture though is the air of dread and tense anticipation evident in Miike’s take. Nowhere is this sad—and ultimately fatal—shortcoming so painfully evident as in One Missed Call’s redux of a bravura setpiece from Chakushin Ari, which involves a victim’s death on live TV.
Here, we have American Miracles, run by Ted Summers (genre powerhouse Ray Wise), who has exorcist Ray Purvis (Jason Beghe, who incidentally recently walked away from Scientology in a big stink) attempt to eradicate the cell phone curse.
With its Christian iconography, non-existent suspense, and fairly ludicrous “body of Christ compels you to leave this cell phone” blather, this sequence turns out to be the most disappointing in the entire film.
When you’ve got Ray Wise and this is all you have him do, it’s a waste of everyone’s time.

There are attempts to introduce elements not present in Miike’s version though, particularly in having the intended victims begin seeing disturbing presences all around them (which is where the one-sheet image comes in), but this really isn’t anything new in a horror film; as I recall, this was also done in The Exorcism of Emily Rose.
In One Missed Call, these moments happen so often that they quickly feel like desperate attempts to continually scare the audience, when all they really do is get pretty boring, pretty quickly.
And while the “abuse as a cycle” theme is still here, it sadly also feels muted somehow, certainly less potent than in Miike’s Chakushin Ari.

Admittedly, the idea behind One Missed Call’s climax—which avoids that ludicrously monstrous cheat in Chakushin Ari’s final moments and that ambiguous last shot—makes more sense than the Japanese version’s.
Tragically, it isn’t executed very well, and plays out as horribly anti-climactic, with one of those annoying “Yes, we can have a sequel if we so choose” last shots, that I’d rather take Miike’s ending, flaws and all, than this mess.
And yes, Miike had some questionable funhouse scares in the hospital sequence, but none as laughably ridiculous as One Missed Call’s baby with a cell phone bit. (Of course, if I were to see that in real life, in the burnt-out shell of an abandoned hospital, I probably wouldn’t be laughing. On the screen though, it’s a golden MST3K moment…)
Oh, and why the vengeful ghost bothered with Luna—when the poor cat clearly didn’t have a cell phone—was just a bad decision to try and get a cheap scare. Is it worth it though when you could end up pissing PETA off?
And yes, Dave Stewart wrote and performed One Missed Call’s ringtone, and I love Stewart, and his work with Annie Lennox, as well as the Spiritual Cowboys, but I must say, Chakushin Ari’s ringtone is still far more disturbing… (Incidentally, Stewart is the founding member of Nokia’s recently established Artist Advisory Council. Presumably, he will do more in this illustrious position than compose murderous ringtones...)

In the end, as much as I thought Miike aimed ambitiously high with Chakushin Ari and didn’t quite hit the mark, Valette’s One Missed Call just kind of lies there, listless and droning, like an unanswered cell phone on mute, its battery winding down, just begging you to shut it off.

Parting shot: A review of Chakushin Ari can be found in the Archive.

(One Missed Call OS courtesy of impawards.com [design by Art Machine, A Trailer Park Company]; images courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com.)

reVIEW (45)
DANS MA PEAU
(IN MY SKIN)
(Review)

When the French want to make you squirm, they really don’t kid around.
In recent years, films like Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible, Fabrice Du Welz’s Calvaire, and Kim Chapiron’s Sheitan have played like violent, visceral assaults on their audiences.
Somewhere amidst all of that grueling cinema lands 2002’s Dans ma peau (In My Skin).

Directed and headlined by frequent François Ozon collaborator, Marina de Van, Dans ma peau introduces us to research analyst Esther, ambitious, hard-working, and in what appears to be a healthy relationship with Vincent (Calvaire‘s Laurent Lucas).
For all intents and purposes, Esther is normal.
But after she gashes her leg badly in a fall, an injury she doesn’t even notice till much later, Esther is gripped (and gradually overwhelmed) by an inexplicable compulsion to cut herself.

Given its grave subject matter of self-mutilation and the unflinching manner in which de Van approaches the material, Dans ma peau is one of those cinematic experiences that feels more like an endurance test than anything else, the kind of film I grow hesitant to view a second time.
Bereft of a traditional Hollywood cause and effect plot, and with its distinct refusal to shed light on the psychopathology of Esther’s dysfunction, Dans ma peau is clearly not for everyone, and is the sort of film that will repulse, revolt, and alienate many a viewer.
De Van disturbs, and ultimately, terrifies, her Esther gradually transforming over the course of the film into a single-minded obsessive, as we bear witness to the impact her newfound tastes have on her job and her relationship. (The dinner at around the midpoint of Dans ma peau has to be one of the most bizarre and unsettling ever committed to celluloid.)
Esther’s journey to reconfigure her psyche by carving into her own flesh has the lingering aftertaste of Cronenberg, a nightmare journey through the tantalizing realm of the organic. It also recalls Takashi Miike in its atrocious regard for the human body.

As I said, this certainly isn’t for everybody, but what is perhaps undeniable is the potent piece of transgressive cinema de Van has produced here.
I’m almost afraid to see what she comes up with for her feature length follow-up, Ne te retourne pas, with Monica Bellucci and Sophie Marceau…

Parting shot: A review of Chapiron‘s Sheitan can be found in the Archive.

(Dans ma Peau DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.co.uk; In My Skin DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com.)

IN THE INTERESTS OF ALL THINGS RECYCLABLE (4)
CHAKUSHIN ARI
(ONE MISSED CALL)

With Hollywood’s take on Chakushin Ari having gotten its US release on January 4, I decided to resurrect this one for the World Wide Web. Enjoy.

Looking back…

Chakushin Ari (One Missed Call) is one of the latest films from the insanely prolific Japanese director Takashi Miike, and is the first of his films I’ve seen that is set squarely in the Asian supernatural horror genre.
The film revolves around Yumi Nakamura (Kou Shibasaki, from Norio Tsuruta’s Kakashi and Kinji Fukasaku’s Battle Royale), whose friend Yoko, dies after receiving a call on her cell phone, a call that was apparently made from the very same phone: what sounds like Yoko’s own voice, speaking a few innocent words, then screaming. The call is dated two days in the future. Two days after receiving the call, Yoko dies, after uttering the same words on the mysterious call.
In the vein of films like Hideo Nakata’s Ringu and Takashi Shimizu‘s Ju-on, a sinister chain of deaths begins, all presaged by the receiving of a phone call, as the future victim speaks his or her last words, the impending date of death conveniently displayed on the cell.

Exploring the theme of the co-opting of modern technology by ancient, supernatural forces for their own malevolent ends (as was done in Ringu/The Ring, Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Kairo, and of course, its English-language remake, Jim Sonzero‘s Pulse), Chakushin Ari also delves into the idea of abuse as a cycle—a chain that must be broken, lest it revolve endlessly, its touch reaching out to others far removed from the initial victim, connected only through chance and circumstance.
And unlike Ringu, where the breaking of the chain was required simply because it would save a character’s life, in Chakushin Ari, not only would that prevent someone’s death, but there is also a broader context for which the breaking of the cycle is necessary. In that respect, there is a thematic cohesiveness in Chakushin Ari that is absent in Ringu.

As far as the mechanics of the “curse” goes, whereas in Ringu, anyone who happened to watch Sadako’s videotape would fall prey to her rage, in Chakushin Ari, anyone who is part of the cellular network is a potential victim, and these days, that’s practically everybody.
And shutting off your phone, disconnecting yourself from the network, canceling your cellular subscription, destroying and throwing your phone away, isn’t enough. Your phone will turn itself on, your SIM will reactivate, your phone will find its way back to you, intact and operational, and you’ll still wind up very dead.
Which is, on the one hand, proof of the power that supernatural force has, but on the other hand, is kind of a cheat.
And speaking of cheats, there’s one big fat one towards the film’s end that stretches the envelope of the audience’s suspension of disbelief to near-breaking point. It’s one of a couple of unfortunate lapses in what could potentially have been a much more substantial film than Ringu, given what Miike was apparently aiming for.

Another flaw is a subplot concerning a television show that manages to broadcast to viewers across Japan, a pivotal set piece in the film’s supernatural goings-on. Given all the build-up towards that particular sequence, as well as the bravura execution of it by Miike, with nice editing touches and masterful pacing, one would think this would lead someplace.
Instead, as soon as the sequence is over, the TV show subplot suddenly ends, truncated, as if in one of Miike’s more ultraviolent moments. We don’t see how this event, broadcast live, affects the general public. No reactions at all to indicate the impact this has on the citizenry.
If we had, I think it would have reinforced the notion of how an evil can permeate society with its malignant influence, a notion already inherent in the idea of a curse being passed on through the cellular network. Sadly, we don’t see that; following that sequence, we immediately return to the very personal tale of Yumi and her struggle with the evil that is calling out through her cell phone.

And, having mentioned Miike’s penchant for ultraviolence, it can be said that Chakushin Ari comes nowhere near the gore and splatter quotient of Koroshiya Ichi (Ichi the Killer). Nor is it as bizarre as Bizita Q (Visitor Q). Nor as disturbing as Odishon (Audition).
It is, in fact, one of the most accessible and mainstream films I’ve seen from Miike, alongside his moving adaptation of Shugoro Yamamoto’s Sabu.
Which is not to say it’s completely “safe.” Chakushin Ari has its fair share of creepy moments, and, despite its occasional lapses, is an effective work that can enter the annals of the on-going renaissance in Japanese horror (sparked by the global success of Nakata’s Ringu) with devilish ease. It’s certainly a far more effective chiller than Masato Harada’s Inugami, or Tsuruta’s Kakashi.

And, as with Nakata’s Honogurai Mizu No Soko Kara (Dark Water), Chakushin Ari also attempts to be something more than just another horror movie. Though where Nakata succeeds, Miike falls just a little bit short.
Chakushin Ari shares another thing with Honogurai Mizu No Soko Kara: the study of the mother-daughter dynamic, though the one displayed in Honogurai Mizu No Soko Kara is decidedly healthier and far more positive than those depicted in Chakushin Ari.
Of course, if oeuvres are anything to go by, Miike’s worldview is significantly more warped than Nakata’s, so this really isn’t a surprise.

Another possible weak spot in Chakushin Ari is its curiously ambiguous ending, which is open to interpretation and debate.
Even the plot twist towards the film’s end—taking a page from Dario Argento’s Sotto Gli Occhi Dell’assassino (Tenebrae), tweaking it, and giving it a supernatural spin—may not be such a twist, as you may see it coming, or at the very least, consider it as a possibility before the big reveal.

Ultimately, Chakushin Ari is a film to watch, if you’re into the Asian horror film scene, or just want a good scare.
Though as far as J-Horror goes, as much as Miike makes a good impression, Nakata’s still got the spectral crown firmly on his head.

Since then…

Miike has gone on to direct a gazillion more films since Chakushin Ari, some (like Zebraman and Yokai Daisenso—The Great Yokai War) more mainstream than others (his rambling, metaphysical samurai movie, Izo).
He also contributed “Box” to pan-Asian horror anthology Saam Gaang Yi (Three… Extremes) and the too-disturbing-for-American-cable “Imprint” to Masters of Horror’s first season. And then there was some good old fashioned Ultraman Max thrown in for good measure, as well as that great cameo in Eli Roth’s Hostel.
Notable in his 2007 output are Kurozu Zero (Crows: Episode Zero) and Sukiyaki Western Django.

Chakushin Ari was also followed up by two sequels, Chakushin Ari 2 and Chakushin Ari Final, neither of which had Miike in the director’s chair; 2 was directed by Renpei Tsukamoto, while Final was helmed by Manabu Asou.
Neither sequel was quite as good as Chakushin Ari.
Also, in 2005, the same year Chakushin Ari 2 hit theatres, a television series of Chakushin Ari invaded Japanese homes, all 10 episodes of which are available on DVD. Haven’t seen those though, so I honestly don’t know if the show was any good.

Looking forward…

Armed with that freaky-a$$ one-sheet, One Missed Call is helmed by French director Eric Valette, and stars Ed Burns, Shannyn Sossamon (last seen in Catacombs, review in Archive), and genre fixture Ray Wise.
I hope they retain that truly disturbing ring tone from the original…

(Chakushin Ari DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com [Double Disc Edition] and amazon.co.uk [2007 UK edition].)

(The “Looking back…” section above is a slightly altered version of a previously published review entitled “Missed Opportunity.”)