X (March 2022)

 

X

(March 2022)

“That's right. The deviants are already amongst us, waiting for our sons and daughters. So heed dire warnings and repent before it is too late.”

Less than 24 hours in rural Texas in 1979 turns out to be enough time to build up to a disturbing and horrendous bloodbath in Ti West’s thunderous Iguana return with X.

As intimated by its title, X follows the cast and (minimal) crew of the, ahem, “adult” film, The Farmer’s Daughters, as they shoot on the sly at an isolated Texas farm.

Dreams of wealth and fame all come crashing down though, because this is “one G*ddamn f*cked up horror picture” from Ti West, after all…

“We shouldn’t disturb him. It would only make him angry. You wouldn’t like Daddy when he’s angry.”

West has been messing about on the TV front for the past few years (stray episodes of The Exorcist and Wayward Pines among his small screen work), so his return to silver screen horror is most welcome.

The fact that X comes not just with a soon-to-follow prequel (Pearl) but also a planned sequel, makes things all the more (heh) X-citing, even though this does look like the beginnings of the dreaded “F” word.

(Uurrmm… franchise?)

Still, West does remind us, “You can’t make a slasher movie without a bunch of sequels.”

And the fact is, X does position itself as a slasher, albeit one with other things on its mind aside from gory kills.

Prominently, it takes cues from cinema (and cinematic movements) at large to inform its narrative approach.

X is also juuuust self-aware enough so that West can occasionally remind us that there’s some grindhouse fun to be had here as well.

“Everybody likes sex. It’s a gas. We’re just not afraid to admit it. Queer, straight, black, white… It’s all disco.”

While there is an actual drug that’s showcased in X, the addiction that ultimately proves to be the most dangerous here is our very human attachment to youth (with the promise of ever-elusive fame coming in a close second).

Most of the film’s characters (played by familiar genre faces like Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, Martin Henderson, and Brittany Snow) still have their youth and are quite brazen about that; a couple of other characters don’t, and it’s the friction between those two groups that sets off X’s slasher powder keg.

So, come in for readily on-display “f*cked up horror,” but stay for all the substance beneath the bloody celluloid skin that West manages to explore here.

“Porn ain’t only gonna be for perverts no more.”

“Awww… Toast to the perverts. They’ve been payin’ our bills for years.”

“Hear, hear. To the perverts.”

Parting Shot:

Previous Ti West Iguana appearances may be found here and here, while mentions of TV’s The Exorcist may be found here and here.

(X OS’ courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com & twitter.com.)

13 Slots for the Best Horror I've Seen in the Past Year
[13 of 13]

MIDSOMMAR

(June 2019)

i cant anymore - everything's black - mom and dad are coming too. goodbye.

That’s an email that Dani Ardor (Malevolent’s Florence Pugh) receives from her bipolar sister Terri, which we get a peek at early on in Ari Aster’s sophomore offering, Midsommar.

Like the obituary that opens Aster’s feature debut (and ¡Qué horror! 2018 title) Hereditary, it’s an ominous harbinger of the torrent of grief that rages throughout the film’s runtime, as well as all the dreadful things to come, as Dani finds herself in an isolated community in Sweden where things are, quite naturally for a horror movie, not as idyllic as they seem.

I’ve always liked the folk horror subgenre, where the outsider is plunged into a close-knit community, stumbling about, ignorant of the nuances and niceties (sometimes, even the language) of this alien society, exposed to customs and traditions that, to a stranger, can be bizarre, perhaps even grotesque and repulsive.

It’s like the extreme horror movie form of FOMO, the simmering anxiety of being the only one who isn’t in on it, and in folk horror of course, not knowing what it is--until it’s far too late--can very well be the death of you…

When Midsommar takes its first decisive folk horror turn, it’s a powerful and potent sequence, and once that takes place, it is, as they say, all downhill from there, at least for Dani and company…

More questionable incidents then take place, but each character’s personal issues and preoccupations cloud their awareness of the fact that things are very wrong in “… The tranquil and majestic Hårga.”

 

All things considered, Midsommar navigates the folk horror seas exceptionally well, because there is, after all, a giant lying in the folk horror depths.

Said giant is, of course, Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man, one of those particularly singular titles that forever casts its long and intimidating shadow over all the other films of its type that follow. Like The Exorcist and possession movies, or Jaws and shark movies, any folk horror title made after 1973 needs to walk in The Wicker Man’s shade.*

But thanks to Aster’s firm directorial and narrative grasp (as well as DP Pawel Pogorzelski’s eye), there is more than enough glaring sunlight to drive away The Wicker Man’s shadow, at least for the spell-like duration of Midsommar’s length, enough time for Aster to weave an insidious tale that cautions that the insularity and isolation of any community has the potential to breed horrors.

I suspect that there will be a portion of the audience that will feel Midsommar is not quite as “scary” as Aster’s first horror effort, Hereditary.

But, while that may or may not be true, what I can say is, Midsommar is one effed-up title--and I mean that in the nicest possible horror movie way.

It’s a film that showcases the horrifying beauty of community, where one is never left alone, and where all emotions--joy, ecstasy, grief, or horror--are felt in unity.

Much like a theatre full of people, witnessing Midsommar’s sundrenched terrors in the climate-controlled dark.

* So complete and intimidating is that shadow that not even Hardy’s own “spiritual sequel,” The Wicker Tree, could hope to hold its own…

Parting Shot 1:

Frankie Valli’s “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine (Anymore)” plays over the end credits roll…

Man, Aster really knows how to pick a closing song…

Parting Shot 2:

There is what may (or may not) be a swipe at Neil LaBute’s ill-fated 2006 remake of The Wicker Man towards Midsommar’s end…

I leave it up to the viewer to decide…

Parting Shot 3:

I’m looking forward to the opportunity to check out the longer-by-23 minutes Director’s Cut…

Yay! More folk horror goodness!

“Yeah, it’s sort of a crazy nine-day festival my family’s doing. Lots of pageantry…”

“Uh-huh.”

“… special ceremonies, and dressing up.”

“That sounds fun.”

“It’ll probably seem very silly. But, it’s like theatre.”

(Midsommar OS’ courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡QUÉ HORROR! 2019

Candidate #25

MARIANNE Season 1

(September 2019)

“[Marianne is] a witch.

“Deprived of a body, she wanders. She enters your soul, warps your body. She takes you over. She possesses you.

“The only thing Marianne cannot do is lie about her name. She can avoid the question, change the subject. But she cannot lie about her name.

“She is the wife of a demon.”

Opening with a Nathaniel Hawthorne quote* from The Scarlet Letter about “the Black Man,” the 8-episode Marianne sees writer Emma Larsimon (Victoire Du Bois) suddenly end her apparently successful 10 year run of Lizzie Larck books--with titles like Lizzie Larck in Chains and Marianne Bites, Emma herself describes the books as “teen girl literature”--in what an interviewer characterizes as “a rash move”.

That may very well be the case, because supernatural events straight out of her work start to happen around her, as the titular witch, Marianne, comes calling…

“It’s not fair… It’s your nightmare, not mine!”

Now, while I do feel that Marianne is ultimately recommendable, I think I need to point out some aspects of the show where viewers’ mileages may vary…

“Do you want a key? You want to see inside? There’s nothing. Only my cats and my teeth.”

Despite being a relatively brief (for Netflix, at least) 8 episodes, somehow the show still has time to allow some scenes to stretch into uncomfortable tedium whilst presumably aiming for tension.

There are also strange tonal shifts into brief (and sometimes painfully awkward) comedic moments, presumably to offset the largely gloomy, sinister proceedings, but which only serve to rudely remind the viewer that this is a show that’s trying to scare you out of your wits, but also reluctant to lose the broader, not necessarily hardcore horror audience.

There are also numerous nods to past horror classics. Numerous.

In the opening episode alone, there are scenes pointedly reminiscent of The Omen and The Exorcist, not to mention some Exorcist-style subliminal quick cuts (an editing style that recurs throughout the subsequent episodes).

Other horror films are likewise nodded to over the season’s course, the particularly blatant lifts distracting more than anything else.

My point here being, if you’re already doing something original (in that it isn’t an adaptation or a sequel or a prequel or a remake or a reboot or a re-whatever), then you may as well rely on fresh, original scares and not painfully obvious lifts that detract from the proceedings.

In the end, while there are macabre goings-on, sinister atmospherics, and stylistic flourishes aplenty, it’ll be up to each individual viewer whether those are enough to offset some of the show’s more problematic issues.**

“God will not forgive me, I know it. I’ve taken the worst possible path. I’ve walked by the sea. I saw the city. I am cursed.”

And, full disclosure, one particular reason why this show’s stuck with me is because I’ve written a comic that’s meant to be released within the year. (Pages are being inked--and subsequently lettered by yours truly--even as I write this.)

As with Silver Like Dust (available at mervstore.com), it's another Dakila crossover/team-up. Further details will, of course, be found here at the Iguana the closer we get to release date.

Right now, what’s pertinent to this post is that the comic just so happens to feature the same demon who’s first mentioned prominently somewhere before Marianne’s midpoint. The same demon and his 85 legions…

So, yeah, the instant he gets mentioned in the show, I’m like, “Hey!”

I gotta say, guy’s pretty popular, or at least, having some kind of Moment.

He’s also appeared recently in Vertigo’s*** The Dreaming, and even has a Marvel incarnation…

Oh, and the Sharon Van Etten needle drop during the extended flashback section was much appreciated as well…

“They will all be mine. We will lick and eat them all, my husband and I. You get crow, toad and cat.

“And you, little whore, I never leave empty-handed.”

* Each episode opens with a quote. Among the other writers represented: Arthur Machen, Henry James, J.M. Barrie, Edgar Allan Poe, and H.P. Lovecraft.

** Including the kind of main character Emma is, the type of personality that leaves wreckage and ruin in her wake.

Is there a reason for this beyond “Oh, well, that’s just the sort of person she is”?

Yes.

But that doesn’t really make her any more likeable in some instances…

*** Sniff. R.I.P.

Parting Shot:

All 8 episodes of Marianne are directed by Samuel Bodin, and co-written by Bodin and Quoc Dang Tran.

Among the short films Bodin has previously worked on is the odd and highly stylized fan film Batman: Ashes to Ashes, co-directed with Julien Mokrani (mind the NSFW section)…

(Marianne OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡QUÉ HORROR! 2019

Candidate #24

MIDSOMMAR

(June 2019)

i cant anymore - everything's black - mom and dad are coming too. goodbye.

That’s an email that Dani Ardor (Malevolent’s Florence Pugh) receives from her bipolar sister Terri, which we get a peek at early on in Ari Aster’s sophomore offering, Midsommar.

Like the obituary that opens Aster’s feature debut (and ¡Qué horror! 2018 title) Hereditary, it’s an ominous harbinger of the torrent of grief that rages throughout the film’s runtime, as well as all the dreadful things to come, as Dani finds herself in an isolated community in Sweden where things are, quite naturally for a horror movie, not as idyllic as they seem.

I’ve always liked the folk horror subgenre, where the outsider is plunged into a close-knit community, stumbling about, ignorant of the nuances and niceties (sometimes, even the language) of this alien society, exposed to customs and traditions that, to a stranger, can be bizarre, perhaps even grotesque and repulsive.

It’s like the extreme horror movie form of FOMO, the simmering anxiety of being the only one who isn’t in on it, and in folk horror of course, not knowing what it is--until it’s far too late--can very well be the death of you…

When Midsommar takes its first decisive folk horror turn, it’s a powerful and potent sequence, and once that takes place, it is, as they say, all downhill from there, at least for Dani and company…

More questionable incidents then take place, but each character’s personal issues and preoccupations cloud their awareness of the fact that things are very wrong in “… The tranquil and majestic Hårga.”

 

All things considered, Midsommar navigates the folk horror seas exceptionally well, because there is, after all, a giant lying in the folk horror depths.

Said giant is, of course, Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man, one of those particularly singular titles that forever casts its long and intimidating shadow over all the other films of its type that follow. Like The Exorcist and possession movies, or Jaws and shark movies, any folk horror title made after 1973 needs to walk in The Wicker Man’s shade.*

But thanks to Aster’s firm directorial and narrative grasp (as well as DP Pawel Pogorzelski’s eye), there is more than enough glaring sunlight to drive away The Wicker Man’s shadow, at least for the spell-like duration of Midsommar’s length, enough time for Aster to weave an insidious tale that cautions that the insularity and isolation of any community has the potential to breed horrors.

I suspect that there will be a portion of the audience that will feel Midsommar is not quite as “scary” as Aster’s first horror effort, Hereditary.

But, while that may or may not be true, what I can say is, Midsommar is one effed-up title--and I mean that in the nicest possible horror movie way.

It’s a film that showcases the horrifying beauty of community, where one is never left alone, and where all emotions--joy, ecstasy, grief, or horror--are felt in unity.

Much like a theatre full of people, witnessing Midsommar’s sundrenched terrors in the climate-controlled dark.

* So complete and intimidating is that shadow that not even Hardy’s own “spiritual sequel,” The Wicker Tree, could hope to hold its own…

Parting Shot 1:

Frankie Valli’s “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine (Anymore)” plays over the end credits roll…

Man, Aster really knows how to pick a closing song…

Parting Shot 2:

There is what may (or may not) be a swipe at Neil LaBute’s ill-fated 2006 remake of The Wicker Man towards Midsommar’s end…

I leave it up to the viewer to decide…

Parting Shot 3:

I’m looking forward to the opportunity to check out the longer-by-23 minutes Director’s Cut…

Yay! More folk horror goodness!

“Yeah, it’s sort of a crazy nine-day festival my family’s doing. Lots of pageantry…”

“Uh-huh.”

“… special ceremonies, and dressing up.”

“That sounds fun.”

“It’ll probably seem very silly. But, it’s like theatre.”

(Midsommar OS’ courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡QUÉ HORROR! 2018

Candidate #7

THE EXORCIST Season 2

(September 2017)

"Is there, like, some... stupid Bible verse you can say, or something?”

I only now finally got around to wrapping up my viewing of the second season of Fox’s The Exorcist TV adaptation, so I’m writing this post in the wake of the series’ cancellation last month, and that’s a shame, really.

While I do think its first season was a stronger beast, there was still a lot to commend in its sophomore outing.

But, with its cancellation, we’ll never get to see the new character dynamics that the final episode sets into place, nor the content of the message Marcus (Ben Daniels) gets in the closing seconds, nor the fresh circumstances of Fr. Bennett’s (Kurt Egyiawan), errr, new calling.

Unless of course, some other network or streaming service comes along to resuscitate the show.

For now though, The Exorcist Season 2 gets the ¡Qué horror! seal of approval.

“You can start by asking God for help.”

“Does it matter if I don’t… exactly, totally believe?”

“No. No, it doesn’t matter.”

Parting Shot: As with its first season, there are a number of callbacks to the cinematic Exorcists, including one in the closing minutes of the final episode that, if you’re a horror film buff, you should see coming a mile away…

(As to whether this scene was also meant to telegraph the narrative possibilities of a potential third season--which they were clearly laying the foundations for--is anybody’s guess at this point…)

(The Exorcist Season 2 OS’ courtesy of impawards.com.)