reVIEW (26)
FRAGILES (FRAGILE)
[3 of 3]

Mercy Falls Children’s Hospital on the Isle of Wight is in the process of shutting down. With only eight children left in the ward, and a skeleton staff to keep things running, Amy Nichols (Calista Flockhart) is brought in, after the sudden departure of the previous night nurse.
It isn’t long however, before Amy discovers something is terribly wrong in Mercy Falls, something that causes children’s bones to break inexplicably, something that haunts the deserted halls and abandoned floors of the hospital.

Fragiles (Fragile) is Jaume Balaguero’s third feature, and in many ways, it’s the closest he’s come to mainstream horror. Taking a premise, setting, and threat that are genre conventions, Balaguero gives them all enough of his own personal spin to make this one a worthwhile watch.
As with anything shot by ace cinematographer Xavi Gimenez, Fragiles looks great. And with an effective central performance by Flockhart—who largely manages to make the audience forget the manic insanity of Ally McBeal with her haunted portrayal of Amy—there is much to recommend here.

Admittedly, I do miss Balaguero regulars editor Luis De La Madrid and composer Carles Cases; all due respect to Jaume Marti and Roque Banos. However, what haunts Mercy Falls is one freaky-a$$ looking thing that raises the hackles. (And though that doesn’t completely make up for those absences, that does go some way to appeasing me.)
It should also be noted that Paco Plaza (who is co-directing the upcoming [Rec] with Balaguero) did some second unit work on Fragiles.

Yes, compared to Los Sin Nombre and Darkness, Fragiles seems pretty old school, but the narrative and characters are solid, and the direction is as certain and assured as it was in Balaguero’s previous works.
So if you’re into Balaguero (or just enjoy your horror), you really should check out Fragiles.

Parting shot: Among the awards won by Fragiles: the Barcelona Film Award for Best Editing (Jaume Marti, who is also editing Brad Anderson’s upcoming Transsiberian) and the Goya for Best Special Effects.

(Fragiles OS courtesy of tepasmas.com; Fragile OS courtesy of filmaxinternational.com; UK quad courtesy of calistaflockhart.net.)

reVIEW (25)
DARKNESS [2 of 3]

The following is a slightly altered version of a previously published review entitled “The Wisdom of Darkness.”

Darkness is built around one of the hoariest chestnuts in horror cinema: the family moving into a new home, where strange things begin to happen. It is to director Jaume Balaguero's considerable credit that the film turns out to be a very tight, very chilling exercise in storytelling.

"This is going to be the best house in the whole world."

It is a wise move on the part of Balaguero and co-writer Fernando de Felipe to begin the script (after a short prologue set 40 years earlier) nearly three weeks into the family's move to the new home, so we are spared the usual—and now tedious—initial sight of the abode and the moving-in proper.
We are, in effect, introduced to the story in a sort of in medias res. We do not see the move itself, but we do see the effects of the move, the lingering feelings of displacement, with loads of boxes still waiting to be unpacked.
In quick succession, we are then introduced to Regina (Anna Paquin) and her family; her younger brother Paul (Stephen Enquist), father Mark (Iain Glen; Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead), mother Maria (Lena Olin; The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and recently, TV's Alias), and paternal grandfather, Albert (veteran Italian actor Giancarlo Giannini, seen a couple of years back in Roman Coppola's CQ).
It isn't long before the strange goings-on start, as the tension and dread gradually build till the movie's shuddering climax.

"It's different here. The dark."

And the strange goings-on here are decidedly low-key, unlike special effects horror movies of the Poltergeist school. Here, we have a child's handprints on the ceiling, or colored pencils rolling under the bed. Low-key, but very, very effective.
Darkness is chilling in a way that a lot of recent Hollywood "horror" movies aren't. And unlike some excellent foreign horror films like Ringu or The Others (which basically maintain a steady level of dread throughout the entire film, until the climax), Darkness—which unfolds over the course of a week, much like Ringu—actually builds the momentum of the tension and the sense of unease, spiraling upwards, drawing us inexorably along on a wave of dread.

"What you're saying is terrible. It's obscene!"

One of the strengths of the script is its treatment of the inter-family dynamics, and individual characteristics of each member. Regina is the rebellious daughter, constantly misunderstood and at odds with her mother, Paul, the haunted young boy apparently at the center of the sinister maelstrom brewing in the shadows of their new home. Mark (suddenly faced with the recurrence of a condition that causes him to have fits, and irrational, uncontrollable rages) is the head of the family trying to keep everything—and himself—under control, while Maria is the mother who is, at first, in denial of what is truly going on, until she is faced with the apparent brutal truth, and forced into action. We are even privy to the distance between Mark and his father; small wonder, since Mark grew up in another country with his mother.
All this family psychodrama plays off the horror elements well, so much so that the family unit is besieged on two fronts: there is the external, supernatural threat, and the internal, natural threat, with the script structured in such a way that even as the film builds to its climax, with the strangeness in full chaotic bloom, the filial revelations we uncover at the same time still hold a potent, poignant weight.
On the technical end, Balaguero is aided and abetted most admirably by his cinematographer Xavi Gimenez, editor Luis de la Madrid, and composer Carles Cases. Darkness is shot and cut and scored exquisitely, elevating what could have been just another haunted house story into something much, much more.

"We are our origin. And our origin is that. Evil. Disorder."

I suppose I should warn you though. The whys and wherefores aren't underscored neatly for the audience. But most of the cryptic clues are in place for us to piece this sinister puzzle together.
And trust me, this is all rather well thought-out. Even the bit with the colored pencils. What is, at first blush, foreshadowing, is also great symbolism, for isn't black the absence of color, the negation of it, as if darkness can indeed consume and annihilate the entire spectrum, as if inevitably, inexorably, we must all slide into the dark...

"Once begun, no one can stop it. There is no way back."

(Darkness OS’s courtesy of filmaxinternational.com and impawards.com; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com.)

reVIEW (24)
LOS SIN NOMBRE
(THE NAMELESS) [1 of 3]

In light of the upcoming [Rec], co-directed by Jaume Balaguero (with Paco Plaza), I thought to take a look back at Balaguero’s past films. We begin with Los Sin Nombre.

The year is 1999, and even as the seeds for a paradigm shift in cinematic horror are beginning to flower in audience reactions to Hideo Nakata’s Ringu, another horror revolution, this one less overt though just as important, is taking place in Spain, one of its leading proponents: Jaume Balaguero.

Based on Ramsey Campbell’s novel, The Nameless, Los Sin Nombre opens with Bruno Massera (Karra Elejalde), a policeman whose Missing Persons case leads him to the uncovering of a young girl’s mutilated corpse. Apparently, it’s the six year old girl he’s been looking for, Angela Gifford, and it’s his unwanted duty to inform the girl’s parents, Marc (Brendan Price) and Claudia (Emma Vilarasau, who won two Best Actress awards for the role) that their daughter is now gone.
Though all identifiable marks on the body (fingerprints, teeth, and the like) have been destroyed, Angela’s bracelet is found at the scene, and the case is closed.
Flash forward five years later, and Claudia, now separated from Marc, gets a call, allegedly from Angela, pleading for help. Claudia then enlists the aid of Bruno—who’s just quit the force due to some personal matters—to help her get to the bottom of the mystery.

Los Sin Nombre is an impressive feature film debut by Jaume Balaguero. Surrounding himself with a crack team which includes Carles Cases (original score) and the killer cinematographer/editor tag team of Xavi Gimenez and Luis De La Madrid (who would go on to win awards for their work on Los Sin Nombre*, and, along with Cases, work with the director once more on his second feature Darkness), Balaguero brings this disturbing portrait of the perversion of the innocent and the insidious nature of evil—a theme revisited in Darkness—to the screen with a sure and steady hand.
From the cleverly edited title sequence to its far-from-happy ending, Los Sin Nombre casts a riveting spell on the viewer, as we are plunged, along with Claudia and Bruno, into this dark world of cults and missing children.

As noteworthy a debut as it is, Los Sin Nombre is not without its flaws though, particularly in the character of Quiroga (Tristan Ulloa; Abre Los Ojos), a reporter for a parapsychology magazine who becomes embroiled in the mystery surrounding Claudia and her daughter. Introduced about a third of the way into the film’s running time, the character isn’t given enough screen time to convince the audience of his motivation for risking his job and health in his decision to pursue the sinister matter. Ostensibly, it’s because he’s sick and tired of writing about faux occult rubbish and wants to get to the truly hairy stuff, but that doesn’t really come across. He seems more a narrative appendage, to help move the plot along, than an actual person.
In addition, the film may also move somewhat slowly, for those unwilling to settle into its web of anxiety and dread, which oftentimes reduces to a simmer, but never entirely goes away.

Ultimately, Los Sin Nombre may not be perfect, but it’s nonetheless an arresting debut for Balaguero, and is an excellent warm-up act for his subsequent English-language feature, Darkness.

* Among the many awards Los Sin Nombre won in the year 2000, were the CEC Award for Best Editing and the Sitges (Catalonian International Film Festival) award for Best Cinematography.

(The Nameless OS and third image courtesy of filmaxinternational.com; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com.)

reVIEW (8)
EL MAQUINISTA
(THE MACHINIST)

Brad Anderson’s El Maquinista (The Machinist) is the most bewildering film I managed to see from 2004.
It’s the story of Trevor Reznik (a horrifyingly emaciated Christian Bale), who hasn’t slept for a year, and the gradual unraveling of his so-called life, when strange incidents begin to take place. It’s the kind of film that makes no effort to give the audience any idea about where it’s going; the kind of film where you keep on waiting for the other shoe to drop, unaware if the shoe’s going to be a high-heeled stiletto, black-leather dress, or steel-toed motorcycle.
There is an enigma at the heart of The Machinist, to be certain. The question is, if, by film’s end, the viewer will find the answer worth having waited for.

Edited by Luis De La Madrid and shot by Xavi Gimenez (the excellent editor and cinematographer tandem of Jaume Balaguero’s chilling Los Sin Nombre and Darkness), The Machinist has a bleak air about it, bordering on the oppressive without actually crossing over into the why-is-it-always-dark-and-raining territory of Se7en. But as visually interesting as the film is, it is in its script (by Scott Kosar, who also penned the scripts for the remakes of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Amityville Horror) where The Machinist breaks down.

The central mystery, of course, is why exactly has Trevor not gotten any sleep for the past year? Why is it that outside of his job, the only regular socializing he does is with Stevie, a prostitute played by Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Marie (Aitana Sanchez-Gijon, who starred opposite Keanu Reeves in A Walk in the Clouds), an airport waitress he’s visited every single night for the past year?
The beauty of a mystery is when there are enough clues that the attentive and analytical audience member can actually solve it just before the final reveal. Just take a look at The Sixth Sense. All the clues are right there, if only we interpret them properly. The problem with The Machinist is that, though there are clues handed out to the viewer, they’re rather general and ambiguous, so much so that actually solving the puzzle before the climax is a slim, nearly non-existent possibility. And because the clues are not very precise, the audience could be left annoyed and irritated as the end credits begin to roll.

Ultimately, the most disturbing aspect of The Machinist is the physical transformation Bale underwent to play the insomniac Reznik, losing 63 pounds—a third of his body weight—making the Oscar-winning thinning-down Adrien Brody did for Roman Polanski’s The Pianist look positively little league by comparison.
Having debuted on the silver screen in 1987, appearing in Steven Spielberg’s Empire of the Sun, and the lesser-known Mio, moj Mio (Mio in the Land of Faraway) from Vladimir Grammatikov, Bale has gained a reputation for the intensity and dedication he brings to his craft.
When he bulked up and honed his body to a stunningly high-definition for Mary Harron’s American Psycho, then maintained that build for Kurt Wimmer’s Equilibrium, I was suitably impressed by Bale’s ability to take on the physical transformation a specific role entailed. And though this latest feat is no less impressive, it is also a shocking thing to see.
You just know there is some deep, dark secret at The Machinist’s core, something so disturbing it can turn a man into the wasted husk we see on-screen. It is, I believe, this added pressure on the final answer to The Machinist’s dark question that results in its collapse.
Not that the answer is light-weight by any means, but somehow, it doesn’t seem enough, not for a feature-length film, where drama is heightened and magnified from its real-life proportions. In the end, the movie does not successfully convey the weight, the magnitude, of what we learn is the truth. Like John Polson’s Hide and Seek, the final reveal of The Machinist just seems too prosaic given all we’ve seen leading up to it.

Anderson’s previous psychological thriller Session 9 (with David Caruso, who managed to move from New York to Miami without seemingly becoming a different character) was also a slick little package that sadly lacked substance and cohesion once the wrapping had come off.
Maybe, if Anderson eventually manages to hold a solid script in his evidently capable directorial hands, we’ll all see the great film he so clearly wants to show us.
Until then, we’ll have to make do with the tantalizing possibilities already visible in his near-misses.

Parting shot: A Spanish production, The Machinist was filmed before Batman Begins, and Bale had to quickly gain back all the pounds he’d shed to bulk up to play Gotham’s Dark Knight.

Parting shot 2: I’m eagerly awaiting Anderson’s next film, Transsiberian, hoping this is the one that’s gonna kick my a$$.
Aside from that, Luis De La Madrid is also helming the upcoming The End of the Summer.

(The above review began life under the name, “Out Of Order.”)

(The Machinist OS’s courtesy of impawards.com.)

THE ABANDONED
(Review)

Nacho Cerda’s The Abandoned is the third After Dark Horrorfest film I’ve seen (the others, Takashi Shimizu’s Rinne and J.S. Cardone’s Wicked Little Things; review in Archive: March 2007), and it’s the best one so far.

We open in Russia, in 1966, where two infants are found in a truck with a dead woman at the wheel.
Flash forward four decades later, and Marie (Anastasia Hille, seen in Po-Chih Leong’s excellent The Wisdom of Crocodiles and Nick Hamm’s The Hole), an American film producer, is contacted by a Mr. Misharin (Valentin Ganev), a solicitor who tells her that she has come into the ownership of a farm in Russia. As it turns out, Marie is adopted, and the farm belonged to her birth mother, who apparently died shortly after she was born.
No sooner does Marie arrive at the isolated farm (completely surrounded by a river; and she can’t swim!), when strange phenomena begin to take place, including Marie seeing her doppelganger, soaking wet, eyes rolled up to their whites.
Shortly thereafter, she meets Nicolai (Karel Roden, recognizable to genre fans from Guillermo Del Toro films Blade II and Hellboy, as well as Paul Hunter’s Bullet-Proof Monk), who may have a connection with Marie, and who is also seeing his own doppelganger, bearing the bloody wounds of what seems to have been an animal attack.
And as the doppelganger sightings become more frequent and violent, neither Marie nor Nicolai can seem to leave the farm…

It’s an interesting premise Cerda brings to our door in The Abandoned. Utilizing a key horror element familiar to fans of the genre (the decrepit house out in the middle of nowhere), Cerda introduces the mystery of the doppelgangers and as a result, gives us a film that actually feels original.
At any rate, it’s certainly not cut from the cloth (sometimes all-too-wearing-thin these days) of the average modern-day horror film, with the long-haired spectre of Asian horror cinema casting its deep shadow over the ghostly proceedings.
Cerda does not even depend on the usual scare tactics of the sudden tandem shock of movement, music, and sound, to get to his audience. (No jumping, yowling cats here.)
Instead, it’s all about the situation and the predicament, with an almost constant sonic layer of voices and whispers, as Marie and Nicolai try to solve the mystery of the farm and their ghastly counterparts.

From Filmax, the production company responsible for much of the excellent non-Asian, non-Hollywood horror films in the recent past (most notably the films of Jaume Balaguero), The Abandoned is largely effective and has an interesting (if downbeat) pay-off. It’s only perhaps in the maintenance of the tension that the film suffers somewhat. The Abandoned isn’t as taut as it might have been, and whether or not you ultimately enjoy this film will be based largely on your patience and ability to lose yourself in a movie.

Having said that, the film does boast Xavi Gimenez as its cinematographer. Gimenez (go-to cinematographer for Jaume Balaguero) has a great eye and has made films like Balaguero’s Los Sin Nombre and Darkness, and Brad Anderson’s El Maquinista visually arresting cinematic experiences. (Interestingly enough, editor Luis De La Madrid, often paired with Gimenez to brilliant effect, is thanked by Cerda in the end credits.)

Ultimately, if you’re a fan of the horror genre, you owe it to yourself to see The Abandoned, if only because it’s quite unlike the typical horror film of the moment. Whether you’ll like it or not will be based on your personal tastes, but at the very least, you can say you had a bite.

Parting shot: The Abandoned is the only one of the eight After Dark Horrorfest films that actually had a theatrical release in the U.S. (Unlike the others, which, following the Horrorfest, were released straight to DVD.)

Parting shot 2: Cerda directed the documentary The Machinist: Breaking the Rules, found on the El Maquinista DVD.

(The Abandoned OS courtesy of wildaboutmovies.com.)