CRIMES OF THE FUTURE (May 2022)

  

CRIMES OF THE FUTURE

(May 2022)

BODY IS REALITY

 

The senior Cronenberg is back ‘round these parts with Crimes of the Future.

No, not his second, hour-long feature from 1970, but an all-new film that feels like a thematic extension to some of his previous works like Videodrome and eXistenZ. (Little wonder, that, since the screenplay was originally written over two decades ago.)

“‘Human’ is the operative word. Human evolution is the concern. That it's going wrong. That it's... uncontrolled, it's... insurrectional. It might lead us to a bad place.”

We find ourselves in an indeterminate point in the near-future, when the human body has begun to spontaneously grow new organs of equally indeterminate function (so-called “neo-organs”), and thus, bear witness to the violent (and virulent) collision of biological evolution, art, society, politics, pollution, and revolution.

“The creation of inner beauty cannot be an accident.”

With a haunting sonic backdrop by frequent collaborator Howard Shore, the senior Cronenberg once again drops us into an unsettling, disorienting reality, a world where the most mundane of activities like sleeping or eating become disturbing visions of the human body juxtaposed with pieces of shuddery, nightmare furniture.

“An organism needs organization. Otherwise, it's just designer cancer.”

So, yes, if it sounds like old school Cronenberg is back, then you heard right.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Eastern Promises, and as he himself has asserted, he sees no difference whatsoever between that kind of film and this new Crimes.

In his personal assessment, there is no such thing as “body horror.”

But what there is, is that very Cronenberg obsession with carnal transfiguration, the (r)evolution of the human body, and the impact that has on the world outside of all that shuddering skin and mutating meat.

“Long live the New Flesh,” indeed.

“We understand human bodies are changing. I know this quite well.”

(Crimes of the Future key art courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com.)

13 Slots for the Best Horror I've Seen in the Past Year
[8 of 13]
The TV Terror Slot

Another twofer!

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE

(October 2018)

“How can a house, just a collection of bricks, wood, and glass, have that much power over people?"

Just as he did on ¡Qué horror! 2017 title Ouija: Origin of Evil, Mike Flanagan masterfully navigates the seas of traditional horror cinema in his self-described “remix” of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House.

This time out, unlike the original novel’s researchers and investigators, we see the Crain family move into Hill House, with the express aim of flipping it (or, fixing and flipping it, to be more precise).

The house, of course, uninterested in being renovated and then sold on to some other family foolish enough to open its door and walk down its shadowy halls, has other ideas…

“This house… it’s a strange house.

“I’ve worked here a long time, and all I can tell you is that it’s just as stupid and hungry as anything else.

“We don’t stay after dark, Horace and I. And my child is not allowed to step foot in this place. Not once.”

“For me, the most important thing is if you remove the supernatural entirely, the story and the character need to be just as compelling. The supernatural stuff is the easy stuff. But all of that stuff is really boring to me if it’s not grounded in some kind of really relatable honest human experience.”

-- Mike Flanagan

“This house… it’s full of precious, precious things… and they don’t all belong to you…”

Skillfully utilizing the narrative elegance of non-linear storytelling, Flanagan and company track the family’s ordeals and progressive unraveling, both in Hill House, and decades after, in a tale which is by turns chilling and heart-wrenching.

If this were a different kind of story, the Crain siblings would have taken all the lessons learned from their harrowing stay at Hill House, and ended up becoming a group of ghost-busting paranormal investigators.

But in the story this “remix” chooses to tell--a story more grounded in real life and the vagaries of family--what we end up with are a bunch of scarred, f*cked up individuals, all dealing as best they can with the trauma of their childhoods.

And this, quite possibly, is the best aspect of this particular take on the original material: that the dots that connect the children they once were with the adults they eventually become, are so clearly delineated.

The characterizations--the result of a potent combination of the character arcs as mapped out in the narrative, and excellent performances by the cast--are just as solid as the creepy scares.

“You’ve been knocking on that door for years and years and years…

“We could hear you knocking louder all the time, and finally, here you are…”

“If we were going to be doing this as a long format, it had to be about the way every family is a haunted house, and everyone is wrestling with their ghosts from their own childhood and beyond--that echo through decades.”

-- Mike Flanagan

“I was right here. I didn’t go anywhere.

“I was right here… I was right here the whole time.

“None of you could see me.

“Nobody could see me.”

Directing the entire season of 10 episodes, Flanagan brings both an exquisite cinematic eye to the proceedings*, and a fundamental understanding of the full range of his cast’s capabilities.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t note that amongst an already formidable collection of actors and actresses**, the paired casting of Timothy Hutton and Henry Thomas are the cherry-so-red-it’s-very-nearly-black on top of this ghostly, sinister sundae, a sickly, sweetly rotten treat sprinkled liberally with mold and familial dysfunction.

“There’s nothing wrong with going at night. It’s just a carcass in the woods.

“It’s just a carcass in the woods.

“It’s just a carcass… in the woods.”

* Aided by long-time collaborator, cinematographer Michael Fimognari.

** Shout outs to Annabeth Gish and Dr. Lawrence Jacoby himself, Russ Tamblyn, who may just be overlooked with all the other high-caliber thespianics going on around them.

Parting Shot: Though I have seen Jan de Bont’s The Haunting, I’ve never read the original Shirley Jackson novel (I really should finally get around to it), nor seen the 1963 Robert Wise film adaptation (which Flanagan seems respectfully in awe of).
As it turns out, Tamblyn also appeared in Wise's version, as the "Luke" character. In Flanagan's "remix," Tamblyn plays Dr. Montague, repurposing the name of the lead investigator in Jackson's original novel. (In Wise's adaptation, that character becomes Dr. Markway.)
Remix, indeed.

“Our family is like an unfinished meal to that house…"

And, on a bittersweet note, what, at the moment, seems to be the final ¡Qué horror! appearance of Channel Zero (which nonetheless makes ¡Qué horror! history by breaking Hannibal's record as the only multi-season TV show to have all its seasons make a place for themselves in the ¡Qué horror! main rundowns; Channel Zero did it four times... and wasn't a single serialized narrative).

Congratulations, Channel Zero.
And sniff. R.I.P.

CHANNEL ZERO:
THE DREAM DOOR

(October 2018)

“Roses are... lazy. And dishonest.”

“‘Dishonest’?”

“Mmm! Pretty flower! And then a minute later, you’re bleeding!”

Well, hell-loooooo, Pretzel Jack!

Turning to Cronenberg*** for some conceptual inspiration, Channel Zero does an awesome quasi-slasher impression with the E.L. Katz-helmed The Dream Door, where an imaginary childhood friend and protector becomes something far more sinister in adulthood.

Channel Zero delivers a fourth winning season by giving us yet another “flavor” of horror (to borrow Channel Zero creator Nick Antosca’s term).

Just as Butcher’s Block was different from No-End House, which was, in turn, different from Candle Cove, so is The Dream Door different from any of the previous seasons.

Gorier and slightly more savage than its predecessors, it’s a tale that delves into the potentially brutal pain of complete honesty in a relationship, a story about love and secrets and distrust, and the intersection where all three collide… with a super-creepy contortionist clown…

“You know, it’s funny. In Jungian psychology, doors are kind of a thing.

“This whole deal with your basement, is… it’s fascinating.

*** As well as Lynch, particularly for a brief, yet unsettlingly poignant bit past the halfway mark.

(The Haunting of Hill House OS’ & Channel Zero: The Dream Door OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

13 Slots for the Best Horror I've Seen in the Past Year
[3 of 13]
The Danse Macabre Slot

So yes, since both these films have dance as a central narrative element, they're sharing a slot...
 

CLIMAX

(May 2018)

Gaspar Noé’s* self-described "catastrophe movie with dancers," Climax is an interesting entry in the “Cinematic Experience as Endurance Test” horror movie category.

In it, we witness a group of dancers have the Worst. Night. Ever. thanks to an external trigger that shall remain unidentified here.

The fact that the trigger is a very real and possible occurrence also makes Climax the kind of horror film that doesn’t need ghosts or demons or vampires or masked slashers or (Heaven forbid) zombies to make its case, but instead, is a chillingly disturbing example of Sartre’s observation "L'enfer, c'est les autres!" (“Hell is other people!”).

Hell is also a gradual, hypnotic, dizzying, alluringly repulsive descent into chaos.

But while all of the above may be true, it must also be pointed out that Hell has a slammin’ soundtrack!

[Climax is] all about people creating something together, and failing in the second half. It’s like the story of the Tower of Babel. Mankind can create big things. And then with the influence of alcohol, or some accident, everything falls.

--Gaspar Noé

* Noé has pointed to titles like ‘70’s disaster films The Towering Inferno and The Poseidon Adventure, as well as David Cronenberg’s Shivers as some of the inspiration that fueled Climax.

SUSPIRIA

(September 2018)

"They are professional performers. Illusion is their craft.”

The best word I can come up with for Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria (billed as “Six Acts and an Epilogue Set in Divided Berlin”), is reimagining.

While the opening credits tell us that the script by David Kajganich is still “Based on the Original Screenplay by Dario Argento and Daria Nicolodi,” this Suspiria takes the bare narrative bones of a young American accepted to a dance academy that hides a sinister secret, and lushly fleshes it out, in both theme and character, giving us something at once familiar, and yet bracingly, beguilingly new.

Or, to use the appropriate metaphor, it’s generally the same dance, but it’s set to a different tempo, so it’s got a different rhythm, and it boasts some new, brazenly daring choreography.

“When you dance the dance of another, you make yourself in the image of its creator. You empty yourself, so that her work can live within you.

“Do you understand?”

Some of those new steps are immediately introduced to us.

Even before Susanna Bannion of Ohio (Dakota Johnson) is welcomed into the Helena Markos Tanzgruppe, we meet Josef Klemperer (“Lutz Ebersdorf”**), psychiatrist to Chloë Grace Moretz’s Patricia Hingle (a name that should ring some bells from the original).

And while Argento bound himself largely to the dark fairy tale setting of the Tanz Academie, Guadagnino and Kajganich choose to frame the action against historical events in a “Divided Berlin,” tossing politics (including sexual), societal upheaval, and the long, twisted shadow of the Holocaust into this witches’ brew.

With a full hour more running time than the original, this Suspiria uses that additional time masterfully so motivations come more clearly into focus, and dance becomes even more pivotal and central to the narrative.

“Movement is never mute. It is a language. It’s a series of energetic shapes written in the air like words forming sentences.

“Like poems.

“Like prayers.”

Dance as magick.

Movement as vector for intent and desire, unleashing power more potentially destructive than bombs.

These come forcefully to the surface in this reimagining, as does Argento’s Three Mothers mythology.

As Klemperer recounts:

“Patricia wrote about ‘Three Mothers,’ lost in time, predating all Christian invention. Pre-God. Pre-Devil.

“Mother Tenebrarum, Mother Lachrymarum, and Mother Suspiriorum.

“Darkness, Tears, and Sighs.”

We may not be treated to the added layer of their three Houses just yet, but the basic mythological foundation is here for our inspection.

All these, and more, all discrete steps in this shadowy dance, which builds steadily, crescendoing in a completely batsh!t Grand Guignol finale, before segueing into a surprisingly moving Epilogue.

(Plus, Argento’s Suzy Bannion, Jessica Harper, makes a crucial appearance!)

While it’s safe to say that this was clearly another very serious instance of “Manage Your Expectations, Space Monkey,” I am relieved to announce that this is a dance I was very glad to have witnessed.

“You can give someone your delusion, Sara. That’s religion.”

** I could go on about the whole Tilda Swinton of it all (and she is amazing here, as always), but that would just detract from the whole, so let’s just leave that where it is, and simply bathe in the witchy glow of this powerful and potent “reimagining” without those added distractions.

Parting Shot: Reviews for Argento’s original “Three Mothers” trilogy can be found here, here, and here.

Given my opinions of Inferno and La Terza Madre, I honestly wouldn’t mind some more reimaginings of this type.

Parting Shot 2: Kajganich also wrote the script for The Invasion (review here), but that was butchered thanks to studio/test audience interference, so we’re not holding that against him.

He also co-wrote the script for the Pet Sematary remake, from Starry Eyes’ Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer. (Definitely another case of “Manage Your Expectations, Space Monkey.”)

(Climax & Suspiria OS’ courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡QUÉ HORROR! 2019

Candidate #23

CLIMAX

(May 2018)

Gaspar Noé’s* self-described "catastrophe movie with dancers," Climax is an interesting entry in the “Cinematic Experience as Endurance Test” horror movie category.

In it, we witness a group of dancers have the Worst. Night. Ever. thanks to an external trigger that shall remain unidentified here.

The fact that the trigger is a very real and possible occurrence also makes Climax the kind of horror film that doesn’t need ghosts or demons or vampires or masked slashers or (Heaven forbid) zombies to make its case, but instead, is a chillingly disturbing example of Sartre’s observation "L'enfer, c'est les autres!" (“Hell is other people!”).

Hell is also a gradual, hypnotic, dizzying, alluringly repulsive descent into chaos.

But while all of the above may be true, it must also be pointed out that Hell has a slammin’ soundtrack!

[Climax is] all about people creating something together, and failing in the second half. It’s like the story of the Tower of Babel. Mankind can create big things. And then with the influence of alcohol, or some accident, everything falls.

--Gaspar Noé

* Noé has pointed to titles like ‘70’s disaster films The Towering Inferno and The Poseidon Adventure, as well as David Cronenberg’s Shivers as some of the inspiration that fueled Climax.

(Climax OS’ courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡QUÉ HORROR! 2019

Candidate #4

CHANNEL ZERO:
THE DREAM DOOR

(October 2018)

“Roses are... lazy. And dishonest.”

“‘Dishonest’?”

“Mmm! Pretty flower! And then a minute later, you’re bleeding!”

Well, hell-loooooo, Pretzel Jack!

Turning to Cronenberg* for some conceptual inspiration, Channel Zero does an awesome quasi-slasher impression with the E.L. Katz-helmed The Dream Door, where an imaginary childhood friend and protector becomes something far more sinister in adulthood.

Channel Zero delivers a fourth winning season by giving us yet another “flavor” of horror (to borrow Channel Zero creator Nick Antosca’s term).

Just as Butcher’s Block was different from No-End House, which was, in turn, different from Candle Cove, so is The Dream Door different from any of the previous seasons.

Gorier and slightly more savage than its predecessors, it’s a tale that delves into the potentially brutal pain of complete honesty in a relationship, a story about love and secrets and distrust, and the intersection where all three collide… with a super-creepy contortionist clown…

“You know, it’s funny. In Jungian psychology, doors are kind of a thing.

“This whole deal with your basement, is… it’s fascinating.

* As well as Lynch, particularly for a brief, yet unsettlingly poignant bit past the halfway mark.

(Channel Zero: The Dream Door OS courtesy of impawards.com.)