SHROOMS
(Review)

“According to the ancient Irish druids, they believed it was like a border to another dimension. They gave the ability to commune with the dead, uncontrollable ferocity, shape-shifting, and, last but not least, foresight, the gift of premonition.”


Thus says Jake (Factory Girl’s Jack Huston, soon to be seen in the Vikings vs. alien extravaganza, Outlander) of the effects of ingesting the “dreaded Death’s Head fungi” (if, of course, it doesn’t kill you first).
See, Jake’s about to give a bunch of young Americans the trip of a lifetime in the cold forests of the Irish boondocks.
At least, that’s the plan, before things go horribly awry (as they often do in these types of movies), and people start dropping like flies (again, as they often do in these types of movies).


Now, with a premise that kicks off with a bunch of kids who travel all the way to Ireland just to get high on mushrooms, Paddy Breathnach’s Shrooms initially does nothing to endear itself to me.
As I’ve mentioned ‘round these parts before, I have little patience for characters who are simply asking for it. When you start munching on any old fungus that you find in the middle of a forest, or start tripping by yourself in the middle of the night, well, let’s just say I’d rather reserve my sympathy for pregnant women and scruffy orphans.
Throw in a local legend involving a Black Brother, a Lonely Twin, and a Feral Boy (which is told to a bunch of impressionable, and later on, drug-addled bunch of dead meat walking), and the results are pretty much as expected.


That also goes for the climactic twist, which is telegraphed rather early on in the film’s running time, and makes for an incredulous resolution to Shrooms’ goings-on.
Is the “twist” plausible? Perhaps. It even actually makes some sort of cautionary sense.
But with the manner in which the narrative unfolds, one has to wonder, Isn’t that putting a terrible strain on the laws of space and time?


Twist aside though, my problem with Shrooms is that it features characters that engender no sympathy, and thus, leave the audience without a care as to their welfare.
You know you’re in heaps of trouble when the would-be victims (who include Alice Greczyn from TV's Windfall and Step Up 2: The Streets' Robert Hoffman) start whimpering “This isn’t happening,” and “I should never have taken those mushrooms,” and all you can think of—rather uncharitably—is, Well, that’s what you get for being a bunch of raging gits.
Granted, Shrooms has its merits, primarily the rather good cinematography by Nanu Segal (who’s shot music videos for the likes of Soft Cell, Shed 7, and Super Furry Animals, and has also worked with Breathnach on a West Coast Cooler advert). But with characters that aren’t terribly sympathetic, the film soon degenerates into a visually agreeable, though largely unengaging cinematic experience.


What I find most curious about this entire enterprise is the fact that the first time I crossed paths with Breathnach, it was with Blow Dry, the comedy with the tag line “Love Is In The Hair,” about the British Hairdressing Championship, that had a killer cast which included Alan Rickman, Natasha Richardson, Bill Nighy, and Rachel Griffiths. (Though they were partially off-set by the casting of Josh Hartnett and Rachael Leigh Cook…)
Blow Dry was a nice little comedy in that British feel-good underdog-emerges-triumphant school which includes entries like The Full Monty, Brassed Off, and Kinky Boots, to name a few. (It’s a telling point that Simon Beaufoy wrote both The Full Monty and Brassed Off.)
So it was odd to see Breathnach turn to horror with Shrooms, without even stopping at the horror-comedy midpoint. (Breathnach’s next film, Freakdog, is again apparently a straight-up horror entry.)


At any rate, Shrooms, like Jonathan Levine’s All The Boys Love Mandy Lane, is a post-millennial slasher that looks great, but has its share of problems. (Just for the record, I believe All The Boys is the better deal.)
And while Shrooms is a passable enough watch, with a few bits here and there that work, it isn’t quite the wild, balls-out trip I was hoping for.

(Shrooms UK quad courtesy of impawards.com [design by Hoo-Ha]; images courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com.)

ONCE
(Review)

“Take this sinking boat
And point it home;
We’ve still got time.

“Raise your hopeful voice,
You had the choice;
You’ve made it now.”
-- Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
“Falling Slowly”

Once, which follows an Irish busker (Glen Hansard) and his growing relationship with a young Czech immigrant (Marketa Irglova), is one of those little films that catch you by surprise with its earnest depiction of bruised souls reaching for something better in their lives.
It’s also a musical, though I should hasten to qualify, it’s not the sort of musical where gaudily-outfitted people suddenly burst into boisterous song and energetic choreography. As Once’s main characters are both musically-inclined (Hansard’s character plays the guitar, while Irglova’s plays the piano), all the film’s songs arise organically from the on-screen action.

What makes Once even more noteworthy is the fact that the songs written and played and sung by the characters are actually written and played and sung by the stars. And not only can they write and sing, they can also act.
While Irglova’s earnest and straight-forward immigrant is commendable in her certitude and quiet self-possession, the eye-opener here is Hansard. There’s a sense of genuine honesty in his performance that paints a very real portrait of a young man haunted by the ghost of the woman who broke his heart, the woman he never quite got over. The legacy of pain she left in her wake still fuels his artistic drive, even after years have passed. (In one of the film’s songs, Hansard describes his character as a “broken-hearted Hoover-fixer sucker guy,” since he helps his father at a hoover shop, and still wants the girl who cheated on him and, well, broke his heart.)

Then, as if Once wasn’t commendable enough for all that, the principals’ rather realistic performances become even more laudable when you realize that both Hansard and Irglova are not professional actors, but rather, musicians by trade.
Hansard is the lead singer and songwriter for Irish rock band of long-standing, The Frames, while Irglova is a Czech pianist Hansard collaborated with on the album The Swell Season.
Initially, Once’s writer and director John Carney—who had been The Frames’ original bass player—had asked Hansard to write some songs and play busking consultant for the film, which was meant to star Cillian Murphy (from 28 Days Later and Breakfast on Pluto, though perhaps most widely known as Batman Begins’ Scarecrow).
But somewhere along the way, Murphy fell out of the project, and just as it looked like the production would collapse, Carney hit upon the notion of asking Hansard to take the role. Hansard, who had only appeared previously on film in a small role in Alan Parker’s The Commitments, agreed. (Then 17-year old Irglova was already in place by this time, having gotten there through her past collaboration with Hansard; in point of fact, three tracks from The Swell Season found their way onto Once.)

What has emerged from that set of circumstances is a film shot on digital in 17 days for $150,000, that has gone on to capture hearts—and awards—around the world. (Amidst a number of nominations, some of Once’s notable wins were the Audience Award at this year’s Dublin International Film Festival and Sundance Film Festival, where it was also nominated for the Grand Jury Prize.)

“I really did think when we made this film that we had made a film that very few people would want to see or maybe only people who are interested in music would want to see, and it turns out to be something quite different, which is great.”
-- John Carney

Now if the track “Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy” isn’t enough of an indication, it should also be noted that Once has its own simmering sense of humour, a rogue twinkle in its eye, amid all the emotional and moving bits.
What’s interesting though about those “emotional and moving bits” are that they’re very quiet and understated. In that sense, Once plays by a set of rules that are diametrically opposed to those of a standard Hollywood musical, where everything is overblown and operatic, where emotions are larger than life, and twice as loud, and always come with an accompanying dance number.
So let’s call Once an anti-musical then, shall we? Or perhaps, a quasi-musical. If it needs a label, then maybe that’s it.

Whatever you call it though, what I am certain of is this: Once is a heart-achingly brilliant piece of cinema about fortuitous accidents and being touched and changed by the strangers who enter our lives.
And ultimately, it’s about needing to mend old wounds, and exorcise old ghosts, with the pure and liberating power of music.

“Falling slowly,
Eyes that know me,
And I can’t go back.
Moods that take me and erase me,
And I’m painted black.

“Well, you have suffered enough
And warred with yourself;
It’s time that you won.”
-- Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
“Falling Slowly”

Parting shot: Once has been nominated at next year’s Independent Spirit Awards for Best Foreign Film. Congratulations to John Carney and company!
Winners will be announced on February 23, 2008.

(Once OS courtesy of impawards.com; The Swell Season and Once soundtrack sleeve art courtesy of amazon.com.)

DEAD MEAT
(Review)

Mad cow disease has mutated in the Irish countryside, and now, not only are infected cattle attacking humans, but they’re passing on a virus that turns anyone bitten into a zombie!

Yup, it’s another zombie movie.

Written, edited, and directed by Conor McMahon, Dead Meat is the sort of low-budget horror movie that lives and dies by its gore, the sort of over-the-top, fairly ludicrous school of schlock seen in early Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson. This is the kind of movie where eyeballs are sucked out by hoovers, and shovels and high-heeled shoes become deadly weapons when hurled just so.

Sadly, this is nowhere near as horrific as The Evil Dead, nor as ridiculously entertaining as Dead Alive. Save for some passably effective bits once night falls on our erstwhile heroine Helena (Marian Araujo) and her fellow uninfected, most of Dead Meat just lies there, much as its title suggests, rotting under the merciless gaze of seasoned horror geek eyes and the shadow of far better horror/comedy efforts from the past.
Admittedly, Dead Meat is perhaps a better watch than, say, Dead And Breakfast, but it’s still far from a good way to spend an hour and some twenty minutes.
As ridiculous as the song that plays during the end credits roll is (“Dead Meat,” written, composed, and performed by David Muyllaert, who also plays local gravedigger and male lead Desmond), it does signal an end to the less-than-stellar proceedings, and that’s always a good thing.

(Dead Meat DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com.)