For A Few Movies More

At some point we’ve all walked into a movie sporting immeasurable expectations only to leave the cinema a short time later disappointed and bitter. It’s a common plight, but on the other hand there are those shining occasions when a movie that we’ve set our hopes low for turns out to be an extraordinary surprise. And it’s with unreserved satisfaction that my experience with the little indie dramedy, Jeff Who Lives At Home, fits perfectly into that latter category. A sweet-natured and light-hearted affair, Jeff Who Lives At Home is a mostly enjoyable experience that only suffers from a handful of minor snags along the way.

Free spirited Jeff (Jason Segel) is a 30 something year old young man still living with his mother. Following a cryptic phone call from an unknown caller, Jeff heads off on an unpredictable journey spurned on by a series of what he perceives as interconnecting clues. By the time the day is over, Jeff will have aided his brother (Ed Helms) with his floundering marriage and more importantly, discovered his purpose in life. Meanwhile, while Jeff is embarking on his confounding journey, his mother, Sharon (Susan Sarandon), is also experiencing a perplexing day. The recipient of a string of flattering instant messages from an anonymous source, Sharon attempts to discover the identity of this apparent secret admirer.

Bullying. It’s a plight that parents around the world hope and prey will never affect their children. Striking only the most vulnerable individuals who posses little hope to fight back, bullies can choose to inflict their wrath using a wide manner of cruel tactics. Name-calling and teasing appear to be the weapon of choice more often than not, but in a heartbeat these vindictive actions can turn violent. Such malicious treatment is more than enough to cause those on the receiving end to feel hurt and alone, but when the bullying occurs during school years, the most confusing time in anyone’s life, the results can be catastrophic. Such is the lesson we learn in the powerful documentary Bully. An eye-opening and often soul shattering examination of the effects bullying can have, Bully is an important piece of art that demands to be seen by all, especially those currently living out their school years.

Adopting a fly on the wall documentary format, Bully has no real strict narrative. Instead of opting to tell a singular story with clear-cut beats, the film instead focuses on several mild-mannered teenagers attempting to deal with the disturbing harassment they receive from their peers on a daily basis. We have Alex, a twelve-year-old who receives servings of gut wrenching physical punishment everyday between bouts of equally hurtful verbal abuse. Next we have sixteen-year-old Kelby who shares stories about being purposely run down by a car and being socially segregated by her schoolmates, all because of her sexual orientation. Then there’s fourteen-year-old Ja’Maya who finds herself in juvie after violently lashing out against her tormentors with her mother’s firearm. Lastly we hear from the families of seventeen-year-old Tyler Long and eleven year old Ty Smalley, two young men who unable to cope with the constant bombardment of bullying, tragically claim their own lives.

It’s no secret that I’m something of a horror movie fiend. I’ve been completely hooked on the genre since I was a youngster, sneakily watching vastly inappropriately gore-fests such as Bloodsucking Freaks, while my parents were off in another room. I’ve since gone on to devour everything the genre has thrown at me, despite how same-old the formulae for these films has become over subsequent years. There seems to be very little that the horror movie world can throw at me in recent times that will truly leave a lasting impression on me, a trend that’s certified by the big name studios’ attempts to dig up every last horror classic then churn out a lesser version of it for today’s audience (but that’s a whole other rant coming on…).

So when the rare occasion arises on which I do discover a true genre gem, I can’t help but to be reminded of the reason why I do in fact love these nasty, often ostracised films so much. And I’m happy to say that Tucker & Dale Vs. Evil fits nicely into that category. Although it may be a comedy first and a horror second, there’s still enough liberal bloodletting to slot the film comfortably alongside its horror brethren. It’s a gory, over-the-top romp that never takes itself too seriously and is just plain fun. It’s bound to find a suitable place inside all horror fans’ blackened hearts with its razor-sharp sense of wit and clever satirical observations of the genre. To put it bluntly, Tucker & Dale Vs Evil is without a doubt the best horror-comedy I’ve had the pleasure in seeing in over a decade.

Something of a divisive picture amongst those who I saw it with, Martha Marcy May Marlene will no doubt split audiences’ opinions of it right down the middle. Is it a slow burn masterpiece featuring flawless performances and a brilliant story telling format, or a pretentious art-house drama that’s too embroiled in its own self-importance to deliver a satisfying experience? Personally, my opinion of it leans well and truly towards the former choice, however that doesn’t mean the film gets away guilt free. There’s still a couple of minor issues I had with it that while not severe enough to spoil its overall impact, still detract from what otherwise came so close to taking its place in cinema as an instant classic.

In terms of plot, Martha Marcy May Marlene (let’s just call it 4 M’s shall we) sounds like it could possibly be covering familiar ground. But the story is told in such a raw and realistic fashion, that it’s impossible not to be caught up in the dramatic proceedings playing out on screen. After disappearing for over two years, Martha (Elizabeth Olsen), an emotionally damaged and perpetually disorientated young woman, tries to reconnect with her now married older sister after fleeing from a sinister cult. Despite having escaped from this abusive society, Martha is constantly plagued by memories of the hardships she endured at the cult’s hands as well as the horrendous acts she played a part in. No longer able to distinguish reality from fantasy, Martha rapidly spirals into the deepest depths of depression and paranoia that threatens to tear the tattered remnants of her fractured life apart.

I love vampires, and I’m not ashamed about it. There, I said it.

Vampires have copped a bit of a lame reputation in the last few years, and we all know who the main culprit is (I’m looking at you, Edward Cullen/Robert Pattinson/Stephenie Meyer). But my fascination with vampires started way back in 8th grade (circa 1994, for those of you playing at home), when a friend of mine lent me the book Interview With The Vampire. Fairly intense stuff for a 13 year old, but I was instantly hooked and quickly borrowed the rest of the series. I was amazed by the drama, detail and devotion that Anne Rice infused her books with. And though my adoration for the mythical creature is first and foremost with the thinking-feeling kind (of which the epitome would be the Vampire Lestat), over the years I’ve found myself drawn to vampire stories of any kind. And so we arrive at Stake Land, where we meet the second type of vampire – the primal-monster kind.

After his family is attacked by one of the vicious vampires now prowling the nights of this post-apocalyptic era, teenager Martin (Connor Paolo) is taken under the wing of saviour/vampire-hunter Mister (Nick Damici), who is heading towards the New Eden, aka Canada. As they make their way through freshly-formed communities that have sprung up in the wake of the vampire infestation, Martin and Mister meet an array of characters — including a nun, a pregnant teenage girl, and a vampire cult leader — who’ve had their lives changed in this bleak and savage world.

Successfully merging several different genres into one intriguing package, director Ben Wheatley’s Kill List tells its captivating and seriously ambiguous story in a fashion that most other films wouldn’t ever dare to attempt. Part intense relationship drama, part hit man action romp, and part, well, let’s not spoil it shall we. All I’ll say is that no matter how you look at it, Kill List is an uncompromising tour de force that will drag you kicking and screaming into the darkest depths of depravity from which there’s no escape. There’s no question about it, your nerves will be rattled and your wits tested by the time the cinema lights raise and welcome you back into reality. But long after you’ve left this nightmare behind in the cinema, Kill List’s endless questions will plague your mind for days to come.

If there was ever a plot for a film that needed to be kept under wraps, it’s this one. If you’re lucky enough to catch an early screening of Kill List at some stage, then be sure to walk in without exposing yourself to any of the film’s spoilers and allow the abrupt left field surprises work their magic on you. But even more importantly, remember to adopt an open mind. For what you are about to see definitely doesn’t follow the conventional Hollywood film structure. This unique plotting makes for a refreshing change to say the least, but this unconventional approach will also undoubtedly scare away more casual filmgoers out there. But if it’s a synopsis you demand, then let’s keep it brief shall we? The story follows Jay (Neil Maskell), a former British soldier whose disintegrating marriage to wife Shel (MyAnna Buring) and mounting debts force him to return to the life of a hired killer alongside his former army buddy Gal (Michael Smiley). Only this latest job is unlike any he’s ever experienced before. Working for a strange and sinister client, Jay’s world is turned on its head as he ventures further down a nightmarish rabbit hole that threatens to push his sanity to the limit.

You know that saying “Stranger Than Fiction”? It came to mind when I tried explaining what this documentary is all about. A bizarre mix of events that get recounted during the course of the film, Tabloid details exactly the kind of insanity that you would expect in a, well, tabloid. Bombshell after bombshell, crazy story after crazy story, I listened to it all and could feel quizzical wrinkles forming on my forehead as my eyebrows rose closer and closer to my hairline. I sat there watching the film unfold, incredulous… You just can’t make this shit up if you tried.

But let me try and explain what it’s all about. In the late ’70s, Joyce McKinney, a former beauty pageant queen, falls in love with Mormon boy Kirk Anderson. When Kirk goes to England to attend a mission with his church, Joyce is devastated. So she follows him there — and suddenly Kirk goes missing. A few days later he reappears, and here’s where things get interesting. Joyce says she saved him from the church and its brainwashing, and took him to a secluded cottage where they professed their love for each other and had a pre-wedding “honeymoon”. Kirk says he was kidnapped, held hostage in the cottage, and then raped by Joyce, who had tied him to a bed. What follows after this is a mad jumble of infatuation, newspaper wars, jumping bail, callgirl accusations, and dog cloning (long story — if you’re really interested, go watch the film or Google it).

Going into The Beaver, I knew it was the kind of film that would well and truly land clearly on one side of the fence or the other. On one hand, it could have been a uniquely uproarious experience thanks to its absurd yet intriguing premise, but on the flip-side, I was more than ready for this premise to ultimately be the film’s downfall. Either way, I could at least be assured that it would provide an interesting experience. Well as it turns out, admittedly somewhat unsurprisingly, The Beaver falls uncomfortably in the later category. Without sugar coating it, The Beaver is an uneven, contrived mess that possibly led to one of the least enjoyable theatrical experiences I’ve had the displeasure of suffering through in recent years. I really should really have taken it as a warning sign when I couldn’t even give away the spare ticket I had to the screening I was attending for free…

Walter Black (Mel Gibson) is a very depressed man, so the narration tells us during the opening minutes of The Beaver. Walter, the head of a successful toy company has fallen so far into the deepest depths of depression that he’s become a shallow husk of the man he once was. His devoted wife (Jodie Foster) puts up with his miserable companionship for as long as she can stomach, until finally one day she’s forced to kick him out of home until he can pull himself together again. Meanwhile, Walter’s angst ridden teenage son Porter (Anton Yelchin) goes on resenting his father and does all he can to avoid becoming like him, because you know, that’s what you do when your father has a debilitating mental illness… Walter spirals further into a black hole of oblivion that threatens to take everything his holds dear away from him, but just as he reaches his darkest hour, Walter out of nowhere adopts an alternate personality that he conveys through a beaver puppet permanently attached to his hand. Speaking in a cockney English accent, Walter suddenly develops a new-found passion for life and finally finds his place in the world once more.

Top Floor Left Wing was a bit of a forced film among my selections at this year’s Sydney Film Fest. I don’t often get forced into seeing a film — no matter how much peer pressure is involved — but strangely with this one, I kind of peer-pressured myself into seeing it. Here’s the reasoning: You can’t have a film festival without seeing a French film, right? (Well, obviously you can, considering there are film festivals that focus on films from one country specifically…). C’est bizarre, non? And though Top Floor Left Wing is nowhere near a bad film, as I’ll admit I had my fair share of investment in the characters and laughs at the film, it wasn’t as enjoyable as I thought (or tricked myself into believing) it would be.

The story starts off in an apartment building in a Parisian suburb, where bailiff Francois (Hippolyte Girardot) goes on one of his regular evictions to the home of Mohand (Mohamed Fellag). Mohand’s son Salem (Aymen Saïdi) panics — he’s currently holding a huge stash of cocaine for a dealer he knows – and takes Francois hostage when he realises cops are at his door. Salem tries to bide time with the hostage situation while waiting for the dealer to help him out, but soon a taskforce of police, neighbours, and even a SWAT team become involved. The situation isn’t helped with all the confliciting personal presumptions and politics of everyone who gets drawn into the mess, and people then really start to clash.

Hobo With A Shotgun is not the kind of film you win friends with. Nor is it the kind of film that impresses loved ones or gets you the girl. Instead it’s the kind of movie that should be viewed behind closed doors, away from those more sensitive folks who would more than likely fail to see the allure of its seedy, filth-encrusted world. On the other end of the spectrum, it’s also the perfect experience to share with a packed theatre of like-minded individuals. All of whom will undoubtedly be cheering and hollering with each and every heinous act committed onscreen. Make no mistake; Hobo is an extreme, over the top sleaze-fest not meant for the faint of heart. However, if you do happen to have a taste for excessive smut, then prepare to leave your standards at home and revel in the gratuitous sights and sounds that this venture into the deepest depths of skid row has in store for you.

Initially beginning its life as the winner of a fake trailer competition that allowed its shorter trailer incarnation to be played in front of the Rodriguez/Tarantino double bill Grindhouse (in Canada at least anyway), everything you need to know regarding the plot of Jason Eisener’s directorial debut lies within its self-explanatory title. An unnamed hobo (Rutger Hauer) strolls into Hope Town to potentially start a new life. Only his dream of starting over and beginning his own lawn mowing service (?) is shattered when he discovers that Hope Town isn’t the safe haven he was looking for, but is instead a crime-infested cesspool that’s in need of cleansing. With no end of the rampaging crime in sight, the hobo trades his savings in for a trusty shotgun, and proceeds to dispense his own sense of vigilante justice on anyone foolish enough to get in his way.