Late into “The Fifth Estate” Guardian investigative journalist Nick Davies (David Thewlis) says, “most good stories start at the beginning.” I argue that he’s right– about 99% of the time. Unfortunately this look at WikiLeaks and hacker-turned-whistleblower Julian Assange falls into the 1%.
Based on the book “Inside WikiLeaks: My Time with Julian Assange at the World’s Most Dangerous Website” by Daniel Domscheit-Berg, “The Fifth Estate” details the breathless years leading up to WikiLeaks biggest story—the release of the “Collateral Murder video” which showed Iraqi journalists killed by an AH-64 Apache helicopter and the Afghan War Diary, comprised of more than 76,900 leaked documents about the War in Afghanistan.
Assange is one of the more controversial figures of recent history. Is he a journalist? A hacker with an anti-establishment ideology? Or a war criminal with blood on his hands?
The movie presents all possibilities, but can’t seem to decide on one point of view. As played by “Sherlock” star Benedict Cumberbatch, he’s certainly an arrogant leader who says things like “Courage is contagious,” a master manipulator and an active soldier in the information wars, prone to angrily snapping shut his laptop. He’s James Bond with a mouse, on the run from the CIA and Interpol, like a hacker Woodward and Bernstein but beyond the surface veneer we don’t learn much about him other than the origin of his dyed blond hair.
We do get background on the founding of WikiLeaks. We learn that Assange created a system that made real leaks untraceable, disguised by thousands of lines of meaningless code. “Give a man a mask,” Assange says, quoting Oscar Wilde, “and he will tell the truth.” The anonymity WikiLeaks offers works and Assange, along with zealot hacker Daniel Domscheit-Berg (Daniel Brühl), break many important stories and become shadowy celebrities in the process.
But with their success comes ego and a fracture in their relationship when Assange insists in releasing unredacted versions of sensitive documents related to the Afghan War.
In its first half “The Fifth Estate” gets weighed down with tech exposition. Director Bill Condon tries to keep things lively with frenetic editing and exotic locations but it fails because, unlike “The Social Network,” it doesn’t focus on the people but the website and the ideology. The story picks up when the Afghanistan leaks happen—they are, after all the Pentagon Papers equivalent of the Afghan war, exposing war crimes—which may have been a good place for the story to start, not end.
It’s the most exciting part of the WikiLeaks tale and has the drama the earlier scenes lack.
Cumberbatch acquits himself well, although his long blond locks and Aussie Alan Rickman impression can be a bit distracting.
Also distracting is the film’s overly slick presentation. For a movie that is all about Anarchy in the URL it should have a bit more of a punk rock feel.
“The Fifth Estate” is a rather ham fisted look at the information wars, which contains some drama but takes too long to get to the good stuff.
There’s a key line near the beginning of “12 Years a Slave, “ the new drama from “Shame” director Steve McQueen. Shortly after being shanghaied from his comfortable life as a freeman into a life of slavery Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor) declares, “I don’t want to survive. I want to live.”
Based on Northup’s 1853 memoir the movie is an uncompromising story about will, suffering and injustice.
The film begins in 1841 in Saratoga, New York. Northup is a respected member of the community, an educated family man and talented musician. His journey into hell begins when he accepts a gig to provide music for a traveling magic show. While on the road he is sold into slavery by two unscrupulous men and shipped from the safety of the northern states into the south’s servitude.
Torn from his wife (Ashley Dyke) and two kids (Quvenzhané Wallis and Cameron Zeigler) he is sold from plantation to plantation, all the while hiding his education and literacy in an effort to deflect the attentions of his overseers and owners.
No matter how bad his situation, and it is dire, he never gives up his will to live and his dream of making his way back to the north and his family.
Unflinching in its portrayal of brutality, “12 Years a Slave,” is a grim document of man’s inhumanity and twisted justification—“A man can do whatever he wants with his property,” spits Edwin Epps (Michael Fassbender)—that serves as a primer of pain and cruelty suffered by those pressed into slavery.
Powerful situations and performances abound.
An excruciating lynching scene is all the more powerful because of McQueen’s quiet, unblinking camera. As Northup struggles with a rope around his neck McQueen pulls back, showing the complete diorama, with people going about their day, children playing and white owners gazing passively at the man as he fights for breath. It’s an unforgettable sequence that hammers home the horror of how commonplace this unspeakable behavior was.
The movie is ripe with such scenes that bring the true terror and pain felt by Northup. Its not easy viewing but it is effective, brought alive by interesting work from Paul Giamatti as a slave trader who says his sentiment for those he buys and sells, “extends the length of a coin,” Benedict Cumberbatch, Northup’s first and kindest master and Fassbender, the personification of cruel and unusual.
Paul Dano, Brad Pitt and Lupita Nyong’o also add much, but the core of the movie is Ejiofor’s passionate work as a man forced into unimaginable circumstances. Simultaneously vulnerable and defiant he delivers a deeply layered performance that is sure to earn him the notice he has deserved for years given his work in movies like “Dirty Pretty Things” and “Children of Men.”
“12 Years a Slave” is a harrowing, stark movie that is equal parts educational and devastating.
“Cottage Country” is a twist on your usual cottage in the woods movie. Typically in films like “Sleepaway Camp” or “The Hills Have Eyes,” groups of feral teens weekend at a remote cabin, only to find their mortality at the bottom at of a bottle of Jägermeister.
“Cottage Country” is different, at least for the first twenty minutes or so. There are no teens in sight. Instead we’re introduced to Todd (Tyler Labine) and Cammie (Malin Akerman), a tightly wound thritysomething couple on their way to his family’s cottage for a much needed week away.
The yuppie duo has big plans for the next seven days, including a well-thought-out proposal on a romantic island in the lake.
The first clue that isn’t a romantic comedy or a study in proper yuppie lust is Cammie’s prophetic line, “I have a feeling this is going to be our best trip to the cottage ever!”
Instead it’s the beginning of a nightmare trip that turns violent when Todd’s free spirited brother Salinger (Dan Petronijevic) and his morbid girlfriend Masha (Lucy Punch) show up unannounced.
You’ll have to buy a ticket to get the rest of the plot. I won’t spoil any of the surprises contained within beyond saying this turns from country idyll to a study in yuppie rage and duplicity. Prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure future happiness Todd and Cammie reveal their true colours—his lack of a backbone and her obsessive compulsion on following plans to the letter, no matter what the outcome.
Good performances from “Tucker and Dale vs Evil’s” Tyler Labine, “Watchman’s” Malin Akerman and Benjamin Ayres as an unusually observant party guest, help sell the movie’s transition from yuppie rom com to horror show. It’s a slow burn that bridges the gap between the gore (and gory ideas) and the gags.
In olden days fairy tales were not meant for children. Until The Brothers Grimm came along, and despite their ominous sounding name, cleaned up folkloric tales like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty by removing all the sex and most of the violence, fairy tales were best told after the kids went to bed. So it is with Coraline, a new animated movie based on the Hugo Award-winning book by Neil Gaiman. On the surface it looks like a kid’s movie with stop motion animation and a young central character, but make no mistake this is a PG13 movie filled with creepy images that could send the little ones straight from the theater to the psychiatrist’s couch.
Coraline’s (the voice of Dakota Fanning) journey into a strange and scary new world begins when her parents (Teri Hatcher and John Hodgman) rent an apartment in a peculiar house called The Pink Palace. Upstairs in the attic is circus performer Mr. Bobinski (Ian McShane) and his troupe of musical mice. Downstairs are a pair of retired actresses, Miss Forcible (Jennifer Saunders) and Miss Spink (Dawn French), who share their apartment ith a menagerie of Scottie dogs, some alive, some stuffed. Despite the colorful neighbors Coraline is bored. Her parents neglect her and the only other kid in the neighborhood is the weeby Wybie Lovat. Things get more interesting when she discovers a mysterious door hat leads to a mirror reality, an eccentric Alice Through the Looking Glass world, where er parents pay attention to her and life is interesting. It isn’t until things take a dark turn hat Coraline realizes she may never escape the eerie Other World and return home to her eal parents.
I’ll say it again, despite Coraline’s storyline about a young girl trying to find her way back to her parents and the animation, (it’s the first stop-motion animated feature to be originally filmed in 3D), this is not a movie for little kids. The New York Times called the novel “one of the most truly frightening books ever written” and while the movie tones down some of the scares for the big screen, it is still a chilling ride.
Visually it’s a cross between Pee Wee’s Playhouse and the gonzo caricatures of Ralph Steadman. Director Henry Selick, the brains behind James and the Giant Peach and The Nightmare Before Christmas, has created two unique worlds: Coraline’s mundane day-to-day world and the heightened existence she has behind the mysterious door. Both are flights of fancy, from a garden that recreates Coraline’s face to the marching mouse band. Rendered with great imagination and beauty by Selick and his team the film is pure cinematic eye candy.
Luckily the story equals the surreal imagery. Coraline’s journey to the dark mirror image of her life is effectively scary not because it offers a thrill a minute but because it plays on primal fears, the dread of being abandoned, the unknown and claustrophobia. These basic feelings form the backbone of the story and the inventive visuals and nice voice work from Dakota Fanning and the supporting cast do the rest.
Coraline is the rare animated film that succeeds both as mainstream entertainment and art
“One is always considered mad, if one discovers something that others cannot grasp.” — Dr. Eric Vornoff (Bela Lugosi)
Ed D. Wood Jr.’s legacy as the Holy Grail of cinematically challenged is unfair. Writing in the 1980 book The Golden Turkey Awards film critics Michael and Harry Medved singled out his movie Plan 9 from Outer Space in the Worst Movie Ever Made category while also hanging the title of Worst Director around his neck. Since then his name has been synonymous with failure and ridicule.
To be sure Mr. Wood was no Cecil B. DeMille, but he doesn’t deserve the critical sneers leveled at his work. Certainly movies like Glen or Glenda and Jail Bait were restricted by their über-low budgets and appear hopelessly amateurish, littered by ridiculous special effects and melodramatic acting, but they are entertaining and isn’t that what it’s all about? Many directors have spent a lot more money and not come close to delivering the same kind of giddy fun that The Sinister Urge pulsates with.
Take Michael Bay for instance. His movies make loads of money at the box office, but never fail to put me to sleep. Visually his films are spectacular feasts for the eyes. The former commercial director has a knack for making everything look shiny but having great taste doesn’t make a great film director any more than great taste makes a Snicker’s bar a gourmet meal.
To my mind the difference between Ed D. Wood Jr. and Michael Bay is simple. Wood’s films are inexpertly but lovingly made by someone who is desperate to share his vision. Bay’s big glitzy movies feel like cynical money grabs more concerned with the bottom line than personal expression. I’m quite sure that if Bay had to undergo the trials and tribulations Wood had to suffer to get his movies made he would run to the hills, or maybe just back to his big house in the Hollywood Hills.
Even though his enthusiasm usually trumped his capabilities Wood was a true artist, a true pioneer of the indie spirit; someone who fought tooth and nail to present his vision and no matter how cockeyed that vision may have been he believed in it and his ability to capture it on film. In time this Hollywood-outsider developed a unique Do-It-Yourself style akin to folk art; crudely crafted pieces that radiate with the passion of the artist.
One of his lesser known films, 1955’s Bride of the Monster, predates Plan 9 from Outer Space, but is cut from the same cloth.
Wood claimed the idea for the film came to him in a dream. “I keep a pencil and pad beside my bed at night because many a dream turns out to be a good plot,” he said. “That’s where Bride of the Monster came from, although it was first called Bride of the Atom.”
The story is credited to Wood and producer Alex Gordon, who disputes Wood’s dream-state inspiration for the film, claiming it was his script and he “got Eddie involved to polish” to make it more appealing to its star Bela Lugosi. Whatever the case, it contains all the earmarks of a Wood production, the strange stream-of-consciousness dialogue, bizarre editing, inappropriate use of stock footage and a story that almost, but doesn’t quite make sense.
Lugosi, in his last speaking role, plays Dr. Eric Vornoff, a mad scientist trying to create a race of atomic supermen. With his beefy assistant Lobo (Swedish wrestler Tor Johnson, who at 6’3’’ and 300 pounds was so large that when he was on the road he frequently stole toilet seats from hotels to replace the ones he broke at home) the doctor has been terrorizing the woods around Lake Marsh, kidnapping people to use as guinea pigs in his twisted experiments. He needs a steady supply of victims because the high dose of radiation needed to transform them into mutants usually kills them. (His success rate might have something to do with the equipment he’s using. His “high-tech” radiation zapper looks suspiciously like a photographic enlarger hanging from a mike stand and topped with a salad bowl.)
There’s a twist when an old colleague of Vornoff’s shows up to kidnap him and take him to the USSR. It seems Vornoff first hatched his plan to raise an army of nuclear giants while he was working for the Russian government. They thought the plan was outlandish and ran the mad scientist out of the country. Now they want him back and he doesn’t want to go. When the Russian pulls a gun Lobo saves his master’s life by subduing the agent and feeding him to a giant octopus.
The Russian isn’t the only unwelcome visitor. Janet (Loretta King) a cub reporter has been snooping around. Worse, she’s the girlfriend of Lt. Craig (Tony McCoy). Lobo finds her and brings her to Vornoff who prepares to experiment on her. He’s interrupted by Craig who has been searching for his lost girlfriend. Once again Lobo uses his muscle to diffuse the situation when he grabs Craig from behind and chains him to a wall.
Vornoff continues his evil experiment on Janet, but something has changed. Lobo has developed a crush on the girl and just as the scientist is about to pull the switch that may well kill Janet, Lobo pounces on him and straps him to the table and zaps him with the lethal juice. Instead of killing the doctor the rays work and he is turned into an atomic superman. The experiment is finally a success! The doctor overpowers Lobo, grabs Janet and makes a break for the woods. With the police in hot pursuit he must avoid capture, but he really should be more worried about that giant octopus.
Like all of Wood’s movies Bride of the Monster seems a little disjointed. Continuity is non-existent, the editing is peculiar and the ending is a bizarre non sequitur that involves a massive nuclear explosion. All of these shortcomings can be explained away, however, by Wood’s budgetary problems — one colleague said that Ed Wood made Roger Corman look like a big spender — and fractured production schedule.
The movie, which should have taken the director no more than 20 days to shoot, actually became a sprawling start-and-stop marathon which dragged on for just over a year. Wood would raise enough cash to shoot ten or fifteen minutes of film, run through that money and shut the production down. Every few weeks he’d move to a new studio leaving behind a trail of burned investors. Finally, a man named Donald McCoy stepped in with enough funds to complete the film. McCoy’s money, however, came with two caveats. First he wanted his son Tony, an actor Wood later called “the worst I ever had,” to play one of the leads and he insisted that the movie literally end with a bang.
The money man convinced Wood to include the from-out-of-the-blue nuclear blast ending as a message against the American-Russian Nuclear Arms Race. Wood, desperate to finish the movie, agreed on both counts.
Despite the film’s weaknesses the presence of Bela Lugosi elevates the proceedings. Lugosi, who, in 1931 had become a major movie star — it was rumored that after the release of Dracula he received more fan mail from females than Clark Gable — was on the skids. Drug addicted, near broke and frail he was working for $750 a day, a sum, Wood pointed out, that was more than he made for Dracula. He may have been in poor health, but the 73-year-old came alive when the camera rolled.
Wood utilizes some of the classic Lugosi moves from past movies — the tight hypnotic close-ups of his eyes and the sinister double-jointed finger movements are pure Dracula — and takes full advantage of Lugosi’s menacing aura. Parts of the performance are, of course, ridiculous. For instance, the platform shoe–wearing body double who battles Lobo clearly isn’t Lugosi.
The famous octopus battle scene, Lugosi’s final scene in the film, has become the stuff of indie film legend. According to legend Wood “borrowed” the cephalopod (originally seen in the John Wayne film Wake of the Red Witch) from the props storage vault at Republic Studios. Trouble is he forgot to liberate the motor which operated the giant beast’s tentacles. When it came time to shoot Lugosi was simply lowered down on top of the creature in freezing cold water and told to wave the tentacles in the air, simulating a life-or-death struggle. Lugosi heroically thrashes about with the gigantic beast, but the limitations of a 73-year-old man trying to manipulate the octopus puppet are painfully obvious. “When we got through with the scene, he drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniels just to get warm,” said Wood.
Another often cited gaffe, however, is unfounded. It’s been widely suggested that Lugosi, saying his lines through a haze of alcohol and drugs, says in one scene that Lobo is as gentle as “a kitchen.” Actually, the line is “gentle as a kitten” and that’s exactly what he says, though filtered through his heavy Romanian accent.
Lugosi’s legacy suffered over the years. His low rent work with Wood and others tarnished his reputation, but it was a film made after his death that may have left the most lasting and erroneous impression about the man.
Tim Burton’s 1994 film Ed Wood sees Martin Landau play Lugosi as a bitter, foul mouthed man with a grudge against Boris Karloff. In the film he calls Karloff a variety of names, including “limey cocksucker.” Never happened, according to Forrest J. Ackerman. The founder of the Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine and a friend of Lugosi told me in 1995 that “he was a real European gentleman. I never heard him say so much as a hell or a damn and they [Ed Wood filmmakers] had him uttering these scatological things about Boris Karloff that he never would have uttered in real life. I don’t think he even knew the term ‘limey’.”
Bride of the Monster isn’t as well known as Wood’s masterpiece Plan 9 from Outer Space, but is equally enjoyable. Michael Bay fans may not get it, but connoisseurs of outsider art certainly will.
Celebrate the HALLOWEEN season in style with LEGENDS of HORROR! This Friday and Saturday, October 18 and 19, come see George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead Live with special guest Q&A featuring the Godfather himself, GEORGE A. ROMERO, along with original Night of the Living Dead co-writer John Russo and the man who played the “Johnny”, Russ Streiner!! Q&A to follow the 7pm performance on October 18th and 19th. Hosted by Fangoria editor Chris Alexander (18th) and radio and television personality Richard Crouse.(19th)
This weekend actress Chloë Grace Moretz will recreate one of the most famous sequences from 1970s cinema.
Years after the release of the 1976 Brian De Palma-directed Carrie, the movie’s impact was summed up by Esquire who wrote, “Like any top-tier, truly unforgettable scene in cinema [it’s] so well-known that you don’t even have to see it to know it.”
The image of the teenaged Carrie (Sissy Spacek), the victim of a cruel practical joke, dressed in her best Prom Queen outfit, wide eyed as pig’s blood covers her, dripping from the fake jewels on her tiara, has been referenced in everything from the sitcom Roseanne—daughter Darlene says the only way she would go to the prom is if she was the one sitting in the rafters with a bucket of pig’s blood—to the X-Files, Mystery Science Theater 3000, Scream, Gilmore Girls and even Veronica Mars.
The gore soaked scene also provided the inspiration for a sequel called The Rage: Carrie 2. In this unintentionally funny b-movie Rachel (Emily Bergl) is another high-schooler with the ability to make objects fly and explode with her mind. “Do not attempt to sit through this movie without a hefty supply of psychopharmaceutical drugs,” warned one critic.
Marginally better was Carrie, a 2002 television film meant to serve as a pilot for a proposed series. But that involved making some sweeping changes to the plot, including having Carrie survive the high school carnage and final run-in with her unstable mother. Bad reviews and poor ratings doomed this to the DVD delete bins.
From the screen to the stage Carrie provided the source material for an ill-conceived 1988 Broadway musical and several spoofs, including Scarrie! The Musical and Carrie’s Facts of Life, a mash-up of Stephen King’s story and the sitcom The Facts of Life.
All singing, all dancing versions of Carrie’s humiliation aside, the original film remains a horror touchstone, but don’t expect the new remake to be a carbon copy.
“The script is totally different from the [original],” Moretz told ET OnLine. “It’s more like the book. It’s a more Black Swan version – it messes with your mind.”
One thing is for sure, there will be blood—pig’s blood. Judy Greer, who plays Miss Desjardin in the new film, says the prom scene is “amazeballs,” adding, “It’s really totally jarring and creepy but also in a strange way gorgeous.”
They grow up so quickly, don’t they? One day they are slimy bipedal creatures who look like a cross between Yul Brenner and a slug, the next they are flesh eating, underwater breathing alien looking supermodel types. At least that’s the way it is in “Splice,” a new sci fi thriller starring Sarah Polley and Oscar winner Adrien Brody, about a creature who goes from newborn to troubled teen in a matter of weeks.
Clive (Brody) and Elsa (Polley) are bio chemists (and boyfriend and girlfriend) who develop a splicing technology which binds the DNA from multiple animals to create new life and, possibly, cures for everything from Parkinson’s to cancer. It’s the medical breakthrough of the century. The next logical step is to fuse human and animal DNA but despite their success in the lab, their employers, the evil conglomerate Newstead Pharma, is wary of the publicity such a radical step would incur. Secretly the pair go rogue, continue their experiments, and give “birth” to a new life form they dub Dren (that’s “nerd” backwards), a tailed creature resembling a bald dinosaur. Clive, conflicted by the ethical and moral issues of cloning, wants to kill the creature but Elsa won’t have it. “Human cloning is illegal,” she says, “but this won’t be entirely human.” Dren develops at a rapid pace, changing from unrecognizable organism to something akin to a humanoid kangaroo. Soon though problems arise. The creature becomes Daddy’s little… whatever, leaving Elsa to deal with Dren’s difficult puberty.
Like the hybrid creature at the center of the action “Splice” is a cross of genres—part b-movie sci fi and part body horror à la David Cronenberg. Liberally mixing “The Island of Dr. Moreau,” “Frankenstein” and “The Brood,” “Splice” examines ideas of life and death, of playing God, of what is human (and what is not) and even touches on Woody Allen style relationships. There are plenty of moral concepts to chew on, many ruminations to be had on what it is to be human, but only if you look past the b-movie thrills director Vincenzo Natali slathers on with a trowel.
Splice goes places that bigger budget science fiction wouldn’t dare to tread. This isn’t the enviro-friendly sci fi of James Cameron or the space opera of George Lucas. No, this has more in common with the exploitation films of Roger Corman. There’s an icky creature, some scientist sexy time and loads of crazy science. Corman might not have been as successful at layering in the love, jealousy and real human emotions Natali heaps on his characters but I think the b-movie king would approve of “Splice’s” overall tone. It’s doesn’t skimp on the blood and guts but it’s funnier than you think it is going to be, wilder than expected—Sarah Polley’s maternal instincts towards Dren are right out of “Mommie Dearest”—and takes several unexpected twists and turns.
“Splice” is giddy good fun, the rare sci fi flick that revels in its b-movie roots while also offering up something to think about over a beaker of coffee afterward.
Richard Crouse interviews Liisa Ladouceur author of How to Kill a Vampire: Fangs in Folklore, Film and Fiction.
Citing examples from folklore, as well as horror films, TV shows, and works of fiction, this book details all known ways to prevent vampirism, including how to protect oneself against attacks and how to destroy vampires. While offering explanations on the origins and uses of most commonly known tactics in fending off vampirism, the book also delves much deeper by collecting historical accounts of unusual burial rites and shocking superstitions from European history, from the “real” Serbian vampire Arnold Paole to the unique Bulgarian Djadadjii, a professional vampire “bottler.” It traces the evolution of how to kill the fictional vampire—from Bram Stoker’s Dracula and the Hammer horror films beginning in the 1950s to Anne Rice’s Lestat and the dreamy vamps of Twilight, True Blood, and The Vampire Diaries—and also celebrates the most important slayers, including Van Helsing, Buffy, and Blade. In exploring how and why these monsters have been created and the increasingly complex ways in which they are destroyed, the book not only serves as a handy guide to the history and modern role of the vampire, it reveals much about the changing nature of human fears.
