Since 2002 Milla Jovovich has played a genetically altered zombie fighter with telekinetic powers in six Resident Evil films.
Like the undead fleshbags who populate these based-on-a-videogame movies, you can’t seem to kill this franchise, although the title of this weekend’s Resident Evil: The Final Chapter seems to indicate the end is near.
But just because the Resident Evil movies aren’t Shakespeare doesn’t mean we can’t learn something from them. Here’s what I took away from Jovovich and Company in the last 13 years:
1. The undead have really, really bad aim.
2. No matter what stunt she has just performed, whether it’s plummeting 19 stories down an abandoned mine shaft, or battling legions of bad guys, Mila’s hair will, at most, only look slightly tousled, as if Vidal Sassoon had just finished running his magic fingers through her locks.
3. The amount of rainfall in the future makes Vancouver look arid.
4. To act in one of these movies you must perfect one of two facial expressions: a. steely determination, or b. uncontrolled rage (which can be alternated with a sadistic smile if necessary).
5. Characters will say, “What the hell is going on here?” when it is quite clear what the heck is going on.
6. Most of the people to survive the deadly plague that destroyed most of humanity look like Abercrombie & Fitch pinups.
7. Why take the stairs when you can drive a Rolls Royce down an escalator?
So there you have it — lessons learned.
Despite legendary director Jean-Luc Godard’s claim that, “All you need for a movie is a gun and a girl,” both of which are amply on display in the Resident Evil movies, they still feel more like a videogame projected on a big screen than a movie.
But who cares what I or other film critics think? These movies have been phenomenally successful and for over a decade have proven to be critic-proof. Roger Ebert placed Resident Evil on his most hated films list in 2005 and called its sequel, “an utterly meaningless waste of time,” adding, “Parents: If you encounter teenagers who say they liked this movie, do not let them date your children.”
Leonard Maltin added to the pile on calling Resident Evil: Apocalypse “tiresome” while Dark Horizons said the third movie, Afterlife was, “perhaps the first 3D motion picture to simulate the experience of watching paint dry,” and yet the splatter flick went on to gross $300 million worldwide.
Critics aside, others in the film biz love the movies. Avatar director James Cameron called Resident Evil his biggest guilty pleasure and the Ontario Media Development Corporation acknowledged the Toronto-shot Afterlife as the most successful production in Canadian feature film history.
Bottom line is that in total, the series has grossed almost $1 billion — a feat recognized by the Guinness World Records Gamers’ Edition who called the Resident Evil films “the most successful movie series to be based on a video game,” awarding them with the record for Most Live-Action Film Adaptations of a Video Game.
Joyce A. Nashawati’s pre-apocalyptic film Blind Sun sets xenophobia and alienation against the sunny backdrop of Athens, Greece. Dearest Sister is Mattie Do’s story of Laotian lottery ghosts and communication with the dead.
They’re two very different films but are bonded by the directors’ shared love of the horror genre, their global outlook and the streaming source Shudder, which will feature both films exclusively in Canada.
“I always adored genre films and watched them closely,” says Nashawati on the line from Tokyo where she is researching her second film. “Films that are not totally subjected to realism; that play with what cinema can do with the imaginary. Also, because they come from darkness, I think they play with the conscience of the spectator. They give and take things, which is kind of playful.”
Mattie Do, the first female Laotian director to make a full-length feature, was born in Los Angeles, but now lives in a country that didn’t even have movie theatres when she moved there in 2010.
She admits “our film growth is rocky,” but adds, “people outside may see it as challenging to work in a developing country with no infrastructure but at the same time no one here tells me what stories I have to make. When I walk into the Department of Cinema, they know who I am because we have so few filmmakers in the country but it is easy for us to sit down and have a very adult discussion. Whereas if I was facing down some board of directors I might not be able to have the creative control I do here.”
A global perspective comes naturally to Nashawati who grew up between Beirut, Accra, Kuwait and Athens.
“My past was very global without being a choice,” she says. “Blind Sun was made by someone who is Lebanese, with a French producer, you’re watching it in Canada and we’re now talking while I’m in Japan. This is the way things are today. It is exciting. It is interesting that it is (happening) when politics is going the opposite way and closing things.”
The pair have very different styles — Do’s film is a slow burner, Nashawati’s a nightmarish thriller — but both agree modern technology has made it possible for them to turn their wild visions into movies.
Nashawati thinks it has never been easier to make films, even if you’re “someone who is outside the circle of filmmaking or someone who isn’t from a bourgeois background.”
“If you adore filmmaking today,” she says, “this a great time to know you can actually make a film and it can be shown.”
Do says foreign directors are given a big leg up by streaming services like Shudder who are able to take chances on offbeat films.
“With Shudder I feel people can explore more different tastes and sub-genres of genres. If I described Dearest Sister, a Laos film about a lottery ghost and a girl who is going blind, would you pick up a ticket for that movie? Maybe not. But if you could sit in the comfort of your own home, pick up your remote or your computer and say, ‘Look at all these movies. That’s random, there’s a Laos movie. What’s Laos like?’ You can just click on it. It feels like a safe investment.”
Dearest Sister is streaming now. Blind Sun will be available Feb. 9.
Matthew McConaughey must have a thing for bullion. “Gold,” a new film directed by Stephen Gaghan, is his third movie after “Sahara” and “Fool’s Gold” to use the search for the elusive ore as a story device. Who can blame him? The bright metal is the stuff of dreams, but remember, all that glitters is not gold.
McConaughey, with a receding hairline and carrying fifty extra pounds, is Kenny Wells a third generation prospector. His grandfather scratched the company out of the side of a Nevada mountain before his father (Craig T. Nelson) turned it into a multimillion-dollar concern. Kenny hasn’t been as lucky. Unable to strike gold—literally and figuratively—he is reduced to setting up office in a bar where the liquor and bad ideas flow freely.
Down to his last dollar, he pawns his wife’s last piece of decent jewellery to buy a plane ticket to Indonesia to meet gold miner Michael Acosta (Edgar Ramírez). Acosta has a lead on a mine located in the jungle but doesn’t have the capital to set up the operation. Kenny jumps in, raises the money and after a slow start they hit a vein. “It’s amazing how gold dust can change everything,” he says, “and for better and for worse the ride had begun.”
The “ride” isn’t just the riches to rags to riches story, but also a wild tale of avarice, hubris and dreams.
McConaughey is digging for gold and chewing the scenery in his latest movie. Wells is a larger-than-life character who leaves behind a larger-than-life mess and McConaughey wastes no opportunity to go big. He grins and grimaces throughout, filling the screen with Wellsian personality.
It’s a good thing too, because the by-the-book script doesn’t offer up much in the way of anything that feels real. It’s “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” without the exploration of human weakness or the conscience. It’s a potboiler on low simmer. It’s the kind of movie where people say things like, “You gotta plan?” while someone else (usually McConaughey) nods knowingly.
“Gold” looks pretty—the scenes in the Indonesian jungle are gorgeous—and does have a nice a nice subtext about the power of belief—What is a prospector? “Someone who believes it is out there.”—but has too much of a boiler plate plot to truly glitter.
For the second time in a year Brendan Gleeson and Michael Fassbender play father and son on screen. Recently Fassbender’s daddy issues with Gleason in “Assassin’s Creed” came to an abrupt Oedipus-esque end. “Trespass Against Us” once again pits them against one another, this time with Irish accents and an anti-establishment attitude.
Gleeson is Colby Cutler, the patriarch of a band of Irish outlaws, including son Chad (Fassbender). They live on the fringes of society, sequestered away in a fleet of trailers in the country. Colby’s influence over the clan is complete. His children are home schooled, taught flat earth nonsense and the ways of thievery.
Chad and Colby butt heads as the son tries make a better life for his wife (Lyndsey Marshal) and children by putting crime and his father’s domineering influence in the rear view mirror.
Before walking the straight and narrow Chad attracts the unwanted attention of the police when he agrees to the proverbial one last job, the robbery of a well-known local judge.
Other than deep seeded daddy issues and a seemingly unattainable desire to do better Chad, as played by Fassbender, doesn’t bring much to the story except for the actor’s charisma. He, and everyone else, are archetypes, done before and done better in other family crime films.
Despite being based on a real life crew of sibling lawbreakers, there’s nothing distinctive enough, or the sympathetic enough about the lot of them to maintain interest
A couple of quirky, pulse racing the action sequences—Fassbender hides under a cow!—inject some spunk into what otherwise is a lifeless affair.
“The Red Turtle” shares the basic plot points of “Castaway” and “Robinson Crusoe” but there’s not a volleyball or man Friday in sight just a giant turtle and allegories galore.
Director Michael Dudok de Wit has made what amounts to a silent film—there’s no dialogue, only hypnotic visuals coupled with the sounds of nature, a beautiful score from Laurent Perez del Mar and the occasional grunt from it’s main character—about a man shipwrecked on a deserted island with only a giant red turtle for company.
“The Red Turtle” is a very simple film, but achieving beautifully pure simplicity like this is harder than it looks. In its humble story are broad, primal issues of man’s relationship to nature are silently explored, adding subtext to this tale of isolation. It’s elegant and poetic; its “The Old Man and the Sea” with a turtle, a movie that embraces it metaphysical leanings as well as raw emotion. It’s not a movie for children or for people looking for easily answers to life’s existential questions. It’s art house animation, a treat for the eyes as well as the brain.
“Toni Erdmann,” a new German language film from director Maren Ade and nominated for Best Foreign Film at this year’s Oscars, is being billed as a comedy but that’s not exactly accurate. It is absurd and often quite funny, but those laughs come from a deep mine of pain and desperation.
Peter Simonischek is Winfried, an elderly music teacher and next level practical joker. When he isn’t teaching he’s wearing funny teeth and punking the mail delivery people, pretending to be a dangerous criminal just out of jail for sending bombs through the post. His daughter Ines (Sandra Hüller), a corporate bigwig working for an oil company in Bucharest, did not inherit the clown gene.
The two are polar opposites, so when he shows up unannounced to spend time with her, she’s not entirely pleased. After a falling out he leaves, presumably to catch a plane back to Germany, only to reappear in her life as “life coach” Toni Erdmann. Dressed in an ill-fitting suit, plastic teeth and a fright wig he tries to endear himself to her friends and co-workers in a strange attempt to forge a relationship with a daughter he bares knows.
Despite Winfried’s off-the-wall antics “Toni Erdmann’s” main feel isn’t one of humour but of desperation. The father is desperate to understand his daughter’s life and career choices. Ines’s desperation manifests itself in quick blasts of temper and a kill-or-be-killed attitude on the job. Both behave strangely, expressing their dysfunction in very different ways, but they share a feeling that something is missing from their lives.
It’s heady stuff for a film that features funny teeth and clownish wigs but it works because of Ade’s unblinking camera and naturalistic and emotional performances from the leads.
Ade allows the camera to linger on uncomfortable, bittersweet moments that at first feel unnecessary but soon become intimate glimpses that reveal the inner thoughts of father and daughter. More than just padding and making an already long movie even longer, they are windows into the personalities of the characters. Like watching someone when they don’t know they’re being observed, they provide a raw look at Ines and Winfried.
The movie’s greatest moment, a public display of catharsis from Ines comes with the singing of a song. At a party father prods his daughter to sings while he plays a small electric piano. She lets loose, finally dropping her carefully constructed public persona and belts out a version of Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love of All” that would bring the house down at any respectable karaoke joint. It’s a show-stopper, an exuberant letting loose that showcases much more than Ines’s way with a song. It is a great purge, a letting go of her inhibitions after getting her buttons pushed and it is glorious.
Simonischek and Hüller are wonderfully cast. Simonischek‘s sad sack father has found an outlet through humour and, sometimes infuriatingly, passes along his wisdom to his daughter. He’s all heart and often stands in stark contrast to his all-business daughter.
Hüller has the wider character arc and makes us care about someone who is being consumed by her own sense of emptiness. Did I mention this is being marketed as a comedy? That archetype of a successful person who swaps any sort of meaningful human connection for success is ripe for parody and Hüller mines it for funny moments as Ines slowly wakes up and comes to life.
“Toni Erdmann” has no real payoff other than spending time with two fascinating characters. For me that was enough.
Ray Kroc changed the way we eat. He didn’t invent the hamburger, but has probably sold more burgers than anyone else.
He standardized food preparation, setting the template for fast food restaurants worldwide and built an empire based on two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun.
If you believe The Founder, a biopic of Kroc’s building of the McDonald’s hamburger chain, he was also a bit of an SOB.
Michael Keaton, who plays Kroc from failed travelling salesman to a millionaire whose business card reads simply Founder, says the choices his character “makes towards the end after he becomes successful are harsh, man. And nothing I would ever do. Nothing most people would ever do.”
So, is he a hero or villain? That’s the question The Founder asks. Does he deserve a break today for changing the way the world eats or is he a ruthless businessman to be grilled for his heavy-handed tactics?
When we first meet Kroc he’s hustling a newfangled milk-shake maker. Despite his slick pitch, his blender isn’t shaking up the fast food business. Restaurant after restaurant turns him down, until a small San Bernardino, Calif., burger shack run by siblings Mac and Dick McDonald (played by John Carroll Lynch and Nick Offerman) places an order for six of the machines, then ups the buy to eight.
Intrigued, Kroc travels cross-country to check out the operation and finds a bustling restaurant pumping out good food with military efficiency.
The brothers streamlined their kitchen for maximum productivity, maximizing every inch of space to bang out burgers in under 30 seconds. Kroc, amazed, convinces the pair to allow him to franchise their ideas and name. Reluctant, they agree but with a strict set of rules to ensure quality control.
Their uneasy partnership becomes a powder keg when Kroc unilaterally changes how the company is run. As the company grows so does Kroc’s ego and anything-to-win attitude.
Much of the way Kroc treats his business partners in The Founder is as distasteful as The Hula Burger, his famous and failed foray into vegetarian cookery. He double deals, goes behind their backs and worse, tampers with some of their recipes.
Keaton does a great job of slowly revealing Kroc’s duplicity and dive into self-indulgence as he transforms from failure to success. His natural charisma and flair — He’s Batman! He’s Mr. Mom! He’s Beetlejuice! — brings with it a familiarity that makes sense when telling the story of one of the best known brands on earth.
As an actor Keaton brings us on side as he effectively portrays Kroc’s descent into amorality and callousness.
Like the operation that caught Kroc’s eye, the film is efficient, wasting no moves in the telling of the tale. It’s a classic story of persistence and greed and director John Lee Hancock gets right to the meat of the story.
As much as the film is about the U.S.’s 1950s growth spurt, it is also a portrait of the kind of never-say-die spirit that evokes the very best and worst of the American Dream.
On film Kroc is insufferable, a ruthless conniver who grabbed the gold ring, or, in this case, golden arches. Is he a good guy or scoundrel? Depends what side of the sesame seed bun you place the special sauce on.
Stanley Nelson is no fan of zooming in. In fact, he’s more likely to be pulling the camera back for the most sweeping view possible.
“I am really interested in telling the stories of institutions rather than stories of dynamic individuals,” says Emmy Award winning documentarian Nelson. “To me that is a more intriguing way of telling history.”
As the title suggests his new film, Tell Them We Are Rising: The Story of Black Colleges and Universities, is another doc that turns a macro lens on its subject. A wide ranging look at how Historically Black Colleges and Universities, or HBCUs, have helped shape the societal and cultural history of America for the last 170 years, it’s a detailed account of the establishment of schools for African American students.
“As a filmmaker there were these incredible resources,” he says, “stills, film, diaries and letters that existed in black colleges, that generally hadn’t been used.”
Emmy Award winning documentarian Stanley Nelson says there is a personal side to his new film Tell Them We Are Rising as both his parents went to HBCUs.
But there is also a personal side to the story.
“My parents both went to black colleges,” he says. “They both went to school in the 1930s and that was the only option they had. That option changed my life, my sibling’s lives, my kids’ lives, and their kids’ lives. Generation after generation will be changed because my parents had the opportunity to go to college.”
Research for the documentary, which makes its Canadian premier at the Toronto Black Film Festival on Wednesday, Feb. 15, began several years ago and encapsulates a wide swath of history.
“We start the film during slavery,” he says. “Not only was it illegal for black people to learn to read and write, it was illegal for a white person to teach a black person to read or write. That was against the law. There was punishment for teaching slaves to read and write.
“The film started there and follows this incredible long search for knowledge in the African American community that goes through black colleges and goes through to today.”
In recent years several HBCUs have flourished while others struggled.
“The universe for black colleges has changed in the last 40 years or so,” he says. “Before, these were the only places, pretty much, where black students could go if they wanted to get a higher education.
“Just as importantly they were the only places black professors could teach. After integration and now, to a certain degree, if you’ve gotten great marks in school and are at the top of your class you have options as to where you go to school. If you are a professor at the top of your profession in your chosen field you can teach at Howard or at Harvard where there are greater resources, greater prestige and you’re getting paid more.
“There are choices now. Not to say that is bad in any way, but it has exacted a toll on black colleges and universities.”
Still, Tell Them We Are Rising asserts HBCUs have an important place in higher education.
“We try to say that there are still reasons why any given student might choose to go to a black college or university. One of them is that it is a safe space. It is a space where you are not looked at as one of a kind. As one girl says, ‘Movements are launched on black campuses,’ because it is a place of people of like minds.”
Let’s twist again, like we did last summer! Or in this case, like we did a decade or so ago when director M. Night Shyamalan became the master of the trick ending. Remember the twist in “The Sixth Sense”? It was one of the best surprises in movie memory. Ever since little Haley Joel Osment uttered those four words that sent chills down audience’s spines—“I see dead people”—Shyamalan has been largely unsuccessful in recreating that kind of jolt for his audience.
His new film, a psychological horror called “Split,” comes close to re-establishing Shyamalan’s reputation as the ziggiest zagger of a storyteller in Hollywood.
The dark story begins in broad daylight with the kidnapping of teens Claire (Haley Lu Richardson) and Marcia (Jessica Sula) and Casey (Anya Taylor-Joy). The three friends are plunked down into an airless basement dungeon, held captive by Kevin (James McAvoy), a man with dissociative identity disorder. In other words his mind has cleaved into twenty-four separate and distinctive personas. Think “Psycho” times 12. To escape the girls must appeal to Kevin’s better nature or natures before the final personality, The Beast, shows up and they become, “sacred food.”
Shyamalan will earn a good chunk of the credit for “Split,” for writing the twisty-turny story, for choosing the anxiety-inducing soundtrack, for constructing a (mostly) taut and tense pulpy thriller with loads of black humour but it is McAvoy that makes the movie memorable.
From the button-down, neat-freak Dennis, to nine-year-old Kanye West fan Hedwig to the sinister Patricia, he jumps from personality to personality, breathing life into each of his characters. The changes are frequently lightening fast. A furrow of a brow, the tightening of the lips and presto-chango, he’s someone else. It’s bravura work, unafraid to go over-the-top, embracing each and every character as if they were the star of the show.
Like all good Shyamalan movies (and some bad ones too) there is a twist, and a good one, but you’ll have to buy a ticket to find out what it is. There will be no spoilers here. Suffice to say the curve ball works thematically as well as providing several ‘What the Hell!!’ moments.
“Split” is wild and wooly, uniting, for the first time in a long time, Shyamalan’s talent for keeping the audience on the edge of their seats and his ability to change the game in the final act.
