SYNOPSIS: In “Strange Darling,” a new crime movie now playing in theatres, nothing is what it seems when a one-night stand spirals into a serial killer’s vicious murder spree.
CAST: Willa Fitzgerald, Kyle Gallner, Barbara Hershey and Ed Begley Jr. Directed by JT Mollner.
REVIEW: There’s a scene in “Strange Darling” that sees two old hippies doing a puzzle, keeping score for each of the pieces they put in place. It’s a cute and playful scene, but it’s also an apt analogy for the watching of the film. The movie is a puzzle of a sort, a jumble of six chapters, presented out of order, that doles out information like the pieces of a puzzle. Viewers are urged to keep score as they piece together what is going on as the full picture slowly takes shape.
Clever and subversive, writer/director J.T. Mollner’s cat-and-mouse game is an expertly made exercise in nihilism. (POSSIBLE SPOILERS AHEAD) What begins as a standard serial killer flick—a scared woman on the run from a gun toting stalker—soon widens and deepens to become something else.
Here’s where it becomes spoilerific, so read ahead with caution. I’ll be as careful as possible in making my points about this ingenious cat-and-mouse story, but before you read on, know I think that this movie is best seen with little to no prior knowledge of the plot.
Still curious? Read on.
“Strange Darling” is a Gordian knot, a film that plays our expectations like a drum as Mollner introduces subversive twists and turns that question gender roles.
As the chapters—with names like “Can You Help Me Please? and “Do You Like to Party?”—build up a head of steam and seem about ready to blow apart, Mollner often hits the release valve. Instead of deflating the situations, however, he creates tension with some humour and clever editing.
You’ll wonder what’s real, and what’s not, and it’s hard to know until things get… well, very real. Then, the violence, which had mostly been implied, becomes visceral. Even then, it’s the high voltage charge from principal players Willa Fitzgerald and Kyle Gallner that keeps the film interesting, not the violence. Both hand in career best work and keep stride with the film’s exhilarating pace.
“Strange Darling” feels like a throwback. Shot on 35mm, by cinematographer Giovanni Ribisi, it has a grindhouse feel, as though it’s visually paying tribute to the aesthetic of the b-crime movies of the 1970s. It begins with a voiceover that sounds borrowed from a 1960s Quinn Martin Production, the broken timeline feels very 1990’s, as do the chapter title cards and Miramax logo, but Mollner’s treatment of the film’s central themes is anything but old fashioned.
SYNOPSIS: In the unconventional “Cuckoo,” a bonkers new horror film now playing in theatres, “Euphoria’s” Hunter Schafer plays the rebellious 17-year-old Gretchen, a traumatized young woman living with her father Luis (Marton Csokas) and his new family in the German Alps. When her father’s business partner Herr König (“Downton Abbey’s” Dan Stevens) offers her a job on the front desk of his rural mountain resort, she jumps at the chance, despite some red flags. On site, she notices women mysteriously falling ill and when her step-sister becomes sick, Gretchen aims to discover the resort and König’s secrets.
CAST: Hunter Schafer, Jan Bluthardt, Marton Csokas, Jessica Henwick, Dan Stevens. Written and directed by Tilman Singer.
REVIEW: It’s not the end of the year yet, but I’m willing to bet the aptly named “Cuckoo” will be the strangest arthouse horror film of the year. A mix-and-match of body horror, otherworldly influences and slasher violence, it’s an unpredictable ride courtesy of director’s Tilman Singer’s unbridled imagination.
The off-kilter vibe is supported by the performances. Schafer is the guide, the most earthbound of all the characters, but even she seems engulfed by the film’s sensory overload.
Even more extreme is Stevens, who leaves “Downton Abbey” in the rear-view mirror with a performance so over-the-top it’s like a Bond villain on Adderall. His ever-changing pronunciation of Gretchen’s name is so bizarre, and so entertaining, it’s like it has been filtered through Google translate every time out.
After several mind-bending episodes, “Cuckoo” pays off in the third act as most of the story threads knit themselves up, and plot holes are filled. It will still likely polarize audiences looking for easy answers, but its sheer willingness to embrace its incomprehensibility is part of its eccentric charm.
SYNOPSIS: In “Longlegs,” a new psychological horror film starring Maika Munroe and Nicolas Cage, and now playing in theatres, FBI Agent Lee Harker is assigned to a decades-old case of a serial killer who targets entire families. The case turns personal as she uncovers evidence of the occult.
CAST: Maika Monroe, Nicolas Cage, Alicia Witt, Blair Underwood, Kiernan Shipka. Directed by Osgood Perkins (son of “Psycho” star Anthony Perkins and photographer and actress Berry Berenson).
REVIEW More unsettling than scary, “Longlegs” is both thematically and visually dark. There’s not a lot of cracks to let the light in. As the mystery at the heart of this occult thriller unfolds, the action happens mostly at night or in darkened rooms, lending a heavy air of foreboding to every frame of this strange film.
Adding to the film’s otherworldly vibe is Maika Monroe as Lee Harker, the FBI agent assigned to Longlegs’ case. She is Clarice Starling with a carefully defined introspective side; a sixth sense that helps to unravel her cases. “It’s like something tapping me on the shoulder,” he says, “telling me where to look.” Analytical in the extreme, Munroe, in a quiet performance, allows us to see the gears turning in her head as the clues begin to add up. Her process gives Harker a brooding demeanor that perfectly matches the film’s tense, subdued tone.
On the other end of the scale is Cage as the titular serial killer. His unhinged, chaotic work makes his other gonzo performances in movies like “The Wicker Man,” “Face/Off” and “Vampire Kiss” seem positively understated by comparison. Jame Gumb has nothing on this guy. It’s an over-the-top display and individual mileage may vary, but his Tiny Tim inflection, creepy rendition of “Happy Birthday” and repulsive leer will not soon be forgotten.
Despite Cage’s larger-than-life-and-death performance, “Longlegs” values restraint. Other than a quick flash of decomposing bodies, a gallon or two of blood and a handful of jump scares, Perkins is more interested in burrowing into your subconscious with a nightmarish story that unfolds in the dark corners of Harker’s mind. The story’s psychological underpinnings are where the true horror lies. where the discomfort comes from.
By the time the end credits roll, you’ll leave the theatre unnerved, even after they turn on the lights.
Nihilistic and nasty, “The Strangers: Chapter 1,” part one of a proposed rebooted “Strangers” trilogy of films, and now playing in theatres, doesn’t deliver on the promise of it premise.
After a quick prologue and an F.B.I. public service announcement on the frequency of random violent crime—“There have been 7 acts of violence since you’ve been watching this film,” a title card screams—the action begins with a good looking young couple, Maya (Madelaine Petsch) and Ryan (Froy Gutierrez), on a road trip from New York to Portland, Oregon. Things turn creepy on day three of their trip when they veer off the main road to grab a bite in the least friendly town in America, Venus, Oregon, population 468.
It’s a strange place, with judgy locals, a menacing car mechanic and weird kids who stare at them as they perform the cardinal sin of ordering vegetarian food in a country diner.
After an uncomfortable dinner, their car mysteriously won’t start. One busted alternator later, they’re stuck in Venus for the night. A local suggests they stay at the local “internet house,” an Airbnb cabin in the middle of nowhere.
As they settle in, romance blossoms. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Maya says.
Trouble is, that might not be very long if the masked, axe and knife wielding killers lurking outside have anything to do with it.
The promo for “The Strangers: Chapter 1” promises to reveal how the terrifying trio of masked marauders became the Strangers, but this isn’t an origin story. It’s more like a 90-minute trailer for the next part, which may, or may not be a bit more forthcoming about the backstory.
This movie is more about the randomness of the violence and the endlessly stupid decisions made by Maya and Ryan. The leads are so bland, and their actions so inexplicable, you actually find yourself rooting for the killers so the couple’s ordeal, and by extension, the audience’s ordeal will end.
The randomness of the violence has always been the calling card of “The Strangers” films, and director Renny Harlin squeezes whatever juice is left out of “The Strangers” IP, building a bit of tension here and there, but the film’s slow pace, repetitive action and decidedly non-gruesome violence sucks away the menace of the premise.
If parents weren’t already considering limiting their kid’s screen time they certainly will after seeing “Come Play,” a new horror film starring Gillian Jacobs and “Westworld’s” John Gallagher Jr. and now playing in theatres. In fact, parents might even think about getting rid of every smartphone in the house.
Jacobs plays Sarah, mother of Oliver (Azhy Robertson), a young autistic boy who has trouble making friends with the other kids in his class. The youngster passes time by playing on his tablet, reading a picture book about misunderstood monsters. When the book’s monster, a long-limbed skeletal creature who looks like the Slender Man and a Mugwump had a baby, escapes Oliver’s device Sarah must fight her own disbelief and later, a real threat to her family.
“Come Play” began life as “Larry,” a short film by Jacob Chase and for better and for worse, Chase hasn’t changed the story that much for its adaptation to feature length.
Part of the beauty of “Come Play” is its simplicity. A study in friendship, the effects of loneliness and divorce and the complicated relationships kids have with “the other,” the movie is a slow burn that gives the viewer time to immerse themselves in Oliver’s world. It effectively builds an atmosphere of evolving tension, but it takes time.
Chase isn’t interested in easy scares, he’s making something larger, a monster movie that is an allegory for childhood loneliness and alienation. There is the odd jump scare but the tension comes from the story’s suspense and the connection to the characters. Oddly, for a monster movie of a sort, the creature is the least compelling part of the film. His bony limps and toothy snarl are the stuff of nightmares but the story is about much more than a boogeyman.
Unfortunately, I can’t tell you more without giving away a plot point but I can say that the creature, Larry, represents more than simple terror.
“Come Play” is short on story but long on ideas. It’s a horror film that isn’t afraid to not be outright scary. Instead it mines psychological and primal fears to create an unsettling story.
When you think of kid’s books wholesome titles like “Captain Underpants” and “Clifford the Big Red Dog” likely spring to mind. But for 1980s children with a darker sensibility who were too old for “The Addams Family” but too young for “Stephen King,” the “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark” trilogy by Alvin Schwartz and illustrated by Stephen Gammell, where must reads. Violent and eerie, the American Library Association reports that the gothic story collections were the most challenged books of the 1990s, which, of course, only made them more appealing to rebellious kids. A new film produced by horror master Guillermo Del Toro and directed by André Øvredal, uses the books as the basis for a new story.
Set in the small town of Mill Valley, Pennsylvania in 1968, the action begins on Halloween. When besties Stella (Zoe Margaret Colletti), Auggie (Gabriel Rush) and Chuck (Austin Zajur) play a prank on the town bully, he looks for revenge forcing them to hide first at a drive-in where they meet new kid in town Ramón (Michael Garza).
The night soon leads them to a spooky house on the edge of town. The decrepit old place was once the grand home of the Mill Valley’s richest family, the Bellows. Now all that remains are dusty ruins and, as the kids discover, a diary of old stories written in blood by Sarah Bellows (Kathleen Pollard), the youngest, cursed daughter of the once powerful family. As strange things happen the kids realize the book is making their worst fears come true. “You don’t read the book,” says Stella, “the book reads you. I’m afraid we woke the book up.”
This movie could be more accurately called “Mildly Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.” It’s a collection of jump scares and creepy elements—scarecrows, spiders and a severed toe—cobbled together to create a teen-friendly flick that owes a debt to the Halloween afterschool specials of yesteryear. It’s Scooby Doo with courser language and better effects; an entry level horror for teens who find the Garbage Pail Kids too intense.
For any boomers who might take the kids or grandkids the “toe stew“ is gross but the scariest stuff comes in the form of background news reports on Vietnam and Nixon’s re-election.
As an anthology type movie “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark” is slowed by the supernatural sleuthing of Stella and company as they try to get to the bottom of sad Sarah’s story. Repetition of the legend and lots of shots of Chuck’s freaked out face slow the momentum. During one of these longer scenes I wondered, “When is the pacing building suspense and when is it building tedium?“ By the end credits the background mystery has sucked the air out of what could’ve been a tightly crafted fun movie.
Imagine being frightened of your own child. That is the terrible situation of young mom Sarah (Taylor Schilling) in “The Prodigy,” a new psychological horror from director Nicholas McCarthy.
Schilling is mother to Miles (Jackson Robert Scott) an extraordinarily gifted child who spoke at twenty weeks and could generally outthink everyone by the time he was old enough to walk. “Nothing wrong with this little guy,” says a doctor. “He’s very aware. Here’s what we call a smarty-pants.”
Soon though he displays antisocial behaviour. He can’t seem to connect with people at school, perhaps because he beat a classmate with a wrench in lab class. In his sleep he angrily mumbles some kind of foreign language. “You were having a bad dream,” mom says waking him. “It wasn’t a bad dream,” he says. “It was a good dream.”
Concerned that something is amiss Sarah takes Miles to a psychologist. Unable to find a medical reason for Miles’s condition the doctor refers him to another specialist, a professor (Colm Feore) who believes there is a battle being waged inside Miles. Most of the world believes in reincarnation he explains, wondering if could Miles be an old soul having another go at life. “These souls return for a reason to complete a task,” he says.
If Miles is sharing a body with an invading soul, what job must he complete? Which one will become dominant?
As far as creepy kid movies go “The Prodigy” is a six out of ten. The kid, with his blank stare and mismatched eyes gives Damien a run for his money—especially when he says stuff like, “Sometimes I leave my body when I sleep. I do it to make room.”—it’s the details that earn a demerit or two.
Director McCarthy does a good job at building tension and sets up some good set pieces but he’s undone somewhat not by the silly-but-fun premise but by ridiculous things that don’t make sense that distract from the main story. How is Miles still allowed to attend school after he wacked a kid with a wrench? Why does Sarah leave some material that clearly gives away what she’s about to do where Miles can see it? It goes on. I’m not looking for credibility in a movie about (MILD SPOILER!!) a reincarnated serial killer but virtually everything that doesn’t make sense also could have been avoided without changing the DNA of the story one iota.
“The Prodigy” is a little heavy-handed—Miles washes off his Halloween skull make up, but only from one side of his face, leaving behind an image that represents the duality of his personality—but it embraces the wild nature of its story, providing just enough uncomfortable moments to earn a recommendation.
