LOGLINE: A look into the sleazy world of 1985 Los Angeles after dark, the new DePalma-esque film “Maxxxine” stars Mia Goth as the title character, a porn star who gets a big mainstream break just as her sinister past comes back to haunt her. She may have left her past behind, but her past is not done with her.
CAST: Mia Goth, Elizabeth Debicki, Moses Sumney, Michelle Monaghan, Bobby Cannavale, Halsey, Lily Collins, Giancarlo Esposito, Kevin Bacon. Directed by Ti West.
REVIEW: Over three movies, “X,” the prequel “Pearl” and now “Maxxxine,” writer/director Ti West has constructed a weird and wild look at the movie business and the ruthless ambition it takes to become famous in that industry. From the beginning years of film, straight through to the excess of the mid-eighties, West’s films center on Maxine Minx and Pearl, both played by Mia Goth, who share dreams of stardom and a willingness to spill blood—other people’s blood—to become famous.
Each film is distinct in style and feel—there’s “Pearl’s” Technicolor splendor, the 70s slasher feel of “X” and “Maxxxine’s” giallo grit—and yet they hang together as a whole because of Goth. The characters Maxine and Pearl provide the throughline that binds the films together, despite whatever flight of fancy West places them in.
Goth does fearless work, her trademark toothy grin an uncomfortable beacon of menace amid the film’s scenes of brutal, grindhouse violence. It’s a wonderfully strange performance, a unique take on an anti-hero who is simultaneously alluring and repulsive in her burning desires. It is Goth’s committed performance in “Maxxxine” that ushers the franchise along to the kind of garish finale fans expect from West.
A star-studded list of supporting actors—Elizabeth Debicki, Michelle Monaghan, Bobby Cannavale, Halsey, Lily Collins, Giancarlo Esposito—add color to the story, but it’s Kevin Bacon, as a smarmy Louisiana private investigator who steals every scene he appears in.
“Maxxxine” is likely the end of Goth and West’s edgy movie trilogy, and it goes out with a bang. In crafting a character who is both victim and a villain, a woman shaped by her upbringing and unbridled ambition, West and Goth have created a “final girl” horror icon who gets her due, and much more, in the trilogy’s final film.
“Infinity Pool,” the new horror film from director Brandon Cronenberg, now playing in theatres, takes place in the beach resort of your dreams… if you are prone to nightmares.
The action in “Infinity Pool” takes place against a sun-drenched all-inclusive beach resort in the fictional country of Li Tolqa. The exclusive, and very pricey, vacation spot offers a safe and secluded place for the wealthy to wine, dine and have fun. Imagine a kinkier “White Lotus.”
Just don’t go beyond the barbed wire gates.
That’s a lesson James (Alexander Skarsgård) and Em (Cleopatra Coleman) learn too late. He’s a writer, looking for inspiration; she is his wife, an heiress to a publishing fortune. Their lives take a turn when they meet Gabi (Mia Goth) and Al (Jalil Lespert), an adventurous couple who convince them to leave the compound for a beachside BBQ. “It’s one day,” James says. “Let’s mix things up a bit.”
Some grilled sausage and a graphic sex scene later, it’s night. Time to pile into the car and return to the resort. On the way James accidentally hits and kills a local man. Distraught, he wants to call the police.
“No police,” says Gabi. “Do you know anything about the police in Li Tolqa? This isn’t a civilized country. It’s brutal and it is filthy. We’re not getting picked up for this.”
They skedaddle, but soon enough the law catches up with them, questioning Em and arresting James for murder. After a night in jail, he is sentenced. “Here, the punishment for any crime committed is death.”
But even though Li Tolqa is an eye for an eye kind of place, the rules are different for wealthy tourists. By law someone must atone for the crime, but instead of putting James to death, they offer to make a clone of him. The replica will have his memories and will believe it is being killed for James’s crimes.
It is agreed the son of the dead man will even the score by killing the clone. Justice and vengeance will have been served. But there is a caveat. James and Em must watch the execution. After that, they’re free to go, with the clone’s ashes in hand. “Consider it a souvenir.”
Trouble is, James doesn’t want to leave.
“Infinity Pool” is a deep dive into depravity. Sensuality, violence and horror merge, as death becomes a spectator sport, sex becomes hallucinogenic as James becomes seduced by the hedonism of Li Tolqa and his new friends.
Fittingly, there is an unhinged quality to the filmmaking. In a story where anything could happen, and often does, director Brandon Cronenberg ups the debauchery with slick filmmaking, gorgeous cinematography from Karim Hussain and the kind of nihilism not seen since the days of Michael Haneke’s “Funny Games.”
By design it is an unpleasant movie, a Grand-Guignol commentary on the privilege of wealth and the evil men do. Blood—and other bodily fluids—spurt, cruelty is celebrated and the moral compass is left spinning. It is, in its reflection of the foulness of society, also kind of a singular cinematic experience.
We will see better performances this year, but I doubt that we will see two more committed performances than the ones handed in by Skarsgård and Goth. As James, Skarsgård has few boundaries, pushing the character to disturbing places. Goth is the personification of bored debauchery; a person who treats heartlessness as recreation.
“Infinity Pool’s” mix of sadism and satire will not be for everyone. The gratuitous grotesqueries on display will put many viewers off, but adventurous moviegoers may find something new and compelling in Cronenberg’s nightmarish vision.
In “Pearl,” a new psychological horror film now playing in theatres, Mia Goth plays a young woman with a bad case of FOMO, a head full of dreams and murderous thoughts.
Set in 1918, the outside world is suffering through the Spanish Flu pandemic and World War I, but on the remote farm that Pearl (Goth) calls home, nothing ever happens. Her first-generation German immigrant mother (Tandi Wright) is a strict “be happy with what you have” type who truly believes life never turns out the way you hope it will. When she isn’t caring for her comatose father (Matthew Sunderland), Pearl dreams of being a dancer in the movies. “I’m special,” she says. “One day the world is gonna know my name.”
Her husband Howard was supposed to take her away from the dreary farm life, but he went to war instead, leaving her behind. When she meets a “bohemian” film projectionist at the local Bijou, he encourages her to live out her dreams, but she feels bound to her parents. “If only they would just die,” she says.
When an audition comes up at the local church for a part in a dance revue, she sees a way out of her humdrum life, but what about her parents? “I will never let you leave the farm,” says her mother.
“Pearl” is a prequel of sorts to “X,” director Ti West’s previous film. That film stars Goth as Maxine, a 1970s adult entertainer who believes she is destined for a bigger and better life outside the strip club run by her boyfriend. When they concoct an idea to shoot a porno film, they choose a remote farm, one that STRONGLY resembles the farm in “Pearl.”
In both films, ambition and dreams blur to turn deadly, but you don’t need to have seen “X” to understand “Pearl.” Above all else, “Pearl” is a character study of a trouble young woman, anchored by a fearless performance from Goth. In work reminiscent of Anthony Perkins in “Psycho” by way of director Douglas Sirk. Goth is both over-the-top and understated, switching from demur, to wild-eyed to sympathetic with her malleable, expressive face. The last shot, a grin that will burn its memory in your brain, is not only a testament to Goth’s orthodontist, but also gives Conrad “the man who laughs” Veidt a toothy run for his money.
It is a remarkable performance—including a lengthy monologue that showcases all the various sides of Pearl’s personality—at the heart of this truly oddball and off-kilter examination of the push-and-pull between repression and the need for attention. Whereas “X” was a tribute to the slasher movies of the 1970s, this film has some brutal moments, but doesn’t have the scares. There are unpleasant moments, but this is an homage to the heightened melodramas of the 1950s and 60s. But with more axes, scarecrow sex and hungry alligators than Sirk could ever have imagined.
“Pearl” is being billed as a slasher, but it’s really a cinematic collage of styles with Goth as the glue that binds them together.
Richard joins host Jim Richards of the NewsTalk 1010 afternoon show The Rush for Booze and Reviews! Today we talk about the the stylish crime drama “The Outfit,” the college horror “Master” and the “adult” scares of “X.” Then, we learn about the most stylish man who ever lived and the drink named after him.
Nearly fifty years after the original “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” made power tools a staple in grisly horror films, an attempted Netflix reboot upped the gore but missed the mark completely. The scariest thing about that movie is its “rotten” Tomatometer Score of 34%.
There isn’t a chainsaw in sight in “X,” a new horror film, now playing in theatres, but it breathes the same fetid air as Tobe Hooper’s 1974 horror classic.
Set in 1979, the film stars Mia Goth as Maxine, an adult entertainer who believes she is destined for a bigger and better life outside the strip club run by her boyfriend Wayne (Martin Henderson doing a spot- on Matthew McConaughey impression). “I will not accept a life I do not deserve,” she says. Her first step to fame and fortune is “The Farmer’s Daughter,” a low budget porno Wayne hopes could blow up and be as popular as “Debbie Does Dallas.” As the film’s executive producer Wayne hires RJ (Owen Campbell), a film student with delusions of arthouse grandeur, his quiet sound technician girlfriend Lorraine (Jenna Ortega) and porn stars Bobby-Lynne (Brittany Snow) and Jackson Hole (Scott Mescudi).
They pile into a van headed for rural Texas and a remote farm where they will live and shoot their film. “It’s perfect,” gushes RJ as they arrive at the farm a.k.a. Wayne’s ”studio backlot.” “It’s going to have lots of production value.”
But that’s not all it has. There is a creepy old couple who live in the main house. Wayne neglected to tell farmer Howard (Stephen Ure) why they rented the property. “He doesn’t know what we’re doing, and I intend to keep it that way.”
Despite Wayne’s promise of discretion, Howard and wife Pearl soon find out what’s happening on the sheets, under their roof.
Cue the hillybilly horror.
On the surface “X” is another riff on the “Chainsaw” hapless-city-slickers-vs.-evil-country-folk vibe, but it’s not all blood and guts (though the plasma flows). Howard and Pearl fight against their decaying bodies, resentful of the good-looking folks flaunting their youth and skin on their property. They may be God fearing folks, but that doesn’t stop them from acting on their basest desires. Writer, director and editor Ti West weaves in the primal fears of aging and sexual repression plus a dollop of religious fervor that all add depth to the horror.
The rural setting, the eerie quiet and darkness of the location, takes on a sinister feel as West peppers his sequences with the odd jump scare or anxiety inducing overhead shot.
By the time we get to the really gross stuff, West has already established “X’s” slow burn atmosphere, adding layer upon layer of tension and subtext as amuse-bouches for the bursts of violence that come in the third act. West stages some truly unpleasant kill sequences, perfect for slasher fans but may cause uncontrolable shudders in others.
“X” is a throwback to the horror of Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven, but with a sensibility that simultaneously feels like a tribute and an update.
With his remake of the classic Dario Argento supernatural horror film “Suspiria” director Luca Guadagnino has made a film as glossy and grandiose as the original giallo. Maybe even more so. What he has also done is intellectualize the story to the point where you don’t actually get scared you just think you do.
Set in 1977 Berlin, the film begins with a manic episode. The first of many. Patricia Hingle (Chloe Grace Moretz), on the run from the Tanz Ballet School, is distraught. Making her way to the office of her psychiatrist Dr. Josef Klemperer (Lutz Ebersdorf a.k.a. Tilda Swinton under and inch or two of make-up) she’s in the midst of a breakdown, ranting about witches before disappearing into the city leaving Klemperer with more questions than answers.
Cut to the story of American ballet student Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson), Patricia’s replacement at the prestigious dance school. A Mennonite from rural Ohio she arrives for an audition with the school’s formidable head teacher Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton in more recognizable form) despite never having studied or danced professionally. Her raw talent is enough to earn her a berth with at the school and soon she has not only formed a bond with Blanc, but is dancing the lead in a production of the avant-garde piece “Volk.”
Dr. Klemperer and Susie’s roommate Sara (Mia Goth) think something is wonky at the school but can’t figure out what is wrong. Imagine their surprise (SPOILER ALERT UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN THE ORIGINAL FILM!) when it becomes apparent the school is run by a coven of witches intent on human sacrifice.
Guadagnino and screenwriter David Kajganich keep the bones of Argento’s story, fleshing it out with much talk of the terrorist Baader-Mienhof bombings, Susie’s backstory and Klemperer’s search for his long lost wife. Aptly subtitled “Six Acts and an Epilogue Set in a Divided Berlin” the new version is an hour longer than the original and while it is visually stunning it feels padded for length.
Not to say there aren’t memorable moments and ideas. A death-by-voo-doo-dance sequence is queasily beautiful and the film’s climax, a Grand Guignol freak-out, must be seen to be believed. It’s beautifully rendered, all grey skies and red rivers of blood, not nearly as lurid as Argento’s movie—except, perhaps for the exploding head sequence—but it is solemn when it should shock.
You’ve never been on an office retreat like this one. “A Cure for Wellness” sounds like it could be a self help guide on leading a happier, healthier life but is in fact a mystery thriller about a cure that may be worse than the illness.
Dane DeHaan stars as financial whiz Mr. Lockhart, an ambitious executive in an American company. His boss, the company’s CEO Roland Pembroke, has disappeared at a European wellness spa in the Swiss Alps. The big wig came to the facility to take advantage of the healing waters that run underneath the spa’s castle but later sent a note back to Wall Street. “One cannot willingly return to the darkness when he has the gift of the light. I will not return do not contact me again.”
With the CEO unwilling to return on his own Lockhart’s partners send him to retrieve the AWOL boss so they can unload the company at a huge profit. “The merger cannot go through without Pembrook signing off on certain legal matters.”
One 4000-mile journey later, Lockhart arrives at the castle, missing visiting hours by just five minutes. Without a working phone or WIFI he travels to the nearest village, only to be badly injured and left, stranded at the castle as a patient. As he recuperates it becomes clear the sanatorium is like the Hotel California, you can check in anytime you like but you can never leave!
As the line between real and unreal blur, his search for information on Pembroke takes on the air of a gothic horror story, embroidered with equal patches of history and mystery. It seems there might be a connection to the genetic experiments conducted by a Baron who lived in the castle 200 years previously.
“A Cure for Wellness” has an on-going sense of Gothic unease that builds with every sideways glance and dark and shadowy corner. Director Gore Verbinski aims to find a similar off kilter feel to “The Shining” where every day objects and places take on sinister feel. He spends endless time establishing the atmosphere, time that might have been better spent crafting an interesting story. Many times throughout I didn’t think ‘How will this end?’ but ‘Will it ever end?’
It drones on for two-and-a-half hours, a running time that equals an audience endurance test, throwing characters and ideas at the screen, hoping for one to take hold. It all leads up to a pretty good ‘n twisted climax, one that Vincent Price would approve of, but it takes for too long to get there. Verbinski is known for his unrestrained running times, but please someone explain to him that less really is more.
DeHaan does deserve credit for submitting to some very uncomfortable situations but one has to wonder how he kept a straight face while head doctor and creepy guy Volmer (Jason Isaacs) intones gobbly goop about the cure for the human condition being disease because only then is the hope for a cure. Perhaps if this were a bit campier, played with a sense of how ridiculous it is, it may have been tolerable, but as it stands “A Cure for Wellness” is a Seatbelt Movie, a film so misguided I needed a seatbelt to prevent me from bolting from the theatre.
