Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon

Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon is a unique and quite enjoyable little horror parody. Up-and-coming serial killer Leslie Vernon is looking to join the ranks of the greats like Freddy, Jason and Michael. He agrees to allow Taylor Gentry and her documentary film crew to tag along as he preps for his next big killing spree, to provide the world with some exclusive insights into the secret tricks of the trade of serial killing.

The film parodies the classic slasher flicks of the '80s simply by breaking down the films scene by scene, shot by shot, and dissecting the psychology and meaning behind each scene. For example, many of those '80s films have some sort of scene early in the film in which the lead female is startled by some stranger in the shadows that sets a tone of fear for the rest of the film. This such scene in Behind the Mask involves the lead female, Kelly, taking out the garbage at work. Leslie describes how he will scare her by hiding behind a dumpster and pulling away the brick she uses to hold the door open by using thin fishing wire.

So many more tricks the secrets of which Leslie reveals to Taylor and her crew bring such a light-heartedly funny light to those old movies. Industry terms such as "survivor girl" and "Ahab" for certain characters, the set up steps, like leaving an old newspaper clipping hoping that the survivor girl might happen to stumble on it, the face paint laced with cut-stopping medicine and flame retardants, the cardio and physical training required to make it seem like you're walking when everyone else is sprinting. All these revealed trickeries provide a smart satire of the '80s slasher films that, once you intellectualize, is really quite funny.

Through such simple methods this breakdown of slasher films really calls into question the methods and pathology of the killers of the '80s. Why does the killer show up only to startle and make paranoid their victims, and not out-right kill them? The excitement and effervescence Nathan Baesel (who plays Leslie) shows in the film adds to the wonderful mockery of those older movies and makes you question why these killers go about all these tricks to scare their victims.

Leslie Vernon has a psychology to him that is completely singular within slasher films. Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees are (for the most part) emotionless and without any clear motivation. They exist mostly as mindless embodiments of evil, as is suggested by their expressionless masks. Freddy Krueger has a little more personality, with his cynical humor and more-developed back story. But Leslie is unique. Leslie is clearly in control of his faculties; he is utterly sane. He is self-aware, he's ambitious, determined and enthusiastic. He thinks of serial killing as his life's calling, a volition Freddy, Jason and Michael don't even come close to expressing.

There are further points of interest of Leslie's pathology that aren't as clearly explained. Doc Halloran, played by the one and only Robert Englund, tells Taylor that Leslie's real name is Leslie Mancuso, and is a former patient of Halloran's. This clearly makes Leslie a human and not an outright monster, making us question even further his motivations. Is he perhaps just a crazed fan who's misplaced his adorations in these cinematic depictions of evil?

It is clear that Leslie chooses to do what he does. The reasoning behind his choice is revealed later, and is quite similar to the Joker's nihilism in The Dark Knight: "I made a choice to provide a counterbalance to all those things we hold good and pure," which to me is far more intellectually disturbing than the cold emptiness of Jason and Michael, or Freddy's bitter sarcasm.

Taylor and Leslie's interaction is also quite fascinating. Throughout Taylor's crash-course in Serial Killing 101, she questions the ethics of what Leslie does, which is to be expected. Their interaction become far more intriguing when it comes out that Taylor is the intended survivor girl to Leslie's plot, and not Kelly. Throughout the film Leslie expresses to Taylor how he intends to empower the survivor girl in to doing battle with him, and possibly killing him. This means that Leslie is basically telling Taylor in pain-staking detail how he wants her to empower herself and kill him, which brings in retrospect a weirdly suicidal tilt to Leslie, making his pathology even more confused and dangerous.

Writer and director Scott Glosserman has truly earned my respect because of this movie. The sheer amount of research and analysis that went into writing this film is mind-blowing. Glosserman must have watched and studied every major slasher film dating back to the late '60s in preparation for this film, and his knowledge of the subject matter truly comes across in the film. From the study of the killers and their philosophies to the analysis of the imagery of slasher films, Glosserman has covered every thematic inch of these films and spun them into a gleefully sarcastic slasher parody and, at the same time, a poignant and respectable slasher film.

The Horde

In an era full of dozens of the same standard zombie flick, it's hard for one film to stand out from all the rest. However, The Horde is a film that manages to do so without being too revolutionary or ground-breaking.

 

The Horde is a fairly unheard of, at least not here in the States, French zombie film centered around a group of cops that raid a run-down apartment building looking for the group of thugs that took out one of their own, only to be descended upon by the undead masses. Now both groups must work together to escape the horde.

At the end of the day, the film brings nothing new thematically to the table. The idea of two warring factions having to "put aside their differences" in order to survive has been done countless times, and the rest of the film follows a straight-forward zombie apocalypse movie. Even the technical aspects of the film are in keeping with typical horror and action films. However, the simple timing, execution and sheer violence of the film makes it one not to miss.

Step aside, Tom Savini; this is perhaps the most violent zombie film ever! A man bashing a zombie's skull into a cement pillar over 20 times shot with a sped-up camera, a man atop a car swinging wildly at a congregation of zombies with a machete, and an old geezer mowing down zombies with a machine gun. Not to mention more hand-to-hand combat between humans and zombies than this reviewer has ever seen in a film, which is quite strange to see. They establish fairly early on that only head shots will kill the zombies, yet we continually see them fighting zombies with their fists and feet. It's still violent, but a different type of violence than zombie films are used to producing.

 

The timing of all the jump scares is simply impeccable; not a single second or edit in the film is wasted, keeping the viewer tense and on-edge throughout the entire film. When a shotgun blast destroys a door and kills one of the cops, it's preceded by a slow section of silence while the cops try to sneak up to the door, and timed perfectly to deliver an exhilarating jolt; not to mention the jagged hole left in the door, about three-feet in diameter, later serves for a nice bit of menacing imagery.

Where other films have failed at making a zombie action flick, namely Zach Snyder's Dawn of the Dead, this film succeeds by keeping the style of action flicks. Every main character is such an unlikeable asshole, the lighting is extremely dark and high contrast, the tempo and editing approach the speed of the Crank movies at times, and all the violence is of the style of an action, or even martial arts, film. Rather than trying to blend some action film elements into a zombie horror film, The Horde keeps all the elements of action films, and so the audience isn't left in limbo as to what genre of film it is; it's an action film!

The fact that every character is an asshole is both fun and predictable. It's fun because it keeps the tension high throughout the film, and predictable because the audience knows the characters will get pettily angry over the most trivial of things. Day of the Dead, Romero's third in his series, manages to pull off this trick masterfully without becoming predictable at all. Yannick Dahan and Benjamin Rocher, The Horde's directors, would have been well-suited to take some notes on how Romero managed the feat.

I also liked the ending of the film. Throughout the film there had been small little reminders as to why the cops had invaded the building in the first place. Without giving away too much of what the ending entails, the film manages to wrap up its basic story line between the cops and thugs in a simple, subtle and gripping way, while still leaving the matter of the zombie mob to be reckoned with; a very smart and astute way to conclude the film.

This film has a little in it for everyone. For the movie critic, there is skill and intelligence used in crafting this film (whether the horde of zombies is a metaphor for the proletariat can certainly be debated). But, for the balls-out action and horror fan, there's still plenty of violence and badassery to go around.

Insidious

Even if you haven't seen Insidious yet, chances are you've at least seen the first half of the movie, which regurgitates over a dozen of the most famous and obvious cliches of haunted house and possession movies. From the child with the unexplainable disease, to the child that no one believes. From the hysterical and illogical mother to the logical and overly-skeptical father. The rocking horse rocking by itself, the seance, the kid's creepy drawings, the geeks with the EMF meters, the baby monitors, the creepy old lady (Zelda Rubinstein anyone?), and many more.

The first half of the movie is so overloaded with cliches that the viewer cannot really associate with the characters in a meaningful way; they seem too fake, too archetypal. Any potential ideas or message behind the film gets lost in the storm of cliches.

The film starts to come around somewhat when Lin Shaye begins to describe "The Further" (which is an admittedly corny name to call it). The ideas of out-of-body experiences aren't completely unused in film, but are used rarely enough and in a unique enough way in the film that a hint of originality begins to emerge. And once we enter The Further, the vast darkness lit only by Patrick Wilson's lantern is executed splendidly, creating actual tension and suspense for the first time in the film.

Unfortunately the work done inside The Further is spoiled by the demon inside it, which bares a far-too-striking resemblance to Darth Maul from The Phantom Menace. Although not a cliche, it's still distracting when a character's costume looks too much like another popular character's (like how Nicolas Cage's costume in Kick-Ass looks a bit too close to several designs of Batman), and takes away from how otherwise creepy the demon would have been.

At several points during the film the concept of fear, and how we allow ourselves to deal with the emotion, is put forth. It's said that Dalton wanders too far into The Further because he has no real fear of what lurks there to keep him grounded in reality. This idea is touched upon other places in the film also, but it doesn't really become a clear and solid theme behind the film. What it ends up being is some vague advertisement for watching horror movies and allowing yourself to feel fear.

The ending is interesting as well. It's an ending that, again, we've all seen before, where the supposedly defeated spirit manages to still possess the hero's human body, but it's done well enough to still be exciting. However, the film cuts off too soon by ending on a scream without showing the result of the scream. This ending feels cheap; it doesn't allow the film to come full circle and complete its narrative, and instead ends on yet another poorly-timed jump scare.

Ultimately the movie feels phoned-in to me. Given what James Wan and Leigh Whannell were able to accomplish with Saw, and the performances Patrick Wilson mustered in Hard Candy and Watchmen, this film falls far short in comparison to the talent these three men possess. These three could've done much better than a Poltergeist without the fun and exciting jumps, than a The Ring without the suspense, intrigue and beautiful art-direction, than a Paranormal Activity without a paralyzing ending.

The Strangers

The more movies one sees, the easier it becomes to spot the clichés and formulas used in those movies. Unfortunately for most movies today, the clichés are painfully obvious and only a blind man would miss them. But, like finding Waldo within a landscape of insanity, it's always refreshing when a film comes along and turns a cliché on its head.

The Strangers is such a film. The basic storyline of The Strangers is a couple (Liv Tyler, Scott Speedman) is harassed, stalked and eventually tortured by a group of masked killers. I know, nothing about that storyline sounds original in the least. But the presentation of the film and the ways in which these events unfold, particularly concerning the pacing of the film and the motives of the killers, make the film truly unique and terrifying.

If we exclude the opening of the film--a flash forward past the end of the film--we start with the couple on the way home from a wedding reception. She is crying, he is visually depressed. After they finish their quite drive back to the house, they have a quiet discussion about the events of the night and where their relationship is. It feels very much like a mumble-core romantic melodrama. It turns out she had turned down his marriage proposal; they've already been through a rough night, and it's only gonna get worse.

Once we get a knock on the door from a stranger and the terror and suspense begin, the film still keeps with its mumble-core sensibility. The killers are never running, never angered, always calm. But their never emotionless malevolences, like a Michael Myers; they always remain within a humanistic plane. Also the sound, editing and camera angles of the film remain subdued and slow, not at all like your standard slasher (with the exception of a couple brilliantly timed jump scares).

When Speedman leaves the house to run to the store, one of the scariest scenes of the movie takes place. Tyler is standing in the living room smoking a cigarette, and in the hallway in the background walks one of the killers in a mask. The hallway is completely dark except for his mask, which seems to hauntingly float there in the dark. Tyler does not notice, as she finishes her cigarette and pours herself a glass of water. As she walks toward the sink the camera follows her, leaving the man in the mask just in the corner of the frame. The man in the mask does nothing, and is gone once the camera turns away and turns back. How chilling a thought, that lunatics in masks could be lurking in the shadows of your home, completely unbeknownst to you. Nothing really happens in this scene, yet it's unbelievably creepy.

The sound throughout the film is simply superb. The juxtaposition between the quiet mumble-core dialogue and loud knockings and scratchings on the doors and windows really makes for excellent jump scares that truly puts the viewer on edge. Add in the simple but unsettling images of the killers' masks, a sewn-together twine bag reminiscent of the Scarecrow in Batman Begins and two dolled-up female clown masks, and you have the basic ingredients of an effective, suspenseful slasher.

The one line of dialogue from the film that really makes this film stand out as special among all its peers, comes at the end of the film. Speedman and Tyler are tied to chairs, awaiting the torture from the three masked assailants. Tyler, crying and hysterical, asks "Why are you doing this to us?" The blond girl in the clown mask answers, "Because you were home." These three teenagers in cheap masks are not out for revenge, to make a statement or some other realistic motive. They kill strictly out of apathy and boredom, choosing as victims whoever happens to answer the door on whatever random night. After her retort, the blond girl and her friends take turns plunging a kitchen knife into their victims' stomachs very lackadaisically, without any passion or enthusiasm, just for something to do.

Throughout the film at certain points there are montages of second-team style random shots of suburbia: houses, picket fences, basketball hoops. These shots suggest a statement about the young American suburbanite, suffering from ennui and apathy, who has probably played a few too many violent video games, as the adage goes, who, in search of a thrill bigger than raiding their inattentive parents' liquor cabinets, go around killing strangers.

So if you think slasher pics have run themselves into the ground, producing the same old crap over and over again, give this film a try, and see if your opinion doesn't change.

On Genre Theory

My last film review was a partnering with a friend to cover [Rec] and [Rec] 2, two in-your-face, over-the-top zombie films with tons of scares, gore and excitement. Now, feeling that I have to balance my geek side who wets himself over crazy fright-fests with my intelligent, sophisticated film connoisseur and aficionado side, here's a brief treatise on film genre theory.

Back when I was a student at NIU, I founded the NIU Horror Club, a campus group meant for watching and discussing horror films. Stuck within the paradigm of "horror" club, our members would often debate whether a given film that we showed fell within the horror genre. Each member had their own idea, usually based on their tastes and preferences, about what the horror genre was about. In this essay I will attempt to describe what horror, and all the other popular film genres, are "about."

It should come as no surprise that all the films grouped into one genre must have something in common, specifically something at their core that is absolutely vital to the nature of those films. Given the most commonly referred-to genres, and the ways in which they are discussed, I have concluded that there are two major principles that make up a genre: what is seen in the film, and what is felt by the viewer.

Horror is a very diverse genre that has taken many different forms. Films described as horror can portray serial killers; demons and monsters, both terrestrial and otherwise; viruses; murderers; haunted houses; and many other scary things. The scary thing can be clear and obvious, like Jason Voorhees, or more subtle or even unseen, like in The Blair Witch Project. These film are so diverse that they have little in common as far as what is actually seen on the screen. What they do have in common is the feeling of fear that is evoked in the viewer.

Comedy is another film genre along these same lines. Comedy can come from so many distinct places that iconography cannot be used to classify this genre. Instead the experience of laughter and the overall lightheartedness that comes from laughter is what defines a comedy.

Other modern genres of film that are of this type include romance, thriller, and drama films. The feelings of true love are what define a romance film. The excitement and suspense felt by the audience make a thriller. Drama sometimes acts as a left-over bin, meaning a film that doesn't clearly fit into the other groups falls here, but dramas are characterized by strong emotional attachments to a character that may not be specifically related to fear, humor, love or excitement.

All the genres that are defined by what is felt are defined as so because the iconography in those films are so varied. On the other side of the coin, there are film genres that have very similar iconography but varied moods and tones that accompany them.

Science fiction is a genre defined by its iconography of aliens, outer space, spacecrafts, computers, robots, and other things related to modern-day technological advances. These films can take very different tones and evoke very different emotions. 2001: A Space Odyssey is a sci-fi film that's very artistically crafted and awe-inspiring, with subtle themes of humans being replaced by something more intelligent. Alien is a sci-fi film that's very suspenseful, frightening and claustrophobic. This year's Paul has the images of sci-fi but is very much a comedy. This films listed have disparate emotions that they create in viewers, but are similar in the images shown on the screen, which is why they can be grouped into the same genre.

Western is another genre categorized by imagery: The Wild West, revolvers, cowboy hats, horses, tumbleweeds. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly; True Grit and Blazing Saddles are disparate in the reactions to them, but are similar in the imagery depicted.

Other film genres of this type are action, fantasy, war, crime and musicals. All these genres have lists of imagery and events depicted that allow movie theorists to group them together, whether it be explosions and gunfights, fanciful creatures, battle scenes, bank heists or song and dance numbers. Each film can use its genres imagery to tell different stories with different themes, but they're still part of the same genre.

One thing to keep in mind about genres is that they're almost always approximations. The Matrix, for example, has imagery from sci-fi, action and neo-noir films, making it a difficult film to place into a visual genre. Most DVD stores divide their selection by genre, and store owners and employees have to use their best judgment when placing films like The Matrix and other genre-bending films.

Which brings me to my next reminder that film genres are never mutually exclusive. In fact, to really get an accurate description of what to expect with a film, it really should come with at least one visual and one emotional genre: a "sci-fi/horror" or an "action/thriller." The Matrix does not have to be permanently lumped into one genre when it can so easily be described as several others.

Hopefully this little blurb has provided some of you with a new way of looking at film genres. Possibly I've supplied an interesting rambling about movie stuff. At the very least I feel I've done something intellectual with this little blog of mine. So there.

[Rec] 2, as reviewed by Jason Ours

“…I will not fear the night terrors, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the plague that stalks the darkness…”

-- Rec 2

Ah, the moan and groan-inducing world of the sequel. It’s the only world where such complimentary masterpieces such as Evil Dead 2, Aliens, and Terminator 2: Judgment Day co-exist with the absurdly horrible S. Darko and Exorcist 2: The Heretic. It’s a world where a light is shown on true intentions – is the studio making a quick buck (and making the SAME movie again) or is the potential for EXPANDING the world and characters being creatively utilized? Is anything gained by this sequel or is it interchangeable with its predecessor(s)?  Perhaps most importantly…why should I care about this sequel?

Jaume Balaguero’s [Rec 2] is, without a doubt, a complimentary sequel to the already intense [Rec].  One can tell passion went into both the writing and execution of this gonzo-type tale. 

The film starts with a SWAT team approaching the quarantined building of the first [Rec]. The team is outfitted with cameras on all their helmets – a la Aliens (“Wierzbowski!?”) and seem ready to tackle whatever lies in that building. Upon arrival at the scene, they are met outside by a doctor from the Ministry of Health, who also assumes command as they enter through the gates of Hell…

What sets [Rec] 2 apart from just another sequel is that EVERYTHING is improved, from the sound (discussed soon) to the ability to successfully – and believably – tie up loose ends from the first movie. Most of the time the film does not feel like a straight-up sequel, but rather a biological extension of the monster that is the world of [Rec].

One of the greatest attributing factors to ANY horror movie is the sound – without it, there is no scare. That said, if you never have, I URGE you to invest in a high quality pair of headphones. Viewing (horror) movies via headphones with built in 5.1 (or higher) is an entirely new (and terrifying) world.  In the case of [Rec] 2, the sounds – from whispers in the backgrounds not heard without the headphones, to the rapid, scared breathing of the camera-man, create a perfect atmosphere of fear. This reviewer admits to not having a 5.1 + sound system, however, the headphones added intimacy – which is CRUCIAL for (well-made) horror. When watching [Rec] 2 a third time for this review – and the first time with headphones – I can honestly say that I was genuinely scared, all because of the horrible sounds I never heard before.

Another aspect of appreciation for not only [Rec] 2, but the entire world of [Rec] is the long-shot. Given the medium – the gonzo “found footage”-esque approach, the cast is required to fulfill their scenes in long takes. A keen eye for cinematography can spot these scenes in other movies – whether it’s the 2 minutes and 43 seconds of action in the hospital in John Woo’s Hard Boiled, or the 3-days-in-the-making infamous hallway scene from Chan-Wook Park’s Oldboy – it’s always a beautiful (underappreciated) aspect to film. [Rec] 2 is comprised mostly of these awe-inspiring shots, where one wonders how many times they were done to be “just right…” One extends an extra kudos to the cast for excelling at this.

Almost ALWAYS, the use of CGI detracts from the movie experience – not every movie is as fluid as District 9. While the approach of filming this type of movie adds to the suspense and tension, it also limits it in terms of visual effects – namely action scenes. What is beautiful about the world of [Rec] is that the action is usually very fast paced anyways – the camera frantically moving around and reacting to the environment – so the CGI blends in very well as one does not get a strong, long glance at whatever it may be. Usually one is too immersed in the action to stop and say “wait a minute, that’s fake!” – a good thing, as immersion is KEY in films of this nature. One needs to feel that they are with the characters to fully feel the fear. Remember the first time you saw Aliens and the marines were entering the colony of LV-426? That shit was terrifying because you were there with them every step.

The world of horror movies is filled with (sometimes) creative homages to past films within the genre. This is usually done tongue-in-cheek as the writers know that horror fans stick to their genre – it's fun too. [Rec] 2 is no exception: take for instance a scene which a crucifix is held up to a person and the shadow is all you see projected onto that person’s face – quick, what movie is that? See- fun! Now take a scene in which blood is being tested and bursts into flames– which Arctic-expedition-gone-wrong film from the 80s instantly comes to mind? Good, you know your movies.

So, if you enjoyed the first [Rec] …or…Quarantine – the bastardized Hollywood remake that is 99.3% identical EXCEPT for a MAJOR plot change and ONE scene– then I wholeheartedly recommend [Rec] 2.

“(A)bandon all hope – ye who enter here”

-Inferno, cto. 3, 1. 9,

[Rec]

Comparable to H.P. Lovecraft at his very best and infused with some of the most devastating jump scares known to cinema, [Rec] is a relentless and exhausting film that never ceases to scare and excite.

TV reporter Angela Vidal, fantastically played by the effervescent Manuela Velasco, is assigned to do a story about a fire house for a local TV show. While taping the show, the firemen receive a call about an elderly woman trapped in her apartment, and the TV crew tags along on the call. At the building they are joined by the police. When they try to talk to the old woman, who, by the way, is wearing only a nightgown and is covered in blood, she attacks and bites one of the policemen. From there, everything goes to Hell very quickly.

Angela and the other firemen carry the injured policeman down the stairs only to find that the health department has sealed the building; no one comes in, no one gets out. Hysteria ensues. Vague explanations and warnings are doled out via megaphones by the inspectors outside, sirens blare and flashing lights blind, everyone is shouting, the camera is shaking and being shoved by a nervous officer, and, to make matters worse, a fireman falls down the circular stairwell from at least three stories up and lands with a crash and accompanying screams, one of the many perfectly timed and executed scares in the film.

This first attack occurs about thirteen minutes into the film, after we've watched Angela and the firemen hanging out, eating dinner, playing basketball. We've gotten to know them a bit and seen them having fun, so we can genuinely care for their safety. Later, after the old woman is killed, the injured men stabilized as best as possible, and all the exits verified to be sealed, another period of calm takes place, where Angela interviews several of the tenants, including a Chinese couple, a sick seven-year-old, and a suave but somewhat prejudice older man. These people are now made characters rather than glorified extras, allowing us to care about them.

A fireman has a toolbox containing an axe and a mallet, and one policeman has one pistol. That is all the weaponry used in the entire film. Everyone trapped in this building is as vulnerable as possible. The only things with which they can defend themselves are their hands, minds, and whatever small trinket that happens to be lying around. They are sealed in like lab rats, entirely cut off from the outside world save for one health inspector who comes in to take blood samples. There is no cavalry coming to rescue them. They are utterly alone.

Once the health inspector enters the building, he first tends to the injured officer and fireman. While giving them some sort of injection, they jump back to life and attack the inspector and the medical intern helping him. Later we learn that it's the sick girl and her dog who first spawned this sickness, and she violently attacks her mother, biting her eye right out of its socket! The violent, frenzied delirium resumes, and does not cease.

I must admit that some of the scares feel a tad gratuitous. The lights will go out and then come right back on just before the scare. Ever so briefly I feel that I'm being picked on by a bully who keeps yelling "boo" loudly next to my ear, only instead of being annoyed I'm terrified. But the scares are so well timed and well set up that they keep scaring me, no matter how many times I'm hit with it. It keeps the fright and insanity going; the hairs on the back of my neck are given no time to relax and fall limp.

Angela and Pablo the cameraman are forced to escape into the penthouse of the building, which is nothing short of a meticulously-decorated Lovecraftian mad scientist's lab of horrors. Dozens of newspaper clippings are hung on the walls relating to the possession and exorcism of a Portuguese girl, among many other disturbing readings, tools and equipment. There's even a tape recording of a scientist describing an experiment. All very strange, confusing and eerie.

The light atop the camera, which has been used marvelously throughout the film as a plot device, finally goes out, and Pablo has to switch to night vision. He can see, but only through the camera; Angela can see nothing. Out of a dark recess within this penthouse walks some tall monstrosity that may have been a human at one point, but now only barely resembles a human. It lumbers toward Pablo and Angela, wielding a hammer.

I'd tell you what happens next, but it'd spoil the experience for you, if you'd even believe me. One of the best examples of the shaky-cam, or acknowledgement-of-camera, genre, [Rec] is an all-out blast, a thrill ride of terrifying proportions. Watch it alone, in the pitch dark if you dare, but you may wanna notify your neighbors that this movie will be the reason for your screams.

Senseless

A somewhat hidden gem of a film, Senseless is a 2008 film from director Simon Hynd. It's based on a novel by Stona Fitch about an American capitalist, Eliott Gast (played by Jason Behr), who is kidnapped, held captive and tortured by a terrorist. The terrorist describes Eliott as a "man of the senses," and so he, over the course of the film, removes each of his senses, all while commanding Eliott to confess his sins as an American imperialist to the live Internet audience.

When we first meet Eliott, he appears to be like any other wealthy American businessman. He's having dinner with presumably clients in Paris, talking about wines. He admits he used to work for the government, but playfully says the details are classified. Once he's kidnapped, all the audience can realistically convict him of is a bit of greed. Once we meet his captor, nicknamed only in the credits as Blackbeard, a charismatic, cocksure man concealed by a stark black mask covering his eyes, spouting anti-American rhetoric, Elliot's sins are quickly forgotten in the face of this frightening man (expertly played by Joe Ferrara).

Once we reach the first torture scene, in which Eliott's tongue is burned with an iron, we see the fear and desperation on Elliot's face, making the scene all the more unbearable. Sound and gore effects throughout the film are impeccable; not one of the five torture sequences are watchable without some sort of squeal or scream, even from the most seasoned gore-hound, and it's because you're there. The sounds and Eliott's wonderfully sympathetic performance puts you right there as each of his senses are destroyed one by one.

Later in the film it is revealed that Eliott is a bit more guilty than we were led to believe; he gave bad loans to foreign governments, making them politically indebted to America. By this point in the film, though, Eliott has suffered so much and been through such hell at the hands of such a cruel and hate-filled man that we're all too willing to forgive him.

This film is really a giant ball of energy and tension, and much of the energy and tension is created through the plot. Most films create a lot of their excitement through music and quick edits. This film does that also, but the passion shown by Blackbeard in his emotionally-charged anti-American propaganda, and the anger desperation he's able to draw out of Eliott compound the stress and tension of the film, making the peaks and valleys, twists and turns of this roller-coaster ride even higher and even more turbulent.

The sense of foreboding in the film is incredible. The paradigm of the five senses is established within the first twenty minutes of the film. Therefore we know what tortures will be coming, creating an unbelievable amount of anticipation. Also the cover of the DVD has the tagline "Removing an eye is easy. All it takes is a confident man and a coffee spoon." Once we see that written on the wall of Eliott's room toward the end of the film, we know what's coming; we're just not sure when and how. We wait, wondering how it's gonna happen, how much we're gonna see. When the eye removal finally comes, just after a devastating betrayal by a supposedly helpful liaison-slash-nurse, we are paralyzed with fear (I'll save the gory details for inside the film).

Senseless is one of the most exhausting movie experiences I've ever endured. However, I am fully aware that the film has its flaws. The story brings with it many of the conventions and clichés of the trapped-in-a-room movies such as Saw, and has too many side and background themes for it to really cohere into a polemic. But the film is remarkable just for its insane torture sequences, in addition to its excitement and political fury, and not to mention a mesmerizing denouement that I'll leave for you to see for yourselves.

Audition

If I can be frank about it, Takashi Miike's Audition is one of the ten best movies I have ever seen. It is one of those rare films that manages to leave the viewer with no sense of reality, no sense of place. The viewer is left to try to decipher what one has just seen, and even if one is unable to do so, one knows what they saw was amazing.

 

Audition is about a man's (Aoyama) search for a new wife seven years after his first wife's death. His friend, a movie producer, suggests that they hold a fake audition so that he can meet a good woman. Aoyama immediately falls for Asami Yamazaki, a very shy but beautiful former ballerina. After the audition he calls her and they go out for lunch. He says he'll call her again and have dinner.

Until this point in the story, the film is shot like a straightforward romantic drama, which it pretty much was. Once we see inside Asami's apartment, the the film gets much more expressive and threatening: color and light are more purposeful, angles become harsher, sound effects more startling. Her apartment is very bare, with wallpaper peeling off the walls. She's seated on the floor, eagerly staring at her phone. There's a giant oddly-shaped sack on the floor behind the phone. Once the phone finally rings, she smiles, and something in the bag growls and begins to roll around; a wonderfully-timed jump scare.

After that follows a seemingly random series of dates, vacations and encounters between Aoyama and Asami. Some of them show Asami as a shy and awkward but ultimately sweet and devoted girl. Some show her as the victim of her ballet teacher's torture when she was young and the probable murderer of her former boss. One scene shows Aoyama and Asami in her apartment, where a man missing three fingers, an ear and his tongue crawls out of the aforementioned sack, and Asami vomits into a bowl and feeds it to him. By this time, no one watching, and especially not Aoyama, has the slightest idea who the real Asami is.

Then we jump to one of the most frightening torture scenes ever filmed. Asami has poisoned Aoyama, leaving him paralyzed but able to feel. She has donned a black leather apron, boots and elbow-high gloves; give her a wimp and she'll be your dominatrix. She begins by placing acupuncture needles under his rib cage and behind his eyeballs, all while repeating the incredibly creepy but cheerful chant "kiri kiri kiri kiri kiri," meaning "deeper, deeper." Then she slowly removes his foot with razor-thin piano wire, and with a cute, gleeful and insane smile from ear to ear.

During the torture scene, Aoyama's son walks in, and we jump to Aoyama waking up in bed next to Asami in the hotel where they vacationed earlier in the film. It seems it's all been a dream. But no. After Asami lovingly accepts his marriage proposal, we jump back to the torture scene. Aoyama's son is then able to subdue her and call the police.

This film to me is a struggle with misanthropy, and particularly hatred toward the opposite sex. Aoyama, after losing his wife to illness, is terrified of dating again. He falls for Asami, but has no idea what to expect from her. He hopes that it goes well, and that hope is reflected in the scenes in which Asami is fully normal and falling in love with him. But he fears for the worst, and that is why he imagines the worst case scenarios of her being a torture victim as a child and a serial killer as an adult. His guilt forces him to imagine Asami as his feminist housekeeper, his late wife whom he feels he is betraying, his desperate secretary with whom he had a one-night stand. He fears that women will see men as inferior, as emotionless, as liars, in any negative way at all.

Asami is guilty of this misanthropy as well. She repeats throughout the film her fear that she will find him "heavy," as some sort of burden. If we take as true any of the abuse she suffered at the hands of her ballet instructor, which cost her the one thing that gave her joy as a child, she has an obvious and understandable hatred and fear of men. Not so much a physical fear of men, but a fear of being rejected by men, of being alone. It's this fear that causes her to be so shy and awkward around Aoyama.

But in the end, even after the horrible torture, hope springs eternal. After Asami repeats her fears and lamentations, Aoyama assures her "Someday you'll feel that life is wonderful. That's life, isn't it?" The last image we see is Asami as a child putting on her ballet slipper, are reminded of the happiest time in her life, and then credits roll.

The ability of this film to exist both in the real and surreal planes, the blur the line so well between what's seen and what's imagined by its characters, and the statement it makes about finding hope and beauty in life even after such atrocities, combined with the amazing sound effects, performances and cinematography, are what make this film so singular and so mesmerizing.

Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom

Where does one begin the dubious task of reviewing Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom? I guess a reasonable place to begin is with a brief synopsis for those who do not know the film.

 

Salò in its most basic definition is about a group of fascists occupying an area of Northern Italy just before the second World War. What these fascists like to do to pass the time is to abduct teenagers from the area, bring them to their lavish estate, and subject them to their perversions, which are without a doubt the most disgusting and debauched perversions known to human kind. Many of their perversions have something or other to do with defecation; any further detail I will leave to your imagination.

The easy path in thinking about a film so abhorrent is simply not to. And this is the path chosen by many who are forced to experience this film. Once fine appears on the screen, if they got that far, they immediately reach for a handle of their favorite alcohol, down it, and try to pick up the shards of their broken life as best they can. But I, never one to do anything half-assed, am fully willing to dive head first into Pier Paolo Pasolini's controversial picture.

The fascists try in every way they can to dehumanize their subjects. They disallow them any religious observance, intercourse with each other, any dignity equal even to that of a dog. Does Pasolini do this to show the horrors of fascism? The abuses of the bourgeoisie? The capability for perversion and despicable behaviors that exist within us all? I don't think so.

I see all these things listed as red herrings that serve only to further enough of a story line to keep the viewer going. I think this film exists solely to see just how far the envelope can be pushed, to see what the definition of gratuitous truly is.

I come to this conclusion based on a few things. The fascists show no icons to confirm that they're indeed fascists: no swastikas, so hammer and sickles, no paintings of Mussolini, Hitler or any other dictator. They show little rhetoric indicative of fascism. The audience isn't told to which nation or party the group belongs. The male fascists are only given arbitrary political titles, such as "Duke," "Magistrate" and "President." All this suggests to me the fact that these villains are fascists is immaterial.

The photography is so matter-of-fact. Long shots dominate the film, meant to showcase the large "orgy room" and all the depravity happening within it. The camera is used solely to record what's happening. There are no extravagant camera movements, no interesting edits; there's only one memorably harsh angle, at the beginning of the film that emphasizes that the teens are subservient to their captors. For the vast majority of the film, the camera is placed in the center of the room to film the action.

The audience is given so little time to get to know the victims. We're told most of their names, but there are far too many of them to keep straight, or to be able to really get to know any of them. Any back-story given, like the girl whose mother died trying to save her, is quickly forgotten when she is swiftly punished for her outburst, and after that scene becomes again another face in the crowd. The victims are dehumanized so much that we can't even sympathize with their plight, their being abused by fascism.

All these things considered, along with the pure simplicity and extremity of the tortures, I can't really buy into the fact that they're supposed to put forth any kind of statement about fascism, the bourgeoisie or human nature. I think Pasolini just wanted to see how disturbed and outraged an audience could get. The question that then comes up, is whether that's remarkable.

The simple definition of gratuitous is "unnecessary or unjustified." If every disgusting scene does indeed disgust, then those scenes accomplish their goal. They serve their purpose. The film may ultimately be a long series of revolting acts, but if the audience is still revolted by the end of the film, by the umpteenth nasty thing, which they are, then the film is still drawing the intended reaction from the audience. Pasolini gives us just enough intrigue to drag us along, to make us want to see what atrocity is on deck for these poor souls, and does not disappoint in delivering the atrocities, and I'd venture to say there is something remarkable in that.

Yes, it's true that any person could theoretically make this movie. But who has the balls to push it this far? It turns out only Pasolini and very few others (Noe and Deodato, to name two). And so for that I give a cheer to Pasolini, to anyone who can sit through his film, and to any filmmaker daring enough to try and top it.