Friday, June 20, 2008

301, 302 (aka 301/302, 1995)



301, 302 begins as a Columbo-esque detective knocks on a lovely woman's door. Why is he there? Because the woman in Apartment 301 was, presumably, the last person to see her neighbor alive. He asks several questions about who her neighbor, in Apartment 302, is and how she, "301", came to know "302". Naturally, as a new resident of the building, she doesn't really know anyone in the building at all. Naturally.

The woman in Apartment 302 is sort of a recluse, in a sense. She goes about her business, but seems, for all intensive purposes, to prefer the confines of her home. "302" is a lithe, almost gaunt, creature in her mid-30's who writes for a living. "301" (Eun-jin Bang) has only just moved into the space across the hall from "302" and immediately began renovating the smallish apartment to suit her immense love of cooking. Much to the chagrin of "302", who get to put up with the noise of reconstruction. Soon after, "301" invites herself into her new neighbor's apartment to become friend's and to share with her some fine cooking. "301" becomes tremendously adventurous with her cooking when she realizes that "302" (Sin-Hye Hwang) refuses even the simplest of dishes, and flat out refuses to eat dishes containing meat. "301" figures she can help her neighbor out with that. She disguises meals in order to trick "302" into eating some pretty exotic stuff, but only after some brief unpleasantness. Both woman soon become friendly with one another and quickly feel compelled to share stories of brutal childhoods and passionless marriages.

"301" also speculates (while talking with the detective as they both browse around "302"'s apartment) that "302" is sexually repressed because she won't enjoy the great food she cooks and brings her. This is mainly because "301" admittedly places her passion for the culinary arts and her carnal passions in the same category; which she does consciously and is partly the reason she is where she is. "302" dismisses that, but goes on to tell her story of a traumatic childhood that may shed light on the problem "301" desperately wants to remedy using food.

301/302 isn't exactly a thriller, as billed. Made in 1994 or '95 or'96 (depending on where you look), it probably shocked it's share of viewers. There are a few pretty graphic sex scenes (some tasteful; some not) and some brilliantly shot cooking scenes. The camera gets right in the pots and pans, blenders and colanders. It also gets mighty close to the people's mouths, at a few points, to graphically illustrate "301"'s succulent eats being enjoyed. A major theme I came away with was that a woman (like "301", for instance) shouldn't be taken for granted. Part of "301"'s story, as told to "302" through several well done flashback sequences, is how the life and passions of her marriage were wasted on an ungrateful, selfish husband. But that's not all of her story. The middle third is. almost exclusively. a brilliant and moving account of "301"'s trials and tribulations that surround her cooking; along how it mirrors and, at times, commands her life.

Along with all of this, there's humor (albeit black) sprinkled in to set up the movie's touted ending; which some may see coming fairly early. That shouldn't take away from a well written film. I suspect 301, 302 is a hidden gem that many have either overlooked or have never came across. I highly recommend it, in any case.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Drag Me to Hell (2009)

A cash out refi would have solved a lot of problems here.


The first impression Drag Me to Hell made on me was that this could be the the most creative horror film in quite some time, let alone stateside horror — the second was that there is some sinister groundwork behind the Raimi Bros' (Sam Raimi and Ivan Raimi) screenplay. I'm not talking about the demonic character called Lamia, or the crazy seance, or even the curse itself, I'm talking about the Christine character and her specific personal tribulations. Sure, in all likelihood the story is just a wild throwback to late 70s/early 80s cult horror like Phantasm, Psychomania, and House — or even earlier thrillers such as The Horror of Party Beach; but strip away the sizzling effects and colorful dialogue, and buried somewhere inside is some ominous kernel that set this script in motion.

The basis of Drag Me to Hell is as confounding as any that have ever propelled a film; a public shaming. To wit: an Eastern European gypsy (is there any other) is reduced to begging upstart mortgage officer Christine Brown (Alison Lohman) for a third, or was it a fourth, extension on her home loan — but with the pressures of the market and Christine currently angling for the newly vacant managerial desk, she regrettably denies the extension. Now enraged from having to humiliate herself, Sylvia The Georgian Gypsy Ganush becomes unhinged, launching into not so veiled threats which lead to Ganush ambushing Christine in the bank's parking garage — culminate in Grandmother Ganush placing a curse on Christine.

The mortgage device is as ham-handed as it is relevant, but more importantly it is just innocuous and pervasive enough to pass as passing motivation without a second thought. The remainder touches on every canon in B-horror film-dom, giving us everything from possessed handkerchief and a possessed dessert to foul-mouthed goat and the very act of being physically pulled directly into hell somehow all comes off as worthy.

As for the underlying nature of Drag Me, I' m sure that the Christine Brown arc is rooted in reality's soils — if only so much as to be based on the generic small town girl in the big city character, with a less-than desirable experiences abound. But all human tragedy and supposition aside, Raimi's film is most definitely a breath of fresh air for American comedy-horror, and for any fan who craves an accessible and excitable theater experience.