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.

Kadokawa Mystery & Horror Tales Volume 2 (2005)

Kadokawa Mystery & Horror Tales Volume 2 (2003) features three more short films from Global Fright Cinema and Kadokawa Pictures.

I have to admit, this installment in the Kadokawa series is somewhat better, and dare I say more intriguing than the previous volume. Could it be due to a larger budget? Or a superior effort in the writing department? I'd say the latter, for the most part. Stronger premises, unique twists, along with tried and true elements that are used to bring the stories as a whole together. Director Sato Takayuki makes his debut in the series (Last Day as a Teenager & Regeneration). Kenji Nakanishi makes a valiant return form Volume 1 (Desire To Kill) to direct Wooden Clogs With The Red Straps, which is my favorite of these three. The look remains low-budget indeed, but the substance takes a step up. A tad more star-power and tighter camerawork make the films more approachable also. This is truly a case of "it won't blow you away, but it's worth a look". If not for a pleasant surprise in the storytelling department, then give it a shot to see what some up-and-coming directors have to offer.

The Wooden Clogs With The Red Straps / d. Kenji Nakanishi / 37 min

This short film, simply called Wooden Clogs on the DVD, features Chiaki Kuriyama (Kill Bill's Gogo Yubari, as if I had to clarify) as Yoshie, a young, beautiful, yet reclusive daughter of a rural family that's visited by a research graduate from Tokyo (played by Naoto Ogata). While he's only there for post-graduate studies, he stumbles quite accidentally into Yoshie and forms a bond of sorts. It takes some time for the two to start a dialogue and for Yoshie to feel comfortable around the "big city house guest", as her drunken, boorish father calls him. Her physical infliction plays a large role in her self-confidence also. When the family notices that their guest has observed Yoshie stealing away to a grand Shinto temple on the property, they advise, and ultimately warn him that he is not to follow her into the temple. But one night, he can't shake his curiosity and does follow her down the wide dirt path, through a grand, wooden torii gate and ultimately up the stairs, past the geta sandals with the the red cloth straps into the dark hall of the temple where he learns a deeper, sadder family secret.

Regeneration / d. Sato Takayuki / 36 min

Regeneration is a story about a college student named Yui (played by Tsugumi; Long Dream) who introduces herself to a former college professor (Tohru Kazama) she sees sitting with head in hands in a hospital waiting area. The reason he's there, he explains, is to get help for his alcoholism and mental depression. They begin to see each other regularly and she soon moves into his apartment. The irony for him is that he realizes rather quickly that she's not the fun, easy-going woman she appeared to be, she turns out to be a self-abusing alcoholic and admitted sexual veteran; for which he's alternately repulsed and tantalized. They seem to be made for each other until "professor" and Yui (as she insists on calling him, much to his chagrin) begin to talk marriage. Yui admittedly feels the same, but she awkwardly delays because of an unbelievable series of tales she knows she has to tell him. The film opens with the professor lying on a sofa, clutching a bottle of whisky in a drunken stupor. As the scene widens, Yui sits quietly in a chair opposite him...with no head! Regeneration brings the story back to the beginning to show how they got there, and then progresses past that room for a shocking conclusion.

Last Day as a Teenager / d. Sato Takayuki / 28 min

The final "episode" is called Last Day as a Teenager. And quite literally, it tells a tale of a college student named Tomoya, who is trying to escape a curse put on him by a pint-sized Angel of Death; three years prior, that will culminate the day he turns 20 years old. He's in such a position due to making a deal with the child-wraith to save the life of his childhood friend, now quasi-girlfriend, Koko (Aki Maeda; Battle Royale 1 & Battle Royale 2) who was pulled from the water by Tomoya to save her from drowning. As he performs CPR, he begs into the air for some sort of divine help. Koko begins to breathe again when Tomoya cuts a deal with the Angel of Death where he will give his life to the wraith in exchange for saving Koko. But as you might expect, he shouldn't trust the wraith to be honest about the deal.

Kadokawa: Mystery & Horror Tales: Volume 1 (2005)

A collection of 3 short Japanese Horror films. Volume 1 DVD of a Region 1, 3-part series from Global Fright Cinema and Kadokawa Pictures.

Meinichi / d. Tomoyuki Akashi / 40 min.

A good-looking family of four approaches their new house and is met by a family friend (or maybe the real estate agent?). Everyone seems happy to be moving into the new house, which will be a welcome breathe of fresh air from the hectic Tokyo home they left. But the main reason seems to be for the benefit of one of the family's two daughter health. That daughter, Minako, had a complete breakdown after her boyfriend is killed, and seems to wonder through life in some sort of comatose, hazy daze. With a twisted grin. Her sister, Yukio (Asami Mizukawa; Dark Water, Shibuya Kaidan), begs her sister to go on with her life but the morose Minako is visited by the ghost of a young girl who used to live in that house. What stands out immediately, from the first images that appear, is the camerawork. Most of the shots are in frame, but the ones that aren't are badly out. The action and the actors are shot far too close also. That's not saying the video is poor, on the contrary, the definition is crystal clear; so much so that I felt as if I could reach right into the movie to grab a banister or push a door open. Those positive attributes aren't nearly enough to save this amateur escapade. I'll try not to mention that almost nothing is explained in this "episode" and only the most superficial motives are apparent. Combine that with lack-luster, cheesy special effects, and you have an almost entirely forgettable experience.

Cruel Kidnapping / d. Tomoyuki Akashi / 32 min.

Laughably bad in every way. A dim-witted, bumbling, former big-shot money-man gets himself embroiled in a kidnapping plot that involves not only his own child, but the child of a well-to-do acquaintance. In order to get his baby back safely, he must come up with 30 million Yen (just over $250,000 USD & $300,000 Canadian -- [edit] at the time I wrote this, that is). But his "brilliant", spur-of-the-moment strategy to find the funds puts him into a very bad position. The story is easy enough to follow, although it's barely worth doing so. A few comical scenes and takes from the Toshio character.

Desire to Kill / d. Kenji Nakanishi / 33 min

The best of the three in this volume. It follows a middle-aged woman, Rei, who lives in a cramped apartment building. Her immediate next-door neighbor is constantly lording over the other tenants and poking her nose into their lives; seemingly waiting for the other tenants to do something "wrong" or hounding them inexplicably. One day, Rei refuses to throw out a bag of trash because her old, bitter neighbor is seen rifling through people trash. She wants to time the service pick-up just right so she can avoid the old lady's interest. Alone at home, (her husband is out of town on business), she grabs an umbrella and rushes into the stormy night to pitch her garbage and gets pushed back into the apartment by a dark stranger, no sooner had she opened the door. With just her sleeping son with her, she has to make it through a tense night with a young man who has killed once already that night. A fairly good "episode", all told, but suffers from the same level of tedium as the previous two "episodes". It's only redeeming element is the hint of a genuine story and a mild Twilight Zone-ish ending.

The Double Life of Veronique (La double vie de Véronique, 1991)

The Double Life of Véronique (with a mesmerizing performance from Irene Jacob), is quite possibly the story of separated-at-birth identical twins. At least that's premise I'm working under. Véronique is a music teacher in France, and her doppelganger Weronika, a budding vocal soloist in Krakow, Poland. Neither knowing the other exists. When Weronika suddenly dies, Véronique is greatly moved by a sudden, ethereal sadness. Determined to put these emotions on the back burner, Véronique moves on with her life but suffers an epiphany which draws her to an author/puppeteer, and ultimately towards the film's realization.

Kieslowski's documentarian roots no doubt play an huge part in the way The Double Life of Véronique holds onto it's linear progression, while the film tends to want to obfuscate and metamorphosize. Similarities to other existentialist directors/films have been thrown around as in works from Luis Buñuel (That Obscure Object of Desire) and David Lynch (Lost Highway); I tend to believe Kieslowski's work is more in line with Buñuel than with Lynch for the simple fact that the two directors, specifically with the two aforementioned films, are more obvious in with their intentions. That is to say, whatever obfuscation that arises is wholly on the viewer; like a musical "phantom beat" or a veritable optical illusion. Veronique's doppelganger can also signal Kieslowski's intention to portray Véronique's struggle to remain an individual as she grows. Weronika is a bit childish in comparison to Véronique. The doppelganger (a phenomenon faithfully constructed in film's of Kiyoshi Kurosawa) generally causes confusion and usually foretell a character's demise or downfall. Is there something more sinister and malicious going on with Kieslowski's story? A major cinematic tool Kieslowski utilizes in "The Double Life" are mirror images of and reflection on Véronique; Weronika isn't treated equally in that respect and since doppelgangers are thought to have none we might draw conclusion on Kieslowski's focus (i.e. allowing us to come to a conclusion that the two women are one in the same). What's creates a more mysterious circumstance is, and is in line with doppelganger folklore, Weronika does indeed die soon after seeing hers. So as one can see, interpreting The Double Life of Véronique can go way beyond it's literal story. But all of this is speculation of course and isn't vital to enjoy a simply fantastic story.

To wrap this up, a hearty nod goes to The Criterion Collection and their treatment of the Kieslowski & Krzysztof Piesiewicz written, Slawomir Idziak photographed film. With newly translated dialogue, a brilliant edition in every respect. An interesting enough note from IMdB had b-movie staple Andie MacDowell on the short-list for the part of Véronique/Weronika... Insert congratulations on Kieslowski's good fortune for Irene Jacob here.

Repulsion (1965)

Not as terrifying as expected (read: as advertised) all told. Save for Catherine Deneuve's more-than-effective take, as one Carole Ledoux, on the paralyzing of the mind. Polanski's tone, cast upon Deneuve, of religion vs. lost innocence and abandonment of redemption is heavy-lifting at times. In the face of her sister/roommate's adulterous comings-and-goings, Carole's tormented, severe prude-ism becomes and is in utter control of her life; that is to say, her every action manifests itself in terms of the view she holds of her sister's life-choices. When her sister chooses to leave on holiday with an older married man, Carole becomes unhinged mentally.

One could look upon Polanski's Repulsion as an indictment on the male species, or as the catch-22 of society, in it's entirety, has become. Carole's "boyfriend" is failing to reach her, her job falls apart, and it's apparent she's long grown weary of random advances from men she meets in the course of her daily life. What may come off a snobbish or elitism to these people is sadly an ever-tightening, already claustrophobic, mind which is steadily grinding into madness. Relationships be damned? Who knows. Carole seemed to never of had a chance....

A mix of randomness and plenty of symbolism fills out Repulsion's world very nicely.

Ils / Revolver

Watched Guy Ritchie's Revolver. Not too much to say on this one, really. The entire experience seemed a tad self-involved. I guess that was the point? Jason Statham is his same 'ol character acting self as Jake Green; Ray Liotta is comically sinister as Dorothy Macha, but ultimately his predictable self; Vincent Pastore is good, although his screen time-to-dialogue ratio is heinously out of proportion; André Benjamin (André 3000) is perfectly cast as the enigma-mouthed Avi — last but not least, Guy Ritchie's chose an impeccable soundtrack, one arranged and immaculately utilized. Case in point, Emmanuel Santarromana's "Opera" lends itself in an oddly collected scene where character Lord John (Tom Wu), flanked by a sizzling succubus and bathed in the rich, demonic red glow, sends his regards to Liotta's Macha. I efforted a clip, but none are readily available besides his MySpace page. All in all, Revolver has Lock, Stock and Snatch -like aspirations, but it's parts tend to outshine the film as a whole. Worth a look though.


Oh how I waited to see Ils. Check. Writer/director tandem David Moreau and Xavier Palud generate a truly living film — one which celebrates both the innocence and repugnance in our world. Pretty much a siege film, "Them" drops in on a transplanted schoolteacher named Clementine (Olivia Bonamy) and her writer husband Lucas (Michael Cohen) in the beginnings of a somewhat Arcadian life on a simple and sequestered estate outside of Bucharest. It's not France, but it will do. As the (true?) story goes, Clem and Lucas' bliss is broken in the span of one night — first by the irksome ringing of their telephone, then compounded by the spraying of car headlights. This is simply the beginning of a horrific night for our proto-couple.

Days of Heaven & Dostoevsky or: What I happen to be consuming at the time.

So I finally watched Terrence Malick's Days of Heaven and enjoyed it tremendously. The film is most certainly is an experience. The sprawling Texas, 'erra, Canadian, expanse lends itself to an expressed womb, of sorts, vitalizing and comforting our senses yet concealing the imminent. Why this guy doesn't make more films is a question to be asked/answered. Well worth the rental and probably a future purchase. No, I won't be rushing out to see The New World... sorry. Without spoiling anything, the film's parting line (in part): "I was hopin' things would work out for her. She was a good friend of mine" is as powerful a piece of summation as is in all of filmdom.

On the literary front, I finally dove into Dostoevsky's The Double: A Petersburg Poem (part of a split release with his own The Gambler) after some months and it's turning out to an absorbing little thriller where a diminutive, paper-pushing bureaucrat is traumatized during a office soiree held at a superior's home. The nature of this trauma is that he...

...come now, you didn't believe I'd launch into one of the story's most impressive scenes did you? I'm two-thirds into this little gem, this my third Dostoevsky; Crime & Punishment and Demons being the others. All translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. I make mention of the decoders (if you will) simply to champion the profoundly preferable translations by this husband and wife team.  I compared several passages in The Brothers Karamazov, Anna Karenina (which I have read in full), The Master and Margarita, the all three of the aforementioned Dostoevsky novels, as well as Gogol's Dead Souls only to be blown away by the lucidity and fluidity of the Pevear/Volokhonsky editions. If these translations haven't replaced the Constance Garnett translations as the editions of reference, particularly in schools, someone has dropped the proverbial ball. Trust me.

My Kid Could Paint That (2007)

Marla Olmstead "at work".

Jumping straight into my My Kid Could Paint That analysis: While director Amir Bar-Lev sat face to face with little "prodigy" Marla Olmstead's parents, Laura and Mike, to unequivocally requested to film her creating one of her masterpieces, the look on Mark's face was a fatigued one — Laura face was already handing Bar-Lev excuses even before her mouth opened. What followed was all the evidence needed to bring the whole "prodigy" debate into perspective. After much debate (more off camera, to be sure) and permission in hand, cameras were concealed which showed little Marla displaying absolutely none of the endurance, deliberation, or reflection necessary to paint these canvases — some which commanded many thousands of dollars from devotees online as well as at several gallery events.

There is zero doubt in my mind. More believable is that Mike Olmstead, an accomplished hyper-realist painter in his own right, either drew inspiration from Marla's ham-handed floundering for his own creations. Or, went as far as to assist or "finished" what Marla has begun and quickly became bored with, as evidenced by the video of her almost immediately abandoning most canvases she began. I could also entertain the idea that Mark's own painting style (in terms of sophistication and restraint) is such that he might consider "Marla's" abstract expressionism as a joke, and these finished paintings are simply a giant middle finger to the art community which fails to embrace his own. This latter theory would no doubt exist on the fringes of this film's debate. I any case, again, I see little or no evidence that would lead me to believe Marla has anything at all to do with these paintings. Oh, and the comparisons to Jackson Pollock (who's work I honestly find boring) and Picasso are so far removed from reason to be laughable. But again that's me talking.


The documentary itself is very well put together and furnishes a couple of revelation points where sentiment is pulled to and fro, a la Errol Morris' The Thin Blue Line, containing similar ebbs and flows that lend to intrigue. And at a swift 80-some minutes, it's a perfect afternoon watch while enjoying a nice lunch. Just no toast points this time please.