February 4, 2005
I'm Your BOOGEYMAN, Turn Me Off
Barry Watson is haunted by the BOOGEYMAN. It's no exaggeration to say that's the entire gist of Stephen Kay's film, as it is a virtually plot-free, threadbare horror porn exercise such as THE GRUDGE. The big difference between this film and that one, however, is that Takashi Shimizu's film at least offered up a series of stylish set pieces, however devoid of connective narrative tissue; Kay and the film's three credited writers cannot even muster that up. Instead, there's a lot of would-be tension-building wheel-spinning à la WHITE NOISE, with Watson moping around with an eyes- and mouth-agape look, trying to shake the ever-present thought and threat of the shadowy childhood menace that claimed his father some years ago. Given that the Watson character's fear stems largely from closets, there's a subversive subtext ripe for the mining, but Kay isn't nearly so clever nor ambitious. Instead, he simply sets out to go for the scare, which is far easier said than done, as his attempts at building atmosphere consist of transparent jump scares, stinger chords, quick cuts, and close-ups of everyday objects going about their functions in extreme slow motion (e.g., keys turning in locks; door hinges opening, causing paint to crack and peel). None of these not exactly chilling tactics can effective disguise that there is nothing going on during these.86 minutes except a studio gunning for quick kill at the opening weekend box office.
Thrillers or Comedies?
While this January certainly hasn't been lacking the cinematic suck, it hasn't had that classically distastrous, so-amazingly-awful-as-to-be-comic-gold type of suck--that is, until the final weekend of the month, with the double-whammy releases of the twin terribles known as HIDE AND SEEK and ALONE IN THE DARK.
In the case of HIDE AND SEEK, the raucous result is a bit of a letdown as there are some promising elements involved. Although his taste in projects is hardly infallible, Robert DeNiro's presence is always at the very least an initial source of some hope for quality; on hand for support are able players Famke Janssen, Elisabeth Shue and Amy Irving; and--in the one move that seemed especially inspired--for the first time, someone was harnessing child star Dakota Fanning's innate creepiness for intentionally unsettling dramatic effect.
However, that casting decision is the sole sign of cleverness on display in the film. Right before the lights dimmed at the press screening, I turned to a fellow writer and rather jokingly called the big plot twist, naming what I believed to be the stupidest non-surprise I could think of--and, sure enough, come climax time, I was both amused and horrified that I was correct. But then I suppose I shouldn't have been shocked as the movie is directed by John Polson, he who also perpetrated the terrible teen FATAL ATTRACTION rip SWIMFAN. Even before the ludicrous and heavily telegraphed conclusion, though, Polson and writer Ari Schlossberg offer plenty of laughable fodder once psychologist David Callaway (DeNiro) and daughter Emily (Fanning) move upstate from NYC to rebuild their lives after the tragic, traumatic, pre-credits loss of beloved wife and mother Alison (Irving). But the Callaways' situation goes from bad to even worse when Emily conjures up an imaginary friend named Charlie who causes David--and the film--some very real trouble. The would-be shocks are repetitive and ridiculous (how many times can a dirty bathtub be menacing?), not to mention how the Callaways' new town might as well be named Red Herring, for every resident, from their neighbors (Melissa Leo and Robert John Burke) to the town sheriff (Dylan Baker) are called on to act over-the-top creepy and/or suspicious depending on Polson and Schlossberg's random whim. The one exception is that of David's divorcée friend Elizabeth Young (Shue), who is called on to act slutty for every second of screen time; case in point: she wears fuck-me boots and a shamelessly cleavage-baring, low-cut dress... to visit Emily?
The film grows more comic as its supposed to be scary, as Polson lets any modicum of tension go slack by drawing out both the build-up to the not-so-stunning revelation and the home stretch. Pacing and (whatever passes for) tension would've been dramatically improved had there not been needless, often laughable contrivances that pad out the run time; one especially lengthy and ineffective stretch could have been excised had one character simply gone out the wide open door that is mere steps away instead of inexplicably running back up the stairs. And in a naked attempt to generate conversation once the movie's over, the film closes on an ambiguous shot whose meaning I'm not so sure the filmmakers themselves thought through--that is, beyond its potential to elicit one last reaction from the audience. But I kind of doubt loud groans were what they had in mind.
Similarly, I doubt the minds--using that term very loosely--behind ALONE IN THE DARK had hysterical laughter in mind with this video game-based sci-fi/horror actioner. But then I can imagine them having a good laugh at their financiers' expense, for I can't imagine such an Ed Wood-level display of ineptitude existing as anything other than a complete joke. The laughs come hard and fast right from the start, with a scrolling text introduction that is not only read aloud for less literate moviegoers by a voiceover in that melodramatic movie trailer mold, but literally goes on for minutes. What exactly is said in those paragraphs and pages I'm not entirely sure; some purple prose nonsense about an ancient civilization called the Abkani and mysterious alien cross-breeding experiments involving orphaned children.
After the eyestrain of having to read a vertitable essay on the screen, it is almost a relief to see actual actors appear. Any such thought quickly fades, though, as writer-director Uwe Boll keeps on finding new ways of hitting rather astonishing cinematic lows. Even more voiceover soon follows, listlessly delivered by our nominal hero Edward Carnby (Christian Slater), which is quickly cut short when Boll launches into the film's first big action sequence, beginning as a car chase and then ending as one big tussle between Carnby and a seemingly superhuman attacker. It's not a terrible idea in theory, but it certainly is in practice, as Boll's hacksaw cutting, penchant for cliché indulgence (hello, fruit carts) and frugal approach to FX; the image compositing is noticeably sloppy.
It just gets worse from there on serious cinematic terms, and even better for great bad movie connoisseurs. Beyond the shoddy effects (the aliens almost always appear blurred and somewhat transparent, and not purposely, almost as if the filmmakers figured having vague outlines onscreen were enough) the film looks downright cheap. The soft, grainy look doesn't seem to be an artistic choice so much as the result of shooting on bargain bin film stock; the so-called precious artifacts look like the plaster casts spray-painted in gold that they more than likely are. Speaking of cheap, Tara Reid--sporting specs and a "sensible" up-'do--co-stars as a brilliant museum curator, and while blasting that improbable bit of casting appears all too easy, her pronunciation of Newfoundland as literally "New Found Land" erases all benefit of the doubt, and it's hard to not forget her real-life image when Boll has her character engage in a gratuitous, completely context-free sex scene--scored to a middle-of-the-road rock ballad that could have very well been a straight-faced version of TEAM AMERICA's "Only a Woman"--with Slater. At least it can be said that she and an overacting Stephen Dorff, as the head of a secret paranormal-fighting government agency to which Carnby once belonged, are obviously trying (to do what, exactly, is up to debate, however), which is more than can be said for the sleepwalking Slater, who for the whole run time understandably appears to be pondering just how his once-promising career came to this.
Similarly, viewers will be asking themselves how every last thing about the movie came to be. Why does every dead body, regardless of where and/or how they were wounded, lie in a dried puddle of blood that appears to originate from the center of the back? Why do those infected/possessed by the aliens have the ashy faces of undead zombies? How can a flimsy garage door seal a gateway between dimensions--and keep killer creatures from breaking through? How could anyone think that having a character actually say "I just felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up" would be anything but laughable? That the filmmakers never stopped to think about such obvious issues as these--and there are plenty more--is what is truly scary about ALONE IN THE DARK.
Beware the Sitcom Star Hiatus Project
If there's anything truly scary about this time of year, it's the typical appearance of the ghastly beast known as the Sitcom Star Feature Hiatus Project. Last year gave us the atrocious Ray Romano vehicle WELCOME TO MOOSEPORT, and in that not-so-illustrious tradition we have THE WEDDING DATE, the big screen starring bid for WILL & GRACE Emmy winner Debra Messing. As likable as Messing is as sullen single Kat, there's only so much she can do with this charmless attempt to evoke the bawdy Brit wit of FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL and, most of all, the "hire a hooker, fall in love" conceit of PRETTY WOMAN. This time out it's HANDSOME MAN, as Kat's hiring of male escort Nick (a characteristically blah Dermot Mulroney, somehow snagging yet another high-profile leading man gig) to accompany her to her half-sister's (Amy Adams) England-set nuptials turns out to be the first big step to finding true love. There's one huge miscalculation at the core of the film, and I'm not referring to the nonexistent chemistry between Messing and Mulroney, nor the forced and unfunny gags. In PRETTY WOMAN, one could see how Julia Roberts would fall for Richard Gere, as his character treated her with a respect to which she was not accustomed, not to mention he introduced her to an entirely new world for her. Here, one never gets a sense that this is anything but a routine assignment for this top-dollar, high-class escort, never mind that Nick says he's never done a wedding job before. So one is left utterly baffled as to why Kat would be the one to make Nick truly fall and reconsider his occupation--that is, aside from the facts that she's played by the star of a top-rated television show and director Clare Kilner and scripter Dana Fox require him to do so.
Access Bollywood
It's interesting to witness Ashutosh Gowariker and Farhan Akhtar, the two filmmakers who breathed fresh life and creative polish into Bollywood with their respective 2001 releases LAGAAN and DIL CHAHTA HAI, both follow up such revolutionary, globally successful efforts in 2004 with earnest odes to their homeland of India. But while Akhtar stumbled into jingoistic, Hollywood-level flag-waving with his ambitious war film LAKSHYA, Gowariker's SWADES: WE, THE PEOPLE (UTV) gets his nationalistic message across with powerful understatement.
Subtlety nor modulation are not qualities one generally associates with Bollywood superstar Shahrukh Khan, but even more than in his other film of the season (the epic love story VEER-ZAARA), here he reigns in his usual (though often effective) histrionics to impressive effect as Mohan, a scientist working for NASA. Despite a skyrocketing career and prosperous life in the States, Mohan feels something is missing: namely, his childhood caretaker Kaveriamma (Kishori Balal). So he takes leave from an important satellite project to travel back to India to bring her over to America. But, of course, Mohan finds more than he bargains for in the poor village of Charanpur--and not just old friend Gita (Gayatri Joshi), who nobly works as a schoolteacher to try to bring about advancement in this remote, electricity-starved location.
The paces of Gowariker's plot are as predictable and simple as they appear, so it is a testament to his and his collaborators' talents that the film remains consistently engaging for its three hours. After successfully pairing then-newcomer Gracy Singh with established name Aamir Khan in LAGAAN, Gowariker yields similarly winning results with the combination of Shahrukh Khan and not-unknown-for-long Joshi; their easy-going rapport keeps one interested in their developing relationship while their strong individual turns do justice to the sharply written characterizations. As in LAGAAN, music duties fall to maestro A.R. Rahman, and freed from the period restrictions of his previous teaming with Gowariker, he offers a beguiling, infectiously eclectic selection of songs. Rahman's wide-ranging score is just about the epitome of "world music," and he tackles all the styles with flair, whether it be the thumping dance pop of Mohan's road trip toe-tapper "Yun Hi Chala Chal" ("Keep Roaming") to my personal favorite, Gita's entrancing ballad "Saanwariya" ("My Love"), which improbably but seamlessly fuses traditional Indian percussion and instrumentation with UK garage/two-step beats.
No song quite packs the punch, however, as the climactic "Yeh Jo Des Hai Tera" ("This Country of Yours"), which not only exempliflies Rahman and Javed Akhtar's mastery in film music but Gowariker's skill as a director. Up until this point, the film is certainly enjoyable and involving enough as a story and general entertainment. But this song sequence--through its memorable visuals, bittersweet melody, and heartfelt words achingly sung by Rahman himself--brings all of Gowariker's sentiments, the flavor of Charanpur and its residents, and Mohan's spiritual journey and evolution to a culmination of unexpected and downright startling poignance. All of the little touches, including side character silliness, slow patches, or speechifying, suddenly assemble into a picture that is far more vivid than the sum of its parts. As such, the slow-burning SWADES requires a bit of patience from its viewers, but such an investment is minimal when the payoff is richly rewarding.
Special thanks to Naz 8 Cinemas and UTV.
Next time...
...more reviews, including HITCH and BRIDE & PREJUDICE. As always, check out my home site, Mr. Brown's Movie Site, for additional reviews.
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