Excursions is excruciating. Ostensibly about two couples congregating at a cabin in the woods to reach some sort of enlightened state of being by way of meditation and other unexplained hokum, the trip is certainly long (even at only 80 minutes) and strange, it’s just missing a point. A dialogue-free, uneventful opening ten minutes sets the stage for the pretension of a grating, eye-glazing existential crisis of a film. Whether we’re supposed to pity these poor folks, take them seriously, or laugh at them is completely immaterial because we’re never made to care at all.
For the last several years before the Oscar telecast, the short films that have been nominated for an Academy Award are given a rare theatrical release. Presented as separate programs for each short category – Animation, Live Action and Documentary – moviegoers have the opportunity to see the shorts that, in the past, they would seldom ever get to see. For some, it’ll give them a leg up in their office Oscar pools; although that has never worked for this viewer, go figure. Outside of knowing that these films are nominated, it can be exciting for a filmgoer because you never know what’s in store, and this year’s selections were no different.
After the death of her mother, writer Cassie Cranston returns to the small town she grew up in (and was subsequently driven out of) to collect her inheritance money. The professional sex expert, who is harboring a major secret, hopes to get in and out of, ahem, Beaver’s Ridge quickly but finds herself being pulled back in by some of of her childhood acquaintances.
Inspired, in large part, by her own experiences navigating the modeling profession in Los Angeles, writer/director Marjorie Conrad mines the painful yet somewhat amusing (and at times, slightly bizarre) memories of that stretch of time, familiarities - both flattering and unbecoming - stripped bare and presented for the world to see. Conrad appears to be introducing herself to the world of film through a debut biopic feature with the central performer being a version of herself reenacting the motivating sequence of events that inevitably led to the production of this film.
In the latest edition of “Why does this movie need to exist?” we’ll be talking about the American remake of Pascal Laugier’s French horror shocker Martyrs from 2008. Laugier’s film seamlessly blended nearly every horror subgenre into one nightmarish tale of Hell on Earth and proved to be one of the few “torture porn” movies I would recommend checking out, despite the brutality.
Once or maybe twice a year, if we’re lucky, we get treated to an inventive indie sci-fi flick that brings a slick presentation and mind-bending story without relying on bank-breaking budgets.
In the past we’ve had films like Primer, Coherence and even the more recent Predestination that take the idea of time travel and parallel dimensions and spin it into something more than just your typical science fiction fare. While Jacob Gentry’s latest, Synchronicity, may not be as narratively astute as those films, it’s definitely a worthy entry into this list and an easy recommendation for those looking for a satisfying mind-bender.
Bayghazi…okay, that reference is out of the way. Truth is that popular, slightly insulting moniker/hashtag isn’t a wholly proper summation of Michael Bay’s take on the 2012 attack of an American diplomatic compound in Benghazi. Based on the book by Mitchell Zuckoff, 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi no doubt contains several Bayisms, but the film is certainly more authentic (and entertaining) than the director’s last stab at historical dramatization (Pearl Harbor).
There’s a popular conspiracy theory that’s been floating around hypothesizing that it was none other than filmmaking legend Stanley Kubrick who orchestrated a fake moon landing using the same techniques he utilized when shooting his iconic 2001: A Space Odyssey. While the theory in and of itself is laughable, it’s still fun to think about our government walking up to Kubrick and being like, “Hey can you do us a favor?”
A slumbering sojourn in the confines of intricate dreams and recollected memories, whether they be misappropriated and/or accurately depicted, the truth of which is far from discernible as the puzzle pieces of the film’s domestic investigation remain mostly unidentifiable.
If you’re a fan of Quentin Tarantino’s bloody martial arts revenge film Kill Bill, then you absolutely owe it to yourself to seek out director Toshiya Fujita’s 1973 classic Lady Snowblood now available on Blu-ray from the fine folks at the Criterion Collection.
Who else but Quentin Tarantino could turn a three-hour-plus movie that takes place primarily in one location and consists largely of long conversations into an event film? But aside from any hullaballoo about film stock, overtures, and intermissions, The Hateful Eight is simply an impeccably written, shot, and performed Western/thriller/mystery that’s always engaging as a gaggle of colorful characters work their way through a labyrinthine plot that hinges on their individual interests.
David O. Russell is adept at chronicling dysfunction and letting the interpersonal chaos form his characters and inform their motivations. That skill is a good match for quasi-biopic Joy, though the depths of social impairment and conflict here go about as deep as puddle requiring the use of a Miracle Mop, the invention central to this story of its creator.
The Force Awakens was going to be a big deal no matter what. Whether anticipated with childlike glee or with trepidation after the middling-to-disappointing prequel trilogy, responses to the film would be strong. Facing these extraordinary expectations, J.J. Abrams and team have delivered an incredible adventure that taps into the magic of the original Star Wars trilogy without blatantly pandering, and also sets the stage for appealing new characters to pick up the mantle. Star Wars: The Force Awakens is a technical and world-expanding triumph.
Giving the impression of operating from a place of aggressive indifference, Cameron Worden’s feature debut, The Idiot Faces Tomorrow, is a bizarre concoction of mixed film formats and styles forever staunch in its outright refusal to tip its hand in regards to intention and/or purpose. The Idiot Faces Tomorrow is a cinematic testament to giving exactly zero fucks when it comes to narrative cohesion, relatability, or anything that even comes close to garnering a descriptor resembling hospitable. Worden’s debut is the apex (or, perhaps more appropriately, the Marianas Trench) of unlikable character cinema.
What would you do if you accidentally killed someone while hanging out in a house that you weren’t exactly supposed to be in? Most rational people would immediately call the police and tell the truth. But if you’re one of the three friends in Dan Berk and Robert Olsen’s Body, however, you’re going to do pretty much anything but that.
Billed as a black as tar comedy, Nathan Silver’s 1990s period piece, Stinking Heaven, plays with the idea of a ramshackle commune of sorts, a house full of recovering addicts desperately attempting to overcome their addictions, as well as their pasts; although, I am not sure if tar is a black enough descriptor for the type of comedy found within the close quarters of this suburban home in Passaic, New Jersey.
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