By One Line - Issue 3. Movies

OK then, today we have some movies to smear with poo-poo, as could dr. Martin Ssempa say.

Remember, here we have the same scale to check:

- definitely awesome but nothing to say

- matter of taste and controversial

- get the fuck out of here

Welcome to the Cinemarathon:

Altitude (2010)

XXI century brought us into the controversial state comparable with emotional, axiological and theleological tetraplegic paralysis while hanged in weightlessness. People of XXI century saw everything, heard everything and pretend to know everything so it becomes very hard (nearly impossible) to wonder them. The big amount of media also makes a contribution in this actually sad situation, so the chance to see something moreless uncommon and peculiar decreases day by day. So each successful attempt of such case arouses the more pleasure and interest; the dark side is difficulty to mine such film from annually made pile of homogenous cinematographic ore and distinguish it from boring and secondary brood. Of course in such genre you cannot hope to discover a New Guinea, but considering this event of facing moreless uncommon movie as a pleasing surprise could be really wise and useful deed.

“Altitude” is truly independent and maybe this factor has become the reason of its dissimilarity with anything. Because the plot writer has no demands dealing with audience or restrictions, he wrote anything for himself and thus avoided a lot of stamps that could appear here (although he couldn't avoid all of them). Starting as an interestingly (from technical point of view) even though merely low budget short story-about-teenagers-who-decided-to-go-somewhere-and-will-atone-for-that, narration turn things twisted. First, teenagers are going to trip somewhere by a small plane with one of them as a pilot, and second – the very atmosphere that I personally felt only in Stewart Gordon films. And this foretoken was a kind of true – the chthonic horror which is an imprescriptible attribute of Gordon’s films definitely has here a place to live and does its very horrifying deeds. The only drawbacks of this actually interesting attempt is relatively weak performing of actors, especially main; when girl at least tries to dissipate attention using her cute face and advanced mimics, the buddy is emotional as facial nerve paresis victim. Nevertheless, for an ending they have a little more freedom to express themselves and thus almost have drawn the final of movie. Almost. But even with their acting, the ending is still chilly and strong enough to even take a tear or two from an emotional overcharged schoolgirl. LIKE FUCKING ME.

As A Result: an additional proof that crowdfunding is a future of indie filmmaking

Watch It?: better yes, but not necessary

The Cabin in the Woods (2012)

You know, it is really rare case when the movie could really break the stub. For last years cinema industry had been choosing technologically intensive way of development, constantly improving shooting technologies, special effects and computer modeling. Since viewer used to consume such kind of product, movie industry changed its direction from acting and interesting films to epopees and blockbusters, and while technical quality of film increases viewer’s indiscriminateness, quality of plots and screenplay accordingly gets lower and lower.

So because of that tendency each movie with story even a bit differs from common is being accepted as a revelation; such movies get awards, their director becomes famous and gets a lot of money and promotion for further films and usually fails on it. The best example is Christopher Nolan, whose triumphal rise with “Memento” turns into complete fuck-up with “The Dark Knight Fails Rises”. Joss Whedon, a corpulent redhead and possibly jew (that is definitely good) is already self-established scenarist, so I hope he will not repeat this sorrowful way. Whedon is an author of gorgeous “Firefly”, mysterious “Doll House”, and many more awesome or just outstanding works, so it was evident to anticipate something special from him.

As every another well-established subgenre of well-established genre, slasher movies have a wide variety of stamps, clichés and traditions. The beginning of the tendency was brought years ago, and it was supported recently by “Tucker and Dale vs. Evil” where Tyler Labine and Alan Tudyk portrayed all the feelings laying on another side of slasher movie conflict, but those efforts was not enough. Thus the universe still had need in a film that will point dots over “i” about slasher clichés once and for all, and finally this film arose – welcome “The Cabin in the Woods”.

It is almost impossible to tell something about this movie avoiding any kind of spoilers. This obstacle appears on the way because of monolithic unity of movie’s all components, but what should be mentioned is general wit running through the whole movie. Witty is all in this film, from opening and closure titles (especially the latter), from characters and dialogues to plot and screenplay, no need to mention citations, parallels and all homage to slasher movie history. In addition to wit, second weapon (hail Spanish Inquisition) of Cabin is inpredictability that could compete with M. Night Shyamalan best works. Although director and story writer constantly give us clues and hints during the narration development, but you can try to get an idea about what the fuck is going here only near second part of the movie.

The Cabin in the Woods is brand new (without irony or mistake) sight on the slasher movie, sight full of both sarcastic mockery and gentle admiration, and unfortunately this sight declines all the possibilities to genre evolution. This movie points all the dots on all “i"’s, and the biggest dot gets its place at the end. I doubt that sometimes somebody could invent something that could overcome “The Cabin in the Woods” on its field, so do not hesitate to see this movie.

As A Result: brilliant postmodern movie in best meaning of these controversial words

Watch It?: not a matter of discussion

The Quiet (2006)

If we continue the talk about independent movies and stay thrillers aside, indie drama films should definitely take the place in this trend. Among inexperienced directors drama films are even more popular than thrillers because you have no need to invent an interesting storyline rather make the action and narrative more and more weird and deviant. We could call this “tension”, a thing analogous with suspense in thrillers. Thus we obtain hundreds of films about completely odd things and completely odd people, up to disgusting and abomination, and the one question remains: for whom are they fucking filmed?

Often the necessary concentration of tension (like suspense) is maintained and supported by a story background related with a kind of deviation, from sexual to social. Sexual ones are used more often, maybe just because in case of social one (sociopathy - child trauma - family troubles) it is harder to formulate and solve the conflict, leaning on psychology. Sex and its role in human life are lucid by default, intuitively, so, using the words of V. Pelevin, it all is a direct trial to control audition through wow-impulse (preferentially oral).

Background of sexual deviations (from sexual side of relationship in isolated microsociety and up to deep psychiatry like paraphilias) is not a token of profanation in state of art or act that aspires to be one, but usage of such provocative substrate should have strict story foundation and be supported by all (ALL, I said) auxiliary means from actor’s performing to light distribution in a single frame and soundtrack subtleties; otherwise such trial has to be considered as an attempt to have an easy ride without any perspective, in other words, this is a straight road to B type.

Director of “The Quiet” definitely was impressed as fuck with Sam Mendes’ “American Beauty”, and with this impression he started to build his own “American Beauty”, with black jack and hookers. Just compare actors representing two of main personalities: Elisha Cuthbert is definitely a reminiscence of Thora Birch, and Michael Donovan is a price-off variant of Kevin Spacey. Moreover, airtight type of action in movie (almost always in the house, close to classicistic unity of time and place), and conflict distributed between the characters of gender and age gap are reminding Mendes’ film more and more.  But, as it was to be expected, this variant became less interesting and a bit secondary, so then director decided to tighten the screws.

First of all, from story of conflict between teenager and adult Babbit transfers the drama into space within the whole family, endowing the action with the huge piece of sickness. Second, transparent and quite expectable main storyline is equipped with merely weird satellite tale of Dot the Deaf yet Cute Girl, whose still gaze drills viewer and whose mute speeches gather chills near the neck. She thoroughly listens: how the guy like to masturbate, how the girlie hates his father, how mother slowly goes nuts due to medications, and all this with ultimate poker face. Cool story, ha? Like a lever?

So, is “The Quiet” just a cheap family drama about silly daughter and naughty father, peppered with some kind of parallel winking sidestory? However not, it is not, because I would like to guess that all aforementioned things was the screen, that should overshadow the real movie sense. Dot, from adornment of originally poor storyline, become the linchpin of it. She isn’t a passive onlooker beholding on true inferno gaping near her, although it seems to be opposite; her inner struggles are not background anymore, and words she pronounced silently with such reluctance are not mere words.

As in “American Beauty”, additional personality placed in the storm’s eye become a catalyst, a spit that gives rise to avalanche, and directly with the help of Dot this anthem of self-destruction went right to the chorus. Moreover, the action is dramatically expanded by the trace Dot leaves on the plot while reacting with another people. Simple alchemy of teenager interrelationships kneaded on sex, sport and pop culture became feeble when stood face to face with her, and only with her severe, self-merciless monologues movie get its wholeness.

And of course, the real pearl of this motion picture is Dot herself performed by peerless Camilla Belle. Her image combines almost touchable fragility and simultaneous utter, ultimated hardness; she is definitely like a string – trembling, thin and seemingly weak, but made of metal and able to bring death, the string that was broken in that grand piano, the string that has become the solution of all. Dot carries emptiness with herself, a kind of shell that constantly surrounds her with the center in her bottomless grey eyes, and all the sounds and intentions are slowly withering approaching this center.

As A Result: movie with false bottom, whole and stylish

Watch It?: yes

Jamin Winans - Ink: The Complete Soundtrack

One of the most beautiful and most universal thing of the whole art is fairytale. Good fairytale is convenient to anybody, good fairytale gently carries and smoothly teaches the very essence of any moral imperative that cannot be force-fed or integrated artificially, good fairytale is just interesting, beautiful and merely charming. But what fairytale is good? This is the question, and unfortunately here we cannot answer to it, but nonetheless we can notice that all well-known fairytales are heavily burdened with moral load of some kind. Fairytale teaches – this is its obligate property and possibly the most significant one, and it teaches children.

Thus we could make a conclusion, that fairytales host some values which are perpetual – such values that don’t alterate during the time and are and will be valid now and forever. So the scenery can differ, background can substitute the other one, swords and bows become lightsabers and blasters, but values of love, friendship, trust (underline what you would like more) are everlasting. Well, this conclusion seems right, but we cannot decline that the world is changing, and modern children lives not in a shanty near the dark and creepy forest full of hungry animals, but among wireless connection and synthetic polymers. So questions like “Why couldn’t this stupid Red Riding Hood call 911?” or “Does Davy Crockett have an optical sight on his gun?” are illegible no more – they are logically supported, and thus we need a new type of fairytales, stories of our world, world that we live in.

Fortunately, we have such kind of stories, although there are not so many examples of them, and despite people’s conservatism and headthickness, and “Ink”, independent movie filmed by Jamin Winans, is the very fairytale – fairytale of XXI century. We will not discuss the film here, because I already wrote about it (though in Russian), but I should notice that this film has number two (silver medal) in my movie top. So the one thing that must be mentioned particularly while talking about “Ink” is the music used in it.

Director of a movie usually is a man that has the whole look of it in his head. This look of course includes not only the picture and video work, but all the sound engineering. Often director has no talent or time or just don’t want to do this, and then he hires a sound director and/or composer, but we have totally different realisation level when director can do this (write music and arrange it) by himself – the best examples are John Carpenter’s “Halloween” or Don Coscarelli’s “Phantasm” whose main themes run a chill down the spine. Situation with “Ink” lays in the same sphere of events – Jamin Winans is also the composer of it, and he did perfectly know how should his film sound.

As well as all “Ink” and particularly its picture, its sounds are cold and fragile, run far and far away in hollow chilly air of the action. Narrative temp is not so fast even in the moments of the most story acceleration, and music flows spilling its crystal drops as if it is already nothing to hurry. Leisure, transparent melodies backgrounded by similarly cool effects and pads weaves the same story that is being pictured on a screen, and it adds even more emotions that separate picture contains (for example, it makes scenes of Jacob’s Chain or John’s walk through the hospital just harrowing and bloodcurdling). Every time or couple of seconds is tightly conjugated with the action, and music doesn’t leave the viewer until the end of film.

I cannot call music to “Ink” outstanding or breakthrough – it does no revolution in any style and genre, it is not complex or unusual, it is not even academic. Jamin Winans wrote quite simple themes that could be easily recognized and distinguished from another, and despite their simplicity and sense that you already heard this somewhere, they are quite memorable. Instrumentation, simple as well as music structure – soft, cold and deeply sounding piano (with gentle touch of reverberation), pizzicato strings, curtains of deep and warm synth pads, and different percussions with different effects – this is all and enough that could be needed to make a masterpiece.

As it should be, there are reprises, variations and modulations of sequences and motives; themes float up and slowly drown down, alterate and appear again, and most of them create the sense of something really private that know only you and something that only you can tell to somebody.

And the main theme – soft, chilly and nearly disappearing piano sequence dusturbs something profound, something that lay on the very bottom of the reason and heart, and is just touching as fuck. Moreover, it is so touching that Joe Carnahan was not fastidious to borrow it in a form of “The City Surf” song to his new film “Grey”, and damn me if it didn’t sounded awesome there.

As A Result: perfect soundtrack for perfect modern fairytale

Listen It?: of course, but better is to watch it

Watch It?: fuck yes what are you waiting for, dummy

The Watch (2008)

Independent movie scene does not reveal a wide spectrum of genres chosen. If we try to observe all the possible scale of diversity this is what we obtain:

a)      Horror film. All variety of different horrors, from zombie thrash to stupid rivers-of-blood-like splatter, from usual slasher to sci-fi horror, is presented here and exploited by independent directors and motion picture studios. Of course, their realization is truly far from ideal, but nevertheless sometimes there are real brilliants in a shit pile (for instance, “Malberry st.” or “Stake Land”). The question about worth of such seek is still open, because obstacles during search could definitely overshadow the pleasure of discovery.

b)      Different odd movies united under the name “art house”. Mostly dramas, usually about strange and unusual people with strange and unusual stories ending with strange and unusual conclusion, art house cinema desirely want to flabbergast the viewer. Sometimes merely provocative and social (“Mysterious Skin” or Larry Clark films for instance), sometimes describing the very especial vision from the side of author (Korean indie movies), sometimes simply weird and incomparable with anything (“Napoleon Dynamite”), art house cinema positions itself as art made by intelligent people to intelligent people, but too often sophicticated psychological Babylon appears the fruit of psychic deviation based on paraphilias and child trauma. So schizophrenia is not like Caps Lock (THAT MAKES EVERYTHING AWESOME, BEEYATCH) does not make plot better if it total sucks .

c)      And the third whale of independent movies is of course thriller. It is necessary to notice that thriller partially overlaps with horror film genre, but it would be a fatal mistake to place the sign of equality between them. Thriller is IMO the peak of cinematographic evolution due to some duality. On the one hand, there is no need in some exorbitant charges and technologies of shooting to make a thriller, and on the other hand, you could make special effects of any complexity and motherfuckingly realistic yet imaginary pictures, but without a good plot your movie will be just piece of crap. Thus thriller is the pure art of cinematography because it depends only on the story (and some demands on its technical execution) and nothing more loose and unstable like acting (which could differ from top to bottom even during 10 minutes) or special effects. So, summing up, good thriller is based on good story, and “The Watch” in spite of undoubtedly appearing DIY style is the very kind of such good thriller. Even having mystical implication, the plot turns more like detective story, and really not bad story. Despite the bareness of visual means, the movie is filmed so good, that the sense of suspense hardly can leave you until the outcome shoots. And special gratefulness for Clea DuVall, who represents a very strict principle that you don’t need to be a beauty to be a good actress. As well as Stockley in “ The Faculty”, Cassie in “The Watch” is definitely not a gorgeous chick (especially against the background of Elisabeth Whitmere with her astounding voice), but she is really sweet and gives rise to sympathy from the viewer. This is what I call “good performing”.

As A Result: indie thriller that really thrills unlike many congeners.

Watch It?: yes, if you like a good thriller

Slither (2006)

Hybrid movie genres were born, as well as hybrid genres in whole, when particular genres obtain a kind of crisis. When all the means are exhausted, when all the stories are used and nothing revolutionary can take a rise, the only way to avoid running on the spot is a merge with something other. Usually the more unsuitable is parent couple, the better interesting and even weird the offspring could become.

A hybrid between “sci-fi” horror B-movie and a comedy could appear unnatural, but this is only the first impression, because in fact these genres are overlapping wery widely. Really, what is the main aim of horror movie in whole? The main aim of horror movie is to scare all shit out of watcher (as well it is a secondary aim of a good thriller movie), AND take him a relaxation through such manner of action; comedy ALSO brings relaxation but by the laugh. Also it is to be noticed, that often B-movies carry the comic element inherently just by its humble and cheap realization. Monsters made of papier-mâché, lightning spark produced from photoflash, and mainly poor performing by amateur actors – this explosive mixture almost always look hilarious and could produce a lot of fun (remember Ed Wood). Well, we have a potential hybrid with one dominant quantitative treat on both parents, and thus this treat will be inherited by offspring. So, the parody lying between horror (with scientific milieu or a straight slasher) and a comedy (of american type) is a popular target for some unexperienced director, and right this thing is a bull’s eye to satire of this movie. I cannot call James Gunn unexperienced, as well as I cannot call a production of “Slither” poor, so here we have a targeted sarcasm merged with work of strong director and simultaneously with homage to lot of really strong classic horror movies like “The Thing” (even with direct references like names of people and places).

More interesting is that I cannot call “Slither” a pure hybrid of such type, but nevertheless I cannot call him a pure parody either. Unlike pure hybrids (for example, “Hatchet”), Slither does not belong to straight comedy because director do not elucidate the comic element, directly deriding stamps, but tightly weave it in fabric of narration, and the main tool of this element is an acting. All that makes you laugh in Slither doesn't lay mainly in dialogues and deeds of characters, but is dissolved in narrative and origins from outstanding performing of almost each role (although Elisabeth Banks looks relatively weaker). Michael Rooker does really know how to perform anybody, even a man who become a giant slick flesh consuming bulk of protoplasm from outer space and does it with nonchalant chic; Gregg Henry calls a smile just by his look, and because of his acting the mayor I laughed my ass off the geostationary orbit; and of course the brilliant acting of Nathan Fillionis the pivot of the movie, a cramp that holds everything in whole – and it was the first film when I saw him years ago, and it is definitely not the last. And sure the uproarious cameo appearances of James Gunn and Lloyd Kaufman cannot leave anybody indifferent. Awesome film, light as capuccino. P.S. Due to Nathan Fillion's matchless performing here, I make here a special tag named of him. And for James Gunn too. Hail them!

As A Result: pure professionalism and subtle irony.

Watch It?: of course.

Until The Light Takes Us (2009)

Since 20 years have gone, the gloomy and relatively silly story about Norwegian church arsons and homicides has become famous to almost everyone. As every another promising event it was represented by a number of journalists in documentaries, and each of them would like to reveal the conflict from “his own side”. At least two, maybe three luckies got their success, but all other attempts were just vain corpse fucking procedure which gathers only pleasure (in best case) rather than any useful consequences. So each next attempt ought to be received sceptically without any anticipation of breakthrough. As well as all previous experiences, “Until the Light Takes Us” (direct translation of Burzum's “Hvis Lyset Tar Oss” from Norwegian to English) did not promise anything exciting or even peculiar.

However, things went aside right with opening titles, because instead boring and unoriginal “ominous” intro from the archives of Mayhem or Burzum the movie is opened by Múm's song “The Ballad Of The Broken Birdie Records”, which did not try to create any lucid “black metal” or “antisocial” mood, but desperately, faintly trembled in slowly chilling air; this unexpectable start turns all the perception from legs to head, and even this already could be counted as sort of win. Nevertheless, the start is good but not enough; so the film continues.

Second interesting feature, besides music tricks with atmosphere and perception, is the choice of video materials selected to mount this movie. Instead of concentration on church burnings and murder convictions, director preferred to use relatively new records, on which all the known personalities are adult and self-established people, and some of this people even would like to avoid all these events and imagine they didn't happen at all. This is truly brand new look at the problem: without sacred terror about satanism and simultaneous unhealthy obsession with it that was so inherent to press at those days, or without any abstruse conclusions, parallels and motherfucking boring reasoning about modern art and post-modern paradigm; this look is just a look back. Just a look back, from the distance of almost twenty years, and this look is really soaked more by bitterness rather than any pride or pleasure. And nonetheless you could see how this look can differ.

There are many personalities involved into those dark days that are mentioned here. Somebody of them appears just for couple of seconds (like Garm saying two or three short but really necessary phrases about christianity and its “place” in Norwegian culture), somebody even has its face covered (like Bard “Faust” Eithunn); somebody has notably more frames and even minutes (replete, swollen faces of Abbath and Demonaz demonstratively pretending to be rock stars) but this does not work good on them; and a number of people that, as director thought, is the pivot of the movie, people whose looks back can form the full spectrum of all he wanted to exhibit.

For evident reasons Gylve (Fenriz, Darkthrone) was chosen as the main figure of “narration”. It is just enough to look in his jaded eyes with bags under them, look at his amusing yet sad face, listen how he is trying to explain things faltering on each third word, and you exactly understand why he is the center of this scene. Facts that Darkthrone always was aside of any activities like arsons or murders do make no sense in light of fact how deep Gylve appears within frame. In each shot, whether he walks on evening streets of Oslo, guides on legendary places (tape recorder and the story of 50 kronas), just talks, and especially watches Varg's prison interview and comments his speech choking with words and cigarette smoke; in each shot Gylve looks like a tragic hero. In his words all the things happened then become puerile, incongruous and merely stupid, become ones that they really are – deeds and views of badly socialized yet well-to-do teenagers, and aftermath of such deeds and views. The story of Red Army Fraction could be considered as repeated, although with definitely less victims and destruction. And listening to Gylve makes your comprehension about one thing: although yes, they do receive the glory but this is a kind of glory I would hardly wish to anyone.

I would not like to comment any Varg's words or deeds; this question is definitely deeply discussed everywhere, and thorough nerdy correspondents don't get tired to count how many times he changed his mind, attitude or his description of events happened (especially of night Euronymous was murdered); this is boring, this carries no didactics at all, and, that is really more significant, this is a kind of past. Varg has been liberated from a prison and now he is trying to grab back the grey splinters of his completely shattered life (vainly, as I could say); and, as well as Gylve, he does understand that the trace of glory he obtained during it could be hardly left some day.

Frost is the third kind of “survived”, and he is chosen to reveal how you could let this glory work on you. Frost, with his static forever young face and punkish image, appears to be one who does not change his mind and attitude at all and continues to carry the Black Art and Devil's Word through the years and kilometers, but this is the most important illusion and the most important conclusion in “Until the Light Takes Us”. With an artist whose helpful image was brilliantly inserted in the narration for this purpose, Frost's activity on example of his show presented turns to us by its other side – it is a grave dance, merely desperate grave dance, slow and hopeless as Sunn O))) soundtrack accompanying it, and this dance is being performed on the grave of black metal it was and should be, trampling ramshackle remains of it deeper down in mellow graveyard soil.

And this is the main line of this movie, if we sum up all the shades sounded. Black metal is dead. Black metal was dead as Tutankhamen years ago, and the worst (or best) thing is to afraid that it was stillborn. I cannot even imagine a better conclusion from events happened then, in 1990s. That's why modern black metal activity claiming to be TRUE or some another histrionic epithet could gather only a pale smile from my face. We're all dead, Jimmy. We're all dead.

As A Result: the best motion picture about definitely not best things.

Watch It?: fuck yes.