"Faces In A Crowd"

The game of ‘Texas Hold’em’ poker is one of progression: over the course of a given hand, the dealer reveals more and more cards to the players as the players themselves raise the stakes of the game (quite literally) until the players themselves reveal their own cards to see who wins and who’s broke. Murder mysteries are the same way: the storyteller gradually reveals more and more secrets to the audience while raising the stakes at the same time, until finally the true identity of the killer is revealed, and we find out who’s going to emergency and who’s going to jail. 

The key, in both cases, is to maximize the ability to raise stakes in the game / story, so that, when the payoff comes, its that much bigger. In both cases, though, there are two things that you never do: you never play any cards other than those that you are dealt, and you never show your cards early. Both of these seem like obvious rules, since the first is cheating, and the second is just stupid. Storytellers have been violating the former for so long that there is actually a literary term for it (it’s called ‘Deus Ex Machina’ which means, literally, ‘God in the Machine’, but, really, it means cheating), but the more egregious violations of the ‘stupid’ rule are not the filmmakers, but are, instead, the studios which produce and distribute the films (although the filmmakers have plenty to answer for in this respect). 

Most of these crimes against their own films happen due to promotion of the film: in order to convince people to go see the film, they release so much information about and even from the film that they end up revealing elements of the story that give away so much that the audience’s viewing experience is tainted. In other words, the audience knows what will happen before they see it in the movie. 

The most deplorable case of this, to me, was “What Lies Beneath” (2000) from filmmaker Robert Zemeckis (“Back to the Future” trilogy, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit”, “Forest Gump”). In the middle of making “Cast Away”, the crew took a break from making that film so that Tom Hanks could lose the equivalent of Peter Dinklage in weight, and followed Zemeckis in that time-honored quest to which every filmmaker seems to feel obliged: namely to massacre the works of Alfred Hitchcock and call it ‘homage’ (I’m looking at you, Brian De Palma). Zemeckis would’ve pulled it off, too, if it weren’t for the trailers. The studio marketing department, being as brilliant as they are, used, as the story synopsis for the trailer, the major dramatic reveal from the later half of the second act, effectively giving away the movie, and, therefore, making the entire first eighty minutes of the film unnecessary.  Too bad for Zemeckis, since he (and screenwriter Clark Gregg) had created the most Hitchcockian film I’ve seen since “Charade” (1963). 

Since “What Lies Beneath”, I have not seen a film quite so violated by the ‘stupid’ rule (although I’ve seen some come close). 

That is, until now.

And this most recent violation blows “What Lies Beneath” out of the water.

As I said, you never show your cards early. In a ‘whodunit’ type murder mystery, that means you don’t say who the killer is. You don’t show his face if there’s a kill scene in the first act. You don’t show him holding the one piece of incriminating evidence that the killer was just holding immediately after that same scene. You don’t give him a song and dance number following that scene in which he declares himself the killer.

You definitely, under any circumstances, do not credit any actor with both their character’s real name and the killer’s nom de guerre side by side (see, there’s this thing called ‘the internet’, I know it seems like just a fad now, but . . .).

In the case of “Faces In A Crowd”, this is exactly what was done. This would be bad enough, but this mistake is compounded by the nature of this film, in which characters are portrayed by multiple, even numerous actors as a way of presenting the main character’s affliction. When the point of the film is that you can’t tell who’s who without a scorecard, you don’t taint the scorecard.

This is, unfortunately for me and any other viewers, not the only crime committed against this film. The film itself is, in its entirety, a crime against its own potential. As stated, the film is the story of a woman who is the only witness to have seen the face of a serial killer and survived, but far from being able to help the police catch the killer, she is forced to relearn how to live her life as an injury sustained in her flight from the killer’s chase has left her unable to recognize people’s faces, even, and most arduous, those to whom she is closest. 

This premise doesn’t just imply potential, it demands it, screams and cries out for it like Pinocchio entreating his own humanity. Unfortunately, the filmmakers were hardly up to the task of executing their plot; instead falling back on devices of cliche older than Otto Preminger (legendary filmmaker of “Laura” and “Porgy and Bess”, not, fortunately, connected to this film in any way). Each particular ‘twist’ and ‘revelation’ is more predictable than the last, so that, once the secrets which the aforementioned ‘scorecard’ revealed are finally arrived at, they’ve already been made so plainly inevitable as to declare a pardon for the earlier crime of stupidity.

In the end, the best thing I can say for “Faces In A Crowd” is that it would make a fitting addition to the ‘Lifetime Movie Network’.

"Hotel Transylvania"

So, it’s a Saturday and we needed groceries, which means time to stop at Redbox.

When I wrote about “Beautiful Creatures”, I described something of the thought / discussion process my wife and I go through when choosing what to see at our local multiplex on the off chance the grandparents will babysit. However, when we stop at the Redbox, the considerations are reduced to three questions: what do we want to watch with the kiddo; what are we going to be able to stay awake for after we put him to bed; and what am I interested in watching that my wife isn’t that I can watch in the morning when I wake up at 5am before everyone else is up?

This time, the answer to the second question was ‘nothing’, the answer to the third question I’ll give sometime in the next few days, but the answer to the first was “Hotel Transylvania”.

Over the years, and, especially more recently, I've come to expect a certain quality (or lack thereof) from Adam Sandler vehicles, and, particularly after the public reception of Jack And Jill (which, when I first saw the trailer, I thought it was some kind of elaborate joke that he was playing on the public instead of an actual movie . . . Turns out it was both), my expectations were sufficiently low.  Shoulda known better.

The problem with Adam Sandler movies is one of inconsistency. Actors who manage to have a career of lead roles tend to fall into certain patterns.  When Tom Cruise or Billy Crystal or Katherine Heigl do a movie, they’re always the same. When Johnny Depp or Christian Bale do a movie, they’re always someone different, but they maintain that consistency. Even actors who develop a split career, consistently being one type of character for one type of movie or genre, and a different type of character for a different type of movie or genre. Ben Stiller and Jim Carrey are each either an over the top, ridiculous caricature, or an ordinary schlub in either a ridiculous or serious/dramatic situation.

But Adam Sandler has a habit of departing inconsistently from his standard role ("Punch Drunk Love" and "Reign Over Me", both of which are excellent, but are nothing like a typical Sandler flick), or taking his standard role and putting a twist on it (the endings of both "The Wedding Singer" and "Click" are both uncharacteristically heartfelt, and "Funny People" gets into some pretty heavy drama while poking fun at Sandler's own career). What is evident is that, when he tries, or when he has the right director to reign him in, Adam Sandler is a capable talent. That is, as long as he isn't too busy doing stupid jokes.

While Sandler's influence definitely shows through (particularly in the songs), it complements well the humor of its writer, Robert Smigel, and is powerfully tempered by the film's stylistic director, Genndy Tartakovsky. Smigel is best known for his "TV Funhouse" animated sketches on "Saturday Night Live", such as the "Ambiguously Gay Duo". He has also been a writer for Conan O'Brien, and the voice of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog ('for me to poop on!'). Smigel's influence, however, manifests itself in simple jokes and dialog. The overall tone, pacing and technique of the film are, to anyone familiar with his work, uniquely Tartakovsky’s.

Any kids who grew up through the nineties with Cartoon Network probably remember some of Tartakovsky’s most notable creations, namely “Dexter’s Laboratory” and “Powerpuff Girls”, but at the turn of the century, Tartakovsky’s work for Cartoon Network took a darker and more serious turn, first with “Samurai Jack”, then, in between the theatrical releases of Star Wars: Episodes 2 and 3, with the ‘micro-series’ “Star Wars: Clone Wars” (not to be confused with the CGI series which airs presently), an experiment whose individual episodes were only 5 minutes in length. While “Hotel Transylvania” signifies two firsts for Tartakovsky, namely his first CGI work, and his feature length directorial debut, his signature style permeates the film.

As for the film itself, although it is not a Pixar film (it was produced and released by Sony Pictures Animation), it has many of the earmarks of a Pixar film. It’s bookends of a tragic opening and a celebratory denouement, it’s focus on family, attention to detail, imaginative action sequences, and it’s wide, spanning, epic, beautiful visuals have all become hallmarks to the films of Pixar. While the humor of the story is both more blue and more literalist than the humor of pixar films tends to be, this, in my mind at least, is the first film by a rival animation studio in years to compete in quality of story and storytelling that Pixar has shown in years.  I know that Sony has Tartakovsky contracted for at least one more film, which, I feel, is smart on their part. If they are as smart as I think they are, all evidence of “The Smurfs” to the contrary, they’ll keep him under contract and happy.

My only problem with the film was the song at the end. When “Shrek” featured a cover of “I’m A Believer” as a finale, I took it in stride.  When “Shrek 2” boasted, as a finale, a duet of Eddie Murphy and Antonio Banderas covering “Livin’ La Vida Loca”, it felt completely out of place. But having Adam Sandler, as Dracula, rapping with, as his daughter, Selena Gomez, as a finale was . . . indescribable. While I loved the rest of the original music throughout the film, both the songs by Adam Sandler, and the score by Mark Mothersbaugh (film composer and former lead singer of ‘DEVO’), this finale was the most over the top and out of place I’ve seen for an animated film - ever.

Otherwise, if you’re at the Redbox tonight, looking for something to watch with the kids, pick it up.

For a buck and a half, it’s worth a watch.

"April Fool's Day" (1986)

Sherman, set the Wayback machine for 1986.

As a fan of horror films, I’m sure that I’ve seen every cliche in the book. However, there are times when I find that I can still be surprised. Last week, when I watched “Don’t Look Now”, I was surprised by just how awful it was. However, when I watched “April Fool’s Day”, I was surprised by something else entirely. Actually, I was surprised by two things.

Admittedly, it wasn’t the ending. I’ve been aware of the ending of “April Fool’s Day” for a few years now; ever since the tv show “Psych” did their “Friday the 13th”/”Sleepaway Camp” parody episode, and made reference to the “April Fool’s Day” ending. (Just so you know, I’m not going to reveal the end.) I’ve only seen the “April Fool’s Day” ending used in one other place: the movie “Cry_Wolf” (2005), which, just like the “Psych” episode, added it’s own twist onto the “April Fool’s Day” ending. I have not, however, seen the 2008 remake.

No, what surprised me about “April Fool’s Day” was how good it is, and who all I recognized in the film. “April Fool’s Day” is a cavalcade of 80’s ‘almost was’s’; actors who may be vaguely recognizable (as in “oh, I know him, he was in that one thing I saw, what was that called” or “oh, look, it’s that guy, what’s he doing in a slasher movie”); or showed up all over numerous miscellaneous episodes of popular 80’s and 90’s tv series, but almost never had a starring or recurring role; or who may have showed up in starring or primary roles in various 80’s films, but whose careers either dead-ended or were never as widely known for any role that followed.

The most recognizable member of the cast is Thomas F. Wilson, best known for playing every visible male member of the ‘Tannen’ clan in the “Back To The Future” trilogy. Since the 80’s, Wilson has been doing mostly voice work for cartoons and video games.  The other most notable is Clayton Rohner, other than Tom Wilson, will be the most likely to make you go, “oh, it’s that guy”. In the 80’s, Rohner showed up all over 80’s tv, including T.J. Hooker, Hill Street Blues, and Miami Vice, and starred in “Just One Of The Guys”. Rohner has been able to maintain his career, never really hitting it big, but in the last few years, Rohner has appeared in Justified, Burn Notice, Castle, and The Mentalist.

I could spend the rest of this review listing the mediocre careers of the rest of the cast, but I’m not going to. I, instead, recommend that you, dear reader, peruse the IMDB listing for “April Fool’s Day” yourself. It is, in this regard, a solid movie for any “6-degrees” gamer to have in their arsenal.

Anyway, as I said before, what surprised me most about “April Fool’s Day” is how good it is. In my review for “Tucker and Dale vs Evil”, I referenced a group of horror movies which were not only solid as horror movies, but also cleverly lampoon the genre as a whole.  I had mentioned “Scream”, “Tremors”, and “Cabin in the Woods”, but I had not realized that a “meta” movie (a movie that parodies movies of a given genre, but is also solidly of that genre) for the ‘slasher’ genre of horror had predated “Scream” by a decade.

“April Fool’s Day” presents a thoroughly non-traditional execution (no pun intended) of a ‘slasher’ movie and does so in two clear ways.  

In horror movies, there are three elements which contribute to what makes it scary; suspense (the anticipation of the moment; the atmosphere), surprise (the arrival of the moment; the jump-scare), and slaughter (the revulsion of the moment; the gore). In ‘slasher’ movies, particularly in the 80’s, emphasis is usually placed on the ‘kill’ scenes, focusing on jump-scares, quick setups and gore, depending on the idea that anyone could be next to provide the suspense and atmosphere. “April Fool’s Day” breaks this convention, setting up the kill in ways similar to other slasher films which had come before, particularly “Friday the 13th” and “Sleepaway Camp”, but, instead of showing the kill, the scene fades to black before hand, revealing the victim’s body some time later. In this way, the film depends more on building and maintaining suspense throughout the movie.

This also allows the characters the opportunity to maintain a more tongue-in-cheek disposition.  Instead of the campy stereotypes of standard ‘slasher’ picks, the characters in “April Fool’s Day” are smart, clever, sarcastic, and a little twisted, making them feel a little more dimensional, more real, which, as it always does, makes the story better, richer. The movie does a solid job of combining “Meatballs” type comedy, gallows humor and self-effacing jokes which also (deliberately) send-up the rest of the ‘slasher’ genre.

Just like today, the 80’s saw the bulk of theatrical release films which were comedies as bawdy farces, and those in the horror genre as campy gore fests, with few diamonds-in-the-rough in either genre. I had thought that I had seen them all.

Nice to know I can still be surprised.

"Grave Encounters 2"

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"Top 5 Worst Movie Endings"

Part of what makes the best movies great is a great ending. Whether it’s an original ending like  “Casablanca” or “Rear Window”, or a stock ending where ‘they live happily ever after’ or ‘they all die in the end’ like “When Harry Met Sally” or “Hamlet”, or even ambiguous endings like “Inception” that can haunt an audience and keep them guessing for years to come, the right ending makes the story complete.

Traditionally, a film or screenplay has three parts or acts. In the first act, the characters are introduced. The first act ends where the second begins; with the inciting incident. In the second act, the situation develops. About halfway through the second act, there is some sort of revelation about the situation, and the protagonist faces further obstacles. The second act ends where the third act begins; with the point-of-no-return, where the protagonist faces their final confrontation, resulting in the climactic moment in the story, and maybe some kind of aftermath. The purpose of the confrontation and climax is to provide some sort of catharsis and closure to the audience.

But there are many ways that an ending can go wrong. It may be out of place, like if, just as Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks are about to meet at the top of the Empire State building, King Kong would reach out and grab Meg Ryan. There might be no confrontation, no catharsis, like if, just after the cops get the camera feed from the bus to loop, Dennis Hopper had just blown up the bus. It may just be that the final confrontation is too easy, like if Dorothy had just spilled water on the witch when she first got brought to the castle.

The wrong ending, or an absence of one can ruin a movie. The following are, in my opinion, the five worst, and should be viewed as a cautionary tale to any potential storytellers.

As a final warning, while in most of my reviews, I attempt to avoid spoilers at all costs, I am speaking in these cases directly about the endings to the films, so, be aware: Here there be spoilers! (if you didn’t read that in a pirate voice, try it now)

1. They (2002)

It’s difficult for me semantically to say that this movie has the worst ending when it really has no ending to speak of, it just stops.

In “They”, Julie Lund is asked for help by a childhood friend. After he eats a bullet right across the booth of a quaint little diner that they share, she begins seeing the same monsters-in-the-shadows which had previously plagued her friend. Her visions of these creatures continue to grow more intense, and, each time, as she flails to protect herself, she lashes out against anyone who might try to help her, while those same people continually grow more wary of her sanity.

Shortly after her well-meaning boyfriend has her committed, she is finally abducted by the creatures which have stalked her. When her doctor and an orderly come to check on her, she has disappeared from her locked room, and is shown as trapped in the invisible, parallel world of the creatures, unable to break free. Fade to black. Roll credits.

As I said, this movie has no third act. It’s as though the writer and director reached the point of no return, saying “We’ve just painted this girl into a corner and don’t know how to get her out” and then just gave up and made the movie anyway.

2. House On Haunted Hill (1999)

This is the first of three films in this list which, to me, fall under the category of ‘cheating’.

The premise of “House On Haunted Hill” is simple. The ‘house’ was once a mental institution, in which the inmates were all burned alive while the staff escaped. Now, the current owners of the house have invited a group of people to a macabre dinner party where the survivors of the evening will each have an equal share of $5 million. Unbeknownst to them, the ‘house’ has arranged so that the guests at the party are all the descendants of the staff who had escaped, so that it may have its revenge.

By the end of the movie, the house has taken all but two of the intrepid party-goers, one of whom has managed to escape, supposedly because she wasn’t actually the person the house was after, only masquerading as her. The other has just gotten trapped, and is staring into the gaping maw of the conglomeration of the hundred vengeful maniac ghosts, and he shouts at it, “But I’m Adopted!!!”, then manages to escape. Then the filmmakers just leave our heroes stranded on a ledge on top of the three-story evil house with the $5 million and no hope of rescue.

3. Ocean’s 12 (2004)

There is a phenomenon in mystery stories where the sleuth waits till the final reveal and ensnaring of the perpetrator to give the one piece of evidence needed to know whodunit, to the frustration of everyone else present, particularly the audience. In the bookending “Ocean’s” movies, the twists and turns of the cons and flimflams which permeate the “caper” movie genre are all revealed in due time with style, fun, and appropriate timing. However, in “Ocean’s 12”, one key clue is deliberately withheld from the audience until the very end.

In the film, Danny Ocean’s band of grifters and scoundrels, in order to pay off their debt to Benedict, take a job in Europe, namely a challenge by a rival cat-burglar to steal a rare Faberge egg from a museum before he does. One-by-one, each of the Ocean clan are nicked by the cops, and the cat-burglar gets away with the egg. However, once Ocean and his friends are released and regroup with the cat-burglar, they reveal to him that they had swapped out the egg with a fake before it ever made it to the museum.  That’s cheating on multiple levels.

4. Signs (2002)

I read an article recently of 'Pixar's Rules for Writing, and one of the rules was something like, 'coincidence which is a hinderance for the protagonist makes for a good story; coincidence which helps the protagonist is just cheating'.

In "Signs", Mel Gibson plays a former priest who lost his faith when his wife dies, and then aliens begin to invade slowly. In the last moments of the movie, when one of the aliens invades his home, he ‘sees’ that confluence of coincidences as more than just that, but as a pattern, a ‘sign’ of how to save his family.

5. Red Lights (2012)

An ending doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense.

“Red Lights” had such potential. It’s the story of a pair of scientists, Matheson and Buckley (Sigourney Weaver and Cillian Murphy) who debunk psychics.  When they go after a particularly notorious and blind one, Simon Silver (Robert De Niro), bad, creepy things start happening to Buckley, and Matheson dies. After Silver undergoes a series of laboratory tests to try to confirm his legitimacy, Buckley confronts him at his ‘triumphant return show’ where the interior of the theatre begins to shake and fall apart (in much the same way as had been done previously in the story). Then, when the pseudo-quake stops, Buckley throws something at Silver who catches it, revealing in front of his audience that he can see, and, as Buckley is leaving, Silver is shouting over and over “How did you do that?”, and Buckley flashes back over all the creepy things that happened to him throughout the movie.

I don’t get it. Is Simon asking Buckley how he figured out that Simon could see? Or is he asking how Buckley shook the theatre, and is actually psychic? I don’t mind ambiguous endings, and love some of them, but there is a big difference between ambiguous and just flat out confusing.

"Dredd"

I read some time ago an article which stated that NASA was using the film "Armageddon" as a training exercise; asking their newest scientists and engineers to watch the film and point out all the scientific inaccuracies they could find (the number of which being somewhere in the neighborhood of 186). I feel as though the filmmakers of "Dredd" must have done something similar; painstakingly scouring its predecessor, "Judge Dredd" for its every cinematic failing.
 
Now, that’s not to say that the original doesn’t have it’s offerings; it is entertainingly bad.
In my post about “Don’t Look Now”, I talked about movies that were bad enough to earn from “AV Club” an ‘F’, a grade reserved for films which are bad in an original way. While this grade is reserved for the worst films in history, these films can be divided into two categories: those which are unwatchable, so bad that they are capable of doing psychological damage upon repeat or even singular viewing; and those which are so bad that they’ve somehow looped back around to entertaining, as though the presence of Joel, Crow and Tom Servo is implicit. For me, “Don’t Look Now” falls into the former of these two categories. “Judge Dredd”, on the other hand, falls into the latter.
 
“Judge Dredd” is a clutter of disjoint stories and movie types, namely a John Woo style action movie starring Sylvester Stallone and Armand Assante, a Lifetime-television-esque conspiracy mystery starring Diane Lane, and a Rob Schneider ‘Comedy’ (to use the term loosely), all set against the backdrop of a 90’s-typical flashy scifi, complete with spandex and neon and disneyworld reject animatronic puppets and bad matting jobs and flying motorcycles, like they were trying to make a cross between “Blade Runner” and “Flash Gordon”.
 
"Judge Dredd" is hardly the first comic-book-based property to be eviscerated on celluloid in the eighties and nineties. "Spawn", "The Shadow", "The Phantom", "Steel", the '89 "Punisher" movie, the '91 "Captain America" movie, and even (somewhat) the third and definitely the fourth films in both the "Superman" and "Batman" franchises all, to some degree or another, fall into many of the the same traps. Instead of following the nature of a character to cast an appropriate actor to the role, the film is made a vehicle for a particular star.  Instead of trying to translate the world of the comic into one which fits a cinematic audience as opposed to graphic novel readership, the filmmakers attempt to make a movie that watches the way a comic book reads, which has only ever worked for "Creepshow", which doesn't count because that was a horror comic, not a superhero one. And then there are the tights.
 
The 1989 "Batman" movie of Tim Burton was groundbreaking in many ways, but the one for me that goes least talked about is the costume: this was the first time where the Batman costume consisted of something more than simple cloth or tights. It was a big, heavy suit of rubber armor, the most practical version of the costume for that point in time. This only helps to highlight one of the key problems in 90's comic book films: anti-heroes cannot be badasses and be flashy at the same time. They cannot ride around in neon and black lighting. They cannot have comedy relief sidekicks. And, most assuredly, they cannot wear spandex.
 
These are just some of the many flaws and false steps of 1995's "Judge Dredd", and 2012's "Dredd" side steps, avoids, or directly counters every one of them with a style all its own.
 
The shiny, bright and clean look and feel of the original is now grim, gritty, seedy and grey.  The bright neon and futuristic ‘Megacity’ is replaced by an unending slum, punctuated by monolithic tenements. The superhero-like judges are now beat-cops; their high-and-mighty smugness replaced with a world-weariness; spandex and linebacker shoulder pads replaced with SWAT-like body armor; their ridiculous flying motorcycles simplified and made more realistic. Even the titular character, himself, is completely different: while both are secretive, withdrawn, moral and brutal, the original’s conspiracy-centric genetically engineered past is ignored entirely, and this new Dredd is a colder, more strategic, and more mysterious. However, it doesn’t matter; this is not some major conspiracy, it’s a western.
In “Dredd”, the title character is partnered with a trainee.  The two enter a tenement called “Peach Trees”, and quickly find themselves hunted by any and all of the employees of the local drug kingpin, who turns out to have the entire building under her thumb and control. It’s a classic western theme; a crooked boss has run a town into a criminal empire under marshall law, dispensing their own brand of torturous punishment against any who might rebel or betray, when a new sheriff comes into town to take them all on, a masked man or a man with no name.
 
The environment is rich with additional detail which gives the film a ‘20 minutes into the future’ feel. The drug, ‘slo-mo’, giving the users the experience of slow time, also gives the filmmakers ample opportunity to justify utilizing ‘bullet-time’ techniques pioneered in “The Matrix”, but making them their own. Dredd’s trainee partner explained to be, within the first act, a mutant telepath, giving additional opportunity to create some artful visuals. In my review of “Don’t Look Now”, I criticised that film’s director for abandoning or ignoring his directorial duties in favor of dressing up the film with pretentious and insincere visuals masquerading as art.  “Dredd” does the exact opposite; it is a consistent, solid, cohesive film, well directed, well acted, with original and honestly artful visuals, dark and gritty, and, at the same time, beautiful.
 
It’s predecessor may have been entertainingly bad, this new “Dredd” is entertaining and stunning.

"Don't Look Now"

I was first alerted to this film some years ago when watching Bravo's "One Hundred Scariest Movie Moments" with my wife.  We're both movie fanatics, so we watched the list and made a check list. Not having seen it prior to the list, and striking out at our local video store (Hollywood Video, rest in peace), I hadn't given the movie another thought until last week, when I noticed it on Amazon Prime (a solid investment). So, I watched it.


I wish I could get those two hours back.


I was reading recently about how the website "AV Club" rates movies. Following in the tradition of the "Gentlemen's C" (the lowest passible grade imaginable, reserved for well to do slackers), the "AV Club" utilizes what it refers to as the "Gentleman's F". This is not something dirty or taboo, but is, instead, a grade of 'D-' ascribed to films which are awful, but awful in a standard, cookie cutter way, that display blatantly the Hollywood assembly line they fell off of.  This grade is usually reserved for the films of Nora Ephron and Nicolas Sparks and Michael Bay. They do this to distinguish between these films and those failures which are truly deserving of the worst grade imaginable; great horrible implosions, overachieving underachievers, films which explore new frontiers of failure, that fail in a way that no film has failed before. Movies like "Gigli", "I Know Who Killed Me", and the collected works of Ed Wood and M. Night Shyamalan, and the remakes of Tim Burton would all fall nicely (to use the term loosely) into this category.


I've been asked time and again what I think the worst film ever made was, and I always reply "Lost Souls" (2000), but I've recently seen a film which will, now and forever remain a close second (and I've watched "I Know Who Killed Me").


"Don't Look Back" is the story of a couple, played by Donald Sutherland ("Invasion of the Bodysnatchers") and Julie Christie ("Doctor Zhivago"), whose young daughter drowns accidently, which the father somehow supposedly senses happening. After some unacknowledged period of time, the couple puts their surviving son into private school and moves to Venice, where the husband is working to restore a deteriorating church, and a killer is terrorising the populace. The story plays as though it were trying to be a John Irving story (“Cider House Rules”, “Hotel New Hampshire”, “The World According To Garp”); the couple are going through the motions of their marriage but are still mourning their daughter’s death and are thoroughly forlorn. Things change for them when the wife meets a pair of elderly sisters, one of whom is both blind and psychic. The psychic tells the wife of her dead daughter’s wishes.

I do not know how to begin to describe how bad this film is.


First off, the story is a discombobulated mess of cliches and stock plot devices, strewn together by blind luck and bad timing. The idea of someone sensing when family member is in trouble or dying is an urban legend, an old wives tale as old as time, as is the idea of the blind psychic communing with that same relative. There are numerous other films which also present either of these ideas, and do so in more imaginative ways. And then there’s the element of the killer . . .


The Russian playwright Anton Chekhov once wrote, “If there is a gun over a fireplace in the first act, it should be fired in the second act.”  This anecdote coined the phrase “Chekhov’s Gun”, which has come to refer to a plot device which introduces an element into the story, many times innocuously or subtly, that is generally ignored through the rest of the story, until it is used or referenced again in another, usually unrelated or otherwise disconnected context. The most famous cases of this are the gadgets in the “Bond” movies or the clues in detective stories. In the movie “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang” (2005), Robert Downey Jr, as narrator, even lampoons this idea immediately after the scene that introduces the “Chekhov’s Gun” for that movie:

“Okay, I’m apologize, that is a terrible scene. It’s like, ‘Why was that in the movie? Gee, do you think maybe it’ll come back later? Maybe?!’ I hate that, a tv’s on, talking about the new power plant. Hmm, wonder where the climax will happen. Or that shot of the cook in ‘Hunt for Red October’. So, anyway.”

Ahh, palate cleanser.


Anyway, by the time the end comes and the killer is revealed and eighty-sixes Donald Sutherland, we’ve heard about it enough times that there’s no other way it could have ended.  All the twists and turns are so cliche, it’s like watching a single, short row of dominos falling in slow motion at a weird angle; you know exactly what will happen, and all you can do is watch it happen, wait for it to end, and wonder how the hell someone can get away with calling it art.


Well, this is what happens when you tell cinematographers that they get to be directors.
This movie might have been somewhere, anywhere, closer to mediocre than it is if someone had actually taken time to direct it, instead of just telling the actors to memorize their lines, do their scenes, and let someone shoot it. The actors play like the robots in Douglas Adams’ book, ‘So Long, and Thanks For All The Fish’; they have two emotions: happy and bored. Any mourning or sadness or anger or fear that they are supposed to be experiencing only plays as bored, any joy or pleasure or excitement just plays with simple, dopey smiles, like they’re stoned.  Meanwhile, the scenes look as though they were shot by a cameraman wearing moon boots, and cut together through the judicious use of the most unwieldy chainsaw and hatchett imaginable.  If someone was high enough, they might be able to call some of the shots artful, but to those of us who aren’t, it’s really just dressed up that way.


Speaking of dressed, the scariest thing about this movie is the ten minutes of screentime given to Donald Sutherland’s ass. Honestly, ten minutes. The tenth of a second that it’s shown in “Animal House” is more than enough, and not funny. To do so for ten minutes is sadistic in a way that should draw the attention of the Hague.


Honestly, Donald Sutherland’s ass has now given me worse nightmares than the NASA guys with no faces in E.T.