I Think Up Demons

There’s a high that I’m always chasing, and the beauty of it is that, unlike the most dangerous drugs, I can catch this one over and over again. It’s a geek high, of course. I’m talking about discovering new art that simply gets in your head and plays with the gears. It can come from anywhere. For film, a good example is my discovery of Japanese ghost movies before they got big in North America, when I’d go to Chinatown to search for imports and bootlegs. For paintings, it was the Dali coffee table book that my dad bought me when I was about five, which was full of mind-bending images I couldn’t make any sense of but also couldn’t take my eyes off of. In comic books, I became enthralled with the original British Judge Dread series after stumbling across it in Scotland while on a family vacation.

All of these things changed my conception of what a certain type of art could/should be. The J-horror ghost stories frightened me in an entirely new way; Dali showed my young mind that a painting wasn’t just a bowl of fruit or a lake-and-mountain landscape, like the stuff that hung at my grandma’s house; and Judge Dread proved that comic book heroes weren’t just altruistic do-gooders in tights – they can also merciless, gun-toting ball-busters.

That high of finding something that you just can’t devour enough of, happens the most with music, though, which is logical given that prevalence of the form. The latest music high I’ve been chasing since hearing one of his songs on the radio is Roky Erickson – a guy who chased a few too many highs himself. Originally a member of psychedelic ‘60s pioneers The 13th Floor Elevators, where acid was the fifth food group, he was busted with pot and his lawyer pleaded insanity, which landed him in an institution with hardened, genuinely crazy criminals for three years. Already suffering from mental problems exacerbated by drug use, the incarceration and shock treatment sent him on a slow spiral downward.

Al least it did mentally and physically – musically, as a solo artist, he crafted some of the greatest rock songs after being sent away. He wrote a bunch of horror-themed songs that tell of monsters, aliens, vampires and demons. His, bluesy rock riffs, frantic vocals and wild lyrics (often full of the paranoia filled metaphors that aren’t surprising for someone with schizophrenia) are so beyond cool, catchy and original that the man seemed touched by something otherworldly. For me, they’re tunes, notably my fave, “I Think Up Demons,” that give me that where-have-you-been-all-my-life buzz that makes me want to grab strangers on the street and scream at them, “WHY THE F**K AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ROKY ERICKSON? RIGHT NOW?!? AAARGH!!!”

This excitement led me to the 2005 documentary You’re Gonna Miss Me (named for the most famous 13^th Floor Elevators song). Interspersing the troubled history of Roky and rest of the Erickson family through extensive interviews, old photos and home movies, as well as testimonials from musicians such as ZZ-Top's Billy Gibbons and Patti Smith, it focuses on the fight for some of Roky’s brothers to make one of them, Sumner, a tuba player with the Pittsburgh Symphony, his legal guardian.

Under the care of their mother, Evelyn – who is presented as eccentric at best and mentally ill herself at worst – Roky has deteriorated to the point of being an unwashed hermit living in squalor, complete with long fingernails, matted hair and life-threatening mouth abscesses. He hasn’t played music in years, isn’t being paid proper royalties and can only sleep with noise blasting in his room. One of the great singer-songwriters of the ’60, ‘70s and ‘80s is reduced to a glassy-eyed child-man by the time he’s in his ‘50s.

The doc begins in 1999 and follows him through several years: the time leading up to the hearing, the hearing, an epilogue and DVD extra follow up footage of him in 2005 and 2007 (the year the DVD was released). Even if you’re a worthless musical heathen and aren’t into Erickson’s work, You’re Gonna Miss Me is one of the best documentaries on a musician out there. Director Keven McAlester starts with a fascinating subject and mounts a dramatic journey full of heartache, hope and some twists that are sometimes amusing, sometimes disturbing and usually both. Without dishing spoilers, let’s just say that Roky’s mom has some outrageous artistic endeavours that speak to a very peculiar mother/son relationship, and, in the end, you’re not even quite sure if Sumner is entirely with it either.

It’s a vital chronicle of an important artist on the brink, and guaranteed to make you a fan of Roky, if not his music (heathen!). But You’re Gonna Miss Me also does what a great character study doc should do and gives you plenty to read between the lines. It becomes clear that Erickson’s problems weren’t caused only by mental illness, or drug use, or shock therapy, or his family, or neglect, but a shitstorm combo that could’ve easily killed him. There’s enough suggestion and ambiguity to keep you speculating after the credits roll (even more of it fuelled by some of the DVD extras, such as “The Collected Works of Evelyn Erickson”), and the live performance extras are the icing on the weird, wonderful Roky Erickson cake.

Ultimately, it's a moving window into the fractured world of a man fighting for a chance to control his demons, even if he can’t exorcise them. Erickson sang it best: “Don’t Shake Me Lucifer.”

 (Roky Erickson photo by Paul Familetti)

-Dave Alexander

The Curious Case of Oscar Night

As you can see by the above pic, there will almost enough gold given away tonight to make a single filling for Gary Busey, so it must be Oscar night and I'm going to live blog it. If for some reason you thought it was actually going to start at 7pm EST, as noted in the previous post, well, I totally lied, as the Barbara Walters special is on now. She's interviewing the twits known as the Jonas Brothers and if I have to sit thorugh that, I'll shoot the TV, Fat Elvis-style.

OK, so when Walters is done trying to make these asexual teenage boys cry -- and then Anne Hathaway, Mickey Rourke and Hugh Jackman -- set Film Receptors to "CARE"...

(Photo credit: Anne Siegel)

Alrighty, let's check out the red carpet stuff, now that I've found the right TV channel (hey, I don't have cable, so I'm like an Amish guy with a Rubick's Cube here) -- which, in Toronto is 11 on Rogers.

And speaking of TV, Ron Howard just kinda confirmed an Arrested Development movie! YES!

Gotta say, if you're forced to listen to Ryan Seacrest, it's nice of 'em to let you watch Jessica Biel.

I wish it was possible to live blog the Razzies. Here's the list of winners for this year. I'm particularly happy that Mike Myers was called out for his tired, lame schtick in the Love Guru, and there was some official recognition (Worst Prequel,Remake, Rip-off or Sequel) of the supreme awfulness of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Which reminds me, why did David Fincher dress Benjamin Button up as Indiana Jones for much of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button? There were more than a few "Oldiana Jones" jokes made during that screening.

Kate Winslet -- I watched The Reader today and thought she was phenomenal in it. She brought to life one of the most interesting and layered characters I've seen in a movie in while.

So, apparently everyone's decided Slumdog Millionaire is gonna win Best Picture (they just flashed a poll where 65% picked the film). I think it will too. However, I think The Reader is the best of the nominees. It's very a very complex, intelligent script and the characters are very layered. I also think it's a fascinating meditation of the nature of evil.

Robert Downey Jr. -- Imagine how much the public would hate him or any of the other Supporting Actor nominees over Heath Ledger. He's need to wear that Iron Man suit.

OK, back to ABC for its red carpet brown nosing, er, I mean coverage...

Ferris Bueller, YOU'RE MY HERO!

I'm watching tonight with my buddy Colin. His assessment thus far: Needs more Flavor Flav. I wholeheartedly agree.

It's always fun to see Mickey Rourke and try to guess which Miami Vice bad guy he's dressed up as. I think tonight he's going as all of them.

Easy with the Bedazzler shot-gun, Miley...

"Lash Dramatization" -- amazing, I love makeup commercials. Does that mean those aren't actually eyelashes? Are they CGI eyelashes? Or are they real eyelashes that are acting? Is there a category called Best Performance for Eyelid Hair?

Somewhere a old vaudeville stage is missing its curtains, thanks to Penelope Cruz.

Why are they hiding the cool people -- Seth Rogan, Jack Black, Judd Apatow, etc. -- in the bar? Well, I guess that question kinda answers itself...

Ah, nothing says Oscar glam like a commercial for yeast infection cream...

Alright, time for Wolverine!

Wow, it's been less than two minutes and we've got our first recession joke!

I like the low-budget Saturday Night Live route they're going here. "Swim a sea of excrement." Wow.

Ha ha ha, this is actually pretty good. I love that Benjamin Button cut-out with the doll's body.

This is excellently bizarre. "I'll rent The Reader" -- niiiiice. So true.

Fifteen Oscar nominations for Meryl Streep?!? They should probably just have a Barcalounger with her name on it down there.

Tilda Swinton, have some shame! I can almost see your neck in that scandalous outfit. Get a turtleneck and cover yourself up.

Best Supporting Actress -- I'd go Viola Davis in Doubt; she gave a great, raw performance.

Penelope Cruz does get my vote for best Swiffer Dress, though -- that stage will be spotless. Seriously, though, good to see a Woody Allen film getting a nod.

It'd go In Bruges. But Milk has a helluva script too.

Nice speech, man.

Pullin' for The Reader here.

Slumdog's an alright choice, though. At it's heart, the plot is a bit paint-by-numbers, but the idea of having the narrative unfurl via a game show investigation, is fantastic.

Speaking of Iron Giant, if you like animated films, it's one of the very best. It's a shame it was never even nominated for an Oscar.

At least Wall-E won! Love that film. It's great to see a mainstream film for kids with such a strong, positive message.

Ok the Japanese guy who won in the animated short category just gave the best acceptance speech in the history of the Oscars. Screw that, in the history of SPEECHES. Amazing.

Given the scope, number of widely different locations, and changes in time period, Benjamin Button definitely deserves Best Art Direction. Fincher's films always have great direction, but this one is particularly ambitious.

Best Makeup for Benjamin Button? Yup, I'd say that's a no-brainer. The CGI is astounding too, particularly the way that the film blend the two elements.

Shouldn't that guy from Twilight get back to his other job as a replacement Jonas Brother?

Is there anything more cloying than an Oscars romance montage? I guess this is where Hugh Jackman gets a pee break.

Ben Stiller found a way to make his head look even larger! Sweet faux beard.

Best Cinematography should've gone to Benjamin Button given how damn complex many of the visuals in that film are to realize. Slumdog looks great, especially on the big screen, but, as Colin (sitting to the right of me) just pointed out, BB is much more "painterly." Best Fake Joaquin Phoenix Beard at an Oscar Ceremony still goes to Ben Stiller, though.

This Pineapple Express skit would be a lot funnier if they were allowed to show the stoners getting stoned. Not bad, though. James Franco is great movie stoner, maaaaaaan. And him watching footage of himself in Milk is a nice touch. This is more like something you'd see on the MTV Movie Awards. Must be part of the Oscars' push to capture a younger audience, along with host Wolverine.

Best Live Action Short Film -- I can't believe Spielzeugland won over Manon on the Asphalt! What a friggin' rip-off! What's wrong with these morons?

Just kidding, I've never seen any of 'em either.

Now’s a good time to give a shout out to the Official Anti-Benjamin Button blog, which is here. I love this site, along with this video comparing the film to Forrest Gump.As much as I admire some of the technical aspects of BB, the film does not deserve for a Best Picture nod. Two-and-a-half hours of precious life lessons delivered in that cheesy down home N'Awlins accent? And is it too much to ask to give the main character an actual character flaw to make him interesting? Aside from the fact that he ditches his wife and young child and goes off to tour the world -- what a dick! Also that montage of the events leading up to Daisy breaking her leg is so cliche and unnecessary, especially in a two-and-a-half-hour-long film. Arrrrgh! Screw you, Button!

OK, time to go to the fridge. We all know how this one's gonna turn out. Was there ever a more pre-determined category? I'm just waiting for the standing ovation. And why is Cuba Gooding Jr. up there? Who cares about Jerry Maguire -- after making Radio, that guy should've been run out of town.

And don't get me wrong, Ledger clearly deserves this one. His performance as The Joker gave comic book movies the legitimacy they deserve. Well, at least that some of them deserve. I don't think we'll see a Fantastic Four sequel on the ballot any time soon.

HERZOG! HERZOG! HERZOG!

Werner Herzog is the most bad-ass filmmaker working today. That said, I don't think Encounters at the End of the World is nearly his best. Although anything the reserved German does is worth watching, he's done better. I felt he kind of lost the narrative of this one and put something together with the footage he managed to capture. By his standards it's too loose.

That said, if Herzog won, he would've torn the head off that statue with his teeth and spit it into the sun. Just because that's how Werner rolls, people.

Hey, look, an ad for the Angels & Demons, the new Ron Howard film, that's a follow up to the Da Vinci Code. I can hardly wait to NOT see that. Ron Howard, you make safe, boring, criminally overrated films, and I never get tired of stating that. A Beautiful Mind for Best Picture? You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding.

Hmmm... a montage aimed at that MTV crowd. They showed Rambo for a second there, so I'm cool with it.

Making Brad Pitt look like this guy definitely earns Benjamin Button the Oscar for Visual Effects.

Dark Knight should've took the Film Editing category. The action sequences are often breathtaking. Christian Bale should show up right about now and yell at someone.

To quote Colin at hearing the arrival of Eddie Murphy: "What?" Where's the fat suit indeed...

OK, Jerry's Kids montage -- definitely time to put the jokes away for a minute.

Damn, the guy looks pretty great for an almost 83-year-old! I can't believe they cut him off when the commercial break started.

Thinking about the Actor in a Leading Role category. Everyone's obviously pulling for Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler, and he really does carry that film to a large extent, but Sean Penn impressed me in Milk. Rourke is playing himself in the film and Penn is playing a gay man through the course of a couple decades, which is a greater challenge. Maybe they should just wrestler onstage to settle this contest. In character, of course.

Speaking of Milk, it was nominated for Best Score, which is one of the few problems I had with the film. Danny Elfman's score is way too Hollywood (read: dramatic) for Gus Van Sant's more subdued style. I found it distracting at times. Slumdog Millionaire is better choice for sure. The score really matches the spirit of the movie and lifts it. The performance from the soundtrack demonstrates the colour of both the visuals and music.

I should also note that one of the greatest times I've ever had dancing was at an Indian wedding. Everyone goes for it -- from kids to grandparents -- and the music is infectious.

Colin just pointed out that this is one of the better Oscar shows he's seen, and I agree. It's a strong mix of humour, great visuals and entertaining musical numbers.

I wonder if all the awards that Slumdog Millionaire is getting at the Oscars will change the negative opinion of the film that the public has of it in India? Or will it just reinforce that negativity, given the opulence on display here? I guess that might hinge on how much of the film's spoils makes it back to the actual slums.

Hold on to your heartstings, it's the R.I.P. montage...

KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

Glad they gave a nod to Maila "Vampira" Nurmi. I had the privilege of conducing the last ever interview with her just before she passed away. It ran here. If you're wondering where Heath Ledger was, he would've made it into last year's momntage. That said, where was Forrest Ackerman in there? Seriously?!? The guy coined the term "sci-fi."

Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire in the Directing category. Yeah, I can get down with that. It's a very dynamic film with him at the helm, and he's good at doing both intimate and epic. Plus he had to work with kids, so that gets extra props.

Either Streep or Winslet deserve this one. Streep is Queen of the Shrews in Doubt, downright frightening. However, Winslet has a much more complex character in The Reader, I believe. Definitely one of the most layered I've seen in a while.

Yup. She deserves it. Take a close look at her character -- she's the love interest, a war criminal, a seducer, a victim, a martyr, and an enigma and, at the end of the day, as Hannah, she allows you to come to your own conclusions as to whether or not she's a sympathetic monster.

Streep's character is without a doubt a sympathetic monster, which is an easier turn.

I bet Michael Douglas spends most of the day thinking, "I'm married to Catherine Zeta-Jones, and you aren't, so you can suck it."

Sean Penn seems to morphing into Robert DeNiro by the minute.

Love Richard Jenkins in Six Feet Under. About time he was given some Oscar love. I'm still pulling for Mickey Rourke, though. Off the top rope!

Well, my second choice. Here comes the buzzkill Oscar speech, or will he surprise us with some humour? Ha ha, points for self-awareness.

"We've got to have equal right for everyone." Damn rights! (And by that I mean I mean YES!) Yeah, Penn can be a killjoy sometimes but it's important to say what he just covered. Good job, man.

I'm quite sure Slumdog will win Best Picture, but I think The Reader deserves it. It's such an intelligent film and weaves a very compelling story into the fabric of history. It's much more thought-provoking and weighty. Milk is also very important, and an excellent film that I highly recommend, but Harvey Milk is such an all around likable character that the film just isn't quite as challenging as The Reader.

No surprise there. And hell, a lot worse films have won (Braveheart, Gladiator, Crash, and the truly weak A Beautiful Mind). Plus, it's kinda worth it just to see how excited those kids are at the whole thing.

And now, because everyone likes a twist, I'm gonna pick my best film of last year, and it wasn't nominated for anything: Let the Right One In. This Swedish vampire movie is simply astounding. The most original thing I've seen in a long, long time. It's beautifully shot, amazingly acted, astoundingly directed and very edgy (it doesn't shy away from its horror elements) -- exceptional all around. Watch for it on DVD soon. I'll say it again, it's the best film of 2008. And exactly the kind of film that The Oscars wouldn't know what to do with.

But, as far as Oscars go, this year's ceremony was a lot less lame than previous years, even if it was pretty predictable, so that's something.

Thanks for reading.

G'night.

Grouching on the Oscars

You'd pretty much have to live in a garbage an to avoid hearing about the Oscars. But, instead of hiding from the fervent spectacle of unbridled celebrity worship that is the awards show, I'm gonna hop on the hype train to Statueville and live blog 'em this Sunday. I'll get started at 7pm (EST),  and you can watch along on ABC, all the while hitting that refresh button and filling Bill Gates' pockets with gold coins. Yay!
I recently wrote a lighthearted piece for MSN taking a look at the Oscars during the Bush years, which you can read here, and as I predicted, I think Slumdog Millionaire will win Best Picture. It's a choice that Oscar the Grouch would sure get behind, and I think it's a safe mix of a nice film that's ambitious, a little bit exotic yet not too dangerous, and gives voters a really good feeling to get behind because it's got that underdog feel to it and a nice uplifting ending. Awwww...
Don't worry, there will be plenty of nay saying and smart-assery to answer the saccharine tone of the event. And at the very least I hope to see Sean Penn make a joyless, sobering statement, nominees for best Supporting Actor try to fake anticipation before Heath Ledger inevitably wins or an intoxicated Mickey Rourke drop-kick a podium. Yeah, that would definitely add to the proceedings...

Woody, Cassandra and Hitchcock

Woody Allen is a much better filmmaker when he’s Alfred Hitchcock, than when he’s Woody Allen. I’m not a Woody Allen fan, or more precisely a fan of “Woody Allen movies,” meaning the New York nebbish-centric dramatic comedies that comprise most of his work. It’s not that he hasn’t made me laugh, such as in Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex *But Were Afraid to Ask and Sleeper, with the whole robot-schtick, but in general I don’t connect with his world, and as an actor, sometimes I find him so irritating that I wanna pants him, kick sand in his face and make him eat his glasses. However, when isn’t making films steeped in the Woody Allen persona, and he embraces his Hitchcockian dark side, the little nerd really impresses.

I don’t imagine this was a very easy transition either. It started with his long slide into irrelevance through the ‘90s and ‘00s, where one romantic comedy, crime comedy, ensemble comedy, dramatic comedy after another failed to light a fire at the box office. In 2002 he made a very typical Woody Allen film, the romantic ensemble comedy Hollywood Ending, which earned a freakin’ whopping $4.8 million theatrically. Allen’s next film, Anything Else (a title with the power to cure insomnia) was also written and directed by him, but this time it wasn’t marketed as a Woody Allen film. Whereas his name was featured prominently on the poster for Hollywood Ending, here it was tiny and the poster art was designed to look like your average romantic comedy, as you can see. It’s gotta be a blow to the ego when audiences have to be tricked into seeing your movie because your name is box office poison – not that making money equals quality, but if you can’t recoup your budget, you’re not going to make films for very long. Anyhow, Anything Else earned even less dough (around $3.2 million), so clearly that wasn’t working. Not even putting Will Ferrell on the poser worked – his next one, 2004’s Melinda, Melinda (another riveting title!) made around $3.8 million.

I quite contentedly saw these none of these films, so it was with great reluctance that I rented Match Point (2005) because the reviews were good and a couple friends with trustworthy taste recommended it, insisting that it’s not a Woody Allen film, it’s not what you think. Well, punch me in the brown corduroy blazer, it’s a fantastic, serious movie. It starts off as a romantic drama but takes a very nasty, very unexpected twist that makes it feel like a modern day Hitchcock movie. Set in

Britain

, and with nary a neurotic old man in sight, it was something fresh from Allen. It also made the most of any of his films since the ‘80s, over $23 million domestically.

He was back to his old tricks with the comedy mystery Scoop in 2006, but 2007’s Cassandra’s Dream (seriously, I could grab a handful of Scrabble tiles and come up with a more memorable title) is even more Hitchcockian that Match Point. According to boxofficemojo.com it made under a million theatrically (domestically, but it earned nearly $24 million worldwide), but I suspect that has more to do with the fact that the Weinstein Company basically dumped it. It opened in 107 theatres and I don’t recall a single ad for it.

It’ll probably get lost in the shadow of his latest (Oscar-nominated) film Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Thanks to Paradox Entertainment, I got a look at the Cassandra’s Dream before it hits DVD in April and, although it’s not nearly as accomplished as Match Point when it comes to plotting and surprises, it’s still worth a watch, especially for non-Woody Allen fans.

The performances are excellent. Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell star as working class brothers Ian and Terry, respectively, in need of money – the former because he’s trying to fake out his new girlfriend that he’s wealthy, and the latter because of his gambling problem. The great Tom Wilkinson stars as their rich uncle, who can get them where they want to be financially, as long as they’re willing to perform a particularly nasty deed in order to help him avoid prison for some shady business dealings.

I love the old school feel of this movie; the pacing is steady, the direction is effective but not showy – Allen doesn’t need to constantly move his camera to build a scene, like so many filmmakers do. Plus, the score has a great orchestral drive reminiscent of a classic Hitchcock film, and the tension builds to crescendo in a way that would surely win the approval of the Master of Suspense himself.

It’s here that Allen kinda buggers up the works, though. The film is so damn tense as the brothers spiral out of control and into a murderous plot in which things go awry, that there’s no room to breathe. Seriously, this movie is stress-inducing, as it’s riddled with enough guilt to fill two Hitchcock films. Allen has written strong characters and it’s tough to watch ‘em squirm so damn much. McGregor and Farrell have a lot to work with and give it their all (as does Wilkinson in his supporting role).

But all this nerve-wracking build-up fizzles like one of those giant firecrackers Wile E. Coyote gives to the Roadrunner – poof… . Obviously, I’m not going to spoil it, but in case you’re wondering, the finale involves the boat that the film is named for. In the end, Cassandra’s Dream is closest thing you’re gonna get to a new Hitchcock movie, and it’s worth a watch even though Allen didn’t know how to end it.

Considering the guy has written, directed and often starred in (he’s not in this one, though) a new film every year since the early ‘70s, it’s no wonder his creative juices need spiking. Even though I’m not a Woody Allen fan in general, I’ve always admired his steady output. It’s also good to see that the guy, who’s in his mid-‘70s, seems to still challenge himself. He joins other American filmmakers such as Robert Altman, Clint Eastwood, Sidney Pollock and Sydney Lumet, who demonstrate/demonstrated some of their best work well past standard retirement age. For well-rounded film geeks, it’s reassuring to see that there’s still a place for a more classic sensibility in mainstream cinema, even if it is sailing off into the sunset behind a pair of thick glasses.

 

-Dave Alexander

The Right Boogeyman for the Job

Who was your boogeyman? When I was a kid it was Frankenstein’s monster. My parents recorded a double bill of the classic Universal Dracula and Frankenstein on a VCR larger than my current apartment. Both films gave me a thrill, but the image of Frankenstein’s monster making its way down the stone laboratory staircase was literally the stuff of nightmares. In the horror movie of my subconscious, I ran down hallways and into rooms. I would lock the doors but the monster would smash them open and I would scramble to find another door out before I got caught. It’s that feeling of no escape, of an unstoppable, unreasonable force bearing down – those cold eyes, that disfigured face of something that was both alive and dead. It was such a helpless feeling, struggling to flee those giant, stony hands, which would surely wrap around my neck and crush me to kidburger.

Before long, though, my fear of Frankenstein’s monster turned into a fascination, and “it” became more of a “he.” The more I watched Frankenstein, the more I developed a obsession with him that overrode my initial repulsion. He became cool; I had Frankenstein toys, pictures, a model, even a T-shirt with his picture on it that declared, “If I want your opinion, I’ll beat it out of you.” I wore it until the silver glitter border on the rubber decal started peeling off.

I was really an exception for my generation, though. With the home video revolution of the ‘80s, most kids were discovering the new boogeymen: Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Leatherface and, of course, Jason Vorhees. Although I knew about the characters, I didn’t encounter any their films until I was in my late teens and early twenties (curse the lack of an older brother, cousin or family friend to corrupt my innocence at an earlier date).

Given the remakes and sequels (and in the case of both Halloween and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, sequels to remakes!), it’s obvious that their popularity hasn’t waned. And, if we’re judging by the number of films in a franchise, Jason is the most popular, with twelve films to his name, including the new remake. Purists will note that Jay doesn’t exist in the first Friday the 13^th as a boogeyman, but even if you don’t count that one, he still beats Mikey Myers in Halloween, which will have ten films after Rob Zombie’s upcoming sequel to his remake (assuming one counts the non-Myers third installment) – you need a spreadsheet to keep track of it all.

And while the bottom line ultimately determines why these boogeymen are so damn indestructible (or at least so damn resurrectable), why did they become so popular in the first place, and how have they managed to adapt to become stronger over the past three decades?

Is it because they drink the blood of children? Probably. But they thrive also because these modern morality/fairy tales (descriptions used by many a film scholar) recast the same basic fears that kids have been rattled by even before the stories of the Brothers Grimm. Kids might not believe in a witch or a werewolf (or other more gothic baddies of eras gone by) in the woods waiting to snatch them if they wander to far from home or go out after dark, but I’ve heard more than a few people say that they once feared Jason was lurking in the woods, or that Michael Myers would show up their bedroom window one night.

Of course, these kids had all gotten a peek at films not intended for their age group, often thanks to the permissiveness of a friend’s parents or the local mom ‘n’ pop video store. Nudity, swearing and drug use aside, in that way they were a lot more like the Grimm’s tales, which, although  Disney-fied over the years, are very violent and mean-spirited in their original forms. For example, in the original Cinderella the evil stepmother is forced to put on red hot shoes and dance around until she dies. Bit harsh…

Maybe Jason and his brethren are mid-level boogeymen. They’re not fully supernatural creatures, like the monsters made popular between the ‘30s and ‘50s by Universal and Hammer Studios, but they’re also not the non-supernatural grown-up boogeymen that inhabit real life, such as serial killers and terrorists.

Now, let’s take Freddy and Leatherface out of the equation, as the former is really on the supernatural end of the spectrum and the latter is much further on the non-supernatural end. Let’s narrow focus on Jason and Michael, and their closest imitators (for example masked miner Harry Warden in the original My Bloody Valentine, or the killer in The Toolbox Murders remake). They bridge childhood and adulthood by existing in a middle ground. They are plausible in the way that they are “real” human beings warped through extreme trauma, such as physical disfigurement and/or emotional horror. They’ve even got regular names: Jason, Michael, Harry. And they harm, not with claws, teeth or magic spells, but with knives, machetes, axes and pretty much anything you can find in the shed. On the other hand, though, they have superhuman strength, the ability to shrug off bullets like they were bug bites, and that mystical power to walk slow yet somehow always catch up to their victims (it would be so frustrating to compete against these guys in a marathon). This mix of the real and the supernatural has proven to be the most popular, and the Friday the 13^th remake sticks close to the formula. So very close.

This new Friday remake, which was produced by Michael Bay and directed by Marcus Nispe (who were behind the equally slick Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake) is downright neurotic about sticking to the popular boogeyman mythology of the franchise. Every cliché from the horny, weed-obsessed teens that open the film, to the seemingly dead killer making a final lunge for his victims at the end of the movie, is here.

So what has changed in almost 30 years since the first Friday to ensure the mythology appeals to a new generation? Less than you’d think, really. The pacing of the film is quicker (it brings Jason right up to his hockey mask look); the victims are more obsessed with technology (there are cell phones, a GPS device and a video camera); and both Jason and the breasts seem artificially larger. Also, in what one assumes is attempt and not making the plot completely predictable, it doesn’t come down to Jason stalking just a “Final Girl” character at the end. (The Final Girl being film theorist Carol Clover’s term for the virginal good girl who abstains from partying and therefore survives the morality tale.) I’ll avoid a spoiler here by saying more.

The dialogue is predictably crappy, the humour predictably forced and the character logic predictably flawed (no, don’t go check out the boathouse by yourself, dumbass – sigh…), which is par for the course in films aimed at teens, of course. No surprises there.

Ultimately, though, what’s going to make this film connect with its intended youthful audience is the boogeyman. If you wander the woods at Crystal Lake, if you go out partying after dark, drinking smoking drugs and having wild sex, you are going to unleash an unstoppable force of nature. (Which is just one more reason all those things are so much fun, right?)

On a more primal level, this is about the single-minded thing in the woods that cannot be stopped – that will take you away to its lair. Whether it’s a wicked witch with a house in the woods, Frankenstein leaving his broken down windmill to roam the countryside, Jason waiting in his rat-infested underground labyrinth at Crystal Lake, a serial killer with a secret underground torture dungeon, or a terrorist kidnapper in some remote village or cave, those basic fears remain the same regardless of age. A stranger is waiting to snatch you from safety, spirit you away and cause you harm.

The Friday the 13th remake topped the box office this past weekend, earning around $45 million (according to boxofficemojo.com). Right now, for that most formative demographic of pre-teens and teens, Jason is simply the best boogeyman for the job.

 

-Dave Alexander

As Slime Goes By

Time has rarely been so cruel, as it has to the Ghostbusters. No, I don’t mean the films – Ghostbusters still rules and Ghostbusters II, well, it’s hasn’t got more mediocre over time. The franchise as a whole is stronger than ever with the upcoming release of this five-DVD set of The Real Ghostbusters cartoon, the much-hyped Atari game (featuring the voices of the original Ghostbusters), a batch of new action figures on the way, news of a third film officially in the works (and you know it’s a big deal if the BBC is also reporting on it), scripted by a couple writers on The Office. I’m talking about the actors who first played the characters 25 years ago.

Bill Murray (Peter Venkman) is 58, Dan Aykroyd (Raymond Stanz) is 56, Egon Spengler is 64 and Ernie Hudson (Winston Zeddemore) is 63. Although Hudson

has aged the best of the lot, the rest of ‘em are the appropriately fatter, balder and/or grayer versions of their 1984 selves. And that’s what makes a third Ghostbusters film so damn appealing: a team of Ghostbusters that are 20 years out of synch, 20 years closer to death, yet 20 years wilier (when tested) than when we last saw them.

With that in mind, here are five things I’d like to see in Ghostbusters III.

1. The Murray Effect

As I just mentioned, I want to see these guys show their ages: a fat Egon trying to cram himself into an old suit; Peter’s whisps of gray hair blowing in the supernatural wind while he’s catching a  ghost in the stream; Ray complaining about his back; Winston sucking wind after decades of sucking on Winstons. Give me a Peter who’s the new Bill Murray – the one who reinvented himself in film over the last decade (since Rushmore) as a sad-eyed super-misanthrope defeated by life. Take a cue from Wes Anderson’s work with Murray

and embrace the tragicomedic possibilities of sad sack old men. The idea of these guys being called back into action wasn’t a big deal in Ghostbusters II because it wasn’t like they were really retired when the slime hit the fan again only five years later, despite Venkman proclaiming, “Suck in the guts, guys, we’re the Ghostbusters.” After two decades he can say that and mean it.

2. Technology

Nothing has advanced as rapidly since the ‘80s as technology, except perhaps Dan Aykroyd’s hairline, and gears and gadgets are an essential part of the fun of the series. The guys are smarter, so they should be able to compensate for their age with some superior technology. I’d be fun to see them head out with their old stuff, have it blow up and almost kill them, and then be forced to improve upon their tools with new technology. Hell, if you can cram 32 gigs in a thumb drive, surely they can devise a way to get more ghosts in a trap, right? It’d also be amusing if they were forced to create new equipment because they didn’t bother to patent the old stuff and someone else now owns it.

3. Political Correctness

What about the rights of the spectral? Huh? HUH?!? Imagine how the Ghostbusters would deal with a crowd of protestors outside a haunted building decrying the painful capture and unfair imprisonment of ghosts. Beware P.E.T.S.: People for the Ethical Treatment of Spirits.

4. Moranis 

Your movie diet needs more Moranis. It’s just way fun to quote Rick Moranis as upscale New York

nerd Louis Tully (“So, does anybody wanna play Parcheesi?”) and Rick has done dick all in the last decade, so he’s ripe for a serious comeback. By now Louis would be married to Janine and they’d probably have a whack of insane kids with thick glasses, all hopped up on organic vitamins.

5. Death

For a long time, one of the main talking points on ‘busters III was that Bill Murray would only agree to return if his character was killed off and appeared as a ghost. I can’t see that happening, as audiences wouldn’t dig it, but a spirited – if you will – discussion between these guys about what each of them hope for in terms of the afterlife, and how they would handle being a ghost, could make for some great dialogue. Egon would surely be fascinated by the academic possibilities of it, while Peter might make the most of his ability to be a Peeping Tom.

Halfway through writing this, I came across this list of Five Ways to Make a Cool Ghostbusters Sequel, courtesy Cinematical (which also has more recent news of the new movie here). While I very much agree with them about limiting the CGI, I think restricting the original Ghostbusters to cameos is terrible idea.  At the heart of Ghostbusters are the freakin’ Ghostbusters, the characters we’ve come to know and love. I want to see them in action (or at least giving it their best) two decades down the road.

Anyhow, at least one of the most anticipated ‘80s franchises resurrections looks like it may just happen. With any luck, the filmmakers won’t conspire to rub butt all over our childhood memories with something as awful as Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I’d rather every molecule in my body explode at the speed of light than see it get screwed up that bad.

Well, I guess we'll cross that stream when we get to it.

-Dave Alexander

Holding Out for an Antihero

           

There are action heroes and there are action antiheroes, so where does Liam Neeson’s character fit in Taken?

Action heroes: Stallone, Schwarzenegger, Norris, Van Damme and Seagal. Action antiheroes: Lee Marvin in Point Blank (1967), Michael Caine in Get Carter (1971), Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry (1971), Charles Bronson in Death Wish (1974). Action heroes live in a black and white world, while action antiheroes inhabit a morally grey area. Action heroes are cartoonishly muscled (well, maybe not Seagal, who's more physically William Shatner-like as the years pass), while antiheros are of average size. Action heroes will often choose bare hands over guns, while antiheroes resort to fists if they loose their piece. Actions heroes usually have a love interest, while antiheroes are married to vengeance (also, action heroes are generally a lot more handsome than action antiheroes). Action heroes have a shorter shelf-life than anti-heroes, who often peak in their 40s, 50s, even 60s, as they become wilier - Stallone in the latest Rambo notwithstanding, although he's seriously bolstered by hair dye, botox and human growth hormone.

In Taken Neeson, who is in his late-‘50s, plays Bryan Mills, a retired government “preventer” (presumably a black-ops type spy/assassin). His years of experience are essential; when his daughter is kidnapped in France, he must call on old allies, go into his bag of tricks, and anticipate his adversaries’ next moves all the time. He plows through the baddies – Albanian kidnappers dealing in sex slaves – with reckless abandon, and sometimes a car. He is singular in his quest, but revenge is secondary to recovering his daughter. And, as is standard in so many hero and antihero films, the main character is forced to go outside of the law because it is either corrupt or inefficient (in this case both).

Neeson is most definitely an antihero in the film, one as efficient as he is ruthless. The joy of Taken is watching him break his enemies like week-old baguettes and move on to the next sicko. Because the stakes are so high and his quest so justified (it’s his friggin’ kid on the line!), he gets to be more like the aforementioned ‘70s antiheroes: nasty. This is the film’s edge: a mean streak cinema that goers aren’t used to anymore.

Some context. In Point Blank, Marvin’s character, a “primitive man” as the trailer notes, mounts a campaign against the former partner who left him for dead while stealing his wife – you can bet they both get it. Caine in Get Carter is a hitman with “unbridled hate” who goes on a rampage to avenge his brother’s murder at the hands of the mob, and he’s not above brutalizing women. Eastwood in Dirty Harry (which, like Point Blank, co-stars the late, great Canuck character actor John Vernon), a “homicidal maniac…with a badge,” is just fine with torturing or gunning down a “suspect.” And Bronson, as a “mad vigilante,” in Death Wish shoots more often than he blinks, even nailing unarmed men running away from him.

Thinking along these wrath-wrenched lines, there’s one scene that stands out in particular in Taken. Mills shows up at a former French ally’s house, just as the agent arrives home to his family. We see the man tuck in his sweet little daughters, and we watch as his wife goes out of her way to welcome the unexpected visitor. But it seems that not only has corruption spread to the French authorities, this one-time friend has been making efforts to have Mills deported (not unreasonable, really, considering the mounting body count). In response, Mills threatens to make the man’s daughters orphans, and drives his point home with a bullet. It’s shocking, and the audience I watched the film with didn’t quite know how to respond, as it wasn’t as easy to delight in this particular character’s anguish.

That said, there are a few things that mark Taken as a modern revenge film. First is the rapid fire editing of the fight sequences – a bad habit cinematic habit that seems to have become popular with the Bourne movies. Half-second blurs in rapid succession just don’t tell you much visually.

The second is the feminine presence in the film. The aforementioned old-school ass-kickers lived solely in a man’s world, where the women in their lives are either dead, despicable or merely set-pieces. But Taken was co-written and co-produced by French filmmaker Luc Besson. The man has made many a revenge film and each of them have a key feminine presence driving the narrative. In La Femme Nikita, the main character is a woman drafted against her will into a spy program, where things go awry and much killing ensues; in The Professional (a.k.a. Léon) it’s a little girl (Natalie Portman) being protected and trained by a hitman (Jean Reno); in The Transporter, Jason Statham’s character has his life as underworld deliveryman turned upside down when he discovers his latest package is a bound woman. In Taken, Mills may suffer a failed marriage (Famke Janssen plays his unlikable ex), but his world revolves around his seventeen-year-old daughter.

It’s that Jekyll and Hyde parallel that makes the movie interesting, as we see Mills the particularly doting dad morph into Mills the particularly cold blooded killer when provoked.

Third, despite all of his training, Mills is no match for the MPAA (if you think the French softened this tough guy, look closer to home). Taken has been out in Europe forsometime and a foreign version of the film has been posted to the torrent sites. Clips comparing the changed scenes have popped up online, as well and there are a few key differences that demonstrate how the North American version of the movie was toned down. Notably, there’s a key torture scene that involved stabbing as well as electricity (and really, in a revenge movie, what’s better than a spot of light stabbing here and there?).

And that’s who Liam Neeson’s character is in Taken: a strange but effective mix of Lone Wolf and Family Man – a guy who shoots first and takes you to soccer practice later.

Contrast and compare for yourself with these trailers:

Point Blank

Get Carter

Dirty Harry

Death Wish (I swear that’s John Vernon doing the voiceover)

Taken

-Dave Alexander