Category — Movies

This is just dumb-dumb-dumb but kind of fun anyway. True film-snobs will note that it’s only a paraphrase of the original and not a shot for shot remake which could be an interesting “finger exercise” for would-be filmmakers. Just imagine how many different ways this iconic scene could be re-envisioned while keeping the same editing pattern, possibly even the same soundtrack: an unsuspecting shrub that gets pruned, blissfully unaware mise-en-place that gets shredded into mire-poix, etc. Incidentally, if you actually try any of these variants, let me know and I’ll post them as well.

But now, on to this installment of Friday Night Movies:

My affection for werewolf tales is no secret.  Stories of tormented creatures of one kind who transform into tormented creatures of another kind speak deeply about so many of the profound changes we endure.  Or should I say they *can* speak deeply about such things.  So often, werewolf stories stink.  But that’s never dulled my affection.

So I was delighted to find a blog devoted solely to werewolf movies.  (http://www.werewolf-movies.com)  It doesn’t have the largest collection of reviews or articles yet but it sure seems headed in the right direction.  I also really appreciated the generous links section which has clued me into various different facets of werewolf related culture.

I’d never heard of Kwaidan (1965) before I checked it out this week. The DVD is released on the Criterion Collection so I knew it had to be nutritional, if not down right crunchy. It’s a pretty darned interesting film especially if you think that Japanese horror started with Ringu.

Kwaidan however, is an anthology, consisting of four separate stories all directed by Masaki Kobayashi, and as such it suffers the drawbacks of most anthology films. That is, at best it’s like a mini-film festival of short films and at worst they’re a bunch of unrelated stuff strung together. Kwaidan is more unified than many anthology films but it does feel really rather long. One suggestion that might sound heretical to cinema-snobs would be to watch each story separately, say, before watching another movie.

But Kwaidan works as a whole piece as well. Speaking personally, the stylistic unity was most effective. There is a gloriously theatrical sense to the movie; that is, it feels like it was mostly shot on a sound stage, one filled with meticulously constructed sets and folks in great costumes. For me, this sense of an artificial frame bolstered the “once upon a time” quality of the ghost stories. It’s a really different sensation than watching a lot of contemporary horror films that feel almost like documentaries and I found it quite refreshing.

I can’t say that Kwaidan is exactly scary but then I don’t find ANY ghost stories scary so much as sentimental. Better to say that it’s creepy and has many very nice, arresting images - exactly what I’d expect from a horror film on the Criterion Collection.

In the town where I grew up there was a movie theatre - the Calvin on Michigan Avenue - that was the perfect high school date spot. For $1.25 you could see two movies - one was some film on its second run so the film was always a little battered and scratched, and the other film, well, trust me, you’d never even heard of the second film on the bill.  They were “straight to video” releases before anyone had videotape players.  Anyway, for not too much pocket money, you could bring a date and hold hands in the dark or heck, just get away from the parents for awhile. And sometimes the movies weren’t too bad.

When I went away to college, I discovered another kind of double feature, one where not only are both movies good but when they are shown together on the same night a neat sort of “discussion” starts between the films. The first one I saw was Casablanca played on the same bill as Woody Allen’s Play it Again Sam.  Though video pretty much killed the little film revue theatres, now we have the ability to make our own homerolled double features. And our double features don’t have to include snotty art house film; they can be horror movies.

The big idea for this column are suggestions for two films that might work really well together, either based on their theme, a common actor, a common situation…whatever.  And the films don’t necessarily have to be “good.” Putting one film in the right context sometimes makes different aspects noticeable, and often this means that a film that might initially be dismissed as mediocre might actually have something more profound going on.  Or for that matter, sometimes a film that’s passable on its own completely falls apart when shown beside another work. That’s the fun here.

We all get to play Dr Frankenstein.  What are fantastic “Creature Double Features” you’ve concocted? How’d they turn out?

From Australia, with love. Imagine this cheery little warning tucked between ads for, I don’t know Quantas airlines and Vegemite.

The whole perspective of this public service announcement is weirdo-creepy, ain’t it? The image of the Grim Reaper as a bowler knocking down human pins in some dank Goth bowling alley just twists and turns in my head like a hungry corpse-worn. Compare and contrast, won’t you? this little video tidbit with the image of death as a chess player in Bergman’s The Seventh Seal.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U219eUIZ7Qo

by Elsa L.

This weekend found me caught in the spell of the Korean horror film, A Tale of Two Sisters (Janghwa, Hongryeon: 2003) The film stretches our American expectations of a horror film while conjuring an impressive sense of imminent and inexplicable danger as well as an effectively melancholy mood.

The story begins with the return of the two sisters to their family home after a stay in the hospital. When they are greeted frightening enthusiasm by their stepmom, we remember that underlying rule of horror films: things aren’t always what they seem. Could this parental figure possibly be as evil as she appears to be?

The family tensions play out further during the dinner scene: the cold and distant father, the out-of-control stepmom, the close bond between the teenage sisters. Bedtime finds us leaning forward in anticipation; we know something bad is going to happen or maybe already has. We just don’t yet know what.

The dark mood of the film is underscored by the large but darkly imposing house; the family is comfortable, maybe even wealthy, but still not safe. The camera convinces us that there is something frightening in the William Morris patterned wallpaper. We don’t know exactly what we are looking for, but we know that something scary lurks in this house.

Is there a ghost or something supernatural haunting the sisters or it is something more like rage and jealousy? I don’t want to reveal too much of the plot while at the same time acknowledging that the story is one that you’ll want to try to figure out. Many horror films offer a few “disposable characters” bumped off early in the film, but there are no such expendable victims here. We are drawn into caring about the sisters and their welfare. Like Su-Yuon, the older sister, we wait for the truth to be revealed. We depend on her to get to the bottom of matters.

Su-Yuon is our closest connection in the story but she proves to be an unreliable narrator– a device that catches me of guard every time in movies or literature. I want to believe what I’m seeing and hearing, and to trust that the characters and the filmmaker are showing the true story to me. The film offers a lesson in trust to the characters and views both.

A horror film or a foreign film asks the viewer to puzzle out meaning. A foreign horror film challenges us twice as much perhaps. A Tale of Two Sisters crosses the cultural divide in ways that will fascinate, mystify and haunt you after the film is over.