Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn 10 Best Films of 2011. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng
Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn 10 Best Films of 2011. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng
Thứ Năm, 16 tháng 8, 2012
MIDNIGHT SON (now on DVD from Mongrel Media) - Review By Greg Klymkiw - The creepiest, sexiest and most romantic contemporary vampire picture is now on DVD. One of the 10 Best Films of 2011 this is a picture that deserves a hallowed place in any self-respecting genre geek's movie collection.
Midnight Son (2011)
dir. Scott Leberecht
Starring: Zak Kilberg, Maya Parish, Jo D. Jonz, Arlen Escarpeta, Larry Cedar, Tracey Walter
****
Review By Greg Klymkiw
Jacob (Zak Kilberg) is sick. Very, very sick. He leads a solitary existence in a basement apartment with all the windows sealed shut. By day, he is a brilliant young artist - painting variations on a similar theme: exquisite renderings of the sun. He pays his rent working as a night-shift security guard. He is so sensitive to the rays of the sun that his arm bears the horrendous scars of burned flesh.
Of late, he's been extremely hungry and in spite of wolfing down as much food as possible, he's becoming thinner and more pale. One night he collapses at work - blacking out completely. A doctor examines him and expresses concern that he is becoming anemic from malnutrition. This, of course, simply cannot be. He's eating more than a 500 lb. circus freak can ingest in a week.
The thing is, Jacob needs meat.
Meat.
Pure and simple.
On his was home from the doctor visit, he buys a juicy steak from the butcher shop, fries it up and scarfs it down. Alas, he's still hungry. Eyeing the styrofoam platter his steak lay upon prior to ingestion, Jacob is especially drawn to the glistening droplets of blood dappling the white foamy surface. He voraciously laps up the treacly crimson goo.
This taste treat inspires yet another visit to his friendly neighbourhood butcher shop whereupon he buys an entire container of blood. He greedily guzzles the hemoglobin treat and feels energized like he hasn't in some time.
Jacob knows now what he needs to survive.
Jacob needs blood.
Such are the opening minutes of Scott Leberecht's Midnight Son, one of the most exciting feature length directorial debuts in years. Given what passes for vampires in these dark days of the ludicrous Twilight franchise, it seems almost insulting to toss this original and affecting horror movie (also scripted by Leberecht) into the same putrid bucket containing Stephenie Meyer's rank turds.
Still, we must call a spade a spade and a vampire movie Midnight Son most certainly is. As such, it's one of the creepiest, sexiest and truly most romantic vampire pictures to grace the screens in many a new moon.
Its unique blend of gorgeously gritty camerawork and equal dollops of both neorealism and existentialism, place the picture closer to the tradition forged by George A. Romero's Martin, Larry Fessenden's Habit and Abel Ferrara's double scoop of the horror brilliance that is Driller Killer and The Addiction.
What Leberecht brings to the table that's all his is a tremendous degree of heart. He manages to shock us, creep us out AND move us. This is an astounding achievement.
When Jacob meets the coke-addicted cigarette girl Mary (Maya Parish) they're instantly attracted to each other - two lost souls in the big city who deserve much more out of life and most certainly deserve each other. As played by the beautiful, sexy, but wholly real Parish, the character of Mary has what Twilight's Kristen Stewart is unable to bring to her vampire-loving heroine - a sense of humour and play. She's a character that the audience falls in love with because she has a perfect blend of bigger-than-life and girl-next-door properties (albeit slightly tarnished by the cards life has thus dealt her).
Jacob too feels like somebody we could know, or even be. He's trapped by circumstance and lonely out of necessity. That he should discover his potential soulmate at the worst possible time isn't just the stuff of great drama, it's rooted in realism - an experience so many have had when they find something or someone special, but the timing is so damned inopportune.
Leberecht's mise-en-scene is superb. He captures strange corners and pockets of Los Angeles with the same eye for detail Larry Fessenden brought to the Manhattan Habit was rooted in. Leberecht's choice of locations, shots and interiors never feel stock. Most of all, he delivers a side of L.A. we seldom see on film. It's gritty, all right, but the picture plunges us into the sort of strange places David Lynch himself might be envious of.
My personal favourite is a toxic materials dump in the rear lane of a hospital wherein we're introduced to one of the weirdest pushers we'll encounter in any recent movie - the sleazy blood peddling orderly (brilliantly played by Joe D. Jonz) who discovers a rare, but needy market for what he can provide - no clover, but plenty of crimson.
This is a mere appetizer of inspired casting.
Happily, Leberecht and his team had the exquisite taste to cast one of the greatest character actors working in American cinema today. Appearing as Jacob's only living cohort in the office tower, Tracey Walter plays the kindly night janitor who dispenses humour, wisdom and assistance. Walter has been in a zillion or so cool movies, but in the context of Midnight Son, it's especially cool to see him play a character that fondly reminds of the UFO-obsessed trash man Walter played in Alex Cox's Repo Man (another great picture with a unique sense of place).
Visually and narratively, Midnight Son leads us confidently into territory we almost never see, but even when things start to feel familiar, Leberecht throws us a curve ball - not just for the sake of tossing one our way, but because it's rooted in the emotion of the story.
One of my favourite trick pitches in Leberecht's movie falls into a category I like to call "Scenes We'd Like To See, But Never Will". Lo and Behold, though, I was resoundingly gobsmacked when the insanely ambitious Leberecht delivered the unthinkable.
Imagine a lovemaking sequence where a sexy lady has just snorted several lines of coke, then mounts her lover cowgirl style and vigorously rides that bucking bronco of vampiric prowess. In the throes of passion she's overtaken by a horrendous coke-influenced nosebleed, which geysers mightily onto Jacob's face. This would be a shocker for him in any context, but it's especially delightful as he happens to be a blood-starved vampire.
To that, I say: "Top that Stephenie Meyer!"
"Midnight Son" is available on DVD from Mongrel Media. It's a fine transfer, but the package is sadly bereft of extra features and frankly, the movie is so good, it demands a proper remastering and release on Blu-Ray. Until that time, however, it's a definite keeper for discriminating genre fans. Feel free to order the film directly from the links below which will assist in supporting the maintenance of this site.
Nhãn:
****,
10 Best Films of 2011,
2011,
CFC,
DVD,
Greg Klymkiw,
Horror,
KFC,
Mongrel Media,
Scott Leberecht,
Toronto After Dark Film Festival 2011
Thứ Hai, 2 tháng 4, 2012
KEYHOLE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Guy Maddin's crazed new film is one of the Ten Best Films of 2011 and not to be missed. Guarantee: You will NEVER see anything like it!
Keyhole (2011) dir. Guy Maddin
Starring: Jason Patric, Isabella Rossellini, Louis Negin, Udo Kier
****
By Greg Klymkiw
Full disclosure: I produced Guy Maddin’s first three feature films. I lived with him as a roommate (I was Oscar Madison to his Felix Unger – Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple sprang miraculously to life on the top two floors of a ramshackle old house on Winnipeg’s McMillan Avenue), continue to love him as one of my dearest friends and consider his brilliant screenwriting partner George Toles to be nothing less than my surrogate big brother. Most importantly, I am one of Maddin’s biggest fans and refuse to believe I am not able to objectively review his work. Objectively, then, allow me to declare that I loved Keyhole.
What’s not to love?
Blending Warner Brothers gangster styling of the 30s, film noir of the 40s and 50s, Greek tragedy, Sirk-like melodrama and odd dapplings of Samuel Beckett’s Endgame and Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit, it is, like all Maddin’s work, best designed to experience as a dream on film. Like Terence Davies, Maddin is one of the few living filmmakers who understands the poetic properties of cinema, and this, frankly, is to be cherished as much as any perfectly wrought narrative.
This is not to say narrative does NOT exist in Maddin’s work. If you really must, dig deep and you will find it. That, however, wouldn’t be very much fun. One has a better time with Maddin’s pictures just letting them HAPPEN to you.
The elements concocted in Keyhole to allow for full experiential mind-fucking involve the insanely named gangster Ulysses Pick (Jason Patric as you’ve never seen him before – playing straight, yet feeling like he belongs to another cinematic era), who drags his kids (one dead, but miraculously sprung to life, the other seemingly alive, but not remembered by his Dad) into a haunted house surrounded by guns-a-blazing.
Populated with a variety of tough guys and babe-o-licious molls, Ulysses is faced with ghosts of both the living and the dead, including his wife Hyacinth (Isabella Rossellini – gorgeous as always and imbued with all the necessary qualities to render melodrama with joy and humanity), her frequently nude father (the brilliant Louis Negin – perhaps one of the world’s greatest living character actors, who frankly should be cast in every movie ever made), chained to his bed, uttering the richly ripe George Toles dialogue and Udo Kier (the greatest fucking actor in the world), whose appearance in this movie is so inspired I’ll let you discover for yourself the greatness of both the role and Udo himself.
Keyhole is, without a doubt, one of the most perversely funny movies I’ve seen in ages and includes Maddin’s trademark visual tapestry of the most alternately gorgeous and insanely inspired kind. For movie geeks, literary freaks and Greek tragedy-o-philes, the movie is blessed with added treats to gobble down voraciously.
Like all of Maddin’s work, it’s not all fun and games. Beneath the surface of its mad inspiration lurks a melancholy and thematic richness. For me, what’s so important and moving about the film is its literal and thematic exploration of a space. Strongly evoking that sense of how our lives are inextricably linked to so many places (or a place) and how they in turn are populated with things – inanimate objects that become more animate once we project our memories upon them – or how said places inspire reminiscence of said objects which, in turn, inspire further memories, Keyhole is as profound and sad as it’s a crazed laugh riot.
Of all the reviews about the movie that I bothered to read, I was shocked that NOBODY – NOT ONE FUCKING CRITIC – picked up on the overwhelming theme of PLACE and the SPIRIT of all those THINGS that live and breathe in our minds. It was the first thing to weigh heavily upon me when I first saw the movie. It has seldom been approached in the movies – and, for my money – NO MORE POIGNANTLY AND BRILLIANTLY than rendered by Maddin, Toles and their visionary young producer Jody Shapiro.
All the ghosts of the living and the dead (to paraphrase Joyce), the animate and inanimate, the real and the imagined, these are the things that haunt us to our graves, and perhaps beyond. And they all populate the strange, magical and haunting world of Keyhole – a world most of us, whether we want to acknowledge it or not, live in.
We are all ghosts and are, in turn, haunted by them.
"Keyhole" is receiving a perfunctory release with little fanfare from E-One Films Canada, but is, for Toronto movie-goers at least playing first-run in the sumptuous TIFF Bell Lightbox. Maddin will be present to introduce the film on it's opening night on April 13, 2012. In the U.S. the film is receiving a fine platform release via Monterey Media and in France an equally fine release via E.D. Distribution.
Starring: Jason Patric, Isabella Rossellini, Louis Negin, Udo Kier
****
By Greg Klymkiw
Full disclosure: I produced Guy Maddin’s first three feature films. I lived with him as a roommate (I was Oscar Madison to his Felix Unger – Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple sprang miraculously to life on the top two floors of a ramshackle old house on Winnipeg’s McMillan Avenue), continue to love him as one of my dearest friends and consider his brilliant screenwriting partner George Toles to be nothing less than my surrogate big brother. Most importantly, I am one of Maddin’s biggest fans and refuse to believe I am not able to objectively review his work. Objectively, then, allow me to declare that I loved Keyhole.
What’s not to love?
Blending Warner Brothers gangster styling of the 30s, film noir of the 40s and 50s, Greek tragedy, Sirk-like melodrama and odd dapplings of Samuel Beckett’s Endgame and Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit, it is, like all Maddin’s work, best designed to experience as a dream on film. Like Terence Davies, Maddin is one of the few living filmmakers who understands the poetic properties of cinema, and this, frankly, is to be cherished as much as any perfectly wrought narrative.
This is not to say narrative does NOT exist in Maddin’s work. If you really must, dig deep and you will find it. That, however, wouldn’t be very much fun. One has a better time with Maddin’s pictures just letting them HAPPEN to you.
The elements concocted in Keyhole to allow for full experiential mind-fucking involve the insanely named gangster Ulysses Pick (Jason Patric as you’ve never seen him before – playing straight, yet feeling like he belongs to another cinematic era), who drags his kids (one dead, but miraculously sprung to life, the other seemingly alive, but not remembered by his Dad) into a haunted house surrounded by guns-a-blazing.
Populated with a variety of tough guys and babe-o-licious molls, Ulysses is faced with ghosts of both the living and the dead, including his wife Hyacinth (Isabella Rossellini – gorgeous as always and imbued with all the necessary qualities to render melodrama with joy and humanity), her frequently nude father (the brilliant Louis Negin – perhaps one of the world’s greatest living character actors, who frankly should be cast in every movie ever made), chained to his bed, uttering the richly ripe George Toles dialogue and Udo Kier (the greatest fucking actor in the world), whose appearance in this movie is so inspired I’ll let you discover for yourself the greatness of both the role and Udo himself.
Keyhole is, without a doubt, one of the most perversely funny movies I’ve seen in ages and includes Maddin’s trademark visual tapestry of the most alternately gorgeous and insanely inspired kind. For movie geeks, literary freaks and Greek tragedy-o-philes, the movie is blessed with added treats to gobble down voraciously.
Like all of Maddin’s work, it’s not all fun and games. Beneath the surface of its mad inspiration lurks a melancholy and thematic richness. For me, what’s so important and moving about the film is its literal and thematic exploration of a space. Strongly evoking that sense of how our lives are inextricably linked to so many places (or a place) and how they in turn are populated with things – inanimate objects that become more animate once we project our memories upon them – or how said places inspire reminiscence of said objects which, in turn, inspire further memories, Keyhole is as profound and sad as it’s a crazed laugh riot.
Of all the reviews about the movie that I bothered to read, I was shocked that NOBODY – NOT ONE FUCKING CRITIC – picked up on the overwhelming theme of PLACE and the SPIRIT of all those THINGS that live and breathe in our minds. It was the first thing to weigh heavily upon me when I first saw the movie. It has seldom been approached in the movies – and, for my money – NO MORE POIGNANTLY AND BRILLIANTLY than rendered by Maddin, Toles and their visionary young producer Jody Shapiro.
All the ghosts of the living and the dead (to paraphrase Joyce), the animate and inanimate, the real and the imagined, these are the things that haunt us to our graves, and perhaps beyond. And they all populate the strange, magical and haunting world of Keyhole – a world most of us, whether we want to acknowledge it or not, live in.
We are all ghosts and are, in turn, haunted by them.
"Keyhole" is receiving a perfunctory release with little fanfare from E-One Films Canada, but is, for Toronto movie-goers at least playing first-run in the sumptuous TIFF Bell Lightbox. Maddin will be present to introduce the film on it's opening night on April 13, 2012. In the U.S. the film is receiving a fine platform release via Monterey Media and in France an equally fine release via E.D. Distribution.
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Nhãn:
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10 Best Films of 2011,
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Cult,
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E.D. Distribution,
George Toles,
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Thứ Hai, 5 tháng 3, 2012
FATHER'S DAY - WINNIPEG: THIS BRILLIANT BUM-BLASTING GORE-FEST BY YOUR VERY OWN HOMEGROWN BOYS IS CUMMING TO YOUR TOWN AFTER PLAYING THEATRICALLY ALL OVER THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! DO NOT MISS THIS AMAZING MOVIE THAT WAS: Spawned from the Daisy Chain of Herschel Gordon Lewis, Guy Maddin, John Paizs, David Cronenberg & Ferrara's "Driller Killer"!!! The Astron-6 & Troma production is playing at Dave Barber's legendary Winnipeg Film Group Cinematheque in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada on 3/17, 3/18, 3/21-3/26, 2012


Father's Day (2011) dir. Astron-6
(Adam Brooks, Jeremy Gillespie, Matthew Kennedy, Conor Sweeney)
Starring: Conor Sweeney, Adam Brooks, Matt Kennedy, Brent Neale, Amy Groening, Meredith Sweeney, Kevin Anderson, Garret Hnatiuk, Mackenzie Murdoch, Lloyd Kaufman
****
By Greg Klymkiw

"Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind. toward some resolution which it may never find." - Robert Anderson from his play, I Never Sang For My FatherA father's love for his son is a special kind of love. As such, Dads the world over face that singular inevitability - that peculiar epoch in their collective lives, when they must chauffeur the apple of their eye from a police station, for the third time in a month, after said progeny has undergone questioning upon being found in a motel room with a dead man covered in blood, après le bonheur de la sodomie, only to return home after dropping said twink son on a street corner, so the aforementioned offspring of the light-in-the-loafer persuasion, can perform fellatio on old men for cash, whilst Dad sits forlornly in the domicile that once represented decent family values and stare at a framed photo of better times, until he succumbs to unexpected anal rape and when doused with gasoline and set on fire as he weeps, face down and buttocks up, frenziedly tears out into the street screaming and collapsing in a charred heap in front of his returning son who reacts with open-mouthed horror as the scent of old penis wafts from his twink tonsils.
For most fathers, all of the above is, no doubt, a case of been-there-done-that - not unlike that inevitable fatherly attempt at understanding when Dad gently seeks some common ground with the fruits of his husbandly labours and offers: "Look son, I experimented when I was young, too."
So begins Father's Day - with the aforementioned, AND some delectable pre-credit butchery, an eye-popping opening credit sequence with images worthy of Jim Steranko and a series of flashbacks during an interrogation with a hard-boiled cop. This is the astounding feature film (the second completed feature this year) from the brilliant Winnipeg filmmaking collective Astron-6 (Adam Brooks, Jeremy Gillespie, Matthew Kennedy, Conor Sweeney) who have joined forces with the legendary Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz of Troma Entertainment to generate a film that is the ultimate evil bastard child sprung from the loins of a daisy chain twixt Guy Maddin, John Paizs, early David Cronenberg, Herschel Gordon Lewis and Abel Ferrara's The Driller Killer. Father's Day combines the effects of asbestos-tinged drinking water in Winnipeg with the Bukkake splatter of the coolest artistic influences imaginable and yields one of the Ten Best Films of 2011.
It is the seed of depraved genius that's spawned Astron-6 and, of course, with the best work in Canadian film, it has been embraced by an entity outside of Canada - that glorious aforementioned sleaze-bucket nutter who gave the world The Toxic Avenger. This collective of five (not six) brilliant filmmakers (including the above named quartet and Steven Kosanski, the F/X wizard, writer and director of Astron-6's MANBORG) are part of a new breed of young Canadian filmmakers who have snubbed their noses at the government-funded bureaucracies that oft-eschew the sort of transgression that normally puts smaller indigenous cultural industries on the worldwide map (including its own - Canada only truly supports such work grudgingly once it's found acceptance elsewhere). In this sense, Astron-6 has been making films under the usual radar of mediocrity and steadfastly adhering to the fine Groucho Marx adage: "I refuse to join any club that would have someone like me for a member."
Imagine, if you will, any government-funded agency (especially a Canadian one), doling out taxpayer dollars to the following plot: Chris Fuchman (Mackenzie Murdoch), is a serial killer that specializes in targeting fathers for anal rape followed by further degradations, including torture, butchery and/or murder. Our madman, Fuchman (substitute :k" for "h" to pronounce name properly), turns out to be a demon from the deepest pits of hell and a ragtag team is recruited by a blind infirm Archbishop of the Catholic Church (Kevin Anderson) to fight this disgusting agent of Satan. An eyepatch-wearing tough guy (Adam Brooks), a young priest (Matthew Kennedy), the aforementioned twink male prostitute (Conor Sweeney) and hard-boiled dick (Brent Neale) and a jaw-droppingly gorgeous stripper (Amy Groening) follow the trail of this formidable foe whilst confronting all their own personal demons.
This frothy brew of vile delights includes some of the most graphic blood splattering, vicious ass-slamming violence, gratuitous nudity, skimpy attire for the ladies, 'natch (and our delectable twink), morality, evisceration, hunky lads, delicious babes, compassion, rape, fellatio, chainsaw action, wholesome content, cannibalism, hand-to-hand combat, gunplay, family values, sodomy, immolation and monsters. It's all delivered up with a cutting edge mise-en-scène that out-grindhouses Tarantino's Grindhouse and delivers thrills, scares and laughs all in equal measure.
The film's sense of humour, in spite, or perhaps because of the proper doses of scatology and juvenilia is not the typical low-brow gross-out humour one finds in so many contemporary comedies, but frankly, works on the level of satire, and as such, is of the highest order. It stylistically straddles the delicate borders great satire demands. Too many people who should know better, confuse spoof or parody with satire and certainly anyone going to see Father's Day expecting SCTV, Airplane or Blazing Saddles might be in for a rude awakening. Yes, it's just as funny as any of those classic mirth-makers, but the laughs cut deep and they're wrought, not from the typical shtick attached to spoofs, but like all great satire, derive from the entire creative team playing EVERYTHING straight. No matter how funny, absurd or outlandish the situations and dialogue are, one never senses that an annoying tongue is being drilled firmly in cheek. Astron-6 loves their material and, importantly loves their creative influences. Their target is not necessarily the STYLE of film they're rendering homage to, but rather, the hypocrisies and horrors that face humanity everyday - religion, repression, dysfunction - all wedged cleverly into the proceedings.
Clearly a great deal of the movie's power in terms of its straight-laced approach to outlandish goings-on is found in the performances - all of them are spot-on. Adam Brooks IS a stalwart hero and never does he veer from infusing his role from the virtues inherent in such roles. Hell, he could frankly be Canada's Jason Statham in conventional action movies if anyone bothered to make such movies in Canada on any regular basis. Conor Sweeney as Twink is a marvel. Not only does he play the conflicted gay street hustler "straight", he straddles that terrific balance between genuinely rendering a layered character, but also infusing his performance with melodramatic aplomb. Not only is this perfect for the character itself, but it's perfectly in keeping with the style of movie that is being lovingly celebrated. Anyone who reads my stuff regularly will know my mantra: Melodrama is not a dirty word - it's a legitimate genre and approach to drama. There is good melodrama and bad melodrama, like any other genre. Luckily, the Astron-6 team has the joy of glorious melodrama hard-wired into their collective DNA and Sweeney's performance is especially indelible in this respect. Brent Neale as the hard-boiled cop is, quite simply, phenomenal. Will someone out there give this actor job after job after job? The camera loves him and he knows how to play to the camera. He is clearly at home with the straight-up and melodramatic aspects of his role and most importantly, he is imbued with the sort of smoulder that makes stars - he's handsome and intense.
Astoundingly, not a single actor in this film feels out of place. Whether they're emoting straight, slightly stilted, wildly melodramatic or, on occasion (given the genre), magnificently reeking of ham, this is ensemble acting at its absolute best.
The entire movie was made on a budget of $10,000 and once again, for all the initiatives out there to generate low-budget feature films, Father's Day did it cheaper (WAY CHEAPER) and better. The movie uses its budgetary constraints not as limitations, but as a method to exploit what can be so special about movies. The visual and makeup effects as well as the art direction ooze imagination and aesthetic brilliance and it's all captured through a lens that puts its peer level and even some big budget extravaganzas to shame. Imagination is truly the key to success with no-budget movies. The Father's Day cinematography is often garish and lurid, but delightfully and deliciously so - with first-rate lighting and excellent composition. The filmmakers and their entire team successfully render pure gold out of elements that in most low-budget films just looks cheap - or worse, blandly competent (like most low budget Canadian movies). It's total trash chic - trash art, if you must.
I attended this spectacular event in France many years ago called the FreakZone International Festival of Trash Cinema which celebrated some of the most amazing transgressive works I'd ever seen. When I expressed to the festival director that I was surprised at the level of cinematic artistry, he just smiled and said, "You North Americans have such a limited view of trash culture - for us, trash is not garbage, we use the word to describe work that is subversive." This was so refreshing. It felt like a veil had been lifted from over me and I realized what EXACTLY it was that I loved about no-budget cinema - as a filmmaker, a teacher, a critic and fan.
Making a movie for no money that is NOT subversive on every level is, frankly, just plain stupid. What's the point? And Father's Day is nothing if it's not subversive. Besides, I've seen too many young filmmakers with talent galore ruined by initiatives that purported to celebrate the virtues of no-or-low-budget filmmaking but then forced the artists to apply the idiotic expectations of "industry standards" - whatever that means, anyway. This has been especially acute in Canada, but to be fair, in other non-North American countries also, where bureaucrats make decisions and/or define the rules/parameters of filmmaking.
Father's Day and the entire canon of the Astron-6 team should be the ultimate template for filmmakers with no money to seize the day and make cool shit. That's what it should always be about. And in this case, it took the fortitude of the filmmakers, their genuinely transgressive gifts as artists AND an independent AMERICAN producer to ensure that they made the coolest shit of all.
What finally renders Father's Day special is just how transgressively intelligent it all is and yet, never turns its proverbial nose up at the straight-to-video-nasties of the 80s, the grindhouse cinema of the 60s and 70s and the weird, late night cable offerings of the early 90s. It works very much on the level of the things it loves best. This is real filmmaking - it entertains, it dazzles, it makes use of every cheap trick in the book to create MOVIE magic and finally, it's made by people who clearly care about film. They get to have their cake and eat it too by having as much fun making the movies as we have watching them.
Father's Day was unveiled at Toronto's premiere genre film event, the Toronto After Dark Film Festival 2011 where it won the grand prize of Best Film - voted on by the thousands of attendees of the festival. It will be released theatrically in early 2012 by Troma Entertainment and will be followed with the usual forays into home entertainment formats.
32nd GENIE AWARDS TRAILER
Thứ Năm, 9 tháng 2, 2012
FATHER'S DAY opens NYC TONIGHT at Landmark Sunshine Cinema 143 East Houston Street, New York, NY, United States 12:00am - Review by Greg Klymkiw Spawned from the Daisy Chain of Herschel Gordon Lewis, Guy Maddin, David Cronenberg & Ferrara's "Driller Killer", this astounding no-budget horror treat is opening theatrically in the United States of America. Don't Miss It! Astron-6 & Troma RULE

There are more theatrical screenings than you can shake a stick at of this bum-blasting gore fest. The latest is a screening at Dave Barber's legendary Winnipeg Film Group Cinematheque in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada on 3/17, 3/18, 3/21-3/26, 2012.Father's Day (2011) dir. Astron-6
Troma and Astron-6′s Father’s Day will be presented in several theaters nation-wide, with more to come! The New York premiere will be at Sunshine Cinema on the 10th of February, with the Los Angeles premiere to follow on the 24th of February at the Nuart Theatre.
Current Theaters and Dates:
CA, Los Angeles, Nuart Theatre – February 24
CO, Denver, Esquire Theatre – February 17, 18
MA, Boston Underground Film Festival – March 31
MA, Boston, Coolidge Corner – February 17, 18
MN, Minneapolis, Uptown Theatre – February 10,11
NY, New York, Sunshine Cinema – February 10, 11
OH, Columbus, Gateway 8 – March 2
TX, Austin, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, January 18
TX, San Antonio, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, January 19
TX, Houston, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, January 21
TX, Dallas, Texas Theatre, February 24-28
(Adam Brooks, Jeremy Gillespie, Matthew Kennedy, Conor Sweeney)
Starring: Conor Sweeney, Adam Brooks, Matt Kennedy, Brent Neale, Amy Groening, Meredith Sweeney, Kevin Anderson, Garret Hnatiuk, Mackenzie Murdoch, Lloyd Kaufman
****
By Greg Klymkiw
"Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind. toward some resolution which it may never find." - Robert Anderson from his play, I Never Sang For My FatherA father's love for his son is a special kind of love. As such, Dads the world over face that singular inevitability - that peculiar epoch in their collective lives, when they must chauffeur the apple of their eye from a police station, for the third time in a month, after said progeny has undergone questioning upon being found in a motel room with a dead man covered in blood, après le bonheur de la sodomie, only to return home after dropping said twink son on a street corner, so the aforementioned offspring of the light-in-the-loafer persuasion, can perform fellatio on old men for cash, whilst Dad sits forlornly in the domicile that once represented decent family values and stare at a framed photo of better times, until he succumbs to unexpected anal rape and when doused with gasoline and set on fire as he weeps, face down and buttocks up, frenziedly tears out into the street screaming and collapsing in a charred heap in front of his returning son who reacts with open-mouthed horror as the scent of old penis wafts from his twink tonsils.
For most fathers, all of the above is, no doubt, a case of been-there-done-that - not unlike that inevitable fatherly attempt at understanding when Dad gently seeks some common ground with the fruits of his husbandly labours and offers: "Look son, I experimented when I was young, too."
So begins Father's Day - with the aforementioned, AND some delectable pre-credit butchery, an eye-popping opening credit sequence with images worthy of Jim Steranko and a series of flashbacks during an interrogation with a hard-boiled cop. This is the astounding feature film (the second completed feature this year) from the brilliant Winnipeg filmmaking collective Astron-6 (Adam Brooks, Jeremy Gillespie, Matthew Kennedy, Conor Sweeney) who have joined forces with the legendary Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz of Troma Entertainment to generate a film that is the ultimate evil bastard child sprung from the loins of a daisy chain twixt Guy Maddin, John Paizs, early David Cronenberg, Herschel Gordon Lewis and Abel Ferrara's The Driller Killer. Father's Day combines the effects of asbestos-tinged drinking water in Winnipeg with the Bukkake splatter of the coolest artistic influences imaginable and yields one of the Ten Best Films of 2011.
It is the seed of depraved genius that's spawned Astron-6 and, of course, with the best work in Canadian film, it has been embraced by an entity outside of Canada - that glorious aforementioned sleaze-bucket nutter who gave the world The Toxic Avenger. This collective of five (not six) brilliant filmmakers (including the above named quartet and Steven Kosanski, the F/X wizard, writer and director of Astron-6's MANBORG) are part of a new breed of young Canadian filmmakers who have snubbed their noses at the government-funded bureaucracies that oft-eschew the sort of transgression that normally puts smaller indigenous cultural industries on the worldwide map (including its own - Canada only truly supports such work grudgingly once it's found acceptance elsewhere). In this sense, Astron-6 has been making films under the usual radar of mediocrity and steadfastly adhering to the fine Groucho Marx adage: "I refuse to join any club that would have someone like me for a member."
Imagine, if you will, any government-funded agency (especially a Canadian one), doling out taxpayer dollars to the following plot: Chris Fuchman (Mackenzie Murdoch), is a serial killer that specializes in targeting fathers for anal rape followed by further degradations, including torture, butchery and/or murder. Our madman, Fuchman (substitute :k" for "h" to pronounce name properly), turns out to be a demon from the deepest pits of hell and a ragtag team is recruited by a blind infirm Archbishop of the Catholic Church (Kevin Anderson) to fight this disgusting agent of Satan. An eyepatch-wearing tough guy (Adam Brooks), a young priest (Matthew Kennedy), the aforementioned twink male prostitute (Conor Sweeney) and hard-boiled dick (Brent Neale) and a jaw-droppingly gorgeous stripper (Amy Groening) follow the trail of this formidable foe whilst confronting all their own personal demons.
This frothy brew of vile delights includes some of the most graphic blood splattering, vicious ass-slamming violence, gratuitous nudity, skimpy attire for the ladies, 'natch (and our delectable twink), morality, evisceration, hunky lads, delicious babes, compassion, rape, fellatio, chainsaw action, wholesome content, cannibalism, hand-to-hand combat, gunplay, family values, sodomy, immolation and monsters. It's all delivered up with a cutting edge mise-en-scène that out-grindhouses Tarantino's Grindhouse and delivers thrills, scares and laughs all in equal measure.
The film's sense of humour, in spite, or perhaps because of the proper doses of scatology and juvenilia is not the typical low-brow gross-out humour one finds in so many contemporary comedies, but frankly, works on the level of satire, and as such, is of the highest order. It stylistically straddles the delicate borders great satire demands. Too many people who should know better, confuse spoof or parody with satire and certainly anyone going to see Father's Day expecting SCTV, Airplane or Blazing Saddles might be in for a rude awakening. Yes, it's just as funny as any of those classic mirth-makers, but the laughs cut deep and they're wrought, not from the typical shtick attached to spoofs, but like all great satire, derive from the entire creative team playing EVERYTHING straight. No matter how funny, absurd or outlandish the situations and dialogue are, one never senses that an annoying tongue is being drilled firmly in cheek. Astron-6 loves their material and, importantly loves their creative influences. Their target is not necessarily the STYLE of film they're rendering homage to, but rather, the hypocrisies and horrors that face humanity everyday - religion, repression, dysfunction - all wedged cleverly into the proceedings.
Clearly a great deal of the movie's power in terms of its straight-laced approach to outlandish goings-on is found in the performances - all of them are spot-on. Adam Brooks IS a stalwart hero and never does he veer from infusing his role from the virtues inherent in such roles. Hell, he could frankly be Canada's Jason Statham in conventional action movies if anyone bothered to make such movies in Canada on any regular basis. Conor Sweeney as Twink is a marvel. Not only does he play the conflicted gay street hustler "straight", he straddles that terrific balance between genuinely rendering a layered character, but also infusing his performance with melodramatic aplomb. Not only is this perfect for the character itself, but it's perfectly in keeping with the style of movie that is being lovingly celebrated. Anyone who reads my stuff regularly will know my mantra: Melodrama is not a dirty word - it's a legitimate genre and approach to drama. There is good melodrama and bad melodrama, like any other genre. Luckily, the Astron-6 team has the joy of glorious melodrama hard-wired into their collective DNA and Sweeney's performance is especially indelible in this respect. Brent Neale as the hard-boiled cop is, quite simply, phenomenal. Will someone out there give this actor job after job after job? The camera loves him and he knows how to play to the camera. He is clearly at home with the straight-up and melodramatic aspects of his role and most importantly, he is imbued with the sort of smoulder that makes stars - he's handsome and intense.
Astoundingly, not a single actor in this film feels out of place. Whether they're emoting straight, slightly stilted, wildly melodramatic or, on occasion (given the genre), magnificently reeking of ham, this is ensemble acting at its absolute best.
The entire movie was made on a budget of $10,000 and once again, for all the initiatives out there to generate low-budget feature films, Father's Day did it cheaper (WAY CHEAPER) and better. The movie uses its budgetary constraints not as limitations, but as a method to exploit what can be so special about movies. The visual and makeup effects as well as the art direction ooze imagination and aesthetic brilliance and it's all captured through a lens that puts its peer level and even some big budget extravaganzas to shame. Imagination is truly the key to success with no-budget movies. The Father's Day cinematography is often garish and lurid, but delightfully and deliciously so - with first-rate lighting and excellent composition. The filmmakers and their entire team successfully render pure gold out of elements that in most low-budget films just looks cheap - or worse, blandly competent (like most low budget Canadian movies). It's total trash chic - trash art, if you must.
I attended this spectacular event in France many years ago called the FreakZone International Festival of Trash Cinema which celebrated some of the most amazing transgressive works I'd ever seen. When I expressed to the festival director that I was surprised at the level of cinematic artistry, he just smiled and said, "You North Americans have such a limited view of trash culture - for us, trash is not garbage, we use the word to describe work that is subversive." This was so refreshing. It felt like a veil had been lifted from over me and I realized what EXACTLY it was that I loved about no-budget cinema - as a filmmaker, a teacher, a critic and fan.
Making a movie for no money that is NOT subversive on every level is, frankly, just plain stupid. What's the point? And Father's Day is nothing if it's not subversive. Besides, I've seen too many young filmmakers with talent galore ruined by initiatives that purported to celebrate the virtues of no-or-low-budget filmmaking but then forced the artists to apply the idiotic expectations of "industry standards" - whatever that means, anyway. This has been especially acute in Canada, but to be fair, in other non-North American countries also, where bureaucrats make decisions and/or define the rules/parameters of filmmaking.
Father's Day and the entire canon of the Astron-6 team should be the ultimate template for filmmakers with no money to seize the day and make cool shit. That's what it should always be about. And in this case, it took the fortitude of the filmmakers, their genuinely transgressive gifts as artists AND an independent AMERICAN producer to ensure that they made the coolest shit of all.
What finally renders Father's Day special is just how transgressively intelligent it all is and yet, never turns its proverbial nose up at the straight-to-video-nasties of the 80s, the grindhouse cinema of the 60s and 70s and the weird, late night cable offerings of the early 90s. It works very much on the level of the things it loves best. This is real filmmaking - it entertains, it dazzles, it makes use of every cheap trick in the book to create MOVIE magic and finally, it's made by people who clearly care about film. They get to have their cake and eat it too by having as much fun making the movies as we have watching them.
Father's Day was unveiled at Toronto's premiere genre film event, the Toronto After Dark Film Festival 2011 where it won the grand prize of Best Film - voted on by the thousands of attendees of the festival. It will be released theatrically in early 2012 by Troma Entertainment and will be followed with the usual forays into home entertainment formats.
Thứ Năm, 19 tháng 1, 2012
MEEK'S CUTOFF - Terence Malick by way of John Ford with a feminist sensibility yields one of the great westerns of this or any other time.
Meek's Cutoff (2011)
dir. Kelly Reichardt
Starring: Michelle Williams, Bruce Greenwood
****
By Greg Klymkiw
This is the REAL Tree of Life - a strange, poetic, beautiful and almost elegaic journey through the desert flats of the Oregon Trail during the mid 19th century. Meek's Cutoff is a western, but there are few oaters that are anything like it. In terms of subject matter, How The West Was Won immediately comes to mind, but it's raucous and sprawling in ways this film isn't. John Ford's Wagon Master comes close in terms of both subject matter and its lower-keyed qualities for Ford. Maybe the closest film that comes to it is Peter Fonda's criminally ignored and forgotten The Hired Hand - an introspective western with a deliberate pace and a keen eye for detail.
None of them, ultimately, are Meek's Cutoff. It's in a class all by itself.
Wagon trains have always made for great material in westerns, but this is probably the first movie I've ever seen that comes close to giving a sense of just how gruelling and horrendous such journeys must have been. At the same time, it still manages to incorporate a mythic sense of the big skies of America in ways that the aforementioned John Ford, in particular, was able to capture.
Director Kelly Reichardt and her cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt seem to always know just exactly where to place the camera for maximum dramatic (and poetic) impact. Blauvelt has been a camera operator and first (or second) assistant camera person on everything from Geronimo and Speed to Zodiac and A Single Man - a fabulous list of titles that, no doubt, served him in good stead on this picture (and make me salivate at the prospect of seeing more work from him. Reichardt, for her part, is a gifted film artist who is endowed with a keen eye and a whole lot of heart (her Wendy and Lucy is a beautiful film in all respects). As well, the cutting style she employs is simply breathtaking. (Yup, she does double duty here and is, frankly one of the few directors I am happy to call a "filmmaker".)
The tale is as simple as could be. Meek (Bruce Greenwood) is a surly, craggy mountain man with a seemingly greater knack for spinning yarns than he is at guiding his charges through the early days of the Oregon Trail. He's leading three wagons through Hell - but, it's a terrible beauty that surrounds these early pioneers. The sky is as big and beautiful as it is ominous, while the landscape is at once harsh, and yet as pristine and unsullied as one could imagine. Meek is convinced he has a better way to the promised land, but as the journey progresses, the settlers begin to think he's lost. Much of the emotional conflict comes from their growing disenchantment with his guiding prowess, while the obvious physical conflict is between man and nature - crossing rivers, deserts and moving up and down through rugged terrain takes both a physical and psychological toll on all of them.
Meek and the settlers are also worried that they're being stalked by Indians. When they encounter a mysterious aboriginal (Ron Rondeaux) all on his own, they begin to fear even more for their lives. As the journey progresses, however, it's the young, tough-as-nails and level-headed Emily Tetherow (Michelle Williams) who places much faith in the Indian and suspects he's their only chance at salvation - especially since they've been without a proper supply of water for quite some time. By his actions - praying, chanting and etching markings whenever he can - it becomes quite obvious he's alone; possibly a medicine man on a spirit quest. Not unlike the similar and solitary journeys of such Old and New Testament figures as Moses and Jesus respectively, the Indian IS a genuine figure of salvation. That said, Meek and the men doubt his motives, and not unlike all of the Holy Bible's doubting Thomases and their lack of faith in Moses and Jesus. I don't want to tread to heavily in this territory, but Emily, is surely a Mary Magdalene figure who offers support and ultimately places her trust in the Indian. By saving his life, she might also be saving that of herself and the others.
Reichardt's pacing and overall mise-en-scene is utterly exquisite. She places her camera in a fixed position and, from shot to shot, she tells her story in absolutely stunning tableaux. Not only does this provide a glimpse into the hardships these people encounter, but captures so many delicate details of character, nuance and psychology. This also captures the milieu of what it's like to be in the middle of nowhere - the way sound travels (or doesn't), the manner in which people communicate, work and rest and finally, the land - its power, glory, expanse and yes, danger. When a cut happens, it's not only breathtaking, it moves us ever forward and draws us in even deeper into the world, the characters and narrative.
Reichardt and Blauvelt also make the brave and brilliant decision to shoot the film in the square box aspect ratio (1:1:37) that ruled cinema for over five decades of film history. When the camera is in wide, or even medium shots in this ratio, the simple square captures the drama in ways that widescreen (rectangular) ratios simply cannot. It allows for expanse, but does so in a manner that captures the vertical breadth of what it's like to be out on the plains. It also plays in beautifully with a sense of the Heavens, always hanging well above the figures in the landscape - making the spiritual physical in ways that I've seldom experienced on film (save, perhaps, for the painterly compositions of John Ford's exteriors). When this aspect ratio is in closeup, the power is even more apparent in terms of the details it captures - images that appear etched from both the faces and physical environment the settlers are living in.
Lighting and sound are also handled in an original and powerful manner. Shots at night seem lit only by the candles, lamps or campfire, whilst during the day, it is natural light that floods everything with its natural beauty. (I'm sure bounce boards, various filters and lights WERE used, but if so, in moderation or with such delicacy that they don't overwhelm the natural beauty.) The sound captures (or at least approximates) how it is heard (or not heard) by both the characters and us. Whole conversations are barely audible from certain vantage points - most powerfully when the women are forced to keep a considerable distance from the men as matters are discussed that are not in the purview of womankind. Often, these are matters women SHOULD be apprised of, but within this old world - gender is what determines one's place and Reichardt is unsparing in providing the necessary and real aural point of view.
In terms of performance, there are no false notes though ultimately, the movie belongs to Michelle Williams. If there are any greater contemporary actresses of her generation, I'd like to know who they are. Film after film, she dazzles with her screen presence and versatility. Here, she is ultimately the opposite of their guides surname. Meek, as superbly played by Canadian Bruce Greenwood is all bluster. Williams wears meek subservience as a mask, but in her eyes, you sense intelligence, life and scrutable qualities. And when she asserts herself, it is with a calm, controlled power.
Speaking of said power, I began this assessment of Meek's Cutoff by invoking Terence Malick's mind-numbingly dull, obtuse and wildly overrated The Tree of Life. Reichardt's film is infused with a similar contemplative sense, a determined pace and a spirituality that feels rooted in nature and the land. The difference here, is that it really means something.
Meek's Cutoff also provides a tree of life. Reichardt uses it both symbolically AND as a literal plot element. It is a tree rooted in the land these settlers risk everything to traverse across and it is, finally, a tree that provides hope, growth and lifeblood. Meek's Cutoff is worth a hundred of Malick's film. In fact, it feels like Malick in his prime, but with dollops of John Ford and even, at times, Robert Bresson (especially in terms of an almost expressionistic neo-realism).
It's a great movie. I've seen it several times now. It gets richer with every viewing and between screenings, it refuses to let go. The movie roots itself within your very core - growing and pulsating with life.
"Meek's Cutoff" Was first unveiled in Canada by the Toronto International Film Festival's TIFF Bell LightBox. It is available on Bluray and DVD on the Oscilloscope Home Entertainment label with a raft of superb special features. The movie comes to Canadian viewers by way of the visionary company VSC. It's a movie worth owning - to cherish again and again.
Nhãn:
****,
10 Best Films of 2011,
2011,
CFC,
Drama,
Greg Klymkiw,
Kelly Reichardt,
KFC,
Oscilloscope,
Poetic Cinema,
TIFF,
TIFF Bell Lightbox,
Video Service Corp,
VSC,
Western
FATHER'S DAY - Spawned from the Daisy Chain of Herschel Gordon Lewis, Guy Maddin, David Cronenberg & Ferrara's "Driller Killer", this astounding no-budget horror treat is opening theatrically in the United States of America. Don't Miss It! Astron-6 & Troma RULE

This bum-blasting gore fest has more theatrical screenings than you can shake a stick at.
The latest is a screening at Dave Barber's legendary Winnipeg Film Group Cinematheque in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada on 3/17, 3/18, 3/21-3/26, 2012.
Troma and Astron-6′s Father’s Day will be presented in several theaters nation-wide, with more to come! The New York premiere will be at Sunshine Cinema on the 10th of February, with the Los Angeles premiere to follow on the 24th of February at the Nuart Theatre.
Current Theaters and Dates:
CA, Los Angeles, Nuart Theatre – February 24
CO, Denver, Esquire Theatre – February 17, 18
MA, Boston Underground Film Festival – March 31
MA, Boston, Coolidge Corner – February 17, 18
MN, Minneapolis, Uptown Theatre – February 10,11
NY, New York, Sunshine Cinema – February 10, 11
OH, Columbus, Gateway 8 – March 2
TX, Austin, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, January 18
TX, San Antonio, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, January 19
TX, Houston, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, January 21
TX, Dallas, Texas Theatre, February 24-28
Father's Day (2011) dir. Astron-6
(Adam Brooks, Jeremy Gillespie, Matthew Kennedy, Conor Sweeney)
Starring: Conor Sweeney, Adam Brooks, Matt Kennedy, Brent Neale, Amy Groening, Meredith Sweeney, Kevin Anderson, Garret Hnatiuk, Mackenzie Murdoch, Lloyd Kaufman
****
Review By Greg Klymkiw
"Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind. toward some resolution which it may never find." - Robert Anderson from his play, I Never Sang For My FatherA father's love for his son is a special kind of love.
As such, Dads the world over face that singular inevitability - that peculiar epoch in their collective lives, when they must chauffeur the apple of their eye from a police station, for the third time in a month, after said progeny has undergone questioning upon being found in a motel room with a dead man covered in blood, après le bonheur de la sodomie, only to return home after dropping said twink son on a street corner, so the aforementioned offspring of the light-in-the-loafer persuasion, can perform fellatio on old men for cash, whilst Dad sits forlornly in the domicile that once represented decent family values and stare at a framed photo of better times, until he succumbs to unexpected anal rape and when doused with gasoline and set on fire as he weeps, face down and buttocks up, frenziedly tears out into the street screaming and collapsing in a charred heap in front of his returning son who reacts with open-mouthed horror as the scent of old penis wafts from his twink tonsils.
For most fathers, all of the above is, no doubt, a case of been-there-done-that - not unlike that inevitable fatherly attempt at understanding when Dad gently seeks some common ground with the fruits of his husbandly labours and offers: "Look son, I experimented when I was young, too."
So begins Father's Day - with the aforementioned, AND some delectable pre-credit butchery, an eye-popping opening credit sequence with images worthy of Jim Steranko and a series of flashbacks during an interrogation with a hard-boiled cop. This is the astounding feature film (the second completed feature this year) from the brilliant Winnipeg filmmaking collective Astron-6 (Adam Brooks, Jeremy Gillespie, Matthew Kennedy, Conor Sweeney) who have joined forces with the legendary Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz of Troma Entertainment to generate a film that is the ultimate evil bastard child sprung from the loins of a daisy chain twixt Guy Maddin, John Paizs, early David Cronenberg, Herschel Gordon Lewis and Abel Ferrara's The Driller Killer. Father's Day combines the effects of asbestos-tinged drinking water in Winnipeg with the Bukkake splatter of the coolest artistic influences imaginable and yields one of the Ten Best Films of 2011.
It is the seed of depraved genius that's spawned Astron-6 and, of course, with the best work in Canadian film, it has been embraced by an entity outside of Canada - that glorious aforementioned sleaze-bucket nutter who gave the world The Toxic Avenger. This collective of five (not six) brilliant filmmakers (including the above named quartet and Steven Kosanski, the F/X wizard, writer and director of Astron-6's MANBORG) are part of a new breed of young Canadian filmmakers who have snubbed their noses at the government-funded bureaucracies that oft-eschew the sort of transgression that normally puts smaller indigenous cultural industries on the worldwide map (including its own - Canada only truly supports such work grudgingly once it's found acceptance elsewhere). In this sense, Astron-6 has been making films under the usual radar of mediocrity and steadfastly adhering to the fine Groucho Marx adage: "I refuse to join any club that would have someone like me for a member."
Imagine, if you will, any government-funded agency (especially a Canadian one), doling out taxpayer dollars to the following plot: Chris Fuchman (Mackenzie Murdoch), is a serial killer that specializes in targeting fathers for anal rape followed by further degradations, including torture, butchery and/or murder. Our madman, Fuchman (substitute :k" for "h" to pronounce name properly), turns out to be a demon from the deepest pits of hell and a ragtag team is recruited by a blind infirm Archbishop of the Catholic Church (Kevin Anderson) to fight this disgusting agent of Satan. An eyepatch-wearing tough guy (Adam Brooks), a young priest (Matthew Kennedy), the aforementioned twink male prostitute (Conor Sweeney) and hard-boiled dick (Brent Neale) and a jaw-droppingly gorgeous stripper (Amy Groening) follow the trail of this formidable foe whilst confronting all their own personal demons.
This frothy brew of vile delights includes some of the most graphic blood splattering, vicious ass-slamming violence, gratuitous nudity, skimpy attire for the ladies, 'natch (and our delectable twink), morality, evisceration, hunky lads, delicious babes, compassion, rape, fellatio, chainsaw action, wholesome content, cannibalism, hand-to-hand combat, gunplay, family values, sodomy, immolation and monsters. It's all delivered up with a cutting edge mise-en-scène that out-grindhouses Tarantino's Grindhouse and delivers thrills, scares and laughs all in equal measure.
The film's sense of humour, in spite, or perhaps because of the proper doses of scatology and juvenilia is not the typical low-brow gross-out humour one finds in so many contemporary comedies, but frankly, works on the level of satire, and as such, is of the highest order. It stylistically straddles the delicate borders great satire demands. Too many people who should know better, confuse spoof or parody with satire and certainly anyone going to see Father's Day expecting SCTV, Airplane or Blazing Saddles might be in for a rude awakening. Yes, it's just as funny as any of those classic mirth-makers, but the laughs cut deep and they're wrought, not from the typical shtick attached to spoofs, but like all great satire, derive from the entire creative team playing EVERYTHING straight. No matter how funny, absurd or outlandish the situations and dialogue are, one never senses that an annoying tongue is being drilled firmly in cheek. Astron-6 loves their material and, importantly loves their creative influences. Their target is not necessarily the STYLE of film they're rendering homage to, but rather, the hypocrisies and horrors that face humanity everyday - religion, repression, dysfunction - all wedged cleverly into the proceedings.
Clearly a great deal of the movie's power in terms of its straight-laced approach to outlandish goings-on is found in the performances - all of them are spot-on. Adam Brooks IS a stalwart hero and never does he veer from infusing his role from the virtues inherent in such roles. Hell, he could frankly be Canada's Jason Statham in conventional action movies if anyone bothered to make such movies in Canada on any regular basis. Conor Sweeney as Twink is a marvel. Not only does he play the conflicted gay street hustler "straight", he straddles that terrific balance between genuinely rendering a layered character, but also infusing his performance with melodramatic aplomb. Not only is this perfect for the character itself, but it's perfectly in keeping with the style of movie that is being lovingly celebrated.
Anyone who reads my stuff regularly will know my mantra: Melodrama is not a dirty word - it's a legitimate genre and approach to drama. There is good melodrama and bad melodrama, like any other genre. Luckily, the Astron-6 team has the joy of glorious melodrama hard-wired into their collective DNA and Sweeney's performance is especially indelible in this respect.
Brent Neale as the hard-boiled cop is, quite simply, phenomenal. Will someone out there give this actor job after job after job? The camera loves him and he knows how to play to the camera. He is clearly at home with the straight-up and melodramatic aspects of his role and most importantly, he is imbued with the sort of smoulder that makes stars - he's handsome and intense.
Astoundingly, not a single actor in this film feels out of place. Whether they're emoting straight, slightly stilted, wildly melodramatic or, on occasion (given the genre), magnificently reeking of ham, this is ensemble acting at its absolute best.
The entire movie was made on a budget of $10,000 and once again, for all the initiatives out there to generate low-budget feature films, Father's Day did it cheaper (WAY CHEAPER) and better. The movie uses its budgetary constraints not as limitations, but as a method to exploit what can be so special about movies. The visual and makeup effects as well as the art direction ooze imagination and aesthetic brilliance and it's all captured through a lens that puts its peer level and even some big budget extravaganzas to shame. Imagination is truly the key to success with no-budget movies.
The Father's Day cinematography is often garish and lurid, but delightfully and deliciously so - with first-rate lighting and excellent composition. The filmmakers and their entire team successfully render pure gold out of elements that in most low-budget films just looks cheap - or worse, blandly competent (like most low budget Canadian movies). It's total trash chic - trash art, if you must.
I attended this spectacular event in France many years ago called the FreakZone International Festival of Trash Cinema which celebrated some of the most amazing transgressive works I'd ever seen. When I expressed to the festival director that I was surprised at the level of cinematic artistry, he just smiled and said, "You North Americans have such a limited view of trash culture - for us, trash is not garbage, we use the word to describe work that is subversive." This was so refreshing. It felt like a veil had been lifted from over me and I realized what EXACTLY it was that I loved about no-budget cinema - as a filmmaker, a teacher, a critic and fan.
Making a movie for no money that is NOT subversive on every level is, frankly, just plain stupid. What's the point? And Father's Day is nothing if it's not subversive. Besides, I've seen too many young filmmakers with talent galore ruined by initiatives that purported to celebrate the virtues of no-or-low-budget filmmaking but then forced the artists to apply the idiotic expectations of "industry standards" - whatever that means, anyway. This has been especially acute in Canada, but to be fair, in other non-North American countries also, where bureaucrats make decisions and/or define the rules/parameters of filmmaking.
Father's Day and the entire canon of the Astron-6 team should be the ultimate template for filmmakers with no money to seize the day and make cool shit. That's what it should always be about. And in this case, it took the fortitude of the filmmakers, their genuinely transgressive gifts as artists AND an independent AMERICAN producer to ensure that they made the coolest shit of all.
What finally renders Father's Day special is just how transgressively intelligent it all is and yet, never turns its proverbial nose up at the straight-to-video-nasties of the 80s, the grindhouse cinema of the 60s and 70s and the weird, late night cable offerings of the early 90s. It works very much on the level of the things it loves best. This is real filmmaking - it entertains, it dazzles, it makes use of every cheap trick in the book to create MOVIE magic and finally, it's made by people who clearly care about film. They get to have their cake and eat it too by having as much fun making the movies as we have watching them.
Father's Day was unveiled at Toronto's premiere genre film event, the Toronto After Dark Film Festival 2011 where it won the grand prize of Best Film - voted on by the thousands of attendees of the festival. It will be released theatrically in early 2012 by Troma Entertainment and will be followed with the usual forays into home entertainment formats.
Thứ Sáu, 23 tháng 12, 2011
Greg Klymkiw's 10 Best and 10 Worst of 2011 - Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011) and the Toronto After Dark Film Festivals (TADFF 2011) unveiled a vast majority of the terrific movies on my Best Lists for Toronto Audiences. It's a Great Town for Movies!
2011 was, overall, a pretty decent year for movies.
Interestingly, living in Toronto, Canada afforded me the opportunity to see many terrific pictures for the very first time at two phenomenal world-class local film festivals. A grand total of 6 movies on my Ten Best List and another 6 movies on my Best Runners-Up List were all first seen at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011).
If, as I suggest later in this piece that you blend my Ten Best with my runners-up and look at the them as my Top 25 movies of 2011, a grand total of 12 of these films played at TIFF. Adding 2 more films on both of those lists that played at the TIFF Bell Lightbox as regular first-run engagements, TIFF yielded the first Toronto screenings of 14 out of 25 films on lists comprising what I felt were the best of the year.
Two of my acting accolades (Louis Negin and Tara Lynne Barr) graced films in TIFF, while two additional movies NOT officially in the following lists (“Shame” and “The Descendants”), are still acknowledged (with caveats) as to their quality. With these additional nods, the stats are even more impressive.
It seems a year doesn't go by at TIFF that I'm not blown away by the selections in the "Midnight Madness" series as programmed by Colin Geddes. The 2010 edition featured a whole whack of movies I loved – most notably “Stake Land” and John Carpenter’s “The Ward”. This year, three films that made my Top 25 and one acting accolade came from NON-Midnight-Madness films programmed by the irascible Geddes. At his introductions to these pictures he would amusingly suggest that the TIFF powers-that-be let him out of his "cage" to occasionally slide a few pictures into the "normal" programs. The three superb films in the 2011 Geddes programming canon are, for me; proof positive that he needs to be “let out of his cage” more often. TIFF could use a bit more subversion anyway.
As someone famous SHOULD have said, “A lil’ subversion never hurt no one no how.”
Another interesting statistic is just how many great movies I first saw at the wonderful Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF) in 2011. Two movies on my Ten Best List and three pictures on my list of runners-up for the best yields 5 movies on my Top 25 of 2011 which first played at a tiny, independent, fan-based-and-operated genre festival in Toronto. As a lover of genre pictures and good old down home subversion and perversion, the Toronto After Dark Film Festival is perhaps the one place I feel very much at home. The audiences are especially a blast here and contribute to my steadfast belief that ALL movies made with a large format scope MUST be seen in real movie theatres with real people.
What this proves to me is that in spite of hating the fact that I am forced for much of the year to live in the city of Toronto, there are no other places in Canada where I am going to consistently see product I love on big screens long before many other places get them (if they get them at all). I've often dumped on Toronto as a city, using the late, great Canadian literary icon Scott Symons' apt description of it as a city of "Smugly Fucklings".
This has not changed. I still detest the city's weird pole-up-the-assedness, but at the same time, I do believe a lot of the power brokers in the city's coteries of smugly Fucklings do NOT want to be seen as uncool (in spite of the spire of the CN Tower jamming up their sphincters). This dichotomy has created a place to see great cinema.
Go figure.
And yes, some of the worst on my lists appeared at the aforementioned film festivals. 6 out of 25 stinkers on my lists played TIFF and TADFF, but that’s small potatoes compared to the great stuff I saw at both.
Most impressive.
Here then are my picks...
GREG KLYMKIW'S TEN BEST MOVIES OF 2011
(in alphabetical order)
Carnage
I had to see Carnage again to experience everything I missed the first time. It's the funniest movie of the year, so be prepared to laugh so hard that you too will need to see it a second time. Then, you'll probably want to see it a third time - just because it's so terrific. Based on Yasmina Reza's award-winning play "God of Carnage", the author could not have asked for a better director than the great Roman Polanski to guide its four characters through a mud-swamped, mustard-gas-infused battlefield of nasty sniping - not in Beirut, mind you, but within the upscale luxury of a lovely New York apartment. Two relatively affluent 40-something couples meet over coffee and cobbler to discuss, in a civilized manner, the fisticuffs which broke out between their respective pre-teen sons. The conversation zig-zags between several topics, all related in some fashion to the initial offending action. However, once the coffee and cobbler is abandoned in favour of a bottle of scotch, the relative restraint gives way to a no-holds-barred, rock-em-sock-em, to-the-death cage match of verbal assaults and, much to everyone's surprise, an uncorking of everything that's wrong with both marriages.
Carre Blanc
Harking back to the great 70s science-fiction film classics, Jean-Baptiste Léonetti’s debut feature Carré blanc is easily one of the finest dystopian visions of the future to be etched upon celluloid since that time. The tale is, on its surface and as in many great movies, a simple one. Philippe and Marie grew up together in a state orphanage and are now married. They live in a stark, often silent corporate world bereft of any vibrant colour and emotion. Philippe is a most valued lackey of the state – he is an interrogator-cum-indoctrinator. Marie is withdrawing deeper and deeper into a cocoon as the love she once felt for Philippe is transforming into indifference. In this world, though, hatred is as much a luxury as love. Tangible feelings and simple foibles are punished with torture and death. Indifference, it would seem, is the goal. It ensures complete subservience to the dominant forces. Love, however, is ultimately the force the New World Order is helpless to fight and it is at the core of this story. If Philippe and Marie can somehow rediscover that bond, there might yet be hope – for them, and the world. It is this aspect of the story that always keeps the movie floating above a mere exercise in style and makes it an instant classic of science fiction. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
The Deep Blue Sea
Terence Davies might well be one of the most important living British filmmakers. Working in a classical style with indelible compositions, creating a rhythm through little, no or very slow camera moves and infusing his work with a humanity seldom rivalled, Davies recognizes the importance of cinema as poetry – or rather, using the poetry of cinema to create narrative that is truly experiential. Here we feel and experience the tragic tale of Hester (Weisz), who leaves her much older, though loving husband, the respected judge Sir William (Simon Russell) when she meets the handsome, charming Freddie (Tom Hiddlestone), a former RAF pilot who allows her the joys of sex for the first time in her life. Alas, Freddie’s a bit of a rake and soon tires of domesticity, and Hester is driven to seriously contemplating suicide. Sir William wishes desperately to have her back. The eternal dilemma is that Freddie doesn’t love Hester as much as she’d like, nor does Hester feel as much love for Sir William as he does for her. The triangle is played out with Davies’s trademark style and a welcome return to pubs thick with smoke and filled with songs sung by its inebriated denizens. Reminiscent of Distant Voices, Still Lives, the songs here are not so much a counterpoint to the drudgery of the characters’ lives as something indicative of an overwhelming malaise born out of repression and class. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
Father's Day
This is the astounding feature film (the second completed feature this year) from the brilliant Winnipeg filmmaking collective Astron-6 (Adam Brooks, Jeremy Gillespie, Matthew Kennedy, Conor Sweeney and Steven Kosanski) who have joined forces with the legendary Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz of Troma Entertainment to generate a film that is the ultimate evil bastard child sprung from the loins of a daisy chain twixt Guy Maddin, John Paizs, early David Cronenberg, Herschel Gordon Lewis and Abel Ferrara's The Driller Killer. Father's Day is a triumph! It happily combines the effects of asbestos-tinged drinking water in Winnipeg with the Bukkake splatter of the coolest artistic influences imaginable and yields one of the most original films of 2011. First screened at Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2011).
God Bless America
A beleaguered 40-something schlub and a sexy teenage girl become a veritable Bonnie and Clyde – fighting for the rights of Liberals and anyone else who might be sick and tired of the mess America is in. God Bless America is one of the best black comedies I’ve seen in ages. Clinically insane and/or brilliant director Bobcat Goldthwait makes movies with a sledge hammer, but it's a mighty trusty sledge hammer. Some might take issue with the way he lets his central characters rant nastily and hilariously - well beyond the acceptability of dramatic necessity - but I have to admit it is what makes his work as a filmmaker so unique. He creates a world that exists within his own frame of reference which, at the same time, reflects aspects and perspectives that hang from contemporary society like exposed, jangled nerves. With God Bless America, Goldthwait delivers a movie for the ages – one that exposes the worst of America and delivers a satisfying Final Solution to the problem of stupidity and ignorance. The pace, insanity and barrage of delightfully tasteless jokes spew from him with a vengeance, but they're not only funny, he uses them to create a movie that challenge the worst elements of the Status Quo. It's a movie that fights fire with fire. Or rather, with a handgun. It’s the American Way! First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
i am a good person/i am a bad person
Ingrid Veninger might well be cinema’s only living equivalent to a whirling dervish. Like a dervish, she honours her Creator (cinema), her prophets (John Cassavetes, Mike Leigh and others of a very noble tradition), then whips her imaginary concoctions into a frenzy – literally living and breathing cinema – producing work from within herself, her devotion and life in all its joy and sadness. The movie marketplace is replete with father-son pictures, but mother-daughter relationships – in terms of numbers and quality – pale in comparison. This is a film that contributes admirably to this relatively rare tradition. While on the film festival circuit last year for her hit film Modra, Veninger's dervish whirled out a script about a filmmaker taking a trip to Europe to present her film on an identical tour. She cast herself as the filmmaker Ruby, and her own real-life daughter, talented young actress Hallie Switzer as daughter Sara. Ruby is a loveable scatterbrain. Her film is a crazed, seemingly political avant-garde celebration of – ahem – the penis. Sara is decidedly serious – in general, but especially on this trip – and Mom’s carefree spirit is driving her up the wall. Mom, not totally oblivious to this, is still intent on having a good time. While in the UK, it’s eventually decided that Sara will go to Paris on her own to visit with relatives and Ruby will forge on to a screening at the Arsenal Cinema in Berlin. As mother and daughter each face personal challenges, it also becomes glaringly apparent how much they need and love each other. i am a good person/i am a bad person is full of humour – gentle bits of human comedy and (surprisingly) full-on Bridesmaids-style blowjob and scatological knee-slappers. This doesn’t temper any of the sentiment or emotion, but in fact, enhances it. And unlike Bridesmaids, i am a good person/i am a bad person NEVER overstays its welcome. The picture is taut, trim, hypnotic and passionate. Kind of like a whirling dervish. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
Keyhole
What’s not to love? Blending Warner Brothers gangster styling of the 30s, film noir of the 40s and 50s, Greek tragedy, Sirk-like melodrama and odd dapplings of Samuel Beckett’s "Endgame" and Jean-Paul Sartre’s "No Exit" and genitals, it is, like all Maddin’s work, best designed to experience as a dream on film. The elements concocted in Keyhole to allow for full experiential mind-fucking involve the insanely named gangster Ulysses Pick (Jason Patric as you’ve never seen him before – playing straight, yet feeling like he belongs to another cinematic era), who drags his kids (one dead, but miraculously sprung to life, the other seemingly alive, but not remembered by his Dad) into a haunted house surrounded by guns-a-blazing. Keyhole is, without a doubt, one of the most perversely funny movies I’ve seen in ages and includes Maddin’s trademark visual tapestry of the most alternately gorgeous and insanely inspired kind. But as in all of Maddin’s work, beneath the surface of its mad inspiration lurks a melancholy and thematic richness. All the ghosts of the living and the dead (to paraphrase Joyce) populate the strange, magical and haunting world of Keyhole – a world most of us, whether we want to acknowledge it or not, live in. First screened at Technicolor Screening Room - World Premiere at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
Melancholia
Fusing a darkly comic domestic drama with an impending apocalypse, Lars Von Trier has created a bold and original work. There’s obviously the possibility that the movie works on a purely metaphorical level since the planet threatening Earth is called Melancholia and as such, this all might actually be one grand statement that the sickness of depression is what threatens to swallow everyone and everything whole. I prefer, however, to think the metaphor exists within the literal context of life on Earth being snuffed out. I suspect this is ultimately the case as Justine's character feels like a mouthpiece for von Trier himself - especially when she very matter-of-factly declares: “The Earth is evil. Life on Earth is evil.” As evil as it may be for von Trier, this evil has also yielded his genius and, most importantly, gives us an exquisitely beautiful, haunting and thought-provoking work of art. Maestro von Trier has also created images that shall never retreat from the memory banks of all who see his film. And for every image of heartbreaking beauty, von Trier counters it with something so indelibly appalling that he creates, once more, an important film exposing the dichotomous nature of life itself. It’s a great picture! First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
Midnight Son
Given what passes for vampires in these dark days of the ludicrous Twilight franchise, it seems almost insulting to toss this original and affecting horror movie into the same putrid bucket containing Stephenie Meyer's rank turds. Still, we must call a spade a spade and a vampire movie it most certainly is. However, Midnight Son is one of the creepiest, sexiest and truly romantic vampire pictures to grace the screens in many a new moon. Its unique blend of gorgeously gritty camerawork and equal dollops of both neorealism and existentialism, place the picture closer to the tradition forged by George A. Romero's Martin, Larry Fessenden's Habit and Abel Ferrara's The Addiction. What first feature filmmaker Scott Leberecht brings to the table that's all his is a tremendous degree of heart. He manages to shock us, creep us out AND move us. This is an astounding achievement. First screened at Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2011)
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
With brilliant Swedish filmmaker Tomas (Let The Right One In) Alfredson at the helm, the 2011 feature version of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is one of the best movies of the year and one of the great spy movies of all time. George Smiley (Gary Oldman) and his boss Control (John Hurt) are high level members of the British intelligence service who are forced into retirement when a mission to uncover a Soviet double agent in their midst goes horribly wrong. A new breed/regime comprising Bill Haydon (Colin Firth), Percy Alleline (Toby Jones), Roy Bland (Ciarán Hinds) and Toby Esterhase (David Dencik) take over. One of them is a traitor. Smiley is secretly coaxed out of retirement to ferret out the Russkie mole. With the help of a keen young agent Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch) a former audio-visual specialist Connie Sachs (Kathy Burke), a rogue bag-boy Ricki Tarr (Tom Hardy), memories of Control's tutelage and a surprise ally, a complex chess game plays itself out as the layers are slowly stripped away to reveal the truth.Director Alfredson plunges us into the bleak, cold, rainy nightmare of the Cold War during the early 70s. With cinematography by Hoyte Van Hoytema (The Fighter) that harks back to the great work of Owen Roizman (Network, The Exorcist, The French Connection, Three Days of the Condor), Alfredson delivers a movie set in the 70s that looks and feels like it was MADE in the 70s. With gorgeous grain dancing across every frame, we're plunged into the murky world of bureaucrats playing deadly cat and mouse games. Gary Oldman owns this movie and delivers the performance of his lifetime. His astonishing poker-face and rigid body language are stunningly controlled. His most phenomenal work is when Smiley decides when to display, ever-so subtly, something resembling an emotion wherein we see what Smiley wants us to see, or what we (and other characters) THINK Smiley wants us to see. And let it be said that Oldman delivers one of the most staggering screen monologues in movie history - it's up there with the greats: Richard Burton's "Bergin" speech in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Marlon Brando's "fake Ophelia" lament in Last Tango in Paris and Al Pacino's "football is life" speech in Any Given Sunday.
RUNNERS-UP FOR GREG KLYMKIW'S BEST MOVIES OF 2011
(or just consider both lists as The Greg Klymkiw Top 25 Movies of 2011)
(in alphabetical order)
50/50
50/50 is a comedy about cancer. The incongruity of this might seem off-putting, but humour, for any illness (no matter how deadly), is in my humble opinion, the best medicine. Adam (Joseph Gordon-Leavitt) is a public radio reporter with a bright future. When he is diagnosed with cancer his life quickly unravels, but with the support of his best friend, he maintains an even keel. Will Reiser's semi-autobiographical and superbly structured screenplay delivers the requisite laughs and tears, but never feels false. This is all achieved in good measure due to Jonathan (All the Boys Love Mandy Lane) Levine's exquisite direction. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
Absentia
The one thing worse than knowing a loved one has died is the horror of a loved one disappearing without a trace. It's knowing the truth that offers the most meagre shred of solace, or at least, acceptance. Not knowing, though, is the real horror. Absentia is a micro-budgeted independent horror movie brilliantly directed by Mike Flanagan that plays on these fears.First screened at Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2011)
Down the Road Again Don Shebib, with his legendary Goin' Down The Road, practically invented English Canadian cinema with it's neorealist portrait of two losers from the East making their way in the big city. Shebib has crafted this deeply moving and funny sequel that works as a continuation to a movie beloved by many Canadians, but also works if one has never seen the original.
Hanna
Hanna has the five-act structure of a Shakespearean tragedy and plays itself out rather deftly on a number of thematic levels – most notably that of family and what constitutes a family. This Grimm-styled fairytale (with subtle and not-so-subtle signposts along the way), blended with a Bourne-like action film and road picture, is ultimately the story of a young girl who finds her way out of a forest to do battle with an evil “witch” and be reunited with the father she loves.
Hugo
Martin Scorsese's ode to the beginnings of cinema is a delight and probably the first movie shot in 3-D by a truly great director - and the effect, which I'm still not a big fan of, at least works nicely enough that it didn't drive me up the wall like it usually does. Telling the story of a young boy who tries to unravel a secret left by his late father and set against the backdrop of a Paris train station, it's a terrific movie for the whole family. Oh, and even more delightfully, one of the principal characters is none other than the true father of fantastical cinema and special effects, Georges Melies.
Killer Joe
At one point during William Friedkin's Killer Joe, an unexpected roundhouse to the face renders its recipient’s visage to a pulpy skillet of corned beef hash. Said recipient is then forced to fellate a grease-drenched KFC drumstick and moan in ecstasy while family-members witness this horrendous act of violence and humiliation. William (The Exorcist, The French Connection, Cruising) Friedkin, it seems, has his mojo back. Set against the backdrop of Texas white trash, a young man who needs to settle a gambling debt, convinces his father to hire a hit man to bump off his his ex-wife for the insurance money. From here, we’re handed lascivious sexuality, double-crosses, triple-crosses and eventually, violence so horrendous, so sickening that even those with strong stomachs might need to reach for the Pepto Bismol. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
MANBORG
As dramatically postulated in the latest production from the kubassa-stuffed-to-overflowing loins of the Winnipeg-spawned hit machine Astron-6, be afraid - be VERY afraid of the future. Straight from the jaws of Hell comes Draculon (Adam Brooks), a crazed totalitarian infused with a slavering desire to inflict pain. When a brave young soldier bites it, he gets mysteriously transformed by the mad genius Dr. Scorpius into MANBORG, the next best thing to Jesus Christ and/or Robocop. Our title hero joins forces with three superHUMAN heroes in the struggle to free Earth from the clutches of Hades. And it's a battle you'll never forget. The movie is replete with mega-martial-arts, chase scenes ATVs that fly, Tron-like arena jousts and plenty of shit that blows up real good. The movie was made for a thousand smackers, shot on glorious DV-CAM and includes tons of in-camera and rudimentary effects that resemble early 80s community cable blue screen and there's not one damn thing in this movie that looks awful. It's endowed with the visual splendour that can only come from filmmakers who love movies and movie-making. First screened at Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2011)
Meek's Cutoff
This is one terrific offbeat western - a kind of country cousin to the Monte Hellman oaters The Shooting and Ride the Whirlwind, Peter Fonda's The Hired Hand, John Ford's Wagon Master and dollops of Terrence Malick's Days of Heaven. Telling the story of a young woman traversing across the open, deadly plains of 19th America, it has a meticulous pace, stunning visuals and the sort of elegiac quality that always serves a western very well. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival Bell Lightbox
Midnight in Paris
Far from his beloved Manhattan, Woody Allen continues to delight and dazzle with his tour through European backdrops. Owen Wilson and a lovely supporting cast take us into this magic realist tale of a screenwriter who mysteriously traverses back in time to 1920s Paris and cavorts with the likes of Ernest Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, Gertrude Stein, et al and slowly discovers how empty his life in present day is and how he has to find some way of bringing magic back into his existence. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
Moneyball
This well directed sports biography from Bennett Miller features Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill as the real life managers who took a losing team, the Oakland Athletics, and applied statistical science and mathematics to building a winning team. The movie has a similar "everything you always wanted to know about" feel to the world of baseball as The Social Network had for Facebook. The difference is that Moneyball is actually good. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
Paul Williams Still Alive
Legendary singer-songwriter Paul Williams was so high on the radar. Then he dropped off. This is what precipitated and inspired this wonderful new feature documentary by Stephen Kessler who explains in his heart-felt narration how his rapturous adoration for Williams dissipated when life moved on and Williams became a fleeting memory. A chance Internet surf brought Williams back onto his radar. He eagerly wanted to know more about his childhood idol. What happened? Where was he now? What was he up to? What does a fan do in such circumstances? He makes a movie about it. We see a director who clearly loves his subject matterand as the film progresses, we experience a friendship developing between the two men. Very cool. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
Take Shelter
A simple family man in a rural locale begins to experience apocalyptic visions and obsessively begins preparing for the ultimate annihilation. It's survivalism in extremis and one of the creepiest movies of the year. Michael Shannon proves again what a phenomenal actor he is. The camera loves this guy and we simply can't take out eyes off of him for a second.
There Are No Outdoor Ice Rinks In Madrid
The brilliant Spanish-born, Canadian-raised film artist Bruno Lazaro Pacheco has etched a phenomenally poetic, personal and deeply meditative documentary that weaves his own family's flight from fascism with the tale of a Canadian who volunteers for the Spanish Civil War. Memory, family, political ideals that are hoped for and dashed blend lovingly in this powerful, complex indictment of fascism.
W.E.
The King’s Speech gave me pathological hemorrhoids. Thankfully my piles receded after seeing Madonna’s W.E. This vaguely feminist fairytale crossed with fashion porn is a wildly stylish, dazzlingly entertaining and sumptuously melodramatic flipside to that horrendous Oscar-baiting nonsense. Instead of Colin Firth spluttering with nobility as King George VI in television director Tom Hooper’s painfully earnest snooze-fest we get an exuberantly acted reverie into the life of Wallis Simpson (Andrea Riseborough), the snappy dressing American divorcee who wooed King Edward VIII (James D’Arcy) into her boudoir, forcing him to abdicate for the woman he loved and thus allowing his stuttering, half-wit brother to mincingly don the Crown of Jolly Old England, hoist Blighty’s sceptre and eventually provide inspiration for the aforementioned hemorrhoid-inducer. Making a movie about Wallis and Edward and focusing on Wallis is – dare I say – something we’d ONLY see from a female director. So it’s Madonna. Why the fuck not? She’s been the primary fuel behind an astounding career and one with considerable longevity – driven by a brilliant ability to artistically reinvent herself. With W.E. she not only reinvents herself as a filmmaker to be reckoned with, she does so with audacity and aplomb. First screened at Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)
The Woman
As rendered by director Lucky McKee and his co-screenwriter Jack Ketchum, The Woman is, without a doubt, one of the most foul, wanton and viciously humorous movies of the new millennium. Like all corn-and-steak-fed American men, Chris wakes early in the morning and declares how much he loves the quiet of the country before revving up his ATV and tear-assing into the woods for some hunting - which yields a live trophy - a buxom, beautiful, feral woman from the backwoods that he manacles in the fallout shelter in order to civilize her. The civilization process includes being raped late into the night by Chris while son Brian watches jealously through a peephole. Eventually, as any eager All American Boy would do, the feral woman, is eventually tortured with wire cutters and sexually abused by the randy little chip-off-the-old-block. Can revenge be far behind? The Woman is an unflinching ride on the locomotive of excess that has turned America into a third-world country. The movie requires a strong stomach and open mind - anything less and you'll feel like you stepped into your worst nightmare. First screened at Toronto After Dark Film Festival (TADFF 2011).
AND NOW, A FEW ADDITIONAL 2011 KLYMKIW FILM CORNER ACCOLADES
BEST ACTOR
Gary Oldman - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
BEST ACTRESS
Michelle Williams - My Week with Marilyn
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Louis Negin - Keyhole
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Tara Lynne Barr - God Bless America
BEST DIRECTOR
Tomas Alfredson - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
BEST DIRECTED MOVIE I HATED
Shame
BEST MOVIE I LIKED THAT DIDN'T HOLD UP ON A 2ND VIEWING
The Descendants
THE BEST DREADFUL MOVIE I COULDN'T HATE BECAUSE IT STILL MANAGED TO MAKE ME LAUGH - I MEAN, REALLY - AL PACINO TRYING TO SCHTUP ADAM SANDLER IN DRAG, WHILST SICKENING, DOESN'T MAKE YOU LAUGH - JUST A WEE BIT?
Jack and Jill
GREG KLYMKIW'S TEN WORST MOVIES OF 2011
(in alphabetical order)
The Artist
Homage to silent cinema yields the most annoying movie of the year.
A Dangerous Method
Dull Cronenberg misfire with Fassbender administering ho-hum spankings.
Drive
All the pretension and none of the charm of 70s-styled existential male angst.
The Eye of the Storm
Boring Australian chamber piece with one too many Geoffrey Rush nude scenes.
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
David Fincher's utterly incompetent and unnecessary remake of a taut unpretentious thriller.
The Hangover Part II
A disgrace replete with poor writing and no laughs.
Rise of the Planet of the Apes
Boneheaded reboot of great franchise needing a reboot like I need hemorrhoids.
Straw Dogs
Abysmal, incompetent remake of Peckinpah classic.
The Tree of Life
The biggest sore-ass inducer of the year.
X-Men: First Class
Anachronistic, poorly executed reboot of comic book series.
OTHER CONTENDERS FOR GREG KLYMKIW'S WORST MOVIES OF 2011
The Adventures of Tintin
Battle: Los Angeles
Cars 2
Cowboys & Aliens
Crazy Stupid Love
The Day
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
The Green Lantern
Horrible Bosses
Larry Crowne
New Year's Eve
Sucker Punch
Super 8
The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part I
Warrior
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