Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn BITS 2014. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng
Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn BITS 2014. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng

Thứ Năm, 1 tháng 1, 2015

THE FILM CORNER CANADIAN FILM AWARDS 2014 - The very best in Canadian Cinema - Many of these films were first unleashed at such film festivals and venues as TIFF 2014, TIFF Bell Lightbox, Hot Docs 2014, Toronto After Dark 2014, FantAsia 2014, FNC 2014, BITS 2014, NIFF 2014, The Royal Cinema and the Magic Lantern Carlton Cinemas









Top 10 Canadian Feature Films of 2014
(in alphabetical order)

The Animal Project
(Ingrid Veninger)

(Audrey Cummings)

(Atom Egoyan)

(Adam Brooks, Matthew Kennedy)

Ejecta (tied with Hellmouth)
(Chad Archibald, Matt Wiele)

Eryka's Eyes
(Bruno Lazaro Pacheco)

The F Word/What if
(Michael Dowse)

Hellmouth (tied with Ejecta)
(John Geddes)

(Albert Shin)

(Jason Lupish)

(David Cronenberg)


Top 10 Canadian Directors
(in alphabetical order)

Adam Brooks, Matthew Kennedy - The Editor
David Cronenberg - Maps To The Stars
Audrey Cummings - Berkshire County
Michael Dowse - The F Word
Atom Egoyan - The Captive
John Geddes - Hellmouth
Jason Lupish - A Kind of Wonderful Thing
Bruno Lazaro Pacheco - Eryka's Eyes
Albert Shin - In Her Place
Ingrid Veninger - The Animal Project

Top 5 Canadian Screenplays
(in alphabetical order)

Pearl Ball-Harding/Albert Shin - In Her Place
Adam Brooks/Matthew Kennedy/Conor Sweeney - The Editor
Tony Burgess - Ejecta
Elan Mastai - The F Word/What if
Bruce Wagner - Maps To The Stars

Top 5 Actors in a Canadian Film
(in alphabetical order)

Michael D. Cohen - It Was You Charlie
Joey Klein - The Animal Project (tied with Aaron Poole in The Animal Project)
Stephen McHattie - Hellmouth (tied with Julian Richings in Ejecta)
Aaron Poole - The Animal Project (tied with Joey Klein in The Animal Project)
Daniel Radcliffe - The F Word/What if
Ryan Reynolds - The Captive
Julian Richings - Ejecta (tied with Stephen McHattie in Hellmouth)

Top 5 Actresses in a Canadian Film
(in alphabetical order)

Yoon Da-kyung - In Her Place -tied with- Kil Hae-yeon - In Her Place
Ahn Ji-hye - In Her Place
Alysa King - Berkshire County
Julianne Moore - Maps To The Stars
Erica Sherwood - A Kind of Wonderful Thing

Top 5 Canadian Documentaries
(in alphabetical order)

Altman - Ron Mann
The Boy From Geita - Vic Sarin
Marmato - Marc Grieco
The Secret Trial 5 - Amar Wala
Trick or Treaty? - Alanis Obomsawin

Top 5 Canadian Short Films
(in alphabetical order)

Avec le temps - Mark Mogenstern
Controversies - Ryan McKenna
Migration - Fluorescent Hill (Mark Lomond, Johanne Ste-Marie)
Mynarski Death Plummet - Matthew Rankin


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Thứ Năm, 27 tháng 11, 2014

QUEEN OF BLOOD - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Official Selection at Blood in the Snow Film Festival





HOMAGE
TO
PRETENSE
Queen of Blood (2014)
Dir. Chris Alexander
Starring: Nivek Ogre, David Goodfellow, Shauna Henry, Carrie Gemmell

Review By Greg Klymkiw

So, not only is Queen of Blood a Canadian movie, eh, but it's a horror movie and an art movie, eh. This means it's artistic, eh. You know it's artistic because there are many scenes of people staring - at what, you never really know, eh, but that's what makes it artistic, eh. Did I mention yet that it's Canadian? And you know how you can tell it's Canadian? Well, because it is artistic, eh, but most of all because it is underpopulated and shot in a rural location, eh.

And goddamn it, this movie is just so bloody artistic, eh. There are lots of scenes with people walking across fields and through the woods, eh. It takes them a long time to walk. Sometimes they are moving in slow motion, eh. Actually, they're moving in slow motion a lot, eh, but you know, that's okay, eh, because it's like, artistic, eh. Oh and Jesus H. Christ, Mary and Joseph, I plumb forgot to mention that the movie has lots of fades and dissolves to mark the passage of time, eh. And I'm telling you, this is mega-artistic, eh.

The movie is not only artistic, but it is what they call an homage. Yessiree-Bob, it's a right, royal artistic homage. The whole kit and caboodle is in the spirit of movies directed by Jesus Franco and Jean Rollin. These Euro-Trash dudes were super prolific in the 60s, 70s and 80s and even though most of their movies were godawful (but artistic, eh), the sheer volume of their output actually generated a handful of cool movies. None of them were actually good, eh, but they were cool (and artistic), so that's good, eh.

The only problem with homaging dudes like Franco and Rollin - I mean, aside from the fact that their movies were awful - is that they were completely and utterly bereft of humour. There is nothing deadlier than artistic Euro-Trash horror movies that are humourless.

Queen of Blood, it must be said, is true to its roots. It's artistic, kind of awful and humourless also. It is, however, in the noble tradition of Canadian filmmakers referencing other movies. God knows, Guy Maddin, John Paizs, Astron-6, the twisted Soska Twins and among others, Lee Demarbre, all do this homage thing. The difference is that the movies they reference are not humourless and as such, their own movies are not bereft of humour.

Queen of Blood, however, is not only missing quite a few brain cels, but it has no funny bone - kind of like Jesus Franco and Jean Rollin, eh.

Now, if I had to tell you what Queen of Blood is actually about, I'd probably have to say that I really have no fucking idea, but that won't stop me from trying, because it's artistic, eh and I sure as fuck don't want you to think I'm what they call a Philistine, eh. I might be from the North End of Winnipeg, eh, but we're no dummies, eh. The North End gave the world Burton Cummings, David Steinberg and Monty Hall, eh.

So, here's what you're in for, eh. The movie begins with some chick crawling out of a pool of swamp water. A title card comes up and says: BIRTH. Heavy, man, heavy. Then, some bearded dude shows up wearing a sweater he probably bought at Target Store and carries some chick into the woods. I think it's the same chick who crawled out of the swamp, but I don't think it really matters. Eventually, we find ourselves in a cottage, or a farm house, or something. A chick, I think it's the same chick, is inside and the dude offers her a white dress, then proceeds to cut her hair. He's no Vidal Sassoon, but upon completion of the follicle shearing, he presents the chick with a mirror. With extremely wide-eyes, kind of like those creepy fluffy puppy dog velvet paintings, she stares at herself in the mirror for what seems like a very long time. Before tedium really begins to set in, we cut to a bunch of bees buzzing around and then the dude with the beard kneels before the chick who tears his throat open in slow motion with her phallic thumb, then licks the blood off her hand. She exits the cottage, marching into bright sunlight and directly into the camera lens. I accept this.

As the movie crackles along, we get ourselves some nice slow motion camera moves in the empty cottage. And then, another chick shows up. As this is an artistic movie, we need some more shots of people staring at stuff, so the chick stares at some horses while stroking her preggo-belly. We need more staring, so luckily we encounter a dude adorned in black at some church and he stares directly into the camera lens. At this point, the filmmaker astutely realizes we need a shot of someone aimlessly walking and in an extreme long shot a chick in white wanders - very slowly - through the woods. She gets closer and closer to us, but it does take a fairly long time. To break shit up, we're treated to a slow dolly shot along a creek with the deep woods in the background and leaves are slowly fluttering to the ground. The white dress chick finds a blue dress chick and smears blood upon her face, then turns and very slowly walks back into the woods.

I hope you're following all this.

Now the dude in black is staring at a field. Good deal, eh. Staring at fields is very artistic, eh, but alas he must stop staring and do some wandering. This was probably a good idea because he finds a chick lying dead on the ground. He does what anyone would do, he covers her body with foliage. Our filmmaker manages to infuse a few frissons into the proceedings by focusing on a spider dangling from a web whilst the pregnant chick stands in a barn with a horse and stares out the window. We get some throat tearing action followed by a really long shot of a barn which the chick in the white dress eventually and slowly walks towards. Upon entering the barn, she lies down on the straw and takes a nap.

Regardez! Regardez! Regardez!

A new title card is upon us: "DEATH".

Oh, by the way, we're only about 30-minutes into this thing.

The next section serves up a variety of walking around and staring in addition to some strangling, some endless Terence Malick-like staring up at the tops of trees, some dude in a stovepipe hat having the life drained out of him, a chick slowly crawling along the ground, the dude in black breaking his thumb and having some kind of epileptic seizure whilst a geyser of blood spews out of his mouth.

And guess what? A new title card: "REBIRTH".

Things are really heating up now.

The Sun is shining. The pregnant chick is staring. The chick in the white dress walks really slowly to the barn. She meets up with the pregnant chick, rubs her belly, kisses her, then appears to shove her hand into the belly and extract blood from it. Now the chick in the white dress is pregnant. She stares at a whole lot of stuff and walks into the woods slowly. Hell, she even walks into the water, whereupon she gives birth to some grotesque looking baby with its umbilical chord still dangling and smeared in bloody afterbirth. With babe in arms she walks through a yard full of junk and meets up with some old bearded inbred hillbilly dude who kind of looks like Santa Claus. The poor fella's just trying to whittle like Uncle Jed on The Beverly Hillbillies and the chick rips his throat open and feeds the blood to the baby, smiling like some psychotic Blessed Virgin Mary.

I won't ruin the ending for you, but it's a surprise shocker. It's not quite the Statue of Liberty at the end of Planet of the Apes, but by the standards of this ludicrous film, it might as well be.

The bottom line is this: If you can hack the absolute worst Jesus Franco and/or Jean Rollin Euro-trash horror films, then you'll probably have absolutely no problem sitting through Queen of Blood.

Besides, it's artistic, eh.

The Film Corner Rating: ONE PUBIC HAIR
*Note* The "One Pubic Hair" rating is hallowed ground at The Film Corner. Only two films before this have ever received this worthy accolade: Son of God(zilla) and Sharknado.

Queen of Blood is an official selection of the Blood in the Snow Film Festival (BITS 2014) at the Magic Lantern Carlton Cinemas in Toronto.

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Thứ Tư, 26 tháng 11, 2014

EJECTA - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Solid Tony Burgess script anchors 4-site alien thriller

Time to make room for some visitors.
IF YOU
DARE DOUBT
YOU'RE

A FOOL
Ejecta (2014)
dir. Dir. Chad Archibald, Matt Wiele
Screenplay: Tony Burgess
Starring: Julian Richings, Lisa Houle, Adam Seybold

Review By Greg Klymkiw

In a world replete with eyewitness accounts detailing UFO sightings and contact with extraterrestrial (or at least, unidentified) life forms, all the stuff so many individuals and groups have testified to seeing and/or feeling, are those which tend to be discounted by ascribing said testimonials to mental illness. Though I have no doubt that many such experiences are indeed the bi-products of more than a few of the aforementioned folks being completely out of their respective (or collective) gourds, I still get the willies when I realize that some of them are most probably not crazy, that they've seen and experienced things I hope to never be unlucky enough to witness and/or feel.

Furthermore, I genuinely believe there's stuff out there that can never be adequately explained and probably won't be since an elite exists that's all too aware of certain realities, but keeps them veiled in secrecy for a variety of social, cultural, religious, political and economic reasons. The only people who would tend to dispute this, to doubt it beyond all that is reasonable, are those who would be quick to dismiss such notions, both genuinely and surreptitiously.

My own beliefs on this matter are not, I suspect, only due to years of tuning into very some very strange stuff on shortwave radio, eons of listening to Art Bell and George Noory on late-night talk radio and poring over as many books, articles and internet blogs on the matter as I've been able to pore over. Nay, I accept without question that some truly weird shit's going on out there (or, at the very least, I take it seriously enough to question it).

As for the poor souls who've become targets of derision for experiencing the unexplainable, it's clear they've been through something that's so cerebellum-brandingly real, so horrific, so indescribable and so nerve-shreddingly painful that they can only respond in ways that some would term as insanity. I have no doubt, however, that a goodly number of these people are not bonkers. In fact, those who absolutely refuse to believe are more likely to be the crazy ones.

Oh, and in case you're convinced that I am a few bricks short of a load on this, allow me to reveal, in defence of my sanity, that I've been mulling over the Drake Equation for several years (which, for some, might well be proof of my potentially schizophrenic nature). In any event, the equation provides an excellent basis for thought and discussion on the possibility of life existing beyond Earth and within our very own Milky Way and as such, has its fair share of champions in the scientific community. Radio Astronomer Frank Drake first came up with it in the early 60s and while it's impossible to use as a purely mathematical equation due to several unknown variables, it's still quite a brilliant series of questions to consider when searching for signs of extraterrestrial life. In fact, the Drake Equation is indeed the very foundation upon which the science of astrobiology was founded. (Feel free to do your own research on this, there's plenty of great stuff out there for further illumination.)

As well, we would be fools to ignore the wealth of historical artifacts, etchings and fossils that can certainly provide a solid bedrock to allow for a huge degree of healthy speculation that we, are not, alone, or, as expressed by the central character in the terrific film Ejecta:
"We were never alone."
All the aforementioned conundrums I've expressed tie directly and indeed form a great deal of the content of this extraordinary feature film triumph from the visionary Collingwood Crazies known to genre fans as Foresight Features. Ejecta is, without a doubt, one of the scariest science fiction horror films you're likely to see this year.

Buoyed by intense, intelligent writing from Tony Burgess (Pontypool, Septic Man) in a screenplay that induces fingernail-ripping-and-plucking (biting nails to the quick is "pussy", anyway), plus an astonishingly riveting performance by one of Canada's greatest actors Julian (Hard Core Logo, Cube, Man of Steel) Richings, Ejecta is a movie that plunges you into the terror of one utterly horrendous night in the lives of those who make contact with aliens. All of them experience a series of close encounters of the third kind, though be warned, they're as far removed from the benevolence and joy expressed in Spielberg's grandaddy classic of the genre.

There are no happy-faced hairless alien midgets gesticulating Zoltán Kodály Hand Signals whilst smiling at a beaming Francois Truffaut in Ejecta. No-siree-Spielberg, these mo-fos are super-ugly and their presence induces the sheer horror that inspires drawer-filling of the highest order. That said, Close Encounters of the Third Kind is worth noting here, because Ejecta shares one very important element with Spielberg's bonafide masterpiece.

Obsession.

Close Encounters took its title and three-act structure from a system of extraterrestrial classification as posited by the late astronomer Dr. Josef Allen Hynek – the close encounter. According to Hynek, a close encounter of the first kind is seeing unexplained phenomena, while the second kind involves hard proof of some sort of physical manifestation from what was originally witnessed and, finally, the close encounter of the third kind being contact. I'd argue that experiencing even one of these encounters would be enough to drive someone obsessively to seek subsequent levels of encounter or, in the case of Ejecta, we have three characters equally fraught with obsession. One seeks answers to stopping his pain, another will inflict pain to secure answers, while yet another brings the obsession of an artist seeking answers in his subject. And forgive me if I get all eggheaded on you here, but there is a sense of Trinity that Ejecta shares with Close Encounters - both pictures have a kind of Father, Son and Holy Spirit manifestation coursing through them and it's this level of spirituality and obsession that bind the pictures.

Close Encounters, of course, charts the journey of everyman Richard Dreyfuss who experiences the unexplained appearance of something other-worldly and abandons his life, his job, his family – everything he holds dear – to obsessively track down the meaning behind this occurrence. In a tale steeped in Judeo-Christian resonance – from Moses to Christ – Roy makes a perilous journey, climbs Devil’s Tower and comes face-to-face with the answer to his visions until he, along with twelve (trinity existing within the square root) apostolic “pilgrims” ascend to the Heavens, arms outstretched in what is surely the most benign crucifixion-image (trinity) imaginable.

This sense of spirituality is almost divine in nature and makes perfect sense considering the aforementioned Hynek’s own belief in the notion that a technology must exist which blends both the physical and psychic. Furthermore, it's important to note that Paul Schrader wrote the first pass of Close Encounters and though he didn't take a story credit (something he regretted almost as quickly as he agreed to it and more so in the years to follow), Spielberg's film feels, deep-down, like a Schrader narrative - especially the combination of obsession and spirituality.

This is an unbeatable combination that Ejecta flirts with at every turn.

The journey Burgess's screenplay takes us on begins quite evocatively with some cold, impersonal Ascii-text being typed onto a hazy computer monitor:
Tonight the universe is no bigger than my head.
It's time to make room for some visitors.
Yes, visitors indeed. William Cassidy (Julian Richings), a conspiracy theorist living off the grid in the middle of some godforsaken Ontario hinterland is inundated with unwelcome guests - a filmmaker, an interrogator and a mean-ass alien.

Joe (Adam Seybold) is the most benevolent of the three visitors Cassidy receives. This ultra-indie one-man-show documentary filmmaker believes he's been invited by Cassidy to engage in an interview. When he gets confirmation that he'll be granted an audience, he's ecstatic since Cassidy is considered the "Holy Grail" of UFO experts. Upon arriving, Cassidy seems confused as to why Joe is even there, but as things progress, we understand all too well why the wiry, jittery recluse is occasionally addled. Unlike the Richard Dreyfuss character in Close Encounters, most of Cassidy's adult life has been fraught with the obsession an alien encounter instigates. At least Dreyfuss had tangible things to lose, but poor Cassidy appears to have lost everything before he could even get a chance to amass it. What he's amassed is a life of questions, pain and endless, seemingly futile attempts to let the world know about his experience. He's lost a life he could have had. That's scary enough, but happily, the movie delivers its share of visceral chills to complement those of the philosophical variety.

We are privy to some of Joe's interview footage which reveals Cassidy's credentials in the UFO field. At first, Joe makes the mistake of referring to the alien abduction Cassidy suffered almost forty years ago, but is sternly corrected that it was not an abduction. The aliens came to Cassidy:
"They met inside my mind. I could feel them, I could hear them inside. They pretty much ignored me, but they had this meeting and then they left. They left something behind, something inside of me, and it's been there ever since. When I'm awake it hurts, but when I'm not, it floods me with these nightmares. No, no, it's not nightmares, it's not a thing, it's a feeling, it's not pain, it's not fear, it's something else, something much, much worse."
And damned if we don't believe him. This, of course, is one of the scariest things about the film. Burgess has written a character that allows Richings to invest with such intensity, that many of the creeps and shudders we get come directly from Cassidy's brilliantly scribed (via Burgess) and executed (via Richings) dialogue.

It's often been erroneously suggested in a kind of knee-jerk screenwriting 101 fashion that it's always better to show in movies than tell and those who ascribe to this strictly are too quick to dismiss the cinematic power of telling. In the case of Ejecta, so much of the film's power is in the showing of the telling and believe you me, the telling via the words Burgess provides to Richings borders on the poetic and it's these flights of fancy rooted in the unknown that not only wrench the bloody bejesus out of you but are one of the contributing factors to the film's overall achievement as a genre film that utilizes the tropes it must, but does so with the oft-neglected poetry inherent in cinema itself.

When Cassidy explains the feelings he has because of the intrusive alien presence within him, he notes in desperation, that it's "the fear of the anticipation of this feeling [which] eats away at my life." Well, Jesus H. Christ, Almighty! Hand me an extra large pair of Depends Adult Diapers because this statement and the chilling manner of its delivered was easily just as shit-my-drawers scary as a beautifully directed set piece which happens at another juncture in the film where Cassidy and Joe hide in the shed from the alien that prowls malevolently just outside.

Structurally, the film benefits from yet another trinity in the three-pronged approach to capturing the narrative of this night of horror. Firstly, there's Joe's documentary footage, then there's the perspective of the military through various helmet-cams and finally, the present-tense unfolding of Cassidy's interrogation at the hands of the malevolent Dr. Tobin (Lisa Houle). The movie skilfully bounces us throughout these perspectives, yet we seldom feel lost in the proceedings beyond the manner in which the characters themselves feel lost.

The film is co-directed by Matt Wiele and Chad Archibald and while it's difficult to ascertain the nature of the collaboration from the finished product, the bottom line is that there's a consistency to the film's overall snap, crackle and pop which renders a picture that almost always grabs you by the balls (or, if you will, vulva), squeezing, scratching, scrunching and twisting until you feel you can bear no more.

My only quibble is with certain elements of the interrogation scenes. There's an automaton quality to the military personnel which is no doubt intentional, but often feels too "play-acted" to gel with the elements in the film which seem rooted in docudrama-like reality. I was also mixed on how the blocking played out during these scenes as they seemed almost by-the-numbers plotted-out, not unlike that of series television.

Lisa Houle's performance, however, is one of the weirdest I've seen on film in a long time and that's quite a statement considering that she plays opposite Julian Richings who is eccentricity-incarnate. At first, I was not sure of her performance and thought I'd have to repress it in order to enjoy everything I loved about the picture, but it eventually grew on me because it really is so out-to-lunch. Houle delivers many of her lines with a kind of sing-song quality and at times she came across like some genetically mutated pollination twixt a happy host on children's educational programming and Ilsa, She-Wolf of the S.S.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is an achievement. My hat is off to her.

Then again, my hat is off to the entire Foresight Features team. They keep delivering the goods and Ejecta is as strange, perverse, thoughtful, scary and darkly funny as their best work has proven to be. The film also gives new meaning to the old movie tagline "Watch the Skies" because here, it's not the skies you need to watch, it's the universe implanted in your brain and goddamn, it hurts. And worst of all, you can't necessarily see it. Short of sawing the top of your skull off and gazing at your glistening brain in one of those cooking show mirrors, there's nothing to "watch".

Everything is feeling. And that, is really fucking scary.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** Four Stars

Ejecta is an official selection of the Blood in the Snow Film Festival 2014 at the MLT Carlton Cinema in Toronto. The film is being released by Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada.