Category: Reviews Page 49 of 65

Writer/Director Tom Hammock has been the production designer on 25 films, including “You’re Next” and “The Guest.” His directorial debut with “The Well” put all that experience to good use, as he selected the perfect location, costumes, music and cast for this post-apocalyptic drama about survivors trying to stay alive in a dust-bowl-like world where water is the most precious commodity.
The movie is horror. It is thriller. It is social commentary. It is a reversal of all the normal stereotypes. And it is good—very, very good!
The film was shot in an area 2 hours outside of Los Angeles between December 1st and December 18th as quickly as possible, using 45 grueling set-ups in an 8-hour day. At the heart of the movie is a 17-year-old leading lady, Haley Lu Richardson as Kendall. When hired, Richardson had only one previous screen credit: an Arizona matches ad. (Richardson also appeared recently in an indie comedy, “The Young Kieslowski.”)
Had there not already been a movie entitled “Kick Ass,” this part would qualify. Richardson’s background in dance helped her to perform strenuous fight sequences. She is a real find. She appears in every scene of the film and the entire story is told from her point-of-view.
Hammock has created a dry desert world of Mad Max-like appearance, but without the larger-than-life characters of that franchise. These characters are real people who are desperately struggling to survive while a greedy water baron named Carson sets out to systematically exterminate all of them. He calls them hangers-on, saying, “If they’re alive, they’re consuming my water, and they can’t consume my water without my consent.” Carson is central to the story and is well-played by veteran character actor John Gries (“Taken,” Napoleon Dynamite”), whom Hammock met at a genre film meet-up in the L.A. area that Hammock hosted.
As we are told, “If the company drains all the water away from the aquifer, they control the whole valley.” Kendall, the 17-year-old survivor and her boyfriend Dean (played by Booboo Stewart, depicted as dying from kidney failure), is told by her boyfriend, “There was a time when a man owned the land, he controlled the water, but things are different. He who controls the land controls the water.”
This is a modern-day parable regarding wealth (in this case, water) and its unequal distribution. It is timely, making the film rise above generic film genre categories and become commentary on the world around us today. Ironically, oil is essentially worth little in Hammock’s world, while water is the most precious substance after a 10-year drought devastates the area. With a real drought ongoing in California, the theme is even more current.
And that Australia-like desert which is one of the biggest “characters” in the entire production? It’s near where Tom Hammock grew up, 2 hours north out of Los Angeles. All the farms are actual houses that were abandoned by their owners when the land, planted in alfalfa, turned to dust. (The script’s reference to years prior when rice paddies flourished had me initially wondering if the film location was somewhere in Asia.)
Carson and his red-haired daughter Brooke (well played by “America’s Top Model” contestant Nicole Fox) and crew view their task of killing all the settlers in the valley in these stark terms: “Think of it as the extinction of a species…You have to kill them. The vagrants only suffer. If it weren’t me, it’d be someone else.” They even take a minister along with them (Michael McCartney) who pronounces, “Pray for each of these desperate thirsty souls. Ten years of no rain.”
Since Kendall (Richardson) spends much of the film either hiding from Carson and his men or actively overcoming them in hand-to-hand combat, rifle or samurai sword in hand, the cinematographer, Seamus Tierny, did a great job properly lighting her as she crouches in a dark attic shrouded in a foil wrap to fool the heat-seeking machines the searchers use, or fighting men twice her size in stark sunlight in the next. (When asked about the lighting, Hammock said, “The majority was lit by a white sheet and a pizza box.”)
All of the normal power structures in the film are turned upside-down: it is Kendall, the female character, who is doing all the fighting (not completely new, since “The Hunger Games” and “Divergent”). It is her boyfriend, Dean, who is weak. Plus, ironically, it is water, not oil, which is the source of all conflict.
Kendall and Dean, her boyfriend, have an old Cessna airplane hidden away that they hope to use to escape to a more favorable climate, but they first must find a distributor cap that fits. Much of the story concerns Kendall’s efforts to find this distributor cap, an homage to the original Road Warrior film.
The rest of the story is Kendall foraging or checking on or rescuing a small boy at a nearby farm, Albie (Max Charles). Kendall struggles not only with the exterminators who wear truly horrifying outfits (and, at times, gas masks) but also with her own compassionate impulses. As the cliché says, “No good deed goes unpunished,” which proves true more often than not in the plot, co-written by Hammock and Jacob Foreman.
The costume design by Emma Potter is terrific, as is the spare musical score by Craig Deleon, who often scores for Michael Bay or Apple commercials. There is also an ongoing, menacing wind sound. Director Hammock, when asked what was most daunting about the filming, cited the windy dust storms in the area, as well as achieving the defining image of the leading lady coated in oil. They put Haley in a flesh-colored wet suit and made the oil out of black children’s paint, but the temperature was still in the thirties—cold and uncomfortable for their determined actress, shown submerged in the slimy stuff in the movie’s most famous still.
This is an excellent, entertaining psychological study on a par with “The Babadook” in that neither is straight horror. Each is a well-drawn psychological thriller—but the Uma Thurman-like “Kill Bill” action vote goes to “The Well.”

Don’t miss it. This enterprising young director should be going big places in his film future.
“The Well” premiered at the L.A. Film Festival. It played at the Chicago Film Festival on October 19th; a production deal is nearing completion.

“Creep” Is Low-Budget Horror Flick in Film Festival “After Dark” Series

By Connie Wilson

On October 18, 2014

In Movies, Pop Culture, Reviews

“Creep” is a low-budget horror film directed by Patrick Brice, who also wrote the story with Mark Duplass, one brother of the duo Jay and Mark Duplass (“Jeff, Who Lives At Home,” 2011).

While “Jeff, Who Lives At Home” was a funny film that used well-known actors like Susan Sarandon, Jason Segel and Ed Helms and seemed to have a budget of some substance, “Creep” most resembled “The Blair Witch Project” in terms of its herky-jerky hand-held camera work and what had to have been a spectacularly low budget.

The film begins with an online offer made to a cash-strapped filmmaker on March 21,2012 to come to a remote cabin for a day’s filming. The pay will be $1,000 for the day. Filmmaker Aaron Franklin (played by co-writer/director Patrick Brice) is also told: “Discretion is appreciated” (whatever that means).

It is telling that the duo of Patrick Brice and Mark Duplass both wrote the story, directed the story and played the two leads. In that respect, it reminded me of “The Editor” from Canada, another schlocky horror film where the director was listed performing nearly every duty from wardrobe to star. A two-person cast, think “The Babadook,” can make a successfully spooky psychological thriller on a low budget, but this isn’t it.

Jay Duplass did not have a big role in Mark Duplass’ project this time out, as he is busy filming television’s new drama “Transparent,” among other projects.

Upon reaching the cabin in the woods (wink, wink, as the write-up says) Aaron meets Josef (portrayed by Director/Writer/Actor Mark Duplass) who seems sincere when he tells Aaron that he is dying of cancer and wants to make a tape for his unborn child, much like Michael Keaton did in the movie “My Life.” However, shortly after explaining that this was why he summoned the filmmaker, Josef suggests that they adjourn to the bathroom, where Duplass’ character (Josef) proceeds to take off his clothes and get in the bathtub for what he terms “a tubby.” The audience tittered— who wouldn’t?

When Aaron seems surprised and tentative, Josef (Duplass) says, “This is a journey into the heart. We’re going to go a lot deeper places than this.”

Well, yes and no.

Besides periodically donning a wolf’s head mask which Josef has dubbed Peach Fuzz and intentionally trying to startle the filmmaker at every turn (“I’ve got a weird sense of humor, man.”) the pronouncements that Josef makes (“Death. It’s coming. There’s nothing that we can do.” “I love wolves. A wolf loves other wolves and, yeah, it occasionally murders things.”) make him seem like a loon, which the audience realizes immediately. Aaron, however, is not as quick a study. The smattering of tittering continued throughout the film; if straight psychological tension like the excellent film “The Babadook” was the goal, the film missed its mark.

After (finally) managing to break free of his client and return home, a series of CDs and messages are sent to Aaron by Josef and Aaron is so alarmed by them that he calls the police, telling them he is being stalked by a man who is “really weird and super creepy.”

The police, of course, are about as effective as usual, which means not at all interested in Aaron’s tale of an unknown harasser (Aaron never bothers to learn Josef’s last name!) who, as it turns out, did not own the cabin in the woods at all, but only rented it.

One line near the end of the film (Josef to Aaron) is: “It just seemed dumb that you would just sit there and not look behind you.”

My opinion? It just seemed dumb, period.

“The Imitation Game” Is Strong Oscar Contender for Film And Best Actor (Benedict Cumberbatch)

By Connie Wilson

On October 17, 2014

In Movies, Pop Culture, Reviews

“It’s the very people that no one can imagine anything of who do the things no one can imagine.” This refrain is repeated constantly throughout the film “The Imitation Game” as we watch Benedict Cumberbatch, ( a 3-time BAFTA nominee), inexorably move towards an Oscar nomination for Best Actor of 2014.

American audiences will know the 38-year-old Cumberbatch best from either his role as Little Charles Aiken, the slightly dim son of Chris Cooper, in “August: Osage County” or from “Star Trek Into Darkness 2.” He also appeared in 2013’s “Twelve Years a Slave,” (Best Picture of 2013). His breakthrough role was as Stephen Hawking in “Hawking” (2004). British audiences have enjoyed him as Sherlock Holmes in “Holmes” (2010) and in a number of television roles.

For me, watching the very British film in Chicago at its Premiere here, it was like watching Sheldon Cooper (Jim Parsons) and his buddies from television’s “The Big Bang Theory” try to crack the Nazi codes that will help the British and the Allies win World War II—only without the humor. The extreme intelligence, the arrogance, the emotional state that co-star Keira Knightley refers to as “fragile narcissism” is most analogous to Sheldon from television, even if that role is played for laughs and this one evokes the opposite of laughter.

The movie is based on a book by Andrew Hodges (who helped write the script) called “Allen Turing: The Enigma.” It is the true story of how a half-dozen genius mathematicians, logicians, cryptologists and computer scientist banded together at Bletchley Park in the south of England to figure out how to crack the German Enigma Code.

Every morning at 6 a.m. the Germans sent out a coded message. Unfortunately, the various combinations were 159 million million, which meant that it would take 10 men 20 million years to try to figure out just one missive. And the codes were changed each day; so deciphering one code would not help with the next day’s transmission.

At movie’s end we are told that cracking the code saved 14 million lives and shortened the war by at least 2 years. Alan Turin, however—an odd duck if there ever was one—was offered a choice between incarceration for being homosexual or chemical castration. This was his reward for saving the lives of millions. [It seems fitting that Queen Elizabeth saw fit to pardon him, posthumously, in 2013.]

And it seems quite fortuitous that a film that comes down on the side of gay rights is being released this year, when marriage equality is sweeping the United States. Just as last year’s Best Picture film had a topic that voters could get behind (anti-slavery), so, too, does this one. It seems inevitable that it will be nominated; it is very well done.

Add in the feminist point of view with Keira Knightley as the sole woman brainiac asked to work on the project. When asked why she wants the others on the project to like her by Turing, she says, “I’m a woman in a man’s job and I don’t have the luxury of being an asshole.” Now, you have a double threat in the movie theme department. You can make that a triple threat when you add in the anti-war/anti-violence message (“Humans find violence deeply satisfying.”)

Morton Tyldum directed (“Buddy”, “Headhunters”) a script by Graham Moore and Andrew Hodges (Hodges is also the author of the book on which the film is based).

The film explains that wartime Britain was starving. Although the United States was dropping 100,000 pounds of food daily, the needed foodstuffs were being bombed into oblivion by the German blitz. If the dispatches between the Nazi headquarters and their troops could be decoded, it would be “like having a tap on Hitler’s intercom.” And genius mathematician (but extremely poor team player) Alan Turing, who conceived the concept of an early digital computer (“Christopher”) and built it form scratch, was the man portrayed as almost singlehandedly responsible for the breakthrough the team makes [after a random comment in a bar gives them a fresh insight].

Following their success, in this film from our British friends at Black Bear Productions, the film tells us that the Normandy Invasion, Stalingrad—really, nearly any major battle you can name from WWII—was made “winnable” by knowing the German strategies from decoding their messages beforehand, thanks to the Bletchley Park team that worked to decode Enigma after the device was smuggled out of Berlin by Paris intelligence. (Maybe the filmmakers should also put up a notation that, without the French stealing the machine in the first place, there wouldn’t have been any machine to work on decoding?)

So, as the script puts it, the British needed to “maintain a conspiracy of lies at the highest levels of government.” They managed to do just that and to keep it a secret for 50 years, but the strong warning about more wars was one reason the successful government project was classified as Top Secret for so long. (What if another war broke out and another code-breaking team needed to be assembled?)

The film opens wide on November 21st. Pro feminism, pro tolerance (and anti-homophobia), anti-war. This film and Cumberbatch’s strong performance in it will be top contenders in this year’s Oscar race.

Bill Murray’s Role in “St. Vincent” Generating Oscar Buzz

By Connie Wilson

On October 16, 2014

In Humor and Weird Wilson-isms, Interviews, Movies, Reviews

St. Vincent Director Ted Melfi managed to get Bill Murray to star in “St. Vincent” by being persistent and calling him “about 40 times” on his 800 phone line, because Murray has no manager or press agent. Says Melfi, “The hardest part about getting Bill Murray in anything is finding him, because he has no agent and no manager; he has an 800 number. I bet I called that 800 number 40 times. When he actually did call me back, at first, I didn’t think it was him. Then I realized that was his voice.”

“So Bill Murray says, ‘Meet me at LAX in an hour, which was 9 o’clock. And so I drive down to LAX, and, sure enough, Bill Murray comes down the causeway and says, “Ted? Let’s go for a drive.’”
“ We drive for 3 hours from L.A. to the Pechanga Indian Reservation and Casino. So, Bill says to me, “I like you. Do you wanna’ do this movie?”

I said, “Yes…that’s what I’m here for”
“Do you want to do it with me?”
I said, “Yes, and Bill Murray says, ‘Let’s do it!’”

“I say, the only thing is, do you think you could tell someone else besides me that this whole thing happened—that we were driving down the road and you agreed to do the film? I can’t go to the studio and say, ‘Hey! Bill Murray said yes in the back of a town car on the highway on the way to an Indian Reservation. That’s just not gonna’ happen.”
“I look at Bill Murray and I don’t just say, ‘He’s one of the greatest comedians of our time. He’s one of the greatest actors of our time. And what people don’t know about Melissa (McCarthy) is that this girl did 7 years of hard-core drama in New York theater. And the goal for us, on set, was to not be funny.” This is quite obvious in the dialed-down performance of the often over-the-top McCarthy. Naomi Watts’ part as the brash Russian hooker/stripper is quite the departure from the woman surviving the tsunami in Thailand, but she pulls it off (No pun intended). Writer/Director Melfi described her talent as “the tip of the iceberg.” Chris O’Dowd, as always, was genial and enjoyable.
Says Melfi, “I remember the first day, I said, ‘Bill—do you want to rehearse with the kid?’

And Bill says, ‘No.’ And I think, ‘This is not gonna’ be good.’

I bring the kid to the set and take him over to Bill and I say, ‘Bill, this is Jaeden; Jaeden this is Bill.”

Bill grunts. And walks away. And I think, ‘This is not gonna’ work out.’

And then they did a scene together and Bill comes up to me after and says, ‘The kid’s good.’ And I said, “Yeah—he’s pretty good.’ And Bill said, ‘He’s real good.’ Once he figured out that the kid was good and that he was not a “kiddy” actor, they became, like, very best friends. In fact, Jaeden got the part on Cameron Crowe’s new movie. And Jaeden goes to Hawaii and Bill is offered a part in the Cameron Crowe movie. And Jaeden goes, ‘You should do it.’ And so Bill flies to do the Cameron Crowe movie because Jaeden told him to do the movie, and they spent the whole month scuba diving. So, it’s like this most ridiculous love affair, father/son beautiful thing.”
Melfi shared the story of the film’s genesis (which he wrote and directed). Melfi and his wife adopted his brother’s 11-year-old daughter after his eldest brother died eight years prior. Her Catholic school in Los Angeles made the assignment that is featured in this touching-but-funny movie. The students in Melfi’s daughter’s new school were assigned to write a paper on a “modern day” saint in their real life and a historic saint who shared the same qualities. She picked St. William of Rochester, the patron saint of adopted children, just like Oliver in the movie. “And, ” adds Melfi, “she picked me. It was just like this touching, sentimental moment for us. And I said, ‘Okay. That’s the movie.”

“Vincent is a timeless character because so many of us get to the end of our lives and go, “That was it?”
“So, what’s amazing about the movie, for me is that this little kid, Oliver, who’s 12, tells him, ‘Dude, you did great. You served our country in the war. You took care of your wife for 8 years. You did freaking great, so be proud of what you’ve done.
“Too many filmmakers think to themselves that they have to put their stink on everything they make,” says Melfi. Using Michael Bey’s films as an example, Melfi said, “I choose not to stink up the place” ( “Last Call” appearance with Carson Daley). Says Melfi, “The film is about an older gentleman who is a Vietnam veteran who is kind of a drunk curmudgeon who doesn’t have much to live for any more until a little boy (Oliver, well played by newcomer Jaeden Lieberher) moves in next door to him.” The young boy shows the boozy reprobate that he hasn’t been such a loser, after all. Murray becomes the boy’s nanny/babysitter while mother Melissa McCarthy works long hours as an X-ray technician.
“It is like The Isle of the Misfit Toys,” says Melfi. “Bill Murray is a misfit gambler. Melissa McCarthy is a broken-down single mom who can’t get her life together. Naomi Watts is a pregnant Russian hooker. So the only person who has their act together, really, is the kid.”
The film opens with Murray telling an Irish joke that involves confusion between the words porch and Porsche. (Fill in your own joke here). The joke’s not that funny, but, then again, the movie is not really a comedy, either. It’s more of a heart-warming “dramedy.” The humor it does contain is created by what we can call the Murray Mythos. Murray is laid-back. Eccentric. Cool. Funny in the Murray throw-away fashion. Gruff on the exterior; warm and fuzzy on the inside.
And, as we learn in scenes within the film, Vincent has been faithfully visiting his addled wife (in an expensive nursing home he can’t afford) for 8 years, even though she doesn’t remember who he is.
For me, the inclusion of Chris O’Dowd—who was so good in the little-seen movie “The Sapphires”—carried with it echoes of the younger Murray as he used to be on Saturday Night Live when he’d play everything from a bad lounge lizard singer to skits with Belushi and the gang. The troupe on SNL was truly remarkable. This cast is no less so, including Naomi Watts, Terrance Howard and the trio of Murray, McCarthy and child actor Jaeden Lieberher.
The scene we’ve all seen on television (official trailer above) where Murray tries to close out his bank account, only to learn that he has used up all the cash he received from a reverse mortgage and now has a negative balance is indicative of the kind of deadpan “so sad it’s funny” acting that Murray does so brilliantly.

What you don’t see on the film clip is “the rest of the story.”

When the Asian bank teller initially asks him why he wants to close out his account, Murray says, “I do not want to tell you to go f— yourself, so let’s just leave it at that.” There are also some Murray Moments showing the cranky curmudgeon answering phone calls from telemarketers with his typical brioche.(“Come on, Coward! Try to sell me something.)
The film also drives a sharp stake through the use of the catch-all phrase, “It is what it is.” Murray boils it down this way, explaining that it really means: “You’re screwed and you shall remain screwed.”
Chris O’Dowd’s priest, a teacher at St. Vincent’s, the private Catholic School that Oliver attends, worked 12 to 14 hour days, flying in on the red eye and working for four days, as he was also simultaneously shooting a television project. O’Dowd’s scenes are loose and genial. He gets the line, “Catholics are the best of all, because we have the most rules,” which he tells his classroom charges.
The concept of an adult who takes an innocent young boy out and exposes him to the seamier side of life was done earlier this year in Jason Bateman’s “Bad Words;” Murray’s taking young Oliver to the race track and a bar are scenes from the same playbook. The difference is that Oliver’s unsuspecting mother (Melissa McCarthy), who is waging a battle for custody of her young son, learns what “the babysitter” and his charge have been up to only when they are appearing in court. (The husband will be a familiar face from “Thirty Rock.”)

The other difference is that this is Bill Murray. Once Murray committed to the film, said Melfi, things fell into place. Other “name brand” actors wanted to work with Murray, in much the same way that marquee names known for taking films for reasons other than a gigantic pay-day attract other talented performers. This is an excellent cast, and they all deliver the goods.

It’s a fine movie with memorable performances. For emotional resonance, think of Clint Eastwood’s stint acting in “Grand Torino.” It’s always a pleasure to see Bill Murray in a role that lets him take the bit in his teeth and run with it, even if he’s running with a cigarette in his mouth and a drink in his hand.

So hunker down and enjoy the debut performances as well as those by an accomplished actor who seemingly can do it all.

“After Dark” Film Festival Series Offers “The ABC’s of Death, Part 2”

By Connie Wilson

On October 13, 2014

In Movies, Pop Culture, Reviews

“The ABC’s of Death,” Part 2, screened as part of the After Dark series at the 50th Chicago Film Festival on October 12th. The film is composed of 26 short films about death, assigned alphabetically and shot by 26 directors from around the world.
With titles like “B is for Badger” (one of my personal favorites featuring Julian Barratt as both Director and Star) and “F is for Falling,” done by the outstanding duo of Israel’s Aharon Keshales and Navot Papushado (“Rabies”), the vignettes were often humorous and sometimes revolting.
“B is for Badger,” which Julian Barratt directed, falls into the category of humorous. Barratt not only directed the short film, but plays the lead part of Peter Toller, a pompous television talking head who has taken his crew to a remote rural area near a large nuclear power plant to make the point that the power plant has driven the badgers away.

Only it hasn’t.

The (unseen) vicious badgers are not only alive and well, but apparently very large and aggressive, as Toller/Barratt finds out firsthand, till he utters the director’s command, “Cut!”
Titles of the films, alphabetically, were:
“A is for Amateur”
“B Is for Badger” (**)
“C is for Capital Punishment” (*)
“D Is for Deloused”
“E Is for Equilibrium” (*)
“F Is for Falling” (**)
“G Is for Granddad”
“H Is for Headgames” (*)
“I Is for Invincible”
“J Is for Jesus:
“K Is for Knell” (*)
“L is for Legacy”
“M Is for Masticate”
“N Is for Nexus” (*)
“O Is for Ochlocracy” (Mob Rule)
“P-P-P-P Is for Scary”
“Q Is for Questionnaire” (*)
“R Is for Roulette”
“S Is for Split” (**)
“T Is for Torture Porn”
“U Is for Utopia” (*)
“V Is for Vacation” (*)
“W Is for Wish”
“X Is for Xylophone”
“Y Is for Youth”
“Z Is for Zygote” (*)
Of the 26, I’d say that roughly half, starred or double-starred above, were absorbing, interesting and fulfilled the assignment in style. The less said about most of the other titles, the better.
I don’t want to give away the plots of any of the short films completely but I did notice a disturbing trend. Just as comedians have to have a target for their humor [and, in this age of political correctness, that target has become harder and harder to find without offending some group or cause], horror needs a Whipping Boy or Girl target, as well.

It used to be that comics could make fun of ethnic groups (now “out”), sexual preferences (verboten), and so on, to the point that sometimes it felt as though the only group left that was “fair game” were midgets (aka, “little people”)—until they, too, weren’t. (Remember the midget-throwing scene in “The Wolf of Wall Street?”).
It seems that old people are the new target of horror. There is even one film entitled simply “Granddad” and in the short film representing the letter “I,” the three-man cast sets fire to their own grandmother. One Japanese film is entitled “Youth.” Sumechi Umezawa definitely does not represent the venerable Japanese tradition of honoring one’s parents. Its young star is a decidedly hostile teen-ager. “X Is for Xylophone” makes you worry about ever leaving your child in the care of her grandmother. So four (of 26)—or roughly 15%— are decidedly anti-elder.
Many of the films have tried hard to combine humor with horror, with varying degrees of success. (“B Is for Badger” by Julian Barratt is one that succeeded; many did not. “P-P-P-P Is for Scary” was not scary, but was like watching a bad Three Stooges short, without the fun of watching Curly, Moe and Larry.
Mention should be made of the excellent opening credits designed by Wolfgang Moetzel, which started the ongoing trend of either head-smashing or beheading. With so much actual beheading going on in the real world (not to mention smashing of same on “The Walking Dead”), I did not yearn to see beheadings onscreen. (There’s enough of that on the 6 o’clock news or on YouTube.)
So, for me, roughly 50% of these 26 short films were entertaining and palatable and I’ve marked them with asterisks. It would be hard to pick an overall favorite as I did enjoy the new short film by Aharon Keshales (“Rabies”), whom I interviewed at last year’s festival, but I also enjoyed the excellent “Split,” which used a split-screen technique to portray a husband speaking with his wife long-distance on the phone while an intruder breaks into the house and terrorizes her and their baby. Juan Martinez Moreno directed and Gary Reumer did a good job portraying the concerned husband trying to summon help for his wife while far away at the time of the attack.

Robert Duvall and Robert Downey, Jr. Shine in “The Judge”

By Connie Wilson

On October 6, 2014

In Movies, Reviews

Robert Downey, Jr. and Director David Dobkin previewed their new film “The Judge,” co-starring Robert Duvall, in Chicago at the AMC Theater on Sunday, October 5th, 2014. It opens wide on October 10, 2014.
The film should earn a Best Actor nomination for Robert Duvall and Robert Downey, Jr., as the prodigal son, gives just as strong a performance (Best Supporting?). When Duvall is shown at his wife’s graveside saying, “You’ve always been my sweetheart and you always will be. I want you to know that. I’ll be back tomorrow and every day after that,” you get just a tiny taste of what will surface at Oscar-time in clips, and it resonated with the audience around me.
That is not the only powerful Oscar-worthy scene in the film. The courtroom scenes are equally strong and Duvall as a 72-year-old father with Stage IV colon cancer who must be helped in the bathroom by the son he is estranged from is equally powerful because it’s the way real life plays out.
The script, by Nick Schenk and Bill Dubuque has just enough of the saucy, insouciant Downey attitude to ease us into his more serious appearance here as a lawyer not unlike Matthew McConaughey in “Lincoln Lawyer.” Although filming actually was done in Massachusetts, the setting is (supposedly) Carlinville, Indiana and Downey’s character, is described by his old high school girlfriend, Sam (Vera Farmiga), this way: “You’re just a boy from Indiana who’s gonna’ do whatever he has to do to forget that.”
The main theme of the film concerns the relationship between fathers and sons, especially if the son in question was a problem child when a teenager. Not only was Downey’s middle child troublesome, he actually cost his older brother Glen (Vincent D’Onofrio) a possible pro career in baseball, causing a car accident while driving under the influence when they were teenagers. Dad has not forgiven nor forgotten. When Mom dies and Hank Palmer travels home, solo, for her funeral, the sparks between father and son fly once again.
Seven years in the making, the film is long, but the script is good. Downey gets to spout lines like, “Don’t get sued before you lose your next case” to small town attorney Dax Shepard, whom his father has hired to defend him when he is accused of a hit-and-run murder. Once more in the bosom of his family, Hank is obviously Dad’s least favorite child, while dear old dad (Downey describes him to his 7-year-old granddaughter as “just a dirty old mummy”) favors Glen (D’Onofrio), the oldest boy, and Glen has looked after younger brother Dale, who is described as “a dimwit shutterbug retard” by some locals.
The use of Dale’s home movies, which are his passion, allows us to see the boys when young, as we hear and see evidence of the growing chasm between father and son, caused by Downey’s wild antics as a young man. However, Hank cleaned up his act and graduated Number One in his Northwestern University Law Class, but his father, Judge Joseph Palmer (Duvall) cannot get past his resentment and disappointment in his middle boy, with sentiments expressed like, “You and you alone are responsible for the consequences of your actions.”
It is true that we’ve seen films with these plots before, but it’s a good bet that you won’t see many 83-year-old actors turn in a stronger performance ever than Duvall does in this one. And, having said that, Downey’s good, too. As are the supporting cast mates, including Billy Bob Thornton as the prosecuting attorney; Dax Shepard as a hapless local lawyer; Vincent D’Onofrio as oldest brother Glen; Jeremy Strong as the retarded youngest brother Dale; Ken Howard as the judge in the murder case; Grace Zabriskie as the mother of the hit-and-run victim; Balthazar Getty as a cop, and featuring Thomas Newman’s music and Janusz Kaminski’s wonderful cinematography, complete with a waterfall outside the Flying Deer Diner, (which old girlfriend Sam now owns).
There is a scene where jury selection is taking place and Downey—the slick Chicago lawyer from Highland Park—asks the jury how many have bumper stickers on their cars (or trucks)? Hands go up. Downey then asks what their bumper stickers say, and, among the answers are: “Gun control means using both hands” and “Wife and dog missing. Reward for dog.”
With each response, lawyer Hank gives a thumbs up or a thumbs down sign to his second-in-command (Dax Shepard), a lawyer who throws up before every court appearance. When Shepard’s character asks what sort of juror they should be looking for, Downey says, “People who can be persuaded to swallow their tongues. Anyone who has seen a Sasquatch.”
Lines like, “Everybody’s Atticus Finch until there’s a dead hooker in the hot tub” suit Downey’s snarky wit from his comic book turns as “Ironman,” but, as Downey said this night in his opening remarks, “Every 20 years or so I try to make a great movie. This is like free therapy. That’s all I’m going to say.”
Everyone knows, from Downey’s previous fast-talking image onscreen, that he can deliver snarky lines with the best of them, but Duvall gets some great lines, too. Here’s one: “Imagine a far-away place where people value your opinion. Then go there.”
It is the bull-headed, stubborn intelligent back-and-forth of these two old adversaries as they try to craft a defense for the older man who, admittedly, cannot remember all the events from the night of the accident. Judge Joseph Palmer has been on the bench for 42 years; he is worried about his legacy, while his outspoken lawyer son says, “Nobody gives a rat’s ass about your legacy.” There is the clash of small-town versus big city values, as well as the old personal wounds, whose scabs are, one-by-one, ripped open again.
At one point, a detractor says of Downey’s Hank, “You’re a shined-up wooden nickel.” Another says to him, “You really aren’t a pleasant person.” Still, Downey manages to make Henry “Hank” Palmer likable, as we see how hard he has tried to redeem himself in his father’s eyes, and how little rewarded his adult efforts have been. I was reminded of “The Great Santini” while watching Duvall in action.
Detractors (i.e., some other critics) have ripped the film for its length (it is long); for its “everyman” set of issues that appeal to all; for the lack of significant female leads and the almost superfluous old-girlfriend-back-home plot thread. One even criticized one of the scenes I found strongest, which is the elderly Duvall, weakening every day, having to accept help from his middle son in a dire moment in the bathroom. I’ve cared for three parental units as they faced their final days. It was Stage IV colon cancer that killed my father, although the situation faced in this film had more in common with my mother, who died of old age, but had more than one emergency trip to the hospital after passing out from extremely brittle diabetes. I’ve found her unconscious and had to scrub feces from the carpet after a coma sent her readings into levels so high they couldn’t even be measured in the hospital (800+). I’ve helped a proud dying man stagger to the bathroom. This is real life. Whoever wrote that it was treacly and sentimental is very possibly a young person who thinks they will live forever and never grow frail. (Good luck with that!)
An interesting side note: Tommy Lee Jones and Jack Nicholson were both considered for Duvall’s part, while the director this night said he had Robert Downey, Jr. in mind for son Hank when he first began developing the script 7 years ago. [Director David Dobkin (“Wedding Crashers”) helped develop the story, but did not script it. From there, said the Director, “We got a good script and took it to Robert and Susan (Downey’s wife).”
I enjoyed the film immensely and think Duvall and Downey, together onscreen, are a dynamite duo.

Jason V Brock’s New Book: Disorders of Magnitude – A Survey of Dark Fantasy

By Connie Wilson

On October 3, 2014

In Books, Pop Culture, Reviews, Television

Disorders of Magnitude: A Survey of Dark Fantasy (Studies in Supernatural Literature) by Jason V. Brock (Jul 17, 2014)

Disorders of Magnitude: A Survey of Dark Fantasy, by Jason V Brock, Rowan & Littlefield, ISBN 9781500699536 (No price marked)
When Jason V Brock sent Disorders of Magnitude to me for review, I was very excited, thinking I would have the pleasure of reading more of Jason’s always-excellent fiction.
Disorders of Magnitude arrived and I discovered that it was subtitled “A Survey of Dark Fantasy” and was a nonfiction history of horror, science fiction and supernatural literature, art, film and graphic novel artists.
The book is a narrowly focused crash course on horror writers, science fiction writers and supernatural fiction writers, artists and filmmakers. It is selective, rather than inclusive, as any one of those categories could well fill many volumes. Brock’s History of Horror is strongest when he is interviewing icons of today or of the recent past.

My favorite chapters, in chronological order, were:
1. Chapter 7: Ray Bradbury: The Boy Who Never Grew Up
2. Chapter 10: Harlan Ellison: L’Enfant Terrible (Sort of)
3. Chapter 13: George Clayton Johnson: A Touch of Strange
4. Chapter 15: Roger Corman: Socially Conscious Auteur
5. Chapter 20: An End, A Middle, A Beginning: Richard Matheson and his Impact
6. Chapter 24: King of the Dead: Filmmaker George A. Romero on Politics, Film and the Future
7. Chapter 28: The Doctor Is In: F. Paul Wilson
8. Chapter 38: Fangoria and Chris Alexander: Cinephilia, Music, and All the Rest of It
9. The Inner World of William F. Nolan
10. William F. Nolan and Ray Bradbury: Reflections

For me, the book couldn’t have come at a better time. I am poised to review many horror films at the 50th Annual Chicago Film Festival, the oldest film festival in North America.

I was familiar with most of the living legends limned in the book and with others long gone, but the book is truly a crash course in more obscure artists who have, perhaps, been glossed over by previous histories. I enjoyed learning about these talents who have not been as widely profiled.
But it is fair to say that mentioning Stephen King only in passing and glossing over Heinlein, Frederik Pohl, Peter Straub and others will draw criticism. In defense of those he has chosen to include, writers like Charles Beaumont of “the Group” and historian Forrest “Forrie” Ackerman—they deserve this long-in-coming attention. The insights into television and film pioneers of horror like Rod Sterling, Dan Curtis and George Romero are equally welcome and overdue.

And after all, Brock’s opening line is: “This book is an eclectic overview, and highly subjective. Be warned.”
Some of these writers or artists I knew little about prior to reading this book. Included in that number are Kris Kukri, John Shirley, Darren Davis, Al Feldstein and Demetrios Parkas. H.R. Geiger I knew only because of the “Alien” movie monsters. It was interesting to learn of Demetrios Parkas’ and LuAnne Raymond’s experiences in Australia. (Depressing, but interesting). I could definitely relate, as the duo has been pilloried for bogus reasons and Brock, by shining a light on this, might help ameliorate their unjust persecution. At least, I hope so.
I enjoyed learning more about Chris Alexander (“Fangoria” magazine), who has been kind to my own writing, as well as F. Paul Wilson, whom I encounter frequently at writers’ gatherings. (I always offer to help Paul with his autographing duties, given our shared surname, since he is so busy and I am not, but, to date, he has faithfully autographed entire grocery bags of books for avid fans, risking a very bad case of writer’s cramp or carpal tunnel syndrome, which, as a medical doctor, one would think he would want to avoid. But, no! Paul autographs every single one himself, running the risk of future impairment; I want to testify to that and give him full credit for his efforts on behalf of his fans.)
The book also focuses on comic book artists (graphic artists), so the opening warning about being highly subjective and eclectic is justified. [Horror films, alone, would merit several books].
But, as I learned when writing It Came from the Seventies: From The Godfather to Apocalypse Now, you have to draw the line somewhere. Jason has wisely drawn the lines around the subjects he has met and/or those to whom he has direct access. Those are the chapters that shine.
This “once over lightly” treatment also benefits from the insertion of many vintage photographs of “the Group,” some from the personal files of Jason’s mentor, William F. Nolan, a well-deserved Living Legend in Dark Fantasy.
There are timelines inserted throughout the collection, which help the reader fix various artists in a specific time in history. I appreciated this attempt to bring order out of chaos. An English major with no minor at the University of Iowa (who ended up with PhD concentration in literature because I had no minor) it was always a struggle to place “The Age of Dryden and Pope,” for example, into the appropriate linear time frame with other periods.
My only reservation about the timelines as a wonderful idea occurred on page 152 when “First Internet service provider launches: 1989” appears. I was writing a book, long distance, from Illinois, using the Internet to connect with Emerson City, New Jersey, and Nevada City, California, (headquarters of Performance Learning Systems, Inc.), in 1985, four years before that date. I used a Wang PC and I remember having to go through multiple steps to transmit the code from my computer, making sure that the teeth in my modem were adjusted exactly “in synch” with the teeth of the modem on the receiving end. As the messages came through resembling Egyptian hieroglyphics, there were multiple steps to transform the hieroglyphs on my screen into English letters and words. I primarily networked with the Education Department at One Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C.
Perhaps Jason is referencing the first readily available commercial service, but I am living proof that the Internet was available (and being used) at least 4 years before 1989. I still have the computer neuroses to prove it.
Some of the impressions I got from a complete reading of Disorders of Magnitude were as follows:
1. The author is not a big fan of Stephen King.
2. The author is a big fan of all the writers who formed “the Group,” including Ray Bradbury, Charles Beaumont, William F. Nolan and George Clayton Johnson.
3. George Clayton Johnson does not seem the most ambitious or industrious author included in this collection. In talking about (perhaps) writing a post Logan’s Run novel (his co-author, William F. Nolan has written more than one), Johnson says: “But then I would have to name a deadline for finishing it, and I don’t want to accept that. So, I’d rather just continue to noodle around with it, because I don’t need the money.” He adds, “Then, I look at the end of the year and say, ‘Jesus, George, this year you only made $3,000!”

Silly me. I always thought that “writers write because they HAVE to.” (Someone famous said that long before me, but I do not have the name to accompany the quote, so insert your own attribution.)
Brock has a real appreciation for those who have gone before—pioneers like Richard Matheson, Roger Corman, William F. Nolan, Ray Bradbury, et. al.
For me, as I prepare to review some debut horror, sci fi and supernatural films at the oldest film festival in North America in Chicago, with films with titles like “The ABC’s of Death;” “The Babadook” (a sensation at Sun Dance); ‘”Creep;” “The Editor” (a horror comedy from Canada which I cannot recommend); “Goal of the Dead” (zombies); “It Follows;” “Seven Little Killers;” “The Well” (a tense, gritty post-apocalyptic thriller), and Oliver Stone’s Director’s Cut of “Natural Born Killers” (scripted by Quentin Tarantino), complete with the opportunity to interview Oliver Stone in person, this book was helpful. (*The reviews of the films mentioned will appear on Andy Andrews’ “True Review” site, on www.WeeklyWilson.com and on Wikinuts.com beginning October 9th).
I read this book to gain an overview of the Masters of the horror, science fiction and supernatural fiction genres. I enjoyed it. While the adjective “comprehensive” doesn’t apply, (since the field is so large), the adjectives interesting, entertaining and informative certainly do.

Magritte Exhibit at Chicago Art Institute Brings the Surreal to the Windy City

By Connie Wilson

On August 18, 2014

In Humor and Weird Wilson-isms, Reviews, travel, Uncategorized

Surrealism, to me, always meant Salvador Dali. I was blithely unaware of Magritte, the Belgian surrealist, until the movie “The Faith in Our Stars” screened and Shailene Woodley showed up in it wearing a tee shirt with the legend “A Pipe Is Not A Pipe” (in French). It was about this time that I noticed many large ads for a Magritte exhibit at the Art Institute and decided it would be a good chance to kill two birds with one stone: learn about Magritte and visit the exhibit.

Of course, there are so many things to do in Chicago that a trip to the Mercury Theater to see “Avenue Q” (for the third time) was also in the cards, dinner at Tango Sur and Banderos (535 N. Michigan), and taking in the movie “Get On Up,” the James Brown bio-pic. I think the performance by Chadwick Boseman is the first Oscar-worthy performance of this season and his dancing was phenomenal.] It turned out to be the 100th performance by the talented troupe and I highly recommend this version of the show, having seen it now in Las Vegas, downtown Chicago and on the north side of Chicago.

Aside from an accident on the way back to the Quad Cities that had us sitting, immobile, on I80 for nearly an hour, it was a weekend that ran nearly flawlessly with lots of good food and fun.

The gentleman shown painting the Magritte scene is Magritte himself and the small cover he painted for a surrealistic magazine speaks for itself (almost).

Magritte.

Magritte doing Magritte.

Magritte.

New Review in for THE COLOR OF EVIL series

By Connie Wilson

On August 12, 2014

In Books, Of Local (Quad Cities') Interest, Pop Culture, Reviews

Some time ago, I was asked to send in THE COLOR OF EVIL series for review by the Midwest Book Review.

Today, the review arrived in the mail, noting that it would appear in the August, 2014, issue of the “Small Press Bookwatch.” It has also been posted with the Cengage Learning interactive CD-ROM series “Book Review Index”, published four times yearly for academic, corporate and public library systems. It will also be archived on Midwest Book Review’s website for the next 5 years (www.midwestbookreview.com).

Here is the review: “The first of a paranormal thriller trilogy intended for young adult readers, THE COLOR OF EVIL documents author Connie Corcoran Wilson as an imaginative and skilled novelist with a total mastery of her genre. A solid entertainment from beginning to end, THE COLOR OF EVIL is highly recommended for personal reading lists and community library collections. It should be noted that THE COLOR OF EVIL is also available in a Kindle edition. Also very strongly recommended are the two other titles in this outstanding trilogy: RED IS FOR RAGE and KHAKI=KILLER.”

At Book World inside Southpark Mall the third book in what has become an ongoing series (rather than just a trilogy) was offered for sale by the author with the opportunity to receive an autographed copy on Saturday, August 9th, 2014. All 3 books are available on Amazon (@ Connie Corcoran Wilson).

Next up is Connie’s trip to Writers for New Orleans from August 28-31, a benefit for the city wracked by Hurricane Katrina.

Coming Next:

Review of “KHAKI=KILLER” from “Room with Books” on 6/24/2014

By Connie Wilson

On June 25, 2014

In Books, Reviews

REVIEW:
It took me a bit longer to prepare the review of Khaki-Killer, as I read the previous two novels to get up to speed. Fortunately for me we’ve had some rainy days that keep me inside and well glued to my Kindle. I’m not completely comfortable with the classification of The Color of Evil Series as a YA novel. I’m thinking a NA (New Adult) designation would be a better genre.

This series has renewed my hatred of clowns, but the continuity of the writing and the story-line from The Color of Evil to Red is For Rage and Khaki=Killer was like the turning of a page instead of starting a new book.

This is the first of Ms. Corcoran Wilson’s work I’ve read and her strong writing and the characters became very tangible as I vanished into the series. I am certainly in line to read the next installment and I highly recommend Khaki=Killer and The Color of Evil Series!