The Dread Lurking In The Shadows Of ‘The Strangers’

As a couple is in the midst of being violently murdered, they ask the three masked strangers standing over them why they’re doing this. The answer? “Because you were home.” Bryan Bertino’s 2008 horror feature The Strangers is a tight, nihilistic film about how sometimes people kill just to kill. There is no rhyme or reason to it; there is only violence and the desire to torture and hurt.

Kristen and James head to his family’s country house in the middle of nowhere after a wedding. There, they try to settle in for the night only to be disturbed by a group of faceless tormenters. They bang on doors, scratch windows, and taunt the couple. They sneak in and out of the house, destroy cell phones, and push the couple to their absolute limit. Their ultimate goal? To toy with Kristen and James like sadistic predators until deciding it is time for the couple to die.

The film’s most terrifying shot marks the beginning of The Strangers’ horror. Kristen stands in the living room looking around. Behind her, out of the shadows, emerges a masked man. He stands silently behind her as she is unknowingly being watched. The shot is a perfect example of letting the audience in on a secret that builds terror and suspense. It is the opposite of a jumpscare but perhaps all the more terrifying: we know what is going to unfold, and we can’t do anything to stop it.

In not seeing a film’s killer, we are more closely aligned with the characters. We do not know any more than they do and we are on a figurative level playing field. Their scares are our scares. We are not privy to any other information and can view the events on screen guilt-free. In a shot like this, we know where the killer is and what he looks like. We want to shout at the screen and tell her to turn around. Obviously we cannot warn the characters on screen, but the impulse is still there. Instead, we must watch helplessly as acts of violence ensue. This is a shot that makes the spectator aware of their viewing position. We are no longer just passively watching violence but are instead implicated in whatever the villain may do next.

However, our expectations are subverted as the strange man doesn’t attack her. He instead vanishes as quickly as he appears. Kristen is not aware he was ever there, but we are. This ups the tension for the audience; we now will be searching the screen for a masked stranger at all times. It does not matter if the protagonist sees the bad guy in The Strangers; what matters is if the spectator can spot him, which drives up the film’s tension even more.

This shot also establishes the scare tactics for the rest of the film, as well as its prevalent nihilism. All three masked strangers are silent stalkers, slipping through the darkness and appearing to watch their victims without necessarily attacking. They are not flashy villains that make noise to announce their presence. The only reason Kristen or James knows they are around is that the strangers let them know. These three people are in complete control of the situation. They operate in stealth, which this shot effectively establishes. These villains cannot be confronted or killed like most horror movie villains. There is no trick to their madness and no way to prevent them from getting inside. No locks can keep them out.

Finally, the shot creates different levels of space, which again adds to its horror. Kristen stands in the shot’s foreground and is well-lit. The light makes this seem like a safe haven from whatever is unfolding outside. However, the background quickly becomes a focal point as the darkness is broken by the bright white mask. It makes this relatively small domestic space feel huge, a massive place full of hiding spots that could be concealing one of these monsters. Locks, doors, and windows do not keep things out but are instead permeable barriers that can easily be shattered. These layers of space shift the domestic space from a place of comfort to a place of fear; it has been infiltrated by a threatening force.

In the infiltration of the domestic space, The Strangers marks itself as an important piece of post-9/11 horror. The horror films that came after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, try to grapple with a nation’s newfound insecurity. These films often portray human beings invading the homes of others with the purpose of sadistic killing, which reflects societal fears around an inability to protect their homes and families. The Strangers takes that fear and creates a narrative about the most terrifying possibility: there is no rhyme or reason to this attack. It is purely random.

This shot from The Strangers is downright haunting. It shows us what might be going on behind us when we are not looking. It implicates the spectator in the slowly unfolding violence. It creates an unsafe domestic space through the use of cinematic space. In just one shot, the horror of The Strangers becomes apparent, its apprehensive and stomach-knotting tone is set, and hopelessness creeps in. There is no fighting the violence. It is only happening because they were home.

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The Wilderness of ‘Wendy’: A Conversation with Benh Zeitlin

Writer-director Benh Zeitlin has made quite the name for himself considering he’s only directed one film up until now. Most of that attention came in 2012 after the beauty of Beasts of the Southern Wild struck and all fell prey to its floating expression of magical realism, which feels simultaneously ethereal and indestructible, rigid and free. The rest of that attention came from the realization of Zeitlin’s singular filmmaking style. In a sense, it carries the filmmaking ethos all auteurs probably wish their sets were defined by—shooting that makes room for new thought, reorientation, the amorphous artistic mind, and the kind of trial and error that leads to measured brilliance. What director in their right mind wouldn’t want to work on a shoot that allows the creative process to spread its wings and the final film to flourish, as a result? But Zeitlin’s approach goes beyond the average auteur’s.

For starters, he’s not interested in major stars, storied screenplays on the blacklist, or blockbuster budgets. In the case of Zeitlin, the duration of the process doesn’t even correlate to the budget. His new film, Wendy, was produced over a period of seven years, but only cost an estimated $6 million, which is saying a lot given the context of the production. The Sundance film is a modern take on Peter Pan with old, realist roots. It required, per Zeitlin’s vision, an isolated island shoot comprised almost entirely of children and an ever-changing narrative. That doesn’t scream “convenient,” or “predictable,” or any of the other words studios love to hear that Zeitlin doesn’t.

The focus of the story is the familiar name that forms the title, but there’s almost nothing familiar about her or the tale she inhabits. Peter Pan is a black boy. Neverland is bursting with volcanic action controlled by the kids. There’s a mythical creature called Mother that watches over the children from the water. The list of differences is much longer than the list of likenesses. But the wondrous, reflective style and tone of Zeitlin’s storytelling mode is as present in Wendy as it was in Beasts, solidifying Zeitlin’s ability to milk his open-ended method for all its worth. As for the rest of his approach, I’ll let him do the talking.

One of the biggest stories around this movie is the time it took to make it. You spent five years in pre-production from 2012-2017. What were you and your team doing that whole time besides casting and location scouting?

Those processes and the script. But what’s really different about how we do it is that all of those processes radically affect each other. Every location, every new character cast radically effects the screenplay in ways that are much more drastic than another film where you would sort of finish your script, then go look for the locations, then go look for your cast. I mean, you really sort of go on this exploration of trying to discover where your story exists on the planet, and sort of telling a story as wildly fantastical and traditional as the story of Neverland and Peter and Wendy. People that really spoke to these characters and places that were as awe-inspiring as fairies and crocodiles and mermaids. That was an immense undertaking.

Another immense undertaking was trying to figure out how to rewrite our story to move through these sort of tangible places and people that we found whose spirits spoke to the locations and characters of the film. They were all radically different probably from what we initially imagined, so that process sort of begins with scouting and casting, and the initial exploration of the island took about a year and a half. Then, we got deep into casting. Once we found our cast, that process of re-writing and rehearsal and developing took another two years. That process was interesting because we really cast the kids younger than they could actually play the roles in the film. Yashua Mack who played Peter was five years old when we met him. He was just learning to read. He didn’t know how to swim. He certainly had never acted or even had a concept of what it would mean to be in a movie. And then we cast Devin [France as Wendy], and there had to be this incredible chemistry between the kids. So, there was a long process of taking trips with all the kids out to the island, and having these long adventures and explorations and rehearsals on location so the kids could learn how to sort of play and perform in what were incredibly challenging and hostile environments.

You know, we had this incredible opportunity after Beasts to take time to do things that were really unprecedented in movies. There was no example of this level of a gang of children performing involved roles on location. We took the opportunity of Beasts to confront things everyone tells you to absolutely never try for very good reason. There has to be a real commitment to spending the amount of time necessary to overcome obstacles that would otherwise be considered impossible. Like the construction of the 35-foot underwater, human-operated sea creature—another thing that didn’t have any precedent. There was no way to say, “Well, this should take six months.” No one had ever made anything like this before, so we commit to the process and go into the unknown. That was the experience of making the film.

Did you have any concern about casting Peter as black boy? That he might become a trope and get labeled a magical black character?

We were obviously aware that that would and should be scrutinized. There’s a long history of white male directors creating two-dimensional people of color, two-dimensional women, and one of the tropes is just there to assist the white character in the movie and has no actual history or personality or role or complexity of any kind. It presents the same challenge as you have with any character. The goal with nay character is to create extremely complicated people. I think our Peter can in no way be simplified. To sum up his identity, he’s a truly idiosyncratic kid with dreams and fears and strengths and weaknesses. You can be aware of the conversation and history of a character like that, but you can’t let that mean that Peter Pan has to be a white boy from Britain. We wanted to give this kid the great honor of playing Peter. You think about it and also you think about how to do better than film and literature historically has.

It seems like you were constantly making decisions that would’ve been advised against on set. And creatively. Another one of those is the voiceover, which you used a good amount in Beasts, too. Outside of Jack whispering in The Tree of Life, there aren’t very many cases of well-used voiceover. Why do you find it works so in the stories you’re telling?

You know, it’s just part of cinema language at the end of the day. Like any piece of the language, it’s good when you use it well, truthfully, and honestly, and it’s terrible when you don’t. For me, these two films are intensely involved in the psychology and the point of view of their main characters. They’re very subjective movies that live inside of them. The main characters interpretations of the events are as important as the events themselves. And in both films, the story or journey is not the plot of the film. It’s the trajectory that our character is going on and the evolution of their understanding of what’s happening around them.

In my own head, there’s always voiceover. As I walk down the street every day, I’m interpreting what’s going on around me and my thoughts are a huge part of my reality. So, as I go into expressing a character, I want the audience to really understand and see deeply, you know, and understand everything about their interpretation. Voiceover is an incredibly useful and beautiful way of illuminating what’s done inside the soul of the character whose eyes you’re experiencing the story through.

With both Beasts and Wendy, they have what feels like an introduction to a philosophy that leads into the title card and then this big, sweeping hope. Did you set out to introduce a philosophy?

I think the films both center around questions, you know? I wouldn’t say they center around philosophies. You know, I think that there’s a journey these characters take in relation to a central question. Beasts was really asking a question about what home means, and what home means when your home is going to die, and how that connects to family. That early statement of purpose about home and how home is unbreakable feels like a philosophy at the beginning of the film. But then we see that evolve in Hushpuppy’s understanding as her home falls apart. Wendy is built around early thoughts about what it means to grow up, and the need to escape and how growing up is the most dangerous thing that could happen to you. And that evolves over the course of the film. So, I think both films start setting up a question that our character is wrestling with that they think they understand, and then that understanding gets kind of dismantled and we can see them as they go on their journey.

What about the hope? Am I accurate in calling it that? Is that what you’re going for?

In this one, I don’t think so actually. I think Wendy at the beginning of this film feels very stuck. She sort of sees something closing in on her that’s hard to articulate. I thought about it a lot as I was growing up and looking at adults and wondering how and what and when something was going to happen to change me into a grown up, that being this very mysterious—well, when I was a kid I thought of it as like some sort of affliction that would happen and change me. I think that’s where Wendy sort of begins her journey in the film—looking at this ominous thing she sees that changes people’s dreams and changes her ability to be wild and free. She feels this inexplicable pull to run away from that and to go into the unknown and experience wildness and freedom before it’s taken away from her forever.

There’s also a lot of talk about “belief” in Wendy, which makes me think of the character Mother. There’s a lot of religious language attached to her. “She has always been and always will be,” etc. Did you have a religious myth in mind when you were creating her?

Not explicitly. I think that the way we thought of Mother was very much an expression of nature and the planet—something that’s very much at the heart of creation, in a natural sense. And I do think we sort of thought of her as a bit of a goddess and something that’s larger than life. I think that faith is a big part of the story of growing up for everybody, but I don’t think it’s necessarily religious or connected to any particular religious text. For me, that came into the story a lot in interviews, especially with adults. All of our auditions sort of begin with interviews about people’s lives to try to get to know them. And one of the things we asked all the adults that came in was, “Is there a moment in your life that you felt your life change and you felt like you grew up?” A lot of that has to do with loss, or tragedy, or getting hurt in some kind of way. And that brings fear into your life. People would talk about, like, “I wanted to be a motorcycle rider and then I got in an accident, and then I could never get back on and my dreams changed in that moment,” or “I lost someone in my family, my dad, my brother, my mother. When I suffered this loss I never could reconnect to this sense of joy and freedom again, and I felt that was a moment of growing up.” It was really interesting thing for me to think about, and when I talk about belief and faith, it’s not particular to religion. It sort has to do with belief in yourself, and faith in being able to do the impossible and being able to live your dreams. You lose faith in your dreams and lose hope that you can achieve these things. And then you start to doubt yourself and be afraid. Those are things that can change us and cause us to age in ways that are destructive and unhealthy. I think that theme is really important to the film—that Wendy is trying to figure out how to overcome loss and tragedy and heartache without those things breaking her spirit and causing her faith in herself to break.

You have this very loose, languorous filming style. And you talk about how it goes against the grain of how Hollywood works and how it hasn’t been done before. Do you study other filmmakers to achieve that or is it more auto-didactic?

I absolutely, fanatically watch films to try to prepare for my own, and I’m taking things from all over the place to bring into the style. A lot of times we’re trying to figure out how to tell these sort of larger than life stories and give them a sense of reality, so I study a lot of documentaries. For this film particularly, I looked at a lot of Les Blank and the Vittorio De Sica docs. [De Sica] has this collection called Il Mondo Perduto. These documentaries that are verité in many ways, but also larger than life. Sort of studying how the camera has to operate, and how it has to behave when the filmmakers don’t know what’s going to happen. I also looked at a lot of portrayals of joy that felt real, which I think is a very hard thing to capture in film because of how structured a normal film shoot is.  It’s very difficult to achieve true wildness and spontaneous joy. One of the most difficult things to do on set. Certain films that I felt like achieved that: some of the work of Cassavetes, Fireman’s Ball from Milos Forman. Films that achieve a level of chaos that’s so challenging to actually make happen in the context of shooting a film. So, I certainly studied a lot of how those themes operate, and tried to kind of look at the processes of those filmmakers and what differentiated them from other filmmakers who haven’t been able to capture that.

How did y’all decide what to take out of the original Peter Pan story?

Well, we wanted to bring the story to a place of realism. I think traditionally, the experience of Peter Pan has a lot to do with escapism. You run away from your life, have this great time, and then come back home. And we wanted to strip away things that felt really distancing. You know, I think one of the first things I remember learning as a kid is that I couldn’t fly. Everybody wants to fly, but as some point you jump off a roof with an umbrella and realize very viscerally that it’s not going to happen. This adventure that Wendy goes on is something that I have no access to. We tried to take those elements and re-express them in ways that were possible because we wanted to sort of feel like—you know, we lived this experience. We jumped on trains, we took boats to this remote island, we hiked out to this spectacular volcano. The adventure portrayed in this movie—if you are sick of your life and you want to get away in a real way, you know—you can go find this Neverland. We wanted that sense of real plausibility and accessibility to exist in all the elements. So, the first real process was to kind of take anything that made Peter feel like a world that wasn’t ours, and try to find places and things in our world that express the same emotion but are of this Earth and accessible.

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Berlinale 2020: French Documentary 'Little Girl' is Inspiringly Beautiful

This is one of the most beautiful documentaries I have ever seen. Without a doubt. I need to start with that statement. Everyone's personal definition of what is "beautiful" is different, but I think this is one time we can all agree that this film is objectively beautiful. Little Girl is yet another festival film that I can't get out of my head, and will likely never forget, for a number of beguiling reasons. The way the filmmakers tell this story so sensitively, with so much care and with so much integrity and so much reassurance, is part of it. But it's also just a staggering film about one young girl who is beautiful inside and out. And the filmmakers are telling her story so that we can learn from her, so that we can push society forward by learning to evolve our compassion. And push us to step away from toxic stereotypes that have plagued this planet for far too long.

Directed by French filmmaker Sébastien Lifshitz (of other award-winning documentaries including The Crossing, Les Invisibles, Bambi, The Lives of Thérèse, Adolescentes), this intimate new doc film is about a young girl named Sasha. The title, Petite Fille (in French) or Little Girl in English, is meaningful because it is indeed about a "little girl" - a French child named Sasha who is a girl stuck inside of a boy's body. She has decided this already, and has been expressing her desire to grow up as a girl ever since she was 2 years old. The film is also about her family, and her parents, specifically her mother Karine who supports her and challenges herself to provide a better life for Sasha. Not only does she question herself, she confronts people in society who refuse to accept her child the way she chooses to be. Fighting intolerance with understanding.

One of the other key reasons this film is so beautiful is that it doesn't try to hit the audience over-the-head with politics or demands or anger. Lifshitz steps back and lets Karine and Sasha express themselves in front of the camera. It's their story. And we, as candid viewers, are treated to an extraordinarily moving story of a mother and her children, and of a family that accepts and supports their kids and anything they want to be, anything they want to do. This doc film is the epitome of empathetic, sensitive, compassionate filmmaking that actually has the power to change society. It's so wonderfully touching and such a powerful example of how parents should be. Karine admits she's not perfect, but she is always working to be better, and we can subsequently learn from her by watching her putting love and unconditional support above everything else.

Little Girl is really as exceptional as something like Dear Zachary (as extremely tragic and heartbreaking as that film is), in the way it's such a beautifully told story about parenting (though definitely not tragic). And it will earn that kind of legendary status, the way people still refer to Dear Zachary often 12 years later. I can see this documentary going all the way to the Academy Awards, and becoming a prominent example used to teach people how to be more open-minded. It is hands down one of the best doc films of this year, I can say this even two months in, and I am certain it will stick with me over the next ten months. A story for all of us, no matter who we think we are, to learn how to respect and appreciate everyone for who they want to be, and who they are, no matter what that means. No matter if it's strange or unexpected. Be you. Always.

Alex's Berlinale 2020 Rating: 9 out of 10
Follow Alex on Twitter - @firstshowing / Or Letterboxd - @firstshowing

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The 50 Best Coming-of-Age Movies Ever

Growing up: we all do it. No two people have exactly the same coming-of-age story, yet more often than not, we’re drawn to many the same youth-centered stories on screen, deeming them classics and rewatching them again and again. Young people are rarely given the power to tell their own stories, so a coming-of-age film that captures a specific generation, culture, or subculture feels like a rare and special thing for those who are reflected on screen, especially when the film itself finds a viewer during their most formative phase. A good coming-of-age film can become an emblem of sorts, a touchstone that’s at once deeply personal in its description of a fleeting, emotional era of life, and universal in its appeal to anyone who’s lived through it.

The best coming-of-age films mix nostalgic familiarity, impressionistic experiences, and a dollop of brutal honesty that comes with the jarring, often unwelcome understanding of the adult world that accompanies adolescence. That last part is usually handed across time from the more experienced filmmaker to the younger protagonist, a retrospective technique that’s unique to the subgenre and that lends the greatest coming of age stories a sort of prismatic blend of naivety and wisdom.

Although the entries on this list span eight decades, you may notice a significant amount of recent movies. Have coming-of-age films gotten better over time? Maybe not, but American films have certainly begun to reflect the diverse realities of the off-screen world more in recent decades than ever before, so it’s no wonder the best new teen stories each feel honest, unique, and timeless. It’s worth noting that we made the editorial decision to leave off any would-be classics that are too new to look at with any distance, meaning that staff-loved 2019 films like Booksmart and Little Women are excluded from the ranking.

Read on for our list of the best coming-of-age stories of all time, then join us in being grateful to have made it out the other side of adolescence.

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50. Ginger Snaps

Getting your period is an oft-examined topic in the horror genre. The body bleeds and the body changes, making it the perfect vehicle for body horror. The transformation of the female body has also lent itself to creature features, as what cultural critic Barbara Creed calls “the monstrous-feminine” cannot possibly be perceived in the human body. Enter Ginger Snaps, a werewolf movie about Brigitte (Emily Perkins) an outcast girl who must figure out how to cure her sister Ginger’s (Katharine Isabel) lycanthropy. Not only is this a film about the unruly female body, but it is also about sisterhood and trying to stand by your ideals as you grow up. Your period isn’t the only weird thing you have to deal with as a teenager; it’s also about recognizing what you believe in and what’s worth fighting for.

Isabel is the werewolf sister who oozes the kind of sexuality we all wish we had in high school. Her transformation from goth outcast to the hottest girl in school is a narrative many of us weirdos wished we could achieve, though there is obviously a massive cost. Plus, Ginger Snaps features one of the best werewolf designs of the horror genre. (Mary Beth McAndrews)

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49. Daisies

Sometimes growing up means recognizing just how selfish the world can be. Such is the case for Marie I (Jitka Cerhová) and Marie II (Ivana Karbanová) in Vera Chytilová’s 1966 film, Daisies. Chytilova was a seminal director in the Czech New Wave, an experimental film movement where filmmakers from Czechoslovakia experimented with narrative, particularly in the name of politics. Chytilova did just that with Daisies. These two young girls recognize the world is spoiled, so they decide they want to be spoiled, too. They stuff their faces, tease men, and reject the common ideas of femininity. They do not wish to be like everyone else. The Maries want to be themselves and discover how they wish to navigate the world. In the process, they get a little messy but have a lot of fun doing it.

Using the absurdist film techniques that characterize the Czech New Wave, Chytilova creates a nonlinear coming of age story that refuses to give any kind of narrative satisfaction. The satisfaction and joy lie within two young women who realize that they don’t have to be what society wants them to be. (Mary Beth McAndrews)

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48. The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The feeling of the air on your face during a night drive, your license still new enough to burn a hold in your pocket. The magic of hearing a song on the radio that for just a moment feels like it was made for you alone. The brick-by-brick formation of self and community that takes place in high school: a journal all your own there, a spontaneous Rocky Horror Picture Show performance here, a first kiss and a pot brownie to top it off.

These are the youthful experiences that make up The Perks of Being A Wallflower, but there’s an undercurrent of darker themes, too: suffocating anxiety, paralyzing awkwardness, the acute pain of trauma realized. Each of the three protagonists of Stephen Chbosky’s book-turned-film is wrapped up in a personal struggle and each deals with it differently. Sam (Emma Watson) pursues men who treat her poorly because she doesn’t think she deserves love, Patrick (scene-stealing Ezra Miller) buries the pain of homophobia under a flamboyant exterior, and Charlie (Logan Lerman) is plagued by depression and intrusive thoughts that keep him from fully experiencing typical teen life. Perks does the hard work of looking closely and earnestly at teen life, not only the triumphant highs but also the lows that must be bravely overcome. “We could be heroes,” as the Bowie song says, “Just for one day.” (Valerie Ettenhofer)

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47. Boy

When you’re a kid, idolizing at least one of your parents is practically the default. This is especially true for Boy (James Rolleston), a Maori pre-teen who elevates his absent father to mythical proportions. When his dad Alamein (writer-director Taika Waititi) finally returns, Boy and his silent younger brother Rocky (Te Aho Aho Eketone-Whitu) have to reconcile the Shogun warrior/king of pop/superhero they imagined with the obvious shortcomings of the impulsive, selfish, relentlessly human man in front of them.

Boy is Waititi’s most serious film, and also his most personal. It was filmed in Waihau Bay, New Zealand, the place where the filmmaker grew up, and although it’s got an imaginative undercurrent, Boy also has a verisimilitude that blends impressively with its more creative elements. Boy is for anyone who ever had to realize that their dad was just another person, but it’s also for anyone who grew up in a neighborhood with tons of kids and seemingly no parents, with broken down cars in the backyard and sticks for toys. Boy and his friends are on the precipice of discovering everything they don’t have, and it’s clear that the protagonist’s playfulness could curdle into rage or sorrow at any moment. In the end, it’s not his father but himself who Boy must imagine a version of that he can live with. (Valerie Ettenhofer)

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46. Picnic at Hanging Rock

A supernatural mystery, an exploration of adolescent power and obedience, and an unrequited queer love story wrapped up in one ineffable story, Picnic at Hanging Rock lives in its own genre. There are numerous characters to which a young viewer can connect: the beautiful, commanding Miranda (Anne-Louise Lambert); the awkward Edith (Christine Schuler); the traumatized Irma (Karen Robson); or the outcast Sara (Margaret Nelson).

While Sara gets most of the screen-time, Peter Weir’s film is about all of them and their growth through and after the enigmatic disappearance of four people. It’s incredibly elegant in style, but there’s more substance tucked away in the glances and gestures of these girls than initially meets the eye. It’s an incredible, horrifying film that is much less invested in satisfying an audience when, instead, it could linger under your skin and stay there. (Cyrus Cohen)

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45. Aparajito

Grouped together, the Apu trilogy of films by Indian master filmmaker Satyajit Ray form one of the greatest cinematic coming-of-age narratives of all time. But we can’t really name all three for one slot, and unfortunately, they’re not each popular enough to take up three spots on this list either. The greatest and most famous of the three, Pather Panchali, leans a little too young on its own to count as a coming-of-age film and take the single representative of the series, so Aparajito stands in.

In the middle installment, which is based on the end of Bibhutibhushan Bannerjee’s novel Pather Panchali and the beginning third of the follow-up, Aparajito, Apu (Smaran Ghosal) loses more of his family members and begins to learn to live on his own. First, once he becomes a teenager, he receives a scholarship to study in the big city of Kolkata, then he also begins working to keep afloat there. To complete his transition from childhood, his mother dies at the end, leading to part three, The World of Apu, to follow him as an adult. (Christopher Thompson)

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44. Dirty Dancing

Dirty Dancing calls its shot in the coming-of-age canon with Johnny Castle’s famous line “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” The film watches Francis “Baby” Houseman (Jennifer Grey) grow up over the course of a summertime family trip to the Catskills. When she meets dance instructor Johnny, played iconically by Patrick Swayze, Baby realizes just how small her world has been. Johnny introduces her to a world of dance, sex, and complicated adult decision-making. Dirty Dancing has a lot of dirty dancing and makes great use of its ‘60s setting to soundtrack the film with mambo and Motown galore.

The masterstroke of this film is that it’s not a dynamic where Castle takes a naive, inexperienced young woman and sexes her up exclusively for his purposes (looking at you, Grease). Instead, Castle helps Baby realize that she’s capable of much more than anyone expects of her. Baby is able to embrace her sexuality along with her intelligence and ability. As far as coming-of-age romance stories go, Dirty Dancing remains a relatively early example of a relationship built on mutual trust, equal agency, and personal change for the better. (Margaret Pereira)

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43. Boyhood

Boyhood is one of the few films on this list in which you quite literally watch its characters grow up and come of age. Filmed over a 12 year period by maestro Richard Linklater — a director reputed for his warm, nostalgic depictions of the passage of time — the movie is an astounding documentation of the lapsing years in Mason Evans’ (Ellar Coltrane) life, especially the wax and wane of his relationships with mom Olivia (Patricia Arquette) and dad Mason Sr. (Ethan Hawke). The film’s success is rooted in its attentiveness to life’s smaller moments; we don’t get to see the graduation ceremony or the divorce proceedings, but we don’t need to. Boyhood is an ode to the nooks and crannies of an ordinary life — and sometimes that’s all you need for an extraordinary movie. (Jenna Benchetrit)

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42. Marie Antoinette

It might not be a growing up experience we’ll ever go through, but the playful historical fiction feels supremely relatable in the hands of writer-director Sofia Coppola. She can fashion Kirsten Dunst, her career muse, in extravagant dresses, shower her with ungodly amounts of attention, and drown her in luxury while preserving the well-tread deafening silence of a first romantic encounter, or a reticence around adults, or a cute innocence that expires at a certain age. After all, Antoinette is 14 when we meet her, swooning at the possibility of love (Jason Schwartzman perfectly cast as the awkward boyfriend/heir to the French throne) and lavish living for the rest of her life, before she has children and tragedy starts to set in. It’s through coming-of-age stories like this one that we get a glimpse of the threads of universality that sew growing pains and discomforts in adolescence. (Luke Hicks)

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41. Raw

The French New Extremity as a subgenre is all about, well, being extreme. Its films are bloody, gory, and nihilistic as the human body seems to fall apart at the seams. They often focus on the torture of the female body and watching a female character writhe in turmoil. Julia Ducournau’s Raw is all of that but more. She takes a borderline exploitative subgenre and makes it a cannibalistic feminist coming-of-age story where female rage is taken seriously.

Justine (Garance Marillier) is sixteen years old and heading to vet school. There she is forced to consume raw meat which awakens something animalistic in her. Suddenly, she is embracing the rage that has always been bubbling inside of her. She begins to consume human flesh in increasingly larger amounts. Raw is deliciously disgusting, a film that lets its female characters be gross within painting them as monsters. Coming of age is messy and full of anger, so why not portray it that way? (Mary Beth McAndrews)

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Noah Schnapp in Official Trailer for Young Aspiring Chef Drama 'Abe'

"You are mixing 'fusion' with 'confusion'." Blue Fox Entertainment has unveiled the trailer for a fun family film titled simply Abe, which originally premiered at the Sundance Film Festival last year in the Sundance Kids section. Abe is a 12-year-old boy from Brooklyn, an aspiring chef who is half-Israeli, half-Palestinian. He decides to cook a meal to unite his mixed family, but everything goes wrong. Surprise, surprise. Starring talented young actor Noah Schnapp as Abe, and a full cast including Seu Jorge, Mark Margolis, Arian Moayed, Dagmara Dominczyk, Salem Murphy, Tom Mardirosian, Daniel Oreskes, plus Gero Camilo. It's rather nice to see Seu Jorge in this as a chef he look up to, smart casting for that role. And the food in here looks delicious. I want to eat it all! This also reminds me of the story of Chef Flynn. Get a taste.

Here's the official trailer (+ poster) for Fernando Grostein Andrade's Abe, direct from Blue Fox's YouTube:

Twelve-year-old Abe (Noah Schnapp) is an aspiring chef, but his family—half-Israeli, half-Palestinian—have never had a meal together without a fight. When Abe ditches his traditional summer camp to spend time with radical street chef Chico (Seu Jorge), his mentor's fusion cuisine inspires him to unite his family through food. Abe decides to cook a meal that will bring everyone to the table, but he's about to learn that the kitchen can't heal some age-old divides. Abe is directed by Brazilian filmmaker Fernando Grostein Andrade, his second feature film after Na Quebrada previously, and a number of documentary films. The screenplay is written by Lameece Issaq and Jacob Kader; based on a story by Fernando Grostein Andrade, Christopher Vogler, Lameece Issaq, and Jacob Kader. This initially premiered at the Sundance Film Festival last year. Blue Fox will release Abe in select US theaters + on VOD starting April 17th coming up. Hungry?

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Official Trailer for Religious Miracle in Portugal True Story Film 'Fatima'

"What do you want from us?" Picturehouse has debuted an official US trailer for an indie drama based on a true story titled Fatima. A powerful and uplifting drama about the power of faith, Fatima tells the story of a 10-year-old shepherd and her two young cousins in Fátima, Portugal (Google Maps) in 1917, who report seeing visions of the Virgin Mary. Their revelations inspire believers but anger officials of both the Church and the secular government, who try to force them to recant their story. As word of their prophecy spreads, tens of thousands of religious pilgrims flock to the site in hopes of witnessing a miracle. Of course. Starring Stephanie Gil, with Joaquim de Almeida, Lúcia Moniz, Joana Ribeiro, Harvey Keitel, Goran Visnjic, and Sonia Braga. This looks especially cheesy, and made mostly for the faithful to feel the power.

Here's the official trailer (+ poster) for Marco Pontecorvo's Fatima, direct from Picturehouse's YouTube:

A powerful and uplifting drama about the power of faith, Fatima tells the story of a 10-year-old shepherd (Stephanie Gil) and her two young cousins in Fátima, Portugal, who report seeing visions of the Virgin Mary. Their revelations inspire believers but also angers officials of both the Church and in the secular government, who try to force them to recant their story. As word of their amazing prophecy spreads, tens of thousands of religious pilgrims flock to the site in hopes of witnessing a miracle. What they experience will change their lives forever. Fatima is directed by Italian cinematographer / writer / filmmaker Marco Pontecorvo, director of the films Pa-ra-da and Partly Cloudy with Sunny Spells previously, as well as some TV work. The screenplay is written by Valerio D'Annunzio, Barbara Nicolosi, and Marco Pontecorvo. This hasn't premiered at any festivals or otherwise, as far as we know. Picturehouse will release Fatima in select US theaters starting April 24th, 2020 this spring. For more info, visit the official website. Curious?

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‘The Carpenter’ Might Just Be the Most Bizarre Movie on Amazon Prime

Welcome to The Prime Sublime, a column dedicated to the underseen and underloved films buried beneath page after page of far more popular fare on Amazon’s Prime Video collection. We’re not just cherry-picking obscure titles, though, as these are movies that we find beautiful in their own, often unique ways. You might even say we think they’re sublime…

“Sublime /səˈblīm/: of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe”

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If there’s one thing this young column has already taught me, it’s that Canadian genre movies were really odd back in the ‘80s. I already covered Crime Wave, which might be the best of the bunch, but The Carpenter isn’t far behind it. Directed by David Wellington (who went on to much bigger things) from a script by Doug Taylor, this tonally confused gem is a must-see for fans of strange cinema, so allow me to tell you why you should stream it immediately.

What’s it about?

The Carpenter is a difficult film to describe as it really is a peculiar little flick. The basic story is about a married woman, Alice (Lynne Adams), who falls in love with a sexy, ghostly carpenter (Wings Hauser) after he shows up to renovate her house. Not even death can stop him from completing the project, and anyone who gets in his way is destined to meet the business end of his nail gun.

At its core, though, The Carpenter is a love story about two outsiders finding each other. Anyone who isn’t Alice or the carpenter is an asshole, so it’s easy to root for the pair of them. In the opening scenes, Alice’s husband institutionalizes her for cutting his suits to shreds, while her doctors make jokes like “you have to be crazy to want to come back here” when she finally gets released. Of course, this is an ‘80s horror movie, and good taste humor isn’t to be expected.

The carpenter is protective of the woman who occupies his dream home, but it doesn’t take long for his homicidal tendencies to spiral out of control. Is he a figment of Alice’s imagination, or is he the real ghost of a dead construction worker? Who knows, but the beauty of The Carpenter is wondering what the hell is happening.

What makes it sublime?

Movies about ghosts killing people tend to fall into the haunted house or slasher categories, but The Carpenter defies genre conventions. While there are horror elements and some gruesome deaths, the film is more like a soap opera that’s been cross-pollinated with a cheap psychological thriller and a dark comedy.

The mix of styles is awkward, but it’s all part of the charm. This is the type of movie where Alice and the carpenter have deep conversations while he simultaneously cuts up some dude’s body with a power tool. In one scene, the ghost also compares hard work to music and discusses how it “builds the world.” He’s full of fascinating insights about life, and his messages really seem to resonate with the smitten Alice.

The Carpenter also contains some of the most casual scenes of slaughter you’re ever likely to see in a movie. The ghost just wanders up to people and shreds them without breaking so much as a sweat, and he’s prone to delivering some funny lines as well. For example, in one scene, he walks out of a room, tells a would-be rapist that he needs to learn to keep his hands to himself, then cuts off both of the guy’s arms. The creep doesn’t even let out a scream, and Alice casually watches before going to bed in a calm state. It’s amazing, but you need to see it for yourself to fully appreciate just how hilariously strange the moment in question is.

I’m pretty sure that there’s a message about female empowerment in here too, but that said, the film also seems to yearn for the days of hard-working men who take pride in building something while the women stay at home and let them take care of business. But these ideas never seem to be in conflict with each other, so it’s entirely up to the audience to decide what the movie is trying to say.

While The Carpenter doesn’t boast any psychedelic visuals, it does play out like a strange and hallucinogenic fever dream, all the way down to its woozy, dreamlike score. Characters feel detached from reality, and they often say things that most normal people wouldn’t. But it’s a glorious one of a kind experience that every schlock aficionado ought to view at least once.

And in conclusion…

If you like movies that are on an island unto themselves, The Carpenter is the movie for you. It’s a lost treasure from a great era in horror filmmaking, but it’s never too late to discover the movie and fall in love with it. The film tries to blend several tones and moods together, and it succeeds in doing so in its own bizarre way. If you give this one a chance, I promise that you will be entertained and bewildered in equal measure. Such is the power of The Carpenter.

Want more sublime Prime finds? Of course you do.

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Watch: Stylish Vampire Short 'Suicide by Sunlight' from Nikyatu Jusu

"You don't have to be scared of mommy." In a near future New York City, Black Vampires walk amongst us. Suicide by Sunlight is an impressive short film made by up-and-coming filmmaker Nikyatu Jusu, and it originally premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival last year. It's finally online to watch in full - all 17 minutes of it and it's worth just a bit of your time to view. Valentina, a day-walking Black vampire protected from the sun by her melanin, finds it difficult to suppress her bloodlust when a new woman is introduced to her estranged twin daughters. This stars Natalie Paul as Valentina, with a cast including Teren Carter, Motell Gyn Foster, Ellie Foumbi, and Souleymane Sy Savane. The filmmaker has been earning tons of buzz for years for her shorts, and this yet again proves that she has a knack for fresh, vibrant storytelling.

Thanks to Short of the Week for debuting this online. Brief description from YouTube: "Valentina, a day-walking Black vampire protected from the sun by her melanin, is forced to suppress her bloodlust to regain custody of her estranged daughters." Suicide by Sunlight is directed by Sierra Leonean-American filmmaker Nikyatu Jusu - visit her official website or head to her Vimeo to see more of her work. Written by Nikyatu Jusu, co-written by R. Shanea Williams. Produced by Nikkia Moulterie. Featuring cinematography by Daisy Zhou, and make-up effects by Risha Rox. This originally premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival, and also played at the London Film Festival. It was originally designed as a proof-of-concept for a proposed TV series. For more info on the film, visit SOTW or Deadline's article. To see more shorts, click here. Thoughts?

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‘The Clone Wars’ Explained: Sins Remembered in ‘A Distant Echo’

Clones are born to die. Bred in labs, from cells sold by the bounty hunter Jango Fett, clones wake up to a life of service. Here’s your armor. Here’s your blaster. Go get them droids, and we’ll sit back and watch from our throne rooms.

In the previous six seasons of The Clone Wars, we’ve come to learn that the clones are not the brainless drones briefly seen in the films. They have wants and desires. They know friendship. They experience loss.

Last week’s final season premiere, “The Bad Batch,” saw Captain Rex lead a squad of genetically deviant clones behind enemy lines in an effort to disrupt a droid algorithm supposedly predicting Republic attacks. In that episode’s climax, Rex discovered the algorithm’s origins in the voice of a fallen comrade: ARC Trooper Echo. The soldier had turned traitor.

The revelation stirred a profound sense of regret inside Rex. The last time he or we saw him, Echo was consumed in the blast of a shuttle explosion while attempting the rescue of Jedi Master Even Piell (“Counterattack,” Episode 19 of Season 3). We’ve seen plenty of clones and stormtroopers slaughtered over the last 40 years of Star Wars continuity. Their deaths carry about as much weight for us as any ant accidentally crushed under our boot as we walk from home door to car, maybe less so.

Echo’s death was the first time we considered the life of a soldier trapped in a star war. In Rex’s shock and horror, we found our own. The news that Echo might be alive sends a shiver of pain into Rex. His failure to keep his squad together resulted in further loss of life across the clone army. Every laser blast to a clone’s chest might as well have come from his rifle.

Most of Season 7’s second episode, entitled “A Distant Echo,” revolves around Rex and The Bad Batch, now saddled with General Anakin Skywalker, tracing Echo’s signal to the dragon infested planet of Skako Minor. There, Anakin proves himself less of a Jedi Knight and more of a damsel in distress as he’s immediately captured by the native Poletec people. They want nothing to do with the war they’ve brought to their planet and only ease up when Rex assures them that they are there to rid their land of those other warmongers taking up residence a few klicks away.

The Poletecs allow the soldiers safe passage, and the clones make their way to the Techno Union’s towering eye-sores and the source of the algorithm. Here is where Anakin proves his worth, as wave after wave of D-Wing battle droids floods the tower hallways. “A Distant Echo” is the first appearance of these little robot beasties, designed to go toe-to-toe with the dragons of Skako Minor (also called Keeradaks), their backs are mounted with little pterodactyl wings. Sadly, they don’t get much flying in as Anakin and the clones chop ’em up quick. Battle droids make Stormtroopers look like sharpshooters.

While Anakin and The Bad Batch hold off the droids, Rex and the brainy clone named Tech work to penetrate the control room. Wet Tambor, the Techno Union’s head honcho, appears on a viewscreen to mock their efforts. “Your friend is dead,” he chortles. “His mind is ours.” Rex and Tech enter and discover a stasis pod hanging on the opposite end. Tech hits all the right buttons, and the pod bursts open, and Echo tumbles out.

Echo is not the clone he once was. Cords run in and out of his brain. His color is off, frozen to the point of rotten. Below the waist are a couple of droid legs reminiscent of the ones that brought Darth Maul back to the land of walking. For Echo, not much time has passed. In seeing his old friend, he recalls the citadel where he made his last stand for Even Piell. Rex comforts his brother, “Just sit tight trooper. You’re going home.”

Home? What does that mean for Echo? He sure as hell won’t recognize the man in the mirror. In a universe where his brothers eagerly try to differentiate themselves with tattoos and haircuts, there will be no trouble spotting Echo in a crowd. Free from the Techno Union, if he’s to continue fighting the good fight, one could easily see him joining ranks with the aberrant Bad Batch.

Earlier in the episode, Rex asks Bad Batch squad leader Hunter to whom does he and his troops report? Hunter is rather glib and evasive. He says, “Good question. Can’t say that I’ve got an answer?” The mind begins to wander. While Rex and his clones do reappear later on in the timeline via Rebels, we have yet to see The Bad Batch in any other form of Star Wars. What happened to them? Did they make it out of the Clone Wars? Do they make it out of this season?

The Bad Batch might have more than a chip on their shoulder. As they look around, staring at all the good clones marching to their master’s orders, these guys beat to the tune of their own drum, or maybe their own master. Their morality could be right there in their name, a genuine bad batch of clones doing missions for the likes of the Empire on the horizon. Is that too much of a stretch? Aren’t all the Clones and Jedi effectively fighting for the Dark Side unwillingly? The Bad Batch could be the Emperor’s less subtle division of soldiers.

That’s a lot of speculation, and it could all turn to dust by the next episode. Rex’s recovery of Echo is not a happy ending. It’s not an ending at all. Imagining him up and at ’em by next week is absurd. He needs his time to find his place back in the world. Let’s hope he gets it. As is, he’s a shadow of Rex’s regret made manifest. That sorrow will put some distance between the two unless Echo forgives Rex in some fashion, or he gets the cheap narrative way out and goes full-evil.

Two chapters into this final season of The Clone Wars, and showrunner Dave Filoni and his gang are wading into the darkest realms of character. The writers are taking their shot to say their definitive statement on their toys, redefining many of them from what we’ve seen in the movies. You’ll never be able to watch the prequels as dismissively as before. Obi-Wan mildly addressing Rex in Episode III is now a millisecond packed with hours and hours of serialized storytelling.

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Watch ‘The Invisible Man,’ Then Watch These Movies

If you’ve never seen James Whale’s 1933 adaptation of H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man, that’s definitely a must-see before or after the new version (as I’d recommended at the start of the year). Other sequels and parodies are also worth watching to varied enjoyment (see our ranking of everything from The Invisible Woman to Abbott and Costello Meet the Invisible Man). Leigh Whannell‘s remake is the direct descendant of a classic and is part of a legacy of one of Hollywood’s most famous horror properties. But there are many more ingredients at work this time.

This edition of Movies to Watch After… recognizes the direct and indirect cinematic roots of the 2020 version of The Invisible Man as I recommend fans go back and learn some film history, become more well-rounded viewers, and enjoy likeminded works of the past, even if it’s the fairly recent past (and in some instances not enjoy but still learn about some relevant junk). As always, I try to point you in the easiest direction of where to find each of these highlighted titles.

Upgrade (2018)

Firstly, as more moviegoers discover the talents of writer/director Leigh Whannell with his take on The Invisible Man, I recommend checking out his underseen gem from two years ago. This was not his feature directorial debut, but it was his first chance to break from the ongoing properties he’d been attached to as co-creator of James Wan’s Saw and Insidious franchises. Upgrade is, unlike the Insidious sequel he’d helmed and The Invisible Man, an original idea. Unfortunately (and to some degree, fortunately), Upgrade came out the same year as Venom, to which it has some coincidental as well as uncanny similarities.

Also produced by Blumhouse, the sci-fi movie concerns a man enhanced with cybernetic implants following a tragedy. He’s not only able to miraculously walk again but with the help from an AI inside his body he’s now an amazing fighter and a walking computer. Upgrade isn’t just on here because it’s also by Whannell but because it connects thematically with its implausible science project of a wealthy asshole tech innovator (another good fit for this theme is Ex Machina, which is also about a rich scientist who wants a woman he can own and control) and also sets up the filmmaker’s gift for action combined with horror.

Stream Upgrade with a subscription via HBO

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The Mummy (2017)

Universal’s first and last entry in their attempted Dark Universe mega-franchise is a ridiculous affair. And should definitely be watched after the new Invisible Man as a reminder of what we could have gotten instead. Not that Whannell’s movie isn’t filled with its own awful logic and other script problems, but its tone is a little more grounded, thanks to a limited budget ($7 million compared to the reported range of $125-195 million) and especially Elisabeth Moss‘ performance. Her fellow Scientologist Tom Cruise does not have that sort of dramatic restraint, at least not in The Mummy.

Never mind the bigger budget that might have come with the Dark Universe version of The Invisible Man, which was to star Johnny Depp in the title role; it was also the broader acting style, which extended to Russell Crowe’s Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde portrayal here that would have made the difference. But at least with Cruise, that’s what we fans of his enjoy a lot of the time. Like Moss for hers, Cruise is mainly what makes his movie what it is. The Dark Universe version of The Mummy isn’t scary or even very thrilling but it’s often entertaining.

Stream The Mummy with a subscription via DirecTV

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Crime After Crime (2011) and Private Violence (2014)

For a true look at domestic violence and what women must endure before men are punished — if they ever are — this week I’m spotlighting two documentary picks. The first one, Yoav Potash’s Crime After Crime, is about a woman who has been in prison for two decades for the death of her abusive boyfriend. Her case has been reopened, and she’s being defended pro bono by two young attorneys, who are the primary characters of the film. Obviously, the abuse victim is guilty of murder, like Moss’ character at the end of The Invisible Man, and she deserved some time behind bars, but not as much as she got. Right? The circumstances are easier to accept as absolution for a vengeful woman in a movie than by the justice system.

The second documentary, Cynthia Hill’s Private Violence, is a Sundance award-winning, Emmy-nominated look at the issue of domestic abuse through the work of victim-turned-advocate Kit Gruelle and the case of Deanna Walters. The latter was kidnapped by her ex-husband, along with her daughter, and beaten almost to death. Yet he wasn’t initially arrested for the crime. Much of the point of the doc is to answer why women don’t just leave such relationships and situations. Why don’t they tell anyone is another question. The Invisible Man depicts the story of a woman who just barely manages to leave but still doesn’t feel safe in body or mind, and few understand. Because abusers do tend to go unseen in their crimes, as if they’re invisible.

Stream Crime After Crime with a subscription on Amazon Prime Video
Stream Private Violence with a subscription on Amazon Prime Video

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Hollow Man (2000)

 

Invisible Man movies have historically been about the person who becomes invisible. Whannell’s version flips the switch and follows the invisible character’s victim, turning the story into a vehicle for a social issue metaphor appropriate for a new era inspired by the #MeToo movement. But 20 years before the remake tackled the idea of making a grittier, more violent, and more thought-provoking adaptation of The Invisible Man, audacious filmmaker Paul Verhoeven gave us Hollow Man, starring Kevin Bacon as the subject of an experiment that leaves him permanently see-through.

The condition drives him crazy (imagine not being able to close your eyes, which would make it almost impossible to sleep) but also allows him to be an even worse creep than ever, to the point that he even rapes a woman he’s already been shown to be voyeuristically infatuated with. Verhoeven means for us to be aligned somewhat with Bacon’s character as a voyeuristic spectator but then takes us to the extreme point of what such invasion entails. I consider Hollow Man a kind of necessary update on and answer to the seemingly innocent pervy comedies of the past, like 1985’s School Spirit, which is about horny ghosts who, due to their invisibility, spy on women in the locker room and undress women in their sleep, all for the gaze of the audience.

Rent or buy Hollow Man from Amazon

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Sleeping with the Enemy (1991)

There are other thrillers out there about women having their revenge on abusive men, but Sleeping with the Enemy is the queen of them all. It also follows roughly the same plot as the new Invisible Man remake. Julia Roberts stars as a woman who flees her abusive home — she’s the one who fakes her own death here, while the abusive boyfriend does so in The Invisible Man — and then the guy comes after her, violently. But not in an invisibility suit. Spoiler: she shoots him dead in self-defense as if he’s just some home invader and not her ex, just as Moss’ character does at the end of the new movie.

Thanks to the plot of The Invisible Man being so similar, minus the addition of a new love interest for the woman (most scripts would have had Moss wind up with Aldis Hodge), we probably don’t need the official remake of Sleeping with the Enemy that’s been in development at Fox Searchlight with Candyman reboot director Nia DaCosta at the helm. Of course, we already basically got a remake in 2017 with ‘Til Death Do Us Part, which follows literally the same plot, also without an invisibility suit, as the much more successful 1991 film.

Stream Sleeping with the Enemy with a subscription via Starz

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Predator (1987)

When Whannell is done with whatever he does with the Escape from New York reboot, give him the Predator franchise. We’ve seen three installments since the 1987 original — plus two cross-overs with Alien (whose own original protagonist has been compared to Moss’) — and none of them have captured the essence of the first movie as much as the new Invisible Man does. Predator is about an invisible (or well-camouflaged) alien for most of the plot, but his cloaking system is disabled near the end and Arnold Schwarzenegger gets to fight him more fairly. He doesn’t go in and out of visibility, like the villain of The Invisible Man when his suit is stabbed, but the action is similarly tighter and more intimate, even when the invisible man is taking out psyche hospital guards like he’s the Terminator.

Perhaps Whannell’s knack for this cat and mouse kind of action will be suited for other movies, including the Escape from New York remake, but it’s also just what we want from a lot of franchises now. Hollywood has gone for the bigger and more effects-driven sequels for not Predator and even the Universal Monsters brand, but what’s working best is the tighter, cheaper takes like Whannell’s The Invisible Man, which script issue aside does aim for character and story over spectacle. And yet there are also just enough great visual effects tricks to keep things interesting.

Stream Predator with a subscription on Fubo TV

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Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958)

The Invisible Man isn’t the first feminist horror movie, but the praise around it makes it seem like that’s the case. Even if the elevated appreciation is because the remake changes things up so much as to lean toward advocating for women and for victims of abuse, it’s still not the first horror remake to approach a familiar story through a more feminist lens. Christopher Guest’s made-for-cable 1993 version of Attack of the 50 Foot Woman aims for such a reimagining. The camp redo makes its metaphoric message tied to size similar to the way Jane Wagner and Lily Tomlin’s 1981 comedy (by way of Joel Schumacher’s direction) The Incredible Shrinking Woman does, only in the opposite direction.

However, the truth is that the shlocky original already has enough of a feminist foundation worthy of consideration. The B-movie is hardly a display of great filmmaking craft, and unfortunately, its beginning and especially its ending are more punishing of its main character, who is portrayed as a mentally unstable drunk. Still, this woman is an abused and disrespected woman whose husband cheats on her, tries to keep her locked up in an asylum, and plans to kill her to make off with her large inheritance. She has a right to be vengeful, despite societal stereotyping of angry women back then, and use her increased size against those who’ve wronged her. The ending of the remake is a little more fun, but the original still feels more likely.

Rent or buy Attack of the 50 Foot Woman from Amazon

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Gaslight (1944)

In addition to being relevant to the #MeToo movement, the new Invisible Man has a contemporary significance for the way it deals with gaslighting. While the term has become widely appropriated by the political media when discussing broad manipulation by government and other officials (rather than just calling them liars), to gaslight is a more directly personal sort of control through confusion that originates with this classic film by George Cukor. Adapted from the play Gas Light by Patrick Hamilton, the movie stars Ingrid Bergman as a woman being made to think herself crazy by a husband messing with their home’s lighting system.

Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse inflicted on women in order to keep them subservient to and/or dependent on their manipulative husbands. The new Invisible Man remake emphasizes the idea by having Moss’ character committed to a psychiatric hospital after her ex, cloaked by a special suit, makes her out to feel and then seem to others to be mentally unstable. Some of the guy’s tricks could be done without the power of invisibility, such as when he removes her work samples from her portfolio after she’s sure she added them, which plays with her mind. He’s also very good at making her seem violent in front of others without the “magic” of what he’s doing being noticed.

As has been noted in our other coverage of the film, this Invisible Man is different than past adaptations in that it’s not about the transformation of its title character. He’s already a terrible human being before going invisible. He’s already a master gaslighter. He probably would have been a murderer. The invisibility suit just elevates his means of acting on all of it.

Stream Gaslight with a subscription on the Roku Channel

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Review: 'The Invisible Man' is a Must-See Modern Psychological Thriller

Actor and screenwriter Leigh Whannell and director James Wan changed the horror landscape when their low-budget sleeper hit Saw became a cultural phenomenon in 2004. After the massive success of their feature debut, the Australian filmmaking duo continued to collaborate on a series of horror films, including Dead Silence (2007), Insidious (2010), and Insidious: Chapter 2 (2013). In 2015, while Wan was behind the wheel of Furious 7, Whannell made his directorial debut with Insidious: Chapter 3, which he also wrote. His next feature, the kinetic cyberpunk sci-fi actioner Upgrade, ended up as my favorite movie of 2018. Now, the talented writer / filmmaker tackles his biggest project yet with a modern retelling of The Invisible Man, inspired originally by H.G. Wells' 1897 novel and James Whale's classic 1933 film of the same name.

Actress Elisabeth Moss ("The Handmaid's Tale", Her Smell, Light of My Life, Us) stars as Cecilia Kass, an architect in San Francisco trapped in an abusive relationship with her violent and controlling wealthy boyfriend, Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen of Netflix's The Haunting of Hill House). After escaping the manipulative scientist and optics pioneer with the help of her sister Emily (Harriet Dyer), Cecilia goes into hiding, staying with James Lanier (Aldis Hodge of Straight Outta Compton, Clemency, Brian Banks, Hidden Figures), a childhood friend and San Francisco police officer who's raising his teenage daughter, Sydney (Storm Reid), by himself. When her ex commits suicide, Cecilia suspects he isn't actually dead but has somehow made himself invisible, using his latest innovation to torture her.

The Invisible Man is part of the Universal Classic Monsters family — which also includes Dracula, The Wolf Man, The Mummy, Frankenstein's Monster, The Bride of Frankenstein, and The Creature from the Black Lagoon. These beloved characters are timeless because they represent our cultural fears & anxieties; they're adaptable, changing with the times. While H.G. Wells' story was about a scientist who becomes a madman, Whannell is more interested in the object of the villain's obsession. A strong, capable woman, Cecilia's life is upended by her toxic relationship with Adrian. After his "death," things only get worse. As the prey of an unseen abuser, Cecilia becomes increasingly paranoid and her life begins to unravel. Friends and family see her as hysterical or unwell, insisting that it's all in her head. It's a timely narrative about women being victimized by men — enduring physical, emotional, and psychological torment and not being believed.

Whannell builds a sophisticated psychological thriller on the foundation of these fears & anxieties, weaving them throughout thematically. The Invisible Man is a bold, fresh take on the iconic character: an innovative, filmmaker-driven approach that recontextualizes a classic story and makes it relevant again for modern audiences. Technically speaking, the unique visual langue Whannell and cinematographer Stefan Duscio created for Upgrade has been pushed even further, with the slick, motion-controlled camera movements serving as the manifestation of Adrian's presence. A relentless tension is created — there's a sense of unease in every frame. To capture Cecilia's paranoia, the camera often breaks from its locked, precise movements to linger on empty corners and ordinary spaces, suggesting that she's never really alone or truly safe. Your eyes are constantly searching the edges of the frame for any hint of the predator's presence.

In addition to the film's sleek, modern production design (by Alex Holmes), the perfect marriage of in-camera practical and visual effects (SFX supervisor Dan Oliver, VFX supervisor Jonathan Dearing), nerve-jangling sound design (sound mixer Will Files, sound designer P.K. Hooker), and a haunting score by composer Benjamin Wallfisch, The Invisible Man has an incredible performance at its core. Two-time Golden Globe winner Elisabeth Moss is on another level here, delivering what might be her best work to date. Embodying fear, grief, madness, rage — showing strength and vulnerability at the same time — Moss creates an empathetic, relatable heroine that grounds the movie's premise in reality.

A tense and suspenseful horror thriller, The Invisible Man is filled with spine-tingling moments and gasp-worthy twists and turns. It's scary, stylish, and of substance — it's about more than just brand recognition. It's the template for whatever Universal Monster reboots might follow from here on out. Whannell continues to grow as a filmmaker and further his craft — much like Mike Flanagan, Jordan Peele, Ari Aster, or Oz Perkins, when I see his name attached to a film I get excited, because I know it's coming from a place of genuine love for the genre and an eagerness to do something that's not only entertaining but emotionally and intellectually engaging. You may not exactly be able to see The Invisible Man, but Whannell's passion for storytelling and filmmaking is evident in every frame.

P.S.: If possible, go see The Invisible Man with Dolby Atmos — it's an immersive cinematic experience where sounds move all around you in three-dimensional space, so you feel like you're inside the movie.

Adam's Rating: 4 out of 5
Follow Adam on Twitter - @AdamFrazier

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Official Trailer for Covenant Horror 'The Dawn' Starring Devanny Pinn

"She only knows what the demon allows her to see!" Kaleidoscope Entertainment + Lionsgate have released an official trailer for an indie horror film titled The Dawn, which is headed straight-to-DVD this month for anyone who likes watching this kind of supernatural horror. Following the murder of her family at the hands of her father in the wake of World War I, a young woman is sent to live in a convent up in the North East. However, the demons that plagued her father follow her, reawakening the nightmares of her past. Starring Devanny Pinn (also seen in Lilith, Crossbreed, Hollow Point) as Rose, with a cast including Stacey Dash, Ryan Kiser, David Goryl, Heather Wynters, Teilor Grubbs, Jonathan Bennett, Julie Rose, and Andrew E. Wheeler. It mostly seems like yet another cliche religious horror story, but damn this trailer has some extra creepy imagery - that long black hand, all the screaming, freaky nuns galore, and a bit more.

Here's the official trailer (+ poster) for Brandon Slagle's The Dawn, direct from Kaleidoscope's YouTube:

The sole survivor of a murderous rampage by her war veteran father, Rose (Devanny Pinn), is sent to live in a secluded covenant found in the North Eastern United States. Embraced by the kind Revered Mother (Heather Wynters), the generous Father Theodore (David Goryl) and Sister Ella (Stacey Dash), the now-adult Rose is preparing to take her final vows. Yet darkness grows within her… In a series of shocking confessions, Rose reveals she's being plagued by visions of her father's crimes and demonic voices telling her to 'kill'. Disturbed by these startling revelations, Father Theodore's young successor, Jeremiah (Ryan Kiser), is determined to investigate the young woman. The Dawn is directed by American actor / filmmaker Brandon Slagle, director of many low budget films including Subject 87, Area 51 Confidential, House of Manson, Escape from Ensenada, and Crossbreed previously. The screenplay is written by Elliot Diviney and Brandon Slagle. This premiered at the Catalina Film Festival last year. Lionsgate / Kaleidoscope will release Slagle's The Dawn direct-to-DVD/VOD starting February 25th this month. Anyone interested in this one?

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Virginie Efira & Omar Sy in Festival Trailer for Anne Fontaine's 'Police'

"Why us? It's not our job." Studiocanal France has unveiled the first trailer for a new film titled Police, also going under the title Night Shift, the latest from French filmmaker Anne Fontaine (Coco Before Chanel, Gemma Bovery, The Innocents). This just premiered at the Berlin Film Festival this week, and is opening in France in April, but still has no other dates set yet. Virginie, Erik, and Aristide are police officers in Paris. All three try to keep their personal & emotional lives together while dealing with daily incidents of violence in homes and on the streets. One night, they are given an unusual mission: drive a migrant to the airport for unspecified reasons. Along the way to the airport they make an unexpected decision. Starring Omar Sy, Virginie Efira, Grégory Gadebois, and Payman Maadi. An intriguing French drama to watch out for.

Here's the festival promo trailer for Anne Fontaine's Police (aka Night Shift), from Berlinale's YouTube:

Three police officers assigned an unusual mission to drive an illegal migrant to the airport discover that the man will be sentenced to death if he is sent back to his country. Faced with an unbearable dilemma, they start to question their mission. Police, also known as Night Shift, is directed by veteran French actor / filmmaker Anne Fontaine, director of many films including Augustin, How I Killed My Father, Oh La La!, The Girl from Monaco, Coco Before Chanel, Adore, Gemma Bovery, The Innocents, Reinventing Marvin, and White As Snow previously. The screenplay is written by Claire Barré and Anne Fontaine; adapted from Hugo Boris' novel of the same name. It's produced by Philippe Carcassonne and Jean-Louis Livi. This just premiered at the Berlin Film Festival recently. The film is already set to open in France starting April 1st coming up soon. No other international release dates are set yet - stay tuned for updates. First impression?

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