Everyone chain-smokes in this action film that doesn't seem to have much action in it. There's some judo, a guy gets whipped with a cat-o-nine tails, the hounds are released, and a villain wears a fez. When did the fez become the standard uniform for C-Squad henchmen? I'm not sure. There are a few explosions in 3 Seconds Before Explosion, but other than the one where severed hands and human chunks are thrown against a wall, they're nothing much to write home about.
After a failed attempt to halt global warming, the last survivors of a frozen Earth live crammed aboard a segregated non-stop train in this dystopic sci-fi film. Claustrophobic, dim, thrilling, and darkly humorous, Snowpiercer is simultaneously original, inventive, and very familiar. Borrowing liberally from The Odyssey, 1984, the Matrix, and Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, the film shows a hero leading a band of warriors through brutality, oppression, and class separation in search of an unseen, mythic Big Brother. I was particularly alarmed by the shiny, happy 'egg sequence'. The protagonist arrives in a squeaky clean classroom compartment, as well-dressed children are indoctrinated through the use of sloganeering and patriotism from a pregnant teacher until the firearms appear. It's a fascinating, thought-provoking scene rich with allusion and symbolism in an exciting, action-packed film.
A man is forced to arrange the assassination of his former teacher in this beautifully shot drama. Utilizing every technique imaginable, The Conformist is filled with striking, iconic imagery: The crane shot of leaves blowing in the wind, the imaginative use of moving light through venetian blinds, dutch angled street shots, dolly shots in a mental ward with a dramatic black straight-jacket, a beautifully constructed dance hall scene with a seductive tango, and a remarkable handheld scene in a snowy forest. Unfortunately, I'm not as familiar with the Italian history of Fascism in Italy during the early 20th century as I should be.
A couple takes a vacation in their caravan when the bodies start to pile up in this bone-dry British black comedy. Heading out to the tram museum, the pencil museum, a viaduct, and several campsites on an erotic odyssey, Chris takes vengeance on those who wrong him on their travels, and blissfully oblivious Tina finally catches a clue and joins in. I found myself laughing out loud at the natural, stone-faced dialogue, with standouts being "I don't think I can cope without potpourri" and "Those crisps are filled with horrors".
After collapsing on set from a strenuous session of lip-syncing, a nosy, mink-wearing pop chanteuse is sent to convalesce on a creepy remote island bee farm with a cranky, sinister beekeeper and his chain-smoking wife, where she inexplicably meets a second, slightly-less sinister beekeeper who inexplicably keeps bees in a secret wall hive because that's not at all suspicious, and it's difficult to keep all the beekeepers straight although there only seems to be about a half-a-dozen people on the whole island. The sinister beekeeper and his chain-smoking wife bicker, and neither one of them seem to mention the arm-long hypodermic needle or the pint of horse blood that's just hanging around. The sinister beekeeper throws a bucket, and meanwhile someone keeps editing in the same shot of someone shaking out a screen of bees against a blue sky over and over. Suddenly, the Shaggy D.A. is attacked by poorly green-screened bees, and the dog's death stops the chain-smoking wife from chain-smoking for five seconds, and by "stops chain-smoking" I mean "cries hysterically and sets fire to all the hives with kerosene". Then there's a bee-filled montage dream recap, the chanteuse sets a fire in the bathroom while wearing a slip (which sounds a little like a failed Adele song), there's a high-speed Jeep chase, someone ends up face down in the mud, and the police use scientific forensics by sniffing the working end of a blood-filled hypodermic needle. Anyway, I didn't realize pop chanteuses were equally adept at solving mysteries as they are blazing a trail atop the pop charts, but now I know.
I attempted to watch the zom-rom-com Life after Beth last night, and I forgot it was Cyber Monday, which in all honesty shouldn't even be a thing, and because everyone in the world was trying to annoy me and purchase holiday gifts for their friends and loved ones, Amazon Prime kept buffering due to high traffic of everyone buying their zombie apocalypse horse head masks, which was very inconsiderate of everyone in the world to do to me.
So what should have been a ninety-odd minute movie turned into a two-and-a-half hour living nightmare, which completely ruined my movie experience, but I'm pretty much used to things being ruined. One plus for my evening, though. I finally found some Little Debbie Cherry Cordial cakes, which are a hideously delicious snack cake that tastes a little like cough syrup, and just like cough syrup, I'm hideously addicted to them.
As I was purchasing them from the local supermarket, the checkout clerk held the box up, gave them a suspicious glance, and asked me, "So, do these taste like chocolate covered cherries?" Since I wasn't in the mood to point out the obvious, that they're chocolate covered, cherry-filling filled snack cakes, I just said "Yeah", and I didn't destroy the Earth at all, but I was tempted to.
Life After Beth is one of those zombie movies, like Shawn Of The Dead, where normal people don't really seem to notice their surroundings, and they seem to be oblivious to the fact that the world is going to heck in a handbasket, which is fine by me. If no one seems to notice that Little Debbie Cherry Cordials taste like chocolate covered cherries, then I can buy them all and ride out the inevitable zombie apocalypse, which is probably happening right now and no one is noticing because they're busy buying zombie apocalypse horse head masks and buffering the heck out of my movie.
So I watched Life After Beth for what seemed like forever, even though music by Brian Eno, Can, and The Brian Jonestown Massacre played on the soundtrack, and after about a million years and a really terrible acoustic guitar performance by the nondescript lead actor, Aubrey Plaza finally goes nutty and knocks down a beach bungalow, and the only thing that can comfort her is smooth jazz, and strangely enough, smooth jazz makes me want to freak out and knock down a beach bungalow.
I don't really care for smooth things, although I do enjoy the smooth flavor of a Little Debbie Cherry Cordial. Any way, Life After Beth is a dryly funny zombie movie that underutilizes its supporting cast, but Aubrey Plaza froths and foams at the mouth in the latter half of the film.
Scarlett Johansson cruises for lonely guys in her creep van to take back to her house filled with syrup in this Stanley Kubrick-esque sci-fi film. Featuring a cold, detached performance from Johansson, gorgeous deep focus cinematography, and a metallic, enigmatic score, Under The Skin's long, nearly silent scenes of abstract beauty often evoke 2001: A Space Odyssey. A seemingly tranquil moment in the film of a family enjoying a choppy swim in a rocky cove becomes quite harrowing when everyone including the family dog is swept out to sea, leaving a screaming, defenseless infant on the beach as Scarlett pounds the hapless swimmer who attempted to save them in the head with a rock, and then drags his lifeless body back to her van. The film loses momentum in the final third as Johnasson wrestles with assimilation, but the tension ramps back up at the surprising conclusion.
