Phantasm II (1988)

Phantasm II is a 1988 horror film directed by Don Coscarelli. Picking up where the original film leaves off, Phantasm II finds Reggie (Reggie Bannister) and a teenaged Mike (played by James LeGros of Point Break and Mildred Pierce fame) on a quest to hunt down The Tall Man and banish him to his dwarf-rendering hell world for ever. Aided by the elphin Liz, with whom Mike shares a psychic, as well as romantic, connection, Mike and Reggie criss-cross America in their beefed-up Hemicuda, armed with a flamethrower and a quadruple-barrelled sawed-off shotgun. Along the way they pick up sultry hitchhiker Alchemy (Chemmy, for short), who quickly takes a shine to the love-starved Reggie. The three eventually track The Tall Man to a mortuary where Liz's grandparents have recently been interned and, naturally, enslaved to dwarfdom. After battling the elderly dwarves, as well as several robotic "Gravers," Mike and Liz manage to ensnare one of the deadly metallic spheres, using it to unlock a portal into the hell-world. However, before they can torch this portal room, The Tall Man intervenes, tossing them like rag-dolls, before Reggie injects him with a lethal concoction of embalming fluid and hydrochloric acid. Having dispatched The Tall Man, the three burn down the building and escape, catching a ride in a hearse with Chemmy. However, just when you think the thrills are over, Chemmy pulls like half of her scalp off and The Tall Man rips Mike and Liz through the back window. Fin.

Phantasm II is a worthy predecessor to the excellent original film. Delivering the same winning mixture of gore, scary flying objects, and strange dream-logic, Phantasm II, while not breaking tons of new ground, is satisfying viewing for fans of the series.

Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills (1996)

Paradise Lost is a 1996 HBO documentary profiling the court trial of the West Memphis Three. This is the first film in the Paradise Lost trilogy, as well as a precursor to the 2012 documentary West of Memphis. Paradise Lost covers the original trial of Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin, and Jason Misskelley, as they are tried for capital murder in the deaths of three young boys found hog-tied and sexually mutilated. This trial quickly became a sensational media event as prosecutors framed this crime as occult and satanic in nature. Echols, Baldwin, and Misskelley, all teenagers at the time, served as the perfect patsies for this crime, all outsiders, "weirdos," or, in the case of Misskelley, mentally disabled. The appearance of Echols and Baldwin, who dress in black and listen to Metallica and Slayer, becomes a major factor in the case, prosecutors painting them as soulless, devil worshippers, even at one point bizarrely suggesting that Echols interest in Stephen King books suggested the capacity for murder. Despite strong evidence to suggest their innocence, all three are convicted. This conviction hinges largely on Misskelley's confession to police, despite large discrepancies in his story and the actual crime, as well as the fact that he is mentally disabled.

Watching Paradise Lost now, knowing that all three, finally, have been released from prison, makes the film no less terrifying. Echols comments quite accurately that West Memphis is "Salem 2," and indeed it is this draconian paranoia that makes West Memphis seem a lot like hell. The parents of the murdered children, as well as the prosecutors and narcoleptic judge, seem to have no doubt about the guilt of these three "weirdos." Mark Byers, step-father of Christopher Byers, is perhaps the most terrifying (though it is worth noting he later recants his belief in their guilt, as shown in West of Memphis). We watch him pretend to shoot Damien, Jason, and Jason Jr. with a large pistol, one he "likes" because no ballistics can be taken from it. It is hard to watch people who, having gone through such a horrific tragedy of violence, respond with a kind of horrifying violence of their own. The Robin Hood Hills murder case is fascinating for the excruciating emotions it produces; the community is torn asunder by the vicious killings and sadly the West Memphis Three fall victim to these inflamed passions. However, despite the terrible injustice that befell the West Memphis Three (something which can never be truly "righted") it is a testimony to justice and the American legal system that so many people took up their cause and for so long. Echols is right in his statement that people will never forget him in West Memphis, however it may prove that he is spoken about, not as the "boogeyman," as he predicts, but rather as a symbol for the perseverance of the truth, and a grave warning about the dangers of scapegoating.

The Pledge (2001)

The Pledge is a 2001 murder-mystery directed by Madonna's ex-husband Sean Penn. Jack Nicholson leads a star-studded cast featuring Robin Wright Penn (in one her best performances), Aaron Eckhart, Sam Shepard, Hellen Mirren, Harry Dean Stanton, Vanessa Redgrave, Benicio Del Toro, and Tom Noonan. The Pledge follows newly-retired cop Jerry Black as he chases, what he believes to be, a serial child-murderer. Black, struggling to adjust to his new life as a "little person," cannot forget his "pledge" to the mother of a murdered young girl. Believing the wrong man has been charged for that crime (Benicio Del Toro in a brief, yet electric performance, as a mentally disabled Native American), Black hunts the believed killer, finally connecting a set of similar murders and disappearances. Black eventually installs himself at the centre of these crimes, waiting patiently for the true killer to reveal himself. Tom Noonan enters as the ultimate red herring, a creepy, porcupine-sculpture gifting preacher that also operates a snow-plow and has a penchant for chatting up little girls (I know, he must be a serial killer right?). Black sets the trap with his girlfriend's daughter, playing a dangerous game in an attempt to ensnare "The Wizard" (not Noonan after all). Ultimately, Black's plan derails (or does it?), causing him to lose his burgeoning family, as well as it appears, his sanity.

Penn directs The Pledge with admirable restraint for a first-time director, only occasionally reaching for too much. The film moves with purpose, allowing the story to take centre-stage. Nicholson turns in an understated, yet effective performance as the insular, good hearted Black. Robin Wright Penn is excellent as the trashy waitress Lori. Despite her stately beauty queen looks, Penn is perfect as the rough and tumble Lori, bringing tenderness and resolve to the role. The cast is uniformly strong, though it feels a bit like a guilty pleasure watching theatrical titans like Mirren, Shepard, and Redgrave fill out relatively bit parts. Rourke delivers an extremely brief, yet memorable turn as the custodian father of one of the disappeared girls. Even in this microscopic dose, Rourke displays his other-worldly charisma, captivating the camera even if just momentarily. Aaron Eckhart is also excellent as Black's hot-shot predecessor, providing an energetic foil to Nicholson's laconic Black.

The Pledge is an interesting predecessor to the current trend of Nordic horror, feeling like the older brother of recent films like Let The Right One In and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, as well as delivering the same occult terror as True Detective. Definitely worth watching, The Pledge is a surprisingly film, and one that leaves me hoping for more Sean Penn helmed features (as long as he doesn't act).

Phantasm (1979)

Phantasm is a 1979 low-budget horror film written, directed, photographed, edited, aaaaand produced by Don Coscarelli. Following the death of his friend Tommy (stabbed by a bare-breasted vixen that transforms into an elderly man), musician-playboy Jody (sporting a look one part Han Solo and one part David Hasselhoff), returns to his small hometown, only to be drawn into a surrealistic nightmare AND WICKED BAD VIBES. After witnessing Tommy's casket being abducted by a spooky undertaker (the "Tall Man"), Jody's younger brother Mike consults with the local crazy lady/ mind-reader (you know she's crazy because she has a BLACK STAR tattooed in between her eyes), who confirms his suspicions that something fishy is indeed going on. Mike and Jody, as well as their ice-cream salesman friend Reggie (also a member of Jody's pick-up jam band), spend the rest of the movie hunted by dismembered fingers, be-cloaked dwarves, a wicked chrome sphere armed with what appear to be razor sharp pickle prongs, and the aforementioned "Tall Man." Turns out The Tall Man, under his guise as Undertaker, is stealing corpses from the funeral home and transforming them into the aforementioned dwarves through the use of a portal into a parallel universe (natch).  This parallel universe has like mega heavy gravity that crushes these former corpses into dwarves (makes sense). No idea why they wear cloaks though (maybe because cloaks are cool, Ted?). Mike and Jody finally lure The Tall Man into the town's token abandoned mine shaft, and SEND HIM TO HELL WHERE HE BELONGS. However, just when you think you can take a breath, the entire film that you just like watched is revealed to be NOTHING MORE THAN A DREAM. Or is it... The final "chill" is provided when Mike, packing a rucksack to go on a deadly road trip with Reggie (doesn't this kid have to go to school?), is snatched by the Tall Man, who pulls him through a mirror. The end. SPOOKY.

Phantasm is a masterpiece of stupidity, like the greatest movie Mark Borchardt never made. The acting is gloriously hambone, yet earnest enough to be endearing; you feel that Don Coscarelli really thought he was making the greatest movie ever made. And maybe he did... Operating with a kind of bizarre dream-logic (partially, it seems, due to a radical re-edit after the disastrous initial screening), Phantasm is Hellraiser's kind of clueless, but really enthusiastic younger brother. Genuine thrills are to be had, particularly when the metal sphere drills an oil derrick in the middle of some dude's head (see above image). The odd Greek sauna decor of the funeral home provides a unique and coldly chilling setting, as does the odd "portal" room, a blinding white edifice lined with stacks of ominous black barrels (housing the dwarves, pre-portal travel, natch). Phantasm is nothing if not inspired and, despite being made for a paltry $300,000, looks like a much more professional grade film. Coscarelli clearly knew his way around a ring focus and the inspired photography goes a long way towards making this film enjoyable. Even the performances, though amateurish, are charming for their commitment. All the "actors" receive A's for effort, particularly Michael Baldwin who delivers a star turn as the industrious, effete younger brother.

It is not hard to see why Phantasm spawned a trio of sequels, as it is the kind of bizarre, un-self-conscious film that can be such a treat of the B-horror genre. Phantasm is also a noteworthy example of the power of failure, as it's abstruse editing, likely created more through panic than narrative intent, transform what could have been a more straightforward (I don't think this film ever could have been too straightforward) into a Delpic dreamscape of terror. Causality? Linearity? Who needs em? I'll take gushing blood holes in people's foreheads and dwarf hell any day.

The Driver (1978)

The Driver is a 1978 film from Walter Hill, starring Ryan O' Neal, Bruce Dern, and Isabelle Adjani. O'Neal plays the titular "Driver," a talented getaway man with little time for guns, mistakes, or the English language. Dern is "The Detective," a loose cannon hell-bent on catching the "cowboy" driver; he has little respect for anything that gets in his way, even the law. Adjani, at her babydoll best, is "The Player," though a better description might be "pretty girl that is sort of necessary to the story but not really."

Little happens in "The Driver" besides cars being driven, but man, are those cars driven. The chase scenes are some of the best yet committed to film, careening with high-octane intensity and an unforgiving speed. Hill's direction is restrained, yet unrelenting. The film moves with a cat-like urgency, never lingering too long, yet never rushing either. The "dramatic" scenes are straight to the point, few words are wasted as Hill pushes us towards the next heart-pounding chase scene. Dern does his best to chew the scenery but even his performance is kept direct and focused. O'Neal's human breadstick act works well as the mono-syllabic Driver. He is required to little more than act stoic and drive, both of which he accomplishes with notable efficiency, piloting the wheel like Paul Walker's older, better laid brother. Similarly, Adjani functions as little more than a titillating aside, appearing every twenty minutes to divert blood flow, slowing our pulse with an assortment of floppy hats and silk bell-bottoms. 

Unquestionably, the star of "The Driver" is Hill, who pilots this film with surprising restraint. Compared to later films such as "The Warriors" and "Johnny  Handsome," "The Driver" practically feels like an Antonioni film. The direction is spare, yet evocative. The camera rarely moves, unless it is on the hood of a car, and much of the dialogue takes place in simple, one-shot set-ups. Nicolas Winding Refn, who pillaged essentially the entire opening of "The Driver" for his 2011 "Drive," could learn much from Hill's spare, yet vibrant approach. The film moves with appropriate intensity yet never goes overboard. A pulpy 70s masterpiece.

The Broken Circle Breakdown (2012)

The Broken Circle Breakdown is a 2012 Belgian film about the relationship between a tattoo artist, Elise, and the leader of a bluegrass band, Didier. The film charts the formation and disintegration of the couple's relationship, centring on the loss of their young daughter, Maybelle, to cancer. Moving in an elliptical fashion between past and present, the story of this family unfolds. We are witness to joy and heartbreak, tenderness and animosity. Elise and Didier, brought together by an unexpected pregnancy, ultimately break apart, unable to reconcile the circumstance of their daughter's death. Unwilling to accept Maybelle's passing, Elise holds out hope in spiritual sources, believing Maybelle may be reincarnated as a small bird. Didier's torment is political, as he rages against Bush Jr.s vetoing of a bill to approve stem-cell research, blaming the religious right for the inability to save Maybelle's life. Soon, he transfers this anger onto Elise, viewing her belief in reincarnation as a similar type of religious fanaticism. They split apart, Elise ultimately taking her own life. Finally, in the wake of tragedy, Didier relents and accepts Elise's view of the afterlife, affirming her right to belief.

The Broken Circle Breakdown, a nominee for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 2013, is a finely constructed, if somewhat derivative, realist film. The film works for its fine craftsmanship and the excellent leading performances of Johan Heldenbergh (who also co-wrote the play on which the film is based) and Veerle Baetens. Heldenbergh and Baetens deliver authentic, understated performances; Heldenbergh in particular bringing a stunning kind of sensitivity to his role (made more impressive for its contrast to his large, lank appearance). The intimate believability of Elise and Didier's relationship creates the necessary height from which to affect a crushing fall when they are torn apart.

Despite the film's quality construction and the excellent work of Baetens and Heldenbergh, The Broken Circle Breakdown suffers from a feeling of cinematic deja vu. At various times it felt the film was simply re-hashing the essence of several zeitgeist-y films of the past decade. The most obvious touchstone is 2010's excellent Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams drama, Blue Valentine. Similarly paralleling the formation and dissolution of a young couple's relationship, Blue Valentine evokes the same tone of painful nostalgia, contrasting the thrill and joy of new love, with the dull pain of experience, tragedy, and time. The Tree of Life is another film that comes to mind when watching The Broken Circle Breakdown. The central conceit of a child's death, and the catastrophic effect this has on families and individuals, ties both of these films together, as does their dreamy, naturalistic style. The connection to these films is not damning in and of itself, many films share thematic or stylistic parallels, however it spoke to me of a lack of innovation, a sense that this film, so enchanting in the first half, kind of runs out of steam as it approaches the finish line. The beginning of this film felt genuinely fresh; interesting characters, an interesting world, and, with the sickness of their daughter, an interesting conundrum. However, when the daughter reaches her terminal point (about mid-way through the film), the film seemed to deflate slightly, lowering itself to the somewhat predictable tragedy in the end. It may be that the daughter's death occurs, for me, too soon - resolving a central issue ( if not THE central issue) with half the film yet to happen. The first half succeeds for the tension between the unbridled passion of the beginning of their relationship, and the happiness they feel with the birth of the daughter, contrasted with the horror and uncertainty at watching a young child become more and more sick. The daughter's death never seemed like a foregone conclusion, yet when it does happen, the rest of the film kind of seemed destined for the same predictable type of outcome. Nevertheless, despite feeling like there were some scriptural issues, The Broken Circle Breakdown is a high quality film, worthy of viewing. It forms, with the films if references (knowingly or not), a modern school of hyper-realist drama and, if not quite up to the snuff of Blue Valentine or Tree of Life, is at least a slightly lesser talented peer.

Driller Killer (1979)

Abel Ferrara week continues at tedsmovies.blogspot (more to come!) with the infamous New York art-sleaze director's 1979 debut, the aptly titled Driller Killer. This low-budget exploitation film follows struggling artist Reno Miller (played by a loathsome, swaggering Ferrara) as he descends into madness, spurred on by his annoying girlfriends, the obnoxious punk band next door, and some bad vibes from an old dude in a church that kisses his hand (hey, I can relate). Reno decides to vent his anger in the most logical fashion, by murdering members of New York's homeless population with a power drill. Reno soon becomes obsessed with "killing" with a "drill," eventually offing most of the rest of the cast. The end.

Driller Killer, while not a perfect, or even coherent, or even very watchable, film, remains, I assume, required viewing for fans of Ferrara's work. While extremely rough, Driller Killer provides glimpses of the glossy aesthetic of sleaze Ferrara would perfect in his later work. Driller Killer moves with a lunatic rhythm; it is fast, choppy, and loose, with raw, barely audible performances and sketchy plot machination. At best, Driller Killer is an idiot savante horror, at worst, a bad art school experiment. The film toes the line drunkenly, providing just enough exposition to remain in the category of narrative film, while interpolating bizarre, disparate imagery with little context. Without Ferrara's later work to validate his genius, Driller Killer would likely be unredeemable smut, however, in lieu of his later accomplishments, it can be enjoyed as the zany breeding ground of a singular gutter auteur.

This film is worth watching if for no other reason, than to watch Ferrara create a fairly developed model for Vincent Gallo's later Billy Brown. Ferrara's Reno Miller sounds, and looks, exceedingly similar to Gallo's neurotic, aggravating Brown, and was no doubt a large influence on Gallo's strange aesthetic. Ferrara's performance, though rough, contains a certain brutal charm, perhaps best personified by the scene in which he devours an extra-large pizza single-handedly (apparently murdering people with a drill has given him an insatiable appetite). It is a wonder to watch the gangly Ferrara stuff massive pizza slice after massive pizza slice into his gaunt head, a feat he does with enough relish and aplomb to convince us that perhaps he is eating these slices, and not just "acting."

One thing that astounded me about Driller Killer is the quantum leap in quality between it and Ferrara's next film, the much more focused Ms. 45. While Ms. 45 is no doubt a more professional production, it is impressive to see how fast Ferrara refined and controlled the raw skills displayed in Driller Killer.