I have to admit that I kind of forgot about The Snowman. Based on a best-selling novel and directed by Tomas Alfredson, The Snowman was one of those films that I was excited about in January but then, somehow, it continually slipped my mind that it would be coming out later this year.
Luckily, on July 19th, this trailer was released and it reminded me of The Snowman‘s existence! Thank you, trailer!
A serial killer drama, The Snowman stars an appropriately haunted-looking Michael Fassbender. It is scheduled to be released on October 20th, just in time to freak everyone out for Halloween!
Well, look, I’m just going to admit it. I failed you last month. Usually, I try to keep this site up to date with all the best trailers. However, last month, I got very busy with another one of my summer projects and, unfortunately, I ended up running behind on keeping up with all the latest trailers and teasers.
So, if you’ll indulge me a little, I’m going to try to get caught up. Admittedly, some of the trailers that I’m going to share today are going to be old news. But I still want to share them because they’re films that we’re excited about here at the Shattered Lens.
And who knows? Maybe I’m not the only one who had a busy July. Maybe you missed some of these trailers as well.
For instance, check out this teaser for James Franco’s latest film, The Disaster Artist. Now, if you’re like me and you love getting together with friends and tossing around plastic spoons while watching Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, then you can’t wait for the chance to see The Disaster Artist. Telling the true story of Greg Sestero’s friendship with Wiseau and his involvement in the production of The Room, The Disaster Artist was one of the best books of 2014. Rumor has it that The Disaster Artist is also one of the best films of 2017.
If nothing else, James Franco is getting Oscar buzz. If James Franco wins an Oscar for playing Tommy Wiseau, my life will be complete. If it happens, I might even take a year off so that I can bask in the glories of fate.
The teaser below features the filming of one of The Room‘s best-known scenes:
The 1988 film, Patty Hearst, is based on a fascinating true story.
In 1974, newspaper heiress Patty Hearst was a 19 year-old student at Berkeley who was kidnapped from her apartment by a group of self-styled leftist revolutionaries known as the Symbionese Liberation Army (SLA). The SLA was led by a charismatic escaped prisoner who called himself Field Marshal Cinque and who announced — via messages that Hearst read into a tape recorder — that Hearst was being held hostage in the name of social justice. The police and FBI spent several months unsuccessfully searching for Hearst until one day, the SLA released an audio tape in which Hearst announced that she had now joined the SLA and would now be known as Tania. Hearst was soon robbing banks and went from being a hostage to a wanted criminal. When she was arrested in 1975, Hearst claimed to have been brainwashed by the SLA and people still debate whether she was a sincere revolutionary, a calculating criminal, or a victim.
(From what I’ve read about the Hearst kidnapping, I guess the modern day equivalent would be if Kendall Jenner disappeared and then resurfaced in Portland, setting cars on fire with Antifa.)
What can said for sure is that, after being arrested and convicted of bank robbery, Patty Hearst was sentenced to 7 years in prison. Hearst served less than three years before her sentence was commuted by President Jimmy Carter. Twenty years later, another President — Bill Clinton — gave her a full pardon. Needless to say, the rest of the SLA did not receive a pardon or, for that matter, even a commutation. The majority of them, including Field Marshal Cinque, died in a fiery explosion that came at the climax of a gun battle with police. The rest were arrested, convicted, and ended up serving their full sentences. Of course, while the majority of the SLA came from middle and upper middle class backgrounds, only one of them was the heir to a fortune. When she was arrested, Patty may have given her career as being an “urban guerilla,” but ultimately, she was the granddaughter of William Randolph Hearst.
(Regardless of whether you believe Patty Hearst was brainwashed or not, it’s an undeniable fact that it’s easier to be a revolutionary when you know you won’t face any serious consequences if the revolution eventually fails. If the members of the SLA were around today, they could just spend their time on twitter, retweeting John Fugelsang’s thoughts on Jesus. But, in 1974, there was no twitter…)
Based on Every Secret Thing, Hearst’s own account of her kidnapping and subsequent life as a fugitive, Patty Hearst opens with the heiress (played by Natasha Richardson) being kidnapped and held prisoner by the SLA. For the first fourth of the film, we see everything exclusively through Patty’s eyes. She spends her days locked in a dark closet that’s so tiny that she can barely stand. Whenever the door is opened, shafts a bright light flood both the closet and the screen, blinding not only Patty but the audience as well. At first, Patty cannot even see the faces of the people who have kidnapped her. All she knows are their voices. Whenever that door opens, neither Patty nor the viewer knows whether she’s going to fed, berated, comforted, or raped. All four of them happen to her, several times over the course of her time in that closet. It’s harrowing to watch, all the more so because Natasha Richardson gives such an empathetic and bravely vulnerable performance as Patty. When Patty is finally allowed to leave that closet, the audience is almost thankful as she is. And, when Patty gets out of the closet, the look of the film changes as well. It goes from being darkly lit to almost garishly colorful. Patty’s entire world has changed.
The first part of the film is so powerful that it’s not surprising that the rest of Patty Hearst suffers by comparison. Once Patty gets out of the closet and declares her allegiance to the revolution, she becomes a bit of a dead-eyed zombie and the focus naturally shifts to the rest of the SLA. Ving Rhames gives a powerful performance as Cinque, the head of the SLA. Cinque may be a passionate revolutionary but he also has a dangerous messianic streak. Even worse, the film suggests, is Cinque’s lieutenant, Teko (William Forsythe). Teko claims to be a revolutionary but ultimately reveals himself to be as much of a misogynist as those who he claims to oppose. (Today, Teko would probably be one of those guys arguing that it’s okay for him to use the C word because he’s an “ally.”) Whereas Cinque has no doubt about his revolutionary commitment, Teko always seem to be trying to prove something to everyone, especially himself.
Ultimately, Patty becomes almost a bystander to her own story. For a time, she is the most famous bystander in the country. Though the film is sympathetic to Patty, Natasha Richardson plays her with just a hint of ambiguity. Ultimately, Patty comes across as someone desperately searching for an identity. Since she is not sure who she ultimately is, it’s easy for Patty to become an “urban guerilla” and it’s just as easy for to her go back to being an heiress. By the end of the film, it’s obvious that Patty is just as confused by her life as everyone else.
Patty Hearst was directed by Paul Schrader, who is best known for writing the scripts for such films as Taxi Driver and Rolling Thunder. (Among Schrader’s other directorial credits: Blue Collar, Hardcore, American Gigolo,Cat People, and The Canyons. Needless to say, he’s had an interesting career.) In many ways, Patty Hearst is probably more relevant today than it was first released. Considering that our culture is currently dominated by people pretending to be revolutionaries and celebrities famous solely for being famous, Patty Hearst feels rather prophetic.
Watching this film and experiencing Patty’s transformation from vapid heiress to brainwashed political activist to briefly notorious celebrity, I realized that we now live in a world of Patty Hearsts.
Occasionally, if you’re lucky, you come across a film that so totally and completely conforms to your own worldview that you’re forced to wonder if maybe you wrote the script and then somehow forgot about it.
That was certainly the case, for me, when I recently watched 2008’s Boot Camp, a teen melodrama with an anti-authoritarian subtext. Check out the trailer:
In Boot Camp, Mila Kunis plays Sophie. Sophie is rich and, in the eyes of her parents, out of control. She talks back. She sneaks out of the house. She hangs out at all the wrong clubs and with all the wrong people. You know the story. We’ve all seen the talk shows. Sophie’s parents are convinced that the only way that they can get Sophie under control is to exile her to what the film calls a “tough love boot camp.”
The boot camp is located on an island, just a few miles away from a luxurious resort. From the minute Sophie arrives, she is told that escape is impossible and she can only leave after the facility’s founder, Dr. Arthur Hall (Peter Stomare), says that she can. Some people have been at the camp for years, waiting for Dr. Hall to announce that they’re rehabilitated.
The rest of the film follows Sophie and several other inmates as they try to survive boot camp without surrendering their free will. It’s not easy. Though he is more than happy to take their money, Dr. Hall resents the parents and his program is mostly designed to brainwash the inmates into thinking of him as being their new father figure. The camp is staffed with brutes, sadists, and rapists. When one inmate drowns, the staff tries to cover up his death. Eventually, like the inhabitants of the Island of Dr. Moreau, Sophie and the other inmates have no choice but to rise up in rebellion against their masters.
“Tough love boot camps” are a real thing. They used to be hugely popular with daytime talk show audiences and I know that Dr. Phil still has a ranch to which he sends “out of control” teens. (I put “out of control” in quotes because, often times, it seems that “out of control” is code for “thinking for yourself.”) The idea is that rebellious teenagers are sent to the camp, where they get yelled at until they agree to stop being so rebellious. Over the years, there’s been a lot of debate over whether boot camps actually work. If I had been sent to a boot camp, I think I would have just lied about my feelings and put on a repentant good girl act just to get the yelling to stop. I’d be perfectly humble and contrite for three months and then, as soon as I got out of the camp, I’d go back to sneaking out of the house, skipping school, shoplifting, doing drugs, and whatever else got me sent to the camp in the first place. From what I’ve seen of the whole boot camp experience, it seems to be more about brainwashing than anything else. What’s the point of having well-behaved children if they can’t think for themselves?
But, then again, boot camps have never really been about helping the teenagers sent to them. Instead, they’ve always been about making lousy parents feel better about themselves. Parents who have spent the last 14 years totally fucking up their children get to pat themselves on the back because they sent their kids to boot camp. Other adults, bitter over having lost their youth, get to say, “It’s time to teach those ungrateful children to respect authority.” As for the people who run the boot camps, it’s less about the inmates and more about power and money.
That’s certainly the message of Boot Camp. In fact, I was taken by surprise to discover just how much Boot Camp conformed to my own thinking on … well, on just about everything. Make no mistake, Boot Camp is a flawed film. There’s nothing subtle about Christian Duguay’s direction and, with the exception of Mila Kunis, none of the performances are as memorable as you might hope that they would be. Peter Stomare is way too obvious in his villainy, giving a performance that belongs in the Overacting Hall Of Fame. (You’ll find Stomare’s Dr. Hall in the villain wing, right next to Christoph Waltz in SPECTRE.)
But, even with all that in mind, it was impossible for me not to get excited when Sophie and her fellow out-of-control teens finally made their move against their tormentors. The final third of Boot Camp turns into a celebration of disobedience and rebellion and it was impossible for me not to be thrilled by it. Considering the increasingly Orwellian nature of American culture, we need more movies that celebrate revolution and individual freedom. At a time when we’re being told that we “have to do this” or “have to do that,” Boot Camp says, “Nobody has to do anything, beyond what they choose.”
It’s an important message and one that people need to start heeding.
Yesterday, after it was announced that actor John Heard had been found dead in a Palo Alto hotel room, I lost track of how many people declared that Cutter’s Way, a 1981 film in which Heard co-starred with Jeff Bridges, was one of their favorite movies of all time. (That includes quite a few people who write for this very site.) In fact, people were so enthusiastic about Cutter’s Way that I quickly decided that this was a film that I needed to watch for myself. So, last night, after watching All About Eve on TCM and My Science Project with the Late Night Movie Gang, I curled up on the couch and I watched Cutter’s Way.
Technically, Cutter’s Way is a murder mystery but it’s actually a lot more. In the grand noir tradition, the mystery is less important than the milieu in which it occurs. Cutter’s Way takes place in Santa Barbara, California, which the film presents as being a microcosm of America. It’s place where the rich are extremely rich and the poor are pushed to the side and expected not to complain. The Santa Barbara of Cutter’s Way is controlled by new money and haunted by old sins. It’s a world that is perfectly captured, by director Ivan Passer and cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth, in the film’s haunting opening scene:
John Heard plays Alex Cutter. Years ago, Cutter served in Vietnam and returned with one less eye, one less arm, and one less leg. An angry alcoholic, the type who always looks like he’s in desperate need of a shower and a shave, Cutter exists on the fringes of society. Like many alcoholics, Cutter is a master manipulator. When he has to, he can turn on the charm. When the police are called after a drunken Cutter purposefully destroys his neighbor’s car, we suddenly see a totally different Alex Cutter. He’s polite and apologetic, explaining that he was merely swerving to avoid something in the road and, by the way, he served his country in Vietnam. As soon as the police leave, the real Cutter comes out. He gets his bottle and starts to rant about how much the world owes him. Watching the film, you find yourself understanding why some people might want to push this one-legged, one-armed, one-eyed veteran down a flight of stairs, that’s how obnoxious Alex Cutter can be.
And yet, there are people who love Alex Cutter. There’s his long-suffering wife, Mo (Lisa Eichhorn). Mo lives in squalor with Cutter, taking care of him and putting up with his bitterness. There’s the local bar owner, who could probably put his kids through college on Cutter’s bar tab. (He even drives Cutter home in the morning, after everyone else has deserted him.) And finally, there’s Richard Bone (Jeff Bridges).
Bone is Cutter’s best friend. Whereas Cutter is perpetually pissed off, Bone is almost always laid back. Whereas Cutter feels that everything is his business, Bone prefers to remain detached from the world. Mention is made of Bone being a graduate of the Ivy League but he spends most of his time giving tennis lessons and sleeping with wealthy women. Bone takes care of Cutter, though their friendship is occasionally hard to figure out. Why does Bone stick with Cutter despite all of Cutter’s abuse? Perhaps Bone feels guilty because he avoided being drafted while Cutter lost half of his limbs in Vietnam. Or maybe it’s because Bone is in love with Mo.
One night, when Bone is leaving a hotel, he sees a man in an alley. The man appears to be hiding something in a dumpster. Later, when the body of a woman is found in that same dumpster, Bone realizes that he probably saw the murderer. Even more so, Bone thinks that the man resembled J.J. Cord (Stephen Elliott), one of the richest men in Santa Barbara.
Bone, however, isn’t sure that Cord’s the murderer. Even more so, even if Cord was the murderer, Bone prefers to not get involved. However, Cutter is sure that Cord’s the killer. To Cutter, it makes perfect sense. If men like Cord were willing to send boys to Vietnam and then refuse to take care of them when they returned both physically and mentally maimed by the experience, then why wouldn’t they also think that they could get away with murdering some hitchhiker?
Soon, Cutter has met the dead girl’s sister, Valerie (Ann Dusenberry). Cutter says that his plan is to blackmail Cord. He badgers the reluctant Bone into working with him. It quickly becomes obvious, however, that Cutter is after more than money. He is obsessed with proving that this rich and powerful man is a murderer. And he’s not going to let anyone stand in his way. Not even a stuffed animal:
As I said, Cutter’s Way is about much more than just a murder. It’s a film about class differences, with even the otherwise slick Bone discovering how difficult it is to infiltrate Cord’s wealthy world. It’s a film about disillusionment, cynicism, and the fleeting promise of happiness. As angry as Cutter is, he still ultimately possesses the idealism that both Bone and Mo have lost. He still believes in right and wrong. While that angry idealism may make Cutter a pain in the ass, it’s also his redeeming feature. As the youngest of them, Valerie is still an optimist but she is also the least prepared to deal with the sordid reality of the world around her. Bone and Mo, meanwhile, both appear to have surrendered their belief that the world can be and should be a better place. Ultimately, Cutter’s Way is a film that forces you to consider what you would do if you were in the same situation. Cutter’s Way is not a great title, largely because it makes the film sound like a CW western, but it’s an appropriate one. The entire film is about Cutter’s way of viewing the world and whether or not Bone will follow Cutter or if he’ll continue to refuse to get involved.
(The novel that the film’s based on was called Cutter and Bone. According to Wikipedia, the title was changed because audiences thought the movie was a comedy about surgeons.)
I have to agree with those who have called Cutter’s Way a great film. Not only is it gorgeous to look at but it’s one of the best acted films that I’ve ever seen, from the stars all the way down to the most minor of roles. John Heard dominates the film, giving a performance of almost demonic energy but he’s perfectly matched by Jeff Bridges. Bridges, back in his incredibly handsome younger days, gives a subtle and powerful performance as a man struggling with his conscience. In the role of J.J. Cord, Stephen Elliott doesn’t get much screen time but he makes the most of it. When he first see him, he’s riding a white horse and rather haughtily looking down on the world around him. When he last see him, he delivers a line of such incredible arrogance that it literally left me stunned. Though, when compared to Bridges and Heard, their roles are underwritten, both Lisa Eichhorn and Ann Dusenberry more than hold their own, providing able and poignant support.
Cutter’s Way is a great film and one that everyone should watch if they haven’t.
With each passing month, the Oscar race becomes just a little bit clearer. We are still a few months away from the true Oscar season but a few contenders have emerged.
My predictions are below. Previously, my predictions were all based on wishful thinking and instinct. Well, there’s still a lot of wishful thinking to be found below but, at the same time, the festival season is providing a guide and there are some early reviews that have started to come in. I’ve never been a 100% correct in my predictions and I doubt this year is going to be any different. (For one thing, I always predict 10 best picture nominees, even though that’s close to being a mathematical impossibility under the current Academy rules.)
One final note: Some day, the Academy will get over their resistance to Netflix and streaming. I don’t think that’s going to happen this year, though. I kept that in mind while considering the chances of such heavily hyped (and, for that matter, less heavily hyped) contenders as Mudbound and The Meyerowitz Stories.
Anyway, here are my predictions for July! Be sure to check out my predictions for January, February, March,April, May, and June as well!
Why, on June 3rd, did Billie Joe McAllister jump off of the Tallahatchie Bridge in Mississippi?
That was the question that was asked in Ode to Billie Joe, a 1967 country song by Bobbie Gentry. In the song, the details were deliberately left inconclusive. Why did Billie Joe commit suicide? No one knows. All they know is that he was a good worker at the sawmill and, the weekend before jumping, he was seen standing on the bridge with a teenage girl and apparently, they dropped something down into the river below. The song suggests that the girl and the narrator are one in the same but even that is left somewhat vague.
Ode to Billie Joe was a hit when it was first released, largely because it’s story could be interpreted in so many different ways. Why did Billie Joe kill himself? Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be drafted. Maybe it was because he and his girlfriend had killed their baby and tossed it off the bridge. Maybe it was because he was hooked on Dexedrine and his doctor wasn’t available to renew his prescription. It could be any reason that you wanted it to be.
However, in 1976, when Ode to Billie Joe was turned into a movie, ambiguity would not do. As opposed to the song, Ode To Billy Joe had to answer the question as to why Billy Joe jumped into that river. In the movie, 18 year-old Billy Joe (Robby Benson) works at the sawmill and spends his time courting 15 year-old Bobbie Lee Hartley (Glynnis O’Connor). Bobbie Lee’s father (Sandy McPeak) says that she’s too young to have a “gentleman caller,” even though Bobbie Lee insists that she’s “15 going on 34 … B cup!” Bobbie Lee warns Billy Joe that her father is liable to shoot his ears off but Billy Joe insists that he doesn’t need ears because he’s in love with her. That’s kind of a sweet sentiment, even though I don’t think Billy Joe would look that good without ears.
(Whenever I complain about how Southerners in the movies always seem to have two first names, my sister Erin replies, “Yeah, that’s really annoying, Lisa Marie.” So, I won’t make a big deal about it this time…)
One night, Billy Joe and his friends go out and Billy Joe ends up getting drunk. He disappears for several days and when he shows up again, something has definitely changed. After unsuccessfully trying to make love to Bobbie Lee, Billy Joe tells her what happened that night he got drunk. Billy Joe had sex with a man, something that he has been raised to view as being the ultimate sin. When Billy Joe is later pulled out of the river, the entire town wonders why he jumped off the bridge and how Bobbie Lee was involved…
Ode to Billy Joe, which aired last Tuesday on TCM, is a better-than-average film, one that I was surprised to have never come across in the past. That doesn’t mean that it’s a perfect movie. Robby Benson, in the role of Billy Joe, gives an absolutely terrible performance. You can tell that Benson was trying really hard to do a good job but, often, he goes totally overboard, making scenes that should be poignant feel melodramatic. Though it probably has more to do with when the film was made than anything else, the film is also vague about Billy Joe’s sexuality. Is Billy Joe in denial about his identity? Is he deeply closeted or was he in such a drunken stupor that he was taken advantage of? Ode to Billy Joe does not seem to be sure. By committing suicide, Billy Joe joins the ranks of gay movie characters who would rather die than accept their sexuality. Obviously, he had to jump off that bridge because that’s what the song said he did but there’s a part of me that wishes the movie had featured someone commenting that they never actually found Billy Joe’s body and then the final scene could have taken place 16 years later, with Bobbie Lee living as a hippie in San Francisco and just happening to spot Billy Joe walking down the street, hand-in-hand with his boyfriend.
Here’s what does work about the movie. Glynnis O’Connor gives a great and empathetic performance as Bobbie Lee. The scenes with her father and her mother (played by Joan Hotchkis) have a very poignant and wonderful realness to them. Though I’ll always be a city girl at heart (well, okay — a suburb girl), I spent some time in the country when I was growing up. And while I was never quite as isolated as Bobbie Lee (who lives in a house with no electricity or plumbing) and the film took place in the past, I could still relate to many of Bobbie Lee’s experiences. The film may have been made in 1976 and set in 1952 but life in the country hasn’t changed that much.
For instance, there’s this great scene where Bobbie Lee’s father is trying to drive across the bridge. The only problem is that there’s a bunch of drunk shitkickers on the bridge, sitting in their pickup truck and blocking his way. It’s a very tense scene, one that I found difficult to watch because, when I was growing up in Arkansas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, and South Texas, I saw the exact same thing happen more times than I care to admit. In the country, no one backs down. Scenes like that elevated Ode To Billy Joe to being something more than just another movie based on a song.
Finally, there’s a beautiful scene towards the end of the film, between Bobbie Lee and a character played by an actor named James Best. I won’t spoil the scene but it’s a master class in great acting. (Best also played one of the sadistic villains in Rolling Thunder, another good 70s film about life and death in the country.)
Though I wasn’t expecting much from it, Ode to Billy Joe was a pleasant surprise. It’s not perfect but it’s still worth watching.
What’s an Insomnia File? You know how some times you just can’t get any sleep and, at about three in the morning, you’ll find yourself watching whatever you can find on cable? This feature is all about those insomnia-inspired discoveries!
If you were having trouble sleeping last Tuesday, around one in the morning, you could have turned over to TCM and watched Remember My Name, an odd and sometimes frustrating little thriller from 1978.
Remember My Name opens with Emily (Geraldine Chaplin) showing up in a small town in California. From the minute we first see and hear Emily, something seems to be off about her. She views the world through suspicious eyes. Whenever anyone talks to her, you’re never quite sure whether she’s going be friendly or if she’s going to lash out. When she speaks, there’s something weird about her vocal inflection, as if she’s always struggling to figure out what she’s supposed to say. She seems to be separated from the world, almost as if she’s walking through a living dream and only talking to figments of her imagination. There’s nothing about her that feels at all authentic.
She moves into a small apartment and enters into a relationship with her handyman (Moses Gunn), a relationship that seems to be largely defined by her refusal to open up about herself. She gets a job at a grocery story that’s managed by a Mr. Nudd (Jeff Goldblum). Mr. Nudd mentions something about Emily knowing his mother. Apparently, they met in prison.
Soon, Emily is stalking a construction worker named Neil Curry (Anthony Perkins). When Neil spots her, he calls out her name and Emily runs away. And yet, Neil doesn’t bother to tell his wife, Barbara (Berry Berenson), about Emily. Soon, Emily is even breaking into the Curry home, silently shadowing Barbara as she walks through the house.
I described Remember My Name as being a thriller and I guess that, technically it is. There are a few moments of tension, especially when Emily is stalking Barbara. However, the film itself is directed in a detached manner by Alan Rudolph. Rudolph was a protegé of director Robert Altman (who also produced Remember My Name) and Rudolph’s approach is very Altmanesque, often to the detriment of the film. (Chaplin and Jeff Goldblum had both appeared in several Altman films, most famously in Nashville.) Though the film is dominated by Chaplin and Perkins, it’s still very much an ensemble film and the action plays out in a deceptively casual, almost random manner. It tries so hard to be Altmanesque that Remember My Name gets a bit frustrating, to be honest. Chaplin gives such a good and memorable performance and she works very hard to make Emily a character who is both frightening and, at times, surprisingly sympathetic but, for the most part, Rudolph’s technique makes it difficult to get emotionally involved in any of the action unfolding on-screen. Rudolph observes the action but refuses to comment on it. As a result, Remember My Name is occasionally intriguing but, just as often, it’s rather boring. Just like real life, I suppose. And, just like real life, it’s not for everyone.
That said, it was interesting to see Anthony Perkins playing a role other than a knife-wielding inn manager. Without resorting to any of the familiar tics or the neurotic speech patterns that typecast him forever as Norman Bates, Perkins plays Neil as just being a regular, blue collar guy and he actually does a pretty good job. Watching the film, I got the feeling that this was perhaps Perkins’s attempt to change his image. (Whenever Neil appears shirtless, both the film and Perkins seem to be saying, Check out this physique! Would someone only capable of playing a psycho have abs like this?) Neil’s wife, Barbara, was played Perkins’s wife, Berry Berenson. Neither one of them is with us any longer. Perkins died of AIDS in 1990 while Berry Berenson was on one of the planes that flew into the World Trade Center on 9-11. They both did good work in this film, as did Chaplin and Goldblum and, really, the entire cast. It’s just a pity that the film itself isn’t as good as the performances.
I always enjoy watching and reviewing short films.
The short film format challenges both the filmmaker and the viewer. For the filmmaker, the challenge is to take the audience on a full cinematic journey in a limited amount of time. It’s one thing when you have two hours to tell a story, it’s something entirely different when you’ve only got 15 minutes. As a result, the visuals and the acting become even more important. You can’t have one wasted shot or one performance that feels out-of-place. For the viewer (and the reviewer, for that matter), the challenge is to relearn how to watch a movie. Short films force you to pay attention to every single detail because, often times, it’s only through catching those details that you’ll be able to understand what you’ve just seen. In short films, there’s no time for the director or screenwriter to come back, take you by the hand, and say, “This is what it all means.” Instead, it’s up to you to figure it out. I love a challenge and that’s why I always appreciate and enjoy the chance to watch and review a short film.
For instance, I recently had a chance to watch Girl and a Scar, a 15-minute film from moviemaker David Cave. It’s a challenging film, one that is full of surreal imagery and haunting atmosphere. While the ever-present wind howls on the soundtrack, we find ourselves looking at an isolated house, one that would not be out-of-place in a Jean Rollin vampire film. Inside the house, the Girl (Ileana Cardy) cuts herself with a razor blade. Throughout the movie, the wound grows, almost as if it has a mind of its own. We see the Girl outside, standing in front of what appears to be an industrial park and watching as a young man walks away from her and then as a man in a … well, I’m not going to spoil the details. Let’s just say that she’s approached by a man in a very memorable costume. In between the scenes of the Girl walking along the beach and stumbling through her isolated home, there are snippets of animation. We see the girl in the forest, a cartoon that is occasionally eating and occasionally throwing up. Connecting it all is the sound of that howling wind and that ever-growing wound on the Girl’s stomach.
The imagery is frequently shocking and disturbing and yet, because Cave does such a good job framing his images and maintaining the film’s atmosphere, the film is always watchable. It helps that Ileana Cardy, though having no dialogue, gives a good and empathetic performance as the Girl. You may not always understand what is happening to here but you want to understand and that’s the important thing. From the minute it opens, Girl and a Scar invites you to investigate and try to solve its mysteries. With the mix of body horror and animation, Girl and a Scar at times feels like a fairy tale told by David Cronenberg.
Short films are not necessarily easy to track down but I do recommend making the effort. Hopefully, this one will soon start making the festival circuit.
