Go And See Looper!

Hey, go and see Looper.

I mean it: Go and see Looper.

You might not enjoy it. You might even hate it. In fact, so many good things have been said about it by so many reliable outlets of wisdom that by now it's almost certain that, at the very least, you'll be disappointed.

If it was doomed upon being declared “this century's Matrix”, that it's now drinking from the poisoned chalice that is the IMDB number one spot I know to be enough for it to be outright blacklisted in the eyes of many.

But never mind. Go and see Looper. If you have any respect for cinema, go and see Looper.

Why? Because Looper is not a sequel. Nor is it a remake. It's not even an adaptation of an existing and already-popular franchise.

It's directed by the same person who wrote it. At no point does it feel like this film was designed to make money. Rather, it feels like it was made because a group of people wanted to tell a story.

More than that, though. They also wanted you to be entertained and to entertain some deep-seated notions concerning cause and effect; Machiavellian politics and telekinesis; selflessness vs. the self. They wanted to excite and enthrall; to move you with their liquid mind bullets squirted directly into the eye.

And, as far as I'm concerned, they succeeded on every count.

You might disagree. And if you did, ace! Let's have a conversation.

The important thing is that this film gets watched and that it gets watched at the cinema.

Because the more this film is watched, the harder it will be for those who sign the cheques to ignore some beautiful truths:

That people will still go and see something daring and unprecedented.

That something doesn't have to be safe and reliable in order to turn a profit.

I really enjoyed Looper. However, I am willing to attribute a large portion of my enjoyment to the feeling I had throughout – that films like this don't come along as often as they should.

Would that they did! Would that they did.

And that's why you should go and see Looper.

Blood - Original Soundtrack

Must be the season of the witch!

As is common on blogs with black backgrounds and ghostly headers, throughout October you can expect all manner of spooky Hallowe'en related posting round these parts.

Specifically, I intend to share such music as never fails to give me the willies.

To begin with, here's a dark ambient classic that, were it made by the likes of Sunn O))) or Deathprod, would almost certainly be hailed as a harrowing masterpiece by those who care about this sort of thing.

But there doesn't seem to be a lot of crossover when it comes to those who love video games and those who love music. As a result, this particular unnerving masterpiece, has, I fear, been denied  the respect it deserves.

I've mentioned Blood before when talking about those horrible things that make me feel unaccountably Christmassy. It's a horror-themed PC FPS released in 1997. I'm not sure how the game fared when first released, but the game has such a huge cult following that it even has it's own Wiki. To this day, fans even create their own levels based upon their favourite horror films.

It is perhaps of no surprise that such a finely crafted and enduringly popular game should feature a strong accompanying soundtrack. Regardless of their opinion on video games, I would not hesitate to recommend that anybody with an interest in experimental or atmospheric music give this a listen.

The work of one Daniel Bernstein, it plays with numerous tones, textures and genres throughout its 33 minute runtime. Its mood, though, never shifts from one of sustained and delicious dread.
 

Admittedly, if experienced in the cold light of day, a lot of this might come across as quite cheesy. But if it's dark and you're alone and the walls are bleeding, this listening experience can be a thrilling exercise in unremitting terror.

Reminiscent of John Carpenter's synthwork, when you consider that the creepy-crawly opener Cryptic Passage is easily the brightest little ditty on here, you know you're in for a rough ride.

Elsewhere, songs like Unholy Voices and Dark Carnival sound every bit as sinister as their names suggest. The former is somewhat similar to Martin Grech's more godless moments; whilst the latter – with its demented clown laughter and sampled carny cries – wouldn't sound out of place on a particularly horrible Residents album.

The rest is a gloomy soundscape of distant nursery rhymes, harrowing synthetic orchestration and unearthly cultish intonations. In fact, a lot of the time this sounds like a precursor to Mike Patton's Delerium Cordia. Did he ever play Blood? It wouldn't surprise me.

Oh, and speaking of surprises, if you wish for an evening of godless chills, there might be something special waiting for you in the comments section.

Baby Blood (1990)

Baby Blood – otherwise known as The Evil Within – was shown as part of The Horror Channel's World Cinema season.

I do believe that it's the first time I've ever seen a French horror film. I'd quite like to see some more! Infused with a dynamic verve all-too-rare in this genre, I rather hope that Baby Blood is a typical – perhaps even “tame” - example of the French horror genre. If so, I would very much like for some kind of expert to give me a list of suggested viewing, as I feel I'm in for a treat. If not – well – Baby Blood was fantastic.

Particular kudos is to be reserved for The Horror Channel for broadcasting the original uncut French version. I've been reading about the dubbed American version. Whilst it features the voice talents of Gary Oldman, by the sounds of it, the cuts effected were so brutal as to have rendered the film unwatchable. It seems that some scenes were spliced mercilessly; their butchered footage spliced willy-nilly into that which remained; with chronology often completely and inexplicably ignored. Having not seen said version, I have no right to describe it as “a mess” or “a shambles”, but I'm ever so grateful to have viewed Baby Blood as it was intended to be viewed.

The plot involves the beautiful and distant Yanka. She lives with her abusive husband in a small caravan and performs as part of a circus's lion-taming.

The circus receives a delivery of a new leopard, who unexpectedly implodes during the night. This is because it was infected with a slimy snake-like parasite, which proceeds to slither into the uterus of the sleeping Yanka.

Yanka is immediately impregnated by this alien parasite which might well be as old as time itself. Wise and sentient even in the womb, it is later revealed that it is part of the advanced race destined to rule the world in humanities stead some five million years down the line. Indeed, the only thing holding it back is the fact that it's never had a proper birth, meaning that it's never been allowed to properly evolve.

In Yanka, however, it finds the perfect host. She's lonely and vulnerable and therefore in a perfect position to be manipulated to this parasite's own devious ends. It needs human blood to survive. It doesn't take much to convince Yanka to carry out the necessary atrocities to satisfy her parasite's blood-lust.

The result is engrossing and tragic. The violence is so over-the-top as to sometimes appear farcical, yet this somehow never distracts from the film's overall gravitas. Yanka can hear her parasite at all times, and it speaks with a disturbing babyish growl on various aspects of the human condition. The result is a film highly reminiscent of Peter Jackson's early work, except with French political musings in the place of Kiwi humour.

It's always very late at night when I watch these films, so I'm always in quite a hazy and suggestive frame of mind. I don't doubt that Baby Blood might appear comparatively underwhelming on a repeat viewing. However, it's been so long since I've been so impressed by any horror film that I'm more than willing to give it the benefit of the doubt and grant it entry into the pantheon of films that demonstrate how these things should be done.

Critters 4 (1992)

Critters 4. This time, they're in space!

It picks up exactly where Critters 3 left off. That's to say that the closing scene from Critters 3 forms the introduction to Critters 4. Expert Crite-killer Charlie McFadden is about to destroy the final remaining Crite eggs when he's informed that destroying them would be unethical. Crites are now an endangered species and must be protected.

Unfortunately, whilst placing the eggs into stasis, Charlie is accidentally frozen himself. He spends the next few decades floating in space, only to be picked up by a salvage ship in the year 2045.

The crew of this ship are so similar to the inhabitants of the apartment block in Critters 3 that it's almost as though these films are written according to a template. There's the sexy but powerful woman, the grizzly yet caring sort, the absolute bastard (who you just know is going to get chewed to death at some point) and the plucky young scamp.

Critters 3 will possibly never be forgotten because, in that film, Leonardo DiCaprio played the plucky young scamp role. Critters 4 has no such curiosity credentials, so as such will probably only ever be watched by those who love The Horror Channel, those who own box-sets and those who run blogs on which they write at length about every single film they watch.

It's a shame, really. Critters 4 isn't essential viewing by any means. It's not good, it's not bad, and it's not at all “so bad it's good”. It just is. It's fitting that it's set in space, as it sort of just floats by. Along the way, though, there's certainly some fun to be had.

Most of the action takes place in a decrepit space station controlled by an irritating computer called Angela. Angela works on the curious logic that she should simply do the opposite of whatever those who don't have security access might say. So, throughout the film, characters say things like “Angela, don't open the door,” only for said door to slide defiantly open. “Exactly like my ex-wife,” quips one character.

What I liked about Critters 4 is that it's of the “working guy sci-fi” genre. What's “working guy sci-fi”? Well, I just made it up. But consider the astronaut – he's of peak physical and mental fitness and has a haircut to which you could set your watch. He's a maths expert who spends the majority of his day doing sit-ups and the rest of his time eating puréed banana.

My favourite sci-fi, though, send the sort of people into space who you might otherwise have expected to find in a bar with a neon beer sign in the window. They have long hair, a few days worth of stubble and talk with their mouths full. I'm not talking about Armageddon, because that film's ridiculous. I'm talking about Dead Star, Ice Pirates, Silent Running and – if you want a British take on this sub-sub-genre – Red Dwarf.

The main reason I stuck with and – yes – rather enjoyed Critters 4 was that it made me wonder when we might really find such people crewing spaceships.

When will space be democratised? That's just one of the many important questions that Critters 4 dares to ask.

What is the point of a book?

Brooke laughed until she nearly choked. Then she said, the thing is, I can see the point of a joke, and I can see the point of a fact, but what is the point of a book, I mean the kinds that tell stories? If a story isn't a fact, but it is a made-up version of what happened...I mean, what is the point of it? Mr Garth leaned his head on the handlebars. Think how quiet a book is on a shelf, he said, just sitting there, unopened. Then think what happens when you open it.

• Ali Smith – There but for the

And you're a reader – clearly – here you are reading your book, which is what it was made for. It loves when you look, wakes when you look, and then it listens and then it speaks. It was built to welcome your attention and reciprocate with this: the sound it lifts inside you. It gives you the signs for the shapes of the names of the thoughts in your mouth and in your mind and this is where they sing, here at the point where you both meet.

• A. L. Kennedy – The Blue Book

When I open them, most of the books have the smell of an earlier time leaking out from between their pages – a special odour of the knowledge and emotions that for ages have been calmly resting between the covers. Breathing it in, I glance through a few pages before returning each book to its shelf...As I relax on the sofa and gaze around the room a thought hits me: this is exactly the place I've been looking for all my life.

• Haruki Murakami – Kafka On The Shore

L'anticristo (1974)

The Horror Channel (about which I just won't SHUT UP) are currently having a world cinema season. Every Friday night they're showing a horror film from somewhere that's not the UK or the US.

To promote this season of fine, fine broadcasting, they had an advert which did exactly what adverts are supposed to do: It battered the synapses into submission and made me determined to soak up every single minute of their quality programming in the coming weeks.

OK. So far I've watched one film. It entailed staying up really late, and then not ten minutes ago I find the exact film to be on Youtube in its entirety.

Had I known I could have watched it from the comfort of my own blog I may not have bothered.

But, in the immortal words of Uncle Bryn, there really is something about watching it live, isn't there?

L'anticristo is a bit like an Italian remake of The Exorcist. That's to say that it details the demonic possession of a young woman, only this time everybody's dressed beautifully and more people get naked. Also, there's a strange series of flashbacks to a previous life set during the inquisition threaded through the narrative.

In scope, then, L'anticristo is ostensibly much broader in scope than the film it so clearly wishes to be. On the whole, though, it's let down by some zero budget cut'n'paste effects and a general mood of over-the-top hamminess which serve to pull the wary viewer out of the otherwise nightmarish world so brilliantly realised when the film's on its best behaviour.

Ippolita is "she who becomes possessed". Or does she? She's partially paralysed, sexually frustrated, grieving for her dead mother and suffering through some kind of spiritual crisis. On one level it could be argued that we're not so much witnessing a possession here as a severe nervous breakdown. However, that would be to ignore the spectral hands Ippolita is able to summon from thin air; not to mention her ability to make love across the temporal divide with a goat-headed lover from her past life.

So, yes. If you're interested you can watch L'anticristo in its entirety on Youtube. I've embedded it below for your safety and convenience.

It's worth watching if you've a spare 1:51:50, if only for the pagan woodland orgy scene, in which everyone's painted to look like a corpse. That appears about 40 minutes into proceedings. I warn you, though – it looks utterly ridiculous when taken out of context.

Lawless (2012)

How lovely it was to go and see a film at the pictures that wasn't a superhero film.

I mean, don't get me wrong; whether it's dark and gritty or fun and colourful, I do enjoy a nice muscular heroic romp now and then – and my word, did that last sentence sound gay.

But still. It recently dawned on me that pretty much everything I leave the house to see these days seems to have been released either by Marvel or DC. That's possibly more a testament to the fact that I don't get out much than it is to the lack of imagination at the box office. But still.

How lovely it was to go and see a film at the pictures that wasn't a superhero film.

Lawless initially proclaims itself to be “based on a true story”. In actuality, it's an adaptation of a novelisation of a true story. As such, it's seeped in romantic myth and outlandish legend. And, seeing as said adaptation was effected by Mr. Nick Cave, it also happens to be dripping with blood, booze and cussing.

Can one drip with cuss? I suppose it depends upon the cuss in question. Some words are wetter than others.

Tom Hardy plays Forrest Bondurant – the oldest of three brothers running a moonshinin' and bootleggin' business out in the sticks.

Having survived a lethal strain of flu and a war that was, for so many others, genocidal; the brothers believe themselves to be immortal.

As the film progresses, it's hinted that they just might be onto something there.

Forrest Bondurant is one of those characters – like Scarface, The Joker or The Goblin King - who may yet become an enduring favourite for an entire generation. He's a speech slurrin' high-talkin' gentleman boozer with a heart of gold. Despite the fact that a lot of people are really quite keen to see him die, I found his life to be quite enviable. He lives with his brothers – with whom he's close and friendly – running a quaint café/gas station by day and an exciting booze running business by night.

Plus, his girlfriend is “well fit”.
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But this tranquil life on the edge is brought into rude jeopardy with the arrival of Charlie Rakes (Guy Pearce, above) – an effete, immaculately dressed yet utterly psychotic deputy from the city. He's been brought into the sticks to enforce them prohibition laws, but he's more than happy to look the other way for pay.

Hence the title of the film. This was a lawless time; in which not even Johnny Law is beyond tarrin' and featherin' a bootlegger who would – about ten years before or after – be considered innocent.

A problem arises when Forest and his brothers refuse to play Rakes's game. Mr. Cave must have had a great time adapting the ensuing standoff. It meant he could paint the screen red with no small amount of his trademark southern-fried ultraviolence.

With the beautiful cinematography; the authentically dusty sets and costumes; the memorable characters and an unexpected yet welcome beating heart of human warmth and humour, there really is rather a lot to love here.

But because I'm a masochist I've been reading the IMDB comments. Of course, there are a few threads screaming the usual “worst film ever” guff. Dip into them and you get inchoate diatribes against the “lazy writing and direction” and the “uninspired performances”.

My initial instinct was to wonder if said people had been watching the same film as me, but then I just sighed with deep resignation.

It seems that people are so used to having their eyes and brains melted by lush CGI splendour that they've forgotten that films don't have to be showy and larger than life to be at all remarkable.

No wonder there are so many superhero films.

No, I don't feel superior. Like I said earlier, I really like superhero films.

But I do wish that wonderful masterpieces like Lawless would stand out only because they're outstanding, and not because they're different to the glut of sequels, remakes and CGI sagas.