Zombos' Closet

Buried (2010)

ZC Rating 6 of 7: Classic

 

Brenner: We need to contain the situation.
Paul: The situation is in a coffin. So I think its pretty contained!

Buried is a minimalist horror movie with maximum terror.  Big screen, little screen, this one will make you squirm.

Chris Sparling's story and Rodrigo Cortes' direction emphasize what we hear over what we see, although what little we see is horrifying. We cough out the stale air, cramp up our tense limbs, and feel the desperation, the isolation, and despair Paul Conroy (Ryan Reynolds) is being smothered in, minute by minute, as he uses his one hope at hand, a cell phone. We see and hear him, but we only hear the others from the cell phone: the FBI, the family members, the corporation he works for. They are the people he desperately calls from the Blackberry entombed with him. They aren't very helpful.

Every voice, every response to his growing frustration, seems to be heaping more dirt onto his coffin. Those voices aren't soothing. They say things that are, given Paul's dire situation, ludicrous or infuriating or unsympathetic. It's another day in Iraq and Paul's another civilian buried somewhere in the ground, alive, held for a ransom that no one's willing to pay. And we stay with Paul the entire time. No flashbacks, no chipper moments away from his predicament to ease the tension.

Movement within the wooden box is limited of course. Paul's got a Zippo lighter, a cell phone using Arabic, and time is running out as fast as his oxygen is. Above him the military is pounding the ground harder with bombs, sending sand into his cramped space, cramping it even more. No one seems to share Paul's ire, or fear, or sense of urgency. When he makes calls he gets voice mail prompts, he's redirected to others, and he hears a lot of stay calm, be patient recommendations. Watching this movie, you realize how intrinsically stupid it sounds every time you hear "stay calm" or "be patient" uttered in a movie.

Maybe finding the exposed nail in his coffin, to tear through the bonds on his wrists, could be called a plot convenience, but that's the only one. And while I'm not sure how many truck drivers in Iraq carry Zippo lighters, I will say it's now my favorite example of seamless product placement in a movie. Both the Zippo and the Blackberry are actors along with Reynolds. Both play crucial roles in shedding light and insight in and around Paul, his predicament, and who the real criminals are. These aren't terrorists he's told, they're criminals looking for money. That doesn't lessen his terror because the criminals' requests to make phone videos still terrify him.

Increasing his terror are his company's personnel director who does something so outrageous, yet so possible (I'm betting anyone working in a corporation for a long time will agree with me), and a hostage negotiator who's not overly reassuring. He can't even remember who he's saved. He does eventually come up with a name, but don't forget it because it comes up again at the end, when time runs out.

This is the first time I've awarded classic status to a movie this early because it takes the common horror theme of being buried alive beyond its usual limits. It leaves its audience with questions and no answers, and a discomforting feeling it's too possibly real. I can say two things with certainty after watching Buried. I'm going to be carrying a Zippo lighter from now on and I'm waiting to see what else Rodrigo Cortes and Chris Sparling dig up. Those two scare me.

Vanishing on 7th Street (2010)

ZC Rating 3 of 7: Good (but wastes precious time)

Rosemary: We can wait till morning.
Luke: You sure there's one still coming? 

The problem with Vanishing on 7th Street comes into view at a critical moment, when time is of the essence. In a movie that plays its shadows menacingly long across city walls while Detroit's streets go empty after almost everyone has inexplicably disappeared into an unnatural darkness--leaving only their clothes behind--and where light is the only defense but its slowly dying out, the handful of confused survivors talk too much. Nothing they say is important enough for them to take the time to say it,  not when menacing things prowl all around them, inches away, waiting for the light to go completely out.

Here's what I mean. I'll give you the setup first. Luke (Hayden Christensen) and Rosemary (Thandie Newton) have left Paul (John Leguizamo) and James (Jacob Latimore) in Sonny's Bar. The gas generator powering the bar's lights is failing. Luke insists on going for the one truck in all of Detroit that still has enough juice in its battery to shine its headlights, but not enough to start the engine. He figures if they push it to the bar, he can charge the truck's battery off the generator just enough to turn over the engine and drive them out of the city. Luke and Rosemary head out, armed with flashlights, a bunch of those crack-and-glow sticks people wear on Halloween and at the circus, and a sense of urgency: they need to make it back to the bar as fast as possible because the gas generator is on its last gasp and James, a twelve year-old kid minus his mom, and Paul, the theater projectionist who's suffering from shock, will be sucked into pitch blackness if they fail. And with the generator dead, there's no way to charge the truck battery so they can make their escape on wheels.

Sounds intense, doesn't it? If you've seen Darkness Falls, you know how nerve-racking fighting the darkness can be for movie-people when it fights them back.

Luke and Rosemary hustle to the truck. Their feeble light is flickering. The light in the bar is flickering. The shadow people popping up all around them, straining at the edges of Luke's flashlight's fading glow, are almost able to wrap their long, shadowy arms around him and Rosemary. Shadowy images of gigantic hands reach out for them. Ominous, vaguely human silhouettes chase after them. Barely making it to the truck in time, they snap on the headlights to dispel the shadows. Time continues to run out. They now need to quickly push the truck back to the bar before its battery dies and the headlights go out; before the bar's lights go out. They push hard.

Half-way there, Luke and Rosemary take a break to rest and mope. A Walmart 15-minute kind of break. Granted Luke has a swollen ankle, but frankly, it won't hurt if he fails.

They sit down by the car and ponder. Apparently the moping session they argued through before, when they first met in the bar, when Rosemary stumbles in looking for her kids, almost shoots him, and then blames it all on God's wrath on all of mankind for sinning, didn't waste enough of their precious time. Situational credibility gone. Setup tension broken.

Brad Anderson and Anthony Jaswinski trip over their own two frames. It's the proverbial 'kill the moment' moment. In dire situations, people don't think and chew on their words or thoughts slowly. If you or I were surrounded by piles of clothes formerly filled by people, and surrounded by an evil darkness reaching out to grab us from all the unlighted nooks and crannies, we'd--I have no doubt--be busting a move like our lives depended on it. I'd think even Sarah Palin would have to agree with this one: you betcha!

Vanishing on 7th Street is still a good movie. It just, oddly, ignores common sense to give character depth at an inopportune time, and when we don't need it. Up until then, the enveloping creepiness, the unknown evil intention of it all, and the Lovecraftian doom that came to Detroit is palpable. It is a movie that glues our nerves to jangle because what's happening is so alien and everyone is so screwed because of it. You can't help but hope for the best, even knowing the worst has to happen. Anderson and Jaswinski hold our attention and bring it deeper and deeper into the mystery.

Until they fumble and kill the moment.

Monsters (2010)

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

 [Samantha Wynden]: Doesn't that bother you? That you need something bad to happen to profit?

[Andrew Kaulder]: What? Like a doctor?

 

You would be hard-pressed to pick out the budgetary restrictions in Monsters. Director and writer Gareth Edwards maintains an understated production with his actors (locals found on location), camera work (handheld, or propped up with makeshift stands), and events (the aftermath of fighting the monsters becomes more important than the actual battles). People, locations, and events are used so well it keeps this love story, this conflict story, this tentacled aliens bigger than a bread truck story, within a science fiction zone you rarely see shown on the big screen. It's thoughtful, lingering, doubtful and certain, all in one modest story because the monsters are not the main point of the invasion; it's how we, the humans interacting with them, deal with it.

Gas masks, military missile responses to monster incursions into populated areas, a massive--and useless--American-made wall erected at the border to keep the monsters in Mexico and out of the U.S., and people becoming acclimated to infected zones and a disrupted way of life provide the local color. You get a sense the monsters aren't so monstrous when they're not attacked, and a feeling the American response to the NASA-caused debacle is overkill and ineffective. Monsters can be viewed metaphorically, but Edwards opportunistic storyline (scenes and actors coalesced around daily opportunities during filming, according to Wikipedia), sets a tone showing the situational reality instead of indicting it.

Photojournalist Andrew Kaulder (Scoot McNairy) is looking for a big break. He wants pictures of monsters, not ones of little kids killed in the fighting. He's already taken enough of those. Getting in the way is his boss, whose daughter, Samantha Wynden (Whitney Able)--note the upper-crusty sounding name--is in need of an escort to get her out of Central America and back home for her wedding. A wedding she's not enthusiastic about. She even barters her expensive ring for passage after the ferry leaves without them. He has doubts, she has doubts; it's doubtful they'll find an easy way home.

They don't. Missing the ferry, and with the last train out blocked by the annual monster migration, they must travel through the Extra-Terrestrial Infected Zone, or stay put for 6 months. Along the way, they meet mercenaries, monsters, death, and their true selves. It's all very much like an Ingmar Bergman movie but without Max von Sydow, and directed a tad more lively. Tantalizing sounds and glimpses of the large creatures (looking like upright land-squids that glow) pepper the tension. There's something beautiful and alarming about them. They leave small, pulsating, glowing embryos on trees. A quiet encounter at a deserted gas station between two monsters reveals more about the creatures, and Andrew and Samantha as well.

A fast-paced, night-vision point of view, military encounter with a frenzied monster in the beginning comes full circle at the end with a military rendezvous at the gas station. In-between, the journey taken is as revealing to us as it is them. Monsters shows us how much power an independent movie, made on a tight budget, can achieve.

Godspeed (2009) In Search of Intensity

A small picture vibrating with grand passions, “Godspeed” transforms the vast lawlessness of the Alaskan wilderness into a playground for damaged souls and Old Testament mischief. (Jeannette Catsoulis, New York Times)

Once again, Ms. Catsoulis' review is perplexing to me. Interesting, but very perplexing. (Zombos)

ZC Rating 2 of 7: Fair

Twice I started watching Robert Saitzyk's thriller Godspeed and twice I stopped at the same scene in the movie. I wondered why. It's when faith healer Charlie Shepard (Joseph McKelheer) and Sarah Roberts (Courtney Halverson) have awkwardly met and each wants the other to go in a different direction, which is either to find something or to lose something, or maybe both. Intensity should be radiating from them but it doesn't and I couldn't pin down why. Maybe it's Saitzyk's direction, which lingers too long on scenes, trying to give them importance the story and its characters can't muster, or maybe it's McKelheer's struggle (he co-wrote with Saitzyk and Knauf) with overly contemplative dialog inadequate for fully expressing his struggle with his inner demons. There's a weightiness to Godspeed that doesn't add up given its story, and for a thriller--I wouldn't call Godspeed a horror movie--it never finds the intensity it needs to involve us, or justify its artsy spiritual despair spilling over into bloodshed at the beginning and the ending of the movie.

Given the beautiful but lonely vista of the Alaskan location, Saitzyk doesn't allow his tormentors or their tormented much interaction through metaphor or religious iconography with the wilderness surrounding them--and in them; instead, he fills the empty spaces with drawn out, self-conscious talkiness, where everyone moves hopelessly around a lot  pontificating on their desires and sins without making us feel they're sharing the burden with us. Neither are their actions embellished or even made insignificant by God's intrusive knack with nature all around them. This leaves the movie's underwhelming religious-poking bland to watch, forcing more of our attention on a weak story just not engrossing enough to hold it, which, given the soul-searching and ulterior motives abounding at its heart it should. Godspeed doesn't let us feel the philosophical ardor it so heavily tries to concern us with.

Max and Me Look At Experiments in Terror 3

"Striking for the third time, Experiments in Terror 3 unleashes another hallucinogenic orgy of the uncanny, the dreadful, and the macabre."

Well, perhaps...

"Employing a mesmerizing montage of terrifying tropes and fiendish footage, our kino-coven conjures more than a bewitching hour of visionary cinema. Pounding a stake through the heart of genre convention, this shocking program expands the cinematic language of fear, breaking the chains of narrative logic and leaving only the black void of the infinite unconscious."

We'll be the judge of that...

Max and me chat about our likes and dislikes with Experiments in Terror 3. TK from Love Train for the Tenebrous Empire was scheduled to join us, but she ditched at the last moment. Smart move given our level of conversation. We did copiously borrow from her review, though, as she is much more articulate than either of us.

me: I looked for eit3 on imdb, but didn't see it.

Max: To hell with the corporate fellatio that is IMDB! (Raising clenched fist in the air) ;)

me: Swish! and another proletarian-despised head hits the basket. Hey, no fair, you're using emoticons! I can barely type.

Max: YOU can barely type? I don't even exist! I'm a roomful of monkeys--one of us at a time accidentally producing coherent sentences!

me: Well, then send a few of them over to help me out. While I'm waiting let's discuss the first film about Richard Chase.

Max: You know, when I was told that the first film on the review screener I was going to get was a Dick Chase film, I thought it was going to be a different sort of film!

me: Long pause as I look up Dick Chase...

Max: Aw, Zombos, you don't look up *subtext*!

me: Ohhhhhh. I did find Deck Chairs, though.

Edges of Darkness (2008) Zombies, Vampires, and Saviours

ZC Rating 2 of 7: Fair

Jason Horton and Blaine Cade's Edges of Darkness is the kind of low-budget arthouse film that, given its uneven acting and shoe-string budget production values, is still important to watch for those flashes of good writing and good direction that shine through. In three separate stories following people dealing with a zombie apocalypse in their own ways, God and Devil, vampires, and organic computing provide the unusual themes wrapped around this flesh-eating grue.

While the stories do not intertwine, they are intercut, which at times jostles the pacing and dramatic continuity. Tying them together is the gated community locale, an unrelenting threat from zombies lumbering just outside, and the need for satisfying hungers that go beyond flesh-munching closeups and dripping gristle.

Even in the least engrossing story there is a wonderful and unexpected flash of macabre poetry shown when Dana (Alisha Gaddis) dreams she is dancing with a roomful of zombies. It is compelling, like the dance of the dead in Carnival of Souls and the dancing dead in Robert Aickman's short story, Ringing the Changes, because it plays with our sense of propriety. It is unsettling enough that the only person who listens to her is Morris (Wayne Baldwin) the zombie--out of reach, of course--outside her bedroom window, while her husband writes endlessly on his computer. Has he gone mad from the stress? Who does he think will read his story? We never find out, and instead watch as he eagerly plugs in the weird computer chip from DHell. When the lights go out, it starts searching for an alternate power source, sending out wires (tentacles) that first power-up from a house plant, then a mouse, and eventually you know what.

While Dana yearns for romance, her husband Dean yearns for backup power. Uneven acting almost cripples the pent-up tension and despair here.The climax is predictable, but the relationship between Dana and Dean (Jay Costelo) provides a refreshing psychological perspective seldom seen in more mainstream fare. We need to explore more atypical relationships like this one in the cinema of the undead, and devote time to the frustrated, freaked-out, living, coping with the voracious dead, instead of the over-used gut-churning closeups of zombies feasting.

Interview with Director Lance Weiler

"Can I come out now?" A sheet of paper slid under the closet door as Zombos entered the room.

He stooped to pick it up. "Who is in my closet and what is this?" he asked, looking at the sheet.

"Oh, that's director Lance Weiler. I locked him in there until he finished answering a few questions," I said, taking the sheet from him.

Zombos looked perplexed. "But what is he doing in my closet?"

"I mentioned to him about your vast collection of horror-related trinkets, gimcracks, and movie spoilage. He couldn't wait to see it," I explained. “That’s how I got the interview in the first place.”

"You locked the director of Head Trauma in my closet?"

"Yes.”

"To be clear, the co-director of The Last Broadcast, the first digitally-rendered and distributed movie, is locked in my closet?

"Yes."

Zombos was silent for a moment. "Make sure you check his pockets before he leaves."

"Of course," I assured him.

Zombos left the room. I took out the key to unlock the door.

"Hey, wait a minute." said Weiler, "I didn't see what's down Aisle K. Man, this place is huge."

I put the key back in my pocket. Now that I had his answers, there was no rush.

 

What motivated you to become an indie director/writer? 

I got hooked on photography at an early age and thought that I'd become a photo journalist, but then I fell in love with movies. I started making movies in high school, instead of writing papers, and I was hooked.

What should budding independent directors be doing now to shape their careers?

Write, shoot and edit as much as you can. The more you do it the better you'll become. Watch what others are doing. If there is someone that you respect, research how they made it to where they are. Don't give up. if you have the drive and the desire it will work out. Lastly, take the time to learn as much about the process as possible. The more you know about all the aspects of filmmaking the better.

Which directors influence you the most and why?

Stan Brakhage for his daring use of image and experimental structure. I've seen Dog Star Man more than any other film, and I never grow tired of it. Roman Polanski for the atmosphere and tension he brings to films like Repulsion, The Tenant, Rosemary's Baby and Chinatown. David Lynch for his independence and warped vision of the world. Inland Empire is a return to the strange and bizarre world that harkens back to Eraserhead.

You were a pioneer for digital filmmaking when it was a small blip on the industry's radar: why, and what challenges did you face going all digital?

It was bleeding edge at the time. When Stefan [Avalos] and I started making The Last Broadcast in 1996 the concept of editing on a desktop PC was a novelty. We had to build our own computers to do it. But we were determined to make a movie with pro-sumer gear. In the end we helped to spark a whole digital revolution not only in the way we made the movie, but in the way we distributed it. At the time, digital was treated like a bastard child. There was an attitude that if it wasn't shot on film then it wasn't serious filmmaking. A couple years later the attitude would change. Now digital is an excepted way to make work.

What are your favorite horror and non-horror films? Why?

The Tenant — love the tone and atmosphere. It is a haunting film, and it's pacing is slow and methodical. The Conversation — I think it's one of Coppola's best films. I love the use of sound, and the political undertones are just as relevant today as they were during Watergate. The Shining— I'm a huge fan of Kubrick. Alien — thrill ride with amazing vision and production design that still looks great today. Docs like Grey Gardens, High School, Salesman — cinema verite at its best. There are a ton of others that I love for various reasons.

Where do you see the film industry heading in terms of production and distribution in the years to come?

Digital. Everything will be digital. The number of movies shot on film will continue to drop until everything is eventually shot digitally. Distribution to theaters, homes, hand-held devices, etc., will all be digital. We'll be drowning in media and movies. Movies will find narrow niches and devout audiences, like the way magazines and music have. Since things will be digital a remixing culture will explode and we'll see more remixes of movies. Both fan driven, and depending on digital laws maybe, even a remix culture that can turn a profit. The biggest challenges will be around copyright, rights management and fair use.

Complete this sentence: If I had (blank), I'd (blank). Please explain your fill-ins for the blanks, too.

If I had 10 million dollars I'd create ten movies with various directors and start a new filmmaking model that gave control and ownership to the people creating the work. The films would be all digital and there would be no physical media like DVDs. Everything would be delivered via digital distribution. In addition, we'd work to involve the audience in every phase of the process to allow them to observe from start to finish. They would also be able to contribute in various ways.

Head Trauma (2006)

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

Suppose you left your town and home many years ago, and drifted along here and there, never putting down roots. Suppose you are homeless, friendless, and suffer from a fragmented memory, whose shards of clarity are confusing and terrifying. What is it you can't remember, but can't seem to fully forget? Portrait of a man in crisis: George Walker.

In indie director and co-writer (along with Brian Majeska) Lance Weiler's Head Trauma, George Walker returns to his deceased grandmother's house and soon goes head to head with those shards of memory; and a mysterious and ominous Snorkel Parka dressed individual who just may be a maniacal killer.

But why does he go after George? Is it because George's return to his grandmother's abandoned and condemned house, filled with dark corners, squatter debris, and a really creepy attic—

"This review won't fly, you know," said Zombos, peering over my shoulder.

"What?" I said.

The Last Broadcast (1998)

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

Is the following fact or fiction? Two young movie makers use a desktop PC and less than nine hundred dollars to produce the first all-digital documentary-styled horror film in 1998?

It's fact. A few months before The Blair Witch Project brought documentary style horror to the forefront, The Last Broadcast presented a chilling account of three bloody murders that happened one cold night in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. Beginning as a fictitious documentary about the Jersey Devil Murders using salvaged video footage, interviews, and police evidence, the film's twist ending reveals the real murderer--or does it?

Using Photoshop to enhance scenes, consumer-grade video recorders, and lots of post-production doctoring on a desktop PC,  Stefan Avalos and Lance Weiler digitally composed their thriller using mostly non-actors, Weiler's mom, and anything not nailed down. The final product is an eerie, slow-building, story that takes a sudden left turn to  reveal the true murderer. According to the audio commentary on the DVD, seven clues are in the film pointing to the murderer. I missed all seven.

Technology plays an important part within the film itself, first as visual and auditory information is manipulated to create the pseudo-documentary structure of the film, and then as impetus for the events within it.