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Montréal 2024

I have taken so much complimentary coffee from the drinks stand in the lobby that I’ve grown somewhat furtive about it.

7/25: Rita

It’s impossible to deny the power found in Jayro Bustamante’s follow-up to his prior Fantasia feature, Piggy. The story, based upon a real-life incident that remains unresolved, concerns a 13-year-old girl who finds herself a ward of the state after running away from an abusive father. On the inside, she encounters various themed gangs—angels, fairies, bunnies, stars, and a fifth, more feral group whose nature eludes me—and is quickly taken under wing of the dominant Angels. Each of these form a function, both narratively and visually, and it is with them that Bustamante attempts to paint a fantastical veneer on a horrible set of circumstances. Unfortunately, he hedges his bets: Rita would have been more powerful as a realistic portrayal of the reasons and conditions of this prison; alternatively, it is not nearly wondrous enough, with the hints at fairy-tale trappings (the crone of a social worker makes for a perfect evil witch, and the pixie-dust powers of the Faery gang are a delight to witness) not coloring the underlying bleakness to any great degree. Still, it has some great set-pieces, as well as convincing performances from the few hundred girls cast from around Guatemala. Uneven, but recommended with reservations.

This Man

Dream Scenario meets J-horror in a fast-moving fusion of romance, comedy, frights, and existential philosophizing. Tomojiro Amano pivots around these loci with a story about a centuries-dead dark wizard seeking vengeance on humanity by appearing in dreams, dooming the dreamer. Deaths pile up, both squicky and hilarious (sometimes both), as two affable cops try to get to the bottom of the mystery (the senior of the pair always says, “It could just be a coincidence”; it’s assuredly not a coincidence). The story focuses on a young mother who consults a freelance sorcerer—he left his group because he disapproved of some of their activities—which results first in the tragic death of her daughter (which is also kind of hilarious), and culminates in the most action-packed-yet-action-bereft supernatural showdown I’ve seen. Bravo for thrash-industrial mystic mummery.

7/26: The Silent Planet

I’m always happy to observe areas of Earth that don’t look like they belong on this planet. Wherever Jeffrey St. Jules filmed this space-age chamber drama fits that description nicely: a barren dirtscape covered in jagged rocks. Appropriate for mining, though, which is what Niyya and Theodore are sentenced to until their deaths. The hitch is, however, it’s supposed to be solitary punishment; but for some reason, Theodore is still alive when Niyya is sentenced to isolation after being entrapped for political terrorism. Raised by Oieans, a refugee species which has fled to Earth and is increasingly unwelcome by the local humans, the film explores Niyya’s various furies as she converses with Theodore, sentenced for a murder he claims he did not commit. This two-and-a-half character talking piece deftly (and charmingly) explores sociopolitics and memory; Janey, the habitat-vessel AI, maintains her cheerful tone throughout, even when Niyya smashes the interface.

Penalty Loop

For no reason in particular, I approach the “time loop” genre with skepticism. It’s not a matter of the science, as I know that’s a disbelief to be suspended, it’s just that I reckon there’s nothing new to do with the concept. Shinji Araki dispels these doubts, I am pleased to say, with his Groundhog Day-style story of a young man who executes the murderer of his girlfriend by midnight on a recurring June 6th. [Spoiler-ish Alert] As the iterations of his experience continue, the people around him, however, start to cotton on to the fact that something is amiss. [End Spoiler Alert] By turns melodramatic, violent, with developing buddy-comedy elements, Penalty Loop might actually be weirdif it had told us less. During the first two acts, we have no idea why this is happening. I wish it had remained that way.

7/27: HEAVENS: The Boy and His Robot

Rich Ho is one of those amazing one-man band filmmakers. Just about every production element bears his stamp, either solo or as an advisor. His energies bring us a genuinely fun, cute, and action-packed picture about Kai, an asthma-stricken boy who beats the odds and joins the Mecha Corps to defend Mother Earth from the rebel Martian colonies. Be advised, this hits all the beats: Kai’s fellow recruits are all oddballs; their trainer does that pitch spike at the end of every shout; adversity is overcome; bonding ensues; &c. But HEAVENS has charm to spare, and the various scenes when Kai and his Mecha (whom Kai names “Little Dragon”, in reference to Kai’s own status as the smallest of the squad) are heartwarming and comedic. The 10-story robot attempting to discreetly hide itself on rolling farm land was a first. Rich Ho threw all his energies into this over its ten-year production, and while a few jokes misfire, there are plenty more coming, and the filmmaker almost single-handedly renews appreciation for what CGI, in the hands of an earnest creative, can achieve.

7/28: Brush of the God

Keizo Murase, I love your many-headed dragon monster. Your weird ear-winged bunny thing is cute, too, despite its motion deficiencies. But golly if you haven’t made a movie with very little to recommend. I’m perhaps being harsh: were I the age of the protagonists (the grand daughter of master movie monster craftsman and similarly 10-ish-in-age mega-fan of monster movies), there’s a chance I’d be thrilled. Still, I can’t begrudge the ambitions of an octogenarian artisan who is so important to the development and evolution of practical effects. So try to enjoy the monsters and forgive the meandering story of two children wandering about.

The Umbrella Fairy

Lovely background drawing, capable animation, and enough of a story: so makes Jie Shen’s The Umbrella Fairy a good enough movie. But the plot feels more like a hanger on which to place the film’s reverential observation of ancient artisanal artifacts. The titular umbrella, its sword counterpart, a comb, a warrior’s flute: all are protected by fairies devoted to the well-being of the item and its owner. Worth a look more as a colorful museum tour than a movie, although even then a number of the small creations can be a little too cutesy (even for my recollected childhood self).

Rats!

My favorites amongst this large cast are the pair of FBI agents manning an observation van; it’s a pity that we see so little of them. On the other hand, everything about Maxwell Nalevansky’s and Carl Fry’s feature debut moves fast. Maneuvering through and amongst the weary FBI agents, a psychotic police woman, an affable drug dealer, an over-confident rapper, an Emo shop-lifter, a pesky squatter, a lovable piggy, a serial killer, a nuclear arms dealer—and doubtless some colorful characters I’ve omitted—is Raphael, a young semi-delinquent who is pulled into the nonsensical fray when he tags the last payphone in his hometown of Fresno, Tx. Awash with 2007-era nostalgia (as that’s now a thing), Rats! knows how to make idiocy function: with high energy, and even higher speed. The movie builds to a collision of all the above-mentioned characters and, in an amazing sleight-of-pacing, manages to blow up with a climactic hullaballoo lasting perhaps no more than ninety seconds.

Párvulos

Egads, the zombie genre still breathes! Isaac Ezban presents a heart-warming tale of three brothers in a post-apocalyptic world (a pandemic, followed by a bad vaccine, unleashes… well, I won’t delve into that). Not-quite-black-and-white, and generally bleak, Ezban somehow adds more than a few chucklesome set-pieces and montages involving the lads’ adaptation to their new chaotic world, all while providing regular reminders that this is a bloody horror movie. As an earlier Fantasia film brought to my attention, one of the greatest dangers of societal collapse is the rise of religious extremists: the “Trumpeteer” cult in Párvulos is a bigger threat  than any of the zombies. But despair or no, life goes on, people cope, and the boys struggle on against the world.

7/29: Hell Hole

It’s time, it seems, for a monster movie from Toby Poser and John Adams. Somewhere in the outskirts of Siberia, a mom and pop—er, pardon—an aunt & uncle team are in charge of laying the ground work for a hydraulic fracturing project. Things get gooey when their preliminary drilling disturbs an ancient, squidgy tentacle-beast. Working alongside Shudder for this outing, there are still flourishes of the original Family Adams feeling (Toby and John’s repartée rings as true as ever), but this is a different beast from the venerable Catskillians. The monster is fun, and it is interesting to observe the family work with more money, if greater constrictions.

7/30: Dead Dead Full Dead

Once again I wish to defer to remarks from another 366 contributor, as  Pratul Gaikwad’s cute “whodunnit?” comedy smacks delightfully of Buñuel and Dupieux. The film begins perfectly for the likes of us: a pair of low-level police officers are having a little spat (they are dating, you see) while manning both a traffic check point and their superior officer’s new baby goat. The back-and-forth turns into crisis when one officer accidentally launches the goat into the road, then is crushed by a passing construction vehicle, and transforms into a toy.

And so it goes. There’s a little bit of fat hanging from the narrative frame, but Gaikwad keeps the pace up nicely. There is a murder! It seems. And the likely suspects are gathered in the lavish apartment home. Both constables attempt a flashback investigation, landing themselves, somehow, in the past memories of the suspects. Everyone is likeable, even the demonic afterlife bureaucrat, and the casts’ quirks are pushed to the edge of daffy without spilling over.

7/31: Electrophilia (Los Impactos)

When Ada, a young veterinarian, is struck by lightning, her life—and electro-corporeal balance—changes forever. Shortly after her awakening from a coma, she is contacted by a sad, generically older-middle-aged-handsome doctor who runs a support group for lightning-strike survivors. The rest of Lucía Puenzo’s film plays out as a combination of relationship angst (Ada grows increasingly ambivalent about her husband) and an exploration of autonomy as it relates to pursuing high voltages. Everything is ho-hum competent here, and though the Tai-Chi styled group body motions grated, they were mercifully few and far between.

Timestalker

Alice Lowe has a long history in the world of comedy (or so I learnt just now in a fit of bare-bones research), and it shows. This is easy-breezy stuff, effortlessly charming, and delightfully violent with its judicious flashes of splat-stick. Opening with an unfortunate tumble face-first on to the wrong end of a halberd in 1688, Timestalker follows Agnes as her various incarnations seek her true love throughout time (stalking him, if you will). Charismatic peripheral characters support the action, and we grow as fond of them as we do our misguided heroine. My only tiny concern about this film: why does Adam Phoenix sport the exterior trappings of Adam Ant, but have a song-style more informed by Soft Cell?

Still and all, that’s not much to grouse about. I’m happy to have seen Timestalker, and happy also that it can be unreservedly* recommended to people I know.

*:at least to those who can handle some humorous beheadings.

The Roundup: Punishment.

Why aren’t there action franchises as cool as this one made in the US? Because we’re not South Koreans, for one. Which leads to the second reason: we haven’t any actor nearly as fun and full of fist as the legendary Don Lee. But that’s all right, for thankfully Heo Myeong Haeng has brought the fourth film in the series to life with exciting combat action (I love the ubiquity of knife fighting found in this non-American actioner) and plenty of comedy throughout. Sure, sure, it plays like a superstar rock’n’roll group cruising to their fourth platinum album using a tried and true formula, but the formula for Team Roundup continues to appeal, and Don Lee continues to elicit throatful hurrahs from the crowd whenever his fist hits its target.