Category Archives: Capsules

CAPSULE: THE PLATFORM 2 (2024)

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El hoyo 2

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Milena Smit, Hovik Keuchkerian, Natalia Tena, Óscar Jaenada, Bastien Ughetto, Ken Appledorn

PLOT: A messiah reigns supreme over a cadre of “loyalists” in the pit, whose merciless enforcement of the law both maintains and threatens the lives of those volunteering to survive the platform.

COMMENTS: Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia might have done better just sticking to this franchise as a platform for various character studies. The kinds of people who “volunteer” for probable death by starvation are bound to be interesting: life’s losers casting the die for one last chance, be it for success, salvation, or something else. Gaztelu-Urrutia’s opening salvo in the original Platform allowed for dissection of society (rich at the top—literally, at least, food-wise—doomed at the bottom) and how individuals fit in to the whole mess. In his second outing, we meet some interesting people, and witness how zealotry in the name of the masses typically leads to a whole new flavor of injustice.

The platform’s new recruit, Perempuán, begins as a cipher, and despite staggered reveals pretty much remains so. She is the audience’s new window into this purgatorial nightmare, kept company for a time by an ogre of a fellow who may or may not be a mathematician, but is certainly a screw-up. But her pot-bellied cellmate is never a problem; indeed, he’s a sensitive soul with no aspirations to harm anyone other than himself. Harming others is left not just to the platform’s overseers in this outing, but also to a group of fanatics who have taken it upon themselves to enforce “the Law,” which was hinted at in the first film. Eat only your share. Do not eat the food of the dead—’cause it’s unfair. Disobey the Law, and you will be strictly disciplined.

With every thesis (the platform), there is antithesis (the cult of Law), morphing eventually into synthesis. Synthesis, in this case, is a rebellion against the rebellion. The prisoner’s law, as interpreted solely by an impressively mobile messiah—how he travels around the 333-level deep complex never quite clicks—raises some interesting questions: when does enforcement for the greater good become mere barbarism? Is pure equity something to pursue even when it means bringing everyone down to the same level of misery? At one point the messiah’s methods are questioned; he rejoins that they kill now so that they needn’t kill in the future. I’ve heard that before: tyranny thwarted by a rebellion, which turns into a horrible new tyranny. Gaztelu-Urrutia seems to suggest there’s a third, middle-way.

That sensibility usually gets lost in the fervor—and particularly so in the case of The Platform 2. There is much to enjoy this time around: the inmates are fleshed-out people pushed to desperate extremes; the vagaries of populist autocracy are dissected; and spiritual undertones manifest in a semi-elegant allegory. But as other viewers and critics have observed, a muddle (a frenzied, violent muddle) develops. Though the film gnaws at interesting themes, there are a few too many, and the climax feels like an under-chewed story to gulp down as the credits roll.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Eventually, the movie skips ahead to something more novel: an eerie, green-lit sequence that brings both sci-fi and slow-building suspense back into the proceedings. (Even the ever-present blood splatter becomes more poetic.) Then it barrels ahead further, into a head-scratching final stretch that doesn’t gain any clarity by continuing on into the end credits.”–Betsy Reed, The Guardian (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: THE SAVAGE HUNT OF KING STAKH (1980)

Dikaya Okhota Korolya Stakha

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Srill from The Savage Hunt of King Stahk (1980)

DIRECTED BY: Valery Rubinchik

FEATURING: Boris Plotnikov, Elena Dimitrova, Albert Filozov, Roman Filippov, Valentina Shendrikova, Vladimir Fyodorov

PLOT: Andrej Bielarecki (Plotnitkov), a folklore scholar, arrives at the Janowski family castle in the Belarusian Swamp Firs region in 1900. Nadzieja (Dimitrova) is the last representative of her family, which is supposedly under a generational curse due to her ancestor killing King Stakh, a 15th Century nobleman who still roams the area with his retinue in a Wild Hunt. Bielarecki finds himself caught up in murders apparently committed by King Stakh and his retinue.

COMMENTS: The term “folk horror” has become a huge umbrella, providing a niche for discovery and rediscovery of quite a few movies, which is a good thing overall. But it’s beginning to become exhausted, often used as a marketing gimmick for horrors with relatively minor folk elements. That isn’t the case, fortunately, with King Stakh. Its folk horror bona fides are right in the title, referencing the folkloric motif of The Wild Hunt. Based on the novel King Stakh’s Wild Hunt by Belarusian author Vladimir Karatkievich (who collaborated on the screenplay with Rubinchik), Stakh uses the trappings of folklore and horror (the visuals are very atmospheric, shot by Tatyana Loginova with production design by Aleksandr Chertovich) to support what is ultimately, in the end, a mystery/historical incident with political undercurrents.

Deaf Crocodile brings out Stahk in a new restoration, in a standard or limited deluxe edition, for its first ever U.S. release (the deluxe edition is in a hard slipcase with a 60 page booklet with essays by Walter Chaw and Peter Rollberg). Fittingly, there is an introduction by Kier-La Janisse, who included Stakh in her 2021 documentary Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror. There are two complementary commentaries: Steven R. Bissette’s talk goes a bit more into the director and actors, while Mike (“The Projection Booth”) White touches on the book and reacts more  to the onscreen action. Also included is a video essay by film historian Evan Chester.

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: SHINBONE ALLEY (1970)

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DIRECTED BY: John David Wilson

FEATURING THE VOICES OF: , Eddie Bracken, Alan Reed, John Carradine

PLOT: A poet/newspaper man resurrected as a cockroach tells a  number of stories about his friend, a cat with loose morals and a knack for picking the wrong mates, and the many times he tries to pull her out of trouble.

Still from shinbone Alley (1970)

COMMENTS: Animation, frustrated aficionados will tell you, is not a genre, it’s a medium. Just because the twin monoliths of Walt Disney and Saturday morning television built their empire on a commitment to entertaining grade schoolers with moving drawings, we should not assume that cartoons are only for kids. But parents and studio executives never seem to get the message. There’s plenty of of evidence of this blindness — just count up the number of traumatized children who were exposed to the original Watership Down — and a leading piece of evidence should be the tagline that marketing wizards devised for Shinbone Alley: “It’s sophisticated enough for kids, simple enough for adults!” Because if anything cries out to be seen by all audiences, it’s the story of a sexually promiscuous cat who takes up with a series of abusive partners, as told by the suicidal cockroach who loves her.

The idea of a creating musical based on the “archy and mehitabel” stories of Don Marquis was unusually persistent. The tales were enormously popular in their day (the titular cockroach and cat are among the literary figures immortalized on the bronze screen that fronts the monumental Brooklyn Public Library), but they didn’t get paired up with song-and-dance until a concept album in 1954, penned by Joe Darion (who would gain acclaim as the book writer for Man of La Mancha) and composer George Kleinsinger (whose best known composition is probably Tubby the Tuba) and starring Bracken and Channing in the title roles. The script would get a punch-up from Mel Brooks before making its way to Broadway for a six-week run in 1957, now starring Bracken alongside the dangerously seductive Eartha Kitt as Mehitabel. (So now you know: Andrew Lloyd Webber did not provide the first dancing cats on the Great White Way.) Undaunted by the flop, a shortened version of the show found its way to television in 1960 (featuring Bracken and Tammy Grimes as the titular feline) before arising once more a decade later as an animated feature with the original stars in tow. So with all that effort, there must be something in the adaptation that was demanding to be seen.

I’m still trying to figure out what that is. Shinbone Alley is a collection of scenes in which our heroes go through a sad and troubling cycle: Mehitabel searches for fame, free love, and good times, ignoring Archy’s pleas to clean up her act; her latest beau turns out to be apathetic at best, cruel at worst; Archy has to bail her out of her latest predicament; Mehitabel becomes furious with Archy for trying to kill her buzz; Archy becomes deeply depressed; Mehitabel realizes that Archy is probably the best friend she has; the pair celebrates their friendship, and we go around again. It’s possible that this dysfunction once played for laughs and has just aged poorly, but it’s hard to see who might have enjoyed seeing one of the lead characters getting threatened by a big bully, stolen from by a charlatan actor, and ultimately knocked up by both and then saddled with a litter that she promptly abandons to be nearly drowned in a storm. Is that the part that’s sophisticated enough for kids, or is it the other lead character constantly threatening to kill himself?

Shinbone Alley is actually a well-animated film, and director Wilson has fun shifting from the ugliness of the alley to colorful flights of fancy like pop art representations of Archy’s free-verse musings, or especially the extended scene in which Archy plots revolution in the distinctive style of George Herriman, the “Krazy Kat” creator who illustrated many of Marquis’ stories. But the other elements are a drag. The score is utterly unmemorable; the most notable song is the pals-forever number “Flotsam and Jetsam,” which at least relates to the characters. Other tunes barely connect to anything in the story at all, such as Big Bill’s ode to the alley and his own violent nature (sung by Reed in the same voice he used for Fred Flintstone), or the reminiscence of Tyrone T. Tattersall (“sung” by Carradine) of his early days in the theater. At one point, we even get Shakespeare delivered in the style of beat poetry. It’s as though Darion and Brooks, both of them Tony-winning book writers, can’t think of a single reason for their characters to break into song, so no reason becomes reason enough.

Ultimately, the film seems to take its inspiration from Mehitabel herself. She never seems to learn from her setbacks, bouncing back with the repeated watchcry, “Toujours gai!” So it goes with Shinbone Alley. What worked in Marquis’ newspaper columns never translated to stage or screen, but here we are, giving it another go. The peculiar mix of perky animation and grim subject matter is is certainly weird, but not half as weird as the certainty its creators held that this was a story that must be told.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Shinbone Alley, you see, is a singular strange animated movie, trapped in the film marketplace of the early 1970s with absolutely nowhere to go, certainly no naturally-occurring audience… Weird stuff for a kids’ movie (I am, if nothing else, 100% confident that this was the first American animated feature in which one of the main characters has sex, gets pregnant, and gives birth, all out of wedlock, during the overall course of the narrative), and there’s something irresistibly jarring in that mismatch between the dopey simplicity of the film’s comedy and the thorny, mean streets filthiness of its plot, not to mention the sullen existentialism of archy’s overall arc, and the generally moody songs…”– Tim Brayton, Alternate Ending

(This movie was nominated for review by Brad. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.) 

CAPSULE: THE ANIMAL KINGDOM (2023)

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DIRECTED BY: Thomas Cailley

FEATURING: Paul Kircher, , , Tom Mercier

PLOT: A plague that turns ordinary people into human-animal hybrids has afflicted a family’s wife and mother, putting a strain on the relationship of the father and son.

The Animal Kingdom (2023)

COMMENTS: In the opening of The Animal Kingdom, a man with one partially-formed bird wing violently bursts out of the back of a locked ambulance caught in a traffic jam and tries to flee as orderlies attempt to corral him back into the vehicle. “Strange days,” one stranded motorist nonchalantly remarks to another. Apparently a plague, disease, or curse has been hybridizing humans with random types of animals, with no way of predicting when the condition will strike. François’ wife, Émile’s mother, has caught it, and now has fur on her face and claw marks on the wall of her hospital room. Her doctor assures the family that the experimental medical treatments are working, though, and encourages them in their plan to relocate a remote town in south France so the can be closer to her when she’s placed into a new “research” facility. François, who’s a bit of an eccentric trying to instill a distrust of authority in his son, hopes to reunite the family. But Émile’s sense of smell seems to be getting keener…

Besides the birdman, we get glimpses of tentacled squid/octopus girl in the supermarket, an aardvark lady, and some sort of tree-clinging chameleon. The costuming and prosthetics are always interesting, although you may wish to see more of the mutants. The movie instead focuses almost entirely on the relationship between François and Émile, on Émile’s attempts to fit in with his new classmates, and on Émile’s anxiety over his own bodily changes. Attitudes towards the mutants are mostly revealed indirectly: the widespread use of the emerging slur “critters” to describe the victims, the schoolkids’ lunchroom debate about the issue (with opinions ranging from coexistence to shooting them on sight), and the fact that the entire phenomenon seems to be considered a police matter as much as a medical issue. The hybrids flee whenever authorities approach, and the government is building what may amount to detention centers.

No explanation is given for the transformations, medical or otherwise. Completely uninterested in the science fiction behind it all, The Animal Kingdom instead critiques humanity’s insistence on morphological purity, and on our instinct to exile community members for any deviation. Transphobia might be the most obvious contemporary touchstone here—though the afflicted take no voluntary steps to transform their bodies—but the movie’s lessons can easily be transferred to any group of outsiders: minorities, immigrant, queers, the mentally ill, and of course, furries. Realistically, most people without a direct family connection to a victim quickly turn against the critters; besides the fear of the unknown, identifying a group of outsiders immediately elevates your own status as an insider. Only a minority of fundamentally decent folk offer empathy, support, or accommodations. When asked if he still kissed his wife after her transformation, François replies, “It was still her. It changed nothing.” The movie may refuse to unfurl its metaphor, but its moral is clear. The Animal Kingdom is, ironically, humanistic.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“‘The Animal Kingdom’ is quite emotionally vivid at times, and fine acting supports Cailley’s weird ideas, making the picture feel real while it gradually becomes a fantasy.”–Brian Orndorf, Blu-ray.com (contemporaneous)

The Animal Kingdom [Blu-ray]
  • Cannes Film Festival Nominee: Un Certain Regard
  • Winner Grand Jury Prize-Palm Springs International Film Festival
  • Includes English Dubbed Version

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: I BOUGHT A VAMPIRE MOTORCYCLE (1990)

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DIRECTED BY: Dirk Campbell

FEATURING: Neil Morrissey, Amanda Noar, Michael Elphick, Anthony Daniels

PLOT: Slacker motorbike enthusiast Noddy buys a bike, discovering almost too late that evil has infused the machine.

Still from I Bought a Vampire Motorcycle (1990)

COMMENTS: There’s something to admire about movies that get right to the point. In this respect, I Bought a Vampire Motorcycle gets off to an auspicious start: within the first 10 minutes, a Satanic priest calls out to his underworld master, a low-rent biker gang attacks the cult with a crossbow, the cult leader spills his last drops of life-sustaining blood into the tank of a 1974 Norton Commando 850, and a dullard named Noddy overpays for the damaged and now-possessed chopper as a fixer-upper for twice what he’s willing to admit. Action from the jump, with stakes in place and more conflict sure to come… and then the movie takes its foot off the gas. Comedy-horror is a perfectly legitimate mix, but I Bought a Vampire Motorcycle has a hard time getting either of the two to work on their own, let alone coalesce.

The central premise resists a 100% serious approach. After all, the title promises a vampiric motorbike, and it does not exaggerate. The demon hog goes dormant during the day, deploys a pair of piercing tubes that aim unwaveringly at a victim’s jugular, steadfastly steers away from crosses, and has an intense aversion to garlic. (It tries to kill a woman merely for ordering extra-garlicky prawns.) Sound like any undead creatures you know? But that strange notion of a murderous moped is only as successful as the ability to make you think it’s an actual (actual, actual) vampire motorcycle, and the film has absolutely no idea how to make the titular vehicle look menacing. True, the way it evolves to take on more of the characteristics of its supernatural avatars, such as the broken headlight that resembles bloody fangs or the handlebars twisted into devil horns, is somewhat amusing. But then the damnable crotch rocket moves, and the whole illusion falls apart. Even when it’s committing the most deadly atrocities (such as feeding on and then bisecting a candy striper at the hospital), it lumbers around like a lame puppet, in much the manner of a certain hellspawn earthmover I won’t name. Sure, it can spawn spikes and spinning blades whenever it needs to, but when you watch it galumphing through a gymnasium like an underpowered Rascal, it loses a lot of its menace.

If the movie can’t fully commit to its horror, it possibly overcommits to the impulse toward gross-out comedy. In the anything-for-a-joke spirit, we get poles rammed up keisters, we get once of the worst-executed bar fights in cinema history, and most importantly, we get Noddy’s Toilet Nightmare. After imagining and awakening from a terrible dream about a re-animated head, he immediately conjures up a new nightmare in which his own bowel movement first calls out to him, then leaps from the commode and tries to force its way down Noddy’s throat. So that’s a cinematic milestone achieved. For enduring such an indignity, you instinctively want to feel bad for Noddy, except that he’s a real prat. He lies, he cheats, he’s super lazy, and he repeatedly demeans his girlfriend Kim, even as the motorcycle leers at her leather-clad posterior. Incidentally, Kim is played by Morrissey’s actual wife Noar, so there’s some weird relationship issues on display. In addition to the objectification and the verbal abuse, the script calls for draping the Jewish actress in crucifixes. Apropos of nothing, the pair divorced a year later.

I Bought a Vampire Motorcycle has an odd sense of tone, careering from silly to serious in random and unexpected ways. It’s the kind of film that will go for an obvious joke like naming a funeral home “De’Ath and Sons,” and then turn around and hire Anthony Daniels, C-3PO himself as I live and breathe, to play it straight as a biker priest who doesn’t let the loss of all the fingers on his right hand get in the way of a full-throated exorcism. To be clear, it’s completely fine to try for a mix of screams and chuckles, but neither of them work particularly well here—they just call attention to strange choices that fall short of the mark. That’s what makes the film a weird watch, but also a disappointing one. Once you get the bike started, you’ve still got to finish the drive.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“No beating around the bush: this is a weird-ass movie!… The Film also goes off on weird diversions- like a random, gross-out Dream Sequence- and is arguably too silly at times.” – Alec Pridgen, Mondo Bizarro

ADDITIONAL LINKS OF INTEREST: It’s all well and good to hear from movie reviewers like your humble correspondent, but discerning customers like yourselves want to hear from the people whose opinions really matter: motorcycle writers. Enjoy the review from Pete Brissette at Motorcycle.com or take in the analysis by Jason Marker over at RideApart.

(This movie was nominated for review by Karolina. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)