Category Archives: It Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue

Channel 366, It Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue

CHANNEL 366: DON’T HUG ME I’M SCARED (2011-2016, 2022)

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DIRECTED BY: Becky Sloan, Joseph Pelling, Baker Terry

PLOT: Red Guy, Yellow Guy, and Duck find their days consistently interrupted by anthropomorphized objects in their home and uninvited guests who insist on teaching them lessons about life via song, dance, and increasingly unsettling interactions.

Still from "Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared"

COMMENTS: There’s a reason that children’s television is, on the whole, weird. After all, there are two competing, even contradictory goals at work: these shows often want to teach young people some valuable life lesson (the alphabet, how the mail is delivered, treating your friends with decency and respect), but hold the audience’s notoriously wandering attention while doing so. All those talking aardvarks and talking Blue Heelers and talking magical unicorns are handwaving determined to steal a child’s focus with any degree of strangeness necessary. Landmarks of the genre going back decades—“Captain Kangaroo,” “Kukla, Fran and Ollie,” “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse” —have all danced along the line where oddness tips over from charming to off-putting. Even the grand poobah of them all, “Sesame Street,” had to overcome initial concerns that its central conceit—humans and puppets living side-by-side—would be incomprehensible to children. Obviously, the kids figured it out.

Any success inspires parody, satire, and critique. Children’s TV has certainly earned its fair share, as can be seen in the stressful adulthood of the characters in Avenue Q, the aggressive surrealism of “Wonder Showzen,” and the oppressive nightmare of today’s subject, “Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared.” This British web-series-turned-TV-show is perfectly captures the way that just living in the world can feel like unavoidable oppression. The machinations of people who are venal, stupid, or both conspire against “Don’t Hug Me”‘s characters, through the lens of two puppets and a guy with a crimson mop for a head who just want to get through the day. For anyone who remembers childhood as an endless series of grownups trying to kill your fun with their wondrous tales of adulthood and education, this is a show that sees you clear as day.

“Don’t Hug Me” began as a web series, and it establishes its theme—the world is fundamentally cruel—right away. In the very first short, a singing sketchpad shows up to share the wonders of thinking with boundless imagination, and after engaging the trio, she immediately proceeds to shut down their creative efforts with helpful corrections like “Green is not a creative color.” And there’s always room for things to get worse. A collection of creatures trying to describe love pile on more and more parameters and qualifiers, culminating in the revelation that they worship a giant idol and feed it gravel. An interest in food spurs on a storm of questionable nutrition advice, recommending aspic and referring to vegetables as “soil food.” These Continue reading CHANNEL 366: DON’T HUG ME I’M SCARED (2011-2016, 2022) →

Capsules, It Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: ALLEGRO (2005)

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DIRECTED BY: Christoffer Boe

FEATURING: , Helena Christensen, Henning Moritzen

PLOT: An acclaimed pianist returns to Copenhagen in response to the appearance of an impassable no-man’s land that was created when the musician broke up with his girlfriend a decade prior.

Still from Allegro (2005)

COMMENTS: Allegro is a musical term, an instruction to performers to maintain a fast and bright tempo in the range of 120-156 beats per minute. The first movement of Vivaldi’s “Spring” is allegro, as is “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” by Mozart. (Also at allegro tempo: this.) It establishes a bright, bouncy feel, and while allegro tunes don’t have to be happy, there’s something wickedly perverse about lending the term to the title of this slow, methodical look at a musical artist who has removed all flair and personality from his performances, and indeed from himself. Surely “Adagio” was sitting right there.

Writer/director Boe hints at the outset that we’re about to be treated to a modern fairy tale. Through recurring sketchbook-style animation, we learn about the early life of our hero, an aspiring concert pianist we will only know by his last name, Zetterstrøm, who grows up to become a technically perfect but emotionally flat musician. This seems like it might change when he has a charming meet-cute with a lovely woman named Andrea. They progress to a relationship, despite his clear reservations, and his wariness seems justified when they break up a while later because of his commitment to his career. Leaving Andrea behind, he becomes a performer whose interpretations hit all their marks perfectly but are devoid of emotional engagement. He is so completely devoted to the purity of his work and so determined to extricate any trace of personality that he does Glenn Gould one better by refusing to be seen as he performs. As one music expert tells us, “He is an excellent pianist, technically… but where is his passion?”

Turns out his passion is in Denmark. I mean, that’s literally where he has deposited all of the distracting impulses that he has purged from his system because they harsh his chill. What Zetterstrøm has done, unbeknownst to him, is compartmentalize all his memories and feelings of the intense relationship into a section of Copenhagen that becomes a closed-off, inaccessible disaster area called “The Zone.” (Locals bounce things off the invisible force field that surrounds The Zone for their amusement.) In short, Allegro is a clever piece of magical realism, making manifest the consequences of locking one’s emotions away.

The idea is compelling when described, but less so in execution. The premise is fantastical, but Boe is so committed to the reality of the situation that he devotes much time to the uninteresting business of getting Zetterstrøm to Copenhagen, getting him into The Zone, and finally getting him to understand the implications of his careless soul-ectomy. Yes, Zetterstrøm has intentionally extracted his heartbroken soul, but as played by Thomsen, he’s a pretty emotionally vacant fellow already. It ends up feeling like the function is following the form, and that rather than exploring this broken psyche by viewing it through the prism of an “Outer Limits”-style no-man’s land, Allegro seems to have come up with the strange storytelling twist and retrofitted a story to occupy it.

It is frustrating how much of Allegro is told and not shown. Zetterstrøm is spoon-fed every clue to unlock his stolen past by Moritzen’s ill-defined narrator/journalist/ringmaster, like the minder overseeing an escape room. Zetterstrøm’s performing ability is delivered to us second-hand. His relationship with Andrea is conveyed quickly through a crafty piece of editing that takes the couple’s relationship from its earliest moments to its sad end, but the technique denies us the opportunity to see the relationship for ourselves. Most tellingly, the film’s final revelation resolving the ramifications of his experience in The Zone, tying together the pianist’s emotional turmoil and his professional acumen, is delivered in voiceover.

Allegro goes hard on its unusual premise, and there are some intriguing camera and set design choices that reflect the scattered and troubled nature of Zetterstrøm’s memories. It’s also to the film’s credit that we invest in his relationship with Andrea (the film debut for former supermodel Christensen) despite how little we see of it. Ultimately, however, an appropriately weird idea does not alone make a weird film, and Allegro never quite makes good on what it promises. Contrary to its title, Allegro doesn’t go fast, and it doesn’t get where it wants to go.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…despite its surreal aspects, [Boe] keeps it real, as if Terry Gilliam had adopted cinema verite.”–Amber Wilkinson, Eye For Film (contemporaneous)

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

Capsules, It Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: BLOOD, BULLETS, BUFFOONS (1996)

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DIRECTED BY: Zachary Winston Snygg

FEATURING: Zachary Winston Snygg, Amy Lynn Baxter, John Paul Fedele, Carl Burrows

PLOT: When terminally dweeby patsy Jack lands in jail after getting caught up in a drug deal gone bad, he emerges from prison determined to seek revenge on those who hung him out to dry, including his hot girlfriend.

Still from Blood, Bullets, Buffoons (1996)

COMMENTS: It’s hard to overstate the impact that Quentin Tarantino’s one-two punch of Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction had on the film world, especially to indie moviemakers who were looking for a seat at the table. While horror has always been a good entry point into the business, the genre elements and risks from too-effective shocks and gore would sometimes keep talented directors and screenwriters waiting at the kids’ table. Tarantino offered another way in: high-impact violence, often outrageous in nature, supported by snappy, adventurous, reference-laden dialogue that invigorated actors and thrilled audiences. This turned out to be such a successful formula that cinemas were soon inundated with low-budget, microbudget, and even no-budget copycats that checked boxes for gunplay, smug smuttiness, and a deluge of word vomit without any of the original’s flavor or depth. (To be fair, one of the perpetrators of this unfortunate trend was Quentin Tarantino.) 

This is how we come to Blood, Bullets, Buffoons, a clear debtor to Pulp Fiction‘s legacy two years after that film’s release. A true hustler, Snygg has racked up 44 directorial credits to date, many under the name “John Bacchus.” Titles like Lust in Space: The Erotic Witch Project IV,  Beaster Day: Here Comes Peter Cottonhell, and The Heaping Bouncy Breasts That Smothered a Midget that tell you everything you need to know about his auteurial aesthetic. To peruse his IMDb page is to scan a catalog of softcore horror flicks, reality show spoofs, and blockbuster parodies with production values that would make Asylum Entertainment blush with embarrassment. BBB is actually one of his earliest efforts, so if anything, expectations should be kept even lower.

One endeavors to be kind to a production with limited resources. Should it matter that a courtroom looks like someone’s living room has been lightly dressed (right down to the curtains covering the windows behind the judge)? Can we overlook the fact that Jack’s prison houses only two inmates, or that the warden’s office is located in a foyer and is open at all times? Is it worth noting that no one in the entire production can afford a suit, let alone a scene-appropriate costume, and that Jack spends a large portion of the film in the T-shirt and shorts that he might wear to the gym? Honestly, I think we can probably let all that go, because verisimilitude and visual splendor are not really the selling point here. No, what we’re after is… well, it’s all in the title, isn’t it?

This is where the movie falls apart, because while there is a fair amount of cartoonish violence, those first two Bs are not really that present. Instead, there’s a lot a scenes where men talk about their difficulties with women in thick Jersey accents and language that more than hints at an inherent lack of respect. (There’s a charitable interpretation of this as a knock on toxic masculinity, but it is desperately unfunny Z-grade Tarantino jibber-jabber, and frankly reads as a tacit endorsement of said toxic masculinity.) There are also a fair number of scenes where a topless woman is shoehorned into the frame in a wild stab at sex appeal. So perhaps Boorishness, Breasts, Buffoons would be a better title. But the most accurate B would be Boring, because much of the film is given over to long stretches of nothing happening whatsoever. In one scene, for example, Jack goes to a strip club with his posterized portrait of one of the people upon whom he intends to enact revenge. He enters and watches a nearly nude woman writhe around him before she directs him to a topless dominatrix, who extracts ten dollars from the hapless Jack while she is abusing a paying client, before finally getting around to telling him that his target will be here tomorrow at noon. Cost to us: five minutes of unrecoverable life. Uncovered breasts: four. Plot advancement: none at all. Much of the movie is like this. Jack’s pre-crime life, his recruitment into the operation, his time in jail and his daring escape, his plans for revenge and his artful dodging of the police, and all the poorly choreographed action… staged in the longest, least compelling, drawn-out manner possible. 

Snygg hangs most of his film’s potential on the appeal of Penthouse Pet Baxter, who plays the utterly uninterested love interest. Though she is much talked about, her presence is limited almost entirely to some black-and-white flashbacks in which Jack struggles to get her attention, plus a final scene where her character’s arc meets a stupid and pointless conclusion. It seems Snygg can’t even figure out how to use the closest thing he has to a star. He can’t even finagle a topless scene out of her. It’s important not to classify this as poor-man’s Tarantino, because poor men deserve better. Blood, Bullets, Buffoons is depressing, bearing few assets and wasting them anyway. It is strange to see an opportunity like this spoiled in such a cavalier manner. But after all: a buffoon is a clown, a bumbling fool. You can’t say the title was wrong about that.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“The dialogue is largely sub-Tarantino wannabe nonsense, but the more original ideas, such as staging fights to the soundtracks from kung-fu films, work surprisingly well. There just aren’t enough of them to keep your interest going.” – Jim McLennan, Film Blitz

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

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    Capsules, It Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue

    IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE BALLAD OF BUSTER SCRUGGS (2018)

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    Recommended

    DIRECTED BY: Joel Coen, Ethan Coen

    FEATURING: , James Franco, Liam Neeson, , Tom Waits, , Tyne Daly, Brendan Gleeson, Saul Rubinek

    PLOT: Six tales of the Old West, including a singing cowboy, an unlucky bank robber, an impresario and his hobbled talent, a tenacious gold prospector, a prospective bride, and a stagecoach full of tired travelers.

    Still from The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

    COMMENTS: The Coen Brothers have made a remarkable cinematic career out of a body of work that careens from grim realism to wild stylization, often making unexpected stops along that spectrum. Sometimes, their push in one direction has alienated fans of the other; if you like the harsh satire of Fargo, you probably won’t enjoy the heightened mannerisms of The Hudsucker Proxy, and the metaphysical mysteries of A Serious Man might feel impenetrable to lovers of the stoner wisdom of The Big Lebowski. When they turned their attention to Westerns, it seemed like the demands of the genre pushed them toward a more sober, realistic approach, as typified by the neo-noir charnel house of No Country for Old Men and the gritty pastoral (not to mention corrective) remake of True Grit. For the final film (to date) of their storied collaboration, Joel and Ethan returned to the Old West, but found a way to hit nearly every possible take on the genre along the way.

    At first glance, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs appears to have all the elements to please fans of traditional Westerns: a showdown in an empty street, a wagon train weaving across the plains, a lone man doing battle with an entire tribe of Indian savages, panning for gold, stagecoaches, poker games, and a hangman’s noose. Far from playing to the crowd, however, these six vignettes are haunted by death and regret. There’s at least one fatality in each story, and the survivors come to a reckoning with the actions that have kept them alive. To the extent that any of these needed to be Westerns in the first place, it’s to highlight the harshness and swift cruelty of this place and time. There is a moral code, it’s unforgiving, and it is strictly enforced.

    The opening chapter, which gives the film its name, is by far the most stylized of the set. Nelson does not merely play a cowboy but an archetype, wearing a suit of brilliant white, strumming a guitar and speaking directly to us of his philosophy. It’s cloyingly familiar, until he wields his pistol and reveals himself to be a whirlwind of brutality. What ensues is essentially one joke, but it’s a good one told very well: the fella in the white hat is extremely violent, morally repugnant, and dies quickly and without a trace of heroism. It’s a nose thumbed at Gene Autry and Tom Mix and every Hollywood fantasy of the West. In that regard, it perfectly sets the table for what is to come.

    The next two stories demonstrate a dark humor that suggests sometimes you can’t win for losing. James Franco’s thief immediately finds himself in over his head in what should be a simple bank Continue reading IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE BALLAD OF BUSTER SCRUGGS (2018) →

    It Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue, List Candidates

    APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: TASHER DESH (2013)

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    AKA The Land of Cards

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    DIRECTED BY: Quashiq “Q” Mukherjee

    FEATURING:, , Soumyak Kante De Biswas, , Tinu Verghese

    PLOT: An exiled prince escapes from confinement, only to arrive in a strange land where all the residents dress as military regiments of playing cards; meanwhile, a writer struggles to imagine an screen adaptation of this story.

    WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Tasher Desh is a fascinating example of a weird movie that manages to get weirder entirely through attitude. The land of the playing-card people and their lockstep behavior is plenty strange, but the movie treats their situation with a baroque intensity, a gravity that overwhelms everything that has preceded it. One kind of strange is replaced with another, and an emotional ache that completely changes the viewing experience.

    Still from Tasher Desh (2013)

    COMMENTS: When last we met up with Q, he was sharing the adventures of a Kolkata street rat turned hardcore rapper. His adventurous tale carved out a niche distinct from his colleagues in the Indian film industry, eschewing colorful dances and crowd-pleasing romance in favor of drugs, hardcore sex, and verses spat out with boundless anger. So when we begin Tasher Desh by meeting a screenwriter who has been tasked with adapting Rabindrath Tagore’s 80-year-old play about a fantastical land where the population paints their faces white and assumes the roles of a platoon of playing cards, the writer’s confusion would seem to be a conduit for that of Q himself. Is this really his kind of film? Can he make the pivot from raw vérité to classic adaptation? The answer is, of course. The man’s a professional. But rest assured, it will not look anything like you’d suspect. Q is gonna Q. 

    Tasher Desh spends its first hour establishing a mood of expectation. We hang out with the Prince and his retinue in their large but sparse prison, a cage that would be gilded if it were not made of rock and decorated with only the barest of furnishings, for a remarkably long time. The Prince chats with his mother, ignores his bevy of female attendants, sits around with his aide-de-camp, and plays marathon games of table tennis. Whatever he has done to merit this punishment (and the film is wisely silent on the subject), it’s a dreary fate. That he will want to escape seems a foregone conclusion.

    Juxtaposed with the Prince’s misery is that of the screenwriter, who seems to learn the story and script the film in real time. Both men search for something to make sense of everything: for the Prince, an encounter with an exotic fortune teller seals the deal, while the screenwriter similarly meets a mysterious woman who shows him the way.

    Here, halfway through the film, it’s fair to wonder who is the dog and who is the tail. The Prince and his pal wash up on an unfamiliar shore, and we immediately encounter the squadron of card people, a live-action version of the Red Queen’s brigade. They are stripped of all identity: hair hidden under a cap, clad in red and black uniforms, eyes concealed behind thick goggles, with their faces painted white and suits painted upon their lips. Only the numbers on their epaulets distinguish them. Their speech is captioned onscreen in bold all-caps blocks that threaten to fill half the screen. They are strange, single-minded, and fiercely xenophobic as they prepare to execute the newly arrived Prince. It’ll take some fancy speechifying to get out of this mess. Luckily for the Prince, he’s got that arrow in his quiver. 

    There’s something delightfully demented about the seriousness with which Q treats this absurd premise. It’s not clear why the Prince’s words are so motivating, but maybe he’s the first voice of opposition the card people have ever encountered. Regardless, the speech ushers in an awakening that shatters the worldview of everyone on the island. The Prince and his story are essentially done with at this point, and we’re left with the cards—especially the female cards—and the existential earthquake they face. For some, it is a sexual awakening, for others, a crisis of identity. It’s a huge pivot, and Q treats this shift with the solemnity and intensity that follows a long-drawn out war. 

    With multiple inspirations from literature, stage, and screen, Tasher Desh could be called derivative. Yet the sources are so many and so disparate that trying to tease them out ends up feeling foolish. The Tempest meets Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland meets Adaptation meets Lysistrata meets Pleasantville… trying to find a true antecedent is absurd. You’re better off with a different analogue altogether: it’s a Cobb salad, a track off Paul’s Boutique, a Rauschenberg montage. It synthesizes a diverse array of elements into something barely resembling its source material, something wholly new and strange. 

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

    “…not just a movie, but a surreal fever dream that completely rewired my brain…  while it might look like a straightforward ‘weird’ movie, ‘The Land of Cards’ is smarter than that. It’s a full-blown political allegory that isn’t afraid to question conformity, social structures, and the power of art.” – Brittany Vincent, Tom’s Guide

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