POD 366, EP. 78: JOINED BY “VAMPIRE ZOMBIES” JAKOB SKRZYPA… FROM FANTASIA!

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Quick links/Discussed in this episode:

Jakob Skrzypa’s site for information on Vampire Zombies… From Space! and other projects

Nosferatu (1922)/Terror of Dracula (1922?): Read the Canonically Weird entry for Nosferatu! This is the Essex Films version of Nosferatu, which uses the character names from the novel (i.e., it’s Count Dracula, not Count Orlok). Although the ad copy is ambiguous, we gather that Terror of Dracula is a 30 minute cut of Nosferatu that was sold on 8mm film to home collectors via mail order; it’s included as a bonus. John Mucci composes new scores for the films. These are curiosities for completists, released by reelclassicdvd (but on Blu-ray). Buy Nosferatu/Terror of Dracula.

Only the River Flows (2023): A Chinese policeman questions whether they have the right suspect in a murder, as he struggles with nightmares that suggest madness. Played in Cannes in Un Certain Regard, and although most critics are coy about the actual plot (favoring words like “enigmatic”) it suggests the potential to be marginally weird. Only the River Flows official site.

WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:

On next week’s Pod 366, we’ll do our last live check-in at the 2024 , with a special guest scheduled: Nina Martin, Associate Professor of Film Studies at Connecticut College and occasional film reviewer at her personal blog I Wear Black on the Outside. In written reviews, Giles Edwards will have another week of festival reviews, reports and interviews: we’ll soon have a review for Chainsaws Were Singing (mentioned prominently in this Week’s Pod 366) along with interviews with that film’s director and an actor, Frankie Freako‘s Steven Kostanski, and a date with Miguel Llansó (Jesus Shows You the Way to the Highway) to discuss his latest offering, Infinite Summer. Meanwhile, Shane Wilson chips in a written review of another reader-suggestion: Leos Carax‘s incestuous but literary Pola X (1999). Onward and weirdward!

2024 FANTASIA FILM FESTIVAL: AND THE REST, PART ONE

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Montréal 2024

Walking through a downtown department store my first day, I overheard a fellow say to his wife, “They have some more over here, eh?”, referring to a rack of fanny packs.

It will only get less Canadian from here.

7/18: 4PM

I recently stumbled across an unexpected “horror-of-manners“.  I also was not expecting a “tragedy-of-manners” (one which slips into “thriller-of-manners” on occasion) which unfolds with the breezy charm of a Dupieux picture—and here I mean, a Buñuel picture.

4PM is the most boring festival title this year, and appropriately it focuses on a boring man: a cardiologist by trade, who takes to visiting his new neighbors (a professor on sabbatical, and his wife) every day at… 4 o’clock. Sitting, sitting, sitting, and saying virtually nothing. Promptly at 6, he rises, gathers his coat, and wordlessly leaves the premises. The professor and wife alternately marvel, cringe, fear, and laugh at the phenomenon; and then details regarding their unlikely guest begin to emerge. Jay Song’s film delights and saddens, ending with a crushing act of vengeance.

7/19: The A-Frame

has assembled an interesting “hard” science-fiction film with some poignancy, featuring a just-annoyed-enough protagonist with bone cancer, a just-tough-but-caring-enough support character surviving cancer, and a just-sketchy-enough quantum physicist who has discovered, quite by accident, a cure for cancer. (Oh, and lest I forget Rishi, there’s also a just-sad-sack-enough comedian with cancer, facing his travails with an admirable flippancy and an endless line of bad-but-good jokes.) The A-Frame is a solidly B-movie experience, with neat-o machinery, touching moments, and commendable practical effects.

Vulcanizadora

The latest from Joel Potrykus begins as a buddy comedy: a buddy comedy with opera and metal. Two guys walk resolutely down a country road along the woodland edge, and with a sudden drop of the hardcore Continue reading 2024 FANTASIA FILM FESTIVAL: AND THE REST, PART ONE

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE WOMAN IN THE FIFTH (2011)

La Femme de Vème

DIRECTED BY: Pawel Pawlikowski

FEATURING: Ethan Hawke, Kristin Scott Thomas, Joanna Kulig, Samir Guesmi

PLOT: A struggling American writer who arrives in Paris hoping to reconnect with his estranged wife and daughter instead finds work as a night watchman admitting visitors to a mysterious apartment, while commencing affairs with both a young Polish barmaid and a beautiful translator who may be keeping secrets of her own.

Still from The Woman in the Fifth (2011)

COMMENTS: For anyone who is used to seeing Ethan Hawke as an American writer slumming it in Europe in the Before trilogy, The Woman in the Fifth is a real shocker. From the moment we meet Tom Ricks prevaricating in the customs line at the Paris airport, we’re witnessing a much more pathetic, more desperate character than the one who romanced Julie Delpy. Soon enough, we learn some uncomfortable truths about our hero. His wife is decidedly not happy to see him, his daughter is surprised he’s not in prison, and the loss of his luggage leaves him with virtually nothing in the worst part of the city.

Of course, Hawke is the beneficiary of some extraordinary luck. On the one hand, the owner of the flophouse where he winds up is willing to trust an American, accepting that the wayward writer will eventually pay him (and holding his passport until he does). He even helps him out by giving him a job monitoring a security camera and buzzing in dodgy visitors. But despite being down and out, Ricks’ one novel has provided him enough notoriety to get him invited to a fancy soiree where he meets up with the sophisticated and mysterious Margit, a woman who would be perfect—if she was willing to say anything about herself at all.

If Margit seems to good to be true, well, let’s just say that the film agrees. There’s a reason why she’s tight-lipped; without giving anything away, it’s safe to say that there are some commonalities with films like A Beautiful Mind, Swimming Pool, or even Jacob’s Ladder. Yes, this is a movie with twists, playing with our sense of reality and exploiting our inherent trust in Hawke despite his character’s very evident flaws. A good portion of the film is taken up by curiosity over just what is going on, and that turns out to be the biggest misdirection of all.

The Woman in the Fifth is adapted from a novel by Douglas Kennedy, and it seems to have all the makings of an airport potboiler along the lines of Gone Girl or The Woman on the Train. The wild card here is writer-director Pawlikowski, who is deeply uninterested in any of the book’s trashy adornments. The thriller elements start to pile up: we learn that Ricks’ wife has slapped him with a restraining order. There are hints of impropriety that caused him to lose his teaching post. Strange noises come from that room he’s monitoring, and he even spots stains on the floor that look like the kind you’d get by dragging a bloodied body. Following a spat, his neighbor at the inn winds up dead under very mysterious circumstances. Heck, his daughter goes missing. All of this plottiness swirls around, and Pawlikowski genuinely does not care. Most of this will go unresolved, because the main attraction is Hawke and his choice of the reality he will choose to occupy.

For a film whose narrative sets up so much and delivers precious little, The Woman in the Fifth is quite watchable. Hawke gives a nicely calibrated performance as a man who is probably losing his grip but is quite certain he’s in control. He’s balanced well against Kulig’s hopeful innocent, and especially against Scott Thomas’ cool manipulator. By way of example, a scene in which Margit welcomes Ricks into her home for the first time and unhesitatingly surprises him with some digital stimulation could be unnecessary or even crass, but she fixes on him so intently, with the curiosity of a scientist, that it packs the moment with potency. Margit is a small presence in the film, but Scott Thomas makes a meal of it, appropriately taking command of Hawke long after the truth of her identity is revealed.

The weirdness of The Woman in the Fifth may depend heavily on expectations. If you’re looking for the story to pay off its mysteries, it probably feels like a cheap ploy, and may even leave you extremely angry. If, however, you recognize Hawke’s steady march to oblivion as a creation of Pawlikowski’s particular sensibilities (he would delve into further emotional straits in Ida and Cold War), then you’re likely to have a more satisfying watch. Either way, it’s a very different experience from wondering what will happen to the Ethan Hawke character who is destined to miss the last plane from Paris.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“The movie seems to exist in some kind of liminal space that feels like a literary device… the story does attain a kind of closure, and even resolution, but it does so in a touch-and-go way that leaves us curiously dissatisfied. It’s like if Hitchcock’s Notorious morphed into Tarkovsky’s Solaris, only not nearly as interesting –- not nearly as cinematic — as that.” – Bilge Ebiri, They Live By Night (contemporaneous)

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

FANTASIA 2024: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: GHOST CAT ANZU (2024)

化け猫あんずちゃん

Bakeneko anzu-chan

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY: Yôko Kuno,

FEATURING: Voices of Noa Gotô, , Munetaka Aoki

PLOT: Abandoned in the sleepy beach town of Iketeru, 11-year-old Karin finds herself in the care of Anzu: a 37-year-old, human-sized “ghost cat” with a penchant for pachinko and speedy scootering.

Still from Ghost Cat Anzu (2024)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Seeing as we’ve certified a charming tale of someone pulled into realm of the spirits, I’ll suggest we include this differently charming tale of the spirit world slacking around amongst us people. Also, there are too few children’s movies on the list, and never enough giant cats.

COMMENTS:

“Whoa, that’s one big frog.”

Gah! Who are you?

“I’m Anzu, a ghost cat. Who are you?”

I’m a giant frog monster. Ribbet-Ribbet!

And so it goes in Iketeru, the idyllic waterfront village where a young girl finds herself ditched by her deadbeat dad who has some complicated debts he needs to take care of in Tokyo. From this pedestrian kick-off, directors Kuno and Yamashito rise to an impressive challenge: crafting a laid-back, deadpan, almost ‘ world in a whimsical, Ghibli-style animation.

Karin is cynical before her time. Beyond her difficulties arising from the ne’er-do-well father, we learn that she lost her mother at the age of eight, and has been under the guardianship of a grown man barely more mature than she is (perhaps even less so). In many ways, her circumstances don’t change when she is introduced to Anzu, a human-sized—and very human-acting — cat, who can perceive and interact with the spirit world. Anzu helps Karin’s grandfather maintain the small local temple, as well as a taking few odd jobs around town. He travels by scooter, though an early brush with the law strips him of his beloved transport.

Mythical Japanese beings emerge for a cocktail party hosted by Anzu, and Karin meets a Hag, a giant mushroom-man, a stone-form baby Buddha, the “giant frog monster” mentioned earlier, and more. Anzu’s slack sensibilities keep him from ever working too hard (he is a cat, after all), but he is a good friend: he feels bad after gambling away Karin’s earnings at the local pachinko parlor. It’s all so very natural, despite the entities in question. Frog and friends get jobs at the golf course whose woods they inhabit. Karin teases the two local boys (self-proclaimed creators of a “Contrarian” club). Grandfather oversees the temple. And so it goes.

But most of all, Karin misses her mother, and she undertakes a daring escapade into the underworld, with the considerable assistance from the God of Poverty, who is bamboozled into the task by Anzu. Entering through the crematorium’s out-of-order toilet while on a day-trip to Tokyo, Karin, Anzu, and the god visit the underworld hotel, and their capering unleashes demons and the God of Death onto the surface. The film lays on silliness and peculiarity thickly, and the picturesque animation maintains a perfect tension with the near-flippant attitude suffusing Kuno and Yamashito’s collaboration. Strange spirits, it seems, are all around us. And they’re just about as lazy as we are.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Combining live-action filming with frame-by-frame rotoscoping, it crafts a surreal, dream-like world. With its colorful art style and quirky characters, Ghost Cat Anzu explores profound themes of grief, family, and spirituality in an approachable way for both children and adults alike.” – Naser Nahandian, Gazettely (contemporaneous)

FANTASIA 2024: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: ANIMALIA PARADOXA (2024)

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Weirdest!

DIRECTED BY: Niles Atallah

FEATURING: Andrea Gomez

PLOT: In a world of little water and plenty of debris, a creature wishes to find refuge in the sea.

Still from Animalia Paradoxica (2024)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: For a couple of reasons, Atallah’s film brings to mind Begotten; for other reasons, it brings to mind Hotel Poseidon. For these reasons, Animalia Paradoxa is easy to describe as “weird.”

COMMENTS: There were a number of walkouts, there was an immediate rush by others when the credits clicked onto the screen, and a pair of young women sitting behind me were disappointed at the paucity of stop-motion animation. Their criticism was somewhat sound, as there is little of that element in the film; however, it is a credit to them that they remained to witness the entirety of Animalia Paradoxa as it languidly built its world and approached its bizarre climax and whisperingly uplifting denouement.

The experience begins with a shabby red curtain, drawn back by a marionette hand, revealing a reel-to-reel film viewer behind the crimson barrier. The hand cranks a lever and documentary footage of oceans, life, destruction, and more unspools, and eventually we meet our unnamed, and understandably mute, protagonist. She is covered head to foot in shabby, skin-tight habiliment, with only her milky eyes visible. Her exploration of the near-empty shell of a building in a wasteland is both skulking and lithe, implying she is not native to this terrain. There are occasional silent onlookers, and intermittently a group of cultists pass through the courtyard, spouting messianic fervor and hate.

Andrea Gomez, who performs the main character, captures its gentle soul through movement. She artfully and desperately crafts tchotchkes to offer up to a hand which emerges from a crack in a wall. She needs water for comfort, perhaps to live, and the gummi worms proffered by this hand, when fed to a mutterer suspended in a web of her own hair, releases water down her matted locks. The xylophonic sound cues and other chime and thump-based music underscores the unreality of this mythic exercise. Dialogue, though little is to be found, always grates, whether it be the megaphone-distorted tirades from the patrolling zealots, or the sinister coughs and utterances from a bloated basement-dwelling creature whose face is obscured by a suspended cellophane sheet done up in makeup.

This film oozes over you, which by and large is a satisfying, if not always pleasant, experience. The trash world Atallah assembles (alongside the collective Diluvio, which also includes the pair Joaquin Cociña and Cristóbal Leon) is ugly and beautiful—and I hate phrases like that. The title, were I to guess, refers to us. Humans. Dry-land entities, yearning for water. But shortly after the screening, I decided not to think too much on this film. Its themes are clear, even as its execution is obtuse. The cryptic dream of Animalia Paradoxa is better handled indirectly, lest the clumsy fingers of reason shatter its eerie presence.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“In certain theatrical moments, it feels like silent cinema, yet it is also strikingly contemporary in its concerns and approach to genre. As some of the best films are, it is difficult to categorize. This elusiveness plays to the film’s strengths.”–Alex Brannan, CineFiles Movie Reviews (Fantasia Screening)

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