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FANTASIA 2023: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: DIVINITY (2023)

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Weirdest!

DIRECTED BY: Eddie Alcazar

FEATURING: , Karrueche Tran, Moises Arias, Jason Genao

PLOT: The development of a life-prolonging elixir brings humankind to the brink of collapse, until two celestial brothers conspire to subdue the potion’s creator.

WHY IT SHOULD MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: We were all waiting for Guy Maddin to make a David Cronenberg movie. That mash-up so far eludes us, but we do have Eddie Alcazar sliding this cocktail our way—with some further madness thrown into the mix.

COMMENTS: An exciting combination of feelings percolates within me. On the one hand, I feel immediately compelled to attempt a description of what just happened to my eyes and ears; on the other hand, a part of me advises waiting to see just how this mélange of influences and particular vision coagulate. Considering I will probably never know just quite what happened, I am erring on the side of catering to my enthusiasm, even at the near-certain risk of flirting with vague utterances of confusion and satisfaction.

Via the production-distorted lens of auteur Eddie Alcazar, we crash through symmetric dissections of something organic, flipping, sliding, and morphing before the motion stills somewhat, and the glass eye of a camera lens comes into view—a lens focused on Sterling Pierce, a brilliant scientist who has nearly perfected a product (and it is assuredly a product as much as anything else) dubbed “Divinity”, which promises not only to stop aging, but reverse its worst effects. So long as you do not stop consuming it. At some unclear retro-future point in time, we meet a cadre of nubile, leotard-clad women who oscillate between ephemera and physicality, and who we are told hold the key to rejuvenating the dying planet. Two small stars plummet to earth whilst Jaxxon Pierce (son of Sterling, and perfecter of “Divinity”) giddily fucks a groupie.

That description hints at a major caveat of sorts: we have seen this story and these themes before. Robert Louis Stevenson’s “The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde” plays a major part, particularly when Jaxxon is jacked-up with concentrated “Divinity.” His slow, extreme morph, and his well-intentioned genetic ambitions, also brings to mind the “ADAM” phenomenon from the “Bioshock” video game. Alcazar crams body horror through a soft-focus black and white, while the dark science plays reassuringly on cathode ray. Plutocratically dystopian advertisements whir us through societal developments, and we’re never more than a few seconds away from a shot of staggeringly buff guys (or in one favorite bit, a buff breakfast, in the form of “Flexi-Os.”)  The whole narrative (minus flashes-back, some twenty-four hours of mysteriousness and revelry) rushes though a weird vein straight into our brain’s “What the…?” centers until the climax.

This melange catapults Divinity from mere Apocrypha Candidate into a worthy recipient of our coveted “Weirdest!” badge. While the first seventy-odd minutes are as much of so much as one might hope for, the finale destabilizes like a punch straight to the occipital lobe. A stop-motion show-down, cryptic symbology burning in the night sky, an exterior vaginal POV glimpse, and the emergence of an entity I have never seen before in my life left me with just one reaction (shared by most of the surrounding audience): a “hah!” of sheer disbelief. You know what I’m talking about. In case you don’t, hunt down Divinity. It’ll cure what ails ya.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Divinity is a black-and-white acid trip pumped with steroids, ‘Twin Peaks’-adjacent ominousness, and hunger for human flesh.” – Nick Allen, RogerEbert.com (festival screening)

Divinity [Blu-ray]

Divinity [Blu-ray]
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FANTASIA 2023: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: VINCENT MUST DIE (2023)

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Vincent doir mourir

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DIRECTED BY: Stéphan Castang

FEATURING: Karim Leklou, Vimala Pons, François Chattot

PLOT: Vincent flees his humdrum city life when it takes a deadly turn as more and more strangers try to kill him.

Still from "Vincent Must Die" (2023)

WHY IT SHOULD MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: L’absurde et la comédie comme Dupieux, le commentaire social comme Godard, et un peu d’ultra-violence comme Romero? Une combinaison gagnante.

COMMENTS: Vincent’s boss had a dream: a horde of deer in an open field, his mother in a grand, flowing dress—just like she has in real life!—and a newly-grown pair of antlers. What could it mean? Vincent (Karim Leklou) doesn’t care; politely, he shifts the conversation to inquire who that new guy is. Boss tells him it’s Hugo the intern. Vincent jokes to the new lad, “Where’s my coffee?” It falls flat, and later that day Vincent’s face gets smashed by repeated laptop blows from the intern. It’s all very calm, and sets a comedic start ahead of the ratcheting horror to come.

Castang is one of those irritatingly sure-handed newcomers, having floored the audience at Cannes with his feature debut Vincent Must Die before shuffling it across the Atlantic to floor the Fantasia audience. Vincent’s journey from mild-mannered office jockey to prey is more of a shift in his bodily injuries than his behavior. Leklou conveys affable soft-spoken softness and sheer personal terror with masterful body language, apt facial expressions, and (almost) unfailing placidity.

The premise could well have been concocted during a night of one-upsmanship between Godard and Dupieux, with heavy references to Weekend and the quiet office absurdity permeating Keep An Eye Out. For reasons never explained, more and more people—strangers, friends, and even the damaged manic-pixie-dream-girl waitress, Margaux—cannot resist the urge to attempt to murder the protagonist, using whatever is at hand. Not long after his attack by laptop, a passing co-worker stabs Vincent in the wrist multiple times. And his boss, the fellow with the Buñuelian dream of antlers and mother, thinks it best Vincent spend some time away from the office. You know, to help morale. (Everyone’s been a bit tense.)

And the world has gotten tense. As we join Vincent during his internet delvings and late night drives through the French countryside, more and more plot snippets flesh out a growing problem. Castang explores fury and abandon, uncomfortably drawing our attention to a world becoming more and more unhinged. An understated absurdist comedy morphs increasingly into a febrile survival horror, spiked with the requisite French sex and deadpan. I laughed, I gasped, and I began eyeing a malfunctioning automatic door by the movie screen with more apprehension than logic should allow. But logic went out the door, as fear stole its way through the stunned crowd.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“While Vincent Must Die is first and foremost a horror, it is also a mystery, sometimes a thriller, occasionally dramatic, and absurdly comedic.” – Eamon Tracy, Irish Film Critic (contemporaneous)

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CHANNEL 366: I’M A VIRGO (2023)

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“I’m a Virgo” streams exclusively on Amazon Prime (subscription required)

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Jharrel Jerome, Olivia Washington, Walton Goggins, Kara Young, Carmen Ejogo, Mike Epps, Brett Gray

PLOT: Cootie, a 13-foot tall black man, tries to find a purpose in Oakland, while idolizing a real-life superhero/media sensation known as “the Hero.”

Still from I'm a Virgo (2023)
Jharrel Jerome (as ‘Cootie’), Olivia Washington (as ‘Flora’). Copyright Amazon Studios, Courtesy of Prime Video

COMMENTS: How do you find shoes for a 13-foot tall teenager? And how do you support him without him eating you out of house and home? If you care about the answers to these stupid questions, then “I’m a Virgo” is not for you. If, on the other hand, you’re curious as to how giant Cootie is going to carry on a romantic affair with the normal-sized Flora—who experiences time at about ten times the speed of other people—then have I got a series for you!

“I’m a Virgo” is, on the one hand, a charming story of a sweet, naive man-child coming-of-age in a world that’s not always kind to the differently-heighted. Since this is a Boots Riley joint, it’s also a left-wing political allegory, with a citizen-led rent strike occupying a major subplot. The series is, unexpectedly, also a satire of superhero culture; in Riley’s eyes, these icons of law-and-order are nothing more than propagandist for the status quo . Cootie, meanwhile, is the ultimate image of the Other; he’s a minority of one even within his own minority group. And there are ample, literal lectures about the evils of capitalism. Most of the time, these are far too on-the-nose, as compared to the subtler satire seen in Riley’s debut feature Sorry to Bother You, where such critiques arose naturally as an organic part of the plot. But I can at least say that these lessons are far livelier (and more hallucinatory) than the similarly didactic Marxist monologues that occasionally pop up in ‘s Dziga Vertov movies of the late 60s and early 70s.

And, since this is, again, a Boots Riley joint, it’s also a work that explores these weighty issues by diving into a deep well of absurdist satire. If you thought the premise of a 13-foot man roaming the hood was enough madness for one series, Riley disagrees. We also get the story of the Hero, a homegrown Oakland version of Batman, who runs a comics empire during the day and fights crime at night from his headquarters, and whose elevator moves the building up and down instead of shuttling people between floors. He and Cootie aren’t the only remarkable humans on the block: about half the cast has hidden superpowers which are gradually revealed. The series also features a group of tiny people about as big as your finger, as well as a religious cult devoted to Cootie (who is indifferent to them). Remarkably, Riley ladles out the insanity with a steady hand, sprinkling his twisted creation with bold, surreal flavors, but never overwhelming the core story or making his characters seem anything less than psychologically real (regardless of height).

The extended length of the series format is both a blessing and a curse here. On the plus side, Riley has plenty of time to explore numerous oddball cul-de-sacs without taking time away from character development; for example, the smidgen of crazy grace that comes with a pirate broadcast of an animated series-within-the-series, a digression that would feel too far afield in a feature. Almost an entire episode is devoted to the Hero’s bizarre lifestyle; there’s so much richness here, in his fear of assassination by ninjas, his relationship to his subordinates, and his search for the perfect mate, that a spin-off series devoted to this complex character would be most welcome. On the other hand, it’s always troubling when the first season of a series like this wraps up awkwardly, tying up some loose ends but leaving others flapping in the breeze. Unfortunately, “I’m a Virgo” falls prey to this syndrome in the final episode; it’s particularly disappointing that the Hero ends his too-short arc in anticlimactic fashion. Overall, however, this is a small complaint for Riley’s extraordinary sophomore effort, and one that Amazon can easily make moot if they decide to pick up “I’m a Virgo” for round two. This bizarro Oakland neighborhood has too much craziness left to explore to leave after a mere seven episodes.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…an epic and surreal story that is part fairy tale, part parable, and utterly unique. Evoking the same off-kilter filmmaking style as his feature film debut, Riley has delivered one of the weirdest streaming series in recent memory that pulls together statements on unemployment, racial bias, exploitation, and class warfare within the guise of a comic book-themed superhero adventure. I’m A Virgo is weird and weirdly wonderful.”–Alex Maidy, JoBlo (contemporaneous)

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: TODD TARANTULA (2023)

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DIRECTED BY: Ansel Faraj

FEATURING: Ethan Walker, Kelly Erin Decker, Nathan Wilson, David Selby

PLOT: Todd Tarantula’s prized motorcycle is stolen; more disconcertingly, he keeps slipping through time.

Still from Todd Tarantula (2023)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Todd Tarantula renders L.A. in neon-sparked hues, a surreal effect heightened by the underlying grit of the smog-soaked city. The slippery narrative coursing beneath the death-candy visuals touches on ancient Pueblo lore, modern ennui, technological immortality, and a pleasing finish that is fairly rare in our corner of cinema. Also, there’s a skull-headlight time-travel motorbike.

COMMENTS:

I can’t tell if this is blood or snot! Can somebody help?

The scene is set with efficiency, because for Ansel Faraj, time is of the essence. This pressing speed is somewhat ironic when one considers that the protagonist, ne’er-do-well business scion Todd Tarantula, has time on his side. Well, more accurately, he has time at his disposal. This stubbled James Dean stand-in has his share of troubles—deceased mother, estranged father, dead-end life—but  at least hehas a bitchin’ bike: his treasured means of escape from the demons that pursue him. But over the course of an evening, he loses that, and considerably more.

Tell me one—just one dream—that’s all I ask.

Rotoscoping is a wondrous technique, creating what is possibly the uncanniest of valleys. Grafting animation on to filmed reality anchors us in form and flow, while allowing unfettered tinkering. Faraj’s peripheral tinkering is limited, for the most part, to a glorious color skew. Murky nights shift from green to black. Dazzling sun-lit cityscapes become a Technicolor kaleidoscope. Negative space morphs into clingy radiance. When Todd finally encounters his father, the wire-and-bandage-wrapped patriarch appears as a tethered angel amidst his array of hospital machines and plastic draping. During a car ride with Lucifer (a business rival of his father), the power of animation emphasizes Todd’s claustrophobia and draws the eye to the old gentleman’s skull-topped cane, hinting at the unspoken cost of the business deal playing at the tip of Lucifer’s tongue.

News of death travels fast; dare I say, ‘I’m sorry’?

Ansel Faraj’s film is not perfect. The performances are inconsistent, and the narrative thread sometimes veers too far from the main stitching. However, he has an interesting story to tell here, and it is told entertainingly, with many clever bursts. When he learns of his father’s demise, and the deceased’s disrupted attempt to achieve digital immortality, Todd is idling at the La Brea Tarpits—site of others who have failed to achieve a favorable form of perpetuity.

I don’t know what’s real any more, and I’m really fucking tired of it.

As events unfold (and, in some cases, re-fold), Todd Tarantula slows its pace, drawing everything together at the end for a finish that some will consider a touch too trite. I, on the other hand, was pleased, and relieved to see something pleasant and astounding befall this troubled bohemian nomad. Todd Tarantula sears the eyes, bends the mind, and has the good manners to elicit a satisfied grin.

Todd Tarantula is currently streaming free on Tubi.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“The search for his missing motorcycle takes Todd on a journey into the darkest and weirdest byways of Los Angeles… Todd Tarantula is like the lovechild of an unholy union between an urban dungeons and dragons quest and a ‘50s teen angst movie. To bless the union, Faraj and company digitally rotoscoped the footage in post production to make the colors, characters and scenery pop like a cross between a live-action graphic novel and an acid trip.”—Brian Schuck, Films From Beyond (contemporaneous)