Tag Archives: Beware

CAPSULE: THE CARPENTER’S SON (2025)

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Beware

DIRECTED BY: Lotfy Nathan

FEATURING: Noah Jupe, , FKA Twigs, Isla Johnson

PLOT: A Jewish teenage boy, the son of a carpenter, is tempted by a Stranger to use his innate powers for evil.

Still from The Carpenter's Son (2025)
Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures

COMMENTS: Mary and Jesus speak like they’re ordering high tea at the Goring hotel, Joseph raps in a California accent, the locals talk like Greeks pretending they’re Egyptians, and I swear one esteemed rabbi is Scottish. Inconsistent accents are not always a death knell for historical movies. There are numerous classics where the cast eschews their natural tongues to speak English (e.g. Schindler’s List),  others where one or two characters can be forgiven for mangling a difficult accent (e.g. Braveheart), and even a few where they purposefully ignore proper dialects (e.g., The Death of Stalin). But those are movies whose greatness overcomes their anachronisms; when your movie isn’t great, or anywhere close to it, that kind of lack of attention to detail can become emblematic of what’s wrong with the work.

The Carpenter’s Son is a historical horror drama set during Jesus’ teenage years, an era the Gospels skipped over as too boring. It revolves as much, if not more, around Nicolas Cage’s carpenter than it does his moody teen son. Joseph (he’s never named Joseph in the film, despite the character being firmly public domain by now) narrates and struggles with doubts over whether his son is who his wife says he is, and, once it appears that the boy has magical powers, whether he’s a force for good or evil. In the meantime, he lays down strict rules for his stepson’s own good. No one is to know who they are while the trio is hiding out (for pseudo-Biblical reasons) in Egypt. Mary (i.e. “the mother”) does little of anything. “Jesus” (credited as “the boy”) acts like a typical teenager, basically a good egg, but taken to occasional impertinence and rebelliousness, and even a bit of peeping at his bathing neighbor. Oh, and he accidentally heals lepers when a playmate shoves him into them, so there’s that. And he has a real case to scream “you’re not my real Father!” at Nicolas Cage, but he mostly avoids that temptation. Plus, he fights demons!

But despite all this meaty material, the script provides no suspense or tension. Jesus’ temptation by Lucifer was already covered more profoundly and succinctly in both the Canonical Gospels and in a far greater film; this story is therefore not only predictable, but redundant. Satan’s initial attempts at seduction are pretty lame: she mostly tempts Jesus to use his powers for good, then gives him a peek at eternal damnation, which pretty much turns him off to the whole Universal Evil thing. The plan of acting kind of like a dick to get the messiah to abandon the world’s salvation doesn’t work out, but Satan will learn from this failure and give it a better shot in 15 years.

Cage monotones his way through his monologues, briefly erupting into periodic patented “Cage rage” rants to earn his paycheck before slipping back into a doze. As meek Mary, out-of-her-depths pop star FKA Twigs follows her screen hubby’s lead, looking lost most of the time while conserving her emotion for the one or two chances she gets to raise her voice. The two younger actors, Jupe and Johnson, fare better, but the script gives them so little to work with that they make only a slight impression. There are a few nifty if frustratingly brief visions of Hell and stuff near the end—if you can stay awake that long, and can make them out through the underlit and murky lensing.

The Carpenter’s Son was “inspired by” the apocryphal Infancy Gospel of Thomas. That narrative was a fascinating imagination of Jesus’ childhood, where the future savior acts like a bit of a brat, killing classmates for slights (don’t freak out, he later resurrects them) and performing odd rites like creating clay birds and bringing them to life. That script would make for a potentially great, wild movie. But The Carpenter’s Son is too reverential and chickens out from making that gonzo adaptation; what should be a bold provocation is instead an assemble-as-directed horror film, with a depressingly literal and violent good vs. evil showdown and only a surface-level examination of theology or the burden of messiahdom. Christians wary of a blasphemous Jesus horror film need not fear this mediocrity; worshipers at the altar of cinema, on the other hand, may call it sacrilege. Frankly, I’d rather get a splinter than watch The Carpenter’s Son again.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Nicolas Cage is very much in the experimental independent film stage of his career and his latest movie is as wild as ever… Contorting demons, snakes pulled out of the mouths of the crucified and circles of Hell are just some of the disturbing imagery in this bizarre fable.”–George Simpson, Daily Express (contemporaneous)

(This movie was nominated for review by “Sal U. Lloyd,” who said it was “Theologically unorthodox, with influences from Begotten and the African flashbacks in Boorman’s Exorcist Ii: The Heretic.” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: FUN IN BALLOON LAND (1965)

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Beware

DIRECTED BY: Joseph M. Sonneborn, Jr.

FEATURING: Balloons, marching bands, parade floats, clowns, and more balloons

PLOT: During an especially drowsy storytime, a boy has dreams about large parade balloons that cavort and loom over him; we then see the balloons in their natural habitat, the 1964 Thanksgiving Day Parade in Philadelphia, with play-by-play from a possibly inebriated narrator.

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Exhibit A in the case for advertising’s malign influence, this hour-long promo for parade balloons is both horror show and monument to boredom. Viewed through the ironic shades of nostalgia, it’s gleefully ignorant, but as a relic of its era, it’s a searing indictment of the utterly misguided definition of “fun” among the City of Brotherly Love’s cultural elite.

Still from Fun in Balloonland (1965)

COMMENTS: Perhaps you started your day today with a viewing of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, a hours-long march of giant helium balloons, high school bands, and uncomfortably cold Broadway performers hiking through the streets of Manhattan. They (and you) are partaking in a tradition that goes back to 1924, but that’s not even the oldest Thanksgiving street party there is. That crown is held by Philadelphia’s parade, created by Macy’s rival Gimbel’s back in 1920. So it’s more than appropriate to turn our gaze toward that venerable Turkey Day bastion, and see how it inadvertently spawned a turkey of a very different kind.

Fun in Balloon Land wastes no time in delivering off-putting weirdness with the shockingly atonal theme song, sung by a man backed by a group of faux-enthusiastic children and the world’s saddest roller-rink organ. Through slant rhymes and methodical destruction of meter, the “tune” previews attractions to come like the Marrying Turkey, suggests that a teddy bear has fallen arches, and just generally shreds the auditory nerve. Already, we’re off balance before we’ve even seen the opening credit for “Giant Balloon Parades Inc. Presents,” a declaration that doesn’t augur well for artistic achievement.

The film kicks off in earnest with the sleepytime dream of Sonny (whose name we won’t learn until the last 10 minutes of the film), who rises from bed to stand in the corner of a book of fairy tales like a punished child and starts imaging a series of locales that correspond perfectly with Giant Balloon Parades, Inc.’s product line, including an undersea kingdom, a farm, and a culturally insensitive Old West. Sometimes these scenes are accompanied by amateur dances, but occasionally the film gets ambitious and tries to tell a story, as when the boy dons a gold lamé diaper and blows off a couple of Philly-accented mermaids. The “magic” of the balloons is meant to be self-evident, so there’s no attempt to reference any actual fairy tales or stories of adventure; they’re just generic milieus. All of this Continue reading APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: FUN IN BALLOON LAND (1965)

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: COOL CAT SAVES THE KIDS (2015)

Beware

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DIRECTED BY: Derek Savage

FEATURING: Derek Savage, Erik Estrada, , several innocent children who don’t deserve to have their good names sullied by mentioning them here

PLOT: Cool Cat, a human-sized bipedal feline who loves you and himself in equal measure, spends his days learning important life lessons, watching Daddy Derek engage in various self-improvement pastimes, and creating rock songs about love, friendship, and the general awesomeness of being Cool Cat. 

COMMENTS: This is potentially the most perilous review I’ve ever written. After all, when the video blog “I Hate Everything” decided to share its assessment of Cool Cat Saves the Kids, the helpful feline’s caretaker, Derek Savage, launched an all-out assault on them, allegedly impersonating a lawyer to issue threats and soliciting a DMCA takedown order from YouTube. (Another YouTuber with whom Savage sparred, YMS, produced a follow-up video to explain copyright law and the Fair Use doctrine.) So while I’m hopeful that the passage of a decade will have softened Savage’s feelings toward critical opinions, one can never be sure.

So let’s tread carefully, because we rarely venture into the genre of children’s safety videos. As anyone who has had a child anytime in the past two decades knows, there is a massive market for peppy, carefully-worded productions that use some sort of animated or costumed character to import crucial lessons about staying alive in a dangerous world, covering topics from traffic safety to home safety to stranger danger. They are often amateurish, frequently unbearable to the adult mind, and sometimes very effective with their young audience. So if we’re being charitable, we could say that Savage spotted an opportunity to use his skills as a Hollywood extra and Playgirl model to advocate on behalf of the kids. If we’re less than charitable, we might say that he saw a marketing opportunity.

What gets Savage mentioned in the same sentence with legends like Ed Wood and Tommy Wiseau are his deeply lo-fi moviemaking skills. Beginning with the goofy Comic Sans opening credits (which include a credit for Cool Cat himself as, of all things, associate producer), the whole production has big Vegas-suburb energy, with plenty of scenes located in someone’s guest bedroom that has been decorated with pictures of Cool Cat and signs reading “Cool Cat Loves You,” desperate improvisation that take the form of characters describing every action they take, some wonderfully melodramatic child acting, and a hero whose primary action is to holler “Yay!” at every opportunity. Cool Cat is happy about absolutely everything, and every dicey situation is resolved with Cool Cat’s commitment to just, you know, not do the bad thing and then launch into a green-screened musical interlude about being cool. So repetitive and unengaging is the film (which is actually a mashup of three separate Cool Cat shorts) that it Continue reading IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: COOL CAT SAVES THE KIDS (2015)

READER RECOMMENDATION: THE MANIPULATOR (1971)

Reader Recommendation from James Auburn

AKA BJ Presents; B.J. Lang Presents 

Beware

“…a motion picture so haunted… it will never be shown!” – B.J. Lang Presents trailer

DIRECTED BY: Yabo Yablonsky

FEATURING: , ,

PLOT: The film takes place almost entirely on a dusty soundstage. B.J. Lang (Rooney) has kidnapped a woman he refers to as Carlotta (Luana Anders of “Easy Rider”) and has tied her to a wheelchair. Lang spends nearly 90 minutes tormenting Carlotta, screaming at her, forcing her to recite lines to an imaginary movie, and spooning baby food into her mouth, among other indignities. 

Still from the manipulator (1971)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE LIST: This acid-damaged wannabe-arthouse film has stupefied even jaded psychotronic film freaks. Every “hip” avant-garde editing gimmick in the psychedelic-era toolbox is utilized: strobe lights, fish-eye lens, solarization, freeze-frames, quick-cut frames of random images, flashbacks/flash-forwards, slow-motion/fast-motion, etc. The viewing experience feels like a 90-minute long, 104-degree-fever hallucination that makes you question your own sanity. The uncomfortably cathartic performances from its two leads seem like a blend of acting-workshop exercises and heavy existential therapy put on film. Through extended monologues, the central character explores his own inner turmoil and waxes philosophical about life and show business, and as he wallows in his own insanity, the movie itself follows suit.

 

COMMENTS: Yes, one of the most demented movies you’ve ever seen starred Mickey Rooney—and he gives a psychotic tour-de-force performance that must be seen to be disbelieved.

In the opening scene, B.J. Lang enters the soundstage, as if to begin a routine day of work, passing cobwebbed props and backdrops; he sits down, and starts talking excitedly to thin air. Lang establishes himself as either a movie director who has gone insane, or an insane man who fancies himself a movie director; it’s never quite clear which. He runs a take of an imaginary movie scene while barking orders at mannequins and a film crew that exists only in his addled head. This opening segment culminates in a nightmarish two-minute freakout sequence with Lang screaming at two nude white-bodypainted figures (his parents? sure, why not) who cruelly laugh at him, over a screeching electronic racket. Suddenly: silence. Closeup: Lang is drenched in sweat, exhausted, as are our eardrums and sensibilities. What’s your threshold for cinematic insanity? You’ll know in the first ten minutes of The Manipulator.

We then discover Carlotta, tied to the wheelchair. Evidently she’s been there against her will for some time. For a long stretch, her only line is “I’m hungry, Mr. Lang!” She repeats it, again and again, with every different inflection she can muster (Lang spoon-feeds her a few Continue reading READER RECOMMENDATION: THE MANIPULATOR (1971)

366 UNDERGROUND: THE BUNNY GAME (2011)

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Beware

DIRECTED BY: Adam Rehmeier

FEATURING: Rodleen Getsic, Jeff F. Renfro

PLOT: A prostitute is abducted by a trucker for five days.

COMMENTS: My goodness, that was something. Where to begin…

Slapping on the “Beware” label is a step in the right direction—The Bunny Game is a real piece of work. The film starts with super-creep: a female victim suffocating under a white plastic bag on her head. The shot is mere seconds long, but shows the filmmaker’s cards. Rehmeier has some nasty things in store for the viewer. The second shot, much longer—too long, certainly, for comfort—shows the card hiding up his sleeve: some John, viewed at the waist, his erect penis thrust into the mouth of the protagonist, forcefully “encouraging” her to fellate him. This shot goes on, it seems, until the act’s completion.

Events like this unfold for the unnamed woman (dubbed “Bunny” in the credits), going from rather bad to unimaginably worse when she proffers a blow job to a trucker who then abducts her and sexually and psychologically tortures her for five days. Heartbeat foley dominates one scene, where the muffled grunts and screams sound like they are coming through a door whilst a steady thump-thump-thump batters like an amphetamine dirge. Squeals of torsion wrench, as one nightmarish sequence blurs into the next, the timeline skipping between Bunny’s ordeal in high resolution, and a previous victim’s in grainier video. The trucker (dubbed “Hog”) mutters, snorts, smokes—coming across as a miserable, furious wreck of inhumanity as he breaks his victim.

Flash cuts, reverse footage, shaky camera, and other stylization tools simultaneously undercut and enhance the visceral malice. The movie weaves a subtle, but pernicious, electronic score throughout. The two leads obviously give us their all. But to what end? The Bunny Game technically qualifies as a narrative, I suppose: there is at least a through-line of events to follow. However, there is no climax, and no conclusion. As once observed: “If you want to tell stories, be a writer, not a filmmaker.” Rehmeier makes an experience with this film—a journey through malignant refuse, or a distillation of white hot agony.

In the Blu-ray disc extras, Rehmeier explains, “…we tried to maintain this negative energy throughout the production, and I think we were successful.” (And if pretentiousness through understatement is a thing, the filmmaker nails it.) But if The Bunny Game might be written off as pretentious Art-House-Shock-Shlock, at least it spares the viewer any affectations of deeper meaning: what you see is what you get—and what you see is mightily disturbing.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Sort of an unholy merger between extreme performance art and experimental horror film, The Bunny Game essentially dares viewers to sit through it without crying uncle.” — Nathaniel Thompson, Mondo Digital

The Bunny Game [Blu-ray]
  • A prostitute is abducted by a deranged trucker who subjects her to five days of torture and madness.