Tag Archives: Black Comedy

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: BUGONIA (2024)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: , , Aidan Delbis

PLOT: Aided by his autistic cousin, a troubled man kidnaps a corporate executive, certain she is an Andromedan alien in disguise.

Still from Bugonia (2025)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Since it improves on its canonically weird source material in every way (except ability to surprise), it has to be Apocrypha worthy, mathematically speaking.

COMMENTS: At first, Jesse Plemons’ Teddy seems like a relatively normal guy, even if his stringy, greasy red hair suggests a serious disinterest in hygiene. He is at least sympathetic in the way he takes care of his mentally-challenged cousin Don; that is, until he convinces Don to join him in undergoing chemical castration, so that the pair can resist temptation and better focus at the task at hand. Their goal? Nothing less than saving humanity from the machinations of our secret alien overlords. Their method? Kidnapping pharmaceutical CEO and “TIME” magazine covergirl Michelle Fuller. Teddy’s studies of subtle morphological clues have convinced him that Fuller is a high-ranking alien. After the abduction, the pair shave her head (to prevent her from using hair-based technology to signal for help) and slather her in antihistamine cream to dampen her psychic powers. The captured Michelle tries to use the powers of persuasion that serve her in the corporate world to threaten and cajole her way out of captivity, repeatedly asking to enter into a dialogue, ready to come to the bargaining table. But Teddy is prepared for her tricks; he’s anticipated every objection and rhetorical tactic she might try. If she tries to convince him he’s out of touch with reality… well, that’s exactly the tack an alien would take. He will accept nothing less than a full confession and an agreement to take Don and him with her on her spaceship at the lunar eclipse to meet her superiors and negotiate the Andromedans’ withdrawal from Earth. The canny Michelle adjusts her strategy to try to find a way to manipulate Teddy from inside his own warped reality. A clue suggesting a shared backstory between the two may provide the leverage she needs. A long second act of psychological cat and mouse games ensues, with the tension effectively relieved by laugh-out-loud moments from clueless Don.

The movie begins with the buzzing of bees from Teddy’s apiary, and the specter of extinction permeates the entire story. Chemicals from Michelle’s corporation may literally be responsible for a recent plague of colony collapse disorder. In Teddy’s view, aliens use humanity in the same way he uses his beehives to extract honey, with humanity no more conscious of their exploitation than his bees are. The problem, as he sees it, is that the aliens have no interest in the generational welfare of humans. As crazy he appears, Teddy ultimately has a point. Whether Michelle is an alien emissary or just a corporate overlord, she leeches off humanity; Andromedan or MBA, she’s a masterful manipulator who ultimately has only her own interests in mind. Teddy’s foil-on-the-windows paranoia may be misplaced, and may lead him to adopt inhumane methods, but his intuition about the imminent collapse of civilization strikes a chord.

Bugonia is Lanthimos’ most straightforward film since The Favourite. For most of the runtime, the story is grounded in reality, if reality of an extreme and outlandish flavor. He seems to have largely abandoned the affected, affectless acting that characterized The Lobster and Killing of a Sacred Deer: thankfully so, as it would have been a crime to hamper Plemons and Stone. (Aidan Delbis, an actor who is actually on the autism spectrum, does provide stilted line deliveries, but they are character-based and attributable to his neurological condition.) Lanthimos also restrains himself from adding the random ultra-wide fisheye lens shots that have proved distracting in his later films. Jerskin Fendrix’s score features the brief bursts of dissonant string quartet music the director is fond of, but the director mostly restricts himself to classical cinematic grammar here. He even uses needle drops from Chapell Roan and Green Day, pop flourishes that would have seemed unthinkably mainstream in his previous outings. He dabbles in some brief surrealism for two black and white flashbacks (that quote from ), and the production design in the final segment earns the appellation “bizarre,” but these pieces are not to really enough to brand the movie as obviously, stylistically weird. Rather, it’s the confluence of outrageous plotting and matter-of-fact adherence to the film’s psychotic worldview that creates the sense of strangeness here. Despite Lanthimos working in a stripped-down, more approachable mode, the material allows him to indulge his love of nihilistic plot twists. Parts will make you squirm, and parts will fill you with moral horror. The closing montage, scored to Marlene Dietrich singing “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?,” ends things on as beautifully bleak of a Lanthimosian note as could ever be imagined: a deep cynicism undercut by a yearning melancholy that testifies to the director’s genuine, bereaved humanism.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…the characters might be demented, but Bugonia is a crueller, funnier, sharper proposition, more grounded and gritty than the wigged-out weirdness of the film on which it is based.”–Wendy Ide, The Observer (contemporaneous)

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: GORY GORY HALLELUJAH (2003)

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DIRECTED BY: Sue Corcoran

FEATURING: Angie Louise, Tim Gouran, Jeff Gilbert, Todd Licea, Joseph Franklin

PLOT: Four aspiring actors on their way to New York run afoul of increasingly dangerous obstacles, including a group of rowdy Elvis impersonators, a backwards fundamentalist hick town, and a zombie apocalypse.

COMMENTS: Satire, the playwright and Algonquin wit George S. Kaufman opined, is what closes on Saturday night. Nevertheless, aspiring filmmakers frequently turn to satire as a means to walk the line between mass-appeal populism (near-parodistic references to familiar material) and fringe-appeal provocation (harsh critique of sociopolitical foes). All of which is to say, Gory Gory Hallelujah has the aspirational sweat of satire all over it. Unfortunately, Kaufman seems to have its number; Gory Gory bleeds out quickly.

Gory Gory has so many targets for its smug disdain that it plays like a sketch film. The opening salvo takes on the insular and pretentious world of theater, which is admittedly made even more amusing with the reveal that this delusional production of the Gospel is being staged in the theatrical mecca of Seattle. But that’s all forgotten once we set off on a road trip, a genre that revels in wacky mismatched personalities. From there, the targets are set up like the shooting gallery at a fair: here’s the crazy fight with a gang in a bar, here’s the hypocritically moralistic small town, here’s the evil lurking in the woods. The scenes are mileposts, rather than logical stops along the way.

This is a film that is not the slightest bit interested in nuance. Consider our central quartet of heroes, who check an impressive collection of boxes for character stereotypes: militant black man who nonetheless endures countless indignities; self-proclaimed feminist whose sexual and materialistic impulses frequently overrule the cause; nebbishy Jew who finds every opportunity to remind you of his faith; blissed-out hippie flower child whom the film wants to position as closeted, but who is actually ravenously omnisexual. That’s all there is to them; barely 24 hours after having watched the film, I’ve completely forgotten their names, and that’s just fine. They’re not characters; they’re trope delivery systems.

Title notwithstanding, Gory Gory Hallelujah isn’t really a horror film. The screwed-up small town feels like a low-rent retread of Nothing But Trouble, the witches’ coven is just an excuse to take a jab at man-hating lesbians, and the undead are lumbering actors with Green Goddess dressing smeared on their faces. I suspect if you asked director Corcoran and screenwriter Louise, they’d tell you they were making a comedy, a -esque everyone-is-awful romp that lets them flirt with edginess without having to catch any flack. Every once in a while, the film threatens to go somewhere truly daring, like the smarmy land baron’s reference to some “accidental lynchings” that hints at a truly vengeful motivation for the zombie uprising. Most of the time, though, the targets are only the most obvious, offering variations on the theme, “Aren’t these people just awful?” They are. It’s not a revelation.

The closest the film gets to a point-of-view comes in the admittedly unexpected finale, when the death of absolutely everyone presages a revival-hymn closing number that suggests we’ll all be equal in the great beyond. Whereas before everyone was greedily nasty to each other, now they’re all dancing arm-in-arm, united in brotherhood after they’ve cast off the pesky need to breathe. It would make for a solid mission statement if there’d been even a hint of it prior to the closing minutes of the film. As it stands, it’s just one more radical shift in tone for a movie that has already lurched awkwardly from one setpiece to the next. Gory Gory Hallelujah has a lot to be angry about, but just doesn’t have the heart for it. Maybe in the next life.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Tripping over the line between silly and stupid, camp comedy “Gory Gory Hallelujah” — the title is the best part — emerges more sub-Troma than subversive…aims for bad-taste hipster satire in the John Waters vein. But co-creator/editor/thesps Sue Corcoran and Angie Louise should have left at least one job — screenwriting — to a third party.” Dennis Harvey, Variety (contemporaneous)

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

FANTASIA 2025: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: I LIVE HERE NOW (2025)

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DIRECTED BY: Julie Pacino

FEATURING: Lucy Fry, , Sarah Rich, Matt Rife, Cara Seymour, Sheryl Lee

PLOT: Rose takes refuge in a remote hotel to record an audition video, medically abort her impossible fetus, and evade her boyfriend’s domineering mother.

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: I Live Here Now serves up medical trauma and blood-pink ambience with lashings of Lynch and hearty helpings of uneasy humor; this movie goes down strangely.

COMMENTS: Dear doctor, kindly do not advise Rose that she is “very lucky” for having conceived, particularly as you are unaware of her troubling medical history. Rose faces this logic-defying declaration with quiet grit, as she faces every development throughout I Live Here Now: a discourteous casting agent (“Can you lose three pounds by Monday?”), her enthusiastic but inconsiderate boyfriend (“Not now, my queen, I have a lot of lines to memorize!”), and that boyfriend’s domineering mother, who, upon hearing the news that her dear (dear) boy impregnated such a nobody, takes a zealous interest in Rose’s decisions. And of course, there are the unexpected trials—by fire—our heroine faces at The Crown Inn: the oddest place of lodging this side of Twin Peaks‘ mysterious lodge. (Don’t worry, though: there’s complementary strawberry cake for the guests each the morning.)

Rose spends the bulk of the film in the Inn, and director Susan Pacino takes us along for the ride. The drunken matriarch and owner will see us only after a cryptic home-movie wraps up. Young Sid, all done up in cheerleader bell-hop with golden-sparkle shoes, evinces an enthusiasm for the check-in bell that’s both endearing and highly peculiar. And after settling down in “The Lovin’ Oven” room (complete with baroque infant crib, amongst its ’70s-and-timeless furniture accessories), we meet the hotel’s only other apparent guest, Lillian. Although, she is not so much a guest as the evil sister of this family-run experience. Maybe. She’s cruel, certainly, as when she callously uses the protective glassine from Sid’s diary to roll joints. Dysfunction and ambiguity run as deep as the palette of pinks runs to reds and blood-browns, and as disorienting as the smoke that seeps in from the heat vents as the surrounding forest burns.

Sliding easily from dark nightmare-memory to comedy to menace to the surreal, I Live Here Now plays with Rose and with the audience. Cruelly so, at times, particularly through the domineering mother (performed by none other than Sheryl Lee). Sometimes, this movie plays like Beau Is Afraid from the point of view of a theoretical girlfriend. Thinking back on this film regularly over the past few days, I find that myself lost in the imagery and oddities, and the tragic innocence and evil of Sid and Lillian. They are doubtless a metaphor, but I could not guess as precisely what for. These are happily confused musings, though, as Rose’s personality, the hotel’s personality, and the film’s personality are a delight to explore. A dark delight, though—like the deep red of crimson strawberry cake.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…marks a striking and unexpected debut from director Julie Pacino (yes, that Pacino) and proves she’s not afraid to go deep, weird, and unsettlingly personal… a hauntingly beautiful debut that blends indie aesthetics with psychological horror and surrealist flair.”–Romney Norton, Film Focus Online (festival screening)

FANTASIA 2025: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: ANYTHING THAT MOVES (2025)

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DIRECTED BY: Alex Phillips

FEATURING: Hal Baum, , Nina Hartley, Ginger Lynn Allen, Jiana Nicole, Frank Ross

PLOT: Liam loves his job as a prostitute, but then his clients end up getting murdered.

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Equal parts joyous, explicit sex and sinister, gory violence, Anything That Moves is a light romp with a heart of darkness.

COMMENTS: Who are these people? What does this title mean?  Where is this story going? Why am I both titillated and unnerved? And how can I hope to write about this fleshful oddity?

Having hit dizzying heights of strange with Jacked Up and Full of Worms, Alex Phillips strikes again with the twice-sold-out feature, Anything That Moves. Phillips and his team (including plenty held over from Worms) arrange the screen with cheerful workers, sympathetic clients, and glowing orgasms. There is love, sex, tenderness, sex, comradery, and sex. But there is also a malignant element advancing from the edges.

What does one do to “anything that moves”? To the best of my knowledge, one of two things: fuck it, or shoot it. Liam, our hero, does the former; he serves his clients very well indeed. The latter appears in the form of two questionable cops who are increasingly suspicious as mutilated bodies pile up. Cop One (he’s got a name, doesn’t really matter) makes no secret of wanting to pop caps in woke millennials. Cop Two, the “good cop,” is no less judgmental, but at least isn’t inclined toward drug-and-violence sprees like his partner.

This hero’s journey takes Liam from a life of lucrative sexual service into the alleyways that turn increasingly dark as the shadowy menace becomes increasingly choate. Bacchanalian bliss sours into bilious nihilism. Our sunshiny sex worker Liam never loses his sparkle, but he is forced to harden in a manner his clients don’t pay for. Shot in 16mm and blown up to 35mm, Anything That Moves’ gauzy visual grittiness nicely complements the film’s tone. Ridiculous episodes accentuate the overarching cockeyed tone: the “smoking funeral” scene was quite touching. The movie itself, in its way, is also touching. No matter how dark the nights become for Liam, he remains defiantly innocent and awed by life’s elements and opportunities.

So perhaps there is a third reading of the title: it behooves us to find the beauty in anything that moves.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Phillips leans into that absurdity, blending porn fantasy with grindhouse grime, and letting his characters operate in a version of Chicago that feels more like a fever dream than any reality-based urban landscape… Editing contributes to the film’s dreamlike quality, but also plays a part in its confusion. Jarring cuts and sudden tonal shifts give the film a surreal rhythm. Still, they also undercut any sense of pacing or escalation… For those who crave transgressive cinema and aren’t bothered by a messiness, this could find a cult following. However, for viewers seeking something coherent, satisfying, or emotionally resonant, this one is likely to fall short of expectations.”–Chris Jones, Overly Honest Reviews (festival screening)