More reviews from the Vancouver International Film Festival
which runs September 30 to October 15.
Nearly every major festival has a section for midnight movies, those films reserved for the wee-hours in the night, where the sweet, salty smell of movie theater popcorn is overtaken by body odor (hey, just reporting the facts here, a lot of people who like these movies tend to avoid the shower) and the wafting remnants of a joint no doubt smoked just minutes before some folks plop down in their seats. We who love this particular brand of cinematic outing come for shocks, gore, bad taste, good laughs (whether intentional or not, but certainly better if not intended) and a genuinely fun time at the movies.
My hope every time I check these out is to at least see something new on screen, whether it be a human centipede (utter shit — no pun intended — but certainly a new, nasty idea for a horror movie) or a crew of trash humpers (again, not a fan of this one — though we glowingly reviewed it during our TIFF ’09 coverage here). But is it just us, or has the whole notion of the midnight movie changed and become totally bastardized and cynical? It sure seems that way after screening the two VIFF midnight selections, “Rubber” and “L.A. Zombie.”
Or, as the entertaining romp through grimy cinematic nostalgia, “American Grindhouse,” asserts, these films have always come from a more cynical desire (read: driven by easy money and showing never-before-seen “shocking” images, but not much else of worth). But in watching this documentary, which would make for a wonderful, get-your-pen-and-paper-ready (lots of titles I’d never heard of and want to check out now) double feature with the 2008 rundown of Australian exploitation (dubbed Ozploitation) “Not Quite Hollywood,” it makes me nostalgic for a time I didn’t even live in. A lot of these films began with the germ of an idea (like, for instance, Nazi midgets) that would look amazing on a poster and attract a certain type of moviegoer, but then would often get made by a filmmaker who recognized the awfulness of the scripts, but still tried to make something memorable with the resources at hand. Often the films were trashy and terrible, but as “American Grindhouse” also proves, every now and then a real gem would be born.
As much fun as this documentary is, and enlightening at times, it feels kinda thrown together. While many of the talking heads are knowledgeable and funny, it seems as though director Elijah Drenner was unable to get some key figures you’d expect to chime in on this material. For every great piece of commentary provided by, say, Kim Morgan and John Landis, to name two in particular, you can’t help but think, hmm…where’s Quentin Tarantino? Chances are he was off making “Inglourious Basterds” or something, but his presence is missed, especially when he showed up for “Not Quite Hollywood.” But there’s Robert Forster’s smooth narration that also tips the scales back to the positive, only to see-saw back negatively with the cheesy title cards that looked like throwaway inserts from “Grindhouse” (a movie the audience, and the film, can’t avoid discussing with this documentary). All in all, a fun experience, but probably one budding movie geeks will get the most out of. [B-]
While “American Grindhouse” wasn’t exactly a home run, well, back to those two midnight movie selections…sigh. Seriously, what the fuck? Let’s just say VIFF didn’t even make contact with the ball in this department. Things got off to a rocky start with the killer tire movie (yeah, you read that right, a killer tire) “Rubber.” This one actually had my attention in the first 10, 15 minutes. For one, it’s actually beautiful to look at often; the sun-soaked desert and lens flares add to the utter batshit insanity. The opening has a funny gag involving a cop running over some chairs in the road. Why? “No reason” says our lead, a sheriff, as he talks directly to camera. Then the tire comes to life, rolls around a little bit, discovers it has the ability to kill stuff with mind powers (again, this is not a typo, and I was sober when I watched it, I promise), then proceeds to kill a scorpion, a bird, a rabbit, then a person and…aw fuck it. Once you see one thing blow up from a killer tire, it becomes painfully obvious director/writer/editor/DP/Vincent Gallo wannabe Quentin Dupieux has nothing else up his sleeve. Hence all the not in the least bit clever breaking of the fourth wall, complete with an audience literally watching and commenting on the action as we’re watching the movie. It very quickly devolves in to inanity, and drags slower than Carl Fredicksen on his walker. The real shame is there’s actually a good short to be made of this material, something weird enough to be memorable. Just gotta chop out 80% of the movie. [D]
But things only got worse the following night with “L.A. Zombie.” Apparently it was banned before a screening in Melbourne, so it came with a level of notoriety, which is totally undeserved. First off, it’s a porn movie, which is fine, we have nothing against porn. But director Bruce LaBruce (ha!) seems to think he’s actually making art here. He’s not pushing any boundaries just because it’s a gay zombie porn movie, no, that’s a lazy way to sucker people in to seeing this thing. The movie is 63 excruciating minutes of shit music that sounds like it was produced on a used keytar while we watch a guy roam around Los Angeles fucking dead bodies back to life. That’s it. It’s not funny, it’s not shocking, I guess it’s kind of gross, but way too cheesy to have any lasting effect (just look at that still, that’s the level of effort put in the makeup here). Worst of all, besides the insult to my intelligence, it’s a hateful, ugly movie with a confused mixing of metaphors. I think, but can’t be sure, LaBruce is after some kind of subversion of the genre by having the monster re-animate corpses through gay sex, but doesn’t that only reinforce the horrible stereotype that all gay men are lecherous monsters out to turn us in to one of them? Either I missed something completely (which is certainly possible, as I tuned out after 10 minutes of this garbage), or LaBruce just doesn’t get what he’s putting out there. This is hyperbolic, I admit, but this is one of the worst films I’ve ever seen, definitely the worst at an actual theater. And the fact that it’s a porn movie is just stupid (seriously, why is this at a film festival?) when anyone with an Internet connection can see any sexual act with the click of a button. Either way, like my colleague said after the screening, we only have ourselves to blame for watching this. [F-]
Am I wrong about the loss of the midnight movie going experience? Is it not what it used to be? I’m worried after these two movies, but have had mostly good experiences at other festivals, so I guess I’ll just keep on returning and hoping it turns out better next time.