“A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night” (2014)
Ana Lily Amirpour’s feature debut is one of the boldest and unique genre-bending films in recent memory. Labeled as an “Iranian Vampire Western” (though largely shot in California; massive shout out to the production design), Amirpour’s film is richly textured, both visually (in stunning black & white) and thematically (class structure and who will stick up for the “unwanted” amidst crime and poverty when no one else will?), and the way the film slowly and effortlessly unfolds into beautiful pulp almost makes it feel like it has been adapted from a cult graphic novel, and it isn’t (though Amirpour has directed an episode of “Legion” since, so others have taken notice). Even in Amirpour’s “not-as-successful-but-didn’t-deserve-such-vitriol” follow-up “The Bad Batch,” she’s a gifted visual poet when it comes to creating unique worlds, inviting her audience in, and letting it wash over them. Matching Amirpour’s hypnotic filmmaking is Sheila Vand’s performance as “The Girl.” The scene where she puts on “Dancing Girls” by Farah and sways back and forth in her room alone is a work of art in and of itself, a bright spot of humanity and freedom in an otherwise state of darkness. The same could be said for the film itself. – RO
“Raw” (2016)
There is perhaps no greater PSA to parents to not entirely shelter their children than Julia Ducournau’s directorial debut, because they just might return from college ready to write a memoir called “I Was a Teenage Cannibal.” Okay, so the likelihood of that is slim, but the sentiment remains. The greatest power of Ducournau’s confidently-directed film is just how outstanding it is as a coming-of-age story. Amidst cannibalism and our protagonist Justine (a terrific Garance Marillier) growing an affinity for human flesh after growing up strictly vegetarian, “Raw” expertly captures the joy and fear of discovering yourself when going off to college. The dizzying camerawork by Ruben Impens captures that frenetic haze of uncertainty during the initiation scene, the high’s of freedom during the party scene, but scales back and becomes intimate during the sex scenes, making it all the more uncomfortable when grislier things start to become more frequent in the bedroom. The gimmick of handing out barf bags upon entering the theater is an amusing one, but those who were merely looking for gory thrills may have been pleasantly surprised at the amount of thoughtfulness that comes with it. – RO
“Housebound” (2014)
Between Peter Jackson, Taika Waititi, and David Blyth, among others, New Zealand has an outstanding track record for genre filmmakers who can blend over-the-top violence and broad comedy with ease. Gerard Johnstone’s strong directorial debut certainly deserves to be in the same sandbox, though after a thoroughly warm reception from SXSW 2014, the film has relatively fallen off, and here’s hoping that can change. When Kylie (Morgana O’Reilly) is sentenced to eight months of house arrest after attempting to steal an ATM, her mother (Rima Te Wiata) believes that their house is haunted. The setup gives way to paranoia and humor in equal measure, keeping the suspense of whether or not it’s really haunted, an intruder, or worse (there’s also a running gag involving the “Hello, Moto!” slogan on a ringtone that is an earworm on the level of the “Silver Shamrock” jingle from “Halloween III”), and while it’s difficult to talk about without spoilers, it’s at least safe to say that the film cleverly flips the switch of what we typically expect from a haunted ghost story. An American remake – with Johnstone directing – is supposedly in the works (despite already being in English), but if that ever comes to pass, we recommend seeking out Johnstone’s original. – RO
“The Eyes of My Mother” (2016)
“The Eyes of My Mother” is such an impeccably controlled slice of horror that it’s easy to miss how depraved it is if you’re only watching it passively. Borderline Films grad Nicolas Pesce is only two films into an already fascinating career: he’s already promised that his “Grudge” remake will be “way more fucked up” than the original J-horror property. With “The Eyes of my Mother,” Pesce announces his thematic concerns right out the gate. This is a director concerned with the emotional and physical damage people can inflict on each other in close quarters – lucky for us, he’s as sensitive to perversity and personal power plays as he is to shots of mutilated flesh. Shot in painterly black and white and staged with a chilly formal rigor that occasionally recalls Michael Haneke, “The Eyes of My Mother” depicts a quiet rural existence as removed from any semblance of urbanity as it is from the parameters of ordinary human morality. Here, as he did with this year’s deliciously nasty two-hander “Piercing,” Pesce turns what could potentially be a kind of extended cinematic exercise into an utterly barbarous, slow-burning descent into the most unpleasant depths of the human psyche. – NL
“The Skin I Live In” (2011)
We know what you’re thinking: what’s Pedro Almodóvar doing on this list? While it’s true that the great Spanish filmmaker typically makes colorful and exuberant character portraits like “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown” and this year’s outstanding “Pain and Glory,” it’s also true that even true-blue genre masters would struggle to tell a story as creepy as “The Skin I Live In.” This is Almodóvar doing a riff on David Cronenberg: it’s a serious consideration of the God complex of the modern man as filtered through the blood-smeared lens of uncompromising yet sophisticated body horror. Antonio Banderas, the director’s go-to muse, has rarely seemed more reptilian than he does as Dr. Robert Ledgard: a virtuoso plastic surgeon whose fearless advances in forging a new kind of human skin disguise a sociopathic self-focus and a moral compass that is, to put it politely, askew. At first, “The Skin I Live In” appears to be a blend of psychological melodrama and pitch-black comedy, before some unsettling developments in the film’s final act bring the narrative into outright horror movie territory. This is a powerful, lingering work that boldly eschews jump scares and traditional frights in favor of something all the more unnerving: the spectacle of the human mind unmoored by hubris. –NL
“The Neon Demon” (2016)
Minimal synth and fluorescent lights have become synonymous with his name, but contrary to common opinion, Nicolas Winding Refn’s body of work is more than just visually eye candy. Though one can easily point to “Drive” to support Refn’s under-appreciated storytelling ability, it is his surreal and erotic “The Neon Demon” that pins the director at his best. Setting the stage for his technicolor nightmare, Refn uses the deceiving bright lights of LA as a backdrop for a tale about vanity, jealousy, the toxicity of the fashion industry, and of course, the body deprived of dignity. Though a good majority of Refn’s 2016 film sees the innocence of 16-year-old Jesse, played by the effectively stoic Elle Fanning, slowly devolve and unfold, the third acts take a disturbing turn as envy toward Jesse’s beauty turns into cultish obsession and murderous intent. “The Neon Demon” needs a couple of viewings to fully fathom, but once it sinks in, it hits hard and will cause you to rethink the intricacy of Refn’s visual storytelling. — Kyle Kohner