"Accomplishments"
In theaters: No fuss, no muss, no bells and whistles on the way We Live in Time transitions between three basic eras in a couple's life - haircuts and other context clues are enough. We accompany Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield in their meeting and falling in love, the birth of their child, and a devastating cancer diagnosis, escaping the pull of melodrama by injecting lots of humor (obviously, that last bit is tearjerker material, but the movie is mostly fun, bantery comedy) and movie through time to prevent wallowing in heavier moments. A few extensions could have helped the drama, or made moments unbearable, I'm not sure. In any case, we're on a timer - that's true of life and it's true here - so enjoy it while you can. The movie certainly makes the most of Pugh's vocation in haute cuisine, and the birth is a personal highlight. But ultimately, this is a great showcase for two of Britain's best young(ish) actors - they're funny, tragic, and very specific in their performances. I woke up in the middle of the night with many of the film's moments playing back in my head.
At home: Coming out around the same time as The First Omen, Immaculate is another story about a novice nun being impregnated by a Catholic sect in Italy - what were the odds and is this an example of studio execs trying to monopolize on a predicted hit mentioned in the trades? Immaculate has a LOT in common with its better cousin, but does have its own, perhaps more straightforward and therefore predictable, take on the idea. Sydney Sweeney is sadly uncharismatic, mumbling through most lines and always asking other characters what they just said because everyone speaks Italian. She's more engaging when she goes full Final Girl on the offending clergy at the end though. Some of the gore is unnecessarily extreme and the film has that undersaturated, dingy look that requires only the best equipment and lighting conditions to watch, though it otherwise does look good. So it's fine, but I feel like we got the better version two weeks later (or in my personal timeline, months earlier).
J.K. Simmons can literally do anything and in Glorious, he's an Elder God speaking out of a rest stop bathroom glory hole. You let me know if this or his Milton Berle is the filthiest character he's played in the last couple years. Ryan Kwantan is a man who's suffered some kind of trauma vis-à-vis his girlfriend or wife, and in Call of Cthulhu in a Toilet (in many ways, the treatment Lovecraft deserves), a disembodied voice will tease the mystery out of him for the audience. It's ludicrous, and largely a talky two-hander, but don't think director Rebekah McKendry won't spend money on gore effects, because the deeper we get, the bloodier and more demented things get. It's not the most exciting exploitation of this concept, but it is one of the most original. And we're left wondering if it happened at all, or if, in some way, this was a psychological journey and warranted self-abuse.
You know what you make a bad purchase, and you know it'll come back to haunt you? The Coffee Table kind of has that in mind, though no haunting per se. Rather, this is what I might term Mundane Horror, as something terrible soon happens after the purchase, and the black comedy becomes a tense, bleak, blacker than black comedy. The script does an amazing job of reminding us - and the character in the know - of what's waiting for them all in the other room, as it threatens to draw them into madness. Full parental trigger warning on, folks, as there are several elements that will be disturbing to viewers with kids of different ages. (I mean, there's the REAL horror. Never mind shopping decisions - which *I* find relatable - I don't know how people can have children and not be consistently stressed and scared.) A Hitchcock Presents that goes too far, I was ready to love it, but the ending, while it goes to a very natural place, needed an extra twist to make the film stand-out.
When I was a kid, schoolyard tales of a movie where a woman was sexually assaulted by a poltergeist made the rounds. It was lurid, sounded insane, and we were offered no title. Only a few minutes into The Entity did that memory come back to me. This is the film, though it's more seriously-minded than what 12-year-olds(?) might have signalled during recess. It's definitely upsetting, but not too graphic, and through the first couple acts, has that "elevated horror" vibe because we're not dealing just with the fear of rape, but of not being believed when one reports it. In this case, it's less a question of he said/she said since the predator is invisible, so we have Ron Silver as a psychiatrist at wit's end trying to convince Barbara Hershey that it's all in her mind. And in a different movie, he'd be right. In the third act, scientific investigation into the phenomenon all but erases these thematic notions in favor of bonkers and half-baked experiments that lead to no resolution or liberation. The scroll at the end tells us this is based on a real (and in 1982, still ongoing) case, which explains why that is. But if it had been more of a fiction, there were enough clues in the woman's backstory to figure out who the ghost was and maybe exorcise it. So it's not pleasant subject matter and then we don't get any kind of catharsis to make showing it justifiable. Still, the big question is: They let the guy who made this also make Superman IV: The Quest for Peace?!
The original Child's Play doesn't skimp on the lore, and because of the high concept and comedy, therefore feels like it's following in Nightmare on Elm Street. Like Robert Englund, Brad Dourif would continue to play the part (or at least, lend him his voice) for years. The first, fairly bloodless affair stars Chris Sarandon as the cop who kills a serial killer and becomes his target from beyond the grave. Catherine Hicks is the single mom who has to deal with her kid talking to a possessed, foul-mouthed doll. The Chucky gags are well-realized, and they do a decent job of making both the mom and the kid get their licks in rather than let the copper do all the action. Action that veers on fantastical slapstick. I especially enjoyed the attack in the car, and of course, the more horror-filled third act as Chucky got more and more damaged, and therefore more undead-like. This is still obviously meant as a pastiche of slasher films, but in terms of what a friend of mine calls the "little guys" subgenre proliferating the horror shelf at the local video store, it's definitely one of the better ones.
I never realized that Candyman is based on a short story by Clive Barker, but it makes complete sense given the way the murderous spirit is summoned (a lot easier than a puzzle box). Tony Todd just has one of those voices, deep like a sepulchre, but smooth like a romantic hero, which Candyman needs to both evoke (as it turns out). The lore is deep with this one, but I'm happy to follow Virginia Madsen's investigation into, never expecting just where her story will end up. I was ready for her to go Sarah Connor on the monster's ass, but... no, that would be saying too much. Some great, creepy moments. Some cool gore. And for once, I feel like the jump scares are justified tension builders and relievers, keeping you on the hook (ha!) for more thrills and chills. What everyone knows and says about this movie is dead on - the friction between black and white Americans, and between the projects are gentrified parts of town, is a well-used layer of meaning that elevates what could have been a standard supernatural slasher. It's more original than that.
For a while there, Robert Zemeckis was making movies that pushed the envelope of what was possible for special effects, developing computer-assisted effects in ways that would become prevalent in the next few decades. Back to the Future and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? don't show their age today, and Forrest Gump was groundbreaking. Lost in the mix is Death Becomes Her whose mix of practical and CG effects is surprisingly solid for 1992. A satire about Hollywood's obsession with beauty and youth, with a magic potion standing in for plastic surgery, it features effects that, give or take eyeline nitpicking, look seamless and still top shelf today. More importantly, it has a biting script full of clever touches, exploring its subject with acidic dark comedy. The actors are surprisingly playing against type - Meryl Streep as the vain and nasty chanteuse, Goldie Hawn as the glamorous but murderous vamp, and Bruce Willis as the dowdy and anxious husband. An amusing affair, perhaps unduly forgotten among bigger hits.
Just before Halloween came out, NBC aired John Carpenter's Someone's Watching Me!, a woman-under-threat thriller that never uses the word "stalker", which makes me question just when the word started meaning what it means today. Lauren Hutton - a recognizable face of 70s-80s television - is a lively heroine, the self-professed joker in the deck, "trolling" the people around her and often just carrying amusing conversations with the thin air. I like her a lot, and Adrienne Barbeau as her gay friend, and David Birney as the college professor she hooks up with. Carpenter has written everyone with a lot of specificity and I noticed I was smiling through the first act just on the strength of the script. Of course, one creates likeable characters so they can MELT them, and Hutton is soon the victim of a creep who likes to terrorize women (and perhaps more). As a TV movie, it has to fit a certain length and is admittedly a touch long (it can also notably be viewed in widescreen format, which is odd - was it originally meant for theatrical release?), but you're in good hands with Carpenter. Despite not having any "money shots", he ramps up the tension quite admirably, using a variety of devices. Cool stuff!
Books: Everything I said about the first book of Lawrence Miles's Interference is also true of Book Two, but let's not leave it at just that. First, the Remote storyline has an epic climax which gives Sam - in her last adventure - a great deal to do and contribute. And then there's more than 100 pages left. Ah yes, because Interference interferes with itself with a Third Doctor story that rather boldly short-circuits continuity, and that too has a big, timey-wimey climax. I wasn't sure it was structurally a good idea, but it pays off. Of course, Miles is much more interested in his own ideas than the nominal leads of the series. While the ladies - Sam and Sarah Jane - do well, neither Doctor has much agency, and things are solved by guests like "I.M. Foreman". But those ideas are blazingly good (he makes something of the Ogrons, which in itself, is amazing) so I never felt robbed. It'd be like complaining about "Blink". Speaking of complaints... I remember the author being the biggest grump imaginable re: the new television series, and seeing as it took up many of the ideas he develops or helps develop here (a Time War among them), I wonder if it partly had to do with not being given credit, or seeing his ideas simplified or "ruined". That said, he signs a check we might not be able to cash. This is a multi-author, editor-guided book series and some of the cool stuff he seeds may not be as cool once it blossoms under a different writer's pen. Or so I've heard...
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