Sunday, August 31, 2008

Cinema of the Absurd: I Know Who Killed Me


Newer readers of Stale Popcorn may not be aware that I used to have a very irregular series called "Cinema of the Absurd", which celebrated the absurd and bizarre that cinema offered. Titles like Glitter, How to Deal and Friday the 13th: Part 3D were lovingly torn to shreds. Having today watched the truly terrible I Know Who Killed Me I thought it was as nice a time as any to resurrect the ol' bastard and give it another spin.

-~-~-

I KNOW WHO KILLED ME (2008, dir. Chris Sivertson)

Okay, so I Know Who Killed Me is the now infamous horror/thriller/creature from the black lagoon that Lindsay Lohan starred in while she was high on coke (it's probably the only production note of worth). Figures, really. I couldn't help but get the impression that she just did not give a damn. Surely an actress of any reputable quality should have somebody behind the scenes telling them what would make a good movie and what would not (if they cannot do so themselves, natch), but it appears Dina "Mother of the Year!" Lohan read the script for this movie and thought "I know I would like to see my daughter's flesh pulled off by a sick madman, so why wouldn't everyone else?" Alas, the final product was I Know Who Killed Me, one of the most atrociously titled (amongst so much more that could be labeled "atrocious") movies of the last few years.

That Lohan plays a girl called "Aubrey" who is abducted, tortured, nearly killed and then shows up on the side of the road claiming to be "Dakota" is perhaps besides the point entirely because, clearly, the film - like Lohan - does not care. The director didn't care except to throw as many fancy tricks that he learned at film school and by watching too much MTV. Lohan didn't care as long as she got paid enough to supplant her drug habit and her mother's latest boob job. In fact the only cast member who seems to treat the material with any seriousness is Julia Ormond who mustn't have made a movie in a long while and had since forgotten what one is, let alone what makes them "bad", "good" or in between.

Naturally, however, I Know Who Killed Me (and yes, that line is indeed spoken by Lohan towards the film's end and yes it sounds as silly as you would imagine) has now become a "camp classic". While it certainly doesn't rank anywhere near luminaries in that pile like Showgirls and Glitter, it did have enough to make the 100 baffling minutes that followed seem like not as much of a waste as it may seem. That this movie was made a good 25 years too late is where it went wrong. I imagine this would've been kind of actually sort of good if it were made 1983 by New Line Cinema and featured a new wave soundtrack in between moments of gratuitous nudity, something that I Know Who Killed Me circa 2007 does not have any off.

The only way to truly show you how absurd this movie is is to, well, show you. Aah, the wonders of technology.


Lindsay Lohan's character "Aubrey" - in eerie foreshadowing - pricks her finger on a blue rose (don't ask), but the thing that amused me was that the drop of blood that forms on her finger takes the shape of a love heart. M Night Shyamalan would be pleased.


One of the most humourous aspects of I Know Who Killed Me is the bizarre wanky film school music video effects that director Chris Silvertson throws in for, oh I dunno, shits and giggles I assume. It's hard not to laugh when he does something he probably thinks is "cool" and "edgy", when in actual fact it is nothing more than preposterous wankery.


Firstly, what sort of cinema has an exterior design like that in this day and age, let alone one in the sort of "idyllic small town" that I Know Who Killed Me is set in, let alone a revival house cinema in an idyllic small town, which this cinema appears to be. Do idyllic small towns even have revival houses anymore? There's no "secondly", I just think it's stupid.


I Know Who Killed Me is, apparently, a horror movie. Yet, for me the scariest thing was this horrific cat that this family has. I am totally a cat person. I love cats. But that is not a cat. This is, like, some sort of demon fetus roadkill spawn of Satan. It's the sort of thing you'd see at the Queen Vic Market with a man nearby yelling at you saying they have "exotic demon flesh carcus, five dollar!!" <- Only Melburnians will understand that reference, so don't feel bad.


This is "Fat Teena". Exactly.


I couldn't help but laugh at this moment as "Aubrey's" parents and a doctor stand around her unconscious body wearing surgical masks as if they're going to contract a life-threatening disease, when just moments earlier there were people around her that felt quite at ease without the need to look like a fool.



"This... is... Mister... Jervis..."

Julia Ormond is a bit of a stark ravin' nutter, isn't she? When she is deep into her 80s and spends time looking out the window remember the good ol' days I imagine this will be the moment that flashes in her mind as being the bottom of the barrel. Oh, Julia. Poor ridiculous Julia. I personally adore Lohan's reaction though. Even through her coke-fueled performance you can tell she's wondering "what the hell am I doing here acting with a silly glove on my hand and fake leg?! And just who is this woman who is talking in my direction. I think I saw her in a dumpster on LaBrea last week on my way home from my dealer."


Just try an imagine how ridiculous this looks. Just for a moment. Done? There. Absurd! This scene is hilarious, however, because the police investigators all but shake and abuse the wheelchair bound "Dakota" because - heaven forbid - she didn't get a look at her attacker. Perhaps it never occurred to these specimens of intelligent design that her attacker wore a mask!!! because that never happens when people are abducted and tortured by a serial killer in a mysterious dungeon. Not ever.


State of the art technologically advanced robotic hand that reacts to brain impulses to create fluid motion (yet, nothing can save it from dodgy CGI effects) yet what does she get to cover it up and make it more palatable for public display?


Why yes, a ridiculous beige glove! And, yes, that man in the silly yellow suit is a doctor. I was surprise, too! As if to prove that this character is indeed a doctor and not a clown who got lost in the wrong ward they make his sprout hilarious dialogue such as this (in relation to the new robotic leg Dakota has received):

Excellent! You'll be back on the dance floor in no time, Dakota! ... Just don't forget to plug it in when you're not wearing it. If the battery runs down it's like draggin' 'round a wooden leg.

Amazing.



Maybe I spoke to soon. This moment is on par as surely the stupidest thing Julia Ormond has ever done. Poor ridiculous delusional Julia. Clearly she's never heard of leaving the house. She scrubs away at that basin with such vigour that I thought she was going to ware away at the enamel. Poor ridiculous delusional stupid Julia.


Amazing. This is from an online video that Dakota watches on the phenomenon that is "twin stigmata" (indeed) and, honestly, I haven't the foggiest what it's all about, but what I am entirely aware of is that it is the funniest thing in the movie. It's definitely the strangest way I've seen the central mystery of a movie revealed (I'm surprised they didn't use flash animation, actually.)


What did I say about the CGI in this film? It's like they spent their entire budget on colouring the roses that appear throughout the entire film.


I have a sinking suspicion that in 1988 (the year Lohan's character/s was/were born/expelled from the depths of hell) sonograms weren't available to take home on DVDs so they could be watched on big screen TVs. Just a hunch, but I think I'm on the right path.


The killer is... a member of Blue Man Group!!! Tobias Fünke would be so proud, I'm sure.

In conclusion, absolutely amazing. Also, one of the most inept exercises in film making I've witnessed in quite a while. Truly a terrible film and an embarrassment to everyone involved although I kinda wanna try whatever Julia Ormond was on. On the Scale of Absurdity I'd rate it a solid 4.5/5. The fact that the central mystery actually scarily made some minute sense really held it back.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Black + White Friday: The Texas Chain Saw Massacre


I wonder if horror classic, and one of my favourite films - what does that say about me? - The Texas Chain Saw Massacre would look like if it had been ten years prior in the 1960s when horror films and black and white went hand in hand (think the equally "backyard" Night of the Living Dead).

This entry has some heavy spoilers, but really it's been 30 years so I think spoilers are a bit silly now, don't you?


Charming.


I'm fairly certain nobody has picked up a hitchhiker in Texas for at least 30 years.


Aww, look at that. The gang's all here. Haha, NOT FOR MUCH LONGER!

*zing*

I definitely think these opening scenes in the van are the film's weakest. Having said that, this film's weakest is another film's never-gonna-reach, so...


Even in black and white Franklin is annoying. Man, how much do I hate Franklin? SO MUCH. At least he gets chainsawed in half later in the movie. Bless.


One of the things that is so scary about this movie is the sun. At least in the first half of the movie, Tobe Hooper constantly shoots the sun and it bleeds. Even in daylight these folks can't escape so heaven knows what's in store for them when it goes away. Even in black and white that's blatantly obvious.


What is it about Texas Chain Saw Massacre films that elicits such crazy facial acting? Both Marilyn Burns and Teri McMinn, pictured here, work overtime on churning out horrified looks one right after the other. One never looks exactly the same as the other, either.


Bye Franklin! I gotta say, the sight of Leatherface (Gunner Hansen) is actually perhaps scarier in black and white. As if it takes away the slight cartoonish nature of the character (clearly a deliberate thing if you've seen the sequels).


You can't see it very well here, but this is my favourite spot in the movie (it still seems so macabre to talk about having a "favourite" anything in relation to this movie, doesn't it?) It's of Sally (Marilyn Burns) running towards the camera closely followed by Leatherface. There is something just so simple and downright horrific about it. Add that to her screaming and it's like she's doing anything she can to escape including (*insert wanky film pretension here*) trying to jump right out of the screen. Just screencapping this movie is giving me the heeby jeebies.


I really don't think I've ever seen anybody's eyes get so wide as Marilyn Burns' in the dinner table sequence of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Honestly.


Seriously one of the best endings of all time.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Black + White Friday: Days of Heaven


No doubt that Terrence Malick's Days of Heaven is the most beautiful movie I have ever seen. So I thought I would experiment and see if this 1978 movie is even half as beautiful in black and white as it is in natural sepia colour.


Do bridges like that even exist anymore? They don't exactly look too sturdy, if you ask me.


Oh, hey! Look! There's some wheat! There's, like, none of that stuff in this movie.


I guess I lied.


Need we have any more proof that Richard Gere used to be so very pretty. Just a few years after Days of Heaven was made (even though it was released in 1978, it was made around 1975. Malick spent over two years editing it) Gere was starring in American Gigolo and I think we all remember how that one turned out.


*sigh* Just taking screencaps of this movie is making me gushy as this movie is want to do. The images in this movie are just so beautiful. I don't know how anyone can watch this movie and not be taken by it. This shot of Gere and Brooke Adams is lovely. Did you know Adams, who hasn't done anything anywhere near as good as this, is married to Tony Shalhoub. The upside being that she's probably been able to go to quite a few Emmy after parties for the free food and champagne.


Succumb. It's all you can do.


I think this scene was filmed under a freeway overpass, I kid you not. Still, I needed something of Sam Shephard, who doesn't exactly let Gere win the pretty race so easily.


More wheat. Whod've thunk it?


The famous locust fire sequence is so well done and so beautifully made that I could have taken the entire ten images from those five minutes or so alone, but I held myself back. It's all just so beautiful.


This is probably my favourite shot in the entire movie. As the camera follows Gere and Adams against the backdrop of the locust fire, their silhouettes are so dramatic and powerful, even in black and white.

In conclusion it's still all incredibly beautiful <-how much did I say that word in this entry? Answer: A lot!

Sunday, August 10, 2008

MIFF Review: Not Quite Hollywood

Some of the adjectives you're sure to read in relation to Mark Hartley's new documentary about the Australian film industry of the 1970s and '80s are "raucous!", "rip snorting!", "crass!" and "hilarious!", which seem quite apt considering they're same terms you would use to describe the films Not Quite Hollywood documents. Taking a fast-paced and visually inventive look at the "ozploitation" films of years past, the film is filled with male and female nudity, absurd violence, foul language and everything else that the sex and gore-filled films of my country's past pride themselves by revelling in.

Spread across Not Quite Hollywood's 98 minute running time - it feels much longer, but in a good way - are clips from so many movies that I lost count after the first five minutes. Some of the movies discussed are good (Brian Trenchard-Smith's Dead End Drive-In, Richard Franklin's Patrick and some are most definitely not (Phillipe Mora's Howling III: The Marsupials, Simon Wincer's Harlequin), but they're all fascinating to watch and experience how they work into the fabric of not only Australia's film industry, but also our identity as a whole.

It's a testament though to Hartley's direction and, especially, the editing by Hartley, Sarah Edwards and Aussie genre director Jamie Blanks, that even the bad movies provide just entertaining fodder. When there are hundreds of movies to choose from and to condense it down to a core group and then represent those by a mere scene or quick grab is quite a task and they carry it off with aplomb. Others have said the film drags, particularly towards the end, but I really could have kept watching it all night long.

The names that Hartley has assembled is mightily impressive. It's fascinating to hear unabashed ozploitation fan Quentin Tarantino wax lyrical on the films of cult director Brian Trenchard-Smith, listen to Dennis Hopper tell of how he had no idea what he was doing on the Australian set of Mad Dog Morgan, Barry Humphries crack wise about Picnic at Hanging Rock and Jamie Lee Curtis being confused as to why she was being asked to star in an Australian movie with, of all people, Stacy Keach. And that's barely scraping the surface of the names involved, which stretches back into the annals of Australian film both known and obscure. It really is marvelous to watch.

In fact, it really is hard to dig very deep at all in a review such as this because Not Quite Hollywood is just overflowing with trivia, tidbits, history and memories. Granted, the film will have a special place for those who grew up watching these films (or, like me, have started to delve into the genre in recent times thanks to DVD), but I also think the film will work well for those who were completely oblivious to it as well.

Unless you're Bob Ellis, and anyone who has seen this exceptionally crafted and wildly entertaining film will know why. B+