Beyond the Cult

Beyond Our Ken is a fascinating and, at times, horrifying documentary about the makings and the processes of a cult and the forces behind them. Directors Luke Walker and Melissa MacLean have expertly crafted a film of immense power and sadness as they peek inside the workings of the Kenja Communication cult, a cult that like so many others deals in false smiles and life affirmations. That they were allowed unprecedented access to the group - they don't like being called a cult, naturally - and the group's leader Ken Dyers gives it a quality that is reminiscent of Amy Berg's heartbreaking 2006 doco Deliver Us from Evil.

Interviewing past - and in one case, a current - members of the group, Beyond Our Ken thoroughly details the shocking actions of the cult and its leader, a man so delusional that he and his associates equates himself to the most powerful man on Earth. Much like Berg's film about clergy abuse, Walker and MacLean's film gleans a lot of its strength of the tales of horror that emerge from behind the ever-smiling energetic faces of the cult's members. A mother reading her son's suicide letter that was written just months after being disowned by Kenja. Another mother's tortured story of her son, NIDA graduate Richard Leape, as she tells of how her son, after being unceremoniously kicked out of the sect, descended into homelessness and has been on the Missing Persons List for the past 16 years.


The film's biggest strength - if you can call it that - however, is that of Ken Dyers himself, and his co-founder Jan Hamilton. The two quickly show themselves to be, for lack of a better term, deranged crazies. With their talk of energy conversions and attached spirits, it soon becomes obvious that while the film was perhaps originally attempting to be even-handed and fair, it's hard to do so when the subjects are making it so darn hard on themselves. Several moments through the film in which Dyers discusses the transference of sexual energy always followed by his creepy laugh are down right irksome to watch and whenever he and Hamilton share the screen he shows his egotistical side and clearly doesn't want her to steal his spotlight, routinely interrupting her and not letting her finish any of her sentences. It all culminates in a shocking final sequence in which Dyers, who has since committed suicide in the face of yet another abuse scandal, goes into an angry rage that would earn him an Oscar if it weren't for the fact that it is all real.

Beyond Our Ken is an illuminating documentary and acts as the purest form of the genre. It's hard not to be disgusted by the words being put forth by these people, and it's scary to think that there are people walking around out there who are under the spell of this cult - there really is no other word for it, despite what Dyers says. The film's tagline is "You Wouldn't Know a Cult If You Joined One" and, sadly, that is very much the case with this institution. One can only hope that enough people see this wonderful film to help prevent the further loss of rationale and seemingly intelligent people to it's evil clutches. B+

Beyond Our Ken is out now on DVD and has a limited engagement at CinemaNova in Carlton, Melbourne so do check it out. It has also been nominated for the Best Documentary prize at the upcoming AFI Awards. If you wish to hear more about it click here for a Q&A audio file that was recorded after the film's screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. Even more fascinating stuff!

Black + White Friday: The Net

I can't remember who it was (Ebert?), but I read a review of The Net once that pondered what the great Alfred Hitchcock would have made of the Internet. I'm sure he would have done something far more amazing with it than Irwin Winkler did in the early days of the product (is it a product as such?) that we now take for granted.

Having said that (oh you knew this was coming), I freakin' love The Net. Sure, it's not a great movie by a long shot, but I think it's a hoot and a half. I first saw it on good ol' VHS in my initial love affair with Sandra Bullock (right after Speed, natch) and for some odd reason I kept imagining myself in her shoes as a computer geek who takes her laptop to the beach. For whatever reason, I always suspected I'd be a hardcore computer geek. Thankfully it didn't turn out that way, although these days it feels like I'm on here enough to officially call myself one.

Nevertheless, I thought we'd take a look to see if The Net were filmed in black and white. Is it anything like Hitchcock?


In Hitchcock she'd be blonde. And perhaps would have an identical twin/evil deceased mother spirit/murderous husband. Sandra has none of those. Poor gal. :(


Remember when Jeremy Northam was actually sorta hot. Remember in old movies when they could occasionally allow their lead actor to take their shirt off and, unlike today, they didn't all have rippling muscles and manicured chests. Bless.


This actually looks like it's from an old movie. Except Sandy's hair is too messy. Not even socially inept geeks had messy hair in classic movies (unless you're Bette Davis in Now Voyager if I remember correctly).


Even in times of panic - such as when your identity has been stolen while on vacation in Mexico - a Hitchcock leading lady would never wear this. She'd still be dressed up in a nice hoop skirt frock or, if it was his later period, a tweed skirt suit number with a cute-slash-stern-school-teacher up 'do. Never a loose-fitting shirt and a miniskirt.


I just took this shot because it's hilarious! This was only 13 years ago, folks!


Hitchcock loved a good carnival fair, did he not?


I don't have anything to add about this shot, I just like it.


The Net's most outlandishly preposterous moment - and in a movie full of them, that's quite an achievement really - is when Bullock's character becomes a fugitive in a high speed chase on the freeway, which then leads into a foot chase across a rocky, muddy riverbed! Oh man, I couldn't make this shit up, I swear! This movie has everything, I tell ya! EVERYTHING! It really would be a fantastic "Cinema of the Absurd" entry, would it not?


Yay! My favourite scene in the movie. If this were Hitchcock then all those women would be paper-pushing secretaries who wouldn't know technology if it spoke to them on a daily basis while serving muffins. And the whole movie would be about shorthand.


High-waisted pants... really?!?

And thus it goes. I'm sure Hitchcock would be rolling in the isles!

Black + White Friday: Femme Fatale

Inspired by My New Plaid Pants' tribute to Brian De Palma, I thought I'd take a look at one of my absolute favourite De Palma flicks, the much-maligned Femme Fatale. What with it's bountiful hidden clues and amazing setpieces. So, basically like a lot of De Palma's critically lambasted flicks then. Femme Fatale is just pure crazy though. It has two title cards (one for a completely different movie) and it has so many "# Years Later" subtitles that you just have to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

In the title card up the top, it is only the opening credit sequence and Brian De Palma is already laying it on thick. Images upon images, layers upon layers, Romijn-Stamon upon Double Indemnity. While De Palma surely was having delusions of grandeur if he thought Femme Fatale was to be compared to that film noir classic, he gets props for being crazy and ballsy to not only allude to Double Indemnity, but to feature the film's ending in the opening sequence of his movie.


Somebody is always watching and taking photographs. Just one of the many aspects of the movie is that of privacy and how we don't have any left, but also how this very fact can be manipulated and turned to our advantage.


De Palma always does good opening scenes (even dud movies like Snake Eyes have thrilling opening passages) and I love how this heist sequence at the Cannes Film Festival (set to the music of "Bolero") even has this brief echo to Carrie with it's female hands seemingly lost in the steam (of course, it's just a frosted glass window and the girl is in the throes of a lesbian make-out session, so...)


I just really liked this shot.


For such a high profile director, Brian De Palma sure does wear his inspirations proudly. Not one to shy away from not only referencing, but outright stealing from the likes of Hitchcock. Nevertheless, it always feels fresh coming from De Palma yet if it were almost any other director it would come across as silly and unoriginal. Funny that.


Having watching this movie several times, it still tickles me pink to see De Palma being so obvious with his clues. Deja vu, indeed. Having said that, Antonio Bandares is definitely the weakest part of the film.


Camera lights always provide interesting images in this series due to the high contrast, but this one is especially interesting in that the two people that the light is reflecting off seem like otherworldly ghost figures jumping out the viewers. In fact, they remind me of these two characters from another noir-inspired flick.


Feels like a classically framed image, no?


Man, is there anything quite as beautiful as Paris in black and white? Absolutely gorgeous.


Well done to me on getting a screengrab from this sequence that doesn't show any of Romijn's naughty bits (and they are on full display). I almost expect her character to swim to the top of the water and start doing some Busby Berkeley choreographed dance/swim routine featuring a plethora of other swim dancers all wearing completely impractical outfits.


I reckon this moment looks like she's sitting peacefully in the middle of space and all these beautiful stars are raining down on her - didn't that happen in The Fountain at some stage, too?

Absolutely gorgeous.

Black + White Friday: Collateral

Despite being a very gorgeous-looking film (in the way that a sinister and grimy Los Angeles can look gorgeous to those who do not actually live there - and I've been there, I much preferred looking at it on celluloid) I've always thought that Michael Mann's crime-in-a-taxi-cab near-masterpiece Collateral had a very monochrome colour palate and one that would suit this Black+White Friday series in that it's all bright colours on dark backgrounds. The way the skies have such vivid colours and the fluorescent lights of the high rise buildings blares through the darkness all look so beautiful to me. As the movie is lensed by Dion Beebe - the finest cinematographer in "tha biz" right now if you ask me - that should come as no surprise. Let's take a look, shall we?


The very early scenes of Collateral are actually my favourite. Not only for the stunning photography of Los Angeles at dusk, but for the repertoire between Jamie Foxx and Jada Pinkett Smith, an actress I like very much, but who rarely gets the chance to do much. Such an effortless, yet perfect, start to the movie.


I love the juxtaposition between the slum inner-suburbs of Los Angeles and the background of the city. I've mentioned before how I have a crush on movies set in these sorts of parts of LA, haven't I? :P


Doesn't this just feel like the sort of menacing shot of the villain that you would see in an old black and white movie?


This is actually kind of creepy. In the brief amount of time that I was in LA the roads were never this quiet.


Have I mentioned before that I actually really really like Jamie Foxx in this movie? It's a very rare moment when my dislike of him doesn't spill over into everything he does, but here I am watching this movie and thinking he "became" the character of Max far more than he "became" Ray Charles in Ray. And, yes, I think he should have been Oscar nominated for Collateral, but in the lead actor category instead of for Ray. How did anybody buy he was a supporting actor here? I mean, he's in the movie more than Tom Cruise and it starts and ends with him. He's the one with the arc. Ey ey ey.


My favourite shot in the whole movie - in a movie filled with amazing shots, obviously. I seem to have a thing for the sight of actors and palm trees. Don't ask me why.


This scene, when in colour, is a dark hue of blue and it's gorgeous. In black and white it looks scary and far more menacing. It gives me the chills.


If I didn't know better I would've said this was shot in daylight. Which is why the DV photography was so stunning. The colours just explode.


Another shot that looks like it's from an old horror flick. Run, Jada, Run!


I do love how the city is very much in every frame of the movie. It lurks in the background like a secondary villain to Tom Cruise. It's lights so bright yet unhelpful and cruel.

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.