Le Sponge

Guardians of the Galaxy is one of those films I felt was inadequate on the first watch. My focus was on the non-existent antagonist, but I failed to realize that what Guardians posed as the real antagonist was the thorny distrust between our main heroes. Starlord, Rocket, Groot, Gamora, and Drax all have believable and deserved character hangups. Each one of them invites us into the fray with a sense of wonder of how the dynamics will shake out. They show a sense of camaraderie in the face of unequivocal odds, and a world filled with unique bounty hunters, looters, thieves, overlords and not to mention a unmistakable depth to a world that has just been touched upon by the two films.

It’s interesting to think that Star Wars at one time brought a sense of wonder, joy and fun to the table, and it now has fallen to bland rehashing of existing stories to appease an aging fanbase. I think that Guardians of the Galaxy proposes not only a better space opera than Star Wars but should replace it as the focus of sci-fi adventure kings of this decade. So much so, I wouldn’t mind the Star Wars franchise just ending after this next trilogy and we continue on with the Guardians universe - it is so much more rewarding of a theatrical experience.

What has Star Wars brought to the table? Episode VII has rehashed and delivered on a platter characters who we know are going to get along swimmingly, not to mention downright disgusting show of un-earned affection between factions who seemingly just come together. Faceless foes abound, with just a group of chosen ones fighting odds that we know are controlled by a force beyond their control. Rogue One gave us no more insight into the Star Wars universe other than a backstory to how some plans got stolen. Of all the things in the Star Wars universe to focus on, of all the side-stories and characters to create, we get a story about how the resistance figures out the death star weakness. The Star Wars canon recently was pruned (more like neutered) by Disney & co. with the intention on focusing on things people know about. I’m no Star Wars aficionado, but this seems like a dumb thing to do. With my limited experience with the Jedi Knight series of games, Kyle Katarn and his quest to learn of force energy being harvested seems like a really fascinating concept. Instead of this, we get more Han Solo and Boba Fett.

Now, with Guardians of the Galaxy, a few things are set up, we know their connection with the infinity stone will come into play, but they’ve got some time. Volume 2 certainly delved deeper into the characters’ backstories a little more, so we didn’t get as much in the moment action, but Starlord’s father proposed an interesting antagonist, before he flips a switch and all our fears are confirmed. The same cannot be said about Star Wars Kylo Renn, he’s a juvenile idiot who we can read from a mile away. Whoever his master is, doesn’t seem too swift either. Both characters leave me with a sour taste that simply dissolves into a bland memory of something that was supposed to be monumental. In Volume 2 of GotG, we see our heroes continue to bicker and fight with those who are close to them, but all with good purpose. Rocket wants to be taken seriously, so he takes the most risks. Yondu’s exile from his clan is weighty and serves as a purpose for fumbling with his leadership. Gamora’s constant struggle with her sister leads her to risking her own life, even though she outwardly despises their relationship. Drax might have had the weakest of stories, but he acts so with an ignorance that is more indicative of his upbringing.

At the end of it all, both Guardians movies have had more to say than the most recent Star Wars films had. With Star Wars films changing directors more often than not, it’s obvious that Disney wants the franchise to walk that narrow tightrope of fan-favourites, which makes it the dullest of circus performances. Guardians, however, I don’t know what I’m getting myself into with each instalment, and to me - that’s worth the price of admission. 

Dunkirk is not your usual war film. It highlights all the things you would find in a war film, but it does it with a Nolan aesthetic to storytelling. The film follows three time ranges, one that starts during one week before, another that is a day before and then another during present day. Smartly so, as the week follows a father and his two sons on their personal boat, out to aid in the rescue of soldiers at Dunkirk, and the day of follows two pilots who are assisting in the air during the rescue. The days before follows our somewhat lead character and the men on the beach. What Nolan gets right in this film is that there is no single man or woman who is the protagonist, and by following three situations we see how important all these moments work together. Unlike a film that takes various characters and brings them together at the apex for story reasons, Dunkirk provides this look of fleeting moments that is a struggle for everyone involved in the war.

The main film format I encourage everyone to see this in is IMAX, and 70mm if it’s available. Christopher Nolan’s reverence for the format makes every bit of sense in Dunkirk, from the opening - technically outstanding - hand-held following of the young soldier in the streets of Dunkirk France, to the dizzying adrenaline dogfights in the air. 70mm and IMAX offers stellar bright bold colour, depth of shadow and detail and size that just pulls you in like no other 2D format. I feel weird mentioning this, but if this format was used in actual war footage, I think audiences would be horrified and moved by what IMAX film can and does capture. If there is only complaint I have to say about Dunkirk’s presentation is that a film format in today’s cinemas is a troublesome thing. Projectionists are now used to digital screenings, minimal camera setup and just maintenance has drastically been downplayed. Despite enjoying every bit of IMAX’s intended presentation, there was a wild brightness flicker due to an improperly timed gate, and possibly just lack of knowledge of how physical film works.

Dunkirk is more like your usual war film, as it is obviously an anti-war film. As far as straight storytelling goes, it shows the hurdles the young men in WW2 had to endure, from witnessing suicide, to self-preservation against the backdrop of everyone is doing what they can to get these men off the beach. There are moments of villainy as German bombers end up sinking the naval ships, and we cheer on the British pilots who are successful in shooting down the bombers. If anything is truly missing from Dunkirk, is that the Axis is not humanly represented on screen, as they are hidden behind aircraft or are bullets that fly through the air.

Twin Peaks has returned in a way that I was prepared for, but am still not ready to accept. Instead of adept banter of characters all fumbling towards trying to solve a murder mystery - whilst going about their normal routine - we get locked off medium shots of characters isolated in the frame - left for a “David Lynch acceptable” amount of time. It is here where I think fans of the series and David Lynch’s style of film-making make peace with the approach on display. We classify these moments as pieces of a puzzle, all of which make no sense at the current time, but will hopefully come together in the end.

Yet, the style of film-making or TV-making that Twin Peaks is utilizing is something akin to the fourth season of Arrested Development. You see, Arrested Development came back to Netflix by great demand, but none of the actors and actresses could get their schedules to line up to allow for a full picture of the wonderfully dysfunctional family. I cannot help but feel the same is happening to Twin Peaks, as we’re introduced to new and old characters, but they’re usually sitting alone, watching strange animal documentaries, or they’re in their offices, reading over papers and very slowly getting their dialogue out. There’s no real character to character interaction happening outside of a few awkward conversations.

I feel comfortable saying that I think Twin Peaks original run had plenty of these drawn out moments, but they felt like they had some momentum to them. Whether it be Andy getting hit in the face with a loose floor board then stumbling around, or Dale Cooper (who was previously shot and lay on his bedroom floor, half conscious) being bothered by the old man who worked at the hotel, who insisted on winking and giving Dale the thumbs up before Dale could reciprocate in turn. These moments were long and drawn out, but we as the audience knew something was coming afterwards, some sort of payoff. Lynch doesn’t give payoffs in his latest rendition of Twin Peaks, he leaves us with questions a plenty and honestly - the payoff for a few of them weren’t even good.

Despite the lingering attitude that sends Twin Peaks 2017 along a slow winding path, it also fails to give us characteristic episodic arcs. The latest episode (episode 5) has Dale stumbling through the day and then left staring at a statue at the end. Dale’s doppleganger sits in a jail cell, and does very little other than flex his supernatural muscle. No offense to Lynch, but these moments, aka “micro-arcs” are barely interesting to watch, and I feel all I am watching for now is some payoff, but am not sure if that will ever happen, or when it does it will feel too little too late.

Disney apparently couldn’t get behind releasing Only Yesterday. Topics of women hood and images of Japanese bath-houses have no place in Disney’s squeaky clean fuelled megalomania [1]. Such is a shame because it took over twenty five years to have Isao Takahata’s cinematic masterclass of humanity to reach North American shores. It is important to state this up front because it is a shame to ignore Only Yesterday. For it is a finely crafted film about a 27 year old woman, Taeko, who's reminiscing about her grade 4 and 5 experiences while vacationing/working on a naturally-farmed country estate. Amongst picking saffron flowers and helping in the rice fields, she relays to the us memories that she has long held and which she felt defined who she is as a human.

Moments of her past are relayed to us in short, such as young boys teasing girls, the struggles of understanding fractions. This is something Taeko believes is the key to finding people who get “life”, for she thinks if someone can solve fractions they will understand life better. The concept of taking the abstract concepts of math and realizing them in the real world is something Taeko struggles with. She also struggles with understanding how to behave, never truly understanding whether she’s coming or going at any given situation. She has a run in with her father after she kicks up a fuss over whether she was staying or going, or whether she wanted a hand-me-down purse or not, or when she runs out of the house in no shoes - all looking for attention and affirmation that she is someone. There are so many things of our growing that do not fit any logical sense, and Isao Takahata draws us in to look deeper at how we might try to fit these nonsense moments into concrete catalysts and defining blocks of who we are. Such ideologies might seem to some as psychobabble, but moments in this film are quiet, reaffirming moments not of boredom, but of much forgotten ideological sign posts that have directed us to being confused adults.

The final moments of this film are beautifully drawn. Children begin appearing, and they are figments of Taeko’s illustrative past come back, they interact within her world and those around her, but she and others do not see them. These characters are drawn for the audience only, they appear so we can look back on the figments of her past that block her way, that trip her up, that stop her from feeling proud of herself. Only Yesterday is poetic in its ability to cover so much ground, with minimal exertion and leaves us with the heaviest of questions and revelations. 

It is a shame that it took this long for it to arrive in North America, and that Disney had issue with it, because it truly is a cinematic masterpiece that everyone should see sooner in their life, rather than later.

If anything could be said about the film The Edge of Seventeen, directed by Kelly Fremon Craig and starring Hailee Steinfeld (True Grit, Pitch Perfect), and Woody Harrelson (True Detective) - is that it must be extremely taxing to raise a seventeen year old introverted girl. Nadine (Steinfeld) leads the charge of destructive self-confining gripes about of the world around her, and suffering the loss of her father at an early age and her mother (Kyra Sedgwick) whose idealism creates a modern suburban tale of youth in flux.

Those who want emotionally gripping stories - look elsewhere, as what you will find in Edge of Seventeen is the tale of self-absorbed Nadine who thinks the world is backwards - despite doing little to improve her own image. She is bratty, rash and rude and when it comes conferencing with the one teacher who will listen to her, Mr Bruner (Woody Harrelson) - he simply sits back and lets her drone on. Bruner represents everything a teacher should be, and unfortunately is expected to be - due to the lack of school counselors in modern education systems.

There was a line that really stuck out to me, and that was Bruner telling Nadine “Maybe no one likes you” - in response to her belly-aching about how everyone her age is so different from her. Bruner ends up giving her a cookie and complimenting her being his favourite student during, which she then questions the legitimacy of the complement and not just Bruner explaining how vapid reward is to self worth. The whole scene plays out wonderfully. In some cases, this may seem like some half-hearted observation by Bruner - but the more you get to know Nadine, you realize she really is someone who would define you, rather than accept you for who you are. She sets up rules as to why her only best friend can no longer be her friend, due to her dating Nadine’s brother. It is refreshing to see characters not give a shit about what the main protagonist thinks - and in fact be in the right for doing so. Bruner is the harsh-yet correct jury for Nadine to sit/stand/pose in front of, providing her with some sense of reality to the one she creates in her limited imagination.

An uncomfortable scene I found was when Nadine’s blockhead mother takes her to work instead of forcing the girl to get out of her car and go to school. This scene portrays both the mother and Nadine in a pretty harsh light  just because you know both characters are floundering for the upper-hand, and in ways that seems irresponsible and stupid. After a row of fighting, Nadine forcefully steals her mother’s car (without having a license of course), stops off at a playground to write a lewd text message to her crush on social media, then rockets into Bruner’s office, claiming she wants to kill herself. From there, Bruner is unfairly put in the position to actually caring about Nadine, and slyly he plays up the ridiculousness of her situation by saying he was writing a note about doing the same thing.

If films like Juno, Sixteen Candles and Breakfast Club interest you - I would certainly recommend this film. Unlike the two John Hughes pictures I just listed, this film sees the protagonist as a broken mess of emotions - stemming from all sources, whereas teen films usually revel in the suppressed nature of “no one gets me”, teenage years. Despite Nadine being an incredible caustic character, I could not stop watching for the absolutely brilliant writing and realism this film brought forth. It is rare for me to root for the secondary characters in this film as they try to exchange blows with Nadine, but I wanted to see what happened when she constantly course-corrects herself into oblivious self-indulgence. Even the awkward teen-crush Erwin (Hayden Szeto) plays a the role brilliantly, being a nervous side-character who comes into his own half way through the film.

Overall, it’s an Incredible film, definitely a close second for my favourite of 2016, tied with The Nice Guys. It is too bad the Oscars overlooks smaller films like these - because they’re definitely deserving of world-stage praise. 

Moana is a pretty incredible film, it packages together a story that both is a message about the title character not settling for societal norms with a pretty riveting folk-tale about Maui. What is extremely appreicative of this film is that it plays to the strengths of animation in every conceivable way: from the way water is animated to make it into a character to Maui’s animated tattoos that react and move. The folk-tale is a part of Moana’s journey from her breaking out of her tribe’s stationary lifestyle, as she is encouraged by her grandmother to learn the true history of her people. Imbued with courage, Moana sets off to prove to herself that she is capable of adventure, and things that she thought held her back - really don’t exist.

There are many fun tunes in this film, but I found at times the music and storytelling failed to give it’s full impact. The more memorable songs were associated with simpler background-story telling or plot-points. There was an attempt to make a David Bowie inspired track, but I did not enjoy it as much as the more traditionally cinematic show tunes. There is a bit of a wonky subplot regarding the poisoning of the island’s natural wild-life, and I assumed there was a supernatural element at play, but the correlation never gelled.

Maui and the chicken are two extremely opposite side-kicks to Moana. Both are animated in broad strokes, but later in the film they are given grand moments of redemption. It surprised me when the Chicken was the side-character and not the pig (pictured above), but despite the chicken being the butt of every joke, there are some really interesting character-developments for him - no matter how little. Maui has his own struggles as a demi-god, and eventually gets over himself. I must say, those who were a fan of Lilo and Stitch, will find similar characteristics in the character design here. The beefy Maui plays well against Moana, but at times it did feel like they were pulling from the same character traits - headstrong attitudes, but these ideologies are pitted against each other time and again, which is a good resolve. 

Tarantino has some cajones to film an ultra-wide film primarily in a cabin. The format designed to bring more horizontal splendour to the viewer, was often used on exterior-focused films, where we can ooh and aaah at the scenery. Multi-level acting such as in the classic How the West Was Won (1962) took advantage of an ultra-wide multi-screen approach to both bring the audience landscape splendour, but also some exciting multi-level acting techniques. It allows both a staged-like performance to take place, and also a dynamic sense of ping-ponging between the actors. It pains me to say Tarantino does not take advantage of this enough. The format is often wasted with the usual close-ups that plague modern cinema, and when it does pull back, we have actors in the background just miming out actions. There are many opportunities missed, which could have made this film much more bearable.

As you might imagine, The Hateful Eight’s story is straight-forward due to limits of the single setting. Eight cowboys in a cabin in a snowstorm all shooting their mouths off at each other makes for some real linear storytelling. Unlike Reservoir Dogs, which Tarantino tackles small-set limited actors quite brilliantly, there is very little left to the imagination. Often characters shoot their creators’ mouth off as we are paddled through the murky cowboy piss and vinegar underbelly. Despite Tarantino having a distinct metre to both dialogue and story pacing, too much here is put on the table, or under the table, as we are once shown. I do believe the strength of Tarantino’s films come from the characters, but often their isolation between film edits, allows them to often scheme and plot against each other. 

It is a real shame 10 Cloverfield Lane that had such great potential. There is a Hitchcock slyness to most of it, as the film peppers in questions that the characters ask each other and of themselves. The film mostly follows the young woman Michelle (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) and we’re treated to the dissection of her stockholm syndrome with Howard (John Goodman) and the budding relationship with local towney Emmett (John Gallagher Jr). 

The story starts with Michelle being driven off the road, and then waking up in Howard’s underground bunker. Michelle’s leg is handcuffed to a pipe on the wall, and she has an intravenous morphine drip in her arm. Now, with this description, one automatically presumes we’re going to be in for some “Saw” action, but not so - Howard presents himself as a strange fellow, and worst of all we don’t truly understand his intentions. Throughout the film, this is a pretty big conundrum, and we never know how to feel about Howard, primarily because we doubt him and his crazy stories of the apocalypse. When Emmett corroborates with Howard’s story of nuclear holocaust, we’re left in half disbelief of the actual events. Michelle’s trust of Howard wanes in and out, as moments of joy and comfort, are only the hyperbolic top layer of cake, and the deeper the layers go, the more twisted is the filling.

Now for the shameful part - and that is the ending. Without spoiling it, I will say there is no payoff for a fairly brilliant bit of drama. I unfortunately found it pedestrian and lackluster, with a complete tonal shift that made the first hour and twenty minutes almost pointless. Still, despite this, there was a great deal going for this film, and I do hope that more films will take note of 10 Cloverfield Lane as one can build interest with character and setting alone. 

It’s taken a while for Netflix to get this one, and I was holding off until it arrived on the streaming platform. I watched it tonight in the hopes that the hype surrounding it’s action tour de force was worth it. In short, the film’s premise is stupidly simple: John’s wife dies, his car gets stolen, and the car thieves kill his newly adopted dog. The dog is a gift from his wife after her passing, and she simply states in a heartfelt letter to John that the dog is a symbol of their friendship, in a time when she felt he would need company. This overtly described symbolism to the viewer was somewhat of a warning of things to come. I believe when the director’s focus on stating symbolism proves they have little faith in their audience’s intelligence.

Such sap is a sticky conundrum for the viewer when John goes on a killing spree of bloodshed of innocent bodyguards. The director asks us to use the symbolism as fuel for this raging Joh Wick fire, despite the fuel being made of whale ambergris. As stylish as this film gets with it’s action sequences, with some great setup and payoff ensuing throughout the high contrast, and otherworldly lit scenes, it fails to get the basics of storytelling right. The level of stupidity one needs to impose in oneself to enjoy this film is as painful as the action taking place. As an amusing aside throughout the film, I found myself wondering what did all these henchmen do to deserve being killed in cold blood by a man who’s avenging his dog’s death and his stolen car? No one in this film truly knows John Wick, and he does not let them live long enough to actually learn of his presence in this universe. Plenty of innocents are killed in this movie, which despite the fact of the henchmen’s career choices, do not make them simply fodder for John’s hand cannons. 

You’ll be delighted to know that if you have watched Finding Nemo, you’ve already seen Finding Dory. That is not to say that the film has a shred of heart, but it is muddled underneath layer of committee based decision making. The film starts with a flashback to Dory’s childhood where her parents attempt to comfort their memory challenged daughter with recognizable patterns, colours, shapes and objects to help her find her sense of self. This concept is beautifully executed, but painfully takes a back-seat to the absolute slog of what is a bastardized plot line.

When Dory remembers she has a family, she sets out to find them with Marlon and Nemo. Each plot point is flung between contrived incidental flashbacks. So much so, this film could be called Flashbacks the Movie for all I care. Dory winds up being kidnapped by humans on a boat and brought to a Marine Biology Wellness Center. Marlon and Nemo must find a way to help Dory get out of the human world. Dory meets an octopus named Hank, he’s not Australian and not a pelican. Nemo and Marlon blandly meet two sea lions who get an estranged duck to help them get into the centre. What follows is almost a shot by shot recreation of the prior film, but without any of the heart nor interesting or relatable characters. 

While there are attempts to be relatable with parenting of a disabled child, none of that comes through in a way that gives any sense of gravitas, Dory is surviving nicely with the help of her friends, and she only remembers her parents later in the introduction. She also makes a lot of “breakthroughs” that are haphazard in their importance, some seem like they follow patterns of psychology, and some that are thrown in. In the end, we know that Dory is a survivor, and her parents seeing that does not impact our feelings towards Dory at all. Finding Nemo did this perfectly, we see Dory upset and lost after Marlon blows up at her, we feel her pain then. We do not here, and there is so much aforementioned crud on this film it takes away from any rhyme or reason we should care as an audience.

The ending of this film feels incredibly off. The credits for Nemo were catchy up-beat swinging number “Sailin’” that reflected the sea-life’s fun and carefree attitude. Dory ends with a sentimental ballad that goes absolutely no where, while she stares off into the great blue expanse of water. 

Hitchcock’s The Birds is often passed over for the likes of Jaws when competing for best horror film involving man vs. nature tropes. But I am going on record to argue that The Birds is the better film of the two. From the concept of such an abundance of harmless creatures turning into dive bombing creatures of death, to the almost-ear scarring soundtrack, to the ending - which is as ambiguous as they come.

In this film, suspense is built keenly as many birds begin to appear in one area or another. Usually a flock of birds isn’t anything for alarm, in fact, it’s more for fun for us to see them fly off when startled. But Hitchock turns that against the viewer, showing immediately the pay-off of what happens when they begin to flock. Hitch doubles this suspense as when starlet Tippi Hedren is on the screen, the birds start to form. We are lead to almost believe she has some supernatural connection with the birds that are causing them to attack when she’s around. We see this also in the opening moments of the film, when Tippi is in the pet shop, and she accidentally lets one of the birds fly about out of their cage. It is almost as if her fear affects the creatures in a way that is only amplified when she is outside. This is entirely the point of Tippi’s character, as there is a later scene where one of the townspeople starts calling her a witch or demon for what is going on in their town. This form of realization of characters in the film is incredibly important for us to not feeling alone with our fears, and pulls us in as we commiserate with the characters. 

The Birds may look a little rough by it’s dated effects, but it certainly does not sound dated. It is positively modern with the sound effect work done on the birds themselves. The sounds of backwards tape loops layer with such cacophony and that it drives the visuals to new heights. Sounds of wood cracking underneath the beaks of the birds as they pummel the sides of houses, and the squawking of seagulls as they viciously bite at the people creates a sense of tension unheard in any film to my memory. Played through a great stereo audio system, this film’s sound will definitely put you in an unsettling mood.

Death, violence and chaos abound in this film unlike any of other Hitchcock’s films. These birds, unlike others, have their motivations, and the worst part is that the birds can cause mass chaos and then fly away unscathed from it all. Mens’ eyes are pecked out, women pummelled to death, cars exploding at a gas station (the worst place for a car to explode!). Someone with an active enough imagination can think of all the terrible things that could have occurred in this film. Yet, with each gruesome sight, we are constantly reminded of the power Hitchcock had over composition and playing the audience with limiting what we see. There is a moment in the third act where the main characters are in a boarded up house, and the sound effects start - we see an extremely low-angle shot of the ceiling, and each character walks in from the bottom of the frame, their frightened expressions heightened with three point perspective. Not only are we seeing the characters expressions amplified, but we experience the “coming to realization from nothing” of the characters as they hear the sounds. It’s an incredibly intense moments that lingers, before the storm of birds occurs.

At the end of the film, we are unfortunately given a moment with Tippi being almost killed by the birds. It is a very sad and intense scene, with lots of crooked angles, quick editing and chaotic activity affecting her character. Hitchcock gives a lot of time in the film to become sympathetic to this woman’s plight, more so than the rest of the characters. The vindictive people who watch this film may feel satisfied during this moment, where they wrongfully assume she is the cause, but I know the truth of the matter was much greater than her presence. 

Fritz Lang’s M is a thriller, but in reality it is very much a horror film. The film follows a child murderer, Hans Beckert (played by the devilish Peter Lorre), who we see stalking the innocent. The very concept of a film following a child murderer seems downright disgusting, but this historically follows Lang and his wife’s interest in trying to come to terms with a serial killer that was appearing in local German newspapers at that time. The twist to this story is seeing how the other underground criminals absolutely despise the man, as the police force is out in full effect, trying to catch Hans, thus limiting the success of criminal activities in general.

The atmosphere of this near German expressionist film is incredible, shadows abound as Hans darts in and out of them, chased and followed by the annoyed criminals. The opening scene is absolutely haunting, with an extreme down shot of children playing a game in the street, harmlessly reciting an ominous tome, not giving it thought, but we know well what might happen. At the end of the film, Hans is brought to court in a sewer, judged by members of the community, where he gives an empathetically twisted speech about his motives. None of which makes any sense, and thus, we are horrified at what we’re hearing.

I recommend M on the fact it is filled with disturbing, dark imagery. The horror of destroying the innocent because of misunderstood reasons is something that digs deep into the human psyche. Despite it’s age, it still is hauntingly relevant.

When there’s something strange comin’ over the hill. Whatcha gonna shout? Fog monsters! Got some glowin’ in yo fog? Who you gonna call? Radio announcer! What’s the point of all this fog? I don’t know! Was hoping you would!

John Carpenter and Debrah Hill have an odd one on their hands. Carpenter is pretty good at suspense, and Debrah Hill is good at managing a budget, so quite possibly the end result was a skeleton crew of cast members and the only monsters really was fog. I can say it’s sufficiently creepy, but skimpy on keeping logical story points. Unfortunately it never knows who to really follow in the story, one minute the focus is on the radio announcer who’s fearing for her child’s safety, to a hitchhiker (Jamie Lee Curtis) and a sea captain who are investigating his missing crew. As well, in the beginning there is a priest who finds a hidden journal that documents what the fog (and it’s monsters) are all about. Despite the characters being mostly likeable, they normally don’t get up to much other than each of them trying to accomplish one thing, then end up being scared by the fog. This may seem like a relatively daft explanation, but there is no real depth to any of these characters to make mention of. None of them possess any doubts, and they all freely put themselves in harms way.

It is very difficult to narrow down The Simpson’s Treehouse of Horror episodes, let alone segments. The first ten seasons were phenomenal in their own way, yet there are some segments I felt made a stronger case for great storytelling of these characters.

10. Hell Toupee (Season 10)

Homer gets a wicked hair transplant from deceased criminal Snake. His hair then grows roots into his brain and turns him into an evil version of Homer. Some great laughs and just all around steady storytelling of Homer not knowing what is going on with his new doo. Also, the scene at the end of the toupee getting shot as it tries to walk away on it’s sideburns, is comedic gold.

9. Nightmare on Evergreen Terrace (Season 7)

Somehow the Simpsons managed to make an image of Willy getting burned alive become funny. Willy is told to wait his turn for help as he’s burning to death. It’s such an oddball thing to happen, and is perfect for some halloween scares. Willy invading the children’s dreams and killing them off is a terrible way to showcase this much loveable character, but it definitely captures how little the Springfield community care about their local caregiver.

8. Fly vs Fly (Season 9)

At the outset of this episode, where we see the Simpsons family is at Professor Frink’s yard sale, Homer’s ponders over paying 50 cents for a once in a lifetime breakthrough of scientific creation (he pays 35 cents in the end and gets a pair of mood pants). This reveals how much Homer represents the idea of being an everyman, one that does not care about “science” and likes to haggle, maybe out of some misplaced principal. The rest of the episode is amazingly funny, with Homer trying to steal sugar from BartFly’s bag of sugar, or the two headed cat dog, “Twice the pet, none the mess!” and when the two rear-end versions of the animals come out, Bart says that can be Lisa’s. It goes to show all the motivations in an episode like this can be well intentioned, but horribly misplaced. 

7. The Homega Man (Season 9)

The Last Man on Earth tale is remarkably better told with the Simpson’s family. It kinda puts the classic films to shame, as it seeks out humour in the most horrible situation. Homer’s realization that he does not need to wait in line, nor wait in traffic thrills him, so much so he realizes what a wonderful world it can be with no one else to boss him around. But as soon as he starts remembering his family with “little Bart... little Lisa.... little Maggie.... little Marge....” and they appear as spectres floating above his head, all swinging baseball bats as they float by, Marge included, who misses the ball, it shows how much Homer (simplistically) cares about his family. Oh yeah, and the mutants are awesome, they add so much to the issues of dealing with nuclear warfare. 

6. King Homer (Season 4)

Another Hollywood classic made better by The Simpsons. King Homer’s lackadaisical demeanour and his over-aggressiveness pair perfectly with a giant ape. There’s some great animation going on in this episode, from Mr Burns prancing around after being winded by a smoke bomb, or Marge’s flailing from Homer’s huge grip. Also the reveal of Homer only being two flights above ground when climbing what I think is the Empire State Building, is comedic genius. And lastly, let’s not forget the mention of Candy Apple Island, which is home to apes, but they’re not as big.

5. Nightmare Cafeteria (Season 6)

Good golly, this episode is gross, but weirdly, in a way that makes it all okay. When children start piling up in detention, it’s obvious to the teachers you would only eat the students to clear up room, and also improve the school cafeteria’s failing dietary budget. There are so many moments in this episode where you just shake your head in confusion, like Marge’s advice for the kids: 

“Listen, kids - you're eight and ten years old now; I can't be fighting all your battles for you.” - Marge “But, Mom!” - Bart “Nobuts! You march right back to that school, look them straight in the eye and say 'Don't eat me'.” - Marge

This goes swimmingly well for the kids in the end. The ending which is unfortunately out shined by a wonderful musical number about a fog that turns your skin inside out.

4. Time and Punishment (Season 6)

This time travelling segment is probably the most creative of all the segments, as the writers get to explore alternate universes for Homer’s chaotic time travelling adventure. As well, it provides proof that a Halloween episode of The Simpsons paints Homer as the misunderstood genius of invention with his time travelling toaster. Even the stupid premise of why the toaster needed to be fixed makes sense in some way: Homer’s hand constantly getting comically stuck in the toaster. It’s genius how we just accept this fact. I must admit, it is a little disconcerting to see Ned Flanders have a lobotomy centre set up for his minions, but it gives Ned Flanders a much different heightened christian-values iron grip over everyone. Notable quotes include “Stupid bug, you go squish now!” and Grandpa Simpson’s wedding day advice to Homer. 

3. The Devil and Homer Simpson (Season 5)

The forbidden doughnut has gotten more questions than answers from me and others: it seems no one can understand why Homer keeps the last morsel of a doughnut around. Yet it is the perfect catalyst for a wonderfully subversive tale where we see Flanders play the devil, judging Homer on his crimes that keep him in hell. There are amazing scenes in this episode, including Homer being stuffed with doughnuts for eternity (what kind of punishment is that?) or the jury of historical baddies that are responsible for his sentencing. It is amazing to consider that Homer’s vices keep him from realizing the weight of choices in reality.

2. Dial Z For Zombies (Season 4)

Bart’s spells of department stores and talk show hosts raises the dead, and with them a barrel full of laughs. When Homer shotgun blasts Zombie Flanders we truly see how Homer feels about his neighbour, as he is unaware he’s even a zombie. We also learn that bodies are somehow beneath Springfield Elementary, as a scene of Willy finishing off a flower bed, has it suddenly destroyed by zombies popping out of the ground. We are treated to Ned Flanders’ perfectly timed blood-curdling scream after he lets in a group of zombies into his house, when he realized Old Sue isn’t really dead. The comedic pace of this episode races along with everyone in the town slowly becoming zombies, something rarely seen in most Simpson episodes. It’s definitely a lesson in how to tell a detailed story but at a fast pace, while keeping the fun in tact. 

The most amusing of deaths, I think, is Krusty the Clown’s unfortunate on screen demise, and he then after tells the audience of children to send their parents’ brains, or write “parents brains” on a 3x5″ card and send it to the station. The absurdity of it all is wonderfully sinister and Homer’s lack of intelligence takes a walloping when not even Zombies will devour his ol’ gray matter. Let’s not forget about the literary nod at “Is this the end of Zombie Shakespeare?”

1. The Shinning (Season 6)

The Shinning has to be the Simpson’s perfect parody of a film. If the original Shining’s regular nobody Jack Torrence can go insane, it’s fair to say such isolation would have almost an instant effect on Homer. Everything in this episode is parodied on point, from the opening shot of the family station wagon winding its way down the mountain side, to the blood in the elevator and the wonderfully animated "No TV and no Beer Make Homer Go Crazy” scene. The only questions I had in this episode were “Why does Mr Burns own a hotel in the mountains?” then I realized how silly that was to ask.

Not only did this episode introduce me to The Shining, but it explains a good deal of what makes The Shining so scary, that having someone you love lose all sense, especially a loveable dope like Homer, is horrifying. The typewritten message of “Feelin’ Fine” tries to reflect a calm and collected Homer, but upon a flash of lightning lights up the walls, we truly understand what surrounds the person who’s gone insane. They are written words that engulf Homer and Marge, not just for comedic effect, but for revealing true horror in insanity. Kubrick’s original “All Work and No Play Make Jack a Dull Boy” is a good analogy for Jack’s dissolving psyche, but I am particular to The Simpsons’ take on it, because it reads really well.

The Shinning presents parody but with real issues in a way that Kubrick would have never considered, and I think that sometimes it is more powerful when you really know the characters, like in a TV series. Seeing Homer go insane is not only frightening for the characters on screen, but I think as a viewer, it affects me more to see someone (albeit fictional) I care about become insane.

Frankenstein meets the Wolfman is an odd film, for it has a lot of things going for it. The characters are charismatic, the dialogue is not stilted, and everything is going pretty hunky-dory, with the story following the Wolfman as he tries to find a way to shed his immortal curse and die for one and for all. In the previous entry in the series, The Ghost of Frankenstein, Lon Chaney was the monster, but he reprises his role as the wolfman in this film. Strangely, Bela Lugosi is cast as a fairly over-weight and stout monster, who is probably the most sympathetic version of the monster to date. I particularly enjoy Lon Chaney’s acting, as I think he’s closer to the every-man than most of the other actors in the Universal series. When he treats the monster with respect and humanity, it shows that he’s not just reacting to the monster’s presence, but engaging with him. THis is where Lugosi shines, as his movements and poses are not menacing like the hardened Karloff, he has a rotund frame, which creates very soft silhouettes.

I mentioned the odd nature of this film for a good reason, for it seems like it’s going somewhere, but is undone by the third act - a particularly contrived and rushed affair that doesn’t resolve the wolfman’s storyline, nor the monsters. Both characters end up getting washed away in a flood, whilst fighting each other like in the poster featured above. I think there was some really great chemistry going on between the two buddies throughout the film, and a doctor appears somewhere in the film, promising to help both characters find peace and die with dignity. The doctor instead changes his mind (surprise, surprise!) and instead tries to pump Frankenstein’s monster full of extra electricity to get him nice and angry again. This, I cannot work out the purpose, I cannot understand what the doctor wants out of this film, and in a way he cannibalizes the theme of mortality in the eyes of the immortal.

This film definitely has a 1940′s mainstream aesthetic to it, shots are filled with decorations that don’t push for overly-stylization, but more natural everyday look with a fairly linear and flat lighting scheme. There’s nothing going to wow you about this film in general, but I recommend it if you (like me) are continuing down this Universal monsters path. It’s worth a watch just to see how Lugosi tackles the monster, and Lon Chaney pleases as usual with his steady everyman approach.

It Follows is a superb piece of modern horror/thriller. It combines elements of The Shining with it’s slow revolving pans and uneasy well-lit normality, a bit of John Carpenter’s Halloween, with it’s unstoppable force of nature, a bit of John Hughe’s Breakfast Club, involving a group of teens who are unnervingly all in this horror together without knowing what is going on, and a good bit of psychosis to top it all off. With the premise being the main character Jay, ends up having things (aka “it”) start following her. The shape-shifting thing takes forms that are wonderfully dark, or completely benign from afar, but dreadfully off up close. I can honestly say this will please fans of the recent “Stranger Things” series on Netflix, as it has the right amount of camaraderie amongst the teens in the film, as well as an unknown agent of evil lurking in the shadows.

Jay tries to convince her friends that she is really being stalked by these creatures, whom her friends do not see nor can they truly understand. In order to get away from the creatures, they take road trips to far reaching ends of the the state, but soon enough “they” are back again... 

There is plenty to look at and admire in this film, from it’s exceptional lighting and colour palette in it’s low-light, to choice of shots that keep you on the edge, all the while showcasing meticulous work on the set dressing. It may feel somewhat like a hipster film, with its OCD cleanliness, but I found it all adds to the unease in the film. The audience is lead to draw their own conclusions about what certain props mean, what do they mean to characters? There is a dilapidated house in which our gang of characters find themselves in, it is sparse inside, but is rigged with the oddest looking alarm system, and with windows covered with newsprint, with a barren interior, save for a few medicine cabinets filled with illegal meds. The house in disarray does not just represent a spooky place, it represents one of the characters state of mind, especially for a character we are only slightly introduced to at the beginning.

The one aspect of It Follows that should be fairly popular to today’s audiences, is Disasterpiece’s (Rich Vreeland) soundtrack. Disaster’s score reflects a modernization of John Carpenter’s style of horror soundtrack, one painted in a dirty neon aesthetic, but keeping an arms distance from a generic 80′s style soundtrack. Below you can find a clip of the theme song, it’s wonderfully dark and enigmatic. It also aids in putting you right on the edge.

Enough cannot be said about this film. I highly encourage everyone to check it out, and then check to make sure no one strange is following you... for you might be the only one to see it!