The Movies of 2013

If there's anything the Internet needs more of, it's lists. This December, I'm seeing a lot of sites trying to get creative, posting things like "The 10 Greatest Performances By People Who Have Been Understudies For Billy Bob Thornton"* or "The Best Episodes of Shows You've Stopped Watching"**. But where are the lists where people apply entirely subjective rankings to the select few movies they could manage to get out of the house and see? Where is that list that is being presented to billions of people on the Internet but is really only valuable to the guy who wrote it? That's the list that I want to read***. So here it is; presented from worst to best, my list of The Films of 2013.

*why the eff is there a silent "n" in Thornton?
**actually, that one sounds kind of fun
***write

19) Sharknado

It's just not good. You know it, I know it, and no matter how intentional its terribleness is, I could never actively recommend watching something because it's bad. Sure, sometimes its over-the-top-ness is entertaining. Who doesn't want to see a flying shark get sawed in half with a perfectly time chainsaw swing? But, there's a difference between being silly and just being awful.


18) Oz: The Great and Powerful

I remember seeing the trailer for Oz and thinking to myself that 'You know what, you need to stop being such a snob. Why can't you just learn to appreciate a movie as a piece of visual art, you insufferable twat?'* So, I really really tried to like watching Oz but I just can't do it. It's ambitious and often gorgeous but it's also senseless and tedious. Oz is a fun, beautiful world to fall into, especially in its excellent 3D but a dull story, unfunny comedy, and unsympathetic characters do not a classic make.

*fun fact, "twat" becomes eight times classier when it rhymes with "hat"

That being said, Zach Braff's monkey character is awesome.

17) Texas Chainsaw

The fact that I barely remember this movie probably says a lot about its quality but I do remember being surprised at at the parts when I did enjoy Texas Chainsaw. I remember a few moments of real tension, I remember some creative dismemberments* but I also remember a frustratingly complacent protagonist and, oddly enough, I remember a fair amount of Apple product placement. That second part isn't such a big deal but it always frustrates me to see characters witness unprecedented, insane, ultra-violence and just brush it off like it ain't no thang.

*which Google's autocorrect** doesn't recognize in the plural
**also not recognized by Google's dictionary

I'm told this is the "best Texas Chainsaw movie since the original." It's the only one I've seen and I'm glad that I didn't pay for the ticket.

16) The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug

I'll be the first to admit that I don't care much for the book The Hobbit. Literary discontent notwithstanding, I believe that movies likes this should stand on their own, without intertextual dependency on their source material. Desolation of Smaug just doesn't. Before I rag on it too hard, though, I'll give it its dues.

The dragon looks friggin' amazing. I am in absolute awe of the artistry and digital craftsmanship that went into creating such a fearsome, lifelike, epic creature. Also, the battles were pretty fun too.

But, that's about it. Otherwise, the movie is somehow stretched between two seemingly incompatible extremes: tedium and clutter. It's hard to explain but Desolation of Smaug is packed to the brim with too many characters and stories, barely any of which are interesting to watch. Bilbo is barely in it, despite being the absolute best part of An Unexpected Journey; dwarves who never spoke before now have half-baked personalities; and Gandalf runs off to give Tolkein fans a nerd boner while the rest of us wonder what the hell is going on. The only plots I enjoyed following were those of Bard and Tauriel and even there, I'm still not sure whether I actually cared or whether I'm just enraptured by two ridiculously attractive specimens of humanity.

And, of course, next December,  my ass will be back in that seat, watching it all wrap up.

15) Riddick

Riddick gets by on points for sheer entertainment. It's not a compelling story, I couldn't care less about the characters (except maybe Riddick's adopted alien jackal-hound friend) but the 10-year-old boy inside of me just couldn't get over how cool the whole thing was.

Riddick is always teetering on the edge of absolute riddick-ulousness* but Vin Diesel's unwavering commitment to the intensity of the title character somehow makes it enjoyable. It's all about kicking ass and taking names on a neat looking alien world. Take it for what it is and don't expect anything else.

*pun

14) The To-Do List

The To Do List takes a story that has been told hundreds of times before (a high school student wants to lose her virginity before going off to college), fills it with tons of clichés from the kinds of movies that have told that very same story, but makes a point of standing out in its blunt, candid discussion of sex. With this movie, we get to see some of the real awkwardness that comes from discovering one's own sexuality during the already uncomfortable years of teenagedom.

The film also tries to create its own identity by very specifically and pointedly setting itself in the 90's. Sometimes this gets played up for nostalgic laughs but it feels like it's slapping you in the face, insisting on you laughing at 90's culture because... 90's.

13) Oblivion

In a year where I have now seen Oblivion, Mission: Impossible II, and Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol, I have learned that while I will likely never be able to call myself a Tom Cruise fan, I can generally count on him to involve himself in serviceably entertaining popcorn fare. While I wasn't blown away by the action or the sci-fi twists of Oblivion, I had an alright time watching it and found myself immersed in the post-apocalyptic world that it creates.

12) World War Z

To be effective, a movie needs your sympathy. You need to be able to invest in a character's situation and feel something for them. In the beginning, I wanted so hard for Brad Pitt's character to rustle up his family and get the hell out of zombie Dodge. The opening scene where everything hits the fan and his family is nearly torn apart due to the insanity and chaos was almost too tense to bear.

Then, when Brad Pitt* is sent off into the world to figure out the solution, that sympathy starts to slip away. We get glimpses of caring back whenever he tries to get in touch with his family again but he also has an insane, uncanny ability to be the only remaining survivor of an absurd number of zombie attacks and infestations.

*or whatever the hell his character's name is. Ambassador Invincible, we'll call him.

The movie is at its best when things are tense and frenetic. Unfortunately, someone decided to stick a story in there, too.

11) The World's End

What could possible be wrong with this movie? We're reuniting Simon Pegg and Nick Frost with do-no-wrong director Edgar Wright? *AND* we're throwing Martin Freeman into the mix? This sounds like the perfect combination to match, if not outdo, Shaun of the Dead or the even more incredible Hot Fuzz. Except... not so much.

It's interesting to see Simon Pegg take a turn as the wastrel layabout but this time, instead of the whimsical violence and comic darkness we're used to from these guys' collaborations, we get whimsical violence and genuine darkness. It's still fun but it's got a real sadness at its core which takes away from the enjoyment without replacing it with too much actual emotional resonance. Instead of dark quirkiness, we get quirky darkness, albeit with the same flash and style that Wright's movies always have.

10) Pacific Rim

It seems that it was a popular sin this year to make really cool stuff happen in front of my eyes but absolutely punish me for thinking about what I'm watching. In no movie is this more apparent than in everyone's favourite giant robot vs. interdimensional creature feature, Pacific Rim. Apparently there is a scale whereupon crap can be measured against awesomeness and somehow, despite alllll its dullness and flaws, Pacific Rim weighs heavier on the side of awesome.

So much care and craft is put into the battles between the jaegers* and kaiju** that there is just a mutual understanding between the movie makers and the audience that, yes, there does have to be a story tying this thing all together, but don't worry, we'll get to the robots soon. And for some reason,*** we agree that this is an acceptable practice.

*Megazords
**Godzilla
***Idris Elba

9) Warm Bodies

I think a lot of people were like me when they approached Warm Bodies. It was Valentine's Day and being an unoriginal husband, my go-to date is dinner and a movie. Being February, and considering that Identity Thief looked dumb as hell, Warm Bodies seemed like the obvious choice. Figuring that it would be Twilight with zombies, I was prepared to glaze through it and find any endearing qualities I could.

As it turns out, Warm Bodies, was my sleeper surprise for this year. It's cute and sweet but always keeps preciousness at bay by coupling it with hyper violence. This elevates it above typical rom-com fare. The movie is greatly carried by Nicholas Hoult. Sure, we know where his character is going but he makes the transformation from corpse to love interest an endearing one to watch.

8) This Is the End

*

*I couldn't find a single cool variant poster for this movie

I have always wanted to write a sentence that contains the phrase "is the cinematic equivalent of," so here goes. This Is the End is the cinematic equivalent of watching Seth Rogen, Jay Baruchel, James Franco, Danny McBride, Craig Robinson, and Jonah Hill sitting in a circle, jerking off the guy on their right but punching, poking, and mocking the guy on their left, doing anything they possibly can to prevent him from achieving orgasm.

It's all just a clusterfudge** of cameos, references, and insults, set in the middle of an Apocalypse. The movie only really dips when the characters start dealing with their circumstances instead of talking about how famous and douchey they all are.

**fuck

7) Star Trek Into Darkness

Lately, I've been allowing the Internet to convince me that I didn't enjoy Star Trek Into Darkness but the more I think about it, the more refreshed I get in my fondness for it. It's like there's a tug-of-war between what everybody else thinks and the adoration I had upon my first viewing.

I'll get an obvious statement out of the way: No, it's not as good as the 2009 movie. It's not surprising when a movie fails to live up to its predecessor. But, what I did love about Into Darkness was its heart. One of the best parts of the "original"* Star Trek was the opening scene when Thor sacrifices himself to save the crew of his ship. I felt an even stronger emotional response when *SPOILERS* Kirk sacrifices himself to save his own ship. In a scene that could have been mind-numbingly hokey, Into Darkness somehow references The Wrath of Khan and ripped my heart apart at the same time.

*rebooted

It's a formula that works. Take a lovable team of misfits, throw them into a space adventure, add a few glaring plot holes, then make the whole thing gorgeous enough to ignore any problems with the story.

6) Thor: The Dark World

In Thor: The Dark World, everything just clicks. In the original Thor, we saw several glimpses of what could become a really enjoyable Asgardian adventure and The Dark World seems to learn its lessons. There's a lot of fat-cutting and what's left is simply entertaining.

Tom Hiddleston's Loki is the best part of the series? Okay, let's put him in more. Thor's too unrelatable and inhuman? Perfect, we'll put in just enough Natalie Portman to make us still root for him. Thor's hilarious when he's trying to settle into the human world? Amazing! Let's somehow make Thor's interaction with a coat hook one of the funniest things I've seen all year.

It's exciting but funny, heartfelt but not heavyhanded. It's a summer blockbuster that figured out the recipe and follows it to a t.

I cannot, however, left it unsaid that the Collector scene in the credits was really awkward, terrible, and out of place. It looked like a deleted scene from an early season of Xena.

5) We're the Millers

On a whim, we rented this movie and I am still surprised by how much I enjoyed it. A huge part of its success, is in all those worlds tumbling out of Jason Sudeikis' mouth. Considering his penchant for improv, it's hard to say whether he or the scriptwriters deserve credit for the smarmy sarcasm he uses to push the movie forward but there are few ways to entertain me more than sharp wit from a disenfranchised white guy.

The plot itself is ridiculous, which is great for a comedy. There are jokes about orcas, strippers, spider-bitten testicles, incest, ear-fucking and other things I've never considered laughing about before. We're the Millers actually feels original and creative in its comedy and I am grateful for having stumbled across it.

4) Iron Man 3

Iron Man is still, for me, the landmark of what a superhero movie can be. Iron Man 2 is still, for me, the landmark of how quickly a franchise can turn to crap. I had standards low but hopes high for Iron Man 3 and I feel strongly about its ability to deliver.

Moreso than other movies in the genre, the Iron Man franchise seems at least willing to participate in conversations about topical issues. The main one that resonates with me from Iron Man 3 is the dissemination of information. While I understand the rage of fanboys at the creative decisions that turned *SPOILERS* Mandarin from a bejeweled science magician from China into a red herring for all the world's woes, it brought to light the potential for falsehood in our informationally overloaded world. The more connected we are, the easier it becomes for individuals to deceive us for personal gain. Information is a commodity and a weapon, not just the freely exchanged communication fuel we always think it is.

Beyond the politics, the movie is quick and slick and stunning to look at. Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark continues to be the essential, charismatic central figure in the Disney/Marvel filmiverse and, unlike his last solo outing, stands just fine on his own, thank you very much.

3) The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

Like I was saying earlier about Thor: The Dark World, Catching Fire takes everything that worked in the first film, trimmed the fat and added a whole lot more emotional investment. Everything in Catching Fire is ramped up to 11. Katniss is duking it out with the President directly. Dudes are getting shot in the street for speaking out against the government. Peeta becomes someone we genuinely care about. Everything's gone crazy!

Catching Fire's broader political story adds further gravity to the life of a character we were already so endeared to. Instead of just being the next chapter of a saga, the second movie raises the stakes, performs even stronger, and creates one of the best movie experiences of the year.

2) Frozen

This is a late entrant to the list. I saw Frozen yesterday and have fallen in love with it. You always hear about  "Disney magic" and I just assumed that I knew what it was about. I thought that it was the nostalgic lens through which I see the Disney movies from my childhood. But I realize now that it's more than that. Frozen left me with a feeling of real wonder.

In terms of its artistry, Frozen is absolutely beautiful. There were moments where I had to remind myself that what I was watching was animation. Every second looks wonderful and perfect. Every character and scene is crafted with such precision that I could not, for a second, stop enjoying what I was seeing.

Even more than its stunning visuals, I loved the story that the movie told and the creative decisions that were made, especially near the end. Frozen makes a point of leading you along a typical Disney path before taking turns in the best ways imaginable. Conventions of villainy and love are introduced and cast aside in a powerful way that addresses a lot of the gender issues that haunt the classic Disney canon.

Frozen is a beautiful progression that sets a new standard for not only animation but also the Disney method.

1) Gravity

Gravity may be the craziest goddamn movie I have, and ever will see. While some movies are about telling a story, sharing information, or arguing a point, Gravity is, at its core, a unique, exhilarating, and terrifying experience. If there is still a 3D IMAX or AVX theatre near you showing this movie and you haven't seen it, go do it now. I'll wait.

Gravity does an incredible job of sharing Sandra Bullock's character's experience with you, largely due to its incredible technical prowess. So much time is spent in her first person that her emotions become inseparable from our own. At first, space looks indescribably beautiful. Then it becomes agoraphobic in its vastness before turning into an unrelenting monster of violence and doom. It's uncomfortable, it's wonderful, it's gripping, and it's stressful. It is a masterfully crafted experience that deserves to be witnessed. That is why it is the best movie of 2013.

Star Wars - Episode: The Phantom Menace (in 3D)

To make this picture 3D, just hold your breath for a minute and a half and then rush your head at the screen

I feel silly... Not watching Rugrats with a bit of THC in my system silly but more silly in the kind of way that parents taking their kids to a Slipknot concert might feel. It's the kind of silly where you recognize that, for a period of time, your brain had shut down to the point where you're unable to recognize that you are making some pretty terrible decisions in the interest of feeling like you used to. This is how I felt when I spent 14 dollars and 50 cents to go see Star Wars - Episode I: The Phantom Menace in brand spanking new 3D.

The movie's over, and I'm not in any way surprised that I didn't particularly enjoy myself. Aside from a certain laser sword battle and scene that has somehow added "podrace" to our vernacular, I sat through the experience, almost entirely numb. Am I jaded by years of Internet-fuelled cynicism or is it really that The Phantom Menace isn't very good and I have just lived an experience where culture very overtly overcame my sense of intelligence?

I can remember the very second that I knew that I was going to be seeing this movie. It was within a moment of finding out that the film was to be re-released. It was an instant process. 'Oh, hey, they're re-releasing Star Wars in 3D, when that comes out, I'm going to see it.' Immediately, I had made a commitment to spend money on this product. I had completely become unaware that, to the best of my knowledge, The Phantom Menace is considered a giant stain on the Star Wars bedsheets. I'll let you work out the metaphors yourself.

But, not until the credits were over did shake this commitment off and start to realize that I had known better all along than to go see this movie. It's an amazing phenomenon of programming, making me think that it was a good idea. First of all, because I know that part of the appeal were those two misleading letters, "3D." I will admit to once being impressed with 3D film technology, and that was Avatar. Beyond that, there have been some nice moments with animated movies like How To Train Your Dragon but generally it hasn't been worth it. I would honestly forget during Thor that it was supposed to be in 3D. So why am I willing to pay four dollars more to experience this thing? I wonder if my wearing corrective lenses affects my ability to experience 3D the way I'm supposed to. Are people with glasses just never going to be able to "get it?"

Even if that is the case, I think I am in agreement with the consensus in saying that 3D technology is especially poor when it is applied to materials that weren't originally filmed for it. Like, for instance, with The Phantom Menace. So now I'm at a point where I've paying extra money to go see a movie that I know isn't very good.

The other inspiration for going to see The Phantom Menace was, I assume, brand loyalty. I remember having a conscious thought that 'if we push through the bad ones, we'll eventually get to see the good ones.' I think the worst part of all is that I recently, and unrelatedly, started watching the original Star Wars trilogy, and after watching The Empire Strikes Back, I don't understand what I've convinced myself that I'm looking forward to. Aesthetically, I do not particularly enjoy the Star Wars films, at all. I have fond memories of enjoying Return of the Jedi quite a bit when I was younger but I am coming to grips with the fact that if I rewatch it, it's not going to be any better than the other two. The only one that I feel like I could honestly enjoy, if the 3D was awesome, would be Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. I was old enough when I saw it to have developed some taste. But still, paying for 6 (or possibly 18, if the wife and kid want to come) high-price tickets for movies that I know aren't very good in order to eventually watch other movies that I don't especially enjoy is insanity of a pretty high order. We're talking about over $250 dollars going to feed a marketing machine that has convinced me, through toys and promotional cross-overs, that I love Star Wars.

I wasn't really a "toy" kid, but I was an enjoying junk food kind of kid, so to see The Phantom Menace plastered everywhere where we would go out for dinner to Pizza Hut back in 1999 was a special kind of thrill. I became a Star Wars kid back in 1997 when the Special Edition first came out. Amazing how on the twenty year anniversary of the first film, out comes this re-release of a fairly dormant cultural phenomenon followed by "Surprise!" a NEW movie just two years later. There's definitely a symbiotic relationship there but it's unclear which is the host. Did the Star Wars economy cannibalize the original trilogy in order to use it as advertisement for this new, soulless money machine? Or is The Phantom Menace just a two hour commercial for you to buy into the cult of Star Wars fandom which will continue to line the pockets of the powers that be with a new release of something every couple of years.

I don't know if I have ever really enjoyed Star Wars or if I just loved the idea of Star Wars. That love doesn't become a problem until, such as in the case of this re-release, I am asked to re-initiate with the source material. Sure it's necessary for me to have seen the movies at some point in my life in order to be able to enjoy other, better parts of the Star Wars phenomenon (like the awesome and adorable Lego: Star Wars games, or Chewbacca bobble heads or what have you) but it has become abundantly clear that once is probably enough. With that, I make the solemn commitment to NOT go see Attack of the Clones in 3D... unless someone asks me to... or I see an ad for it.

Crap.

Emergence Film Festival - Night 1, Part 1

Sitting in the University of Western Ontario's Conron Hall, I cannot help but be embarrassed that despite having had three classes in this room, this is the first time that I have ever really paid attention to what was going on. I check into full student mode, pawing uncaringly through a Gazette, sneaking sips of Coke Zero in a room that expressly forbids food consumption, and doing my best to pretend that I belong in the room. This time, however, I am not here to “Read Pop Culture” or because I thought that “Children's Literature” would be an easy credit. I am here because I saw a poster stapled to an electricity pole in downtown London advertising the Emergence Queer Film Festival.

Not sure what to expect, I set up my little writing station at one of the desks and watch as around 30 people, all of whom seem to know each other (or at least members of each others' packs), trudge into the theatre and find seats. Of those thirty, I notice that only about 5 of them are people who immediately register in my mind as male. Even for a festival that celebrates the liquidity of gender and sexuality, the demographic seems a bit skewed. However, I have neither the know-how or the inclination to try to understand what this means.

As we get closer to the start time, I start to feel a bit nervous that I am not the “Queer Ally” I think I am. I am worried that one of these films will expose some latent, unconscious homophobia in myself which I have, in the past, unwittingly unleashed upon a person or group that I did not understand. Coupled with this fear is my frustration with the woman behind me eating a brownie loudly enough that I can hear her saliva lubricating her mouth. This is the last thought that I have before the first of ten short films plays in front of me.

The Queen

The Queen is an interesting fictional piece which is received well with the crowd. It shows a brief moment in the life of a teenage boy working at a dry cleaner's. After a minute or two, it becomes clear that this young man is gay, as he slips into a fantasy about wearing the dress a classmate of his has dropped off in preparation for prom, while he dances passionately with the prom queen's boyfriend.

During various moments, the audience laughs as the young dry cleaner discovers himself in front of us, most notably in the film's final moment as the shop owner (I believe it's his mom), walks in to find him wearing the gown. Perhaps because of the look on his face, half the room sees the scene as comedy, laughing at the boy's exposition. Perhaps because of my nervous sense of hyper-sensitivity, I was bothered by the laughter. This is someone who feels secrecy about their sexual identity, and whose preference for wearing women's clothing is exposed to a woman who we have earlier been led to believe represents a traditional way of thinking. This could possibly an enormous moment in this young man's sexual development so I cannot help but be puzzled at the crowd's amused reaction.

Poker Face

Poker Face is one of my favourite pieces of the night. In it, a woman, when given news of her father's death, chooses to reveal to her lesbian peer group that she used to live in a male body, or in her words “used to be a man.” The truly compelling thing about this film is that it shines a light on transphobia as a separate issue from homophobia. Even amongst a group of homosexual women, the idea of one of them having undergone gender reassignment is shocking and possibly problematic. It's an important distinction that helps educate the uninitiated (such as myself) in having a better understanding of the different variations of human sexuality. It's one thing to be able to claim solidarity with the queer community but it's a whole other experience to be exposed to the difficulties of individual identifications along its spectrum. At its conclusion, the film discusses these issues within the context of a romantic relationship, recognizing that despite these differences, love is love, no matter how you dress it up.

Somebody is Watching Us

While I may have felt a bit out of my element before, Somebody is Watching Us is among the more challenging films of the night. Split between an English as a Second Language class and a men's room, the film follows a young, homosexual immigrant has a spontaneous, although interrupted, sexual encounter with another young man who turns out to be a new student in his class. After the encounter, the two realize that they are in the same class but it becomes immediately apparent that the second man is uncomfortable about the arrangement and that is where things get hairy.

Eventually, we learn that the second young man is new to the concept of a culture where his orientation is more accepted. The first man's methods for introducing him to this new reality are confusing and problematic, however, as his method of acclimatization involves increasingly aggressive behaviour, starting with uncomfortably long looks and escalating to the forceful grabbing of the second man's thigh before they nearly come to blows and end up in an extended chase. While everything does resolve, with both men walking together, as friends (or more), in solidarity with each other, the actions which lead to this resolution are forceful and violent. Whether it is in either party's best interests is beyond the point that excessive attention and unwanted touching are harassment. Perhaps this violent coming out is meant to be read as more of a metaphor than a literal action, however there is certainly irony in overcoming oppression with violations of personal freedom and space.

The Price of Flowers

The Price of Flowers is notable for being the only film in the series to deal with queer issues almost exclusively as a framework rather than as content. The story, set in New Orleans, deals with a homeless gay couple who are struggling to get by. One of the men is dealing with physical issues which prevent him from working while the other spends the bulk of his days selling flowers to passersby for just enough money to live. I do not mean to suggest that other queer films “overuse” their gay elements but rather than being a movie about gay culture, this is a movie about poverty, courage, addiction, fear, and hopelessness, and it just so happens that it is within the context of a gay relationship. All of these other elements are potential universal concerns, which encourages a sympathetic reaction from the viewer.

The only “gay” parts of the story are the bookend scenes. We open with the two men in a shelter, with one wishing that they could be sharing a bed. The last scene, following what may be one of the worst days of his life, the same man hops off of his top bunk and lays down to cuddle with his partner. It is a poignant moment where a man, in need of comfort, seeks love from the one person he can count on it from. He is not trying to make a statement or educate the world about equality. He is a man in a desperate situation who reaches a point where all he needs is companionship and love and Who could possibly deny him that?

I'm Just Anneke

I'm Just Anneke is a short documentary about a child who has struggled, from a young age, with gender identity. Compared to Poker Face, which deals with a trans woman who is well-established in her female identity, Anneke, at least in pronouns, still identifies as female but prefers the clothing of male identification. This is not a child who necessarily feels like a boy trapped in a girl's body, rather Anneke is a child who is choosing to arrest her puberty and sexual development until she can make an informed decision about which, if any, gender she will ascribe to.

While the movie does not dwell on the negatives of this decision, it does paint the picture of a child who has developed self-awareness and is able to express herself enough to understand the potential consequences of her choices. We are told that Anneke exhibited signs of Depression and even suicidal tendencies from as young as 5 years old. Nonetheless, I'm Just Anneke is a story of hope and acceptance. It shows well-informed people making important medical decision and surrounding themselves with supportive, understanding people. Among the most poignant moments of the film is one where Anneke is sitting on a trampoline with a bunch of her female friends. One says, and I paraphrase, “When I first met Anneke, I thought she was a boy. Then I found out that she was a girl and I said, 'Oh, ok.'” It's a moment that shows the acceptance of childhood logic when left unpolluted by intolerance and fear. It insists that if Anneke's okay with who she is, it shouldn't be of any concern of yours.

Flyers

I'm not going to bother to pretend that I understand this piece the way it is intended, especially since I can't figure out its mood. Its increasingly frantic pace and dramatic sounds create a feeling of stress and urgency, meanwhile its silly premise (a mysterious figure handing out flyers stating that the protagonist is a lesbian) and occasional moments of goofiness (like a baby holding a flyer) give it a possibly unintentional comedic twist. If I'm reading it right, I believe the film is about confrontation with sexual identity and the nagging unease of not being able to recognize or express your sexuality but at just a couple of minutes long, it's difficult to say with any certainty.

Go Go Reject

Of the films this evening, Go Go Reject is the most familiar in terms of form and execution. It's a fictional story with a fairly typical structure (young man wants to become a dancer, meets resistance, changes the rules of the game in order to succeed) that one could imagine being fleshed out into a half-hour TV episode or even a full length feature film. That's not to say that it's an incomplete piece,, rather just that as far as short films go, it is quite accessible to someone like myself who is fairly unfamiliar with the form.

Go Go Reject goes out of its way to entertain as much as it does to inform. It recognizes that issues like stereotypes and body image are important but it never wants you to stop looking at the screen and enjoying what you're seeing. It's silly, and fun, and introduces its challenges without pretending that it's going to save the world. It is the film of the evening to receive two rounds of applause, a reaction which is not entirely undeserved.

Genderbusters

Since the film festival is happening at Western, I think it's fair to drop a university-centric reference in saying that Genderbusters has the look and feel of an Orientation Week promotional video. It bathes in its amateurity while still confronting some very relevant and under-discussed issues. As a would-be organization of injustice fighters, the Genderbusters are a group of young individuals, all of whom defy traditional ideas of gender. In the film, they encounter situations which seem to demand a black or white answer and, through direct action, insist on a rejection of binary gender norms.

The last gender issue they “bust” stands out to me, especially, because it shines the light on a system which I have, unknowingly, been a part of. The scene plays out with a person struggling to know which box to check when applying for a job. As the person does not feel that either the “male” or “female” box applies, the Genderbusters rush in, cause a distraction, and replace the form with one that has options like “Neither” and, my favourite “My sexual orientation and gender has no bearing on my ability to perform this job.” The playful tone of the video makes the discussion accessible and easy to engage.

The Island

The Island is a speech made in response to an ignorant e-mail sent to the filmmaker about how all of “them” should just be sent off to an island somewhere to give each other AIDS. Rather than biting back with malice or hatred, the film follows this train of thought, imagining what such an island would look like. As the ideas are presented, animated representations of the island start to pop up. I'm unsure as to just how tongue-in-cheek the whole experience is, especially when it gets to the point about celebrating anyone who does contract AIDS as a deity before pushing them into a volcano but the final statement is perhaps the most important one. The last line suggests that an island filled only with people with identical identifications would be, in his words, lonely. Instead of biting back, the filmmaker responds to the island-e-mail by saying that he'd rather not live in a world with just homosexuals, which, of course invites us to do the same.

The last film of the series is called Pleasure Craft, a documentary-style short filmed in London by a filmmaker named Anthea Black. Since her film has come with a Q&A and plenty of content, I'll talk about it tomorrow instead.

All in all the first night has been both educational and inspiring. It is a testament to the progress of society that films like these, films which can challenge and incite, as well as comfort and enable, have a place, even if that place is in a tragically underattended film festival. By no means do I wish to criticize the work of the people who have put Emergence together, rather I hope that discussions, like the ones above help bring an even bigger audience to next year's festival.

The Woman in Black (2012)

Watching The Woman in Black, I couldn't help but be reminded that film is art. While it has its own structures and confines, I sometimes forget that it is a visual expression of an artistic inclination. I don't know whether more credit should go to director James Watkins, cinematographer Tim Maurice-Jones, costume designer Keith Madden or set decorator Niamh Coulter but The Woman in Black (not to be confused with the 1989 British TV version none of us have heard of) has style to spare.

Set in England during the Edwardian era (which is apparently from 1901-1910... I would have said "Victorian" because, to me, any period in English history after 1066 and before World War II was the "Victorian" era), the movie makes full use of its setting. I don't think it's much of a spoiler to tell you that this is a ghost story. And what better place to house a ghost story than a semi-abandoned, isolated manor in the middle of nowhere during a time period where even during the middle of the day, any source of light is dependent on your willingness to light a metric butt-ton of candles. Throw in a nursery full of wind-up toys which, at the time would have been state-of-the-art but now look like the kind of hellspawn Santa's elves would come up with if he took away their pensions, and you've got yourself a place to tell a good ghost story.

It's rare for me to spend so much time applauding a film's visual style. Hell, I all but defecated on Avatar for its style-over-substance approach. But in the case of The Woman in Black the style is a crucial addition without being a crutch for other shortcomings. The film is sparse when it comes to things like dialogue, so instead, it makes effective use of more visual storytelling. Its small or sudden movements in static frames are incredibly effective at creating a tense, nerve-wracking mood.

The Woman in Black also has a commendable sense of pacing. While the opening scene is bold and disturbing, it takes awhile before you get into anything creepy again. Then, it's all a matter of building tension with occasional respites. It's notable that the film doesn't blow its wad too early (which I recently learned is about gambling, not ejaculation) but that the really BIG scare happens *before* the film's big final confrontation. Preferring to allow for feelings of possible resolution and catharsis in its final scenes, there's one fantastic jump scare about three quarters of the way through the movie that left me so jittery that I was scared to pick popcorn out of my teeth in case another one came along and I'd bite off my finger.

It wasn't even until the movie was over that I realized why I appreciated it as much as I did. Lately, it seems like any kind of movie about a ghost or a haunting follows the same idea. With movies like Paranormal Activity and even in the olde timey-themed An American Haunting, it was the same structure of a family... in a house... with a ghost. There's bound to be someone who's skeptical about the situation. Then an exorcist gets brought in and things either get wrapped up or you get a twisty violent ending. With A Woman in Black, however, you get a lot of the same tropes (stuff moving by "itself", creepy sounds) but you get to see a man facing them alone. There's no Ouija board, there's no mystical expert, it's just a single man, trying to provide for his family, stumbling across a horrific set of circumstances that put his family in the crosshairs of a malevolent, violent, spiritual entity. After that, it's just a question of how you wrap it up, and as I've mentioned already, the movie, like this review, has been wrapped up nicely.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

It was almost two years ago that I posted my review for Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes. This fact depresses me. I've been doing these for over two and a half years, and still, my audience peaked back in February of 2010. Nonetheless, we soldier on.

Any time you take a trip into sequel town, you the first instinct is to compare the two. Let's get that out of the way now. A Game of Shadows is, overall, not as good as its predecessor. That being said, there is some value to this second movie.

Firstly, it introduces Noomi Rapace to everyone who hasn't seen the original Millenium trilogy. Whether I know how to pronounce her name or not (I don't), Rapace is going to get a huge push to the forefront of people's minds. According to Box Office Mojo, A Game of Shadows is the clear forerunner for this weekend's box office numbers. Millions of people are going to be introduced to an actor who, despite sharing the screen with plenty of the Downey Jr./Law power combo, seems to be taking the movie more seriously than anyone else. I won't bother making any bold predictions about her being the future of Hollywood or anything like that (because really, who cares?) but I can say that she seems to know what she's doing and I wouldn't complain about seeing her name attached to future projects.

A Game of Shadows continues the strange, strained relationship between Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.) and Watson (Jude Law). While Watson is preparing to get married, Holmes continues to lurk on the outskirts, seemingly sabotaging Watson's life in order to equalize his dependent relationship. Although entertaining, Holmes' behaviour is pretty hard to nail down. It's not so much that Holmes straddles different diagnoses, he seems to drop in and out of social grace on a moment's notice. He's a weird hybrid of whatever the story needs at the time.

You've got one part super-intelligent guy who clearly suffers from, what TV tells me is, Asperger's Syndrome. His social skills are limited to a select few hard-pressed peers. Equality is based on intellectual acumen and a willingness to adhere to his unconventional methods.


Sound familiar?

Then you've got the other side. The well-constructed, tough, physical specimen whose charm and good looks forgive any kind of "crazy" that may be present. This is also the side that leads Holmes to do things like dress in drag, refer to him and Watson having a "relationship" rather than a partnership, and says things like "Come lie with me, Watson."



There's a certain mentality you need to have going into this movie. You can't expect that everything's going to be wrapped up in a neat little package of logic. Instead, you need to realize that this is a movie that takes its style just as seriously as its substance. For every master stroke of intelligent deduction, there's an action scene for the sake of an action scene. There are collapsing towers, explosions galore, and even a snowy forest chase that looks a lot like the one from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I. Sometimes they're gripping but generally they're gratuitous demonstrations of "wouldn't it be cool to show bullets going through trees?"

Even if you're going in with a willingness to enjoy big booms, the detecting, while sometimes intriguing, often suggests that Sherlock Holmes studied at the Scooby-Doo Detective School of Happenstance and Lucky Guesses. Sufficed to say, a suspension of disbelief is absolutely required to enjoy A Game of Shadows to its fullest.

To its credit, I had serious concerns that the movie would simply recycle its tricks from the first film (aka showing you, repeatedly, in slow motion exactly what was going to happen in the upcoming sped-up action sequence) ad nauseum. And, while the first fight does use this trick, it's more so to set up the technique's later subversion in two later scenes.

At the end of the day, A Game of Shadows' biggest triumph is in its execution of the Holmes vs. Moriarty feud. Even with imperfect execution, the main thrust of their respectful animosity stems from the inevitability of their confrontation. Holmes is literally incapable of walking away from the challenge of a potentially superior mind. Moriarty, on the other hand, is so malicious and methodical in his ambition that he cannot just walk away. The scenes between Holmes and Moriarty (awesomely executed by Jared Harris) give legitimacy to the severity of their unavoidable collision. It's a potent rivalry that elevates the rest of the movie to an almost recommendable level.

Final verdict: While Robert Downey Jr.'s ability to make a sequel has improved since Iron Man 2, Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows is a movie that seems to be trying to have a bit of something for everyone, leaving bits and pieces of magic to hold onto, rather than a single, cohesive, great film.

The Muppets

It's rare for me to have as hard of a time starting off an article as I am right now. I feel like The Muppets deserves to be covered properly, and it's a near certainty that I am ill-equipped to do so. That's never stopped me before but this time feels different. As some of you may know, my wife and I are expecting our first-born soon (which means I'll have valuable currency when the whole world goes to pot) but I've done a fairly shitty job of trying to figure out what kind of a parent I'm going to be. Watching The Muppets, however, I began hoping with every shred of hope my body holds that this is the movie that my kid is going to latch onto and have be its first pop cultural obsession. Why? Because it's awesome. Because it's clever. And because it's feels so damned wholesome and near-perfect that exposition of its flaws feels like desecration of an ideal world I'm not even sure exists.

I think that a huge part of The Muppets' success comes from its fluidity. At any given point, the realism (I know, I know) is subject to the needs of the moment. Even the Muppetry itself serves a dual purpose. Sometimes the inherent falsity of the puppet characters acts reductively, allowing any kind of expectation of "realism" to be stripped away in order to examine the basic motivations of the characters. Rather than having a John Malkovich come in to properly express the sadness of lost dreams, you can just throw a frog puppet up there, have him say he's sad and squish your hand inside of his mouth so that his face gets all wonky. With the right music and the right cinematography, you'll be shocked at how choked up you can get over this face.



So it's realism by reduction. BUT, the Muppets also allow for a seemingly identical yet opposite purpose of freeing you from ANY empathy or sympathy. In one hilarious 15-second portion of a montage, the Swedish Chef cleans out a fridge by setting its insides ablaze (complete with a smorgasboard of screaming, moldy food-based Muppets).


"Oh sure, when HE does it, it's hilarious..."

The ultra-violence becomes permissible because of the unreality of the characters. They're like cartoons. They can be electrocuted, beaten, and burned but as long as the brutality is a punchline, it's unquestioned because of its victimlessness. So somehow, the Muppets are both us at our most basic but they are also the absurd, soulless other whenever someone needs to get blowtorched.

This isn't a criticism of the movie, rather it's a celebration of the blend of inauthenticity and authenticity which permeates the entire movie... intentionally. About half of the movie's humour is grounded in the reality of the world in which these people live, while the other half is based on the cartoonish nature of this different world where the presence of the Muppets allows for magical experiences in the interest of gags and advancing the story (ie. traveling by map). Even the cameos are dependent on a varying degree of reference.

Toward the end of the movie, various celebrities start showing up in support the Muppets' telethon. Kermit recognizes and acknowledges Whoopi Goldberg and Selena Gomez . He then half-recognizes Rico Rodriguez (Manny from Modern Family) who THEN asks Kermit if he is a Ninja Turtle. So this is clearly our, real world, because it shares a common culture. The Muppets then takes it a step further by having characters reference previous mediums in which The Muppets, as a troupe, have appeared (ie. "Didn't you see our first movie?"). So not only is this a world where Selena Gomez is Selena Gomez, it's also a universe in which all of the Muppet movies and shows existed but with the added wrinkle that the Muppets are real and that they are a group of entertainers who put on these performances.

But then, things take on an extra laminate of distance, where celebrities play characters other than themselves but are dependent on knowledge of their typical or previous roles for the gag to work. Take for example Emily Blunt, who plays, not herself, but her character from The Devil Wears Prada. The prime example of this comedic distance, though, is the Dave Grohl cameo. In a blink-or-you'll-miss-it bit, Grohl shows up as the drummer for Fozzy's Muppet tribute band. The joke is only a joke because "Holy shit, that's Dave Grohl." Then it's over. We don't know just how "meta" the joke is supposed to be we just know that it's an hilarious split-second treat.

I may come back to talk about this movie some more, particularly having to do with the economy of the movie's existence (seeing as how it seems anti-commercial, despite the main plot being about raising $10,000,000 ... and being a movie released by Disney, with at least two gratuitous shots of Cars 2 posters) but that's all for another time. For now, I'm happy to leave this by saying that watching The Muppets simply made me feel like everything is going to be okay. And, in a world filled with terrifying octopuses, economic uncertainty, and Liberian cannibals, that's something that I'm happy to have been a part of. Even if it's all a lie, it's a lie that I'm not entirely uncomfortable with buying into.

The Exorcist

Before we get into this, I'm going to drop a little context on you. This was probably my third or fourth time watching this movie, the first time being around the age of 10. Furthermore, this whole review may be completely invalidated by the fact that the version I watched was (I believe) the 2000 "Version You've Never Seen," with all of its added bits and tweaks. Rather than pretend that I am a serious enough critic to try and look up what the additions are, let's just call this a review of the "Version You've Never Seen" but, for the sake of keeping things simple (and lazy), I'll pretend that we're talking about the same essential text.

I recently heard Joey Diaz on The Joe Rogan Experience talking about how he, too, recently rewatched The Exorcist and I really wish that I could have watched the movie the way he did. To hear Diaz talk about it, it seems that he is watching it the way that it is intended to be watched. He is bothered to see a small child say obscene, hurtful things; he's creeped out by the images and sounds. Most importantly, he's scared. He feels legitimately threatened by this demon that has the power to transform a sweet, spoiled girl into a cursing, puking monster whose definitions of self-mutilation and masturbation are unsettingly intertwined.

But here's the rub: The demon (who would seem much more ridiculous if its name "Pazuzu" was ever spoken onscreen) is not supposed to be the centrepiece of the movie. Neither is the little girl who the demon takes over, nor the suffering mother whose career, social circle, and personal safety are shattered by this demonic intrusion. [Side note, I was planning on overusing the phrase "For Christ's sakes" a mockery of this character, but I realized that the last person I want irritating me is me) No, this movie is called, and about, The Exorcist, Damien and his semi-triumphant battle against both his own lack of faith and Pazuzu itself. It's a movie that takes a secular family, the MacNeils, introduces a little terrifying spirituality at them, and then comforts you by letting you know that, when it's all said and done, Catholicism has your back. One of the last shots we see is of Regan, after suffering through her ordeal and remembering nothing of it, hugging a priest simply because she recognizes his collar and the hand that "God" played in her rescue, for Christ's sakes (see how annoying that is?).

That's not to say that we're talking about a Kirk Cameron movie or anything (to be fair I've never seen one). There is still some ridiculous, unsettling stuff that goes on in the movie but it's all in the context of a world where the Christian God is real, present, and directly influential. Sure, the scientists get to take a crack at things but only for the purpose of establishing their own boundaries. It wants you to feel like science has reached the end of its limitations and that you are, undoubtedly, in the middle of a supernatural shitstorm for which there is no conceivable solution that doesn't involve holy water. Even the hero priest treats the process of exorcism like an archaic, impractical ritual, preferring to seek out psychological answers to the problems Regan presents him with.

It's clear, pretty early on, however, that this is not an issue that's going to be dealt with by way of a Children's Tylenol and a hug. That's why it's supposed to be scary. It's not the green goop that seeps out of Regan's mouth, it's the fact that humanity and all of its (non-religious) creations have failed to save this girl's "soul" and all we have left to turn to is "God." Regan's possession is a microcosm for the need for religion itself but its implausibility lends itself to a loss of that terror when religious belief is removed.

Having done absolutely no research on the subject, I would speculate that anybody with religious inclinations finds The Exorcist scarier than Atheists or Agnostics. Real terror comes from plausibility. That's why, in my limited understanding of diseases, Contagion unsettled me so deeply. That's also why creatures features from the 50's seem so utterly insane. In 2011, the notion of a nuclear waste or fallout causing people to turn into wasps or bringing office equipment to life or the creation of any monster from a movie whose title involves the phrase Attack of the... seems completely absurd.

That's not to say that there isn't room for horror within an improbable story. If the story is told well, then even a movie about a killer futon that can only be stopped by finding a magical paperclip at a zoo can have moments of legitimate terror, as long as the writing, acting, and technical prowess is there to make it happen. In many of those respects, The Exorcist stands out, even still, by pushing boundaries that are still questionable. For a non-spiritual audience, however, there is too much distance to be truly effective. I understand that a young girl defiling herself with a cross is supposed to be especially disturbing because of the defilement of a Christian symbol. But without imbuing that symbol with the power it is intended, the blasphemy and horror of the movie lose their immediate association. The Exorcist is most potent to a Christian audience, as they are the ones with the most propensity toward offense at the subject matter. Forced, violent masturbation of a young girl is a terrible thing regardless but the addition of the symbol puts it over the edge. While a Star of David doesn't have the same phallic shape as a Cross, the movie would have felt substantially different if Pazuzu was violating Regan's body with one before vomiting pea soup onto a rabbi. It may have been much more unsettling and blasphemous for a Jewish audience but it wouldn't have the same cultural impact as The Exorcist did.

I have seen some hard-to-swallow Christian propaganda in my time, like one pamphlet where a little boy doesn't pray, so he gets kicked out of his house, beaten and starved at a shelter, and eventually dies alone in a cardboard box, from which Jesus comes to rescue him. The Exorcist uses the same framework (an Atheist family allows an evil spirit into their home due to their lack of faith, a few people die and then, when God is invoked into the equation, everybody wins, including the two priests to sacrifice their lives to the cause of the demon's extradition - presumably to go to Heaven) but allows itself to delve into a world of twisted, dark fantasy in order to demonstrate just how bad things get when you don't invite God to the dinner table. The makers of the story clearly asked themselves "What is the worst possible thing we could make this girl say and do?" and lay it all on the line. And then it all gets excused (and avoids the torture porn label) by thanking God for saving us all.

I am not trying to completely destroy everything that makes The Exorcist so allegedly great. Aside from a really poorly written/edited first half, most of the film deserves the accolades that it has received. Its sound editing and cinematography are off the charts. Jason Miller's portrayal of Father Damien Karras is quite astounding, too. The special effects still maintain a high standard of accomplishment. But, when it comes down to what the film says, it boils down to an unimaginably dark Scared Straight promo to bring you over to team Jesus.

The Experiment

It's not often that I get to feel like a real pretentious film-watcher but thanks to M. Shales' "Challenge and Change in Society" class in Grade 11, I was exposed to a 2001 German film called Das Experiment. It's a movie that has stuck with me for years, and even though I don't remember enough of it to be able to speak eloquently about it over half a decade later, I remember it, in the abstract, vividly. So, imagine my surprise when I was poking around through a Blockbuster sale bin and saw this movie that looked a LOT like Das Experiment. After reading the back, I realized that it WAS Das Experiment but in English... and with Forest Whitaker... AND Adrien Brody. I literally could not think of a movie that I wanted to see more.

Adding to my excitement for writing about this movie is the fact that almost no one has. Few enough critics (3) have covered Direct-to-DVD movie The Experiment that Rotten Tomatoes hasn't even bothered to come to a consensus. Now don't worry, this isn't going to be like last time, when we spent the whole discussion of The Thing talking about the similarities and differences between the two movies. As I said, I remember diddly about the German original and most of the stuff I do remember comes from the film's Wikipedia page.

So what did I think about 2010's The Experiment? My initial response was forgiving, thinking that the film's positives outweighed its tedious difficulties but, a few days later, those flaws are sinking in a bit deeper and I'm starting to lose touch with any brilliance that may have been immediately apparent.

What I do remember is being ever-so-impressed with Adrien Brody's character, whose name (and inmate number) I cannot remember. This character, especially how Brody played him, was simultaneously the everyman and the ideal man. He's a seemingly easy-going guy with both a firm sense of right and wrong and a willingness to acknowledge that despite spending a lifetime establishing a character and morality, he may just be entirely wrong about the whole thing. He's got enough of sense of the pulse of the universe to understand that nothing matters but enough optimism to do the right thing anyway. When you watch the film, he may feel like he's you but also the person you're really trying to be. Throw in a couple of cool tattoos and you've got yourself a bonafide filmic goldmine.

Ignoring Brody for a second (as if anyone could), the film even salvaged Maggie Grace for me. Known to me until just recently as the mind-shatteringly annoying Shannon from Lost, Maggie Grace represents a fantasy girl for anyone who identifies with Brody's character the way that I did. With her vague bohemian fashion and blonde dreadlocks, Grace doesn't have much chance to do much with a stock character but she takes to the role with a credibility that puts her into an entirely different category than bitchy-bitch Shannon.

Talking about the acting, though, there are two more questionably adept characters in the film, both of whose failures stem (most likely) more from bad writing than bad acting. Then again, maybe there's a reason that Cam Gigandet hasn't really hit it huge. First up, let's talk about Whitaker's character, Barris. To talk about him, I need to explain just a wee bit of plot. The gist of the film is that it takes place at a prison during a sociological and psychological experiment, based on Dr. Philip Zimbardo's 1971 Stanford Prison Experiments, during which several men were brought together and divided up into prisoners and guards. Barris is one of the men chosen for the team of guards and the only history we have for him is that he lives at home, with his mother, and he is pretty resentful about it. Up until guard duty, he is a shy, muttering man living under the oppressive regime of a needy, overbearing mother. Imagine Gilbert Grape at 40. The amazing thing about Barris is how little time it takes for him to go off the deep end. After just a taste of power, Barris understands why his mother kept him on such a short leash and he doles out punishment left and right, taking the experiment which gave him that power more seriously than anyone else. By the end, the scope of his universe has shrunk to a point where the only thing that is real to him is the conditions in which the experiment takes place. These are the circumstances which lent him power so why would he bother worrying about anything outside of it. Barris' most powerful moment, however, comes after the experiment has been called off, and he is left, back on equal ground with all of the people he has oppressed, tortured, and brutalized. Suddenly, and without warning, his power is gone and he is immediately faced with the psychological impact of his actions, without the power to justify it. There is no question that Whitaker pulls off that last scene with awesome, again, credibility.

I mentioned in the last paragraph that the writing for this character seems pretty weak. 'There's no way,' you think, 'that this guy could go off the deep end so quickly.' That's why the movie is so scary. I'm backsliding a bit here but it seems that the most ludicrous portions and characters are the ones that are the most true to the real horror of the Stanford experiment. After just six days, Zimbardo ended up pulling the plug because of how far up batshit-crazy-creek the whole thing went. While things never escalated to the levels implied by both movies, even Zimbardo got caught up in the power trip that came with his dual role as experimenter and prison warden. So yes, Barris' character does feel fake, and his motivations do seem like a really easy scapegoat for his eventual de-evolution (especially when Brody's character keeps shouting at him about how he needs professional help) but I guess that's kind of the point. Zimbardo's experiment tried to weed out the crazies but that didn't stop crazy from getting in.

A similar thing happens with Cam Gigandet's character. The first thing we learn about him is that his philosophy in life is to "Smoke pot, eat twat, and smile a lot." Why someone who gives these kinds of goofy, scripted answers was admitted into a dangerous psychological experiment is never answered but almost immediately, when deprived of both pot and twat, Gigandet turns into a rapist. Now, I don't know about you, but if I went for five days without having sex or smoking dope, I would probably be okay, even if all I had for company was a few dudes and the prisoners that we were responsible for. Whether Gigandet's character is the kind of sex addict that Tom Sizemore shudders to think of, or whether he "smiles a lot" to cover up some deeply closeted, overly aggressive homosexual tendencies, his escalation to absurd violence is too brutal to believe. It's almost as if the filmmakers said "Well, there's a rape scene in the German one... but we don't have any women... so let's have this guy try to nail one of the prisoners!" It's great to try and convey similar themes but when this guy could probably avoid the whole issue by rubbing one out in the bathroom, it starts to feel gratuitous.

The real villains, of course, aren't the prisoners, or even the guards, it is the scientists responsible for the experiment in the first place. Whether we're talking about the movie or the experiment itself, it all, in retrospect, seems really shittily cobbled together. It feels more like a really controversial reality show than a social experiment. At least on Big Brother, no one's getting raped (outside of South Africa). Any experiment that involves giving a small group of people arbitrary power over a large group, with nothing other than nightsticks (and instructions not to use said nightsticks) is grossly irresponsible science. We're told that the experiment will be called off upon any instance of violence. Time after time, the experiment continues until finally, someone pulls the plug, everyone stumbles out into the sunlight, and everyone leaves together on a bus. Since the only communication with the scientists happens by way of cameras (how the experiment is being viewed) and a red light (to call off the experiment), we have no reason to believe that there was even anyone on site in case of escalation. Apparently these are scientists who are surprised that arming a minority group, giving explicit instruction to maintain order and status quo, resort to violence to make it happen.


(for days when "Duh" is just not enough... there's always facepalm)

More than anything, The Experiment makes a statement about the repercussions of arbitrary power distribution. It makes all kinds of statements. Some people may watch it and blame the prisoners (why couldn't that little hippy bastard just mind his business), some may blame the guards (c'mon man, don't let the uniform define you, man), and some may blame the scientists (insert pithy pseudo-quote here) but there's little to no question that as soon as you've got it, someone's going to want it, and in all the fallout, not everyone's getting out of this with their identity (or butthole) intact.

The Thing (2011)

It pretty much goes without saying that any review of 2011's prequel of the 1982 "classic" The Thing will mostly be a comparison between the two movies. The general consensus (at least according to Rotten Tomatoes) is that the 2011 version is less a comparable piece of film-making and moreso a mangled afterbirth of the most hallowed of sci-fi horror films. I'm here to tell you that that is wrong, for a multitude of reasons.

1) The original movie is just pretty good. Yes, it's nerve-wracking to try and figure out who, if anyone, is currently inhabited by an unfathomable monster. Yes, the practical visual effects are very much borne out of a genius level of creativity. Yes, Kurt Russell's hat is one of the greatest treasures in cinematic history:



but that doesn't mean that the movie is the flawless, perfect gem that it has somehow aged into in the public consciousness.

2) The movie looks great. As I mentioned before, the effects in the 1982 film were incredible but the advancement of computer-generated effects has allowed this later film to explode with disturbing creativity. This is not to take away from the puppeteering that also goes on in 2011 The Thing but seeing a human body contort in unbelievable angles before erupting with alien carnage, tentacles, and who knows what takes the viciousness of the creature to a whole different level. It's one thing to (like in the original) poke tentacles through your prey. It's another thing to hold it right up close to you until your faces fuse together, creating a disgusting abomination of human and alien skin and viscera. Nearly thirty years later, it's possible to make a bigger, badder, more real enemy, one for whom the scope of their violence and heinousness can actually keep up with the brilliant minds that created it.

That being said, with any special-effects heavy movie, you do run the risk of putting it all on the line in the big showdown. When you've got too much CGI going on, you lose any touch with the human element. While 2011's version does come to a kind of hokey climax, 1982's isn't much better.

3) One of the criticisms that I have read stated that, by showing the alien early on in the film, the creature loses its potency and mystery. It's something I refer to as Jaws Syndrome. Enough people have said that Jaws was scary because you saw little of the shark until the end, a running assumption is that movie monsters are best left vague. The argument that was made was that, in the case of The Thing not knowing what the creature was up to made it that much more of a menacing foe.

But the thing about the Thing from The Thing is how does seeing an obscured-in-ice outline of the alien give anything away? We don't even have any reason to believe that this is the alien's original form. We know that it is capable of copying its prey at a cellular level, so who's to say that it didn't copy some giant crab creature before crashing into the Earth? If anything, I suspect that the ship the alien crashed in wasn't the "Thing"'s ship in the first place. Based on what we know about the monster's physiology (quick, sudden movements using lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of squirmy, tentacles), I don't see this being a species that has mastered space travel. It's more likely an Alien situation where some poor schmuck landed on the wrong planet and got Thinged. The point that I'm trying to make is that there is still plenty of mystery and wonder surrounding the film's antagonistic vagina-mouthed squid-beast even if you do see it in a less familiar shape.

4) It's difficult to say that one of these films is worse than the others when the prequel pretty much is the original. It's like whoever threw the 2011 version together sketched out the first movie, sucked out all the details and put new ones in. I wouldn't be surprised if you could play both movies on TV's next to each other and have it sync up like Pink Floyd and The Wizard of Oz. At least when deviation happens, there's an effort made to create some variety. In the 1982 version, the survivors test their blood to see who's an alien, to very gory results. In the 2011, the survivors plan on testing their blood but end up resorting to a more rudimentary test which leads to a similar destructive explosion of violence. The only reason someone would say that one is better than the other is because whichever one they see second will feel like a rip-off of the first. I'm sure that someone seeing this version first would go back and feel just as frustrated with the seemingly copied formula of the 1982.

5) What probably impressed me the most about the new The Thing was its ability to be a prequel that makes you forget it's a prequel. Anyone who has seen the original knows that only two men are allowed to survive. Somehow, though, you start to forget about all that and just focus on the fight for survival. Then, as everything winds down, the beginning of the closing credits slaps you in the face with a reminder of just how much attention was paid to making sure that everything's ready to go for the sequel. In a series of shots, you see sets, props, and dead bodies all arranged in the familiar way we saw back in John Carpenter's "original." It's a big "Duh" moment, as in "of course that was going to go down that way, I've already seen how this ends up!" but it nonetheless comes as a bit of a surprise that it was all leading up to something familiar.

To be clear, I am not saying that 2011's The Thing is better than 1982's. What I am saying is that if you take the time to recognize that imitation is a sincere form of flattery, there's no reason you can't watch both and feel like you're getting a single, well-structured narrative, with enough flame throwers in both parts to keep everyone happy.

Rating: 3.0 stars