|
Review by Cole Groth  If I had to choose genres of film that I enjoy the most, horror would fall to the bottom. I find that, too often, horror films end up being massive disappointments, whether from their gut-wrenching endings (demonstrated frequently in the Saw series), my general dislike of gore, or a low production budget leading to lots of technical failures. However, I try not to judge films from their covers, which led me to Shudder’s latest horror flick, Revealer, which delivered an exceptionally fascinating film on what appears to be a low budget. The basic premise of the film follows a hot-tempered stripper, Angie (Caito Aase), who is forced to survive the apocalypse with a judgmental Christian, Sally (Shaina Schrooten). The premise is undeniably interesting, and the script, written by Michael Moreci and Tim Seeley, effectively explores every avenue possible within a brisk 86-minute runtime. Both Aase and Schrooten are extraordinarily effective within the confines of the peep show where most of the action takes place. While there are certainly moments that push their acting abilities to the limits, I don’t have many complaints. At times, this movie is funny — it's ridiculously campy — but it consistently holds up as a solid horror flick with lots of tension. I haven't seen enough campy films to be a great judge of the subgenre, but I enjoyed how over-the-top the gore was and how unbelievably strange it was at times. The gore isn't quite gross enough to feel unwarranted, but it got the job done, making me squirm several times. The set design is a key element because while there are only a few sets, each one feels unique and fascinating. It’s not quite expansive enough to feel like it doesn’t take place on a set, but they’re still interesting enough to serve as a visual spectacle.  Beyond the horror elements that are done fairly well, this is a film about religion. Set in the '80s (with plenty of references to prove it), the script spends a lot of time focusing on how religion impacts society and criticizing judgmental Christians while also analyzing the complex dynamics between religious and irreligious people. Now, there are plenty of moments where it feels obnoxious and preachy, but there were some very interesting conversations between the two leads that were excellent insights into both perspectives. Speaking of the character dynamic, one of my bigger issues with the film was the constant back and forth between Angie and Sally. It’s frustrating to see the two survive some crazy attack only to start arguing about the minutiae of why these attacks are happening. Even though it felt preachy, I still believe that Bracey did an excellent job developing the two characters with every moment he got. Even though I didn’t care much for either of the two at the beginning, I found myself cheering at every victory they scored by the end of the film. There are some pretty neat twists and turns, and I was rooting for Angie and Sally every step of the way.
Backing up the solid cinematography, acting, and the script is a beautiful score. Alex Cuervo does a phenomenal job at using synths to create an ethereal score that can effortlessly shift from ridiculous violence to moments of calm reflection. The pacing is good enough to keep me interested throughout the whole film, and the score helps because it always feels like it’s a necessary addition. On a visual level, there’s a lot of room for improvement, but it doesn’t quite seem like the vibe that director Luke Boyce was going for. He embraces the campiness to make a film that serves as both a decent meditation on religion, a solid horror/thriller, and an occasionally hilarious piece of media. If you’re a serious fan of horror, Revealer might scratch whatever itch for scares you have, but I didn’t find many genuine scares. It doesn’t feel very sanitized, but it’s not hard to see that Bracey sacrificed some of the horror elements for conversation-based moments. I adored the villain's design but found myself disappointed with how little screen time he got. Even running at 86-minutes, this film has a disappointingly low horror-to-time ratio and would be better off if it was a bit more aggressive. Still, though, I think that this worked very well as a Shudder original as a whole. I’d recommend this film to most horror fans, whether you’re a veteran scare enthusiast or a newbie looking to get into one of the most creative genres of film (even if I’m not the hugest fan of it). Revealer will release to Shudder on June 23. Rating: 4/5
0 Comments
Review by Cole Groth
It's hard to discuss Alex Winter's latest documentary without discussing the modern political sphere we live in. Opening up immediately to a series of nostalgic YouTube videos such as Charlie Bit My Finger and old Smosh's Pokémon parody, The YouTube Effect seems to promise a film diving into the history of YouTube and its effect on modern society. However, throughout the 92-minute runtime, Winter chases after so many different avenues that it sometimes feels very unsatisfying. The fascinating journey he takes us on ultimately seems better suited as a miniseries than a simple documentary.
The story of YouTube is incredibly intriguing because the rise of this massive force in our society has so many interesting turns. Winter can very effectively take us on a trip down memory lane as he chooses some of the most important videos in the last two decades to represent how we've changed as a society. Tackling this website's impact on the history of the internet is a daunting task, and he manages to adequately encapsulate how it all started. However, this foundation doesn't quite hold up as the story progresses. When deciding on which of YouTube's effects to focus on, Winter chose three: YouTube's predatory monetization practices, the global community it has created, and the role it plays in fostering alt-right growth. With each branch, the documentary's structure becomes more tenuous, and by the end, it's hard to see exactly how YouTube relates to events like January 6th and PizzaGate. It seems like Winter wanted to make two separate films about YouTube and the post-2016 political landscape, but halfway through, he decided to combine the two. Some of the wild political conspiracies took shape on websites besides YouTube and thus don't seem fit for this film. His overabundance of interviews with two different YouTubers, ContraPoints and Anthony Padilla, makes the production seem amateur in many ways. With so many millions of people involved on the website, it's surprising that Winter could only get interviews with ten people. The presentation of the documentary is sleek and fascinating, but it's odd to see characters like Padilla dominate the screen for a staggering 15% of the runtime. One of the things I appreciated most about The YouTube Effect was how it made a genuine attempt, and mostly succeeded, at separating itself from the hundreds of other documentaries that, rather ironically, can be found by the millions of YouTube creators. There are so many moments that could've gone down the fear-mongering dark web route that most documentaries take, but Winter instead takes a mostly sophisticated look at how YouTube has gamed its viewers to create the multi-billion dollar behemoth it currently is. When investigating how YouTube's predatory advertising is dangerous for children, it is an effective portrait of how the algorithm is, unfortunately, able to be gamed and how quality content has been pushed to the side in favor of clickbait. This is by far the most effective avenue Winter takes, with the other two getting increasingly weaker. 
The aforementioned second route analyzes how YouTube can be a force for good, demonstrating how it can connect people from backgrounds that don't find themselves typically represented and allow them to find their own community on the website. This is a pretty easy angle to approach, but Winter only interviews one or two people that speak up about this, so it seems like a wasted opportunity. It's quite a shame that he decides to focus so much energy on the third route: how YouTube unwittingly fosters the growth of the alt-right.
The biggest reason I have a problem with the film's approach to the modern political scale is that it loses focus on what the film is about. Starting with an interview with a man who says he "escaped the alt-right rabbit hole," this section of the documentary delves into how commentators on YouTube can bring people into the dark light, but I wholeheartedly dislike the angle that Winter takes. What starts first as a cautionary tale of how dangerous language can lead to events such as the tragic Christchurch mosque shooting turns into a nauseating and preachy segment about how YouTube should be used to censor creators more often. I felt like I was being beaten over the head with this messaging that more people should be kicked off for using the platform in controversial ways. I especially dislike how he portrays the events of January 6th in this film because he doesn't even try to connect YouTube with it. He shows how the event happened and how the video was used to communicate what was happening but fails to show that YouTube was responsible even in a small part. It feels like Winter wanted to show us his views on Trump's presidency and the alt-right, but he doesn't show it effectively enough in the documentary to make it seem he cared about YouTube's impact on these events. It's cool to see a film that focuses entirely on YouTube, but Alex Winter's approach to it is so wildly unfocused that it ultimately feels rather unsatisfying as a watch. It'd be much more appropriate if it took a clear focus on one of its effects rather than all of these different impacts that it's had on us as a social media platform. For many people interested in the story of YouTube, its controversial effects, and how it continues to grow, The YouTube Effect only makes it apparent that the abundance of content on YouTube would tackle these topics better than the film itself. The YouTube Effect is currently seeking distribution. Rating: 2.5/5
Review by Cole Groth
Since May of 2020, I've watched nearly a thousand films. Naturally, I've stumbled across some very strange ones. I've seen dozens, if not hundreds, of movies with bizarre plots, strange writing, confusing CGI, and utterly bizarre pacing. The Lost Girls combines all of these elements into a 107-minute train wreck of a movie, making it one of the lamest movie-watching experiences I've had in a while.
Adapted from Laurie Fox's 2003 novel, this film follows Wendy Darling Braverman (played by writer/director Livia De Paolis) on a decades-long adventure through her life. As a 13-year-old, Wendy is swept on a journey to Neverland with fairy tale legend Peter Pan (Louis Partridge), an experience she uses in her career as a writer. As she grows up, finds a husband, and has a child, she's forced to choose between her desire to revisit the love she once had and the family which she has to take care of. Where Fox was able to explore the human condition expansively, De Paolis cannot even scrape the surface of the story, making this feel like a frustratingly flightless slog. We're supposed to follow the odyssey of multiple generations of Wendy's family, but none of them have a story that's interesting enough to follow, including Wendy. Any good fantasy film uses stunning visual effects to enhance the already expansive story, and this is the department where The Lost Girls struggles the most. There are so many laughably terrible moments of bad green screen that it delves into the realm of ironic entertainment, which is only a good thing if the script can be enjoyed in a lighthearted way. It's hard to find more than a single scene without a visual effect that looks jarringly fake, and it's even harder to take these scenes seriously given the combination of the horrific script and the C-tier acting. There's an intense haze put around most of the characters in the film, which contributes to the fairy tale look at times, but at other times makes it seem like everything was shot against an ugly green screen. 
De Paolis's heavy-handed script is full of strange lines such as, "I'm just an ordinary girl, I get my food at the convenience stores," or, "I enjoyed reading your book, can I have some mashed potatoes?" I found myself pausing the movie and rewinding it a few seconds to see if I missed a keyword in certain phrases, only to hear that, indeed, the lines are just poorly written. To play on the story's emotional beats, characters get incredibly angry at each other with little to no provocation. In a particularly intense dinner scene, Wendy's daughter, Berry (Ella-Rae Smith), endlessly berates her mother at the mere mention of her novel. There's very little buildup in their relationship to justify her reaction, and it instead makes Berry an unlikeable character, which seems to be an unintended effect.
From an acting standpoint, this is a very weak film. De Paolis is inadequately suited for the role of Wendy, making some of the simplest lines sound like they're being choked out in a single take. Ella-Rae Smith delivers the strongest performance, managing a demanding monologue with an impressive emotional cadence. Louis Partridge is an interesting choice for Peter Pan. He certainly looks the part and is a fairly adequate actor in his own right, although he isn't given much to work with. The other actors give consistently stilted performances with almost no genuine emotion. It's an embarrassing combination of bad acting and writing that makes the movie seem incredibly amateur. It's hard for me to find anything to praise about the film, but I genuinely enjoyed the last several minutes, not just because it was finally coming to a close, but because it was a pretty clean ending that felt satisfying enough to leave me feeling not completely disappointed. It's so hard to follow anything that was going on in the first 95 minutes or so, but the last 10 minutes make it seem clean enough not to be a total mess. You might enjoy this if you're a fan of cheesy romance, fantasy, or melodramatic films. It's an interesting concept to take a darker turn on the tale of Peter Pan, but the script isn't able to handle the breadth of the tale at all. Some moments echo the fantastical elements required to make this work, but overall this is an utterly incompetent mess of a movie. The Lost Girls releases in theaters and on VOD on June 17th. Rating: 1/5 Review by Cole Groth  Elsa Pataky as JJ Collins in INTERCEPTOR. Credit: Brook Rushton/Netflix © 2022. With Netflix's recent comment that they would no longer greenlight "expensive passion projects" like The Irishman, it's almost comical that Interceptor is the first Netflix Original to release after it. Sporting some of the worst action sets in recent memory, this 98-minute Die Hard ripoff is such a painfully lame watch that I could not possibly recommend it to anybody. Lazy writing, horrific CGI, constant scene-chewing from the rather amateur actors, and bad pacing act as a plague to this week's Netflix release. Not even an extended cameo from Thor himself could save this from being a mess. Kicking off immediately with overbearing expository dialogue explaining that "It takes 24 minutes for a nuclear missile launched in Russia to strike its target in the US," it seems like director Matthew Reilly wanted to capitalize on America's anti-Russia sentiment by making them the generic villain of the movie. While it's rather effective to make Russian assets easily hateable characters, this exposes the biggest problem within the film: lazy writing. Throughout the 98-minute long screenplay, finding even half a page of good dialogue between any poorly developed characters would be a genuine challenge. Each plot point is almost painfully predictable, and I would challenge any viewer to be genuinely surprised with the ending. As the film opens, we're introduced to Elsa Pataky's JJ Collins, our John McClane-type heroine, as she lands on a floating base somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It doesn't take long for everything to go wrong after a team of Russian spies, led by Luke Bracey's Alexander Kessel, infiltrates the base and kills nearly everybody working on it in a brutal bloodbath. Kessel explains in an overbearing monologue that the United States deserves to be struck by sixteen nukes because of its frequent pattern of human rights violations. He explains to the other survivor of the attack, Rahul, an Indian man, in a condescending way that since Rahul experiences racism regularly, the country should be destroyed. It appears that Reilly is using the larger political divide that America has had since 2016 to exploit the idea that a divided country cannot stand. This idea within itself is fairly interesting, but not when it's explained in needlessly long monologues.  (L to R) Tim Wong as Zhang and Elsa Pataky as JJ Collins in INTERCEPTOR. Credit: Brook Rushton/Netflix © 2022. One of the most prominent issues this film has is that JJ Collins is an unlikeable lead. She's meant to be a John McClane type of hero, but she has none of the charm that made Bruce Willis' most famous character lovable in the first place. John McClane was a regular dude in a lot of ways. He had a wife and a son, and throughout Die Hard, it's made very apparent how normal he's supposed to be. Collins is humanized through her story of sexual assault and by her relationship with her father. That's not nearly enough to make her a likable lead. To counteract the nasty treatment she gets from her coworkers, she sports an equally rude demeanor. In a scene where Kessel holds a hostage and tries to get her to open the core door in the building, she simply chooses to let the man get executed rather than trying to save him. That's one of the more shocking moments of the film, and while it makes sense for her character to try to protect the entirety of the US over the life of one man, you'd expect her to at least attempt to save him.
Several moments throughout Interceptor are so hilariously absurd that it almost seems like satire, and these are the moments where it's easy to shut off your brain and revel in the bizarre plot points. To make a character instantly villainous, the script has him outline his rape fantasy for a few minutes, and it just feels so pointless. It's as if the writers couldn't figure out how to make him scary, so they decided to make him the most depraved human being alive within the context of the movie. Scenes like this make me question if there ever was potential for this to be good. Forty minutes into the film, a bearded man appears in a TV store, and it's immediately clear that it's Chris Hemsworth. At first, I was dumbfounded by the fact that he appeared because it seemed so out of character, but after learning that he's married to Elsa Pataky, it's clear he took on the role to support her. It's a sweet realization, but every one of his scenes could've been shot over the course of an hour, so it seems lazy, like the rest of the movie. Interceptor reveals the sad reality about the future of both Netflix and streaming services in general. Since Netflix seems to see that making quality films is a bad business model, we will see an enormous influx of cheap, ugly, lazy slop like this movie. We're getting exorbitant amounts of content with every passing week, and movies like this have to have something that makes them a meaningful experience. Unfortunately, Interceptor lacks any heart or passion for filmmaking and is destined to fall out of memory within a few weeks. Interceptor is streaming on Netflix now. Rating: 1/5 Review by Cole Groth  Immediately opening on the aftermath of Hurricane Florence, which caused $17 Billion in damage to Wilmington, North Carolina, We Feed People presents us with José Andrés, a larger-than-life celebrity chef-or rather, cook, as he prefers to be called — with a single goal in mind: feeding everybody and anybody who needs food. It's an admirable goal, and his love for cooking shines through every moment in this documentary. In the rather well-paced 90-minute runtime, we see how he helped out in many crises, including the COVID-19 response in both the Navajo Nation and New York City and the issues he faced along the way. Due to the stature of José Andrés, it's important for Howard to take some time to develop his background. After moving to America when he was 21, Andrés quickly rose to fame and power as a chef, often credited with bringing Spanish tapas, or small plates (which is ironic considering the scale of the meals he serves as a humanitarian chef), into the light as a popular dining option. After scaling up considerably and leading many restaurants throughout the United States, Andrés formed the World Central Kitchen, an NGO which provides food to people in need. In the last 12 years, we've seen many natural disasters destroy countries like Haiti, the Dominican Republic, and Cuba. At each of these tragic events, World Central Kitchen and José Andrés have been on the scene. Andrés' love for food and helping others is characteristic of him, emphasized through interviews given by his wife and daughters. When taking time to focus on Andrés instead of his humanitarian efforts, Howard paints the image of a man who feels brutally honest. He cares most deeply about helping other people but doesn't try to hide his emotions or otherwise create a facade of who he is. Multiple times throughout the film, Andrés is captured in moments of frustration, which help in showing that he's just an ordinary person. In the modern cooking world, it's impossible to see figures like Gordon Ramsay or Martha Stewart as very down to Earth people, but Andrés stands out as a man with his blemishes on full display. His dedication to his family underlines why Andrés is so willing to help whoever needs it. There are frequent points where he's a bit of an awkward presence on camera, and while that contributes to the overall tonally inconsistent feel to the film, it at least makes him seem more natural.  On a technical level, We Feed People isn't very special. Taking lots of iPhone footage or clips from Twitter, Ron Howard is able to lead us through the story of the harrowing disasters that we see, but it's not quite engaging enough to feel completely satisfying. However, one of the biggest issues with this documentary is a general lack of personality. Seeing that this was directed by Ron Howard is rather confusing because there aren't any directorial choices that stand out. Howard has clearly shown interest in the struggles of humanity, emphasized most apparently in 2020's Hillbilly Elegy, so his rather by-the-books approach to Andrés' story is surprising. One of the moments that does have personality later is when, after Andrés yells at one of his workers, one of the women receiving aid starts demanding an apology from him. It's an uncomfortable point in the documentary, and it's hard to pinpoint exactly what the point of the scene was. Andrés apologizes profusely, ending the scene on an unpleasant note. There aren't many moments like this, but they still stick out like a sore thumb in an otherwise smooth journey.
With those issues aside, it's hard not to fall in love with Andrés's pure ambition for helping others. At every moment he can, Andrés is figuring out how he can best help the people who need assistance while also making the food taste as good as possible and creating as little waste as he can. He's innovative, enigmatic, and a caring man who deserves his place in the spotlight. We Feed People is able to effectively show how, even though our seemingly more frequent moments of disruption, humanity is able to persevere. We Feed People is available on Disney+ now. Rating: 3.5/5 |