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Review by Daniel Lima  Anyone used to exploring the depths of the low budget genre movies of yesteryear will be familiar with a particular kind of disappointment. You come across a film with an exciting title, a promising premise, and a cool poster: Dracula’s Dog, The Drifting Avenger, most giallo. Then you watch it and find that it’s mostly people standing around and talking to each other, with a handful of moments sprinkled about that capture that imagined greatness. Werewolves hearkens back to that ignoble tradition, but in the days of bloated, sanitized, impersonal studio IP movies, its shaggy contours become charming in their own right. “One year ago a supermoon turned millions into werewolves.” This ludicrous line opens the film, immediately setting the stakes and the tone. With a new supermoon about to rise, a crack team of CDC scientists seeks to test a way to prevent these transformations. Frank Grillo barricades the home of his brother’s wife and daughter before leaving to head the operation, as the world’s least convincing virologist. Naturally, things go awry, and both Grillo and his family must fight to survive the night. The ironically self-aware genre throwback has been a plague on modern cinema, and thankfully Werewolves avoids that trap by committing wholeheartedly to the silliness of its premise without ever tipping over into parody. Though many elements are fantastic and absurd — the gung ho neighbor, the repeated use of the word “moonscreen”, the monsters themselves, Frank Grillo playing a scientist — they are treated with the frankness and gravity they should demand within the context of this reality. Beyond providing the audience a level of buy-in that makes what happens feel like it matters, this straight-faced treatment of the material makes it even seem even goofier; I know I laughed every time someone said “moonscreen”, or a character did something that strained credulity, or an entire conversation did nothing but reiterate the obvious. That’s helpful, because one thing this movie has plenty of is filler. Even at barely over ninety minutes, Werewolves strains to engineer enough narrative momentum to propel it to the credits. There is barely any character work to speak of, with the action divided between Grillo’s homeward quest with his forgettable companion, and his forgettable sister-in-law alone at home with a forgettable child. The number of times the gruff man of action stops to just say, “We have to keep moving”, is truly baffling. As funny as it is at first, when it dawns on you that this will be most of the movie it becomes a tad less amusing.  The most confounding choice, however, is how the film looks. This would largely be in keeping with most modern low budget genre thrillers, if it werent’t for the lighting. Throughout the first set piece, when the titular creatures first rear their heads in a government facility, the lights are flashing so rapidly it creates a migraine-inducing strobe effect. Never before have my eyes been so physically discomforted by a movie; epileptics, stay away. More annoying is the amount of artificial lens flare, often overwhelming the screen to the point that it’s hard to make out what is happening. I can only imagine these choices were made to help obscure how cheap the actual werewolf costumes actually are, but it instead just makes the film an ugly mess.
It also obscures what is far and away the best part of the movie. Yes, these are practical werewolves. Yes, they are stiff, only vaguely dog-like,, and look like hair stuck to rubber or latex. Yes, they are awesome. For some reason filmmakers and audiences have decided that a fake, rubbery CGI creation that does not exist is somehow easier to believe in than a fake, rubbery piece of fake rubber that does. The latter, since it actually exists in physical space, allows for more interesting ways to shoot the monsters: they can share the frame with the heroes without breaking the illusion, interact with the environment to make them seem more of a threat, a scene can be staged without have to guess how it will look after post. As obviously artificial as they are, the magic of cinema quickly asserts itself, and you accept that these are dangerous, bloodthirsty predators. Are they utilized to maximum effect? Not quite. Again, the visual language of the film does undermine their appearances, along with some rapid editing to further make things unintelligible. Too often do the wolves appear only for nothing to actually happen, and as the finale draws near it does seem like they are rather easy to outsmart and outfight. That said, this movie is at its best when they are front and center, and towards they end it finally delivers on the high-octane lycanthropic thrills that one would hope for. Ultimately, Werewolves does fail to be a proper spiritual successor to the excellent Dog Soldiers, but in doing so hits on a particular niche appeal that is increasingly rare. It’s messy, it’s dumb, it’s occasionally boring, but when it works it works. If this movie had come out forty years ago, it might have looked and felt largely the same, spoken about today as a hidden gem of an era that looks even better in hindsight. Hopefully, the decades to come will see this in that same light. Werewolves is now in theaters. Rating: 3.5/5
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Review by Daniel Lima  The hitman who attempts to leave behind their criminal life, only to be forced to fight out of the underworld, is a stock narrative, particularly within the past two decades of Korean cinema. There's nothing wrong with adhering to formula, so long as it is executed in an exciting, idiosyncratic way. At the very least, the familiar contours should manage to hold an audience's attention for a couple of hours. Sadly, A Man of Reason doesn't quite measure up, delivering only the barest minimum of what is expected of the genre and being all the lesser for it. Jung Woo-sung directs and stars as the contract killer, out of prison for the first time in ten years. Though he wants to rebuild his relationship with his wife and daughter, he finds himself marked for death by his former employer and so must use his particular set of skills to defend his family and forcefully sever his ties to the past. It's boilerplate material, yet there are missteps in establishing even this very basic premise. The former employer isn't actually the antagonist; instead, it's his lieutenant, a brown-noser who is simply jealous of the admiration his boss holds for Woo-sung. He does not personally see to the killing; instead, he relies on outside help. That outside help comes in the form of a pair of assassins who specialize in explosives. The result is our hero finds himself up against hirelings that he has no personal connection to, working for a villain he barely knows, who works with a powerful mobster who holds no animus towards him. Which is to say, there's precious little emotional stake in the actual conflict.  That should come from Woo-sung's connection to his wife and daughter. However, he doesn't even know he has a daughter until he's out of prison, and spends most of the film separated from both. Where films like The Man from Nowhere or The Killer externalize their protagonists' conscience but take the time to develop the bonds they form with their innocent morality pets, A Man of Reason simply asks the audience to accept that its hero will go to any length to protect his family. It's certainly enough to move the plot along but not enough to make an audience emotionally invested in what happens.
None of that would matter if the film at least delivered thrilling set pieces. Sadly, this is where Jung well and truly drops the ball. The handful of action beats here are about as exciting as all the exposition: low-speed car chases, shooting a nail gun as the target jogs into cover, choppily-edited fist fights in the dark. Truthfully, much of the action in the classic Korean revenge thrillers of the '00s and '10s probably would not hold up today, but they at least committed to delivering a brand of stylized violence that hadn't really been seen up to that point. The only thing commendable here are the explosions, which seem practical, yet even they pale in comparison to another actor-director's action thriller, Hunt. Coincidentally, Jung Woo-sung had a starring role there; it's a pity he didn't take notes. All that said, nothing in A Man of Reason is exceedingly poor. It follows the expected beats of this kind of story andblunders its way through the narrative and the action, but not enough to earn ire. It certainly is not a success, but it's not a total failure. In a way, it'd be preferable if it were, as it would at least be memorable. Instead, it evaporates from the mind shortly after watching, leaving in its place the desire to revisit any number of better examples of its genre. A Man of Reason arrives in theaters July 5 and hits VOD on July 9. Rating: 2.5/5 Review by Daniel Lima  Lakshya in Kill. Courtesy of Roadside Attractions. I distinctly remember that in the fall of 2023, I was listening to an interview with stuntman/action director Lee Whittaker about his experiences working within the various Indian film industries (on Action Talks with Eric Jacobus, highly recommended). At one point, he was asked whether it would ever be possible for an Indian filmmaker to make something akin to the Indonesian film The Raid, that is, a stripped-down, brutal action film that abandons the ample melodrama and gravity-defying opulence of many Indian blockbusters in favor of a more grounded genre experience. It’s a question that made me chuckle, as while the interview was months old, the Hindi actioner Kill had just premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival, and it promised precisely that. The film has consistently been described as “The Raid on a Train,” and there’s no better way to do so. An army commando finds himself on a train that dozens of bandits have taken over, and it’s up to him to take them down. The film is under two hours, set almost entirely in one location, the fights are visceral and violent to an almost shocking degree, and there is only the barest amount of narrative groundwork laid. In short… it’s The Raid on a train. Obviously, the selling point here is the action, as hyperviolent and frantic as one would expect, given its obvious influences. Pitted against such an overwhelming force, the protagonist is forced to use every tool at his disposal against his foes, including the claustrophobic environment. To that end, the choreography departs from the typical Indian style of pseudo-superheroics, instead adopting a more realistic approach. Well, as realistic as carving through forty armed men can be. Throughout the many, many fights, characters utilize whatever weapons they can, from knives to canes to guns to fire extinguishers. Navigating the confined space provides an additional challenge and aids in combat, restricting movement but allowing one man to take on many without being swarmed. While limited to only one setting, there is a deliberate attempt to break up the visual staleness of the surroundings and introduce new dynamics to the action: taking a fight to the bathroom, opening a locked door while a friend provides cover, facing down one particularly large adversary. And, of course, all of this is uncompromisingly bloody, with an almost overwhelming amount of stabbing, mauling, cutting, and killing. It’s all admirably intricate, as one could expect from the action director pairing of Parvez Shaikh and Se-yeong Oh (who previously collaborated on films such as War and Tiger 3). However, it cannot be helped that there is a sameness to all the action, largely because of a lack of variance in both the actual choreography and the intensity of the action. Violence breaks out about fifteen minutes into the film and carries on at the same level for the next hour and a half. Considering the premise, we will inevitably see the number of villains dwindle, and there is a dwindling return on the impact of all the gore. Worse yet, there is little to distinguish all the combatants while they are fighting, as impressive as it all is to coordinate. Watching The Raid, there is a clear difference in how all the characters fight, befitting their personalities and the martial abilities of their actors. That personal touch is lacking here, and by the end, it all blends together.  Lakshya in Kill. Courtesy of Roadside Attractions. Adding to this effect is the strength of the narrative, or lack thereof. As silly as it seems to critique a film like this for how it establishes its ensemble, it must be said that the short amount of time spent with them is not enough to engender any strong feelings about whether they survive. There is an atmosphere that anyone may die at any moment, but it is impossible to care, since they are all so thinly sketched anyway. If anything, the perfunctory romance that serves as the protagonist’s motivation actually does the movie a disservice, as the treatment of the love interest feels almost distasteful. Even the villains, as dastardly and cruel as they are, never feel particularly threatening to the commando hero.
None of this would matter if this movie delivered action that felt as fresh and exciting as its inspiration. Unfortunately, we already have The Raid, and plenty of other action movies have taken their own cues from that film’s brand of grounded martial arts mayhem. This raises the question: why is the thought of an Indian take on this same style appealing in the first place? As over-the-top and bloated as many Indian blockbusters can be, it is a style that other industries around the world are slow to draw influence from. Is it not more exciting to see the lengths that minds like Anbariv, Dhilip Subbarayan, or even an imported talent like Yannick Ben push the homegrown approach to stage action, rather than see the likes of Bollywood, Tollywood, and Kollywood adopt the same thing everyone else is? All that said, it’s not like Kill is not successful at what it does. For those looking for frenetic, close-quarters combat that leaves pools of blood on the floor and ears ringing with the sounds of crunching bones and disembowelment, this will supply that. Despite its missteps, it’s not even a bad version of its premise. Seeing the diversity and singular nature of Indian action cinema today, however, we should expect more than just “The Raid on a Train.” Kill hits theaters July 4. Rating: 3.5/5 Review by Daniel Lima  No one knew how to name a movie like Italians in the 1970’s. The Red Queen Kills Seven Times. Hey Amigo! A Toast to Your Death. Watch Me When I Kill. No matter how middling the movie, it was often accompanied by a distinct and evocative title that promised intrigue and danger. In that way, The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer is something of a spiritual successor. Unfortunately, it also shares something else with those earlier films: it does not deliver on that promise. John Magaro plays the titular writer, who has been working on his second book for years with no end in sight. His literary agent has become disinterested in him, his marriage is on the rocks, and he can do no more than lamely explain to anyone who will listen how his novel is about the last Neanderthal. It’s at this low point of his life that a stranger approaches him with an offer: write a story based on the stranger’s former life as a serial killer. When Magaro’s wife finds the stranger in her home, the two pretend he is a marriage counselor, setting up an interesting dynamic that does not ever pay off. The premise sounds like ample ground for some black comedy hijinks or the setup to a dark comparison between relationships between romantic partners and those formed by murderers and their victims. While there is a paltry attempt to do this, the film takes so long to set up this state of affairs that there’s little runway to make the most of the conceit. The Shallow Tale is never more fun than in its last third, as characters begin to grow suspicious of one another and flimsy plots begin to spiral out of control, but by that point, it is too little too late. The journey to get there sorely lacked the energy of the finale, and the best part of the movie is over as quickly as it began.  The three leads — Magaro, Britt Lower as his wife, and Steve Buscemi as the retired serial killer — all commit to their performances, and every laugh the film earns is more on their shoulders than on the limp material they are given. The comic rhythm and sensibility of the film never seem quite right, going from droll and dry to absurdist to meta and ironic at the drop of a hat. This lack of consistency gives the film an unevenness that feels less like “anything can happen” and more like “there is no coherent vision for what this story actually is.” Considering the uneven pace of the narrative as a whole, this appears to be the case.
It’s impossible to watch this and not think about the recently released Hit Man. That film is similarly a riff on mystery and crime stories that incorporates romance into genre thrills and vacillates in tone. Those are where the similarities end: that movie has a clear thesis, has a deliberate build in how absurd the comedy is, and knowingly wrings as much as it can from its premise. Of course, that is a film from Richard Linklater, an artist who has been making films for decades, whereas The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer is the English-language debut of a comparatively young filmmaker. Hopefully, Tolga Karacelik will learn from the missteps of this shallow tale going forward. The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer premiered at the 2024 Tribeca Festival, which ran from June 5-16 in New York City. Rating: 2.5/5 [Tribeca 2024] SHE LOVED BLOSSOMS MORE -- Arresting Visuals Compensate for Limp Characters6/10/2024 Review by Daniel Lima  The more films one sees, the more appreciative one gets when something comes along that displays a unique and singular vision, even if it doesn’t all neatly come together. She Loved Blossoms More, the second feature from Yannis Veslemes, toys with a lot of ideas, both narrative and visual, not all of which feel adequately explored. However, the commitment to trying out these ideas goes a long way in making this a strangely compelling experience.
Three brothers live secluded in an old mansion, their family home. Funded by a mysterious benefactor, they perform experiments with a device that allows for travel between dimensions in an effort to bring their mother back from the dead. That description implies a more straightforward story than what is actually offered; for the most part, the three brothers hang out and get on each other’s nerves, and interlopers and their own attempts to alleviate their misery stymie their scientific progress. Though the low-budget film is entirely set in and around one house, the space is filled and shot in an utterly captivating fashion. The production design is impeccable, not only because of the many impressive and gnarly practical effects but also because of how it brings to life an ancestral home turned into a workspace for three unsupervised young men. The grounds have been overtaken by unkempt foliage, the rooms and hallways cluttered with stray bits of technology and books, the furniture old relics of their own childhood, the walls chipped and dirtied. The neglect and lack of care reflect the goals and personalities of the characters and give the setting a truly lived-in feel. Tight compositions and fisheye lenses constrain the image, creating a sense of claustrophobia and anxiety that grows suffocating as the mental strain on the brothers increases. There is a textured look that, if not the result of actual film stock, adds a certain weight to the image, and the neon lighting that reflects the characters’ casual use of psychotropics gives the most surreal sequences a certain flair. All of this cleverly makes the most of the production’s meager means. The characters themselves, however, are not nearly as interesting as how they are captured. While the twisted nature of this family begins with an Oedipal edge and slowly reveals darker layers, the brothers are simply not particularly fun to be around, lacking discernible personalities beyond laconic, also laconic, and deadbeat. As twisty as their interpersonal drama becomes, it ultimately relies on the audience being invested in their goals and well-being. That context required comes far too late to engender any sympathy for them. The principal leads do what they can with what they are given, but it is Sandra Sarafanova who steals the show. The girlfriend of one of the brothers, she arrives in the house and takes full command of every scene she is in — playful, charming, and sensual at all times. She is a breath of life in a setting purposefully designed to be stodgy, and it would be wonderful if this were the start of a fruitful career. She Loved Blossoms More is a film that is technically impressive and occasionally even enchanting. Though the thematic exploration of grief falters without anything to ground it, the visual language is engaging enough to make it a worthwhile watch. She Loved Blossoms More is screening at the 2024 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 5-16 Rating: 3/5 |