WHITE LIES

Stars: Whirimako Black, Rachel House, Antonia Prebble, Nancy Brunning, Te Waimere Kessell, Kohuorangi Ta Whara and Elizabeth Hawthorne.
Writer: Dana Rotberg; based on the novel by Witi Ihimaera.
Director: Dana Rotberg.

Rating: 4/5

New Zealand’s leading independent production outfit, South Pacific Pictures, return to the source of their biggest hit, Whale Rider author Witi Ihimaera, for their latest exploration of traditional Maori culture, White Lies. Producer John Barnett can’t expect the same sort of international adoration that greeted his feel-good 2002 classic for this deep, dark tale, but critics and arthouse audiences will appreciate it’s refined quality and thematic depth. Fittingly, it is New Zealand’s 2013 submission for the Foreign Language Oscar category.

Expat Mexican filmmaker Dana Rotberg reportedly moved to New Zealand after having been inspired by director Niki Caro’s worldwide hit, a Kiwi classic that secured an Oscar nomination for its leading lady, 12 year-old Keisha Castle-Hughes. It was Rotberg’s mission to craft a similarly moving narrative and has adapted Ihimaera’s story ‘Medicine Woman’ into a darkly personal chamber piece that represents the struggle for identity, both gender specific and as an indigenous culture.

Set in the racially volatile landscape of 1920’s rural New Zealand, the protagonist is the nomadic elder Paraiti, played with a regal nobility and graceful warmth by Whirimako Black (a recent Best Actress nominee at both the New Zealand Film Awards and the Asia Pacific Screen Awards). Carrying the guilt of having forsaken a young mother and her child who died during labour, Paraiti agrees to help a well-to-do pakeha woman, Rebecca Vickers (the chilly Antonia Prebble) with the termination of an unwanted pregnancy. Rebecca is served by Maraea (Rachel House), a maid that casts a watchful eye over her in the absence of a fiery husband.

The intermingling of the three women’s lives becomes a complex study in deception, social standing and heritage. Paraita’s mission is to save the child, not have it perish, but that ruse is countered when the horrible truth behind Rebecca’s past and the role Maraea has played is revealed. The raw, stark nature of the bonds that the trio share and the immensity of the lies being perpetrated makes for potent, graphic drama (heightened during an extended birthing sequence that may be too challenging for those of a weak constitution).

Whereas Caro’s vision was a vivid cinematic work, rich in colour and movement, Rotberg opts for a very still frame. The result is no less visually compelling (thanks to ace DOP Alun Bollinger, one of NZ’s most renowned lensmen), but the stillness does amplify the single-setting, three-hander theatricality of the narrative. White Lies is full of dark shadows and long passages of silence, exemplifying the chasm between the women and their place in the world; it is an aesthetic that may prove taxing for some.

Above all, it is a stunning showcase for Whirimako Black, one of Aotearoa’s most prominent and successful Maori singer-songwriters; she was awarded the New Zealand Order of Merit in 2006. Given her long-established status as an artist that embraces the humanistic traditions of her race in her music, Paraiti is a role she was destined to play. From the Ta Moko tattoo on her face to the spirituality she embraces when performing post-birth rituals of the earth, Black is a towering screen presence who honours not only Rotberg’s and Ihimaera’s creation but also the centuries-old dignity and customs of her people. 

THE UPPER FOOTAGE

Director: Justin Cole

Rating: 3.5/5

The oldest rule of comedy is ‘If they buy the set-up, they buy the gag’ and it is sage advice to those seeking maximum thrills from the found footage shocker, The Upper Footage. Debutant director Justin Cole and fellow first-timer, producer Tiffany Baxter, are proving old-school savvy in their handling of all aspects of their first roll of the dice, most notably in the intricate construction of the narratives mythology and a determined line in ‘real-or-fake’ conjecture.

Set on one fateful night amidst the douche-baggery of NYC’s spoilt teen culture where the only thing that is cheap is a young woman’s life, three young men and a pretty blonde cruise the streets in a limo, doing coke, boozing and blustering in the most obnoxious of ways (c**t, f****t and n****r are all screamed at various points throughout the film); the entire evening is being captured on a single camera by one of the lads. A sojourn into a downtown nightclub leads to a pick-up, the sweet party girl Jackie, her lower social status a constant source of amusement to the rich brats.

Coercing her back to a penthouse apartment, the group get deeper into a cocaine-and-alcohol binge until Jackie can take no more and heads for the bathroom, the cruel taunts of the group behind her. Things turn horribly dark when Jackie is found dead and the tenuous link between friends, the potential of their future lives and the moral responsibility of respecting the departed stranger above themselves all collide.  

Having convincingly manipulated media outlets since the projects inception, it has been revealed that Cole and Baxter entirely staged the footage. That’s no surprise, as there are several elements of the found-footage premise that don’t really hold up (not least of which is the fact that the action takes place from dusk ‘til dawn without a single ‘battery charge’ warning). Despite the best efforts of the production, The Upper Footage never quite overcomes the question that casts a shadow over many f-f efforts, namely ‘Why is anyone filming this?’.

The film also frustratingly shifts its own moral compass. When the director fades to black instead of showing the boys take sexual advantage of the catatonic Jackie, a title card states the scenes have been deleted out of respect to her family. How those family members might react to footage of their late relative guzzling booze, doing blow and face down and dead in a toilet bowl must have been harder for the production to gauge…

But Cole’s accomplishment of rendering his film in the most realistic of milieus should not be undervalued. He proves particularly adept at extending scenes beyond any traditional notion of narrative guidelines or conventional production elements (lighting, editing, sound, etc). As the penthouse descends into panic following Jackie’s passing, Cole boldly captures the mayhem from a distance as the camera lays on the bathroom floor, the entire frame filled for what seems an eternity by the dead girl’s hair.

Justin Cole has acknowledged that his inspiration for both the filming style and groundbreaking marketing campaign was the grandfather of all found-footage pics, 1999’s The Blair Witch Project, and he and Baxter have honoured that film’s legacy with aplomb.  It is a shame that his film’s secret escaped before Cole and Baxter had milked it for all its inherent value. Despite being an aggressively hard-to watch film at times (the characters alone may be the most singularly unpleasant human beings on-screen this year), The Upper Footage is a strong vision of personalised horror, a modern take on morality amongst the privileged and a textbook case of inventive genre marketing.

Footnote: In correspondence with director Justin Cole, he offered insight into one element raised in the review: "You made a comment about how the battery alert would pop on screen. For that camera when battery is low it shows up on the viewfinder but not the actual footage. We shot every night with 2 batteries and always had time left over."

BLUE IS THE WARMEST COLOR

Stars: Adele Exarchopoulos, Lea Seydoux, Salim Kechioche, Mona Walravens, Jeremie Laheurte, Alma Jodorowsky, Catherine Salee, Fanny Maurin and Benjamin Siksou.
Writers: Abdellatif Kechiche and Ghalia Lacroix; based upon the graphic novel by Julie Maroh.
Director: Abdellatif Kechiche.

Rating: 4.5/5

Providing one of the most heart-breaking and fulfilling protagonist arcs in international cinema for some time, Adele Exarchopoulos proves to be an actress of interior strength, aching vulnerability and searing sensuality as the central figure in Abdellatif Kechiche’s self-discovery classic, Blue is the Warmest Colour.

The director’s deceptively straightforward naturalism with camera and dialogue results in an incisive honesty, ensuring Kechiche’s love story never lulls over its three hour running time. His chronicle of a young woman’s journey of personal definition from sexually confused teen to emotionally scarred adult features Exarchopoulos in almost every frame; although she often exhibits the doe-eyed/pouty-lipped exterior of many French ingénues, hers is a performance that could never be defined by physicality alone, however striking. Every furtive glance, intimate personal moment or awkward social interaction reveals just a little bit extra about the tenderness and confusion inherent to her realisation regarding her sexual leanings.

After an unfulfilling encounter with the school hunk that leaves her cold, Adele’s same-sex longings take on a stronger focus when a school friend playfully kisses her. Having indulged in some self-love to the image of a striking blue-haired woman whom she encountered on the street, she tentatively enters a lesbian bar for the first time, where she meets the object of her infatuation – the experienced, artistic Emma, played with a fearless self-assuredness by Lea Seydoux. Emma proves the defining influence in Adele’s personal growth, their burgeoning friendship leading to a forthright and chemistry-rich sexuality that is central of their relationship.

The portrayal of homosexual love is as forthright and unflinching as every other human sensation and emotion in Blue is the Warmest Colour, which is crucial to justifying their presence. Though the graphic couplings are instantly shocking, they ultimately defy the visual component and emerge as specifically elemental, as impactful as every other moment in the early stages of Adele and Emma’s love story. There is no denying, however, that the actresses and their director (who have since had a very public spat over the shooting of the scenes) captured the most explicit love scenes that mainstream cinema has seen in some time.

Those scenes aside, there is a certain conventionality to the love story that posits it as a non-gender specific study of a relationship. Jealousy, infidelity and insecurity erode the initial attraction and connection, negative traits in both hetero- and homosexual romances. Detractors have suggested that the casting of two beautiful actresses and the frankness of their Sapphic scenes borders on the exploitative, but deep involvement in every feeling is the film’s raison d’etre. Unashamedly, Blue is the Warmest Colour is an emotional exercise rather than an overtly intellectual one (referencing Jean-Paul Satre and Pierre de Marivaux’s work The Life of Marianne are Kechiche’s more precise nods to philosophical context, but they represent the film’s least convincing moments).

A third-act encounter between Adele and Emma in a diner lasts a relative short while in the overall running time, but captures a range of emotions so raw as to be breathtaking from second to second. Kechiche’s film ends on a hopeful note that suggests from the ruins of one romance a stronger individual will grow. Adele’s journey both soars and plummets, the joy and heartache reflected in Adele Exarchopoulos’ soulful rendering of a decade in the life of a developing young woman in a film rich with humanity and understanding.

THE SECRET LIFE OF WALTER MITTY

Stars: Ben Stiller, Kristen Wiig, Adam Scott, Sean Penn, Patton Oswalt, Kathryn Hahn and Shirley Maclaine.
Writer: Steve Conrad; based on the short story by James Thurber.
Director: Ben Stiller.

Rating: 2/5

A sleek, schizophrenic ode to the imagination that barely exhibits one of its own, Ben Stiller’s latest vehicle, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, plays as false and forced as most other commercially-minded cash-ins aimed at exploiting the feel-good Festive season mood.

Stiller prefers deeper and darker as a director, his past films behind the camera exhibiting an inquisitive, insightful sensibility (Reality Bites) and fearless comedic eye (The Cable Guy, Zoolander, Tropic Thunder). Alternatively, his on-screen persona (in films directed by others) offers mostly his lovable schlub everyman in unashamedly commercial pap (most of his films from the last decade, notably the …Fockers series, Night at the Museum’s 1 and 2, The Heartbreak Kid, Tower Heist and his voiced character in the Madagascar films).

The two worlds collide in his adaptation of James Thurber’s 1939 short story, in which a hen-pecked husband dreamt of heroism while on a shopping trip with his wife. Barring a thematically unexplored take on the ‘daydreamer’ angle, none of this exists in Stiller’s film; the 12 producers (!) have made the film relevant by focussing on the glum existence of a photo-negative manager at LIFE magazine (which shut up shop in 2000, so its not that modern after all) who embarks upon a series of international adventures to secure a missing frame of film destined to become the publication’s final cover.

The flights of fancy that Thurber’s Mitty undertook (and that were brought to glorious, resonant life in the 1947 adaptation with Danny Kaye) are turned into showy effects spectacles by Stiller. A mid-air leap into a burning building to save a three-legged dog, a downtown chase sequence opposite his office adversary, Ted (a meagre contribution by Adam Scott) and a recreation of Iceland’s volcano eruption are entirely unengaging; Mitty’s series of projected heroic self-images in the presence of his office sweetheart, Cheryl (Kristen Wiig, taking a backwards career step) are so removed from the character's reality, they suggest a borderline unstable dissociative condition. The one inspired highlight is a ‘Benjamin Button’ gag that is both hilarious and wildly at odds with the rest of the film’s conservative tone.

As saggy and insipid as the story becomes and as bloated and showy as Stiller’s notion of whimsy is, what is most troubling is the film’s confused message. Mitty seemingly launches into his global adventure mostly to keep his reputation and career record in good stead. Rousing orchestral chords over scenes of Walter skateboarding against a mountain backdrop or plunging into the icy depths from a helicopter only highlight what a shallow existential journey he is ultimately indulging in; as far as he travels from his corporate base, his mission is still in the service of his employer. This angle may seem more prevalent because the romantic subplot is so inconsequential; regardless, it leaves the film with a hollow core.

Unlike the similarly-themed yet vastly superior The Truman Show and Joe vs The Volcano, in which heroes find their inner essence in proud and profound defiance of the corporations they had allowed to define their lives, Walter Mitty travels the world without ever abandoning his ‘basement cubicle’ sense of self. It is a deflating notion, ensuring the wish-fulfilment fantasy that will clog multiplexes come Christmas time may be the most depressing film of the year. 

GREAT WHITE SHARK 3D

Featuring: Frederic Buyle, William Winram, Mike Rutzen, Dr Chris Lowe and Dr Mauricio Hoyos Padilla.
Directors: Luke Cresswell and Steve McNicholas.

Rating: 4/5

Having demonised the Great White Shark with the blockbuster horror film Jaws, it seems only fair that cinema should also beatify the ocean’s alpha predator. Directors Luke Cresswell and Steve McNicholas achieve that goal with a spiritual grace in the latest nature-themed IMAX feature, Great White Shark 3D.

Employing the large-screen format to convey the majesty of the king of the underwater beasts, the long-time collaborators re-apply the same sense of scale and mega-screen framing they perfected on the 2012 IMAX feature The Last Reef to their pro-protection advocacy project. Utilising on-screen contributors to capture cage-free footage of man at one with the most unjustly maligned creature of the ocean, the production paints a loving portrait of an animal that traditionally strikes fear into the hearts of instinctively cowardly men.

Based upon the film’s message, one concludes that modern man need treat the Great White Shark with a mixture of awe, respect and fear. Utilising footage captured from as far afield as Mexico, South Africa, Los Angeles and New Zealand, the production solidifies modern conjecture that the Great White Shark is not particularly enamoured with human flesh (as humorously pointed out in the film, you are more likely to die driving to the beach than be eaten by a shark at the beach).

The most stunning images provided by Cresswell and McNicholas are the scenes filmed in the waters off Guadalupe Island, on the Western Coast of Baja, Mexico. They feature a trio of divers with a school of Great White Sharks, administering tracking tags at close range. The scenes depict the mutual respect of the land-based alpha species and their aquatic equivalent and capture an understanding that makes for breathtaking factual filmmaking.

The obligatory 3D application is not always necessary. Tellingly, the most vivid use of the format is in capturing the seals that provide the shark’s primary food source and the predators themselves in fierce, breaching attack mode, leaping from the briny deep in displays of their predatory prowess that only play into mankind’s fear of the sea’s savagery. When filmed emerging from a background of various blue hues, the Great White Shark defies definition or dimension; this is a creature of the ocean, an environment symbolic of its power and fragility.

Of all the IMAX features that have conveyed the complexity and importance of the natural world’s hierarchy, Great White Shark 3D is arguably the most crucial. Man’s struggle with fellow top-tier life forms will ultimately define our future; Cresswell and Nicholas’ film clarifies that via stunning images and profound insight.

THE HUNGER GAMES: CATCHING FIRE

Stars: Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Woody Harrelson, Elizabeth Banks, Donald Sutherland, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Liam Hemsworth, Lenny Kravitz, Stanley Tucci, Willow Shields, Jeffery Wright, Amanda Plummer, Sam Claflin and Jena Malone.
Writers: Simon Beaufoy and Michael de Bruyn; based on the novel by Suzanne Collins.
Director: Francis Lawrence.

Rating: 3.5/5

It is too soon to suggest that a legacy exists such that director Francis Lawrence’s follow-up to the first instalment of The Hunger Game is as The Empire Strikes Back is to Star Wars or Return of the King is to Fellowship of the Ring. But the current generation of wide-eyed young fans can argue as passionately as those from decades past that the sequel to their seminal movie-going experience is a marked improvement on the original. And they would be right.

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire still exhibits many of the problems that detractors claim undermine the concept. Its sacrifice-as-sport/life-as-currency theme is a wildly derivative invocation of well-worn sci-fi tropes; depending on your pedigree, it may appear to be little more than a fresh coat of paint on THX-1138, Logan’s Run, The Running Man, Battle Royale or Turkey Shoot, to name just a few.

And it will still prove an oddity to those of us unfamiliar with the tone or well-established milieu of Suzanne Collins novels. This dystopian future-scape is still peopled by a campy, Fellini-esque population of kitschy pop-culture archetypes familiar to the under 25 demographic raised on cable reality networks: who is Elizabeth Bank’s style queen Effie Trinket if not Tyra Banks; Stanley Tucci’s gaping gameshow host Caesar Flickerman, the future manifestation of Ryan Seacrest; or, Lenny Kravitz’s mascara-wearing fashion guru Cinna a spin on Tim Gunn?

But the film finds much surer footing as a legitimate genre piece in the hands of its new director, who brings fantasy-film cred after the Keanu Reeves vehicle, Constantine, and the best Will Smith movie of the last decade, I Am Legend. Lumbered with an exposition-heavy first half which largely trades on relationships and themes established in the first film, Lawrence stays suitably dark and frosty when home with our heroine Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) in District 12. The relationship she shares with her co-victor, Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson) has turned sour; her true love, Gale Hawthorne (Liam Hemsworth) still percolates along.

In the Capital, where the 1% indulge in gaudy parties and wasteful consumption, Emperor Snow (Donald Sutherland) has a new games master in Plutarch Heavensbee (Philip Seymour Hoffman), whom he entrusts to quell the growing sense of rebellion amongst the Districts. This he achieves by implementing a long-hidden rule – every 25 years, a kind of ‘Battle to the Death of the All-Stars’ contest, called ‘The Quarter Quell’, can be held, in which all past victors are recalled. Katniss and Peeta are chosen, along with an eclectic bunch that includes the charismatic Finnick Odair (Sam Claflin, channelling a young Michael Biehn) and the tough-girl, Johanna Mason (Jena Malone, in a scene-stealing turn that gives the film most of its personality).

When the games begin, the reasoning behind Lawrence’s appointment over first instalment director Gary Ross becomes apparent. Set within a dense rainforest with a dazzling centrifugal rocky construction from which the tournament launches, Lawrence piles one expertly-staged action setpiece on top of the other with a stylised and involving eye for thrills that Ross never came near to.

It-girl Jennifer Lawrence continues to grow into what will surely be her trademark role with confidence, a bold physicality and, at times, a luminescent beauty. She plays the surly card a bit too often (reminding us all that the target audience is, after all, teenage girls), but in every other respect provides an emotionally honest, solidly moral role model figure.

Like all middle episodes of any franchise, Catching Fire runs the risk of leaving a bitter taste in the mouths of fans when it wraps on a ‘To be continued…’ note. But instead, the franchise takes on an invigorated energy, ending on a series of cliffhanger developments that coalesce with clarity. In this regard alone, The Hunger Games already outshines the last young adult fiction-based film phenomenon (something about vampires, I think) and earns the status of Hollywood’s hottest stand-alone property.  

EUROPA REPORT

Stars: Daniel Wu, Sharlto Copley, Michael Nyqvist, Christian Camargo, Anamaria Marinca, Karolina Wydra and Embeth Davidtz.
Writer: Philip Gelatt.
Director: Sebastian Cordero.

Rating: 4/5

Director Sebastian Cordeo applies a skilfully refined element to the found-footage tropes he works through in the space-exploration thriller, Europa Report. While it is true we’ve seen a lot of this kind of stuff before (notably, in the year’s biggest film Gravity, but also dross like Apollo 18), the Ecuadorian genre auteur nails his visuals, dramatics and practical elements with a striking degree of acuity.

Fans of the sci-fi genre could rattle off a dozen examples of the old ‘rag-tag crew of deep space explorer’s stumble across more than they bargained for’ plot that Cordero and his scriptwriter Philip Gelatt employ (ready? Go! Forbidden Planet, Alien, 2001 A Space Odyssey…and so on). But there is an earthbound integrity and deeply respectful approach to the science in Europa Report that imbues the story with a gritty intensity, lifting it beyond its B-movie framework.

Audiences learn early on that things haven’t gone well for the crew, sent to Jupiter’s fourth largest moon to draw samples of surface and subterannean matter. The mission overseer, Dr Samantha Unger (Embeth Davidtz), recounts directly to camera the early days of the project and the excitement everyone felt for this next great leap for mankind. Aboard the craft is an international crew, led by Capt William Xu (action star Daniel Wu), first mate Rosa Dasque (Romanian Anamaria Marinca), engineer Andrei (The Girl With The Dragon Tatto’s Michael Nyqvist) and rogue-ish astronaut Corrigan (District 9’s Sharlto Copley); given evidence suggests Europa has thick ice and potential for aquatic-based life forms, two Russian marine biologists are taken – Dr Daniel Luxembourg (Christian Camargo) and Dr Katya Petrovna (Karolina Wydra).

With Dr Unger popping up occasionally to put the events caught by on-board CCTV in chronological and emotional perspective, Cordero sets about cutting together (with his team of four credited editors) the final hours of the mission and the individual fates of all on board. Tension is built and maintained throughout, as the crew faces such superbly-staged setbacks as a colleague lost to the far reaches of space; the first glimpses of what may be bio-luminescent life; a failed rocket flight; and, the final reveal as to what has been going bump in the Jupiter night all along.

Gelatt achieves that essential character balance chemistry amongst all the crew, with everyone particularly natural and believeable in their roles (first amongst equals are Wu, Nyqvist and Wydra). Digital footage as captured by the various sources (mission-record sensors, helmet-cams, handheld devices) did not faze cinematographer Enrique Chediak, whose crisp images and mastery of both tight, shiny space and the vastness of the universe are beautiful; barely a frame of Europa Report belies the fact that it was a relatively low-budget work. Cordero’s feature-length English-language debut is terrific entertainment.

Europa Report screens Sunday, November 17 and Saturday, November 23 at the Brisbane International Film Festival. Times and ticket information can be found on the festival's website.

DELIVERY MAN

Stars: Vince Vaughan, Chris Pratt, Cobie Smulders, Jack Reynor, Bobby Moynihan, Britt Robertson, Simon Delaney, Adam Chanler-Berat and Andrzej Blumenfeld.
Writer: Ken Scott; based on the original screenplay Starbuck by Ken Scott and Martin Petit.
Director: Ken Scott.

Rating: 3.5/5

Affable schlub Vince Vaughan has coasted for too long on the laconic, cool-guy schtick, playing charming if shallow leads in charming, shallow movies. In Ken Scott’s Delivery Man, he seems determined to give his trademark cocky riff a deeper element.

The actor has always been an engaging screen presence, often compelling and immensely likable, but he has found it hard to convince in nuanced roles that rely upon more than his natural charisma (and which kicked off his career so memorably 17 years ago in Doug Liman’s Swingers). Delivery Man represents a second shot in as many years at a more complex comedic persona; Ron Howard’s The Dilemma hinted at a new direction, even if the film was a messy letdown.

Interestingly, there is also a thematic component that recalls the older-skewing comedies of the late 70s and early 80s, such as David Steinberg’s Paternity (1981) or Blake Edwards’ The Man of Loved Women (1983), in which the consequences and responsibilities of a sexual lifestyle choice are explored. Like those films, Delivery Man (pun-iest title of the year, one hopes) doesn’t always nail that difficult comedy/drama balance, but goes pretty close.

Vaughan is David Wozniak, a down-on-his-luck meat truck driver whose lack of forward momentum in life is recognised by all but himself. In a briskly edited introduction that recalls Bill Murray’s ultimate-bad-day opening sequence in Stripes, Wozniak lets down his family (dad Andrzej Blumenfeld; Simon Delaney and SNL regular Bobby Moynihan) and is cast adrift by his pregnant girlfriend, Emma (Cobie Smulders).

Things get worse when it is revealed that a class action case is being initiatedd by many of the 533 young adults that are alive thanks to sperm samples donated by an anonymous figure known as ‘Starbuck’; in actuality, the moniker Wozniak adopted when sperm donations were his primary source of income. When told of this by his scruffy lawyer buddy, Brett (a terrific Chris Pratt, who scores the film’s biggest laughs), Dave secretly sets out to meet and help his offspring. These scenes are erratic; some prove very funny and occasionally moving (David’s discovery one of his sons is profoundly intellectually handicapped), while others are overplayed and unconvincing, particularly a worthless subplot involving annoying vegetarian, Viggo (Adam Chanler-Berat).

Writer/director Ken Scott has adapted his French-language Canadian film Starbuck very precisely, barely straying from the script structure, dialogue or shot selection he employed on that 2011 festival hit. This may prove a double-edged sword for Delivery Man; the integrity of the original is intact, but it does not always play like the feel-good romp mainstream audiences will expect from studio Dreamworks and its leading man. However, it is plainly evident that funny-man Vaughan is focussed on a more mature leading man slot in Hollywood’s top-tier and Delivery Man is his most convincing calling-card effort towards that end.

THE BANSHEE CHAPTER 3D

Stars: Katia Winter, Ted Levine, Michael McMillan, Alex Gianopoulos, Chad Brummett, Jenny Gabrielle, JD Garfield, David Midthunder and Vivian Nesbitt.
Writers: Blair Erickson; based on a story by Daniel J Healy.
Director: Blair Erickson.

Rating: 4/5

Dealing in the same complex, paranoia-based mythology that fuelled The X-Files and little-seen but ambitious low-budgeters like Matthew Avant’s Lunopolis, debutant director Blair Erickson wilfully casts logic aside in favour of chilly, often frightening atmospherics in The Banshee Chapter. Whether catching this at a genre festival screening or, as is more likely, via ancillary channels in your home, you will find yourself occasionally covering your eyes or, on at least two occasions, jumping when you are not quick enough to do so.

Erickson based his loopy script (from a very original treatment by Daniel J Healy) upon the MK-ULTRA trials, a real-life incident in which naive subjects were administered drugs by government-sanctioned doctors and monitored to gauge physiological response. The Banshee Chapter merely conjures, “Ok, what’s the worst that could happen?” then sets about answering that question with a heady mash-up of cross-dimensional channeling, demon manifestations, Area 51 iconography and a cautionary line in letting strangers bring you drinks.

The heroine is web-journo Anna (Katia Winter), who has lost contact with her college friend and agitant-cohort James (Michael McMillan), a young man whose curiosity has led him into contact with a group called ‘The Friends of Colorado’. We learn via a white-knuckle passage that James has been supplied with a covert narcotic called DMT 19 and subsequently disappeared after having imbibed the bright-blue substance.

Anna’s investigations lead her to the eccentric, Hunter S Thompson-like recluse, Thomas Blackburn (Silence of the Lamb’s Ted Levine), who embarks with her upon a quest for the truth regarding the heartless experimentation upon young people four decades ago and the dark denizens of another plane that come forth when DMT 19 allows them to.

Erickson’s plotting plays out a series of scary encounters in closed-in spaces (cabins, basements, industrial estates), all of which are lit like a theme-park horror-ride. Glimpses of mutated forms and their dark shadows cast on high walls in strategic spotlighting ensure The Banshee Chapter follows Low-budget Horror Rule #1 – be scary.

What is a little harder to define is the style the director employs. There are passages of found-footage coverage, shot via camera-phones and CCTV, but there is also hand-held shaky-cam action when no camera is logically present to capture the footage. Admittedly, this doesn’t always register during the narrative, but soured the experience post-screening.

That said, it is ultimately a minor distraction. Winter, a striking beauty and convincing on-screen presence, has a terrific chemistry with Levine, who whoops it up as the off-the-rails anti-establishment underground renegade. The twist ending doesn’t quite impact as it should, but that is mostly because Erickson’s imagery and storytelling has scaled such convincingly offbeat heights up to that point. He is a filmmaker to watch.

(Editor's Note - The Banshee Chapter will screen in 3D at Monster Fest but was reviewed in the 2D format via a DVD screener) 

HERE COMES THE DEVIL

Stars: Francisco Barreiro, Laura Caro, Alan Martinez, Michele Garcia, Giancarlo Ruiz, David Arturo Cabezud, Enrique Saint-Martin and Michele Estrada.
Writer/Director: Adrian Garcia Bogliano.

Rating: 2.5/5

It exudes an effective creepiness and a free-wheeling attitude to both hot and horrible sexuality, but Adrian Garcia Bogliano’s bad-seed opus Here Comes The Devil doesn’t amount to much more than a stylish ode to 70’s giallo-esque excess.

Mashing up elements from staples such as The Hills Have Eyes, Don’t Look Now, Village of the Damned and Carrie without adding anything particularly fresh, Bogliano’s intention seems to be to make everything that is old new again. Via the washed-out palette and overactive zooming lens of DOP Ernesto Herrera and occasionally histrionic emoting from his lead thesps, the well-established and regarded auteur (most recently, a contributor to the cult hit, The ABCs of Death) harkens back to a grindhouse aesthetic that dwells seedily on nudity and cheap shocks.

Bogliano puts you in the mood for an entirely different type of exploitation pic with his pre-credit sequence. A particularly rigorous bout of lady-love that culminates in a speech about guilt and regret soon turns a different type of nasty when a rampaging serial killer knocks at the door and dismembers one of the girls. The other fights back, sending the killer running to the nearby hills.

Post-credits, a family outing turns sour when mum Sol (Laura Caro) and dad Felix (Francisco Barreiro) have to deal first with their daughter Sara’s (Michele Garcia) bloody on-set of womanhood and then the disappearance of her and her brother, Adolfo (Alan Martinez) in the hills where the killer died. Caro and Barreiro are afforded a complexity that is not otherwise apparent in Bogliano’s script; their opening scenes veer from casual familiarity to dirty-minded heavy-petting to bitter mutual hatred.

Despite the hills being familiar to the locals as a place of supernatural goings-on, all are happy when the kids are found safely. Bogliano then splits his narrative between a horrible act of revenge that soon seems unfounded and a dawning awareness about what may be the possession and resurrection of the children’s souls. There is a thematic under-pinning concerning the impending adulthood of late teenagers and its terrifying impact upon the parents who are about to lose their babies to life, but Bogliano handles these elements with a less assured touch than he does the horror-film flourishes.

Slasher film tropes manifest in the form of David Arturo Cabezud’s intellectually  disabled loner Lucio and know-it-all gas station owner Enrique Saint-Martin, neither of whom develop past the usual shallowness found amongst support parts in US B-movies. Bogliano indulges in some psychedelic surrealism to impress upon us his trippy influences, but it amounts to a lot of effort for very little advancing of the story.

Strongest contributions are most evident from below-the-line talents like sound designer Lex Ortega, who crafts a complex audio-scape of screams, creaks and shrieks, and makeup artist Rosario Araque, who makes believable earth-bound ghouls when required.