The Devil And Max Jenke

With little enthusiasm, I attended a screening of The Rite today and I can report that it was...not quite as lousy as I had feared but still weak sauce. Can we just agree that of all the sub-genres in horror, demonic possession has produced the most sorry lot of also-rans? Most recently, The Last Exorcism (2010) had good performances but the movie around them had the misfortune of being shit. On that count, The Rite betters Last Exorcism but it's still banal and middle-of-the-road.

The Rite is a movie that wants to be above pandering to the cheap seats (we know this thanks to a derisive comment made by Anthony Hopkins' character - when an exorcism fails to meet an observer's expectations, he asks them with a chortle: "What did you expect? Spinning of the heads?") but it's not smart enough to be involving on a higher level, merely somber. Director Mikael Hafstrom did ok by the Stephen King adaptation 1408 (2007) but that movie had an energy to it (largely thanks to John Cusack's performance) that The Rite does not.

Colin O'Donoghue is the film's lead, playing the dour Michael Kovak - a young man who entered into the seminary merely as a way to fund his college education and who, after four years, is ready to bail before taking his priestly vows until Father Matthew (Toby Jones) persuades Michael (with the threat of making him pay off his sizable student loans if he ditches the church after enjoying an education on their dime) to travel to Rome to take a course that'll teach him how to be an exorcist. That eventually brings him in contact with Father Lucas (Hopkins).

The doubtful Michael observes Lucas in action performing exorcisms and Hafstrom makes the mistake of showing us sights during these sessions that no sane person could write off - as Michael does - as being wholly the product of mental illness. I suspect that either Hafstrom, the studio, or both, thought that audiences would be impatient if they didn't see enough FX and so on prior to the climax but yet it hurts the film dramatically to see Michael witness so much and yet still be stubbornly, obstinately unconvinced. Even Dana Scully would've slapped this guy.

Had Hafstrom staged these early incidents in such a way that even we in the audience could have reasonable doubts as to Lucas' prognosis of possession, then we'd be in Michael's corner more. As is, the character just comes off as dense.

The other big problem with The Rite - it's number one problem, really - is that there's only one movie to date that's staged a great exorcism and that's The Exorcist (1974). That movie did it all, it did it best, and anything after just seems like a weak pretender. Worse, like parody. William Peter Blatty was aware of this when he made Exorcist III (1990). That's why he fought the studio so determinedly to try and not include an exorcism. In fairness to the studio, though, I think they were right to believe that any audience going into Exorcist III would be royally pissed if the movie contained no exorcism.

At one point, before Blatty stepped into the director's chair, John Carpenter was in talks to helm Exorcist III and in the book John Carpenter: Prince of Darkness, he says he argued his own case for an exorcism with Blatty: "I kept suggesting a third-act exorcism and kept pushing the both of us to come up with some new, exciting and grotesque devil gags." Blatty resisted this but, of course, he eventually ended up directing the film himself and being forced to include an exorcism anyway - a challenge he rose to admirably, if begrudgingly. I love the film Blatty made but I also would've loved to have seen how Carpenter would've handled the material. His Prince of Darkness (1987) remains one of the very few (only?) post-Exorcist demonic possession movies to do something distinctly different in the sub-genre while still coming through on the visceral shocks that go with the territory.

Sorry, I'm getting away from The Rite here but, really, there isn't much to talk about. Another huge misstep Hafstrom makes is including the usual foul-mouthed demon talk. If there's any one influence from The Exorcist that needs to be permanently shelved, it's that. Regan's vulgar dialogue still works in The Exorcist but it's been laughable in any movie since then. I don't know what demons should be saying to get our attention these days but the lascivious come-ons, the dirty taunts, the obscenities - they all need to be retired. The Rite does a little better in having the possessed Father Lucas (a plot point revealed in the film's advertising so no spoiler warnings here) show some of Hopkins' Hannibal Lecter persona, digging into the psyches of those around him. But at the same time, it feels too much like Hopkins just reaching back to familiar shtick. Rutger Hauer plays Michael's dad in flashback scenes and I wish that he had been cast as Father Lucas instead.

During the climax, to win against the demon that's possessing Father Lucas, Michael must come to terms with whether he really believes in God and the Devil - a crisis of faith that comes off as a call back to Fright Night (1985). That movie cleverly introduced an intriguing wrinkle into vampire lore, saying that a crucifix only works on a vampire if the person wielding it has faith. The Rite tries the same thing with Michael needing to believe in the power of the cross again before it will do him any good. One expects Hopkins as the possessed Lucas to spit out the line "You've got to have faith for that to work on me!"

Similar words could be spoken to Hafstrom and his collaborators on The Rite. You've got to have faith in the movie you're making if you want viewers to invest in the story you're telling. If you don't believe that your movie really needs to exist, nobody else is going to believe it either.

The Wolfman (2010)

As a film, The Wolfman has a fair amount of problems but its title character isn't one of them. As re-imagined by the expert hand of FX genius Rick Baker, the new model Wolf Man puts the 'lycans' of the Underworld series to shame. As a kid, the Wolf Man was always my favorite of the Universal monsters and to see this new version - that shows so much love for make-up legend Jack Pierce's classic Wolf Man design - running loose on the big screen gave me pure joy.

It's been ages (since 1948's Abbott & Costello Meets Frankenstein?) since anyone thought the Lon Chaney Jr. Wolf Man was scary in the least - cool, always, but scary not so much. The Benicio Del Toro Wolfman, on the other hand, is an intimidating sight - scarier than any werewolf has been in years. That's a real accomplishment for Baker and director Joe Johnston as the 'classic' werewolf look that they're sticking close to has long become the stuff of kid's entertainment - as seen on the Monster Squad TV show of the '70s and the Teen Wolf movies of the '80s. If nothing else, this remake performs the valuable service of reminding audiences that the old-school Wolf Man can still be a monster to be reckoned with. This isn't the demonic were-dog of An American Werewolf in London or the Disney-inspired Big Bad Wolves of The Howling (a look co-opted by 2002's Dog Soldiers), this is the classic, back-to-basics Wolf Man - and it works. It's a shame that the movie around the new Wolf Man isn't better but horror fans are accustomed to wading through a mediocre (or worse) movie in order to savor a great monster.

The love story that's supposed to be the heart of this movie is on the thin side (whether that's due to lack of chemistry between Del Toro and actress Emily Blunt or it's because the films feels truncated of any footage that doesn't advance the action and horror elements is hard to tell) but the werewolf is, to borrow a word favored by Anthony Hopkins' Sir John Talbot, "glorious." The only scene with the Wolf Man that didn't work for me - from an FX standpoint - was the Wolf Man's race across the rooftops while being pursued by the police. It just looked too silly, with too much CG enabling the Wolf Man to run on all fours (this effect came off fine in other scenes where it was only glimpsed quickly but in this prolonged sequence it didn't work). But aside from that, the werewolf material is where the movie triumphs. Even the CG used in the transformation scenes is mostly impressive. Sure, practical FX would've been nice to see but the CG used here to change Lawrence Talbot from man to wolf is a far cry from the sub par CG seen in An American Werewolf in Paris (1997).

Given how troubled a production this was, it's a marvel that The Wolfman is any good at all. That it isn't as good (much less great) as it clearly had the potential to be is sorely disappointing. What the movie would've been like in the hands of its original director Mark Romanek will never be known but I think given the situation he stepped into, Joe Johnston did a heroic job of salvaging the project. He wasn't able to make this into a classic, unfortunately, but even filmmakers who are pure of heart can fall short of the mark. Hopefully the longer cut promised for the DVD release will alleviate some of the movie's pacing problems (the first act, especially, is way too hurried) and give its underdeveloped characters some meat.

I'm sure there'll be complaints that this movie caters too much to the ADD-afflicted crowd and while I agree that is a problem when it comes to the obvious sacrifice of character moments, I think the movie's cheap 'jump' scares and R-rated gore FX are just fine. I read so many critics (in the fan press and otherwise) who always disapprovingly harrumph about filmmakers who resort to cheap scares in horror movies but cheap scares are part of the fun of horror movies. There's cheap 'gotcha' scares in Psycho, The Exorcist and Jaws for crying out loud, so let's not automatically scold filmmakers for trying to make the audience jump out of their seat.

As for the gore, some might feel that a true Wolf Man movie shouldn't cater to the blood and guts crowd but as a fan myself, I've always wanted to see the Wolf Man put his claws and teeth to better use and man, this totally delivers on that front. This is a really violent movie, complete with decapitations and even gut-munching.

On the one hand, I would've liked for this to have been a movie I could share with my young son (we've watched the original Wolf Man together) but on the other hand this'll be perfect for when he's older. Hell, maybe we'll watch it now - it's all just pretend anyhow, right?

Looking back on The Wolfman, my first thought is that I really want to see it again. For all the aspects of the movie that didn't work, I can't stop thinking about the parts that I liked. The cinematography by Shelly Johnson is stunning - a reminder of how much the horror genre left behind when the gothic style went out of fashion - and at risk of heresy I'd also argue that Rick Baker tops his own work in An American Werewolf in London here.

The transformations here can't compare with AWIL (though it gives that film such a run for its money, others may disagree) but the final look of the Wolf Man here is so classic that I can't help but prefer it to the hell-hound of AWIL - a design that always looked a little goofy. Of all the classic monster revamps since Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992), this is easily the best. It's flawed, yes, but at its best it's like an Aurora model kit come to life - and I find that hard not to like.

Why Silence Is Still Golden

When my wife impulsively pulled out Silence of the Lambs to watch on DVD last night, I thought that would be a good excuse for me to do something else with my time. I love Silence of the Lambs but it's one of those movies I feel like I know like the back of my hand. But as Clarice Starling ran through her arduous training exercise, accompanied by Howard Shore's melancholy but melodic score, I took a seat on the couch to watch a few minutes - and ended up not leaving until the end credits rolled on Lecter on his way to have an old friend for dinner.

As I said a few weeks back when I listed Silence as my number two pick of the best horror films of the past twenty years, it's an easy movie to take for granted. It's been imitated, emulated and parodied to death. But while I didn't think I had forgotten what a great movie it was, it turns out that I actually had forgotten just a little. To watch Silence of the Lambs is to feel a sense of craft radiating from every aspect of the film. This is a film made by people who cared about the story they were telling, the characters they were portraying, and the history of the genre they were working in. How rare is that today? Does it even still happen? It must, but I'd be hardpressed to give a very recent example. Watching Silence last night made me despondent at the thought that we may never see another horror film like it where everything - script, direction, acting, production design - comes together so well.

What made me love Silence from the start, and which seeing it again brought back in a flood of memory, is the sense of sadness that director Jonathan Demme - abetted by the performances of his stellar cast, by Howard Shore's score, and by screenwriter Ted Tally, who adapted Thomas Harris' novel with near-flawless acuity - instilled this movie with. There is an intractable loneliness to Starling's character that no professional triumph, no act of heroism, can ever wipe away. I don't think any movie character today would be allowed to be seen as vulnerable and unhappy as Starling is here. While her determination drives her and she doesn't back down from a single confrontation or obstacle, her emotions are never too far from the surface. This is not some hard-hearted, ultra-capable super cop or some aloof forensics genius. She is rattled during her first encounter with Lecter (sobbing by herself afterwards in the parking lot of the sanitarium), she has to fight to choke back tears when examining the body of one of Buffalo Bill's mutilated victims ("glitter nail polish...that looks like town to me."), and the ghosts of her unrestored childhood losses are ever-present.

In the years since Silence, portraying strong female protagonists has somehow come to mean portraying women who have no discernible human weaknesses. Women are now hardcore superheroes who eat men for breakfast. You'd never see Angelina Jolie, for instance, playing Starling in the way that Jodie Foster did. She'd have to give it right back to Lecter from the get-go and she'd never in a million years be seen actually quaking with fear as Starling does when feeling her away through Buffalo Bill's pitch-black basement. Instead, like an action hero, she'd instantly turn the tables on Bill as soon as the lights went out (spraying the room with uzi gunfire!). And she'd also probably team up with Lecter at the end to give Dr. Chilton what's coming to him. Women heroes have become all about being tough, sardonic, and able to beat the shit out of the biggest men in the room. And while I'm all for seeing examples of strong women, I think it's more impressive to see a character who isn't utterly invincible overcome their insecurities.

There's a humanity to Starling, and to every character in Silence (even the monstrous Lecter), that gives the movie its strength. As soon as Starling sees the newspaper clippings and crime photos from Buffalo Bill's crimes on the wall of Crawford's office, with their glimpses of lives snuffed out and left lying on cold grounds, we feel the spirit of empathy that drives the movie. This isn't a movie that adores its own violence. Even in the movie's most Grand Guignol moment, when Lecter leaves a victim hung and splayed like a butterfly, it's not a moment to gawk at but to be appalled by. Silence isn't a film that celebrates nihilism with rivers of blood but instead knowingly shines a light on the seldom seen river of tears that flow through the horror genre. While Lecter finally flies free at the end, Starling remains grounded by her own tightly-held burden of sorrow. It's not more adventures that the future holds for her, but more monsters. It hardly seems fair - but that's why Silence is a classic.