Quarantine

I'll admit that I wasn't too motivated to check out Quarantine. It looked like such a dead-on recreation of its source material - the acclaimed Spanish shocker [REC] (2007) - that I wondered whether I really needed to bother. I wasn't looking to avoid it out of any film geek elitism, though - I would have been just as reluctant to watch the exhausting original a second time (even for a chance to see it on the big screen). It's just not a movie I felt the need to see twice.

But I did think [REC] was an ideal candidate for a US remake and that a nearly shot-for-shot approach was definitely the way to go. It may make Quarantine redundant for those who have seen the original but that's not who this is aimed at. Even though it's true that audiences should be able to suck it up and read subtitles, that's just not the world (or specifically, the country) that we live in. You can call people unwilling to read subtitles idiots if you like and you can call studio heads assholes for not forcing more Americans to be exposed to foreign fare but I just can't find it in my heart to berate people for looking to enjoy a movie about a rabies outbreak without the distraction of subtitles. To me it's nothing to get on a high horse about.

So while I wasn't against Quarantine, I was still reluctant to see it. But there's so little out there horror-wise this October and with the running time on Quarantine being an attractively slim 89 minutes, I gave it a shot. And I'm glad to say that - even with being familiar with where the story was going - Quarantine really worked for me. Brothers John and Drew Dowdle (the duo responsible for the much-talked about but still unreleased Poughkeepsie Tapes) recreated the intensity of [REC] with much more fidelity than I would've thought possible. Maybe I'm just a sucker for the same scares I already saw but I flinched my way through the greater share of Quarantine.

I don't remember enough exact details about [REC] to say whether some of the issues I had with Quarantine were directly inherited from the original or if they're the doing of the Dowdle's but there were moments in Quarantine that only served to remind viewers that - Shaky-cam realism notwithstanding - this is all Just A Movie. Like when characters turn on a TV for all of five seconds but get the exact information on the local news that they need to hear (whereas in real-life, you'd find yourself watching an interminably long commercial break), or when a character will turn rabid at just the most dramatically opportune time, or that there's one character in this besieged building who conveniently has the medical experience to explain that we're dealing with a form of rabies - that kind of stuff. As I said, I don't remember whether these were all elements in [REC] as well but regardless, they don't affect Quarantine's bottom line. And that bottom line being that Quarantine is one scary movie.

As the character who's on screen in almost every single frame of Quarantine, Jennifer Carpenter does an outstanding job as news reporter Angela Vidal. This is the kind of performance that - if it wasn't in a genre film - would get all kinds of acclaim. Carpenter holds our attention throughout and manages to be likable even when there's ample opportunity for the audience to sour on her character. After all, we have to go along with Angela's insistence that her cameraman keep rolling at all times, we have to not see her as a whiner - even when circumstances demand that she break down, and we have to believe that she isn't making the situation worse by chasing a story. But Carpenter's performance is able to pull all that off - her character responds to her dilemma as well as anyone reasonably could. Others may disagree but there's a segment of movie-goers out there who hate any character who isn't the strong silent type. They can't conceive that they themselves would ever be over their head in any given situation and can't tolerate the idea - even in a work of fiction - that a character worth caring about wouldn't know exactly how to solve any crisis. In their minds, there's no such thing as the no-win scenario - only people too stupid to save themselves. And similarly, if there isn't a satisfying outcome to a film clearly it's because the writers were too lazy to do their job.

So on that count, some people will reject this movie. But I'm glad that the nihilism of [REC] wasn't buffered for US audiences. I'm also glad that we were spared a subplot where a miracle antidote to the virus is somewhere, just waiting to be found. Quarantine won't be for everyone but it's the best hybrid to date of the guerrilla tactics of Cannibal Holocaust and Blair Witch and the gloss of mainstream US horror.

Norman, Is That You?

I don't remember my reaction to this spot but I imagine that at the time this commercial originally ran (somewhere in the late '80s, early '90s) I would've considered it heresy to use the iconography of Psycho to hawk Bud Lite. At the very least I would've rolled my eyes at the crass abuse of a classic film in the name of commerce. But I was, of course, younger then and much more prone to taking things seriously.

Now to watch this makes me nostalgic for a time when an ad spoofing Psycho was guaranteed instant recognition - from baby boomers who were traumatized by the original and from their kids who saw the Psycho saga continue in the '80s with Psycho II (1983) and III (1986). Norman Bates was widely recognized as the godfather of Jason, Michael Myers, and Freddy so even though he was old, he was cool - the single vintage horror character at the time who wasn't simply another generation's idea of what was scary. Psycho was a film that parents who didn't understand the new wave of graphic FX could hold up as an example of how it was possible to scare people without gore (even though people conveniently forgot the virulent reaction that Psycho's violence received) but thanks to the sequels, the series was in step with the '80s (I can attest that my ninth grade classmates unanimously felt Psycho II was a huge improvement over the original!).

It's been a long twenty-two years now since Psycho III debuted in theaters (the exact amount of time between the original and Norman's return in Psycho II - as that sequel's tagline noted "It's 22 years later, and Norman Bates is finally coming home"), eighteen years since Anthony Perkins' final appearance as Norman in the made-for-cable prequel Psycho IV: The Beginning, sixteen years since Perkins passed away, and ten years since Gus Van Sant tore the stuffing out of mother in his Psycho remake. Today the world is more psycho than ever (Perkins' widow and the mother of his two children, perished in one of the ill-fated flights on September 11th) but it's not a Psycho world any more.

Why Isn't This Coming Out For Halloween?

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Man, I really wish I didn't have to wait until January to see writer/director David Goyer's possession tale The Unborn. This is a PG-13 movie but judging by the above trailer, it looks like it's got the right stuff. And by the 'right stuff', I mean an old man in a hospital johnny doing an Exorcist-style crab walk. You can have Quarantine, Saw V, and Molly Hartley - take 'em all. None of them says 'Halloween' to me like Gary Oldman screaming at a dog sporting a creepy mask.

Joy Ride 2: Dead Ahead

John Dahl's 2001 original Joy Ride was a modest hit that fared well across the board with audiences, critics, and genre fans. So how does the DTV sequel (rolling into stores today) measure up? My full review is up over at Shock Till You Drop but the short version is that it's pretty lousy. That's probably not breaking news to anyone but I have to say, watching this movie made me wonder why so many horror filmmakers in recent years believe that making characters who come across as intensely unlikeable is a productive strategy.

It used to be that you could count on most protagonists in horror films to be appealing - even those side characters who you knew wouldn't make it to the end. It just seemed to be the way to go - if a filmmaker wanted their audience to fear for their characters they should be sure to make them relatable and sympathetic. Even when the occasional jerk was included, they were never that abrasive.

But there's a character in Joy Ride 2 that's a belligerent ass well past the point where most human beings would've started to show a different side to themselves. If a filmmaker wants to introduce a character by having them come off as arrogant or sarcastic only to reveal those qualities as being a front, that's fine - but don't wait until the 11th hour to turn that card over. By then, your audience will have long stopped caring.

Maybe these types of characters are just a sign of our culture. Selfish, attention-seeking behavior is popular today in a way it wasn't years before (after all, you don't see many reality shows about considerate, well-adjusted people) so maybe that's why we see it appearing more in films. But to me, it's nothing but detrimental to making scary movies. When I watch a horror movie, I want to feel worried that its characters won't find a way to survive - not be angry if they do.

The Ray Bradbury Theater: "The Town Where No One Got Off"

One of my favorite episodes of the slight but entertaining '80s anthology program The Ray Bradbury Theater was titled "The Town Where No One Got Off" (based on a short story that first appeared in Ellery Queen Magazine in October 1958). Originally aired in 1986, "The Town Where No One Got Off" told the tale of Cogswell, a dream-filled, would-be writer (Jeff Goldblum) traveling alone by train who rises to the challenge of a cynical fellow passenger (Cec Linder) by deciding to forgo his plans and depart the train at a random small town.

Having argued with this passenger that the simple life offered by these anonymous small towns is preferable to the high-stress environment of the big cities, Cogswell sets out to explore an unknown town just for the sake of discovery. In typical small town fashion, though, Cogswell's presence is received by a lot of suspicious glares. But as he walks through the town, being rejected at every turn whenever he tries to make contact with these 'friendly' small town folk, Cogswell becomes aware that someone is following him. An old man (Ed McNamara) who had been seated at the station platform when Cogswell exited the train has been trailing him on his journey through the town ever since.

When Cogswell eventually stops to confront him, the old man says that he's been waiting his whole life for Cogswell to arrive - or for someone like him. As they continue to walk, eventually ending up in a deserted old barn, the old man reveals to Cogswell that he's been waiting years for a complete stranger to set foot in town - someone with no reason to have gotten off there. He's been waiting for such a person because he intends to commit murder, to unleash his life's frustrations on a victim who he would never be suspected of killing.

The old man's hand is in his pocket at this point, assumedly holding a knife. Cogswell then quickly moves his hand into his own pocket and declares that his plan was to come to a town where no one knew him and take the life of a complete stranger. The old man and Cosgwell are left in a stalemate and the final scene sees Cogswell boarding the train to leave town with the old man returning to his post on a bench at the station - waiting for another unknown stretch of time for the next opportunity to act on his desire.

Despite the potentially dark subject, this is not a grim tale. We know that Cogswell isn't a killer and we also know that the old man isn't much of a threat. He may well harbor murder in his heart but his ability to put that into action is easily thwarted. When we see him last on the station platform, it's not entirely clear whether his encounter with Cogswell may have dealt a lasting blow to his murderous dreams. Perhaps now he'll just be an old man watching the trains pass by, wishing he had taken a life when he had the chance.

"The Town Where No One Got Off" isn't an outstanding example of TV terror but it does bring together several of my favorite things - trains, sinister small towns, Jeff Goldblum, and the fall (much of the episode is taken up by dialogue-free shots of Goldblum walking alone through this town at the peak of the fall season, accompanied only by a unmistakably '80s synth score). I also like how the story doesn't come down to a physical struggle at the end. Cogswell doesn't have to wrestle the old man for a knife, he doesn't have to kill the old man in self defense, and he doesn't even make the move to report this man to the police. He just gets back on the train, leaving this man who he knows is a potential killer free to resume his search for a victim.

Perhaps his brusque treatment by the townsfolk leaves Cosgwell unmotivated to alert them to the monster in their midst. Or maybe as a writer, he knows that you can't persecute someone for their thoughts - twenty years spent thinking about murdering a stranger hasn't made this old man an actual killer. Either way, as the train carries Cogswell out of town, it's not the breathless escape of someone fleeing for their life. Instead, it's the departure of a curious soul who has been given an insight into a stranger's darkest fantasies and refused to judge them. Because no matter where you live, that would be rude.

October Is Barlow Country

Tobe Hooper's adaptation of Stephen King's Salem's Lot originally aired in late November of '79 but for me, as soon as October arrives and the leaves start to crunch beneath my feet, I feel the itch to revisit this favorite. It isn't as easy as it used to be for me to clear the time to watch this in one sitting but I feel like it wouldn't be fall if I didn't. There might be a lot of mundane soap opera elements to be found in this mini-series but even if there had just been five minutes of Barlow in the entire four hours that Hooper took to tell this tale, it still would've been a high-ranking horror classic for me.

As anyone who's read the novel knows, in describing Barlow in the book, King never wrote anything along the lines of "looking at this dude made people want to eat their own faces off in fear". But to his credit, Hooper had other ideas. While there's an obvious debt to Max Schreck's appearance in Nosferatu, Nosferatu always struck me as a sad, frail figure. He may have been an immortal vampire but he seemed like someone you could goof on to their face and get away with it - if you were the type of person who would do that sort of thing, that is.

That's not the case with our friend Barlow, however. Studies prove it's hard to goof on someone after you've swallowed your own tongue.

Boo!

To celebrate the first day of October (woo hoo!) - and the hundredth post here at Dinner with Max Jenke - here's a seasonally appropriate teaser trailer for you.

Enjoy it - and remember...there's just 30 more days till Halloween!