Something tells me there’s a fan community out there who, turn the clock back almost twenty years, would have made a GeoCities page with the above title that’d showcase new images of Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles. Ah, the weird ol’ days…
Anyhoo, this time out, our favorite seer has dished out a sextet of super- and preternaturally-charged films, each bearing its own unique mark of the evanescent forces around us. And, no, no ghosts. I know, I was a bit surprised myself.
We begin our journey with The Covenant.
This little guy, I have to admit, was tainted from the start: I vaguely remember seeing trailers for it in college, but somehow they got conjoined in my memory with the initial trailers for Twilight (you know the ones, with Bella describing the creepiness of Edward’s pallor and cold skin, which somehow meant that he was a vampire, whereas she, who fit the same description, was beyond such suspicion…what a riot!), despite the two-year release gap between the films. You can’t really blame me, though, ’cause this thing’s visual aesthetic seemingly begged Twilight‘s cinematography and production design departments to follow in its footsteps: muted colors, which, combined with a heavy blue-leaning color-correction, evokes not the creepiness its creators likely had in mind, but rather a lifeless corpse that’s being dragged about by puppet strings.
Speaking of which, the plot here centers on a cabal of witches (I’m not even gonna try for a better term, ’cause “witch” works too well for me), a group of sorcery-wielding families in New England who have guarded their secret existence for centuries. Well, I mean, people know they exist, in that they’re old-money social elites who flaunt their status at all times, but no one knows they’re magical. All is well with the “teenaged” sorcerers until a representative from a long-lost fifth bewitched clan shows up and stirs up some shit. It then becomes a race against time to take this power-greedy sumbitch down before the secret is out and/or the others are killed.
Right away, this film wants nothing to do with me. Aside from the heinous design choices, our protagonists are all “troubled” pretty people, malaised rich kids with no real problems save accentuated angst. Moreover, these students (I honestly can’t tell if the film is going for late high school or early college) are all way too old for the characters they’re portraying, making the adolescent melodrama all the more ridiculous. Further exacerbating things are a shoddy script, comically overwrought editing, and acting that ranges from barely-invested to near-histrionics with a consistent degree of shaky-at-best ability. Sebastian Stan’s villainous Chase is the most egregious, a performance that almost demanded that I watch Captain America: The Winter Soldier and The Martian to prove that he can, indeed, act competently.
With nowhere to hitch any investment, I couldn’t get into this movie outside of constantly mocking it. It’s just not for me. But Penelope, on the other hand, gave me something to grasp onto.
This film follows the post-adolescent exploits of the titular maiden, an upper-crust gal who suffers from an odd curse: she has the face of a pig. Sort of. More on that in a sec. The curse is said to be reversed, though, should she find someone who is capable of loving her for her (not because she hangs with Leonardo, or that guy who played in Fargo, I think his name was Steve), so her parents (mostly her mother) have been setting up potential matches with eligible bachelors, all ending with the potential beaux dashing away in terror. Then along comes James McAvoy, the charming scoundrel, who may just be the answer. Too bad Penelope has escaped her home, yearning to experience actual life in the Big City. Can these two crazy kids make it work, reverse the curse (I’d try to enlist Curt Schilling and David Ortiz, but hey), and live happily ever after?
Alright, let’s address the elephant in the room: Penelope doesn’t really have a pig face. No Twilight Zone or Seinfeld shenanigoats to be had here. Instead, she simply has the basic nose of a pig, which, after getting used to the prosthetic, actually just looks like a flatter, more up-turned nose than usual. It actually looks pretty cute on her after a while. Think Lily’s eye patch in the first episode of How I Met Your Mother (bring back the patch, Alyson!). This is hardly a visual impediment, especially considering M’Lady Christina Ricci is behind the mildly off nose. I can’t for the life of me understand the potential suitors who tossed themselves through second-story windows to escape this “monster”, unless they are so far gone that the curse enhances the dysmorphia.
Though this does through pretty much the entire plot into question, considering it’s a non-issue, the script is breezy and positive enough to make up for the massive leap of disbelief. Ricci is great, as per uzh, and Jimmy Mac’s charm lives up to her challenge. Catherine O’Hara and Richard E. Grant are entertaining as Penelope’s parents, with the put-upon Grant and loud-mouthed O’Hara playing well off of each other, as well as off of Ricci. Peter Dinklage also adds a bit of fun, playing a reporter looking to break the story of the pig-faced girl after years of semi-ridicule and the loss of an eye (see, Alyson, Peter’s got the right idea!). Each of these characters’ arcs parallel that of Penelope herself, moving toward out-and-out acceptance after rifling through objectionable offputedness. Sure, it’s a touch saccharine at times, but Ricci and Jimmy Mac pull everything into sunshine, and I just can’t help but dig Ricci’s Mary Poppins-esque coat. It’s not the deepest romp out there, but it’s more than entertaining enough to overcome that particular speed bump.
From one borderline curse to another (or is it?), we move on to Sex and Death 101.
Nope, it’s not a popular psychology course at the nearby community college. Rather, it’s the slightly twisted tale of Simon Baker’s Roderick Blank, a man’s man who is set to be married. That is, until a supernatural “machine” (don’t overthink it) unceremoniously e-mails him a list of every woman he has ever bedded – and ever will bed. Thinking he’s happily done with fiancee Julie Bowen (take that, Tom Cavanagh, you bowling alley-owning lawyer, you!), finding out about over seventy more sexual contacts forces him to rethink his situation and set out on a journey of self-discovery of a sort. Meanwhile, a mysterious woman calling herself Death Nell (fantastic, yes!) is sorta/kinda removing some less-than-reputable men from the world of the conscious. Wonder if/when/how their paths will cross…?
For most of the film, I had something of a problem identifying with Baker’s character. Maybe it has something to do with my upbringing and personal experience, maybe it has something to do with my not looking like a dashing Simon Baker (let’s admit it: he’s a handsome chap), but regardless, I just couldn’t get down with the idea of so much meaningless sex being an end in and of itself. Sure, Baker eventually comes to a similar understanding, but by that point he seems more tired and scared than genuinely put off. (I will admit, though, that the whole bus episode does sound like something adolescent Me would have fantasized about, so I ain’t no saint, either.)
Aside from questionable/problematic sexual politics, writer/director Daniel Waters’s script isn’t quite as quick, punchy, or dark as Heathers, his seminal former work, but it is admittedly a lot better than some of his other offerings (namely Hudson Hawk, Batman Returns, and Vampire Academy). There are indeed moments of wit and a decent-enough amount of laughs to be had (thanks, Patton Oswalt), but the story itself seems to meander a bit at times, attempts an almost episodic approach to things only to drop it in the final act, and the finale, though enjoyable, left me wanting a bit. I did enjoy some of the easter egg-y names on the list like Selena Kyle (that’s Catwoman, for those not in the know) and references to other films like the Clockwork Orange-inspired Alexis de Large, Demolition Man‘s Lenina Huxley, and Vertigo‘s Carlotta Valdes, as well as Poe favorite Annabelle Lee and Catcher in the Rye sister Phoebe Caulfield. The acting’s pretty solid all around, and there’s a couple of camera choices that made my cineaste brain smile (the holiday montage at the bar, for example).
Overall, this was a nice little flick, nothing overtly special, but certainly a respectable source of entertainment. Now, if you’re looking for something a bit less, shall we say, conventional, then mayhap Ka-Boom would be more up your alley.
Honestly, I’m not even sure where to begin with this. I mean, there isn’t all that much in the way of plot, and it definitely doesn’t present itself too cleanly, anyway. IMDb tells us that it’s “A Sci-Fi story centered on the sexual awakening of a group of college students”. Sure, why not? It’s a good-enough explanation of the main character, Smith, anyway, as he starts off unsure of how to label his sexual identity and ends up … well, he’s not actually labeling himself by the end, but he seems more comfortable within himself. Take from that what you will. Meanwhile, his best friend, Stella (AKA my favorite character), is having issues with a clingy literal witch she’s trying to break up with (of course her name would be Lorelei, and of course the legend is brought up, but shamefully there’s no mention of the Styx song). Meanwhile meanwhile, Smith develops a sex-based relationship with Juno Temple (screw her character name, she’s basically just Juno Temple here), who has connections to an overarching background plot involving a massive cult that has doomsday ramifications. I’m not sure how a cult can have ramifications, per se, but that’s how I said it, and I’m standing by that turn of phrase.
So, yeah, the plot is all out there, magical reality in all. In fact, no one bats an eye when Lorelei is revealed as a witch, as though magical powers are just an everyday thing in this film’s universe. Writer/director Gregg Araki has been no stranger to oddball and unconventional narratives (see Doom Generation for proof), and here he has almost completely rid himself of traditional structure, opting for an almost Lynch-like dreamscape. Time flows as it wants to, dreams are constantly fallen into and slammed out of, and events play out to their own tunes, unburdened by sense and flow.
This wouldn’t necessarily be a major issue, but things don’t quite gel thanks to the cast. Nothing against their skills: Thomas Dekker can be found in the Laid to Rest series, played young Nick Szalinski in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids: The TV Show, and was even Littlefoot in a few of the Land Before Time sequels; Juno Temple is a usually awesome actress, as in Black Mass, Far from the Madding Crowd, and Atonement; and Haley Bennett can list The Girl on the Train, The Magnificent Seven, and The Equalizer on her resume. The problem lies in two distinct facets. First, nearly the entire primary cast is too old for the setting. Yeah, I know, we’ve been casting older people in younger roles for decades, but I just didn’t buy these twentysomethings as wayward and exploratory college students. I just couldn’t. Temple looks to have been to closest to proper age at 21, but even then she exudes enough confidence and experience that she comes off as being beyond her years (admittedly not necessarily a detriment for her role); everyone else just comes across as Luke Perry in 90210.
Secondly, and much more harmfully, there’s a palpable lack of emoting in nearly every role. Bennett endures some stressful events, but she barely reacts, instead opting for a deadpan everything and blank gaze. Dekker and Temple fare slightly better, but they, too, spend most of the film just going through the motions, hardly ever altering their vocal frequencies. Even the side cast is mostly cardboarding their way through the proceedings, despite the threat of basic armageddon looming on the immediate horizon, among other chaotic factors. This may have been intentional, what with the pronounced dream-like feel of the film, but it just precludes any true engagement in the action on the screen and shoots any attempt at investment straight in the face. It’s also occasionally hilarious, especially when, with no relation to what’s happening, some music starts playing, sounding like the Polyphonic Spree gearing up for an encore in the background that just fizzles out, nothing coming of it, the action just proceeding as though nothing had ever happened: a whimsical crescendo leading only to air.
This is still Araki restrained, but like Doom Generation, I just couldn’t find it in myself to really get into things. It’s mostly harmless, and its ideas regarding sexual liberation and fluidity are relatively fresh and positive, but the acting and lack of plot/point really hinder the experience for me. The former concern also figures into my opinion on Devil’s Diary.
This Lifetime movie chronicles the discovery of an ancient evil book, the titular Devil’s Diary, by a couple of teenagers who don’t get along with the popular clique. When one of them vents her frustrations about said clique in the book, her threats and wishes come true, causing grievous bodily harm to those popular bastards. But the book is restless, constantly seeking out increasingly “ambitious” jerks to help bring about some devilish shenanigans. Priests become involved, powers are expanded, shit goes down.
Like I said, the acting here is one of the main reasons I couldn’t get behind the film. It’s mostly on par for what you’d expect from Lifetime films, especially with the relatively young actors involved, but some of them are so simultaneously wooden and over-the-top that it’s hard to get invested in the story. This includes Brian Krause, our old friend Leo from Charmed, whose priest character oscillates between simpering, stodgy, and manic from moment to moment. I kinda get why he’s so constantly used as the Charmed Ones’ butt-monkey now…
But even if the acting were stronger, the script would have let us all down anyway. The mean girls are downright fucking diabolical at times (even before the shenanigans begin), there’s a poorly-handled sleazy stepdad subplot (par for the Lifetime course), the main character is so useless she can’t even follow direct instructions FOR NO REASON (paraphrased example dialogue: Krause: “Bring the book here.” Dominique: “I don’t know what to do! *whimper whimper*”), and mean girl Georgia, who’s known to be pretty, uses one of her Diary entries to make her hot and irresistible to men (nice priorities there, stereotypical vacuous high school girl!). All of the dialogue is unrealistic, and the underlying threat of the Diary alters as the plot moves along, especially vis-a-vis Dominique (who, I swear, was actually named “Dominic” according to many characters…second takes, what’re those!?).
I will say, though, that as far as Lifetime movies go, this one is at least watchable. Sure, the acting is subpar, the script is awful, and the sexual politics involved are horrendous, but everything’s given enough weight that I’m convinced the actors weren’t sleepwalking through the whole thing, and it actually seems like a cohesive story. Trust me, quite a few Lifetime movies barely amount to a slightly longer-than-usual episode of an already terrible show. In contrast, I could probably watch this one again (it just wouldn’t be my top choice). Not so with the final film, I’m afraid…
Bless the Child finds Kim Basinger encountering her wayward sister one night at her house. Her sister has delivered a child, and she’s hardly equipped to raise it, what with being a drug addict and all. So she abandons the child in Basinger’s care. The child grows up and shows signs of autism, requiring Basinger to seek some help in rearing her. Out of the blue one day, the sister returns, looking to claim the child. She’s cleaner now and accompanied by a new beau, Rufus Sewell, who runs a cult of sorts. As luck would have it, the child has some supernatural powers, and Sewell’s cult would like to harness them for their own diabolical ends. The hunt is on to retrieve the girl and defeat the cult before it’s too late.
Wow. So, yeah, I had a hard time watching this one. The editing is all over the place, the acting follows suit, and the script barely makes cohesive sense. Maybe my brain was too busy trying to liquefy itself and escape from my left ear to notice, but I was never able to really figure out what the kid’s powers were. I mean, she just seemed to be obnoxiously pure or something. I dunno. Basinger is ineffective whilst trying to track the girl down, and Jimmy Smits’s detective character can only help so much. (Oh, and despite being listed on the cover, M’Lady Christina Ricci is barely in this and only serves to provide some exposition before being dispatched. Shame, that.)
I did kinda like Sewell, who is so smug and cleanly sleazy that he’s easily the best part of the film, even if he did tend to overdo it while trying to convince the girl to come over to his side. He was even enough of a dick to keep the sister hooked on drugs behind the scenes in order to ensure her acquiescence in his machinations. But he’s not present enough, forcing us to focus on Basinger’s milquetoast and highly forgettable protagonist. Joy. Kim’s done so much better, leading me to think the ultimate weak point is elsewhere.
Well, the film was directed by Chuck Russell, who started strong with A Nightmare on Elm Street 3, the 1988 remake of The Blob, and The Mask, before kinda going downhill with Eraser, The Scorpion King, and the harshly bad John Travolta vehicle I Am Wrath. This film would land between Eraser and The Scorpion King, so it would fit within his downhill trend, but this is even more unhinged than the latter film. I think the writing trio is most culpable, what with prior credits that include Baby: Secret of the Lost Legend, The Seventh Sign, Space Camp, and Three Wishes, so perhaps the material at hand was too adult, too involved. I dunno.
For whatever reason, I just cannot get behind this film. What can you do, they can’t all be winners, right? And I have seen so, so much worse, so this isn’t anywhere near godawful.
As of this writing, a new double feature has been delivered from Miss Cleo’s shelves, a pair of thrillers for my watching pleasure. We shall converse soon, kids, believe you me. Insert ominously inspiring music here.
Allusions of Grandeur 