Judging from “The Girl I Want,” all of life’s problems can be solved by watching Linnea Quigley and Karen Russell dancing and bouncing up and down on a bed for ten minutes set to rock music. I know that’s not the point of “The Girl I Want,” but I was entranced by Quigley and Russell flexing, bouncing, jiggling, and dancing for the screen for no apparent reason. Not that there ever has to be.
Ethan Hawke plays Ellison Oswalt, a successful crime author whose last book was a hit and garnered him a lot of hatred from folks surrounding the murders. Desperate for another hit book, Ellison moves his family in to the house where a vicious murder was committed in hopes of finding out why the family was murdered, and where their daughter Stephanie disappeared to. The explanation that he moves them in to the house where the murders ensued should be a clue that Ellison isn’t very smart. Hawke is a very good performer capable of conveying desperation and torment, but he’s given the task of turning Ellison in to an empathetic protagonist. Which is tough considering the more we know about Ellison the less likable he is, and when the screws finally turn on him, we’re not too saddened by it.
Llewyn Davis has just come to a startling realization. The only reason why anyone even knew him was because he was apart of a two man folk group. His partner, who committed suicide, is much more of a well known musical figure than Llewyn ever was, and now Llewyn is facing a life where the art form her cherishes the most will only be able to offer him fame or heart ache. What happens when a second tier musical performer has to carve out his own identity without a partner? Can you achieve fame and wealth without selling out your principles in the end? Does selling out destroy your value as a serious artist?
The word “brony” has become so loaded over time that it’s hard to use without bringing up unfortunate connotations. I’d like to leave aside the more… colorful aspects of the group and stick with the loosest definition possible: a brony is an adolescent or adult male who watches and enjoys the cartoon My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. (To answer your inevitable question: Yes, I have watched the show. I do think it is very clever and has a lot of crossover appeal. The quality declines after the first season, but if you can get past your “ew, cooties!” mindset, you might find something you enjoy.) The show is so popular with males that a female fan is almost unusual and strange. When someone brings up MLP, as a citizen of the internet, you just kind of assume it’s a guy. Just as, if someone is fanatical over Loki, it’s reasonable to think they’re probably a girl. It’s an intriguing phenomenon: whereas a girl liking superheroes is unconsciously viewed as “trading up,” a boy liking something meant for girls is automatically viewed as shameful.
Greg Grunberg is usually the go to guy to play your empathetic average Joe turned hero, and director Mike Mendez’s horror comedy, Grunberg is at his best. Playing under appreciated exterminator Alex Mathis, he’s prone to taking his job very seriously and provided with little to no rewards for his hard work. After a spider bite lands him in the hospital, little does he or anyone know that a vicious venomous spider has hijacked a corpse and has now broken loose.
It’s gratifying that “Raze” blew me out of seat from the first blood drenched bone crunching five minutes. Because once it starts with a bashed in blood soaked face, it never stops being an electrifying series of vicious fight scenes. “Raze” embraces its grindhouse exploitation tropes so unabashedly, I can imagine if this were made in 1975, it’d star folks like Pam Grier, Uschi Digard, and Lina Romay, with Joe Estevez playing Doug Jones’ part. That said, “Raze” is a mind blowing action thriller all on its own, that is so simple yet so damn entertaining.
The main flaw to “The Fright File” is that author Dustin Putman only offers three films out of 150 made before the seventies. A portion of the list are films made in the seventies, while most of the films are from the aughts and are as recent as 2013. While I don’t mind being given suggestions for films as recent as 2013, I wouldn’t have minded stumbling on to a hidden gem or two. For folks looking for a primer on films that are essential to horror fans, “The Fright File” surely isn’t a bad book. But for horror fans looking to discover something new and completely out of left field, this isn’t really the book to turn to. That is unless you’re a fan of Dustin Putman’s writing, and want to see his thoughts on various horror films.