Sinclair Obiora’s film “It’s Here!” is a well made little short that I quite enjoyed. It’s set after a massive alien attack where a lone mortician brings in the body of what I presume was one of the victims. “It’s Here!” is set after the fact where the big story has taken place, and what has happened after the event has unfolded. And therein lies its problem. It’s set after the fact.
It’s remarkable how Pixar continues to top themselves in the arena of family entertainment that’s artistic, pleasing, and so multifaceted. “Inside Out” is that rare family film that demonstrates originality by appealing to its audience and tries to understand the experience of being a child in the modern age, rather than condescend or berate. “Inside Out” is one of Pixar’s greatest films to date; its complex, it’s heartbreaking, it’s sweet, and damn it, it should go down in the annals of animated Disney masterpieces.
I imagine the logline for “Infected” was it’s the UK meets “Dawn of the Dead.” Sometimes “Infected” can reach for moments of greatness and almost achieve it, but it’s too concerned with ripping off “The Walking Dead” and Romero to hit that peak. “Infected” is really nothing you haven’t seen before, it’s a movie about the end of the world and zombies taking over the great metropolitan area of the UK. Director Andrew Gilbert follows a trio of characters, all dwindling in size as they struggle to find safety amidst the walking dead.
“I Frankenstein” is so hopelessly convoluted that rather than watching the action unfold and allowing the audience to go along for the ride, the writers do nothing but explain. Characters walk from one room to another to explain things, and then explain the explanation. “We’re the Order of the Gargoyles and here’s why. You’ll be called Adam, and here’s why. These are our weapons that can defeat demons, we’ll explain why. Our ranks are falling but demons are more powerful than ever, and we’ll explain why.” Considering the heroes do nothing but talk, it’s a wonder they’re losing the battle of good and evil. And how original that Frankenstein is re-named Adam? I wish Hollywood would put that creaky cliché to bed.
It’s too bad the writers didn’t have the balls to re-name the monster Frank. Or Victor. Hell, Shelley would have been gutsy. After the usual events of the Mary Shelley novel, Frankenstein is attacked in a graveyard when he attempts to bury the body of his creator. Managing to barely survive, he’s taken in by the Order of the Gargoyle, a group of knights hired by the Queen to fight demons. For whatever reason, they’re gargoyles that can masquerade as human beings, and can revert to their beastial form to fight evil. On the other side, there’s a group of demons intent on capturing Frankenstein because he holds the key to immortality. No wait, he holds the key to building another Frankenstein body, as the demons plans to build an army of clones that can be possessed by demons.
Frankenstein is an anti-hero for the sake of being an anti-hero, torn between two fractions of the war. You know he’s an angry monster because he dons heavy eyeliner for a majority of the film, and despite his brute strength battles with swords like a horror version of “Crouching Tiger.” You figure a movie with gargoyles and demons and Frankenstein would be amazing, but in reality it’s unbearable. It’s droning, tedious, and incredibly boring, and not a single character is engaging. They bring in strong performers like Bill Nighy, Yvonne Strahovski and Miranda Otto, all of whom do nothing but look half asleep most of the time, while they drone on and on with clunky exposition.
In the first half there’s a massive battle between the demons and Gargoyles, and granted it would all be so amazing, if I knew who any of these characters were. We learn nothing about the heroes or villains in the film. Director and co-writer Stuart Beattie stuffs the screen with so many sub-plots and supporting characters all of whom have zero depth to them. They’re just cannon fodder we’re told to root for. “I Frankenstein” is much like the “Underworld” and “Resident Evil” movies. It’s all flash, explosions, and absolutely zero substance. “I Frankenstein” is an absolutely terrible attempt to turn a Gothic literary character in to a superhero, and here’s hoping there’s no follow-up to the amazingly dull adventures of Frankenstein’s Monster.
Director Donald Farmer’s “Invasion of the Scream Queens” is an interesting memento of the horror world that should be preserved for posterity. Film lovers in general seem to have a very low opinion of the scream queen and how crucial they are to horror films, while they’re a mostly undocumented period of the horror and video era. “Invasion of the Scream Queen” centers on almost a dozen beautiful scream queens, all of whom sit down with director Donald Farmer to discuss their experience in the business of horror filmmaking, and their thoughts on acting.
Director Patrick Meaney’s chronicle of the group of innovative artists that gave Marvel and DC the collective bird and took control of their own lives is a wonderful insight and word of warning at what happens when there are too many cooks in the kitchen. Surely, no one person is to blame for helping Image nearly drop out of the scope of pop culture and crash, but when you team a group of artists together who could walk the walk and talk the talk, there is bound to be conflict and inevitable resentment. I consider myself lucky enough to have grown up during the Image Revolution, where most of my money was spent on DC and Marvel, and immediately went over to Image. I bought titles like “Prophet,” “Youngblood,” and “WildCATS” religiously, while cutting my teeth in Jim Lee and Rob Liefeld’s art for many years.
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?