The 'Soul' of a Misguided Slasher Flick

by Brett Parker

It is Wes Craven who will be remembered in cinematic history as a main maestro of the slasher flick. While most films of this genre can be callow, nihilistic, and uninspired, Craven has demonstrated more thought, creativity, and shock with his endeavors. He first made his mark with the gritty viciousness of The Last House on the Left, shocking audiences into realizing what a horror film could potentially evolve into. His made a name for himself with A Nightmare on Elm Street, creating a juicy fantasy premise to milk all kinds of grotesque horrors never seen before in this subgenre. And Craven wasn’t above putting his own genre through the self-reflexive ringer, brilliantly dissecting its parts in the Scream series and playfully poking fun at it with Cursed.

My Soul to Take is Craven’s first feature-length horror endeavor since 2005’s Red Eye, and on the surface, it appears to hold more thought and creative juice than the mindless slasher flicks haunting the multiplex these days. Yet to endure the film on viewing curiously proves to be a daunting and empty experience. This juicy idea of a blood fest is hopelessly skewered by an over-complicated central plot and seriously misguided performances. It wanders around in a lack of humor, irony, or relevance and it lacks the fun jolts of excitement and terror Craven certainly knows how to dish out.

In the sleepy American town of Riverton, seven teenagers are bound by the fact that they all share the same birthday: there’s the psychologically troubled Bug (Max Thierriot), the quirky Alex (John Magaro), the blind Jerome (Denzel Whitaker), the religious Penelope (Zena Grey), the cruel jock Brandon (Nick Lashaway), the class crush Brittany (Paulina Olszynski), and the…well…average teen Jay (Jeremy Chu). The dreadful fact about the day of their birth was that it was also the day that the Riverton Ripper, a serial killer who preyed on the town, had died. Before his death, the Ripper vowed to one day come back, in some kind of form, and murder each of the seven children born that very night.

The day after their 16^th birthdays, Jay is found brutally murdered under a bridge and it is believed that the legend is, in fact, coming true. Pretty soon, each fateful teens becomes picked off one-by-one, meeting their ends by grisly, blood-soaked deaths. The surviving teens begin to ponder the tangibility of the Ripper himself: did the Ripper truly live on after the supposed night of his death, or does his soul inhabit the body of one of the kids from beyond the grave? A way to unlock this mystery may lie in the mind of Bug, who appears to suffer from schizophrenia and sees disturbing hallucinations related to the ripper. Can Bug find out who the Ripper truly is, or could he perhaps be inhabited by the Ripper’s soul himself?

From everything I just described, it would seem as if My Soul to Take has a distinctive concept that isn’t as mundane as most disposable slasher flicks. Indeed, I noticed that the film spends a lot more time focused on character dialogue than it does on blood-splattering. The problem, however, is that the film spends way too much time discussing its overly-complicated backstory instead of letting the apparent horror of the situation soak in. The film’s plot has more details and set-ups than a Russian novel and we never get a full handle on the Ripper’s legend. Most details come across pretty vague or spelled-out in a casually confusing manner. Craven’s Nightmare on Elm Street may have had an elaborate backstory as well, but the concept of Freddy Krueger was rooted in a simple-enough concept of primal fear to connect with audiences. Freddy Krueger was a simple monster explained in an expertly complicated manner while the Riverton Ripper is a complicated monster explained in too simple of terms.

The cast offers up the usual archetypes of the high school slasher hierarchy, but they suffer mostly from miscasting or clunky characterizations. Lashaway is too much of a stick-thin creep to be an intimidating bully while Olszynski is too baby-faced and innocent to be a carnal sexpot. Grey looks her part and tries to flow with conviction, but her character is inflated to too many caricature extremes. Same goes for Emily Meade as Fang (Yeah…seriously! You tell me!), Bug’s bad-girl little sister. To say her angry beating of her older brother is overwrought would be a tremendous understatement. As for Bug himself, Thierriot seems like a fresh-faced and sincere-enough actor, but he lacks the eccentric angles that could make his looney character really come to life. Perhaps a more brooding and dangerous actor was needed to breathe authenticity into an inauthentic character.

While most slasher flicks of today are handed over to cheap and inexperienced directors, the good news here is that Craven has developed a tact and skill through his experience that at least shows in the film’s look and feel. The film’s look, from Director of Photography Petra Korner (The Wackness, The Informers) demonstrates a texture and sense of atmosphere most slasher flicks don’t even bother with. And while most of the film’s plot is hokey nonsense, Craven at least tries to make it vibrate with a sense of dread and urgency. Too bad the acting and writing isn’t there to back him up. Perhaps if Craven had more experienced actors and a more biting, whip-smart script (two things he had with Scream), we could see ourselves caring about his latest outing.

Wes Craven has delivered many pivotal things to this genre and I believe he still has it in him to make a few more gems (Scream 4 is on the horizon…that promises to be interesting), but My Soul to Take proves to be an instantly forgettable entry into his filmography. I love the Halloween season and I always relish a good horror movie during this time, but the real terror is the fact that I can’t get my money or time back from this dud.

The 'Boy' Who Would Be John Lennon

by Brett Parker

In the 1950s, a young Liverpool teen named John asks his mother, “why couldn’t God have made me Elvis?” Her answer: “he was saving you for John Lennon!” And what a wonderful thing being John Lennon would turn out to be! He gets to be the lead singer of the most commercially successful and critically acclaimed rock band in musical history. He gets to be one of the most seminal songwriters of all time, forever revolutionizing pop and rock. He gets to be a champion to free spirits everywhere, who celebrate his eternal message of “love is all you need.” He gets to be a rock legend, an icon, a force of nature.

But there was a time when John Lennon was not fully aware of the important man he would one day become. There was a time when he was just a defenseless and confused teenager like so many are. There was a time when he was lost in the world, plagued by self-doubt and in search of his own identity. Nowhere Boy is a fascinating new film that examines these early years in Lennon’s life, revealing the personal turmoil and turbulent family life that embedded in him the personality traits that would make him a legend. It isn’t so much interested in his literal path to eventual fame but his emotional path to creative genius, rooted in both contagious joy and unsettling torment.

We first meet Lennon (Aaron Johnson) as a playful yet guarded teenager growing up in the Liverpool home of his Aunt Mimi (Kristin Scott Thomas) and Uncle George (David Threlfall). When he isn’t skipping school and pulling hijinks with his friend, Pete (Josh Bolt), John enjoys fun activities with his Uncle George, who is a wily joker compared with the no-nonsense Mimi. One night, tragedy strikes and George drops dead of a heart attack. At the funeral, John spots a noticeable woman at the funeral. This woman may or may not be his birth mother. After some inter-family investigating, John not only discovers that the woman is, in fact, his mother, but lives only a few blocks away in the same neighborhood.

John is completely floored by this revelation, but decides to finally seek her out anyways. Soon enough, he’s at the doorstep of Julia (Anne-Marie Duff), the childlike sister of Mimi who gave up her son for ambiguous reasons. Despite the ocean of unresolved tension between them, John and Julia lovingly embrace each other and soon enough spend every afternoon together living it up. The bouncy and free-spirited Julia even introduces John to the sexual and dangerous allure of rock and roll (once he lays eyes on Elvis Presley, he’s hooked). Although Mimi voices serious concerns over this maternal interaction, John has found a lively new outlet in life; there’s no turning back.

Caught in a whirlwind of confusing and liberating emotions, John decides the best way to channel his energy is by forming a rock and roll band. A great confidence is instilled in him after Julia gives him extensive musical lessons in piano and guitar. He rounds up a group of eager youths like himself and forms The Quarrymen, a rock band that mostly covers the tunes of Elvis, Buddy Holly, and other groups from the era. A crucial meeting occurs when he meets Paul (Thomas Sangster), another talented young guitarist. Despite their personality differences, they are united by their inner-wounds and songwriting talents. As The Quarrymen have a jolly good time taking off, family drama threatens to undo Lennon. Not only does Mimi and Julia’s maternal rivalry heat up, but shocking revelations about Julia’s abandonment of John resurface that forever leave a mark on his heart.

Even if you aren’t much of a fan of The Beatles, Nowhere Boy still works as a careful character drama depicting the effects a turbulent family life can have on the shaping of an adolescent and how those effects can fuel an artistic outlet with great relish. However, if you’re a Beatles maniac like I am, you’ll be completely enthralled by witnessing the young Lennon transforming from awkward teenager to vibrant artist. As he bounces between the conflicting throes of Mimi and Julia, we can see the famous Lennon persona beginning to take shape: he inhabits Julia’s zestful free-spirit and rock and roll energy while also absorbing Mimi’s brutal bluntness and headstrong logic. Director Sam Taylor-Wood wisely doesn’t pound us over the head with these significant changes in Lennon’s life but allows the tactful subtlety of the performances to implicate how one of the great personas in rock history was formed by the heat of primal emotions.

Of course there’s great delight in watching the Young John Lennon forming his legendary partnership with a Young Paul McCartney; the film hints exquisitely at the ying-yang tensions that helped spark the creativity of one of the greatest songwriting duos in history. Paul is the clean-cut sweetie to Lennon’s brash wild card, but they were linked by parental voids and the emotional catharsis of songwriting. The young actors playing them may not terribly resemble them closely, but they vibrate with the distinction of their souls and its great fun watching them foreshadow the greatness they will one day embody. If the film has one big misstep, it’s in the casting of Sam Bell as George Harrison, the other crucial member of The Quarrymen. Bell completely lacks the look, demeanor, and personality of Harrison that was so distinctive to true fans. Harrison just happens to be my favorite Beatle, and Mr. Bell, you are no George Harrison!

The film would indeed implode if it weren’t for the brilliant and revelatory performance from Aaron Johnson. Johnson may not resemble the Lennon we all remember, but it would be wrong for this film if he did. Johnson wisely imagines an early Lennon in the midst of discovering his gifts and its quite remarkable how his performance slowly picks up on each trait that made the man so fascinating and unforgettable. Armed with his long-faced sincerity, Johnson starts off wounded and internalized until he slowly develops the wit, exuberance, irreverence, resourcefulness, and insight that would launch Lennon towards legendary status. What’s most impressive is how Johnson burns with the creative waves that forever crashed within Lennon’s heart. There’s a wonderful scene towards the end where The Quarrymen are in a studio recording the song “In Spite of All the Danger.” As he sings the song, Lennon’s face and voice vibrate with such emotion and yearning that it elevates the tune. The inner-wounds it hints at is spellbinding.

I’m so fascinated by stories such as Nowhere Boy, stories within the “Boy-Who-Would-Be-King” Mode. We get to witness a young man on his journey towards greatness, only he doesn’t realize it yet. He will one day become an important man who will change the world, but in the meantime, he is plagued by the same inadequacies and confusion as everyday people, not realizing how important his actions and relationships will serve him in the future. Such was the story of the young John Lennon, who had to go through crippling heartbreak before liberating himself towards legendary creativity. The final scene shows Mimi asking about the new name of The Quarrymen. “Do you care?” asks Lennon. We don’t care. We already know what it is. We already know how big they will become. The fact that Lennon doesn’t quite know yet demonstrates the beauty of this film.

'It's Kind of a Funny' Movie

by Brett Parker

It’s tricky business to make a dramedy regarding mental patients at a mental hospital. If you make the patients too broad of goofy comic caricatures, then you risk dealing a great insult to those actually suffering mental disorders. If you make things too deadly serious, then you risk basking the audience in a gloomy downer. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest pretty much wrote the book on how this balancing act is done. Now comes It’s Kind of a Funny Story, a film that pulls off this balancing act so carefully that it doesn’t even try to go for the jugular. It tiptoes between depression and hilarity while attempting to dish out a strong cinematic dose of optimism. That we’re able to accept this dose without dismissing it cynically demonstrates the effect of the film.

As the film opens, we meet Craig (Keir Gilchrist), a young high schooler from New York City in the midst of great emotional anguish. He feels enormous pressure from his father (Jim Gafigan) to get into a great college or be branded a failure. He finds that he’s hopelessly in love with Nia (Zoe Kravitz), the girlfriend of his over-achieving best friend, Aaron (Thomas Mann). He is more or less consumed by the existential angst that puts its grip on most teenagers at some point in their young lives. Feeling extremely anxious, Craig contemplates suicide but suspects that’s not the answer. He decides to turn to a local Brooklyn hospital for help.

Craig is under the impression that the hospital will simply give him extra-strength meds and send him gingerly on his way, yet he is surprised to discover that he must stay in the hospital’s psych ward for a five-day period so he can be properly evaluated. It’s in this kooky ward in which Craig meets a chorus line of colorful eccentrics. His roommate hasn’t left his bed or room for months. A schizophrenic man howls endlessly throughout the building. A drugged-out rabbi begs endlessly to keep the noise down. Craig even finds a mentor of sorts in the form of Bobby (Zach Galifianakis), a shaggy depressive who seems slightly more level-headed than the other patients (not by much).

Bobby decides to show Craig the ropes of the mental ward, which include excitement-free Ping Pong games and dreams of an epic Pizza Party. While in the ward, the patients help Craig discover what a special individual he is. Activities revolved around arts, crafts, and music reveals that he has more hidden talents then he gives himself credit for. He also gains confidence through the affections of Noelle (Emma Roberts), another troubled teenager occupying the ward. They begin a fragile romance based on a kind of wounded sympathy. It’s though her sweetness, and the ward’s offbeat brand of encouragement, that Craig is able to take on his inner-demons.

Writer-Directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck (Half Nelson, Sugar) have etched out a name for themselves in the indie-world through raw character studies that showcase complex human types with unflinching honesty. Their work is celebrated for its avoidance of clichés and formulas as it allows the behavior of its subjects to reach their logical conclusions without resorting to melodrama. This time, adapting from a semi-autobiographical novel by Ned Vizzini, they appear to be reveling in formulaic territory to show off a hipster creativity their earlier films were immune to. We know from their earlier work that they are fully capable of making a vivid and authentic portrayal of an actual mental ward, yet they decide to play with some colorful exuberance here, just to show they can do it if they want to. While the scenes in the ward are fairly grounded, Boden and Fleck treat us to some zestful visuals packed with an appealing playfulness. We see an animated cityscape within Craig’s wild imagination as he draws out a map of his own city on paper and, in the film’s most fun sequence, we witness a dream sequence where the patients imagine themselves in a Glammed-Out performance of David Bowie & Queen’s “Under Pressure.” Of course, this material could still work in a down-to-earth, subtle manner, but these wild strokes help flesh out the hidden optimism waiting to burst out of the ward’s inherent dreariness.

Alongside the creative visual strokes, one of the best reasons to see the film is the revelatory performance by new-age goofball, Zach Galifianakis. The key to Galifianakis’ gifts thus far can only be described as a sublime subtlety. He’s one of the few performers who can generate a large response from doing next-to-nothing. To regard his oafish shell and laid-back demeanor point blank is surprisingly appealing. Here Galifianakis uses that gift to hint at the troubled depths of Bobby, a mysterious depressive too deep in his own turmoil to return to the wife and daughter that despair achingly over him. Bobby can be a level-headed voice of reason or a sealed bottle of rage, sometimes within the same moment. Indeed, he has a shocking display of hostility in the ward’s library in which he needs to be restrained by numerous staff members. Galifianakis’ employs his subtlety to convey all of Bobby’s complexities quite superbly. He tones down his goofy shenanigans to a certain degree but connects strongly with the tragic depths lurking just beneath Bobby’s surface. It’s an eye-opening performance, one that suggests Galifianakis could effortlessly handle meatier dramatic roles in the future.

It’s Kind of a Funny Story is essentially a teen angst picture set within the confines of a quirky mental ward. Through the vessel of Keir Gilchrist, who is like Jesse Eisenberg trapped within a young Keanu Reeves, we regard the everyday plights of the teenage emotional experience, which can seem like such devastating travesties as teenagers actually experience them. Craig goes through the usual motions of dealing with parental pressure, romantic yearning, and personal inadequacy before his journey makes him realize that he should learn to believe in himself and the joys of life. Boden and Fleck have both cited a John Hughes influence on this film and indeed employ Hughes’ device of dissecting the roots of a high schooler’s angst and ultimately suggesting that sunny optimism and being true to thy self is the best way to combat it. The film’s sly joke is that a mental ward is a cathartic place to take a break from being an American teenager, a joke that feels more true the more you think about it.

When all is said and done, It’s Kind of a Funny Story feels like more of a slight enterprise then it probably intends to be. Its insights are appreciated, but not highly original. The jokes are charming, if not uproariously hilarious. Plus I was kind of annoyed at the way the narrative condescends the formulaic ending while it embodies it. Yet I couldn’t help but admire the smile-inducing sunshine the filmmakers pulled from what could’ve been a troubling downer. A lot of sunniness packaged in the movies nowadays can come across as transparent and manipulative, so it’s nice to see a movie earn it through effective character development and simple emotional honesty. Like Zach Galifianakis himself, you can’t help but be charmed by the silliness. 　

A 'Social' Revelation

by Brett Parker

It’s been generally acknowledged that the Facebook era spawned a public escalation in social narcissism, self-importance, defamation, isolation, and pure nonsense. What makes The Social Network so fascinating is its argument that the very creation of Facebook was rooted in the same kinds of troubling traits. It all started with a brilliant college student messing around mischievously on his computer, but that soon spiraled into a trail of fierce ambition, questionable back-stabbing, and egotistical claims that all led to the modern Facebook network as we know it.

The film opens with a young Harvard student named Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) being rejected at a bar by a woman named Erica (Rooney Mara). She has grown so tired of Mark’s ramblings about wanting to be part of the Harvard elite that she thinks he is too egotistical to stomach any further. Mark is so oblivious to Erica’s feelings that he feels the reason he was truly rejected is because he’s an unimportant nerd. This causes him to drunkenly write mean-spirited things about her on his blog from his dorm-room computer. During that same night of blogging, Mark’s anger grows tilted towards all of the women at Harvard and he decides to create a website in which you can rate the hotness of various girls on campus. By hacking into the numerous websites of campus housing, Zuckerberg obtains photos of almost all the campus females and creates his sexist website. The site becomes such an on-campus sensation that it gets over 20,000 hits in two hours, crashing the campus servers.

Zuckerberg’s site not only gets him a slap on the wrist from the disciplinary board, but the attention of the Winklevoss Twins (both played by Armie Hammer, thanks to marvelous CGI tricks). The WASP-Y brothers enlist Zuckerberg to help them with an idea they have for a campus website: they want to create an online social network in which students of Harvard can each have their own individual profile pages containing personal information and photos, allowing the other students to check them out. Zuckerberg considers their ideas and grows one himself: why not make a website in which students everywhere can check out each other’s pages. This site would not only deal with college information, but individual likes, dislikes, and relationship statuses. Thanks to the bankroll of his best friend, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), Zuckerberg is able to fund and create the social website that would come to be known as Facebook.

Facebook rapidly becomes a giant hit across colleges everywhere and Zuckerberg can barely keep up with its increasing success. Seeking to expand and capitalize as greatly as he can, Zuckerberg and his cohorts end up in the clutches of Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), the inventor of Napster. Sean is an out-of-work schemer who quickly seduces Zuckerberg with his charisma and convinces him to move his enterprise to Silicon Valley in California. Eduardo sees Sean as nothing but a leach but Zuckerberg decides to make the move to Silicon Valley as Facebook just keeps growing larger and larger. But big trouble brews for Zuckerberg as major law suits flesh out all around him. Eduardo is eventually forced out of the company by Parker’s conniving strategies and sues for co-ownership of Facebook. Meanwhile, the Winklevoss Twins feel there idea was completely stolen by Zuckerberg and they sue to prove that they were the true inventors of Facebook.

A movie centered around computer programming and lawsuits may not sound like the most exciting picture, but a good filmmaker knows how to make any story feel exciting on the big screen, something David Fincher demonstrates wonderfully here. His masterful camera tricks, along with the rapid-fire heat of Aaron Sorkin’s script, allows the mundane speak of computer talk sparkle with excitement. Like the case theories within Zodiac, Fincher knows how to make speeches of elaborate technical details more compelling than they probably deserve to be. Here Fincher is helped by Cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth (who knows how to make low-level campus lights feel unsettling), Editors Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall (who allow us to match up the film’s events with the deposition testimonies superbly), and Score Composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross (who elevate a techno-score away from being a gimmick and towards real art) to make this story a dazzling centerpiece that far exceeds a piece of straight-forward investigative journalism.

There has been much speculation regarding the authenticity of The Social Network’s claims. Fincher says it’s a work of fiction while Sorkin claims it’s rather factual. Zuckerberg has disowned the film while the Winklevoss’ claim its an excellent portrayal of what actually happened. It doesn’t really matter how authentic the film’s claims are, for the real triumph is how Fincher captures the undeniable heat and dizziness that went into the website’s creation and the logical motivations that must’ve been lurking beneath. Fincher is a filmmaker who specializes in the bizarre obsessions of peculiar men and the claustrophobic societies that clash with them, allowing Zuckerberg’s story to fit perfectly into Fincher’s aesthetic mold. We sense how Zuckerberg’s creation spilled out grandly into society the way Tyler Durden’s fight clubs did. Zuckerberg’s fierce need to be recognized as a genius is eerily not to far off from John Doe’s delusions of grandeur from Seven. Plus its obvious that Zuckerberg is bottling up wounded emotions the way Benjamin Button’s condition forced him to. The Social Network could’ve been a happy-cheery movie about an optimistic idealist trying to bring young people together, but Fincher wisely realizes that more unsettling masculine ideals generate this story.

Of course the crackling dialogue wouldn’t pop as well without the sensational performances from the film’s young cast. Andrew Garfield is wonderful in showing us a kid who’s sincerity and niceness quickly made him a victim in this cutthroat world. A teary-eyed moment during a lawsuit deposition in which Eduardo reminds Zuckerberg that he was his only friend truly does strike you in the heart. A real livewire performance comes from Justin Timberlake as Parker, who lights up the film like a pinball machine every time he walks on screen. It’s a layered, inspired performance as Parker is both cool but paranoid, smooth yet reckless. Timberlake shines as this devilish operator, owning the screen and having a ball.

The jewel centerpiece of the film lies in Jesse Eisenberg’s performance as the enigmatic Zuckerberg himself. Eisenberg has etched out a place for himself on the silver screen playing ultra-shy nerds coasting their way through social situations. Here he jazzes up his nerd persona to channel one with supreme arrogance and strict determination. Eisenberg has played nervous and repressed for so long that watching him dish out cold cynicism and intellectual cockiness is truly liberating to watch. A tongue-lashing he dishes out towards the Winklevoss Twins and their lawyer is wickedly delicious. Eisenberg can often wear his soul on his sleeve, but here he keeps Zuckerberg curiously sealed-off, with subtle hints of a nerd’s anger and Asperger’s syndrome. It’s through this performance in which Zuckerberg transcends being a historical figure to become a great enigmatic loner of the silver screen. It holds grand promises of major awards to come.

The small yet crucial performance of Erica, may just be the key to the entire film. In the beginning, Zuckerberg creates to spite her, while in the end, he quietly seeks her approval. Perhaps Zuckerberg really did want to change the way people connect with each other, yet Erica’s presence suggests that the creation of Facebook may be rooted in one nerd’s wounded determination to feel accepted, appreciated, relevant, loved. There is no anger or drive that runs deeper than an outcast who feels scorned or unnoticed by the real world. That ends up being the most haunting revelation within The Social Network: the cut-off isolation of a lonely nerd spawned the cut-off isolation of the Internet Age.