REVIEW: The VVitch

With September almost at a close, I've found myself on something of a horror kick as of late. I tend to prepare for Halloween the way most department stores prepare for Christmas (that is to say, months in advance), and what better way to get myself in the proper mood for the most wonderful time of the year than to take in a new horror film? I recall hearing good things about 2016's The VVitch, but it wasn't until Jay Bauman of RedLetterMedia described it as "a masterpiece" and named it his favorite movie of 2016 that it really showed up on my radar. It's been some time, but I finally found myself in that right proper mood for a slower, more mysterious horror film and boy does this one not disappoint.

As the subtitle implies, the story takes place in 17th century New England. A family is banished from their home on a Puritan plantation over a disputed interpretation of the New Testament and find themselves living in solitude on a small farm, just on the edge of a large and imposing forest. I really hesitate to say any more for spoilers sake, even though I've only covered the very first few minutes of the movie. This is truly one of those films where the less you know going in, the more you're going to take away from it. A strong sense of mystery and fear of the unknown are the bread and butter of the horror genre, and The VVitch is no different. Anything I mention beyond this point is going to delve into some mild spoilers, so if you haven't seen this movie and are wondering what I thought of it, I'll say this; The VVitch would make for an excellent triple-feature alongside The Exorcist and The Shining. It's got a surprisingly brisk pace for something so tense (even though things feel a little rushed near the end of the second act, but only for a moment or so) and there's seldom a dull moment. It's a modern day horror classic that will most definitely stick with you long after the credits roll and, assuming that endorsement is satisfactory, I'd like to go more in-depth as to just why I enjoyed this film so much.

If I wasn't clear enough yet, beware of Spoilers from this point onward.

The most immediately striking thing about this movie is the aesthetic choices at play. It's astounding to think that The VVitch is Robert Eggers' debut as a director, given his clear knack for the medium. The color grading, shot composition, and environments used work in tandem with the hair-raising soundtrack to result in a genuinely chilling experience. The tension somehow never completely fades for the entire 93-minutes; the use of long takes and wide shots left me on the edge of my seat, certain that something horrid lay just around the bend. And the majority of the time, nothing happened. But when something did happen?

Oh-ho.

Oh boy.

I've said in the past that the best horror films know how to manipulate audience expectations; like Pavlov with his dog, the horror filmmaker must train an audience to respond to certain stimuli, be they audio or visual cues (or some combination thereof). The VVitch understands this relationship between filmmaker and filmgoer, to the point where something as simple and innocuous as a shot of a rabbit can fill the viewer with a sense of legitimately disquieting unease. For anyone who's ever wondered how Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven is meant to be scary, watch The VVitch. The film is still fresh in my mind and all I can think about is how easy it would be for someone to scare me out of my wits by simply positioning a billy goat or bunny rabbit where I wouldn't otherwise expect to see one.

Like most good horror movies, there's more going on here beyond some sinister happenings in the woods. From beginning to end, the film shows how systemic distrust and repression can slowly destroy a once-solid family unit. The mother, Katherine (played by everybody's go-to crazy lady, Kate Dickie), lashes out at her children and husband once her baby disappears, flinging accusations and shifting the blame from one family member to another with frantic speed. In hindsight, it's hard to determine what causes the family more harm in the long-run; the actual coven of witches in the woods, or this seed of paranoia and fear that gradually grows and escalates until everyone is at each other's throats. The eldest daughter, Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), gets the worst of it, suffering the accusations of her younger siblings and even coming under scrutiny by her God-fearing but well-meaning father, William (Ralph Ineson). For the better part of this movie, she's treated as an outsider, shouldering the majority of her family's burdens despite her complete and total innocence. As a result, we see her pushed to the edge, eventually forced to kill her own mother in self-defense before embracing the darkness that did her family in. 

And as she makes her pact with the Devil himself and wanders naked into the woods, the true message of this film comes full circle. Repression is a ticking time bomb; once fear enters the equation, it's only a matter of time before outright hostility becomes the status quo. And after that, those made to feel oppressed and marginalized will become radicalized, striking back against those who once put them down, becoming oppressors in their own right. As Thomasin rises into the air and becomes part of the coven, we see the culmination of her siblings' taunting, her mother's accusations, and her father's distrust. All of these negative emotions, brought about through only the most pious and holy intentions, amounted to nothing more than yet another witch being born unto Satan's flock.

Like The Exorcist and The Shining before it, The VVitch is a movie where what you don't see is just as terrifying (if not moreso) than what you do see. And like The Exorcist in particular, this is one of the few horror films I've seen that actually makes The Devil into a legitimately horrifying concept. More often than not, the scariest antagonists are the ones you cannot bargain with; the Xenomorph, Jason Voorhees, and even the Terminator. Creatures who will not hesitate to gut you on-sight, regardless of what you might say or do in an attempt to sway them. But The VVitch finds a way to make Satan so much more terrifying than any of these, simply for the reason that you can reason with him. He's not some mindless beast out for blood, but something much more sinister and intelligent than that. You can just talk to him whenever you want. And that's exactly what he wants. The Devil lives in an unexplored part of each and every human soul, waiting for the right moment to make his influence known. The VVitch poses the idea that Satan exists in all of us, that every human has the potential within them for great evil. And that all it takes for that evil to come bubbling to the surface is the proper incentive.

REVIEW: It (2017)

As I've said before, modern horror seems to be in something of a rut. For the past decade (starting noticeably with the release and success of Paranormal Activity), it seems as though the majority of recent horror films tend to focus on delivering nothing more than predictable jump-scares to a PG-13 audience. The market is oversaturated with small-budget event films that offer very little in the way of plot or ingenuity, designed to appeal to middle-schoolers getting dropped off at the local cinema for their first big date-night. I can't exactly fault studios for exploiting this marketing model; the teenage spook-show has been a time-tested venture since the 1950's. Films like Annabelle Creation and Lights Out go on to gross upwards of twenty-times their modest budgets, so it's understandable why the market seems so flooded with these types of horror films; if it ain't broke, don't innovate, after all. 

That said, it's still disappointing that we've entered an age of film without any monsters. Sure, there's generic ghosts and demons, but there's no personality or character to it anymore. This is a generation without a Freddy Kreuger, a Jason Voorhees, or even a Chucky. Sure, occasionally you'll get a nice, low-concept horror film like Get Out, or even something like The Conjuring or Insidious (which manages to tell an interesting story despite being littered with popcorn-flinging jump scares), but for each of these films you have at least a dozen generic, toothless "upper-middle class family moves into suburban house, haunting ensues" projects designed to turn a $4 million budget into a $200 million profit. Which is why I was so excited for a new adaptation of Stephen King's iconic novel, It. As messy as the source material can be at times, the story is anything but generic or simplistic; it explores themes such as maturation and the loss of innocence, involves Lovecraftian cosmic entities from parallel dimensions, and is all tied together by the OG killer clown, Pennywise (once iconically portrayed by the immortal Tim Curry). Not to mention, this was promised to be a hard-R horror movie that stuck closer to the novel than the campy 90's made-for-TV miniseries. I went into the theater with high hopes and, while It most definitely has a host of flaws, I still found myself more or less satisfied with what I had seen.

The original novel tells the story of a gang of misfits who twice encounter a demonic entity known only as It; once as children, and again as adults, 27 years later. This particular adaptation exclusively follows the former part of the story (with the adult section to take place in the planned sequel). It is a notoriously dense book, so whereas dividing a novel into multiple films usually reads like a blatant cash-grab (I'm looking in your direction, The Hobbit), here it feels entirely justified and definitely works in the film's favor. The story takes place in the town of Derry, Maine in the year 1989 (updated from the novel's setting of 1958) as we follow a group of plucky youths known as The Losers Club; over the course of the summer, each child shares a terrifying encounter with the same supernatural being (usually taking the form of a dancing clown named Pennywise, played by Bill Skarsgård). Coming to the conclusion that the entity is responsible for the long history of annual tragedies in their sleepy hometown (most-recently a string of missing and murdered children), the Losers decide to take a stand and confront the darkness which lies at the heart of Derry, facing their deepest fears in the process.

While I don't think this film is by any means perfect or mind-blowing, there's definitely a lot it gets right, namely in terms of tone and character interactions. This is, oddly enough, a very feel-good horror movie; I hesitate to even call it a horror film at all, considering there's so little about it that is genuinely scary. The film moreso excels at establishing a very strong sense of atmosphere and tension which, unfortunately never leads to a payoff as strong as the buildup. There's a very foreboding, oppressive atmosphere that the film really gets down perfectly, yet things never feel overly depressing or outright unpleasant for the sake of unpleasantness or shock value. There is considerable darkness here, yes, but it's all overcome through the power of courage and friendship. We aren't left feeling like the film flipped us a sardonic middle finger as with Alien: Covenant; the Losers are all likeable, endearing characters and we all want to see them overcome the oppressive fear that permeates so much of their day-to-day lives.

It can also be quite tricky when the majority of your cast is composed of child actors, but the talent at play here completely makes this movie. The dialog doesn't shy away from prepubescent vulgarity and it all flows very naturally, thanks both in part to the talented writing staff (Chase Palmer, Cary Fukunaga, and Gary Dauberman) and the talented group of child actors the filmmakers had assembled to portray the Losers (Jaeden Lieberher, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Sophia Lillis, Chosen Jacobs, Jack Dylan Grazer, Wyatt Olef, and Stranger Things' Finn Wolfhard). They really come off like a group of friends hanging out during the summertime, even when forced to band together to destroy a trans-dimensional clown creature. Which brings me to, arguably, the star of the show; Bill Skarsgård as Pennywise, the dancing clown.

When you've got a role as iconic as Pennywise (especially when said character is famously portrayed by an actor as beloved as Tim Curry), it's obvious that arguments are going to spring up as to who's portrayal of the character is the definitive version. I'm going to put that entire debate to bed right now with an unsurprisingly anticlimactic answer; they're both good. First of all, we haven't seen the entirety of Skarsgård's take on the clown, considering this is only the first half of a greater whole. But even ignoring that and simply going off of what we've already got, it's hard to say who truly had the better take on the titular monster. Curry had a certain whimsy to his performance that isn't really present in the more modern take; Skarsgård's Pennywise is overtly threatening, whereas Curry's was silly on the surface with something sinister lurking underneath. Conversely, Curry's take was very much limited by the 1990's television budget they were working with; while Curry's Pennywise shows a greater range of emotion, Skarsgård's is far easier to take seriously as a legitimate threat. Where each interpretation of the character is weaker, the other is stronger; at the end of the day, they're two very different takes on the same character and any question of who is better than who simply boils down to personal taste. For my money, Skarsgård did an excellent job, especially in regards to the physicality and screen presence he brought to the role; while I can't in good faith say he'll eclipse Tim Curry anytime soon in the eyes of the public, his is most definitely a respectable and original interpretation.

I also have to compliment the cinematography; in conjunction with the tone, dialog, and performances, this film creates a number of memorable moments and images that are still seared into my head. There's a lot of detail in terms of set design and dynamic camera angles that really adds a lot to the film as a whole and I simply must praise everyone involved for not going full "80's nostalgia" with this. There's a few out-of-focus movie posters, a handfull of New Kids on the Block jokes, and a reference or two to Street Fighter; other than that, the film deftly avoids that modern pitfall of confusing references to 80's iconography with actual story development (ironically enough, I got a trailer for Ready Player One before the movie began). Overall, the film presents an organic and immersive atmosphere that really ropes the viewer in; it's easy to care about these characters and the mission they undertake, and the visuals are a big part of what make this movie as good as it is. Unfortunately, I can't say as much for the sound design. 

As I mentioned before, despite this being a reboot of the film that gave so many 90's kids a severe case of coulrophobia, this just isn't a very scary film. Tense, yes, but far from terrifying. The scares lack any and all subtlety (take a shot every time you hear that obnoxious "HEHSHENNKH!!!" sound during a jump-scare, double up if it's with that same shot of a befanged Pennywise lunching at the camera) and a little restraint (especially in the audio department) would have gone a long way in terms of complimenting the existing air of dread and suspense. It feels as if everything has to be big, loud, and bombastic, simply because this is a big-budget theatrical release; for example, the scene in which Beverly Marsh's bathroom sink erupts into a comical geyser of blood. While the buildup is solid (and the red-tinted lighting that follows is a nice artistic touch), all of the tension leading up to this moment is entirely done away with (and that's ignoring how this scene is one of the majority of scares which was spoiled through various promotional materials). And that's truly the biggest problem with this movie; the payoff never lives up to the buildup.

Don't misunderstand me; the rising action here is rock-solid. The buildup will have you on the edge of your seat, waiting for something terrifying to happen. However, once that terrifying thing actually does happen, it immediately stops being scary. The most chilling scene involves a character simply flipping through an old history book; there's no jump scare or obnoxious sound sting, just good old fashioned tension and atmosphere. When the film works, it truly works, but the majority of scares feel like a terrifyingly-long climb to the top of a rollercoaster, only for the car to drop about ten feet before slowly returning to the station. Horror demands a certain rhythm; just like comedy, timing is everything. It displays masterful skill when it comes to setup, but the punchline falls flat nearly every time. It's this sense of unbalance that causes the majority of the film's primary hiccups. 

It, as a villain, is tremendously interesting, yet it feels like we hardly get to see him; whenever we do, he's interrupting the vastly more engaging character interactions of the Loser's Club. There's a strong sense of mystery, which is good, but it's also easy to feel a little cheated when we're given so little of what is clearly an imaginative, charismatic, well-acted antagonist. Conversely, all of the Losers are well-acted and likeable, but several of them definitely get the short end of the stick when it comes to character development (Chosen Jacobs' Mike Hanlon disappears for a good twenty minutes during the first act and Wyatt Olef's Stan Uris gets hardly an ounce of the development his peers receive, which is troubling, considering the role his character is presumably going to play in Chapter 2). There's also a severe dip during the second act in terms of pacing; the first and final acts are by far the most engaging parts of the film. Once the film falls into a pattern of "Losers scene, Pennywise scene, Losers scene, Pennywise scene", the movie slows to a crawl despite each of these scenes being more or less enjoyable in their own right.

Don't get me wrong, I very much enjoyed this movie, but there's definitely a lot of room for improvement. It's clear that this is meant to be watched back-to-back with the eventual follow-up, but on its own it feels a little lacking in some regards. My hope is that the filmmakers can learn from the mistakes and missteps present in It, so that Part 2 can become the kind of sequel that retroactively improves its predecessor (such as the case with the first two Insidious films). All that said, I would definitely recommend It; it's definitely got its flaws, but there's certainly a lot to like (heck, there's a lot to love). If you're a fan of Stephen King or the original 1990 miniseries, or if you're like me and just long for the kind of chilling monster movies we'd see before found footage was deemed the most cost-effective option, definitely give It a watch. It's got loads of atmosphere and enough heart to match, which is more than I can say for the vast majority of horror films we see today; there was clearly a lot of love and artistic elbow-grease put into what could have been a sloppy nostalgia-job, and for that much at least I have to give it some kudos.

REVIEW: Batman & Harley Quinn

I honestly didn't think things could get much worse than The Killing Joke. Sure, that was a tone-deaf (if admittedly well-acted) cash-in on an iconic Batman story, but it had to have been a fluke, right? There are plenty of decent DC animated features out there; some of them (Justice League: The New Frontier, Mask of the Phantasm, Under the Red Hood) are even pretty phenomenal. However, having taken in the latest Warner Animated movie starring the caped crusader, I'm forced to simply come to terms with the fact that, much like Warner Bros' live-action division, they simply have no idea what they're doing when it comes to the beloved and time-honored characters of Detective Comics. It's not often that a movie is so bad it makes me angry. More often than not, I can see the fun in a good, bad movie (like last week's trainwreck, Death Note). But believe me when I say that Batman and Harley Quinn is one of the most insufferable, insulting things I've had to sit through in a good long while.

The story takes place in the continuity of Batman The Animated Series, the classic show that introduced us to the once-novel but now woefully over-played character of Harley Quinn (incidentally, BTAS just turned 25 years old, and lord knows it deserves a better birthday tribute than this tripe). The plot follows Batman (Kevin Conroy, of course) and Nightwing (Loren Lester) as they attempt to put a stop to the sinister plans of Poison Ivy (Paget Brewster) and Jason Woodrue, the Floronic Man (Kevin Michael Richardson). As one might expect from a duo of hippy-dippy plant-based supervillains, their scheme involves mixing up some manner of super-chemical that will transform all animal life into sentient plants, thus returning the Earth to the rightful hands of Mother Nature and yadda yadda yadda. In order to track down the green meanies, the dynamic duo enlist the help of Ivy's longtime gal-pal and associate, the recently-reformed Harley Quinn (The Big Bang Theory's Melissa Rauch). If this sounds like a rehash of the classic BTAS episode, Harliquinade (in which Batman and Robin enlist Harley's help in tracking down the Joker after he acquires a nuclear bomb), that's simply because that's exactly what it is, just minus any inkling of pathos or emotion and with at least 100% more prolonged fart jokes.

The most jarring issue with this film is that it has no idea what it wants to be, tonally-speaking. The original Batman animated series on which this film is based was notable for its dark tone and noir aesthetics. It had its lighter moments, sure, but the main reason it's so fondly remembered is because of how effectively it reinvented the character of Batman for a new generation, casting the classic superhero in a brooding, mature, dynamic light, reminiscent of the Tim Burton films released around the same time. And the character of Harley Quinn, bubbly and comedic as she was, was still very much a product of this sense of tone. Just under the surface was a tragic figure, able to illicit sympathy just as easily as she could illicit laughter. She wasn't, for lack of a better term, a meme character, meant to spout catchphrases ready-made to be printed on a line of t-shirts at your local Hot Topic. She had some actual degree of emotional depth to her character beyond "wacky random clown girl", yet these days it seems like that's all DC is content in giving us. She's got all the "lol so random" appeal of Marvel's Deadpool, but with that oh-so-important addition of easily-marketable sex appeal. What else is there? She moves buttloads of merchandise with little to no creative effort on DC's part, may as well stay the course until this proverbial cow is milked dry.

This movie's take on Harley is just insufferable in every way. Melissa Rauch is a refreshing change, I guess (I've come to terms with the fact that Tara Strong is probably the best replacement for Arleen Sorkin we're gonna get, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't getting a bit grating hearing the same exact voice every time the character shows up these days), but she still does a sub-par job overall. While I can admit that any substitute voice would sound wrong coming out of the BTAS Harley, Rauch's pseudo-Yiddish accent just sounds painfully forced. It's obvious WB had her on the payroll for The Big Bang Theory and was just looking for some cheap and easy brand synergy. It also hardly helps that Harley is written here like an author-insert in a gaudy fanfic. She's essentially the best, coolest person in the world; she solves all the problems and has all the epic zingers and even has a totally necessary musical number at one point (again, this movie is definitely not a lazy rehash of that one episode of Batman The Animated Series). Meanwhile, Batman doesn't do much of anything and Nightwing serves as nothing more than a pseudo-love interest/rape victim.

Yes, it seems that once again, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's old chum and faithful ward, ends up getting raped for "comedic" effect. You see, it's perfectly fine that Nightwing gets drugged and tied to a bed in an abandoned tenement, only to have a crazed ex-supervillain jump his batarang. It doesn't matter that Harley is a self-described sociopath; she's hot and that's all that matters, am I right fellas? (Insert whooping and fist-pumping here). No but really, all sarcasm aside, this entire sequence is utterly disgusting. Let's not pretend that heads wouldn't roll if the genders were reversed and a vulnerable superheroine was the one knocked out and sexually assaulted by a reformed mental patient (and before you go throwing The Killing Joke at me, at least that didn't try to hand-wave it away by implying Barbara Gordon actually enjoyed it). It's really the most patronizing and insulting message to men who enjoy comics; the idea that the target audience for this is so desperate, that they'd accept, or even embrace, getting drugged and raped by a murderous psychopath (so long as she's a total dime, of course). Over the remainder of its runtime, the film sees fit to make Nightwing the butt of a number of jokes, implying that he's not only responsible for what happened, but that he deserves to be mocked for letting Harley slide down his bat-pole, as if he was a horny schoolboy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I guess it makes sense, all things considered; I mean, just look at what he's wearing! A fit, handsome young man in a form-fitting outfit like that, why he was practically asking for it!

Aside from turning one of the title characters into a full-fledged rapist, the film also confirms a theory I've been mulling over for some time now; without the Joker, Harley Quinn just isn't an interesting character. I'm sorry, but it's true. The Joker is an integral part in her internal conflict; he is the entire reason that Harleen Quinzel became Harley Quinn in the first place. Removing his influence on her story has the same effect as if Batman's parents came back to life; that initial struggle, that core dynamic that defines the entire character, is lost. Instead, we're simply left with a catchphrase-spouting Poochie of a character and it becomes abundantly clear that this was simply made to cash in on Harley's ongoing mainstream popularity, as well as Batman The Animated Series' big 25th anniversary. At one point Batman describes her as "the walking definition of 'loose cannon'", which I can only assume is a direct quote from some Warner Bros executive at whatever pitch meeting spawned this cheap, lazy trash. 

Without the Joker keeping her down, Harley loses all sense of sympathy; if she's willing to throw on the tights, a supposed symbol of a horribly traumatic and abusive period in her life, at the drop of a hat, then she just becomes another supervillain with flexible morality. She ceases to be a truly tragic figure and just becomes another wacky comic book character with an unfortunate past. Everyone has a tragic backstory these days. Kite Man has a tragic backstory these days. The thing that set Harley aside from the rest was that it wasn't just her backstory, but her whole life that was tragic. Mr. Freeze was one of the best villains featured on BTAS, but once you cure his wife, he loses all relevance and has no reason to go cavorting about with Batman and Robin anymore. The same applies to Harley; once she's free of the Joker's influence, any attempt to put a mallet back in her hands just comes off as hackneyed and regressive from a characterization standpoint. Then again, it's fairly obvious that nuanced characterization wasn't exactly at the top of the agenda when putting this together.

If it wasn't clear already, I absolutely positively loathed this movie. I say this as a tremendous fan of not only Batman the Animated Series, but of all the cartoons and comics that Bruce Timm and Paul Dini created together; this movie is pure trash of the highest caliber. The tone comes off like a Hot Topic interpretation of the 60's Adam West show, conveyed through the aesthetic of The Animated Series, only the people behind it managed to capture exactly none of the nuance or charm of either of those shows (which is especially confusing, considering Bruce Timm is one of the two writers responsible for this mess). This movie is so bad it made me wish that DC had retired the character of Harley Quinn alongside Arleen Sorkin. The characters are paper-thin and bafflingly characterized, the animation is sub-standard, everyone appears off-model more often than not, and the frame-rate sinks like a stone any time there's any action onscreen. There's tons of padding for time and the end result ranks alongside BTAS episodes like I've Got Batman in My Basement; it stretches itself so thin to try and justify a full-price home release, yet by the time Floronic Man made Poison Ivy eat a psychedelic yam he plucked off of Swamp Thing's corpse I just didn't care anymore. 

The only bit worth salvaging is the post-credits scene, in which Harley finds herself hosting a television show that's one part Doctor Phil, one part Takeshi's Castle. It's actually legitimately funny and is the only part of this entire ordeal that feels even remotely in-tune with the tone of the series it's banking off of. Unless you feel like wasting an hour of your life you'll never be able to get back, I recommend sparing yourself the headache and giving this mess a miss.