REVIEW: Batman Ninja

Outside of the realm of comic books and video games, it's fair to say that DC is in big trouble. With their awkward attempt at a shared universe film franchise knocking on death's door and their home-video animated releases hosting one of the worst things I've ever seen, it's safe to say that the executives at Warner Bros simply don't know what to do with the timeless heroes and villains of Detective Comics. We live in an age where the best Batman movie of the past half-decade stars a bunch of animated LEGO toys; they couldn't even get The Killing Joke right, weighing down the whole experience with uncomfortable romantic subplots, camp gay stereotypes, and embarrassingly sloppy animation. When it comes to DC properties, if it's not a comic book or video game, I've got little reason to be excited for it. But then, out of nowhere, we get a new direct-to-video release. A co-production between WB and a handful of notable writers, animators, and producers from Japan's anime industry. This is Batman Ninja, and it's goddamn crazy.

The film opens at Arkham Asylum, where we see the Bat-Family trying to put a stop to Gorilla Grodd's (Fred Tatasciore) latest scheme. It seems that the super-intelligent ape has built a time machine, which he promptly uses to fling the Dark Knight (Roger Craig Smith) back in time to Feudal Japan. It's here that Batman learns that he wasn't the only one sent back to the past; a number of his greatest enemies took the trip as well, and have since established themselves as daimyōs, each controlling a different section of the island. Most notable is the Joker (Tony Hale), who keeps Grodd's time machine locked away in his towering castle; if the Clown Prince of Crime is able to defeat the other daimyōs and unify Japan under his rule, the entire course of history will be changed. It's up to Batman, Catwoman (Grey Griffin), and the rest of the Bat-Clan to stop the villains, saving Japan (and their future) in the process.

Comparing Batman Ninja to other recent efforts from Warner Bros Home Entertainment (such as Batman & Harley Quinn and The Killing Joke), the difference is night and day (and not just because of the obvious cultural shift). While those efforts both featured the talent of industry veteran Bruce Timm (who, along with Paul Dini, spearheaded the DC Animated Universe of the late 90's/early 2000's), his talent felt very much squandered. Compare that to Batman Ninja, which comes to us from Takashi Okazaki (the creator of/character designer for Afro Samurai), Junpei Misuzuki (a producer on Jojo's Bizarre Adventure), and Kazuki Nakashima (a writer for Kill La Kill, Kamen Rider, and my personal holy grail of anime, Gurren Lagann). If none of those names or titles sound familiar to you, then you may want to reconsider giving Batman Ninja a watch. Simply put, if you haven't seen at least one of those series I just mentioned, you're not the target audience for this film.

I am a huge fan of how crazy things can get when it comes to anime; my favorite anime of all time, Gurren Lagann, is about robots that are powered by machismo who throw galaxies at each other. I want my anime to get crazy from time to time. That said, there are some moments in Batman Ninja (specifically during the final 30 minutes) that are even a bit too ridiculous for my tastes. The premise itself is an insane idea, the kind of thing I'd have come up with when I was seven, hopped up on Fun Dip and Tang, bashing my Batman and Power Rangers toys against each other on my bedroom floor. I absolutely hate to use the old "just turn your brain off" excuse for anything, but when it comes to Batman Ninja... well, what did you expect? Were you looking for high art? For something as politically-charged as The Dark Knight Returns, or as engrossing as Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader? This is a movie where Nightwing (Adam Croasdell) looks like a cross between Vegeta and Sasuke and the Joker pilots a moving castle with a pair of robotic arms. It's absolutely nothing more than an excuse to see Batman and his assorted cast of characters duking it out in a Feudal Japanese setting, and it's awesome.

Right off the bat, the most striking thing about this film is its art direction and animation. Okazaki's interpretations of these classic DC heroes and villains feel both familiar and wholly original, lending themselves wonderfully to the style of animation on display. It may take a moment or two to get used to everything looking like the opening to the first part of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, but once you adjust, you can fully start to appreciate just how gorgeous this movie really is. It's a far-cry from the stilted, lifeless, and often off-model animation seen in the more recent DC home-video releases; everything here is colorful, expressive, and just bursting with detail without appearing at all overwhelming or busy. It's a distinctly home-grown Japanese spin on a Western property that feels right at home against the Feudal backdrop in which our story takes place. And that's not even mentioning the action. Oh ho ho, the action.

It's not at all an exaggeration to say that Batman Ninja has some of the most exciting, engaging, and just flat-out badass action I've seen from any DC movie, let alone their efforts from the past decade or so. The use of CGI allows for animators to operate with a greater deal of versatility than they would be able to with more traditional techniques, and that's something that Batman Ninja takes full advantage of. It's so refreshing to see a Joker who can actually go toe-to-toe with the Dark Knight (rather than just an edgy mastermind who is soundly beaten down without incident), and their numerous clashes ended up being some of the highlights of the entire film for me. The climactic duel between the two (featured in most of the trailers) is everything I wanted this film to be since I'd heard of its existence. 

I also adored the characterization of Harley Quinn (Tara Strong) this time around, feeling much more in-line with the mischievous hench-wench of the old 90's animated series than she has as of late. Her confrontations with Catwoman were equally as thrilling; if I have one action-related complaint, is that there wasn't enough of it. Yes, what this movie puts forth as "plot" is basically just an excuse to move things from fight scene to fight scene, but so many of them involve some combination of Batman, Catwoman, the Joker, and Harley Quinn. The other iconic members of Batman's rogues gallery hardly get the amount of screen time we'd hope for (considering how great their designs are), and when it comes time for each to throw down with a member of the Bat-Family, the vast majority of the non-Bat/Cat-related action is handled off-screen.

Now it's important to note that, at the time of writing, I have only seen the English dub; as I would later find out, it turns out that the English and Japanese versions of Batman Ninja are radically different in terms of plot and dialog. Apparently, the Japanese team went about animating the film before any of the dialog was written or recorded (not an uncommon practice in the anime industry). This is, however, the exact opposite of how things are done stateside, leaving the English localization team with nothing to work with besides a series of rough storyboards and a translated script that totaled a whopping six pages long. This forced writers Leo Chu and Eric Garcia to more or less wing it, and while the end result isn't exactly pure poetry, it wasn't quite enough to distract me from all of the jaw-dropping art design and pulse-pounding action. If anything, I'm excited to have an excuse to revisit it in Japanese (besides, of course, hearing "Joker" pronounced as "JEEYOOOOOKAAAAAAH" over and over again).

Is Batman Ninja a good movie? Therein lies the question; it's not especially thought-provoking, or even all that coherent. If I'm being honest, I checked out of the plot well before things got truly convoluted, but then we're not exactly here for the plot, are we? We're here to see Batman have a samurai fight with the Joker in ancient Japan, and that's exactly what we get. This is not an intelligent or clever movie by any stretch of the imagination. It is, however, immensely entertaining. Batman Ninja is like Gurren Lagann meets Naruto meets Zoids meets Power Rangers meets Jiro Kuwata's Bat-Manga; it's an exercise in light-hearted nonsense, and the result is the kind of fun experience that Justice League only wishes it could provide. If you like anime and want to see what would happen if a really kickass piece of fanart came to life for 85 minutes, I can't recommend this enough. Grab some friends and a case of your favorite Japanese beer, check your mind at the door, and enjoy the ride.

REVIEW: Batman (1989)

It's pretty insane when you think about just how long the superhero genre has been around. Movies like those in the MCU and DCEU feel like a relatively recent trend, but the groundwork for what we've come to know as the modern superhero genre was laid decades ago with films such as today's subject, Tim Burton's 1989 Batman film. It's important to understand just how revolutionary this adaptation of DC's dark knight was at the time. Aside from comic readers, most associated Batman with the 60's Adam West show, despite how comics like The Killing Joke and The Dark Knight Returns had long since moved past the camp of the Silver Age. There was strong demand from the fanbase for a darker, more modern take on the character; hot off the success of Beetlejuice, Tim Burton was brought on to direct, and the rest is cinematic history.

Despite being one of the founding fathers of the modern superhero genre, the plot here is hardly the stock origin story most would expect. Really, we get more focus on the origin of the Joker (played famously by Jack Nicholson) than we do Batman (Michael Keaton). After a mob enforcer by the name of Jack Napier falls into a vat of toxic chemicals, he resurfaces under the ghoulish guise of the Joker. Feeling jilted by the amount of press given to the mysterious Batman, Joker sets out on a spree of terror, poisoning the populace of Gotham City. It's up to the caped crusader (with a little help from Vicki Vale, played by Kim Basinger, and his loyal butler, Alfred, played by Michael Gough) to foil the Joker's sinister schemes once and for all. Simplistic enough conceptually, but the real meat of this film lies in the way that this story is executed.

As I mentioned, such a dark, stylistic approach to a superhero property was all but unheard of at the time of the film's release. Compared to Richard Donner's squeaky-clean Superman (which came out a decade earlier), Batman represents a bold new shift in the boundaries of the genre. Looking behind the scenes, it's clear that some people (particularly hairdresser-turned-producer, John Peters) attempted to go a bit too far with this mindset; the Batsuit was originally meant to include footwear sponsored by Nike, and Keaton's iconic "I'm Batman" line originally contained a few more expletives than the finished product we see today. It's for reasons like these that it's important for studios to bring visionary creators on board, in order to even out the money-men. Enter Tim Burton; to this day, I'm still hard-pressed to name a director better-suited for this particular job. Despite this being a massive blockbuster that endured years of rewrites and executive meddling, Burton's distinct style still shines through, and that is what I feel makes Batman such a memorable entry into the annals of film history. Just about anyone can make a film about a superhero who dresses like a bat and fights crime, but only Tim Burton could have made this film the way that it turned out (much like how Bill Finger is responsible for making the original Batman into something more than another disposable pulp vigilante).

Gotham City (care of production designer Anton Furst) positively reeks of Burton's trademark flair. We're treated to clashing architectural styles, gothic vistas, and more gargoyles and statues than any planning committee would know what to do with. Perhaps this is just a side-effect of nostalgia (since this and the 90's Animated Series were my official introduction to the character of Batman), but whenever I think of Gotham City, this is the Gotham I envision. A bleak, grey, foggy hellscape, perpetually stuck in a sort of anachronistic limbo between the roaring 20's and the 1980's. Aside from the Prince music, there's absolutely nothing here to date this film; as is expected of early Burton, he creates a fantasy dreamscape and invites the audience to lose themselves in his world. While some may say that The Dark Knight is far more in-tune with the spirit of the source material from a character standpoint (and I'd be inclined to agree), I think it's safe to say that this film is far more fascinating stylistically. The Dark Knight will forever take place in 2008 Chigago, while the events of Batman unfold in a Gotham City ripped straight from the Bronze Age of DC comics.

That's not to say that this is a perfect interpretation by any means; there are a number of changes from the source material that are sure to make comic readers' heads spin (the most egregious of which is Batman's willingness to flat-out murder any criminals he comes across), but I feel as though these are minor details that don't really detract from what is otherwise a very well-made film. The atmosphere here is tight enough that no amount of adaptational inconsistency can really totally shatter it. It's of course helped along by what might just be Danny Elfman's finest work as a composer. The score here is just magnificent, and is the song that comes to mind whenever I think of Batman (even moreso than the Adam West theme). Of course, all the atmosphere in the world isn't worth much if the cast is lackluster; fortunately, that's not the case in the slightest.

Michael Keaton's casting as Bruce Wayne was the subject of widespread controversy back in the day; after a series of primarily comedic roles in films such as Mr. Mom, fans assumed Keaton would be a poor choice for the dark knight. The reaction was so vitriolic that petitions were actually formed to have the role recast (keep in mind, this was well before the heyday of the internet). Fortunately for all involved, Keaton gives what may be the strongest performance in the entire film. As Bruce Wayne, he is quiet and reserved. He keeps all of his emotions bottled up inside and comes off as a man who appears totally unassuming, despite his lavish background. Under the cowl, Keaton's Batman is cool and collected, always in control of the situation. Compared to other live-action Batmen (namely Bale and Affleck), Keaton feels by far the most natural. He doesn't need to growl or scream to instill fear in the hearts of criminals (who are, after all, a superstitious and cowardly lot), and this innate sense of confidence helps elevate the character to the status of superhero (despite not being able to turn his neck around). This is a character who feels much more comfortable underneath his cape and body armor than he does in a tuxedo, and Keaton's performance conveys that dual identity to a T.

On the other hand, we have Jack Nicholson as the Joker. This is the true star of the movie; his origin gets the most attention from the plot, he steals every scene he's in, and he even gets top billing over the lead actor. A common criticism of Nicholson's performance is that he doesn't seem to act like the Joker, so much as he just acts like himself in clown makeup. While I can definitely see this (for as enthusiastic as he gets, he never really disappears into the role the way Keaton does), it doesn't change the fact that he gives a dynamite performance as one of the most iconic villains of all time. Burton really hones in on the narcissistic side of the Joker's personality; everything he does is motivated by ego. He is a villain who, in every sense, wouldn't exist without Batman. At the same time, it was a young Jack Napier (rather than the seminal Joe Chill of the comics) who killed Bruce Wayne's parents, creating a sort of hero/villain Ouroboros. While it's not a 100% accurate portrayal, I'd say that it's arguably the perfect performance for this interpretation of the character. He's got a great look, a great laugh, and contrasts brilliantly as a foil for our titular hero. This is a film full of strong performances and likeable characters, but it's obvious that Batman and the Joker are far and above the main event here.

I hadn't watched this movie in years and, upon revisiting it, I'm glad to say that it holds up. There are a few nitpicky issues I had concerning elements like the sound mixing, some of the editing, and of course the inconsistencies with the source material, but I feel as though I can safely say that this is an iconic classic that holds up, even without the help of nostalgia-goggles. When this film came out, it was revolutionary for its dark tone and clearly-defined stylistic choices. Nowadays, in a world of committee-planning and cinematic universes, it's refreshing for those same reasons. As much as I love the MCU, every film is basically a comedy at this point and the Guardians of the Galaxy films are the only ones with any real amount of dynamic color or directorial flair. The DCEU positively reeks of Zack Snyder's distinctive influence, but in a way that hampers any character who doesn't mesh well with washed-out colors and pseudo-intellectual platitudes. Batman is the perfect blend between blockbuster comic book adventure and a director's singular vision. It's a product born of all the right kinds of compromises, and I feel like many modern studio executives could (and should) look back to it for inspiration. If you somehow haven't seen this film by now, right your wrongs as soon as possible. Just make sure you stop after Batman Returns unless you've got something potent in your cup.

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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.

REVIEW: Clown

I feel as though, for as prevalent as the "killer clown" trope tends to be, the number of notable horror films actually featuring killer clowns is more than a little lacking. Just to name the big ones, there's the 1990 It miniseries, Killer Klowns From Outer Space, and... that's about it. I suppose you could also include Poltergeist if you really wanted to, but even that's a bit of a stretch. It's something I've always found a little surprising; coulraphobia is a pretty common fear, ripe for exploitation. Even if someone isn't necessarily "afraid" of clowns, it's not exactly difficult to make them into something reasonably creepy, at the very least. But alas, the vast majority of killer clown movies tend to end up as nothing more than straight-to-video trash you find in those "25 Horror Movies for $5" value packs. This is part of the reason I was so intrigued by Clown, a 2014 independent horror film produced by Eli Roth and directed by Spider-Man: Homecoming's Jon Watts.

Coming off like an absurdist twist between The Shining and The Fly, the plot focuses on an ordinary real-estate agent by the name of Kent McCoy (Andy Powers). Due to a double-booking incident, Kent and his wife (Laura Allen) find themselves without a clown for their son's birthday party. Thinking quickly, Kent happens upon an old clown suit in the basement of one of the properties he's selling. Setting his dignity aside for his son's special day, Kent dons the suit, nose, and rainbow wig to entertain the kids, seemingly saving the party. The next morning, however, Kent is shocked to discover that, for whatever reason, the clown suit won't come off. The wig has attached itself to his head and the goofy red nose causes him physical pain whenever he tries to remove it. It isn't long before Kent begins to realize that he is physically turning into a clown; his skin begins to turn chalk white, his feet grow longer, and the wig begins to replace his real hair down to the roots. On top of all that, we learn that the clown suit was in fact not a clown suit at all, but rather the skin of an Icelandic demon known as a "Clöyne", which used its colorful appearance to lure children to its cave before devouring them whole. It's up to Kent to discover a cure for his monstrous condition, before the demon's hold (and his newfound hunger for children) overwhelm him for good.

Right from the premise (and the movie's opening, which features a soundtrack of children screaming over vintage depictions of happy clowns), it's plain to see that this isn't a film that takes itself entirely seriously. There's a modicum of self-awareness that comes with a story about a man becoming a were-clown, and I'm glad to see that the filmmakers understood this. There's a good mixture of genuine suspense and pitch-black comedy to be found here, but I almost feel as though the end result is a bit uneven, to the point that some of it comes off as a bit too mean-spirited at times. Mixing genres such as horror and comedy can create a great sense of juxtaposition if done well, but it requires a delicate touch. If we actually end up taking something seriously, only for it to be undercut with a joke moments later, than the tone comes off as inconsistent, and the respective elements of the horror and comedy genres end up blending about as well as oil and water. There are moments where the film really does go for a serious, straightforward tone and, to the credit of the filmmakers, it honestly works quite well as a legitimate horror film. There's a good deal of stomach-turning body-horror that comes with seeing a man fuse with a musty old clown costume, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't cringe more than a few times during Kent's vain attempts to remove it.

Things get even more dire during the second act, when we see our main character, who began as a totally ordinary guy, take on the appearance of a homeless addict. It honestly comes off like a John Wayne Gacy-esque metaphor for a pedophile trying to avoid temptation before finally giving in; watching Kent struggle against his newfound demonic hunger is really quite tragic and unpleasant in a very strong, effective kind of way. Despite the absurd premise, I honestly feel like this could have worked as a 100% serious, straightforward horror film. But this genuine sense of tension and unease is undercut by all of the dark visual humor. We watch an ordinary family man tearfully submit to cannibalistic urges after accidentally murdering a small child, but we also get to watch a laughably fake severed arm ride a tidal wave of blood down a Chuck-E-Cheese fun slide. The dark elements are too dark and the silly elements are too silly; rather than contrasting, they just end up cancelling each other out, and by the time the climax rolls around, it just feels like generic schlock with absolutely nothing in the way of emotional stakes.

Now for all my griping, I still have to hand it to the filmmakers for such a delightfully twisted concept. I'm not quite sure what it is, but the idea that someone can turn into a clown (implying that clowns are inhuman) just makes me smile deep down inside. Making it so that the first clown was really a Nordic demon who lured children away from their villages with promises of sweets and capering is just the icing on the cake. I'm such a sucker for this kind of revisionist folklore, since it gives storytellers such a wealth of opportunity to play around with the established iconography of our collective culture. It's the kind of element I enjoyed the most in films like Krampus and Rise of the Guardians; by putting a unique twist on something so immediately recognizable, we're able to further immerse ourselves in the world of the film. As one might expect, this is the part of the movie that works the best. The first two acts build up a really strong sense of tension and intrigue that, along with the existential dread of Kent's situation, completely make this film. 

Unfortunately, the final act is where it all falls apart. All of the characters stop making sense and Kent himself turns into a generic, brainless movie monster. While everyone's characterization suffers during the final act, none are worse off than Kent's wife, Meg; this may come off as nitpicking, but it seriously cannot be understated how utterly loathsome this character turns out to be. For the entire movie, she's played a relatively inoffensive role, concerned for her husband and protective of their son (Christian Destephano). In the final act, she becomes the most unlikable excuse for a protagonist I think I've ever seen; not only does she endanger and abandon her child numerous times during the final battle, but she's also totally prepared to sacrifice an innocent little girl in an attempt to sate the demon's hunger. And that's to say nothing of how she completely abandoned poor Peter Stormare at a crime scene for no reason (even though we know he's innocent, there's no way that someone who looks like Peter Stormare is found holding a bloody axe near a bunch of mutilated kids and gets away with a happy ending). This kind of character assassination is just a symptom of a much bigger problem that befalls so many great ideas; the filmmakers wrote themselves into a corner. They had this amazing idea about a man who slowly turns into an evil clown, but they had no idea how to end it. So the end result is just a series of flaccid, pointless sequences that feel like a hurried attempt to just end the movie without any loose ends. The plot ends up stretched paper thin and what was once a really engaging, original horror film ends up feeling like anything but.

I wanted so badly to like Clown. And in some ways, I really do; I like exactly two thirds of it. The final act is exactly the kind of shallow, poorly-written dreck I had hoped it wouldn't be. In its defense, I've seen far worse (and I'm willing to bet that out of all the independent killer-clown movies that have come out in the past 20 years, this is likely one of the absolute best), but it still stands that "not bad" is really the most Clown can aspire to. If you're looking for something that comes agonizingly close to joining such films as Trick R Treat and The Babadook in the realm of cult classics before nosediving back down into the land of inconsequential schlock, give Clown a look. For what it's worth, I had my fun with it, even if I don't really see myself revisiting it any time soon. All in all, it may be somewhat forgettable, but I'd be hard pressed to call it regrettable.

REVIEW: The LEGO Batman Movie

After seeing The LEGO Movie roughly four times in the theater back in 2014, you could say I was basically on-board for whatever LEGO-related project Warner Animation Group wanted to throw my way. When it was announced that Will Arnett's Batman would be getting his own spin-off film, I was sold immediately. Batman as a character has been around for 78 years; of course there's plenty there to be colorfully and hilariously deconstructed (no pun intended). I expected it to be a fun time with some fantastically imaginative animation, but what I didn't expect was for this to be the best Batman film since The Dark Knight (and if we're talking purely on how well it understands the character, then it's in the running for the best film depiction ever).

Taking place three years after the events of The LEGO Movie, Batman (Will Arnett) is back in Gotham City doing what he does best, fighting crime and foiling evil. After his plan to detonate an overly-complicated bomb under the city goes up in smoke, a jilted Joker (Zach Galifianakis) plots his ultimate revenge in an attempt to prove that he is Batman's greatest nemesis. Meanwhile, new police commissioner Barbara Gordon (Rosario Dawson) attempts to revamp Gotham into a place that no longer needs a Batman, hoping to work side-by-side with the vigilante. This naturally doesn't jive with Batman's usual lone-wolf crime fighting style, nor does the addition of his newly adopted son, Dick Grayson (AKA Robin, voiced by Michael Cera). On top of all of this, Batman is forced to face his greatest fear; being part of a family once again.

Leave it to a movie populated entirely with plastic bricks to offer the most human portrayal of the Dark Knight in years. Despite how over-the-top the humor and heroics are in this film, there's a deceptive amount of heart present underneath it all. As absurd and blatantly comedic as Arnett's take on the character of Batman is, his faults are all very much accurate to the core of the character. He's shown to be a self-absorbed loner, one whose weakness stems from a deep-rooted fear of losing those close to him. What at first glace appears to be nothing more than a 104 minute commercial for LEGO products is really a character study of one of the most iconic superheroes of all time. That may sound a bit overly-serious, given the movie I'm talking about here, but the dramatic elements of this film really do work; this is a film that gets Batman.

As one would expect, this movie is an unapologetic love letter to all things Batman. There's nods to everything from the Tim Burton films, to the Adam West series, to the black and white serials of the 1940's. There's jokes involving everything from shark repellent to bat-nipples. We get special appearances from Batman characters such as King Tut, the Mutant Leader, and Two-Face as portrayed by LEGO Billy Dee Williams. There's plenty of surface-level jokes that anyone can enjoy, but it's clear that this is a film made by and for Batman fans, first and foremost. And that's to say nothing of the copious winks and nods made at the expense of Warner Bros less-stellar live-action efforts ("What am I going to do, get a bunch of criminals to fight criminals? That’s a stupid idea!").

For as much praise as I intend to lavish on this movie (trust me, I'm not finished), it's not without its faults. Maybe it's just the comic geek in me talking, but I found the first half (when the film is far more "Batman" than it is "LEGO") to be by-far superior to the second half. The jokes hit harder and more frequently and the film didn't slow down long enough for me to stop smiling. Once the Joker actually puts his master plan in motion and the third act begins, the pace becomes less manic and the film seems to lose a bit of its own identity. I don't want to give anything away, so I'll say this; what happens is both very fun and very imaginative, but I honestly would have had no problem whatsoever with this film just being a DC affair.

As one would expect, the voice cast here is stellar. Will Arnett's Batman carries the film, coming off as an untouchable badass while also appearing supremely vulnerable. His chemistry with Cera's Robin will be no surprise to anyone familiar with Arrested Development, but it's still worth noting how frequently hilarious/often heartwarming their superhero/sidekick relationship is. Ralph Fiennes lends his voice to Alfred Pennyworth (yet, surprisingly enough, not to ANOTHER character who appears later in the film), imbuing the Wayne family butler with the perfect amount of dry British wit. He, along with Rosario Dawson, act as excellent straight-men foils to the markedly more madcap Batman and Robin; our quartet of heroes is nothing if not well-rounded and balanced. Meanwhile, Zach Galifianakis's Joker is surprisingly compelling; he was honestly the only member of the cast I wasn't sold on from the get-go, so it's good to see that he really pulled it off (far better than Jared Leto did, that's for sure). 

The relationship between Batman and the Joker is one of my favorite aspects of the entire film; not only does it toe the line on being hilariously homoerotic, but it's also dead-on accurate to their dynamic in the source material. The Joker's entire motivation boils down to getting Batman to admit that he's a greater adversary than Bane or Superman; that he's the perfect match for Gotham's caped crusader. Everything he does, every evil scheme, is explicitly for Batman's sake. He's an attention-seeker on a quest for validation from his arch-nemesis, an utterly perfect representation of who the Joker really is. He insists that their adversarial relationship is really something special, but Batman frequently denies him the closure he so desires; it's literally the same dynamic between Christian Bale and Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight, just framed through the lens of a cheesy rom-com. It's such a perfect joke, mainly because it's so painfully, bitingly accurate.

What else can I say? The LEGO Batman Movie is a hilariously written, outrageously acted, gorgeously animated piece of work. It's a rare thing to see satire that so totally understands the thing that it's lampooning as well as this film does. It takes some liberties, sure (Dick Grayson hasn't been nearly this gawky since the days of Burt Ward), but you'd be hard pressed to find an adaptation that understands the spirit of its source material as well as The LEGO Batman Movie. It's a film which runs on hyperbole; everything is exaggerated, but it's also dead-on when you get right down to it. Behind all the flashy colors and beatboxing is a film that is much smarter than it appears to let on. If you're a Batman fan, this is mandatory viewing, one of the best bat-films ever made (and honestly neck-in-neck with Mask of the Phantasm for my personal favorite). Even if you couldn't care less that Batman asks his rogue's gallery if they "wanna get nuts", this is still a load of surprisingly heartwarming fun, not to be missed.

REVIEW: Poltergeist

Ever since I was a child, I've found 80's horror fascinating. Growing up through the end of the 90's into the 2000's, I couldn't help but notice how kids my age never seemed to show any interest in the horror of the time. Movies like The Blair Witch Project and Final Destination were seldom discussed around the playground, but everyone knew about Freddy, Jason, and Chucky. Even when something like Alien vs Predator managed to pique our interest, it was part of a series that took root long before any of us were even born. Whether this was due to the films finding immortality in the form of perpetually relevant Halloween costumes, or just a certain special something that captured our prepubescent interest is certainly up for debate. I recall Poltergeist being one such movie; I first watched it, for whatever reason, at a very young age and recall finding it inherently fascinating for reasons I couldn't exactly place. Well over a decade later, nothing has changed, save for my ability to pinpoint precisely why I was so fascinated with this film. Put simply, Poltergeist is a very good movie.

Set in the heart of West Coast suburbia, the film follows the Freeling family, an everyday clan living their everyday lives in their everyday neighborhood. This of course changes when the youngest daughter, Carol Anne (Heather O'Rourke), begins conversing with ghostly entities by way of the family television set. The house is unquestionably haunted; at first the supernatural occurrences seem innocuous (if mildly irritating) at worst, but things soon escalate when the entire family is targeted and little Carol Anne is abducted into another dimension. The rest of the film follows the parents (Craig T. Nelson and JoBeth Williams) trying everything in their power to get their daughter back. It's a plot heavily reminiscent of the classic Twilight Zone episode, Little Girl Lost; just as much of the story focuses on aspects of metaphysical theory as it does on more traditional haunted happenings.

The curious thing to note about Poltergeist, I think, is the overall tone. The only way I could describe it is a thoroughly feel-good horror film. There isn't exactly a lot of "humor", in the traditional sense, but there are plenty of moments that will inspire a knowing smile. The kids' bedroom is loaded with authentic Star Wars merchandise, the parents have plenty of back and forth banter, and there's generally tons of candid-style moments that really help to sell the authenticity of this family dynamic. One of my favorite scenes in the movie involves JoBeth Williams demonstrating the newly-discovered ghostly influence to her husband; first with a simple chair, then with their youngest daughter (kept safe by an oversized football helmet). It sets you up for one of those classic "the event won't replicate itself and the witness will look crazy" moments, until the chair goes sliding across the floor, exactly as planned. The mother's reaction is so genuine and funny that I can't help but chuckle whenever I see it. It's just so real.

At the end of the day, this is a film not about ghosts, but about family. They don't "just leave the house" because of what's at stake; they refuse to vacate their home until they get their little girl back. There's no instances of protagonist stupidity on display here. We're as lost and frightened as the Freelings as they deal with their haunting, and we genuinely feel for their plight. Heather O'Rourke is a strong contender for the cutest child ever committed to film (if you aren't endeared to her after she casually gnaws on a Luke Skywalker action figure, you might just be made of literal stone) and the fact that she's placed in very genuine (yet very vaguely-defined) danger helps sell the sense of tension. We want to see Steven and Diane Freeling get their daughter back just as much as they do. The characters come off, not as characters, but as a real family who genuinely cares about one another and reacts to these horrifying events in realistic, believable ways.

While this is assuredly thanks to the direction of Tobe Hooper and the writing/production of Steven Spielberg, it's inarguable that credit must also be given to the main cast as well. Heather O'Rourke manages to dodge all the pitfalls that young child actors usually fall into, coming off as effectively cute and precocious without grating on anyone's nerves. Nelson and Williams have a fantastic dynamic as Steve and Dianne, utterly selling their roles as the married heads of a run-of-the-mill 2.5 child household. The other members of the Freeling family, Dana (Dominique Dunn) and Robbie (Oliver Robins) leave less of an impression, though this is to be expected, considering they aren't exactly the main focus of the plot by any means. They work well with what they're given. The most iconic role, however, is easily that of Tangina Barrons, played by the irreplaceable Zelda Rubinstein. This was Rubinstein's second ever film role, and she completely and utterly owns it here. She's by far the most out-of-the-ordinary character in the entire movie, which is why she works so perfectly. If there's a breakout role to be found here, then this is definitely it.

Poltergeist is a film that has most assuredly earned its place in the annals of horror (and indeed, movie) history. By combining the talents of Tobe Hooper and Steven Spielberg (with the former bringing his knack for editing, use of sound, and ability to unsettle and unnerve, and the latter bringing a large budget and his talent for writing endearing, relatable characters), the film manages to be both a genuinely frightening horror movie as well as a truly touching family drama. It's a jack of all trades, master of most. If you're interested in taking a look at one of the cornerstones of the haunted house genre, step right over the fetid corpse of the 2015 remake and see why Poltergeist continues to be seen as the classic it is.