It's October once again; Halloween season, my favorite time of the year. While I may not necessarily enjoy Halloween for the spookiness or the macabre—although there is no denying they are interesting elements to a degree—I tend to enjoy it as the time of year when we can let loose and be a little silly, at least for a short while. If nothing else, it's a great excuse to express yourself a little unconventionally, which is something we should all do sometimes, regardless of the season.
Still, one of the more intriguing benefits of the spooky season is the number of new and possibly spectacular horror films.
Horror wasn't a significant influence on my early artistic life. When I was a kid and went to the local video store (yes, I'm THAT old), I often found myself drawn to the horror section. It wasn't because I was interested in watching any of the movies; it was the cover art that pulled me in. I was always fascinated by the designs and their alluring ways of drawing my attention, encouraging me to take the risk and jump onto the ride offered by the scary story held within. It wasn't until many years later that I discovered why that really was (a fascinating advertising method known as AIDA). While that may have diminished some of the magic from my prior experience, it still left an impression on my creative mind.
There's an engaging video essay on the subject by the YouTuber Entertain The Elk. You will find a link to said video at the end of this review.
Today, we're taking a look at two brand new horror films released this year. Both are scary and atmospheric in their own way, and both offer something relevant and impactful to the table. While one is more intended as a commentary (of sorts) about specific American tragedies, the other is an exploration of perception. Both of which succeed in their own ways, but I hold one in higher regard than the other. Keep on reading to find out which one that is.
First film on the block:
Rent on Apple TV and Amazon
Check if playing in a theater near you
Much like the VHS artwork of most 1980s horror films, I was initially drawn to the unusual and haunting image of this poster. The text at the top also grabbed my attention. When I saw this image, I became obsessed with trying to decipher what the film might be about. I tried to determine things like the relevance of that specific time of the night, and especially the reason for the children's unusual running posture. I was determined to try to solve the mystery before I even saw the movie, and while I am proud of my efforts, the answers didn't come to fruition until I finally sat down to watch the film.
As it turns out, the answers can be much simpler, and sometimes more terrifying, than you might expect.
Taking place in a small town somewhere in Georgia, the story follows the aftermath of a mysterious and tragic event. One night, an entire group of school children simultaneously ran out of their homes and into the dark, never to be seen again. Among those most affected by the event is a school teacher named Justine (Julia Garner) and a grieving father named Archer (Josh Brolin). As the story progresses, their paths cross in an unexpected way that will ultimately lead them to the terrifying and tragic truth about what happened to the children, and why.
Those who recall classic literature may draw comparisons to the Grimm's fairytale, The Pied Piper: the story of a pipe-player who rescues a community ravaged by rats by playing a hypnotic tune that drives them all away, but also drives away the community's children for some likely nefarious reason. Without spoilers, Weapons delves into a similar supernatural concept that, while equally terrifying, is not what the film is likely about.
Weapons is primarily an examination of the tragedies of inexcusable events such as school shootings, accompanied by an intense discussion about the horrors of child abuse. While I grant you that both subjects are complicated to discuss and examine, writer/director Zack Cregger approaches them all with tact, taste, and deliberate consideration. He very likely chose to use supernatural elements in the story to address these relevant issues in a way that didn't directly alienate or offend real-world survivors. If that was the case, then I commend his choice.
But, as commendable as the writing efforts are, the film loses many points for being, quite literally, too difficult to see at times. Yes, my beautiful readers, it is time once again for my rant about underexposed cinematography.
Photographed by Larkin Seiple, the cinematography for Weapons is perfectly fine during the day. However, the nighttime scenes leave a lot to be desired. Like many modern digitally-captured films before it, the filmmakers became too reliant on the sensitivity of the camera's sensor (not to mention the super-powerful HDR capabilities of most modern TVs that not everyone owns) to capture more information in dark environments than actually present. Yes, modern digital cameras can accomplish great things with less light than traditionally necessary, but (and I cannot stress this enough), there still needs to be a sense of CONTRAST, which can only be achieved by well-placed additional lighting. Filming your dark scene in excessive natural darkness only frustrates your viewer!
Not to mention one particularly questionable writing choice that, while I will not spoil here, felt a bit too on-the-nose (and a little pretentious) than it was likely meant to be.
Despite this technological hurdle, which really needs more frequent attention, and one or two questionable aspects of the script, Weapons is a mostly fine-tuned horror film. While not for everyone, it succeeds in its narrative goals with relatable characters, sharp commentary (again, mostly), and an ending that is both tragic and satisfying. It's one of those films that you only really need to see at least once for its impact and emotional resonance.
Next up is a very different kind of horror experience entirely:
Playing in theaters
The dog does not, I repeat, DOES NOT DIE! I wanted to make that abundantly clear before I said anything else about this incredible film. Good Boy is the kind of independent film (and by extension the kind of passionate filmmaking) that we need more of in the modern world of cinema, overpopulated by extravagantly expensive blockbusters, and vanity projects by has-been actors masquerading as indie cinema for award season.
Oh, was that my out-loud voice?
The story follows a lovable dog named Indy, who has just moved into an old cabin, formerly owned by his master's late grandfather. Upon arriving at the location, Indy starts noticing unusual and unsettling things all around, and he suspects that whatever it is might be causing his master's upsetting health. Determined to protect his master, Indy must brave the strange things and face the darkness head-on like the loyal and loving dog that he is. Whether he succeeds in protecting his master remains to be seen.
Good Boy is an absolute gem of a movie, not just in the horror genre, but in the passionate, creative, joyful, and wholesome nature of the people who made it. Production for this film took over 400 days; Indy is the director's actual dog; and while some special effects were used to enhance a few key moments in the story, every single frame of Indy is practical. Not to mention the novelty of a horror film viewed entirely from the perspective of a non-human character, making you wonder a little more about why your pet keeps looking at seemingly nothing in that one dark corner of your house.
The most fascinating (and hilarious) aspect of the film is how Indy never really knew he was in a movie. While it appears that Indy is giving a mindful performance, the reality is that the director, through judicious editing and thoughtful juxtaposition, effectively conveys the appropriate emotional responses required for such a story. In the post-credits special feature of the film, we see how director Ben Leonberg, along with his wife Kari Fischer, basically played with Indy on set in creative and wholesome ways to get the performance and timing required for the story. Plus, it becomes beautifully obvious how much fun they were all having, especially Indy.
The film also receives several bonus points for a myriad of excellent choices, including not giving Indy any dialogue through voice-over, and, unlike Weapons, showcasing how to create dark cinematography with proper contrast. Not to mention, it is a beacon of hope and inspiration for many indie filmmakers, which is significant and profoundly impactful.
Even if you're not a fan of the horror genre, or if you are cautious of films that star dogs in possible peril, please go see this film. Independent cinema like this only continues to exist if we provide it with the financial success it deserves, which means paying to see it in theaters or on digital rental. However, box office numbers tend to carry more significant and influential weight.
Please go see this movie! It is the perfect storm of bountiful creativity and the perfect choice for a spooky Halloween viewing.
Ladies & gentlemen, I am TheNorm; thank you all for reading.
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