Presence: Insubstantial

Presence (2024) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence, sexuality, drug use and relentless profanity

Available via: Amazon Prime and other VOD services

By Derrick Bang

This movie is extremely exasperating.

 

During a long and (mostly) illustrious career, director Steven Soderberg has come in two flavors:

 

Realtor Cece (Julia Fox, far right) shows off the house to its soon-to-be new owners:
from left, Chloe (Callina Liang), Chris (Chris Sullivan), Tyler (Eddy Maday) and
Rebekah (Lucy Liu). Trouble is, the house already has a resident tenant...

• the crowd-pleasing maker of star-driven vehicles such as Out of Sight, Erin Brockovich, Traffic and the Oceans Eleven series; and, alternatively,

• the occasional cinematic experimenter who stretches the medium, starting with 1989’s Sex, Lies and Videotape, and continuing with 2002’s utterly unwatchable Full Frontal, and now this deliberately challenging take on the classic haunted house story.

 

The “gimmick” here is that the entire story emerges from the point of view of the ghost trapped within its lavish suburban home. The film never leaves the house, because the ghost cannot.

 

Okay, potentially clever in concept ... but the execution is an assault on the senses. The house is empty as scripter David Koepp’s narrative begins, and this entity initially swoops from room to room with supernatural speed, spinning and gyrating in a manner certain to induce vertigo and even nausea in viewers prone to motion sickness.

 

As usual, Soderberg is responsible for his own cinematography — “concealed” behind his familiar pseudonym, as Peter Andrews — so he’s wholly responsible for this dizzying assault on the senses. And although this spectral entity soon settles down a bit, its occasional whip-fast plunges — from one room to another — remain jarring.

 

The house soon is purchased and tastefully furnished by the not-so-typical American family of Rebekah (Lucy Liu), Chris (Chris Sullivan) and their two high school-age children, Tyler (Eddy Maday) and Chloe (Callina Liang).

 

We learn more about this family as the ghost eavesdrops on them, individually and collectively. Each revelatory session is a single tracking shot — some fleeting, some impressively long — which then cuts to a brief black screen, as the ghost slides through a wall to go elsewhere (at least, that’s what it feels like).

 

It soon becomes clear that Rebekah is clandestinely up to something shady, likely a sort of financial swindling, which worries Chris enough to think about separating. But he can’t, because he needs to be around for their fragile daughter, still deeply traumatized by the recent drug overdose of two friends, one her former bestie.

 

The unpleasantly arrogant Tyler, a bullying jock who swears constantly and believes that he walks on water, enjoys playing cruel pranks on vulnerable classmates; he also has no patience with his sister’s fragility. To make matters worse, Rebekah’s unwholesome fondness for him — at the expense of practically ignoring Chloe — borders on a Jocasta complex.

 

Five Nights at Freddy's: Four nights too many

Five Nights at Freddy's (2023) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, and too generously, despite strong violent content, bloody images, gore and profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

Since establishing itself as a purveyor of low-budget horror films in the early 21st century, Blumhouse Productions’ occasional hits — 2017’s Get Out, 2022’s M3gan and 2007’s Paranormal Activity come to mind — have been offset by scores of tedious and downright stupid entries that rely mostly on gore to scare up two quick weeks’ worth of business.

 

Five Nights at Freddy’s definitely belongs in the latter category.

 

Looking more like the vagrants he was hired to keep out of a long-shuttered family arcade
and pizzaria, Mike (Josh Hutcherson) finds Vanessa's knowledge of the place to be ...
rather unsettling.

Films based on video games are a dubious proposition to begin with, and director Emma Tammi’s uninspired work here is well matched by the contrived and ludicrous script she cobbled together with five (!) co-writers, including original game creator Scott Cawthon.

The result is driven less by logic and more by a desire to satisfy the cult-like following that has blossomed since the (frankly boring) game’s 2014 debut, and a subsequent series of best-selling horror novels. (Seriously? The mind doth boggle.)

 

Although Tammi’s film gets points for a reasonably unsettling first act, it’s sabotaged by an increasingly stupid back-story wedged into these events. Horror films almost always fail when the writer(s) attempt to explain the unexplained; consider the power of the original Halloween’s conclusion, when the “boogeyman’s” disappearance and apparent invulnerability were left as a disturbing mystery.

 

So.

 

Following a rash act that would have put him in jail for assault and battery in the real world, woebegone Mike Schmidt (a listless Josh Hutcherson, his career sliding further into the toilet each year) once again is out of work. That’s bad timing; bills are due, and his bitchy Aunt Jane (Mary Stuart Masterson) wants him declared an unfit guardian of his younger sister Abby (Piper Rubio), in order to take over and collect the monthly support checks.

 

Mike has long been haunted by a childhood tragedy, when — briefly left in charge of younger brother Garrett (Lucas Grant), during a family camping trip — he failed to prevent the little boy from being kidnapped. Assisted by sleeping pills and sensory reminders of that incident, Mike keeps trying to “dream” additional details that might identify the kidnapper.

 

(Question No. 1: Abby, not yet born when the tragedy occurred, appears to be at least 20 years younger than Mike. Since Mike later explains that his mother died years ago, and that his father “split because he couldn’t handle it,” when, precisely, did the little girl come along?)

 

Abby admittedly is a troubled  and antisocial child, who eschews eating and conversation, and prefers sleeping in a makeshift floor tent rather than within the comfort of her bed. But she isn’t “impaired,” a kind social worker insists, merely trying to work her way through stuff.

 

Thanks to an unusually helpful job placement counselor — Matthew Lillard, as the oddly sinister Steve Raglan — Mike secures a new job as nighttime security officer at the decrepit remnants of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, once a popular game and pizzeria emporium in the mold of Chuck E. Cheese. The place has fallen into disrepair following its closure years ago, but — Raglan explains — the owner can’t bear to tear it down. Ergo, a security guard is needed to prevent vandals from trashing the place.

Day Shift: Well-done stake

Day Shift (2022) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong violence, gore and profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.19.22

This is the sort of film that would have scandalized your parents, had they caught you watching it as a kid.

 

Actually, more than a few adults likely would be similarly horrified, were they to dial it up by mistake.

 

When the vampire-hunting Bud (Jamie Foxx, right) is saddled with Seth (Dave Franco),
a nerdish, pencil-pushing babysitter, the latter is warned to stay the heck out of the way.
What could possibly go wrong?

The rest of us will have a grand time.

Director J.J. Perry’s kick-ass horror comedy won’t be more than a gory footnote in cinema history, but it boasts momentum, a sassy script by Tyler Tice and Shay Hatten, and a richly entertaining performance by star Jamie Foxx. It’s fun to see him return to his comedy roots, although this isn’t actually a comedic performance; the humor derives from the way Foxx plays this material straight, with deadpan sincerity, even as everything around him slides into cheerfully gruesome lunacy.

 

Matters begin innocuously, as San Fernando Valley pool cleaner Bud Jablonski (Foxx) arrives at the home of his latest client. Ah, but Bud isn’t your average pool cleaner. Trays of chemicals are a cover for somewhat more lethal tools, as he quietly slides inside this homeowner’s residence.

 

And the apparently terrified little old lady within isn’t nearly as helpless or frail as she seems.

 

Let us pause, for a moment, to acknowledge that this isn’t an old-school vampire movie, wherein the fanged nasties can be dispatched with a simple wooden stake through the heart. No, Tice and Hatten have gone old-school, where legend dictated that decapitation was the only way to truly kill a vampire.

 

Needless to say, make-up designer Christopher Nelson and his massive team are kept quite busy, with what soon follows.

 

Bud’s unusual profession notwithstanding, he’s an ordinary blue-collar guy struggling to make ends meet. The financial situation suddenly grows dire when his estranged wife, Jocelyn (Meagan Good), threatens to move their daughter Paige (Zion Broadnax) to Florida. This isn’t a fit of pique; Bud and Jocelyn’s relationship is prickly but still mutually devoted. She simply can’t get by on what Bud has been providing.

 

Things have indeed been tight, since the headstrong Bud was thrown out of the more lucrative international union of vampire hunters, following numerous code violations. It has been difficult to make ends meet, when his only income has derived from selling fangs to seedy black-market dealers such as Troy (Peter Stormare).

 

Bud begs for just a few more days; he then swallows his pride, enlists the support of his legendary vampire-hunting pal, Big John Elliott (Snoop Dogg), and begs to be reinstated by hard-ass union boss Seeger (Eric Lange).

 

Seeger derives considerable joy from agreeing, with a no-argument stipulation: Bud must be babysat by nerdy union rep Seth (Dave Franco), a desk-bound pencil-pusher who’s finicky enough to note even the slightest transgression.

Shadow in the Cloud: Totally demented

Shadow in the Cloud (2020) • View trailer

Three stars. Rated R, for violence, crude sexual comments and relentless profanity

By Derrick Bang

Director Roseanne Liang’s cheeky little thrill ride — available via Amazon Prime and other streaming services — is a tip of the aviator’s cap to an iconic Twilight Zone episode.

 

On steroids.

 

Flight officer Maude Garrett (Chloë Grace Moretz) expected a bumpy — but otherwise
uneventful — flight from Auckland to Samoa. Boy, does she get a surprise!

Back in the 1960s, this New Zealand import would have been relegated to the drive-in circuit. In the late 1980s and early ’90s, you’d have found it in Friday’s late-night pay-cable time slot. Even so, it won the People’s Choice Award for Midnight Madness at last year’s Toronto International Film Festival: an honor it richly deserves, and is a perfect indication of what you should expect.

 

The script, co-written by Liang and Max Landis — director John Landis’ son (also telling) — is defiantly whacked. Liang and Landis make no apologies for contrivance and the violation of all known laws of physics and aerodynamics; indeed, they gleefully revel in this stuff ’n’ nonsense.

 

That said, Liang and editor Tom Eagles deliver an impressive level of tension and momentum. This baby moves. 

 

Although … not right away.

 

The film opens with a WWII-era public service cartoon that parodies “Falling Hare,” the 1943 Warner Bros. classic that finds Bugs Bunny battling a little gremlin. This foreshadowing thus established, we meet Flight Officer Maude Garrett (Chloë Grace Moretz) on a military airfield in Auckland. It’s August 1943, late at night, and she’s scheduled to meet a B-17 bomber touching down only briefly, before resuming flight to Samoa with badly needed supplies.

 

The plane is christened The Fool’s Errand. (More foreshadowing.)

 

Maude’s left arm is in a sling, and she looks a bit worse for wear. She’s carrying a small dispatch case laden with top-secret papers.

 

Most of the seven-man crew is actively hostile to her presence, but her orders — verified by the plane’s pilot, Capt. Reeves (Callan Mulvey) — are emphatic: They’re to transport her and the case to Samoa. Lacking anything in the way of passenger space, the men get childish revenge by consigning her to the ball-shaped Sperry turret, fitted on the plane’s underbelly.

 

There’s no room for the dispatch case, which Maude insists can’t leave her custody. Quaid (Taylor John Smith), the top turret gunner — and the sole crew member treating her with kindness — promises to guard it.

 

So, into the turret she goes. We — along with cinematographer Kit Fraser’s camera — go with her. And stay with her.

Ready or Not: Gleeful gore to come

Ready or Not (2019) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated R, for violence, gore, drug use, relentless profanity and buckets o' blood
By Derrick Bang

Fans of dark-dark-dark humor — who can work up a macabre chuckle amidst gore, gouts of blood and the occasional decapitation — are guaranteed to have a great time with this little chiller.

Concealed — and as yet undetected — behind a bed, Grace (Samara Weaving) has just
discovered the lethal details of the "game" her new husband Alex (Mark O'Brien)
insisted that she join.

The timid and squeamish — which is to say, everybody else — are advised to steer veryclear.

Ready or Not comes from the gleefully demented minds of a filmmaking trio collectively known as Radio Silence: co-directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillet, and executive producer Chad Villella. Their previous big-screen efforts haven’t made much noise — V/H/S, Devil’s Due and Southbound are best left forgotten — but this one likely will elevate their cred.

As well it should. Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillet have made the most of a sharply honed script by Guy Busick and Ryan Murphy, which develops a simple premise into an exciting, 95-minute thrill ride. The execution may be gruesome, but there’s no denying the edge-of-the-seat suspense.

That “simple premise” will look familiar to those with fond memories of 2017’s Get Out, because the opening act is pretty much identical, albeit with a gender reversal: young adult brings lover home to “meet the folks,” whereupon the unsuspecting newcomer discovers all manner of dangerous weirdness within the massive mansion walls.

Mind you, Ready or Not doesn’t have anywhere near the ingenious social subtext that brought Get Out’s Jordan Peele a well-deserved Academy Award for original screenplay … unless, perhaps, Busick and Murphy intend a satiric shot at the notion that the obscenely wealthy really arehopelessly out of touch. But that’s probably giving them too much credit. 

At best, Ready or Not is a guilty pleasure, and an unapologetic tip of the hat to the cheerfully grotesque excesses of France’s infamous Grand Guignol stage productions, with a literary nod toward Marlowe and Goethe.

We open on a wedding day, with humble Grace (Samara Weaving) brought by fiancé Alex (Mark O’Brien) to the immense estate owned by the parents from whom he has been estranged for many years. We initially wonder why he’d bother, given that so many of the arriving clan members seem related to the Addams Family, but — as Busick and Murphy carefully establish — everything happens for a reason.

Green Room: Viciously suspenseful

Green Room (2016) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for brutal graphic violence, gory images, profanity and drug content
By Derrick Bang

This is a nasty little chiller ... in the best possible way.

That said, writer/director Jeremy Saulnier’s gory survival saga definitely isn’t for the faint of heart. The unsettling premise is reasonable enough to be quite scary on its own, and the vicious, suspenseful execution is the stuff of nightmares. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here...

As Amber (Imogen Poots, far left) looks on with grim satisfaction, Reece (Joe Cole) attempts
to persuade a trapped skinhead into explaining what the hell is going on; the rest of Reece's
friends — from left, Tiger (Callum Turner), Sam (Alia Shawkat) and Pat (Anton Yelchin) —
wait to see what will happen next.

Saulnier burst onto the scene with 2007’s high-camp gore-fest, Murder Party, which evoked pleasant memories of 1992’s Dead Alive, Peter Jackson’s early-career exercise in similar bad taste. (Well ... pleasant memories for those who go for such things, anyway.)

Saulnier got a lot more serious with his second outing, 2013’s Blue Ruin, which made respectable noise at Cannes and numerous other film festivals. Clearly, he was a filmmaker to watch, and Green Room — his newest exercise in nail-biting tension — is further proof. It belongs in the grand tradition of Straw Dogs, Assault on Precinct 13 and even Night of the Living Dead, all of which trap small groups of people in enclosed spaces, vastly outnumbered by evil forces determined not to let them escape alive.

Things begin quietly enough, as we meet the scruffy members of a hardscrabble punk band dubbed The Ain’t Rights: vocalist Tiger (Callum Turner), guitarist Sam (Alia Shawkat), bassist Pat (Anton Yelchin) and drummer Reece (Joe Cole). They’re nearing the end of a road trip/tour that has netted some artistic satisfaction but little in the way of cold, hard cash; they’re tired and discouraged.

This introduction is handled economically by Saulnier, who in a few quick scenes tells us everything we need to know about these twentysomethings. Pat is the philosopher; Sam keeps everybody in line; Tiger and Reece are the hardcore punkers. Minor larceny aside — clandestinely siphoning gas, when they lack the funds to fill up their van — they’re reasonably decent folks: just another enthusiastic quartet of musicians trying to get noticed.

After a potentially lucrative gig falls through, they accept a replacement booking, to play an afternoon set at an isolated, rundown club deep in the Oregon backwoods. Their arrival is greeted with quiet suspicion by the locals, many obviously of the skinhead/white supremacist persuasion, but the club manager — Macon Blair, as Gabe — seems friendly enough.

The Witch: Barely casts a spell

The Witch (2016) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated R, for disturbing violent content and graphic nudity
By Derrick Bang

Filmmaker Robert Eggers’ modest little chiller is being hailed as 2016’s first “New Wave horror masterpiece,” akin to last year’s It Follows.

Sadly, that’s high praise this film doesn’t deserve.

As Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) continues to suffer the guilt of having "lost" her baby
brother, Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw) tries to comfort her. But he does the job badly, in
part because of his own conflicted feelings about his older sister.

It also has been described as the unholy love child of Swedish director Ingmar Bergman and The Blair Witch Project. That’s much closer to the truth, albeit with far more Bergman than Blair. Unlike that 1999 cinematic con job, which was a case of the emperor having no clothes whatsoever, The Witch does deliver a few lurid sequences while building to its nasty finale.

But Eggers is a much better director than writer. He definitely gets full marks for moody atmosphere and unsettling tension, and — assisted by production designer Craig Lathrop — quite cleverly stretches the $1 million budget to deliver impressive period authenticity.

But the plot is clumsy and random, with key details and motivation left undisclosed, and the characters are badly under-written. We’ve no idea why any of this is happening, or what these poor folks have done to deserve it (although there’s a suggestion that female puberty is the catch-all culprit).

More to the point, character behavior is deranged, and therefore impossible to take seriously. Much has been made of Eggers’ meticulous adherence to early 17th century New England dress, mannerisms and particularly speech; that’s well and good, but he rather overplays the religious zealotry, to the point of generating unintended laughter at all the wrong moments.

On top of which, even with the aforementioned third-act climax, Eggers’ pacing is languid to the point of tedium. Something obviously is wrong, when you can’t sustain interest for a brief 90 minutes.

In a word, The Witch is a yawn. Until the final 10 minutes or so.

It Follows: A smart, scary little shocker

It Follows (2014) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for disturbing violent and sexual content, graphic nudity and profanity
By Derrick Bang

Young indie filmmaker David Robert Mitchell acknowledges a debt to horror auteurs John Carpenter and George Romero, and it’s easy to see why: Mitchell’s little chiller, It Follows, is suffused with the original Halloween vibe.

And I mean that in the best possible way.

As the full implications of her terrifying dilemma are explained to Jay (Maika Monroe,
center), her sister Kelly (Lili Sepe) and former boyfriend Greg (Daniel Zovatto) react with
varying degrees of skepticism. Their doubts won't last long...

Mitchell’s film is unsettling and nervous-making, in the manner of 1968’s Night of the Living Dead and 1978’s Halloween, both of which emphasized atmosphere over the gratuitous gore they were (somewhat unfairly) accused of spawning in subsequent rip-offs. Mitchell understands the distinction; rather than gross out the audience, he’s far more interested in sending us home with a desire to leave the lights on all night.

Not to mention regarding the next sidewalk-strolling stranger with a worried eye.

For the most part, Mitchell plays this card skillfully: This is a seriously disturbing suburban nightmare, and editor Julio Perez IV knows precisely how to pace cinematographer Mike Gioulakis’ often disconcerting camera set-ups: a slightly wonky angle here, a worrying overhead shot there, a tense tracking shot taking us to the next scene.

Nor does Mitchell cheat, with cats bursting from darkened closets, or potential victims playing nasty tricks on each other. This narrative is scary not because of in-our-face surprises or frenzied assaults, but because of inexorable, slow-moving doom: the horror of ghastly inevitability.

The setting is a dilapidated neighborhood in suburban Detroit, with homes just distressed enough to suggest residents trying their best to maintain appearances, despite rampant unemployment and fractured families. The occasional empty house signifies a battle lost, just as nearby streets leading toward the city pass entire blocks of shattered structures that look more like the aftermath of the London blitz, than any portion of a modern American metropolis.

The actual time, though, feels ambiguous (and deliberately so, I’m sure). Technology exists, but smart phones aren’t ubiquitous; neither are we far enough back to glimpse LPs and turntables. It’s as if time, like suburban renewal, has skipped this particular enclave, which exists in something of a dreamlike haze.

Which is appropriate, given what’s about to happen.

College-age Jay (Maika Monroe) and her sister Kelly (Lili Sepe) lead a casual lifestyle with their mother, the latter an alcoholic who barely charts her daughters’ comings and goings. Despite this, Jay and Kelly seem to be reasonably well-adjusted, spending most of their time watching old fright flicks with best buds Yara (Olivia Luccardi) and Paul (Keir Gilchrist), who has had an obvious crush on Jay for many years.