The curated portfolio of film journalist Joe Lipsett
There’s plenty of horror to be wrung out of the idea that something is “too good to be true.” In director Daniel Robbins’ latest film, Pledge, the phrase is put to the test when a trio of College freshmen discover a social club whose seemingly perfect facade proves to be a front for something far more malicious and sadistic. [Read more…]
In He Said/She Said, critics Joe and Valeska dissect a film in a back and forth email exchange. Previously, we adopted a crazy ersatz child in Jaume Collet-Serra’s 2009 Orphan. This time, we’re just trying to survive a less hilarious modern take on The Happening with Susanne Bier’s Bird Box (2018) [Read more…]
My writing partner, Trace Thurman, and I write biweekly editorials for Bloody Disgusting entitled “Horror Queers“. The series focuses on films with LGBTQ themes, a high camp quotient or both.
Thus far the editorials have tackled the following films:
It appears that at least once a year, LGBTQ-hungry audiences are being gifted with a quiet, introspective gay love story that delivers both the romance, the passion and the geography porn. It truly is a marvelous time to be alive.
Following in the footsteps of Brokeback Mountain, Call Me By Your Name and – most closely – God’s Own Country, writer / director Mikko Makela’s debut feature film is the latest entry in a recent trend of gay art cinema films that chronicles a forbidden romantic relationship between two men from different backgrounds.
In this case, it’s Finnish graduate student Leevi (Janne Puustinen) – back home for a long weekend from his studies in Paris, France to help his father, Jouko (Mika Melender), fix up the family’s lakeside cottage for sale – and Syrian refugee, Tareq (Boodi Kabbani) who is brought on as a handy man. Almost immediately the men are forced together because Tareq does not speak Finnish and Jouko’s command of English doesn’t extend beyond polite chit-chat, meaning that Leevi must act as translator. He’s also required to be the mediator, explaining Tareq’s frustration to his father because the refugee is unable to procure better work despite his expertise as an Architect; Leevi is also negotiating his father’s volatile xenophobia, which adds an additional layer of complication to their already strained familial relationship.
The tension eases up when Jouko is called away overnight on business and the pair of younger men are left getting to know each other. Makela wisely takes his time developing their relationship: for the better part of their dockside chat, their discussion in the sauna, their romp in the lake and finally their nighttime drinking on the porch, the topics are shallow and general. In fact there’s barely any sense of a romantic connection; these are guarded men circling the wagons. Still, a few lingering glances from one when the other isn’t looking serves to build anticipation and by the time the pair finally lock eyes in a knowing fashion at night’s end, both the characters and the audience are ready to put an end to the slow burn and get down to action.
Makela expertly employs a handheld style, as well as tight framing and slightly disjointed editing to convey the impassioned intimacy of their first sexual encounter. Leevi and Tareq’s coupling has a hungry, desperate vibe; the scene teeters somewhere between graphic and carnal and Makela’s script allows it to play out longer than usual before cutting to the next morning. From this point on the connection between the men shifts and their interactions, both verbal and physical, are more charged, sexualized and meaningful. Conversation about the weather is replaced by startlingly frank revelations about Tareq’s double life in Syria and his flight to Finland, as well as Leevi’s memories of his deceased painter mother and his uncertainty about love following a prior relationship back in Paris.
A Moment In The Reeds spells out its central conflict in its title: this is a film that traffics in a fleeting fantasy. The reintroduction of Jouko and the realities of the external world quickly threaten to upend the romantic connection between the new lovers. In this way, comparisons to God’s Own Country are certainly apt and unavoidable, particularly the gorgeous, empty countryside playing host to forbidden desire and brooding spectacle.
The natural beauty is amplified by Makela’s exquisite direction and the naturalistic performances by the two leads. Puustinen and Kabbani wisely underplay their attraction until the men act on their desires, at which point their sexual chemistry and affection comes on strong. Although I’m not in favour of a requirement to hire LGBTQ actors to play queer characters, the ease with which the two men interact, particularly in the sex scenes, belies a comfort by the real life gay actors that is absent in other projects.
The film is not without criticism. Despite all of the groundwork laid in advance, the ending of the film feels sudden and abrupt, which won’t satisfy fans of the film’s otherwise languid pace. Narrative-focused audiences, meanwhile, may find that their attention drifts: this is a simple, straightforward story about a brief, fleeting encounter between two men. At one point Tarek mentions “a fantasy experience” and that’s what the film is for the majority of its runtime, for better or for worse.
Still, the political and social framework of the two men’s backstories is relatable and/or extremely topical. Leevi’s story is familial: he’s working through a communication rift between him and his estranged father and other unresolved issues in the wake of his mother’s passing. Tarek’s story is more global: he’s an immigrant recovering from the experience of being closeted in a country that’s hostile to the LGBTQ community at the same time as he struggles to establish a new life in a place where he doesn’t speak the language and can’t practice his own profession.
Both Leevi and Tareq are hungry – nay starving – for intimacy and someone who will listen to them (sexually, romantically, and emotionally). Considering how memorable and impassioned Mikko Makela’s film is, audiences may find themselves devouring A Moment In The Reeds with similar enthusiasm. It’s a strong contender for queer film of the year.
4/5
In both the real world and the filmic world, six years have passed between adventures for Wreck It Ralph‘s titular character (John C. Reilly) and his pint-sized bestie, Vanellope (Sarah Silverman). It hardly matters whether viewers retain any specifics about the duo’s first outing; although Ralph offers a brief recap, audiences need only recall that friendship is the defining aspect of their relationship, so much so that Vanellope had the words “You’re My Hero” emblazoned on a commemorative medal that Ralph wears around his neck.
In the years since their 2012 adventure, stagnant repetition has set in. For Ralph, the reliability and consistency of the same daily sequence of events is ideal; for Vanellope, however, the appeal has worn off. In an effort to give his bestie an exciting experience, Ralph crafts a new race track in her arcade game Sugar Rush. Unfortunately Vanellope’s agency conflicts with the desire of the human girl playing the game and in the resulting chaos, the game’s steering wheel is broken. A quick Internet search reveals that the one-of-a-kind item is only available on eBay for a costly sum that the store’s owner Mr. Litwak (Ed O’Neill) is unwilling to pay. With the threat of homelessness looming, Ralph and Vanellope must venture into the unknown realm known as the Internet in order to procure the wheel and restore Sugar Rush before Litwak sells the game for scrap.
This new adventure, written by Phil Johnston and Pamela Ribon and co-directed by Johnston and Rich Moore, opens up even more storytelling possibilities than the limited arcade game setting of the first film. Just like many of the Pixar films, adults will no doubt appreciate the (corporate branding) comedy more than kids, but for the most part Ralph Breaks The Internet remains firmly entrenched in family friendly territory.
The candy coloured world of the Internet is visually represented by an endless skyscraper city populated by squat, square headed avatars of people (if you squint, they kind of resemble Funko Pops). Companies are embodied by their logos or obvious visual signifiers (a warehouse of auction items for eBay, a large tree full of little blue birds for Twitter, an enormous pin for Pinterest, etc). One of the strangest elements is the intermingling of both real and fictitious companies; aforementioned Pinterest gets a major plug in the film’s climactic set piece while made-up company BuzzzTube, a combination of Instagram and YouTube, dominates the film’s narrative.
The largesse of the internet allows the production to greatly expand both its narrative and its satirical targets. After their eBay bid for the Sugar Rush wheel goes disastrously wrong, leaving them with an outstanding bill of nearly $28K, Ralph and Vanellope must find a quick way to drum up some cash. Their attempts to do so drives the remainder of the film, which takes aim at spam ads, personality quizzes, product placement, viruses, memes, gaming and, yes, even trolls. How well some of this content will age is uncertain (were bee puns really a thing…or will they become a thing?), but for the most part the observations on Internet culture are on point, even if they hue a little simplistic and obvious.
Along the way Ralph and Vanellope encounter a diverse range of vibrant characters, including BuzzzTube analytics maestro Yesss (Taraji P. Henson – clearly having a ball), Dark Web underlord Double Dan (Alfred Molina) and independent search engine Mr. KnowsMore (Alan Tudyk). The most significant character is racer Shank (Gal Gadot), a confident, independent leader of a Grand Theft Auto-inspired racing game called Slaughter Race who prompts Vanellope to reconsider her life goals, thereby widening the rift between the little girl and Ralph.
At 112 minutes, Ralph Breaks The Internet is a smidge too long. By the time that the third act conflict has escalated to a crisis of friendship, things feel ready to wrap up. Unfortunately this is when the film’s Checkov title comes into play and Ralph goes into action overdrive, which includes an extended chase sequence and homage to a giant classical Hollywood ape that hits the necessary, albeit familiar character beats that children’s films tend to focus on.
Thankfully the conclusion features the return of the film’s secret weapon: the Disney princesses (Anna and Elsa, Ariel, Aurora, Belle, Cinderella, Jasmine, Moana, Mulan, Pocahontas, Snow White, and Tiana — all voiced by the original performers, save Snow White). The revisionist interpretation of these classic characters may evoke comparisons to later Shrek films, but Johnston and Ribon are savvy in their discrete, smart use of the Mouse House’s invaluable properties. The fact that these characters provide some of the films greatest laughs doesn’t hurt, either.
Overall, Ralph Breaks The Internet is solid family entertainment with wide appeal to both kids and parents. The film’s perspective on the Internet is a little simplistic and familiar, but it is also visually dazzling and often quite humourous. As expected Ralph is at its best when it focuses on universal themes of friendship and growing up, both of which are handled in heartfelt and surprisingly mature ways. In a world that frequently feels constructed on doom and gloom narratives, an endearing story about the value and importance of friendship feels both timely and welcome.
The most notable element of writer/director José Pedro Lopes’ The Forest of Lost Souls (A Floresta das Almas Perdidas) is that it is filmed in gorgeous black and white. It proves to be little more than an attractive stylistic choice than anything; this first feature is relatively straightforward. What the film lacks in substance, however, it more than makes up for in ruthless efficiency. It is a surprisingly cruel film, which is an inherent part of its charm.
The pre-credits sequence is silent save for a voice-over passage about grief. The images of a distraught looking woman wandering about a woods before finally succumbing in a frigid-looking lake are haunting. Following the title card, Pedro Lopes introduces two strangers, Ricardo Alves (Jorge Mota) and Carolina (Daniela Love), who happen upon each other in a notorious suicide forest located somewhere between Portugal and Spain. Ricardo is grief-stricken following the suicide of his daughter, Irene (Lilia Lopes) from the opener, though he doesn’t appear entirely sure about his decision to end his life. By comparison, teenager Carolina seems much more committed; she’s so organized that she has already prepared her video suicide note and concocted an alibi involving a music concert with spotty cell coverage to ensure that she’s not discovered.
As Ricardo and Carolina wander around the forest, gazing at the possessions that other suicides have left behind, they learn more about each other’s lives. Carolina’s demeanour reminds Ricardo of his remaining daughter Filipa (Mafalda Banquart), whom he claims to have failed, along with his wife Joana (Ligia Roque). His regret prompts him to try and change her mind, pleading with Carolina to give her absent father another chance.
There’s something affectionate and familial about their dialogue, but also something sinister. At times their interactions play off their age difference and difference in temperament, but there is always an underlying tension. When they finally reach the lake when Irene drowned herself, the hint of malice is confirmed in a sudden outburst of violence and one of the pair is revealed to be a killer who preys on the vulnerable and despondent.
There is more to The Forest of Lost Souls, but to say more would be to spoil the reminder of the film. It’s not a particularly complicated film and, at a brisk 71 minutes, it doesn’t overstay its welcome. The abbreviated run time and short ~one day duration of the narrative means that characters, particularly those introduced in the second half of the film, are not very fleshed out, but what The Forest of Lost Souls loses in deep characterization it makes up for in brutal efficiency. The kills are swift and painful (albeit not particularly gory or scary).
The lack of frights is a bit of a deficiency, particularly since the film doesn’t have characters for audience to invest in. Still, the solid production values (particularly the picturesque forest scenes), brief run time and solid thrills make The Forest of Lost Souls a quick and enjoyable watch.
3/5