A dysfunctional family that is very normal in its familiarity. They're on vacation, which is really nowadays a job, and it becomes more stressful than a job. The father, Jerry, has brought along his new girlfriend, Annette, and Jerry's daughters, Molly and Jessica, aren't really taking a liking to her. These Americans are in Europe, where Jessica, three days previously, has met a new British beau, Robin, and has decided to bring him along. As the five disembark the local bus unto a lush, expansive, and green field, shining brightly on a beautiful day, the circumstances are going to become more stressful than any could ever imagine. A family that needs to unite, unable to do so because they've literally been too close to each other, is going to be torn apart by another desperate family, hiding in the outskirts, amongst the woods, waiting for nighttime.
Fourteen years prior in a flashback sequence in David Gregory's Plague Town(2008), a priest enters as an unlikely visitor to a birthing. Not to deliver a blessing, the priest arrives for a killing, but the young mother, in a powerful image, wraps a sash around her legs to prevent the child birth. The children of this village are unwelcome visitors, because they are akin to a plague. The child is born, but the new father kills the priest. The child lives. During the present time, amongst the fields where the American family is walking, the sounds of a child whispering come from the camera's p.o.v., as young Molly is sneaking a smoke. She spies an old man digging a hole. The five approach the stranger, who says they must stay the night and also inappropriately touches the cheek of young Molly. The five stop for lunch in a barn where they fail to discover the rotting corpse behind a haystack. Night falls. Having found not a lick of civilization, the five stumble upon a car, unlocked and abandoned. They take shelter, and Robin, in a bit of chivalry, decides to brave the cold night with his flashlight and go look for better lodging. Jessica defies her old man's wishes and follows. The two encounter a freakish-looking older chap standing by a tractor. The freaky dude offers shelter: "better come with me, sweetheart," he says to Jessica, "I hate to see you go to waste." He pulls a rifle and shoots Robin in the neck. Jessica runs. Perhaps, the whispering child and her friends have found the remaining three at the car?
Who's David Gregory? An essential person to the current DVD world, to say the least, and Plague Town, with its story of Americans in Europe, is a mix of American storytelling combined with European atmosphere. Plague Town adopts the tried-and-true (and maybe tired) formula of "whoops, we should've stayed at home": the outsider encounter with the violent locals. The locals of Plague Town are children, and the rendering of these antagonists is where Gregory delivers. The children are demonic-looking and savage; their behavior is playful like children but imbued, even the most innocuous movements, with a chilling, sinister intensity; and they're cold-blooded killers. For example, during one scene, a character happens upon a small house with a dim light visible through the window. Inside, two girls are spied by the viewer through the window. A young girl is brushing the hair of another whose mirror image looks like Linda Blair at the height of her possession in William Friedkin's The Exorcist (1973). The two scatter when the character enters the house. Donning theatre masks with hooked noses, the two children dance in and out of the dim light into the shadows. Each appears from the shadows holding separate ends of a large sharp wire and each continues dancing around their victim. They stop abruptly after the wire is encircled around the victim's head, and with a quick pull, off goes to the top.
The European atmosphere of Plague Town overshadows the tired American formulaic storytelling. Gregory channels some of the more poetic imagery evocative of its masters, such as Jean Rollin and Jess Franco. The character of Rosemary is an older child, pale and blind, whose eye sockets are filled with glass ones. They are literally soulless eyes and she moves not at the direction of her hands feeling her way or at the direction of anyone's voice but some other unknown sense. She is simultaneously sickening and compelling at first glance. Her appearance in the film is a highlight.
Finally, the first third of Plague Town adeptly sets up the action of the second and third acts, taking time to introduce the characters and build up the suspense with foreshadowing and menace. This family is extremely familiar and likable in their familiarity. When night falls, Plague Town shines, and I was entertained and engaged for its running time. A hybrid of old-school American horror combined with European atmospheric dread, Plague Town should appeal to fans of both styles.
Who's David Gregory? An essential person to the current DVD world, to say the least, and Plague Town, with its story of Americans in Europe, is a mix of American storytelling combined with European atmosphere. Plague Town adopts the tried-and-true (and maybe tired) formula of "whoops, we should've stayed at home": the outsider encounter with the violent locals. The locals of Plague Town are children, and the rendering of these antagonists is where Gregory delivers. The children are demonic-looking and savage; their behavior is playful like children but imbued, even the most innocuous movements, with a chilling, sinister intensity; and they're cold-blooded killers. For example, during one scene, a character happens upon a small house with a dim light visible through the window. Inside, two girls are spied by the viewer through the window. A young girl is brushing the hair of another whose mirror image looks like Linda Blair at the height of her possession in William Friedkin's The Exorcist (1973). The two scatter when the character enters the house. Donning theatre masks with hooked noses, the two children dance in and out of the dim light into the shadows. Each appears from the shadows holding separate ends of a large sharp wire and each continues dancing around their victim. They stop abruptly after the wire is encircled around the victim's head, and with a quick pull, off goes to the top. The European atmosphere of Plague Town overshadows the tired American formulaic storytelling. Gregory channels some of the more poetic imagery evocative of its masters, such as Jean Rollin and Jess Franco. The character of Rosemary is an older child, pale and blind, whose eye sockets are filled with glass ones. They are literally soulless eyes and she moves not at the direction of her hands feeling her way or at the direction of anyone's voice but some other unknown sense. She is simultaneously sickening and compelling at first glance. Her appearance in the film is a highlight.Finally, the first third of Plague Town adeptly sets up the action of the second and third acts, taking time to introduce the characters and build up the suspense with foreshadowing and menace. This family is extremely familiar and likable in their familiarity. When night falls, Plague Town shines, and I was entertained and engaged for its running time. A hybrid of old-school American horror combined with European atmospheric dread, Plague Town should appeal to fans of both styles. 
We're talking Thanakorn Pongsuwan's 
Pongsuwan's 
Thailand is producing today's best martial arts films. Tony Jaa became a household name amongst genre fans with his high-flying elbows and knees and acrobatics with Prachya Pinkaew's 
I am a Takashi Miike fanboy, and to some, that means that I currently reside in Miike-san's anus, perineum, and scrotum. Having lived in that dark place for quite a while now by having viewed approximately fifty of his approximately eighty films, I cannot dispute that I am a geeky Miike fanboy. I'm so geeky that I own Tom Mes's excellent and aptly-titled 
I had the opportunity recently to view Detective Story (2007). "What's up with the wig?" asks my baby brother, while sitting next to me. "I have no idea, bro," says I. The wig belongs to private detective Raita Kazama and it is his sole disguise to offset his flamboyant, vintage- clothing outfit. He's on the trail of a serial killer, one who is stealing vital organs from his victims. One of those victims was a pretty lady, who visited Kazama one evening, very late. Kazama was getting drunk at his new next-door neighbor's, also named Raita, and Kazama couldn't be bothered. She's killed walking home. The police are suspicious of Kazama, because of the victim's final visit was at his home and near the next victim, Kazama's ballpoint pen is found. Kazama has no choice but to solve the mystery. Maybe the Gothic artist with a spiritual bent, named Yuki Aoyama, has something to do with the killings. 
That's a bare-bones preview to Miike's Detective Story, and the mystery does conclude, predictably and unexpectedly. Along the way, however, Miike is going to play a bit. In a couple of subtle scenes (I picked them out during a second viewing), a female figure is seen in the background, seemingly following Kazama during his investigation. Ghost of Kazama's visiting victim? I don't know: the motif is never fully developed or explained. Late in the investigation, Kazama goes to visit a serial killer, one whom Kazama arrested from his police-officer past. "You're here to gain knowledge about the current serial killer?" Sound familiar? Although his hands are bound and his mouth is obstructed, can you tell that he still loves his McDonald's Extra Value Meal?
Miike also litters Detective Story with images from a peeping tom, looking at photos on his computer. The peeping tom is a textbook collateral character and standout red herring; and he has no other link to story but maybe to provide nudity in the film. Raita, meanwhile, meets pretty and leggy Mika at Kazama's office. Raita takes her to an art showing of Yuki Aoyama's recent work. Scared that she's running out on him, Raita asks, "Where are you going?" "To the bathroom," says Mika. Short pause to close-up on Mika's feet, where a stream of urine is running down her leg. She smiles and says she couldn't wait. While she is washing her skirt and her panties in the bathroom, she discovers one of the killer's victims. How fortuitous. Detective Story is a mystery with a linear storyline, a narrative arc, and a satisfying climax. Very traditional. Traditional, however, is just not Miike's way. All of the ridiculous flourishes are distractions from the main narrative, but the distractions are what this film is all about. It's what Miike's cinema is all about. 
Is it fantastic? Is it boring? Is it ground-breaking? Is it a retread? Buy it 
flashback to children and dead older man with cut open stomach, old man was stabbed flashback of young boy lying in bed with mother and talking about other children being scared of him
shot of boy and palms while sleeping
old dude acted as if he knew him sasha gets rid of body his biological father flashback shows sasha and moms dumping body in river
cops find dads corpse at house on the trail now whats up with that
bellas pissed at klim that sasha got away
the two immediately start fucking
go to freaky deaky party ladys artistic type some guy hits on her and shaha gets mad jealous and beings talking to him whats up with that dont know whats up
katya is in hospital so is priest
this movie is like a poem some very beautiful music and cinematography
Kinji Fukasaku delivered at the dawn of the new millennium, capping off a brilliant career, delivering some of the best Japanese yakuza films this world has ever seen in the 70s, his perverse, stylish, and controversial Battle Royale (2000). In a lot of ways, Battle Royale is a perfect film: both culturally relevant in its contemporary time, beyond Japan, and also amazingly nuts and crazy to be enjoyable and horrifying to the curious genre fan. I hold the film in high regard and its novel by Koushun Takami. Kinji Fukasaku's son, Kenta Fukasaku, is credited with the excellent screenplay. The elder Fukasaku would slough off his mortal coil before finishing Battle Royale II (2003) with Kenta sharing a co-directorial credit and surviving with the final film. Battle Royale II is a phenomenally awful film and a complete disaster. Perhaps unfairly, I believed the elder Fukasaku's contribution could not be the fault of the film, so the majority of the disdain I lumped upon the younger director. I did little research on the film's production and do not know where fault lies in the sequel. I unfairly wrote off Kenta as no Kinji and quickly put Battle Royale II out of my mind and included a small note to ignore any future subsequent film from Kenta Fukasaku. I have since changed my opinion towards Cinematic children and decided when the recent opportunity presented itself to view Kenta Fukasaku's X-Cross. 
Upon returning from her bath, Shiyori finds a white cell phone ringing in her closet at her hotel room. She answers it and a frantic male voice tells her to leave immediately. "They're coming and they're going to cut off your leg." The male caller believes Shiyori is his sister, but Shiyori corrects him. There's no sister, just her phone. The male caller reveals that he's a professor at a university who studies local folklore. The town is full of crazies: a long time ago, there was a shortage of women in the village. In order to keep the females around, the villagers decided to cut off the left leg of each woman. This tradition has survived into present day. Shiyori flips and the lights go out and a bunch of faces can be seen through her window.
Aiko has an encounter in the hotel's public bathroom. The eye-patched woman from earlier confronts her, donning an outfit which is a cross between a traditional French Maid's uniform and a China doll. She has two pairs of large scissors in her hand. Why is she attacking Aiko? Apparently, Aiko stole her boyfriend away with a one-night stand. Aiko cannot even remember the guy. Aiko escapes the public bathroom only to get caught in a portable one, and Aiko and the Scissor Lady have a battle: Aiko with a chainsaw and the Scissor Lady with a massive pair of scissors, far larger than any garden shears. 
Keep in mind, X-Cross is a low-budget horror film, pure and simple. Motifs can become gimmicks; what's effective can be tired; and the intriguing becomes sometimes boring, depending on what kind of mood you're in. I apparently was in a ranty mood for this entry, and Battle Royale II is still an awful film. However, Kenta Fukasaku shows promise with X-Cross and I will certainly see his future films.
Ángela (
Ángela is a university student working on her thesis about "audiovisual violence." "Why would you pick such a subject," asks Professor Figueroa (
What's so extreme? Film geek and genre fan, who especially loves the hard stuff, Chema (
Truth be told, Ángela is more obsessively curious about the dark side of life than anything else. She has an abnormally yet sweet stable home life: married and happy parents, a cute and bubbly sister, and a nice home (for which she gets extra kudos for having a 
Amenábar drafts and executes quite the mystery with Thesis. Although there are only a handful of suspects to the mystery, Amenábar provides enough twists and turns to make it interesting, and the conclusion is pretty satisfying. Along the way, throughout Thesis, Amenábar drops in the background his cultural criticism towards the media and our obsession with media violence (in all its forms, news, films, etc.). None of the criticism is trite or preachy. One professor expounds to his film students about why the American film industry is so far ahead of the Spanish industry: it's because it gives the audience, above all, what it wants. Is that what cinema, from anywhere, supposed to provide? Amenábar poses the question without a fixed answer. Appropriately, Amenábar shoots Thesis at its modern university in present-day Spain in clinical white light (as did Dario Argento in Tenebre (1982)) with the visual flares and atmospherics saved for the suspenseful moments. Later fanciful films would come from Amenábar, but Thesis shows a real flair for the classical. 
While I am eagerly awaiting Agora (2009), Thesis really should be viewed by fans of Alejandro Amenábar and those who like a good mystery.
Previous to Erik and Knut joining their Russian compatriots to complete the border marking, the pair stopped with a local family, a father and his teenage daughter. One evening, Erik notices that a shelf looks recently emptied, as if the father and the daughter are hiding something. Erik confronts the father and forces him to show the wares. In a cellar, there is a stockpile of rations. Erik pulls the father back to the cabin, while Knut stays below with the young daughter. Knut makes an attempt to kiss the young lady, but in fear, she covers her face and cowers. Knut locks the girl in the cellar and finds Erik having murdered the father. Erik claims it was self-defense. (Semensky later says to Erik, who dons glasses for his poor eyesight, that although his glasses give him the air of civility, they do not hide his eyes which miss the war and the opportunity to continue violent acts.) Knut says nothing upon finding his brother having bloodily killed the man, as Erik mutters only the words, "seventy-three." Knut tells his brother that he's locked the girl in the cellar, and Erik says that he will let her out.
After meeting with the Russians, Erik and Knut begin their long journey towards the North. Knut sees at several intervals what looks like a young woman in the distance, and eventually, Knut tells Erik that he believes the young girl from the cellar is following them. Erik shocks Knut with his revelation: he never let her out. Knut says that they must go back, but Erik vehemently disagrees: they must trudge forward and complete this task for the crown. Knut is quite wrecked with guilt for the girl's trapping; however, he hides a deeper guilt (that Erik is able to later pull out of him) about the girl. The five come upon a swamp. Semensky says lets go around it and split the middle of the swamp with the border. Erik, characteristically and hostilely, disagrees: give the whole of the swamp to Sweden or trek forward. As they move through the swamp, the party spies an sauna eerily out of the blue and come into the neighboring village. The village has seventy-three residents, only one of whom is a child, and are all unnaturally clean.
Antti-Jussi Annila's Sauna is a gorgeous-looking film and really represents how technology can be used well with cinema. Only with the new-finagled cameras can the lines in Semensky's and Erik's face be captured: just by looking at the detail on their skin can the viewer tell that these gentlemen have seen very hard times. The titular sauna looks oddly clinical yet tainted, as the mold and mildew is around the dark opening. The dying vegetation and the cold weather are not just shown in glorious detail, but the detail is so overwhelming that the viewer can almost feel it. Cinematography aside, Sauna presents a dense and maybe esoteric theme of seemingly redemption and cleansing, tied to the titular sauna. What is certain, however, are the stellar performances by Ville Virtanen and Tommi Eronen, as Erik and Knut, respectively, two very complex characters. Their fraternal relationship is so genuine, and despite the often totally bleak nature of the film, their love never wavers. Virtanen and Eronen give very emotional and sometimes vulnerable performances, which alone make Sauna worth viewing. 
The David Lynch-like mystery involving the sauna and the nearby village is intriguing. I sat through the film twice before blogging: once as a passive viewer and the second more critical and sensitive, attempting to link the the themes and pick up clues. I do not believe I was wholly successful but I will certainly revisit Sauna again. Sauna is above all a very disorienting film: sometimes real-world-like harsh violence combined with darkly ethereal and creepy imagery and elements. A tight and focused film, densely-packed, richly-detailed, and a curious gem.