Four college girls, desperate to cut loose and go wild in Florida, hold-up a fast-food joint to raise some cash. Once there, their raucous partying results in a trip to jail, from which they are rescued by gold-toothed rapper/drug dealer Alien. Good girl Faith is wary of his intentions, but the remaining girls embrace the dangerous, extravagant lifestyle that he offers them.The repeated sound of a gun reloading during scene transitions is one clue that all the fun and thrills of Spring Break are due to end in trouble. But it’s also our own expectations of tiresome Hollywood cliches that help to create this dark sense of foreboding. Being a young, attractive and sexually “promiscuous” young woman is a dire mistake for most horror movie protagonists, while drug-use and criminality are also usually punished by filmmakers. Look at a film like Piranha (2010), for which the initial premise is remarkably similar to Spring Breakers. It takes pleasure in the teens’ deviance, only to ultimately punish them. Spring Breakers seems to be heading in much the same direction. 

Somehow, though the sense of unease never dissipates, the girls survive. Two, Faith (Selena Gomez) and Cotty (Rachel Korine), sensibly go home before anything too terrible can happen to them (though being shot in the arm is surely no walk in the park). Yet these decisions aren’t celebrated – in fact, the journeys home feel more melancholic, as the excitement and adventure of a life of crime slip further away from them. Their two remaining friends, Brit (Ashley Benson) and Candy (Vanessa Hudgens) aren’t about to become victims anytime soon either. Taking Alien’s guns and turning them back on him proves just how easily they can take control of the situation, leaving the so-called tough guy sucking their dicks (okay, so it was the gun… but the metaphor is explicit). Though they let Alien make their plans, it’s clear that from this moment on they hold all the cards.

Korine has been criticized for the exploitation of female bodies, along with the glamorization of violence, heavy drinking and drug use which are undeniably present for much of the film. Rap culture is seductive to these girls, who appear to be physically turned-on by cash and guns, while the echoing mantra “Spring Break forever” emphasizes their perceived importance of the contemporary party lifestyle. But to say that Spring Breakers represents these issues with a completely uncritical eye is to ignore the uncomfortable atmosphere that permeates the entire film. The cute, colourful teen girls with their pink unicorn balaclavas juxtapose heavily with masculine-associated images of guns and violence. Korine’s deliberate casting of Disney starlets, along with the references to Britney Spears, also contribute to this. Britney’s pop ballad ‘Everytime’ may seem like a strange choice of accompaniment to a violent scene, but her career and personal problems actually perfectly epitomise the “good girl gone bad” scenario. Korine also satirises the normalisation of sex, drugs and crime sprees in mainstream media, via the girls’ instructions to “act like you’re in a video game.” Furthermore, a dream-like quality – stemming from repeated dialogue, sound effects and images – overlays the film with an unrealistic presence which may encourage the viewer to question what they are being shown.

In some ways, Korine evades portraying a particular judgement of his main characters. He deliberately avoids showing us the consequences of Brit and Candy’s actions. We will never know whether they are eventually caught and punished for their crimes, which leaves us unsure whether to feel pleased for them or horrified. Likewise, we’re ignorant of Faith and Cotty’s fates. While none of the characters in Spring Breakers could be described as “likeable”, somehow we’re still rooting for them all the way – willing them to survive even while they are callously hurting others.

Spring Breakers has divided audiences precisely because it is so difficult to read. To call it an out-and-out satire of the misogyny of rap culture would be too simplistic, as it would be to claim that it is a feminist film – despite the claim that this is what was apparently intended. In reality, the film represents a number of contradictory messages, purposefully confusing the observer and encouraging debate. While we passively accept the objectification of women in mainstream action films, here those images are present yet they manage to shock. That’s the joke. We talk about “positive” and “negative” representations of women, but this film forces us to question exactly what we expect from those terms. Spring Breakers may be criticised for its objectification of scantily clad young women, but the women in this film really own it. They utilise the male “gaze” for their own purposes, and celebrate their own sexuality, which may be uncomfortable to witness at times precisely because it defies our expectations. In the end, they leave Alien behind, demonstrating that they are fully capable of holding his masculine power for themselves.

This Easter, they’re hosting what has been nicknamed a “mini Grimmfest” – that’s six films spread over three separate nights, with the option to pick-and-choose which nights you want to attend. Or alternatively save money and catch all six films with a special multipass costing just £20! The three nights are each being held at a stunningly restored Art Deco super cinema in Stockport, the Plaza. Though a little way out of Manchester itself, it takes less than 10 minutes to reach Stockport by train and it’s entirely worth the trip just to get a glimpse inside this gorgeous building.

Kicking off the first of the three nights on 26th March is Slice and Dice: The Slasher Film Forever, the North-West premiere of this brand new documentary exploring the history of Slasher movies, with insightful commentary from some of the genre’s most celebrated filmmakers. This is paired alongside forgotten slasher gem Intruder (1989) which boasts Bruce Campbell and Sam & Ted Raimi among its cast. The Grimm Up North team describe this film as a combination of  ”a deliciously dark sense of humour, strikingly stylish and inventive camerawork, and some truly eye-popping gore FX, in a truly twisted take on the retail trade.” To top off the night, the director/producer from Slice and Dice will be present at the event to offer up some prizes and talk about the making of the documentary!

On March 28th, the Grimm team are back with two brand new horror films. They’re hosting the North-West premiere of Entity, a British supernatural horror film set in Russia. The filmmaker Steve Stone will also be present to host a Q&A entitled ‘How to produce a successful low budget horror movie’. This could be a great chance for any budding filmmakers or students to come along and pick up some tips. Also screening is I Didn’t Come Here to Die, an American teen horror flick which has already been compared to Raimi’s The Evil Dead (1981) in terms of being an excellent debut feature film by director Bradley Scott Sullivan.

Rounding off Mini Grimmfest on April 4th, Grimm Up North are hosting a Cronenberg double-bill. They’ll be screening two cult classics from earlier in his career, Scanners (1981) and The Brood (1979) both remastered in HD.

Tickets are available for each night for just £8, or the multipass for £20 which gets you in to all three events. Multipass buyers will also be able to pick up a free goodie bag at the venue, consisting of a free DVD, t-shirt, poster and magazine. For more information on this event and to find out how to get your tickets, visit the Grimm Up North website. From there you can also subscribe to their email newsletter or follow their Facebook page in order to keep up-to-date with news on all their upcoming events, as well as the 2013 festival.

Somehow, this film that should have been forgotten forever has taken on a life of its own and gained a huge cult following. Screenings are now held regularly in many major cities and fanatical fans come back time after time to watch it again. But sitting down to watch The Room is no ordinary cinema experience, as the film has acquired an audience-participation aspect. I recently had the pleasure of attending my very first live screening of Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, held at the Prince Charles Cinema in London. For the uninitiated, a live screening of The Room can be a slightly daunting prospect. Viewers get drunk, throw things and constantly shout insults at the screen. Below are a few of my tips on getting the most out of your first live experience of the film.

Preparation:

1. Watch a copy of the film beforehand if you can. For viewers in America, a copy can easily be purchased via Amazon.com, but in the UK it’s a bit harder to find a physical copy. You’re not going to be able to hear the dialogue over the noise of the audience, so watching it a couple of times with friends beforehand will definitely help you to recognise when the cues are.

2. Probably the most important part of any screening of The Room is the spoon-throwing, so make sure you bulk-buy some plastic cutlery beforehand. Otherwise, your best option is to arrive early and bag a seat in the first few rows, where you will easily be able to pick up all the spoons thrown forward by the people further back. It’s worth checking with the venue first about what rules they have for throwing stuff. The Prince Charles Cinema in London permits the throwing of plastic cutlery, but not American footballs.

3. Alcohol. Some venues might serve “Scotchka”, a hideous combination of Scotch whiskey and vodka which Johnny and his girlfriend are seen drinking in the film. I passed on this one myself, but either way there is a strong correlation between amount of alcohol consumed and enjoyment of the film.

My copy of the DVD

Merchandise:

Don’t forget to bring plenty of cash with you if you’re interested in picking up one of those elusive DVD or Blu-ray copies of the film. Tommy Wiseau bobble-heads, t-shirts and american footballs may also be available. If you’re lucky enough to be at a screening where Wiseau and/or Sestero are in attendance, this is a good opportunity to get a photograph, or something signed. At PCC’s screenings Tommy and Greg tend to hang around the bar, so if you don’t manage to catch them beforehand or you want to avoid a crowd, you can probably just nip out during one of the many gratuitous sex scenes and meet them then.

Meeting Tommy and Greg at a screening.

Audience Participation:

More extensive guides to the cues/jeers that you might come across at screenings can be found here and here, but I found that the ones listed below were the most commonly used. The jeers used seem to vary slightly from venue to venue, so just listen and join in with what other people are shouting. Most importantly, there are no rules – just yell insults when you see fit.

1. Spoons – Whenever a bizarre piece of spoon-related artwork appears in the background of a shot, shout out “SPOON!” and throw some of your cutlery at the screen.

2. American football – At various points during the movie, the characters decide to casually toss an American football around. When this happens, often some people in the audience will get up and start doing the same. If this isn’t allowed at your venue, you can count along with each pass that is made instead. “One, two, three…”

3. “Hi/bye Denny!” – Called out whenever the lovable Denny enters or leaves a scene.

4. “WHO ARE YOU?” – When a previously unmentioned character turns up and suddenly seems to be a significant part of the movie.

5. “Meanwhile, back in San Francisco…” – Shouted whenever we return to an establishing shot of San Francisco.

6. “Go, go, go, go, go, go!” – Chanting accompanies any tracking shot of the Golden Gate Bridge, followed by cheers if the camera manages to reach the other side, boos if it doesn’t.

7. Mission Impossible theme – Hummed when Johnny sets up his tape recorder.

8. Sex scenes – During the sex scenes you might want to clap along to the music, or wave your hands/a lighter in the air. People will also invariably make sounds of disgust and mock the fact that he seems to be putting it in her belly button.

8. “CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP!!” – Join in with the terrible bird impression.

9. “You’re tearing him apart Lisa!” – Probably Tommy’s most well-known line in the film, so you can’t miss this cue really.

Other popular jeers might include shouting variations of “she has CANCER!” when Lisa’s mother appears on screen, yelling “he’s your BEST FRIEND!” at Mark whenever reference is made to him banging Johnny’s girlfriend, and directing any kind of insult you can think of at Lisa. Because, y’know… she’s a woman. Bitch.

Answering questions before a screening at the PCC.

Watching a film does not necessarily entail sitting quietly in your seats anymore (though shouting and throwing cutlery is still frowned upon in most cinemas!). The Room screenings are just one example of the way that contemporary cinephiles are changing the way that film exhibition works. In my home city of Manchester alone, there are a number of different organisations running independent film nights, often with a unique twist. Check out my article for Manchester-based website Project Northern Monkey for more information on some of those.

The ‘love’ indicated in the film’s title refers to the relationship between Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and Anne (Emmanuelle Riva), an elderly couple, both retired music teachers, whose affection for each other is immediately obvious. When Anne suffers a stroke and is paralyzed down one side of her body, Georges cares for her as her condition gradually worsens. However, the film complicates usual cinematic representations of love, as we  are increasingly forced to question the moral implications of Georges’ actions. The film’s ending is given away in the very first scene, which lends a sense of futility and inevitability to the whole thing. There can be no magical happy resolution to this story, because in the end we are forced to remember that death is unavoidable.

The sombre mood is set immediately by a silent opening credits sequence, which dives right in to tragedy in the first scene. The visual style is trademark Haneke; lots of long, static shots, separating us from the protagonists, with speakers often not even in the frame. Editing is minimal too, with as few cuts as possible in each scene. These aesthetic choices could distance the viewer from the action, but Haneke can pull this off because inevitably the plot speaks for itself. He does not need to manipulate us with non-diegetic music and other traditional cinematic techniques, because the story is already so painfully easy to relate to. Your mind fills in the blanks, relating the characters of Georges and Anne to your own experiences and people you know. One aspect of the film that resonated the most with me was Anne’s passion for music, and how she was no longer able to experience the things she loved as her illness took over. This reminded me strongly of my own grandmother who, due to a degenerative eyesight condition, was gradually unable to take pleasure in the arts as she grew older. Other viewers will be able to find totally different comparisons to draw between the events in Amour and their own lives, which is what makes it so effective.

There is a distinct lack of dramatisation in Amour, focusing more on the grimly mundane problems of the couple’s daily life. Ambulance sirens and hospital scenes are noticeably absent, with Haneke choosing to reveal much of what happens through dialogue instead. The film ends prematurely, before the couple’s daughter has a chance to discover their fate. The story is not sensationalized, because there is truly nothing glamorous about old age or death. This is not to suggest that the story is boring, or that there are no surprises at all. On the contrary, several scenes in the film elicited gasps or laughter from the cinema audience.

Amour repeatedly returns to key images, like the window in their apartment which plays a very important part. Apart from one scene early on in the film where Georges and Anne visit the theatre, the camera never leaves their apartment building. The window therefore becomes a symbol of freedom, of escape from the torture of their lives. Another particularly surreal symbol in the story is a pigeon that enters their apartment through the window on two occasions. These incidents provide a little light relief from the trauma of Anne’s condition, but it’s interesting also to contemplate what the pigeon may symbolise as an intrusion on their lives. In the concert scene, the camera is positioned as a mirror to the audience (much like the cinema scene in Holy Motors), encouraging us to contemplate the act of viewing. Despite the minimalist ‘realistic’ cinematography that Haneke has utilised, the film clearly is extremely well-constructed, and there is a lot to think about as the end credits roll.

Some reviewers see this film as ‘uplifting’, but I simply don’t see how that can be the case. Yes, there’s the strong bond between Georges and Anne which suggests that self-sacrificial love for another human being can exist. But ultimately, Amour is not a celebration of life or love, but a reminder of death and sorrow. We’re forced to contemplate issues that are usually ignored; such as the way that our society treats the aged or disabled, euthanasia, pity, and pride. But most of all we’re encouraged to face up to our own mortality, and that’s the scariest and most depressing thing of all.

Set post-French Revolution, the story connects a number of interwoven character relationships and plot points. We start off with Hugh Jackman’s Jean Valjean, a convict who breaks his parole in order to pursue a better life, and who is pursued unrelentingly by his former guard, Javert (Russell Crowe) over the course of the film, the narrative of which spans many years. Through the help of the church, Valjean is able to transcend his class boundaries and become a successful business man and mayor. Valjean ends up adopting a child, Cosette (played by Isabelle Allen and later, Amanda Seyfried), as his own daughter, following the tragic loss of her mother. Years later, the older Cosette falls in love with Marius (Eddie Redmayne), a young revolutionary who is fighting on behalf of the poverty-stricken residents of the city, despite his own wealth. The story also includes unrequited love, comedic characters, an annoying street urchin named Gavroche, a self-sacrificial heroine, and an abundance of political and moral messages. Overall, as a newcomer to the musical, I found that there was a little bit too much going on to absorb. Rather than focusing on a few protagonists and really understanding them, we’re confronted with more characters who have little background other than what is directly related to the story. 

Tom Hooper’s distinctive cinematography makes full use of space, with plenty of movement and tracking shots. The handheld camerawork and dutch-angled shots fracture the scenes, reflecting the characters’ states of mind given the terrible circumstances they are living in. Hooper utilizes plenty of close-ups during the passionate solo numbers, often with characters looking directly into the camera lens as they deliver their songs. Shallow focal depths mean that the spectator can focus only on the face and the emotions of the person on screen. This is particularly effective during Fantine’s (Anne Hathaway) solo rendition of ‘I Dreamed a Dream’, which is one of the most moving performances I have ever seen and is worth the price of a cinema ticket in itself. These techniques feel very claustrophobic, and unfortunately this wore me out long before the 158min film was finished.

As a musical, the plot is as melodramatic as you might expect. Valjean epitomizes perfection in every way. Although he’s technically a criminal, it is explained that he was imprisoned only for stealing a loaf of bread for his sister’s family. He rescues first Fantine, then Cosette, and later Marius. He is too honest to allow another man to be punished for his crime, and even lets Javert off the hook when he has an opportunity to put an end to their cat-and-mouse game.  He is described in one of the final scenes as a “saint”, and this pretty much sums up one of the key moral themes of the film. Christianity is a key presence throughout, as Valjean returns to the church for guidance at various key points. Valjean’s dedication to religion and an honest way of life set him up as a Christ-like figure, and the film teaches us that this good behaviour will be rewarded by God. Fantine is also similarly portrayed; though she is a prostitute she is depicted as an innocent victim of circumstance, and is ultimately rewarded like Valjean. But really Valjean is the true hero of the film, and Fantine and Cosette exist as characters purely to give him opportunities to look good.

As viewers we are also encouraged to sympathise with the poor over the rich, the revolutionaries over the state. We get to know the characters of the revolutionaries a little more, whereas the army remain a faceless mass of identical uniforms. We’re not really given any information about the political situation beyond this, so it’s difficult to emphasise with what is going on without some prior background knowledge of French history. Though Marius and co. are unsuccessful in their attempts, the hopeful religious ending seems to legitimize and glorify their fight for social change.

This spectacular film blows you away right from the first scene, with epic crowd scenes and great production design. The singing isn’t necessarily the best, as Hooper chose to record the vocals live on set rather than having the actors mime to pre-recorded songs, but the point is the seamless way that the images and songs manage to work together, creating a more convincing impression of emotion in each of the characters.  But the story becomes tedious the longer it goes on, peaking about a third of the way through with Anne Hathaway’s emotional solo performance and declining slowly after that. Fans of the musical will surely be used to the complicated melodramatic storyline, and will probably delight in it. Others, like myself, will probably leave feeling a little bit tired.

The first challenge is in describing what Holy Motors is actually about. We witness a day in the life of one man, Monsieur Oscar (Denis Lavant), who travels around Paris adopting different names, personalities and disguises for each “appointment” he has to keep. An actor without any audience; he exits the limousine, plays out a scene, then is immediately back in the car to prepare for his next role. For whose benefit these performances take place is never made clear, with even a brief appearance from Oscar’s boss managing to explain very little. Of course it could be argued that these encounters mean nothing at all. Similarly to David Lynch, Carax suggests that he tends to put images together instinctively, as they occur to him, not necessarily intending any precise meaning to be conveyed to the viewer.

Despite this uncertainty, Holy Motors certainly appears in many ways  to be a tribute to film itself. The movie opens with the director opening a mysterious door leading in to a cinema, looking down on the audience – us. This creates an immediate feeling of unease by drawing attention to the constant manipulation of the audience by the director. One shot shows the on-screen cinema audience from the point-of-view of the screen, functioning as a mirror for the real-life cinema audience who then appear to be staring back at their own watchful faces in the dark. Familiar tropes like the musical number and a scene with the bedridden dying man serve as a reminder of countless film and television productions that have gone before. Brief extracts from early silent films are cut in, alongside references to more contemporary film technology in the form of a scene depicting the creation of digital animation using motion-capture suits. Films as diverse as Eyes Without a Face (1960) and Godzilla (1954) are alluded to through the use of visual iconography and soundtrack respectively. Carax also references his own previous films, most noticeably through the highly disturbing but particularly amusing character Merde, who was first represented by Carax in an anthology of shorts entitled Tokyo! (2008).

One of the most enjoyable scenes in the entire film was, for me, the accordion interlude. One continuous three minute shot follows the lead actor as he wanders around playing the accordion, gradually joined by more musicians along the way. This lively interval is completely out of keeping with the rest of the narrative and isn’t referred to again. This brief interruption to the plot reminds us again that we are watching a constructed, fictional series of events and prevents us from being able to get completely sucked in to the film world.

The tone of the film constantly alternates between light and dark. There is a strong focus on death, with several sequences ending in murder, but this is also implied in the choice of locations. An abandoned department store sets the scene for Monsieur Oscar’s meeting with Eva (Kylie Minogue), a tedious scene which for me was one of the weakest points of the film. If there is a message within the narrative at all, it may be a critique of modern consumerist society. There is a sense of melancholy and fatigue emanating from Monsieur Oscar in the repetitive sequences showing him getting ready for the next appointment. In one interview for The Guardian, Leos Carax stated that: “”I suppose I was trying to describe the experience of being alive in the internet world. The different lives we are able to live. The fatigue of being oneself. We all get a little tired of being ourselves sometimes. The answer is to reinvent yourself, but how do you do that and what is the cost?”. Lighter, more humorous scenes, such as one towards the end of the film featuring a family of chimpanzees, provide plenty of laughs and stop the film from becoming too dark and depressing.

Aside from a few duller sequences that let the film down, plus a strange cartoon-ish ending featuring talking cars, Holy Motors was one of my favourite films of the year. Denis Lavant’s charisma and ability to embody so many different characters is particularly captivating. For viewers looking for a simple piece of entertainment, steer well clear of this. But if you enjoy films that may confuse and manipulate you, films that are thought-provoking and don’t provide you with all the answers, films that are full of wit and intelligence, then Holy Motors comes highly recommended from me.

While fans of the novel may be pleased that Cronenberg has chosen to retain much of the dialogue from the book, the long, eloquent sentences recited with little variance in tone mostly manage to alienate the viewer. Real-life speech contains pauses, fillers, interruptions, backtracking and repetition, whereas in Cosmopolis the dialogue literally sounds like it is being read aloud straight from the novel’s pages. Art films frequently prioritize dialogue over plot in order to capture the realities of everyday conversation and to present the audience with characters that we can really get to know, but in this instance the dialogue really tells us nothing remotely compelling. Conversations about the economy, capitalism, and “deep” philosophical questions or observations about life (“What does it mean to spend money?”) sound very clever at first, but the responses given actually teach us very little of interest about the characters on-screen. The stilted dialogue and lack of feeling is present among all the film’s characters, despite the appearance of actress Samantha Morton who is the Queen of emotion in films like Control (2007) and Morvern Callar (2002). We can assume then that this was a deliberate directorial decision on the part of Cronenberg, and not attribute much blame to the actors involved.

The cinematography and editing, at times, also contribute to the stilted effect. The way that some of the sequences were pieced together felt awkward and resulted in more of my attention being drawn to the cuts between shots (and sometimes to the dodgy green screen scenery outside the car’s windows) than to the complicated dialogue in the scene. The cumulative effect of all of this is that the film is extremely difficult to engage with. The characters are not interesting, the dialogue is not interesting, the plot is not interesting, and the way that everything is presented to us doesn’t help matters one bit. The one positive that I can draw from the film is that sometimes the deadpan tone in which dialogue is spoken is used fairly effectively to create humour, particularly in the case of ridiculous lines like “my prostate is asymmetrical.” One scene involving a rectal examination in the back of the limousine has the potential to be hilarious, but the continuous use of disjointed and uninteresting dialogue results in the segment being only marginally less boring than all the rest in the film.

The decision to set the bulk of the film in the back of a limo is an interesting one. The limo acts as Packer’s bubble from the outside world, suggesting that the luxury of being able to have everything he wants has led him to become numb to everything outside himself. Pain and fear are not emotions which seem to affect Packer, in fact he seems to welcome danger with open arms as a break from monotony; the numerous threats on his life cause him very little concern and he feels the need to continue on the all-important journey to the barbers even as a riot goes on right outside his car. Inside the limo the sounds of the angry crowds outside are reduced to silence, resulting in the car, and Packer inside it, seeming even more disconnected from reality. However, similar comments on the nature of capitalism and greed have been made before in other films, films which also succeed in being much less tedious than this one.

Generally speaking, even when I dislike a film personally I can still acknowledge that there are things about it which different viewers may find appealing. In the case of Cosmopolis, I really struggle to do this. Though some critics have described the film as “riveting”, I honestly can not bring myself to recommend this to anybody.

The story follows a group of  American soldiers in Afghanistan, hunting down the root of a zombie uprising. They are joined by American civilian Dusty, a young woman out looking for her rather eccentric brother, Derek, who is convinced that Osama Bin Laden is still alive and is determined to kill him. Of course it inevitably turns out that Al-Qaeda are responsible for the whole bloody mess, deliberately infecting Islamic insurgents with the zombie virus to create the ultimate weapon against the American troops.

Although a straight-to-DVD release, the film actually isn’t as hilariously B movie-ish as you might expect. The performances aren’t bad, the gore is always kept at a fairly safe level, and nothing too ridiculous happens (Aside from a few questionable moments… I’m sure American soldiers are issued with swords all the time). Some bad CGI is what most betrays the film’s low budget, but it can easily be forgotten. Shaky handheld camera is used for much of the film, obviously aiming for a realistic effect, with a focus on anecdotal ‘witty’ dialogue. Overall, apart from the Bin Laden aspect, the film is really quite conventional.

And if we think about it, the zombie/terrorism allegory is actually quite a common one in recent horror cinema. Directors like George Romero have previously referenced the ‘War on Terror’ in films like Land of the Dead (2005). This film has just taken that idea and made it more overt by setting the film in Afghanistan and directly referring to events such as 9/11 and people such as Bin Laden. The zombie-as-terrorist idea is one that works particularly well, with the zombies carrying out mindless killings in much the same way that terrorists are seen to mindlessly follow extremist Islamic doctrines. However, once the initial novelty of this film wears off after the first few scenes, it becomes much the same as any other zombie film. This isn’t helped by the fact that zombie Bin Laden barely appears in the film at all.

Osombie also strikes me as being much the same as any other pro-America film depicting the ‘War on Terror’. We can easily imagine the zombie terrorists in the film being replaced with human terrorists without the narrative being affected too significantly. We’re clearly meant to support the American troops, who are portrayed as brave and heroic individuals who often have to sacrifice their own lives for the greater good. The soldiers take great pleasure in hunting the zombies, constantly cracking jokes throughout and celebrating their kills. When zombie Bin Laden is eventually dispatched, this is presented to the viewer as the perfect happy ending. This seems to imply that the problem of terrorism has now been solved and that invading Afghanistan was the best way of doing this.

Horror fans probably won’t be shocked by anything that this film has to offer. The appearance of Bin Laden is the main attraction, and since he only clocks a short amount of screen time the rest of the film is disappointing. The plot of the film is completely ridiculous and had so much comedic potential, but the problem is that it’s played out like a serious film. The finished product therefore succeeds neither as a comedy-horror nor as a serious horror. Osombie is also a horror film that completely fails to scare. While some of the soldiers die at the hands of the zombies, they generally don’t seem like much of a threat, with one soldier easily able to pick a group of them off while the rest of her colleagues continue with whatever banal conversation they are having in the background. It seems like the film-makers tried to play it safe with this one, and unfortunately it’s backfired on them.

The plot of This Must Be the Place contains two main strands: one simply involves the evolution of Cheyenne as a character, and his eventual transition into ‘normal’ adult life, and the other is concerned with his journey across America to find the Nazi war criminal who had tormented his father at Auschwitz. While we’d expect a Holocaust-themed storyline to be dealt with very seriously, Sorrentino seems to focus far more on Cheyenne’s character and the relatively trivial encounters that he has with other people. There’s a lot of content that seems to be completely out of place with the overall plot, and several truly surreal moments, such as one scene that features a bison for reasons unknown. However, it is these little anecdotal details  that are actually the most compelling within the film. They help to build a clearer image of Cheyenne’s character, fleshing him out from the initial caricature of an aged rocker. The story of his search also doesn’t make a great deal of sense. We don’t see much of how Cheyenne pieces the clues together, he just seems to be drifting from place-to-place at random for much of the movie. When he eventually finds the man who he has been looking for, it seems slightly anti-climactic in some ways, despite the use of a hefty and intense monologue.

Cheyenne lives in the past, and fears the approach of death. Many of his interactions in the film are with young people – a teenage goth who he hangs out with at home in Dublin, an American diner waitress, and her son who he plays guitar for – which suggests that he remains young at heart. A humorous juxtaposition is created in one scene where he pays a visit to an elderly woman’s home. The house is all floral wallpaper, teacups and saucers, and embroidered decorations – so of course Cheyenne sticks out like a sore thumb. The juxtaposition between old and young is also brilliantly suggested through the location of the home of Cheyenne’s young  friend, Mary (Eve Hewson who, incidentally, is the daughter of U2′s Bono). A gigantic glass structure – the Aviva rugby stadium in Dublin – looming over the little old houses, demonstrates a similar contrast between retro and modern. The death of Cheyenne’s father, plus an encounter with David Byrne, seems to trigger some kind of self-awareness for him. He feels the need to find something to give his life purpose, which is why his search for his father’s tormentor begins.

A conversation from the beginning of the film, where Cheyenne is described as being too childlike to ever have tried smoking, becomes relevant towards the ending when we finally see him smoke his first cigarette. Yes, Cheyenne has grown up, and in the very next scene we see him dressed conventionally. His long black hair has been cut short and he wears no make-up. But should we really be entirely pleased that Cheyenne has now become ‘normal’? By this point we’ve grown to love Cheyenne, his hilarious observations (my favourite line from the film was the simple, “Why is Lady Gaga…?”) and his strange habit of trailing around a wheeled shopping cart (replaced by a suitcase later in the film) everywhere he goes.

This film is completely all-over-the-place, but it possesses a strange charm, much like Cheyenne himself. The cinematography is very creative and obvious, Sorrentino is obviously not aiming for a realist aesthetic. The camera swoops around continuously, it is very rarely static and the director makes much use of elaborately-angled crane shots. The plot jumps around similarly, with many elements not really seeming necessary and never being tied together. On top of the search for a Nazi war criminal, all the strange and pointless encounters met by Cheyenne on his journey, and the character of his wife who doesn’t seem to serve any purpose, there’s also a missing person storyline which never goes anywhere. Despite its flaws (and there are many of them), the beauty and humour of the film manage to just about stop it from being a total disaster.

The Cabin in the Woods uses a postmodern approach to the genre, which plays on popular conventions of horror films, seeming to simultaneously criticise and celebrate them. Horror buffs will delight in recognising the clichés as they arise and as they are torn apart. The victims themselves appear to fit neatly within frequently seen stereotypes, particularly those of the “sexually promiscuous” girl (who, of course, is the first to be killed) and the more “virginal” final girl who typically survives till the very end. Quintessential horror locations like the cabin, the lake, the basement (filled with the usual creepy horror movie props: old dolls, photographs, a music box, a diary), and a disused gas station are all seen. Yep, it all sounds like the kind of situation which is going to end in a lot of bloodshed. And of course it does, but still manages to surprise along the way.

Early on in the film we realise  that something is amiss. Goddard continually cuts to a large control centre in which white-collar technicians discuss and observe what the teenagers are up to. It gradually becomes evident that these technicians have some degree of control over what happens in and around the cabin. The juxtaposition created by cutting between these two locations creates humour, but also negates some of the horror. As a result, The Cabin in the Woods is more witty and clever than scary, although there are a few shocks throughout, as well as a lot of gore in the culminating scenes. The film features every classic movie monster under the sun (and a few rarely seen ones for good measure), but it also represents real modern fears – surveillance, voyeurism and the loss of control over our own lives.

The Cabin in the Woods comes so close to serving as an amazing metaphor for the nature of cinema and spectatorship. The white-collar ‘puppeteers’ represent the film director; they select and shape their characters (victims) according to stereotypes, they decide what will happen to them and orchestrate it with a surprising degree of detachment. The cabin and the surrounding area acts as one giant movie set – the technicians can even control aspects like lighting. So in that case: who is the cinema audience? What is the purpose of this event, and who is it being carried out for? Finally, it is revealed that a number of Gods exist beneath the surface of the Earth, who require these strangely orchestrated sacrificial rituals to be carried out in order to placate them from rising up and destroying the planet. It’s at this point that the metaphor becomes less effective. We can still choose to see the Gods as a representation of cinema audiences – we’re all blood-thirsty individuals who take great pleasure in films that pander to stereotypes – but personally, I feel that the film’s impact would have been greater if the higher purpose to this event was for some sort of corporate gain, or at least for the pleasure of something human, rather than something which can be dismissed as a power too great to argue with.

Having studied horror cinema for the past year of my life, I tend to feel that it’s pretty difficult for a horror film to truly defy my expectations. However, The Cabin in the Woods succeeded in doing so, keeping me guessing right up until the very end. Expecting either a final adherence to the typical final girl scenario, or else a twist on it where the virginal girl is killed and instead we are left with a ‘final boy’, it turned out that I was wrong on both counts (although not entirely). The film doesn’t manage to completely demolish all the conventions of horror cinema (the stereotype of rural folk as dirty and uncivilised, which Carol Clover discusses in her book Men, Women and Chainsaws, is perpetuated in the brief appearance of a creepy man at the gas station who is literally covered in dirt and keeps spitting), but gives it a good go. Overall, The Cabin in the Woods is a must-watch for any horror fan. Whether in the future it will be considered to be a game-changer in the same way that Scream (1996) was, only time will tell. But for now, it makes for extremely entertaining viewing.