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Archive for October 2016

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No. 20 – The Invitation (Karyn Kusama, 2015)

I find it very difficult to write about things I love. My passion is very ineloquent. I want to be expressive and enthusiastic, but instead it becomes a dull stream of “that was good, that was good too, it was really good.” On that note, please anticipate next week’s film, which I love love LOVED. Now, onto this. Writing about things you didn’t like is far easier.

Karyn Kusama is a very good filmmaker. Girlfight got excellent notices and Jennifer’s Body is hugely underrated. I wish I had watched Girlfight for the first time, or Jennifer’s Body again. But I didn’t. I watched The Invitation. The Invitation is not a very good film. And I really wanted to like it. It had a lot of potential, and it also had Emayatzy Corinealdi, so luminous in Middle Of Nowhere. And I love films about cults, which I understood this to be from the synopsis, though the film seemed to forget it from time to time. We are very forgiving to low budget films starring non-professional actors with people working together, trying their best with limited resources and still making a pile of shit. When a bunch of experienced LA-based movie professionals do the same and fumble so badly, it’s frustrating. So I’m not feeling particularly charitable.

Logan Marshall-Green as Will, looking like Tom Hardy in Khal Drogo cosplay, drives his new girlfriend, Emayatzy Corineald as Kira, who will have no lines until the last 15 minutes, to dinner with his ex-wife Eden and other friends. On their way, they hit a coyote which Will must then euthanize (with a tyre hammer). (Incidentally, this blog post is dedicated to all the wild animals who are hit by cars in films to make a strained metaphor about the driver being like a lamb to the slaughter.) Eden and Will separated after the death of their young son, and Eden has turned to a vague, new-agey movement called The Invitation to help her through her grief, guided by her new partner David. Will is suspicious of the group and their unsubtle attempts to recruit the rest of the guests, and while initially his friends are embarrassed by his hostility, his suspicions about their nefarious purpose is proven correct.

Will has an almost preternatural sense for danger – insisting on walking one departing guest to her car to ensure her escape, arguing about Eden and David locking them in for safety, intuiting their drinks have been poisoned. The film initially does a reasonable job of making his caution seem like paranoia, but the film is too dry for it to be effective. There are too many characters that we struggle to differentiate so it’s hard to understand who’s on Will’s side, who’s angry, who’s a stranger. Lines seem randomly allocated with no thought to vérité or character – one character says he knows a lot of people who’ve done The Invitation, then a few minutes later asks for more information like he’s never heard of it. Tommy and Miguel transpire to be partners, though this isn’t obvious until close to the end of the film. Most of the characters are basically incidental, which is good because none of them stand out in any way, apart from Michelle Krusaic’s Gina who makes a valiant effort to inject some personality into her character. (There’s an examination to be made of Hollywood’s Asian female actresses, who will at some point all play characters called Gina, Amy and May, because creativity is dead.) Gina’s boyfriend, Choi, begins essentially as Poochie from The Simpsons – whenever Choi isn’t on screen, the other characters are constantly asking “where’s Choi?”, building up masses of intrigue about this character who, when he arrives, is…just another guy.

It’s strange looking back at the film. When considering the plot and various elements, it sounds so promising. There are elements that sound so strong as concepts but in practise fall flat – Will and Eden’s bereavement is more meandering melancholy than relevant to the story, intriguing as the idea of the death of a child driving a mother to a manipulative cult may be. The appearance of a mysterious group at the door suggests an interesting sideplot that ties into the (weak) end twist, but the film ends up retaining focus on our dull bourgeois dinner party. There’s huge potential for a horror film based around the cult of wellness and mindfulness, and Karyn Kusama could well be the director to make it. But the script, so first draft-y and, well, basic, gives the film such weak foundations that the rest of the production struggles to overcome it. Just when things look like they might get interesting, the whole things deflates again. It confuses long stretches of repeating ideas and people making small talk for building tension. The last thirty minutes, where action starts happening, displays Kusama’s skill as a director, but the effect is diminished because of what has gone before. One of the significant players is a character we know nothing about and I had forgotten existed, and the villains are so irritating that by the time they start being threatening, they’ve lost their sense of danger. It’s not that the film is bad, per se. Lots of films are bad, and continue to be extremely entertaining. The Invitation is boring, which is unforgivable. Top tip: watch Jennifer’s Body instead.

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No. 19 –Foxfire (Annette Haywood-Carter, 1996)

There’s something very appealing about a group of girls. Not in real life, of course. They’re terrifying in real life. But in the media, a pack of feral girls getting up to mischief, stretching the limits of their burgeoning adulthood, scandalising their way out of social expectations of what it means to be a young woman. It makes good TV. I’m talking the Pink Ladies, Spice Girls, the Craft. The car full of maniacs in Faster Pussycat, Kill, Kill. Female friendship is a potent force, and teenage girls hold a beguiling power that is often confused with sexuality. It’s not, really. Or if it is, it’s inward-looking, not for the benefit or titillation of anyone outside the group. It’s like they’ve just realised the world is theirs for the taking. And naturally, other people don’t like that.

Foxfire has existed in a couple of formats over the years. Obviously, the book was written by Joyce Carol Oates, an author so prolific that you can be forgiven for never hearing of this particular novel, and in 2012, a more faithful adaption by Laurent Cantet was released, which was very enjoyable. In 1996, Annette Haywood-Carter’s adaptation brought the story out of its 1950s setting (the heyday of girl gangs) and into the grungy, raging against the machine-era 1990s, to apathy and near-silence. In the past few years, the film has experienced a touch of cultish nostalgia, largely based around the early role for Angelina Jolie and, let’s face it, Angelina Jolie’s exposed breasts, though the topless scene in question is not particularly titillating (not that that would prevent the screengrabs of the Messrs Skin of this world). The updated setting works surprisingly well. The post-Riot girl and 90s neo-feminism suits the story, and the violent aspects seem more at home in the contemporary Midwest. There’s still something subversive about a group of 1950s schoolgirls engaging in car theft, kidnap, and gun threats. In the 1990s, it simply seems like an appropriate response to rise up against oppression.

Arty Maddie Wirtz’s life is disrupted by a beguiling drifter named Legs, who poses as a new student and interrupts their creepy science teacher’s class, and his torment of awkward Rita, by freeing the frogs from dissection, a scene which appeared in roughly two thirds of teen movies between 1987-1997 as shorthand for a character’s radical righteousness. The film does occasionally lapse into cliché, and occasionally nonsense (Rita as played by a young Jenny Lewis is supposedly the fat girl, despite…not being any bigger than any other character) but it is sincere. There is something refreshing about a teen move devoid of irony – sincerity is something of a lost artform when it comes to films aimed at a teen audience. (Although I’m not about the watch The Fault In Our Stars to disprove that.) Maddie and Rita encounter Legs in the bathroom, and alongside fellow outsiders Goldie the delinquent and Violet the whore, are convinced to exact revenge on the science teacher for his sexual harassment of Rita, with a plan as complex as beating the shit out of him. After that success, and then suspension, they establish a clubhouse in an abandoned building and share tattoos, booze and frustration at the world.

Their strange friendship provokes anger among the rest of the community, as they are menaced by a group of emasculated jocks and punished by their furious parents. Goldie in particular suffers at the hands of her abusive father, and sinks back into drug addiction. One attempt to escape the jocks’ threats leads to a car crash and Legs being sent to jail, and the whole Foxfire gang drifting apart. When Legs finally returns, she tries to reunite them to help Goldie, and they concoct another plan to kidnap Goldie’s father and hold him for ransom to get her help.

Foxfire is almost good, but weakened by its reluctance to explore its ideas, instead painting in broad strokes. Characters are defined by their types, and never grow beyond that. Their version of fighting the system reads mostly as teen angst, despite the serious topics at hand (including threats of rape, parental abuse, and the school ignoring claims of their teacher’s molestation). The film’s attempts at profundity aren’t really supported by the narrative. It acts as though the girls are fighting for a new world order when really they don’t manage to do much more than stick and poke tattoos and some civil disobedience (and accidentally setting the school on fire). Even the most interesting aspect of the story – that these girls are not friends per se, but outsiders forced together out of mutual desperation, and the tension this creates – is expressed like a brick to the head, with them arguing in one scene and sharing an unspoken link the next. The 2012 film does a much stronger job of demonstrating the gang’s gradual but solid bond, and how the town came to be so threatened by them. The 1996 film is a bit unbalanced, spending more time celebrating Legs’ exotic mystery and her impact on Maddie than building the group’s connection. While Maddie and Legs’ relationship is a vital part of the story (an implicitly romantic dynamic here, though explicit in other versions), at the core is the Foxfire girls, their different backgrounds and different moral codes, choosing to support each other, and the disintegration of that group. In this version, Legs recognises she can not fit in with the gang and drifts back into oblivion, having changed Maddie forever in that symbolic way that the character doing the voiceover is always changed by the mysterious stranger. It’s not particularly new or exciting, but nor is it unsatisfying. After all, it’s always fun to watch a gang of girls tear it up.