We know Neil LaBute as a playwright and filmmaker who has a particular
interest in the erosion of the human soul. He’s a man fascinated with
emotional violence exchanged between the sexes, mining this
concentration in work such as “The Shape of Things,” “In the Company of
Men,” and “Your Friends & Neighbors.” In recent years, he’s
experimented with genre entertainment to build a Hollywood career
(including “Lakeview Terrace” and the misbegotten “Wicker Man” remake),
but his heart remains with the pleasures of extreme discomfort. “Some
Girl(s)” is an adaptation of LaBute’s 2005 play and is loaded with dark
thoughts and agitation, making an excellent transition to the big screen
courtesy of director Daisy von Scherler Mayer, who confidently retains
LaBute’s acid splash.
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I doubt few people think about disco these days. I mean really think
about, in terms of historical impact and social upheaval, not just loose
beats and glitter. Director Jamie Kastner has certainly wrestled with
the subject, delivering a bizarre documentary in “The Secret Disco
Revolution,” which employs a mockumentary tilt to attack the myriad of
stories connected to the rise and fall of what seemed to be a simple
musical fad. Although blessed with a sense of humor, the picture is
actually quite valuable as a document of the era, interviewing those who
stood (and boogied) on the front line, amassing an eye-opening tale of
greed, lust, and burgeoning confidence.
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I suppose “Hannah Arendt” could be classified as a bio-pic, covering a
few critical junctures in the life of the famous writer, though there’s
not enough here to convey a life lived in pursuit of thought. It’s a
stable, distanced picture from director Margarethe von Trotta, who
endeavors to bring to the screen a portrayal of intelligence disputed,
successfully communicating the frustrations and defiance of Arendt,
reflecting a thirst for knowledge and spotlighting her breathtaking
confidence for a modern audience perhaps unused to such remarkable
character. It’s a solid feature but not always the most dramatic,
content to experience moments in time with the subject instead of
wrapping her passions around the screen in an inviting manner.
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There is no rhyme, reason, or basic filmmaking competency to “Apartment
1303.” A ghost story that doesn’t bother with the story part of
equation, the movie is relentlessly bogged down by idiocy and clumsy
acting, resembling hundreds of similar genre offerings where the scares
claim a higher priority than anything else, and even those are utterly
worthless. Teeming with inconsistencies and ineptitude, “Apartment 1303”
ends up a complete waste of time, not even amusing as bottom shelf
schlock that welcomes the respite of mockery.
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Because we all love a good disaster story, much has been made recently
about the production challenges that temporarily paralyzed the shooting
of “World War Z.” It ran overbudget, suffered through numerous rewrites,
and found its third act completely rethought by a second creative team
when the original work failed to land the proper punch. The trouble with
such compulsive rubbernecking is that “World War Z,” despite some major
malfunctions, is no train wreck. In fact, it’s a rather energized
horror picture, skillfully using the fantasy concept of a furious zombie
outbreak to construct a representation of global pandemic hysteria,
with star Brad Pitt wisely tucking in his cape to play a human being
facing doomsday, refusing the superhero path.
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“Monsters University” is a prequel I’m positive most audiences will be
celebrating. It’s Pixar on autopilot, returning to the playground of one
of their biggest, most enduring hits, coasting on good faith as the
story dials back about a decade to detail how scare professionals Mike
Wazowski and Sulley first met (I guess one must simply ignore a line in
2001’s “Monsters, Inc.” that established the pair as elementary school
chums). Loaded with gags and entertaining characterizations, “Monsters
University” is a breezy time with old friends, smartly stepping away
from the scare floor to take the monster carnival to college, opening a
whole new world of possibilities for this colorful universe.
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“The Bling Ring” is not a film where the audience is meant to understand
the characters, to peek behind the behavioral curtain to comprehend
corrupt impulses. It’s an atmospheric picture, wallowing in indifference
and cheap thrills to showcase the mummification of a generation raised
on celebrity culture, caffeine, and permissive parenting. “The Bling
Ring” doesn’t possess a death grip of judgment I’m sure most would like
from this depiction of millennial lunacy, yet writer/director Sofia
Coppola makes a more convincing argument for condemnation through
observation, watching dim children willingly engage in illegal
activities, incapable of showing remorse. That’s chilling enough.
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In 1993, Kenneth Branagh attempted a lush, cinematic take on William
Shakespeare’s famous play, “Much Ado About Nothing.” Attempting to
counterpunch contextual impenetrability, Branagh turned the stage
production into a luscious screen event, boasting stunning Italian
countryside locations, heavenly golden bodies, and an all-star cast bent
on challenging themselves with a rare outing of sophistication. It was a
beautiful film, and perhaps bold enough to discourage beloved
writer/director Joss Whedon from matching its sense of euphoria. His
“Much Ado About Nothing” elects the opposite approach, refusing
production polish, varied locations, and even color. It’s a
stripped-down take on the Bard, ready-made for Whedon acolytes —
certainly interesting, but once you go Branagh, it’s difficult to go
back.
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There’s cheeky homage, and then there’s “Detention of the Dead.” Adapted
from a play by Rob Rinow, the feature aims to induce nostalgia, chills,
laughs, and tears by mixing the sensitive juvenile delinquent antics of
the “The Breakfast Club” with the zombie stomp of George Romero’s “Dawn
of the Dead,” trusting knowing audiences will receive a charge out of
the numerous references that litter the film. Unfortunately, the
opposing tones rarely complement each other, rendering “Detention of the
Dead” a misfire in terms of intended buoyancy. While it features some
pleasing tech credits and an engaged cast, the effort swings too wildly
from sensitivity to slapstick, resulting in a disagreeably disorienting
viewing experience.
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It opens with a quote from an 18th century poem and ends with a display
of stupidity right out of 2013. It’s difficult to make heads or tails
out of the mystery “Rushlights,” and the filmmaking certainly doesn’t
reward the patience required to remain on top of the screenplay’s
network of twists and turns. Overstuffed with motivations in an attempt
to keep viewers guessing until the insipid conclusion, “Rushlights”
mangles its noir intentions by trying way too hard to inflate itself
into something significant. It’s clear from the opening act that
co-writer/director Antoni Stutz should play this material with more
venom and less bluster, but there’s no stopping the effort when it slips
into runaway boulder mode, squashing any chance for a sleek, effective
puzzler.
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“Dirty Wars” is journalism, but it’s the type of journalism typically
found on news magazine programs and cable networks. In his attempt to
reach out and reveal the U.S. Government’s secret war on the rest of the
world, reporter Jeremy Scahill welcomes the birth of his own myth,
turning “Dirty Wars” into a love letter to his own research methods and
capacity for understanding. There’s an abundance of searing,
illuminating information contained within director Richard Rowley’s
documentary about untoward military activity, but there are even more
glory shots of Scahill in motion, recreating critical moments of his
investigation while he blasts the camera with blue steel.
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For some reason, the “Hatchet” series continues on. Unleashed in 2007,
the horror-comedy “Hatchet” failed to attract much attention during its
theatrical run, building its cult appeal on home video. 2010’s “Hatchet
II” trumpeted its unrated release in theaters, only to welcome few
takers, once again taking to the comfort of rentals to sate its modest
fanbase. And now “Hatchet III” is here, wisely electing to share its
bruised funny bone on the VOD market, bringing the pain directly to the
people. It’s admirable to see franchise mastermind Adam Green continue
to make these gruesome features despite limited outside interest, but
it’s become increasingly difficult to distinguish one installment from
the other, separated only by a few changes in casting and the shifting
face of evil himself, Victor Crowley.
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“Berberian Sound Studio” is a challenging picture that will be absolute
catnip to film fans, especially those with a fondness for the Italian
movie industry of the 1970s. Bizarre and tastefully incomprehensible,
the effort is reserved for those who enjoy the process of interpretation
without much in the way of clues. However impenetrable the work
becomes, “Berberian Sound Studio” is a lush, disturbing voyage into a
gradual mental breakdown, artfully crafted by director Peter Strickland,
who provides magnificent attention to detail and a fixation on an
unsettling sense of decay, enhancing the reptilian skin of this
enticingly weird feature. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Superheroes do not get much more sincere than Superman. He’s a symbol of
hope, a fantasy of justice, and a slice of Americana down to his red
and blue outfit. So what happens when a lively character of pure bravery
is brought to the big screen in 2013, when sour introspection, graphic
violence, and doomsday action rakes in major box office bucks? The
result is “Man of Steel,” a concentrated effort to bend the Superman
mythos into the shape of the Bat-signal. While fresh narrative
directions and a radical redesign of known elements are welcome, it’s
odd to find the latest from Zack Snyder essentially reheating what’s
come before, straining to give the faithful what they love while
stripping away intrinsic emotional expanse and the joyful experience of
superpowers. Superman has been turned into a song by The Smiths. He was
much more interesting as a sweeping orchestral explosion.
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Fueled by an obsession with low-fi terror and how it could reinvigorate
the horror anthology subgenre, 2012’s “V/H/S” misfired more than it
maimed. Hobbled by artistic unevenness and a dim-witted wraparound
story, the jerky, exceedingly violent endeavor didn’t seem like a
natural fit for sequels. However, never underestimate the power of a
cult audience. Less than a year later, we’re faced with “V/H/S/2,” which
continues the saga of the haunted videotapes, only the quality of the
shorts presented here is miles ahead of what’s come before, with a
newfound dedication to turning these disparate visions of doom into
interesting little slices of POV misery, finding noticeable care poured
into the work to form a stronger, more cohesive sequel.
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