- Published on
I’ve always been a fan of horror films.
As I’ve explained over the years, I think there’s just something about films focusing on our darkest frights that tap into something primal in the audiences who enjoy them. They scare us. They delight us. They examine our fears and phobias. While there may yet inevitably prove to be some link between cinematic violence and real-world mayhem (it’s arguably as elusive as the link missing between men and apes), I’ve always thought that this is little more than pure escapism for a healthy mind.
Over the last several decades, there’s been a great number of Friday The 13th films that have dabbled gorily in such fertile pastures. Launching that global phenomenon all the way back in 1980, producers, effects people, and screen talent have cashed in on expanding the saga of the bloodthirsty Jason Voorhees; and they will likely always be a time in our collective consciousness that audiences not only know his name but also know full well to run from him.
What better way to celebrate the intellectual property’s history than one comprehensive look at where it all began and maybe even what it means?
I’ve got just the thing you’re looking for …
One of the most surprisingly long-running horror franchises ever gets an equally long-running documentary for those who love this sort of thing … and I do.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“Inspired by the critically acclaimed book, Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History Of Friday The 13th takes viewers behind the mask on an epic journey into the making of the landmark horror franchise – from its humble beginnings in 1980 at a New Jersey summer camp to the blockbuster release of its 2009 ‘reboot.’ Combining hundreds of rare and never-before-seen photographs, film clips, outtakes, archival documents, conceptual art and behind-the-scenes footage. Featuring interviews with more than 150 cast and crew members spanning all twelve films and the television series …”
There’s just a bit more written, but methinks you’ll probably already know whether or not spending the time it takes to wade deep into these waters interests you or not. So far as this casual fan of the Friday the 13th films is concerned, it’s definitely worth it. Yes, that means it’s worth 400 minutes; and, yes, you read that right. 400 minutes. Pop some corn and buckle up. At times, I’ll concede that the coverage might appear a feel tiresome, but the way good storytellers do all the minutiae ends up coming full circle thematically. Every discussed little detail here is worth it … but you may not quite know why when you’re in the thick of it.
The Friday franchise is always one of those that made perfect business sense.
It’s low-budget, guerilla filmmaking debatably at its least inspired – basically, it’s all just an conscience-free slasher hunting one horny teen after another – and that hasn’t kept it from amassing some impressive box office clout throughout its twelve various flicks. While dismissed by some for being far too formulaic, I’d argue that the formula has proven profitable to big and small degrees every time it’s been tried. You don’t last as long as Jason has while losing money, even if a few of the efforts might’ve cut a bit too close to the bone to truly make bank. I’ve always thought of it as ‘the little horror film that could,’ forever finding some clever way to reinvent itself while remaining true to the recipe combining those universal ingredients: blood, blood, and more blood.
Granted, this isn’t meant to imply that all of the Friday flicks are worthwhile films because – on so many levels – several of them are quite dumb. Jason in New York? Really, Hollywood? Jason in space? C’mon now! Still, when you least expected it (much like the life and death and life again of never-ending Mr. Voorhees) something reinvigorates the interest of audiences, and then they’re spending another 90-minutes wondering what happened to the last 90 minutes of their lives.
After all, such is life … and such is the power of this seminal Horror franchise.
Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History Of Friday The 13th (2013) is produced by 1428 Films, Panic Productions, and Hutson Ranch Media. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the reliable RLJ Entertainment and Image Entertainment. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert: this 400-minute documentary boasts an impressive collection of archival footage, some of which is understandably grainy due to the age and handling of it, but none of it is a distraction to the quality of the piece. Lastly, the packaging boasts that there is an accompanying commentary track, but I didn’t explore it: the flick itself was feast enough.
Highest Recommendation Possible.
Horror films have always been a bona fide cultural phenomenon, and what I found most interesting about this massive collection of Crystal Lake Memories is that there are quite possibly as many reasons to explain their popularity as there are fans of this franchise. While some viewers might think there’s more reflections here than absolutely necessary, I thought it was terrific to have these reminiscences preserved for the integrity of (first) film history and (second) the legion of fans who will hungrily scarf this all up. Plus … with that many films in a franchise, there’s an awful lot of ground to cover!
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at RLJ Entertainment and Image Entertainment provided me with a Blu ray of Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History Of Friday The 13th by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
As I’ve explained over the years, I think there’s just something about films focusing on our darkest frights that tap into something primal in the audiences who enjoy them. They scare us. They delight us. They examine our fears and phobias. While there may yet inevitably prove to be some link between cinematic violence and real-world mayhem (it’s arguably as elusive as the link missing between men and apes), I’ve always thought that this is little more than pure escapism for a healthy mind.
Over the last several decades, there’s been a great number of Friday The 13th films that have dabbled gorily in such fertile pastures. Launching that global phenomenon all the way back in 1980, producers, effects people, and screen talent have cashed in on expanding the saga of the bloodthirsty Jason Voorhees; and they will likely always be a time in our collective consciousness that audiences not only know his name but also know full well to run from him.
What better way to celebrate the intellectual property’s history than one comprehensive look at where it all began and maybe even what it means?
I’ve got just the thing you’re looking for …
One of the most surprisingly long-running horror franchises ever gets an equally long-running documentary for those who love this sort of thing … and I do.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“Inspired by the critically acclaimed book, Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History Of Friday The 13th takes viewers behind the mask on an epic journey into the making of the landmark horror franchise – from its humble beginnings in 1980 at a New Jersey summer camp to the blockbuster release of its 2009 ‘reboot.’ Combining hundreds of rare and never-before-seen photographs, film clips, outtakes, archival documents, conceptual art and behind-the-scenes footage. Featuring interviews with more than 150 cast and crew members spanning all twelve films and the television series …”
There’s just a bit more written, but methinks you’ll probably already know whether or not spending the time it takes to wade deep into these waters interests you or not. So far as this casual fan of the Friday the 13th films is concerned, it’s definitely worth it. Yes, that means it’s worth 400 minutes; and, yes, you read that right. 400 minutes. Pop some corn and buckle up. At times, I’ll concede that the coverage might appear a feel tiresome, but the way good storytellers do all the minutiae ends up coming full circle thematically. Every discussed little detail here is worth it … but you may not quite know why when you’re in the thick of it.
The Friday franchise is always one of those that made perfect business sense.
It’s low-budget, guerilla filmmaking debatably at its least inspired – basically, it’s all just an conscience-free slasher hunting one horny teen after another – and that hasn’t kept it from amassing some impressive box office clout throughout its twelve various flicks. While dismissed by some for being far too formulaic, I’d argue that the formula has proven profitable to big and small degrees every time it’s been tried. You don’t last as long as Jason has while losing money, even if a few of the efforts might’ve cut a bit too close to the bone to truly make bank. I’ve always thought of it as ‘the little horror film that could,’ forever finding some clever way to reinvent itself while remaining true to the recipe combining those universal ingredients: blood, blood, and more blood.
Granted, this isn’t meant to imply that all of the Friday flicks are worthwhile films because – on so many levels – several of them are quite dumb. Jason in New York? Really, Hollywood? Jason in space? C’mon now! Still, when you least expected it (much like the life and death and life again of never-ending Mr. Voorhees) something reinvigorates the interest of audiences, and then they’re spending another 90-minutes wondering what happened to the last 90 minutes of their lives.
After all, such is life … and such is the power of this seminal Horror franchise.
Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History Of Friday The 13th (2013) is produced by 1428 Films, Panic Productions, and Hutson Ranch Media. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the reliable RLJ Entertainment and Image Entertainment. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert: this 400-minute documentary boasts an impressive collection of archival footage, some of which is understandably grainy due to the age and handling of it, but none of it is a distraction to the quality of the piece. Lastly, the packaging boasts that there is an accompanying commentary track, but I didn’t explore it: the flick itself was feast enough.
Highest Recommendation Possible.
Horror films have always been a bona fide cultural phenomenon, and what I found most interesting about this massive collection of Crystal Lake Memories is that there are quite possibly as many reasons to explain their popularity as there are fans of this franchise. While some viewers might think there’s more reflections here than absolutely necessary, I thought it was terrific to have these reminiscences preserved for the integrity of (first) film history and (second) the legion of fans who will hungrily scarf this all up. Plus … with that many films in a franchise, there’s an awful lot of ground to cover!
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at RLJ Entertainment and Image Entertainment provided me with a Blu ray of Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History Of Friday The 13th by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Regular readers of SciFiHistor.Net's MainPage know all too well that I spend a great deal of time and space singing the praise of Arrow Video. Their eclectic catalogue covers just about anything a fan might desire, including Dramas, Comedies, Horrors, Science Fiction, and Fantasy; and I think it's truly grand that -- as a distributor -- they've taken to the web with their very own streaming platform as well. If nothing else, then such a campaign just increases the chances for those of us who love a good story have access to finding one; and the potential to establish and increase an audience only continues to expand in the years ahead. Kudos to all involved.
As a service to both them and you, I wanted to pass along some of the information I've received from them regarding their February offerings. Take a gander at what they've got on tap for next month, and I think that you'll agree their Arrow Player might just be the place to be for enthusiasts of All Things Genre-Related. While not everything might tickle the fancy, I suspect there's something in here that will ... all you need to do is point and click.
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
As a service to both them and you, I wanted to pass along some of the information I've received from them regarding their February offerings. Take a gander at what they've got on tap for next month, and I think that you'll agree their Arrow Player might just be the place to be for enthusiasts of All Things Genre-Related. While not everything might tickle the fancy, I suspect there's something in here that will ... all you need to do is point and click.
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
ARROW Player Announces February 2025 Lineup
Cult Streamer Ditches Flowers & Candy for the Season of Love Provides Subscribers with Japanese Crime, High School Horror, Hobgoblins, Jenn Wexler Selects & More
February 2025 Seasons: Love Sucks, Jenn Wexler Selects
London, UK - Arrow Video is excited to announce the February 2025 lineup of their subscription-based ARROW platform, available to subscribers in the US, Canada, the UK and Ireland. Enjoy a selection of new titles, from carefully cultivated curations to shorts by new talent. For serious enthusiasts, ARROW offers deep dives into the tastes of filmmakers that changed the way we see the genre.
In a recent profile, the New York Times praised ARROW and noted, "Viewers with a fondness for the esoteric will be hard-pressed to find more quality bang for their streaming buck."
New York Times Review of ARROW
The February 2025 lineup leads with A Certain Killer and A Killer’s Key, a pair of classic 1960s Japanese assassin films. Directed by prolific Japanese director Kazuo Mori (Zatoichi at Large), both were made in 1967, and star Raizô Ichikawa (Conflagration) as a former soldier who becomes a hitman for a yakuza gang. Exclusive to ARROW is the new slasher film Killer Graduation, previously released as Departing Seniors in the US.
The Seasons include Love Sucks, a selection of vampire vixens for Valentine's Day and Jenn Wexler Selects, a look at the films that inspired the director of The Sacrifice Game and The Ranger.
ARROW's February calendar kicks off February 7 with a quartet of titles exclusively for subscribers in the United States. Spanning decades and originating around the globe, there's something for everyone.
In a recent profile, the New York Times praised ARROW and noted, "Viewers with a fondness for the esoteric will be hard-pressed to find more quality bang for their streaming buck."
New York Times Review of ARROW
The February 2025 lineup leads with A Certain Killer and A Killer’s Key, a pair of classic 1960s Japanese assassin films. Directed by prolific Japanese director Kazuo Mori (Zatoichi at Large), both were made in 1967, and star Raizô Ichikawa (Conflagration) as a former soldier who becomes a hitman for a yakuza gang. Exclusive to ARROW is the new slasher film Killer Graduation, previously released as Departing Seniors in the US.
The Seasons include Love Sucks, a selection of vampire vixens for Valentine's Day and Jenn Wexler Selects, a look at the films that inspired the director of The Sacrifice Game and The Ranger.
ARROW's February calendar kicks off February 7 with a quartet of titles exclusively for subscribers in the United States. Spanning decades and originating around the globe, there's something for everyone.
Blight (US): One year ago, Logan mysteriously disappears while on a camping trip. Her welcome home party is thrown into chaos with a series of mysterious earthquakes and power outages.
Sea Fog (US): Written and produced by Bong Joon-ho (PARASITE, SNOWPIERCER, THE HOST), Sea Fog is a maritime thriller that captures the essence of why he is considered one of the most talented filmmakers working today. Upon learning that his decaying fishing trawler, the Junjin, is about to be sold, Captain Kang looks to make one final score by smuggling illegal immigrants from China to South Korea. After arriving at the agreed pickup point, a violent storm forces the Junjin to stall in open waters. As tension and unrest spread, Kang and his five-man crew find themselves pitted against their desperate passengers – all while an ominous fog envelops the ship and everyone onboard.
Wolves, Pigs, Men (US): "Three brothers find themselves pitted against each other as rivals in the Yakuza underworld. Jiro robs stolen loot from his younger brother, Sabu, and his gang. When their eldest brother, Kuroki, learns of this, he makes his own plans to conspire against both of them, resulting in a treacherous nightmare of unbridled violence. Combining elements of French New Wave and film noir, this ""ferocious, dynamic yakuza thriller"" (Los Angeles Times) established Kinji Fukasaku (Battles Without Honor and Humanity, Violent Panic: The Big Crash) as a master of Japanese genre cinema."
The Reflecting Skin (US): An instant cult classic when it premiered to sold out screenings at Cannes in 1990, The Reflecting Skin is a darkly humorous, nightmarish vision of the American dream. Growing up in the 1950s in small-town Idaho, 8-year-old Seth and his friends play a prank on the town recluse, a mysterious English widow named Dolphin Blue (Tony winner Lindsay Duncan). After his father tells him stories of vampires, Seth becomes convinced Dolphin is a vampire, stealing the souls of his neighborhood friends one by one. When his older brother Cameron (Oscar nominee Viggo Mortensen in one of his first starring roles), returns home from military service in the Pacific and takes a liking to Dolphin, Seth feels it's up to him to save Cameron from his friends' fate. With stunning visuals recalling Edward Hopper paintings and its surreal blend of horror and humor, The Reflecting Skin is a "stunningly beautiful...Gothic masterpiece" (The Guardian)!"
Also on February 7, do your best to survive until summer in a new ARROW exclusive title: Killer Graduation (UK/IRE/US/CAN, released in the US as Departing Seniors).
Also on February 7, do your best to survive until summer in a new ARROW exclusive title: Killer Graduation (UK/IRE/US/CAN, released in the US as Departing Seniors).
Graduation is a killer. When his recent clash with his bullies sends high schooler student Javier (Ignacio Diaz-Silverio, Primo) to the hospital, he wakes up feeling… different. Javier is now plagued by psychic visions - but it’s perfect timing as there's a masked killer on the loose. With the help of his best friend Bianca (Ireon Roch, Perpetrator), the teens decide to take matters into their own hands and attempt to unravel the mystery of this deranged mask killer before the body count rises and the killer strikes again.
Kazuo Mori strikes twice on February 10 with a double bill of Japanese crime!
Kazuo Mori strikes twice on February 10 with a double bill of Japanese crime!
A Certain Killer (UK/IRE/US/CAN): Shiozaki’s low-profile existence as a chef at a local sushi restaurant serves as a front for his true job as a professional assassin whose modus operandi is poisoned needles. He’s approached by Maeda, a low-ranking member of a local yakuza group, to take out a rival gang boss. But the sudden arrival into his life of a spirited young woman, Keiko (Yumiko Nogawa, Gate of Flesh), has dramatic ramifications on his relationship with his new employer.
A Killer's Key (UK/IRE/US/CAN): Ichikawa’s lone wolf assassin is back in A Killer’s Key, this time masquerading as a traditional dance instructor named Nitta who is called in to avert a potential financial scandal that threatens to engulf a powerful yakuza group with ties to powerful figures in the political establishment.
On February 14, subscribers might expect candy and flowers from ARROW. Instead, they'll get a bite in the neck, and maybe a kiss, with LOVE SUCKS, a collection of vampiric Valentine's treats.
Titles Include: Vamp, A Taste of Blood, Vampire Clay.
Also available on February 14:
On February 14, subscribers might expect candy and flowers from ARROW. Instead, they'll get a bite in the neck, and maybe a kiss, with LOVE SUCKS, a collection of vampiric Valentine's treats.
Titles Include: Vamp, A Taste of Blood, Vampire Clay.
Also available on February 14:
Mockingbird Don't Sing (US): Based on the actual events of one of the most horrific cases of child abuse ever to be documented, this haunting drama tells the tale of a young girl who was locked in a room for over 12 years.
The Invitation (UK/IRE/US/CAN): In this taut psychological thriller by Karyn Kusama (Girlfight, Jennifer's Body), the tension is palpable when Will (Logan Marshall-Green, Upgrade) shows up to his ex-wife Eden and new husband David's dinner party. The pair's tragic past haunts an equally spooky present: Amid Eden's suspicious behavior and her mysterious house guests, Will becomes convinced that his invitation was extended with a hidden agenda.
All About Lily Chou-Chou (US): For kids around the world, music is often the only salvation when the pain and anxiety of teenage life becomes too much to bear. Yuichi (Hayato Ichihara) is in the 8th grade and he worships Lily Chou-Chou, a Bjork-like chanteuse whose epic music is lush and transcendent. Yuichi only lives for Lily Chou-Chou's big Tokyo concert, where the lies and violence can be washed away by the presence of his goddess and her powerful music. But fate has yet another obstacle in store for Lily's devoted fan.
Red Peony Gambler (US): Wandering female gambler Oryu the Red Peony (Junko Fuji), so known for the tattoo on her shoulder, rambles into town searching for her father’s killer with a wallet left at the crime scene as her only clue. At a card game she meets a kindred spirit, the noble and handsome yakuza Katagiri (Ken Takakura), when they team up to foil a cheating player. As their paths continue to cross she befriends a gang boss and other sundry denizens of the underworld who all join forces to guide her on a blood-soaked quest for vengeance. With its fantastic tropes and charismatic stars this inaugural entry in the Red Peony Gambler series proved an influential watershed of the “chivalrous gangster” genre and was so popular that it spawned multiple sequels.
On February 21: Jenn Wexler Selects (UK/US/CA/IRE).
Jenn Wexler, the writer/director of the SXSW-nominated punk slasher The Ranger and boarding school horror The Sacrifice Game (Fantasia Film Festival Audience Award Winner) picks films from the ARROW catalogue that have nestled their way into her dark little heart and refused to let go.
"You know how there are some movies that worm their way into your brain, stick with you, and pull you back again and again? It could be because of an amazing image, a creepy concept, an incredible kill, a breathtaking performance, or a certain something you just can’t find the words for but you know after viewing it that it’s changed the very core of your being. My ARROW picks span genres, countries, decades - some of them are even by friends I’ve gotten to know and love on the film festival circuit. But they all have one thing in common: Each has nestled its way into my dark little heart and refused to let go. I hope you enjoy them.’’
Titles Include: Noroi: The Curse, The Deeper You Dig, The Addiction.
Also on February 21, the flavor of the day is sweetened cannibalism, space invaders, and mercenary justice.
On February 21: Jenn Wexler Selects (UK/US/CA/IRE).
Jenn Wexler, the writer/director of the SXSW-nominated punk slasher The Ranger and boarding school horror The Sacrifice Game (Fantasia Film Festival Audience Award Winner) picks films from the ARROW catalogue that have nestled their way into her dark little heart and refused to let go.
"You know how there are some movies that worm their way into your brain, stick with you, and pull you back again and again? It could be because of an amazing image, a creepy concept, an incredible kill, a breathtaking performance, or a certain something you just can’t find the words for but you know after viewing it that it’s changed the very core of your being. My ARROW picks span genres, countries, decades - some of them are even by friends I’ve gotten to know and love on the film festival circuit. But they all have one thing in common: Each has nestled its way into my dark little heart and refused to let go. I hope you enjoy them.’’
Titles Include: Noroi: The Curse, The Deeper You Dig, The Addiction.
Also on February 21, the flavor of the day is sweetened cannibalism, space invaders, and mercenary justice.
The Bad Pack (US): Mexican immigrants in a small Texas border town, under attack by a local militia group, hire a band of mercenaries to protect them.
Hobgoblins (UK/IRE/US/CAN): A young security guard must track down diminutive aliens who kill people even as they make their fantasies come true.
Hobgoblins 2 (UK/IRE/US/CAN): The film takes place after the original film, where McCreedy has been locked in a psychiatric hospital after blowing up the film studio to destroy the Hobgoblins. Kevin and his friends are now in college, and their Professor introduces them to McCreedy, who warns them that it is still possible to be attacked by Hobgoblins. Despite McCreedy's warning, Kevin and his friends re-encounter the Hobgoblins and must fight against them and their own greatest fears, in order to save their lives.
Ice Cream Man (UK/IRE/US/CAN): Poor Gregory. After being released from the Wishing Well Sanatorium, all he wants to do is make the children happy. So Gregory reopens the old ice cream factory, and all the unappreciative brats are reprocessed into the flavor of the day.
The lineup concludes on February 28 with fantasy creatures, a board meeting, and dance.
The lineup concludes on February 28 with fantasy creatures, a board meeting, and dance.
Caverna (UK/IRE/US/CAN): A cyclops strangles a man and chases a princess through a forest. In a progressive theater workshop outside of Florence, students Giorgia and Lorenzo act out their dreams and childhood traumas, as teacher Alba pushes them to confront their inner myth.
Putney Swope (UK/IRE/US/CAN): The board of directors at a Madison Avenue ad agency must elect a new chairman. In the maneuvering to make sure that enemies don't get votes, all the members accidentally cast their ballot for the board's token black man, Putney Swope.
Shake the Dust (UK/IRE/US/CAN): Despite its genesis in the Bronx, Hip-Hop has become a universal language spoken across all cultures. Shake The Dust celebrates this global unity by chronicling three different break dance crews in the slums of Uganda, Yemen and Cambodia where Hip-Hop serves as a saving grace from the drugs, depression and poverty grasping youth. Includes music from Executive Producer Nas and Oscar-winning artist Common.
Head over to ARROW to start watching now.
Subscriptions are available for $6.99 monthly
or $69.99 yearly.
ARROW is available in the US, Canada, the UK and Ireland on the following Apps/devices: Roku (all Roku sticks, boxes, devices, etc), Apple TV & iOS devices, Samsung TVs, Android TV and mobile devices, Fire TV (all Amazon Fire TV Sticks, boxes, etc), and on all web browsers at https://www.arrow-player.com.
With a slickly designed and user-friendly interface, and an unparalleled roster of quality content from westerns to giallo to Asian cinema, trailers, Midnight Movies, filmmaker picks and much, much more, ARROW is the place to go for the very best in on-demand entertainment.
From Arrow Films, a recognized world-leader in curation and creation, ARROW is a premium platform giving audiences an unparalleled viewing experience across multiple devices, so fans can explore the films and TV shows that the Arrow brand is famous for.
Specially curated by members of the ARROW team, ARROW is home to premium film and TV entertainment, exclusive new premieres, cutting edge cinema, international classics and cult favorites - such as the works of Lars Von Trier, Brian De Palma, Dario Argento, David Cronenberg and Park Chan-wook, and brand-new short films from both new and established filmmakers.
In the coming months, ARROW will be adding Oscar-winning hits, European classics, Asian cinema masterworks, rediscovered Westerns, offbeat gems and much more as part of ARROW’s international strategy to support and celebrate the medium of film.
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/ArrowVideoUK
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arrowPlayer
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Arrow_Player
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ArrowVideo
With a slickly designed and user-friendly interface, and an unparalleled roster of quality content from westerns to giallo to Asian cinema, trailers, Midnight Movies, filmmaker picks and much, much more, ARROW is the place to go for the very best in on-demand entertainment.
From Arrow Films, a recognized world-leader in curation and creation, ARROW is a premium platform giving audiences an unparalleled viewing experience across multiple devices, so fans can explore the films and TV shows that the Arrow brand is famous for.
Specially curated by members of the ARROW team, ARROW is home to premium film and TV entertainment, exclusive new premieres, cutting edge cinema, international classics and cult favorites - such as the works of Lars Von Trier, Brian De Palma, Dario Argento, David Cronenberg and Park Chan-wook, and brand-new short films from both new and established filmmakers.
In the coming months, ARROW will be adding Oscar-winning hits, European classics, Asian cinema masterworks, rediscovered Westerns, offbeat gems and much more as part of ARROW’s international strategy to support and celebrate the medium of film.
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/ArrowVideoUK
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arrowPlayer
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Arrow_Player
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ArrowVideo
- Published on
Back in 2007, I courted a bit of controversy online when I made a suggestion involving the greater state of the SciFi (aka Syfy) Channel.
This was a message board (ask your parents, kids), and there were a group of us discussing with some disgust how SciFi’s routine Saturday Night Movies had devolved into a mostly messy assortment of bargain basement direct-to-consumer offerings with garbage storytelling, absolutely ridiculous special effects, and – in the words of others – “washed up” actors and actresses. (I disagreed most strongly on that last point, as I’ll almost always firmly argue that talent – good, bad, and ugly – always has a place … you just have to find it.) While everyone else was recommending a total overhaul of the network, I was only mildly consenting that some rework was absolutely necessary.
You see, Science Fiction and Fantasy have always been genres rich with sub-bar efforts. All anyone need do is watch a single episode of Mystery Science Theatre 3000 to know that genre fans will tune in to almost anything, and that’s because – unlike other swatches of enthusiasts – we’ll laugh at something inferior as entertainment. This is because long ago we realized that the wider entertainment industry doesn’t take a good deal of what we like seriously; and – as a consequence – we learned not to take ourselves and our movies as seriously, either. We’ll chuckle at a misstep. We’ll guffaw when a sequence goes wrong. And we don’t care who knows.
Well, back in 2007, Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez realized that the realms of the Fantastic needed a bit of a reminder of the fact; so – as part of Quentin’s Grindhouse project – they delivered us a little something-something called Planet Terror. The film was a throwback to the storytelling sensibilities of the 1970’s and early 80’s, and it featured a crew of motley survivors who’d stop at nothing to survive a zombie outbreak set in motion by the always evil military industrial complex. Unlike a great many of the films that inspired Terror, this outing actually spent a bit of extra cash on the production; and the results looked about as good as anything a true genre fan might hope for.
Anyway, I argued that this kind of goofy over-the-top mythmaking was exactly what Saturday Night on the SciFi/Syfy Channel should look like. Sure, it was campy. Yes, it was derivative. But a celebration of schlock is always warmly welcomed by our side of the aisle; and – to a degree – I think that’s what brought so many Sharknados to life, as well. While I would’ve liked for the producers to have spent a few more dollars on them, the results show that if you give audiences something worth staying home for over the weekend then they’ll do it … and a good time can be had by all.
I can’t say for certain that the makers of Clone Cops (2024) would necessarily agree. I don’t know them, so I don’t like making assumptions of this sort which I personally cannot back up in this space. Based on their reasonably low budget loony SciFi/Comedy’s similarities to such celebrated rubbish, I think they might. It’s another one of those perfectly imperfect features that should go down nicely with folks who appreciate a bit of unbridled goofiness in their entertainment diet; and maybe – just maybe – they’ll aim for even higher hijinks in the years ahead.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A gang of outlaws defend their hideout until they discover a shocking secret about who they are and what they're up against. Now it's a race against time as they look for a way to escape certain doom at the hands of the Clone Cops.”
This was a message board (ask your parents, kids), and there were a group of us discussing with some disgust how SciFi’s routine Saturday Night Movies had devolved into a mostly messy assortment of bargain basement direct-to-consumer offerings with garbage storytelling, absolutely ridiculous special effects, and – in the words of others – “washed up” actors and actresses. (I disagreed most strongly on that last point, as I’ll almost always firmly argue that talent – good, bad, and ugly – always has a place … you just have to find it.) While everyone else was recommending a total overhaul of the network, I was only mildly consenting that some rework was absolutely necessary.
You see, Science Fiction and Fantasy have always been genres rich with sub-bar efforts. All anyone need do is watch a single episode of Mystery Science Theatre 3000 to know that genre fans will tune in to almost anything, and that’s because – unlike other swatches of enthusiasts – we’ll laugh at something inferior as entertainment. This is because long ago we realized that the wider entertainment industry doesn’t take a good deal of what we like seriously; and – as a consequence – we learned not to take ourselves and our movies as seriously, either. We’ll chuckle at a misstep. We’ll guffaw when a sequence goes wrong. And we don’t care who knows.
Well, back in 2007, Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez realized that the realms of the Fantastic needed a bit of a reminder of the fact; so – as part of Quentin’s Grindhouse project – they delivered us a little something-something called Planet Terror. The film was a throwback to the storytelling sensibilities of the 1970’s and early 80’s, and it featured a crew of motley survivors who’d stop at nothing to survive a zombie outbreak set in motion by the always evil military industrial complex. Unlike a great many of the films that inspired Terror, this outing actually spent a bit of extra cash on the production; and the results looked about as good as anything a true genre fan might hope for.
Anyway, I argued that this kind of goofy over-the-top mythmaking was exactly what Saturday Night on the SciFi/Syfy Channel should look like. Sure, it was campy. Yes, it was derivative. But a celebration of schlock is always warmly welcomed by our side of the aisle; and – to a degree – I think that’s what brought so many Sharknados to life, as well. While I would’ve liked for the producers to have spent a few more dollars on them, the results show that if you give audiences something worth staying home for over the weekend then they’ll do it … and a good time can be had by all.
I can’t say for certain that the makers of Clone Cops (2024) would necessarily agree. I don’t know them, so I don’t like making assumptions of this sort which I personally cannot back up in this space. Based on their reasonably low budget loony SciFi/Comedy’s similarities to such celebrated rubbish, I think they might. It’s another one of those perfectly imperfect features that should go down nicely with folks who appreciate a bit of unbridled goofiness in their entertainment diet; and maybe – just maybe – they’ll aim for even higher hijinks in the years ahead.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A gang of outlaws defend their hideout until they discover a shocking secret about who they are and what they're up against. Now it's a race against time as they look for a way to escape certain doom at the hands of the Clone Cops.”
For those of you unawares, the Keystone Cops were a theatrical phenomenon in the early days of motion pictures. Though their various screen adventures have probably been forgotten by most who cover entertainment online in this modern era, I’ll do my part of a self-proclaimed archivist of All Things Genre and mention their existence today because – whether screenwriters Phillip Cordell and Danny Dones either know or agree – that brand of farcical merriment is alive and well in 2024’s Clone Cops. Why, you might even see the inspiration in the title alone!
Now, screen farce isn’t for everyone.
As I’ve often written about in this space as well, Comedy is an extremely controversial force when it’s applied to Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror because opinions vary widely, and what you find funny isn’t necessarily what others find funny. There’s a delicate balancing act to making Comedy work in genre – much less getting it embraced by wider audiences – and I’ve seen it fail more often than it’s ever succeeded. Perhaps the greatest purveyors of it in the past half-century were Jerry Zucker, David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Pat Proft: their names are associated with some of the last true farces of the silver screen, including Airplane! (1980), The Naked Gun: From The Files Of Police Squad! (1988), and Hot Shots! (1991). Of course, there are others, but I think it’s safe to say that their films in particular truly cast their watchful eye at anything and everything they could lampoon, and audiences responded in kind.
It's into this fertile territory that flicks like Clone Cops descend. While it arguably lacks the same level of intensity and suffers from a bit of lukewarm presentation here and there, Cordell and Dones (who also directs) maintain a consistent vision across the entire piece; and I think that fact alone should help open doors for more of such inspired schtick if the Comedy gods are watching.
In the near future, society at large has been reduced to couch potatoes who sit at their screens absorbing the highest rated show ever, Crimetime 360. Essentially, this is a parade of non-stop violence of good clones battling bad clones in a match-up of brain and brawn with the hope that bloodshed will be bonkers. One lucky viewer – Cameron (played by Schyler Tillett) – wins a contest to join the ‘bad guys’ in their latest death match though he’s promised by the corporate sponsor – NefariCorp – that he cannot be harmed in the crossfire as all clones have been programmed to avoid shooting him. Well, let’s never forget that the road to Hell is paved with an endless path of the best intentions!
Now, screen farce isn’t for everyone.
As I’ve often written about in this space as well, Comedy is an extremely controversial force when it’s applied to Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror because opinions vary widely, and what you find funny isn’t necessarily what others find funny. There’s a delicate balancing act to making Comedy work in genre – much less getting it embraced by wider audiences – and I’ve seen it fail more often than it’s ever succeeded. Perhaps the greatest purveyors of it in the past half-century were Jerry Zucker, David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Pat Proft: their names are associated with some of the last true farces of the silver screen, including Airplane! (1980), The Naked Gun: From The Files Of Police Squad! (1988), and Hot Shots! (1991). Of course, there are others, but I think it’s safe to say that their films in particular truly cast their watchful eye at anything and everything they could lampoon, and audiences responded in kind.
It's into this fertile territory that flicks like Clone Cops descend. While it arguably lacks the same level of intensity and suffers from a bit of lukewarm presentation here and there, Cordell and Dones (who also directs) maintain a consistent vision across the entire piece; and I think that fact alone should help open doors for more of such inspired schtick if the Comedy gods are watching.
In the near future, society at large has been reduced to couch potatoes who sit at their screens absorbing the highest rated show ever, Crimetime 360. Essentially, this is a parade of non-stop violence of good clones battling bad clones in a match-up of brain and brawn with the hope that bloodshed will be bonkers. One lucky viewer – Cameron (played by Schyler Tillett) – wins a contest to join the ‘bad guys’ in their latest death match though he’s promised by the corporate sponsor – NefariCorp – that he cannot be harmed in the crossfire as all clones have been programmed to avoid shooting him. Well, let’s never forget that the road to Hell is paved with an endless path of the best intentions!
Once inserted into the action, Cameron goes by the name Kinder. Though he’s initially welcomed as a confidante, the band of rebels – Fera (Quinnlan Ashe), Porter (Laura Holloway), Brick (Ted Welsh), and Cipher (Allison Shrum) – soon notice that he does not appear to be in nearly as much jeopardy as they are, and they suspect something is afoot. Before the big finish, however, they’ll all be comrades in arms, pledged to protect one another even after Kinder is forced to spill the existential beans informing them that not only are they not real but also they’re little more than expendable pawns in NefariCorp’s Truman Show all crafted for maximum ratings.
Of course, this summation might give Clone Cops a bit more credit than it’s ultimately owed. While such big ideas are the foundation for a great many Science Fiction films dramatically, it’s all concocted so fast and loosely here because what matters most is laughter. The humor, performances, and special effects are all understandably cheesy: this is a low budget affair that revels in its frivolity, and it shows. Instead of working against that grain, the cast and crew embrace it, hoping that their unabashed willingness to force it all down our throats with a thousand grains of salt is enough … and it will be for those who appreciate farce for what it is.
Dones and Cordell, thankfully, are no fools; and what they steal, they shamelessly steal from the best. Like RoboCop (1987) made great satiric use of running corporate adverts and inserts across a good portion of its running time, Clone Cops maximizes similar messaging in smaller, more affordable doses. (And don’t blink or you might miss the film’s obvious homage to Paul Verhoeven’s ‘Kuato’ from 1990’s Total Recall.) While I’ll argue that everything in here – from the acting, staging, cinematography, editing, and sequences – could’ve benefitted from a bit more time in the oven, what emerges still works. I generally appreciate a bit more polish even on such independent efforts, but there’s no denying all involved probably had a good time throwing this one into gear when they did.
Clone Cops (2024) was produced by HiPhi Productions. According to the press materials I was provided, the film is set for VOD release across the U.S. – along with a limited theatrical run in Los Angeles, New York, and Nashville – on January 31, 2025. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found most of the sights-and-sounds to be solid: it may be a defect tied to the streaming portal, but – for what it’s worth – the sound mix was incredibly low in volume. I had to crank this one up to 100 on my laptop and the portal, and – even then – I had to turn on the Closed Captioning in order to get all of the lines. That’s a miss, and I hope it can be corrected. As I viewed this one entirely via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
Again, even Star Trek’s Commander Data said that “humor is a difficult concept,” and that remains true decades later. Clone Cops may not be the perfect punch line, but for those of us who do appreciate the effort it will play for a few laughs. Yes, it has some limitations – most of which were drawn by the budget – but there’s a beating heart pounding (if not spurting blood) somewhere within all of this acting and images, and I can feel its pulse. Such high spirits deserve a bit of airing out every now and then if for no other reason than it reminds us high-minded and good-natured human beings not to take ourselves so seriously. Somewhere, there’s a clone waiting to fill our shoes. If we don’t laugh now, then the clone will be doing it for us in the future.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at HiPhi Productions provided me with complimentary streaming access to Clone Cops (2024) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Of course, this summation might give Clone Cops a bit more credit than it’s ultimately owed. While such big ideas are the foundation for a great many Science Fiction films dramatically, it’s all concocted so fast and loosely here because what matters most is laughter. The humor, performances, and special effects are all understandably cheesy: this is a low budget affair that revels in its frivolity, and it shows. Instead of working against that grain, the cast and crew embrace it, hoping that their unabashed willingness to force it all down our throats with a thousand grains of salt is enough … and it will be for those who appreciate farce for what it is.
Dones and Cordell, thankfully, are no fools; and what they steal, they shamelessly steal from the best. Like RoboCop (1987) made great satiric use of running corporate adverts and inserts across a good portion of its running time, Clone Cops maximizes similar messaging in smaller, more affordable doses. (And don’t blink or you might miss the film’s obvious homage to Paul Verhoeven’s ‘Kuato’ from 1990’s Total Recall.) While I’ll argue that everything in here – from the acting, staging, cinematography, editing, and sequences – could’ve benefitted from a bit more time in the oven, what emerges still works. I generally appreciate a bit more polish even on such independent efforts, but there’s no denying all involved probably had a good time throwing this one into gear when they did.
Clone Cops (2024) was produced by HiPhi Productions. According to the press materials I was provided, the film is set for VOD release across the U.S. – along with a limited theatrical run in Los Angeles, New York, and Nashville – on January 31, 2025. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found most of the sights-and-sounds to be solid: it may be a defect tied to the streaming portal, but – for what it’s worth – the sound mix was incredibly low in volume. I had to crank this one up to 100 on my laptop and the portal, and – even then – I had to turn on the Closed Captioning in order to get all of the lines. That’s a miss, and I hope it can be corrected. As I viewed this one entirely via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
Again, even Star Trek’s Commander Data said that “humor is a difficult concept,” and that remains true decades later. Clone Cops may not be the perfect punch line, but for those of us who do appreciate the effort it will play for a few laughs. Yes, it has some limitations – most of which were drawn by the budget – but there’s a beating heart pounding (if not spurting blood) somewhere within all of this acting and images, and I can feel its pulse. Such high spirits deserve a bit of airing out every now and then if for no other reason than it reminds us high-minded and good-natured human beings not to take ourselves so seriously. Somewhere, there’s a clone waiting to fill our shoes. If we don’t laugh now, then the clone will be doing it for us in the future.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at HiPhi Productions provided me with complimentary streaming access to Clone Cops (2024) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
As one who follows a good deal of entertainment announcements, I can assure you that Presence benefitted from a good deal of advance publicity chitchat across the Information Superhighway.
First up, the name of Steven Soderbergh isn’t one strongly associated with genre outings. While it’s safe to say that the man has had a few, he’s far more well regarded as the purveyor of what might be considered more adult-geared productions. (Sorry, folks, but it’s true that Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror do get marketed far more for teenagers than do perhaps any other form.) In fact, a good deal of the buzz surrounding Presence dealt with the anticipation that here was an accomplished, highbrow intellect and what kind of story would’ve drawn him to the ‘other side of the tracks?’
Second, the film had an advertising hook that promised audiences they were going to see something other than what had come before: here was a ghost story that was going to be spun from the point-of-view of the spectral entity and not the usual suspects. That little nugget also arguably lit a few well-placed fires on what remained of message boards, the Twittersphere, and YouTube.com. Why, how was this possible? What, pray tell, could this look like? The fact that people were anticipating a fresh take on the old tropes also boded well for the cast and crew, so kudos to the promoters who knew what angle to push.
Lastly, the motion picture was going to be released in the United States in January 2025. Those of you who don’t follow such metrics may’ve missed this, but January – for film projects, anyway – isn’t exactly the cat’s meow. It’s often been said that theatrical garbage hits screens in January, mostly because audiences aren’t thinking about going to the movies at that time of year; so, studios feel it’s the best time to unload something a bit out of the norm, hoping they just might buck the trend and make back a few bucks. This may not be a selling point – certainly not as much as the previous two – but it’s still worth weighing in the grand equation.
Well, Presence is finally here. I’ve seen it. While it likely won’t become the sensation producers believed it could be (for a variety of reasons), I’ll argue that it still deserves a bit of attention from those of us who like something off the beaten track. Frankly, I saw it as much a mystery as I did a ghost story – FYI: it’s not frightening in the least regard, though there is a jump scare or two – and the end result remains about as good storytelling as I’ve ever encountered in a genuine fright.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A family becomes convinced they are not alone after moving into their new home in the suburbs.”
First up, the name of Steven Soderbergh isn’t one strongly associated with genre outings. While it’s safe to say that the man has had a few, he’s far more well regarded as the purveyor of what might be considered more adult-geared productions. (Sorry, folks, but it’s true that Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror do get marketed far more for teenagers than do perhaps any other form.) In fact, a good deal of the buzz surrounding Presence dealt with the anticipation that here was an accomplished, highbrow intellect and what kind of story would’ve drawn him to the ‘other side of the tracks?’
Second, the film had an advertising hook that promised audiences they were going to see something other than what had come before: here was a ghost story that was going to be spun from the point-of-view of the spectral entity and not the usual suspects. That little nugget also arguably lit a few well-placed fires on what remained of message boards, the Twittersphere, and YouTube.com. Why, how was this possible? What, pray tell, could this look like? The fact that people were anticipating a fresh take on the old tropes also boded well for the cast and crew, so kudos to the promoters who knew what angle to push.
Lastly, the motion picture was going to be released in the United States in January 2025. Those of you who don’t follow such metrics may’ve missed this, but January – for film projects, anyway – isn’t exactly the cat’s meow. It’s often been said that theatrical garbage hits screens in January, mostly because audiences aren’t thinking about going to the movies at that time of year; so, studios feel it’s the best time to unload something a bit out of the norm, hoping they just might buck the trend and make back a few bucks. This may not be a selling point – certainly not as much as the previous two – but it’s still worth weighing in the grand equation.
Well, Presence is finally here. I’ve seen it. While it likely won’t become the sensation producers believed it could be (for a variety of reasons), I’ll argue that it still deserves a bit of attention from those of us who like something off the beaten track. Frankly, I saw it as much a mystery as I did a ghost story – FYI: it’s not frightening in the least regard, though there is a jump scare or two – and the end result remains about as good storytelling as I’ve ever encountered in a genuine fright.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A family becomes convinced they are not alone after moving into their new home in the suburbs.”
Horror movies succeed because they manage to scare the Hell out of audiences while still allowing them to remain safe in that little bubble of the entertainment experience. Unlike the characters they see running across the silver screen, these patrons – nestled between one another and their popcorn, soda, and snacks – are never truly in any peril; and yet they get to howl along with their fellow audience members at each and every dark turn the players make along the way. It’s the vicarious encounter of running for one’s life; and the best films of this caliber are rewarded with respectable acclaim.
As directed by Steven Soderbergh, Presence (2024) isn’t frightening in what I’d dub any mainstream way, placing its scares more in a cerebral context. Rebekah (played by Lucy Liu), Chris (Chris Sullivan) and their teenage children – Tyler (Eddy Maday) and Chloe (Callina Liang) – are in the market for a new home; though we’ll learn of the exact reasons why as the tale develops, it ties to the family’s need to start over after Chloe was involved in some unspecific event which lead to the death of a childhood friend. (Every parent’s nightmare, I’m told, involves drugs; and, yes, they factor prominently into this story in more ways than one.) The narrative point here is that this ‘great American family’ has been through some rough emotional stuff – there are ample hints at greater possible scandal involving Rebekah’s finances – and they’re displayed as fractured from the outset.
This becomes particularly relevant to the central premise because – as anyone who has read into the wider phenomenon of ghosts knows – souls are said to be bound to a certain time and place in our realm because they have some unfinished business on Earth. They, too, are spirits broken from the task of merely living; and a weighty responsibility remains on their shoulders to accomplish some tasks, right some wrong, and only then are they rewarded with sleeping in that blissful light. Casting an entire family with similar restraints immediately challenges viewers to watch them even more closely – pay attention to what they say and what they do – in order to ascertain more specifics that could be important to the plot if for no other reason that we’re less likely to learn anything of substance from the ghost.
So by positioning these characters as ones to watch, Soderbergh and company serve up the classic misdirection that goes hand-in-hand with spinning a good mystery, of which Presence arguable becomes with several puzzles. What did Rebekah do? Has Chris forgiven her? Should he forgive her? Why are these siblings constantly at odds with one another? Is it just the usual ‘family stuff,’ or is it something much deeper? Why does it look like Rebekah has more love for Tyler than she does Chloe? Why has Chris surrendered so much of the responsibilities to serving as the head of the household? Though these questions (and a few more) are introduced quite early, they continue to posit themselves in increasingly curious ways as Presence wears on: why, even this spirit seems to want to understand these people with all of their strengths and weaknesses, so the construct is balanced exceptionally between our world and the visible nether.
Essentially, what we learn is what we’ve also been told about spooks, that being they’re drawn to the young, the fragile, and the innocent: this ghost spends most of its time watching Chloe. It watches her from the corner of the open closet. It follows her from room to room. Quietly, it even stacks her schoolbooks on the corner of her dresser whilst she’s taking a quick shower. And it seems to have no particular care over the fact that, apparently, Chloe senses its very presence. In fact, it seems to feed off her attention. Naturally, we wonder, “Why might that be?”
As directed by Steven Soderbergh, Presence (2024) isn’t frightening in what I’d dub any mainstream way, placing its scares more in a cerebral context. Rebekah (played by Lucy Liu), Chris (Chris Sullivan) and their teenage children – Tyler (Eddy Maday) and Chloe (Callina Liang) – are in the market for a new home; though we’ll learn of the exact reasons why as the tale develops, it ties to the family’s need to start over after Chloe was involved in some unspecific event which lead to the death of a childhood friend. (Every parent’s nightmare, I’m told, involves drugs; and, yes, they factor prominently into this story in more ways than one.) The narrative point here is that this ‘great American family’ has been through some rough emotional stuff – there are ample hints at greater possible scandal involving Rebekah’s finances – and they’re displayed as fractured from the outset.
This becomes particularly relevant to the central premise because – as anyone who has read into the wider phenomenon of ghosts knows – souls are said to be bound to a certain time and place in our realm because they have some unfinished business on Earth. They, too, are spirits broken from the task of merely living; and a weighty responsibility remains on their shoulders to accomplish some tasks, right some wrong, and only then are they rewarded with sleeping in that blissful light. Casting an entire family with similar restraints immediately challenges viewers to watch them even more closely – pay attention to what they say and what they do – in order to ascertain more specifics that could be important to the plot if for no other reason that we’re less likely to learn anything of substance from the ghost.
So by positioning these characters as ones to watch, Soderbergh and company serve up the classic misdirection that goes hand-in-hand with spinning a good mystery, of which Presence arguable becomes with several puzzles. What did Rebekah do? Has Chris forgiven her? Should he forgive her? Why are these siblings constantly at odds with one another? Is it just the usual ‘family stuff,’ or is it something much deeper? Why does it look like Rebekah has more love for Tyler than she does Chloe? Why has Chris surrendered so much of the responsibilities to serving as the head of the household? Though these questions (and a few more) are introduced quite early, they continue to posit themselves in increasingly curious ways as Presence wears on: why, even this spirit seems to want to understand these people with all of their strengths and weaknesses, so the construct is balanced exceptionally between our world and the visible nether.
Essentially, what we learn is what we’ve also been told about spooks, that being they’re drawn to the young, the fragile, and the innocent: this ghost spends most of its time watching Chloe. It watches her from the corner of the open closet. It follows her from room to room. Quietly, it even stacks her schoolbooks on the corner of her dresser whilst she’s taking a quick shower. And it seems to have no particular care over the fact that, apparently, Chloe senses its very presence. In fact, it seems to feed off her attention. Naturally, we wonder, “Why might that be?”
Because of the way our minds are wired, we – the audience – plug in these answers in much the same way that these characters do. Having lost a dear friend to a drug overdose, Chloe initially believes that’s exactly who is crying out to her from the other side. Soderbergh and Koepp are particularly smart about allowing that plot point to simmer as long as they do because it’s certainly of merit when such a distraction matters: the proof is, regardless, a very dark yet related twist … one I’ll not be a fool to spoil.
As a film, Presence likely won’t go down well with those who watch them casually.
Honestly, it’s a bit clunky in at the set-up, and the pacing could’ve been improved as these opening vignettes – introducing the place, getting to meet the characters, etc. – wear on for a bit. In fact, it really isn’t until around the 15-minute mark (or so) that Soderbergh makes it perfectly clear that it’s a Horror movie; and – even then – it really isn’t until around 30-minutes in that anything remotely frightening happens. If you showed up for the ghost, then you’ve really missed the whole point that you – the audience – are it. You’re watching this from the spirit’s eyes. As such, it does take a bit of getting used to, both in playing the part of the voyeur and realizing there’s a bit of distortion in lensing and the occasionally herky-jerky bits common to found footage films. It never gets in the way, but it does take a bit of acclimation.
The truth is that you don’t get to be as highly an acclaimed director like Soderbergh by following rules, and I honestly suspect that might be what ultimately drew the storyteller to Koepp’s mostly quiet script: while some might argue that it sticks the landing the way a spectral whodunnit should, it also mildly reinvents the wheel when it comes to delivering what audiences might come to expect from such a yarn. It has no ‘big moments,’ but there are reveals that are necessary on the road to understanding. Its ultimate payoff comes in the form of Liu’s heart wrenching closing observation – along with the only look at who this ghost was – and everyone waiting for a twist may’ve guessed this one was coming if (A) they were paying attention when it mattered and (B) they remain open to the reality that both life’s and death’s possibilities are truly endless.
Presence transcends the formulaic even though it must embrace the predictable in small ways – to establish its genre-required bona fides – but then goes surpasses them by delivering a finale worth thinking about. Not everyone will be happy once all is known. Some might even feel a bit cheated. But the answer inarguably confirms the challenge posed by a loving father to a loving son in the heat of a family argument. That much is certain.
Highly Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Presence (2024) as I bought and paid for my very own ticket during the feature’s U.S. theatrical run.
-- EZ
As a film, Presence likely won’t go down well with those who watch them casually.
Honestly, it’s a bit clunky in at the set-up, and the pacing could’ve been improved as these opening vignettes – introducing the place, getting to meet the characters, etc. – wear on for a bit. In fact, it really isn’t until around the 15-minute mark (or so) that Soderbergh makes it perfectly clear that it’s a Horror movie; and – even then – it really isn’t until around 30-minutes in that anything remotely frightening happens. If you showed up for the ghost, then you’ve really missed the whole point that you – the audience – are it. You’re watching this from the spirit’s eyes. As such, it does take a bit of getting used to, both in playing the part of the voyeur and realizing there’s a bit of distortion in lensing and the occasionally herky-jerky bits common to found footage films. It never gets in the way, but it does take a bit of acclimation.
The truth is that you don’t get to be as highly an acclaimed director like Soderbergh by following rules, and I honestly suspect that might be what ultimately drew the storyteller to Koepp’s mostly quiet script: while some might argue that it sticks the landing the way a spectral whodunnit should, it also mildly reinvents the wheel when it comes to delivering what audiences might come to expect from such a yarn. It has no ‘big moments,’ but there are reveals that are necessary on the road to understanding. Its ultimate payoff comes in the form of Liu’s heart wrenching closing observation – along with the only look at who this ghost was – and everyone waiting for a twist may’ve guessed this one was coming if (A) they were paying attention when it mattered and (B) they remain open to the reality that both life’s and death’s possibilities are truly endless.
Presence transcends the formulaic even though it must embrace the predictable in small ways – to establish its genre-required bona fides – but then goes surpasses them by delivering a finale worth thinking about. Not everyone will be happy once all is known. Some might even feel a bit cheated. But the answer inarguably confirms the challenge posed by a loving father to a loving son in the heat of a family argument. That much is certain.
Highly Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Presence (2024) as I bought and paid for my very own ticket during the feature’s U.S. theatrical run.
-- EZ
- Published on
Good morning, gentle readers, and welcome to the world wide premiere date of Star Trek: Section 31 from Paramount Pictures, CBS Studios, Roddenberry Entertainment, and Secret Hideout. No, I've not seen the flick -- me and mine apparently doesn't 'fit the bill' to be an official media outlet so far as the suits are at Paramount and more -- so this is most definitely not a review. I'm merely putting up a post to remind readers of the film's launch as well as to give a bit of greater commentary on the State of Trek as it pertains to this development.
In short: Ugh.
Reviews have come in over the Information Superhighway based entirely on the fact that the feature's actual premiere was two days ago. A great many entertainment and fan sites are already piling on what looks like yet one more unmitigated cinematic disaster to the once revered Roddenberry legacy. I've no desire to do that: mind you, I'm no fan of anything that's come out since Trek moved behind the pay wall, but I've not seen enough of it to feel my voice on those matters would be any more authentic than someone not watching. I can say -- of what I've watched -- only Star Trek: Strange New Worlds' first season came close to being entertaining ... but, as I said, I'll leave that for what it is.
Because I do like to talk about entertainment more from a historical perspective, I do have something I'd like to put out there this morning.
You see, a student of history will tell you that Paramount has long seen Star Trek as a Golden Goose when it comes to truly cracking some amazing financial rewards. All the way back in the mid-1970's, in fact, the studio believed they could use the continuing adventures of the Starship Enterprise to launch their own network. Indeed, Star Trek: Phase Two was originally scheduled to be the 'next generation' of adventure; and this was actively on the drawing boards back in the 70's.
What happened?
Well, a little something-something called Star Wars truly changed the face of entertainment as we know it. George Lucas' space western showed that audiences were willing to go boldly where no one had gone before on the silver screen, and Phase Two went through a few other phases before eventually churning out 1979's Star Trek: The Motion Picture. I don't talk about that much in this space because -- sigh -- so many Trekkies, Trekkers, and general Trek enthusiasts don't think it was that great of an experience (I disagree, as I still fervently love the production), so I won't go more into that. All I'm really doing here is trying to set a bit of context, so deal with it.
In the mid 1980's, Trek was increasingly popular, so Paramount decided that perhaps going back to television would be a good idea. Instead of pushing their own brand-new network, it was ultimately decided that they'd pursue TV syndication as a way of honoring those smaller broadcast outlets that truly were with Trek from the beginning (once the original show was cancelled, you found it all over the dial on such stations). Star Trek: The Next Generation was born, and there we are.
But Paramount couldn't give up that idea of having their own television network; and in the 1990's they finally put their money where their mouth was -- Star Trek: Voyager wasn't exactly a barn-burner (so far as I'm concerned), but it was interesting occasionally to see just how those Federation values might work in a distant part of the universe where morality was a bit different. Personally, I thought it failed to achieve anything worthwhile -- in fact, I've often suggested that Syfy's Farscape is the show Voyager should've been -- but, again, the suits knew what they wanted. Unsurprisingly, UPN -- that beloved network they so long sought -- died perhaps not even a decade later, ultimately disappearing from the broadcast landscape.
For all intents and purposes, Paramount+ -- in my humble opinion -- eventually emerged to pick up that baton and run with it. The studio contracted Robert Kurtzman to bring Trek both into the future and behind a paywall as beancounters once more believed those dollar signs they dreamed about could be achieved. While the suits have continued to throw money at the problem, none of what they've purchased has, ultimately, gotten any better ... and that pretty much sums up where we are today ... what with Star Trek: Section 31 appearing like the next travesty to happen to the franchise many of us believed would take us into the future.
I can remember back in the days of message boards getting into some heated exchanges with a great many fans. You see, many of us had ideas that we thought might invigorate Trek: we could see throughout Voyager's run and well into Star Trek: Enterprise that the I.P. was struggling; and each of us had different takes on why it had fallen into such disrepute. For me, it just didn't have compelling characters -- certainly not after The Next Generation -- and there was no significant impetus to follow anyone into the Final Frontier in any other iteration. (Don't get me wrong: I liked a lot of the players on Deep Space Nine, but I never felt it congealed the way it should have.) A good franchise creates characters you want to stay with, and that just wasn't happening ... but a few of us had a suggestion.
What I promoted way back then was that Paramount kinda/sorta recraft the TV universe around The Next Generation. These characters had proven their popularity with fandom; and these stars could be put to good use if they were now somewhat broken up and re-assigned to Deep Space Nine and Voyager (for all intents and purposes). Mind you: there was plenty of opportunity for crossovers (Voyager would have to be back home in the Alpha Quadrant, yes, in order for this to work) if these shows were to continue beyond their televised format, and that's what I wanted. I wanted some TNG telefilms. I wanted some DS9 telefilms. I wanted some Voyager telefilms. But what was missing would be key characters, and I thought that could happen if, say, Picard moved along, Riker moved along, and others moved along into these other spinoffs.
Now, I'm not gonna re-litigate all of what I thought could've been a winning formula today. That's not the purpose that I came here, frankly, so you can rest easy with this being my only look back into the past. My point is that -- interestingly enough -- that idea many of us thought could help Trek into the future -- namely, the telefilm-style product -- is finally finding life a few decades after some of us in fandom felt it was a formula worth exploring. Granted, Section 31 -- in its current shape -- doesn't look like a recipe for success, but that might be owed to the fact that Kurtzman and his company really don't look all that interested in making Trek for fans as much as they do making money for themselves.
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
In short: Ugh.
Reviews have come in over the Information Superhighway based entirely on the fact that the feature's actual premiere was two days ago. A great many entertainment and fan sites are already piling on what looks like yet one more unmitigated cinematic disaster to the once revered Roddenberry legacy. I've no desire to do that: mind you, I'm no fan of anything that's come out since Trek moved behind the pay wall, but I've not seen enough of it to feel my voice on those matters would be any more authentic than someone not watching. I can say -- of what I've watched -- only Star Trek: Strange New Worlds' first season came close to being entertaining ... but, as I said, I'll leave that for what it is.
Because I do like to talk about entertainment more from a historical perspective, I do have something I'd like to put out there this morning.
You see, a student of history will tell you that Paramount has long seen Star Trek as a Golden Goose when it comes to truly cracking some amazing financial rewards. All the way back in the mid-1970's, in fact, the studio believed they could use the continuing adventures of the Starship Enterprise to launch their own network. Indeed, Star Trek: Phase Two was originally scheduled to be the 'next generation' of adventure; and this was actively on the drawing boards back in the 70's.
What happened?
Well, a little something-something called Star Wars truly changed the face of entertainment as we know it. George Lucas' space western showed that audiences were willing to go boldly where no one had gone before on the silver screen, and Phase Two went through a few other phases before eventually churning out 1979's Star Trek: The Motion Picture. I don't talk about that much in this space because -- sigh -- so many Trekkies, Trekkers, and general Trek enthusiasts don't think it was that great of an experience (I disagree, as I still fervently love the production), so I won't go more into that. All I'm really doing here is trying to set a bit of context, so deal with it.
In the mid 1980's, Trek was increasingly popular, so Paramount decided that perhaps going back to television would be a good idea. Instead of pushing their own brand-new network, it was ultimately decided that they'd pursue TV syndication as a way of honoring those smaller broadcast outlets that truly were with Trek from the beginning (once the original show was cancelled, you found it all over the dial on such stations). Star Trek: The Next Generation was born, and there we are.
But Paramount couldn't give up that idea of having their own television network; and in the 1990's they finally put their money where their mouth was -- Star Trek: Voyager wasn't exactly a barn-burner (so far as I'm concerned), but it was interesting occasionally to see just how those Federation values might work in a distant part of the universe where morality was a bit different. Personally, I thought it failed to achieve anything worthwhile -- in fact, I've often suggested that Syfy's Farscape is the show Voyager should've been -- but, again, the suits knew what they wanted. Unsurprisingly, UPN -- that beloved network they so long sought -- died perhaps not even a decade later, ultimately disappearing from the broadcast landscape.
For all intents and purposes, Paramount+ -- in my humble opinion -- eventually emerged to pick up that baton and run with it. The studio contracted Robert Kurtzman to bring Trek both into the future and behind a paywall as beancounters once more believed those dollar signs they dreamed about could be achieved. While the suits have continued to throw money at the problem, none of what they've purchased has, ultimately, gotten any better ... and that pretty much sums up where we are today ... what with Star Trek: Section 31 appearing like the next travesty to happen to the franchise many of us believed would take us into the future.
I can remember back in the days of message boards getting into some heated exchanges with a great many fans. You see, many of us had ideas that we thought might invigorate Trek: we could see throughout Voyager's run and well into Star Trek: Enterprise that the I.P. was struggling; and each of us had different takes on why it had fallen into such disrepute. For me, it just didn't have compelling characters -- certainly not after The Next Generation -- and there was no significant impetus to follow anyone into the Final Frontier in any other iteration. (Don't get me wrong: I liked a lot of the players on Deep Space Nine, but I never felt it congealed the way it should have.) A good franchise creates characters you want to stay with, and that just wasn't happening ... but a few of us had a suggestion.
What I promoted way back then was that Paramount kinda/sorta recraft the TV universe around The Next Generation. These characters had proven their popularity with fandom; and these stars could be put to good use if they were now somewhat broken up and re-assigned to Deep Space Nine and Voyager (for all intents and purposes). Mind you: there was plenty of opportunity for crossovers (Voyager would have to be back home in the Alpha Quadrant, yes, in order for this to work) if these shows were to continue beyond their televised format, and that's what I wanted. I wanted some TNG telefilms. I wanted some DS9 telefilms. I wanted some Voyager telefilms. But what was missing would be key characters, and I thought that could happen if, say, Picard moved along, Riker moved along, and others moved along into these other spinoffs.
Now, I'm not gonna re-litigate all of what I thought could've been a winning formula today. That's not the purpose that I came here, frankly, so you can rest easy with this being my only look back into the past. My point is that -- interestingly enough -- that idea many of us thought could help Trek into the future -- namely, the telefilm-style product -- is finally finding life a few decades after some of us in fandom felt it was a formula worth exploring. Granted, Section 31 -- in its current shape -- doesn't look like a recipe for success, but that might be owed to the fact that Kurtzman and his company really don't look all that interested in making Trek for fans as much as they do making money for themselves.
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
Oh, Jurassic Park ... what have you wrought?!?!
Just as John Hammond warned us about the dangers of messing with dinosaur genetics, did no one think about the inevitable spinoffs and knockoffs that would result from a single blockbuster movie? Such dreams became a reality when on this day in 1995 (in Turkey) Carnosaur 2 -- yes, there was an original as well -- enjoyed its first broadcast on television. Yes, I think I've seen this one -- caught it back in the day on home video and don't recall being all that impressed -- but I'll leave it at that as the memory is a bit clouded. I can remember thinking that some of the footage was simply re-used from the first installment (IMDB.com's Trivia Page for the flick confirms that); and that's always a disappointment when it happens so obviously. Still, those things happen quite often in the low budget worlds crafted by genre producer Roger Corman.
Interestingly enough, the film's dinosaurs weren't rendered in CGI: these were life-sized robotic puppets (well, as life-sized as the budget would allow), and it's probably likely that that fact alone caused its own share of issues for the storytellers. Directed by Louis Morneau from a story by Michael Palmer, the monster movie starred John Savage, Cliff De Young, Don Stroud, Rick Dean, and Ryan Thomas Johnson in prominent roles.
Furthermore, IMDB.com indicates that Carnosaur 2 was originally slated for a theatrical run. (There's no indication of which country or anything further.) Apparently, that never happen, and this thing was rushed into the secondary market of home video and television as a consequences. Were we robbed? Well, an aggregate audience score under 4.0 on IMDB.com indicates maybe not so much.
In any event, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY you Jurassic critters of Carnosaur 2! You don't look a day over 30 years young!
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
Just as John Hammond warned us about the dangers of messing with dinosaur genetics, did no one think about the inevitable spinoffs and knockoffs that would result from a single blockbuster movie? Such dreams became a reality when on this day in 1995 (in Turkey) Carnosaur 2 -- yes, there was an original as well -- enjoyed its first broadcast on television. Yes, I think I've seen this one -- caught it back in the day on home video and don't recall being all that impressed -- but I'll leave it at that as the memory is a bit clouded. I can remember thinking that some of the footage was simply re-used from the first installment (IMDB.com's Trivia Page for the flick confirms that); and that's always a disappointment when it happens so obviously. Still, those things happen quite often in the low budget worlds crafted by genre producer Roger Corman.
Interestingly enough, the film's dinosaurs weren't rendered in CGI: these were life-sized robotic puppets (well, as life-sized as the budget would allow), and it's probably likely that that fact alone caused its own share of issues for the storytellers. Directed by Louis Morneau from a story by Michael Palmer, the monster movie starred John Savage, Cliff De Young, Don Stroud, Rick Dean, and Ryan Thomas Johnson in prominent roles.
Furthermore, IMDB.com indicates that Carnosaur 2 was originally slated for a theatrical run. (There's no indication of which country or anything further.) Apparently, that never happen, and this thing was rushed into the secondary market of home video and television as a consequences. Were we robbed? Well, an aggregate audience score under 4.0 on IMDB.com indicates maybe not so much.
In any event, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY you Jurassic critters of Carnosaur 2! You don't look a day over 30 years young!
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
For those caught unawares: the great and prolific writer, director, and producer Charles Band is responsible for a great deal of the home video boom throughout the 1980’s and well into the 1990’s.
In fact, his IMDB.com profile confirms that – presently – he’s ushered an astonishing 432 different titles into celluloid existence; and that’s not small potatoes. Though his was a bit disillusioned with how his projects were getting treated under his original imprint – Charles Band Productions – he had the presence of mind to close up shop and re-open under the name of Empire Pictures; and a solid assortment of popular home video rental and retail outings came to life as a consequence. When Empire got a bit too big for its theatrical britches and experience financial shortcomings, Band recreated the wheel again under the moniker of Full Moon Entertainment; and he continues weaving tapestries for young and old alike to this day.
(Author’s note: those interested in knowing even a bit more about Band, his start in the business, and his lasting legacy are encouraged to pick up a copy of his autobiography Confessions Of A Puppetmaster: A Hollywood Memoir Of Ghouls, Guts, and Gonzo Filmmaking which I’ve reviewed here.)
Of course, a repertoire as vast as Band’s is necessarily going to have some good, bad, and ugly; and, yet, as far as this critic is concerned there are a great number of spectacular B-Movies that have been part and parcel of his epic run behind the camera. Fans do argue that he’s somewhat of an acquired taste; and yet the stats of his success in home video speak for themselves. While I admittedly prefer the stuff he was doing back in the 80’s and 90’s, I’ll also concede that I haven’t had the time as a purveyor to check out even a small sampling of what he’s done since the turn of the century; but I always keep my eyes open for recommendations of the SciFiHistory.Net readership.
Still, I hadn’t had the good fortune of experiencing his trip into the Shadowzone (1990), a Horror/SciFi title that in many ways feels like a low budget re-interpretation of a combination of John Carpenter’s earlier works. Written and directed by J.S. Cardone, the film includes a talented line-up headlined by Star Trek’s Louise Fletcher and Blade Runner’s James Hong. As imperfect as it might be, the project still represents to a good degree all audiences wanted from something that might’ve felt more direct-to-video than it ever did theatrical: a decent story, some appreciable cinematography, and a handful of good scares.
Why, what more could one want for a Friday or Saturday night distraction?
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
In fact, his IMDB.com profile confirms that – presently – he’s ushered an astonishing 432 different titles into celluloid existence; and that’s not small potatoes. Though his was a bit disillusioned with how his projects were getting treated under his original imprint – Charles Band Productions – he had the presence of mind to close up shop and re-open under the name of Empire Pictures; and a solid assortment of popular home video rental and retail outings came to life as a consequence. When Empire got a bit too big for its theatrical britches and experience financial shortcomings, Band recreated the wheel again under the moniker of Full Moon Entertainment; and he continues weaving tapestries for young and old alike to this day.
(Author’s note: those interested in knowing even a bit more about Band, his start in the business, and his lasting legacy are encouraged to pick up a copy of his autobiography Confessions Of A Puppetmaster: A Hollywood Memoir Of Ghouls, Guts, and Gonzo Filmmaking which I’ve reviewed here.)
Of course, a repertoire as vast as Band’s is necessarily going to have some good, bad, and ugly; and, yet, as far as this critic is concerned there are a great number of spectacular B-Movies that have been part and parcel of his epic run behind the camera. Fans do argue that he’s somewhat of an acquired taste; and yet the stats of his success in home video speak for themselves. While I admittedly prefer the stuff he was doing back in the 80’s and 90’s, I’ll also concede that I haven’t had the time as a purveyor to check out even a small sampling of what he’s done since the turn of the century; but I always keep my eyes open for recommendations of the SciFiHistory.Net readership.
Still, I hadn’t had the good fortune of experiencing his trip into the Shadowzone (1990), a Horror/SciFi title that in many ways feels like a low budget re-interpretation of a combination of John Carpenter’s earlier works. Written and directed by J.S. Cardone, the film includes a talented line-up headlined by Star Trek’s Louise Fletcher and Blade Runner’s James Hong. As imperfect as it might be, the project still represents to a good degree all audiences wanted from something that might’ve felt more direct-to-video than it ever did theatrical: a decent story, some appreciable cinematography, and a handful of good scares.
Why, what more could one want for a Friday or Saturday night distraction?
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Scientists experiment with Extreme Dream Sleep and find a Parallel Dimension. Now they find the door works both ways and something has come through.”
It’s been said that Alfred Hitchcock was one of the first screen directors to pioneer using a slowly moving camera about his movie sets in order to establish the look and feel of a particular story; and I’ve also read that many in academic credit John Carpenter with picking up that style of transforming it into his own storytelling hook. While the name of J.S. Cardone might not bring with it the same intellectual influence, the opening of his Shadowzone certainly harkens back to the narrative technique: under his watchful eye, the lens moves across a somewhat off-the-beaten track and fenced in location that undoubtedly has something to hide.
Welcome to Jackass Flats, my friends, and let’s hope everyone gets out alive.
This is Horror, and that rarely happens. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be Horror. Am I right?
From there, Shadowzone takes our hero – Captain Hickok (played by David Beecroft – on a tour of duty beneath the Earth. In this subterranean lair, Dr. Van Fleet (James Hong) and Dr. Erhardt (Louise Fletcher) have been experimenting on the subconscious minds of two subjects preserved in isolation tubes; and somehow – the script is never perfectly clear on this point – they’ve tapped into a shared reality wherein one’s fears and phobias can somehow manifest from this ‘shadow zone’ into our world where they’ll definitely develop an appetite for human flesh.
Essentially, audiences know what they’re likely going to get with a chiller of this variety. Before you know it, all of these players find themselves trapped in this decrepit compound with no way out; and – like in Ridley Scott’s seminal Alien (1979) – they spend the bulk of the script trying to elude their shapeshifting captor(s). But in true locked box mystery fashion, these familiar faces fall one-by-one until the last man standing must figure out a way to save not only himself but the rest of life as we know it in the process. Yes, it’s predictable. Yes, it’s been done before. Yet, audiences show up again almost every time it’s tried.
“Scientists experiment with Extreme Dream Sleep and find a Parallel Dimension. Now they find the door works both ways and something has come through.”
It’s been said that Alfred Hitchcock was one of the first screen directors to pioneer using a slowly moving camera about his movie sets in order to establish the look and feel of a particular story; and I’ve also read that many in academic credit John Carpenter with picking up that style of transforming it into his own storytelling hook. While the name of J.S. Cardone might not bring with it the same intellectual influence, the opening of his Shadowzone certainly harkens back to the narrative technique: under his watchful eye, the lens moves across a somewhat off-the-beaten track and fenced in location that undoubtedly has something to hide.
Welcome to Jackass Flats, my friends, and let’s hope everyone gets out alive.
This is Horror, and that rarely happens. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be Horror. Am I right?
From there, Shadowzone takes our hero – Captain Hickok (played by David Beecroft – on a tour of duty beneath the Earth. In this subterranean lair, Dr. Van Fleet (James Hong) and Dr. Erhardt (Louise Fletcher) have been experimenting on the subconscious minds of two subjects preserved in isolation tubes; and somehow – the script is never perfectly clear on this point – they’ve tapped into a shared reality wherein one’s fears and phobias can somehow manifest from this ‘shadow zone’ into our world where they’ll definitely develop an appetite for human flesh.
Essentially, audiences know what they’re likely going to get with a chiller of this variety. Before you know it, all of these players find themselves trapped in this decrepit compound with no way out; and – like in Ridley Scott’s seminal Alien (1979) – they spend the bulk of the script trying to elude their shapeshifting captor(s). But in true locked box mystery fashion, these familiar faces fall one-by-one until the last man standing must figure out a way to save not only himself but the rest of life as we know it in the process. Yes, it’s predictable. Yes, it’s been done before. Yet, audiences show up again almost every time it’s tried.
Our noble military captain has been dispatched from Washington, DC for an impromptu safety inspection once Van Fleet and Erhardt’s “science” causes the bloody and seemingly explosive death of one unfortunate soul. (What’s left of him lies in relative pieces on a hospital gurney.) At this point, however, it’s not exactly clear whether the central creature is dining on human flesh or is just acting out negatively because of a bad day. There’s an expository scene later which tends to once again imply that this crew is little more than the original ‘meals on wheels,’ but Cardone never felt it necessary to clarify his particulars: instead, he leads his cast through one bloody death sequence after another if for no other reason than what matters most is splatter.
As the hunky lead, Beecroft does just fine. He flexes his jawline here and there whenever considering a harsh set of circumstances, so perhaps the actor knew all too well that he was serving second fiddle to these beastly pursuits anyway. A quick glance of the man’s IMDB.com profile shows that he hasn’t appeared in anything after 2000, and that’s a shame: his leading man looks could very well have led to some other employment, but – then again – not everyone gets to be a George Clooney or Jim Varney. It would’ve been nice had Cardone given the character a bit of a backstory – maybe some interesting service credentials or some greater reason why he was the man best suited for this mission – but such nuance didn’t matter all that much in B-Movies, a shame if ever there were.
While Wong does an affable enough job portraying the resident ‘mad scientist’ who’s trying to hide a great deal of his discoveries because – well – they just might not meet with moral approval, he gets dispatched fairly early in the picture, becoming the first of the Ten Little Indians to fall once Hickok is on the scene. From there, Fletcher steps in quite nicely: though for some reason someone felt it necessary to saddle the actress with some character quirk of constantly applying Chapstick to her otherwise perfect lips, the actress still knew how to deliver even the most obvious conclusion (aren’t we all seeing this?) with the requisite theatrical aplomb. She, too, suffers a grim demise; and is it too much of me to wish that maybe, just maybe, she could’ve gone out a hero? As a talent, the lady knew her stuff; and I just wish she hadn’t spent so much of her later career in roles of cardboard villainy. Even Nurse Ratchet deserved better.
Still, Cardone – as the director and the writer – keeps Shadowzone moving along quite nicely if not predictably. For reasons I can’t quite figure out, he dropped after only about twenty minutes in a brilliant running gag: this facility is, literally, breaking apart all around them, and it makes for a few great early moments with folks banging on doors, smacking and jabbing buttons multiple times, and whatnot. I kept looking for the base’s deficiencies to show back up for another bang, kick, or smack; but instead, the cast and crew just go through the motions. It would’ve been funny had they continued the schtick up until the bitter end – it isn’t as if the lair was getting any better – but I’ll chalk that up to missed opportunities.
As the hunky lead, Beecroft does just fine. He flexes his jawline here and there whenever considering a harsh set of circumstances, so perhaps the actor knew all too well that he was serving second fiddle to these beastly pursuits anyway. A quick glance of the man’s IMDB.com profile shows that he hasn’t appeared in anything after 2000, and that’s a shame: his leading man looks could very well have led to some other employment, but – then again – not everyone gets to be a George Clooney or Jim Varney. It would’ve been nice had Cardone given the character a bit of a backstory – maybe some interesting service credentials or some greater reason why he was the man best suited for this mission – but such nuance didn’t matter all that much in B-Movies, a shame if ever there were.
While Wong does an affable enough job portraying the resident ‘mad scientist’ who’s trying to hide a great deal of his discoveries because – well – they just might not meet with moral approval, he gets dispatched fairly early in the picture, becoming the first of the Ten Little Indians to fall once Hickok is on the scene. From there, Fletcher steps in quite nicely: though for some reason someone felt it necessary to saddle the actress with some character quirk of constantly applying Chapstick to her otherwise perfect lips, the actress still knew how to deliver even the most obvious conclusion (aren’t we all seeing this?) with the requisite theatrical aplomb. She, too, suffers a grim demise; and is it too much of me to wish that maybe, just maybe, she could’ve gone out a hero? As a talent, the lady knew her stuff; and I just wish she hadn’t spent so much of her later career in roles of cardboard villainy. Even Nurse Ratchet deserved better.
Still, Cardone – as the director and the writer – keeps Shadowzone moving along quite nicely if not predictably. For reasons I can’t quite figure out, he dropped after only about twenty minutes in a brilliant running gag: this facility is, literally, breaking apart all around them, and it makes for a few great early moments with folks banging on doors, smacking and jabbing buttons multiple times, and whatnot. I kept looking for the base’s deficiencies to show back up for another bang, kick, or smack; but instead, the cast and crew just go through the motions. It would’ve been funny had they continued the schtick up until the bitter end – it isn’t as if the lair was getting any better – but I’ll chalk that up to missed opportunities.
That’s the thing about B-Movies, however, that some folks get and some don’t: if it’s all going to be a little subpar anyway, then why not celebrate the shortcomings a bit more? When big budget studio productions get to revel in their excess, why shouldn’t auteurs of the secondary features point out they’re shackled with sloppy seconds? After all, it isn’t every day that scientists cast physically perfect human specimens as lab rats – ridiculously well-endowed men and superfluously bossomed women for what amounts to little more than a sleep study – so why not incorporate a joke or two about such ludicrousness along the way? Of course, it’s a cheap and easy laugh, but even some of the best entertainment of critical record includes something of a throwaway gag. (Remember Indiana Jones shooting a swordsman dead in the streets?) Why (oh why) must our B-Movies be so … pretentious?
Shadowzone (1990) was produced by Full Moon Entertainment. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Full Moon Entertainment. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, this release looks surprisingly solid: it’s been billed as a Remastered print, and this is probably as good as it has and will ever look. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, that’s a disappointment as the disc includes only a single theatrical trailer: with this older flick finding new life, it’s always nice if a production could give us diehard fans a little something extra.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Though it’s little more than passable entertainment at best, I like to think something like Shadowzone is our passable entertainment: the folks who always find a way to embrace a middling effort that knows what it is, where it’s going, and why it exists in the first place. Producer Band as a master at such a thing, and it’s a low-down dirty shame that more folks haven’t picked up that torch and run with it in the modern era. That said, the story may not make perfect sense – I’ve thought about it over and over again, and I’m still convinced I’ll never quite understand how this ‘zone’ is possible much less how it works – but that’s okay. The feature served its purpose, and now I’m off to discover something else … and, yes, it’ll likely wind up being in the Empire Pictures or Full Moon catalogue when the hunger strikes.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for my review of Shadowzone (1990) as I purchased my copy of this Remastered release with my own hard-earned cash from the Full Moon Entertainment website.
-- EZ
Shadowzone (1990) was produced by Full Moon Entertainment. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Full Moon Entertainment. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, this release looks surprisingly solid: it’s been billed as a Remastered print, and this is probably as good as it has and will ever look. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, that’s a disappointment as the disc includes only a single theatrical trailer: with this older flick finding new life, it’s always nice if a production could give us diehard fans a little something extra.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Though it’s little more than passable entertainment at best, I like to think something like Shadowzone is our passable entertainment: the folks who always find a way to embrace a middling effort that knows what it is, where it’s going, and why it exists in the first place. Producer Band as a master at such a thing, and it’s a low-down dirty shame that more folks haven’t picked up that torch and run with it in the modern era. That said, the story may not make perfect sense – I’ve thought about it over and over again, and I’m still convinced I’ll never quite understand how this ‘zone’ is possible much less how it works – but that’s okay. The feature served its purpose, and now I’m off to discover something else … and, yes, it’ll likely wind up being in the Empire Pictures or Full Moon catalogue when the hunger strikes.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for my review of Shadowzone (1990) as I purchased my copy of this Remastered release with my own hard-earned cash from the Full Moon Entertainment website.
-- EZ
Purchase your copy of Shadowzone - Remastered (1990) right here:
- Published on
The sad truth is that independent films – and even Folk Horror, in general – are, ultimately, not for everyone.
Their stories can be a bit odd at times, never quite feeling as if the storytellers wanted to explore anything greater than a single note, beat, or idea. Though such flicks used to be populated with second tier stars and starlets trying to stretch creatively if not approach something completely different, these projects seem to have fallen on hard times: very few of them see the light of day any more – a sad fact that might be owed to the presence of so many unknown, untried, untested, and unproven talents – or they wind up in the direct-to-DVD video bin at your local big box discount store. Film festivals across the fruited plain still manage to serve them up when given the chance; but even those outlets have fallen into disarray as many organizers just can’t quite seem to muster the funds to see them continued in modern times.
Just as indie features can be a bit hard-to-swallow, Folk Horror can be even more of an ‘acquired taste.’
Bits and pieces of their stories need to be defined in order to be fully grasped and appreciated; and not every viewer who buys a ticket is all that much interested in ‘learning’ as opposed to be sufficiently ‘entertained.’ It’s a unique sub-genre that knows no bounds because its parameters can be expanded to new frontiers so long as the core foundation sticks close to rural settings, superstitions, community or even communal settings, and other related things that go bump in the night. When full-blown Horror can be immensely popular, Folk counterparts tend to be a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, a bit less bloody … and much more thought-provoking.
Thankfully, there are a handful of great distributors out there – like those at Severin Films – who refuse to let experimental and independent cinema die; and they’ve awarded me a fabulously expansive set – All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Volume 2 – that I’ve really only begun scratching the surface of.
Today’s fright: 2018’s Edge Of The Knife is the story about one small tribal community’s brush with unexpected tragedy and how its effects stretch to the point wherein an intervention becomes necessary to bring one member back from a mental break. It’s a grim tale performed well, but I’ll admit right up front that my opinion of it might feel a bit different than others who discuss storytelling … and that’s because in some ways I just don’t feel necessarily qualified.
Curious?
Let’s get to it …
Their stories can be a bit odd at times, never quite feeling as if the storytellers wanted to explore anything greater than a single note, beat, or idea. Though such flicks used to be populated with second tier stars and starlets trying to stretch creatively if not approach something completely different, these projects seem to have fallen on hard times: very few of them see the light of day any more – a sad fact that might be owed to the presence of so many unknown, untried, untested, and unproven talents – or they wind up in the direct-to-DVD video bin at your local big box discount store. Film festivals across the fruited plain still manage to serve them up when given the chance; but even those outlets have fallen into disarray as many organizers just can’t quite seem to muster the funds to see them continued in modern times.
Just as indie features can be a bit hard-to-swallow, Folk Horror can be even more of an ‘acquired taste.’
Bits and pieces of their stories need to be defined in order to be fully grasped and appreciated; and not every viewer who buys a ticket is all that much interested in ‘learning’ as opposed to be sufficiently ‘entertained.’ It’s a unique sub-genre that knows no bounds because its parameters can be expanded to new frontiers so long as the core foundation sticks close to rural settings, superstitions, community or even communal settings, and other related things that go bump in the night. When full-blown Horror can be immensely popular, Folk counterparts tend to be a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, a bit less bloody … and much more thought-provoking.
Thankfully, there are a handful of great distributors out there – like those at Severin Films – who refuse to let experimental and independent cinema die; and they’ve awarded me a fabulously expansive set – All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Volume 2 – that I’ve really only begun scratching the surface of.
Today’s fright: 2018’s Edge Of The Knife is the story about one small tribal community’s brush with unexpected tragedy and how its effects stretch to the point wherein an intervention becomes necessary to bring one member back from a mental break. It’s a grim tale performed well, but I’ll admit right up front that my opinion of it might feel a bit different than others who discuss storytelling … and that’s because in some ways I just don’t feel necessarily qualified.
Curious?
Let’s get to it …
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a man accidentally causes the death of the son of his best friend, the man is wracked by grief and runs off into the woods.”
One of the first lessons I learned from a college professor who was very fond of films is that these productions can be ‘acclaimed’ for any number of legitimate reasons … and, yet, that doesn’t necessarily mean they need be celebrated universally. Sometimes, that’s how I approach a film I’m encouraged to screen only to find myself a bit confused as to what I might be missing. While some stories resonate more broadly with audiences, others are best reserved for those who perhaps understand a certain cultural depiction. There’s nothing wrong with admitting, “Sorry, but I just don’t get it.”
For me, Edge Of The Knife (aka SGaawaay K'uuna) both is and isn’t a good example of this phenomenon. While bits and pieces of its simple story – a young boy’s life tragically ends from a boating accident, and this grief tears through a small Indian community in different ways – are easy to identify with, there’s still a vast degree of slowness and downright stillness to the direction from Gwaai Edenshaw and Helen Haig-Brown. Unfortunately, this 101-running time feels like its vastly longer, and that’s because the narrative is chocked full of extended sequences that stretch well beyond the substance of the point being made. While some of it goes a long way toward establishing mood and emotion, I’d still insist that the pacing could’ve been vastly improved with some creative restraint.
From what I’ve read, however, Edge has received a great deal of its acclaim because it was the first feature-length production centered not only on the Haida (an indigenous tribe of the Pacific Northwest Coast of North America, per Google.com) but also it explores a tale drawn from Haidi legends. That fact alone is indeed impressive, causing me to briefly tip my hat to all of those involved. Even though I might naturally be inclined to point out the ways one could improve upon the storytelling, I’ll pass up on that strategy, saying basically that such an achievement is noteworthy, and here’s hoping that we see more of it.
Where I might take issue still is why anyone would suggest including this release as part of a Folk Horror collection.
To my understanding (and, again, I could be slightly off base here, so haters beware), Folk Horror explores that fertile ground between what one might define as civilization and the uncivilized. It often involves locales cut off from society at large, and there’s typically an element of folklore – wives’ tales, superstitions, and the like – that worm a path through the central plotline. But what gets depicted here deals more with a culture’s shamanistic cures to a level of displayed psychosis (or psychological struggle); and I almost feel a bit … erm … dirty suggesting in any way that their beliefs (and maybe even their wider belief system) might be little more than falsehoods or artistic delusions.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a man accidentally causes the death of the son of his best friend, the man is wracked by grief and runs off into the woods.”
One of the first lessons I learned from a college professor who was very fond of films is that these productions can be ‘acclaimed’ for any number of legitimate reasons … and, yet, that doesn’t necessarily mean they need be celebrated universally. Sometimes, that’s how I approach a film I’m encouraged to screen only to find myself a bit confused as to what I might be missing. While some stories resonate more broadly with audiences, others are best reserved for those who perhaps understand a certain cultural depiction. There’s nothing wrong with admitting, “Sorry, but I just don’t get it.”
For me, Edge Of The Knife (aka SGaawaay K'uuna) both is and isn’t a good example of this phenomenon. While bits and pieces of its simple story – a young boy’s life tragically ends from a boating accident, and this grief tears through a small Indian community in different ways – are easy to identify with, there’s still a vast degree of slowness and downright stillness to the direction from Gwaai Edenshaw and Helen Haig-Brown. Unfortunately, this 101-running time feels like its vastly longer, and that’s because the narrative is chocked full of extended sequences that stretch well beyond the substance of the point being made. While some of it goes a long way toward establishing mood and emotion, I’d still insist that the pacing could’ve been vastly improved with some creative restraint.
From what I’ve read, however, Edge has received a great deal of its acclaim because it was the first feature-length production centered not only on the Haida (an indigenous tribe of the Pacific Northwest Coast of North America, per Google.com) but also it explores a tale drawn from Haidi legends. That fact alone is indeed impressive, causing me to briefly tip my hat to all of those involved. Even though I might naturally be inclined to point out the ways one could improve upon the storytelling, I’ll pass up on that strategy, saying basically that such an achievement is noteworthy, and here’s hoping that we see more of it.
Where I might take issue still is why anyone would suggest including this release as part of a Folk Horror collection.
To my understanding (and, again, I could be slightly off base here, so haters beware), Folk Horror explores that fertile ground between what one might define as civilization and the uncivilized. It often involves locales cut off from society at large, and there’s typically an element of folklore – wives’ tales, superstitions, and the like – that worm a path through the central plotline. But what gets depicted here deals more with a culture’s shamanistic cures to a level of displayed psychosis (or psychological struggle); and I almost feel a bit … erm … dirty suggesting in any way that their beliefs (and maybe even their wider belief system) might be little more than falsehoods or artistic delusions.
Perhaps this is where we’ve come to socially in this era of our shared history. When my job is to both educate and entertain, I might still feel compelled to avoid discussing an idea or two here or there because I don’t want to be – in any way – insensitive; and as a consequence, I’m a bit squeamish saying anything further about the narrative. Suffice it to say, the Haida of this story experience a heartbreaking calamity, and grief – as we all know – gets featured and explored in several ways. What evolves over these 100+ minutes is something I don’t feel competent to classify, quantify, and criticize because, frankly, it feels wrong.
Performances are good, though a bit unimpressive at times. There are a few moments of humor surprisingly here. The cinematography is good, and I appreciated the conclusion. But … is this Horror? Is this Folk Horror? I guess it fits the hardcore parameters to some even though I’m hard-pressed to give this one an enthusiastic thumbs up on that score. It feels more like a dramatic effort with an uncurrent of psychological Horror, but what do I know?
Edge Of The Knife (2018) was produced by Niijang Xyalaas and Kingulliit Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I do believe this was all shot on HD Video – at least, it certainly looks that way – and I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be very good across the run. As for the special features? There’s an interesting audio commentary but even better was the documentary that focuses a bit more on the mechanics of getting the project off the ground – its challenges, its highs and lows – which I enjoyed more. Also, there are a few shorts films accompanying it all. A good package.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Far be it from me to decide what is and what isn’t authentic Folk Horror. While I’ll certainly not disparage anyone who thinks Edge Of The Knife (2018) fits within the sometimes-curious mold, I’ll tread lightly – with great respect – by asking, “Aren’t we doing a disservice to a people’s culture by – ahem – classifying it as superstition?” This is why I do consciously avoid discussing some features – I’m disinclined to offend anyone with my observations, especially involving a heritage I know little about – but to each his own. As a finished product, Edge is still a bit underwhelming if not clunky in a few spots as a story; and a much tighter presentation would be appreciated if this one ever receives a makeover.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Edge Of The Knife (2018) – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – by request for the purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Performances are good, though a bit unimpressive at times. There are a few moments of humor surprisingly here. The cinematography is good, and I appreciated the conclusion. But … is this Horror? Is this Folk Horror? I guess it fits the hardcore parameters to some even though I’m hard-pressed to give this one an enthusiastic thumbs up on that score. It feels more like a dramatic effort with an uncurrent of psychological Horror, but what do I know?
Edge Of The Knife (2018) was produced by Niijang Xyalaas and Kingulliit Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I do believe this was all shot on HD Video – at least, it certainly looks that way – and I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be very good across the run. As for the special features? There’s an interesting audio commentary but even better was the documentary that focuses a bit more on the mechanics of getting the project off the ground – its challenges, its highs and lows – which I enjoyed more. Also, there are a few shorts films accompanying it all. A good package.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Far be it from me to decide what is and what isn’t authentic Folk Horror. While I’ll certainly not disparage anyone who thinks Edge Of The Knife (2018) fits within the sometimes-curious mold, I’ll tread lightly – with great respect – by asking, “Aren’t we doing a disservice to a people’s culture by – ahem – classifying it as superstition?” This is why I do consciously avoid discussing some features – I’m disinclined to offend anyone with my observations, especially involving a heritage I know little about – but to each his own. As a finished product, Edge is still a bit underwhelming if not clunky in a few spots as a story; and a much tighter presentation would be appreciated if this one ever receives a makeover.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Edge Of The Knife (2018) – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – by request for the purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Purchase your copy of All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 here:
- Published on
The sad truth is that independent films – and even Folk Horror, in general – are, ultimately, not for everyone.
Their stories can be a bit odd at times, never quite feeling as if the storytellers wanted to explore anything greater than a single note, beat, or idea. Though such flicks used to be populated with second tier stars and starlets trying to stretch creatively if not approach something completely different, these projects seem to have fallen on hard times: very few of them see the light of day any more – a sad fact that might be owed to the presence of so many unknown, untried, untested, and unproven talents – or they wind up in the direct-to-DVD video bin at your local big box discount store. Film festivals across the fruited plain still manage to serve them up when given the chance; but even those outlets have fallen into disarray as many organizers just can’t quite seem to muster the funds to see them continued in modern times.
Just as indie features can be a bit hard-to-swallow, Folk Horror can be even more of an ‘acquired taste.’
Bits and pieces of their stories need to be defined in order to be fully grasped and appreciated; and not every viewer who buys a ticket is all that much interested in ‘learning’ as opposed to be sufficiently ‘entertained.’ It’s a unique sub-genre that knows no bounds because its parameters can be expanded to new frontiers so long as the core foundation sticks close to rural settings, superstitions, community or even communal settings, and other related things that go bump in the night. When full-blown Horror can be immensely popular, Folk counterparts tend to be a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, a bit less bloody … and much more thought-provoking.
Thankfully, there are a handful of great distributors out there – like those at Severin Films – who refuse to let experimental and independent cinema die; and they’ve awarded me a fabulously expansive set – All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Volume 2 – that I’ve really only begun scratching the surface of.
Today’s fright: 1952’s Finnish-language chiller The White Reindeer weaves the classic web of ‘girl meets boy’ with the added layers of ‘girl might have been born a witch’ and ‘girl resorts to poorly phrased love potion to make boy love her even more.’ Written (in part) and directed by Erik Blomberg (1913-1996), the feature starred the man’s wife and screenwriter partner Mirjami Kuosmanen (1915-1963) who only a short ten years later would pass tragically from a brain hemorrhage. Yet, their screen collaboration here remains one of great distinction: not only was it the recipient of the 1953 Cannes Film Festival prize in the category of ‘Best Fairy Tale Film’ but also it scored three big wins – ‘Best Music,’ ‘Best Cinematography,’ and ‘Best Leading Actress’—at the 1952 Jussi Awards, Finland’s equivalent to the U.S.’s Academy Awards.
Setting aside the accolades, The White Reindeer has some plusses and minuses so far as this reviewer is concerned. Like many pictures of the bygone era, it spends a good amount of screen time invested in narrative sequences that stretch on a bit longer than completely necessary, so much so that I suspect there’s a vastly slimmer cut of the flick that might even sit well with today’s TikTok sensibilities. The performances are good (for what they are), and – to my surprise – there’s so little dialogue one wonders what was truly gained by structuring it almost like a story from the era of silent films.
Their stories can be a bit odd at times, never quite feeling as if the storytellers wanted to explore anything greater than a single note, beat, or idea. Though such flicks used to be populated with second tier stars and starlets trying to stretch creatively if not approach something completely different, these projects seem to have fallen on hard times: very few of them see the light of day any more – a sad fact that might be owed to the presence of so many unknown, untried, untested, and unproven talents – or they wind up in the direct-to-DVD video bin at your local big box discount store. Film festivals across the fruited plain still manage to serve them up when given the chance; but even those outlets have fallen into disarray as many organizers just can’t quite seem to muster the funds to see them continued in modern times.
Just as indie features can be a bit hard-to-swallow, Folk Horror can be even more of an ‘acquired taste.’
Bits and pieces of their stories need to be defined in order to be fully grasped and appreciated; and not every viewer who buys a ticket is all that much interested in ‘learning’ as opposed to be sufficiently ‘entertained.’ It’s a unique sub-genre that knows no bounds because its parameters can be expanded to new frontiers so long as the core foundation sticks close to rural settings, superstitions, community or even communal settings, and other related things that go bump in the night. When full-blown Horror can be immensely popular, Folk counterparts tend to be a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, a bit less bloody … and much more thought-provoking.
Thankfully, there are a handful of great distributors out there – like those at Severin Films – who refuse to let experimental and independent cinema die; and they’ve awarded me a fabulously expansive set – All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Volume 2 – that I’ve really only begun scratching the surface of.
Today’s fright: 1952’s Finnish-language chiller The White Reindeer weaves the classic web of ‘girl meets boy’ with the added layers of ‘girl might have been born a witch’ and ‘girl resorts to poorly phrased love potion to make boy love her even more.’ Written (in part) and directed by Erik Blomberg (1913-1996), the feature starred the man’s wife and screenwriter partner Mirjami Kuosmanen (1915-1963) who only a short ten years later would pass tragically from a brain hemorrhage. Yet, their screen collaboration here remains one of great distinction: not only was it the recipient of the 1953 Cannes Film Festival prize in the category of ‘Best Fairy Tale Film’ but also it scored three big wins – ‘Best Music,’ ‘Best Cinematography,’ and ‘Best Leading Actress’—at the 1952 Jussi Awards, Finland’s equivalent to the U.S.’s Academy Awards.
Setting aside the accolades, The White Reindeer has some plusses and minuses so far as this reviewer is concerned. Like many pictures of the bygone era, it spends a good amount of screen time invested in narrative sequences that stretch on a bit longer than completely necessary, so much so that I suspect there’s a vastly slimmer cut of the flick that might even sit well with today’s TikTok sensibilities. The performances are good (for what they are), and – to my surprise – there’s so little dialogue one wonders what was truly gained by structuring it almost like a story from the era of silent films.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A newlywed woman goes to the local shaman to get some help with her love life, but instead she gets turned into a white reindeer vampire.”
A great number of fairy tales have been written exploring the theme of misunderstood or unrequited love; and this is essentially the frozen territory staked out by The White Reindeer, a tragic affair pulled from Finnish mythology and delivered to the silver screen with icy conviction. Wikipedia.org credits the film from Erik Blomberg as his professional debut; and the writer/director definitely delivers the goods in a way that warrants the kind of appreciation given by scholars and academics alike, though it might feel a bit slim if not occasionally bloated cinematographically by mainstream audiences. Those who are fascinated by folklore around the world will probably find a few sequences worthy of note, but even they might find their patience tested with several sequences that stretch languorously longer than they need.
Yes, yes, and yes: one might argue that protracted structures are necessary steps for creating a bit of the requisite atmosphere. The setting is in the deep, deep treacherous frozen tundra where only a handful of men, women, and children might account for the tiniest of villages; and this isolation feeds directly into our heroine’s need to connect both physically, emotionally, and spiritually with her husband. Part witch story and part morality tale – always be careful what you wish for – Reindeer settles easily into the sub-genre of Folk Horror in practically every way possible. Still, I can’t imagine any of its substance or impact being sacrificed had Blomberg clipped 10-to-15 seconds off of his expansive shots of endless snowy plains and the hunters sledding across them. By the final reel, it isn’t as if we haven’t seen such activity before, so it grows tedious.
Pirita (played by Mirjami Kuosmanen) is prophesied at the time of her birth to be part of a growing folk community which celebrates life in song and dance. Once she matures into adulthood, the lovely lady catches the eye of one of the tribe’s hunters – Aslak (Kalervo Nissilä) – and the pair are eventually joined in marriage. However, their life as a couple is hardly what the lady wished for as her man spends so much time away on hunting expeditions, choosing to run with ‘the pack’ of men, dogs, and reindeer. Hoping to lessen her loneliness, Pirita asks the local shaman to cast a spell – one that could make it impossible for a hunter to resist her charms – and as anyone can imagine the wish goes horribly wrong.
Did the lady seriously forget that hunters first and foremost long to chase wild beasts across the wild frontier?
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A newlywed woman goes to the local shaman to get some help with her love life, but instead she gets turned into a white reindeer vampire.”
A great number of fairy tales have been written exploring the theme of misunderstood or unrequited love; and this is essentially the frozen territory staked out by The White Reindeer, a tragic affair pulled from Finnish mythology and delivered to the silver screen with icy conviction. Wikipedia.org credits the film from Erik Blomberg as his professional debut; and the writer/director definitely delivers the goods in a way that warrants the kind of appreciation given by scholars and academics alike, though it might feel a bit slim if not occasionally bloated cinematographically by mainstream audiences. Those who are fascinated by folklore around the world will probably find a few sequences worthy of note, but even they might find their patience tested with several sequences that stretch languorously longer than they need.
Yes, yes, and yes: one might argue that protracted structures are necessary steps for creating a bit of the requisite atmosphere. The setting is in the deep, deep treacherous frozen tundra where only a handful of men, women, and children might account for the tiniest of villages; and this isolation feeds directly into our heroine’s need to connect both physically, emotionally, and spiritually with her husband. Part witch story and part morality tale – always be careful what you wish for – Reindeer settles easily into the sub-genre of Folk Horror in practically every way possible. Still, I can’t imagine any of its substance or impact being sacrificed had Blomberg clipped 10-to-15 seconds off of his expansive shots of endless snowy plains and the hunters sledding across them. By the final reel, it isn’t as if we haven’t seen such activity before, so it grows tedious.
Pirita (played by Mirjami Kuosmanen) is prophesied at the time of her birth to be part of a growing folk community which celebrates life in song and dance. Once she matures into adulthood, the lovely lady catches the eye of one of the tribe’s hunters – Aslak (Kalervo Nissilä) – and the pair are eventually joined in marriage. However, their life as a couple is hardly what the lady wished for as her man spends so much time away on hunting expeditions, choosing to run with ‘the pack’ of men, dogs, and reindeer. Hoping to lessen her loneliness, Pirita asks the local shaman to cast a spell – one that could make it impossible for a hunter to resist her charms – and as anyone can imagine the wish goes horribly wrong.
Did the lady seriously forget that hunters first and foremost long to chase wild beasts across the wild frontier?
Eventually, she finds she can transform into the white reindeer (of the title), a caribou that’s revered in local legend for bringing tragedy and suffering in its wake. Naturally, this is what happens as the sightings of Pirita in animal form bring out the local hunters who are hell bent on seeing the things killed only to, one by one, fall victim to the lady’s treachery. Eventually, husband and wife collide on the battlefield – well, hunting grounds, anyway – and Aslak emerges aghast once his triumph turns to tragedy with the realization that it was his beloved he struck down in the closing moments.
As this is reported to be Blomberg’s first film, I’m willing to chalk up some of the visual bloat to being a bit of a beginner. Again, it isn’t as if there’s a great deal of waste here cinematically: my point is that once a point is made then I’m looking for the story to move along, and that doesn’t always happen. It’s all captured in stark black-and-white, and the man uses both shadows and some old school camera trickery to accomplish vastly more than others have done, so there’s no denying the noirish charm to what he brings to the feature. Also, he alternates comfortably between some tight, closed in housing to some reasonably expansive frontiers, a technique that helps underscore the fact that even wide-open spaces might offer little reprieve for a woman who wants little more than her husband’s arms around her.
But, wow, Kuosmanen is a big-time star here.
Whether she is batting her eyelashes at the local revelry or staring sternly into Blomberg’s camera, she commands a great deal of attention to her plight when it’s needed. Much like a siren from the aforementioned silent era, she renders her emotions with a mastery of expression, never leaving any doubt as to what she’s thinking or expecting in any of her close-ups. Who knows what her career in film might’ve amounted to had she lived longer as it’s her time in the lens that gives this Reindeer so much of its visual punch.
The White Reindeer (1952) was produced by Junior-Filmi. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the film folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional across the flick’s 74-minute running time. (There are some very slow fades to black that, too, could’ve been restored a bit better, but it is what it is.) If you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few short films along with a commentary-like experience from a podcast called The Projection Booth that’s good but only occasionally a bit too chatty.
Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The White Reindeer (1952) – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – by request for the purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
As this is reported to be Blomberg’s first film, I’m willing to chalk up some of the visual bloat to being a bit of a beginner. Again, it isn’t as if there’s a great deal of waste here cinematically: my point is that once a point is made then I’m looking for the story to move along, and that doesn’t always happen. It’s all captured in stark black-and-white, and the man uses both shadows and some old school camera trickery to accomplish vastly more than others have done, so there’s no denying the noirish charm to what he brings to the feature. Also, he alternates comfortably between some tight, closed in housing to some reasonably expansive frontiers, a technique that helps underscore the fact that even wide-open spaces might offer little reprieve for a woman who wants little more than her husband’s arms around her.
But, wow, Kuosmanen is a big-time star here.
Whether she is batting her eyelashes at the local revelry or staring sternly into Blomberg’s camera, she commands a great deal of attention to her plight when it’s needed. Much like a siren from the aforementioned silent era, she renders her emotions with a mastery of expression, never leaving any doubt as to what she’s thinking or expecting in any of her close-ups. Who knows what her career in film might’ve amounted to had she lived longer as it’s her time in the lens that gives this Reindeer so much of its visual punch.
The White Reindeer (1952) was produced by Junior-Filmi. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the film folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional across the flick’s 74-minute running time. (There are some very slow fades to black that, too, could’ve been restored a bit better, but it is what it is.) If you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few short films along with a commentary-like experience from a podcast called The Projection Booth that’s good but only occasionally a bit too chatty.
Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The White Reindeer (1952) – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – by request for the purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Purchase your copy of All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 right here:
- Published on
It’s often been said that you can tell a lot about a person by the company he (or she) keeps; and I’ve often applied that same maxim to films. In other words, you can tell a lot about a film by the company in which it gets associated.
According to Wikipedia.org, it was during the 1980’s that a handful of prominent filmmakers began urging the United States Congress to enact a body that could preserve films that had demonstrated “historical, cultural, and aesthetic” appeal to the art form. Chiefly, this was because a great number of motion pictures were starting to get tinkered with from their original form in order to be commercially marketed both to television and home video; and these storytellers and artists were concerned that the lasting legacy of good stories was facing the prospect of getting reshaped into something different than was originally intended. As such, the National Film Preservation Act was first passed in 1988; and – the very next year – the first twenty-five features were inducted into the National Film Registry. Among these entries were films beloved by audiences and academics alike; and – yes – 1956’s The Searchers was in that inaugural class.
What else was there, you might ask?
Well, there were a few of them that – frankly – were cultural no-brainers. 1941’s Citizen Kane and 1942’s Casablanca had long been regarded as some of the very best storytelling of theatrical note, as were such inductees as 1939’s Gone With The Wind, 1946’s The Best Years Of Our Lives, and 1954’s On The Waterfront. While I hadn’t seen all the included films, I had at that time seen The Searchers; and I’ll admit to being a bit befuddled. As a Western, I’d certainly seen ones I thought better – that young and naïve critic I considered myself – but I wasn’t all that surprised that the John Ford directed feature had the reputation it did amongst filmmakers. I didn’t know this until much later, so I’m glad that I’ve had the chance to look at the film once more thanks to the kind people at Warner Archive.
Even at this late day in my life, I think I’ve finally been able to put into words why I’ve struggled with the picture as well as why it just doesn’t quite resonate as strongly with me as have so many others. Some might disagree – such is life – and some might even suggest that I’m a Looney Tunes for sticking with my position; but I’ve always tried very hard to stay true to myself in the process of evaluating stories, why they do or don’t work, and even why they deserve the recognition they achieve over time. The Searchers certainly qualifies as one whose reputation has grown over time – it wasn’t anywhere near a box office hit back in its day – and perhaps that shows that art ultimately finds its audience, maybe even after many have looked elsewhere.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
According to Wikipedia.org, it was during the 1980’s that a handful of prominent filmmakers began urging the United States Congress to enact a body that could preserve films that had demonstrated “historical, cultural, and aesthetic” appeal to the art form. Chiefly, this was because a great number of motion pictures were starting to get tinkered with from their original form in order to be commercially marketed both to television and home video; and these storytellers and artists were concerned that the lasting legacy of good stories was facing the prospect of getting reshaped into something different than was originally intended. As such, the National Film Preservation Act was first passed in 1988; and – the very next year – the first twenty-five features were inducted into the National Film Registry. Among these entries were films beloved by audiences and academics alike; and – yes – 1956’s The Searchers was in that inaugural class.
What else was there, you might ask?
Well, there were a few of them that – frankly – were cultural no-brainers. 1941’s Citizen Kane and 1942’s Casablanca had long been regarded as some of the very best storytelling of theatrical note, as were such inductees as 1939’s Gone With The Wind, 1946’s The Best Years Of Our Lives, and 1954’s On The Waterfront. While I hadn’t seen all the included films, I had at that time seen The Searchers; and I’ll admit to being a bit befuddled. As a Western, I’d certainly seen ones I thought better – that young and naïve critic I considered myself – but I wasn’t all that surprised that the John Ford directed feature had the reputation it did amongst filmmakers. I didn’t know this until much later, so I’m glad that I’ve had the chance to look at the film once more thanks to the kind people at Warner Archive.
Even at this late day in my life, I think I’ve finally been able to put into words why I’ve struggled with the picture as well as why it just doesn’t quite resonate as strongly with me as have so many others. Some might disagree – such is life – and some might even suggest that I’m a Looney Tunes for sticking with my position; but I’ve always tried very hard to stay true to myself in the process of evaluating stories, why they do or don’t work, and even why they deserve the recognition they achieve over time. The Searchers certainly qualifies as one whose reputation has grown over time – it wasn’t anywhere near a box office hit back in its day – and perhaps that shows that art ultimately finds its audience, maybe even after many have looked elsewhere.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An American Civil War veteran embarks on a years-long journey to rescue his niece from the Comanches after the rest of his brother's family is massacred in a raid on their Texas farm.”
While I’m not as young as those who discuss films online these days, I’m probably not among the oldest, either. I certainly grew up at a time when cinema – in particular – was changing: the 1960’s and early 1970’s say many genre entries trying to grow increasingly relevant with the times, but syndication television programming was still made up of shows like The Lone Ranger, The Cisco Kid, The Rifleman, and Have Gun – Will Travel. While each of these may’ve had their respective narrative territories that they staked out, there was one thing I recall all of them having in common: as a watcher, you knew who the goods guys were, and you knew who the bad ones were.
A good deal of their stories were simple yarns – some black-hatted newbie to the town would show up and commit some nefarious deed, requiring that our white-hatted heroes saddle up and ride for the purpose of righting that singular wrong. Rarely was there any nuance – the viewers didn’t have to watch closely to know who was on the side of justice in most cases because costuming alone pretty much told them everything they needed to know – and everything was wrapped up tighter than a box in the final reel. It might be a showdown or some deserved fisticuffs after a protracted horse race, but justice returned the town to what it was before evil reared its head and balance was reached.
While theatrical Westerns were largely cut from the same cloth, there came a time wherein these big budget spectacles inevitably realized that they had to do what they were doing on the big screen a bit differently than what studios could deliver faster and cheaper on the small. We were growing and changing as a society, and some storytellers felt that our myths should as well. There’s always a measure of revisionism that comes into play, and these efforts began questioning the ideas of what good and evil authentically looked like across a lawless and uncivilized frontier. Maybe the good guys didn’t always wear white. Maybe the bad guys didn’t always wear black. Maybe even the men and women we originally thought were the good and righteous lot had something to hide, and maybe those feared gunslingers weren’t as morally honorable as films had led us to believe.
In this respect, The Searchers – as directed by Ford and scripted by Frank S. Nugent, Alan Le May, and Charles Dorat – casts iconic cowboy and lawman John Wayne in the guise of Ethan Edwards, a former soldier of the Confederacy who stayed away from home for some time even after the Civil War ended. When he does arrive back to the Edwards homestead, he’s welcomed warmly and embraced by his brother and the man’s family … and yet things don’t quite look as clean and wholesome as they might’ve in other motion pictures. Why, brother Aaron is a bit of a homebody, not much for violence nor taking a stand on any issue unless conscripted by the local constabulary. At the dinner table, Ethan proves himself to be a bit of a racist when he takes issue with breaking bread with Marty Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter), an adopted sibling with only one-eighth Cherokee ancestry. And – dare I say? – it looks like Ethan and his sister-in-law Martha (Dorothy Jordan) can’t help but steal loving glances at one another whilst no one else is looking?
Erm … what happened to the good guys?
There’s no denying that Ethan Edwards is the hero of The Searchers, certainly as much as Martin Pawley come the big finish; and yet there’s also a bit of antihero in him as well. As times change, our heroes also go through a bit of cultural upheaval, meaning that we might begin to ‘search’ for just what makes the definition of a protagonist work in a new era of civilization. Clearly, there is good and bad in each of us – or, at least, the propensity to achieve good works as well as something less than reputable – and that’s the wild frontier that’s staked out in Ford’s mold-breaking outing. It’s a film that both is as true a Western as ever was while it also defies expectations and pushes its characters and themes into territory as untouched as the prairie.
“An American Civil War veteran embarks on a years-long journey to rescue his niece from the Comanches after the rest of his brother's family is massacred in a raid on their Texas farm.”
While I’m not as young as those who discuss films online these days, I’m probably not among the oldest, either. I certainly grew up at a time when cinema – in particular – was changing: the 1960’s and early 1970’s say many genre entries trying to grow increasingly relevant with the times, but syndication television programming was still made up of shows like The Lone Ranger, The Cisco Kid, The Rifleman, and Have Gun – Will Travel. While each of these may’ve had their respective narrative territories that they staked out, there was one thing I recall all of them having in common: as a watcher, you knew who the goods guys were, and you knew who the bad ones were.
A good deal of their stories were simple yarns – some black-hatted newbie to the town would show up and commit some nefarious deed, requiring that our white-hatted heroes saddle up and ride for the purpose of righting that singular wrong. Rarely was there any nuance – the viewers didn’t have to watch closely to know who was on the side of justice in most cases because costuming alone pretty much told them everything they needed to know – and everything was wrapped up tighter than a box in the final reel. It might be a showdown or some deserved fisticuffs after a protracted horse race, but justice returned the town to what it was before evil reared its head and balance was reached.
While theatrical Westerns were largely cut from the same cloth, there came a time wherein these big budget spectacles inevitably realized that they had to do what they were doing on the big screen a bit differently than what studios could deliver faster and cheaper on the small. We were growing and changing as a society, and some storytellers felt that our myths should as well. There’s always a measure of revisionism that comes into play, and these efforts began questioning the ideas of what good and evil authentically looked like across a lawless and uncivilized frontier. Maybe the good guys didn’t always wear white. Maybe the bad guys didn’t always wear black. Maybe even the men and women we originally thought were the good and righteous lot had something to hide, and maybe those feared gunslingers weren’t as morally honorable as films had led us to believe.
In this respect, The Searchers – as directed by Ford and scripted by Frank S. Nugent, Alan Le May, and Charles Dorat – casts iconic cowboy and lawman John Wayne in the guise of Ethan Edwards, a former soldier of the Confederacy who stayed away from home for some time even after the Civil War ended. When he does arrive back to the Edwards homestead, he’s welcomed warmly and embraced by his brother and the man’s family … and yet things don’t quite look as clean and wholesome as they might’ve in other motion pictures. Why, brother Aaron is a bit of a homebody, not much for violence nor taking a stand on any issue unless conscripted by the local constabulary. At the dinner table, Ethan proves himself to be a bit of a racist when he takes issue with breaking bread with Marty Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter), an adopted sibling with only one-eighth Cherokee ancestry. And – dare I say? – it looks like Ethan and his sister-in-law Martha (Dorothy Jordan) can’t help but steal loving glances at one another whilst no one else is looking?
Erm … what happened to the good guys?
There’s no denying that Ethan Edwards is the hero of The Searchers, certainly as much as Martin Pawley come the big finish; and yet there’s also a bit of antihero in him as well. As times change, our heroes also go through a bit of cultural upheaval, meaning that we might begin to ‘search’ for just what makes the definition of a protagonist work in a new era of civilization. Clearly, there is good and bad in each of us – or, at least, the propensity to achieve good works as well as something less than reputable – and that’s the wild frontier that’s staked out in Ford’s mold-breaking outing. It’s a film that both is as true a Western as ever was while it also defies expectations and pushes its characters and themes into territory as untouched as the prairie.
There’s never any doubt that Edwards has done some unconscionable deeds on behalf of civilization. Indeed, the man hints amply at decisions he’s had to made as well as the turmoil he tucks away deep inside as a consequence of having to live with such choices. This was more likely the reality of braving such an explored and dangerous expanse that was the true Wild West, much more than those simple ‘black versus white’ stories that worked so well on broadcast television. When some in the audience might’ve been a bit aghast at seeing their quintessential screen savior in such a light – Wayne’s reputation definitely preceded him at this point in a career – that fact alone might explain how and why contemporary viewers rejected the outing in its time and place.
What I can say is that I’ve no doubt this is why The Searchers failed to win me over when I first saw it. Being raised on ‘oaters’ in a single context did me no favors, and I saw the picture as more of an anti-Western than anything else. (Frankly, I still see some of it that way these days, but I’ve tempered my dislike of a few scenes.) What else would you call a film that serves up a somewhat ill-tempered protagonist struggling with racism and also depicts the U.S. Cavalry as a force for destruction as opposed to the brigade previous tasked with showing up to save the day? Ford’s myth just didn’t quite jive with what I’d known before, so I somewhat dismissed it in my mind.
As I’m decades older, I can say that I’ve made peace with the flick. While I’ve never hated it – it has some of the best cinematography ever to grace these untamed territories – I struggled to celebrate it as have so many of my cultural betters. Some have argued that I didn’t “get it,” but I’ve always insisted that I just didn’t quite agree with its messaging. As I’ve repeated many times on SciFiHistory.Net, I abhor messaging from either side of the political spectrum; and there are definitely times when The Searchers beats its own drum for better or worse.
Like Ethan Edwards, I prefer to think that I, too, might best serve humanity by staying outside, existing just beyond the mainstream’s safety and security where danger lurks in every shadow. I may be wrong more than I’m right, but one still can hope you go into the golden years by making more friends than you’ve ever killed. Like that tall stranger, I think there’s a quiet nobility in knowing one’s strength and weaknesses and accepting whatever foibles evolve consequently. At least, you’ll always know where you stand with yourself … and perhaps that’s all that really matters in the end.
The Searchers (1956) was produced by C.V. Whitney Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights and sounds to be as monumental as when they were first conceived: the film looks utterly fabulous in 4K. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There’s a great audience commentary along with some exceptional looks into the film’s enduring history worth your discovery. It’s a great, great collection.
Highest Recommendation Possible.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Searchers (1956) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
What I can say is that I’ve no doubt this is why The Searchers failed to win me over when I first saw it. Being raised on ‘oaters’ in a single context did me no favors, and I saw the picture as more of an anti-Western than anything else. (Frankly, I still see some of it that way these days, but I’ve tempered my dislike of a few scenes.) What else would you call a film that serves up a somewhat ill-tempered protagonist struggling with racism and also depicts the U.S. Cavalry as a force for destruction as opposed to the brigade previous tasked with showing up to save the day? Ford’s myth just didn’t quite jive with what I’d known before, so I somewhat dismissed it in my mind.
As I’m decades older, I can say that I’ve made peace with the flick. While I’ve never hated it – it has some of the best cinematography ever to grace these untamed territories – I struggled to celebrate it as have so many of my cultural betters. Some have argued that I didn’t “get it,” but I’ve always insisted that I just didn’t quite agree with its messaging. As I’ve repeated many times on SciFiHistory.Net, I abhor messaging from either side of the political spectrum; and there are definitely times when The Searchers beats its own drum for better or worse.
Like Ethan Edwards, I prefer to think that I, too, might best serve humanity by staying outside, existing just beyond the mainstream’s safety and security where danger lurks in every shadow. I may be wrong more than I’m right, but one still can hope you go into the golden years by making more friends than you’ve ever killed. Like that tall stranger, I think there’s a quiet nobility in knowing one’s strength and weaknesses and accepting whatever foibles evolve consequently. At least, you’ll always know where you stand with yourself … and perhaps that’s all that really matters in the end.
The Searchers (1956) was produced by C.V. Whitney Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights and sounds to be as monumental as when they were first conceived: the film looks utterly fabulous in 4K. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There’s a great audience commentary along with some exceptional looks into the film’s enduring history worth your discovery. It’s a great, great collection.
Highest Recommendation Possible.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Searchers (1956) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ