- Published on
The Last Video Store
[Limited Edition]
[Blu-ray]
12/10/24
On December 10th, Arrow Video takes a nostalgic trip back to the days of renting VHS cassettes in The Last Video Store on Blu-ray. Canadian directors Cody Kennedy and Tim Rutherford's debut feature film mixes the bliss of being surrounded by shelves of tapes with the fears of working the night shift.
A young woman named Nyla is tasked with sorting out her recently departed father’s possessions when she discovers a pile of VHS tapes that had been rented from a local video store. It turns out that the store still exists, so the tapes are now extremely overdue. She races over to avoid another day of late fees, and store clerk Kevin is impressed that her dad shared his same taste in obscure films. But there is a mystery tape in the pile and Kevin decides to put it in the VCR machine for further investigation. What happens next is a shocking surprise, and Kevin and Nyla must figure out how to survive the night as horror is unleashed all around them. The Last Video Store is an equally charming and chilling homage to the days of video stores and movie rentals.
The special features include audio commentary, visual essays, the short film of The Last Video Store from 2013, excerpts from the first attempt to make the feature film version, commercial, shorts, trailer, double-side fold-out poster ,and an illustrated collector’s booklet.
- Published on
The Addiction
[Limited Edition]
[4K UHD]
12/10/24
On December 10th, Arrow Video exposes the vampires of Manhattan with the intense horror of The Addiction on 4K UHD. Director Abel Ferrara (King of New York, Bad Lieutenant) explores the undead in the Big Apple as a college student gets a taste for blood in a black and white nightmare. The Limited-Edition release features a brand new 4K restoration from the original camera negative in Dolby Vision (HDR10 compatible) and hours of special features.
Kathleen Conklin (Lili Taylor, The Conjuring) is a graduate student who meets a well-dressed woman (Annabella Sciorra, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle) on the street. Instead of a meet-cute, the woman drags Kathleen down an alley stairwell and bites her throat. As she recovers from the wound, Kathleen begins to change, becoming more aggressive, hating daylight, and no longer liking food. Eventually she gets a hunger for drinking the blood of others. The philosophy student begins to question her existence as a vampire and finds a mentor in an older vampire (Christopher Walken, Dune: Part Two), who offers hope for controlling the bloodlust. Among the supporting actors are Paul Calderon (Pulp Fiction) and future Sopranos cast members Edie Falco and Michael Imperioli.
The special features include director Abel Ferrara’s audio commentary, a documentary with Ferrara getting in touch with Lili Taylor and Christopher Walken, video interviews with Abel Ferrara and Brad Stevens, archival video of the post-production, image gallery, the original trailer, and an illustrated collector’s booklet.
- Published on
Demolition Man
[Limited Edition]
[4K UHD]
[Blu-ray]
12/17/24
On December 17th, the explosive action/sci-fi blockbuster Demolition Man makes its global 4K UHD debut and is also available on Blu-ray. The Limited-Edition release features a brand new 4K restoration from the original 35mm camera negative by Arrow Films, approved by director Marco Brambilla.
The world’s most dangerous criminal wakes up in the future where crime has been eliminated. The only person who can stop him is a nemesis from his past. Simon Phoenix (Wesley Snipes, Blade) and his criminal crew ran afoul of the law back in 1996. LAPD Sergeant John Spartan (Sylvester Stallone, Rocky), a supercop nicknamed "The Demolition Man" for his ability to destroy everything in the name of justice, captured Phoenix, and both men ended up being arrested. Instead of being locked up in prison, the duo was sentenced to a revolutionary Sub-Zero Rehabilitation that involves cryogenic freezing and subliminal messages to change them into model citizens. Phoenix thaws out to meet for his parole hearing in 2032. Dr. Raymond Cocteau (Andre Gregory, My Dinner With Andre) has no clue how dangerous Phoenix is. The felon escapes and has no problem dealing with the cops of the future. The only hope for catching him is to melt the ice on Spartan. The police hope he still has the skills to take on his former enemy. The action is laced with comedy from the time jump experience. Spartan finds himself in a strange world where commercial jingles have replaced songs, and three shells are the new toilet paper. Officer Lenina Huxley (Sandra Bullock, in her breakthrough role), a fan of the ‘90s, helps Spartan adjust while he tracks down Phoenix.
The special features include the international “Pizza Hut” version, an audio commentary with director Marco Brambilla and screenwriter Daniel Waters, two more audio commentaries including director Marco Brambilla and mega-producer Joel Silver, a video essay, video interviews with crew members, theatrical trailer, image gallery, 6 postcard sized artcards, decals, double-sided fold-out poster, and a 50-page perfect bound collectors book with new essays.
- Published on
I wasn’t exactly raised on ghost stories.
Oh, like so many of my era, I grew up watching a good deal of thrills, chills, and spills, but the more traditional ghost stories just weren’t really around, unless you wanted them in comic form with mostly comic actors and actresses. Why, it was almost as if ghosts and their usual haunts were forbidden from the youth of my day, leaving such tales the province of more adult audiences than they ever were the young’uns. As I said, you could find plenty of more traditional laughers — the Three Stooges, the Bowery Boys, Abbott and Costello, Tim Conway and Don Knotts, etc., and they’d ape it up on screens big and small for hearty guffaws — and these were the kind of films that were built more on overacting than they were authentic terror of any measure. It really wasn’t until I got into my teens — the great 1980’s — that Horror storytelling truly expanded in such a way that young and old were welcomed to the cineplexes. Mind you: the adults in the room may not have been elated over sharing space with us, but we came anyway … and we came by the thousands.
Furthermore, it wasn’t until the 1990’s — what with the expanse of home video accessibility in the United States — that I ever knew anything about foreign imports in any genre. Occasionally, we’d get some poorly dubbed entries broadcast on syndicated television channels, but for the most part I didn’t get the chance to explore Japanese, Chinese, Korean, or other country’s Horror until the corner Blockbuster Video had them in respectable supply. Consequently, I don’t consider myself an expert on them in any regard. While I might not be completely unaware of their existence, styles, and trends, I — like many of you — still have plenty to learn about them … and this is why I was hip to check out Arrow Films’ recent collection, J-Horror Rising, an assortment of seven flicks that emerged near the end of the last century, sending audiences on a wild ride into a haunted tomorrow.
First up: 2000’s Isola: Multiple Personality Girl.
Derived from the novel by Yûsuke Kishi, Isola was adapted for the screen by Hiroshi Hatajima, Mugita Kinoshita, Atsushi Kuwahara, and Toshiyuki Mizutani. The picture was directed by Mizutani (who it would seem got his professional start in Adult features), and it starred Yoshino Kimura, Yû Kurosawa, Ken Ishiguro, Makiko Watanabe, and Satomi Tezuka in prominent roles. The plot is a bit complex in so much as it involves not only characters coming together from disparate backgrounds but also pushes a bit of fringe science in order to curiously get at Horror; and I’m not entirely convinced a casual audience would’ve hung with this one from start-to-finish. It takes its sweet time getting to the truly interesting stuff, choosing instead to dabble in suggestion a bit too frequently.
Oh, like so many of my era, I grew up watching a good deal of thrills, chills, and spills, but the more traditional ghost stories just weren’t really around, unless you wanted them in comic form with mostly comic actors and actresses. Why, it was almost as if ghosts and their usual haunts were forbidden from the youth of my day, leaving such tales the province of more adult audiences than they ever were the young’uns. As I said, you could find plenty of more traditional laughers — the Three Stooges, the Bowery Boys, Abbott and Costello, Tim Conway and Don Knotts, etc., and they’d ape it up on screens big and small for hearty guffaws — and these were the kind of films that were built more on overacting than they were authentic terror of any measure. It really wasn’t until I got into my teens — the great 1980’s — that Horror storytelling truly expanded in such a way that young and old were welcomed to the cineplexes. Mind you: the adults in the room may not have been elated over sharing space with us, but we came anyway … and we came by the thousands.
Furthermore, it wasn’t until the 1990’s — what with the expanse of home video accessibility in the United States — that I ever knew anything about foreign imports in any genre. Occasionally, we’d get some poorly dubbed entries broadcast on syndicated television channels, but for the most part I didn’t get the chance to explore Japanese, Chinese, Korean, or other country’s Horror until the corner Blockbuster Video had them in respectable supply. Consequently, I don’t consider myself an expert on them in any regard. While I might not be completely unaware of their existence, styles, and trends, I — like many of you — still have plenty to learn about them … and this is why I was hip to check out Arrow Films’ recent collection, J-Horror Rising, an assortment of seven flicks that emerged near the end of the last century, sending audiences on a wild ride into a haunted tomorrow.
First up: 2000’s Isola: Multiple Personality Girl.
Derived from the novel by Yûsuke Kishi, Isola was adapted for the screen by Hiroshi Hatajima, Mugita Kinoshita, Atsushi Kuwahara, and Toshiyuki Mizutani. The picture was directed by Mizutani (who it would seem got his professional start in Adult features), and it starred Yoshino Kimura, Yû Kurosawa, Ken Ishiguro, Makiko Watanabe, and Satomi Tezuka in prominent roles. The plot is a bit complex in so much as it involves not only characters coming together from disparate backgrounds but also pushes a bit of fringe science in order to curiously get at Horror; and I’m not entirely convinced a casual audience would’ve hung with this one from start-to-finish. It takes its sweet time getting to the truly interesting stuff, choosing instead to dabble in suggestion a bit too frequently.
(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 woman, able to read the thoughts of others, comes to help survivors of the 1995 Kobe earthquake, she encounters a girl with Multiple Personality Disorder whose dangerous 13th personality, Isola, must be stopped.”
There are those who believe that tapping real-world emotional or psychological problems for use in Horrors is a turn-off if not downright inappropriate. While some consider it a bit of a narrative cop-out, there are some who suggest to do so requires a measure of disrespect to authentic sufferers who might be among the moviegoers. Myself, I’m not opposed to it, but I’ve heard it discussed in life and online; so the only reason I bring it up in this space is to warn viewers that – ahem – a character’s struggle with the multiple personality disorder figures prominently into just about every conceivable angle running through Isola. (FYI: it’s even in the full title!) If that offends you, then I’d encourage you to go elsewhere. If you’re accommodating, then let’s dissect this, shall we?
Chihiro Moritani (played by Kurosawa) suffers from a very heady bout of dissociative personality disorder – sometimes more commonly referred to as ‘split personality’ – stemming from the tragic loss of her parents (in a fiery automobile crash) when she was young as well as from some alleged pervasive sexual abuse perpetrated by her adoptive uncle. Instead of having the mindset of one young woman (of high school age), she’s instead adopted these thirteen different characters, all drawn from a book of stories her father used to read to her when she was a little girl. However, as of late, there’s another persona who has shown up on the stage; and this new identity has a predilection for some pronounced violent tendencies.
In the wake of a national tragedy (a recent earthquake has decimated parts of Japan), Yukari Kamo (Kimura) has gone on a bit of tour of the country, volunteering to aid victims whenever and wherever she stops. Slowly, we come to understand that the young woman can also hear the thoughts of those around her – she admits to being a bit of a psychic – and this condition has caused her to seek out a pharmacological solution in order to just get by. However, when she meets Chihiro, she realizes that there’s more amiss than a conventional mental malady, so she befriends the girl’s therapist – Dr. Hiroko Nomura (Satomi Tezuka) – in hopes that perhaps together they can heal her of the affliction.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a woman, able to read the thoughts of others, comes to help survivors of the 1995 Kobe earthquake, she encounters a girl with Multiple Personality Disorder whose dangerous 13th personality, Isola, must be stopped.”
There are those who believe that tapping real-world emotional or psychological problems for use in Horrors is a turn-off if not downright inappropriate. While some consider it a bit of a narrative cop-out, there are some who suggest to do so requires a measure of disrespect to authentic sufferers who might be among the moviegoers. Myself, I’m not opposed to it, but I’ve heard it discussed in life and online; so the only reason I bring it up in this space is to warn viewers that – ahem – a character’s struggle with the multiple personality disorder figures prominently into just about every conceivable angle running through Isola. (FYI: it’s even in the full title!) If that offends you, then I’d encourage you to go elsewhere. If you’re accommodating, then let’s dissect this, shall we?
Chihiro Moritani (played by Kurosawa) suffers from a very heady bout of dissociative personality disorder – sometimes more commonly referred to as ‘split personality’ – stemming from the tragic loss of her parents (in a fiery automobile crash) when she was young as well as from some alleged pervasive sexual abuse perpetrated by her adoptive uncle. Instead of having the mindset of one young woman (of high school age), she’s instead adopted these thirteen different characters, all drawn from a book of stories her father used to read to her when she was a little girl. However, as of late, there’s another persona who has shown up on the stage; and this new identity has a predilection for some pronounced violent tendencies.
In the wake of a national tragedy (a recent earthquake has decimated parts of Japan), Yukari Kamo (Kimura) has gone on a bit of tour of the country, volunteering to aid victims whenever and wherever she stops. Slowly, we come to understand that the young woman can also hear the thoughts of those around her – she admits to being a bit of a psychic – and this condition has caused her to seek out a pharmacological solution in order to just get by. However, when she meets Chihiro, she realizes that there’s more amiss than a conventional mental malady, so she befriends the girl’s therapist – Dr. Hiroko Nomura (Satomi Tezuka) – in hopes that perhaps together they can heal her of the affliction.
Eventually, Yukari comes to understand that Chihiro’s new identity is that of the late Dr. Yayoi Takano (Watanabe), a researcher who was working on out-of-body experiments when the recent earthquake accidentally destroyed her human body, leaving her little more than a spirit in search of a host. Because of Chihiro’s unhinged mental precariousness, Takano realizes that she can ‘inhabit’ the girl and use a form of projected suggestion to convince those who’ve wronged her to commit suicide. As the bodies begin to pile up, Yukari decides it is she who must bring an end to Takano’s murderous campaign even at the risk of exposing her own mental abilities in the process, making her perhaps the next target.
So … sounds a bit convoluted, am I right?
Well, yes. Yes, it is.
There’s a great deal of circumstance involved here that’s premeditated invention on the part of screenwriters in order for all of these peoples, places, and events to overlap. In fact, there’s even a bit more – Dr. Manabe (Ishiguro) is a college professor and researcher who has also intersected with this bunch, and he feels personally responsible for Takano’s demise as they were working together at the time of the tremor – but at some point it really seems like overkill. While I’m not opposed to having a single person gifted with spectral abilities, it does ask audiences for greater suspension of disbelief to add more into the mix. Just about the time you accept that there’s two, screenwriters request even more with the addition of fringe science, and I’m not sure this one was worth all of the effort.
Fox TV’s long-running supernatural procedural The X-Files often explored such interesting stories, but they did so in such a way that didn’t ask quite as much from those in the home audience. FBI Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully often occupied counterpoints – one usually believing in the extraordinary while one maintained that science offered a plausible enough explanation for everything – and their exchanges were really more ‘food for thought’ than anything else. No one was forced to believe anything, and the tales tended to meet somewhere in the middle in vastly more comfortable territory. Sadly, Isola has no authentic grounding – there’s no central character who pushes back against some of these fantastic ideas – and without an opposing view a good deal of what transpires feels more like theatrical magic than it does anything else. Dr. Manabe and Dr. Nomura weren’t strong enough characters to pull us back to reality; as such, this one struggles with some muddled schtick here and there.
Furthermore, The X-Files also went to great pains to create a strong sense of sympathy with its many characters-of-the-week. While some of them were understandably bad apples, the vast majority of them were victims of some shortcoming that typically rose to the level of identification by the FBI, thus bringing our intrepid agents into the whole affair. As a consequence, viewers wanted the anomaly to be solved, righting the universe that had been wronged in the storytelling process, all to the benefit of the victims. That isn’t quite the case, though, as Chihiro – though never quite herself at any time – is never portrayed in any positive light. She’s often depicted as an instigator or one whose behaviors led up to a string of bad decisions. Because I never supported her, nor was I compelled to sympathize with her plight, the conclusion on her behalf is a bit anticlimactic. Though she’s shown (finally) a bit happier in her closing scenes – complete with a puppy, if that isn’t a bit of forced emotionally overload – I still just didn’t care much; and that’s a huge miss.
So … sounds a bit convoluted, am I right?
Well, yes. Yes, it is.
There’s a great deal of circumstance involved here that’s premeditated invention on the part of screenwriters in order for all of these peoples, places, and events to overlap. In fact, there’s even a bit more – Dr. Manabe (Ishiguro) is a college professor and researcher who has also intersected with this bunch, and he feels personally responsible for Takano’s demise as they were working together at the time of the tremor – but at some point it really seems like overkill. While I’m not opposed to having a single person gifted with spectral abilities, it does ask audiences for greater suspension of disbelief to add more into the mix. Just about the time you accept that there’s two, screenwriters request even more with the addition of fringe science, and I’m not sure this one was worth all of the effort.
Fox TV’s long-running supernatural procedural The X-Files often explored such interesting stories, but they did so in such a way that didn’t ask quite as much from those in the home audience. FBI Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully often occupied counterpoints – one usually believing in the extraordinary while one maintained that science offered a plausible enough explanation for everything – and their exchanges were really more ‘food for thought’ than anything else. No one was forced to believe anything, and the tales tended to meet somewhere in the middle in vastly more comfortable territory. Sadly, Isola has no authentic grounding – there’s no central character who pushes back against some of these fantastic ideas – and without an opposing view a good deal of what transpires feels more like theatrical magic than it does anything else. Dr. Manabe and Dr. Nomura weren’t strong enough characters to pull us back to reality; as such, this one struggles with some muddled schtick here and there.
Furthermore, The X-Files also went to great pains to create a strong sense of sympathy with its many characters-of-the-week. While some of them were understandably bad apples, the vast majority of them were victims of some shortcoming that typically rose to the level of identification by the FBI, thus bringing our intrepid agents into the whole affair. As a consequence, viewers wanted the anomaly to be solved, righting the universe that had been wronged in the storytelling process, all to the benefit of the victims. That isn’t quite the case, though, as Chihiro – though never quite herself at any time – is never portrayed in any positive light. She’s often depicted as an instigator or one whose behaviors led up to a string of bad decisions. Because I never supported her, nor was I compelled to sympathize with her plight, the conclusion on her behalf is a bit anticlimactic. Though she’s shown (finally) a bit happier in her closing scenes – complete with a puppy, if that isn’t a bit of forced emotionally overload – I still just didn’t care much; and that’s a huge miss.
To Isola’s benefit, there is a story in here.
Everything that transpires does so with scripted efficiency, perhaps too much so. The problem gets introduced, a mystery develops, an investigation takes place, a few discoveries are made, and good triumphs over evil in the closing scenes. While the second half feels a bit compressed compared to the drawn-out set-up, the narrative functions like a formula even if one might have misgivings over the ingredients. Still, it isn’t as if the kind of sacrifice that’s required here hasn’t been done before – 1973’s The Exorcist immediately comes to mind – and I would’ve encouraged Isola’s many screenwriters (four are mentioned) to reach for something different given the level of complexity sought and created around the personality disorder. As is, it’s exceedingly predictable, and maybe our young sufferer deserved something better, even though she’s not very likable as a character to begin with.
Isola: Multiple Personality Girl (2000) was produced by Isola Production Group. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional throughout the film. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? In order to be succinct, I’m doing the noble copy-and-paste from Arrow’s press release previously published on Blu-ray.com:
Recommended, but …
Without being too harsh on the production, Isola: Multiple Personality Girl felt much longer than it is. Clocking in at ninety minutes, it honestly felt like I was with these characters for a greater duration; and that’s probably because it really too quite a while for the playing field to be fully set for the story that ultimately unspools. Mind you: I liked it once I got there, and all of it still felt a bit dull in wading through the set-up. Mostly, this is owed to the fact that the narrator is far more involved with unlocking the mystery to the spectral entity’s origin; and, yes, there are more than a few mild misdirects in the process. Sadly, the ultimate solution to setting affairs in order has been done before – I predict many will see the ending before the players run through it – so points are lost for the lack of originality in the last reel.
In the interest of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Isola: Multiple Personality Girl (2000) – as part of their J-Horror Rising Limited Edition Blu-ray Collection – 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
Everything that transpires does so with scripted efficiency, perhaps too much so. The problem gets introduced, a mystery develops, an investigation takes place, a few discoveries are made, and good triumphs over evil in the closing scenes. While the second half feels a bit compressed compared to the drawn-out set-up, the narrative functions like a formula even if one might have misgivings over the ingredients. Still, it isn’t as if the kind of sacrifice that’s required here hasn’t been done before – 1973’s The Exorcist immediately comes to mind – and I would’ve encouraged Isola’s many screenwriters (four are mentioned) to reach for something different given the level of complexity sought and created around the personality disorder. As is, it’s exceedingly predictable, and maybe our young sufferer deserved something better, even though she’s not very likable as a character to begin with.
Isola: Multiple Personality Girl (2000) was produced by Isola Production Group. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional throughout the film. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? In order to be succinct, I’m doing the noble copy-and-paste from Arrow’s press release previously published on Blu-ray.com:
- Brand new audio commentary on Isola: Multiple Personality Girl by critics and Japanese cinema experts Jasper Sharp and Amber T.
- The Aftermath, Tom Mes discusses J-Horror at the turn of the millennium
- Archive interview with actors Yoshino Kimura and Yu Kurosawa on Isola: Multiple Personality Girl
- Original trailers and TV spots for both films
- Image galleries
Recommended, but …
Without being too harsh on the production, Isola: Multiple Personality Girl felt much longer than it is. Clocking in at ninety minutes, it honestly felt like I was with these characters for a greater duration; and that’s probably because it really too quite a while for the playing field to be fully set for the story that ultimately unspools. Mind you: I liked it once I got there, and all of it still felt a bit dull in wading through the set-up. Mostly, this is owed to the fact that the narrator is far more involved with unlocking the mystery to the spectral entity’s origin; and, yes, there are more than a few mild misdirects in the process. Sadly, the ultimate solution to setting affairs in order has been done before – I predict many will see the ending before the players run through it – so points are lost for the lack of originality in the last reel.
In the interest of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Isola: Multiple Personality Girl (2000) – as part of their J-Horror Rising Limited Edition Blu-ray Collection – 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
I wasn’t exactly raised on ghost stories.
Oh, like so many of my era, I grew up watching a good deal of thrills, chills, and spills, but the more traditional ghost stories just weren’t really around, unless you wanted them in comic form. It was almost as if ghosts and their usual haunts were forbidden from the youth of my day, leaving such tales the province of more adult audiences than they were the young’uns. As I said, you could find plenty of more traditional laughers — actors and actresses would ape it up on screens big and small for hearty guffaws — the kind that were built more on overacting than they were authentic terror of any measure. It really wasn’t until I got into my teens — the great 1980’s — that Horror storytelling truly expanded in such a way that young and old were welcomed to the cineplexes. Mind you: the adults in the room may not have been thrilled sharing space with us, but we came anyway … and we came by the thousands.
Furthermore, it wasn’t until the 1990’s — what with the expanse of home video accessibility in the United States — that I ever knew anything about foreign imports in any genre. Occasionally, we’d get some poorly dubbed entries via syndicated television channels, but for the most part I didn’t get the chance to explore Japanese, Chinese, Korean, or other country’s Horror until the corner Blockbuster Video had them in short supply. Consequently, I don’t consider myself an expert on them in any regard. While I might not be completely unaware of their existence, styles, and trends, I — like many of you — still have plenty to learn about them … and this is why I was hip to check out Arrow Films’ recent collection, J-Horror Rising, an assortment of seven flicks that emerged near the end of the last century, sending audiences on a wild ride into a haunted tomorrow.
First up: 1999’s Shikoku.
Directed by Shunichi Nagasaki and crafted for the silver screen by Kunimi Manda and Takenori Sento from a work by Masako Bando, the ghost story explores the relationship between three childhood friends who’ve grown into adults with one having passed away yet far from gone in a sleepy little rural Japanese town. The production stars Yui Natsukawa, Michitaka Tsutsui, Chiaki Kuriyama, Toshie Negishi, and Ren Ôsugi in prominent roles. Though the end result is reasonably solid in so much as it introduces, expands upon, and completes the story, that’s really about all it does, leaving room for very little spookery for those who show up expecting a bit more.
(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 Hinako was a child she was separated from Fumiya and Sayori as she moved to Tokyo. Now she has returned to Shikoku, but it turns out that Sayori drowned. When Hinako starts seeing Sayori in her dreams, she seeks help from Fumiya.”
Oh, like so many of my era, I grew up watching a good deal of thrills, chills, and spills, but the more traditional ghost stories just weren’t really around, unless you wanted them in comic form. It was almost as if ghosts and their usual haunts were forbidden from the youth of my day, leaving such tales the province of more adult audiences than they were the young’uns. As I said, you could find plenty of more traditional laughers — actors and actresses would ape it up on screens big and small for hearty guffaws — the kind that were built more on overacting than they were authentic terror of any measure. It really wasn’t until I got into my teens — the great 1980’s — that Horror storytelling truly expanded in such a way that young and old were welcomed to the cineplexes. Mind you: the adults in the room may not have been thrilled sharing space with us, but we came anyway … and we came by the thousands.
Furthermore, it wasn’t until the 1990’s — what with the expanse of home video accessibility in the United States — that I ever knew anything about foreign imports in any genre. Occasionally, we’d get some poorly dubbed entries via syndicated television channels, but for the most part I didn’t get the chance to explore Japanese, Chinese, Korean, or other country’s Horror until the corner Blockbuster Video had them in short supply. Consequently, I don’t consider myself an expert on them in any regard. While I might not be completely unaware of their existence, styles, and trends, I — like many of you — still have plenty to learn about them … and this is why I was hip to check out Arrow Films’ recent collection, J-Horror Rising, an assortment of seven flicks that emerged near the end of the last century, sending audiences on a wild ride into a haunted tomorrow.
First up: 1999’s Shikoku.
Directed by Shunichi Nagasaki and crafted for the silver screen by Kunimi Manda and Takenori Sento from a work by Masako Bando, the ghost story explores the relationship between three childhood friends who’ve grown into adults with one having passed away yet far from gone in a sleepy little rural Japanese town. The production stars Yui Natsukawa, Michitaka Tsutsui, Chiaki Kuriyama, Toshie Negishi, and Ren Ôsugi in prominent roles. Though the end result is reasonably solid in so much as it introduces, expands upon, and completes the story, that’s really about all it does, leaving room for very little spookery for those who show up expecting a bit more.
(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 Hinako was a child she was separated from Fumiya and Sayori as she moved to Tokyo. Now she has returned to Shikoku, but it turns out that Sayori drowned. When Hinako starts seeing Sayori in her dreams, she seeks help from Fumiya.”
A great many Dramas and Horrors do touch on how previous personal friendships somehow went awry and what such an aftermath might inevitably lead to; and, unfortunately, that’s really all viewers get from a treatise like Shikoku. To be fair, the script here doesn’t even go into any great lengths as to the how’s and why’s of the relationship demise, arguably chalking up to a bit of petty jealousy over one girl’s ability – Hinako (played by Yui Natsukawa) – to move away from the outskirts to the big city while leaving her young friend – Sayori (Chiaki Kuriyama) behind. In fact, Hinako was just a child – her parents are the ones who really initiated the moving, so their daughter is essentially blameless in the shape of things – so this truly is a case of misplaced anger on Sayori’s part. Of course, I understand how her feelings of abandonment figure into the tale; I’m just saying … well … it’s honestly a bit silly. Regardless, the mean girl hauled that grudge with her into the afterlife, and it loosely comes into play once Hinako returns to her childhood retreat with hopes of reconnecting with some of those acquaintances.
Shocked to her of Sayori’s demise, Hinako does locate Fumiya (Michitaka Tsutsai), and the young man is understandably smitten with his former mate. Because his heart still belongs to Sayori, he’s initially hesitant to act on his affections. But as the two spend more and more time trying to piece together the mystery surrounding both Sayori’s death and a bit of simmering chaos associated to her remaining family and what looks to be someone dabbling in dark magic, their hearts overwhelm their minds with emotion. Before you know it, Fumiya gives in to the temptation, convinced that Hinako’s return was meant to pull him out of his stupor and to begin living life to its fullest once more.
As one might suspect, it isn’t long before the spectral incarnation of Sayori – delivered from the afterlife by a despondent mother’s annual pilgrimage to undo her loss and to reanimate her daughter’s fleshy form – shows up on the scene wanting a reunion all of her own. It’ll take a bit of light magic in the end – along with a loving yet tragic sacrifice on the part of one of the three friends – to set things back to the way things ought to be. Thankfully, there’s a good monk on the scene who knows exactly what needs to be done otherwise this quiet little Japanese suburb might’ve been Ground Zero for an all-new iteration of the Walking Dead!
Succinctly, Shikoku isn’t a bad film. It doesn’t bring much fresh and/or invigorating to the realm of spectral shenanigans, but I’m not certain that was necessary. It moves along at its own leisurely pace, occasionally punctuating the background of Sayori, Fumiya, and Hinako with flashbacks, a few of which might not even have been all that germane. Eventually, the supernatural elements get an equally slow reveal, giving audiences a bit of insight as to what these walks in the mountain might mean, and the pace quickens up in response. Also, the picture eventually swings the door open to some strong visuals – the last reel is particularly impressive once the ghost with the most is in high gear – and I would suspect most viewers sat up and paid closer attention. There’s even a late-breaking jump-style scare that’s well articulated, so kudos to all involved for recognizing some great atmosphere when it was needed.
Still, Shikoku – as is – feels a bit longer than it actually runs, and that’s usually an indication that something’s amiss, be it cinematography, narrative framing, or performances.
While I’d stop short of pointing a finger at anyone in particular, I’ll concede that Hinako just didn’t move me in the same way that Sayori or Fumiya did. Part of the problem could be that the script loosely suggests she had a pretty good life – certainly one more vivid than the counterparts she left behind – and, as such, Sayori’s envy does resonate more strongly than it probably should. It might’ve been a better idea to either give her a fault or two or maybe even dial back the actress’ natural beauty – she’s quite fetching – and then she might’ve created the possibility that she was real and not so perfect. When your lead character seemingly gets all of the good stuff out of life, this strengthens the position of those who oppose her; and I don’t think that was intentional here.
Shocked to her of Sayori’s demise, Hinako does locate Fumiya (Michitaka Tsutsai), and the young man is understandably smitten with his former mate. Because his heart still belongs to Sayori, he’s initially hesitant to act on his affections. But as the two spend more and more time trying to piece together the mystery surrounding both Sayori’s death and a bit of simmering chaos associated to her remaining family and what looks to be someone dabbling in dark magic, their hearts overwhelm their minds with emotion. Before you know it, Fumiya gives in to the temptation, convinced that Hinako’s return was meant to pull him out of his stupor and to begin living life to its fullest once more.
As one might suspect, it isn’t long before the spectral incarnation of Sayori – delivered from the afterlife by a despondent mother’s annual pilgrimage to undo her loss and to reanimate her daughter’s fleshy form – shows up on the scene wanting a reunion all of her own. It’ll take a bit of light magic in the end – along with a loving yet tragic sacrifice on the part of one of the three friends – to set things back to the way things ought to be. Thankfully, there’s a good monk on the scene who knows exactly what needs to be done otherwise this quiet little Japanese suburb might’ve been Ground Zero for an all-new iteration of the Walking Dead!
Succinctly, Shikoku isn’t a bad film. It doesn’t bring much fresh and/or invigorating to the realm of spectral shenanigans, but I’m not certain that was necessary. It moves along at its own leisurely pace, occasionally punctuating the background of Sayori, Fumiya, and Hinako with flashbacks, a few of which might not even have been all that germane. Eventually, the supernatural elements get an equally slow reveal, giving audiences a bit of insight as to what these walks in the mountain might mean, and the pace quickens up in response. Also, the picture eventually swings the door open to some strong visuals – the last reel is particularly impressive once the ghost with the most is in high gear – and I would suspect most viewers sat up and paid closer attention. There’s even a late-breaking jump-style scare that’s well articulated, so kudos to all involved for recognizing some great atmosphere when it was needed.
Still, Shikoku – as is – feels a bit longer than it actually runs, and that’s usually an indication that something’s amiss, be it cinematography, narrative framing, or performances.
While I’d stop short of pointing a finger at anyone in particular, I’ll concede that Hinako just didn’t move me in the same way that Sayori or Fumiya did. Part of the problem could be that the script loosely suggests she had a pretty good life – certainly one more vivid than the counterparts she left behind – and, as such, Sayori’s envy does resonate more strongly than it probably should. It might’ve been a better idea to either give her a fault or two or maybe even dial back the actress’ natural beauty – she’s quite fetching – and then she might’ve created the possibility that she was real and not so perfect. When your lead character seemingly gets all of the good stuff out of life, this strengthens the position of those who oppose her; and I don’t think that was intentional here.
The other significant issue is that – as an obvious Horror property – so much of Shikoku just isn’t scary. In some ways, the flick reminds me of 1990’s Ghost with Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, and Tony Goldwyn. There’s this small group of friends whose unity gets interrupted by an unexpected death; and then those left behind spend the remainder of the story seeking to put their lives back together into whatever shape might endure in the future. Similarly, Sayori has a presence from the beyond – though it takes place in markedly different circumstances – and it’s that revival that places the emotional weight on Fumiya and Hinako to make their choices. The association between the two films helps in small ways, but Shikoku still goes to some dark corners in order to justify its need to be considered horrific.
Shikoku (1999) was produced by Asmik Ace Entertainment, Basara Pictures, Imagica, Kadokawa Shoten Publishing Co., Toho, and a few other participants. (A full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert – and I’m also not one to gripe and complain about these things – I’d still have to admit to there being a high degree of grain in an awful lot of the film. It may not be all that distracting, but those nighttime scenes are very grainy, indeed. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? For clarity’s sake, I’m doing the ol’ copy & paste from Arrows’ press release published previously on Blu-ray.com:
Recommended.
On a bare bones level, Shikoku (1999) has just about everything that an audience might come to expect from a respectable chiller. It has past friendships that went wrong intruding upon present day circumstances in a dark way. It has a relatively backwoods feel to its rural setting, one that even suggests a bit of Folk Horror for those who like that sort of vibe. It even has a bit of true love gone bad (but gets somewhat good again in the last reel) that figures prominently into the plot, hinting that two’s a charm while three’s an unwelcome party. Still, it moves a bit too slowly, never quite building a head of steam around anything (including about as tame as a love scene you’ll possibly ever see) and never really does all that much with all of these respective pieces, making it just good enough for a single offing but having no real rewatchability whatsoever.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Shikoku (1999) – as part of their J-Horror Rising Limited Edition Blu-ray Collection – 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
Shikoku (1999) was produced by Asmik Ace Entertainment, Basara Pictures, Imagica, Kadokawa Shoten Publishing Co., Toho, and a few other participants. (A full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert – and I’m also not one to gripe and complain about these things – I’d still have to admit to there being a high degree of grain in an awful lot of the film. It may not be all that distracting, but those nighttime scenes are very grainy, indeed. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? For clarity’s sake, I’m doing the ol’ copy & paste from Arrows’ press release published previously on Blu-ray.com:
- Brand new audio commentary on Shikoku by Japanese cinema expert Tom Mes
- The Aftermath, Tom Mes discusses J-Horror at the turn of the millennium
- Something in the Water, a brand new interview with Shikoku director Shunichi Nagasaki
- Archive interviews with director Shunichi Nagasaki and actors Chiaki Kuriyama and Yui Natsukawa on Shikoku
- On-set footage of the filming of Shikoku
- Original trailers and TV spots
- Image galleries
Recommended.
On a bare bones level, Shikoku (1999) has just about everything that an audience might come to expect from a respectable chiller. It has past friendships that went wrong intruding upon present day circumstances in a dark way. It has a relatively backwoods feel to its rural setting, one that even suggests a bit of Folk Horror for those who like that sort of vibe. It even has a bit of true love gone bad (but gets somewhat good again in the last reel) that figures prominently into the plot, hinting that two’s a charm while three’s an unwelcome party. Still, it moves a bit too slowly, never quite building a head of steam around anything (including about as tame as a love scene you’ll possibly ever see) and never really does all that much with all of these respective pieces, making it just good enough for a single offing but having no real rewatchability whatsoever.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Shikoku (1999) – as part of their J-Horror Rising Limited Edition Blu-ray Collection – 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
(NEW YORK) November 7, 2024 — The 2024 Philip K. Dick European Science Fiction Film Festival has announced the award winners for its fourth gathering that took place October 25-26 in Lille, France, and October 30 in Cologne, Germany. The event saluted the work and legacy of novelist Philip K. Dick with a slate of independent science fiction, horror, and fantasy films, panels, and screenplay competitions.
Congratulations to the award winners of The Philip K. Dick European Science Fiction Film Festival:
BEST PHILIP K. DICK SHORT
Soulmate (2023)
Director: Richard Fenwick
UK, 15 min
Ana, a lonely computer coder, has been nurturing an illegal romance with an AI in a computer simulation for the past six months. When her company uncovers the affair, she’s forced into a desperate battle to save her precious relationship.
BEST SCI-FI SHORT
Demon Box (2022)
Director: Sean Wainsteim
Canada, 14 min
After festival rejections, a director revises his intensely personal short film about trauma, suicide, and the Holocaust, and transforms it into a painful, blunt and funny dissection of the film and his life.
BEST ANIMATION
Skinjob (2017)
Director: Steve Simons
UK, 15 min
A group of slave Androids steal a space shuttle and journey back to earth to find their maker.
BEST SUPERNATURAL SHORT
The Unquiet Dead (2022)
Director: John Gray
US, 12 min
A therapist treats an unstable young woman who claims to be harassed by an assortment of malevolent spirits - who are demanding something from her.
BEST DOCUMENTARY
It's Not Up To Us (2024)
Director: Anthony Werhun
US, 13 min
Legendary visual artist Nancy Burson sparked a technological revolution by using computer morphing techniques to blend art and science but claims she didn’t do it alone. The complex truth behind Nancy's beliefs and how they shaped her career evokes questions about the nature of creation and of reality itself.
BEST TRAILER
Burner Face (2023)
Director: John Gauntt
US, 2 min
Composed by a team of 3 creatives + Midjourney AI, this trailer tells a story in less than 2 minutes. It is not a tech demo but a taste of what's possible when Culture & Code come together.
BEST FEATURE SCI-FI SCREENPLAY
Smart Seed (2024)
BEST SHORT SCI-FI SCREENPLAY
Contrast (2024)
____
About The Philip K. Dick European Science Fiction Film Festival:
The Philip K. Dick European Science Fiction Film Festival launched in October 2013 and has held events in Lille, France, Cologne, Germany and Łódź, Poland. Organized by those who understand the challenges and rewards of telling a unique story in an independent environment, the festival represents the deep analyses and philosophical views of internationally renowned novelist Philip K. Dick, whose work has inspired generations of writers, filmmakers and fans around the world.
Event Contact:
Jonathan Carsten, PR Manager
PressReleased1@gmail.com
Connect with Us:
Website: https://www.thephilipkdickfilmfestival.com/europeanpkd
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ThePhilipKDickFilmFestival
X: https://www.x.com/philipkdickfest
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/philipkdickfest
Congratulations to the award winners of The Philip K. Dick European Science Fiction Film Festival:
BEST PHILIP K. DICK SHORT
Soulmate (2023)
Director: Richard Fenwick
UK, 15 min
Ana, a lonely computer coder, has been nurturing an illegal romance with an AI in a computer simulation for the past six months. When her company uncovers the affair, she’s forced into a desperate battle to save her precious relationship.
BEST SCI-FI SHORT
Demon Box (2022)
Director: Sean Wainsteim
Canada, 14 min
After festival rejections, a director revises his intensely personal short film about trauma, suicide, and the Holocaust, and transforms it into a painful, blunt and funny dissection of the film and his life.
BEST ANIMATION
Skinjob (2017)
Director: Steve Simons
UK, 15 min
A group of slave Androids steal a space shuttle and journey back to earth to find their maker.
BEST SUPERNATURAL SHORT
The Unquiet Dead (2022)
Director: John Gray
US, 12 min
A therapist treats an unstable young woman who claims to be harassed by an assortment of malevolent spirits - who are demanding something from her.
BEST DOCUMENTARY
It's Not Up To Us (2024)
Director: Anthony Werhun
US, 13 min
Legendary visual artist Nancy Burson sparked a technological revolution by using computer morphing techniques to blend art and science but claims she didn’t do it alone. The complex truth behind Nancy's beliefs and how they shaped her career evokes questions about the nature of creation and of reality itself.
BEST TRAILER
Burner Face (2023)
Director: John Gauntt
US, 2 min
Composed by a team of 3 creatives + Midjourney AI, this trailer tells a story in less than 2 minutes. It is not a tech demo but a taste of what's possible when Culture & Code come together.
BEST FEATURE SCI-FI SCREENPLAY
Smart Seed (2024)
BEST SHORT SCI-FI SCREENPLAY
Contrast (2024)
____
About The Philip K. Dick European Science Fiction Film Festival:
The Philip K. Dick European Science Fiction Film Festival launched in October 2013 and has held events in Lille, France, Cologne, Germany and Łódź, Poland. Organized by those who understand the challenges and rewards of telling a unique story in an independent environment, the festival represents the deep analyses and philosophical views of internationally renowned novelist Philip K. Dick, whose work has inspired generations of writers, filmmakers and fans around the world.
Event Contact:
Jonathan Carsten, PR Manager
PressReleased1@gmail.com
Connect with Us:
Website: https://www.thephilipkdickfilmfestival.com/europeanpkd
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ThePhilipKDickFilmFestival
X: https://www.x.com/philipkdickfest
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/philipkdickfest
- Published on
Whether one knows it or not, Science Fiction has always suffered under the collective delusion that it isn’t stories about people.
I think this misconception largely stems from the fact that mainstream audiences think the average Science Fiction and Fantasy story is more about its visuals than it is ever about its characters. Do you know what I mean? These movies are about big spaceships or marauding aliens and flashing lasers and fancy costumes and all of that bric-a-brac. In spite of the fact that I’ve always pushed back on that premise, I’m certainly willing to concede that even the most ardent genre enthusiast might come into any cinematic brew expecting something visually out-of-the-ordinary. To some degree, that’s kinda/sorta how these spectacles work. But at the end of the day, I think we’re also cynical enough to dismiss out of hand the idea that the characters don’t matter to the central story. It’s the characters we come back to time and time again; and it’s the characters we look up to and sometimes emulate when given the chance at conventions, online, or even in our private lives. The lack of quality relatable characters kills the forward progress of any motion picture; and genre fans know that as well as anyone else.
Still, I’d argue that not enough effort gets expended sometimes by storytellers in giving these efforts the emotional foundation of such characters. All too often, directors and screenwriters reach a point wherein they might say “this is good enough,” and the end result is that, yes, the flick underperforms in one way or another. Typically, we – as a genre audience – might embrace a project well enough to make it profitable but not so much so that producers feel entirely comfortable returning to that well for another bucket of cash. I like to think this is our response to the makers own shortsightedness – fandom’s way of saying “yeah, this is good enough, too” – and then we can go on our merry way to finding something that really hits the spot a bit more fully.
Regular readers of SciFiHistory.Net know that I don’t champion films all that much. In trying to celebrate everything I can find for the Daily Citation Pages, I leave the MainPage area for more personal reflections on fandom, TV shows, and flicks … but I’m going to use today’s review to encourage those of you who like character-driven stories to check out 2024’s Meanwhile On Earth because it’s about as deserving a personal Science Fiction and Fantasy story as there’s ever been. Written and directed by Jérémy Clapin, this is a chronicle as much as it is for the heart as it is for the mind. The adventure of a women broken over the loss of her big brother, it’s a poignant ‘what if’ accounting of how feelings can push up to the brink in ways we never quite understand as well as challenging us to do the unthinkable even though we know its wrong. The feature might be a bit imperfect … but then again so are all of us.
I think this misconception largely stems from the fact that mainstream audiences think the average Science Fiction and Fantasy story is more about its visuals than it is ever about its characters. Do you know what I mean? These movies are about big spaceships or marauding aliens and flashing lasers and fancy costumes and all of that bric-a-brac. In spite of the fact that I’ve always pushed back on that premise, I’m certainly willing to concede that even the most ardent genre enthusiast might come into any cinematic brew expecting something visually out-of-the-ordinary. To some degree, that’s kinda/sorta how these spectacles work. But at the end of the day, I think we’re also cynical enough to dismiss out of hand the idea that the characters don’t matter to the central story. It’s the characters we come back to time and time again; and it’s the characters we look up to and sometimes emulate when given the chance at conventions, online, or even in our private lives. The lack of quality relatable characters kills the forward progress of any motion picture; and genre fans know that as well as anyone else.
Still, I’d argue that not enough effort gets expended sometimes by storytellers in giving these efforts the emotional foundation of such characters. All too often, directors and screenwriters reach a point wherein they might say “this is good enough,” and the end result is that, yes, the flick underperforms in one way or another. Typically, we – as a genre audience – might embrace a project well enough to make it profitable but not so much so that producers feel entirely comfortable returning to that well for another bucket of cash. I like to think this is our response to the makers own shortsightedness – fandom’s way of saying “yeah, this is good enough, too” – and then we can go on our merry way to finding something that really hits the spot a bit more fully.
Regular readers of SciFiHistory.Net know that I don’t champion films all that much. In trying to celebrate everything I can find for the Daily Citation Pages, I leave the MainPage area for more personal reflections on fandom, TV shows, and flicks … but I’m going to use today’s review to encourage those of you who like character-driven stories to check out 2024’s Meanwhile On Earth because it’s about as deserving a personal Science Fiction and Fantasy story as there’s ever been. Written and directed by Jérémy Clapin, this is a chronicle as much as it is for the heart as it is for the mind. The adventure of a women broken over the loss of her big brother, it’s a poignant ‘what if’ accounting of how feelings can push up to the brink in ways we never quite understand as well as challenging us to do the unthinkable even though we know its wrong. The feature might be a bit imperfect … but then again so are all of us.
(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 23-year-old girl is contacted by an unknown life form claiming to be able to bring her older brother, who disappeared during a space mission, safely back to Earth.”
We all process grief in different ways, and it’s this core truth that gets a full examination in Meanwhile On Earth.
Elsa Martens (played by Megan Northam) is a bit of a social misfit. Having grown up in a small town and never quite having seen the big city that lies anywhere beyond, all she had was the love of her family and the love of sketching to keep her mind occupied. As fate would have it, her big brother Franck (played briefly by Yoan Germain Le mat) did manage to go far – very far – as an astronaut in some international program; but what did he get in return for his bravery? Though we’re not provided all of the particulars, Franck is listed as ‘lost in space,’ and this harsh consequence for leaving the confines on Earth on behalf of humanity has broken Elsa in ways few ever experience.
However, one evening sitting outside under the stars wishing for her brother’s return, Elsa receives a message from an alien intelligence: though Franck is in a dramatically weakened state, he’s still alive, and he’s being held by them as a kind of hostage. If the young woman is willing to aid them in transferring their respective consciousnesses from these foreign bodies into humans, then her brother can return with them albeit in a new host. Still, she only has a matter of days in order to complete the task or Franck will be lost forever.
Thus, Elsa is tasked with the somewhat Herculean challenge of somehow luring unsuspecting souls into the deep woods wherein a portal exists that allows such spectral transference. At first, she realizes that there are a few elderly patients she cares for at an assisted living facility who she can use, and why not? They’re unhappy with their lives, so she sees the prospect of having their days lived out in a dream state while their bodies are occupied by alien intelligences as being a palatable trade-off. She can live with what she needs to do, snuffing out one light as a substitute for another. In the process, Elsa gives no thought to her patients’ wishes or desires – the alien overlord insists that these human minds will continue to exist in a perpetual dream state – instead allowing her selfish desire to exist (in some state) with her brother once more as enough motivation to sacrifice others.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A 23-year-old girl is contacted by an unknown life form claiming to be able to bring her older brother, who disappeared during a space mission, safely back to Earth.”
We all process grief in different ways, and it’s this core truth that gets a full examination in Meanwhile On Earth.
Elsa Martens (played by Megan Northam) is a bit of a social misfit. Having grown up in a small town and never quite having seen the big city that lies anywhere beyond, all she had was the love of her family and the love of sketching to keep her mind occupied. As fate would have it, her big brother Franck (played briefly by Yoan Germain Le mat) did manage to go far – very far – as an astronaut in some international program; but what did he get in return for his bravery? Though we’re not provided all of the particulars, Franck is listed as ‘lost in space,’ and this harsh consequence for leaving the confines on Earth on behalf of humanity has broken Elsa in ways few ever experience.
However, one evening sitting outside under the stars wishing for her brother’s return, Elsa receives a message from an alien intelligence: though Franck is in a dramatically weakened state, he’s still alive, and he’s being held by them as a kind of hostage. If the young woman is willing to aid them in transferring their respective consciousnesses from these foreign bodies into humans, then her brother can return with them albeit in a new host. Still, she only has a matter of days in order to complete the task or Franck will be lost forever.
Thus, Elsa is tasked with the somewhat Herculean challenge of somehow luring unsuspecting souls into the deep woods wherein a portal exists that allows such spectral transference. At first, she realizes that there are a few elderly patients she cares for at an assisted living facility who she can use, and why not? They’re unhappy with their lives, so she sees the prospect of having their days lived out in a dream state while their bodies are occupied by alien intelligences as being a palatable trade-off. She can live with what she needs to do, snuffing out one light as a substitute for another. In the process, Elsa gives no thought to her patients’ wishes or desires – the alien overlord insists that these human minds will continue to exist in a perpetual dream state – instead allowing her selfish desire to exist (in some state) with her brother once more as enough motivation to sacrifice others.
The best stories speak to the choices that we make as humans, and they challenge us in ways that force us to consider what we might do had we found ourselves in similar circumstances.
To Elsa, these early barters – giving the broken down and mentally deficient elderly a chance to live out their days, albeit in a dream – are easy selections. They make sense as they’re not truly hurting anyone, and one might argue that they’re even better for humanity since these patients have entered that dark phase of mortal existence wherein they might be more of a burden than they are a benefit to society at large. As the stakes are raised and the prospects dwindle to wherein the young lady must weigh harsher options, it grows increasingly clear to her that she’s still sacrificed some of herself in the process – perhaps too much – and she realizes that playing God isn’t so easy after all. How can you effectively choose what life is more important than others? And once your choice is made how little of you actually resides within yourself because you crossed a moral line that none of us were ever empowered to cross?
The other day, I wrote about the fact that Science Fiction storytellers far too often take the easy route to condemning mankind for the choices that we’ve made along our way through the cosmos because – in my estimation – that’s the easy thing to do. It’s become far too commonplace for these various mythmakers to sit back and judge what we, culturally, may or may not have done wrong. We don’t always know what the future holds, and just like Elsa never dreamed she’d lose her brother when he followed his vision to explore the Final Frontier she still had to confront that harsh turn of Fate when it arrived. It broke her. It diminished her world in ways she couldn’t previously imagine. This pain and hurt inevitably forced her to do things she likely never imagined she’d have to do in the pursuit of healing. And yet once she realized what the cost to her soul would be she managed to find the human strength to stop.
Maybe going forward, I’d encourage all Science Fiction and Fantasy screenwriters to celebrate such revelations instead of painting all of their films with colors so dark. Find the goodness in people – just as Clapin does in this wonderfully unique and thought-provoking story – and seek out new ways to tell these. I realize that they might be missing some of the stark visuals that fans have come to accept, and I realize that – in the process – we might have to reeducate audiences to the limitless possibilities that come when we dabble deep into the realms of the Fantastic. Still, Elsa emerges as one of the most relatable heroines I’ve seen in one of the quietest and touching features in a long time; and she’s exactly the kind of tortured spirit genre films need to see more of.
To Elsa, these early barters – giving the broken down and mentally deficient elderly a chance to live out their days, albeit in a dream – are easy selections. They make sense as they’re not truly hurting anyone, and one might argue that they’re even better for humanity since these patients have entered that dark phase of mortal existence wherein they might be more of a burden than they are a benefit to society at large. As the stakes are raised and the prospects dwindle to wherein the young lady must weigh harsher options, it grows increasingly clear to her that she’s still sacrificed some of herself in the process – perhaps too much – and she realizes that playing God isn’t so easy after all. How can you effectively choose what life is more important than others? And once your choice is made how little of you actually resides within yourself because you crossed a moral line that none of us were ever empowered to cross?
The other day, I wrote about the fact that Science Fiction storytellers far too often take the easy route to condemning mankind for the choices that we’ve made along our way through the cosmos because – in my estimation – that’s the easy thing to do. It’s become far too commonplace for these various mythmakers to sit back and judge what we, culturally, may or may not have done wrong. We don’t always know what the future holds, and just like Elsa never dreamed she’d lose her brother when he followed his vision to explore the Final Frontier she still had to confront that harsh turn of Fate when it arrived. It broke her. It diminished her world in ways she couldn’t previously imagine. This pain and hurt inevitably forced her to do things she likely never imagined she’d have to do in the pursuit of healing. And yet once she realized what the cost to her soul would be she managed to find the human strength to stop.
Maybe going forward, I’d encourage all Science Fiction and Fantasy screenwriters to celebrate such revelations instead of painting all of their films with colors so dark. Find the goodness in people – just as Clapin does in this wonderfully unique and thought-provoking story – and seek out new ways to tell these. I realize that they might be missing some of the stark visuals that fans have come to accept, and I realize that – in the process – we might have to reeducate audiences to the limitless possibilities that come when we dabble deep into the realms of the Fantastic. Still, Elsa emerges as one of the most relatable heroines I’ve seen in one of the quietest and touching features in a long time; and she’s exactly the kind of tortured spirit genre films need to see more of.
Simply put, Elsa makes us better for having been among us; and that’s food for thought.
Some might dismiss a film like Meanwhile On Earth because instead of going big it works very hard to keep things small. While considering the question of whether or not we’re alone in the universe, Clapin arguable pushes the door open with an answer uniquely all of his own and yet he doesn’t quite celebrate the conclusion the way studios typically expect. No building-sized spaceship lands on the White House lawn. No army of stylishly designed aliens climb out of any blinking shuttlecraft. In fact, his incarnation of an extraterrestrial entity is little more than a seed – one that Elsa puts in her ear to establish contact – and that’s all it takes to see that there’s a whole galaxy of opportunity out there waiting for discovery.
Yet, instead of traveling the already worn-down paths asking about whether there remains life after death, Clapin and company concern themselves with the query of “Is there life after life?” Can we do what we must to survive and continue to live not only with ourselves but also the potentially grave consequences of our own acts, selfish or otherwise? These aren’t giant outcomes. These aren’t big stakes. They’re small. They’re infinitesimal when compared to the vastness of the galaxy and consciousness … but they do not come without penalties.
Some might dismiss a film like Meanwhile On Earth because instead of going big it works very hard to keep things small. While considering the question of whether or not we’re alone in the universe, Clapin arguable pushes the door open with an answer uniquely all of his own and yet he doesn’t quite celebrate the conclusion the way studios typically expect. No building-sized spaceship lands on the White House lawn. No army of stylishly designed aliens climb out of any blinking shuttlecraft. In fact, his incarnation of an extraterrestrial entity is little more than a seed – one that Elsa puts in her ear to establish contact – and that’s all it takes to see that there’s a whole galaxy of opportunity out there waiting for discovery.
Yet, instead of traveling the already worn-down paths asking about whether there remains life after death, Clapin and company concern themselves with the query of “Is there life after life?” Can we do what we must to survive and continue to live not only with ourselves but also the potentially grave consequences of our own acts, selfish or otherwise? These aren’t giant outcomes. These aren’t big stakes. They’re small. They’re infinitesimal when compared to the vastness of the galaxy and consciousness … but they do not come without penalties.
Meanwhile On Earth (2024) was produced by One World Films, Carcadice, France 3 Cinéma, Auvergne Rhône-Alpes Cinéma, Umedia, and a few other participants. (For a full accounting, check out the film’s full listing available on IMDB.com.) According to a quick Google.com search, the picture is presently available both theatrically as well as via a variety of streaming platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional: I wasn’t quite won over by the included animation snippets, but they served a narrative purpose, and I can’t imagine the story being nearly as impactful without them. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? I viewed this one via streaming, so there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
Meanwhile On Earth (2024) starts a bit slow, and it certainly takes its sweet time setting up its relationships and visuals. However, once it hits its mark, the story turns out to be a surprisingly heartfelt and bittersweet yarn between siblings, all of it given a SciFi construct in which to demonstrate that – although love never ends – we might not get to spend eternity together after all. Imagine Invasion Of The Body Snatchers (1956) told from the point of view of You Can Count On Me (2000), and you get a bit closer to the complex personal story of a sister broken by a tragic loss who ultimately refuses to sacrifice her humanity to be united with her big brother. Ladies (or the emotionally involved), bring Kleenex.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at One World Films provided me with complimentary streaming access to Meanwhile On Earth (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
Recommended.
Meanwhile On Earth (2024) starts a bit slow, and it certainly takes its sweet time setting up its relationships and visuals. However, once it hits its mark, the story turns out to be a surprisingly heartfelt and bittersweet yarn between siblings, all of it given a SciFi construct in which to demonstrate that – although love never ends – we might not get to spend eternity together after all. Imagine Invasion Of The Body Snatchers (1956) told from the point of view of You Can Count On Me (2000), and you get a bit closer to the complex personal story of a sister broken by a tragic loss who ultimately refuses to sacrifice her humanity to be united with her big brother. Ladies (or the emotionally involved), bring Kleenex.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at One World Films provided me with complimentary streaming access to Meanwhile On Earth (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
You young'uns take note: appreciate the talent you come to know on screens big and small because -- one day -- they'll not be here any longer.
I know I've ruminated about that a good deal in these 'In Memoriam' posts, but I do so only to remind everyone of the absolutely frightening fragility that surrounds this game of life: eventually, what we know as reality -- at least for now -- does come to an end. Take heart in believing what you will about an afterlife, but don't let that cause any of you to lose sight of the talented creatives who left it all on the table whilst they had the chance to do so.
And most definitely that includes a talent like Tony Todd.
I know, I know, I know: a great many of you worship the man's gifts in the world of Horror, and I salute you for that. But for my tastes I always loved it when it turned up in the wide, wide world of Star Trek; and I think it's a damn shame he never got a full-time gig aboard any of its various incarnations. I realize that not every actor or actress is fortunate, but this guy was indeed 'the real thing' whenever they gave him a chance to play in any of its quadrants. I can't help today but think about what could've been ...
In any event ...
I'll always remember him for his work as the older version of 'Jake Sisco' in the incredible episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine "The Visitor," one of the program's very best and very heartwrenching, so much so that I know folks who can't sit down and watch it again over the heartache it delivers. (Yes, my wife is among them.) It's a brilliant 'what if' story that features one of the most bittersweet performances in all of Trekdom, and that's owed to the unbelievable gifts Todd brought to the small screen. It's arguably one of the best hours in all of those adventures that went where no one had gone before; and -- if you haven't seen it -- then consider it your homework assignment for the weekend.
Of course, Todd leaves behind an astonishing resume, one rich with just shy of 250 different screen appearances of all types. While, yes, I'll agree he's probably most known for his singular turn as the nefarious Candyman franchse, there truly is a lot more to be thankful about, so let the debate begin as to which were appearances amongst his very best.
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Tony Todd.
May he rest in peace ...
-- EZ
I know I've ruminated about that a good deal in these 'In Memoriam' posts, but I do so only to remind everyone of the absolutely frightening fragility that surrounds this game of life: eventually, what we know as reality -- at least for now -- does come to an end. Take heart in believing what you will about an afterlife, but don't let that cause any of you to lose sight of the talented creatives who left it all on the table whilst they had the chance to do so.
And most definitely that includes a talent like Tony Todd.
I know, I know, I know: a great many of you worship the man's gifts in the world of Horror, and I salute you for that. But for my tastes I always loved it when it turned up in the wide, wide world of Star Trek; and I think it's a damn shame he never got a full-time gig aboard any of its various incarnations. I realize that not every actor or actress is fortunate, but this guy was indeed 'the real thing' whenever they gave him a chance to play in any of its quadrants. I can't help today but think about what could've been ...
In any event ...
I'll always remember him for his work as the older version of 'Jake Sisco' in the incredible episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine "The Visitor," one of the program's very best and very heartwrenching, so much so that I know folks who can't sit down and watch it again over the heartache it delivers. (Yes, my wife is among them.) It's a brilliant 'what if' story that features one of the most bittersweet performances in all of Trekdom, and that's owed to the unbelievable gifts Todd brought to the small screen. It's arguably one of the best hours in all of those adventures that went where no one had gone before; and -- if you haven't seen it -- then consider it your homework assignment for the weekend.
Of course, Todd leaves behind an astonishing resume, one rich with just shy of 250 different screen appearances of all types. While, yes, I'll agree he's probably most known for his singular turn as the nefarious Candyman franchse, there truly is a lot more to be thankful about, so let the debate begin as to which were appearances amongst his very best.
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Tony Todd.
May he rest in peace ...
-- EZ
- Published on
I’ve mentioned before on SciFiHistory.Net that those who know me well long ago encouraged me to avoid watching The Invasion (2007).
Now, just to be perfectly clear, they did this not because any of them necessarily thought that this particular version of the Science Fiction story originally penned by Jack Finney was bad. Instead, it was precisely because they know what high regard I give the 1956 original Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, arguably one of the seminal flicks of the 1950’s. Furthermore, they know of how much I respect the pretty spectacular 1978 remake from director Philip Kaufman. When it comes to evaluating my likes and dislikes, I’ve learned to trust a few friends and contemporaries; so I do understand and appreciate why they encouraged me to spend my time elsewhere. It’s good to have folks who know me well enough to provide a polite ‘heads up.’
Still, when I saw that Arrow Films was giving this 2007 incarnation a makeover, I knew it was time to take the leap. I did just yesterday; and – while I wasn’t completely won over in the process – I’m still glad that I did. German director Oliver Hirschbiegel largely played it safe with his version, sticking reasonably close to what’s been done before with the material but giving it enough of a makeover so that it feels a bit more modernistic. Award-winning producer and screenwriter David Kajganich penned the script, and the film stars Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig, Jeremy Northam, Jackson Bond, and Jeffrey Wright in big roles. Veronica Cartwright – who had a small role in the 1978 remake – also shows up in an equally small yet interesting part; and I’m always a fan of seeing familiar faces returning for updates. If nothing else, it feels like a way to link alternate theatrical universes together in ways that delight legitimate fans, of which I consider myself.
However, I’ll admit on the front end that – after seeing it – I can see why associates believed I’d find it inferior; and I think they’re (mostly) spot on. If you’re going to bring such star wattage as Kidman and Craig to not just a Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror Classic but one that has earned its rightful place amongst the best genre has to offer, then you really owe it to yourself and the audience to deliver something special; and that just doesn’t quite happen here. It’s good, yes, but is it good enough? Does it hit the necessary notes, and does it ring the necessary bells? Does it benefit from the reputation of a smaller SciFi franchise, or does it tarnish the legacy?
Well … you be the judge.
Now, just to be perfectly clear, they did this not because any of them necessarily thought that this particular version of the Science Fiction story originally penned by Jack Finney was bad. Instead, it was precisely because they know what high regard I give the 1956 original Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, arguably one of the seminal flicks of the 1950’s. Furthermore, they know of how much I respect the pretty spectacular 1978 remake from director Philip Kaufman. When it comes to evaluating my likes and dislikes, I’ve learned to trust a few friends and contemporaries; so I do understand and appreciate why they encouraged me to spend my time elsewhere. It’s good to have folks who know me well enough to provide a polite ‘heads up.’
Still, when I saw that Arrow Films was giving this 2007 incarnation a makeover, I knew it was time to take the leap. I did just yesterday; and – while I wasn’t completely won over in the process – I’m still glad that I did. German director Oliver Hirschbiegel largely played it safe with his version, sticking reasonably close to what’s been done before with the material but giving it enough of a makeover so that it feels a bit more modernistic. Award-winning producer and screenwriter David Kajganich penned the script, and the film stars Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig, Jeremy Northam, Jackson Bond, and Jeffrey Wright in big roles. Veronica Cartwright – who had a small role in the 1978 remake – also shows up in an equally small yet interesting part; and I’m always a fan of seeing familiar faces returning for updates. If nothing else, it feels like a way to link alternate theatrical universes together in ways that delight legitimate fans, of which I consider myself.
However, I’ll admit on the front end that – after seeing it – I can see why associates believed I’d find it inferior; and I think they’re (mostly) spot on. If you’re going to bring such star wattage as Kidman and Craig to not just a Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror Classic but one that has earned its rightful place amongst the best genre has to offer, then you really owe it to yourself and the audience to deliver something special; and that just doesn’t quite happen here. It’s good, yes, but is it good enough? Does it hit the necessary notes, and does it ring the necessary bells? Does it benefit from the reputation of a smaller SciFi franchise, or does it tarnish the legacy?
Well … you be the judge.
(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:
“As a Washington, D.C. psychiatrist unearths the origin of an alien epidemic, she also discovers her son might be the only way it can be stopped.”
There’s a truth about films that goes like this: “You find what you want in art.”
In other words, if a certain flick bears a message, then it may not have been intended by its creator but instead it might spring entirely from your brain, a response to the cognitive process of taking it all in and spitting out your thoughts on the drama.
Despite 1956’s Invasion Of The Body Snatchers focusing on an alien invasion whilst in progress, there exist many in the media and across intelligentsia who’ll tell you that the film was in reality designed to be an allegory for the Cold War and/or the Red Scare allegedly tied to Senator Joseph McCarthy. The problem with this statement is that any sensible degree of research into the topic will confirm that no one involved with the production – not director Don Siegel or its large cast and crew – ever intended for that to be the case. In fact, some have even pushed back against such assertions, insisting that they set simply to make a good Science Fiction yarn; and – on that point – I think they succeeded.
As you can see, we – as a culture – saw the story through our own filters, and – in this process – we inserted our beliefs in such a way that we believed that’s what was intended as a takeaway.
Similarly, 1978’s Invasion Of The Body Snatchers was attributed to warning viewers that society – as a whole – might not be as good a thing as we think it is. The negative consequences of a whole “see something, say something” campaign were it was said to come front-and-center to a conspiratorial yarn that even popular critic Roger Ebert suggested was commenting on the Watergate scandal and abuses of authority. The New Yorker’s resident wizard Pauline Kael stated that this version Invasion was “the best film of its kind ever made” (per Wikipedia.org), though I’ve not read her full accounting and am a little remiss to analyze it further, other than to say that perhaps the lady overthought it just a bit.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“As a Washington, D.C. psychiatrist unearths the origin of an alien epidemic, she also discovers her son might be the only way it can be stopped.”
There’s a truth about films that goes like this: “You find what you want in art.”
In other words, if a certain flick bears a message, then it may not have been intended by its creator but instead it might spring entirely from your brain, a response to the cognitive process of taking it all in and spitting out your thoughts on the drama.
Despite 1956’s Invasion Of The Body Snatchers focusing on an alien invasion whilst in progress, there exist many in the media and across intelligentsia who’ll tell you that the film was in reality designed to be an allegory for the Cold War and/or the Red Scare allegedly tied to Senator Joseph McCarthy. The problem with this statement is that any sensible degree of research into the topic will confirm that no one involved with the production – not director Don Siegel or its large cast and crew – ever intended for that to be the case. In fact, some have even pushed back against such assertions, insisting that they set simply to make a good Science Fiction yarn; and – on that point – I think they succeeded.
As you can see, we – as a culture – saw the story through our own filters, and – in this process – we inserted our beliefs in such a way that we believed that’s what was intended as a takeaway.
Similarly, 1978’s Invasion Of The Body Snatchers was attributed to warning viewers that society – as a whole – might not be as good a thing as we think it is. The negative consequences of a whole “see something, say something” campaign were it was said to come front-and-center to a conspiratorial yarn that even popular critic Roger Ebert suggested was commenting on the Watergate scandal and abuses of authority. The New Yorker’s resident wizard Pauline Kael stated that this version Invasion was “the best film of its kind ever made” (per Wikipedia.org), though I’ve not read her full accounting and am a little remiss to analyze it further, other than to say that perhaps the lady overthought it just a bit.
Again, we’re apt to see what we want in art because it validates not just who we are but also how we see the world at large. We process images and story and characters through these various mental filters – education, morality, religion, etc. – and as we do so we assign them worth which leads to such judgments. Right or wrong, it’s still how we’re wired, so I do approach much of what I see hoping to dial those indicators down only so that they don’t create obstacles to my being entertained. If it’s a great film, then it deserves to be celebrated as a great film: similarly, if it means something more to me personally, then it’s okay to talk about that, too … just be conscious that what you see may not be what I see.
Of course, this brings me to The Invasion, and I have to say that, initially, it’s a disappointing version if for no other reason than I don’t believe it says anything of meaningful substance.
Dr. Carol Bennell (played by Nicole Kidman) has begun noticing that the people all around her are behaving in ways not quite natural. They’ve begun speaking slowly in passive tones, and they’re sometimes standing around in grouped silence looking at nothing in particular. Expressionless faces accompany her as she’s walking down the street. Even her ex-husband Tucker Kaufman (Jeremy Northam) is displaying an uncharacteristic detachment to all things including their shared son Oliver (Jackson Bond). So when one of her patients starts saying that her husband is no longer her husband, the good doctor realizes that things are decidedly afoot, and she launches an investigation hoping to get to the bottom of this growing social trend.
One of the singular problems in evaluating remakes is that it can be difficult appreciating alternatives when what was done originally was superior; and that’s my biggest stumbling block to recognizing The Invasion on its own two feet. Both previous versions (yes, there’s a third from the 1990’s, but I’ve not seen it) dealt a bit more deliberately about showcasing their infected whereas this version most of them are kept at arm’s length. They’re more background players in crowd scenes, and this makes them much less personal and equally less ominous. While the exchanges around Carol and Tucker are mildly creepy, the scenes of the doctor on-the-run, fleeing for her life and the life of her son, become the central push to the whole affair. Gone is the greater sensation of a subversive war to overtake our planet; and – in its place – are a bunch of lesser action sequences, actress Kidman running away, and even more than a few car crashes. Consider this high concept suitably dumbed-down for – ahem – wider consumption.
I have read that The Invasion suffered from a bit of controversy in its post-production life. From what I understand, director Kajganich loaded the flick with what he believed was some stylish visuals highlighting the fragile emotional state of his lead, leaving the studio a bit disappointed with his finished product. At this point, the Wachowskis (of The Matrix fame) were contracted to come aboard and rework the story and cinematography into something more audience friendly. A new director – James McTeigue – was also brought in to handle these necessary reshoots. As a consequence, I – as a viewer – don’t know entirely who to blame for the fact that this Invasion feels less like a cohesive whole and more like a murky departure from what should’ve been easy-peasy.
Of course, this brings me to The Invasion, and I have to say that, initially, it’s a disappointing version if for no other reason than I don’t believe it says anything of meaningful substance.
Dr. Carol Bennell (played by Nicole Kidman) has begun noticing that the people all around her are behaving in ways not quite natural. They’ve begun speaking slowly in passive tones, and they’re sometimes standing around in grouped silence looking at nothing in particular. Expressionless faces accompany her as she’s walking down the street. Even her ex-husband Tucker Kaufman (Jeremy Northam) is displaying an uncharacteristic detachment to all things including their shared son Oliver (Jackson Bond). So when one of her patients starts saying that her husband is no longer her husband, the good doctor realizes that things are decidedly afoot, and she launches an investigation hoping to get to the bottom of this growing social trend.
One of the singular problems in evaluating remakes is that it can be difficult appreciating alternatives when what was done originally was superior; and that’s my biggest stumbling block to recognizing The Invasion on its own two feet. Both previous versions (yes, there’s a third from the 1990’s, but I’ve not seen it) dealt a bit more deliberately about showcasing their infected whereas this version most of them are kept at arm’s length. They’re more background players in crowd scenes, and this makes them much less personal and equally less ominous. While the exchanges around Carol and Tucker are mildly creepy, the scenes of the doctor on-the-run, fleeing for her life and the life of her son, become the central push to the whole affair. Gone is the greater sensation of a subversive war to overtake our planet; and – in its place – are a bunch of lesser action sequences, actress Kidman running away, and even more than a few car crashes. Consider this high concept suitably dumbed-down for – ahem – wider consumption.
I have read that The Invasion suffered from a bit of controversy in its post-production life. From what I understand, director Kajganich loaded the flick with what he believed was some stylish visuals highlighting the fragile emotional state of his lead, leaving the studio a bit disappointed with his finished product. At this point, the Wachowskis (of The Matrix fame) were contracted to come aboard and rework the story and cinematography into something more audience friendly. A new director – James McTeigue – was also brought in to handle these necessary reshoots. As a consequence, I – as a viewer – don’t know entirely who to blame for the fact that this Invasion feels less like a cohesive whole and more like a murky departure from what should’ve been easy-peasy.
A huge stumbling block is that – unlike those earlier versions which seemed to be minimally commenting on the times in which they were made – this story merely throws politics and war talking points in, never quite clarifying why they needed to be here. TV screens and radios blare out news blurbs about conflicts around the world, and there’s even an old Cold War friendship between U.S. and Russian diplomats that feels – gasp! – outdated. Gone is the 1978’s distrust of society and authority and – in its place – it would seem that anyone other than oneself should not be trusted; so where can an audience ultimately go with that indictment? There’s even some modest suggestion that pharmaceuticals are the only way to avoid being absorbed by this growing alien consciousness; and I would think that given what we know about addiction, tolerance, and other long-term risks that someone behind-the-scenes might’ve said to dial down such inferences. Who knows? Maybe Big Pharma financed the picture.
If nothing else, The Invasion is an experience that might benefit from the consciousness evolving post-COVID. Initially, the alien’s campaign is painted as nothing more than an odd mutation of the seasonal flu, and I couldn’t help but wonder where oh where I’d recently heard that analogy before. (snicker snicker) Clearly, there are snippets in here – the questioning of drug trials, the efficacy of moving forward without sufficient research, and the like – that might be of greater significance today than they were back in 2007. One medical professional is even scolded just a bit for putting knowledge and welfare ahead of profitability, so it is very telling to see that perhaps such cynicism is cyclical, though we could use a fair share of it on a regular basis and I’d not be insulted.
Kidman – always a pleasure to look at – does what she can with the material, meaning that it never gives her all that much to do other than raise an eyebrow almost Vulcan-style when encountering some new development that defies her sharply tuned medical mind. Craig is relatively stoic – a trait I’ve seen him with far too much – and his lack of emotion from start-to-finish had me suspecting that perhaps he was Patient Zero behind this whole event. Northam manages to get his level of creep just about right, though he ends up sharing scenes mostly with infected who have nothing to say much less divulge any possible secrets on their blank, dead pan faces. Even Kidman ends up having to put up a front for a significant portion of the flick – not that she’s renowned for her expressiveness anyway – and that just doesn’t move the picture forward the way others have done before.
I think the biggest sin committed here might be The Invasion’s ending.
Unlike the previous attempts to bring the Finney story to life, this one – for reasons that really make little narrative sense – chooses to wrap up with an almost “happily ever after … but …” vibe. Kidman manages to save not only herself but all of mankind in her ungodly ability to survive (she is woman, hear her roar); and – despite stating earlier in the picture that she wanted nothing more than friendship from Ben – now appears happily married (or cohabitating, at least) and having adopted Gene (Eric Benjamin) who was left orphaned by the alien agenda. While she’s finishing breakfast and getting the boys ready for school, the hubby is reading the newspaper whilst listening to the endless parade of breaking headlines on the television. These various messages all converge around the impression that, somehow, mankind might’ve been – ahem – better off having succumbed to the wishes of these foreign invaders, that humanity itself is forever flawed by design, and that these aggressors maybe had a positive point in reducing every man, woman, and child to a hive mind.
Over the years, Science Fiction and its purveyors have rightfully earned a reputation for being hard on mankind. They castigate us for being consumers. They reprimand us for following dreams that clash with their own theories on utopia. They criticize us for standing for things like freedom and prosperity because it can’t be achieved with any practical measure of parity around the globe. So apparently the proposed solution to this in their eyes would be to relinquish any sense of personal liberty in favor of joining a galactic commune that would’ve been forced on us in the process. It’s definitely a cynical outlook but not surprisingly so these days as Science Fiction rarely sees joy in our future but instead worships collective doom.
A sad state of affairs, if you ask me …
If nothing else, The Invasion is an experience that might benefit from the consciousness evolving post-COVID. Initially, the alien’s campaign is painted as nothing more than an odd mutation of the seasonal flu, and I couldn’t help but wonder where oh where I’d recently heard that analogy before. (snicker snicker) Clearly, there are snippets in here – the questioning of drug trials, the efficacy of moving forward without sufficient research, and the like – that might be of greater significance today than they were back in 2007. One medical professional is even scolded just a bit for putting knowledge and welfare ahead of profitability, so it is very telling to see that perhaps such cynicism is cyclical, though we could use a fair share of it on a regular basis and I’d not be insulted.
Kidman – always a pleasure to look at – does what she can with the material, meaning that it never gives her all that much to do other than raise an eyebrow almost Vulcan-style when encountering some new development that defies her sharply tuned medical mind. Craig is relatively stoic – a trait I’ve seen him with far too much – and his lack of emotion from start-to-finish had me suspecting that perhaps he was Patient Zero behind this whole event. Northam manages to get his level of creep just about right, though he ends up sharing scenes mostly with infected who have nothing to say much less divulge any possible secrets on their blank, dead pan faces. Even Kidman ends up having to put up a front for a significant portion of the flick – not that she’s renowned for her expressiveness anyway – and that just doesn’t move the picture forward the way others have done before.
I think the biggest sin committed here might be The Invasion’s ending.
Unlike the previous attempts to bring the Finney story to life, this one – for reasons that really make little narrative sense – chooses to wrap up with an almost “happily ever after … but …” vibe. Kidman manages to save not only herself but all of mankind in her ungodly ability to survive (she is woman, hear her roar); and – despite stating earlier in the picture that she wanted nothing more than friendship from Ben – now appears happily married (or cohabitating, at least) and having adopted Gene (Eric Benjamin) who was left orphaned by the alien agenda. While she’s finishing breakfast and getting the boys ready for school, the hubby is reading the newspaper whilst listening to the endless parade of breaking headlines on the television. These various messages all converge around the impression that, somehow, mankind might’ve been – ahem – better off having succumbed to the wishes of these foreign invaders, that humanity itself is forever flawed by design, and that these aggressors maybe had a positive point in reducing every man, woman, and child to a hive mind.
Over the years, Science Fiction and its purveyors have rightfully earned a reputation for being hard on mankind. They castigate us for being consumers. They reprimand us for following dreams that clash with their own theories on utopia. They criticize us for standing for things like freedom and prosperity because it can’t be achieved with any practical measure of parity around the globe. So apparently the proposed solution to this in their eyes would be to relinquish any sense of personal liberty in favor of joining a galactic commune that would’ve been forced on us in the process. It’s definitely a cynical outlook but not surprisingly so these days as Science Fiction rarely sees joy in our future but instead worships collective doom.
A sad state of affairs, if you ask me …
The Invasion (2007) was produced by Warner Bros., Village Roadshow Pictures, Silver Pictures, and Vertigo Entertainment. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, one needn’t be to see that the provided sights-and-sounds – not all that old to begin with – look pretty spiffy with this high-definition presentation. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This is Arrow, and they don’t disappoint. I’m doing the dutiful copy-and-paste for their press release (previously published on Blu-ray.com) below:
For those who’ve missed this previously, I’m usually only provided a physical industry copy of the disc. As such, I can’t speak to the efficacy on any physical components here – booklets, sleeves, artwork, etc. For those things, I always remind readers of the usual “buyer beware” rule.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
While The Invasion (2007) is a difficult picture to like, I could also make the case that it’s hard to outright dislike it, too. Though I wasn’t moved nor drawn in to Kidman’s struggle at any point, I wasn’t put off, either. My problem could be that it hit just enough of the right beats to keep me watching but not wondering, certainly not like the ’56 or ’78 wild rides. Sadly, it’s difficult for me to surmise where it all goes awry because a bright spot would pop up just about the time I was convinced it wasn’t worthy of my time or attention. (Setting an Invasion film – if even only briefly – around Halloween? Are you kidding me? Why hasn’t someone done that before?) It just never quite rises to the occasion, a sad state of affairs given the absolutely undeniable power of the original source material.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of The Invasion (2007) 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
- High-definition presentation of the film
- Original lossless DTS-HD MA 5.1 audio
- Optional English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
- Brand new audio commentary by film critics Andrea Subisati and Alexandra West, co-hosts of The Faculty of Horror podcast
- Body Snatchers and Beyond, a new visual essay by film scholar Alexandra Heller Nicholas
- That Bug That's Going Around, a new visual essay exploring The Invasion as pandemic prophecy by film scholar Josh Nelson
- We've Been Snatched Before, an archival featurette from 2007
- The Invasion: A New Story, an archival featurette from 2007
- The Invasion: On the Set, an archival featurette from 2007
- The Invasion: Snatched, an archival featurette from 2007
- Theatrical trailer
- Image gallery
- Illustrated collector's booklet featuring new writing by film critics William Bibbiani and Sally Christie
- Reversible sleeve with original and newly commissioned artwork by Tommy Pocket
- Double-sided fold out poster featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Tommy Pocket
For those who’ve missed this previously, I’m usually only provided a physical industry copy of the disc. As such, I can’t speak to the efficacy on any physical components here – booklets, sleeves, artwork, etc. For those things, I always remind readers of the usual “buyer beware” rule.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
While The Invasion (2007) is a difficult picture to like, I could also make the case that it’s hard to outright dislike it, too. Though I wasn’t moved nor drawn in to Kidman’s struggle at any point, I wasn’t put off, either. My problem could be that it hit just enough of the right beats to keep me watching but not wondering, certainly not like the ’56 or ’78 wild rides. Sadly, it’s difficult for me to surmise where it all goes awry because a bright spot would pop up just about the time I was convinced it wasn’t worthy of my time or attention. (Setting an Invasion film – if even only briefly – around Halloween? Are you kidding me? Why hasn’t someone done that before?) It just never quite rises to the occasion, a sad state of affairs given the absolutely undeniable power of the original source material.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of The Invasion (2007) 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
(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 well-known politician woman receives a tape showing her son in a porno movie. She decides to hire a female detective to figure out who is trying to black-mail her.”
Readers, I am not going to pretend that I understood all of the messaging that unfurled across Don’t Change Hands’ 86-minute running time. While there is a sense that writer/director Paul Vecchiali was trying to say something about the political and social structure of his native France of a certain time and a certain place, Hands still avoids doubling-down on anything specifically other than the somewhat obvious slights thrown at politicians who are suckling at the government teat while perhaps ignoring some of the social norms tied to the constituency they represent. That’s a pretty bland generalization, I realize, but Hands does stretch beyond the conventional with its rather unconventional depiction of fairly graphic sex along the way. Nearly everyone in here has his or her hands dirty; and – yes! – that winds up being in more ways than one.
The film opens with an obvious pornographic film detailing – in grainy black-and-white – some modest shenanigans between a rather non-descript man and woman. This should be the first sign to viewers that the narrative is being framed in such a way suggesting exploitation (of a certain type) lies at the center of everything that’s to follow. It does, so that’s fair warning to all involved to know that there’s going to be a consistent parade of skin – some of it hardcore – so be prepared for what’s coming. (Yes: that pun was intended.) Eventually, the opening credits fade, and the sound of a running projector is all we’re left with until two ladies come out of the darkness to discuss what all of this truly means.
As a loose neo-noir (of which it’s pretty clear that is the genre Vecchiali was shooting for with this), the film works capably, though I thought the whole affair could’ve benefitted from a bit more story instead of delivering what it did mostly with scraps. Françoise Bourgeois (played by Hélène Surgère) is the politician who has been approached by blackmailers threatening to release this pornographic film starring her adult son Alain (Jean-Christophe Bouvet). Though she initially states that she’s not all that concerned about the extortion and is willing to pay whatever price, Bourgeois does admit that such exposure would impede her possible political future. Her explanation implies that such activity comes as a price for being in her social class, and yet she’d still have it curtailed if at all possible. Thus, she contracts Mélinda (Myriam Mézières) to take her place for the exchange taking place at the Shanghai-Lily, an area nightclub that specializes in – ahem – in illicit behaviors.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A well-known politician woman receives a tape showing her son in a porno movie. She decides to hire a female detective to figure out who is trying to black-mail her.”
Readers, I am not going to pretend that I understood all of the messaging that unfurled across Don’t Change Hands’ 86-minute running time. While there is a sense that writer/director Paul Vecchiali was trying to say something about the political and social structure of his native France of a certain time and a certain place, Hands still avoids doubling-down on anything specifically other than the somewhat obvious slights thrown at politicians who are suckling at the government teat while perhaps ignoring some of the social norms tied to the constituency they represent. That’s a pretty bland generalization, I realize, but Hands does stretch beyond the conventional with its rather unconventional depiction of fairly graphic sex along the way. Nearly everyone in here has his or her hands dirty; and – yes! – that winds up being in more ways than one.
The film opens with an obvious pornographic film detailing – in grainy black-and-white – some modest shenanigans between a rather non-descript man and woman. This should be the first sign to viewers that the narrative is being framed in such a way suggesting exploitation (of a certain type) lies at the center of everything that’s to follow. It does, so that’s fair warning to all involved to know that there’s going to be a consistent parade of skin – some of it hardcore – so be prepared for what’s coming. (Yes: that pun was intended.) Eventually, the opening credits fade, and the sound of a running projector is all we’re left with until two ladies come out of the darkness to discuss what all of this truly means.
As a loose neo-noir (of which it’s pretty clear that is the genre Vecchiali was shooting for with this), the film works capably, though I thought the whole affair could’ve benefitted from a bit more story instead of delivering what it did mostly with scraps. Françoise Bourgeois (played by Hélène Surgère) is the politician who has been approached by blackmailers threatening to release this pornographic film starring her adult son Alain (Jean-Christophe Bouvet). Though she initially states that she’s not all that concerned about the extortion and is willing to pay whatever price, Bourgeois does admit that such exposure would impede her possible political future. Her explanation implies that such activity comes as a price for being in her social class, and yet she’d still have it curtailed if at all possible. Thus, she contracts Mélinda (Myriam Mézières) to take her place for the exchange taking place at the Shanghai-Lily, an area nightclub that specializes in – ahem – in illicit behaviors.
Inside the Shanghai-Lily, Madame Mado (Liza Bracconier) serves as the ringmaster of both the live entertainment – which is plenty revealing as Mona Mour (the absolutely delicious Mona Heftre) sings and dances her way into the hearts of patrons – and the criminal rackets. Naturally, this wretched hive of scum and villainy hosts a few of the movers and shakers intent on seizing their own fortunes off the profits from similar shakedowns, and our independent lady of justice is intent on clearing Bourgeois’ not-so-good name. She nabs the desired pictures from Catherine Desprès (Françoise Giret) seated at the next table, and then she threatens to have the lady prosecuted for dealing in pornography. Eventually, Mélinda and Mado collide, and bullets are exchanged in the process, bringing up the first dead bodies to pile up in this fuzzy pursuit of justice.
But, alas, what appears to have been brought to a close rather quickly really only pushes the door open for even more shenanigans, some of which might be tied to even bigger and more notorious figures. Because all of these various players are tied together in this extortion racket, Mado’s minions to eventually strike back at Mélinda, murdering her gal Friday and sex partner Natacha (Nanette Corey). When the detective realizes that Madame Bourgeois has kept some crucial details tying her political fortunes to those of the Desprès family, she vows to stay on the case no matter what she unearths … even at the cost of her own chastity.
Like any story dealing with the noirish confines of private detectives, Hands deals chiefly with the lone knight of justice trying to make his (in this case ‘her’) way against the oppressive forces of authority. These people are too wealthy to beg, borrow, and steal, but they’re perfectly willing to pay for such services, and that’s a good portion of what’s involved in this criminal investigation. Thematically, Mélinda is no different than Humphrey Bogart in 1941’s The Maltese Falcon (albeit much better looking) or even Humphrey Bogart (again!) in 1946’s The Big Sleep (still better looking). She’s surrounded by conniving conspirators who’ll stop at nothing to see their dirty laundry laundered or destroyed entirely, even if that means committing a bit of homicide along the way for good measure.
What makes the film different from other traditional Crime Dramas is that fact that Vecchiali chose include buckets and buckets of salacious material not unlike the opening porn real. While sex might’ve been hinted at in the days of Bogart, there’s no denying the parade of boobs, butts, and balls in the picture, and the couplings even include the build-up to a screen orgy in the final reel. Though I could argue that a few of the trysts really had little to do with the plot’s progression, that apparently didn’t stop Vecchiali and his cast and crew from pulling out all the stops to give this project a sex life all of its own.
But, alas, what appears to have been brought to a close rather quickly really only pushes the door open for even more shenanigans, some of which might be tied to even bigger and more notorious figures. Because all of these various players are tied together in this extortion racket, Mado’s minions to eventually strike back at Mélinda, murdering her gal Friday and sex partner Natacha (Nanette Corey). When the detective realizes that Madame Bourgeois has kept some crucial details tying her political fortunes to those of the Desprès family, she vows to stay on the case no matter what she unearths … even at the cost of her own chastity.
Like any story dealing with the noirish confines of private detectives, Hands deals chiefly with the lone knight of justice trying to make his (in this case ‘her’) way against the oppressive forces of authority. These people are too wealthy to beg, borrow, and steal, but they’re perfectly willing to pay for such services, and that’s a good portion of what’s involved in this criminal investigation. Thematically, Mélinda is no different than Humphrey Bogart in 1941’s The Maltese Falcon (albeit much better looking) or even Humphrey Bogart (again!) in 1946’s The Big Sleep (still better looking). She’s surrounded by conniving conspirators who’ll stop at nothing to see their dirty laundry laundered or destroyed entirely, even if that means committing a bit of homicide along the way for good measure.
What makes the film different from other traditional Crime Dramas is that fact that Vecchiali chose include buckets and buckets of salacious material not unlike the opening porn real. While sex might’ve been hinted at in the days of Bogart, there’s no denying the parade of boobs, butts, and balls in the picture, and the couplings even include the build-up to a screen orgy in the final reel. Though I could argue that a few of the trysts really had little to do with the plot’s progression, that apparently didn’t stop Vecchiali and his cast and crew from pulling out all the stops to give this project a sex life all of its own.
Sadly, I really haven’t been able to locate much information about the filmmaker and his career in my research. His Wikipedia.org citation highlights that his productions were low-budget and somewhat experimental; while Hands clearly looks like a few dollars were spent here and there, the only thing going on experimentally is the pursuit of carnal delights, and – as I said – there’s quite a bit on display. I’m no prude, mind you, but all I’ve asked as a critic is for the encounters to serve a purpose: that doesn’t seem to be the case here, making most of the sequences feel like exploitation for exploitation’s sake, especially when necrophilia, auto erotica, and sadomasochism are tossed into the mix without much substantive need. (Was Vecchiali merely intent on covering all bases? It’s hard to tell.) There’s an audience for that kind of thing, and yet they are usually not looking for this much plot.
As for the onscreen talent?
Myriam Mézières gets the lion’s share of the screen time, filling in the trench coat of a lovely gumshoe name Mélinda who takes the job of defusing the extortion but loses more than she bargained for in the process. Typically, such work is reserved for the men – going where angels fear to tread, toting iron and willing to spit hot lead at any and all perpetrators – so the role reversal is interesting here, at best, though a bit too much of the shenanigans could’ve used a bit more exposition and a tad less exploitation for my tastes. (FYI: there’s a good degree of nudity and sexual activity where all of this leads, not a bad thing if that’s your fascination.) To her credit, Mézières clearly knows what she’s doing as the lead, deadpanning a good portion of her lines and looking ready-to-rumble (in more ways than one) when the circumstances require it. Still, I think she underplays a handful of her scenes, and I’m left wondering if this really was all about her character’s desire for a payday or was the actress just muttering lines at the behest of her director. It's all a bit vague, and that kills the pacing.
The biographical information for actress Surgére over at RottenTomatoes.com states that Vecchiali discovered the woman off a photoshoot she did after abandoning a successful business career; and he was so smitten with her feminine wiles that he included her in a great many of this cinematic efforts. Her work here as Minister Bourgeois is very good, but (again) I have to confess to not quite understanding the breadth of the political posturing. Lacking any further explanation, she’s little more than an employer with a secret to hide; and I suspect the director was more likely making a comment on the French norms of the day, perhaps even deeper than crony corruption. Clearly, the surname itself hints that the minister was a bit conceited, but that’s clear as day, implying this was done to point out she shouldn’t be trusted.
As for the onscreen talent?
Myriam Mézières gets the lion’s share of the screen time, filling in the trench coat of a lovely gumshoe name Mélinda who takes the job of defusing the extortion but loses more than she bargained for in the process. Typically, such work is reserved for the men – going where angels fear to tread, toting iron and willing to spit hot lead at any and all perpetrators – so the role reversal is interesting here, at best, though a bit too much of the shenanigans could’ve used a bit more exposition and a tad less exploitation for my tastes. (FYI: there’s a good degree of nudity and sexual activity where all of this leads, not a bad thing if that’s your fascination.) To her credit, Mézières clearly knows what she’s doing as the lead, deadpanning a good portion of her lines and looking ready-to-rumble (in more ways than one) when the circumstances require it. Still, I think she underplays a handful of her scenes, and I’m left wondering if this really was all about her character’s desire for a payday or was the actress just muttering lines at the behest of her director. It's all a bit vague, and that kills the pacing.
The biographical information for actress Surgére over at RottenTomatoes.com states that Vecchiali discovered the woman off a photoshoot she did after abandoning a successful business career; and he was so smitten with her feminine wiles that he included her in a great many of this cinematic efforts. Her work here as Minister Bourgeois is very good, but (again) I have to confess to not quite understanding the breadth of the political posturing. Lacking any further explanation, she’s little more than an employer with a secret to hide; and I suspect the director was more likely making a comment on the French norms of the day, perhaps even deeper than crony corruption. Clearly, the surname itself hints that the minister was a bit conceited, but that’s clear as day, implying this was done to point out she shouldn’t be trusted.
Lastly, Giret is quite good as the somewhat fragile foil to the whole investigation. While her performance might be tagged as a bit stereotypical for noir, that shouldn’t in any way suggest the actress turns in inferior work. Her Catherine Desprès might be the easiest archetype to grasp in all of this: she’ll do whatever’s necessary to achieve her desired satisfaction even when that means taking sexual matters into her own hand with a bit of help from the sought-after porn film. Emotionally unstable but seeking a way to get ahead, she’s a surprise breath of fresh air as a femme fatale in this twisted tale and yet you can easily grasp where she’s coming from and why she’s likely doomed. In the end, she commits her own hari-kari in about as dark a way as has ever happened in filmdom.
Without complaining, it’s still difficult to look at Hands as little more than arthouse pornography in the final estimation. As I said, there’s a simple enough story involved some duplicity and double cross; and Vecchiali’s work here – while not evoking any style other than hard-boiled noir – feels too much like he was coasting on autopilot while the onscreen talent did the nasty. A bit more range or melodrama from the cast might’ve left me with a stronger impression; but as is far too much of it is bland and uneventful in between the sex acts.
Don’t Change Hands (1975) was produced by Contrechamp and Unité Trois. 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 found the provided sights-and-sounds to be surprisingly good from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are a few interviews which explore the production lightly; it’s a good collection for those who want to wade through those who knew Vecchiali well at this point in his career.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As a fan of detective stories – especially private detectives – Don’t Change Hands (1975) has a nice construct with which to weave a yarn about past deceptions coming back to haunt folks at a later date; and yet, sadly, there are just reels and reels of unnecessary sex between the better bits. Had writer/director Vecchiali dialed it back a wee bit and given the cast more to do that grope, this one might’ve had the chance to be something more than what it remains, largely an exploitation feature given more story than fans of that sort of thing show up for. As a result, I’m not sure it has anything greater than a limited cult appeal.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary 2K Blu-ray of Don’t Change Hands (aka Change pas de main) (1975) 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
Without complaining, it’s still difficult to look at Hands as little more than arthouse pornography in the final estimation. As I said, there’s a simple enough story involved some duplicity and double cross; and Vecchiali’s work here – while not evoking any style other than hard-boiled noir – feels too much like he was coasting on autopilot while the onscreen talent did the nasty. A bit more range or melodrama from the cast might’ve left me with a stronger impression; but as is far too much of it is bland and uneventful in between the sex acts.
Don’t Change Hands (1975) was produced by Contrechamp and Unité Trois. 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 found the provided sights-and-sounds to be surprisingly good from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are a few interviews which explore the production lightly; it’s a good collection for those who want to wade through those who knew Vecchiali well at this point in his career.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As a fan of detective stories – especially private detectives – Don’t Change Hands (1975) has a nice construct with which to weave a yarn about past deceptions coming back to haunt folks at a later date; and yet, sadly, there are just reels and reels of unnecessary sex between the better bits. Had writer/director Vecchiali dialed it back a wee bit and given the cast more to do that grope, this one might’ve had the chance to be something more than what it remains, largely an exploitation feature given more story than fans of that sort of thing show up for. As a result, I’m not sure it has anything greater than a limited cult appeal.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary 2K Blu-ray of Don’t Change Hands (aka Change pas de main) (1975) 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