Confession time: I’m not all that enamored with the works of Abel Ferrara.
While some might suggest that the truth here is that perhaps I don’t understand what Ferrara is often trying to say, I’m still not inclined to mince words on what might be a great or even a not-so-great experience regardless of who made a particular flick with a particular message. As a review, it’s only my task to evaluate the merits of said project in so far as I can understand and appreciate it. If something remains opaque to me, then that may or may not mean I’ve not the intellect to grasp what’s been communicated: the weak link here could be that the maker may not have gone far enough in saying something clearly just as much as it could be (sigh) I’m just not smart enough to catch the drift.
If I’m perfectly honest, then I’m fine admitting that perhaps I haven’t seen enough of the Ferrara library to be even modestly considered any kind of participant in his wares. This more often than not underscores why some reviewers might feel some inadequacy in reaching an informed opinion; and, yet, I’ll always pop my head up once again to remind everyone concerned that it should never be the responsibility of the audience to bone up on a particular artist in order to comment on the art. Only art lives forever – not any individual voice – and, as such, I expect minimally to experience that in a single sitting. I realize on that front some storytellers just can’t compete; and that amounts to my personal opinion on Ferrara … he’s just not for me.
Still, I persevere, especially when something he’s attached to drops into the realms of the Fantastic, which an occasionally nifty little ditty like The Addiction (1995) qualifies. This vampire story was scripted by Nicholas St. John (an earlier co-contributor of the director’s); and the big screen outing offers an impressive line-up of talent like Lili Taylor, Christopher Walken, Annabella Sciorra, Edie Falco, and Paul Calderon. As a yarn, Addiction explores the conceit of becoming and being a vampire from the perspective of – you guessed it – being an addict; and that’s about where the goodness of it starts and stops. Otherwise the rest of this is little more than a structure employed to give this talented handful of Thespians a few good individual scenes without ever giving enough serious consideration to the meal as a whole.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or character. 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 New York philosophy grad student turns into a vampire after getting bitten by one, and then tries to come to terms with her new lifestyle and frequent craving for human blood.”
While some might suggest that the truth here is that perhaps I don’t understand what Ferrara is often trying to say, I’m still not inclined to mince words on what might be a great or even a not-so-great experience regardless of who made a particular flick with a particular message. As a review, it’s only my task to evaluate the merits of said project in so far as I can understand and appreciate it. If something remains opaque to me, then that may or may not mean I’ve not the intellect to grasp what’s been communicated: the weak link here could be that the maker may not have gone far enough in saying something clearly just as much as it could be (sigh) I’m just not smart enough to catch the drift.
If I’m perfectly honest, then I’m fine admitting that perhaps I haven’t seen enough of the Ferrara library to be even modestly considered any kind of participant in his wares. This more often than not underscores why some reviewers might feel some inadequacy in reaching an informed opinion; and, yet, I’ll always pop my head up once again to remind everyone concerned that it should never be the responsibility of the audience to bone up on a particular artist in order to comment on the art. Only art lives forever – not any individual voice – and, as such, I expect minimally to experience that in a single sitting. I realize on that front some storytellers just can’t compete; and that amounts to my personal opinion on Ferrara … he’s just not for me.
Still, I persevere, especially when something he’s attached to drops into the realms of the Fantastic, which an occasionally nifty little ditty like The Addiction (1995) qualifies. This vampire story was scripted by Nicholas St. John (an earlier co-contributor of the director’s); and the big screen outing offers an impressive line-up of talent like Lili Taylor, Christopher Walken, Annabella Sciorra, Edie Falco, and Paul Calderon. As a yarn, Addiction explores the conceit of becoming and being a vampire from the perspective of – you guessed it – being an addict; and that’s about where the goodness of it starts and stops. Otherwise the rest of this is little more than a structure employed to give this talented handful of Thespians a few good individual scenes without ever giving enough serious consideration to the meal as a whole.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or character. 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 New York philosophy grad student turns into a vampire after getting bitten by one, and then tries to come to terms with her new lifestyle and frequent craving for human blood.”
The absolute beauty of a project like director Abel Ferrara’s The Addiction is that – as an art film – it’s meant to speak to audiences in ways vastly different and sometimes more complex than a regular picture does. A performance here or there might be interesting. A few of the written passages might be stunning in some subtle way. The way a scene or two get rendered in thought-provoking black-and-white might say something about the grandeur of the universe in which these players are captured. Usually, his works are deliciously dark … and – while I’m willing to suppose that’s the case here – they’re meant to say something about who we are as inner beings always surpassing the superficial layers with which we walk about daily in the world.
All of the above could be said about The Addiction.
Certainly, you can’t have performers like Lili Taylor – whose long been on my radar – and Christopher Walken – a bankable commodity that’s easily lampooned as much as celebrated – in a picture and avoid speaking about what they accomplish in. Yes, Taylor’s time spent in the tortured existence of Kathleen Conklin – a philosophy student in pursuit of her Masters – is interesting here and there, especially given the context that she’s suddenly plunged into an alternate world wherein she’s forced to prey on others in order to survive. Yes, Walken achieves far more in his handful of minutes in here than many actors do across an entire career; and it’s as much noteworthy as it is occasionally cringeworthy. Sadly, they’re time together as mentor and student is a bit too slim to account to much collectively, but the two of them produce respectively watchable scenes.
Furthermore, the idea of exploring what it means to be a vampire set against the backdrop of stuffy and effete, self-serving academia gives the viewer something to mull over. These professors and the rest of our cultural betters love preaching about what’s good and grand to life; and how they’re reduced to little more than livestock in the feature’s bombastic feeding frenzy in the last reel is exactly the kind of scene some might appreciate vastly more than others. There’s no shortness to sizzling ideas anywhere across the film’s 80+ minutes; and – without a doubt – the same thing could not be said of lesser works from arguably even greater minds. There’s prescience at every corner one looks … and, yet, I’ve emerged still hungry.
My biggest complaint to The Addiction is that the production values are stunning awful in a few spots. For starters, there are long sequences wherein I couldn’t hear clearly what was being said between Taylor and whomever she was addressing. While I’ll accept that in an instance or two that might’ve been achieved by design – implying that what’s being said was hardly nearly as important as what was happening – I tend to resist such conclusions. If all I’m given is 80 minutes to tell a story, then I’m not going to waste any single element; and – sorry folks – sound matters. If it was captured, then it was meant to be in there. Awarding inferior technical production greater merit because you think it was suggestive of deeper, more meaningful themes is a fool’s errand; otherwise, why use sound at all? When one person can be heard clearly and the other is obviously muffled, I’ll always chalk that up to inadequate sound recording or unacceptable sound mixing; and neither of those should be achieved deliberately.
What I can say about The Addiction’s meaty core is that I believe Ferrara intended to allow Conklin to transcend the limitations of her physical world – its culture, its relationships, etc. – in order to achieve a kind of spiritual redemption in – ahem – death. Her last scenes are ultimately ones of peace after visiting her gravesite – she’s a vampire, you see, so technically, she doesn’t die – and finally looking like she’s emotionally and psychologically balanced. But isn’t that what the Walken character told us a handful of scenes earlier? Didn’t he, too, find equilibrium in learning how to control his wants, needs, and desires through acceptance? What are we to make of two characters initially in conflict then winning balance, one through restraint while the other chose glorious excesses? It would seem to me that The Addiction never finds collective balance – meaning that’s the responsibility of individuals and not society as a whole – or am I thinking too deeply here?
The problem here could be that Ferrara, too, has given in to some excess. Across The Addition’s running time he inserts countless photos involving human atrocities – the war in Vietnam, Nazi concentration camps, etc. – dangling them as constant reminders of the fact that humanity might not be this glowing beacon on a hill we’ve all been raised to believe it is. Somehow, we always seem to find our way into the dark as opposed to the light; but I’m at a loss to even grasp what any of this has to do with vampires. Is he saying that even monsters are good? Is he saying that even good people are bad? Or is he just throwing whatever tickles his fancy into a single screen image and leaving that up to the viewer to decide what to make of it … good, bad, or ugly? Honestly, I’ve no way to know; and – come the conclusion – I just didn’t all that much care.
All of the above could be said about The Addiction.
Certainly, you can’t have performers like Lili Taylor – whose long been on my radar – and Christopher Walken – a bankable commodity that’s easily lampooned as much as celebrated – in a picture and avoid speaking about what they accomplish in. Yes, Taylor’s time spent in the tortured existence of Kathleen Conklin – a philosophy student in pursuit of her Masters – is interesting here and there, especially given the context that she’s suddenly plunged into an alternate world wherein she’s forced to prey on others in order to survive. Yes, Walken achieves far more in his handful of minutes in here than many actors do across an entire career; and it’s as much noteworthy as it is occasionally cringeworthy. Sadly, they’re time together as mentor and student is a bit too slim to account to much collectively, but the two of them produce respectively watchable scenes.
Furthermore, the idea of exploring what it means to be a vampire set against the backdrop of stuffy and effete, self-serving academia gives the viewer something to mull over. These professors and the rest of our cultural betters love preaching about what’s good and grand to life; and how they’re reduced to little more than livestock in the feature’s bombastic feeding frenzy in the last reel is exactly the kind of scene some might appreciate vastly more than others. There’s no shortness to sizzling ideas anywhere across the film’s 80+ minutes; and – without a doubt – the same thing could not be said of lesser works from arguably even greater minds. There’s prescience at every corner one looks … and, yet, I’ve emerged still hungry.
My biggest complaint to The Addiction is that the production values are stunning awful in a few spots. For starters, there are long sequences wherein I couldn’t hear clearly what was being said between Taylor and whomever she was addressing. While I’ll accept that in an instance or two that might’ve been achieved by design – implying that what’s being said was hardly nearly as important as what was happening – I tend to resist such conclusions. If all I’m given is 80 minutes to tell a story, then I’m not going to waste any single element; and – sorry folks – sound matters. If it was captured, then it was meant to be in there. Awarding inferior technical production greater merit because you think it was suggestive of deeper, more meaningful themes is a fool’s errand; otherwise, why use sound at all? When one person can be heard clearly and the other is obviously muffled, I’ll always chalk that up to inadequate sound recording or unacceptable sound mixing; and neither of those should be achieved deliberately.
What I can say about The Addiction’s meaty core is that I believe Ferrara intended to allow Conklin to transcend the limitations of her physical world – its culture, its relationships, etc. – in order to achieve a kind of spiritual redemption in – ahem – death. Her last scenes are ultimately ones of peace after visiting her gravesite – she’s a vampire, you see, so technically, she doesn’t die – and finally looking like she’s emotionally and psychologically balanced. But isn’t that what the Walken character told us a handful of scenes earlier? Didn’t he, too, find equilibrium in learning how to control his wants, needs, and desires through acceptance? What are we to make of two characters initially in conflict then winning balance, one through restraint while the other chose glorious excesses? It would seem to me that The Addiction never finds collective balance – meaning that’s the responsibility of individuals and not society as a whole – or am I thinking too deeply here?
The problem here could be that Ferrara, too, has given in to some excess. Across The Addition’s running time he inserts countless photos involving human atrocities – the war in Vietnam, Nazi concentration camps, etc. – dangling them as constant reminders of the fact that humanity might not be this glowing beacon on a hill we’ve all been raised to believe it is. Somehow, we always seem to find our way into the dark as opposed to the light; but I’m at a loss to even grasp what any of this has to do with vampires. Is he saying that even monsters are good? Is he saying that even good people are bad? Or is he just throwing whatever tickles his fancy into a single screen image and leaving that up to the viewer to decide what to make of it … good, bad, or ugly? Honestly, I’ve no way to know; and – come the conclusion – I just didn’t all that much care.
I know, I know, I know.
My frustration with The Addiction will probably go down in critical history as ultimately saying more about me than it does about the film; and that’s okay. As a viewer, I’ve never tried positioning myself above any creative effort, nor do I consider myself alongside it (generally) in trying to contextualize what a narrative may or may not say. (Trust me when I say I took a helluva lotta heat when I admitted I didn’t understand the last reel of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, either, except to say it looked like a hallucinogenic drug trip to me.) Though I can appreciate any storyteller’s effort to bulk up his yarn by including subversive references to every conceivable idea, the result should still be accessible; and – on that front – I’ll always refuse to struggle with much ado about nothing.
The Addiction (1995) was produced by Fast Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) was coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional from start-to-finish: yes, in case you’re unaware, this is a black-and-white production, and I do love such texture. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? In order to be specific, I’m doing the reliable copy-and-paste from Arrow’s press release previously published on Blu-ray.com:
To clarify: typically when I receive my copy via the distributor, I am not provided any physical media inserts (i.e. artwork, booklets, essays, etc.), so I cannot speak to the efficacy of any of those materials. In such cases, please consider them ‘buyer beware.’
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
The Addiction isn’t a Horror film for those who like Horror films about vampires. Rather, it’s an Art film meant for those who might like an Art film that comments more on philosophy, society, religion, and culture than it ever authentically does vampirism … and I just don’t go to Horror films for such discussions. It isn’t a bad flick so much as it is a project intended for perhaps the smallest niche audience imaginable. As such, I can’t see any of its ideas or performances ever suffering a great deal of praise though a bit or two are memorable. It’s that kind of experience wherein if you say ‘I don’t get it’ then its supporters will argue, ‘Well, it wasn’t meant for you,’ all the while insisting they’re smarter, better educated, and maybe don’t need to have their parking validated when they’re finished speaking to their shrink.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of The Addiction (1995) 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
My frustration with The Addiction will probably go down in critical history as ultimately saying more about me than it does about the film; and that’s okay. As a viewer, I’ve never tried positioning myself above any creative effort, nor do I consider myself alongside it (generally) in trying to contextualize what a narrative may or may not say. (Trust me when I say I took a helluva lotta heat when I admitted I didn’t understand the last reel of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, either, except to say it looked like a hallucinogenic drug trip to me.) Though I can appreciate any storyteller’s effort to bulk up his yarn by including subversive references to every conceivable idea, the result should still be accessible; and – on that front – I’ll always refuse to struggle with much ado about nothing.
The Addiction (1995) was produced by Fast Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) was coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional from start-to-finish: yes, in case you’re unaware, this is a black-and-white production, and I do love such texture. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? In order to be specific, I’m doing the reliable copy-and-paste from Arrow’s press release previously published on Blu-ray.com:
- BRAND NEW 4K RESTORATION from the original camera negative by Arrow Films
- DOLBY VISION/HDR PRESENTATION OF THE FILM
- Optional lossless 5.1 and 2.0 soundtracks
- Optional English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
- Audio commentary by director Abel Ferrara, moderated by critic and biographer Brad Stevens
- Talking with the Vampires, a 2018 documentary about the film, featuring actors Christopher Walken and Lili Taylor, composer Joe Delia, cinematographer Ken Kelsch, and Ferrara himself
- 2018 interview with Abel Ferrara
- 2018 interview with Brad Stevens
- Abel Ferrara Edits The Addiction, an archival piece from the time of production
- Original trailer
- Image gallery
- Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Peter Strain
- Illustrated collector's booklet featuring writing on the film by critic Michael Ewins and an archival interview with Ferrara by Paul Duane
To clarify: typically when I receive my copy via the distributor, I am not provided any physical media inserts (i.e. artwork, booklets, essays, etc.), so I cannot speak to the efficacy of any of those materials. In such cases, please consider them ‘buyer beware.’
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
The Addiction isn’t a Horror film for those who like Horror films about vampires. Rather, it’s an Art film meant for those who might like an Art film that comments more on philosophy, society, religion, and culture than it ever authentically does vampirism … and I just don’t go to Horror films for such discussions. It isn’t a bad flick so much as it is a project intended for perhaps the smallest niche audience imaginable. As such, I can’t see any of its ideas or performances ever suffering a great deal of praise though a bit or two are memorable. It’s that kind of experience wherein if you say ‘I don’t get it’ then its supporters will argue, ‘Well, it wasn’t meant for you,’ all the while insisting they’re smarter, better educated, and maybe don’t need to have their parking validated when they’re finished speaking to their shrink.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of The Addiction (1995) 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
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