Despite the fifty-four-degree temperature outside, January has descended upon us, something most evidenced by the deluge of highly mediocre movies that are about to be released. Granted, Contraband could be fun and an uberintoxicating drinking game could be played each time Mark Wahlberg flares his nostrils, but, for the most part, movies released between January and March often come up short. Perhaps Hollywood has the same financial –possibly literal – hangover as we do after the holiday season.
Regardless, each weekend of new releases deserves a look, some criticism, a touch of conjecture, and a recommendation.
Norwegian Wood: I dig the song, but fear it gives too much of the story away. Perhaps Haruki Murakami, from whose novel this film was adapted, was just in a Beatles mood while writing, but I’m going to assume this tale of opposites attracting ends much in the same way, with a lilting, deceptively cheery lamentation: “And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown / So I lit a fire, isn’t it good, Norwegian wood.”
If you’re looking for a love story, check out Like Crazy; it follows similar steps, but focuses on the oft-overlooked facets of impeded relationships.
The Devil Inside: In real life, the continued interest that the Catholic Church has in exorcism should certainly serve as a harbinger for the precarious state of humanity and the abject impossibility of religious evolution and benevolence; however, when the combination appears in celluloid form, it should be a warning to stay as far away as possible. Not since The Exorcist has a movie been made that looks beyond the potential shock value of an oddly contorted patient laying on a bed – or in this case a gurney. Certainly, there will be flinch-worthy moments if you’re sitting in a dark theater, but we’ve been so conditioned to anticipate the scares within “found-footage” movies that jumping almost seems more perfunctory and an excuse to shout “No she didn’t!” or “Turn around!” in a movie theater without being shushed.
In the same vein, the “found-footage” conceit needs to cease. Admirably, it’s a genius exercise in maximizing profit margin, but the genre itself is dispelled by its casting of actors with lengthy IMDB pages and television credits. The Blair Witch Project was the first film to employ this tactic, and, for the first ten days, it worked; people were unsure whether the footage was phony, so the intrigue grew exponentially. This film cast completely no-name performers – at least on the big screen – and while it was soon exposed as a “mockumentary” there was still some mystique around the release. Paranormal Activity’s ruse, though doomed because of access to the internet, was also quite well done in that Katie Featherston and Micah Sloat were in nothing prior to the franchise, so viewers were left without a reference. Obviously, the sequel killed the mystery of the first film, but Orin Peli successfully presented his gimmick and kept the audience guessing.
As for The Devil Inside, each actor or actress has a lengthy IMDB page that immediately obliterates any believability presented by the director. Therefore, wait until this streams on Netflix, hook up your HDMI cable, turn off the lights, and lock your doors.
Beneath the Darkness: My god Dennis Quaid, what has happened to you? Your resume won’t lead you to the Cecil B. Demille Award, but at least your past films had heart (Any Given Sunday), emotion (Far From Heaven), baseball (The Rookie), apostates (Legion), nostalgic-laden characters (G.I. Joe), and global warming (The Day After Tomorrow). Beneath the Darkness has Aimee Teegarden (the girl from Friday Night Lights, who clearly needs a new agent if this is her follow-up to Prom) and terribly cheesy puns delivered with correlated violence: “stairs can be very dangerous,” “most accidents happen in the home.” Want to guess where this action takes place?
This film poaches the psychosis of necrophilia from Psycho while eliding the depths of emotional trauma suffered by Norman Bates, preferring to give away the reveal in the preview and fashioning the movie as if it were a hastily bastardized version of the original House of Wax. Skip this one. Always, unless you’re in a screenwriting 101 class.
Once Upon a Time in Anatolia: From director Nuri Bilge Ceylan comes this police procedural that tracks a group of men on the search for a dead body. The suspect in the back of the police car claims to have been drunk on the night of the murder and disposal, so Anatolia positions itself to be suspenseful mystery that probes not only the desolate desert, but the annals of interpretation, memory, self, and truth. This film in only in limited release, but looks stellar. See it if you can.
