This weekend brings us a reboot, a horror movie starring Jennifer Lawrence that will feel like a few other thrillers with similar residence problems, and a Clint Eastwood movie that would be hard to decipher if you closed your eyes and listed to the dialog. My bet on critical acclaim will be the latter. The most exciting will probably be the Lawrence-joint, and Dredd might not be seen by anyone.
House at the End of the Street: As of late, horror films have been providing us with locational titles: The Cabin in the Woods, Silent House, and The Last House on the Left. (Admittedly, the last one was made by Wes Craven in the 70’s, but it was remade only a few years ago.) First off, I wonder why the houses themselves have become the focus of such terror and suspense. Is it a reflection of our trepidation toward investing nowadays? In tandem, does it represent our view of houses as temporary domiciles – as if they are the modern-day motel – as opposed to the “home,” a symbol of permanence. Could a “home” conjure fear and spine-tingling encounters? It seems Home at the End of the Street would suggest a warm, fuzzy, hot-cocoa sipping experience, instead of a throat-slitting, fingernail shattering movie experience.
Dredd: The first one was silly; this one looks darker but equally “meh.” In truth, this one looks a bit more faithful to the comic protagonist, but how couldn’t it, really? What strikes me as strange is the depiction of police officers in cinema. They often fall into three categories: the aloof, dimwitted, incapable foils (see the original Last House on the Left for a slapsticky example – or Bonnie and Clyde – or Demolition Man — or the Batman Films), the corrupt cop who is sick of following a system that is just as corrupt as he (or she) will become, and the rogue cop who bucks the corrupt system to find justice. Dredd offers an extreme of the last sort, but in a dystopian world. Films like this always make me ponder the accuracy of the first depiction of police. If this is the result (kickass officials who emerge when the world is in shambles), perhaps this group of filmmakers have the same cynical, sadistic vision of humanity and authority.
Trouble with the Curve: Stop me if you’ve heard this one: Clint Eastwood plays a curmudgeon who is mostly isolated and detached from his family. Gran Torino? Check. Million Dollar Baby? Check. Now comes the latest reincarnation of the familiar: Trouble with the Curve. This film will certainly be well-acted, and probably decently written, but I’m not sure how long I want to sit through a movie with an incredibly predictable ending and story line.
