September 2024 Watch Part 2

Monday, 30 September 2024

I watched a lot of great movies and shows for this entry, but I found it honestly more difficult to write about them than things I didn’t like as much or I felt had wasted potential. I’m finding it a challenge to say more than “It was so good” (or perhaps say it in an interesting way), but one I’m quite eager to take on.

What did you think of the responses for this and last month? Have you seen any of the things I discussed? What are your thoughts on them? Please let me know via my guestbook or on Tumblr if you follow me there. I’d love to hear them, really. In a similar vein, is there anything you’d like to see in the future? Recommendations on frameworks or films/shows? I’m working on some essays I’d like to publish at some point, so I hope to get those out by the end of the year at least.

The Black Phone (2021, dir. Scott Derrickson)

The Black Phone follows Finney, the sixth in a series of kidnappings by a man known as “The Grabber,” as he attempts to break out of captivity with the help of ghosts he communicates with through a broken black phone. It is interspersed with scenes of his sister, who is attempting to solve the case using psychic dream visions and the help of the police. The spirits on the phone suggest methods of escape to Finney, although none of them quite work until the end, at which point they all come together.

I have heard nothing but amazing things about this movie, but I was also told that I should not watch it because I wouldn’t like the bad language used, which was just so random and misunderstanding of me as a person and I felt like some kind of reverse psychology to get me to actually watch it. But I just never got around to it until now. It was… fine. I liked it enough at first and then I got bored. It very much played on fears of strangers and seems to draw on highly publicized real life violence, or perhaps just other nostalgia-bait media. That use of nostalgia was especially prominent; perhaps it felt more fresh when there were fewer post-1950s period pieces like this, but watching it in September 2024, it just felt tired (which I say as someone who likes different time periods in media).

The film was symbolically heavy but not in a meaningful way. There was the mask, the magician/performer imagery, the phone, the ghosts, the visions, and the flashbacks that all had distinct visual language, which made it feel cluttered at times. Small things like the motif of the belt could’ve been interesting, but the visual circumstances surrounding it when Finney was being held captive were lacking. (And, frankly, Chucky (2021) did it better (I’m always saying this).) In a similar way, I liked the payoff for the failed escape attempts, but watching Finney fail four separate times just got repetitive. It didn’t manage to echo his feelings being captive or create a distinct sense of time and futility; it was quite simply annoying. None of the symbols or motifs felt meaningful or significant, and it felt contrived in the worst way.

I think my biggest gripe with this movie was its use of character tropes. This is definitely an issue with period pieces in this era, but it almost seems to take period-appropriate tropes and do absolutely nothing interesting with them, even in instances where they are subverted. I have mixed feelings about using character archetypes as a tool, as I think you can do some incredible things with them, but for me they work best as shorthand to create further complexity. And it’s important to note that creating complex characters is less “here is how they subvert expectations” and more “here is how they contradict themselves.” While I liked many of the performances, this film did not have particularly engaging characters, in that they were both flat and static overall.

There are quite a few elements about this movie I liked. The characters made smart decisions, the psychic elements were genuinely interesting, and the family’s dynamic was compelling to me from all angles. Truly, that dynamic was the saving grace for me. Gwen and Finney’s relationship, the history with their mother, and their father’s (comparatively) complex portrayal were all very nice to see. The story was straightforward, which allowed for increased attention on those stronger elements rather than creating a story with a lot of meaningless twists and turns. It also meant that everything that happened was important to getting us to the eventual climax, and I liked seeing that the characters’ smart and interesting choices contributed to the ending.

I am struck by a particular moment that I would like to discuss. Toward the end of the film, once Finney makes it out of the basement, one of the detectives working on his case gives a statement to the media, “The perpetrator known as The Grabber owned two homes, one where he kept the victims while alive, and a second empty home across the street where he buried them postmortem.” This is a pretty blatant summary of the reveal that happened immediately before this, so I thought it was an interesting choice to include. At face value, this appears like the filmmakers do not trust the audience to understand what they literally just watched, but it just as easily could’ve been a strange cut. Still, I am so drawn to that phrase “a second empty home.” It’s descriptive in a way that does not necessarily emulate the rest of the script. If this were any other movie, I would understand it as a statement of thesis, that the wealth of The Grabber is part of what allowed him to commit these murders. With a different framework, this movie could have been about how the fear of strangers relates to suburbia and specifically wealth distribution in such an environment. The film obviously did not take this direction and echoed those fears more than it subverted them, but it made me wonder about what kind of movie this might’ve been versus what it was. The racist and homophobic slurs used in bullying at the beginning could absolutely lend credibility to this idea, but the way they exist in there now only serves to emphasize the cruelty of the bullies.

These inklings of a different film are always what get me in movies. I can never help wondering when I see such threads about how it could’ve gone different, if that would’ve improved anything. More often than not, I’m pitching an entirely different film, but I think that goes to show how even the smallest choices affect the end product, especially when it comes to its themes. This is one such movie and while I thought it was perfectly fine, I see those moments and I have to wonder.

Angel (1984, dir. Robert Vincent O'Neil)

Angel follows the titular character, an honor student who moonlights as a sex worker on Hollywood Boulevard while a necrophiliac serial killer murders several young women in the area. The film depicts Angel’s school and work lives, watching her face the trials of high school and being abandoned by her parents while also dealing with the loss of her recently murdered friend and the investigation that follows. After she witnesses one of the murders, the killer takes to hunting her down.

The absolute best thing about this movie was the superb cast of characters, who brought such life to the world. Each one was so idiosyncratic, with a distinct life and personality and look that made the world colorful and alive. The actors were an absolute delight, and I am excited to see many of them reprised their roles in the second film. I appreciated the loving representation of characters on the fringe of society, not the typical cast we get to see in films these days. When I say “loving,” I really do mean it, as they felt like real people to me despite the exaggeration and theatricality that were still very much present. The characters, while also being memorable and unique, worked together so well, creating a sense of community and family in their shared workspace of Hollywood Boulevard. Their closeness had them banding together, eager to help and advocate for each other.

This film was dedicated to portraying softness and sweetness in a way that felt so tonally captivating. There were small details that allowed for that tone to come back even amidst the tragedy happening at the same time. The blooming romance between Yoyo and Crystal, Angel and Meg playing hopscotch on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the twinkling soundtrack used at the perfect moments—all of these moments establish a tonally distinct world for our characters to reside in. I think a different movie would’ve made these softer moments painstakingly ironic, happening alongside murder and violence to make those moments hit harder, but this film did not take that route. There was violence and blood, but it was minimal, and oftentimes looked away from. When Angel’s friend Lana dies, we see her body for a moment as Angel does, but then it cuts to her crying, a longer shot that emphasizes the effect this has on her. This tone acts as an earnest representation of the complexities of life. It doesn’t reduce the violence happening in the area, it doesn’t soften the hardships that Angel has faced in her life. Rather, it emphasizes all of the reasons she wants to protect the people she cares about and all of the reasons she loves them as well.

Contributing to that tone were excellent cinematography, costumes, and backgrounds. The summary of this movie had me thinking exclusively neon glow and twinkling lights, but we also got pastels, delicate patterns and textures, and stylized but still soft visuals. The juxtaposition was thematically and tonally appropriate, and so refreshing to see as it complemented the complexity of the world. It allowed for a sense of optimism while still acknowledging suffering as it happened. Angel faces her parents abandoning her and her friends being murdered, but still she has advocates all over in surrogate parent Mae, detective Lieutenant Andrews, and teacher Patricia Allen. This truly was a remarkably optimistic and heartwarming film following a community and family in a time of loss and tragedy.

I saw an old review arguing that this movie was good, but it “isn’t Shakespeare.” I find this sort of comment so heartbreaking for many reasons. For one, just because it’s an exploitation film absolutely and I can’t personally think of a better way to echo the popular culture elements of theater contemporary to the bard. Sure, it might not have the grandiosity and complex, interwoven plots, but it’s also an entirely different genre with different goals and staples, so I won’t begrudge it that. For another, I think such a comparison devalues art by placing more classical considerations and opinions over the inherent value of and meaning in any art piece. I’ll be a bit more specific—I also saw many people saying this is a “good bad movie” or great “trash cinema,” and I wholeheartedly disagree (both on principle and with these specific descriptions). There are camp elements with the exaggerated performances and situations (and I am aware many people with consider these things “bad” without a second thought; I love subtlety as much as the next person, but it has to complement the story being told), and at the same time it is heartfelt, well-acted and well-written, and so colorful.

This film has a heart to it that is difficult to deny. The low budget and exploitation genre only serve to underscore what a solid movie it actually is, as they highlight the exceptional writing and performances. This is the perfect movie to watch if you love camp or more stylized pieces, or if you want a softer introduction to the exploitation genre.

Over the Garden Wall (2014, created by Patrick McHale)

Over the Garden Wall is a 2014 miniseries released on Cartoon Network that follows two brothers, Wirt and Greg, as they are lost in a mysterious wood called The Unknown. In the ten short episodes, the brothers travel with talking bluebird Beatrice in hopes of finding their way home, along the way having chance encounters and avoiding a mysterious entity known only as The Beast.

It is one of my favorite television shows of all time, and I have rewatched it at least twice a year since it came out. Describing what I love about this show has always been a challenge for me, as there is really nothing I can earnestly compare it to and it is so masterfully done that just watching it always seems better to me. With that said, I will do my best to attempt to do that now.

There are so many stellar elements to choose from for this show, but I primarily want to discuss the tone/genre of it. Over the Garden Wall is probably best described, in my opinion, as an American gothic cartoon (though I’d probably throw the word “storybook” in there somewhere as well). It is whimsical without being overtly magical, eerie and dark without being overly scary, and though there are some elements that cannot be explained in a natural way (dream visions, walking corpses, bends in time), there is a groundedness to the portrayals of these elements. That’s not to say it’s not fantastical—it’s often described as an American fairy tale or dark fantasy and not without good reason—but rather that the fantastical elements are deemphasized through their pervasiveness and treatment with relative nonchalance. Sure, there is questioning of these things, but it’s so consistent and treated with such little importance, that their presence feels almost mundane. It’s hard to take these concerns seriously when they are, for example, coming from a talking bluebird. I’d go so far as to argue that the moments when this frame of The Unknown breaks gives the audience more pause than the general strangeness. Once the reasons for this become clear and everything slots into place, you start to pick up on the unique voice of the writing as well. The blending of different temporal dialects is seamless and so much can be explained away the first time you’re watching by the medium of a children’s cartoon made in 2014, but all of those little references to modernity are intentional and subtle in the best way. There is an expertise of this element in the dialogue that I so adore and thus I strongly suggest a watchthrough with this in mind.

Further developing the tone is the ambience created through an evocative, folksy soundtrack and picturesque scenic elements. To this day I listen to the official soundtrack pretty frequently, as the songs are absolutely gorgeous; I can’t go one time through the show without singing along. Likewise, the visuals are just stunning; this is where that American gothic element really rears its head, and does so in such a captivating way. More than that, though, the show has such a distinct feeling of timelessness, a sense created through the depiction of buildings and clothing that are from a variety of periods but also through its use of allusion and older animation techniques. This post does a great job of reviewing some of the different historical influences. I love that this show is not only visually engaging to watch, but also narratively meaningful. That relationship is not unique to the visuals, either, as every single element is tied up together, a thought and care put into the show that I find so impressive and I will credit it to the reason I like mini/limited series so much to this day.

The darkness of the tone and subject material is a curious question. The show presents danger and fear in a way that really works for the cartoon medium and its inherent target audience, always present but often and incompletely assuaged. There is a distinct sense of humor that contributes to this reduction of fearful feelings, but never breaks the tone. The handling of the subject matter is delicate and subtle, but never truly ambiguous; the use of fairy tale tropes and structures blend the medium and material together seamlessly, and create a unique world to explore in the meantime. There are absolutely horror elements, such as The Beast lurking in the back of our minds and when he does appear, he’s cloaked in shadow and just as fearful as the idea, resonant voice and characteristic cadence. Not only that, but there’s a constant question lurking alongside The Beast in our minds as we wonder about how exactly Wirt and Greg ended up here. There is a much more realistic fear that comes up when we see what brought them to The Unknown, and even when that frame finally breaks, huge parts of it remain for the audience and characters to process the rest of the story through. All of which is to say, the darkness is woven in masterfully.

Needless to say, I would absolutely recommend this show if you’ve never seen it. It’s a must-watch if you enjoy animation or autumn or vaguely-spooky-but-still-cozy things. Every single small detail in this show is considered and I adore it for that. It has fun with time narratively, referentially, and artistically/technically. You could spend hours researching all of the allusions and artistic techniques that compose this show and despite its heavy use of these, it constantly feels fresh and unique. As well, there is a subversion of expectations that carries you through each episode but never feels ham-fisted or exaggerated. I don’t say this lightly: I think this show is a masterpiece. It is rich in ambience, symbolism, humor, and detail, and that doesn’t even scratch the surface of what it has to offer.

I Saw the TV Glow (2024, dir. Jane Schoenbrun)

I Saw the TV Glow is a psychological horror tragedy that follows Owen as he bonds with fellow outcast high schooler Maddy over a television show known as The Pink Opaque. Years after Maddy’s disappearance and the show’s cancellation, Owen becomes aware of “a supernatural world beneath their own.”

This movie is incredible. I watched it for the first time alone in a theater and again at home this month and came out absolutely devastated both times. I went in expecting a more traditional horror movie about vampires coming out of the television, and while I see where the summary I heard went weird in my understanding, I came out instead having seen a gorgeous film about identity, fear, and isolation.

This film is masterful in its pacing, partially thanks to the unconventional story beats. This is not a movie that prioritizes character development or growth, but is instead resolute in depicting a specific, personal type of horror/tragedy. I include that slash even though much of the marketing and reviews I’ve seen about it really focus on the psychological horror of it (a very different and subtle type of psychological horror), but there is a certain melancholy to this movie I resonated with so deeply that I cannot possibly ignore it. The movie is also slow. It feels as though it stretches on forever, despite a quicker 100 minute runtime, a sense created through long shots, pauses between already succinct dialogue, and the depth of each scene. This is one of my favorite parts of this movie (if I can even choose) as it makes it feel so distinct and emphasizes the tone and the moments between years that slip by in seconds, making them weighty and meaningful.

The visuals and soundtrack in this movie are striking and stunning. The use of color and visual motifs (along with other uses of motif) are narratively relevant and utterly gorgeous. I strongly suggest watching this film in a theater if possible, or at least letting your viewing conditions reflect one, because putting weight on the visuals and sounds is so important to the sense the movie creates. It is so critically about experience, depicting that experience for the audience, creating a dozen feelings for them and in them, rather than a typical plot or conflict. It’s surreal and strange in every way, unique in its style and yet so deeply resonant.

Much of this, though, is typical of Schoenbrun films, so I’d also like to discuss what in this movie really stood out to me, including the script, cast, and tragic aspects. The script was absolutely amazing. There is a subtlety to it at the same time it was not once so ambiguous I couldn’t understand. The writing had such a distinct voice, echoed in a glorious way by the stellar performances of the cast. The use of voice over, of subtle detail, of succinct yet meaningful dialogue, were all so important to contributing to that surreal sense, yet not once did it feel so abstract that it did not feel legitimate. Actually, I think the performances really helped to balance the dreamlike quality of the visuals, audio, and script, the pauses before each line and the lack of eye contact between characters made them feel slightly uncanny but still human in a really great way.

And of course: this movie is sad. It’s a difficult watch, and not just because it is abstract and symbolic and surreal. But despite that, there is an optimism hidden in there somewhere. Symbolized by the chalk writing on the street but deeply present throughout in fleeting moments of connection, around motivations of fear and consistency, this movie promises that it doesn’t have to be a tragedy, at least not for everyone. It is the attempts at rescue, the sudden and still satisfying cut-off of an ending, the breaks of a fourth wall as the characters stare at the camera in a select few meaningful moments.

This movie is about so many things. It is about identity and friendship and isolation and fear and sadness and the suburbs. It is sad, and still a little hopeful, however disguised. It is gorgeous and artistic and atmospheric and still deeply resonant. It is beautiful and grotesque. Every negative comment I see about it—remarks on the pacing, the lack of traditional story beats, the uncanniness of the performances, the strangeness, the subtlety of the horror—is in my book a startling positive. I cannot recommend this movie highly enough; it is truly a work of art.