Black Mirror (2011) s01e03 – The Entire History of You

Not to get too Roman DeBeers, but The Entire History of You takes place in a universe where they create a cyborg technology to record your memories but never figure out how to get text-to-speech engines to sound better than they did in 1997. You provides an interesting finale for the first season of “Black Mirror” because it’s the only episode (of three, but still) not written or co-written by show creator Charlie Brooker. Also because it’s tripe.

Jesse Armstrong’s script is bad. Not just because it fails to make it through some general “hard sci-fi” gates. Not just because its philosophy seems to be, “Well, psychologists implanted all those memories, so we need video memory to prove men’s innocence.” #MenToo.

Barf. Especially since the episode’s about a physically abusive narcissist.

It’s simply bad on a structural basis. It starts with episode lead Toby Kebbell in a red herring job interview where they all throw out some talky-talk jargon for this universe. Basically, everyone’s got these “Re-Do” devices in their heads, and, in this future, everyone just watches their old memories. Presumably there’s a market for selling and sharing these memories, which doesn’t get discussed. Instead, Kebbell becomes irrationally jealous of wife Jodie Whittaker, and her jackass old friend, Tom Cullen.

As Kebbell becomes more and more convinced there’s something going on, he’s able to comb through his Re-Do archive to find clues. Though—and here’s where Armstrong’s bad writing comes in—there’s no discussion of his actual previous behaviors either. Apparently, Kebbell’s been super-jealous of Whittaker having sex before they were married before, and even though he’s a Chad, he doesn’t like his Stacy being with other Chads. At some point, it’s just clear Whittaker really likes abusive narcissists.

Even with a traditionally thin lady role—Armstrong follows that “Black Mirror” rule—Whittaker’s good. Cullen’s better than Kebbell, which isn’t saying much because Kebbell is awful. It’s not like there will be extended periods of the episode where it’s just Kebbell being terrible, is it? Not with lousy direction from Brian Welsh? Oh, wait, it’s almost half the episode. Bummer.

“Mirror” hasn’t been aging well ten-plus years on, but You is the first where it’s clear even on release the gimmick doesn’t work. Like what if you lose the remote control to your brain VCR?

Armstrong also seems to think Rod Serling will be narrating the episode all better.

With another lead and a slightly more intelligent script, You’d probably be okay. But with Kebbell and Armstrong?

Rewind and erase.

Black Mirror (2011) s01e02 – Fifteen Million Merits

I’m understanding why the first episode of “Black Mirror” did a painful Lars von Trier namedrop… because the show’s just Lars von Trier-lite. This episode eventually involves a young woman being pressured into becoming a porn performer—don’t worry it’s just a terminal subplot and her experience is entirely besides the point—and it’s like, oh, what if we objectified but completely de-centered and turned her into someone else’s property.

Fifteen Million Merits takes place in the future where the British(?) government’s boffins couldn’t figure out renewable energy when it was too late and the 99% spend their lives pedaling on stationary bicycles to make energy for the world(?). There aren’t a lot of details. There is some procreation—Jessica Brown Findlay remembers her mother, which apparently others don’t—but it’s unclear when and how it occurs. It’s also unclear if anyone has any sex ed outside the porno channel they have to pay not to watch when they’re cycling. No one in the episode exhibits actual attraction to another person besides lead Daniel Kaluuya and, presumably, Brown Findlay.

I didn’t recognize Brown Findlay from “Downton Abbey” until her flirting scene with Kaluuya, which is done exactly the same as her flirting scenes with Allan Leech on “Downton.” Not the greatest moment for the script, though the functional cravenness is pragmatic. Writers Charlie Brooker and Konnie Huq aren’t going to be doing any character development (or even properly preparing the narrative to allow for character development), so why not just have recognizable cast members on the anthology show do their bits from their well-known shows?

Anyway.

In the future, the only way for the riders to get ahead is to go on the future “American Idol” (sorry, future “Pop Idol”) and entertain their way to a better life. Is it a better life? Unclear. Merits sets up numerous potential “Twilight Zone” gotchas only to always go the path of least resistance.

Kaluuya’s the lead. He’s a rider with an incredible amount of money saved up–Merits—which you get from biking and then can spend on your Metaverse avatars. Another thing about watching “Black Mirror” with a decade-plus delay is seeing where the tech billionaires have just lifted dystopian ideas whole. But you also have to pay to eat and wash, which doesn’t make much sense. Of course, it doesn’t make much sense to have the bicycles in communal areas—everyone lives in little rooms surrounded by screens; why not just have the bike in there too?

Despite the other girl who makes eyes at Kaluuya, it isn’t until Brown Findlay shows up he gets interested in the ladies. Is there some subtext to Kaluuya and porn mogul Ashley Thomas being the only Black people in the show with lines? Maybe not. Though definitely once it turns out Thomas’s porn movies are all about Black men degrading white women. Dystopia, huh?

The acting’s decent, all things considered. Kaluuya and Brown Findlay have to play people who only exist within the context of these exact forty-five minutes, which will really hurt both their performances by the end. Though since Brown Findlay is a lady and therefore disposable to the plot, she at least gets to stop participating at some point. Kind of. It’s not better for the episode, just better for her not having to try to keep the energy going in a middling effort.

Rupert Everett guest stars as Simon Cowell, though potentially an Australian one.

Budget-wise, the episode seems fine. Euros Lyn’s direction is another middling element, particularly with the reveal shots. Jamie Pearson’s cutting is good, regardless of the content. And Stephen McKeon’s music is solid.

Is it thought-provoking? Ish? It’s affecting, to be sure, but it’s entirely manipulative.

Black Mirror (2011) s01e01 – The National Anthem

I spent all of The National Anthem waiting for someone—anyone—to turn to the camera and say, “David William Donald Cameron.” Hell, they could’ve done an animated Peppa Pig saying it. But "Black Mirror" started in 2011, when the world was a much different place. Not just Cameron, but in the intervening years, the whole British Prime Minister office doesn’t come with much regard (or even less regard than before). And "Mirror" is all about commenting on technology and its effect on the world. I assume the title refers to screens; I’m not Googling… right now.

Writer (and co-showrunner) Charlie Brooker thought way too much of people. He attributed much more grace to the species than we deserve.

That observation made, it’s a perfectly reasonable example of absurdist comedy done straight-faced as prestige television. To some degree, Brooker’s definitely making people talk about the episode’s “big twist”–"Black Mirror" probably led to spell-checkers no longer squiggle-lining meta, which they might’ve still done back in 2011.

Politely put—I mean, Google David Cameron and "Black Mirror" if I’m being too discreet–National Anthem is a tense political thriller about a prime minister in a tough spot. Someone has kidnapped the people’s princess (no, not Princess Mia) and will only release her if the prime minister does something reprehensible on live television, humiliating himself and the concepts of polite society and decorum in the digital age.

Now, there are a couple moments in the episode when the law enforcement goons miss very obvious technology things, but it’s from 2011, not like 2016, which is what I assumed. All the “Downton” references play different too. Though it still means in the universe where Diana and Charles (presumably, there aren’t details) had a daughter, “Downton Abbey” was a sensation. Heck, it’s even possible Diana’s queen in this universe.

Anyway.

The decent enough observations for 2011 are a time capsule of a more ignorant time (i.e., more ignorant of reality).

As a dramatic thriller, it’s solid prestige television. Rory Kinnear’s good as the prime minister, who finds himself under unimaginable pressure (he should’ve been reading The Pet Goat), which leads to… well, not a character arc–lots of dramatic moments, but not character development. Lindsay Duncan’s his chief assistant who makes some bad choices, leading to contentious moments with Kinnear. She’s fine. It’s a crap part. No one else makes bad choices, just the older woman, but it was 2011 and making a powerful woman incompetent was progressive. She’s powerful, isn’t she?

Despite “Mirror” being co-run by Annabel Jones, Anthem wants nothing to do with the ladies. Anna Wilson-Jones plays Kinnear’s absent from the plot but physically present on set wife, who’s a plot accessory for Kinnear. Chetna Pandya’s the too-eager young reporter who knows how the future of media’s going to work (only she doesn’t—according to the show, anyway—and then she gets punished). Odd flexes.

Tom Goodman-Hill’s kind of pretty good as Kinnear’s boy Friday. So many qualifications. All the acting’s fine, sometimes excellent—there’s just not much for them to do with their performances. Anthem’s on a strict schedule, and director Otto Bathurst keeps the trains on time.

Bathurst’s also fine without being notable. He can direct prestige–big shrug.

But there are some great “cameos.” The show’s trying to be classy by not drawing attention to the stunt casts, but they’re still a lot of fun.

It’s fine. I’ve only said “fine” like five times. It’s a prestige anthology show with a gimmick.

It’s fine.

The Decoy Bride (2011, Sheree Folkson)

According to the IMDb trivia page, The Decoy Bride only had thirty-five percent the budget it needed for the original version of the screenplay, which—percentage-wise—is a default fail. Of course, it doesn't have to be; there are many examples of constrained budgets leading to ingenious filmmaking. Unfortunately, The Decoy Bride is not one of those examples.

The film's budgetary constraints are clear from the start when the opening titles repeat the scene just before them. Famous Hollywood movie star Alice Eve wants to get married, but since she's the most famous person in the world, the paparazzi are after her, and she can't get married if they take a picture. So she sends out decoy brides on her way to the chapel.

Later in the film, when they actually say "decoy bride," there's no acknowledgment of this opening gambit, which is either a gaffe or bad writing. It's one of the few times one can ask that question; usually, it's just bad writing.

The "Decoy Bride" is Kelly Macdonald. She's just returned home to her remote Scottish island of Hegg with her tail between her legs, yet another relationship failed. Her mom (Maureen Beattie) runs the only bed and breakfast on the island, so at least Macdonald's got somewhere to stay. The Hegg connection to Eve's character is fiancé David Tennant's plodding, way too long debut novel, which takes place on the island. Eve loves Tennant for the book (which no one else has ever liked, including Tennant). There are discarded subplots about Tennant not knowing what he's talking about with the island and even implying he may not have written all of it. There's no budget for a supporting cast, so it's not like he's got a Gordon Lish behind the curtain.

Macdonald immediately goes back to work for slightly creepy James Fleet, who keeps suggesting to her they need to marry (no one else on Hegg is unmarried), and Macdonald never picks up on the hints. Because bad writing. But he's important because he convinces Macdonald to write a travel guide for the island. A "marketing" conference is coming to town, and he's sure they'll buy the guide. So she writes and publishes it in less than a week or something. The travel guide gets discarded. The movie didn't have the budget for photocopies.

The guide's only necessary because after Macdonald and Tennant meet, she tells him she's an author too, and they trade barbs because it's a rom-com, and they can't like each other at the start. Especially since he's about to marry Eve, the most desirable woman in the world.

Most of the movie is set over a day when Macdonald's got to play decoy. It should be a comedy of errors, but they don't have the budget. Eve disappears for most of the second and third acts, only popping in to comedically threaten to murder someone in a wheelchair. To be fair, that part's the worst gag and worst acting in the movie. Well, wait, there are a lot of sexist jokes for a while, but for unnamed supporting players, the attempted murder is the worst for the main cast.

Speaking of unnamed… the film's got numerous characters who don't get proper names, including Sally Phillips, who plays Michael Urie's assistant. Urie is Eve's assistant, though I don't think they have any scenes together. Urie's actually an American playing an American, which is too bad; a Brit doing a bad American performance makes up for a lot of his performance. Being American, he's got a lot fewer excuses.

Except, of course, that bad writing. And director Folkson doesn't do her cast any favors.

The movie somehow manages to waste Tennant's charm (for large stretches, anyway), and then Macdonald is one of those female protagonists who are also the butt of the jokes (can't get a husband, can she). Eve's woefully miscast. The most damaging performance is probably Beattie.

In addition to the severely wanting script, Folkson's direction is barely middling. The quaint, remote island has no personality. The recurring gag is there's a relatively ancient public toilet. So if it's not funny the third time, what about the fourth. Wokka wokka.

The third act seems like it might rally and surprise, then hits all the predicted beats instead, which is the film's final disappointment.

There's also the soundtrack, which frequently features cloying, overbearing bland folk-rock, set to unrelated scenes for the entire song. Then the score's main theme references "Just Like Heaven" so much you'd think someone told them the Cure would definitely let them use the song for free. And then when they did not, the movie just left the theme because it's not like anyone associated with the Cure would watch the film?

It could be worse, obviously. But almost anything would've made it better. Just trusting Tennant and Macdonald to act instead of blaring crappy music over their scenes would've done a lot. The film doesn't trust its leads, which is the entire point of a rom-com, so why bother.

Scream 4 (2011, Wes Craven)

Oh, no, Scream 4 is Wes Craven’s last movie. At multiple times throughout, I remember thinking, “at least this isn’t Wes Craven’s last movie.” Not sure what I thought his last movie would have been, but I didn’t really think it would be this mess of a too-late sequel. Though I guess I’m curious if the story is what franchise “creator” and writer Kevin Williamson had in mind for the original Scream 3before he got fired, and they went with something else. Craven, however, returned. But if Scream 4 is what 3 was supposed to be a decade earlier… maybe there wouldn’t have had to be a Scream 4?

The movie’s first act is an object lesson in the dangers of recurring cast horror franchises, before the lumpy second act where the film pretends it might have something to say about itself. The third act reveals it very much does not have anything to say about itself, though if they’d just written for the finish instead of the reveals, they may have had something. Not a movie Craven could’ve directed, or Williamson could’ve written, but someones else maybe. Because even though Scream 4 is ostensibly about franchise stars Neve Campbell, David Arquette, and Courteney Cox getting older and wiser… they’re none of those things. Scream 4 ages worse than the original trilogy because Craven and Williamson haven’t learned anything. They’re ironically referencing tropes, like girls in lingerie and terrible performances from suspicious boyfriends, but it’s not like they’ve also learned how to be funny about it.

For the first half of the movie, it appears Craven is directing now-sheriff Arquette and his obsessive sidekick, Marley Shelton like they’re in a comedy. The music’s not for a comedy, the editing’s not for a comedy, but if Arquette and Shelton aren’t going for absurdist stupid cop comedy…

Because what else can you do with it? The movie opens with multiple false starts to mess with the audience; sadly, none of them improve the main action. The main action keeps churning along until they get to the third act and can do the big killer reveal. Only the movie’s spent the last hour and fifteen minutes reminding why there’s no reason to care about a Scream movie. It’s all about Craven and Williamson being, well, craven.

The movie’s also profoundly unsuccessful with its attempts to modernize, not even leaning into streaming video as well as the Halloween movie with Busta Rhymes, even though it’s years later, the tech’s better, and everyone has iPhones. Though Williamson’s script seems to misunderstand how people use smartphones, which might explain why no one knows how to text except the character with the Sidekick. They also don’t know how to be scared of mass murderers out to get them, as every character who’s in direct danger does absurdly dangerous things just to get some pop scares. Craven tries to do a pop scare every thirty seconds through the first act, seemingly to wear out the trope. So he can use a different but similar trope later. Though is it better when he tries tropes for the suspense sequences, instead of just creating so much empty headspace one can muse whether or not they should’ve hired someone better at suspense for these movies.

Or with actors.

The best performances in Scream 4 are Hayden Panettiere, Adam Brody, and Mary McDonnell. Brody and McDonnell are barely in it, which works to their advantage. They don’t have characters, just bit parts. Getting to the end of your bit part well is a gift in Scream 4. Someone, usually Williamson, not Craven, will ruin it for you. Panettiere’s “reboot” lead Emma Roberts’s cool friend. Panettiere’s not so much good as not bad and more able to guide her performance than Craven. Roberts lets Craven direct her. It doesn’t go well. Roberts’s part is too small given she’s the lead, with the time instead going to Cox, Arquette, and Campbell. The original trio is just in the story because the movie doesn’t trust Roberts, Panettiere, and their friends. More, no one wants to see another Scream movie without some forced nostalgia going on.

There aren’t actually too many terrible performances. They’re usually unsuccessful or pointless. Cox, Arquette, Campbell, they’ve all got pointless performances. They don’t have anything to accomplish, so not doing so doesn’t affect them.

The worst performance is Nico Tortorella, but it’s not his fault. He’s being written as Luke Wilson making fun of Skeet Ulrich but broody. Tortorella didn’t have a chance with the script or the direction.

He’s one of the new teens, along with Roberts, Patteniere, Rory Culkin, Erik Knudsen, and Marielle Jaffe. Hopefully, most of them reconsidered their agents after this movie.

Scream 4 isn’t as bad as it could have been. It might not even be the worst in the series (though it doesn’t encourage a rewatch to find out). The third act has its moments. Unfortunately, it’s also got a lot of bad, cheap, craven (pun intended) moments. But there’s occasional potential. With better direction, with a much better script. It’s an unfortunate but possibly accurate capstone to Craven’s career.

Also, Marco Beltrami’s scoring has managed to get worse. I kept wishing 4 had his overcooked music, and then it turns out it does, and he’s just lost his enthusiasm. Much like everyone else involved. Scream 4: I Mean, You’re the One Watching It, What Are You Going to Watch Next, Die Hard 7?

Much Ado About Nothing (2011, Josie Rourke and Robert Delamere)

The best thing about Much Ado About Nothing, except the dialogue, is Delamere’s direction. Not the stage direction, Rourke did that job, but Delamere’s direction of this recording. There’s some ho-hum headroom stuff going on to keep actors in the shot, but it’s a phenomenal showcase of the actors’ performances. They don’t credit the editor, which is a shame. Thanks to Delamere, watching Much Ado really does feel like seeing a play. It’s very cool.

Rourke stages the play as… an eighties sitcom. The location is Gibraltar, the prince and his men are British navy, with the rich people apparently Brits, the workers are—primarily—Spanish. There’s no colonizing awareness, which is disappointing, but it’s just another item for the disappointments list. The setting does involve constant boozing from the entire cast, which proves interesting—if everyone’s making these decisions while wholly bombed, it changes things a bit. Or could. Much Ado’s setting—besides providing amusing costume choices, a gimmick for Dogberry (John Ramm), and some soundtrack selections—never actually matters.

It’s fine. It’s a good play—with some terrible toxic patriarchal bullshit—and the acting’s good, but as it progresses, the setting makes some of the play worse. Having Claudio (Tom Bateman) and the Prince (Adam James) be in naval uniforms while being viciously cruel to civilians is a look. Though nowhere near much of one as having their showdown with ostensibly grieving parents Jonathan Coy and Anna Farnworth, which Rourke stages in the church where Bateman has just denounced and assaulted fiancée Hero (Sarah MacRae). One of Much Ado’s caveats is the relationship between Claudio and Hero is patriarchal garbage. And Rourke finds a way to make it worse.

Of course, the point of Much Ado isn’t MacRae and Bateman, it’s David Tennant and Catherine Tate as the leads. As much as Benedick and Beatrice are the leads in a full-length production. There are long stretches without any Tennant or Tate. And then the third act when they’re background for most of the drama. Their first love scene, which is very amusing as far as a sitcom take, ends up dramatically inert. It’s also a letdown—staging-wise—after Rourke’s big slapstick and screwball swings in the second act, which both Tate and Tennant excellently realize. Though Tennant much more. She has to do real stunt work. Tennant has to bump into things.

Neither Tate nor Tennant get through the third act particularly well. Tennant tries hard for a good falling out with Bateman and James, but it barely plays. Partially because Bateman’s third act histrionics are so wanting, but also because Tennant just can’t crack it. Tate just doesn’t have the material. Natalie Thomas—as Margaret—makes much more of an impression. To the point I assumed she and James would make eyes at one another as the Prince ends up very much the protagonist of the last few minutes, his honor restored; Much Ado doesn’t have very high bars for officers or gentlemen.

Clive Hayward does best in the third act, the friar now a Navy chaplain, and Coy’s okay again once he gets all his patriarchal ranting done and realizes he should maybe believe daughter MacRae over some random dudes just because they’re rich. And Thomas—she’s good, she just takes time away from Tate, who’s the initial big draw until Tennant gets to show off.

So for the first two acts, everyone’s first-rate. Not Bateman. He’s acceptable but never out of his depth (though again, Claudio’s problem isn’t the performer, it’s the play, with Rourke aggravating it). Tennant’s great, Tate’s great. James is great. MacRae has some good scenes. Elliot Levey is a wonderfully smarmy Don John.

Oh, and Ramm. Ramm plays Dogberry as a paramilitary goon who idolizes Rambo: First Blood Part II. It’s an appropriate enough take—I mean, such a good idea Caddyshack II did literally the same thing with Dan Ackroyd—but it doesn’t go anywhere. And Ramm’s on one of Much Ado’s other inglorious lists… the actors who use feyness as a homophobic punchline.

Tennant leans on it as well. With Ramm, it’s to encourage the audience to laugh at him; with Tennant, it’s to encourage the audience to laugh with him. Because Rourke’s Benedick is a shitty cishet white man comedian. I think some of the other actors fall into it as well, but I didn’t mark them. Tennant does Shakespeare well, and having him screw it up is disappointing.

Though it’s Rourke’s fault first and foremost.

It’s a good staging of the play with some excellent performances, and Delamere does a magnificent job directing the recording. It’s also a lot more rotten than it needs to be. Much Ado About Nothing, the play, has enough problems you don’t need to add colonizing and homophobia to it.

The alcohol abuse works, though.

Run Like Crazy, Run Like Hell (2011)

Manchette tardi 2

Run Like Crazy, Run Like Hell is a divinely unromantic crime thriller.

It’s got all sorts of romanticized parts and pieces, but creator Jacques Tardi (adapting a Jean-Patrick Manchette) always finds a different angle to present.

There are four main characters and four supporting ones, then some supporting supporting ones, but the principals are Julie, a young woman recently released from a mental health institution now working as a governess, her charge, Peter, his uncle, Hartog, a wealthy philanthropist, and finally hired killer Thompson, who’s trying to finish this one last job.

Thompson and Julie are the most obvious ones to romanticize—Thompson’s a grizzled old killing machine, Julie’s a patsy (they target her because of her mental health history) who reveals herself to be a noir hero—but Tardi maintains a nice detached narrative distance with both of them. The comic observes them from afar, even though they’re the protagonists of their arcs.

The comic’s first act has of fun dialogue introducing Hartog and Peter’s house; Hartog’s Peter’s guardian, his parents having died in a plane crash. Peter’s an amusing little jerk who usually shuffles through the comic without comment, but always with some personality. Much of the first act is setting him up, then setting up his conflict with Julie, which gets resolved at the beginning of the second act.

Their first time out together Thompson and his goons nab them and hold them hostage, making Julie send Hartog a letter saying she was kidnapping the kid because she hates rich people. But she’s not in on Thompson’s actual plan; Tardi waits a long time fully reveal that twist.

Hartog’s got the least to do in the second act, since the kidnapping coincidences with a business trip out of the country; Julie’s in charge, or would be if she hadn’t been kidnapped. There are a number of peculiarities around the Hartog house and the way Tardi introduces them—detached, from Julie’s uninformed perspective—pay off in the third act when he comes back into the story. It’s kind of Hartog’s story, it’s just Julie and Thompson ending up being the chess pieces with Peter sort of the joker card.

To mix metaphors.

Tardi does a phenomenal job tracking the stress and trauma of the events without ever slowing the pace or letting up on the suspense. The comic is just over a hundred pages, with Tardi establishing the action plotting early on then bringing it back in the end. There’s so much danger from so many possible perpetrators in the final act; it’s incredibly intense.

The detached narrative distance but the reliable focus on Thompson and Julie sets it up as kind of a dual character study, which has contrasts nicely with the lack of romanticization.

Tardi’s art is smooth and nimble, whether it’s the crime suspense or the more humorous moments. Eventually even the humorous moments get some suspense to them, as Julie finds her situation getting worse and Thompson proves an almost inhuman threat.

Run Like Crazy, Run Like Hell is an excellent comic. Tardi does outstanding work start to finish, always finding the right character moments, always finding the right suspense moments. It’s delightful. Albeit unpleasantly so.

The Cabin in the Woods (2011, Drew Goddard)

I didn’t have much hope for Cabin in the Woods; though, I mean, director and co-writer Drew Goddard… he’s gone on to stuff. Good stuff. Right?

But if I’d known it was written in three days—it shows—and cost $30 million—it actually looks pretty darn good for $30 million, saving the money shots until the final third or so. And I guess it’s well-paced? Like, it’s terribly long and exasperating as the film threats the various unlikable cast members but then once it gets into the “final girl” sequence, it’s a lot better. I foolishly even had the wrong final girl picked; I thought Goddard and co-writer Joss Whedon were going to do something interesting with genre. Or maybe I just assumed they were going to try to do something interesting. Maybe feign something interesting.

I didn’t expect them to mix together a few standard sci-fi tropes, the Evil Dead, a not-Ace Ventura Jim Carrey vehicle, a pseudo-gory Texas Chainsaw knock-off, Whedon and Goddard’s celebrity “Lost” fanfic, maybe two other things I recognized and forgot, plus all the horror in-jokes and references I didn’t get. I got the Hellraiser one, of course, because that one was peculiarly… not desperate but maybe wishful. Like for a moment it became a different movie. Though I was confused the whole time because I thought it was supposed to be the merman not the Hellraiser guy. Cabin is often very talky and very fast and it’s not clear during the first half they’re ever going to painfully detail the big secret with a special genre guest star (if you’re willing to stretch genre). It’s a solid guest star “get,” but it would’ve been better with just a voice over and maybe just been Jamie Lee Curtis.

Even getting past the bad writing—because it’s not just a string of tropes fit into very specific, very literal boxes, it’s still terribly written—the acting is all atrocious as well. Cabin creates a role just for Bradley Whitford—paired with Richard Jenkins like they’re Lemmon and Matthau or something—and it’s bad. Like, the part’s bad and Whitford’s obnoxious. Jenkins is better, but definitely not good. He too is obnoxious, with a more explicit misogyny thing thrown in for good measure.

But the leads—Kristen Connolly, Anna Hutchison, Chris Hemsworth, Jesse Williams, Fran Kranz—they’re bad. Hutchison, Hemsworth, and Kranz are really, really, really bad.

It’s bad writing on the characters and all, but the acting’s still bad. If Connolly and Williams were really good, there might be some relief but they’re not. They’re just not as bad as the rest of them. They don’t get actively worse. When it seems like Connolly might be getting better but then doesn’t, it’s not a negative. It maintains. Hemsworth, Kranz, and Hutchison get worse throughout.

Good photography from Peter Deming, okay editing from Lisa Lassek (Lassek’s cuts are fine, the content’s just bad), strangely unmemorable score by David Julyan. I remember a lot of emphasis music but not any of the specifics about it, which is probably for the best.

Goddard’s direction is confused for the first half, when he’s homaging left and right, but it’s at least a low competent for the second half, as the film movies into a new realm.

The second realm is… technically more interesting than the first and the film definitely doesn’t get as bad as it sometimes threatens. But there’s only so good it’s ever going to get given the leads. And the writing.

Maybe it would’ve been better as a TV show? They could’ve called it “Lost in the Woods” or something.

The Raid (2011, Gareth Evans), the international version

For the first forty-five minutes or so, The Raid is able to keep going on the idea lead Iko Uwais is going to be the most kick ass fighter in the movie. There a handful of short expository scenes throughout the film, plus a prologue, where Uwais prays, does some martial arts workouts (it’s all Indonesian martial arts in the film), kisses pregnant wife Fikha Effendi goodbye, has plot twist foreshadowing moment with dad Henky Solaiman, and is off to work—but otherwise it’s all action. For a while it’s shooting action, as Uwais and his fellow SWAT team members infiltrate a high-rise tenement run by drug lord Ray Sahetapy. Once it goes to martial arts action, however, it’s all martial arts action, finally letting Uwais deliver on what the prologue promised.

Except by then we’ve already seen Yayan Ruhian and the movie doesn’t even pretend Uwais is going to surpass Ruhian. When Uwais does finally get around to fighting him, it’s Donny Alamsyah teaming up with Uwais to fight Ruhian. Director Evans knows no one’s going to think Uwais can handle this one on his own, which sort of leaves Uwais an awkward action hero. He starts the movie a renegade—because he’s the only caring SWAT cop, which we know because they were ready to kill civilian Iang Darmawan for being around and Uwais steps in to save the guy—ends up doing the action scenes out of a couple different buddy cop movies, then ends it all solo, even though he’s with a literal cop buddy for it. But it never feels like Uwais is getting short-changed, at least not in the second half; the hero of the first half is Joe Taslim. He’s the sergeant and the only one who knows there’s something shady about the raid because he knows Pierre Gruno is a shady guy. Meanwhile Gruno doesn’t want cannon fodder like Uwais getting in his way, even though Gruno’s not a martial arts bad ass like everyone else in the movie.

The Taslim as lead thing is just weird because director Evans just assumes the audience is going to go for it. The Raid has some beautifully executed action sequences and some great fight choreography, but Evans’s best instinct is for what works with the cast. The movie starts with Uwais, sticks with Uwais—introducing Taslim as the leader and quickly establishing his relationship with Gruno—but when it’s time for Taslim to take on Ruhian, it’s not a supporting character’s fight scene. It’s the big hero’s fight scene.

Uwais’s arc sort of stalling out probably doesn’t help him maintain the spotlight. After the first big action sequence, Uwais has a whole “help wounded comrade” survive arc. Tegar Satrya’s the wounded comrade. The movie’s only ever established he’s a dick, which makes Uwais saving him somewhat more dramatic maybe, but no more entertaining to watch. Plus Satrya’s unlikable. Only he and Gruno are unlikable. Everyone else, good or bad, is enjoyable to watch. Like Alfridus Godfred, who’s basically just “Machete Guy,” because everyone gets their hands on a machete. Godfred’s terrifying, just a walking embodiment of probable dismemberment. But you want to see him, you want to see him more, as the film builds to whatever fight sequence he’s going to participate in. Again, Evans has great instincts for rising action scene tension.

The drama stuff, involving Uwais, Alamsyah, Gruno, Darmawan, and Sahetapy? Eh. Sahetapy’s is the best because Sahetapy’s a very evil hoot of a villain. Evans also knows how violent to get and not to get, when to show, when to tell, when to imply. But the drama? It’s take it or leave it. It’s not bad, just pedestrian and superfluous. Or should be.

See, while everyone who’s got a big fight scene—Taslim, Uwais, Alamsyah, and, obviously, Ruhian—is great at the fighting… Evans isn’t great at the directing. He’s good enough at it for a while, but when it’s the marathon Ruhian vs. Uwais and Alamsyah fight? It gets boring. Evans can showcase his actors’ skills but he can’t keep them compelling. Evans also edited the film and most of the editing is excellent, but the longer fight scenes—usually when there’s not scenery around to damage—the cuts are just between not great shots. It’s a bummer.

Nice photography from Matt Flannery and Dimas Imam Subhono, great music by Mike Shinoda and Joseph Trapanese (which is the difference between this international version and the original, plus an added subtitle, Redemption, because of rights issues). The Raid is about as good as you can get for an all-action martial arts movie with the barest hints of a real story and flat direction on the martial arts themselves. It’s very impressive work from Evans and company.

Save Me (2011, Lena Waithe)

Save Me is the story of a kid (Jaheem Toombs) whose house burned down and the rest of his family died and he goes to ask the man who saved him (Sam Bologna) why he saved him and the man doesn’t tell him so the kid lies about it to his new best friend. There are some ostensible layers to it—Toombs’s Black, Bologna’s an old white man—they’re artificial. Waithe’s giving the impression of raising questions, ones she can’t bother even imagining the answers for.

The photography—by Matthew H. Sanders—is about the only solid part of the short. Waithe’s direction is hyper-focused on the actors, who—at best—aren’t very good and are often worse. Save Me occasionally feels like Waithe’s out to embarrass Toombs, who’s been living in foster care since his family burned to death and he’s got a kindly social worker (Stacy Lutz). They have this game where he gives her a quote and she tells him who said it. The gimmick becomes important later on.

Shame Toombs doesn’t seem to have any idea why he’s saying the quote or who and why he’s quoting the person, other than Waithe thinks it’ll be a good detail.

When people use “workshop” as a pejorative, they’re talking about the script to Save Me. Cultural references are more important than the flow of the dialogue, which is fine because the musical accompaniment is more important than the scenes. Despite being in every scene, Toombs’s the film’s least defined character. Waithe’s doing a character study where she’s avoiding character as much as possible. So what should be a great showcase for Toombs is instead a series of opportunities for him to fail.

Then there’s the cloying finale, which has Toombs forgetting how to skateboard; though I suppose that plot hole is a great metaphor for the short itself.