Swamp Thing (2019) s01e05 – Drive All Night

Wait, did “Swamp Thing” just get good? I mean, this episode’s definitely good. It’s a combination of season arcs progressing and culminating, better than normal writing (credited to Franklin jin Rho), and better directing of the actors. Greg Beeman directs. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything he’s done since License to Drive in 1988.

But he gets Crystal Reed’s best performance of the show so far, a decent supporting one from Maria Sten (I knew calling her out would result in her getting better, three years retroactively), and a full-stop good one from Jennifer Beals. Will Patton chews a little less on the scenery as the show’s revealed more of his villainy. Virginia Madsen’s uneven but ultimately successful. It’s her season arc getting the culminating here.

This episode marks the halfway point in “Swamp Thing.” The show infamously got its season order cut, then got canceled before even airing, so it was unclear if the show would ever find direction. It does. And, regardless of the quality, their gradual buildup does pay off. Including Swamp Thing Derek Mears finding out about the Green, but not from John Constantine (a Matt Ryan cameo would’ve been difficult but extraordinary), but instead from a Phantom Stranger (Macon Blair, in a Silent Bob impression). It all starts tying together, including Reed realizing there’s something supernatural to the swamp.

Mears and Blair have a handful of scenes together—two or three, but if there are three, the second one’s entirely unmemorable—where Mears learns how to listen to the trees. They tell him (and the viewer) something about Reed’s history with Patton and Madsen’s daughter, played by Given Sharp. Melissa Collazo plays young Reed, and it’s kind of amazing how well they cast younger versions of people even on streaming these days.

Sharp is haunting Madsen, this episode possessing her new ward, Elle Graham. The possession stuff is just okay until Graham starts trying to manipulate Madsen, then it starts getting good and never slows down.

Then Beals has a subplot tying into the murder of Mears’s human self (Andy Bean shows up in flashback, which is starting to get annoying). Real good twists and reveals, with Beals raising the bar on “Swamp Thing”’s acting. Patton’s a delight, but he’s hamming it up. Beals is outdoing him sober, so to speak.

Plus, Ian Ziering’s getting downright sympathetic.

I’m hopeful “Swamp Thing”’s uptick will continue; either way, Drive All Night’s a fine forty-five minutes of television.

Swamp Thing (2019) s01e04 – Darkness on the Edge of Town

I’ve been trying really hard with Maria Sten, who plays Crystal Reed’s bestie. Sten’s just in the show to ask Reed what she’s going to do next or what she’s just done. Last episode, it seemed like Sten was going to have a reporter subplot, but it was just to set up Will Patton for later. In this episode, they don’t even pretend Sten will get anything to do for herself. She’s around for her dad, Al Mitchell, to get infected with a supernatural swamp bug, but just so she can call Reed into the subplot. It’s a bad part.

And Sten’s not good in it.

Maybe she’ll turn it around. But it’s four episodes in, and she’s worse with better dialogue. This episode’s got the least bad lines so far; writing credit to Erin Maher and Kay Reindl. It’s still lots of bad lines, but much fewer than before. And there’s character subtext for the first time ever: Patton wants to adopt little orphan Elle Graham, but is it because he misses having a daughter or because Graham proves a good control for intemperate wife Virginia Madsen? It’s a wild plot for Patton this episode. He starts burying a dead body and ends buying his wife a granddaughter.

But, in the context of dark soap opera, it’s a plus for the series. And Madsen’s fine. Jennifer Beals is still solid, Kevin Durand’s still out there in the right way, and other cast members are evening out. Jeryl Prescott and Ian Ziering only seem to exist during their scenes in episodes, but this time around, the show knows how to package the subplot.

Then there’s Swamp Thing Derek Mears and newly reunited pal Reed. The show provides no context for Mears’s journey of discovery with his new existence—the plants are talking to him, and he knows how to grow trees—but from a horror angle. The show never tries to give Mears’s perspective, including when he’s never on time to meet Reed in the swamp. She goes out three times, and despite saying he can feel her presence immediately, he always takes forever to get there. So what’s he off doing?

Swamp Thing started as sci-fi horror mixed with regular horror, but the show has a real hard time with it. Maybe because they aren’t doing the sci-fi. There are a couple times there’s atrocious dialogue, but the show can get away with it because there’s nothing else they can do at that moment. They’ve boxed themselves into this supernatural threat-of-the-week format, and the only way out is through.

There are some secret origin hints about Reed; she has a nightmare about her greatest fear, and it’s not killing Madsen’s daughter; it’s something else, meaning the Madsen and Patton dead daughter storyline gets pushed some more instead of just dealt with. Hidden secret soap operas are so lazy.

Anyway.

It’s the best Reed’s been, and Mears’s still all right.

Swamp Thing (2019) s01e03 – He Speaks

They do bugs.

In the nearly fifty-year history of Swamp Thing, I don’t think there’s anything ickier than the bugs. Including when he fought like blood monsters who use intestines as tentacles or whatever. The bugs were worse. Just pages and pages of bugs sent from Hell to torment the living. Yuck.

And this episode does the bugs.

Only they’re not demonic; they’re… well, it’s unclear. But, so far, there’s not some entity controlling them, so they’re just bugs on their own—maybe juiced up on Kevin Durand’s magic plant serum—but they’ve got agency. Makes them kind of cute. Or at least their antics are cute when they’re not eating their way through human bodies.

This episode’s got the first talking Swamp Thing scene, presumably with Derek Mears doing the voice. It’s good. There’s no resolution to it because the writing (credited to Rob Fresco) is bad, but Mears makes it work. They also do a great job with the eyes. They’re inhuman but human. Mears saves Crystal Reed, and they have their meet again cute, albeit just after he’s fought a bug monster man. The scene immediately reveals the problem with Reed’s nighttime soap lead in a horror comic adaptation—she’s got no motivation beyond professional; Reed’s not great at the professional scenes.

Especially not the one where she whines to local doctor Tim Russ about her CDC boss coming to check on her because she’s made no progress other than being somehow involved with scientist Andy Bean’s death and not saving the dude from the end of last episode. Reed’s either got whiny scenes or ones where she exposition dumps to Maria Sten. I was hoping this script—not from the previous episodes’ writers—would be an improvement; mais no.

Still, Reed and Mears’s scene isn’t a fail, which is what’s presumably going to be important soon.

There’s also a lot brewing, mostly local industrialist Will Patton being a little more of a soap opera villain than initially implied. They implied a lot too. He’s got (unlikely) shady loans, ties to what may be an exciting criminal organization if they do any comics’ adapting, and an occasional affair with sheriff Jennifer Beals, which wife Virginia Madsen at least suspects.

So much soap.

Madsen’s good this episode. Good enough past sins can easily be forgotten if she just keeps it going. Beals is pretty good, too; not sure about the accent. They’re getting to the point where the boomer soap opera might play well on “Swamp Thing.”

They just need to give Reed something real to do. I’m not sure she will do well with it, but her whole part has been softballs. Despite being the lead on the show, and having Sten for her exposition dumps, the show profoundly fails Bechdel. All Reed and Sten have to talk about is dudes.

But Mears is good. The costume’s good. The movement’s good. “Swamp Thing” at least has got Swamp Thing.

Swamp Thing (2019) s01e02 – Worlds Apart

“Swamp Thing” reveals one of the many superhero tv show caveats: an origin episode isn’t the same thing as a pilot episode. Yes, last episode introduced the various characters, but this episode—in addition to introducing more supporting characters (well, at least one)—sets up what they’re going to be doing on the show. For example, Virginia Madsen, who’s no better acting-wise, unfortunately, is going to be trying to resurrect her dead, apparently drown in the swamp daughter. It’s unclear if it’s intentional or not or if an evil spirit is manipulating things.

Or newly introduced sheriff Jennifer Beals (doing a Southern-ish but specific accent), who also happens to be dreamy deputy Henderson Wade’s mother. She’s worried Wade’s life-long puppy dog crush on Crystal Reed will get in the way of something. It’s unclear what. Beals gets mad when Wade and Reed go looking for a missing kid; it’s a strange, concerning professional flex from Beals.

Or still munching away at the scenery Will Patton. At first, I felt bad for Patton—it was his scene opposite Madsen—but later on, he picks things up, relishing in the shitty, good ol’ boy but wealthy industrialist, who may or may not have a human side. At one point, Reed has to ask Patton for a favor, and we find out however the daughter died in high school, it was in a way Patton can say he doesn’t blame Reed.

Of course, Reed’s local bestie Maria Sten has just told Reed not to trust Patton. Or reminded her not to trust Patton. It’s soap, but grim and gritty soap. They’re trying real hard to be Southern Gothic, and they’re able to pull off the visual trappings of the genre. Sort of. Ian Ziering shows up as a cheesy action hero who owns a retro video rental and vinyl store in town, a la Kevin Smith. It’s so weird it can’t not work. Oh, also basically Internet cafe because no one knows how to use their smartphones in “Swamp Thing.”

The show also establishes how Andy Bean will stay in the credits even though he’s become a giant swamp thing, played—in suit—by Derek Mears. The show’s doing something interesting with the Swamp Thing introduction. They’re dragging it out, for one thing, but they’re giving him a psychic connection to little kid Elle Graham. Not sure if she, Swampy, and the dog will fend off angry villagers in an homage to Saga of the Swamp Thing #1, but there’s a not zero chance.

Bean has video diaries, which he apparently records on his iPhone, then uploads to Ziering’s very not-Apple PC laptop but also not showing a brand. Bean loads them into iTunes on the PC. We find out from the diaries he’s not rich actually (meaning he was regularly breaking into his old lab last episode), and he thinks Reed is smart, driven, and lovely. Also, he’s a sandal enthusiast.

But the real surprise is Kevin Durand as Jason Woodrue. Woodrue—previously essayed by Mr. John Glover in Batman and Robin—is a Swamp Thing mainstay and, in the show, Durand’s working with Patton. Durand’s a hoot. He’s trying really hard to do something different and succeeding. Despite having a big cast, it’s the first spotlight performance, partially because everyone else is pretty constrained. Hence Patton having to devour armchairs.

Reed mostly gets to run the episode, with diversions, and it’s okay, but just. Thanks again to special effects and production values, the show can carry through the weaker moments but, again, only just.

Swamp Thing (2019) s01e01

I can’t get the “Swamp Thing” theme out of my head; a subtle but undeniable earworm courtesy composer Brian Tyler. It is not at all related to any of the previous themes—well, it could be from the 1990 show, I don’t remember; I did wonder how the Swamp Thing movie score would work over the new show, with its production values and its CGI. Despite having two movies and a three season TV show under the franchise belt, this “Swamp Thing” is the first one capable of getting close to the comic in terms of visuals.

The special effects are okay. They’re going for a 1982 Thing thing, only with plant vines, and it’s fine. The show initially presents as a sci-fi medical thriller but quickly veers into straight horror and conspiracy thriller terrority, with a lengthy break in premium but not transcendent soap opera. CDC troubleshooter Crystal Reed is back home since leaving in disgrace; she somehow killed her best friend (a bridge and a car are somehow involved, but no more details yet), and the friend’s mom, Virginia Madsen, ran her out of town.

So, despite taking place in Louisiana (fake with a good regional name Marais versus real place from the comics Houma), no one has an accent. It’s Southern California Gothic. Madsen’s married to industrialist Will Patton, who’s experimenting on all the yokels without anyone suspecting because he’s such a good old boy himself. It’s an easy performance for Patton, who has the most accent, whereas Madsen’s—so far—blank. With an outrageous accent, she might stand out. Without one, and without any visible emoting, it’s a disappointment. This episode’s extraordinarily well-paced, so the Reed and Madsen scene had goodwill going in. Like, it could’ve been something.

It was not. Combination Madsen and the script, but mostly the latter.

Anyway.

The medical sci-fi thriller involves rogue, disgraced scientist Andy Bean, who sneaks into the hospital where Reed and her team have set up base to investigate a mysterious outbreak. After hinting at potential supporting cast members in Reed’s homecoming arc (hottie sheriff Henderson Wade and cool newspaper reporter Maria Sten), the episode ends up being Bean and Reed, hanging out, doing science, blowing things up, running from plant monsters, and so on.

Bean’s scientist without mercy comes off like a twenty-first century Richard Dreyfuss from Jaws; he’s an entitled, privileged rich kid whose hobbies happen to coincide with the greater good. Is Bean charming in the part? He’s not unlikable, which is a success.

Reed’s okay. After being active in her first scene, her character’s been entirely passive since. Despite being the lead, she’s rarely got anything but potential agency. Someone else comes along and takes over. It’s a problem.

But “Swamp Thing” generates more than enough momentum through this first episode to warrant a return. Especially since this episode’s presumably more prequel than the pilot.

Halloween Kills (2021, David Gordon Green)

Halloween Kills is a fascinating sequel. It’s a terrible movie—though probably better than the previous one just because there’s so much less Jamie Lee Curtis, so you’re not watching her embarrass herself the entire time (though she’s got some really embarrassing moments). But given it’s the ninth Halloween sequel and the second remake of Halloween II… a lot is going on in what the filmmakers do and don’t do. And if you’ve suffered through the other twelve movies or whatever… as a viewer, you too can see the creative choices in context.

So fascinating.

And terrible.

It’s so bad. At least the first forty-five minutes are a gory, cruel, humor-drained riff on a fan service sequel. Then, after establishing Will Patton didn’t die last time and then flashing back to the original Halloween and doing a non-Halloween II sequel in flashback—how they missed a Curtis in the hospital joke is beyond me, but I’m not sure I’d feel good if I felt simpatico with Kills’s makers—the movie brings back supporting cast from the first movie. Not Halloween H40 first movie—we’ve established everyone’s back already—but Halloween 1978 first movie. Nurse Nancy Stephens is back, plus little kid grown up Kyle Richards. Anthony Michael Hall appears as the other little kid grown up, as does Robert Longstreet, but Longstreet’s so indistinct it seems like a retcon. Because Halloween movies need retcons in 2021.

Charles Cyphers is also back, but later in the movie and entirely coincidentally—fatefully? Also returning are Michael Smallwood and Carmela McNeal as the disposable Black couple. They were in the last movie but apparently not memorably enough. And Dylan Arnold as Andi Matichak’s boyfriend (and Longstreet’s son). This Halloween is the one where we get the Elm Street parents going after Freddy, basically. Though not emphasizing the teenagers in danger because… well, why do teenagers when you can do stunt cameos and then little kids. Though the little kids in danger stuff turns out to be a Season of the Witch: Halloween 3 reference, which is kind of the only thing actually cool in the movie. Like, they do a solid job working it in.

Oh, and there’s also some good gore animatronics. Kills’s Michael Myers is cruel and gross, basically doing anatomy experiments, and there are occasionally good gore animatronics. The rest of the time, it’s just gross for gross’s sake, but they do an actual fine job at least twice.

Some of John Carpenter, Cody Carpenter, and Daniel A. Davies’s score is good. Mainly in the first forty-five when it’s the not-funny spoof of itself. During those moments, it seems like making a good Halloween escaped director Gordon Green and his co-writers, Scott Teems and Danny McBride, with them knowingly avoiding past tropes only for it to fail.

It’ll turn out Gordon Green, Teems, and McBride have some big ideas to work out in the second half of the movie, so no, it was just them killing time before their “unjust, lawless mob” plotline, which isn’t the movie but also is the movie. It’s this movie; it’s just this movie is actually only set up for the next movie. Not doing a “Michael Myers Will Return in HALLOWEEN ENDS” is actually the filmmakers’ worst move, and they don’t make a single good one. They just don’t let the film acknowledge itself because they’re pretending it’s serious. And we get to see how Gordon Green does serious with Halloween, and it stinks. It’s embarrassing and silly, and you can tell they tried real hard.

Anyway.

Lots of bad and middling performances. Judy Greer looks really underwhelmed her sequel option got picked up. Curtis and Patton, who bond in their own Halloween II pseudo-remake, are bad. Hall’s not good, but it’s also a lousy part. The supporting cast ranges. Occasionally there will be some effective slasher sequences, possibly thanks to Timothy Alverson.

It’s hard to tell if anything’s good about Kills, production-wise, because Gordon Green makes an absurd choice every thirty seconds, and it distracts, but Alverson’s editing seems good, actually. Whereas Michael Simmonds’s photography is just not incompetent. Also not sure about Richard A. Wright’s production design. Is it terrible, or is it bad at making South Carolina look like Illinois, or is it referencing the Rob Zombie redneck Halloween remakes? Or is it all three?

Again, it’s a fascinating sequel.

Shitty movie, though. Just an utterly shitty movie.

Copycat (1995, Jon Amiel)

It’s easy to pick out the “best” thing in Copycat because it’s almost entirely atrocious. Christopher Young’s highly derivative score is lovely—it’s a mix between John Williams and then Aliens whenever Sigourney Weaver is in thriller danger. Thanks to the score, Copycat makes some interesting swings, like emotive, romantic music during the most inappropriate sequences. Again, outside aping Ripley moments, it never fits the content, but it is definitely lovely.

Otherwise, the high point is J.E. Freeman’s performance as the grizzled police captain. He’s fine. They cut away from him too soon because he’s clearly knawing on the set. I really wanted to see him munch on his coffee mug, which always seems inevitable.

Besides those two elements, it’s just a matter of what’s not godawful and what’s just bad.

What’s impressive about Freeman is he’s the only acceptable performance. Everyone else is either incompetent or appalling. A lot of it is Amiel’s direction. He’s inept at composing the Panavision shots—it’s a special kind of bad to waste San Francisco like Amiel wastes it (the lighting is fine, thanks to László Kovács’s photography but wow, what a waste of Kovács)—but he’s even worse at directing actors. Whether Weaver, who’s got a risibly written part, soulful surfer tech bro cop Dermot Mulroney, or incel serial killer William McNamara, Amiel does an incapable job with all of them. Oh, I forgot Will Patton. Poor Will Patton.

Copycat is supposed to be about Weaver teaming up with San Francisco homicide inspector Holly Hunter, but second-billed Hunter deserves an “and” credit. She takes a back seat to Mulroney, McNamara, and even Patton as her erstwhile love interest. Patton’s a sexist, racist fellow detective—Hunter and Mulroney are partners—and until it turns out he’s dangerously unfit, he just ruins scenes. Not because he’s the worst actor in them; instead, he’s a purposeless boil on the film. He’s there, so they don’t have to do a whole trope, just a three-quarters trope.

Of the main cast, Hunter’s the least bad. She’s never good because it’s a terrible movie, but you’re never slack-jawed at the badness of her performance. Like Weaver. So much bad acting from Weaver.

The script, courtesy Ann Biderman and David Madsen, is worse than Amiel’s direction. Likewise, Jim Clark and Alan Heim’s editing is lousy.

Copycat’s so abominable I don’t even want to talk about Harry Connick Jr.’s cameo as a hillbilly serial killer, which starts worse than it finishes, but only because his bad performance is less bad than the many other bad performances. It’s a derivative, insipid motion picture, so obviously rotten the cast don’t even earn sympathy for their embarrassing participation.

Pretty music, though. Very pretty music.

A Shock to the System (1990, Jan Egleson)

A Shock to the System is almost a success. It’s real close. It has all the right pieces, it just doesn’t have enough time at the end to put them away in their new arrangement. Everything’s in disarray because the film changes into a thriller—with a different protagonist—for a while in the third act. After spending the entire movie with Michael Caine, who even narrates, the film temporarily changes perspective to his love interest, Elizabeth McGovern. It’s only for a few minutes—System runs just under ninety so everything’s just for a few minutes—but it jostles the film enough it can’t pull off a perfunctory finish. And it needs a perfunctory finish because budget. System’s got shoot in New York City with good actors but not blow up expensive things budget.

Caine is a Wall Street yuppie who commutes from Connecticut. The movie starts with him about to get a big promotion; boss John McMartin is expecting to lose his job in an imminent merger. Caine’s excited because he feels like he’s unappreciated, even though everyone who works for him thinks he’s a swell guy (including McGovern, who’s got a crush on him). Caine’s wife Swoosie Kurtz is excited because now they’ll finally have enough money for all the things she wants to buy. An implied but completely unexplored subplot is Caine marrying Kurtz for money. Even though there are hints at Caine wishing they were more affection, they never have any chemistry to suggest he married her for her money and she married him because he was going places.

So, of course Caine doesn’t get the job. Worse, one of his kiss-ass underlings (Peter Riegert) gets promoted over him. Caine leaves work early to simmer and gets into an altercation with a homeless guy on the subway platform. The homeless guy dies. And nothing bad happens to Caine.

Although the film opens with Caine getting a literal Shock, that household incident isn’t the inciting incident for anything. It’s a framing detail; the film itself is about Caine realizing he’s a sociopath and figuring out how to use it to his advantage.

The film makes a lot of hash, in the first act, out of Caine being too nice of a boss. He’s not enough of a yuppie scumbag. He doesn’t fire people. He also doesn’t… have any great ideas about his job. It’s just his turn. The only reason he gets any sympathy for not getting the promotion is because Kurtz is mean and Riegert is a weiner. One of the weirder reasons Riegert is a weiner is because he’s dating a model (Haviland Morris) who he likes dating. After the promotion, Caine and Kurtz have to go out to Riegert’s lake house and, ew, they seem to like one another. It’s a strange shortcut for the film to take.

But it’s fine because Caine’s able to carry it. See, he’s empowered now and he’s not going to put up with Riegert’s shit. There’s only so much Caine is going to take from Riegert, Kurtz, or anyone else. McGovern is one of the only bright lights in Caine’s life, even if he’s too busy being miserable with Kurtz to notice McGovern giving him the look.

Once gets around to acting on his newly found murderous instinct, he finds himself almost immediately on cop Will Patton’s radar. Caine’s not good at pretending he cares. It makes sense to the audience because Caine’s narration has made him to… the film’s version of sympathetic. More sympathetic than anyone else. Because Caine’s real good at playing to sympathies, the audience’s and McGovern’s. When he finally does show his truer nature to both, it starts the film moving towards McGovern’s stint as protagonist.

Caine’s outstanding. He’s the movie. McGovern’s got some good moments and some nice implications of deeper thoughts, but her character is pretty thin. McGovern tries to deepen it but there’s only so much she can do. Director Egleson tries to compensate for McGovern’s lack of material with some meaningful shots, but the movie’s less than ninety minutes; they’re all meaningful shots. Especially the way Egleson shoots the film. He, cinematographer Paul Goldsmith, and editors William M. Anderson and Peter C. Frank do some great work in the film. The way Egleson and Goldsmith shoot McGovern and Caine’s courtship, the way the editors cut it—it’s all superb. And probably why, once the film shifts gears, it’s never able to get back up to speed. They lose too much momentum.

Riegert’s pretty good. He resists chewing on scenery a little much, but it works to imply more depth. Probably.

Kurtz is fine. It’s not a great part and it’s not a great performance, but it’s not a bad one. It’d be nice if there were some nuance to she and Caine’s relationship, but it’s not Kurtz’s fault. Egleson and screenwriter Andrew Klavan just can’t be bothered.

Patton’s okay too. Similar situation to Kurtz.

Jenny Wright gets a nice small part as McGovern’s roommate who starts working for Caine at the start of the film as an example of him being nice, hiring McGovern’s friend. Actually, it’d make the most sense if the film were from her point of view. But anyway.

A Shock to the System has a strong performance from Caine, a good one from McGovern, some spectacular direction from Egleson, some great filmmaking, and some very questionable eighties-to-nineties music from Gary Chang. The music’s a problem. Unless Caine’s preference for smooth jazz is supposed to be a sign of his sociopathy.

2.5/4 ★★½

CREDITS

Directed by Jan Egleson; screenplay by Andrew Klavan, based on the novel by Simon Brett; director of photography, Paul Goldsmith; edited by William M. Anderson and Peter C. Frank; music by Gary Chang; production designer, Howard Cummings; produced by Patrick McCormick; released by Corsair Pictures.

Starring Michael Caine (Graham Marshall), Elizabeth McGovern (Stella Anderson), Peter Riegert (Robert Benham), Swoosie Kurtz (Leslie Marshall), Will Patton (Lt. Laker), John McMartin (George Brewster), Jenny Wright (Melanie O’Conner), Haviland Morris (Tara Liston), Philip Moon (Henry Park), and Barbara Baxley (Lillian).


THIS POST IS PART OF THE SECOND MARVELLOUS MICHAEL CAINE BLOGATHON HOSTED BY GILL OF REALWEEGIEMIDGET REVIEWS.

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Halloween (2018, David Gordon Green)

Halloween never met a MacGuffin it didn’t embrace. Jeff Fradley, Danny McBride, and director Gordon’s script strings together MacGuffins to make the plot. And if it’s not a MacGuffin, it’s something they’re not going to do anything with. With a handful of exceptions, Halloween is usually at least reasonably acted. Sure, everyone lives in a 2018 where smartphones aren’t omnipresent but the screenwriters probably couldn’t figure out how to update the set pieces they lift from previous Halloween sequels for new technology.

Real quick, just because I probably don’t want to dwell on it–Halloween (2018) recreates some of the previous sequels’ thriller or slasher set pieces. It amps up the violence considerably–the film’s nowhere near as violent after it starts homaging the original Halloween as when it’s trudging through its first act mire. These set piece recreations tend to be extraordinarily violent, like Green is trying to set his Halloween–a sequel only to first film–apart from all the sequels. It’s bloodier. It’s meaner. It’s maybe louder. When Green isn’t luxuriating in the physical graphic violence, he uses the sound for off-screen graphic violence. It’s left up to the imagination.

Only not the result, because he always shows the result.

It seems weird, because for a while Halloween seems to at least be pretending it’s serious. But when Jamie Lee Curtis calls Donald Pleasence-stand in Haluk Bilginer “The New Loomis” (Pleasence’s character from previous films, including the original), it’s like Halloween feels comfortable dropping the pretense.

Back to the MacGuffin-filled opening–wait, there’s a third MacGuffin there too–anyway, Halloween opens with Jefferson Hall and Rhian Rees as these obnoxious British podcaster producers doing a “Serial” on Michael Myers and the first Halloween. They go see Michael (presumably Nick Castle when he’s got the mask off, but never shown clearly–maybe Green and editor Timothy Alverson’s greatest–and most effective–feat). They bring him into the movie. They go see Jamie Lee Curtis. They mention Judy Greer.

Greer is Curtis’s daughter, who lives in town (the same town from the other Halloween movies because even though both Curtis and Greer suffer from severe mental anxiety and depression, they never want to leave the town). She’s got bland “dad” husband Toby Huss and smart and capable daughter Andi Matichak. Matichak and Curtis ostensibly have a character development arc, but much of it either happens off-screen or when diegetic sound is brought over it for effect. The screenwriters avoid the heck out of character for Curtis. With Castle–i.e. what’s happened to the slasher since the slasher movie ended forty years ago–it’s easy. He’s been tied to a stone, silent for forty years. No development whatsoever. Easy.

Curtis, Greer, and Matichak? Not so easy. Greer’s second-billed but barely relevant. She just gets to think her mom is crazy and tell her to get help. Over and over again. Huss should be there to support Greer and he gets more material than her. And, until she’s following in grandma’s final girl footsteps, Matichak gets less than her friends. There’s best girlfriend Virginia Gardner (who’s actually really good), Gardner’s boyfriend Miles Robbins, then Matichak’s boyfriend Dylan Arnold and his bro Drew Scheid.

Matichak gets less to do, outside being hunted by a quinquagenarian masked spree killer, than any of them. The other characters don’t get more development, but at least Gardner and Robbins get stuff to do. Gardner especially. She’s babysitting adorably foul-mouthed near tween Jibrail Nantambu. Another big change in Halloween as it goes on–somewhere in the second act it decides it’s going to do some comedy. The first act doesn’t have any except Hall being a dip and Huss being such a dad.

The frustrating thing about Halloween–not while watching it but while considering it–is how many weird, senseless plotting choices the screenwriters make, apparently for no reason. The film has spared down visuals. Green avoids establishing shots. Possibly because he’s shooting Charleston, South Carolina for mid-sized town Illinois. But probably not. When they’re most important, he’s avoiding them because he’s doing his whole Halloween (2018) is meaner and bloodier and realer.

That tone doesn’t fit with podcasters Hall and Rees. Either they’re jokes, in which case Halloween (2018) is a joke, or they’re serious. But the film kind of wants to take Rees seriously and not Hall. Only Hall’s the noisier one.

With the exception of Curtis, Halloween’s female characters tend to be silent sidekicks to their far less capable male partners. Patton and Curtis know each other–from the first Halloween night–but… it’s not like they get character development. Halloween (2018) doesn’t do character development, because it’s going to deliver an amazing finish. Jamie Lee Curtis vs. Michael Myers, forty years later.

It’s the point of the movie. Curtis has spent forty years arming and training herself to take out Michael Myers. And now she’s going to get to do it.

And the big finale… isn’t boring. It’s dumb. If it weren’t so visually flat, it might be worth some spoof value. Because Halloween (2018) plays like an unaware spoof of itself. Like the screenwriters had something else in mind and Green just sucked the laughs out of it. But Green’s one of the screenwriters.

Halloween (2018) takes itself way too seriously while seeming to know it shouldn’t be taken seriously at all.

Curtis is fine. She and Matichak have potential. She and Patton have potential. The movie explores neither. Matichak’s all right. She’s got very little. Patton’s fine but seems like he should be good. Greer–the movie avoids giving Greer character more than it does Curtis–Greer is hostilely wasted. Like she’s stunt-casted.

The teens–other than Gardner–are all thin, both part and performance; it doesn’t matter.

Gardner’s good. Nantambu’s funny. Not good, but funny.

Technically, nothing leaps out. Green’s direction is fine. It’s never terrible. The script’s weird, but not bad as far as dialogue. Usually. Except the podcasters. And the Donald Pleasence stand-in. Alverson’s editing is good. Simmonds’s photography is flat, visually and in terms of quality. The score–from John Carpenter, Cody Carpenter (yes relation), and Daniel A. Davies–sounds like a Halloween score. Nothing special.

Richard A. Wright’s production design is lacking.

Halloween (2018) is a curiosity. Even though it had the ingredients for something else. Something more. The film’s stunningly unambitious. It’s also passive aggressively hostile to those unfamiliar with the previous movies. While the podcasters fill in a bit, it’s more what’s been happening since the last movie, not what happened in the last movie.

And Curtis gets nothing. Nothing with any of it. Because the script can’t figure out how to make her a protagonist. It can’t figure out a lot of things.

The movie can’t figure out a lot of things. It’s really flimsy and kind of cynical–it’s like a one hundred minute exploration of why you shouldn’t try to make a “serious” movie sequel. To Halloween specifically, but also in general. Again, if it were a spoof–even a dark comedy one–there might be something here.

It’s not. And instead Halloween H40 just a lot of actors wasting their time and some remixed John Carpenter music.

The Punisher (2004, Jonathan Hensleigh)

Considering Dolph Lundgren got famous playing a blond Russian and can definitely act better than Kevin Nash, who doesn’t even have any lines and is terrible, it’s telling Jonathan Hensleigh didn’t bring him back for a small role, an acknowledgment of the far superior 1989 Punisher adaptation.

Whereas that film–and to some extent, the one following this effort–tried to be a senselessly violent action revenge movie, Hensleigh’s Punisher tries to rationalize the comic book character, who’s never been conducive to such analysis. The closest is Garth Ennis’s recently concluded terminating work on the character, which acknowledges the unreality and tragedy of being an unstoppable killing machine.

Hensleigh tries to turn Thomas Jane’s Punisher into a sympathetic hero. He fails miserably and, as a result, gives Jane the worst written role in a movie filled with poorly written roles. When John Travolta, all in all, turns in a better performance than Will Patton, it might very be the end of the world as we know it.

Laura Harring is atrocious. Who else… oh, poor Roy Scheider. Why was he in this one?

The best performance is from Rebecca Romijn. Really. She’s actually totally believable as a regular person with real problems. Ben Foster and John Pinette are both good too, as Romijn’s sidekicks.

Hensleigh is a boring director, but not terrible. His wife, Gale Anne Hurd, probably got him the job. She should have brought in a real screenwriter.

Carlo Siliotto’s music, though inappropriate (it’s heroic), is all right.