This very well may be the shortest review I’ve ever written. Juror #2 (2024), Clint Eastwood’s most recent directorial effort (he also co-produces), very much leans on several legal dramas and thrillers from the past, most notably the classic 12 Angry Men, to great effect. Twisting the above mentioned film in clever fashion, in some ways, recovering alcoholic Justin Kemp (Nicholas Hoult) is a stand-in for Henry Fonda’s Juror #8, as he too stands up for the man being charged with murder... the only difference is, he soon realizes that he knows a bit more about the case than the rest of the jurors (and even he originally thought). Though this is not a twist filled feature (à la Usual Suspects), much of its entertainment comes from watching it unfurl as it goes along – hence why very little of the plot will be disclosed here. It is also worth noting that, unlike 12 Angry Men, screenwriter Jonathan A. Abrams opens the story wide, allowing us to hear testimony, explore the crime scene, and discover actual truths we never got to see in the 1957 motion picture.
Reveling somewhere between cheesy 80s horror flick and Abbott and Costello buddy comedy slapstick, the 2017 short film We Summoned a Demon, written and directed by Chris McInroy, is six minutes of pure horror comedy goodness. Following a pair of less than cool guys, Kirk (Kirk C. Johnson) and Carlos (Carlos Larotta), they are really pulling at straws. . . as they’ve decided to attempt a satanic ritual to make the former a slick talking pick-up artist (of course, it’s all about getting a girl). After a ‘slight’ blood mishap, they inadvertently summon a glowing yellow eyed demon with horns that could qualify as overcompensating (John Orr).
Almost as if Sigmund Freud, Edgar Allan Poe and Alfred Hitchcock got together to make a movie (Roman Polanski could probably be thrown into the group for good measure), 2020's The Night House lives in the realm of the double, the uncanny, as well as the horror found in grief and the chasm of nothingness it can bring with it. Written by Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski, and directed by David Bruckner, the story follows teacher Beth (Rebecca Hall), the audience joining her immediately after the suicide of her husband, Owen (Evan Jonigkeit). Living in a bluff-top lake house that he himself built (the reflective water perhaps the first indication of the double), she might as well be out at sea. . . though she might not want that, as Owen killed himself on the water. And, when the darkness of night comes, Beth’s world feels like an encased glass tomb.
Put this piece of advice in your memory banks – if you ever get invited to perform at a location called The Castle of the Living Dead, it might be best to decline the offer. A 1964 low budget horror film co-written and directed by first timer Warren Kiefer, it has stood the test of time thanks to two memorable performers and its real life Italian castle setting. The story of a traveling acting troupe, all is not right. . . for leader Bruno (Jacques Stany) has drawn the ire of harlequin performer Dart – who desperately wants his money up front. Taking umbrage with everything he does, a fight ensues, with bystander and former military officer Eric (Philippe Leroy) thankfully stepping in to stop the close to deadly tussle. With Eric deciding to take over the role of the harlequin. . . though not before Dart casts a deadly threat at Bruno and the troupe, this ominous departure does not sit well with the other members, ingenue Laura (Gaia Germani) and adventurous little person Nick (Antonio De Martino).
John Michael McDonagh’s follow up to The Guard, 2014's Calvary (which he again writes and directs), is a thought provoking mystery infused drama which delves into irony, theology, predestination, and how the wounds of the past influence the present in most powerful ways. Opening with a quotation from Saint Augustine – “Do not despair; one of the thieves was saved. Do not presume; one of the thieves was damned.”, we are then introduced to our main character, Father James (Brendan Gleeson), a good man in small town Ireland. Originally married with a daughter, when his wife died, he followed a calling to the priesthood, attempting to impart his spiritual wisdom and some much needed solace to his flock.
By now, most film fanatics have discovered the works of playwright turned film maker Martin McDonagh, starting with the 2004 short film Six Shooter (it earned him an Oscar), he then went full length with 2008's In Bruges (it quickly became an acclaimed cult classic), next heading Stateside with the rather violent 2012 comedy Seven Psychopaths (again, garnering much praise), only for his fourth, and to date, final effort, 2017's Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, to earn multiple Academy Award nominations (including two wins. . . while many believed it should have won Best Picture as well). While we wait for his still untitled next feature (which is currently in pre-production), perhaps some of you have yet to discover his very talented brother, John Michael McDonagh. Today, I’ll introduce you to the short film that started it all, as well as the full length feature that blossomed out of it.
You just have to wonder if the overt sentimentality of a Frank Capra-type picture can’t work with a twenty-first century mindset. . . known as Capracorn, his movies were so sweet that they would even cause a perfectly healthy individual to get diabetes. Case in point, 2005's The Amateurs (sometimes known as The Moguls), a movie so obscure, a teacher makes more money in one year than it grossed at the box office. Panned by critics and never given a chance at the box office, it was relegated to a grim alternate reality akin to Pottersville. Written and directed by first time film maker Michael Traeger (sadly, this is still his only directorial credit), he follows the Capra mold, finding a rather ironic storyline to juxtapose the heart-filled tale.