Left in the Dark

If you’ve ever hoped someone would combine Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid” with touches of David Cronenberg’s psychological sexual thriller Crash (or many of the director’s other iconic horror features) and the quirky colours and music of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory – then you’ve got one interesting imagination. . . and your time is here, as the 2015 Polish horror musical The Lure, directed by Agnieszka Smoczynska, walks this bizarre line. Mesmeric in its colours and direction, some may wonder why make the film a musical. . . though, if you think about it, it makes perfect sense, as these half human/half monster hybrids are like the sirens of Homer’s epic poems, creatures that sing to allure and attract (it gets more gruesome after that) – it is in their essence. Set in Poland in the Communist era 1980s, the story follows mermaid sisters Silver (Marta Mazurek) and Golden (Michalina Olszańska) – they have a yin and yang quality, the former a more compassionate being learning to love, the latter a more violent, dangerous beast – as they make their way into a foreign landscape.

Ah. . . Edgar Allan Poe. The original master of suspense (and macabre), with his maniacal revenge plots, twisted love stories and gothic settings, has arguably done more for horror films than any other writer (though some may argue that H.P. Lovecraft excels). This is evident in nearly every frame of the 1972 giallo Your Vice is a Locked Door and Only I Have the Key (the title alone is a classic, it was also released under other titles as well, including Gently Before She Dies, Eye of the Black Cat, and Excite Me!). Loosely based upon Poe’s “The Black Cat”, director Sergio Martino infuses a style reminiscent of Henri-Georges Clouzot’s horror classic Les Diaboliques, making for a unique narrative. Set in an ancient villa, its decay and rot echoing the crumbling marriage inside (this setting will bring to mind several Poe tales, most notably, “The Fall of the House of Usher”), Oliviero (Luigi Pistilli) is a small town celebrity, an author who has had several novels published (though currently has writer’s block). Revelling in the dwindling free love sixties movement, he frequently invites a group of hippies from a local campsite to party with him. Much to the chagrin of his unhappy (and frequently beaten/threatened) wife Irina (Anita Strindberg), the pair are constantly targeting each other (in very different ways).

Combining two of the most fascinating Italian genres of the 1970s, giallo and poliziotteschi (that is, thriller and crime/action), 1975's The Suspicious Death of a Minor (also known as Too Young to Die) uses more subtle strokes of violence and nudity compared to many other giallo features from the time, instead building suspense and energy by way of highly original set pieces. Directed by Sergio Martino (this is his sixth and final giallo, another example being Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key), he introduces us to the picturesque yet dangerous world of Milan, circa 1975 – a place where we find a young prostitute named Marisa (Patrizia Castaldi) on the run from an unsettling figure in mirrored glasses. Attempting to meet with undercover detective, Paolo Germi (Claudio Cassinelli – the actor sadly died in a helicopter crash while filming another Martino picture – 1986's Hands of Steel), she is eliminated by the stone cold proficient assassin before being able to pass on any actionable information.

The third and final part of filmmaker Luca Guadagnino’s thematic ‘Desire’ trilogy (following 2015's A Bigger Splash and 2009's I Am Love), 2017's Call Me by Your Name once again challenges its audience with themes of love (sometimes first) and loss, desire, sexuality and so much more. Nominated for four Academy Awards this 2018 (including Best Picture), the story, set in 1983, follows seventeen year old Elio (Timothée Chalamet – nominated for Best Actor in a Leading Role), a whip smart, though somewhat aloof and self-conscious teen who is spending the summer with his family in Northern Italy – he is a voracious reader and talented musician (a near prodigy). His father, Mr. Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg), is an archaeology professor who has invited a graduate student, Oliver (Armie Hammer), to aid him as a research assistant.

Coming off like a combination of Oldboy, The Raid: Redemption, La Femme Nikita, Kill Bill, and the Jason Bourne franchise, 2017's The Villainess, a South Korean film co-written and directed by Byung-gil Jung, is an action packed adrenaline ride that carves out an interesting angle within the genre. Opening with a mostly first person action sequence, it is intensely claustrophobic, showing a supremely talented killing machine of a woman carving her way through a narrow hallway only to find herself in a room packed with another ominous group of villains. Setting the tone from the very beginning, the viewer quickly understands that there is a grace to the way the camera moves (a dynamic visual panache that is all the more impressive when you realize a good portion of it is done without computer generated effects) – though it is a very bloody flair to be sure.

Landing somewhere in between French New Wave, older classic French features and the grand Hollywood musical, Jacques Demy’s 1964 colourful kaleidoscopic romantic drama, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, is most definitely not your typical movie musical. Firstly, there is no dancing (a standard in musicals), rather, Demy orchestrates many lengthy choreographed takes with his camera – it adding the graceful movement that would usually be asked of the actors. But, more importantly, and at greater risk, every single line of dialogue in Cherbourg is sung. Perhaps a bit daunting to movie audiences, it does, in some ways, make sense. I have never bought into the idea that people would just randomly break into song and dance at any given time. . . only a few films giving some sort of reason for this (see Singin’ in the Rain and La La Land), so it is more plausible, in this vividly toned movie landscape, that people naturally sing all the time – this means no distracting breaks between song and talk.