Don’t Look Down

You could quite easily argue that Robert Eggers has created a new sub-genre of horror. His first film, 2015's The VVitch, developed an historically accurate look at seventeenth century America – from the puritanical Calvinist family and authentic-to-the-time language, to painstakingly recreating the period’s buildings, clothing, fences, and, more impressively, cinematography. Built around real fears of the time, the horror comes from what would have gone through the minds of these people in this early America. Eggers follows this up with 2019's The Lighthouse, a nineteenth century-set yarn about two lighthouse keepers stranded on an isle. Forced to build a lighthouse from scratch in Nova Scotia, Canada, the filmmaker also made the bold decision to etch this almost alien world in eerie black and white, furthering the claustrophobia and atmosphere by utilizing 35 mm black and white film, vintage Baltar lenses from the early twentieth century, and a 1.19:1 aspect ratio – meaning that instead of the widescreen we are used to, the picture is basically a square portal into this world. And, like The VVitch, look for intricately made set design, sound, costumes, cinematography and dialogue (expect to hear the word ‘wickie’ quite often – meaning lighthouse keeper, it is a reference to the wick trimming performed on the job).

I know you’ve all been desperately waiting for it – my in depth retrospective on the career of Cyndi Lauper. . . alas, you will have to continue to wait. So then, you must all be wondering what exactly the above quote has to do with today’s film. The above song, Time After Time, was inspired by a movie of the same name. . . Lauper writing the hit tune soon after seeing the title in TV Guide. Adapted and directed by Nicholas Meyer (a screenwriter best known for directing two Star Trek films – yet this was his first directorial effort), and inspired by Steve Hayes and Karl Alexander’s story (the latter had a yet unfinished novel of the same name at the time), this highly original premise finds the great H.G. Wells (Malcolm McDowell – a far cry from his previous film, Caligula) living his life in the late nineteenth century while Jack the Ripper stalks his prey in the streets of London (the opening scene, featuring a lengthy single take, sets the mood – the entire film done tastefully with limited violence shown).

Perhaps some things never change. . . and by that, I mean guys being idiots. A dark thriller about an aging man’s deep-seated flaws, Simon Birrell writes and directs under the guidance of longtime exploitative horror filmmaker José Ramon Larraz; His Last Request (2005) a twenty-seven minute short delving into the depths of a warped human being’s psyche. . . and the problems he himself has wrought. Shot as a silent film and in ominous black and white (I know what you’re thinking – how avant-garde), Spanish horror legend Jack Taylor plays the father. . . a man, who after years of multiple marriages, philandering, and god knows what else (he has cameras watching his entire apartment – likely not for security reasons), is now permanently relegated to a wheelchair (that is, if he wants to move around – otherwise, he is bedridden). Losing more money through alimony than an overzealous sailor fresh off the ship, his lawyer (Ramón Rados) is trying to get his papers in order before he runs out of money, or dies. . . it is a toss-up as to which might happen first.

It is funny what passes through your brain when something as monumental and horrible as Kobe Bryant’s unexpected death is heard (even more heartbreaking that his thirteen year old daughter Gianna, and seven others died in the helicopter crash). Logic and reason no longer control your mind, and it is as if a movie reel flashes before your eyes. For me, I immediately thought of a day almost fourteen years ago to the day when the Toronto Raptors seemed to have things in complete control (up fourteen against the Los Angeles Lakers at half). It was January 22nd, 2006, the day Kobe took over – almost forty-two minutes, twenty-eight field goals made (forty-six attempted), seven threes. . . a total of eighty-one points (that helped further his legend – the second highest total ever behind only Wilt Chamberlain’s one hundred). Then, the horrific 2011 Lokomotiv Yaroslavl plane crash flashed before me – 44 dead, including former NHL superstar Pavol Demitra (who I knew). You think of Jordan, Shaq, the championships, and the colossal loss. . . in complete pain for his wife, daughters and parents (who must now try to pick up the pieces after this tragic accident). You start to hear the reaction coming out – shock and disbelief. . . perhaps Tiger Woods’ forceful “excuse me” upon hearing the news from his caddy after finishing his round of eighteen sums that up nicely – for it seems surreal.

If you’ve always thought that the Christmas classic Home Alone was a bit sadistic, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Better Watch Out, co-written and directed by Chris Peckover (the story was conceived by Zach Kahn – who also co-wrote the script), plays like a combination of the above mentioned Chris Columbus directed, John Hughes scribed film, and a twist on the home-invasion horror sub-genre – something along the lines of When a Stranger Calls or The Strangers. A tough sell during the holidays, Better Watch Out really didn’t deliver at the box office, yet, in its three years since its 2016 release, it has slowly built a cult following. Twisty as much as it is twisted, Peckover relishes in this horror-fused Hughes-style world. Set in an upper-middle class home, it could sit on the same cold wintery Chicago street found in the 90s gem.

Like some sort of quirky hybrid of a Dr. Seuss story and an Abbott and Costello comedy sketch transported to the dark alleyway of a film noir, 2019's Word on the Street is a five minute foray into the wacky world of English wordplay. Written and directed by Austin Hillebrecht and Sean Parker, the former plays flat cap wearing Bugsy, a low-level ruffian who has heard that the word on the street is “implication”. Meeting up with fellow criminal Rat (Conor Eifler), the fedora wearing fella claims that it is “insinuation”.