A Law Unto Themselves

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).

The year is 1977. . . and several movies are being hyped – none of which is Star Wars. Smokey and the Bandit, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, The Spy Who Loved Me. . . the list goes on and on, yet the George Lucas feature was not expected to go anywhere. Lucas had shown it to many of his friends (before it was even close to finished), Brian De Palma bluntly saying, “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but …what is this shit?". As the rest of his buddies concurred, the lone voice of support came from the one and only Steven Spielberg – seeing the potential and future for his friend’s creative vision. With a studio equally as unenthused – they released it on Wednesday, May 25th, in just over thirty theatres. . . Lucas decided to lick his wounds on the beaches in Hawaii. Yet, as you know, the unexpected occurred, and a little film called Star Wars became a worldwide juggernaut.

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.

Like a copycat killer, it is somehow unusual and rather suspicious that anytime a good film idea hits production, it seems like there is another similar project coming down the pipeline. . . sometimes referred to as ‘twin films’, countless examples exist – White House Down and Olympus Has Fallen, Hitchcock and The Girl, The Prestige and The Illusionist, Friends With Benefits and No Strings Attached, Darkest Hour and Churchill, The Descent and The Cave (anyways, you get the idea). Another intriguing example finds the horror classic Don’t Look Now having a doppelganger in the 1972 Aldo Lado directed giallo Who Saw Her Die? – though don’t jump to conclusions as to which one is the knock-off. Released a year prior to the 1973 feature, Who Saw Her Die? also finds itself set in the eerily beautiful city of Venice, where a couple is dealing with the death of their child. With numerous similarities, like a water-set funeral and an intimate sex scene, and though the set up and settings are similar, in many ways, they are separate entities.

Pairing up two of the most iconic actors of this generation. . . no, I am not talking about Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt. . . Matt Damon and Christian Bale work together for the first time in the 2019 Best Picture nominee Ford v Ferrari, directed by James Mangold (Logan; Walk the Line). An historical event that I’ve somehow never heard of before, this ‘based on a true story’ tale is set in 1966, and the times, they are a changing. A little over twenty years after the end of World War 2, a whole new generation was born when the soldiers returned home in 1945. . . these now teenagers/early 20 somethings (with more money than any other grouping that came before), are yearning for a new type of car (not their father’s automobile).