The Fall and Rise of Babylon

Reveling in the motifs of Edgar Allan Poe, think madness/insanity, a haunting location, the double, the uncanny, and maybe even death, Guillem Morales (Julia’s Eyes) explores the recesses of the mind in his directorial debut (he also writes the screenplay), The Uninvited Guest (2004). Who knew a four-thousand square foot home could be so claustrophobic. Félix (Andoni Gracia) finds himself alone in the weeks following the break-up from his longtime wife, Vera (Mónica López). With her having moved into a tiny three-hundred and fifty square foot apartment, it baffles Félix’s mind... unable to comprehend how anyone could downsize so drastically.

Sometimes, a movie title can be misleading. Imagine heading to the theatre in 1960, excited to see Terence Fisher’s Hammer horror film The Brides of Dracula, only for the opening voice-over to exclaim, just a couple of seconds in, that Dracula is dead – that might be a bit of a letdown. But don’t worry, a new vampire will rise to start his own harem. I know what you must be thinking... did he immigrate to Europe from Utah? No, he’s one of those unusual, ultra kinky Europeans, but more on that later.

Fabled reverberations of distant past, a time when magic still filled the air... and men would quest to prove their knightly virtues, are brought to vivid life in writer/director David Lowery’s 2021 Arthurian era legend, The Green Knight. Almost ethereal in its nature – not due to some sort of fragility, but rather because it feels as if it is transcendent of this time... a wisp of lore echoing from distant past that ought be lost at the merest blink of an eye, it is akin to being transported back into a magic-tinged Medieval landscape. Lowery deserves much credit for brewing such a mythical auratic atmosphere. It is no easy feat being an Arthurian laureate, for you must know the earliest records dating back to Geoffrey of Monmouth in the twelfth century, through the long annals...

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.

Ah, the summer rental. . . a long held tradition that holds within it the unique ability to escape the intense grind of day to day life, allowing renters to find peace and quiet, comfort, family bonding, with some oft beautiful site-seeing along the way. But sadly, this isn’t always how it turns out. . . case in point, 1976's Burnt Offerings, co-written and directed by Dan Curtis (based on the novel of the same name by Robert Marasco). The Rolf’s, author Ben (Oliver Reed), his wife Marian (Karen Black), their tween son David (Lee Montgomery), and Ben’s artsy aunt, Elizabeth (Bette Davis), are fortunate enough to have found a stunning (if dilapidated) 19th century mansion to rent for the all-too-good price of nine hundred dollars – yes, for the entire summer! The only caveat that is added by owners Arnold and Roz Allardyce (Burgess Meredith and Eileen Heckart), is that their elderly private mother, who is in her mid eighties, is going to stay in her attic flat. . . and it will be their job to bring her a tray of food for each meal (though due to her reclusive state, they are required to leave the food outside her door).

A return to his roots after more than a decade making big budget studio pictures, Guy Ritchie’s The Gentlemen (2019), recaptures that unique mixture of crime and comedy (all done in a hyper-stylized visual way) that put him on the map back in 1998 with Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (the successful follow up Snatch would come in 2000). If you don’t like Ritchie’s visual style and Limey-centred crime stories, then this likely won’t win you over, but if you’ve missed his unique method of film making since his last gangster flick (2008's RocknRolla), this one should feel as comfortable as a finely made bespoke suit.