Reviewing media such as games and movies, from a wide variety of genres based on my wildly fluctuating moods and interest. CURRENT FOCUS: Android mobile games. More Roblox reviews coming soon.
Starring:
Omri Katz as Marshall Teller
Justin Shenkarow as Simon Holmes
Mary-Margaret Humes as Marilyn Teller
Francis Guinan as Edgar Teller
Julie Condra as Syndi Teller
Shanelle Workman as Sara Bob
Richard Grove as Dad Bob
Harry Goaz as Sgt. Knight
Archie Hahn as Mr. Radford
Written by: Julia Poll Directed by: Tim Hunter
If there’s one thing “Eerie, Indiana” has, it’s a penchant for imaginative ideas that are specifically skewered toward younger viewers, and “Who’s Who” is no exception. In it, a little girl in a family full of hyperactive boys (all with the last name “Bob”, herself included) learns that she can bring her drawings to life simply by signing them with an “Eerie” brand no. 2 pencil (initially at Marshall’s urging). Wanting a quieter, calmer family, she sits down to draw her ideal one…which consists of Marshall’s mother! Can he convince her to return his mother to him, or will the Teller family permanently be short one member for the rest of time?
This isn’t one of the more memorable installments in the “Eerie” pantheon, but it does introduce Harry Goaz as Sgt. Knight, which is basically a slightly more functional version of his character in “Twin Peaks”. It also paints a rather bleak (though watered-down) view of her life, featuring Sara using drawing as a means to escape the dysfunctionality of her home life. It will be an all-too-realistic portrait for some kids, but “Eerie” never seemed to be afraid of tackling any subject matter.
In fact, it's where “Eerie” seems to be most comfortable: When it’s taking adult topics and “watering it down” for kids, while still leaving enough realism and fancy to appeal to both sides of the spectrum. It’s a difficult balancing act, and overall it seems to do well with it, although in this episode it doesn’t take much digging to find the depressing undercurrent that holds it all together.
Take the scene where Marshall informs Sara Bob that his mother is there to pick him up. “Mother?” she asks quizzically, as if she’s never seen one before. And sure enough, a visit later on to her house reveals an uncaring, alcoholic father, complete with four young hyperactive brothers, all of whom look up to her to be the “mother”, and all of whom (minus the dad, who I don’t even think says a word) complain about all the things she has or hasn’t done for them. No one deserves this kind of pressure, period, but to have it all placed on a middle school child is rather dark stuff.
It's never even hinted at the fate of the mother, but whether she passed away, or ran out on them doesn't really matter. Actually, I kind of like that it's never touched upon...most shows would use it as a chance to throw in some corny sob story as a way to extract emotional resonance from the episode, but this show gets enough of that without it. We can already gather Sara's loneliness and isolation from the way she reacts to the world around her, and that speaks louder than any backstory could.
This being said, the episode feels a little half-baked, and wasn't really all that interesting. Of course, Marshall gets his mother back (no spoilers here) and Sara reverts her family back to “normal” after reversing it so that they served her instead, but with an additional caveat that keeps them in line. It's all so...”linear” and straightforward compared to many of the other episodes, and that's enough to make it unsatisfying. It has a couple of laughs, and is far from terrible, but as far as this series goes, it's definitely one of the weaker efforts. EPISODE RATING: 5/10
Director: Agnieszka Smoczynska Writer(s): Robert Bolesto Starring: Marta Mazurek, Michalina Olszanska, Kinga Preis, and Andrzej Konopka
“Silver” and “Gold” are two attractive sister mermaids who survive by luring men into the waters with their beautiful singing voices, then killing and eating them. Actually, the “technical” term for such a creature is a siren; these mystical beings have existed in literature for probably about as long as bodies of water have existed in nature. But Agnieszka Smoczynska's The Lure isn't focused so much on the killings as it is focused on...dance music? Well, in case you weren't already aware, this sentence alone should give you enough clues to deduce that this is not an American film. And it's all the better for it.
When the film opens, Silver and Gold are about to kill the two male members of a musical group, when the piercing scream from the lone female member prevents them from following through. Curiously, the family decides to “adopt” the mermaids, bringing them to the Warsaw nightclub where they perform every night as the “Fig and Dates”. Their job is pretty simple: dance, sing, and strip to the music to entertain the clientele; for the big finish, they get into a big glass cup filled with water, their fish tails out for the whole world to see.
And that is one of the most refreshing aspects of The Lure: the girls' status as mermaids is never kept a secret. Oftentimes in films like this, the girls have to keep their true identity hidden, for fear of being “outed”; in this world, no one is frightened or disgusted by their mermaid appearance. In fact, all are quite thrilled by the sight of these two beautiful sea maidens. Also interesting is that there are no “villains” to speak of, no people who are determined to profit off their exploitation, or who are looking to harm them in any way; the girls are willing, eager participants in everything they do. Imagine that: female characters who are free to control themselves and their own destiny? What kind of world is this?
Instead, the movie is more focused on their relationships, both with each other, but also with those in the new world around them. Gold is more interested in luring men to their doom, chewing out their throats before feasting on their hearts. Silver, on the other hand, is smitten with the bassist of the “Fig and Dates”, and wants to pursue a relationship with him. In an homage to The Little Mermaid, she is given the chance to trade in her tail for human legs, at the expense of losing her voice. Not to be outdone, The Lure takes this idea one step further: If he kisses her but marries another, she has until daybreak the following day to eat him, or else she will turn into sea foam...quite literally.
So this makes for an interesting web of side stories, many of which are never really expanded upon to their full potential. There's the relationship between Gold and Silver over their “creative differences”; Silver's relationship with the bassist, who seems to be as grossed out by her as he is fascinated; the mermaids' relationship with their “adoptive family”, especially as the body count starts to rise. Then there's the cop that seems to witness Gold murdering an innocent man, sings a song about it, and then is completely forgotten. Watching it, one gets the feeling that writer Robert Bolesto suffers from a severe case of ADD. But at the very least, you can call The Lure many things, but "boring" is not one of them.
The leads are both fantastic, but I must confess to being completely smitten with Michalina Olszanska as Gold. She is a beautiful actress on her own, but the seductive looks she gives men as she attempts to entangle them in her murderous web—let's just say it's not a stretch to believe that she could lure a man to his death. It will be interesting to see the trajectory of her career, because she has the looks, and the talent to become an international star. Marta Mazurek reminds one of a younger Nikki Cox, and has the perfect look of innocence that lends credibility to her turn as the one looking for love.
Smoczynska's film is soaked in bright colors and neon lighting, and there's a freewheeling attitude that permeates almost every frame. It is unafraid to take chances, and does so with often reckless abandon, which leads to some severe unevenness. It's never boring, but it's not always as fun as it seems to think it is. The musical numbers are mostly bland and unmemorable (though a couple, including an upbeat number during a punk show, are fantastic), and the kill scenes are both relatively rare and ungraphic; if you were sold on the movie because you thought the focus would be on the murders, then you would do best to completely avoid it. Likewise if you are interested in the studio's synopsis, which is: “Two mermaid sisters become caught in a love triangle when they fall for the same man,” then you should probably avoid it as well, because that never happens.
I guess that just goes to show you just how difficult it is to categorize The Lure. If you like mermaids (or sirens) as my wife does (and myself by extension; her intense enthusiasm for the trailer is what heightened my own interest in it), then you should give this one a chance. If you like musicals, it's hit-or-miss for you, and ditto that if you're here for the horror aspects. It works best for audiences that go in looking to be assaulted with a freewheeling carelessness, and don't mind hitting quite a few bumps along the way.
Starring:
Omri Katz as Marshall Teller
Justin Shenkarow as Simon Holmes
Mary-Margaret Humes as Marilyn Teller
Francis Guinan as Edgar Teller
Julie Condra as Syndi Teller
Tobey Maguire as Tripp McConnell
Herta Ware as Mary B. Carter
Aimee Brooks as Young Mary
T.C. Warner as Andrea
Jeff Fried as Paramedic
Written by: James Crite Directed by: Tim Hunter
Well what do you know? As it turns out, the writers of “Eerie” didn't get out all that they had to say about death in the last episode, and have turned around immediately to tackle the subject head-on yet again.
If you're so cold and heartless that you can't give the show anything else, you at least have to admire it for the casting choices: It seems the special guest from every episode has gone on to do some pretty big things in Hollywood. For example, Danielle Harris, from the last episode, would go on to become popular for her voice role on the Wild Thornberry's, as well as her live-action roles in Rob Zombie's Halloween remakes. Here, we have a young Tobey Maguire—who looks eerily like current Tobey Maguire—playing the role of a ghost.
That ghost is Tripp McConnell, and he is awakened when Marshall finds an old letter in a book at the local bookstore. After the initial shock of finding a man from the 1930s hanging around the bookshelves wears off, Marshall picks up on what Tripp is trying to urge him to do: Deliver the letter to its intended recipient.
You see, Tripp was deeply, madly in
love with one Mary Carter 62 years ago, and they were certain to be
wed. But then Tripp got some cold feet and left Mary out in the
cold, something she has never forgotten, or forgiven, all these years
later. But that can be the problem with life: not everything is
always as it seems. In this case, the only thing Tripp did wrong was
get killed, and that’s what prevented him from marrying his
childhood sweetheart, something she has been oblivious to for all the
prevailing years.
Since Marshall was the one that
discovered the letter, then Marshall is the one that is required to
deliver it to Mary Carter in this current day and age, 62 years
later. He refuses quite a few times, finding Tripp to be a rather
annoying chap, at which point Tripp has to rely on his ghostly
cunning to get him to change his mind: He wins over the Teller family
with his ghostly charm, earning an invite to stay for dinner.
Marshall isn’t too keen on seeing this happen, so he reluctantly
agrees to help him, on the grounds that he leaves him alone
afterwards.
Thankfully, the myriad of possible
pitfalls that one could face when searching for a person after six
decades, are all conveniently avoided: Mary still lives at the exact
same address as she did all those years ago, with her granddaughter,
who happens to be Marshall's age. At first Mary thinks Marshall is
lying, until she reads the letter, and then learns the truth about Tripp's fate.
The ending of this one is actually pretty similar to “Heart on a Chain”, now that I think about it, with the two lovers reunited in the afterlife, something we can see coming from the outset (though it's not as creepy as it sounds, as Tripp sees Mary the way she was when they were together, as opposed to the old decaying hag that she has become). This one is a little less devastating, simply because we’re dealing with an old woman versus a young one (and old women are always considered expendable in today’s society), but it’s still a pretty hefty emotional saga for a young adult to sit through. Nevertheless, with two themes so closely intertwined to one another, I think it would have made more sense to space those two apart a few episodes, rather than have them be back-to-back installments.
Also a little bizarre is Marshall's initial refusal to have anything to do with Tripp. Here is a kid that goes out of his way to investigate weird goings-on in Eerie, and so for him to get offended by Tripp's simple request, simply because he “feels like” he's trouble, just seems out of character, especially since Tripp does nothing to garner such feelings. Sure, he comes off as rather arrogant in their first meeting, but isn't rude or offensive in any specific way. Just a weird way for a “hardened” investigator of the macabre to act.
When the dust settles, this is a pretty decent episode, but by leaning heavily on many of the same themes that the previous episode dealt with does it no favors.
It's clear I'm unable to post these with any consistency, so I guess just keep checking back periodically. All the episodes will get reviewed eventually!
Starring:
Omri Katz as Marshall Teller
Justin Shenkarow as Simon Holmes
Mary-Margaret Humes as Marilyn Teller
Francis Guinan as Edgar Teller
Julie Condra as Syndi Teller
Cory Danziger as Devon Wilde
Danielle Harris as Melanie Monroe
Jim Jansen as Melanie's Father
Sarah Lilly as Miss Annabell Lee
Henry Brown as Doctor
Steven Peri as Old Elvis
Written by: Jose Rivera Directed by: Joe Dante
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When I read a brief synopsis for the seventh episode of “Eerie, Indiana”, I was intrigued. It’s not every day that you find a show geared toward young adults (and, perhaps arguably, even younger than that) willing to tackle the subject of death at all; it’s even less common to see a show do it in such a frank, straightforward way. I was finally starting to appreciate the town of Eerie and its characters, but this wallop of an episode helps to prove just how daring this show really was, at least in terms of its intended age group. Its characters aren’t mindless caricatures quickly thrown together for the sake of ratings, but rather fully realized people. Even the adults in this show, such as Marshall’s family members, who are usually made stupid in shows so that the younger characters—the ones audience members would be most likely to relate to—can be intellectually superior, are immediately likable, and always encouraging to their son's interests, no matter how weird or “out there” they may be.
In this one, there’s a new girl in town, and both Marshall, and his friend Devon Wilde, are immediately smitten with her. She is Melanie, but she is no ordinary girl: she has a weak heart, and is on a list to receive a transplant that can elongate her life. Unfazed by this development, the two kids engage in friendly competitions, each one trying to impress her more so that they win her fragile heart; it’s Devon’s wild-child persona, vs. Marshall’s good-guy routine, and just like in real-life, it’s obvious which one she favors, and it ain’t Marshall.
Then Devon is struck and killed while carelessly riding his skateboard in the middle of the street.
One thing that sets this apart from similar shows of its ilk is the relationship between Devon and Marshall. While they both are fighting for the same goal, they still put their own friendship above all else: Devon even asks Marshall if he minds if he asks Melanie to the school dance, and Marshall puts aside his own feelings to let it happen; Marshall is upset when a careless Devon nearly gets run over by the same milk truck that finishes him off a little while later. It never devolves into a mean-spirited rivalry, which is the standard story arc that these stories lead to, and it's refreshing that “Eerie, Indiana” doesn't sinks into that same level of tired mediocrity.
After Marshall learns that Devon was struck by a truck, he rushes to the hospital, where he meets Melanie, who informs him they found a heart for her. At that precise moment, Marshall puts two and two together, and figures out that Devon has passed on, and it is his heart that will be implanted inside her. It's pretty heavy stuff so far (oh, it gets even stronger), but nice to see a television show that doesn't assume its audience is comprised of idiots that need everything spoonfed to them, so I can definitely appreciate the strong subject matter.
Anyway, after she receives the heart, Marshall notices that her personality changes. She's no longer a shy, innocent girl, but a daredevil who takes chances and whose favorite line is: “Live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse”...which happened to be Devon's favorite quote! Marshall doesn't like this change, and urges her to let him go and move on. He assures her that everyone is sad he's gone, especially him since he was one of his best friends, but that life doesn't wait and it's the only thing she can do. She reluctantly agrees to try to do so by kissing him...only to have her heart malfunction. It's just a minor glitch—the moment they pull away everything returns to normal—but it's enough to cause alarm. Is Devon controlling her from beyond? In the end, Melanie agrees to let Devon go, but tells Marshall she isn't ready to be in a relationship so soon, and they part ways, with Marshall joining Simon and Melanie going her own separate way.
[SPOILER ALERT]
But as sad as this episode already is, it’s about to become emotionally shattering: As Simon and Marshall happily make their way for the cemetery exit, we see a figure walking slowly in the background, heading toward an off-screen Melanie. After a little bit of squinting, I realized it’s the FUCKING GRIM REAPER. Then, a light shines on the angel on Devon’s gravestone, complete with the heart pendant that Devon got for her, at which point a lone tear drips down, indicating that he is claiming her so that no one else can have her. Holy shit.
[END SPOILER ALERT]
This is about as perfect as a thirty-minute episode of young adult/children's TV can be, with heavy subject matter handled with maturity and an uncommon straightforwardness that flies in the face of the bland watered-down sameness of many such shows, even today. The way the Tellers handle Marshall's new “girlfriend” the few times she is over, is so adorable, you just can't help but fall in love with them. I know early on in the season I mentioned that Marshall and Simon are completely boring and don't have the kinds of personalities that make good leads in a show, but it is these exact traits that have actually made me completely change my mind: They are you and me. They are everyday children with wild imaginations and big dreams, kids with big hearts and a loving family (well, not in Simon's case, but the Tellers frequently take him in as their own).
This show has slowly been growing on me, and I was beginning to realize its potential; not even I could have realized the near-perfection that it was capable of when everything came together in harmony. This is a devastating, must-see episode, and the pinnacle of what "Eerie Indiana" had to offer.
SIDE NOTE: After harping on how weak Joe Dante-directed episodes were compared to others, I have to immediately take that back, as he was the director of this one. It's not just the pinnacle of the series, but might be the pinnacle of his career.
Director: Jordan Peele Writer(s): Peele Starring: Daniel Kaluuya, Allison Williams, Bradley Whitford, and Catherine Keener
The appearance of Get Out in multiplexes nationwide is well-timed: Race relations are once again out-of-whack. A lot of this is due to a media that likes to blow everything out of proportion—race-baiting riles everyone up which leads to massive readership and attention for the publication—but there is also no denying that America really does have a systemic race problem. It may have peaked with slavery in the 1800s, and again in the 1960s during the civil rights movement, but the residual effects continue to trickle throughout the veins of America like a disease. And just like the worst of diseases, there isn't—and will never be—a cure.
That studio executives have decided this is the best time to mass-release a “black-themed” horror movie is no surprise; what is a massive shock is the man responsible for creating it: Jordan Peele, part of the “Key & Peele” comedy duo. I would not have expected him to create what is ostensibly a straight-ahead horror film (complete with a few laughs, as can be expected), but he has done it, and his vision is hit-or-miss, with plenty of both.
The easiest way to explain it is Guess Who's Coming to Dinner meets The Invitation: Chris is preparing to meet Rose's rich parents, Dean and Missy Armitage. He is nervous, especially when Rose reveals that she has not told them that he is black; she assures him that race is not an issue, and that they will not mind the color of his skin. Chris still has reservations, but puts them aside, giving his girlfriend of four months the benefit of the doubt. After all, who would know Rose's parents better than Rose?
As always, things have to get off to an ominous start, and this trip is no exception: the two run into a deer en route, causing some minor damage to their car, but thankfully leaving no physical injuries. The rest of the trip goes as scheduled, and after traveling miles and miles through wooded areas, they finally arrive at the Armitages' sprawling, secluded estate. Of course it's secluded, with the next house conveniently “across the river” in Dean's own words.
Chris and Rose think it will be just them, and Rose's parents, but soon Rose's weird brother arrives. Then they get the news that it's the weekend of the big family gathering, something Rose forgot, so they will be joined by dozens and dozens of rich white folk the next day. Rose apologizes for the foresight, but Chris, ever wanting to be accepted by the parents, just brushes everything aside and goes along with it as best he can.
He would be alone through all of this if it weren't for his best friend Rod, a TSA (Transportation Security Administration) agent whom he keeps in contact with via cell phone. This proves to be perhaps the film's biggest downfall, as Rod provides both the comedic relief, and later on, Chris's only hope for survival. I hate the idea of having a strict “comedic relief” character, and movies like this are the reason why: it ruins momentum. Every scene with Rod puts the brakes on a film that otherwise slow-builds to a a dreadful peak atmosphere, where danger seems to lurk around every corner. Rod is the “typical” movie black man, spouting obscenities and serving as Chris's (convenient) window to the outside world, and the film suffers because of it.
Things gradually get a little strange. Actually, they are strange right from the outset, what with Missy's offer to hypnotize Chris in order to stop his smoking habit, offered up almost right from the outset. Chris brushes his aside as small talk; two parents who are just trying to find common ground between themselves, and their daughter's new boyfriend. But what about the house's maid and groundskeeper, who are also black? Dean discusses it away (they hired them to care for his ailing mother and didn't have the heart to let them go after that) but there's just something that's not right about the servants...or the family for that matter...
One night, Chris sneaks outside for a smoke. After an alarming meeting with the groundskeeper, Chris returns inside, where he is approached by Missy. She is very disapproving of Chris's smoking habit, especially after learning he smokes cigarettes in front of their daughter, and offers to hypnotize him right there as a means to "cure" him. Chris declines, but she does it anyway, getting him to recount that fateful day that he, at eleven years of age, lost his mother to a hit and run accident. She also takes him to her “sunken place”, where he is no longer in control of his body, but can see everything that is going on around him (or to him, as the case may be). Chris wakes up, at first believing it to be a dream, but learns later that it was not...on the plus side, though, he loses his interest in cigarettes!
Then, it's the next day and the white folks come in droves. All are friendly and rich, but one of them sticks out like a sore thumb: Andrew Logan King, a skinny black man married to an older white woman. That the marriage is interracial isn't so alarming in and of itself (although they are the only such pairing amidst the dozen or so couples), but it's the way that Andrew acts. Well, as a "well-mannered white man" first and foremost, but also as if he's hiding something. Wanting to capture “evidence” to present to Rod, Chris snaps a photo of Andrew, who seems to snap out of a trance, attacking Chris and warning him to “get out”. Andrew is quickly subdued and returns to his “normal” happy self. But Chris has seen enough and desperately wants to leave, something that, as we know by now, probably won't be so easy.
I correctly guessed the “twist” a week before I even sat down to watch the movie, but Peele and his actors do a great job of selling it: I second-guessed myself many times, thinking that the movie was better and smarter than that, but sure enough that's where it goes. And that is just its problem: While no white man can accurately “feel” what it's like to go through the day as a member of another race, Peele cleverly constructs it in such a way where whites can at least “understand” the daily “risks” of being a non-white person in today's society. Chris (and the other African-Americans who are on display, both literally and figuratively) are clearly outcasts in a white-dominated world. They are “domesticated”, allowed to exist only within the same house as rich white folk if they act like rich white folk, happy to serve their masters. It presents everything so cleverly, that wrapping everything around a series of well-worn horror tropes just feels like a grave injustice. This is a movie that should be more intelligent than that, a movie that should have things to say so profound that it cannot be summarized within the simple confines of much stupider movies. But it settles, and the results are often rather pedestrian.
On the one hand, I get what Peele was doing: by trapping the film within the tired framework of thousands of films before it, he assures that he gets his message to as many multiplexes as possible. At the same time, however, it feels like he's sacrificing at least some of his artistic integrity, and “watering down” his true feelings just for the sake of catering to a wide audience (and at the same time, earning loads of bank in the process). It's a fine line, and I will not pretend to understand his mindset by putting words in his mouth, but either way, this is a film that would have much more of an impact if it was gutsy enough to “stray away from the track”, so to speak, and try catching its audience off guard, rather than to cater to them.
What Get Out gets unanimously right is the personnel: it gets great mileage out of its cast, who deliver first rate performances. Daniel Kaluuya, who I recognized from what I consider to be one of the greatest episodes in television history, “Fifteen Million Merits” from the first season of Black Mirror, is fantastic in the crucial main role, nailing his impression of at first a baffled, then incredulous black man caught in a world that is foreign to him. Allison Williams is excellent as the caring girlfriend, and is the perfect actress for roles of this type, with a natural, plain beauty that believably presents her as an “everyday girl”.
Unfortunately, though, Get Out is undone by its familiarity, which sabotages much of what Peele was trying to accomplish. Its ending, which lead to many cheers from the audience I saw it with, is a complete cop-out that beautifully sets up, then avoids, a scathing gut-punch of a finish, in favor of a crowd-pleaser that conveniently ties up all loose ends and will be much more quickly forgotten. It's not a bad film by any means, and it's great that it puts African Americans and their plight to the eyes of large audiences, but it's ultimately disheartening in the way Peele removes much of the potentially-sharp nature of the material, to deliver a film that is ultimately as blank and emotionally-removed as many of the characters that inhabit it.
