A Blade Needs Only One Edge

A great director can make a great movie from a terrible screenplay, a good example being 2002's Blade II. David Goyer's screenplay is intensely stupid but director Guillermo del Toro overpowers the force of stupidity with atmosphere, pacing, composition, and a pure instinct for horror.

The first film was distinguished by exceptionally pathetic vampires. The second film solves this problem by introducing a new strain of mutant vampires who are much stronger, faster, and scarier.

Their mouths open up like the Predator and they have a second inner mouth like the alien from Alien. There's even a great dissection scene reminiscent of the facehugger dissection.

And the action scenes are terrific. Donnie Yen is sadly underused but Wesley Snipes and his stunt doubles could move appreciably fast. There are a few bits of outdated cgi but not enough to be a serious flaw.

Even though it doesn't make any sense, Kris Kristofferson returns from the first film, where he was clearly killed. But it's good to see him. Ron Perlman and Norman Reedus are both welcome additions who add a lot to the film. The latter character is part of a twist that makes absolutely no sense but he's also in a great scene where the mutant vampires lay siege to his van.

Mostly the makeup and special effects hold up perfectly.

Blade II is available on Netflix in Japan.

What Would Wood Do?

A wouldbe boy is made of wood.

--A wood bee? Can it fly?

No, no, he would like to be a boy.

--Why would a bee want to be a boy?

Not the bee, the wooden boy would!

--Wooden Boy Wood must have really weird trees.

No, no . . . It's like this, Guillermo del Toro has made a new movie, 2022's Pinocchio. It's a remake of the 1940 classic film, its plot resembling the Disney film much more than it does the 1883 Carlo Collodi novel. As such, it really can't compete with one of the greatest animated films of all time, particularly in terms of songs. But it's not bad and its design and stop motion animation are amazing.

Del Toro moves the story to 1930s Italy and adds a dead son to Geppetto's past. Part of Pinocchio's path to becoming a real boy in this one is stepping out of the shadow of Geppetto's human child. References to World War I and World War II are also contributions from del Toro, making the film somewhat reminiscent of The Devil's Backbone and Pan's Labyrinth.

The best contribution from del Toro is an afterlife Pinocchio visits every time he received a fatal wound. Partially decayed rabbits carry his coffin to a waiting room before Pinocchio goes off to chat with the Blue Fairy's sister, an amazing sphinx-like creature with a mask and wings covered with tiny eyes. She's voiced by Tilda Swinton, too.

But the main story has the same themes as the Disney film, delivered as a plainer allegory, making it feel slightly too long. But the voice actors are all excellent, particularly David Bradley as Geppetto. Cate Blanchett is also really interesting in the role of a monkey whose lines are mostly cries and grunts. Blanchett's always full of surprises.

Pinocchio is available on Netflix.

The Mathematics of Cinema

I didn't have a lot of time last night so I just watched Guillermo del Toro's 1987 short film Geometry. What a perfect blend of horror and comedy. And you can see Del Toro's distinctive style already in place with the saturated red and blue coloured lighting, the camera angles, and a kind of pitiless editing.

I don't know why I've been so in the mood for horror movies lately.

Yesterday I also saw the new trailer for Thor: Love and Thunder.

I still want to see it but the trailer isn't nearly as good as the teaser. Christian Bale looks great as the villain but I'm afraid Natalie Portman is going to drag the movie down. The concept of a woman taking over a famous male character's identity is so overdone now and doesn't even seem to be truly feminist. But I have to hand it to Portman for bulking up. She still doesn't look like anyone I'd call Thor but I respect the work she put into it. I might even like this storyline if I saw in isolation.

Twitter Sonnet #1584

A cape interred these eighty years returns.
A bidden shape approached our humble home.
A simple ape incurred what God discerns.
Forbid escape, or must in tempests roam.
A hungry shadow never leaves the house.
Revenge abides between the walls of stone.
A dreamy field conceals the panicked mouse.
The morning hides the ancient mummy bones.
The coffee speaks when tea could scarcely sleep.
Arriving home, the footless boots were wet.
The time to take the stairs was greater deep.
The horses dashed to beat the idle bet.
The running mountain slams athwart its twin.
The antsy sky was ever picked to win.

Deception Sold in Fairgrounds or Bottles

Those who wish to unlock the secrets of the human mind may wish they'd been more careful what they wished for. 2021's Nightmare Alley makes this point even more strongly than the 1947 classic film, also adapted from the same novel. Guillermo del Toro, as Martin Scorsese has eloquently pointed out, has directed the first true film noir in decades. It's one of the best, smartest movies of the century so far and it should be required viewing for anyone who wants to use social media.

The title is pretty damned evocative, isn't it? It comes from a line, spoken by Willem Dafoe in the film, about "geeks"--people at carnivals who used to bite the heads off chickens for money. Dafoe plays Clem, the owner of a carnival, who explains to the film's protagonist, Stan (Bradley Cooper), how he finds new geeks. He looks for hopeless drunks in "nightmare alleys" and other such places. Guys at the ends of their ropes who are easier to sucker into a job like this, who can rationalise it by promising themselves there's another bottle of booze at the end of the day. But, as is so often the case with noir, we get the impression of a narrow path. There aren't many choices in an alley--you can go to the end or you can back out. That's it.

What makes Nightmare Alley a true noir is its tension between free will and fate. The haunting final shot of the film is of a man not out of touch with reality but clearly trying, desperately trying, to convince himself he is. It's not a strange look. It's pretty normal if you've had many encounters with homeless people in America. Certainly the author of the original novel, William Lindsay Gresham, would've seen plenty of those, having lived through the Great Depression, during which a big chunk of this story is set. That's what you get when you're taught to aspire to independence and distinguishing brilliance only to wind up nowhere and effectively nothing. Gresham could also boast plenty of experience with carnivals, alcoholism, and depression, all of which come into play, all of which are perfect for ruminating on that insoluble tension between fate and free will.

The trouble is, you see, just what do you blame yourself for? How can you get started on atonement or healing when you don't even know where to begin? Pete (David Strathairn) gives Stan an amazing demonstration of how he and his assistant use coded words to fool people into thinking they're reading minds or contacting the spirit world. One simple trick implies the existence of other such tricks, and also the existence of tricks that are much more complex. Stan, finding he has a talent for it, takes it to a new level, even managing to see through the sinister psychologist, Lilith Ritter.

Cate Blanchett's performance reminded me quite a lot of Helen Walker's in the 1947 film except Blanchett plays it a little more vulnerable. The cracks of Ritter's facade show through a little more and her twisted compulsions imply a tragedy at work much like the one in Stan's soul.

The great thing about true noir is it doesn't let you escape. Much like Stan can never be really sure how much fate has dealt him a bad hand, we can never lock anyone down as good or evil. Stan wants to make a fortune off other people, yeah, but he also talks about giving them a sense of hope and closure in the process. He says himself he's "No good" in a line reminiscent of Double Indemnity's famous exchange--"We're both rotten, Walter." "Only you're a little more rotten." Can Stan really live with that as cosily as he thinks he does? And if he can't, is he really "no good"?

There's never a false step in this movie, never a clumsy piece of dialogue or development you have to overlook. It's meticulously written and beautifully directed.

Nightmare Alley is available on HBOMax.

Twitter Sonnet #1519

The understanding dance was like a plate.
It carried meat and something light and green.
And like a cloud, the figure rose to fate.
Before descending back below the screen.
The dying sound was half beyond the ear.
Prophetic drives return to mind the wheel.
Another day creates another year.
The magic finger missed a vital meal.
The salty soup was like a breakfast bread.
The party took the table close to me.
A sneaky hand accepts the bacon led.
Another cat arrived we couldn't see.
Another girl's beyond the lyric bend.
The tricky game would crash before the end.

Peak as a Colour

My favourite Guillermo del Toro movie is 2015's Crimson Peak but somehow I'd only seen it once before last night. I remember clearly that day in 2015. I wore my black frock coat with a purple tie and a lavender shirt and saw the movie at Plaza Bonita Mall. It seemed the right attire for this stylishly Victorian film.

I saw Guillermo del Toro promoting the film at Comic Con and he talked about the influences on the plot, the kind of psychological gothic romances that are very visible in the story set in a big, strange house. He also talked about the details he carefully constructed for character backstories and the marvellous house itself. He talked about how the rooms reflected the characters who occupied them. Certainly Jessica Chastain's character, Lucille, has a room that shows her severe, pathological madness, including a drawer where she stashes locks of hair from her victims.

I was reminded of Hitchcock's Notorious and one can certainly also see Rebecca or Suspicion. In terms of visual and sound design, no movie had been so lushly phantasmagoric since Bram Stoker's Dracula. I suspect it was a heavy influence--you can see it in all the iris wipes and the unrestrainedly fantastic horror of the skeletal ghosts.

For people who like this kind of story, the movie's a great slice of cake, though I suppose I can understand why many don't see the appeal. But I like this movie so much better than The Shape of Water, which I don't hate. But Shape of Water seems too dominated by political influence, under which the story of a weird romance gets a little muffled. Crimson Peak is 100% indulgence.

Crimson Peak is available on Netflix in the UK.

And the Naked Gold Man Goes to . . .

A movie I actually liked won Best Picture and Best Director at last night's Oscars. That hasn't happened in ten years. So congratulations to Guillermo del Toro, a very fine director and an incredibly nice guy. As is often the case, the Oscar seems more an award for a career than for the specific film: The Shape of Water is a really good movie but I thought Crimson Peak was even better and of course Devil's Backbone is a classic. The first Hellboy remains one of my favourite comic book movies. I'm glad to think this'll help make it easier for Del Toro to get decent budgets for his weirdest ideas.

As usual, I didn't watch the ceremony. I'm not a big fan of awards ceremonies in general--I tend to agree with Major Briggs on Twin Peaks: "Achievement is its own reward. Pride obscures it." The Academy Awards in particular have long been especially difficult to watch for me though maybe artists in the film industry who plumb the depths of their rawest emotions and routinely bare them for take after take need this kind of thing for catharsis. If I get some decent movies out of it I don't mind. I was happy to see Roger Deakins' work for Blade Runner 2049 was recognised--again, likely an acknowledgement of a career, though Blade Runner 2049 is last year's most under-appreciated film.

I didn't see most of the Best Picture nominees this year. I saw Shape of Water, Dunkirk, and Get Out. Certainly I think Shape of Water is the best of those three--the other two I thought were both good but overrated. I'm not sure I feel like seeing Lady Bird--I wasn't really impressed by Frances Ha, a film Greta Gerwig co-wrote and starred in, and I tend to feel like she's one of those people promoted by the Castigliane Brothers from Mulholland Drive. I thought the trailers for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri looked horrible with kind of a cheaply smug political attitude but some of the reviews I've seen make it sound like the film's pushed some real buttons so I might check it out.

Jimmy Kimmel seems to be a really popular host. I haven't had much exposure to him, I've never watched his show and I haven't thought he was particularly funny whenever he was on Howard Stern. I hated The Man Show though I thought this article in The Atlantic, which rehashed some of the worst moments of The Man Show a few days before the Oscars, was unintentionally hilarious. "Forgiving Jimmy Kimmel" it's called. Like families across the country sat down at the kitchen table and carefully weighed the moral implications of accepting Jimmy Kimmel onto our television sets.

Twitter Sonnet #1090

A zoom reshapes a plushy hat to big.
Forgotten rows of fabric eyes decide.
In judgement like a dusty station rig.
The pocket watch ordains the countryside.
Arranged in jelly rows was harvest dough.
In blinking lights the phone at last amends.
A single colour shook the light to go.
On purple webs the passenger depends.
Hotels with secret monocles adorned.
A house with confidential glasses graced.
An inn with rubber goggles slyly worn.
Motels at night with shades upon their face.
Linoleum's a darkened space enclosed.
To bring the lives of silver fish to close.