The Unperceived Companion Night

A poor young man with aristocratic tastes finds his fortunes rise when he meets a beautiful heiress. But all's not as it seems in 1972's Endless Night. Based on a 1967 Agatha Christie novel, it follows in the footsteps of Peeping Tom and Psycho to portray a seemingly innocent young man with a hidden, dark persona. It's part cosy English mystery, part psychological nightmare and I got a kick out of it.

It was the last film of the filmmaking team of Sidney Gilliat and Frank Launder, a duo primarily known for comedies in the '50s. They prove they were just as capable of making a murder mystery and they're helped a lot by a score from Bernard Herrmann and a terrific cast.

Hywel Bennett plays Michael, a chauffeur who likes to visit art galleries in his spare time. One day, taking photos in the countryside, he runs into Ellie, a beautiful American girl played by Hayley Mills. Mills' American accent is never convincing for a moment but it didn't bother me too much. It turns out she's rich and after they're married Michael draws the cagey suspicion of Ellie's lawyer uncle played by George Sanders, who committed suicide the same year. He does seem slightly detached in the film but he still gives a perfectly good performance.

Britt Ekland plays Ellie's domineering German assistant, Greta, whom Michael seems to detest.

The film's filled with subtle hints. We get some glimpses into Michael's childhood and the significant presence of a picture of God's eye in his bedroom, which seems to haunt him like the Eye of Sauron. As in Peeping Tom, there's a sense of Michael being psychologically damaged by not having privacy in his youth. I was also reminded of Lost Highway and Fred Madison's fear of cameras and video preventing him from remembering things his own way. Of course, I also think of Detour and Black Angel. Endless Night is a nice addition to this psycho tradition.

It's a Rock Monster

An architectural historian is shocked to find gargoyles coming to life in France and tearing people's heads off. 2009's Rise of the Gargoyles is a SyFy channel movie with cheap cgi and actors from daytime soap operas. I found the screenplay's inscrutable chain of logic kind of interesting.

One question no-one asks is, "Why?" Why are gargoyles coming to life and killing people? Why some people and not others? The architectural historian, Jack (Eric Balfour), has to be coaxed by a friend into visiting an 19th century church that's about to be demolished. Why does he have to be coaxed if this is his specialty? They rouse the wrath of they gargoyle for reasons that aren't clear. Jack manages to get some footage--his camera is busted in the escape but some news reporters manage to retrieve the footage. However, all the data is wiped the next morning as part of a routine in which all systems are rebooted at the news station. Why?

So Inspector Gibert can't see it of course. He's played by Welsh actor Ifan Huw Dafydd who puts on the most ridiculous, Pepe Le Pew accent you can imagine for the role, which stands in contrast to actual French speaker Caroline Neron who plays the news reporter--she's Canadian. The movie was shot at least partially in France, why doesn't it have any French actors? These are the enduring mysteries of Rise of the Gargoyles.

Doing It Unprofessionally

What happens when someone with no political acumen and poor education but with a reputation for honesty enters the arena of American politics? You get a madcap comedy like 1984's Protocol starring Goldie Hawn as a cocktail waitress who rises to political fame after saving a Middle Eastern politician from assassination. Oh, the innocence of '80s political comedy.

Quickly, a cadre of political handlers swoop in and try to control Sunny's (Hawn) rising stardom. But she foils them again and again by doing things like taking dignitaries to the local bar for a good old fashioned American time of drinking and carousing, presumably things that are not done in the fictional middle eastern country of Otah.

Despite all the scandal and hijinks that ensue, the public loves Sunny because she seems real and just like them, eventually propelling her to political office. Just imagine something like that happening in real life!

The Late Heart

Lots of couples have troubled relationships, few are so lucky to have their woes set to music by Tom Waits. It leads to the dreamy atmosphere of Francis Ford Coppola's 1982 film One from the Heart. It's never been a popular film, certainly not enough to justify its massive budget (a recurrent theme in Coppola's career), but an excellent film if you like Tom Waits and film history.

Waits is joined by Crystal Gayle on vocals and Coppola lets their lyrics play out, accompanied by scenes of Hank (Frederic Forrest) and Frannie (Teri Garr) fighting, reconciling, and sleeping with other people in a deliberately artificial movie version of Las Vegas. This was piano jazz era Tom Waits and the mellow, whiskey lounge vibe of his music pairs smoothly with Crystal Gayle's crystalline vocals.

A lot of people criticised the characters for being too thin. They are kind of archetypes more than characters and I think the film is set in the same universe as the 1941 Thief of Bagdad, a film with which Coppola is obsessed. The artistic artificiality of the film's aesthetic is very similar. There's even an appearance by the All Seeing Eye from The Thief of Bagdad, marvelled over by Nastassja Kinski as a circus girl called Leila. Teri Garr's performance lends a lot of humanity to Frannie but I actually found Kinski's character more intriguing.

While Hank is being unfaithful with Leila, Frannie has a tryst with Ray (Raul Julia), a down on his luck piano player. They have some good moments, too.

Maybe the film is no magnificent epic but it sure put me in a great, mellow mood.

One from the Heart is available on The Criterion Channel until December 1.

Talking Turkey

Happy Thanksgiving from Japan, everyone, where most people haven't heard of it. Of course, it's actually now Friday here, and most people have heard of Black Friday because shops can't pass up an excuse for a sale. Black Friday sales are pretty pathetic here, though. 30 or 40 percent off, yay.

This week I've been making burritos with roast chicken and boiled pumpkin. Maybe I should call them wraps since they have no beans. I guess they're kind of Thanksgiving-ish. Turkey is notoriously difficult to get in Japan though I've heard kids have been getting it at Universal Studios Japan. I plan to celebrate this weekend with a few glasses of Wild Turkey, as usual.

Last night I watched The Maltese Falcon--it's about a bird, anyway--and some of the annual Mystery Science Theatre 3000 Turkey Day Marathon, which, as I write, is still streaming. This year they're doing some kind of "Potluck of the Stars" with occasional cameos from celebrities. I think Mark Hamill shows up.

X Sonnet #1901

A score of cats began to climb a dream.
My open dream to which the moon was sent.
Some critters caper up the silver beam.
But stooges smelled her sweat and effort spent.
Eternal teens usurped the office ball.
Returning champs were naught but paper bags.
The human beings aped coyote's call.
With stupid games, the sickly morning sags.
Unlucky birds became the blackened toast.
Before the mob acquired sales, they ate.
Another bird was found to slowly roast.
We left an ear of corn as tempting bait.
With thanks, the giving gnomes destroyed the pot.
The oven served to cook the basted lot.

Jim Abrahams

Jim Abrahams passed away at the age of 80 on Tuesday. Best known for directing absurdist comedies like Airplane! and The Naked Gun, Abrahams made a lot of movies I haven't seen since I was a kid but I still remember a whole lot of dialogue from. Watching a bunch of '70s panic movies recently, I was compelled to remember the running gag in Airplane! of Lloyd Bridges ruefully observing it was a bad time to stop smoking/drinking/doing cocaine.

I have a very clear memory of the kids on my street being really pumped to see Hot Shots: Part Deux. I'm not sure if I ever even saw the first one but I was excited to go along with everyone for the second.

Periodically, I have to watch clips from Police Squad, which Abrahams co-created, to maintain my sanity.

Not all of Abrahams' films were absurdist comedies. Last night I watched his 1990 film Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael. It stars Winona Ryder as a misfit teen named Dinkie who lives in a small, gaudy town obsessed with a legendary former resident, the Roxy Carmichael of the title. Ryder's performance is great and I found it to be an insightful film about a teenage girl desperate for a role model. It's not Abrahams' typical absurdist comedy and yet there's definitely a surreal element at play. No-one's quite sure why Roxy is so famous, she's like a tall tale that would've been more at home in another era, like Paul Bunyan or Hercules.

Abrahams directs from a screenplay by Karen Leigh Hopkins to make a film that connects a slightly dreamlike reality with a girl's struggle against normalcy and with a simultaneous need for validation. It's nothing I'd have expected from Abrahams. It's available on The Criterion Channel now as a part of a Winona Ryder playlist.

A Prick for All Seasons

I watched the finale of Ally McBeal season one a few days ago and who should I see but Bob Gunton. I've also been watching Daredevil season one which also features Bob Gunton and I also saw him in Bats, the cheesy '90s sci fi movie in which he plays a prick scientist. He always plays a prick. In fact, someone made a supercut of him being a prick on Daredevil.

And, of course, he's most famous as the warden in Shawshank Redemption, a prince of pricks.

There are rare occasions when he's not a prick. Apparently, he was in Ghostbusters: Afterlife as Egon Spengler--he was the stand-in on whom Harold Ramis' digital likeness was superimposed. And on Ally McBeal he was kind of a nice guy. He plays the rich head of a company whose best friend is a janitor. The two want to have a heart transplant--the janitor wants to give his healthy one to the rich man so the rich man's kids don't grow up without a father. Gunton is kind of not a prick in the episode. It has to be believable that someone would want to trade internal organs with him.

He was also a prick on "The Wounded", a good Star Trek: The Next Generation episode written by the recently deceased Jeri Taylor. He's still alive but I see, aside from Ghostbusters, he hasn't been in anything since 2019. I hope he's okay.

Bring Up the State

As much as I like the Coen Brothers, I hadn't seen 1987's Raising Arizona in a very long time, not since the early '90s, I think. This month, Criterion has a playlist of Coen Brothers films so I thought I'd reacquaint myself with this one. It's a zanier comedy than I was in the mood for, I think, but still has its charms.

I love the way Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter meet, how he starts flirting with her as she, a police officer, is taking his mug shots. Nicholas Cage in this movie made me feel like I was actually more in the mood to watch Wild at Heart.

The Arizona kitsch aesthetic of Raising Arizona isn't as pronounced as the visual and tonal themes of later Coen Brothers films but I still appreciated shots of gaudy wardrobe set against landscapes of cacti and sand.

Raising Arizona is available on The Criterion Channel.

X Sonnet #1900

A wicked plant deployed its poison seeds.
Across the sky, the thorny stars would run.
A goblin girl was hid among the reeds.
At dawn, the locals found a poison bun.
Abundant killers clog the morning bar.
Beside the train, a hundred villains scheme.
The nearest cop was really very far.
But fools will trade a cap to thread a dream.
Informed dismissals rat the kitchen out.
Regressing staff remind their gods to eat.
Another time recalls a noodle bout.
The deadly pasta built a home for meat.
Arriving meals would break the diner flat.
The truth was writ on someone's welcome mat.

Super Fightin'

I watched Captain America: Civil War, the first time I'd seen it since I saw it in the theatre when it came out in 2016. Now that the novelty factors have worn off--the introduction of Spider-Man and the concept of superheroes fighting each other--it's kind of a disappointing movie. I never feel convinced the two groups would actually come to blows over the issues at play.

It is kind of neat seeing the beginnings of the romance between Vision and Wanda. When WandaVision came out, it seemed like their relationship was something just barely touched on by the movies. Now I find myself watching it closer, looking for some hint as to what drew these two people together to begin with. I'm still not sure about that but they are a cute couple.

Civil War's based on a 2006 comic storyline. I wish they'd adapt classic stories from the '60s, '70s, and '80s more. Some actual Stan Lee stuff. It'd be great if the new X-Men movies just adapted Chris Clairemont's run that began in the '70s.

Robert Downey Jr. gives a good performance in Civil War and I can kind of believe him going off on Bucky at the end, particularly with the footage of his parents. Ironically, by attacking Bucky, Tony proves the point of his side of the argument that superheroes need some supervision.

Captain America: Civil War is available on Disney+.

A Who Was It

A woman is murdered and police are frustrated to find that no two people can offer the same account of her personality. 1950's The Woman in Question is an English film that came out two months after Rashomon, though I think it unlikely the makers of The Woman in Question saw the Japanese film. I guess it was an example of two minds thinking alike though The Woman in Question is not as subtle or profound as Rashomon. In Kurosawa's film, truth seems like an unattainable objective, buried beneath nuance and perspective. In The Woman in Question, it's simply a question of different people having degrees of fondness for a woman, and one of them is lying (the murderer).

Jean Kent gives a terrific performance as Astra, the murdered woman, as she adopts a different persona for each flashback, from the account of each person interviewed by police. There's her sister, who remembers her as a scoundrel; there's the pet shop owner across the street who remembers her as a saint; there's the landlady who remembers her as a refined lady down on her luck; and there's the Irish sailor who was in love with her and remembers her as, er, Irish. At least, she speaks with an Irish accent in his flashback.

Dirk Bogarde plays another of her suitors and at first I thought his American accent was terrible. Then, in one scene, he admits to her that he was born in Liverpool and has never been outside of England. So he was intentionally doing a bad American accent! That's pretty impressive. Compare that to Hollywood movies at the time in which characters from a variety of countries regularly spoke with American accents.

The Woman in Question is available on The Criterion Channel.

Shat's Back

Star Trek fans wanting to see William Shatner return to the role of James T. Kirk finally got their wish a few days ago with the release of "Unification", a ten minute film officially produced to commemorate the 30th anniversary of Star Trek: Generations. You can view the whole thing on YouTube:

Obviously the cgi isn't perfect. When you can't even make Shatner's hair look more realistic than his toupee, you know your special effects method is flawed. It was still cool seeing Shatner take on the role again. His face, his particular patterns of expression, are familiar to me from very early childhood and on down the years, which I know is the case for a lot of people. The YouTube comments I've looked at come from people in their 70s and 80s who remember watching the original series when it aired in the late 1960s.

I'm not sure I'd really enjoy the film if it weren't for Shatner. There's not much to it. It leans on a lot of cliche shots, including the one of some guy running his hand through tall grass. Who was the first one to do that, Ridley Scott? I kind of can't believe people are still copying it.

I suspect Paramount is testing the waters for a proper return of Shatner's Kirk, which would seem like an obviously good idea after the success of Picard season three and the fact that Shatner, at the age of 93, is in astonishingly good health. His voice hasn't even changed. I'd certainly watch it though I hope it would be less derivative than Picard was and have the guts to try some new things. Maybe the inclusion of Shatner would even be enough to lure Tarantino back to the table.

Talk with Your Hands

Rock Paper Scissors, or Jan-ken, is really important among children in Japan. It's frequently played to make decisions. This morning I saw that YouTube's "The History Guy" produced a video on the game and gives a detailed account of the game's journey from China to Japan to the West.

It's funny he compulsively pronounces the j in Jan-ken like a Spanish j. Otherwise, it's an accurate video, to the best of my knowledge.

Students have taught me various rude gestures, which I'm always delighted to learn. Apparently putting the backs of your hands together in a sort of reverse prayer pose is an insulting gesture. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it's not one available to me as the particular configuration of my joints won't allow me to comfortably twist my arms that way.

A few years ago, a student taught me what seemed to be an extremely rude gesture I copied into a notebook I've sadly misplaced. I still don't know what precisely it meant because she wouldn't explain it. Sounds like a good start of an MR James story. Which reminds me, we're getting into MR James season, I should start reading him again.

Meeting the Movie Requirements

It has stars, fabulous international locations, and all the bare bones of a movie. But 1957's Interpol, aka Pickup Alley, hardly feels like a proper movie. It's like a sandwich made entirely of bread.

Victor Mature stars as Charles Sturgis, on the trail of an international drug fiend, McNally, played by Trevor Howard. Howard plays the role surprisingly broad, putting on a cartoon villain's sneering tone and maintaining it at all times. His favourite victim is Gina, played by the always glorious Anita Ekberg. The best moment in the movie is when she shoots a guy who's trying to assault her and there's some hints at a plot revolving around her legal peril in the aftermath, but there's little drama in it.

Mostly it's just a movie about a good cop chasing a bad drug dealer, a procedural but not one with much of a sense of authenticity, portraying its villains as the usual raving madmen stereotypes you see in most '50s movies about drugs. I guess the filmmakers may've felt justified in building a movie around such a plain plot by using real locations in London, Rome, and New York. Maybe in the '50s that would've been enough but I don't think so, judging from all the film's unimpressed contemporaneous reviews.

Pickup Alley is available on The Criterion Channel.

X Sonnet #1899

The biggest sandwich ever fully crushed the shop.
Courageous cads condemn the use of boats.
United suits promote the android cop.
The naked castles sold their stylish moats.
A plane of smoke was flat against the face.
A bunch of bags were burnt to harvest prunes.
The warping deck rejects its only ace.
A vital source was killed and writ in runes.
The shapes if friends were burnt across the glass.
With savage dreams, the pickle cured the roast.
Balloons arise, propelled with magic gas.
No science hat was won with idle boast.
The lying dogs would dream of honest cats.
The walls were filled with stupid, greedy rats.

Another Dubious Milestone

Yesterday came the news that Japan has fallen even further from its already low ranking in English proficiency. It ranks 92 out of a list of 112 countries where English is not the primary language. Notably, it ranks far below South Korea, which is at number 50. Since the difficulty for Korean speakers in learning English is comparable for a Japanese speaker learning English, this deepens the mystery of Japan's consistent decline.

A lot of articles and videos have been made offering various theories and explanations. One common criticism, with which I certainly agree, is that Japan focuses too much on grammar and translation, leading to a deficiency in oral communication skills. The impression I often have in a Japanese English classroom is of watching an alien autopsy. English is the cold and bizarre corpse on the slab whose minutiae are endlessly described in technical details to an audience which struggles to pay attention.

I intend to write at greater length about my own experiences teaching English in Japan but I want to work in a bigger city before I offer a comprehensive view. I currently work in a town particularly hostile to English, which I think is a useful experience in truly understanding the problem but not enough in itself. I can see this from how Japanese teachers from out of town are astonished by the culture here. I've even heard students ask Japanese people from the city if they're "gaijin", foreigners.

I think one thing that sets Japan apart from other countries with low English proficiency is that Japan seems to believe it's very good at English. One might judge this from the abundance of English signage throughout the country. All over the world. certainly in America, people marvel at the apparently professionally produced signs in weak English. Here's an example from the town I live in:

It's hard to imagine what "For your JUST" is even supposed to mean. In this case, the English is accompanied by Japanese to give us a clue: "あなたの暮らしに、ちょうどいい。" It means something like, "Exactly the right thing for your professional life." The sign is for an electronics store similar to Best Buy.

This sign must have gone through layers of the bureaucracy Japan is famous for. One might wonder, how do signs like these consistently make it through committees of people who have been studying English since elementary school? The problem is that confidence levels are disproportionate to proficiency levels because the whole educational system is geared towards something different from actual language learning. I've frequently noticed that students who are best able to communicate with me in English do poorly on the tests while students who routinely get scores of around 100 are unable to have simple conversations with me. So the vast majority of students must have the sense of working towards something and achieving it after struggle. Who wants to be told that their whole struggle was meaningless? But, of course, the flipside is that students who deserve praise for their English skills frequently receive abuse instead.

Sharks are All Wet

A team of researchers face off against cgi sharks in 1999's Deep Blue Sea. If you're looking for an effective shark horror movie, watch Jaws. If you're looking for a big ball of cheese clutched in a massive ham fist, you might enjoy Deep Blue Sea.

What's the best way to research cures for Alzheimer's? Turns out it's to genetically modify sharks into massive killing machines. Well, except when they're small enough to swim around half flooded corridors and chase LL Cool J and a parrot.

What a cast. Samuel L. Jackson, Stellan Skarsgard, and Thomas Jane. I feel like, this late in a solid career of supporting roles, Skarsgard has only recently crossed over into true stardom thanks to Andor. It's funny seeing him in this role in which his character is put through quite a lot that does not require a performance of any quality from Skarsgard. A big chuck of it is him strapped to a gurney with a mask covering most of his face. He has very few lines.

Thomas Jane is the right guy to lead a movie like this. Someone really needs to give him a breakout Duke Nukem kind of role. Maybe he should play Duke Nukem? Does anyone still care about Duke Nukem? I guess I should say, someone should give him a role like Bruce Campbell's in Evil Dead or Roddy Piper's in They Live--you know, one of the characters Duke Nukem ripped off.

I was really surprised by how bad the cgi was. I think there's a "bad cgi valley" from the late '90s to about 2010. Sure, there's a lot of bad cgi now but I think that was a period, after the scrupulous work on Jurassic Park, when people routinely underestimated how much effort it actually required to make cgi look good.

Anyway, who doesn't like some cheese now and then? Deep Blue Sea is directed by Renny Harlin, a man practically made of gouda.

The Momentum of Clouds

I couldn't sleep a few nights ago and found myself watching Naruse Miko's final film, 1967's Scattered Clouds. I hadn't seen it since coming to Japan and, like all Japanese movies I saw in the U.S., I see it through a much different lens now.

One thing I often marvel at with these older movies is how much they look exactly like the Japan I live in to-day. The trains look different but I see the same rows of wooden posts by the tracks. Apartment buildings look the same with the same external utility boxes and pipe systems.

Scattered Clouds was one of the few colour films Naruse made. It has a lovely, doggedly consistent colour palette. Pale greens like matcha paired with yellowish tans and faded pinks.

I found myself noticing how much the music seems to borrow from Bernard Herrmann's Hitchcock scores. The story is about a man and woman in a strange romance, which is a little like Hitchcock, I guess. There's certainly a lot of tension in it.

Yumiko (Tsukasa Yoko) is a young woman whose husband is killed after being struck by a car. The car was driven by a man named Mishima (Kayama Yuzo). It was found to be an accident but Mishima, a deeply conscientious man, feels the weight of responsibility and wants to give the widow any financial aid he can. She, however, wants nothing to do with him or his money.

Yet, fate draws the two of them together and they have an accidental meeting at a hotel where they deliver drunken speeches to each other. As time passes, they develop feelings for each other. But of course Yumiko can never forget her first husband.

You could look at the movie as a more melodramatic version of Tokyo Monogatari. Is Yumiko really so devoted to her first husband or is her pulling away from Mishima motivated by a guilt over how disloyal she truly is in her heart? She cares for Mishima when he falls ill which excites her sympathy for him. It's suggested also the psychological pain he feels for having killed her husband also attracts her. It's a short step from that to wondering if she's attracted to him, on some level, because he killed her husband.

It's such a sedate, gentle film but the premise ultimately recalls the idea of brides won in battle and how fundamentally a woman might be attracted to status, even against her will. It could be seen as a war between Yumiko's morals and Yumiko's instincts. Mishima's, too. Considering how guilty he felt, surely, every time he takes the liberty of smiling at Yumiko, some part of him must say, "I have no right."

Scattered Clouds is available on The Criterion Channel.

Twitter Sonnet #1898

The little minds would steal a soul a day.
With empty hearts, the bugs devour life.
The ugly stamp of brutal feet delay.
The glacial tackle blunts a lazy knife.
Averted war has left a stock of bombs.
A cloudless sky was choked with ash and ghosts.
Ironic fields distort the peace of psalms.
The wayward lad was took by heartless hosts.
A raven passed through countries sans a name.
A blend of birds obscured the view of God.
A morning song would shift the guilt to Mame.
But luck would spare nor even yet nor odd.
Pervasive sloth reduced the woods to mulch.
The river cut has trickled down to gulch.

Consider the Grizzly

A wild grizzly starts eating people but has cute cubs in 1999's Wild Grizzly, an unmistakably made-for-TV movie set in a beautiful mountain town and featuring Daniel Baldwin in a minor role. It's exactly what you'd expect but there's something oddly sincere I found engrossing about it.

So the grizzly eats a guy's leg one night and it's tranqed by a guy inexplicably dressed as Indiana Jones (as a fedora wearer myself, I shouldn't laugh). There's a town hall meeting about having the bear with her cubs displayed in the middle of town. Daniel Baldwin and the mayor (John O'Hurley, J. Peterman from Seinfeld), being villains, oppose this idea. With a grin of malevolent satisfaction, Baldwin plots to kill the bears so that he and the mayor can get rich . . . somehow. The nature of their scheme is never remotely clear.

Rachel (Michele Greene) and her moody teenage son, Josh (Riley Smith), move to the small town from L.A. When Josh accidentally breaks the windshield on a sheriff's car, the sheriff (Fred Dryer) drafts Josh to help take care of the grizzly and her cubs. Naturally, Josh is framed when they escape. In his attempts to capture the bear, which he alone realises is suffering from a toothache, he's joined by a plucky blonde with a captivating rack (Courtney Peldon). The writers give her a lot of stuff that's supposed to be endearing and quirky but come of as psychotic. When Josh is sneaking around the woods looking for the animal, she sneaks up on him with a recording of a bear roar and a bear claw glove to grab him on the shoulder. This is after the bear has killed someone.

Sometimes I thought the movie might be intentionally bad, like someone was aiming for "it's so bad it's good." Whenever a filmmaker claims this about their own film, I tend to doubt their sincerity (to be clear, I don't know if this filmmaker has done so). But there are shots that are so flagrantly lazy that I wonder. In the first attack scene, the man's little boy sneaks out of the safety of the car, ironically to retrieve his teddy bear. We get a shot of the teddy bear and the boy runs into frame, picks up the item with a blank expression, then turns to look off camera with an expression that clearly says, "Okay, I hit my mark. Now what?"

But the weirdest bits were when the grizzly ate people. There are these long, slow shots of people writhing in stage blood and guts and shots of the actual bear and shots of the dummy bear head being shoved in the fake gore. There's something so peculiarly detached about the tone of these shots, I can't explain it. It's like the filmmaker had no instinct for composing violent sequences but decided to just linger anyway hoping inspiration would eventually strike. As though he were gently contemplating his inability to express any feelings in the shots. It's sort of like listening to a tone deaf person sing "Ave Maria" with a total lack of self-consciousness. I guess that sums up the movie.