Unseen Terror 2016: Day 8

Sebastian Caine, a rather eccentric and odd researcher, has been leading a group of scientists who are deeply involved in working on an invisibility serum. Though they have been able to make animals disappear, they still seem to struggle with getting them to rematerialize. After enough struggling, the collective finally manage to get Isabelle, their lab gorilla, to reappear in front of their eyes. Overwhelmed and overjoyed, they are initially ready to display the results to their military superiors, but Sebastian hides these revelations from the former, convincing them that human testing should be the next step forward. Oddly enough, the lead expert volunteers for this secret decision, and though the experiment is successful, Sebastian finds that he enjoys being hidden from the public a little too much. And when he discovers that the reversal formula doesn't seem to work on human beings, he is none too happy about it.



So, let me get this straight: the director of classic releases like Total Recall and Robocop got together with Hollywood notables such as Kevin Bacon, Elisabeth Shue, Josh Brolin, and the writer of Air Force One to make an updated version of H. G. Wells' The Invisible Man? Why yes, your ideas intrigue me, and I wish to subscribe to your newsletter. All I can ask is that you please attempt to keep your protagonist somewhat empathetic, and that you don't end up turning him into a secret agent after many years have gone by. Now that these demands have been laid forth, let us move on to the actual review.


Hollow Man was one of those random pictures released in the earliest years of my tenure in high school, where I was unknowingly seeing an emergence of old time horror flicks being loosely remade for the "Gen X" crowd. We had films such as The Faculty (a high school take on Invasion of the Body Snatchers), Gus Van Sant's shot-for-shot remake of Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, and a few others than are honestly best left forgotten in the annals of history. The idea to reinterpret and reimagine a story that was over a century old, only with (then) modern technology at the disposal of the crew, seemed like a surefire winner. Unfortunately, what we ended up with just feels terribly bland: the cinematic equivalent of a great-looking birthday cake that tastes like it was purchased from a trashy Walmart rather than a legitimate bakery.


Mind you, pastry is still pastry though, so Paul Verhoeven's final Hollywood effort does still have a lot to admire about it. Save for Kim Dickens' annoying and whiney Sarah, the acting from the cast is fairly admirable. Their roles are written to be nothing more than clichés or red shirts, but given how quickly the movie dives into "killer on the loose" territory, I can't say that I was terribly surprised. If I can be allowed to paraphrase an old quote from the realm of professional wrestling, I would say "If you think that someone makes a good babyface, then you're going love finding out how great of a heel that they can be." In this day and age, I actually prefer to watch Kevin Bacon as a villain or a human being with a darker soul (it's at this moment that I just realized he shares the same first name as his character in X-Men: First Class). He usually tends to knock it out of the park and entertain the audience immensely, even if the rest of the material that he is working with is relatively weak (RIPD anyone?). Sadly, it seems as though my first request made two paragraphs above fell upon deaf ears, as Bacon's Sebastian does lose the ability to garner any sort of sympathy or consolation after he begins to get a bit "rapey" with certain individuals of the female variety. Though these actions do provide for an ironically amusing realization that what we're witnessing is the world's most obvious double entendre, it's still a bit of a shame, as I felt that it could have taken Hollow Man into the same category that made pictures like David Cronenberg's The Fly so wonderful.


What it does share with the previously mentioned picture is some top notch technical work, which comes courtesy of the usually reliable Amalgamated Dynamics, who younger fans should know from involvement in film favorites like Jumanji, Tremors, and Mortal Kombat. Considering that Hollow Man is sixteen years old at this point, the special effects still appear to look pretty gosh darn good. One standout moment comes from when Sebastian initially attempts to turn back to normal, as does another sequence where they pour a mold onto his head in order to construct a mask required for future testing and analysis. There is also excellent usage of a thermal image camera, given parts of the picture an almost Predator-like vibe. So yes, even if the plot and how it subsequently unfolds is quite basic, the movie is nice to glimpse at. But oh boy, do I wish that I could have said the same for the music. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but for as much as I love and respect Jerry Goldsmith, some of this score sounds like he's trying to channel the aforementioned Psycho, but not even being subtle about the homage. I know I know, we should interpret that as a love letter to the age of Universal Monsters, but if that's the case, then how do you defend the inescapable, early-2000s traits like an obnoxious nu-metal song playing during every segment that involves Kevin Bacon driving his car? Perhaps something so inconsequential is just me being a nitpicker, but I just rolled my eyes each time that the Footloose star begins to sing or mime the words to a track that could have come off of an Ozzfest sampler.


As a piece of horror or science fiction, Hollow Man is fairly standard and ultimately just a bit on the mediocre side of things. It has an interesting premise, but around the final act, it succumbs to the same problem that befell Danny Boyle's Sunshine by turning into a predictable slasher movie. Worse yet, if you were to judge it as a Paul Verhoeven flick, it is remarkably weak, and outside of some nice eye-pleasing impressions, nothing will stay with you after the credits. It makes for serviceable entertainment, but it doesn't surprise me that the famed Dutch filmmaker essentially disowned the product several years ago, while citing it as the first motion picture that he felt shouldn't have been made because it just didn't completely feel like a project of his (true) and that anybody could have produced and completed a release like Hollow Man (probably true). Luckily, he got out of the stressful world of big budget cinema before it completely swallowed him up, and he returned with the rather exceptional WWII-centric Black Book in 2006. If you are curious and want to judge it for yourself, Hollow Man is readily available on DVD and Blu-Ray, with some versions being packaged with the Christian Slater-led sequel that was released six years after this one.



But you know, they probably could have saved themselves a lot of time by just contacting this fella for helping to deal with antagonists like Sebastian. Plus, who wouldn't love to see a crossover involving these two?



....okay, I definitely need sleep.




Tomorrow, we turn from the world of invisibility to one where you can't miss the threat in front of your eyes, as we travel down into the sewers for a quick trip or two...

Yoga Hosers (2016) Movie Review

Colleen C. and Colleen M., two best friends who spent most of their time being stuck at school or staying glued to their cellular phones, are begrudgingly stuck working during a boring, mundane evening at the Eh-2-Zed, which happens to be a convenience store located in Manitoba, Canada. Their store manager has run off for the weekend, which is all the more coincidental considering that one of the adolescents' parents is with her. Disgruntled, but not discouraged, the young women call up two male familiars, inviting them to their place of employment in the hopes that they can still party and have something that constitutes as fun. After the men arrive, an old evil begins to resurface, terrorizing our heroines. This particular menace? Nazi sausages that kill their victims by entering through their colons, all while shouting nonsensical German gibberish. The girls slowly unravel the origin behind these miniature threats, and it will remind them that paying attention in history class sometimes has benefits after all.

Story time:

When I was a relatively immature and underdeveloped young man, I had a rather questionable taste in cinema (there is a debate that I still bear this at the age of thirty). In particular, my main attraction seemed to be to flicks of, well, lesser quality. I'm comfortable enough at this stage in my life to confess that I willingly saw dreck such as Tomcats, Almost Heroes, and The Animal in theaters. However, my exposure to the works of Kevin Smith, an independent mind from a small town in New Jersey, changed that. He proved that a large budget and array of highly paid actors were not pivotal to a film's quality. Sure, there was an absurd of vulgarity to be found in his screenplays, and you could probably lose count with how many times his most famous creations uttered words that would make your parents grimace, but there was still a clever and surprisingly intelligent edge to them that could charm nearly anybody with a working brain. He was speaking for the little guy (figuratively speaking), the geeks, and the oddballs.

Fast forward to 2016, and the man who I always assumed was critic-proof is anything but these days. Beginning with 2010's fairly abysmal Cop Out, his critical accolades have been diminishing over the seeming lack of effort and divisive writing in most of his recent projects. While I admit that yes, I have been fairly confused and disappointed by these pictures myself, I still respect his commitment to essentially saying that he is going to do what most truly great directors do, which is delve into whatever territory that they wish to, and without the pestering of big Hollywood studios or disgruntled performers being able to interfere with their vision. Given Smith's previous output in the previous two decades, including beloved independent classics such as Clerks and Chasing Amy (two films that I would be more than happy to put onto my own personal top 100 list, should the demand for that ever come about), I'd say that he's earned every right to make a picture such as Yoga Hosers, his third foray into the realm of horror, and second into its mostly-beloved offshoot that is branded as horror-comedy.

Likewise, as someone who paid their hard-earned money to see the writer and director's newest cinematic release, I feel that I have earned the right to say that Yoga Hosers is a gigantic, ugly pile of clutter masquerading as a motion picture, and could serve as the final straw for those who have been struggling to defend Smith's weakest output over the years. However, there is no plausible way to dismiss the cynics this time around. With all of its way-too-obvious flaws being thrown right out into the open, it almost seems like it's mocking you for making the decision to see a terribly made film. Mind you, I have said time and time again that one can find an obscene amount to enjoy in movies that are so bad that they are good. But, those come from people or producers who set out with the honest-to-god belief that by making these mediocre screenplays and scripts into something that can fit onto the silver screen, they are creating genuinely good films. When you set out to make a bad feature on purpose, you usually end up with a festering heap of garbage that nobody outside of your circle of friends and immediate family will likely enjoy.

The big gist of Yoga Hosers' humor seems to come from one thought that crossed Kevin's mind (and presumably while he was very, very high): Canadians talk funny. If you were to make a drinking game with how times every single character, which ranges from the leads to cameos from two people who can not be that desperate for a paycheck in the day and age of nerd culture being so popular, utter the same old, tiresome clichéd Canadian slang ("sore-ree, aboot" ey," or a combination of all three), you would be dead from alcohol poisoning before the first act has even concluded. If you took Bob and Doug McKenzie and turned them up to eleven, you still wouldn't be able to equal the stereotyping churned out here. In small doses such as the brief appearance of the Colleens in connected movie Tusk, this can be mildly amusing. But when you are hit with a barrage of it over the span of ninety minutes, plus jokes as lackadaisical as Canadian citizens eating cereal such as "Pucky Charms" and "Honey Nut Cheeri-Eyys," it just leaves you feeling a bit stone cold.

....hey, it's better than anything in this fecal waterslide. Trust me.

Getting into the cast-side of things, I could begin with talking about the decision to cast young Harley Quinn Smith, the daughter of our aforementioned director, and Lily-Rose Depp (I'll give you two guesses as to who her father is) as protagonists Colleen M. and Colleen C. Before you accuse the film of nepotism, I would like to assure you that yes, it is blatantly obvious that this film is suffering from it. After all, I could dare you to try and catch all of the members of the Smith and Depp family if you can. Family-related favoritism is the least of Yoga Hosers' worries though. For the most part, the young ladies do seem to be enjoying themselves, and their decent chemistry with one another most likely stems from being close friends in real life. That's where the positive aspects of that spectrum end though. If you ever thought that Johnny Depp's prosthetic-heavy character of Guy LaPointe, the horrendous French-Canadian stereotype from Tusk, needed more screen time the same way that you thought the character Mater from Cars needed more exposure in its own sequel, then you are in for either a treat or a long series of sequences where you will be angrily leaning your fist against your cheek. Kevin Smith himself also shows up so that he may portray the Bratzis, who are brought to life via green screen and designed about as well as a modern day Puppet Master sequel from Full Moon Features. For a movie that cost approximately five million dollars to make, it looks remarkably cheap. And before anybody in particular jumps on me for that, Jeremy Saulnier's Green Room cost the same amount of money, and it looked far more impressive than this effort. Hell, Adam Wingard's You're Next was created for a fifth of what Yoga Hosers cost to make, and it also shines infinitely brighter by comparison.

Bad costuming and occasional effects aside, what Yoga Hosers thinks it makes up for in style more closely resembles that of when older, greedy executives attempt to cater to a generation that isn't nearly as stupid or easily amused as some people think that they are. Surprisingly, that group of higher-ups doesn't exist in a case such as this, because all of the feature's work belongs to, you guessed it, Kevin Smith. The plethora of such groan-inducing segments that constantly pop up time and time again (see below) can't be blamed on any other person but himself.

Note: I do NOT condone using your phone in a theater. However, when you are the sole ticket buyer, maybe it's understandable in cases like these. Also, really?

I can't stress enough about the repetition of Yoga Hosers, and why it's the biggest problem with the whole darn thing. A gag, such as the one that flashes an "Instacan Bio" every time that a new character appears on screen, is cute at first. The same can be said with having every resident other than our mainstays utter the title of this creation out of disgust once in a while. But, when it never seems to stop, it starts to get on your nerves, and ultimately makes you wish for every single person involved, be they good or evil, to just get off the screen and go back to taking part in better productions. Packing your picture with pop culture references, video game homages, or even throwbacks to other works of your past (catching nods to Clerks and its subsequent animated series does nothing to help its cause) can add to your overall fun factor. Heck, Edgar Wright's brilliant adaptation of Bryan Lee O'Malley's Scott Pilgrim graphic novels proved that. When it borders on pandering, and then ventures into desperate territory, you just come out feeling rather unhappy.

Factoring in the preplanned trip up north, plus the additional time it took for me to travel from Potomac, MD to the Arundel Mills shopping area (one of the two theaters within decent driving distance that happened to be playing this flick), I technically tracked seven and a half hours in my car so that I would get the chance to watch Yoga Hosers. I am uncertain if this is a record for myself when it comes to venturing out just to watch a stinking movie, but for the time being, I'll go with a yes. Kevin Smith's twelfth picture in his filmography (thirteenth if you count his segment in Holidays) also stands as the most depressing venture that I have taken to the Cineplex in several years. Yoga Hosers is what happens when a talented filmmaker throws a large array of ideas, be they silly or excruciating, into a blender. However, the individual has become too stoned to remember the fact that you have to plug in such a device in order for it to do its job, and the end result is just a foul-tasting, shockingly unfunny mess. If this is the New Jersey native's attempt to appeal to the teenage girl crowd, I think that sticking to something such as Chasing Amy, or even the wrongly-derided Jersey Girl, serves as a much better alternative. Kevin, I know that you will likely never see this review (although if you do, there's a very good chance that the negativity that I typed will be read aloud on your podcast), but as someone who will always identify himself as a fan before he ever gets tagged as a critic, I am asking you: put down your smoking paraphernalia and try writing something again with the intentions of it being a good motion picture. From this day forward, it seems like your intention is to have the movies that are trashed by the "haters" equal the amount of releases that are loved not just by your diehard fans, but by fans of cinema in general. And come on, the numerous amount of shots taken at the muckrakers and detractors in this movie, especially in a not-so-subtle manner, is beneath you and makes you look as petty and whiney as M. Night Shyamalan. I know that you are saying that at this stage in your career, you are choosing to make the movies that you want to make (which begs the question of when were you not?), and I will support your decision to take such a risk. Just remember: not everything devised and brainstormed on the Smodcast needs to be turned into an actual production.



The fact is, you're not just disappointing a longtime fan who even owns a signed Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back poster and two different trade paperback copies of the Clerks comic book. You're breaking my heart.





All of that being said, I'll see you at Moose Jaws. Just promise me that there won't be multiple segments involving bad singing.

Unseen Terror 2015: Day 28

With her career as a writer having gone down the drain, and being reduced to living in a dilapidated-looking house, Eva Khatchadourian reminisces about a more complicated time in her life. Through a series of flashbacks, we learn of the woman's reasons for life having declined so quickly. Many years ago, Eva and her husband Franklin welcomed their firstborn son Kevin into this world. As they raise him throughout the years, Eva starts to notice very unusual things about the young man: he shows apathy towards any of his mother's attempts at bonding, and more notably, begins to display signs of hostility towards others and his laterborn sister Celia. As time continues to pass by, Kevin's behavior becomes gradually worse, and not even his own family can prepare themselves for what is to come.

Perhaps one Dr. Samuel Loomis had this figured out from the beginning:

Folks, I think that it might be time to shut down this year's marathon. Without trying to hype up We Need To Talk About Kevin too much, I don't see how any other film that I have selected for viewing will come close to rivaling director Lynne Ramsay's adaptation of the controversial work of fiction that bears the same name. Also, I'm well aware that this technically qualifies as a 2011 feature, but save for one, singular theatrical release, those of us who live stateside didn't get a chance to catch the entire product until May of 2012. Thus, it shall serve as that year's entry. Deal with it.

The question about whether We Need To Talk About Kevin should be categorized as horror is something that will spark much debate among those who show any interest in it in the first place. Personally, I view this is as a piece of psychological terror lead by outstanding performances from its cast, each of whom understands their figure perfectly and is capable of fleshing them out more than most flicks that fall into the very hit-or-miss "troubled kid" genre. Then again, it also deals with far more interesting concepts that keep it from falling into that pit with no way out, such as the ideas of nurture v. nature (The Omen and Rosemary's Baby are a little more upfront about these type of things). We see that Kevin's own mother Eva, played by the amazing Tilda Swinton (Burn After Reading, The Chronicles Of Narnia), is far from a perfect person herself, showing random tiny bursts of displeasure at the boy's own problems which are inevitable when you are young. And yet, there are far more numerous moments of cruelty committed by her son over the years that make the audience question as to how many of his actions are truly inherent. 

It's a scientific fact that the aforementioned Swinton is rarely bad in anything that she signs on to, and it is very easy to see why she nominated for a Golden Globe that she arguably should have won (because how many god damn awards does Meryl Streep need?). The titular child is portrayed by three different players: one while he is an infant, one while he is in his preteen phase, and finally while he is stuck in the oh-so-fun high school years. I can't say anything about the former since all the baby does is cry repeatedly, but the other two cast members are powerfully creepy. Having discovered that Ezra Miller (The Perks Of Being A Wallflower), who plays Kevin at his oldest, will be donning the costume of Barry Allen/The Flash in the upcoming Batman V. Superman: Dawn Of Justice does give me a very small amount of hope that the film won't be an inflated mess, even if I think he would make for a better villain than a superhero. John C. Reilly also has a supporting role as seemingly the opposite of Swinton's Eva; a man who just seems far too content or blissfully ignorant to notice the signs that something could be quite amiss with his offspring. Truth be told, there isn't a bad acting job whatsoever in We Need To Talk About Kevin, even from the extras in the background whose whole motif seemed to consist of "act shocked and/or heartbroken." From what I understand, Ramsay decided to take up this particular project after multiple attempts at helming/filming The Lovely Bones didn't quite work out, but after having seen her pull such good performances from this group of talented people, I hope that she is allowed to head more productions that weren't her first choice to begin with.

Some motion pictures, no matter the classification, have the potential to genuinely bother or haunt you. Be it through actions of the characters, actors and actresses fully immersing themselves in their roles so well that you forget who they are when the cameras stop rolling, or just due to a great soundtrack (composed by Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead), symbolism, and cinematography, these are the films that we will be discussing for great length after they have wrapped. Even after all of the praise above, I'm STILL not sure if We Need To Talk About Kevin should be defined as a pure horror movie, but it's one of the few flicks that I've watched this month that nearly left me emotionally crushed and disturbed. If you're looking for honest-to-god discomfort with your scary movies, or a character study that can remind you of works of the past such as Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer, then I strongly urge that you seek this out as soon as you're done reading the last of these typed sentences. The Cannes Film Festival standout can currently be viewed for free on Amazon Prime, and is readily available for purchase on DVD and Blu-Ray.

Tomorrow, WWE Studios make a return to Unseen Terror. But while their attempt at rebooting a lousy franchise failed miserably, perhaps one of their own original concepts could work better...