This week, Hope & George review Heart of the Beast, Primetime, Forgotten Island, The Stunt Driver, The Incomer, You Had to Be There, Never After Dark, Unabomber, and Bloody Tennis.
Catch Me If You Can
Primetime
by Hope Madden
In 2021, Lance Oppenheim directed the wild documentary Some Kind of Heaven about Florida’s exclusive retirement community, The Villages. Beneath the blinding aqua pools, savage tans and vacant smiles, a seediness rotted away.
The director dials that tone up a notch for Primetime, the based-on-real-events feature that chronicles the rise and fall of a TV phenomenon.
Robert Pattinson is Chris Hansen, host of NBC’s To Catch a Predator. Often, when an actor portrays a reprehensible character, the strength of the performance comes from finding the humanity at the center of the monster. And yet, Pattinson—among the most fascinating actors of a generation—chooses to do the opposite. His turn is just this side of farcical, beautifully so. Pattinson offers Hansen exactly the empathy Hansen himself possessed, and the character is so compellingly repugnant you cannot look away.
Hansen’s frantic ambition leads an already unseemly production to new lows in search of ratings. His emotional regulator and quiet puppeteer, producer Andie Bender, is played with magnificent nuance by Merritt Wever. Like the character, Wever quietly controls the film.
And for the human heartbeat, Skyler Gisondo, in a rare dramatic role, offers a tenderness that amplifies the ugliness, the garishness, of not only the true story itself but Oppenheim’s film.
To Catch a Predator was insanely popular, viewers tuning in to watch a would-be sexual predator lured into committing to a terrible decision. It brought out the ugliness in viewers, and Oppenheim’s film delivers its take on the predatory nature of the show and of the entertainment industry with the same salacious verve.
Daniel Garber’s editing mimics and mocks true crime sensationalism, almost hypnotizing you with seediness and a strange comic sensibility. That hint of humor—in Pattinson’s performance, in the way he’s lit and made up, in the editing—is what makes the film such a grotesque success.
Forget Me Not
Forgotten Island
by Hope Madden
Who knew that an animated/anime mashup of John Hughes and The Hangover would amount to such a blast of a kids’ movie?
Forgotten Island is nothing if not weird.
The latest from DreamWorks follows two lifelong besties. Wild child Jo (H.E.R.) and introverted genius Raissa (Liza Soberano) have always brought out the best in each other, and they’ve strung together countless memories. They’ll have one last night for memory making, because tomorrow Raissa leaves their small Philippine town for college at CalTech. Jo will continue her work as the chicken mascot at a local fast-food place.
Until…a portal opens to the fantastical world of Nakali, and the friends wake up 12 hours later with no memory of the night before and no idea where they left the amulet that can get them home.
Like writers/directors Joel Crawford and Januel P. Mercado’s last feature, Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, Forgotten Island is a constantly surprising, beautifully structured, startlingly powerful film. It’s also irreverent enough to offend some, and randomly set in the late 1980s. (Both fine by me!)
The wild hijinks on Nakali work because of the investment in these two characters back home. This isn’t a one-note odd couple, but two finely crafted characters with a lived-in friendship. And once the film hits the island, the filmmakers’ gift for unexpected, often downright weird, adventure shines.
Jenny Slate lends her perfect-for-animation voice, as does Dave Franco, both delighting in a cast of characters drawn from Filipino folklore. The characters, their misadventures, and the vibrant animation style offer an almost dizzying joy. Nothing’s predictable, nothing’s phoned in.
But, like Last Wish, there’s depth to the pathos on the screen and that’s what gives Forgotten Island lasting power. The filmmakers take a coming-of-age staple and find its humanity. Even with all the awful 80s music, Forgotten Island hits not one false note.
Yes They Canada
You Had to Be There
by George Wolf
Don’t pretend you don’t want to hear a homemade recording of a 15 year-old Martin Short singing Frank Sinatra tunes in his bedroom.
You Had to Be There gives you that gem early on, and then rolls out a succession of beautifully human moments that live inside the story of one ridiculously talented 1972 Toronto production of Godspell. More than one thousand people auditioned, and an ever-growing tree of success began to take root.
Not just Short, but Gilda Radner, Eugene Levy, Andrea Martin, Victor Garber, Dave Thomas, Paul Shaffer and more. Household names, plus other veteran performers who have carved out long careers and influenced generations of popular culture. They were all here together for a magical time that “felt like Paris in the ’20s,” and director Nick Davis (with executive producer Judd Apatow) tells their tale with absolute joy and reverence.
There are no videos of the actual shows, but thanks to the always resourceful Short, there is audio from a small cassette recorder stashed on the stage. And some from that same recorder pulled out at cast parties. It’s great stuff, and Davis presents it with some fitting, SNL-style animation that makes sure you can identify each player. So fun, even without the archival footage.
Current interviews with living cast members are presented in front of colorful blank screens, illuminating each personality in a different glow before cutting away to animation or due praise from admirers such as Lin-Manuel Miranda, Janeane Garofalo, Mike Myers and more.
And as the film moves into the closing stages, it becomes undeniably touching. We feel the love these people have for other, and for the wonderful experience they shared. We also see the highs and lows of their respective lives, including Radner’s tragic passing and one cast member admitting — for the first time — about sexual assault she endured on the set of a network TV show.
Then we, and this cast, see something else. And it results in such a warm surprise I’m not going to spoil it. But it’s special. So is the film.
You Had to Be There not only supports the claim that this Godspell production was the ’27 Yankees of comedy, it reminds us to cherish the good friends, good times, and yes, good art that we are blessed enough to experience in our lives.
Curtain call!
Rocket Ride
The Stunt Driver
by George Wolf
If you’ve seen the underrated 2011 hockey comedy Goon, you’ll understand why I was stoked for The Stunt Driver. It reunites writer/director Michael Dowse with star Jay Baruchel for another based -on-true-events look at a rough and tumble lug fighting to stand out in the crowd.
Back in the 1970s Ken Carter was known as “The Mad Canadian,” a cross-eyed, bushy-haired high school dropout who made his name through high-flying car stunts. So, when Evel Knievel’s Snake River Canyon jump fizzled out in ’74, Carter hatched a plan to show him up.
He would jump over the St. Lawrence river in a “rocket car,” taking off in Canada and landing a mile away in Ogden Island, New York. In Carter’s view, Evel was “a nerd and a coward,” and the St. Lawrence jump would put the stunt driver glory – don’t call him a “daredevil!” – where it belonged.
As Carter, Baruchel delivers a career-best performance. Stunt driving is all Carter knows and the passion to “leave his mark” is felt throughout the years-long journey toward the jump. When doubt and even fear creeps in, Baruchel makes sure both are just shades of a completely human character we want to succeed.
Much like Goon, the commitment to character drives the film. Dowse surrounds his Mad Canadian with interesting people on all sides. From Carter’s long-suffering wife (Laurence Leboeuf) to his engine designer (Ed Helms), his protege (Marc Beaupré) and his promoter (Dan Bakkedahl), we get a series of fleshed-out personalities to bring a perfectly 70s aesthetic to life.
And when producers on ABC’s Wide Wide of Sports insist on bringing Evel himself (Ben Foster) on as a tech consultant, the relationship between Knievel and Carter instantly becomes a deadpan delight.
Dowse takes inspiration from the 1981 doc The Devil at Your Heels. He juggles different film stocks and aspect ratios throughout the film’s 99 minutes, which makes the use of real jump footage feel seamless, and bolsters the hardscrabble appeal of Carter’s entire persona.
Even when the tonal path starts to wobble in the second act, The Stunt Driver again shows Dowse and Baruchel can find heart, soul and authenticity in the life of a true sports underdog. Maybe Ken never got as famous as Knievel, but it’s a good bit of absurd fun getting to know him.
When Darkness Comes
Never After Dark
by Hope Madden
Who doesn’t like a good ghost story? And a Japanese ghost story at that!
Writer/director Dave Boyle (Man from Reno) generates spooky tension with Never After Dark, his tale of a traveling psychic hired to help the dead leave this plane. Airi (Moeka Hoshi, TV’s Shōgun), the quietly no-nonsense medium, arrives at an isolated little inn recently purchased on auction by a widow (Tae Kimura) and her son (Kento Kaku). Odd things are happening at the property.
It’s hard to place the period for the film. Landlines, sweater vests and shoulder pads suggest early 90s (a sweet spot for J-horror). The analog vibe suits the film’s dreamy pace. This is a slow burn, sometimes perhaps slower than necessary, but it’s still effective.
Boyle immediately introduces a worn-out genre trope only to expose it, using the gimmick as a tool for the narrative at hand. It works surprisingly well. Images throughout the film feel familiar more than borrowed, and Boyle’s framing and use of light give scenes a lovely but spooky quality.
Hoshi delivers a fascinating central performance: a loner who’s not alone, a polite misanthrope more comfortable with the dead than the living. The balance of the small cast impresses with memorable characters, but the tension grows because of Hoshi. Airi’s petulant defiance of sound advice, her occasionally reckless behavior, and her utter isolation coalesce as the entity in the inn is more fully revealed.
When the violence does come, it’s unsettling. But Boyle has spent more than an hour slowly drawing your interest and almost reluctant affection for these characters, and that’s where the tension really comes from.
Never After Dark delivers on its earliest promise of a stylish supernatural thriller, but Boyle isn’t afraid to get nasty here and there. The combination gives the horror a little substance and the style a nice punch.
Island Girl
The Incomer
by Hope Madden
The Incomer, acclaimed short filmmaker Louis Paxton’s first feature, opens as a sort of fairy tale. A woman’s voice begins a narration about two gulls, brother and sister, and their obligation to protect themselves and their island from incomers.
What follows is a charming, funny, endearingly odd and oddly endearing story of isolation and community.
Isla (Gayle Rankin, glorious) and her brother Sandy (Grant O’Rourke, dear) have lived alone on Auk Isle, a remote Scottish island, since they were children. And, like the tale, they organize their days around certain tasks including training for the invasion if incomers. They get their chance to test that training when Daniel (Domnhall Gleeson, awkward perfection) comes to call.
Daniel works for the government, who’s recently learned that this uninhabited island is, indeed, inhabited. Daniel’s been sent to evict and relocate the siblings.
Their time together devolves into an often absurd and silly but always intelligent and empathetic struggle: between the incomer and the gulls, between loneliness and community, and between fear and optimism.
Paxton’s somewhat miraculous script never dismisses Isla and Sandy, even when it’s laughing at them more than with them. And Gleeson is the ideal choice to bridge “normal civilization” with the mythical fantasy alive on this island.
A lonesome darkness anchors the film that gives the absurdity substance, and Gleeson’s endless tenderness keeps you emotionally invested in the story. And O’Rourke’s soft-headed vulnerability makes for a delightfully sweet character.
Back on the mainland, a small ensemble of sharply drawn comic foils (Michelle Gomez and Emun Elliot, in particular) serves as a wonderful balance for the trio on the island. But Rankin owns this film.
Isla’s ferocity and naivete both reflect an incredible intelligence, and Rankin brings all three to bear in a performance that commands attention. Because of this powerful performance, The Incomer is more than funny, more than clever. It’s a reminder that we are each the agent of our own destiny.
What’s All the Racquet?
Bloody Tennis
by Hope Madden
German filmmaker Nikias Chryssos does not hide his influences. After witnessing the brutal slaying of a beautiful girl, we watch a young American student being driven to an exotic if spooky European academy where she will be trained among the elite in her field.
Bloody Tennis is Suspiria for athletes. Sophie (Sandra Guldberg Kampp) is the athlete newly arrived at the Mary Tyrone Tennis Academy. She’s welcomed, in a way, by Ms. Tyrone (Elina Löwensohn, Nadja) herself. It isn’t a warm welcome.
“I’m your daddy now.”
The class is small: six players (minutes the girl we watched die in the opening moments, whose absence makes room for Sophie). Aside from Ms. Tyrone, head mistress and team doctor, there’s one coach (Zlatko Buric) and one handyman/chauffeur/cook/weirdo (Vincent Romeo).
Though the title suggests a campy comedy, the dark, creepy humor that runs through Bloody Tennis is anything but camp. And while his underlying structure is reminiscent of Suspiria, Chryssos leans just as heavily toward slasher. (Also an Italian genre, owing to Mario Bava’s 1971 originator, A Bay of Blood).
That’s not to suggest the film is somehow untrue to its title. There’s a lot of blood (some of it pretty inspired) and a lot of tennis.
Though Guldberg Kampp is not entirely convincing as an American (she’s Danish), her performance otherwise compellingly anchors the film. Sophie is curious and observant, her personality mainly interior. Guldberg Kampp navigates Sophie’s arc with a quietly animalistic nature that suits the film and the character.
The rest of the athletes are offered little opportunity to really craft characters, but each is solid. Löwensohn’s gleefully committed and Romeo is unsettlingly odd.
The film’s themes are as unhidden as its influences. Training to be an elite athlete is a soul and body ruining exercise, as punishing as it is bloodthirsty. There is perhaps less depth and less mystery to Bloody Tennis than it needed to be genuinely memorable, but it’s an intriguing, gory reminder that women’s sports is where it’s at.
Fright Club: New York Vampires
We had fully intended to look across so many big cities for their bloodsuckers, but it turned out New York is so brimming with vampires that we looked no further. Heck, we even had to do fuzzy math!
But quickly, a shout out to:
- Detroit: Only Lovers Left Alive
- Los Angeles: Blacula
- New Orleans: Scream Blacula, Scream
- Pittsburgh: Martin
There’s more, of course, especially once you leave the States, but instead of doing that, we focused squarely on NYC. And here’s what we found.
6. Nadja (1994)
Michael Almereyda spins an oh-so-indie-90s vampire tale of New York. Dreamy black and white cinematography blend with footage shot using a toy camera to create a weird dynamic—surreal, poetic, and often absurd.
Peter Fonda plays both Dracula and Van Helsing, the latter having killed the former and begun a search for Dracula’s daughter, Nadja (Elina Löwensohn). The startling cast also includes Martin Donovan, Jared Harris, and David Lynch.
The humor, violence, and stark beauty make for a heady mix.
5. Habit (1995)
Writer/director/star Larry Fessenden explores alcoholism via vampire symbolism in this NY indie. Fessenden plays Sam, a longtime drunk bohemian type in the city. He’s recently lost his father, his longtime girlfriend finally cut bait, and he runs into a woman who is undoubtedly out of his league at a party.
And then he wakes up naked and bleeding in a park.
The whole film works beautifully as an analogy for alcoholism without crumbling under the weight of metaphor. Fessenden crafts a wise, sad vampiric tale here and also shines as its lead.
4. The Addiction (1995)
Like most of director Abel Ferrara’s work, the film is an overtly stylish, rhythmically urban tale of brutal violence, sin and redemption (maybe). Expect drug use, weighty speeches and blood in this tale of a doctoral candidate in philosophy (Lili Taylor) over-thinking her transformation from student to predator.
Taylor cuts an interesting figure as Kathleen, a very grunge-era vampire in her jeans, Doc Martens and oversized, thrift store blazer. She’s joined by an altogether awesome cast—Annabella Sciorra, Edie Falco and Christopher Walken among them.
Ferrara parallels Kathleen’s need for blood to drug addiction, but uses her philosophy jibberish to plumb humanity’s historical bloodlust.
3. Vampire’s Kiss (1988)
Cage was always willing to behave in a strangely effeminate manner, and perhaps even eat a bug. He made some great movies that way.
Peter Lowe (pronounced with such relish by Cage) believes he’s been bitten by a vampire (Jennifer Beals) during a one night stand. It turns out, he’s actually just insane. The bite becomes his excuse to indulge his self-obsessed, soulless, predatory nature all over New York for the balance of the running time.
Cage gives a masterful comic performance in Vampire’s Kiss as a narcissistic literary editor who descends into madness. The actor is hilarious, demented, his physical performance outstanding. The way he uses his gangly mess of limbs and hulking shoulders inspires darkly, campy comic awe. And the plastic teeth are awesome.
Peter may believe he abuses his wholesome editorial assistant Alva (Maria Conchita Alonso) with sinister panache because he’s slowly turning into a demon, but we know better.
2. The Hunger (1983)
Tony Scott’s seductive vampire love story has a little bit of everything: slaughter, girl-on-girl action, ’80s synth/goth tunage, David Bowie. What more can you ask?
Actually the film’s kind of a sultry, dreamily erotic mess. Catharine Deneuve is the old world vampire Miriam, Bowie is her lover. The two spend years – perhaps centuries – together seducing victims. But he suddenly begins aging, and she needs to find a replacement. Enter Susan Sarandon as a medical specialist in unusual blood diseases and a fine actress who’s not above smooching other girls.
Bowie and Deneuve are both so effortlessly cool and sexy that you can almost forgive them their nighttime savagery. You find out just how dangerous he is once he begins the rapid-aging process, but once you get a peek into Miriam’s chick Manhattan attic you find that she’s been far more dangerous – to her lovers and everyone else – for a very long time.
1. The Transfiguration (2016)
Milo likes vampire movies.
So, it would seem, does writer/director Michael O’Shea, whose confident feature debut shows us the relationship between the folklore and the life of a forlorn high school outcast.
Eric Ruffin plays Milo, a friendless Queens teen who believes he is a vampire. What he is really is a lonely child who finds solace in the romantic idea of this cursed, lone predator. But he’s committed to his misguided belief.
O’Shea’s film borrows ideas from George Romero’s Martin, Tomas Alfredson’s Let the Right One In, and openly gushes over Murnau’s Nosferatu. Inside and out, the film draws on the best in vampire cinema to help Milo deal with a world in which he is a freak no matter what he decides to do.
Pregnant Pause
Goody Goody
by Hope Madden
Filmmaker Raymond Creamer made the most of what he had for his feature debut, Goody Goody. What did he have? Four talented actors, two locations, and a knack for atmosphere.
Samantha Robinson (who was utter perfection in 2023’s The Love Witch) is Goody. Goody is pregnant, and she’s creating the beautiful childbirth her baby deserves. She knows that he’ll feel it. He’ll know. It has to be perfect.
Colleen Foy is Sarah, the grownup in the room. Sarah is Goody’s midwife, the one who warned Goody not to give birth in a remote cabin deep in the woods during winter. The only reason Sarah agrees to the job is the fear that Goody, her husband Jayson (Colby Hollman), and his sister Candace (Zoe Renee) will go through with the home birth on their own.
Pregnancy/childbirth horror is so common because it is custom made for the genre. A beast is attempting to burst out of a human body. That human is swollen to a ludicrous degree and is, therefore, wildly handicapped when it comes to things like running or lasting more than ten minutes without having to pee. It is easy to generate dread because, even in real life, it’s terrifying and vulnerable and bloody and it really hurts.
Because it is so common, it can also feel tired. But Creamer develops dread differently. Our point of view is Sarah, the competent one. Watching her grow anxious generates a different kind of dread. When the one who knows what she’s doing is worried, everybody needs to worry.
Foy is remarkable in this role. The way Sarah’s patience and care are soothing but authoritative is a comfort to Goody and family, but also the viewer. As her nerves begin to show wear and tear, we feel more realistically trapped in this nightmare with her.
Robinson’s also wonderful, treading a line between entitled and defenseless, reckless and idealistic. She’s almost hypnotic, almost seductive, and that level of ecstasy helps the film find its tone.
It’s a gorgeous movie. Creamer creates striking moments in a dreamily rustic environment, slowly and quietly introducing the supernatural before pivoting to a full-blown creature feature. The tonal shift wouldn’t work were it not for Robinson’s spellbinding work bumping against Foy’s urgent realism.
For some, it still may not work. The film’s waning moments are mesmerizing, beautiful, and unsatisfying. But for most of Creamer’s 110 minutes, he counted his blessings and made them count.
