Problem Child

Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma

by Hope Madden

Don’t make the mistake of assuming Jane Schoenbrun’s new feature Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is a slasher. Or a slasher spoof. Or a satire about slashers.

It’s a sexual awakening brought about by Gillian Anderson. Obviously.

Up-and-coming (pun intended) queer filmmaker Kris (a wondrously vulnerable Hannah Einbinder) has been tapped to reboot a problematic slasher IP. She hopes to convince the Final Girl of the first installment, Billy (Anderson the Great), to return to cinema and star in the film. Turns out, Billy’s a recluse who bought and now lives in the camp from the original film. She hosts Kris for several days of movies, junk food, pot, and deeply sensuous slasher nerdery.

This is—and I say this with as much delight as possible—the nerdiest horror movie ever. How nerdy? The very second you hear yourself saying “that’s a split diopter,” Schoenbrun stand-in Kris says it out loud. When Kris apologizes for asking too personal a question of Billy, fearing it could be a #metoo violation, Billy replies, “I auditioned for The Burning. You know who made that, right?”

Nerds! And the best kind of nerds. Horror movie nerds! Sleepaway Camp trivia meets Friday the 13th nostalgia in a gloriously queer, brazenly shameless, wonderfully horny new horror film.

Like their last two features, We’re All Going to the World’s Fair and I Saw the TV Glow, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma concerns itself with transformation, identity, and horror. But Schoenbrun’s latest drops the dreamy melancholy of the previous films in favor of something tender, beautiful, and accepting.

The gender iconography littered across every scene finds its zenith in Little Death (that name!), the transgender marauder with a double-blade spear and an air vent helmet. (Honestly, if you haven’t read Carol J. Clover’s Men, Women, and Chain Saws, you should. Schoenbrun certainly has.)

TSADACM, like Schoenbrun’s last two films, is a gorgeous watercolor fever dream. It’s funny, incredibly bloody, and unabashedly in love with the aggressively sexual and sexually ambiguous slasher, no matter how problematic. Perhaps because it’s problematic.

The film is not just a wonderful walk through another person’s psyche, although it is that. It’s also a fascinating, deeply satisfying kick of a horror movie. You should go.  

Way Down in the Hole

Bury the Devil

by Hope Madden

Things don’t often go well for live-in nurses in horror movies. Whether the caregiver is a loved one (Undertone, Relic, The Taking of Deborah Logan) or a professional (I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House, The Dark and the Wicked), the patient always seems to bring with them an additional presence.

So, I guess Julia (Emmanuelle Lussier Martinez) only has herself to blame. If she’d watched more horror, she might have known that her latest gig in a gorgeous lakeside home with Evelyn (Dawn Ford) would take more from her than her time and compassion.

Writer/director Adam O’Brien’s Bury the Devil creates a great, spooky atmosphere. Long takes and a prowling camera give the film a haunted quality, and O’Brien makes the most of his limited budget with a small but talented cast and this stunning location.

Ford takes advantages of the opportunities afforded her, gliding from wistful old woman to confused dementia sufferer to something sinister and back with ease. She commands the screen as patients in these films rarely do.

Likewise, Martinez carves out a believable character—not the martyr or conniver, just a working nurse on her first night in a new home.

The writing is occasionally pushy, trying too hard to wedge information into conversations without forced exposition. We exist only in the present tense. There are no flashbacks or days marked on the screen to help us along. Instead, O’Brien drops us into Julia’s first night and possibly Dawn’s last. It’s a structure that keeps the film moving and surprising, but it doesn’t offer a lot of opportunity to expand the story.

The gaps in the mythology weaken the climax. What you don’t know and couldn’t possibly understand without some guidance leaves you guessing at too much. That guesswork keeps the finale from feeling like a resolution, like pieces finally fit into a puzzle. It’s not enough to ruin the movie, but it’s enough to keep it from leaving a mark.

Kitchen Knives Out

Tony

by George Wolf

Among other things, Tony is another reminder that we’d all be better off if everyone’s first job was in a restaurant. It certainly altered the course of Anthony Bourdain’s life, and director/co-writer Matt Johnson makes the most of focusing his biopic squarely in that one eventful summer of 1975.

“Tony” was 19 then, and by his own admission decades later in the Kitchen Confidential memoir, a narcissistic lout in need of a “good ass kicking.” The story of that BTA wakeup call makes for an entertaining coming-of-age tale full of humor, humanity and one righteous clambake.

Dominic Sessa is exceptional as the young Bourdain, who is so caught up in his future writing genius that he lies to everyone about the huge Vassar fellowship that he didn’t get. Following his crush Nancy (Emila Jones) to Provincetown, Mass., Tony is forced to earn his keep by washing dishes at The Flagship restaurant and sleeping in Chef’s (Antonio Banderas) hammock out back.

And so the education begins. While co-worker Sal (Tuner‘s Leo Woodall) schools him on the local women and party life, Chef’s gentle and patient influence nudges Tony to stop pretending and follow his passions.

Sessa, with his frantic hair and brooding intensity, makes the gradual transition frustrating, relatable and heartfelt. His chemistry with Banderas (in a performance perfectly suited for an Oscar nod) is warm and real, providing the film a reliable anchor that does not disappoint.

Johnson (Blackberry, Nirvana the Band the Show the Movie) has been clear that he came to the project with little knowledge of the Bourdain brand. That helps the film avoid undue reverence, and lets Tony’s future accomplishments hang bittersweetly in the air, an unspoken but understood step in this character arc from lout to legend.

Because in the summer of 1975, Bourdain’s future could have taken many different paths. Though the end was tragic, Tony finds a messy, inspiration joy in the beginning, and in the subtle twists of fate that can change lives forever.

All You Care to Eat

Buffet Infinity

by Hope Madden

At about the 5-minute mark, I’d begun to worry about Buffet Infinity, co-writer/director Simon Glassman’s very Canadian sci-fi/horror/comedy hybrid. So far, we’d done nothing but flip through various low-fi, low-budget, very local Canadian TV ads. For five minutes.

That seemed like a long time for a prelude to a narrative. By 10 minutes, panic settled in as I realized the flipping from a few seconds of this law office ad to a few seconds of that used car commercial to a few seconds of this buffet advert would compose the entire film.

About one minute later I’d submitted to the mind-jangling force of Buffet Infinity. Which almost certainly means I would not have survived whatever it is that happened in Westridge County, Canada the day the sink hole appeared behind that mall.

Glassman’s premise, built from a script co-written with Allison Bench and Elisia Snyder, is clever, but its execution is bananas and perhaps brilliant.

The film mimics the experience of channel surfing in the Nineties with all the regional news and commercials. Did your small town have a car salesman who took on a superhero alter ego? Or a badly dressed ambulance chaser promising you a big payout for your negligence lawsuit? These are joined by a delightful pawn shop, an untested diet pill, a hilariously lip-synched series of insurance commercials, one low-rent L. Ron Hubbard (every ad is hilarious), and a nasty grudge match between neighboring restaurants.

Edited masterfully and performed atrociously (intentionally and enjoyably), and aided by a handful of quick news bits, the clips tell the tale of a town fighting to survive some cosmic capitalistic catastrophe.

Glassman’s instincts for presentation are on point. Whether it’s the crawl on the screen, the news channel jingles, the insane verbal descriptions attached to the buffet commercials, or just the relentless and twisted familiarity of each ad, Buffet Infinity nails its style.

I wouldn’t call it style over substance because that feels like a knock against the narrative being unveiled with each changing commercial. Still, certainly the presentation and its unlikely durability (93 minutes!) make style the more impressive of the two.

Buffet Infinity is a wild watch, and though—given its channel hopping style—it seems ideal for Shudder, don’t let the home viewing let you get distracted. Glassman repays you for your attention.

Screening Room: Union County, End of Oak Street, Wrong Girls & More

Hope & George review this week’s new releases: Union County, The End of Oak Street, The Rivals of Amziah King, The Wrong Girls, Do Us Part – and we’re joined by the director and cast, Reed Arnold, Kelly Russo & Travis Laughlin! —Don’t Say Good Luck, Hellcat, Feed, and The Legend of Juan Jose Mundo.

Payback’s a Bee-yotch

The Rivals of Amziah King

by George Wolf

Back in 2019, Andrew Patterson’s debut feature The Vast of Night was a welcome surprise. Meticulously crafted with a detailed throwback vibe and some snappy dialog, it got me excited for what Patterson had in store.

We finally get his second feature with The Rivals of Amziah King, and once again, I am charmed.

His timeline shifts to present day, and the setting moves from New Mexico to Oklahoma for an adventure filled with rousing roots music, the basics of beekeeping, a Southern Gothic mystery and one clever plan for revenge.

Matthew McConaughey is electric as Amziah King, a rural beekeeper, musician and all around character who’s asked to help find the rightful owner of twenty barrels full of stolen honey. But after some absurdist violence, a reconnection with his former foster daughter Kateri (Angelina LookingGlass in a captivating debut) and a memorable pot luck/jam session, King finds his own bee colony has been lifted.

Kateri’s affection for King as a father figure has never wavered over their years apart, and she commits herself to payback for the guilty party. And she’s pretty sure the trail will lead right to local tycoon Dob McCoy (Kurt Russell).

Patterson has a delightfully unique brand of storytelling, one that retains a youthful innocence no matter what adult themes are being juggled. His wordplay is fresh and often deadpan funny, and his camera can oscillate between fluidity and bits of slo-motion for effect.

Two films in, it’s clear Patterson is a skilled world-builder. And here, that world is a small Oklahoma community with many interconnected parts and memorable personalities. The parallels that Patterson draws with bee colonies are clear but not force-fed, and his wonderfully eclectic ensemble makes it a kick to follow them around.

Patterson seems to be enjoying the bigger canvas for his second film, with a few strands of excess and a 130-minute run time that does get a tad bloated when we reach some odes to Huck Finn in Act III. But it always feels in service of a big swing and a committed vision, and that will always bee easy to forgive.

Yes, bee.

Correct-a-Mundo

The Legend of Juan Jose Mundo

by Rachel Willis

Do you remember what it’s like to be in high school and to be desperately in love with someone who doesn’t see you that way? Writer/director Michael Walker and his co-writer Susan Gomes sure do. What’s even better about their film The Legend of Juan Jose Mundo is that they remember being young and in love in the glamorous 1980s.

High school junior Julie (Anna Miroden) is upset when she finds out the Spanish exchange student she was expecting is being replaced by a boy named Juan (Alexandro Byrd). It’s not too hard to anticipate that Julie’s discomfort will give way to youthful lust. But of course, as easy as she seems to hit it off with Juan, he only has eyes for seemingly every other girl in school.

The formula might be familiar, but the film itself is a gem. Miroden is the perfect every girl. She’s the ideal balance of cute and insecure. Even when boys do like her, she freezes before anything can happen. She also has the conundrum of wanting the boys to like her, but only the “right” boys. When those boys don’t like her, it feels like none of them do, even when several show her how untrue that is.

As a perfect mirror to Julie’s insecurity, Juan is the model of confidence. He flirts and hooks up with countless girls. His legend grows within the school, and even Julie’s best friend Suzanne (a fantastic Hannah Kepple) is swept up in his wake.

But despite any mistakes or poor decisions the characters make, it’s impossible not to like them. Each one brings a level of realism that has you rooting for them to make better choices and figure out how to navigate the choppy waters of adolescence. There isn’t a dud among the cast, and the writing gives even ancillary characters enough to bring them to life.

This film has a lot of heart and puts many teen comedies from the 80s to shame.

Don’t You (Forget About Mom)

Don’t Say Good Luck

by Hope Madden

There is a sweet, delightfully messy coming-of-age film at the heart of director Julia Hart’s Don’t Say Good Luck.

As high school sophomore Sophie (Sunny Sandler) nervously auditions for the school musical, navigating friendship and crush and theatrical nerves, her relationship with her mom takes a hit. What’s refreshing about Don’t Say Good Luck is that each of Sophie’s high school sources of angst takes a back seat to her issues with her mom, rather than vice versa.

In your average John Hughes film, troubles at home are the backdrop for our plucky teen hero. Hart, who co-wrote the script with Laura Hankin and Jordan Horowitz, reframes priorities. The film is about Sophie and her mom (Melanie Lynskey).

Hart goes so far as to soften the villainous stereotypes Hughes trained us to expect. By rounding out the more minor characters and refocusing attention away from high school angst and toward family relationships, Don’t Say Good Luck abandons the age-old trope that teens are on their own, their parents just don’t understand.

It’s nice. Beyond that, it’s often moving.

Lynskey is characteristically wonderful, and she and Max Greenfield present a very natural, endearing, weary bond as parents going through something tragic. The chaos of their lives—a busy high schooler, twin boys, a deli they co-own where they both work—feels lived in.

Add, in minor supporting roles, the great Bebe Neuwirth and Steve Buscemi, and you’re looking at an impressive ensemble, ostensibly there to buoy Sandler, whose father and mother (Adam and Jackie Sandler) produce.

Sunny Sandler does a fine job in the spotlight. She’s fine, like her sister Sadie Sandler was fine in Roommates. She’s probably not strong enough to anchor this film, but she doesn’t sink it, either.

Still, there’s a refreshing untidiness about Don’t Say Good Luck that keeps you off kilter and helps the climax hit harder. The film lacks cynicism, believes teenage girls do dumb things but are not dumb people, and sees depth where other films choose not to. It’s an enjoyable high school dramedy, and one that acknowledges its audience’s humanity.

A Good Day to be Clean

Union County

by George Wolf

Union County is an absolutely stunning feature debut from writer/director Adam Meeks. Expanding his short from 2020, Meeks delivers a film that feels like a persistent memory, one with a deceptively subtle grip not easy to shake.

Gripping performances from Will Poulter and Noah Centineo blend seamlessly with a supporting cast of predominantly non-professional actors, imbedding us within a rural Ohio community struggling to escape the opioid epidemic.

Cody Parsons (Poulter) and his brother Jack (Centineo) are both addicts, but they navigate the court-mandated drug rehabilitation program is strikingly different ways. Jack is upbeat and smiley, charming girls at a local bonfire with an aura of positivity. But Cody, from his first day in the 18-month program, is reserved and quietly intense.

The heart and soul of the recovery program – and of the film – is Annette (Annette Deao). She is a tireless anchor of hope for the addicts, picking up the phone at all hours and absorbing their anger and frustration with the patience of a sage who knows there can be better days ahead.

Meeks, an Ohio native, goes straight to the frontlines of this national crisis, but he is careful to show us more than the grim, barren landscapes that so often characterize the Midwest. From the blooming of greenery to the changes in wardrobe to the rebuilding of a wrecked car, Meeks finds understated metaphors that gracefully mirror the journeys in play. His pace is led by a compassion that never wavers, no matter the tragedy or roadblock.

Poulter, who has been compiling a litany of standout performances since his teens, has never been better. We feel Cody’s struggle even in his quietest moments. And when he finally allows himself enough joy to smile, Poulter makes it a moment of internalized triumph. It’s a towering, award-worthy performance.

With more limited screen time, Centineo finds the wayward, fractured heart of a man whose more frequent moments of celebration may be misplaced, given the never-ending road he’s traveling. Jack is the loose family cannon, but Centineo makes his relationship with Cody, and their cautious sister Kat (Emily Meade, also terrific), both sympathetic and heartbreaking. 

And Deao? She’s a revelation. As a fictionalized version of herself, Annette (who did study acting years before her current career) consistently grounds the film with the unwavering commitment to all those – like herself – who are a daily lifeline for their community members just struggling to see another one. One of the film’s most pivotal moments comes from Deao’s real experience in the program, and it’s just one reminder of the life-and-death work being done in these American trenches every single day. 

The struggle is indeed real, in rural Ohio and so many other areas like it. But the hope, the humanity and the steps forward are equally real. Union County doesn’t rest until you feel every bit of all of it, and feel thankful for the time you spent here. 

Primeval Bloodbath

Feed

by Hope Madden

Horror owes Ireland a huge debt for vampires. Yes, basically every culture and nationality has a vampire myth, but Ireland gave us Dracula and Carmilla. Remmick is the coolest vampire to come along in decades. But those bloodsuckers are predated by some millennia by the Dearg Due, Ireland’s first vampire, who finally gets her cinematic due in Marco van Belle’s indie horror, Feed.

It’s been a year since Orla’s (Grace Collender) tragedy. Her influencer/bestie Nessa (Daisy Jelley) is sure that a week away in a remote Irish cottage will help bring Orla out of her depression, and if Nessa can take advantage of the beautiful spot for some posts, all the better.

This is essentially a cabin-in-the-woods horror, isolating five attractive young people of mixed gender in a natural, even primeval, setting.

Is it a tired set up? It is. Do filmmakers drag it out time and time again because it’s effective? Also yes. Locals are spooky, there’s no phone service, characters are out of their element, and a natural evil is disturbed.

An early-film flashback gives us a sense of what that evil is, but van Belle could mine the mythology more effectively. It would have more effectively set Feed apart from other films. Instead, we spend most of our time inside the cabin with the more predictable storyline.

The cast does a fine job of finding characters hiding in these fairly typical characters. Jelley is the most hamstrung as the vain best friend and failing influencer, but Clinton Liberty, as Orla’s boyfriend, struggles with the film’s most underwritten character.

Collender’s solid and both Rhys Mannion and Oskar Smith find nuance and personality for their characters. Naimh Hogan’s central villain has come cool trickery, but her presence lacks real terror. Charlotte Bradley, on the other hand, is effortlessly frightening as the innkeeper who’d rather keep the vampire.

It’s a good looking movie and van Belle uses the tools of the influencer within the vampire myth well. He just doesn’t break out of routine often enough to make Feed particularly memorable.  

Hope Madden and George Wolf … get it?