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ANIMATION AT ITS MOST MADDENING: ‘Mad God’ (2021) Review

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The deity of stop motion serves us a bountiful harvest of bizarre aesthetics and eerie imagery.

I shouldn’t like this movie as much as I do. But I love it.

I’ve complained about this situation in the past, aesthetically pleasing films with very sparse stories. Usually, with films like those, the slick visuals create a sort of crutch to fill the substantive void that an actual compelling story would give. It would feel lazy. But with Phil Tippet’s Mad God, the movie’s narrative is barebones and better off for it, because everything in the film is oozing passion. Part of me wants there to be more of a story here, but I know deep inside that to add one would run counter to the point of it all.

– Mad God – Photo Credit: Shudder

Since I first watched this featurette on the film’s creation back in high school, I’ve hopelessly waited for a release of the full Mad God film on home media. This film, 30 years in the making, after thousands of hours of manpower and countless models, is about the spectacle of it all. You get taken along by the emotion of a desolate journey instead of more coherent thoughts.

We follow The Assassins of the Last Man on their mission to destroy the underworld they’ve been sent into, and we’re forced to feel their misery in the task. You find yourself trying to keep a grip on the handholds alongside the gas-mask clad world killers who climb down many layers of a grisly hell (and if this isn’t hell, I’d hate to see what it looks like for them) without a single word of reassurance to keep you company.

Mad God isn’t here to hold your hand and tell you about a fantastic legend beyond its fantastic visuals; it’s a mythically grimdark showcase, first and foremost, of how both incredible and horrible things can be done with the medium of stop motion animation.

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– Mad God – Photo Credit: Shudder

So, what does this showcase have for us visually? A dieselpunk meets eldritch horror aesthetic, with ick-inducing detail on every pore and strand of hair for the creatures we see. Industrial landscapes that have had life breathed into them and living things that seem to have all their humanity taken away is what’s being served here. Everything in this movie is in a tragically good-looking state of decay. An undeniable and downright sickening nastiness to the film that you can’t look away from. It’s not a car crash or a trainwreck that pulls in onlookers; it’s a clash of these gargantuan monstrosities of flesh and metal trading hammering blows, giving you a violent duel that you’re forced to keep watching in astonishment.

There are moments of sweeping camerawork that you rarely see in movies nowadays unless they’re filmed on soundstages plastered in greenscreen and drowning in CGI. The magnitude of these sets is immense for something so small, and the way Tippett and company light and colors the scenes is just phenomenal.

And while it doesn’t have an explicit storyline, the film thematically (intentionally or otherwise) dwells on the indifference of industry, the callousness of technology against humans, and our autonomy as humans. This is rife for analysis, so expect countless video essays and reviews when people pick up on it.

– Mad God – Photo Credit: Shudder

There is some cinematic dissonance with the second half of the film as we follow the second Assassin, with a sharp change in lighting that can take you out of things. After all, the movie began on 35mm film and eventually finished with digital cameras and using newer techniques, something Tippet himself anticipated issues with. But once you readjust, you get treated to some of the film’s most enjoyable sequences; specifically, the neon splattered bottle world kept in the Alchemist’s laboratory comes to mind.

Assassin – Mad God – Photo Credit: Shudder

BOTTOMLINE: This is one of those rare opportunities where an auteur filmmaker’s pure passion carries the entire endeavor without slipping into a kind of black hole of pretension. I honestly never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing this film outside of a film festival. And now that I have seen it, I’m telling you, you must see it to truly believe the excellent insanity of Phil Tippett’s Mad God.

Luis Pomales-Diaz is a freelance writer and lover of fantasy, sci-fi, and of course, horror. When he isn't working on a new article or short story, he can usually be found watching schlocky movies and forgotten television shows.

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‘The Bay’ Turns Fact Into Fiction

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As much as I love horror, genre fans can be a bit…gatekeepy. Over the years, we’ve seen prominent comedy legends dip their toes into horror (Jordan Peele, Chris Rock, Danny McBride) to varying success. Many genre fans want nothing to do with comedy legends getting into horror, though for Peele and Rock, there’s probably another reason people look down on their horror films. We’ve seen something similar the past few years with YouTubers getting into the horror game as well; why are horror fans so weird about who writes/directs horror films? But what many people don’t know is that one of found footage’s most powerful films was created by a truly incredible non-genre filmmaker. So, how exactly did The Bay come to be?

The Bay’s Found Footage Story and Plot Breakdown

Investigative reporter Donna Thompson (Kether Donohue) finds herself in the crosshairs of one of the 21st century’s most prominent stories. Denizens of Clairidge, Maryland, are falling ill to a mysterious disease that’s covering them in boils, lesions, and pustules. Told through a series of leaks, after the government desperately tried to wipe this reporting, Donna retells the harrowing story that killed nearly the entire town. But what exactly is behind these illnesses, and can they even be stopped?

How Barry Levinson Created The Bay

The Bay writer/director Barry Levinson is one of film’s heavy hitters. His directing (and in some respective cases writing) credits brought us some of the greatest films of all time, with Rain Man, Sleepers, Good Morning, Vietnam, and Man of the Year, to name a few. How did this Oscar-winning director find his way into genre filmmaking, and found footage at that? From what I can tell, Levinson was approached to make a documentary about the Chesapeake Bay and its ongoing pollution. Since this topic had already been covered in documentary form, Levinson decided to take a fictional and horror approach to this all-too-real problem. From there, The Bay was born.

Timely Environmental Horror and Real-World Commentary

Taking real issues in the world and adding a horror flair to them has been one of the best ways for filmmakers to disseminate issues and deliver hard-hitting commentary. Around this time, 2012, is when Vice was really becoming a voice online with some groundbreaking work. For Barry Levinson to decide to tell this story, about the real pollution in the Chesapeake Bay, in the found footage medium, was the best decision he could have made. Levinson’s decision brings an air of authenticity and exists almost as a call to action. It’s more or less a feeling of, “this is happening in a town near you.”

Why The Bay Is One of the Best Found Footage Horror Movies

What really makes The Bay work more than most other found footage films is Levinson’s experience in traditional filmmaking. I love this subgenre; it’s my favorite. But I know, as well as most found footage fans, that there is an overwhelming amount of trash. While the subgenre, now, merely exists as a conduit for aspiring filmmakers to tell a story on a shoestring budget, it’s lost its way. Have an idea for one scare? Throw 60 minutes of aimless meandering through the woods and give someone a Canon Vixia! You have yourself a found footage movie. And while I love and appreciate how many people try to make films in this subgenre, it’s become as polluted as the Chesapeake Bay.

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The Bay is one of the few found footage films that uses its subgenre to its advantage, rather than as a budget constraint. Granted, Levinson is in a much better position to do that than most filmmakers. But the director’s understanding of traditional storytelling makes The Bay one of the most captivating films within the subgenre. While The Bay excels with its storytelling, it’s SFX department head Chris Bridges who brings the true terror to life.

Practical Effects and Body Horror That Just Work

From the isopod-filled fish to the gory, decimated citizens of Clairidge, The Bay is a truly disgusting film. Many found footage films find themselves blowing their budget on one, maybe two, stinger(s). The Bay, once it really gets going, constantly hits you with blood, viscera, and squirmy things. It uncomfortably wriggles under your skin until you just can’t take a second longer.

The Bay and the Decline of Found Footage Horror

To wrap this up, there is an interesting parallel to The Bay and the subgenre as a whole. Found footage, at this time, was ramping up to be a landfill of ideas; it was figuratively being polluted by chicken shit. The Bay stepped up to show audiences that new, exciting, and terrifying films could still exist within the subgenre. But that also means we shouldn’t sit idly by to be force-fed garbage. We can step up and say enough is enough. Don’t make justifications for bad found footage films (garbage) as it floods the subgenre (waterways). Because if there is enough bad found footage (garbage/chicken shit), then the subgenre will collapse (water will become polluted/we will all die).

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‘Disclosure Day’ Review: Gorgeous Visuals Battle Over-Stuffed Script

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Steven Spielberg’s Disclosure Day is a film so close to greatness, but one leashed by itself from attaining it. The first science fiction film from Spielberg in eight years has base elements which are truly fantastic. The mystery is compelling, and the performances can be emotionally resonant. And despite how simple and familiar the set pieces and genre tropes it revels in are, Disclosure Day has some of the most thrilling moments audiences will see in a film this year.

But what should be a knockout summer blockbuster becomes bloated. It’s a film that could easily be a perfect score but suffers from its approach. Considerable pacing and scripting issues dial back the appeal of its ten out of ten visuals and leave you thinking about what could have been one of the best Spielberg films of all time.

What Is Disclosure Day About?

As international tensions rise, the world reaches a tipping point. Nations prepare to go to war, and the conflict of nuclear powers threatens to send humanity back into the Stone Age. But an insurgent group hopes to avoid destruction by unlocking a secret chapter of human history and sharing it with the world: the story of humans and their first contact with aliens.

Up against the shadowy government contractor Wardex, a rogue group races to unveil the truth. Caught in the web of intrigue are a hacker named Daniel (Josh O’Connor) and a weather reporter named Margaret (Emily Blunt), whose proximity to the struggle and its origins becomes impossible to ignore. Hunted by Wardex director Scanlon (Colin Firth), the fate of the world hangs in the balance as the duo attempts to give the entire human race full disclosure.

A Balancing Act Between Tension and Wonderment

For the most part, Disclosure Day has Spielberg in rare form. The immediate mental leap that fires off is to try and drive home comparisons to Close Encounters, though that instinct detracts from the unique balancing act on display. The film is able to juggle between evoking a sense of wonderment and a sense of pure dread with just how it’s shot. Crossing the spectacle of psychic phenomena with the tension of a Cold War spy-thriller is something we haven’t seen from him in any one project. It’s a hybrid, and a fascinating blending of genres at that.

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This balancing act is primarily driven by an absolutely packed and powerful ensemble cast. Emily Blunt plays Margaret with effortless odd and endearing charm as she gets thrown headfirst into the deep end. The quirks of her character evolve into a fully fleshed out persona that reminds you why Blunt has top billing. Josh O’Connor plays his part as the yin to Margaret’s yang beautifully as well; his sober terror as he finds himself on the run is a fun contrast that, when placed opposite of Blunt, renders great chemistry between the two as they’re magnetically drawn to each other in search of the truth.

Disclosure Day Gives Us One of the Best Sci Fi Villains

Colin Firth’s absolutely nefarious Noah Scanlon is one of the best villains in a science fiction film in a long time, especially during the movie’s most memorable confrontation against Daniel’s girlfriend Jane. His performance is about as finely tuned as it is frightening. And as far as Colman Domingo’s rebel leader Hugo goes, it’s clear why his pivotal dialog was the core of all the marketing material. There’s a steady calmness that could only come from an actor as seasoned as Domingo slipping into his role like a glove. He and Firth are highlights, even if they are delegated mostly to supporting roles. Together, the entire cast moves like clockwork.

Lack of Confidence, Thy Name Is Dialogue

But while the cast feels perfect for the roles they’re given, and they do great with what they can, the nature of so much dialog in Disclosure Day is repetitive and obvious. There’s a wild number of moments that would be truly golden if they weren’t shot down by characters stating not only their emotions but also the obvious things that are happening in front of them.

Some moments should fundamentally feel like characters are having a massive breakthrough or emotional catharsis, but more often than not, it feels more like the audience is having these emotional arcs explained to them. Thematically, the movie is supposed to be about this search for fundamental truths. Truths not just about our place in the universe and in the eyes of God, but about our place with each other. It’s that thematic richness it seeks that makes the bad lines feel like so much salt in the wound. There are moments where these intrinsic questions could be asked with dimension and depth, but instead they’re flattened out by how the characters speak to each other bluntly.

This is the aforementioned proximity to greatness; there’s a hypothetical cut of this film that has so much of this verbal bubble wrap sliced away which would be perfection. But just like on our Earth and the Earth of Disclosure Day, this is not a perfect world. It can only really be chalked up to a diffidence that plagues the writing: a lack of confidence in being able to communicate something subtly, and a simultaneous lack of confidence in the audience to receive that information.

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Small Tears in a Sentimental Tapestry

As the film continues with this pattern, the small tears in this emotion driven tapestry become more noticeable. The CGI can be wonky at times. The score can feel leading rather than complementary. The blocking is far from inspired, especially given how many scenes there are of our characters surrounded by a crowd with bated breath; with this many bodies in motion, the way he places his actors and moves through them feels less thought out.

And most noticeable of all, the film’s hefty runtime is paced poorly, especially in its third act. Make no mistake: it’s a final reel that is visually and sonically gorgeous in where it goes. If cinematographer Janusz Kamiński was ever in a flow state, it is here and now with this film. It feels like there was an abundance of footage and no haste to actually edit out any of it. It feels like a director’s cut that just goes on too long, like many scenes in the film. This is especially apparent in a finale that should be awe-inspiring for how incredible it looks, but ultimately lingers too long and overstays its welcome.

It’s understandable that when working with the most influential voice in cinema history, one might be reticent to cut anything. But Disclosure Day’s lack of restraint with how it unfolds exacerbates many small issues that will leave some viewers with regret. Not because it’s irredeemable, or even a movie you won’t enjoy watching, but because it has so much to give and is so captivating in its cinematic vision. And because sadly, that vision is weighed down by the desire to be easily digestible and show all of its emotional tricks. It’s a desire that turns a borderline perfect film into simply another aesthetically pleasing one.

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