Reviews
WAR NEVER ENDS FOR THE DEAD: A Completely SPOILER-FREE Review of ‘BROOKLYN 45’
I’ve mentioned that Ted Geoghegan’s We Are Still Here is arguably the film that most influenced my current taste in horror movies. It’s a bombshell of a movie that completely sucker-punches you, with a climax that blew my mind when I first saw it. It’s my favorite ghost film of all time and a personal favorite I never get tired of watching. So, you can imagine how excited I was at the announcement of Brooklyn 45, and how worried I was knowing the expectations Geoghegan’s previous film had set. Although it’s an entirely different beast that shares some thematic similarities, Brooklyn 45 is both a worthy successor and just an incredible piece of cinema in its own right.
A Seance Gone Wrong
On December 27th, 1945, a group of lifelong friends who have come home from the war gather to comfort Clive “Hock” Hockstatter (played by Larry Fessenden), a colonel who lost his wife Suzie in a sudden and bizarre suicide on Thanksgiving. In Clive’s search for answers, he turns to the supernatural and requests the group perform a seance with him in a last-ditch effort for closure. When they agree, what answers their call to the afterlife turns a reunion into a fight for sanity, questioning who your friends truly are, with a deluge of secrets pouring out.
It would have been easy to make a pulpy, 1940s horror scenario out of this, something akin to the game Call of Cthulu (if your gm loved black-and-white war dramas). But Brooklyn 45 isn’t just an old-school throwback with some new-school sensibilities and modern special effects as the poster might suggest; it’s a lovingly crafted meditation on dealing with unexpected loss, and the hatefulness that can jump out of you as a result.
Exploring the Dark Power of Mourning
Many complex themes permeate Brooklyn 45’s story, but the most powerful of all is the dark, ugly power of mourning. Not grief, which you feel, but how you mourn to express that grief. There’s something dangerous about mourning and how it can change you: the fearful result of mourning ideals and codes, mourning the ones you’ve lost, mourning actions you’ve taken, and mourning the death of the choices you never got to make. Fans of We Are Still Here will be familiar with how that film deals with grief, given the plot.
But the difference between contacting the dead of an untimely death to contacting the dead of a suicide adds a new hard-to-swallow element that touches you in a way that is not deeper per se, but radically different and painful. That element is how mourning changes into something dangerous, and could change who you are (or who you’re trying to be).
Not all death is equal, and when you convince yourself that the blame falls on you, death can be leagues more devastating than you could ever imagine. The movie delves into the idea that when there’s an enemy, there’s a cause, but when you’re the enemy, the cause becomes much harder to fight for and discern. Mourning becomes less clear, and the fog of war inside consumes your thoughts. And Brooklyn 45 doesn’t just play with that fog; it forces you to investigate it and let it wash over you. You’re sent into an emotional no man’s land, accompanied only by a platoon that feels as likely to put a bayonet through you as they are to mend your wounds.
A Fully Thought Out And Dynamic Cast
And what a platoon it is! The cast here doesn’t just have this endless chemistry; they’re also all unbelievably in sync regarding their character dynamics. It’s one thing to be enjoyable as an ensemble, but to get you to believe these characters are playing out these decades-long relationships is a rare achievement that this film pulls off effortlessly.
Ezra Buzzington is especially enjoyable as Major DiFranco, who plays him with this stony demeanor and firmness of speech that I love, something reminiscent of Garland Brigg’s best moments from Twin Peaks. Archibald (Jeremy Holms) presents himself as all swagger and nice tailoring but slowly becomes the most emotionally complex character. It takes time for Bob (Ron E. Rains), the odd man out of the group being Marla’s husband, to come out of his shell, but when he does, it is glorious and genuinely heartbreaking. And it’s all thanks to Anne Ramsey as Marla that we get the tensest scene in the film, whose performance draws a line between two versions of the same character in an enjoyably dark way.
Larry Fessenden’s Show-Stealing Role
The star of the show is Fessenden, whose performance is uncanny. He shifts through the emotional spectrum in his monologue toward the film’s beginning in a way that makes you wonder how such an incredible character actor hasn’t been given heaps more movies to headline. From start to finish, he is pure dynamite, even with the state he’s in by the end.
These actors show off their full potential because of Geoghegan’s clever script, which utilizes a closed space perfectly. We get shocking twists throughout, with jaw-dropping dialogue that makes for some stunning interactions, all contained in one parlor room. Gripping scenes that evoke horror through paranoia and dashes of black comedy that make you jump between “that’s hilarious” to “that’s awful” feel like they’ve translated impeccably from the page of the screenplay.
Brooklyn 45 Is An Immersive Period Piece That Will Haunt You
I’ve talked a lot about how great this is as a dramatic thriller, which it is, but it is also a genuinely scary horror movie. Brooklyn 45 doesn’t fit into a neat genre box (most great horror films don’t), but when it fully embraces one of those genres, it does them perfectly. There’s tension built throughout the movie for the scares, and when they come, they hit hard.
While most of the special effects are simple, there’s an elegant execution to them that leaves a disproportionately massive impact. There are doses of shock throughout it, ranging from your run-of-the-mill frightening to downright horrifying. It’s not for gorehounds—don’t expect blood and guts flying, but it uses its most gruesome moments in a way that made me squirm in my seat. The final practical effect at the climax actually made me turn away from the screen, just because of how it’s shot, framed, and the amount of time you get face to face with it made me uncomfortable. Good uncomfortable, but good lord, that image will be burned into my brain.
Set design as bespoke as the period-accurate costuming makes the film’s vibes immaculate, as does a clean soundtrack that plays its part well. In this séance, all the visual candles flicker at the right time, the house audio rattles on cue, and the phantoms of cinematography come out to play. This is usually the part where I would say the things I didn’t like, but I’m hard-pressed to find them, so let’s get to the
Brooklyn 45 Is a Must-Watch Horror Film
Brooklyn 45 is the kind of film that completely immerses you and keeps you guessing what will happen until the final frames. It’s a haunted house that will have you pounding on the door, begging to be let out—but not for the usual reasons you’d expect. If you’re looking for a simple weekend watch that could be your next favorite, give this a try. It’s what happened to me. Watch it immediately.
Brooklyn 45 is now streaming on Shudder!
Those expecting Guillermo Del Toro’s Frankenstein to be similar to the book, or to any other adaptation, are in for something else. A longtime enjoyer of the creature’s story, Del Toro instead draws from many places: the novel, James Whale’s culturally defining 1931 film, the Kenneth Branagh version, there are even hints from Terence Fisher’s Curse of Frankenstein, and if the set design and costuming are to be believed, there are trace elements of the National Theatre production too.
The formulation to breathe life into this amalgam is a sort of storm cloud of cultural memory and personal desire for Del Toro. This is about crafting his Frankenstein: the one he wanted to see since he was young, the vision he wanted to stitch together. What results is an experience that is more colorful and kinetic and well-loved by its creator than any Frankenstein we’ve had yet, but what it leaves behind is much of its gothic heart. Quiet darkness, looming dread, poetry, and romance are set aside as what has been sold as “the definitive retelling” goes off to the races. It’s a fast-paced ride through a world of mad science, and you’re on it.
Victor Frankenstein’s Ambition and Tragedy
A tale as old as time, with some changes: the morbid talents and untamed hubris of Victor Frankenstein (Oscar Isaac) guide him to challenge death itself. Spurred by a wealthy investor named Henrich Harlander, and a desire for Harlander’s niece Elizabeth (Mia Goth), Victor uses dead flesh and voltaic vigor to bring a creature to life. His attempts to rear it, however, go horribly wrong, setting the two on a bloody collision course as the definitions of man and monster become blurred.
Guillermo Del Toro’s Frankenstein is more Hellboy in its presentation than it is Crimson Peak; it’s honestly more similar to Coppola’s Dracula than either of them. The film is barely done with its opening when it starts with a loud sequence of the monster attacking Walton’s ship on the ice. Flinging crew members about and walking against volleys of gunfire, he is a monstrosity by no other name. The Creature (Jacob Elordi) cries out in guttural screams, part animal and part man, as it calls for its creator to be returned to him. While visually impressive (and it remains visually impressive throughout, believe me), this appropriately bombastic hook foreshadows a problem with tone and tempo.
A Monster That Moves Too Fast
The pace overall is far too fast for its first half, even with its heavy two-and-a-half-hour runtime. It’s also a far cry from the brooding nature the story usually takes. A scene where Victor demonstrates rudimentary reanimation to his peers and a council of judges is rapid, where it should be agonizingly slow. There’s horror and an instability in Victor to be emphasized in that moment, but the grotesque sight is an oddly triumphant one instead. Most do not revile his experiments; in fact he’s taken quite seriously.
Many scenes like this create a tonal problem that makes Victor’s tale lean more toward melodrama than toward philosophical or emotional aspects; he is blatantly wild and free, in a way that is respected rather than pitied. There are opportunities to stop, breathe in the Victorian roses and the smell of death, to get really dour, but it’s neglected until the film’s second half.
Isaac’s and Goth’s performances are overwrought at points, feeling more like pantomimes of Byronic characters. I’m not entirely convinced it has more to do with them than with the script they’re given. Like Victor working with the parts of inmates and dead soldiers, even the best of actors with the best of on-screen chemistry are forced to make do. The dialogue has incredibly high highs (especially in its final moments), but when it has lows, how low they are; a character outright stating that “Victor is the real monster” adage to his face was an ocean floor piece of writing if there ever was one.
Isaac, Goth, and Elordi Bring Life to the Dead
Jacob Elordi’s work here, however, is blameless. Though Elordi’s physical performance as the creature will surely win praise, his time speaking is the true highlight. It’s almost certainly a definitive portrayal of the character; his voice for Victor’s creation is haunted with scorn and solitude, the same way his flesh is haunted by the marks of his creator’s handiwork. It agonizes me to see so little of the books’ most iconic lines used wholesale here, because they would be absolutely perfect coming from Elordi. Still, he has incredible chemistry with both Isaac and Goth, and for as brief as their time together is, he radiates pure force.
Frankenstein Is a Masterclass in Mise-En-Scène
Despite its pacing and tone issues, one can’t help but appreciate the truly masterful craftsmanship Del Toro has managed to pack into the screen. Every millimeter of the sets is carved to specification, filled with personality through to the shadows. Every piece of brick, hint of frost, stain of blood, and curve of the vine is painstakingly and surgically placed to create one of the most wonderful and spellbinding sets you’ve seen—and then it keeps presenting you with new environments like that, over, and over.
At the very least, Del Toro’s Frankenstein is a masterpiece of mise-en-scène down to the minutest of details, and that makes it endlessly rewatchable for aesthetic purposes. This isn’t even getting into the effervescent lighting, or how returning collaborator Kate Hawley has outdone herself again with the costuming. Guillermo Del Toro tackling the king of gothic horror stories, a story written by the mother of all science fiction, inevitably set a high bar for him to clear. And while it’s not a pitch perfect rendering of Mary Shelley’s slow moving and Shakespearean epistolary, it is still one of the best-looking movies you will see all year.
Perhaps for us, it’s at the cost of adapting the straightforward, dark story we know into something more operatic. It sings the tale like a soprano rather than reciting it like humble prose, and it doesn’t always sing well. But for Del Toro, the epic scale and voice of this adaptation is the wage expected for making the movie he’s always dreamed of. Even with its problems, it’s well worth it to see a visionary director at work on a story they love.
In my home, films like Night of the Demon and Abominable are played on repeat; Stan Gordon is king. One of my favorite stories surrounding Bigfoot and Ufology is the Bigfoot/UFO double flap of 1973, which Stan Gordon has an incredible in-depth book on. The Patterson–Gimlin film couldn’t hold a flame to Stan Gordon’s dive into one of my home state’s most chronicled supernatural time periods. But as much as I love the Bigfoot topic, I’m not ashamed to say I don’t know half of the stories surrounding that big hairy beast. And one topic that I’m not ashamed to say I haven’t heard of is The Siege of Ape Canyon.
The Harrowing Events of Ape Canyon
Washington State, 1924. A group of miners (originally consisting of Marion Smith, Leroy P. Smith, Fred Beck, John Peterson, August Johannson, and Mac Rhodes) was on a quest to claim a potential gold mine. Literally. The miners would eventually set up camp on the east slope of Mount Saint Helens. Little did they know their temporary shelter would be the start of a multi-day barrage of attacks from what they and researchers believed to be Bigfoot. What transpired in those days would turn out to be one of the most highly criticized pieces of American lore, nearly lost to time and history…nearly.
I need to set the record straight on a few things before we get started. One, I don’t typically like watching documentaries. Two, I believe in Bigfoot. Three, this documentary made me cry.
Image courtesy of Justin Cook Public Relations.
Reviving a Forgotten Bigfoot Legend in The Siege of Ape Canyon
Documentarian Eli Watson sets out to tell one of the most prolific Bigfoot stories of all time (for those who are deep in Bigfoot mythology). It’s noted fairly early in the film that this story is told often and is well known in the Washington area. So then, how do people outside of the incident location know so little about it? I’ve read at least 15 books on and about Bigfoot, and I’ve never once heard this story. This isn’t a Stan-Gordon-reported story about someone sitting on the john and seeing a pair of red eyes outside of their bathroom window. The story around Ape Canyon has a deeper spiritual meaning that goes beyond a few sightings here and there.
Watson’s documentary, though, isn’t just about Bigfoot or unearthing the story of Ape Canyon. Ape Canyon nearly became nothing more than a tall tale that elders would share around a campfire to keep the younglings out of the woods at 2 AM. If it weren’t for Mark Myrsell, that’s exactly what would have happened. The Siege of Ape Canyon spends half its time unpacking the story of Fred Beck and his prospecting crew, and the other half tells a truly inspiring tale of unbridled passion, friendship, and love.
Mark Myrsell’s Relentless Pursuit: Friendship, Truth, and Tears
Mark Myrsell’s undying passion for everything outdoors inevitably led to bringing one of Bigfoot’s craziest stories to light. His devotion to the truth vindicated many people who were (probably) labeled kooks and crazies. Throughout Myrsell’s endless search for the truth, he made lifelong friends along the way. What brought me to tears throughout The Siege of Ape Canyon is Watson’s insistence on showing the human side of Myrsell and his friends. They’re not in this to make millions or bag a Bigfoot corpse; they just want to know the truth. And that’s what they find.
The Siege of Ape Canyon is a documentary that will open your eyes to a wildly mystical story you may not have heard of. And it does it pretty damn well. Whereas many documentaries feel the need to talk down to the viewer just to educate them, Watson’s documentary takes you along for the ride. It doesn’t ask you to believe or not believe in Bigfoot. It allows you to make your own decisions and provides the evidence it needs to. If you’ve ever had a passing interest in the topic of Bigfoot, or if you think you’re the next Stan Gordon, I highly recommend watching The Siege of Ape Canyon.
The Siege of Ape Canyon stomps its way onto digital platforms on November 11. Give yourself a little post-Halloween treat and check it out!
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