Reviews
[REVIEW] ‘Silent House’ (2011) Could Have Made More Noise
Silent House (2011) is beyond frustrating and limits itself in every aspect by forcing itself into a corner. With bad acting, abysmal lighting, an unfortunate script, and a gimmick that has no payoff, Silent House should have stayed quiet forever.
Horror is no stranger to gimmicks. From the use of 3-D to make it look like an eye is plopping out of the screen into your lap, the “tingler” gimmick from William Castle’s The Tingler (among many of his gimmicks), to the lesser-used gimmick: the one-shot. Out of all the gimmicks used to make a film stand out, the one-shot/one-take hasn’t been utilized as much as it could have been. One of the best examples is the opening shot from 2017’s One Shot of the Dead. Besides Rope, one-take horror films don’t really exist. That was until the 2010 Uruguayan film La Casa Muda. Was this film spectacular? No. Was it actually shot in one take? Definitely no. Was it fresh and interesting? Without a doubt.
With a timeframe turnaround that can only be compared to the Speak No Evil remake, La Casa Muda would be remade one year later by the team from 2005’s pulse-pounding Open Water. In typical American remake fashion, nearly everything that worked for La Casa Muda would be reworked and retooled.
Silent House follows Sarah (Elizabeth Olsen) and her father John (Adam Trese) as they arrive at their family lake house to repair it and pack it up for a future sale. Sarah’s uncle Peter (Eric Sheffer Stevens) is at the house doing some repairs. The windows are boarded up from people breaking in, and the house lacks power, so the three must exist within the home by lamplight. It soon becomes clear that things are far from what they seem when a supernatural intruder locks itself in with them. “Based on a true story,” Silent House tells its tale in a “single 86-minute shot.”
It’s important to rip the bandaid off fast. Silent House is not a good film. From the very first time Uncle Peter holds the door open for the camera, to Elizabeth Olson’s final breathy performance, Silent House becomes frustrating at the fault of its gimmick. Anyone with a modicum understanding of editing could see the awful cuts in this film. Turning the camera incredibly fast to hide a cut or filling the frame with nothing but black is amateurish and frankly embarrassing. One of the best aspects of La Casa Muda is how they hide their cuts, and even though it’s done in similar ways, it’s done better.
For some reason, Silent House decided to switch up the story a little. Rather than a story that lends ambiguity until a pivotal moment, a la La Casa Muda, Silent House decides to throw so many clues your way that you’ve guessed the ending by about 20 minutes in. The performances don’t help this film at all, either. Sophia’s (Julia Chan) entrance is supposed to be ambiguous, but still ominous. Instead, Chan hams up a performance as if she was supposed to be the film’s lead. On top of that, Elizabeth Olson seems to think her performance hinges on how heavily she can breathe for 86 minutes.
La Casa Muda is lit similarly, with a lamplight, but it’s impressive how using a different bulb can make such a difference in the lighting and image quality. In Silent House, Elizabeth uses a warm-toned orange bulb, which doesn’t mesh with how it’s filmed. Conversely, La Casa Muda uses a harsh white bulb that adds a blue tinge to the image and, most importantly, LETS YOU SEE WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING.
Silent House was the first film I bought in my first semester of college when my major was initially supposed to be film. When I was thinking of what haunted house movies to talk about for October, this was one of the first that came to mind. The pretentious film bro Brendan hated this movie. At that point, I thought the gimmick was cheap and lazy, but I was also experiencing films like Chinatown and The Godfather. Current me was sure I had misremembered this film and hoped I was just being too film-bro-y when I first watched it. All I can say is, that 2012 me was right.
Silent House (2011) is beyond frustrating and limits itself in every aspect by forcing itself into a corner. With bad acting, abysmal lighting, an unfortunate script, and a gimmick that has no payoff, Silent House should have stayed quiet forever.
Reviews
[REVIEW] The Unconventional Extremity of ‘Demonlover’ (2002)
Demonlover (2002) follows a French-based company, Volf Corporation, which is in the process of acquiring a Japanese animation studio. Diane (Connie Nielsen) is leading the acquisition after successful corporate espionage takes her boss Karen (Dominique Reymond) out of commission. Karen’s assistant, Elise Lipsky (Chloë Sevigny), vows to make sure Diane doesn’t have an easy go with any of this. Once Volf Corporation takes control of the Japanese anime studio, they try to set up a deal with an American distribution company called Demonlover, which is run by Elise Si Gibril (Gina Gershon). It soon comes to light that Demonlover is nothing more than a front for an extreme interactive torture website called the Hellfire Club.
As a horror-centric publication, how do you follow up the month of October? It’s our Super Bowl, our Grand Prix! Curator of all things Horror Press, James-Micael Fleites had the best possible idea for the month of November: New French Extremity. New French Extremity has a few films that always come to mind when discussed with films like Martyrs, Frontier(s), and Haute Tension. But many great New French Extremity films don’t get the recognition they deserve–and the ones that don’t deserve it still need to be discussed.
The first one I think is necessary to discuss is one that teeters on the idea of horror: Demonlover.
Demonlover (2002) follows a French-based company, Volf Corporation, which is in the process of acquiring a Japanese animation studio. Diane (Connie Nielsen) is leading the acquisition after successful corporate espionage takes her boss Karen (Dominique Reymond) out of commission. Karen’s assistant, Elise Lipsky (Chloë Sevigny), vows to make sure Diane doesn’t have an easy go with any of this. Once Volf Corporation takes control of the Japanese anime studio, they try to set up a deal with an American distribution company called Demonlover, which is run by Elise Si Gibril (Gina Gershon). It soon comes to light that Demonlover is nothing more than a front for an extreme interactive torture website called the Hellfire Club. (If you thought reading that was tedious, you can only imagine how long it took me to write that.)
Let’s get the two positives out of the way first. At its soul, Demonlover tries to exist as a commentary on our extreme desensitization of violence in the modern age. Much of this desensitization started in the late ’60s when the Vietnam War was televised into people’s homes and furthered by Ted Turner’s obsession with money and the creation of the 24-hour news cycle. That was all the catalyst. When Al Gore invented the internet, that’s a joke, we had no clue just how awful the outcome would be. Demonlover’s commentary on violence in consumed media is important, but that’s really all it has going for it. Is that one piece of commentary worth an over two-hour-long student film? (More on that later.) There’s also the commentary on corporate espionage, but it falls flat compared to the rest of the film’s commentary.
The second, and final, positive aspect of Demonlover is the acting and specifically Connie Nielsen, Chloë Sevigny, and Gina Gershon. Simply put, they are bad bitches and I love them. The ‘extremity’ of this film (I watched the unrated director’s cut) wasn’t really anything to write home about, leaving the majority of carrying to these three women. It’s hard to say I didn’t like this film when the performances were as powerful as theirs were.
And that’s it. The film as a whole feels like a first-draft freshman film school drivel. It’s unfocused when it needs to be focused and focused when it doesn’t. The only other film I’ve seen by writer/director Olivier Assayas is his segment in Paris, Je T’aime so I can’t effectively comment on his overall style. But Demonlover feels like Assayas had an overall grand idea that became bogged down by personal preference, kinks, and an overinflated ego.
If I had a friend who said they wanted to watch a real art film, there is no way I would show them this. Because that’s all Demonlover is: an attempt to make an art film with some commentary. Assayas tries to assault your senses with sex, blood, and “authentic” violence but fails at nearly every aspect. Demonlover feels nothing more than self-masturbation; a film that proves he’s holier than thou. And let me tell you, he is far from that. At its core, Demonloveris a two-hour-long horror-adjacent exercise in futility.
Reviews
[REVIEW] BHFF 2024: ‘Timestalker’ Is Timeless
Timestalker follows Agnes (Alice Lowe) through multiple decades throughout her shared life; from the 1800s to the present day, to the 1980s, and countless other decades. Agnes happens to run across the same guy in each life: Alex (Aneurin Barnard). Their strained, often one-sided love, spans their respective lifetimes in fascinating ways. While Agnes searches for her love she finds herself on the receiving end of a scorned lover by way of Nick Frost. Can Agnes and Alex find the love they are seemingly destined for?
As someone who reviews horror content, I tend to be picky about what I decide to watch. I know what I like and what I don’t like. I cannot stand time loop films. They just don’t work for me, from Groundhog Day to Happy Death Day. And time difference love films like The Lake House? Don’t even get me started. That being said, if I stumble upon one of these types of films that pique my interest, I will go out of my way to check it out. When I read about Alice Lowe’s directorial follow-up to Prevenge, I was excited but still skeptical. Prevenge was an exciting and well-put-together horror film that caught me off guard and I knew I had to watch whatever Alice Lowe made next.
Timestalker follows Agnes (Alice Lowe) through multiple decades throughout her shared life; from the 1800s to the present day, to the 1980s, and countless other decades. Agnes happens to run across the same guy in each life: Alex (Aneurin Barnard). Their strained, often one-sided love, spans their respective lifetimes in fascinating ways. While Agnes searches for her love she finds herself on the receiving end of a scorned lover by way of Nick Frost. Can Agnes and Alex find the love they are seemingly destined for?
Since I mentioned it at the top, let’s discuss the time aspect. It should be noted that this is definitely not a time-loop movie in the typical sense. Writer/director Alice Lowe handles the time-jumping aspect of Timestalker with ease and class. Rather than trying to find some overcomplicated and underdeveloped explanation for the film’s timeframe, Lowe does something rarely seen. You can take what Lowe tells you in the third act at face value. Do you believe it or not? There’s probably no wrong answer. But if you dig a bit deeper, and believe in love and whimsy, there’s a whole other element to Lowe’s craft. (Getting into it would be too much of a spoiler.)
Honestly, I’m happy to say this is one of the very few time-based films that works incredibly well for me.
Lowe struck gold with her casting and brought multiple A-list British actors on board. First, and foremost, Alice Lowe. Lowe stuns with her lead portrayal of a character I’m pretty sure she wrote for herself. And rightfully so. Lowe’s comedic timing is unparalleled, and she’s not afraid to make herself the butt of the joke.
Scipio (Jacob Anderson) is an intricately written character and almost a mouthpiece for the audience. Jacob Anderson is, aside from devilishly handsome, a thrill to watch. He blends into the background when necessary and chews up the scenery when needed. But it’s Nick Frost who steals the show. Whether he’s huffing and puffing after Agnes or literally barking like a dog, you can’t help but giggle (and sometimes gasp in shock) at his performance. Also, it’s always a blast to see Kate Dickie in anything.
Timestalker was introduced by a couple of people. Caryn Coleman, of The Future of Film is Female, said something incredibly interesting about Timestalker. There will be discussions about whether or not this film is considered horror or sci-fi but according to Coleman, “It’s a horror film about love.” I couldn’t say it any better myself.
This film is not your typical horror film. It’s a deconstruction of what horror means to people. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to love or be loved. In this modern age where Vice President nominees tell you you’re less of a person for not having kids or being married by a certain age, the idea of love is being retconned. If your love isn’t the way it’s “supposed to be” then you’re wrong. And that’s bullshit.
Timestalker is a fun and fascinating breakdown of what is. I don’t think this film will work for everyone, and I’m about 80% sure a particular group of people (looking at you, Vice President nominee, and fans) will take away the wrong message from this film. Those who get this film will get it. Those are the people Alice Lowe made this film for.