Reviews
[REVIEW] ‘The Fly 2’: Less Surrealism, More Slime
You’ll never change my mind on this: handing over the reins of a horror movie franchise to a special effects artist is always the right choice. Case in point, The Fly 2.
The Case for Special Effects Artists as Horror Directors
Lighting the monsters, blocking them, choreographing their motions and how they pass through the sets they’re inhabiting, and even understanding character motivations and emotions and how to portray them. They have skills that transfer over to head-on directing and dealing with actors quite nicely that we often overlook.
Today we aren’t talking about Screaming Mad George’s foray into gooey sci-fi with The Guyver, or Alec Gillis’s viral crowdfunded Harbinger Down, although I do hope to cover both of those sooner than later.
Spotlight on The Fly 2: An Unconventional Sequel
We’ll be touching on the unsung and unsuspectingly great sequel to David Cronenberg’s classic, The Fly 2. Picking up where the previous film left off, Veronica’s nightmare has come true: her child by Seth Brundle, the genius scientist turned insect abomination by his own ambitions, has come to term.
Bartok Industries, the company Seth worked for, has taken the child Martin Brundle into their stead to study his rapid growth and abnormal intelligence. Suffering from the same symptoms as his father, Martin attempts to get the telepods working again in a desperate ploy to repair his damaged DNA. Things, as expected, go horribly wrong.
While this might seem like a straightforward sequel, its quirks make it anything but normal. The Fly 2 eschews much of its previous film’s more surreal and philosophical qualities, exploring the nature of humanity, and leans into the campy science fiction aspects to match its body horror.
Tonal Shifts and Quirky Energy
That doesn’t make it a less worthy sequel, but it does make it unexpectedly off kilter. Tonally, it’s a screwball, starting with some wildly nasty pregnancy horror as we see Martin’s birth in a larval form. Then, for roughly the first 30 minutes, it bounces between children’s adventure film energy, to a college romance, back to horror occasionally before settling into its sci-fi horror nest.
The sharp contrast between the especially dark moments like Martin interacting with a failed telepod experiment and him dancing with his girlfriend give The Fly 2 a very odd energy that in some aspects I’d describe as off the wall, which at the very least makes it more memorable.
Standout Performances Amid Script Challenges
Issues with the script itself become exacerbated by a lack of strong voices; with no Jeff Goldblum and a regrettably absent Geena Davis, the only really notably great performance is Lee Richardson who plays the mustache-twirlingly devilish Anton Bartok with all the corporate nastiness of Ned Beatty in Network.
Credit is due to a returning John Getz, whose portrayal of a now physically and emotionally scarred Stathis Borans is a fun challenge he embraces.
While the film does spin its wheels with an honestly completely uncompelling romance for a good chunk of its runtime (think Dan and Megan from Re-Animator with no Herbert to play off of; dreadfully unimportant in the grand scheme of things and not enough humor to derive a good time from), this is alleviated by the rest of the film focusing on the slimy degeneration of our main character, as Martin’s mutations are good and truly off the rails.
Stellar Makeup and Creature Design by Chris Walas
Director Chris Walas and the rest of Amalgamated Dynamics work here is every bit as fantastic as the first film, bringing us plenty of foul fluid and far-gone flesh to make you nauseous. Martin’s slow transformation I would argue is even better than Seth’s, even if the scenes of Martin lamenting and later accepting his change lacks a lot of the dark humor that came with Goldblum’s ambitions to become the first insect politician.
The technical skill on display with this makeup plays best on screen in the film’s climax, featuring the brand-new creature in the Martinfly; it has a greater range of motion than the original Brundlefly, and the sprawling industrial facility the finale takes place in takes advantage of that.
The Climactic Chaos of the Martinfly
Slamming through windows, spewing acid vomit, and swiping with chitinous claws should sell you on the twenty-some minutes of mayhem Martinfly causes.
The Fly 2 isn’t a masterpiece, but this is where my pedantic nature shows; as I said in the opening, it is a masterfully crafted film. It’s a truly admirable attempt at a sequel trying to follow up on one of the greatest horror films of all time, made by one of the most talented special effects artists in American film history. Cronenberg’s fingerprint may not be on it, but it shows a good deal of respect for the original creation it is working off of without turning into a complete retread.
And for that, it deserves much more attention and love than it gets.
Every once in a while, a festival film oozes with so much craft that it’s hard to believe it exists. I’ve only seen a handful of films on the circuit that filled me with seething jealousy that I didn’t come up with them first. Films like All Jacked Up and Full of Worms and Jimmy & Stiggs are two of the main films that come to mind. As I round out my coverage for this year’s Chattanooga Film Festival, I inadvertently ended with a film that rivals American Theater for my Best of the Fest. Donnie Hobbie’s Jump Scare truly astounds on nearly all fronts and shows how to pay homage to the films (and filmmakers) that are beloved, while still remaining original and unique.
What is Jump Scare About?
The metal band known as Jump Scare, comprised of Val (Chelsea Talmadge), Jen (Erin Ruth Walker), Kye (Shannon Dang), and Debbie (Madison Abbott), head to a cabin in the middle of the desert to work on their latest album. Little do they know that their closest neighbors are a hellbilly’s worst nightmare. One by one, Jump Scare gets smaller and smaller as the neighbors reveal their true horrors. But the band doesn’t take too kindly to the onslaught of violence brought towards them. Metal may not be dead, but Jump Scare might be very soon.
How Did We Get Here?
Writer/director Donnie Hobbie’s Jump Scare is a truly unique piece of genre that pushes the boundaries of good taste in some fascinating ways. Hobbie’s distinct style blends homage and originality in a way Tarantino could only wish for. What’s fun about Jump Scare is how you can truly feel the love for the films considered ‘inspired by’ while still being able to see and feel Hobbie’s personal style. Jump Scare is a dash of Tarantino, Rob Zombie, and Panos Cosmatos, with a heaping spoonful of Hobbie. But in saying that, I fully acknowledge that only Panos Cosmatos could make a film as great as Donnie Hobbie.
Hobbie’s adrenaline-fueled story is not only expertly crafted, but chock-full of blood, guts, and viscera; it’s the epitome of a midnight movie. From blood geysers, hammers to heads, and shotguns galore, Jump Scare has a kill for everyone. While the effects, both practical and digital, make the film a blast to watch, it’s the performance of the main cast that sells this film. Have you ever watched a film and thought, “No one else could ever play this role”? That’s exactly how I feel about Jump Scare‘s cast. Every single actor was perfectly cast, and I can’t picture this film without every single one of them.
The Deeper Meaning Within Jump Scare
Not only is Jump Scare visually entertaining, but it has a deeper message that may become easily lost within the chainsaws and hammers. The running commentary in the film centers around the question “is metal dead”? This comes on the heels of the idea of sampling within metal music. When sampling comes up, the idea of art theft is broached. And this got me thinking. Jump Scare‘s antagonists are cannibals, and, if you think about it, sampling is a form of art theft. And what is art theft if not a form of self-cannibalism?
Jump Scare weirdly embodies this analogue of art theft = cannibalism. When art STOPS being original, when artistry is stripped away, are we not just creating more of the same? That’s why mainstream music, a la songs heard on any IHEARTRADIO station, doesn’t sit well with many people. That’s not to say sampling (or paying homage) is bad by any means. It’s when the main appeal of your song (or film) is solely predicated on work done [better] by others that came before, then what the hell are we doing?
Proper Homage vs. Soulless Ripoffs
That’s why Jump Scare works so well. There’s one particular scene that could easily be described as Hobbie’s version of the ear scene in Reservoir Dogs. But even in this explicitly blatant reference, Hobbie still makes it his own. Every time you watch one of those YouTube compilations that shows the original version and Tarantino’s version next to each other, it’s nearly impossible to tell the difference. It’s where substance and style clash. I love a Tarantino film (not the man) as much as the next person, but it’s impossible to watch one of his films without questioning, “which filmmaker did he steal this from?” While watching Jump Scare, you can pick out the inspiration without feeling bogged down by a soulless ripoff.
Jump Scare surprised me until the very last second, something that films struggle to do nowadays. God, I sound old. If you’re looking for a truly insane double feature, you could easily pair this film with Chainsaws Were Singing or All Jacked Up and Full of Worms. But if you just want to see the most truly surprising Eric Roberts cameo, then Jump Scare will fill that void for you.
Brandon Cronenberg’s Infinity Pool has aged like fine wine. Sour, very dry, sickening wine. That’s not a crack on its quality, mind you. It’s moreover an observation of its embittering social relevance and how hard to swallow it really is in its best moments. And at its best, Infinity Pool is a bleak tale of bizzarro technology and even more bizarre people that most noticeably channels the soul of films like Brian Yuzna’s Society (though dialing the camp of that slimy feature way, way back).
Author James Foster (Alexander Skarsgard) vacations to an island resort in the nation of Li Tolqa in search of inspiration for his next book. When he and his wife Em meet a couple, they’re quickly lured by them into a prohibited excursion outside of the resort’s grounds. But on James’ drive back from the countryside, he kills a pedestrian in a hit and run accident. After he’s quickly arrested for the murder and jailed, he finds out about the draconian revenge-killing laws of Li Tolqa—and of the sickening high-tech workaround he can pay for to avoid his death.
Why You Might Not Remember Much About Infinity Pool
If you don’t remember Infinity Pool as much more than “that film Brandon Cronenberg did after Possessor”, I can’t say I blame you. It was a 2023 release that got smothered early on in the year. Not only by a lack of an audience thanks to lackluster marketing, but by the absolute behemoth that was released only a few days prior to it: Skinamarink.
That dark, mumbly miracle experiment effectively swallowed all the surrounding releases of that January into itself and erased all the doors and windows out. Infinity Pool never really stood a chance. Which is a shame because between the two, for my money at least, Infinity Pool was the more disturbing offering despite its very straightforward storytelling and lack of experimental visuals.
A Tale of Class and Cruelty in Infinity Pool
Those who have seen Infinity Pool might argue with me on that last point. Sure, there are psychedelic sequences of hallucinogenic madness. Exhibitions of cruelty that feel more like nightmares than reality in the way they’re staged. But I wouldn’t quite count them as experimental; especially when a lot of the style is being pulled from what Cronenberg mastered in Possessor. And their kaleidoscopic array of blurred images, smeared light, and psychosexual shots isn’t really the main draw here.
Infinity Pool really shines when it’s painting in the neutral tones of luxury and then contrasting those beiges and browns with harsh splatters of blood red and rotten soul black. It’s in how it transitions from observing the mundane nature of the ultra-wealthy vacationing in Li Tolqa to allowing us to peer into what’s really inside of them.
Infinity Pool Exposes the Moral Rot of Wealth and Privilege
We watch what happens when they’re allowed to commit crimes with no restraint; more frighteningly, it lets us see that that consequence is more of a reward for their bad behavior than it is a trade-off. On paper, the premise feels comically simple. We’re all well aware of the cushy insulation wealth allows the rich to evade due punishment for their crimes. But Infinity Pool is a real mask-off moment that examines the unfettered cruelty that insulation affords.
It really does feel like seeing people go beyond the pale and it questions the ideological motives behind that evil. Is it a pursuit of strength, or a pursuit of entertainment? How detached from reality are our ultra-rich killers on vacation? Or is this actually a reality in its own right, a constructed one built on pure cash flow and amorality? Is it any more illegitimate than the capital that allowed it to exist in the first place? On paper, simple, but in execution the questions it asks are surprisingly interesting.
An All-Star Performance by Mia Goth
The characters trying to pull James into their circle of bad influence are, of course, shallow and inhuman by nature. The only one who offers any sort of puzzle is Mia Goth’s character Gabi, one half of the couple that lures James and Em out of the resort as the inciting incident. Even when her motives appear to be clear, Goth’s performance and line deliveries find new ways to spiral into a whirlpool of oddity that keeps you guessing.
Alexander Skarsgard, on the other hand is playing a very passive character in James. His performance mainly consists of reacting and being pulled deeper and deeper into the energetic spiral that Goth generates. This isn’t preferable since he doesn’t have many standout moments and is dry with many of his reactions, to say the least. That being said, it becomes quickly apparent that James himself has very little sense of self and is an empty vessel for any sort of drive or emotion. The question then becomes what is going to fill that emptiness inside of him, if it even can be filled. Which is why, by the film’s final frames, the answer is downright bleak.
Cronenberg Tackles Neo-colonialism and Orientalism
If there’s one final thing I have to praise, it’s what Cronenberg thematically explores through the use of the setting. The island resort and its parasitic relationship with the nation of Li Tolqa is my personal highlight of the film. It’s a horror show about how the bloated hands of neo-colonialism and orientalism choke countries and cultures to death in the pursuit of cheap thrills.
It generates some really great moments of dark humor but doesn’t get lost in what it’s trying to say. While the quest for carnal desires and questions of class divide are center stage, the phantom of colonialist powers and how they interface with their subject countries haunts the narrative the same way it haunts our real world. I just wish that it was more thoroughly integrated into the plot and its resolution, because by the third act it’s all but drained out.
Nonetheless, what Brandon Cronenberg made here is undoubtedly a sci-fi horror flint knife that saws through flesh and gnaws at the bone, not stopping its motion until it cuts through or breaks against the sensibilities of its viewer. Infinity Pool might not have gotten the attention it deserved at the box office, but its gouache approach to its subject matter and enduring relevance almost guarantee it a cult following in the coming years.
