If it weren’t for the fact that PROM NIGHT featured a post-HALLOWEEN Jamie Lee Curtis, I highly doubt it’d be remembered much at all today. While it’s a serviceable slasher and does what it says on the tin — a whole bunch of students are stalked and killed in their high school on prom night — it does get lost a bit in the deluge of 1980s slashers.
Now, HELLO MARY LOU: PROM NIGHT II? There’s a film that stands out!
I’ll grant you: HELLO MARY LOU was never slated to be a PROM NIGHT sequel, but it featured a prom queen and murder so the studio appended PROM NIGHT II to the title and that was that.
Unlike PROM NIGHT, HELLO MARY LOU is far more supernatural, focused on the death of a 50s prom queen who, let loose in suburban 1987, inhabits bodies to reclaim her crown by any means necessary.
The result is smart and silly, and has inventively surreal set-pieces that rack up the bodies. Oh, and Michael Ironside is a priest! That’s worth the price of admission alone.
HELLO MARY LOU was followed by PROM NIGHT III, which veers into full supernatural slapstick, but I’ve already featured it! Find a copy of both any way that you can!
If you’re in Chicago on October 18th, 2024? HELLO MARY LOU is playing at the Music Box Theatre and features writer Ron Oliver! It promises to be a night to remember!
Does SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE II feature a slumber party?
Yes.
Does SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE II feature the Driller Killer?
Yes.
There you go. It has all of the hallmarks of a slasher sequel. Except…
SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE II’s Courtney is played by WINGS’s Crystal Bernard instead of Jennifer Meyers.
The slumber party isn’t as much a suburban high school slumber party but an all-women band and their boyfriends squatting in an under-construction housing lot.
…and the Driller Killer isn’t some brutish escaped mass murderer but a maniacal doo-wop singer who brandishes an outlandish guitar fused with the first film’s comically large drill. He’s what you might get if you took MAD MAX: FURY ROAD’s Doof Warrior and dropped him into GREASE.
The end result is a dream-logic slasher/musical that does not take itself seriously. It’s vibrant and inventive and a lot of fun, especially if you simply let it wash over you.
When I first heard that Todd Haynes’ film WONDERSTRUCK was centered around two kids living fifty years apart — one in the tail end of the 1930s and the other in the 1970s — I was puzzled. Todd Haynes directing a kid-friendly film? The same Todd Haynes who specializes in adult domestic melodramas like FAR FROM HEAVEN and CAROL? The auteur who garnered a lot of attention with SUPERSTAR where he carved up Barbie dolls to visually portray Karen Carpenter’s anorexia? The Todd Haynes who adapted James M. Cain’s MILDRED PIERCE and really laid into the petulant and monstrous nature of Mildred’s young daughter?!
However, almost immediately all of the Haynes hallmarks are present. Takes place in the 70s? Check. Mommy issues? Check. Daddy issues? Check. Gorgeous, vibrant cinematography? Check. Emotional needle-drops? Check. Scrutiny of personal isolation and rebellion? Check. It is a Haynes film through and through, although it being a family-friendly affair it does lack some of the more mature material Haynes is known for.
WONDERSTRUCK is a tale of two youths: Rose, a young girl living in the tail end of the 1920s and Ben, a young boy in the 1970s. Rose and Ben are running from their single-parent homes, both trekking out into the world in search of their estranged parent. In Rose’s case, she’s seeking out her mother in New York City, performing in a theatre production. Ben? He’s trying to find the father he’s never known, the father his mother never talks about, via a New York City address and phone number buried in a book.
One other facet they share? They’re both deaf.
Rose was born deaf and she spends her days enthralled by silent films. In one scene, Rose exits a movie house and finds herself surrounded by banners broadcasting that the theatre will be temporarily closed while they install equipment to enable them to screen talkies.
It’s a devastating scene as it dawns on you that the world of cinema, of moving pictures, of dialogue spoken through text, of feeling the theater organ’s notes, is an equalizer for Rose. Those around her feel the film the way she experiences life every moment of every day. The advent of talkies destroys that one comfort.
Unlike Rose, Ben is newly deaf. Before running off to NYC, he attempts to call the number on the aged bookmark. Unfortunately, he does so during a thunderstorm. Lightning strikes and shoots through the phone, rendering him deaf, which does not deter him from taking a bus from Minnesota to New York.
What follows for the two of them are wonders and adventures while navigating an imposing and often unfriendly city that bristles at their presence, a metropolis casually hostile to both Ben and Rose’s deafness. While that underscores their loneliness, it also amplifies their drive for comfort and understanding.
While WONDERSTRUCK leans on a lot of symmetry between Ben and Rose’s endeavors, it never feels treacly or forced. Does it contain a number of coincidences and convenient narrative contrivances? Yes, yes it does — it makes NYC feel interconnected in a way that one would find far-fetched in a small town, much less NYC — but it makes sense given the magical manner of Ben and Rose’s intertwined arcs.
WONDERSTRUCK is based on the novel of the same name by Brian Selznick, who also authored of THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET which was turned into Martin Scorsese’s similarly kid-centric film HUGO. Selznick also penned the screenplay, which nicely aligns with Haynes’ sensibility and lush and inventive visuals.
Selznick’s book capitalizes on the nature of words and images, dividing Ben and Rose’s journey into one conveyed by text and the other by illustrations. In this adaptation, the divide is portrayed through Rose portrayed in black-and-white, and Ben in color.
Haynes worked with his mainstay cinematography Edward Lachman, who instills a sense of interiority by often blurring Ben’s surroundings. Lachman also takes pains to utilize films stocks that best evokes and recreates the time period, such as the austere latitude of 20s and 30s films, as well as the brilliantly saturated grainy and grimy film stock of the 70s.
Dealing with any fictional portrayal of impairment can be fraught and insensitive at best, exploitative and hurtful at worse. Haynes took measures to handle Ben and Rose’s deafness with grace, not only by forcing his crew to roam around NYC in sound-canceling headphones, but also by casting Millicent Simmonds — a deaf actor — as Rose. Simmonds subtly displays the hurt, the sadness, the pain of not only her physical situation, but also the silent and distant emotional abuse foisted on her by her father. (Simmonds has since gone on to star in A QUIET PLACE and has been a huge booster for deaf advocacy.)
I don’t want to neglect Oakes Fegley as Ben, as he — and socially awkward Jaime (a wide-eyed Jaden Michael) as his aspiring friend — are all arms and legs and restless energy, especially as they chase each other around NYC’s American Museum of Natural History.
While WONDERSTRUCK is quieter than most films for youths, that silence lends an intensity that mesmerizes while possibly imbuing and enlightening those who can hear, and hopefully a balm and comfort for those who are not. While the nature of the material may not at first blush appear to lend itself to a film adaptation, what with the quiet vacuum of the page instead of the rattle and hum of a projector, Haynes and Selznick still manage to work their magic in a different manner.
Apart from perhaps CLOUD ATLAS (which is technically a Wachowski/Tykwer film adaptation), the Wachowski sisters’ BOUND is probably their most under-seen and under-appreciated work which, sure, given it’s their first film, but still! It is a very queer neo-noir that, while stylish, doesn’t rely on the gonzo effects of their later films. In fact, one of the most effective shots simply involves buckets of white paint, squibs, and a body.
The fact that it isn’t heralded more is a shame because it’s certainly an iconic queer film, and it’s also my favorite of theirs.
I’m getting ahead of myself. BOUND is a very simple neo-noir with a small cast, smaller locales — almost all of it takes place in two Chicago apartments which, I’ll note, has appropriate trim — and some smoldering, absolutely perfect casting.
Corky (Gina Gershon) is a very butch ex-con who served five years and is now reworking apartments for the mob. She meets the apartment’s next-door neighbors, the sexpot femme Violet (Jennifer Tilly, doing what she does best) is entangled with low-level mobster Caesar (Joe Pantoliano before he was on THE SOPRANOS). Corky and Violet get lustily involved via a number of very heated scenes and, as always, watch how they handle hands. Violet decides she wants to leave Caesar and be with Corky, so Violet fills Corky in on Caesar’s task to pick-up and hand-off over $2.1 million dollars to his mob bosses.
Corky brainstorms a plan to steal the money from under Caesar’s nose. It sounds like the perfect plan.
As this is a noir work, it is not the perfect plan. Matters escalate, and quickly.
It’s worth noting that half of this film works because Gershon and Tilly have amazing chemistry and an amazing wardrobe and suits each perfectly: Corky is all leather, tight white t-shirts and dirty pants and Violet is often dressed like Marilyn in GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES, all glamor dresses and finely coiffed hair. The other half is because of the Wachoswkis’ script — which is far more funny than I remember — but also because of the way they visually frame Corky and Violet’s tryst; it’s restrained, knows when to linger and when to cut away, but is still tantalizing.
I’ll grant that you can see a lot of the Coen Bros. in BOUND, from some Sonnefeld zooms and heightened close-ups to the humor, but out-of-the-gate you can tell these are more-or-less nods, and that the sisters have their own voice and approach.
Lastly: as usual, I saw this at the Music Box Theatre — it was a personal print from the Wachowskis! — as part of the Music Box’s ‘Rated Q’ series, which explicitly is — in the words of Rated Q’s programmer/director Ramona Slick — “A Celebration of Queer, Camp, & Cult Cinema”.
At the time of writing this, it’s Pride month and Chicago’s Pride parade is only a few days away.
Obviously, the screening was completely overflowing with queer folk and it was glorious.
The screening opened with a pre-film, brazenly and enthusiastically over-the-top drag show in the main theater: a lot of torn clothing, a lot of skin, and folks stuffing bills into the performers’ works or throwing money at them. (I’m not 100% sure that the Music Box is zoned for all that I saw, but I will not complain!) The audience was so, so very game for it.
When the film started? Folks went bonkers but, as is the Music Box way, no one ruined the experience for everyone; there was a lot of hooting, a lot of laughter, a lot of veiled recognition at foreshadowing and villainous characters, and a lot of clapping (and even some snaps). In other words, the perfect communal viewing experience.
If you read the interview with Rated Q’s Ramona Slick, they discuss how formative cult and queer films were for them, as they lived in a small town without much of a queer community. Now they’re helping to introduce others to these films in a way that interweaves performance with projection. It also gives a venue for those who love these films and want to see them with likeminded folks instead of alone in a scuzzy dorm room on a tiny cathode ray TV and an exhausted VHS tape.
I know I endlessly beat this drum, but the Music Box has been firing on all cylinders as of late. They’ve slowly pushed back to being a repertoire theater instead of a new-release indie theater, and it’s paid off handsomely for them as practically every older film I’ve attended there has been packed to the ceiling. While that’s not the Music Box I grew up with — they have been around since 1929, and their repertoire period pre-dates the late 90s — I embrace the change. It fills a much-needed absence in the local film scene, and every screening has been a delight.
Corky: “Know what’s the difference between you and me?”
(Prime) As a youth I loved baseball. I loved the rules, the rigidity, the anything-can-happen pacing, but most of all I loved the underdogs. I’m not going to say I moved to Chicago — within spitting distance of Wrigley Field much less — because of the Cubs, but it didn’t hurt.
When I first played Little League baseball I was always tucked away in right field until one friend’s father saw something in my arm, then moved me to shortstop, then tried me as pitcher.
Reader: I sucked. And after every loss, I’d weep. Hell, I’d cry whenever I struck out, which was often because I was so nervous at performing in this sport I loved. So, yeah, while I realize Penny Marshall’s A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN is singularly about ostracized and misfit women to literally fill the void of men, I nonetheless identify with it.
Abbi Jacobson’s & Will Graham’s A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN repositions the narrative as a queer coming-of-age tale instead of one of self-actualization. That may sound like I’m splitting hairs, but the film was boosterism and the show is not. The show is a journey of people finding themselves, and discovering a world beyond them apart from baseball. Yes, only one character in the show is a teenager — and seventeen at that — but it’s the 1940s and a good number of these characters lived a pretty sheltered, demonstrative and fake life until they found the impetus to put themselves out there.
While the Rockwell Peaches act more as a found family, it’s the activities that occur on the fringes that really makes the show interesting. Front-and-center is the team’s catcher Carson (Abbi Jacobson, BROAD CITY) who falls in love with teammate Greta (D’Arcy Carden, a.k.a THE GOOD PLACE’s Janet), but there’s also aspiring pitcher Max (Chanté Adams, BAD HAIR) and both are finding and navigating their queerness on-the-side.
I’ve seen a lot of shows and films that try to portray that vibe and often it feels too heightened, not heightened enough, or downright disingenuous. However, A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN — thanks to the time and patience they take with the characters — unfurls slowly in ways that felt rather singularly to my youth. There’s an enlightened bewilderment portrayed by the show — the wonder that people can live these sort of misfit lives — that was absolutely eye-opening when I was a young teen goth. There’s one scene in a later episode when Carson follows someone to a club and, when she realizes that she’s in a queer underground club, you can see in her face just how life-changing it is for her.
Unlike other club depictions in media, this club is surprisingly quiet and chill (and also headed by Rosie O’Donnell) and it feels warm and safe (until it isn’t). While I’m not the club kid I used to be, I’ve lived in predominantly queer neighborhoods for most of my life, and when you know who you want to be surrounded by, you know, and that’s what this show is all about — both on the team and off of the field.
Given that Amazon sat on this show for so long gives me doubts it’ll receive a second season, and I’m not even sure it’s terribly sustainable unless they jump ahead in time — someone please pitch that! — but the first season is an exceptional love letter to Marshall’s film and also to all of the weirdos and misfits out there that reach out, that try to forge bonds and communities at great risk.
It’s about rewiring cultural attitudes and figuring out what’s best for yourself when you’re actively able to make said decisions.
This was not a great year for prestige films or flyboy-less blockbusters, but it was a fantastic year for small-scale genre films. Granted, I have missed out on a lot of films — I have yet to see ARMAGEDDON TIME or EO or WOMEN TALKING or a bunch of others as there’s never enough time — but below are my current favorites of 2022.
HATCHING
Brilliantly nuanced work about youth and child rearing. One of the most intriguing body horror films since Cronenberg’s THE FLY.
“This is a quiet film, both in tone and in scope, but it confidently speaks volumes. It’s a work about ennui and minor victories and emotional stumbles while also being about longing for an accepting crowd. It’s a melancholy, complicated film told simply, one that’s destined for cult status, simply because it defies tonal categorization or, perhaps, because it’s so cute, so initially innocuous, while ultimately being a measured existential tale, one so immaculately put together in a way that will almost certainly have you smiling through tears.”
“A meditation on finding one’s identity and transformation [and] how people reach out through technology when there’s no other way. It’s a heartfelt, singular work.”
Cronenberg returns to body horror in a big way, letting Kristen Stewart do whatever she wants, indulging Viggo Mortensen in breath work, all while showcasing Tarkovsky-esque backdrops.
DO REVENGE
If life is fair — and we all know it is not — this film will become a cult-classic, at least as long as long as it’s available to stream. It starts off as a private high-school STRANGERS ON A TRAIN and then becomes something completely different, all backed by an astounding 90s soundtrack. Shades of a modern JAWBREAKER from the creators of SWEET/VICIOUS.
MRS. HARRIS GOES TO PARIS
Extraordinarily winsome character drama that puts the delights and desires of the best features of attire forward.
PEARL
A surprising “paean to 50s Technicolor melodramas” from one of the most humanist genre filmmakers working right now.
(hoopla/Pluto/Prime/tubi/VOD) The original HELLRAISER is a very specific film. You are either very into it or you are not. I remember watching it as a young teen and laughing at it. My friends and I would routinely trot out the line: “The box. It summons us.” as camp, but the film held an odd, unknown allure to me. Then I rewatched it early on in college — I still have my HELLRAISER 1 & 2 VHS box set — and as a burgeoning club-going goth realized how it is literally wall-to-wall kink.
I’ve seen it more than several times since — once at the Music Box with Clive Barker to discuss it, which was amazing and I still can’t believe happened — and my appreciation for it only grows. The costume and creature and production design is absolute perfection. Jane Wildgoose does not get enough credit for her contributions.
The film is relentlessly, unapologetically horny in an unsettlingly thrilling way. The great Amy Nicholson posited that, at the heart of it, it’s a neo-noir, that Julia is a femme fatale and I certainly agree: it is a film centered around morally dubious people who are off-kilter, and what is more noir than that?
(AMC+/kanopy/peacock/Prime/VOD) Shirley Jackson has been lucky in that she had to suffer few terrible film adaptations — even THE HAUNTING (1999) is better than it needed to be and probably wouldn’t cause her to roll in her grave — and this adaptation of WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE is no exception. While it ramps up the spectacle a bit and cuts a bit of the fat, it’s completely faithful to a tale of two sisters, of abuse, of being castigated by locals. Oh, and it’s bolstered by an amazing cast: Taissa Farmiga as the younger Blackwood, Alexandra Daddario as the elder, and Crispin Glover as their uncle.
Stacie Passon’s take captures the vacillation between fear and comfort that I felt Jackson captured as an anxious person; Daddario is perfectly cast, with her almost-preternatural blue eyes, and Passon commands the atmosphere. The set design is pitch-perfect, and she even manages to keep Crispin Glover dialed-in.
(Cinemas/Prime) I was one of the few folks who watched HBO’s GIRLS simply because it was from the director of TINY FURNITURE. I know that Lena Dunham is a rather polarizing individual in media, but I love her voice, while realizing that it is extremely selective, it is also very distinct.
CATHERINE CALLED BIRDY is no different, despite the fact that it’s based on a children’s book that Dunham didn’t pen. It’s the story of a medieval youth, Catherine, often called Birdy (the brilliant Bella Ramsey, who stole every scene she was in on GAME OF THRONES as Lyanna Mormont), trying to navigate life while her alcoholic father (Hot Priest Andrew Scott) tries to sell her off to a suitor.
While that sounds rather tragic, it ultimately isn’t. It’s a carefully calibrated tale of life and emotion and struggles, and features Dunham’s quick wit and humor (as well as all of the trappings that come with her work).
(epix/Prime/Shudder) MESSIAH OF EVIL was the first film from power-couple Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz, who went on to pen AMERICAN GRAFFITI and INDIANA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM (and HOWARD THE DUCK, which almost certainly killed their Hollywood careers), but you wouldn’t quite know it from the ramshackle structure of the film.
MESSIAH OF EVIL feels like a very padded CARNIVAL OF SOULS by way of George Romero; it almost feels like outsider art at times. It’s barely cohesive, it’s clearly borrowing from Italian giallo films — to the point where I was shocked to see an Los Angeles-based Ralph’s appear — but I found it to be a fascinating work, partially due to its use of Godard-ian pop art, splashes of paint, and flashy production design. It’s not a great film, but it’s an extraordinarily striking horror film, and that’s enough for me in October.
