BLACK CHRISTMAS: The unsung hero of the slasher film...

Forget John Carpenter's grossly overrated Halloween. This 1974 anomaly directed by the late Bob Clark (ironically, predating his beloved A Christmas Story) is superior in every conceivable way. Often cited as the inspiration for Carpenter's horror classic, this nasty little thriller features better acting, handsome cinematography, and a quirky sense of humor that renders its close cousin's clumsy plot and flimsy dialogue all the more apparent. I make no bones about my indifference to Halloween. The bottom line is that it amounts to little more than a series of weak scares, marred with wretched acting and hollow characters. When standing on the shoulders of Clark, Carpenter's oft-revered classic pales in comparison (although you would never guess that this was made 5 years prior by a virtual unknown). More importantly, Black Christmas is actually SCARY in all the ways that Halloween tries to be and isn't. Before I am declared a heretic, please have a second look and see for yourself. Perhaps it's best that this little seen gem remain as it always has--lost amongst its better known (but usually inferior) imitations. Fanboys can have their Halloweens and Friday the 13ths', but Black Christmas is the only one to have ever gotten the slasher formula right, which its increasing cult reputation seems to be validating as the years pass. I think the video below pretty much speaks for itself...
(Black Christmas is also now available via Netflix instant watching HERE

THE WRESTLER: Darren Aronofsky succumbs to cheap sentiment

The return of Mickey Rourke my ass. This is a good movie and that's about it--only remarkable for how unremarkable it truly is. I can't believe how apeshit critics and audiences have gone over this perfectly ordinary melodrama which amounts to little more than a Lifetime Original Movie with high-end production values.

All media hype and stellar performances aside, The Wrestler fails to accomplish much beyond proving that Mickey Rourke is still an excellent actor--something that anyone who has seen his earlier films already knows. The problems start with the supporting cast, portrayed by Marisa Tomei and Evan Rachel Wood, both of whom are neither likable nor sufficiently developed. Both function as thinly veiled contrivances to exploit our main character into a progressively deeper state of self-loathing. What director Darren Aronofsky fails to realize is that Rourke's character is interesting because he is his own worst enemy and not because his bitchy friends and family are constantly rubbing salt into his wounds. His psychological state of mind is sufficient as a powerful story telling device alone, without the insufferable, melodramatic actions of the supporting cast.

For example, the estrangement between "The Ram" (Mickey Rourke) and his daughter (Evan Rachel Wood, in an one-note, histrionic performance) is a hastily developed subplot, shoe-horned into the narrative to illicit more melodramatic flourishes--a tactic which neither comes across as believable nor particularly interesting. The same problem presents itself whenever Marisa Tomei's enters in and out of the story. The effectiveness of the supporting cast depends entirely upon what Rourke is saying or doing at any given moment, operating on auto-pilot with little insight of their own. It might have worked had there been some context behind these characters to lend weight to their circumstances. Sadly, this is not the case. Their inclusion in the script fails to serve the story in any constructive manner; merely illiciting a series of cheap and emotional soap opera vignettes. As a result, we are left alone with the slogging, self deprecating Rourke, whose downward spiral grows wearisome and tired long before the film's third act rolls around. The effectiveness of Rourke's performance (and it is effective) is greatly undermined by the underwhelming characters who seem to only take interest in punishing him, a conceit which never seems believable.

If this doesn't top my list for overrated film of the year, I don't know what will. Darrin Aronofsky,arguably one of the most visionary directors of the past twenty years is curiously absent in this film. The Wrestler is easily his most ordinary and boring entry in an otherwise remarkable filmography. I look forward to what he comes up with next. I hope it's not another phoned-in exercise in oscar baiting.

The Serpent and the Rainbow: Wes Craven's Preposterous Take on Voodoo

Imbued with creepy atmospherics and clever set pieces, The Serpent and the Rainbow is a handsomely made horror film plagued by a horrible script and wafer-thin characterization. For most of its running time, we are asked to swallow one quasi-religious diatribe after another. This pseudo-science blather is delivered ad nauseam by veterans Bill Pullman (in post-Lone Star mode) and Paul Winfield; two perfectly capable talents laid to waste by a tidal wave of embarrassing dialog. It's difficult to take their roles seriously in a film that ends with Pullman's character channeling some sort of jaguar spirit that allows him to conjure up a Carrie-style telekinesis in order to defeat his Freddy Krueger-like nemesis. In the film's climax, which takes an already preposterous story to obscene levels, the aforementioned scene is shoe-horned into the narrative without any apparent purpose or logic behind it. It is a perfunctory and goofy scene that stands in stark contrast to an otherwise serious story with some downright frightening scenes. A scene in which Pullman is buried alive is a shining example of how capable Craven can be and is arguably one of his most effective.

And if trying to swallow the notion of Bill Pullman as a respected anthropologist isn't ludricous enough, try to accept the film's dubious disclaimer as a true-to-life account of Haitian zombies who possess supernatural powers. You'd be hard pressed not to double over in fits of laughter when you see just how serious Craven treats the subject matter. It also doesn't help that the entire film features some of the worst expository voice-over narration this side of Harrison Ford's mind-numbing dialog for Blade Runner.

It's hard to understand why Wes Craven continues to be so lauded as a horror icon of 80s in light of the much better output of the era. John Landis and David Cronenberg displayed a much better understanding and mastery of the medium. His talent for building suspenseful scenes based on fresh and original ideas is consistently undermined by poor choices in casting and writing. The Serpent and the Rainbow is certainly no exception.