A chance encounter with a police officer leads to Simon being uncomfortably set up with the cop’s sister Laura (Rachel Leigh Cook), an oppressively cheery woman studying to be a police detective herself. The sudden appearance of a romantic interest is deeply upsetting to Simon, who relies on his routine and careful maintenance of his and his mother’s isolation to keep himself from being caught. Further complicating matters is a Side by Cide meetup that goes terribly awry, but that may lead Simon to a relationship that he never thought would be possible. As the different threads of his life threaten to overlap, Simon finds himself in a position where his options are running out.
Iwai’s style is branded on every frame of Vampire from its sideways shots of Simon fishing to the surreal helium-balloon contraption Simon has built to keep his mother inside their apartment when he’s away. Kevin Zegers is great in the lead, giving Simon an unexpected humanity and making him a believably kind but unbalanced character. The film’s languid pace and quiet passages stretch out to nearly a full two hours, but there’s hardly a wasted moment throughout. Every character is given a small window to express who they are, and this creates a strong impression that the strange world Iwai has created is full of real people, not just characters fulfilling a purpose (with the possible exception of Laura, although Cook looks like she’s having a good time playing her). It’s not surprising that Lionsgate had no idea what to do with Vampire after picking it up for U.S. distribution: despite its title, this is about as far from recent American vampire films as it’s possible to get and still be recognizably in the same genre. Still, it’s a shame that Vampire never had a chance to grace the big screen here in the States. Don’t let the ridiculous DVD cover art fool you, this is a strange, fascinating take on familiar material from a hugely talented filmmaker that deserves to be seen by serious horror fans and cinephiles in general.
Vampire Boys (2011)
Originally published on Film Monthly 23 February 2011
As the Gay Horror movement continues to gain steam, it would seem inevitable that it should collide head-on with vampires, the current supernatural pop culture phenomenon of the moment. Director Charlie Vaughn’s Vampire Boys is hitting at a good time, and it would seem like a no-brainer for a fun, sexy new take on every Supernatural Young Adult Fiction reader’s favorite monster. It’s not hard to imagine the pitch meeting: “Vampires, but… gay!” And then everyone pats each other on the back and nods and decides that the movie needs to be out on shelves as soon as possible.
Caleb (Christian Ferrer) has just moved to Los Angeles to go to college and get away from his small-town past. He moves in with Paul (Ryan Adames), who obviously has more than friendly feelings toward Caleb. Caleb’s got another guy on his mind, though– a mysterious stranger who appears in his dreams and appears to him in class one day. This is Jasin (Jason Lockhart), leader of a small brood of what appear to be vampire male models who mostly just hang out shirtless all the time. Jasin is being pressured by his brood to choose a mortal to become “The One,” a somewhat ill-defined position that must be filled in order for the brood to continue living forever. Vampire groupie Tara (Zasu) is the current front runner for the position, but Jasin begins to think that perhaps Caleb would be a more suitable companion.
Vampire Boys seems to be setting up a conflict between a traditionally heterosexual vampire culture butting heads with Jasin’s choice of a male “One,” but in a flashback to Jasin’s origin story we learn he was previously the “One” of another male vampire. The film’s vampire mythology seems confused at best and totally improvised at worst– for example, when given the choice of becoming a vampire or not, Caleb is assured by Jasin that if he’s not up for it, then Tara can be “The One” and everything will be fine. If that’s the case, it suddenly doesn’t make sense why the other vampires care at all who it is Jasin chooses to join their pack.
Sloppy mythology, however, may be the least of Vampire Boys problems. Despite the near-constant presence of shirtless guys and a few brief makeout scenes, the film is surprisingly light on sex. There’s one scene with a fleeting glimpse of full-frontal male nudity that is interrupted by the only bloody vampire scene in the whole film. There’s not enough horror here for horror fans, and not enough sex appeal for anyone looking for an erotic homosexual take on vampires. What the film lacks in these departments, it makes up for in dialogue. The phrase “less talk, more action” kept coming to mind as the characters droned on and on at each other.
At a quick 70 minutes, Vampire Boys at least knows well enough to stay out of its own way. It has the distinct feeling of a very rushed production and a miniscule budget, but director Vaughn clearly knows how to put that limited budget to work. The best gay horror films have proven that when done correctly, changing up the sexuality of the characters can make a genre film feel completely fresh, even with the most tired off-the-shelf parts. Vampire Boys doesn’t come close to reaching those heights, but it’s a start. Maybe Vampire Boys 2 will be the gay vampire film we’ve been waiting for, but until then there are worse ways to spend 70 minutes than with Vampire Boys.
Vampyres (2015)
Originally published on Film Monthly 21 October 2016
The 1970s was a golden era for erotic vampire films thanks to Eurohorror auteurs like Jean Rollin and Jesús Franco and the increasing reliance on sex appeal in Hammer’s gothic horrors. One of the enduring classics of that age is 1974’s Vampyres, directed by José Ramón Larraz and filmed in the UK. Larraz has been a sorely overlooked director for decades, although in recent years he has begun to find the audience that eluded him throughout most of his life–he passed away in 2013. Vampyres has consistently been the most easily accessible of his films in the States, so it makes sense that Artsploitation Films would give its remake a release here built on both its name recognition and the recent uptick of interest in Larraz among the cinephile community.
Fran (Marta Flich) and Miriam (Almudena León) are a pair of vampires living in an isolated mansion near a small village. They bring people back to their home for occasional feedings, and travelers who stay at the local inn are warned by the innkeeper (Caroline Munro) to avoid venturing out at night. Ted (Christian Stamm) fails to heed her words and ends up kept as a pet in the house, possibly threatening the relationship between Fran and Miriam. When a group of sightseers on holiday camp near the house, the vampires’ situation becomes even more precarious. They still find time to frolic nude in a bath under a torrent of a woman’s blood, though, because recreational time is important.
As a remake, Vampyres is perhaps too faithful to its source material. The film reuses lines of dialogue from the original and Larraz is given a co-writing credit with director Victor Matellano. Larraz was involved in the production, but passed away before the film was completed. This is probably why Matellano took such a slavish approach to remaking Larraz’s film, in hopes of creating a proper tribute. But as with any remake, it’s possible to pay tribute and still do something different with the raw material of the original film. By making this a virtual carbon copy, Matellano dooms the film to be compared directly to the original. It’s no surprise that it comes up sorely wanting in almost every possible way.
One of the most immediately apparent differences is in the two leads. Flich) and León are beautiful, but their characters in the original film were played by Marianne Morris and Anulka Dziubinska. Morris and Dziubinska were not only physically dissimilar but brought enough personality to their roles that Fran and Miriam felt like distinct characters. The leads in the new film look somewhat similar to each other, and there’s not much in their characterizations to distinguish them. The acting is probably the biggest single problem in the 2015 model of Vampyres; it feels like some of the cast are trying to replicate the surreal atmosphere of the original and others are in a completely different movie. There are isolated moments when the new film manages to replicate a feeling of the original film’s tone, but they are few and far between. Overall, perhaps the best thing about this ne
w version of Vampyres is that it will hopefully lead more people to find out about Larraz and his work.
The Van (1977)
Originally published on Criticplanet.org
The 1970s were a golden era of filmmaking, when barriers were being smashed and cinema could do anything. So naturally, there was a movement of Van Movies. Van culture was apparently big enough to spawn a short-lived trend in Vansploitation films, in which protagonists lived, loved and laughed– in vans. Always in vans. Crown International, ever watchful of current trends, made its share of automotive/driving/stunt craze-related films from 1963′s The Skydivers and culminating in sending the Van Movie off to Valhalla with Van Nuys Blvd. in 1979. Before that landmark picture, however, Crown issued perhaps the definitive statement of the genre with 1977′s The Van.
Bobby (Stuart Getz) has been making payments on his dream custom van, and has nearly paid it all off. As the film opens (with opening credits appropriately set to the tune of “Chevy Van”), Bobby’s on his way to the car wash where he works to pick up the last paycheck he needs to pick up his van from the dealership. His boss Andy (Danny DeVito in a role barely more than a cameo) gives him some grief, but understands Bobby’s desire to acquire this van and thereby become an adult. Or at least a goofball driving around in an awesome van, which seems much more likely. Bobby goes to pick up the van and the adventures begin– “adventures” almost exclusively made up of Bobby trying to get a woman to have sex with him in the back of his bitchin’ van.
Bobby’s van is a sight to behold: bright yellow with awesome stripes and a huge circular window on one side. And inside, white carpeting, mirrored ceiling, a water bed and a card table. Plus a CB Radio and an 8-Track player! How could the ladies possibly resist? That is, aside from the fact that Bobby’s sort of a desperate sleaze? Still, as a direct result of acquiring his van Bobby is being propositioned by hookers and catching the eye of Sally (Connie Hoffman), blonde girlfriend of Dugan (Steve Oliver, who would go on to reprise the role in Malibu Beach). While Sally is awfully tempting, Bobby’s really got his eye on nice girl Tina (Deborah White), who unsurprisingly is not all that interested in this van-obsessed lech. In a moment of typical douchebaggery, Bobby makes his and Tina’s friends think he’s having sex with Tina in the back of the van by rocking it back and forth on the beach. This generally foolproof plan somehow fails to win Tina’s heart, and we have to spend more time with Bobby as he learns important life lessons. In his van.
The Van strikes a perfect balance of lewd hijinks and van obsession. It’s not straight-up van pornography like Supervan (released the same year), which literally has minutes-long montages of hot van bodies with their doors wide open so the camera can thoroughly inspect their interiors. The Van is a snapshot of a time when nothing mattered but getting laid in the back of your van, and this is the goal that underlines everything in the movie. Nobody takes anything too seriously– even Dugan seems to get angry at Bobby checking out his girl more out of obligation than actual anger. Maybe Bobby learns a little something about being a better person, maybe he doesn’t. Either way, he’s always got his van to come home to at the end of the day. And we’ve always got this movie to look back on whenever we start thinking we’ve got it so good with our Inter-net and whatever the kids are trying to get laid in these days.
VANish (2015)
Originally published on Film Monthly 24 February 2015
Last year, I went to one of my many fine local independent cinemas to watch a Dutch film called Black Out. The trailer was decent, and I was intrigued enough to make the time to go to a late screening before its run ended. I was very unpleasantly surprised to find that Black Out was the kind of Tarantinoesque that plagued cinema for years after the success of Pulp Fiction, when it seemed like anybody willing to type the word “fuck” in a screenplay was getting a green light for production. These were rough years for moviegoing. Legions of no-budget auteurs shamelessly mimicked Tarantino’s style, but in almost every case they lifted the wrong things, and that made for a lot of pointless violence and torrents of profanity-laced pop culture references standing in for jokes. I had hoped that this kind of thing had all but died out with The Boondock Saints and the infamous flameout of its writer/director Troy Duffy (chronicled in the excellent documentary Overnight) back in 1999, but here I was in a theater 15 years later watching another one. Black Out was one of the worst things I saw in 2014, and I had hoped not to run into another Tarantinoesque again for a long time. As it happens, it took less than a year: enter VANish.
Jack (Austin Abke) and Max (Bryan Bockbader, also the film’s writer/director) are driving around in a van chatting about their mundane problems when they pull into the driveway of a nice house, put on masks and pull out guns, and kidnap Emma (Maiara Walsh). Max, eager to hurt people, shoots a neighbor who intervenes in the kidnapping and knocks Emma out. When she wakes up, the two kidnappers have been joined by Shane (Adam Guthrie), a twitchy goof who immediately spills the men’s identities to Emma. The plan is to trade Emma for $5 million, but mastermind Jack hasn’t been completely honest with his partners in crime. Emma’s father isn’t an investment banker, but a violent Mexican cartel drug lord named Carlos (Danny Trejo). And even though he hasn’t spoken to his daughter in several years, he’s still a protective father. A protective father who happens to be a powerful, dangerous criminal. The three inept kidnappers and their hostage find they have to reluctantly work together to make it to the drop point, but as they drive out into the desert, plans unravel and nerves fray. Will they make it to the drop so Carlos can kill them all, or will they kill each other before they get there?
VANish has a gimmick: the entire film is shot from inside the van in which the majority of the film’s action takes place. This is definitely not a “van movie,” though. We never see the outside of the van, which is supposedly a work van for a mechanic. We just sit in the van looking out, watching the characters make horrible decisions and say horrible things. VANish is the kind of film in which every man is stupid, violent, racist, homophobic, and/or misogynist, and every woman is lying, manipulative, and/or crazy.
It’s the kind of movie where a character admitting he’s performed oral sex on another man for heroin is played as a big punch line. Writer/director Bryan Bockbader gives his character Max all the most “edgy” lines, meaning he gets to say all the most racist and misogynist stuff (as well as slapping around the female lead a lot). The film is exceptionally violent, especially once it moves into its ludicrous third act, when the inside of the van basically gets completely repainted in blood. If that meets your minimum requirements for entertainment, maybe you’ll find something to like in VANish, some way to justify wasting that 80 minutes of your life. If you would like a movie that provides pretty much anything else at all, though, better to just go rewatch Pulp Fiction again.
Wake the Witch (2010)
Originally published on Film Monthly 5 September 2011
There is one thing I can say for certain about Wake the Witch: it is the first feature-length horror film I know of that was shot in and around Lincoln, Nebraska. A low-budget feature shot on digital, Wake the Witch is an unusual but ultimately frustrating take on the “urban legend” horror film. Wake the Witch attempts to balance a number of plot threads and its story moves in different directions until it feels like the whole thing collapses by the end, although it is difficult to begrudge this much ambition in a film likely to be lumped together with legions of samey direct-to-disc horror movies.
Deb (Stefanie Tapio) is out doing a photo shoot with her friends Karen (Karis Yanike) and Trixie (Rachel Lien) in Wilderness Park, a wooded area near Lincoln, when they stumble across an old chain buried in the ground. Karen and Trixie explain to Deb the urban legend of the witch who was supposedly put to death for murdering local children a hundred years before. The chains were supposedly put in place by the townsfolk to prevent her from escaping the woods and returning to town, but legend says if one follows the chain to the tree where she was
hanged, the witch will tell their future. Trixie gives it a try but nothing seems to happen, and the girls return home.
Once home, Deb learns her brother Mark (Martin Kenna) had a strange experience the night before in the same woods and is now very ill. Soon, Trixie begins showing signs of severe illness and others become sick, too. Deb begins to suspect that something in the woods is causing the epidemic, and researches the history of the park only to learn that major epidemics have swept the area before, including one a hundred years before. Deb and Karen are menaced by strange figures and Mark’s behavior becomes more and more erratic, and soon Deb realizes she must uncover the mystery of the witch before the town is wiped out.
The main shortcoming of Wake the Witch is its epic length. Clocking in at 114 minutes, the film could have used some more trimming to rein in its sprawling story. For example, a subplot involving Deb’s boyfriend may give some insight into the characters, but does not have any real impact on the action of the film. Writer/director Dorothy Booraem spends plenty of time with the characters to establish what is at stake, but then the film veers off into another new direction and characters tend to disappear. What starts as a little “urban legend” story spirals into an “infection” horror film, and eventually flirts with supernatural Lovecraftian horrors beyond mortal understanding.
That’s a lot of ground to cover in one feature, especially when most of it falls under the umbrella of a family drama between Deb, her mother (Barbara Elias), her brother, and her brother’s roommate Brent (Jeremy Gilmore). The acting is mostly fine, and some of the makeup and effects are nicely creepy. Unfortunately, after the film’s running time drags on and more mysteries are piled up, the ending seems very abrupt and leaves more questions hanging than it really answers.
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