Short Attention Span Review - Get Out (2017)

Short Attention Span Review - Get Out (2017)

As someone who loves horror and would argue that the genre has been at the very forefront of social commentary and diversity where the cinema is concerned, I chafe at the notion of so-called "progressive horror."  Maybe that's partly why I avoided Get Out for so long.  Add to that my disappointment with Us, and it's fair to say that I approached last night's viewing of this influential chiller from 2017 with some trepidation.  However, unlike director Jordan Peele's follow-up, I found Get Out to be very rewarding.  Deftly balancing potent commentary with satire and several resounding shocks, this is a real winner.  I'm not sure that it was as groundbreaking as many made it out to be, but it surely had a lot to say.  The script represents a superb effort that fueled an unnerving march toward a grisly conclusion.  In the early stages, this movie feels kind of like a razor-sharp episode of The Twilight Zone, and the execution is a marvel to behold.  The filmmakers really manage to toe the line, building upon the premise with eerie brush strokes while being careful to avoid taking things so far that credibility is lost.  Peele allows things to simmer until the very end, when he delivers a massive climax that is deeply fulfilling.  I will praise every aspect of this provocative shocker, to include the performances, the score, the editing, and the effects work.  This wasn't just a good horror movie with a message, this was a great horror movie, and it certainly included some powerful ideas and difficult concepts.  Yet Get Out wasn't preachy or pretentious, and the entertainment value didn't suffer from a need to make a statement.  Quite the opposite, really, as the statement rendered here paved the way for a compelling and satisfying terror tale that will be treasured for years to come.

Final Grade: A

An uneasy slow burn, Get Out boils over to tremendous effect in the closing reel.

Short Attention Span Review: The Last Wave (1977)

Short Attention Span Review: The Last Wave (1977)

A pragmatic lawyer suffering from strange dreams and eerie visions takes on a case involving aborigines and tribal murder.  Slowly but surely, he starts to believe that his dreams and visions may hint at an impending apocalypse.  Is he losing his mind or has he stumbled upon some horrible truth?  Richard Chamberlain stars in this deliberate but troubling venture from noted director Peter Weir.  Grounded and populated by believable characters and sound performances, The Last Wave also sports a spooky score and several gripping sequences wherein these dreams and visions intertwine with the main character's unfortunate reality.  One of this picutre's greatest strengths is its fierce independence, and yet this may also be a shortcoming.  While I applaud anything unique and difficult to classify, it's hard to succeed in the absence of an audience.  The Last Wave is a rich and intriguing film, but I'm not quite sure who it is designed for.  Horror fans will yearn for a bit more carnage, while drama fans are going to be bothered by the supernatural element and the occasional forays into demented imagery.  Having said that, the macabre aspects of the feature do benefit from the restraint and the subtlety on display, giving them greater significance and making the ultimate fate of the protagonist resonate with the viewer.  While it is slow at times and uneven at others, The Last Wave is also curious and compelling, and it surely benefits from Weir's potent artistry and Chamberlain's undeniable charisma.  If you're lookie for a subdued movie that bridges the gap between your favorite courtroom drama and The Twilight Zone, look no further.

Final Grade: B-

Ominous and captivating, The Last Wave is an unusual affair that is both measured and surprisingly unsettling.

Notes from Indiana

I spent a few days in Indiana helping a good friend with what will soon be his new home.  He recently bought the place and we were just taking a few steps toward making it nice and cozy.  Here are a few of the highlights from my grand journey with the great Rudolfo.

-Spending somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 hours in a box truck with Rudy was like combining one of the best history classes ever (topics we covered included early presidents, the Revolution, the Civil War, the Alamo, Custer, and so much more) with the Cannonball Run.

-West Virginia State Trooper interrogation:
Trooper: What are you hauling?
Rudy: Furniture.
Trooper: (suspicious) Furniture?  What kind of furniture?
Rudy: Furniture to put in a house.  Dressers, nightstands, stuff like that.
Trooper: (eyes narrow) Did you make it?
Rudy: Um, . . . no.
We got off with a warning.

-Those who know me well know that I don't dig heights or working with electricity.  So there I was, perched on a ladder, attaching a live wire to Rudy's house.

-A boy from the country operated a chainsaw for the first time.  On a roof.  While sweating bullets because I was standing on a slope.  True story.  Man, I dig heights.

-Touring Summitville with Rudy and Tabby in the convertible.  Top down? Check.  Sunglasses on? Check.  Summitville is so very Haddonfield, Illinois, and it's always growing.  It doubled in size during our little tour.

-Eating various meals with Rudy's in-laws, Tom and Lois Kilgore.  I'm a fan of corn, but fresh corn from Indiana--wow!  Also, sugar cream pie.  Boom!  My response when Lois asked if I would like another slice: "Only a fool would say no to that."  Tom and Lois really made me feel at home, both the company and the food were nothing short of fantastic.  I can't thank them enough for their hospitality.

-Mowing the grass with "Frankenstein", the riding mower Rudy cobbled together from various sources.  I think you could mow bamboo stalks with that beast.

-Bella, the pirate pug.  Awesome pet, and one hell of a road dog.

-Indiana is different, and I'm not just saying that because it's flat.  I'm not going to throw rocks at my hometown, but I was amazed that there was no litter anywhere along the road.  The yards were freshly mowed, and there was no debris anywhere.  It was so quaint and it reeked of pride, which are good things, yet it almost felt like an episode of The Twilight Zone at times.  The reason why is simple enough: the grass police are on it.  Seriously, you might be unloading a box truck and trying to get some furniture in your new house when you get your first warning. 

All things considered, it was a neat trip.  Good people of Indiana, you're doing a fine job, but stay on top of the grass situation or you'll be next.