Reviews of the Bosch

We've been overdue for a 'Jonah in the Whale' movie. That is essentially what Whalefall is. And not just through the basic gimmick of a man being swallowed whole by a whale. In the old Hebrew story, Jonah reckons with his life and his faith while in the beast's belly; he had been trying to run away before, is cast into the whale for this, and yet finds new meaning and purpose there -it is for that reason that God eventually rescues him. There is no God in this story (not literally at least), but there is the spirit of an absent father serving much the same function. And the personal reconciliation our protagonist searches for with him is as much a part of this movie as its visceral depiction of being trapped in the body of a whale. The film is directed by Brian Duffield, based on the novel by Daniel Kraus, who collaborated with Duffield on the screenplay, and it is far more ruminative a piece than expected. It's got plenty of intense action and incredibly detailed ...

The “Other Mother” as a horror concept was best articulated by Coraline, and Other Mommy has no hope of escaping its shadow. There, the entity of that name was a legitimately psychologically unsettling creature in addition to being freaky in power and appearance. She was a striking contrast of deceptive warmth to her counterpart and haunted the story even through her absence. The same effect is attempted by Other Mommy but never with any success. The game of her creepy, malevolent nature is given away so early that any real purpose or affection she might represent for her subject is handily neutralized. All that’s left is for her to spend an hour and a half being an inescapable boogeyman popping out at you regularly for an easy scare. Coraline interestingly was not the basis of this film however, it was a novel by Josh Malerman called Incidents Around the House . It was only published a couple years ago, meaning the rights were snatched up by Blumhouse pretty fast for adaptation. A...

When he wrote The Social Network , Aaron Sorkin was fortunate to have David Fincher directing his material -to amplify the strengths of his writing style and to cut the fat whilst composing the movie in such way that was interesting in its own right, enhancing the value of Sorkin’s work by proxy. Fincher did not return for The Social Reckoning -leaving its direction in Sorkin’s own hands; fitting for a movie that is in every way his baby. And in fact it is disingenuous for The Social Reckoning to market itself as a sequel to The Social Network . Where that film was about the creation of Facebook wrapped in an anti-character study of Mark Zuckerberg, this film is an investigative journalism drama about the macro effects of the platform that really couldn’t care less about Zuckerberg, apart from being a face for the soulless billion-dollar company. Beyond the shared subject of Facebook they have little in common in tone, style, or themes. Sorkin’s priorities here are vastly different th...

I have met many a crusty old poet or author in the mould of Willem Dafoe’s Ed Saxberger in Late Fame -folks whose education back in the day was highbrow, for lack of a better word, but whose work has been fleeting or sporadic and live mostly mundane, down-to-earth lives where their literary credentials might be anonymous. A couple of them taught creative writing at the modest college I went to, others I have encountered through my local prairie literary festival. It is interesting to wonder what they make of their marginal connection to fame, if maybe they strived for something more akin to some of the great writers who no doubt inspired them. Late Fame is directed by Kent Jones from a script by Samy Burch, who has fast become one of the most interesting screenwriters working today (her three film credits are her Oscar-nominated May December , Coyote vs. Acme , and this). It is based on a novella by classic Austrian writer Arthur Schnitzler written in the 1890s but only published in ...

Itim is one of the most Catholic movies I have ever seen. It makes sense as it was produced in the Philippines, one of the most Catholic countries in the world. And director Mike de Leon, who made his debut with this 1976 gothic horror film, has an interesting attitude around that faith, clearly ascribing to some of its tenets in the movie’s themes, but stunned and perplexed by some of its traditions especially in localized regions of the Philippines. His avatar, Jun (Tommy Abuel) is both put-off and captivated by -for instance- a ritual where the Procession of Christ carrying the cross is reenacted along a dirt road (presumably to a church) where the Jesus analogue is authentically whipped and tormented. Like with many of the religious mores that he observes, there is something a little spooky about it and in just the general atmosphere of the environment. The film is set in San Ildefonso, an old rural community north of Manila, where Jun is visiting his father Dr. Torres (Mario Mont...

It’s hard to talk about Verity without comparing it to The Housemaid from last year. Both erotic thrillers based on bestselling novels in which a young woman comes into the household of a married couple, flaring up some sexual tension with the husband while tormented by the wife; and to top it off, both are directed by filmmakers previously known for comedies. In such a situation the one that comes after will always look more than a little derivative (even though Colleen Hoover’s novel Verity predates Freida McFadden’s The Housemaid by four years). It’s an unfortunate hand, but one that probably should be disregarded. In the literary world this subgenre of thriller is thriving -it is certainly not the last of these kind of movies we are going to see. And besides all that, Verity is ever so slightly the better film. Perhaps that is feint praise, the movie is still very contrived and trashy (a feature, not a bug), but it has a few more compelling layers than its elder cousin film -ev...

I'll say this for Alejandro G. Iñárritu -he comes closer to the mark of Dr. Strangelove than Adam McKay did . Feint praise, but it's not nothing. We are living through times that defy satire. There is very little in the main narrative of Iñárritu's new film Digger that feels legitimately outrageous. Its premise, its characters, and even their bluntness about their own amoral priorities feels substantially less shocking or scandalous than they might have even twenty years ago. Mocking the clowns in power and how they will destroy the world is an exercise that has lost its sting. It's not that it is too close to home, it's that it lacks sufficient hyperbole.  Perhaps that is why Digger tries so hard to cultivate humour in broader ways, ways that Iñárritu is not particularly adept at. The actions at play themselves don't feel ludicrous enough, so colouring them in overblown performances and gross-out comedy may be the way to accentuate them. A trigger-happy U.S P...