Review: Strange Darling and Drop

Whiplash thrillers have become a kind of cottage industry in B-movie Hollywood, confounding critics who, in service to readers, have to circumvent crucial plot points so as to not spoil the intended effect. JT Mollner’s Strange Darling is more inventive than your average whiplash thriller, which is only saying so much since once the big surprise happens there isn’t a whole lot to sustain the story except the jokes, some of which are so good as to seem wasted on this kind of rote bloody actioner. 

From the beginning we’re told what we will be seeing: the rampage of a serial killer somewhere in rural Oregon. The action picks up with a bloodied woman (Willa Fitzgerald) trying to outdrive and then outrun a mustachioed, cocaine-snorting guy (Kyle Gallner) with a shotgun. Neither of these people are given names, but that’s OK because the setup feels comfortably familiar. The first thing that throws us off is the structure. After the chase is interrupted mid-sprint, the story goes back in time, and thereafter keeps jumping around temporally, shedding details that are often just as confounding as they are explicatory. Mollner knows how to keep the audience for this kind of film satisfied and throws in lots of casual violence, kinky sex, and witty Tarantinoesque dialogue to keep things interesting, or, at least, not grindingly predictable. It’s a good-looking movie thanks to actor Giovanni Ribisi’s debut as a cinematographer. His dreamy atmospherics enhance the often perverse nature of the storytelling. An especially strange interlude that takes place in the forest cabin of an aged hippie couple (Ed Begley Jr., Barbara Hershey) is renedered surreally funny—”We’re not really into him,” Begley says when their unexpected guest spies an unfinished jigsaw puzzle of Scott Baio—and proves Mollner’s expertise as a scene-setter. And the pop music score by Z Berg is always a hoot. 

But it’s pretty violent in ways that may be too gratuitous even for fans of the genre, thus undermining some of the script’s originality, as if Mollner had obligations he wasn’t sure how to handle and so threw everything he had into the gore. As witty and engaging as Strange Darling often is, the protracted ending is one of the most disturbing movie death scenes I’ve ever watched.

The switcheroo in Drop is less shocking and more conventional, and while the plot unfurls almost completely in real time, the work of keeping the various strands of the mystery intertwining is all there on the surface. Unlike in Strange Darling, the violence is contained, but the premise’s implausibility blunts the surprises.

A preface in media res introduces us to our protagonist, Violet (Meghann Fahy), who is being threatened with death by her husband. Though we don’t see the outcome of this encounter, we learn that it was he who died. It takes Violet two years to recover, during which time she has become a kind of celebrity DV counselor. On the night the story takes place she goes out on her first date since her brush with death, and she’s understandably nervous. Her sister (Violett Beane) is all encouragement and comes over to take care of Violet’s school-age son. 

The setup is meticulous but pokey. As Violet arrives at the expensive Chicago restaurant where she’s to meet the man she met on an app, she comes into contact with various people in a casual, offhanded way—a too-friendly pianist, a helpful female server, a middle aged man who is also meeting someone he connected with online, and a shadowy handsome guy who mistakes Violet for his own date and keeps checking his phone. Finally, her own date, a photographer named Henry (Brandon Sklenar), arrives and as they sit down for drinks she starts receiving AirDrop messages on her phone telling her to do certain things, otherwise her son will be killed. Convenient video of a masked man skulking around Violet’s house are dropped to make the threats stick. Naturally, if she tries to tell anyone, the boy will die.

To say that director Christopher Landon does a better than average job with this material is saying little. The point is to keep the viewer hanging on every little clue as Violet tries to figure out who in the restaurant, including her date, is behind the threats and why they are making them. Once she discovers the real target of the mystery villain’s scheme she’s halfway there, but for some reason the reveals are less satisfying than they could be, mainly because almost all take place on phone screens that we have to read. Normally, I wouldn’t complain about the plausability of this kind of thriller, but the situation draws so much attention to the “why?” of the setup that everything else feels perfunctory. 

Strange Darling now playing in Tokyo at Kadokawa Cinema Yurakucho (03-6268-0015), Shinjuku Wald 9 (03-5369-4955), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551).

Drop now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

Strange Darling home page in Japanese

Drop home page in Japanese

Strange Darling photo (c) 2024 Miramax Distribution Services, LLC

Drop photo (c) 2025 Universal Studios

Posted in Movies | Leave a comment

Review: A Different Man

Though Aaron Schimberg’s 70s-styled black comedy seems to be about how we address disability as a society, it’s really about casting, and not just its own choice of actors. The main plot line has to do with a small Off-Broadway theater production that hires the protagonist, an amateur actor who is conventionally handsome, to portray a man with a facial deformity. And while he is convincing in the role, eventually he’s usurped by another amateur actor who really does have a facial deformity but who is also more charming, charismatic, and generally likable than the so-called normal guy. If that description sounds overly reductive, it’s because it is: Schimberg loads the context with more pointed stuff than it can contain.

Our normal guy, Edward, starts out the movie with the facial deformity neurofibromatosis, a condition that makes him overly-conscious of the stares he believes he attracts. He makes a small living taking advantage of his condition by appearing in patronizing PSA videos about disabled people but also occasionally auditions for regular acting jobs, hoping that directors will look past his appearance to what he thinks is his talent. Edward resides in a ratty one bedroom apartment with a hole in the ceiling and lives from day-to-day in a constant funk. One day he meets his new next door neighbor, Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), a recent arrival from Norway who is a budding playwright. She takes to Edward and befriends him, though it’s soon clear that she sees him as material for a play. Meanwhile, Edward is undergoing experimental treatment by a group of loopy doctors whose attitude is hilariously patronizing, and—fantastically, implausibly—Edward loses the tumors on his face to reveal someone who most people would consider good-looking. Schimberg conveniently jumps ahead months to when Edward is now a successful real estate salesman thanks to his looks and living in a much nicer apartment, but, in essence, he’s still the off-puttingly insecure man he was before his transformation—which he has not revealed to anyone he knew previously, having assumed a new identity as “Guy.” When he passes by a theater auditioning actors for Ingrid’s new play called Edward, he tries out and gets the part, with Ingrid totally oblivious to the fact that Guy is, in fact, Edward. In his mind, he has achieved a perfect level of discreet payback toward those he believed tormented him in the past, but then a British bloke named Oswald (Adam Pearson), who really has neurofibromatosis, shows up to compliment the production and is talked into hanging around to provide straight-from-the-horse’s-mouth advice, subsequently dominating the production to Guy/Edward’s increasing consternation.

Edward’s “revenge” is thus turned against itself, because he can’t compete with Oswald’s natural worldly appeal. Not only do people in general not pay attention to Oswald’s appearance, but women fall easily into his arms due to his outgoing personality, something Edward/Guy could never develop because of what he really is. Though much of A Different Man feels forced in its almost sadistic treatment of Edward’s destructive self-image, it plays out with a disarmingly sardonic regard for human foible. Edward’s tragic trajectory would be ridiculously cruel if it also wasn’t so funny. 

Opens July 11 in Tokyo at Human Trust Cinema Yurakucho (03-6259-8608), Kino Cinema Shinjuku (03-5315-0978), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551).

A Different Man home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2023 Faces Off Rights LLC

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Media watch: Candidates won’t be talking about caregiving

Right now the issue gaining the most media attention leading up to the Upper House election later this month is the status of foreigners in Japan, owing mainly to controversial remarks made by the new opposition party Sanseito. It’s hard to know how much of the talk is bluster and how much is sincere because most of the candidates are avoiding the most obvious reason why so many foreigners are coming to Japan to live, which is Japan’s employment situation. The sector where the problem is most acute is elder caregiving. The government, meaning the ruling coalition led by the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), has exacerbated the problem by cutting pay for caregivers who provide services under the kaigo (caregiving) insurance system, which is paid for by everyone in Japan once they turn 40. Due to the reduction in pay, it has become even more difficult to attract workers, and thus a vicious cycle has been generated: fewer caregivers means a loss of services that leads to more restrictive conditions for elegibility. In the meantime, costs are constantly rising. 

As a result, the kaigo insurance system hardly accomplishes what it was designed to do. It was started 25 years ago as the government acknowledged that Japan’s rapidly aging population had to be addressed in the long term, but over the years the system has had to charge more money while cutting services. Half of the funds are derived from premiums and the other half from taxes, specifically 25 percent from the central government, 12.5 percent from prefectures, and 12.5 percent from local governments. About 29 percent of funds from premiums are paid by contributors between the ages of 40 and 65, and 21 percent by people over 65. As of last year, the monthly premium for people over 65 averaged ¥6,014. People who fall behind on their payments are denied access to caregiving services. 

When it was launched in 2000, the kaigo system cost ¥3.6 trillion a year. As of three years ago, that amount had risen to ¥11.9 trillion. Medical costs in general, not counting those related to kaigo, amounted to ¥47.3 trillion in 2023. The average age of a kaigo caregiver is 44 and the average income ¥256,000 a month with two bonuses of ¥539,000 a year. After taxes and other deductions, the workers take home 70-80 percent of this amount. The turnover rate isn’t as high as it might seem—14.3 percent, which isn’t much higher than the general turnover rate—but there has always been a serious shortage of caregivers so the loss of manpower is more deeply felt. 

It’s generally assumed that the reason for the unpopularity of kaigo caregiving as a profession is not only the low pay but the difficulty of the job. Though caregivers receive some training, most are not prepared for the sheer physicality of the work, not to mention the mental strain of dealing with elderly people who may be suffering severe health problems. By cutting salaries, the LDP not only made caregivers’ lives more difficult, but indirectly told them that their work was not really that important. 

A recent broadcast of the web TV program Democracy Times covered a questionnaire distributed in April by several groups that support caregivers to the political parties who are running candidates in the Upper House election. The survey assumes that the kaigo situation is bad and getting worse, and essentially asks the parties what they plan to do about it if anything. Among the questions were those asking if the party would “rescind” the wage cuts recently implemented and raise pay; whether the portion of caregiving services paid directly by users would be increased from 10 percent to 20 percent, which is the current plan; whether the party would agree to change the categorization of caregiving—essentially tightening restrictions—in order to reduce necessary staff; and whether the tax portion that goes to kaigo services should be increased.

Continue reading
Posted in Media | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Review: Harbin

So far I haven’t seen any reports about Japanese right-wing action against this South Korean film about the 1909 assassination of former Japan prime minister Hirobumi Ito by Korean independence fighter Ahn Jung-geun in the titular Russian-controlled Chinese city. Officially, Ahn is a terrorist in Japan and a martyr-hero in Korea, and since the movie is a Korean production it takes a sympathetic, albeit tough-minded look at his actions that will enrage elements in Japan who still think the country’s 1910 annexation and subsequent colonization of the Korean peninsula was legal and justified, regardless of the universally accepted record showing that Japanese rule was brutal. The fact that Harbin is being released theatrically in Japan is not particularly surprising—many Korean films about the colonial period that portray Japan unflatteringly are shown here—but this one would seem to be especially sensitive owing to Ito’s stature in Japanese annals as an important statesman. The only mainstream Korean movie I know of whose theatrical release was cancelled in Japan due to right wing pressure was Battleship Island, about forced Korean laborers on the coal mining island off the coast of Kyushu during World War II, but that film was clearly a work of fiction, since it depicted an uprising that never happened. It was mainly an exercise in action movie-making with no pretense to being historically accurate, though the cruelty on view is not at issue in Korea the way it is in Japan. Harbin is similarly a potboiler that contains fictional elements to make it more appealing as entertainment, but the assassination really happened, and most Koreans know the story by heart, so it would seem to be even more objectionable to Japanese nationalists.

The main reason it’s receiving a big opening here is its star, Hyun Bin, a bona fide heartthrob in Japan, who plays Ahn as a kind of sentimental fool. Driven by a powerful patriotism but swayed by humanist impulses that often have disastrous results, Ahn is initially positioned as someone who may be the least likely of his coterie to carry out such a dangerous mission. The movie opens with his men ambushing a Japanese regiment in a snowy forest, a set piece that director Woo Min-ho stages like something out of Braveheart, all slow motion carnage that stresses the utter savagery of the emotions involved. Ahn wins, in a sense, but feels that he has to stick to international war prisoner protocols and releases the commanding officer, Tatsuo Mori (Park Hoon), despite Mori’s plea to die like a loyal soldier of the Emperor. It’s Ahn’s first mistake, because Mori quickly regroups and returns at night to slaughter what’s left of Ahn’s men. When Ahn finally shows up at the underground Korean independence HQ in Vladivostok, he’s broken and humiliated, and vows to make good by assassinating Ito, who is scheduled to meet with Russian counterparts in Harbin. From there, the script follows the carefully plotted but predictable contours of a political thriller, with comrades being captured and tortured, moles throwing spanners into the best-laid plans, and a lot of meticulous character development to keep the viewer guessing as to who will break and who will remain loyal. We know Ahn succeeded, so the main interest is how he accomplished his mission against all odds. 

The melodrama comes fast and thick, with Ahn occasionally losing nerve and either attempting suicide or engaging in philosophical conversations that betray his lack of self-confidence, but it’s all a blind. The real dramatic action is among his confederates, who waffle between fatalistic cynicism and bull-headed determination with an eye to history (“If we don’t make sacrifices, no one will remember us”), and while the dialogue can be risible, the constant shifting of suspicions is intriguing. Even more interesting is the way the Japanese are portrayed. Mori is the requisite cartoon villain, all vicious vengeance and patronizing bluster, but Ito, played with sly transgressive intent by Lily Franky, is the only character who brings to life the movie’s historical dimensions. Lily’s Ito is condescending to the Koreans he once governed but his familiarity with their resentment keeps him on his toes—though, obviously, not enough. Lily’s intelligent approach to the material casts the movie on the whole as a missed opportunity. It might have been more interesting to continue focusing on Ahn after his capture and before his summary execution, during which time he reportedly convinced his Japanese jailers of the rightness of his cause. (It’s one reason he was hanged so soon.) That would have explained Ahn’s contrary character more convincingly. It also might have been more infuriating to Japanese revisionists, but it wouldn’t have aligned with the action prerogatives of the producers. 

In Korean, Japanese, Russian and Mandarin. Now playing in Tokyo at Kadokawa Cinema Yurakucho (03-6268-0015), Shinjuku Piccadilly (050-6861-3011). 

Harbin home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2024 CJ ENM Co., Ltd., Hive Media Corp.

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Media watch: Court lets government discriminate against sex workers because of feelings

Mitsuko Miyagawa

On June 16 the first petty bench of the Supreme Court rejected a lawsuit brought by a business in the Kansai region against the government for denying it COVID-19 cash grants, which were distributed to companies during the pandemic so that they wouldn’t go out of business and their workers could keep their jobs while maintaining a decent living. The plaintiff is a “delivery health” company, which dispatches workers, invariably women, to places designated by clients in order to provide some kind of sexual gratification that does not involve penetration, since that would qualify as prostitution, which is illegal. 

In an interview with the legal affairs website Bengoshidotcom News, the plaintiff’s lawyer, Yusuke Taira, said the Supreme Court “ignored the importance of the COVID grants and clearly discriminated against the workers represented by the suit because they were in the sex trade.” And while the Supreme Court’s ruling had been expected, as discussed in the Mainichi Shimbun on May 27, the majority opinion on the case was not. Taira said the court used terminology that has never been used in such a case or when discussing the legality of sex-oriented services. In their opinion, the majority of justices stated that the nature of the work involved—essentially touching customers in accordance with the customers’ demands—automatically “did damage to the workers’ dignity.” 

Taira said this finding made no sense, and wondered how it could be used to justify a legal decision. The defendant, meaning the Japanese government, had never mentioned the workers’ “dignity.” Instead, it claimed that sex work “contradicts the sexual moral standards shared by the majority of citizens” and so it was “inappropriate” to support such businesses with public funds, without providing empirical proof of such a claim. As a matter of fact, Taira cited a survey used in one of the lower court trials that found the majority of respondents said it was OK to give COVID grants to sex workers. Nevertheless, the lower courts found the government’s exclusion reasonable and thus it did not qualify as discrimination. 

Continue reading
Posted in Media | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Review: Memoir of a Snail

If Britain’s Aardman has become the studio that has done the most to preserve the art of stop-motion animation, Australia’s Adam Elliot has been the artist who’s advanced it further in terms of visual inventiveness and narrative rigor. Like Jan Švankmajer, Elliot is not afraid of being gross (his movies are often R-rated), but his claymation creations serve more conventional cinematic sentiments like love and courage and family cohesiveness, even if his family units themselves are unconventional. Memoir of a Snail features one that is classically pathetic: twins whose mother died giving birth to them only to be raised by a parapalegic alcoholic French father who dies young, thus condemning them to separation in distant foster homes. The title refers to the structure of the film, since it is narrated by the female half of the sibling pair, Grace (Sarah Snook), who was born with a harelip and from a young age inherited her dead mother’s admiration for land crustaceans, adopting their always forward-moving purposefulness as a means of warding off the despair that continually trespasses into her emotional landscape. 

This despair and the reactive “glass half-full” philosophy that rules Grace’s outlook isn’t presented in a gloomy fashion, however. Elliot has a knack for dark humor that matches his off-whack visual sense—lopsided bodies, squashed faces, and clutter with character. He’s also a master of contrasts. Whereas Grace is all sad-eyed hopefulness, her brother Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee) is a dyed-in-the-wool cyno-pessimist with a thing for arson, though given his provenance and the neglect he suffers at the hands of his fundamentalist foster family, you give him not only the benefit of the doubt, but a good chunk of sympathy as he pledges to Grace through long-distance letters that they will eventually be reunited. Before that happens, however, Grace will experience a series of tragicomic misadventures before coming into contact with an iconoclastic old woman named Pinky (Jacki Weaver), who becomes not so much the parent she always longed for, but the friend she always needed to prove her worth as a human being. Pinky allows Grace to be kind by protecting her from the rank cruelty of the world. Elliot’s imagination runs wild with Pinky’s extravagant back story, which includes two dead husbands, a slew of weird jobs, and lots of recreational drugs. Pinky’s late-career vocation is taking care of old people because she herself is entering that phase of her life. But then Grace finds sexual love with a neighbor named Ken, who eventually turns into yet another disappointment and she returns to Pinky, who is showing the first stages of the dementia she always dreaded.

There is more pain to come, including news that Gordon has died in a fire, but Eliot maintains a light comic touch. Though reportedly based somewhat on the filmmaker’s own life, Memoir of a Snail is suffused with enough fantastic elements to qualify as more of a dream than a biography, and Elliot makes the connection with his own career complete in the end with Grace’s self-fulfillment as an artist. In fact, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Snail would have been a title better suited to the film’s transgressive humor, but Elliot would be too proud to pinch somebody else’s idea.

Now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Chanter Hibiya (050-6868-5001), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551), Cinemart Shinjuku (03-5369-2831).

Memoir of a Snail home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2024 Arenamedia Pty Ltd., Filmfest Limited and Screen Australia

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Review: Ghostlight

It goes without saying that movies don’t have to be perfect to be emotionally effective, and sometimes filmmakers who trust their instincts make better moves that those who strive for something sublime. This small drama about a middle aged blue collar worker whose outlook is changed significantly after participating in a performance of Romeo & Juliet features a few plot points that are a bit too on-the-nose, but the writer-directors, Kelly O’Sullivan and Alex Thompson, who were responsible for the equally intelligent 2020 abortion dramedy Saint Frances, focus more on the dramatic contours of grief and self-expression to sell their story. 

It’s obvious from the beginning that Dan Mueller (Keith Kupferer), though materially comfortable in a lower middle class American way, is not happy, but it takes a while before O’Sullivan and Thompson reveal the source of his troubles. His teenage daughter, Daisy (Katherine Mallen Kupferer), is acting out in increasingly aggressive ways, and his relationship with his wife, Sharon (Tara Mallen), seems fraught with tension. Dan and Sharon try to overcome their mutual anxiety by submerging themselves in daily routine, but it doesn’t seem to work. Then, one day, Dan, who supervises a team doing public works projects, stumbles upon a local theatrical troupe that is putting on a production of Romeo & Juliet. It’s difficult to say what it is about the project that piques his curiosity, and the filmmakers don’t force the issue. But the play’s producer-director, a small-time veteran of Broadway named Rita (Dolly De Leon), sees something in Dan that she wants to work with and convinces him to join. As he slowly gets into the production, and incomprehensibly snags the role of the teenage Romeo, the reasons for his despair are revealed, and they dovetail somewhat obviously with Shakespeare’s story. 

What makes Ghostlight work is how O’Sullivan and Thompson contrast the niceties of the rehearsals with Dan’s suffering as he and his family navigate a legal process that doesn’t seem to be doing anybody any good, though it was Dan who initiated it. Dan takes rightful pride in his interpretation of the part he has taken on, and there is absolutely no loss of poetic power when he and the other amateur actors speak their lines. Romeo & Juliet is a tragedy that Dan needs to understand, and it lifts him up in ways the filmmakers let the audience explore for themselves. In the end, not forcing the issue proves to be the best way to achieve the sublime.

Opens June 27 in Tokyo at Bunkamura Le Cinema Shibuya Miyashita (050-6875-5280).

Ghostlight home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2024 Ghostlight LLC

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Review: Fremont

Sometimes the context of a movie is more interesting than the movie itself. Watching this well-made Jarmusch pastiche I kept asking myself about the Afghan diaspora and its immediate impact on the titular central California city. Quite a few obviously migrated there before and during the American stage of the war in their country, but the movie sits squarely on the case of Donya (Anaita Wali Zada), a former U.S. Army translator who, while sometimes thinking of comrades and family she left behind, is mainly occupied with the more quotidian aspects of her new life in the U.S. She often rubs up against fellow countrymen who have their own problems of adjusting, but the director, Babak Jalali (who was born in Iran), doesn’t seem as interested in them as he is in Donya’s very American fixation on her lack of a romantic relationship, a plot point that isn’t appararent until about halfway through this short black-and-white movie. Until then, Donya’s lack of expressiveness just comes across as a required indie cinema affectation. 

Which isn’t to say Fremont is precious or pretentious. It’s well written and funny, but it seems to avoid matters that would make it more insightful or edifying. When Donya’s self-regarding therapist (Gregg Turkington) tries to get more out of her about her background she gives up the intelligence that “I just wanted to get out of there,” without betraying much in the way of desperation—all she wants from the doctor is a sleeping pill prescription—and when a compatriot mentions that his daughter, “a traitor,” is still back in Afghanistan you wait fruitlessly for more. Donya works at a fortune cookie factory in the Bay Area for a Chinese-American family whose voluble patriarch (Eddie Tang) is always mentioning how important their work is in imparting philosophical tidbits. When Donya herself is promoted to the job of writing the fortunes, she thinks first of herself and uses the fortune cookies to troll for dates. Eventually, she gets a nibble, but from someone who lives far away and thus has to borrow a friend’s car to get there. On the way, the car breaks down and she meets a mechanic, Daniel (Jeremy Allen White, probably before his breakout role in The Bear), who is every bit as disaffected as she is. Though not love at first sight, there’s enough curiosity there to justify a return trip to the garage.

Serendipity is often the main motivator in Amerindie cinema, and it can indicate laziness on the part of the filmmakers. That’s not the case with Fremont, but the narrative caution and laid-back vibe translate as attitude that’s all too familiar. This is Jalali’s fourth feature and his second set in the U.S. I’ll definitely check out his other work. It would be interesting to see what he does with something that’s more dramatically ambitious. 

In English, Dari and Cantonese. Opens June 27 in Tokyo at Cinema Qualite Shinjuku (03-3352-5645), Human Trust Cinema Yurakucho (03-6259-8608), White Cine Quinto Shibuya (03-6712-7225). 

Fremont home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2023 Fremont The Movie LLC

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Review: 28 Years Later and Sinners

Danny Boyle’s 2002 feature 28 Days Later is considered a watershed movie, since it reinvigorated the zombie genre with new ideas, the most potent of which was that the monsters moved fast and struck fast. Technically speaking, it wasn’t a zombie movie because the monsters were not reanimated dead people but rather living persons who had been bitten by others infected with a man-made “rage virus” who had turned into monsters in the blink of an eye, but the effect that 28 Days Later had on the horror movie landscape was incalculable—there would be no The Last of Us without it. Boyle and his scenarist, Alex Garland, return with the second sequel (though they were merely executive producers of 28 Weeks Later, released in 2007) and, like the original, it comes with plenty of subtext about how the human race has in essence devolved into violence and, specifically, how the UK, where it’s set, has lost its claim to the world’s most civilized character. Great Britain is now internationally quarantined and contains, presumably, the only beings infected with the rage virus. This subset of humanity has “evolved” in various ways that beg the question of their own right to life. The protagonist, a 12-year-old boy named Spike (Alfie Williams), lives on Holy Island off the northeast coast of England in a fortress-like enclave that has returned to pre-modern technology and attitudes. The movie opens with Alfie’s father, Jamie (Aaron Taylor Johnson), taking him to the mainland for his “first kill,” using bows-and-arrows, in what is characterized as a rite of passage. To say that Spike is up for the adventure would be reading too much into it. 

Bloodier and even more frantic than the first film, 28 Years Later has a lot on its mind—perhaps too much, given the way the story often lurches away from interesting ideas it might have explored more fully; and, in fact, they may be explored more fully, since Boyle and Garland have already said there will be two more installments. The infected, now naked and covered in sores, still dart around with deadly purpose but there is also a sub-species of bloated creatures that crawl along the ground consuming worms, as well as an “Alpha” who seems to have the intellectual faculties for planning ahead. This development suggests that the infected are indeed still human, a possibility that is put to the test when, late in the movie, as Spike revisits the mainland with his ill mother, Isla (Jodie Comer), to seek out a rumored physician who he hopes can cure her, they encounter an infected female going into labor. When they bring the baby to the doctor, an older man named Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), they come face-to-face with someone whose own humanity, as defined by his vocation, is at sharp odds with those of Jamie and the other inhabitants of Holy Island. Kelson believes all creatures have a right to exist, even the infected, and has erected huge monuments of bones and skulls as a means of giving them dignity in death. 

Several side characters indicate that the world outside Britain is pretty similar to the one we live in now but is not necessarily more humane than the people of Holy Island. Boyle and Garland have made comments that 28 Years Later can be seen as a take on Brexit, but viewing it in that way compromises its dramatic power, which is based on our supposed capacity for mercy within the context of self-preservation in a social order that takes for granted the prerogatives of violence. Spike develops a new appreciation of nature and its bounty, including the monsters created by a technology whose purpose was to destroy. 

Ryan Coogler’s much-lauded Sinners is another horror movie that subverts its genre elements in order to address a broader horror at large in society, except instead of zombies it’s vampires we have to deal with. Unlike Boyle, Coogler mostly adheres to the standard lore mandated by his chosen genre—stakes through the heart, invitations to enter an abode, avoiding daylight at all costs—and Sinners is way pulpier than 28 Years Later. Set in 1930s Mississippi at the height of Jim Crow, the movie literally sees white people as the devil. In the very first, scene, a bloodied, traumatized young blues singer and guitarist named Sammie Moore (Miles Caton) arrives at church on Sunday morning, where his preacher father reasserts his own admonition that when you play sinful music, the devil will follow you home. Later we’re introduced to the Smokestack Twins (both played by Michael B. Jordan), recently returned from Chicago where for years they worked for underworld elements. They hand a suitcase full of cash over to a stout Klan member in exchange for an old mill they plan to convert into a juke joint. Just as Quentin Tarantino framed the racial dynamic in Django Unchained, the white people in Sinners would just as soon kill a Black person as look at him and from that tension flows the whole logic of the narrative. 

In fact, the vampire element doesn’t even appear until halfway through, when a person of Irish background named Remmick (Jack O’Donnell) shows up at the juke joint’s opening revelry with two confederates asking to be let in for a drink. The intentions of Remmick are self-avowedly multi-cultural. He loves the blues and wants to share in its enjoyment, a sentiment that automatically makes him suspicious to these native Southern Black people; but in a sense Remmick’s intentions are pure, because he wants to turn these Black folk into spirits of the night and join his “family,” which sees no color or creed but only worships blood. Better writers than I have already analyzed Coogler’s meaning here; that white people not only want to appropriate Black culture, but appropriate it while effectively erasing the tragic history that gave rise to that culture and which they had a hand in. Maybe the most chilling scene in Sinners is the one where Remmick’s newly turned Black followers join him in a spirited Irish jig. 

Sinners‘ horror movie set pieces are more elaborate than those in 28 Years Later, and, again like Django, practically luxuriate in copious amounts of blood. While Coogler has problems trying to tie it all together in the end—there are two-count-’em-two post-credit codas—his penchant for indulging every cinematic impulse is justified by a sufficiently expansive imagination. It’s a great mainstream movie about a fitting subject, and unlike 28 Years Later it doesn’t rely on subtext to make it interesting. Coogler puts everything right there on the screen so that everyone understands exactly what he’s trying to say.

28 Years Later now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Toho Cinemas Shibuya (050-6868-5002), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

Sinners now playing in Tokyo at Shinjuku Wald 9 (03-5369-4955), Toho Cinemas Chanter Hibiya (050-6868-5001), Shibuya Cine Quinto (03-3477-5905), Shibuya White Cine Quinto (03-6712-7225).

28 Years Later home page in Japanese

Sinners home page in Japanese

28 Years Later photo (c) 2024 Sony Pictures Entertainment (Japan) Inc.

Sinners photo (c) 2025 Warner Bros. Ent.

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Review: Novocaine and Hidden Face

Nepo baby Jack Quaid has carved out a nice pop culture niche with his Hughie Campbell character on the hit Prime series The Boyz: milquetoasty on the outside but with the soul of a tiger when push comes to shove. He basically recreates the character in this high concept crime action film, where he plays Nathan Caine, who was born with a rare genetic disorder that deprives him of the means to feel pain. Much expository effort is expended early on to explain how this condition rules his life: he only consumes liquid food so as not to accidentally bite off his tongue; keeps a timed beeper that tells him when to pee so that his bladder doesn’t burst; and all manner of sharp corners in his apartment are buffered with sliced tennis balls. To cap the milquetoast image he’s the assistant manager at a SoCal credit union where he keeps to himself, so when a fetching new employee named Sherry (Amber Midthunder) starts flirting with him and invites him out for lunch, he’s not sure how much danger he’s in. As it turns out, it’s more than he possibly could have imagined.

Nate falls hard for Amber, and later, when the bank is robbed by a bunch of masked psychos, they take her hostage after killing the manager and forcing Nate to open the safe. Fueled up by love-released testosterone Nate decides to save Amber and his genetic condition gives him a de facto superpower, since no matter what they do to him he can’t feel discomfort, though he sure can bleed and bruise. The script practically writes itself at this point, and the directors, Dan Berk and Robert Olsen, are careful to peg all the wince-inducing violence to jokes about how nothing really fazes Nate, who feigns suffering with mock dramatic vocal inflections in order to convince his attackers that their beatings and stabbings are having the desired effect, but he just keeps coming back for more.

There’s not much to the movie beyond the no-pain concept, and the story development alternates between multiple predictable plot twists and backstory that explains Nate’s mindset (naturally, he was bullied as a child, since other kids thought they could torture him without consequence). It does end with one of the most knock-down-drag-out fights in action movie history, so if you’re into that kind of thing this is the movie for you, but I wonder what kind of fun is that when every blow results in a wisecrack.

The pain in the trashy erotic thriller Hidden Face is all of the emotional type and affects each of the three principals in different ways and at different times. Set in the world of high-rent classical music, the movie’s characters are types that only exist in this sort of Korean drama, where Schubert is shorthand for iconoclasm and artistic ambition is inseparable from status-seeking. The moody, elitist cellist Soo-yeon (Cho Yeo-jeong) leaves a video message for her fiancee, conductor Seong-jin (Song Seung-heon), saying she’s taking some time off without mentioning what that means and for how long. It’s a problem because she’s one of the chief soloists for the orchestra Seong-jin directs and they’re working on a cello concerto. Under pressure from Soo-yeon’s rich mother, who also runs the orchestra, Seong-jin has to find a replacement and hits on a former fellow student of his fiancee’s named Mi-joo (Park Ji-hun), who happens to have the right qualifications. 

Soon enough, Seong-jin and Mi-joo are getting it on in the finely appointed new house that Soo-yeon’s mother bought for them and which used to be owned by Soo-yeon’s and Mi-joo’s former teacher. Soon enough we learn what has happened to Soo-yeon, and it isn’t nice. In fact, Mi-joo seems to be punishing her, and as the story, which is based on a 2011 Colombian movie, reveals itself through flashbacks and flash-forwards, the various subterfuges of all the characters are revealed. Unsurprisingly, given the amount of money on display and the narrow range of moral rectitude evident among all the main characters, there’s no one to cheer for as they do their best to hurt one another to their own individual advantage. 

It’s nasty fun while it lasts, and the sex is pretty graphic for a mainstream Korean feature, but the motivations are mechanical and the dark humor isn’t pointed enough to burst through the slimy coating of venality for venality’s sake. Hidden Face is a well-made genre exercise without many original ideas.

Novocaine opens today in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

Hidden Face, in Korean, opens today in Tokyo at Shinjuku Piccadilly (050-6861-3011), Human Trust Cinema Yurakucho (03-6259-8608), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551).

Novocaine home page in Japanese

Hidden Face home page in Japanese

Novocaine photo (c) 2025 Paramount Pictures

Hidden Face photo (c) 2024 Studio & New, Solaire Partners LLC

Posted in Movies | Tagged | Leave a comment