Friday, 16 October 2020

The Alienist: Angel of Darkness - a review

A baby is missing. And the mother is trailed and found guilty of the crime. Yet a day after her execution her child is found, dead in a grotesque display with painted eyes. Who did this? It’s up to doctor Kreizler and his team of confidants to solve this heinous crime.

The Alienist is back with a vengeance. This time ‘round our trio of heroes –the intellectual but overtly self-confident Lazlo Kreizler (Daniel Brühl), The brave John Moore (Luke Evans) and the passionate world-knowing Sara Howard (Dakota Fanning)- are on the case of what might be an actual Angel of Death operating in New York city. Babies are being stolen from their cribs and later found in a grotesque display reminiscent to memento mori photographs.

After boy prostitutes last year, this season goes straight for the jugular by bringing dead babies to the viewer. The Alienist isn’t your happy-go-lucky, after-a-long-day’s-work, relaxing show; it is cruel, depressing and often just plain nasty. If you wish to believe that the world is populated with friendly, charming people than this isn’t the series for you. In fact, I argue, that benchwatching it might give you a turn of misanthropy.

Still, it’s this darkness the series needs. Taking place at the turn of the century the age of wonder had just begun. And, as we all know from histories like H.H. Holmes and Jack the Ripper this flocking to the cities during this industrial revolution caused quite a bit of bloodshed. Blatant racism, classism, sexism, conservatism, gang violence, and all kinds of international power-struggles occurred on a daily basis as people tries to carve their place in the world. And when there’s struggle there will be blood.

A crime of classes

As always it is the class-struggle that is at the dark heart of The Alienist. Last season the prostitutes were victims of a crime nobody bothered to actively investigate. Moreover, the police-force prided itself in its corruption, reigning over the city like a gang in its own right. This season it are the women who gave their innocence to the high and mighty and got their babies stolen from them who are at the core of this sordid tale.

Yes the murderer is most likely a woman, that much is clear from the very first episode. And even the motive behind it get clear rather quickly. All in all one should have all the answers of the who and why by the end of the third episode. Which is just as well since ... well let’s not go into any further spoilers shall we.

In fact it is the female class struggle in all its facets that runs like a thread throughout this season. The Alienists highlights them every chance it gets: what’s it like to be a bastard daughter? What’s it like to be female and African-American? What it like if one doesn’t want to fulfil the demands society require from a women? And many more.

Last season was all about males and the misfortunes of the downtrodden and the corruption that kept them down. This season is about female empowerment (and the corruption that keeps it down). And as a critical thematic it works marvellously over the eight episodes even though this does mean that the male protagonists Kreizler has to give way to Dakota Fanning’s Sara Howard.

“Shame on you!”

That little phrase above, and the action she took when she said it, to me, defined Dakota Fanning’s Sara Howard this season. With a more prominent part this year than she had last year she’s actively  exploring all the facets of her character. She gets to be ‘awesome’, ‘angry’, ‘clever’, ‘romantic’ and even ‘mistaken’. She’s got a lot to do and in the actress’s capable hands it is she who takes the viewer down the dark path of The Alienist: Angel of Death rather than Brühl’s Kreizler.

The increase of her role is elementary from her very first scene in which she is racing down the streets trying to get to the detective-agency she started.

Which is mainly employed by women who think feminism is a fad.

She is a women who carves her own path in life whilst the rest of the world around her, even those of her own gender, revolt against this idea. Putting this detective character in the midst of a crime in which all the suspects and witnesses are women – and obviously a female investigating gets far more answers from women than the men surrounding her- is a recipe for character-fireworks which The Alienist delivers.

If you know your mystery novels you know that the biggest bad first introduced often doesn’t turn out to be the main villain after all. In this season of The Alienist the show offers, right out the gate, Roose Bolton of Game of Thrones-fame (“The Lannisters send their regards”) Michael McElhatton as the villainous head of the Lying In Hospital a clinic for the desolate. Of course Dr. Markoe isn’t the big bad; but his arrogant smirking certainly makes one highly enjoyable strand in the larger weaving of the mystery.

As always it is a bit tricky to put a strong female persona on the screen because –due to the era we are no living in, in which feminism is an important topic- it might feel forced. Moreso when you actually tell a story set in the time when female-rights activism began.

Still Fanning’s character (-arch) doesn’t feel forced at all. For her character it is only logical that she agrees with the feminist movement. The fact that she isn’t that interested in the frivolities of male-companionship or whether a man is more important than a female all derive from her persona. As such whenever these questions are raised it actually enriches her character instead of feeling like a show-stopper.

The fact that Fanning also plays her character Howard contained but never shy of exposing her true feelings makes the character even more interesting as there’s a duality there. A free spirit constantly trying to break out but also, constantly, held back by both herself as society.

Brühl’s Kreizler, then, for the earlier episodes, plays against Fanning’s Howard. He is the man who is always right. In fact this character is so convinced of his own right that he fails to see the people around him. It’s not necessarily about gender to him but in the whole context of this season it does add up. When his friend offers him a safe way of questioning a suspect without getting lost in a shouting match he initially agrees only to betray his friend later on. When Sara Howard warns him about this new interest of his about hypnosis he brushes her away because he read the studies, he knows what he’s talking about; oblivious to other reasons people might oppose him with.

This narrow straight line he walks makes him an anchor for the story but it also makes the namegiver of the show exactly that power of not willing to listen to reason which the feminist movement was rallying against. Thankfully, when the investigation gets truly underway Kreizler changes, willing to accept his shortcomings and broaden the path he is on.

Turning to the third lead of the show Evan’s John Moore. He, finally, has shredded his philandering
ways and is currently set on a steady life with one of William Randolph Hearst’s (bastard) goddaughters. His moral compass has been upped this season. His knack for getting himself into trouble, however, has also increased. Moore is the puppy who can seek out evil but lacks the bite to defend himself.

Kreizler, in this comparison is the bird watching from above staying well away from danger. Still, Evans dashing around in the mud and exposing the deep dark secrets the people of old New York wish to keep hidden paint a pretty picture. The viewer needs somebody to enter the dark foreboding room to keep the momentum of the story going and Moore fits that bill perfectly. And, even though I sound a tad too dismissive of the character, his arch does offer an interesting view on the male dilemmas in light of so-called feminine topics like marriage and babies. Not to mention that this character is the natural balance between Kreizler and Howard who at the start of the season are almost on opposite sides of the good spectrum.

Ending with the former-Chief of Police Byrnes. First of all, I’m a big fan of Ted Levine. This is one of those actors who likes to play both sides of the medallion. His first breakthrough performance was of course that of Buffalo Bill but then, years later, he happily played the charming chief of police in Monk (2002). His role in The Alienist is rather a combination of the two, a chief of police with the dark determined heart of Buffalo Bill and he plays him masterfully. Each and every moment he is on screen you know that he’s up to no good.

But he does get something to do this season. His character Byrnes is not all vile and corrupt; when injustice is blatant he will act. Even if it will always be out for his own interests first.

A dark city that never sleeps

With a healthier budget The Alienist season 2 showcases the dark and filthy streets of 1896 New York every chance it gets. It tries to toy around with this by shifting the focus between the upper class locations and the downtrodden class to highlight the contrast; but in the end the show knows fully well that it are the dark corridors and murky walls the viewer wants to visit.

As always the set design looks marvellous. Last season often took place at one very well dresses street-set. This season has all kinds of tricks up its sleeve. There is a lavish harbour set, several streets (with the clever inclusion of trains in the background) And every once and again a beautiful CGI bird-eye shot of the city.

I liked the little nod that the torch of the statue of liberty was lit at the time.

It’s acting and visuals that are the strong suits in The Alienist’s ‘dead man’s hand’. But, like last season, the plotting leaves a bit to be desired.

Plotting away to solve the crime

My biggest critique on season one (apart from the fact that it was sometimes a bit too depressing for my
taste) were the easy storytelling-tricks. I don’t like people getting saved in the nick of time. I don’t like coincidental coincidences. I don’t like a villain automatically brandishing a knife the second he meets one of our heroes. Not to mention characters dying because either they weren’t paying attention or the plot put them unarmed in a dangerous situation in which they were seriously outclassed. I consider these tropes cheap and outdated. There are so many other ways to get through a scene without relying on the ‘old faithful’.

Why not –I’m referring to episode two here- have the villain start of the conversation politely and only during it become more and more dangerous. And then, instead of the just-in-time save, have our hero talk his way out of it. It’s a lot less eye rolling than what I saw on screen.

So yes, The Alienist, is, once again, littered with easy storytelling techniques that keep it from being great on a narrative, scene-to-scene, level. However, the grander mystery of the crime is a lot more elaborate and throughout than it was last season (I don’t think we ever got a good look of the culprit back then) which leaves me with a final compliment to the murderer of the story. This character -which I can’t name in this spoiler-free review- gets to showcase all the pain and trouble that caused the troubled mind and does so quite excellently. Which is exactly what I believe The Alienist should be about: reading the mind of the murderer and then, let the murderer speak to see if Kreizler and his comrades were right.

Conclusion

The second season of The Alienist is quite the improvement to an already stellar first season. By using feminism or womanhood as a thematic it allows itself to highlight all the problems women endured at the turn of the century (and are still enduring to this day mind you). But also by letting the murderer be such an important part of the story it earns its title as it explores the recesses of the disturbed human psyche. And, if that’s not enough, the show is even more visually lavishing  than it was before and acted out impeccably. I just hope that next season the murder-mystery could stop killing children, the world is depressing enough as it is.

Becky - A review

Ruthless Neo-Nazi’s escape from prison and end up holding a family hostage whilst looking for a MacGuffin. But, too bad, those silly Nazi’s hadn’t thought about the relentlessly vindictive daughter of the household: Becky.

Becky is one of those movies in which style and set-pieces trump narrative. So visually the Becky character is well developed in a bumblebee-sweeter and a brightly orange chipmunk hat. It’s an pleasantly weird, fantasy nay, superhero look that are somewhat rather popular with movies dealing with brave teenaged girls (I’d bet Becky and Barbara from I kill Giants (2017) could be the best of friends). The same goes for the villain of the piece as (cast against type) Kevin James playing a patriarch Nazi. He already has a rather distinctive look with his bald head, tattoos and bright orange jersey and even gets to look even more bad-ass as the movie progresses.

All this could pretty much be expected from the opening title alone. Its brightly coloured, flashing of the name Becky promises some sort of superhero named Becky and in this visual sense the audience is rewarded.

Unfortunately the story of the movie isn’t even close to that of a superhero. There is no arch for Becky, and the MacGuffin stays a MacGuffin (probably to keep an opening for a sequel). Basically all you need to know about Becky is said halfway through; if she’s nice she’s adorable, but if she’s mad...

And that’s about all the arch the viewer gets for her whilst the movie goes out of its way to show one elaborate death scene after another – and none of them are very logical.

It’s a shame really because the killer-kids-home-alone-inversion had already been done before so marvellously impressively in The Aggression Scale (2012).

Also a movie that started with seven or so producers logos.
Usually this is a bad sign (especially if you don’t recognize any of them) but not for The Aggression Scale.
In this particular case it allowed the movie to be its own movie and up the violence and the bloodshed to insane levels.

In that movie too there was no arch for the main ‘killer-kid’ (the kid being a sociopath and all) but there was for almost every other character on screen (especially the sister).

And every elaborate kill -even if they were at times slightly too creative- never went overboard with ‘insane’ ways to kill a person.

I would be lying if Becky doesn’t try to, at least, put some kind of character arch into the movie but the way it is handled, it just doesn’t work -I'm talking about the (most impressive) side-character here.

When I saw where this particular arch was going I realized that Becky is filled to the brim with ‘against type’ casting.
And, maybe, too much isn’t always a good thing.

It’s clear that Becky tries to breath the same air as The Aggression Scale and when it comes to brutality it brings it. It’s just that Becky puts too much fate on the visuals instead of the narrative. Which is especially strange since the cast of the movie is so strong. Kevin James is a very capable actor who knows his craft. Lulu Wilson has, pretty much, grown up playing in the darker stories of movies and then there’s even the giant Robert Maillet who has got villainy-roles down to a key.

One additional nitpick though, Kevin James isn't a very tall man. So when his character has to intimidate ‘the giant’ it relies heavily on charisma and screen-presence. James has that, mind you, but not enough for me to buy this particular scene. Truth be told the script got in the way a bit as well. But the idea behind it is sound and its execution the best it could be.

In the end –as those punky credits roll which will always remind me of All the boys love Mandy Lane (2006), since I saw it there first- Becky is close to being the unofficial sequel to The aggression scale but never quite gets there. The focus is too much on visually making Becky a superhero that the movie forgets to tell an actual interesting story.

So let’s just call Becky an origins story; but in the sequel there’d better be more that just visual flair as the movie hops from one unbelievably, overtly elaborate deathscene to the next.

Mixed tapes Movies: Chess

In the eighties it was the-thing-to-do to make a mixed tape (like an mp3 but touchable, always in need of a pencil and definitely cooler). On it you would make a little playlist of all the cool songs. Now the trick was to make each song correspond with the rest of the tape. In this post I will try to do the same with movies.

Every once in a while I will select a general topic and select movies to accompany it. As you can see the more child-friendly movies are at the start of the day, but  when night falls: ‘here be monsters’. Please feel free to give suggestions of other unknown movies.

One rule though: Auteur themes like ‘Shakespeare’ or ‘James Bond’ are not allowed. ‘Spy-movies’, naturally, are.

Theme: Chess

I named this little blog of mine the Chessboard factory. The reason behind it wasn’t me trying to pretend to be any kind of intellectual.

Rather I reasoned that those 64-squared things have to be made somewhere. Meaning: an item representing awe-inspiring-intelligence or ‘elite’ was probably made in some factory by a guy named Kevin (looking at the clock for his next break-time).

Still, to stay with the title of this blog I wish to name some movies dealing with the game of chess. And, as I’m sure you’ll notice, chess is –in these movies- just a metaphor for bigger things.

08:00-10:00 

Long live the Queen - A sweet little Dutch movie about a girl (without a father) who is forbidden to play chess by her mother. So obviously she does. In this fantasy world, she creates for herself -to understand the game- A white queen. This Queen teaches the girl some valuable lessons and…everything will be right in the end –as a kids movie should be.

10:00-10:30

Geri’s game - A short one but too hilarious to exclude. Two old men who look alike play chess. Who will win and, more importantly, what is the prize? And, Yes, Geri looks a lot like the toymaker from Toy Story 2 (1999)

10:30-12:00

Harry Potter and the philosopher’s stone -  I just had to include this one. Only videogames allow the player to walk a chessboard (like ‘Knight moves’ or ‘Battle Chess’). Only videogames dare to show the player that chess is actually a rather brutal game. The first Harry Potter showed it firsthand. With Ron on the knight he proved to me that he is a brave boy willing to lay down his life for his friends to stop the villain.

It is also interesting to note that a logical game of chess shouldn’t have any place in the Wizarding World (Wizards don’t ‘do’ logic).

12:00-14:00

The thief who came to dinner – I mentioned this movie in another mixed tape; but I think the movie is too darn good to leave out of this list as well. A playboy burglar leaves chess pieces and moves around as a signature of his crimes (and no other criminal copies him in this fiction). Then the cops decide to challenge him to a game against a chess-master. If he loses he has to give himself up. But out hero the burglar cheats.

14:00-16:00

Searching for Bobby Fisher - Being a chess protégée is a terrible fate. Just imagine your brain being terrifyingly good at one thing but not others. This movie shows the ordeal in a sweet, caring manner. Being good at something doesn’t mean you have to accept it.

16:00-18:00

Pawn Sacrifice – The Bobby Fisher documentary is better. The reason I put this movie on the list is twofold; first  because I love how Live Schreiber played his character (all in Russian, mind you). The whole movie is about that ONE move Fischer made against Spassky and the applause it got him. But, as movies do, the leading up to it is part of the fun. Second because I think one should combine this movie with the documentary which is coming up next

18:00-20:00

Bobby Fisher against the world – The documentary. Many think about chess as an elite, high intelligence, game. But at what cost? The persona of Bobby Fisher wasn’t a nice man; but the question here being: is it chess that destroyed his mind or was it his destroyed mind that made him good at chess?

20:00-22:00

The seventh seal – The classic. If you play against death you play chess (not Clue!: Bill and Ted!). The knight, here goes his path and finds his followers (like chess pieces) until death comes to him.

22:00-00:00

Uncovered – Chess is a game of planning and brainpower. So, obviously, a chessboard fits perfectly in a crime tale. Uncovered is such a crime tale that use the mystery of a painted chessboard as the major clue. The idea is great, the execution a bit lesser. But still it’s a fun whodunit.

00:00-02:00

Die Schachnovelle – I read the book and watched the movie (the book is better). The brain games chess offers can save a life. But, in the end, it might almost destroy you. This movie is an early attempt of German cinema to come to terms with their monstrous past. Maybe it was a bit too early; but it stays an intriguing tale nonetheless.

02:00-04:00

Knight moves – A murderer wants to play chess and he’s using victims as pawns. If the world is a chessboard how do you win against a brilliant player? The ending might be a bit dark but until then you are in for a thrill ride as Lambert plays our hero under suspicion.

This movie shaped my life; I watched this movie too early in my life and was left me wondering. Chess, to me became the game of the most intellectual minds of the world. As I grew older I realized that this isn’t the case. Just some people playing games.

When your knight is cornered you attack!.

Honourable Mentions: 

Computer Chess – The whole idea of a computer beating a grandmaster at chess was, for a long time (before Deep Blue at least) unfathomable. Nowadays it’s a reality and computer are getting even smarter by the minute.

Forgotten movies: Cheaters (2000)

'Cultural economy’; basically this term means that a company sells you, as an added value to their product, an image to aspire to. You drink Pepsi™ you are sporty and cool. You drink Coca Cola™ you are a family person who loves Christmas.

This method of image building has been around since modern economy. Nintendo™ is for the kids. Sega™ was for the older siblings. Nowadays it isn’t important whether a product does what it needs to do but rather that it applies to the image-based standard a consumer wants it to be.

But ‘Cultural economy’ doesn’t end with products on the shelf of a local supermarket. I argue (and many with me) that I also see this image building pop up whenever a country presents itself.  Each Olympics, Eurovision, World Football Tournament countries present themselves as the way they wish to be perceived (which, in football is annoying since hooligans tend to get in the way).

 The two biggest international movie-producing countries in the world, The United States and The United Kingdom, have done this for ages in their movies. They sold themselves as either ‘the land of the free who knows how to take care of itself’, or ‘the great nation that brought forth the world’.

One could very well argue that the main reason why refugees flock to these countries is because they ‘look so good’ on the silver screen.

But, and here is the catch I wish to focus upon in this article, this does automatically imply that people abroad will put this ‘image’ to scrutinous investigation.

Take the United States per example. Throughout the cold war the USA has bombarded the rest of the western world with movie after movie featuring their country as the ‘last line of defence against’ Sovjets, Aliens, Giant Ants, and so-on and so-on.

The best example is, of course, Independence Day (1996), made by a German.

But by posing itself as ‘the best country ever!’ it automatically causes the critical minds of the rest of the world to wonder if that is truly the case.

Now, the United States of America isn’t the best country in the world; not by a long shot. But it is the image the media-industry keeps on selling to the world. 

So, of course, small time moviemakers wish to highlight the cracks in this image. One of those movies is Cheaters (2000).

Cheaters is a great movie because it shows what eons of movie-industry-cultural-economy had told the rest of the world before: In the United States, if you are good at sports you get a free ride to college. If you are bookwise then you have a problem. Or, if you look at it another way, if you are rich, life is easy, if you are poor, life will only get harder.

The examples are numerous in the movies that came before Cheaters; In A Wonderful life (1946) the main character got his college break by being great at football. The same goes for Forrest Gump (1994). The whole plot of Mr. Destiny (1995) hinges on the fact that the main character didn’t make it in sports. The USA loves sports and loves winners. And not just any winners, but Mohammed Ali ‘one guy takes all’ winners.

But anybody with half a mind knows that a sole reliance on continues winners is a bad idea. Everybody fails once in a while. So why not showcase the underdog and, whilst you are at it, highlight what is wrong with, in the case of Cheaters, the United States educational system.

Cheaters

A low-end public-school tries its hand at the prestigious academic decathlon cup. A contest which has been consistently won by the same school for ten years running. Then, by chance, they happen upon the questions for the final round of the competition. Will they cheat? Of course they will! It’s the only way they can, finally, escape mediocrity in an society fixated on elitism.

Cheaters is a pretty straightforward story. Just reading the title alone will give a pretty good vibe about
how the movie is going to play out: some kids cheat, the truth comes out, they deny it, they come clean.

But there is far more to this story than just that. Because Cheaters is all about equality. The (cultural economy) image the United States sells to the world and its own residents of ‘all men are created equal’ is proven wrong in this movie. The kids at this particular high-school don’t get an equal chance to win the main prize than that other school who keeps on winning the same cup year after year (and even houses the competition committee). So they cheat to, for once, feel like winners.

It’s not ‘levelling the playing field’ but rather creating a precedent for others to aspire to (even though this social-aspect is furthest from the minds of the characters, they just want to win ‘for once’).

It is this sense of cultural and/or economical inequality that runs like a red thread throughout this movie. This is the motivation for their cheating. But, as any good movie should, this pure, understandable motivation becomes muddled by layers as the teens keep on denying their cheating and defying (quite brutally) those who want to know the truth of the matter.

When a story is simple the writing should be great. After all, there is no need for extensive elaborate exposition. The audience knows what’s going on and they want to see what happens next. Insert some great lines. Cheaters is mild when it comes to great lines. There are some gems, but, overall, the movie shows what the audience needs to see to get the gist.

Sure, there’s Jeff Daniel’s Dr. Gerard Plecki who is furious are the (United States) system as it killed his immigrant father for believing in the ‘American dream’. But these scenes hardly bring any firework to the table. The audience understands the character better, absolutely, but it doesn’t  make the main story better.

Instead it is the willingness of the students to cheat that speaks volumes. The audience never learns why all of them cheat (we get some insights here and there, but never much) and this is refreshing. The audience gets to fill in the blanks based on almost a hundred years of United States cultural economy.

The acting supports this notion. Each and every teen in this movie knows their own backstory. We –the audience- don’t get to see it but they know and act accordingly. Some of the teenagers who were nice before become vile, whilst others become more understandable. As the audience already reasoned how the whole movie was going to play out from the get-go it layers the performances.

In the end Cheaters is a full-out attack on the American educational system and its strange preoccupancy of focussing on ’winners’ over actually teaching kids. Since this movie came out in the year 2000 nothing really changed. But, who knows, maybe with a cheat here-and-there things will come around.

Gretel and Hansel – A review

Hansel, and his older sister Gretel, are on the road to better things. Their mother casted them out. So they have to fend for themselves. On the road they stumble upon a cabin in the woods with a nice old lady happy to take them in. But there is something quite sinister at play here as Gretel soon finds out.

My first experience with Hansel and Gretel in a movie-form was with the Olsen twins. They’d grown up and after Full house and made a series of their own movies. One of the first was an adaptation of the famous Grimm fairytale. One of the twins was Gretel and the other one played Hansel.

Things have somewhat come full circle now with this horror rendition. Here we have Sophia Lillis who after her career defining turn in both chapters of IT (2019) took this movie as one of her first new projects.

As is usual by now, teen actresses apparently have to do two or three horror movies. Nobody really knows why but after Chloe Grace Moretz, Joey King, Lulu Wilson and Sterling Jernis so does Lillis. Scream queens are getting younger. 

Style over story

Gretel and Hansel isn’t truly an acting piece. Every bit of acting is very subdued. It is the style and the
mood that takes the forefront here. And yes every shot in this movie paints quite the picture.

Just the brown-yellow tint whenever Gretel is in the ‘house’; works marvels. Yellow is the colour of danger here as she could’ve seen in the yellow windows as she and her brother approached the cabin.

Then there are all the lines that work as a repoussoir pushing the foreground back as it were. Making the image translucent even though it is there. The wonderful pyramid shape of the cabin which, like any other pyramid, is a morgue. Triangles rule in this movie as they entice the viewer further into the occult.

Not to mention the set of the big final which is, basically, a white room. Stylish, unbothered by the bloodshed that came before, clean. Of course this ‘clean’ room gets a healthy dosage of blood.

Gory fairytales

Like previous horror-versions of famous fairytales I would argue that Gretel and Hansel would sit rather comfortably next to The company of wolves (1984) and Snow White: a tale of Terror (1997). They all breathe this sense of a time long past where fantasy and terror were very real upon this green earth, and often interlinked with shackles.

I’ve said it before one this blog and I might have to put this disclaimer up somewhere: my stomach for gore and horror is quite strong nowadays. I’m not a big fan of (unnecessary) gore but I’m not really bothered by it either. So unless I missed something I can tell you that this version of Gretel and Hansel is rather tame when it comes to the whole cannibal aspect of the fairytale. There is a severed arm her and there and the obligatory bucket of guts but that’s about it. The whole eating/song scene in The Lord of the Rings: The return of the king (2003) is a lot more disturbing (a scene that would’ve fit perfectly in this movie).

In the end most of the critique Gretel and Hansel got from reviewers is that the style over substance doesn’t truly work. Maybe the criticasters are right. At least, I can tell, for a movie trying to appeal to a mayor audience it started lacking a bit from the halfway mark on.

But as the movie to complete the dark fairytale trilogy that began with The company of wolves; I think Gretel and Hansel works rather nicely. Now we have the three great tales of Grimm covered in horror.

Thursday, 30 April 2020

The invisible man (2020) – a review.

A young woman –Cecilia- finally manages to escape the clutches of her abusive husband Adrian. Soon after this he commits suicide. Yet, something tells Cecilia that her husband isn’t dead. That he is using his skill in the field of optical-technology to torment her once again. Is Cecilia seeing things or is her husband truly the invisible man.

The invisible man is what a good remake should be. It takes an old movie (the 1933 version with the same title) and updates it to current times.

Visually, by updating the original English countryside inn and barn in favour of a massive neo-modernist beach house (with lots of glass). Plotwise; technology instead of magical potions.
And, thematically; this version’s main theme is abuse, because that is a prominent feature in our current collective (western) landscape.


The movie ended the way it was always supposed to end. The script was pretty straightforward in that regard. The title of the movie is The invisible MAN. It’s all about masculine power play over a woman and her changing from victim to survivor. So of course, to highlight the end of her transition the movie needed The invisible WOMAN to end it all.

Where so many remakes fail, The invisible man succeeds. The reason for this is quite simple really: the remake only truly needed to tick two boxes of the original: there has to be a man and he has to be invisible. The rest the moviemakers could ‘fill in’ as they saw fit.

It is interesting to note here that every invisible man movie sofar (it haven’t been that many to be honest) rather uses the current technological advance of the day to make said man invisible. Memoirs of the invisible man (1992) used gamma rays; Hollow man (2000) used some sort of chemo therapy. And so this one uses sleek and stylish technology straight from the Apple factory.

It’s quite another story if you are remaking (for instance) Papillion (1971, 2017). Then the movies have to address a whole array of elements. There’s not a lot of freedom.

The invisible movie genre
When it comes to invisible men in movies there are various personal traits you can hand the bloke. Rodney Skinner in The league of extraordinary gentlemen (2003) was a thief and a spy. A handy character to have around in a movie that deals with a world encompassing conspiracy.
But if the invisible man is the main character of a movie those personal traits become part of the thematic of the movie and/or character. For instance:

I think dear Violet Incredible is the only (well known) female in cinema who gets to turn invisible.
Her original thematic for her powers were shyness.

Memoirs of an invisible man; a regular bloke who took life for granted and now wants his normality back. Il ragazzo invisibile (2014); becoming an adult. Hollow man; a peeping tom and a control freak. And, now, The invisible man; An narcissist.

So, as you can see, invisibility grants the movie a variety of thematics to play with. Just like the good ol’ vampire movies love to play with thematics surrounding youth, religion, and, of course, lust and sex.

But in any archetype-story one thematic is always the most prominent. For the vampire-stories it death. And, I argue, invisible movies always use the thematic: sneaky. Doing, or being somewhere that isn’t allowed. Like Harry Potter (2001) exploring the library at night.

With this comes the conclusion that an invisible man movie works best if the man in question is a villain. Because a villain is far more comfortable doing something sneaky than a hero. A villain might keep it up the entire movie whilst the hero constantly needs new reasons to turn invisible again (like Dexter Riley’s actions in Now you see him now you don’t (1972)).

The invisible villain
Interesting about The invisible man –I found- is that the main villain doesn’t appear on the screen for more than three minutes or so and that is predominantly near the end. This hauls back to the original The invisible man (1933) in which Claude Rains was already invisible to begin with. You never meet him face to face as it were so the man stays a mystery, there’s no connection.

Paul Verhoeven’s Hollow man took a different approach. This movie took quite a bit of time to get to know the main character Sebastian Caine. And, even though, Kevin Bacon pretty much played him like an unlikable smuck from the get go you do bond with this character; as an audience will always bond with the person who is on screen most of the time no matter whether they are villains or heroes. No matter what they do (e.g. That gut wrenching scene in Once upon a time in America (1984)).
This does, however, create a possible problem for The invisible man by the way that it is shot.

The villain invisible
You never truly see the danger that Adrien is. All you get from the movie to accept this statement is his brute smashing of the car window at the start of the movie

A very clever story technique that shows how uninhibited and violent a character is.

and Cecelia’s fear of him. This concept works a charm the minute you make Cecelia an unreliable character.

However, in The invisible man she stays rather reliable throughout. The viewer gets to see exactly how she is constantly being framed by the invisible man, there is no ambiguity on whether or not she is telling the truth. So, ergo, her stories about the danger that is Adrien has to be the truth as well.

I, for one, would be rather intrigued the see what would happen if Whannell took the Rear Window-route (1954). Constantly questioning if the protagonist is right; or even right in the head like in Twelve Monkeys (1995).
Which would mean: leaving all the shenanigans of the invisible man out. And only in the end spring the revelation that we are talking about a literal invisible man here instead of a figurative invisible man working behind the scenes or from the protagonist’s damaged psyche.

The director
Leigh Whannell is quickly growing as a director. I’m rather impressed with what he managed in The invisible man. Both the acting performances he managed to capture as the way he uses the camera (the opening shot alone is wonderful).

Who would’ve thought ten years ago that the golden child James Wan would end up making enjoyable but not very memorable blockbuster movies like Aquaman (2018) and The fast and the furious 7 (2015). And that Whannell would take over his friend's reigns and craft smart little thrillers.
But then again; Whannell has a remake of Escape from New York lined up and Wan is going back to his roots with a thriller called Malignant.

The invisible script
As always in Whannell’s screenplays the important plotdevices get introduced early and in quick succession. Without spoiling too much: the knife, the fire extinguisher and the hidden compartment amongst other things are thrown in early and openly without any pretence of hiding it for the audience.
So this little fire in the kitchen-scene servers three purposes: the introduction of the knife, the introduction of the fire-extinguisher and establishing a solid relationship between the two females.

That’s what I always liked about Whannell’s screenplays, they are clear. Every scene has a function and he hardly every mucks it up with scenes leading nowhere.

I do, however, blame him sometimes for ignoring the obvious. In the case of The invisible man the script tends to make the criminal too smart, too much in control. Which, at certain times, makes you wonder how this woman ever managed to outsmart him like that.

The acting invisible
One of the famous things to say about an actor or actress is to say something like: ‘She doesn’t appear to be acting at all.’ I never truly agreed with this statement, but I understand the compliment behind it.

In The invisible man it is Elizabeth Moss who is front and centre throughout. Because of the lack of a visual threat the entire movie is on her shoulders. She has to act and react to things ‘not there’ and the audience has to take her ‘word’ on this.

In short Moss has a deliciously juicy part that allows her to showcase her talent as an actress. And she does quite brilliantly. She never truly goes over the top (which would be easy to do in such a fantastical tale) and manages to find a balance between a whole array of character-emotions shifting between empowered, victim, paranoid and just plain old fightin’ mad.

True some of the abovementioned choices of 'seeing what the invisible man does' made during this movie rather weaken her performance in the whole. But that certainly doesn’t diminish the fact that she gives quite the performance.

More invisible men
Originally it was the intention to make a Dark universe much like the Marvel and DC universes only this time featuring the monsters from yesteryears. This dream however imploded the minute Dracula: Untold (2014) and The Mummy (2017) failed at the box office.

But maybe that was a blessing in disguise. Because movies like The invisible man work on a small scale. Let vampires and lycanthropes have their all out war in various massive blockbuster movies and let the invisible man and Dr. Jekylle and Mr. Hyde operate on a smaller scale.

Free from the Dark universe, Whannell managed to craft a small thriller with a fantastical concept at its core. And, again, free from the Dark universe this movie has found its audience.

It is interesting to see once again that a good movie doesn’t come on order. It comes from people given the freedom to create something that they think is right.

The invisible man is a well crafted thriller that fits perfectly in our current era in which female rights and technological advances are hot topics.

Who said a ninety year old story is dead? It just takes a new perspective to see what is possible. To see what was once invisible.

Fairness, and unfairness in computer games.

State of Decay; I just cleared a hundred metres of zombies. I ran them all over with my car. I’m hovering over this strange ‘Cleo’-device. What’s suddenly growling behind me? A zombie. Did I miss it? Maybe.

Same game; I’m helping out some fellow survivors. Due to a glitch my car gets stuck under the house. I run to the next car. Suddenly there’s a horde of zombies (including some feral) waiting for me who weren’t there a minute ago.

Is the game messing with me? I’m starting to think it is!

Fairness: Outgame.
Here I wish to talk about fairness in computer (video) games.

What is fair? Nazis spawning behind you after you cleared the field in Return to castle Wolfenstein? Some silly toadstool telling you that the princess is in another castle? Or a massive ordeal to get through without any savepoints like Battletoads.

Fairness in games begins and ends with the people making those games. This means that their logic and reasoning is in play here. So; Alex Kidd in high tech-world for the SEGA Master System.

I mentioned this game before on this blog. I think.

To get past a guard-post, during this game, you have the opportunity to craft your own fake passport. There’s a book dealer who sells books on ‘how to craft your own passport’. There’s a shop selling printing presses. I believe there’s even a shop selling paper and ink.

Does this all work? No, of course not. The guard recognizes that your passport is a fake and kills you on the spot.

In fact you have to pray at a temple 100 times to make a ghost shaman appear who gives you a true passport.

Where is this shaman mentioned? Nowhere!
Never throughout the game is the shaman mentioned; let alone the praying 100 times.

So any player would come by the temple; pray a few times –for his/her own sanctitude and move on.
This was the first time in my life when I realized that, sometimes, games were stacked against me!

Just think about it, go to the past with me –hold my hand: me, a young boy, incapable of getting past this guard. So I called the SEGA-GAME-helpline (there was no real internet back then – I’m that old), 50c per call.

The (nice) guy on the other end of the phone told me the answer instantly. He didn’t even have to take time to look it up (which told me how many frustrated ten-year-old-boys called before me – and (nowadays) how little videogames there were out there, back then).
So by paying an extra fifty cents over the cost of the game I was ‘allowed’ to continue my game.

Is this fair? I think not!

Fairness: A distinction.
So, reading the previous, there’s a distinction to be made here. 1. Honesty ‘Ingame’. And, 2. Honesty ‘Outgame’.

I think it’s clear from my above example that number 2. Does occur. There’s no way I would’ve figured out ‘praying a hundred times without the ‘lifeline’ (0,50 cents a beat).
But continue this train of thought to the present.

I mean; is it fair for EAGAMES to charge players extra amounts of money to play a game? I mean they used to call it upgrades, extra content, now they call it microtransactions. I all boils down to the same thing: coercing players to give money to get better at a game.
Is this fair? I think not.

Just like my little Alex Kidd in High-Tech world-example. Gamers should be allowed to play the games they bought without interference from ‘either’ call-in-help (obviously), bad ports,

A welcome hello to Silent Hill: Homecoming, which is unplayable without outside help.
A ‘bad port’ is nothing short that a ‘console game’-producer releasing a game to PC without
checking whether the game that works on a PS3 might actually work on a PC. Negligence.

or, ‘Buy-up’ upgrades. A game should remain a game. But that’s not how economy works.

Nowadays we, the world, are playing against each other. And we all want to beat our opponent.
In Asia this, apparently, works rather fairly. Occasionally a guy gets killed because he sold a (virtual) magnificent sword a (virtual) friend lend to him (look it up).

But, apparently, in western games this fairness isn’t allowed. Here the game is stacked so that those with the most money to spend get better at the game. (Notice here how I used the word ‘get’ instead of ‘are’). No more skill involved. Is this fair? I think not.

Fairness: Ingame.
Having argued that some games suffer from a ‘lack of fairness’ due to outgame influences I also wish to highlight some ingame issues I stumbled upon during my playtime.

Sometimes, there are just games that are too hard to beat either because the programmers were some sadistic b*stards (hello again: Battletoads), because the programming itself isn’t flawless (hello: Lucius III). Or, and this is the point I wish to focus upon, because the programming allows ‘unfairness’.

In any game of Tetris the pieces you get to work with are generated by chance. Tetris is basically a
gambling game with some slight amount of skill involved. Like poker you can have all the skills of reading signs, calculating chance and counting cards; yet, in the end, a big portion of you actually winning a hand relies on the chance of getting dealt good cards.

Tetris is the same; do you stack up high waiting for that one long piece (appropriately named: hero) or do you play it safe and keep your stack low?

If a game is based on chance, I argue that any apparent unfairness should be regarded as unintentional. If you gamble you should be able to take a hit every once in a while.

Take They are billions per example. Now this is a game that is hard to beat.
The reason for this is rather clear from the start. The game deals with zombies. And each zombie is (programmed) set to attack any nearby human (settlement). This works like an infection. So if one zombie spots you, so does the nearest to them, and the nearest and so on. In short: on false move and you suddenly got a horde against you. This is fair.

For those who wonder: Yes, I have a thing for zombie games.

But, fairness, becomes questionable when you look at ‘survivor mode’ within the game. In this mode the computer generates a map, drops your town hall somewhere in the middle and places a finite amount of zombies around it.

The object of the game: if the town hall falls the game is over.

So strange situations occur in which you find your town hall strangely placed (e.g. close to a zombie den. Or placed in the wide open even though there is a beautiful sheltered –more defendable- spot close by). Now, I argue, a schism becomes apparent between this ‘computer generated chance’ and narrative.

In the blocks of Tetris or the cards of poker there is no underlying narrative to influence the chance. They are billions, a game set in a world where humans have to fight zombies, nobody, in their right mind, would place their town hall in the middle of an open field. It’s not lot logical from a preservation/human perspective.
The cards are dealt the way they are. But in

The computer generating the map obviously doesn’t understand human preservation logic, it’ll just drop the town hall anywhere. But any human would look at the landscape (chance) and place the town hall accordingly (narrative).

So, I argue that if a game has a narrative at its base an overreliance on chance based dynamics cause the game to become: less fair.

Similarly; that’s why I hate respawned enemies in any First Person Shooter. If I just cleared a section I don’t want to find sudden respawned enemies there if I can’t justify how they could’ve come there from a narrative perspective.

Usually just a door the enemies could’ve come through would be enough to create the (narrative) illusion.

Fairness: skill.
Games are about skill! Not everybody should be allowed to finish them. That’s why there are levels ranging from easy to hard.

Battletoads is an extremely difficult game to finish. There are only so many lives you can gather on the way and then there are a million obstacles blocking you towards the finale.

One could, rightfully, say that Battletoads was deliberately made too hard by the programmers.
On the other hand one might realize that game makers at the time were exploring the capabilities of the players . What were they capable of? It’s an honest question.

Except for those speed runners. Those people are unfathomable.

Fairness, I argue, implies a game based on skill without trying to influence the skill by means of either outside ([micro] transactions) or inside (narrative destroying chance) elements.

And I haven’t even mentioned the auto-saves which makes a lot of games way too easy to beat.

There has to be a balance.

Luckily a lot of games strike this balance just right. But ever so often –after you got your behind beaten in a playthrough- you should ask yourself: 'Did I lose fair and square?'. ‘Was this fair?’

Tuesday, 31 March 2020

The Good Liar – a review

An elderly conman Roy (Ian McKellen) finds that his latest mark Betty (Helen Mirren) is quite rich. This makes the evil entrepreneur in him more than willing to give it his best to unburden her of all that wealth.

Let me start by saying that the poster is actually rather well chosen, on two fronts. First it evokes the feeling of a classical detective the like of Deceived (1992), The Hand that rocks the Cradle (1992) and Single White Female (1992).

Those famous (often 90s) thrillers in which the single white female has to smarten up fast to resist the evil male intruder in her life.

Then there are the colours of black and white. At first glance this is the clear distinction between right and wrong, the villain and the victim.

But, after seeing the movie I have to admit that it also highlights the big problem of the story and thus, as a result, the movie as a whole. Strangely enough I’m accusing The Good Liar of being dishonest to its audience.

The fighting chance in a detective story
S.S. van Dine famously wrote his ‘twenty rules for writing detective stories’ in 1928. The phrase ‘The butler did it’ –I believe- derives from this list as (as rule 11) the writer clearly exclaims his disdain for the notion of someone ‘common’ committing bloody murder.

But, nevertheless, taken with a grain of salt these ‘twenty rules’ still work as a blueprint to this day and age. And one thing is almost hammered home in Dine’s list (as rules 1, 5, 8, 9 and 15 stipulate): the reader should have a sporting chance to solve the crime.

To take Midsomer Murders (or any other crime-of-the-week TV-show for that matter) for example. This show scores high on this list. Every clue is a plain sight and it up to the audience to pay close attention.

But it is human nature to experiment. It is human nature to do something different from time to time. Sometimes even to try to reinvent the wheel as it were.

So throughout crime-fiction history there have been stories in which the ‘who’, ‘how’ and ‘why’ The Alienist (2018) left out the Who until the very last episode. Sherlock’s (2012) death defying leap in The Reichenbach fall (the How) was famously left without a proper explanation. And The Good Liar, I argue, is guilty of leaving out the Why.
weren’t there for the audience to pick up upon. In televised fiction last year’s

Anybody can, at least, sense that there is something amiss between the characters; that neither of them are very truthful. You can feel it in the picture, in every frame. You’ll probably even know how it will all go down and you’ll be right. But still, in the end, you are left empty handed because you didn’t have any access to the smallest morsel of information pertaining to the question: Why.

This wilful choice (derived from the original book by Nicholas Searle I assume) makes The Good Liar and uneven viewing. The movie seduces you, the viewer, to take part in the mystery of solving what is going. Like a peacock spreading its feathers it uses tried and tested cinematic techniques of informing the audience of danger lurking, just letting the camera linger on a character’s face in a room. But at the same time denies the audience to see all of said ‘peacock’. So, in short, what you want, you don’t get.

Genre fatigue
One could easily blame the detective genre for this. After years and years of detective novels, TV-shows and movies (most recently the brilliant Knifes Out (2019)) which were all following Dine’s twenty rules to the tee audiences get alienated when a story tries something different.
Expectations restricting imagination as it were.

But, one could also make the argument, why change a winning formula? Would The Good Liar really have suffered that greatly if the 'why' was brought to the forefront a little earlier than the big finale?
I don’t think so. I actually believe it would make the story work a whole lot better.


At least it would have prepared/guided me a bit for the emotional somersault the Roy character goes through in the finale.

Audiences will always identify with a main character. Even if he or she is a villain. No matter how vile and despicable (often) he is.

But the trick here is to do vilify the villain slowly (like Ian McKellen’s character in Apt Pupil (1998)). Not to, suddenly, spring a whole new level of villainy on our evil protagonist out of the blue.

Basically the finale to The Good Liar was the textbook example of the ‘introduction of the big bad’. In any (action)movie the main bad guy’s introduction is accompanied with him doing something dastardly. Done early the movie can build from that.

But if you’ve already got the audience invested in a character and then, after a full hour and a half, spring a disturbingly dastardly deed on the character without leading into it it alienates the character and the audience is left in limbo.

The only movie this worked in, I think, is Heat (1995) with Tom Sizemore’s character. But he was a side-character, not one of the protagonists. The audience hardly knew the guy so his ‘big dastardly deed’ in the end was a possibility that could come from this character.

Maybe a bit more predictable since any weathered moviegoer/ crime fiction enthusiast now has the 'Why' handed to complete the mental jigsaw.
But, then again, this would also shift focus from the core mystery to the many other wonders that The Good Liar has to offer its audience.

Visually a detective story
The visual flair of The Good Liar is one of the main reasons to see this movie (apart from the obvious two reasons I’ll mention below). Shot in London and Berlin the camera makes good use of showing the beauty of the scenery. It truly is a bit of a tourist folder (complete with British upper-class fashion). But there’s much more. Little shots here and there that elevate the tale and truly making it a colourful feast for the eye.

There’s a brilliant little strip-club scene that is a deliciously lit set. The setting makes all the character on screen grubby and morally grey. The camera, then underlines this with quick successions of shots, just lingering long enough to capture a thoughtful silence or two.

Every set is like this; well chosen and fitting the moment in the movie with the camera subtly underlining what you see instead of distracting from it.

But, of course, the main attraction here are Ian McKellen and Helen Mirror facing off. Both have played baddies. Both have played absolute sweethearts. Both have played strong and powerful. Both have played frail.

It’s clear from the opening credits that these two acting forces are going to dominate every scene that they are in, and they do.

Who can forget Mirren’s deadpan:
“Try the c*ck, Albert. It's a delicacy, and you know where it's been.”
In The cook the thief the wife the lover (1989).

Playing both weak and empowered at times, relying on each other as they are building their characters. Just a moment here and there with a changing look. It deepens the mystery (which is only in the way anyhow) and enriches the characters.

The Good Liar shouldn’t be seen for the mystery it promises. You just have to enjoy this thriller for the two acting giants having a go at each other. Shot beautifully this movie gives all the room for its two stars to shine and to show us which one of the two is the better liar. (That’s a lie, they both are).

Tick, tick, BOOM: Bomber movies.

A dark, cramped space. Before the hero is a strange box filed with numerous tangled wires connecting explosives to a clock counting down. He's holding a cheap cutter in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He is sweating. He is nervous. He needs to cut a wire, red or blue before the timer runs out. Which one will he choose?


A conundrum hilariously spoofed in Cats & Dogs (2001).

In the late eighties, early nineties, bomber-movies became a thing. With which I mean a movie about a mad bomber leaving time-detonated explosives around and it’s up to the heroes of the movie to dismantle them before the time is up!

Movies like these were done before, like the famous Rollercoaster (1977), but in the nineties something caused a quick succession of movies to be made about this subject. It probably had something to do with the Troubles in Ireland coming to an end. But that’s just me having a guess.

There are numerous examples from the nineties like Live Wire (1992), The Final Cut (1995),

Which, by including the (sexual) fantasy of the ‘human bomb’,
created quite the effective metaphor of the inevitability of death.

Bombmeister (1992) and, of course, Blown Away (1994) and Speed (1994). These last two are interesting because these two movies ‘broke the mould’ as it were.

It’s all about the bomb, not the bomber.
You see, bomber-movies aren’t –almost by definition- that interested in the persona of the bomber. These kinds of movies prefer to focus on the ones defusing the bombs and the (psychological) peril they find themselves in at that time, not necessarily the demented reasoning of the culprit placing those devices. This guy usually gets shot down (almost as an afterthought) the minute the last bomb has been defused (The Kingdom (2007), The Hurt locker (2008)).

This notion, however, shifted a bit when Blown Away and Speed came to show. Now suddenly these mad-bombers had a reasoning for their actions. And because of their presence the whole situation of defusing bombs became far more perilous. Suddenly the vengeful act of the ‘mad-bomber’ was personal. Meaning: the bomber knows/knew how the ‘defuser’ thinks.

But, to be honest, these criminals always remain rather two-dimensional in character. Their motives never anything more than ‘classical’ revenge.

The bomber-movie, therefore, I consider a full 100% different than, let’s say, the serial-killer movie in which the villain and his motives are important. In short: The bomber-movie is all about preventing the end result. When other movies are all about understanding the villain.

One could say that in bomber-movies spectacle takes the forefront over narrative.

It’s all about the bomber, not the bomb.
To take a little side-track I should point out the main MacGuffin of Face/Off (1997). In this movie the
evil Castor Troy has placed a bomb somewhere and it is up to the detective to pull off some shenanigans to find out where the bomb is and diffuse it.

An interesting part about this movie is that here the bomb is the afterthought. The whole defusing-scene leaves the audience utterly unimpressed. This because the movie (rightfully so) prefers to focus all its attention on the dynamic between the criminal and the detective.

As such the ‘bomb-element’ could be replaced with any other cataclysmic event. Be it poisonous gas, a terrorist attack, evil grandmothers, it doesn’t matter. The movie wouldn’t change.

Usually, in movies that have somewhat of a ‘bomber-movie’-plot point in them timing is, rather more, ‘lucky’.
Like the pitch, perfect, phone call in Law Abiding Citizen (2009).
Or, the perfectly timed (no time for a simple warning phone call) car bomb
in The Dark Knight (2008).

So, in short the formula appears to be this: more focus on the bomb(s) equals less focus on the bomber. More focus on the bomber equals less focus on the bomb.

The bomber is dead…tick, tick, the bomb.
The interesting thing about bomber-movies is that the bomber can be dead and still his ‘legacy’ remains a danger. So the bomber-movies have a ‘trump-card’ to play around with. Now there isn’t a mad man with his finger on a button. Rather the mad-man has pushed the button already and it is up to our heroes to save the day before time runs out.

This creates a second schism in bomber movies (apart from the ‘focus’ mentioned above). Do you tell the audience WHEN the bomb is going to go off or do you suffice by merely telling the audience that there IS a bomb?

Countdown to zero.
Do you remember James Bond defusing the bomb in Goldfinger (1964), of course it was going to land on 007-seconds left.

The big trope in bomber-movies is the ‘countdown’ before something terrible happens. To make this happen you need two things: a clock or an action (per example: picking up a phone in Payback (1999)). And an audience who knows the requirements for the bomb to go off.

To take the classical example of a bomb set to go off at noon. Invented by Hitchcock -and often referred to by him when he explained ‘Suspense’-, for his film Sabotage (1936).

I’m not quite sure if I’m correct here. But I think I am.

In this movie the criminal gives a bomb to a boy, whilst telling the boy that the package has to be
delivered at the town hall in the office of the burgomaster at twelve noon.

The boy goes on his way and, since he is a young boy, gets distracted all the TIME.

Every single scene after the boy receives this ‘package’, Hitchcock included a clock. He informed the audience of the bomb in the package and the fact that it’ll blow up at twelve-o-clock. So each clock the audience sees is horror. As the boy visits the market, watches a display at a window. In the end the boy boards a bus and is almost out of time. Yet, there is hope. He might still make it.

And if he does: wilfully condemning the people at the town hall to death! (Because the audience never ‘met’ them).

A moviemaker can stretch this out for ages. In fact, various movies tried to prolong this ‘feeling of tension’ throughout the running time (like Wedlock (1991)).

But, to be clear, this ‘trick’ only works for so long. However, if you don’t know the timer you can prolong the feeling of dread a whole lot longer.

Countdown to when?
The short period of bomber-movies in the nineties are interesting because halfway through the hype Hollywood reasoned that it was, in fact, rather silly to have a countdown clock on each and every bomb. Because, let’s be reasonable here, why WOULD a bomber let the defuser know the time left?

So a second genre of the bomber movie came to the foreground. Stories that merely told the audience that there was a bomb set to go off, but not when.

This paved the way to a new form of creating tension. Informing the audience that something is going to blow up during the duration of the movie creates an uneasiness that lingers. Not necessarily edge of your seat tension but rather a constant feeling of dread. This tension was masterfully used in the (underrated) Arlington Road (1999).

And like Hitchcock years before moviemakers weren’t afraid to let the thing go off in The sum of all fears (2002).

No more bombs?
Nowadays the bomber-movie plot- elements have gone away a bit. I blame fatigue of the subgenre and, of course, real life terrorism for this. But still the techniques remain.

Thanos getting hold of all the stones in Avengers: Infinity War (2008) is a clear usage of the ‘bomber movie without a countdown technique’ and when he finally gets hold of the stones the movie shifts over in ‘countdown territory’ with Captain America trying to prevent Thanos from snapping his fingers.

And to be honest, that’s fair. A bomber movie is only successful if the bomb doesn’t go off (a happy ending). But the audience flocks to the cinema to see stuff getting blown up. Basically a bomber-movie is a movie that promises what it isn’t allowed to deliver. Tangled wires indeed.

Bomb defused!
Bomber movies, or movies that use –at one time or another- the elements from bomber movies want the audience to experience the dread of a possible cataclysm devised by a person who isn’t present when it happens.

Bomber movies are the ultimate anti-James Bond movie because the main villain doesn’t matter. He’s not there at the scene of the crime. He’s either dead or behind the scenes contemplating.
The reason bomber movies, or elements of the bomber movies, work is because it brings to the forefront a sense of imminent danger that we, the audience, love to see defused.
Bomber movies give the audience a thrill ride because ‘we all know’ that danger is lurking around every corner and this, particular, danger has a timetable.