Tuesday, October 14, 2025

Film Reviews: The Short Horror Films of David F. Sandberg - Lights Out / Not Alone in Here / Shadowed

 "Short Horror Films By David F. Sandberg"

Star Ratings Irrelevant

Are you afraid of the dark? It's a question filmmaker David F. Sandberg is very interested in.

I first became aware of Sandberg when I reviewed his feature-length film debut, the horror film "Lights Out" (2016). At the time I declared it the horror movie of the year and placed it on my year-end top ten list. Sandberg, I believed, was going to turn into a major talent. And so he has. A year later I was impressed once again with his "Annabelle: Creation" (2017), placing it in on year-end list. It was a step up for Sandberg to direct a film that was part of the "Conjuring Universe". His success continued; directing films that were part of the DC Universe; "Shazam!" (2019) and its sequel "Shazam! Fury of the Gods" (2023).

Sandberg however has directed several short films. In fact, he continues to direct short films in between his major theatrical releases. To me this implies a strong fondness for this particular format of filmmaking; and why I wanted to explore it during this year's blog theme, Life is Short - my year long look at short films. I would imagine short films provide Sandberg and his wife, Lotta Losten - who stars in these films - the opportunity to explore ideas and filming techniques. These short films aren't meant to be miniature three act structures. They are simple premises, based on singular ideas, that in some cases run approximately three minutes long. The films are simply meant to explore our fear of the dark. 

"Lights Out" was based on a 2013 short film of the same title starring Losten. In the film she is about to go to bed and shuts off her hallway light. Whenever she does this though a shadowy figure appears at the end of the hall. No matter how many times she flicks the light on and off the figure remains in the dark. The woman finally decides it is best to keep the light on and with some trepidation goes in her bedroom. From her bed the situation intensifies. She can see the light in the hallway shut off and her bedroom door appears open. Each time an incident happens the woman hides under her blanket only to discover something new has transpired when she peaks up. It escalates to a frightening conclusion. This is all accomplished in just under three minutes.

Unlike other short films I have watched recently, this isn't academic filmmaking focused on the heavy use of symbolism and metaphor. What it is however is excellent filmmaking nonetheless. Sandberg knows how to frame a scene and build suspense by playing on an audience's expectation. That is what I responded to so strongly in his feature-length version of "Lights Out" but Sandberg displays that talent here in this short as well.

What Sandberg and Losten, who is listed as a co-directed on the film, do so effectively in "Lights Out" is put the audience in her perspective. We don't know more than she does. We experience everything as she does. Some horror movies for example will show a killer in the corner of a frame but the main characters don't see the person. Other horror movies put us in the POV of the killer, stalking their victim, who never seems cognizant of their surroundings. In "Lights Out" information is delayed until the character discovers it. So each time she hides under that blanket, and we are shown her hiding, we never know what to expect when she looks up. We hearing someone's footsteps. We hear the light switch go off. And that is enough to scare us. 

Contrast that with what Sandberg does in "Not Alone in Here" (2020). Sandberg and Losten change the dynamic a bit but bring to the fore an idea that was in the background of "Lights Out". It's not just the idea of being in the dark that is scary, it's the idea of being alone. "Lights Out" exposes our fear of the dark but what was really scary for the woman in the film is the fact she was all by herself. That's adds to our fear. Not having anyone to share the experience with. Not having someone around who could possibly protect us.

That is what "Not Alone in Here" examines. This time the film takes place largely in light. A woman (Losten) is almost positive she looked her kitchen door but when she sees the door wide open, her mind begins to play tricks on her. For this film narration is used as an inner dialogue. It is meant to further place us in her mind. The woman tries to calmly diagnose the situation. Even if the door was locked what should she do next? Call the police? And tell them what? Leave and check into a hotel? Then she'll never know if the person left or not when she returns? 

Instead the women searches her home with a large knife. She goes room by room until she is somewhat comfortable and stays in her bedroom. This is the first time the women is in the dark. She is still afraid which proves light or dark is immaterial, the real fear comes from our mind and being alone.

"Shadowed" finds Sandberg and Losten looking for new ways to explore these themes. This short is a bit closer to "Lights Out" but what I found improved upon was Sandberg's scene composition. The film begins with a woman (Losten again) sitting in her bed when the power suddenly goes out. What caught my eye is the window is directly in the foreground. Horror movie fans probably have their eyes trained to expect something to walk pass the window or stare through the window. That by itself builds tension. When the power goes out, the woman grabs a flashlight in her bedroom drawer. Each time she thinks she hears a noise, she points the flashlight and her body in the direction of the noise. This caused me to expect something to be behind her when she turns around. Which may or may not happen. Sandberg is playing the audience like a piano. He knows the tropes and knows the audience does too.

This film also differs from Sandberg's other shorts by adding surrealism, this is something we saw in his earlier short, "Closet Space" (2016), which adds a new layer to his work. In "Shadowed" wherever she points the flashpoint she sees a shadow of something not in the room. At first it is innocent, the shadow is of a vase on her dresser, but then it turns scarier, the shadows are of people.

Of the three shorts this is probably Sandberg being his most symbolic. Flashlights, my old film school professors taught us, represent both hope and danger. The flashlight can be used for survival but of course, it only illuminates a small area, leaving room for potential danger. That is exactly the theme Sandberg is playing with here and in "Lights Out" - the dichotomy between light and dark, fear and safety. 

If there are faults with Sandberg's films, the main one is the treatment of its female characters. The shorts seems to go out of their way to suggest unspeakable danger, and possible torment, awaits the character and terrify her. This is partly a trope of the genre, the cruel treatment of women. So to criticize these shorts, means to criticize the entire genre. What distinguishes these short films from other horror movies is at least the set-ups created by Sandberg and Losten are scary. But we know from directors like Jennifer Kent and Erin Lovett that you can create female led horror films, work within the tropes, and still add emotional depth and treat the characters with respect.

The other downside to these shorts is their running time. You aren't going to accomplish much of a narrative arc in three minutes. These aren't shorts you watch for their intricate storylines. It would be difficult to see how these storylines could be expanded into feature-length films. But  I wouldn't have been able to see how Sandberg would transform his "Lights Out" short into a feature film. I think Sandberg merely views these shorts as fun experiments, where he can test out ideas.

That becomes a takeaway for short films in general. They help directors explore ideas and learn how to execute them. You can see this in Sandberg's work. You also see the joy of filmmaking despite the scary content of the films. Sandberg and Losten appear to be having a good time, which becomes infectious.

I'm happy to say Sandberg's talents appear to have been recognized by other critics as well. When the theatrical version of "Lights Out" was released, former Chicago Sun-Times critic Richard Roeper wrote the movie gave him the chills and went on to praise the film stating it "isn't merely one of the scariest movies of the year - it's one of the best movies of the year, genre be damned." Over at the Chicago Tribune they called Sandberg's second feature, "Annabelle: Creation", "uncommonly, nerve-wrackingly satisfying."

Sandberg's last short film was in 2023 but he continues to direct feature-length projects, such as this year's "Until Dawn" (2025), which is available on various streaming platforms. The film is based on a video game, which is a trend I am not particularly fond of; though I am happy to say it was shot in Budapest. Movie fans may also be happy to know Sandberg has another film in pre-production called "Below".

This trio of short films by Sandberg showcase a highly capable filmmaker exploring and developing his craft. His continuous examination of our fears of the dark and isolation is quietly turning him into one of the most accomplished directors in the horror genre in the past decade. If you are looking for a good scare this Halloween watch these short films, alone and in the dark.

Friday, October 10, 2025

Film Reviews: There's Nothing There & The Knowing

"There's Nothing There"

 ** 1/2 (out of ****)

Short films can be a wonderful tool for filmmakers to develop ideas, learn their craft, and be launching pads for feature-length films - in most cases the director's ultimate goal.  This year's blog theme, Life is Short - my year long look at short films has given me the opportunity to watch several short films and with it being October, I've turned my eyes toward horror films.

If there is one thing I dislike about short films it is that they are largely academic, textbook examples of filmmaking. Given the limited running time, they rely heavily upon symbolism and metaphor to tell their stories. Feature-length filmmaking does this as well but in short films it is more compact and serves as a shorthand to introduce themes. If you aren't steep in your knowledge of symbolism, the average viewer will miss it.

I've selected two shorts; "There's Nothing There" (2023) and "The Knowing" (2023) that focus on similar themes of trauma and remorse and use many of the same symbols. That's what I meant by textbook examples. When I was studying film at Columbia College in Chicago, and made my own short films, I learned the same symbolism these filmmakers used and how to quickly get information across the screen. My eyes are able to zero in on it with lightening speed.

But I also chose these two short films for another reason. One was directed by a man - Alessandro Russotti and the other a woman - Erin Lovett. I thought it would be interesting to see how men and women examine similar themes. Both short films also center their stories on female characters, strengthening the comparison.

"There's Nothing There" - which can be seen on YouTube - literally begins with a woman (Maxine Denis) walking into her condo apartment, staring at herself in a mirror. Without knowing anything about the plot, I immediately knew this story was going to be psychological, revolving around inner emotional conflict. In film, a mirror is a symbol for duality, because it cast a reflection. That is what I meant by short hand to introduce themes. The film runs just under 15 minutes and within under a minute the director tips his hat to what kind of story this will be, if your eye catches the symbolism. Short films demand this type of economical storytelling. Practically every frame has a symbolic or metaphorical purpose.

As the woman (the credits call her Kate) stares at the mirror and her phone, a caption appears on screen stating an incoming call from Richard (voiced by Alex Gravenstein). Richard is either a husband or boyfriend who she lives with. He is out of town for work. Their first line of dialogue is about Kate's confusion regarding how Richard can call her because of his phone's poor reception. This is going to become another symbol for a poor line of communication between the couple. The dialogue feels a little awkward and we can sense Kate's uneasiness answering questions. Richard for example somehow knew Kate was out the previous night. She says she was with a friend, Danielle (Jessica Barbusci) celebrating her twenty-eight birthday but later in the conversation says the friend turned thirty. Clearly Kate is not telling the truth. During the conversation we see a pair of drinking glasses and Kate pours herself a glass of juice. In film school we are taught that glass can both symbolize truth and transparency as well as the fragility of life and relationships.

When the phone call with Richard ends, we are shown a flashback of the party Kate was at. After doing some shots she begins to dance by herself when a man approaches her from behind. His hands fondle her body as he kisses her neck. Kate doesn't make any attempt to move away and the two keep dancing. A messy bedsheet implies more than dancing went on between the two.

While Kate was on the phone with Richard she thought she saw a man standing outside, looking up at her apartment. Suddenly the door handle turns but the door is locked. The handle begins to move in a frantic, violent manner, scaring Kate. But when it suddenly stops we are meant to ask ourselves, did that really happen or did Kate imagine it?

That becomes the hook to Russotti's film. How much of what we are seeing is taking place inside Kate's mind? Did the door handle really move? Was the phone conversation real? Is everything a figment of Kate's imagination, representing something deeper?

The situation escalates when the man Kate was dancing with appears in the apartment, though we never see anyone enter through the door. His appearance causes the glass with Kate's juice to shatter and broken glass becomes another symbol. At this point in the story most viewers should grasp what is going on. Kate cheated on Richard at the party and now either that man is back or Kate's guilt and remorse over the incident is catching up with her; causing Kate to deal with her inner emotional conflict.

This doesn't seem to be an entirely new concept for Russotti. He appears to like to center his films around issues of morality, as seen in another work of his, "Street Walker" (2023). That film wasn't as academic and mechanical as "There's Nothing There" but I get the sense Russotti focuses on female characters because they are a trope in the suspense / horror genre - a la the damsel in distress - and not because of an interest in telling stories from a female perspective.

Nevertheless the actresses that do appear in his short films are quite talented. Maxine Denis has a great deal of talent and I am eager to see her in more mainstream productions. I've known, worked with, and reviewed amateur actresses, Denis is a step above. Her craft will grow as she appears in more of these short films. She already understands how to use her body to project emotion, create a presence on screen and engage an audience.

"There's Nothing There" faces a familiar challenge for short films; which are made on limited budgets. It confines a lot of its action to a single location. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. In the right movie that can represent claustrophobia. The problem with this particular location is it is quite small and has an open floor plan with a bedroom. It is difficult to create and build suspense and horror in such a location. A larger home with more rooms - i.e. more hiding spaces and treacherous corners - would have created more opportunities for suspense.

Technically I can't fault the filmmaking and did like one sequence Russotti created when stops time and Kate is revisiting the party as an onlooker. Everyone but Kate and her friend are active and everyone else is frozen. It is a device we have seen in various Christmas Carol adaptations and even more recently in Francis Ford Coppola's "Megalopolis" (2024). It is a visually dynamic way to force the audience to pay attention to a specific detail.

"There's Nothing There" is a technically well-made short film but a bit too mechanical. There is no true emotion to what is going on. It has a formulaic, by the numbers sensibility to it. We aren't completely drawn to the lead character because we haven't been made to care about her enough. You can however see how "There's Nothing There" would be a sequence in a larger movie.

"The Knowing"
 *** (out of ****)

If "There's Nothing There" would be a sequence in a larger movie, Erin Lovett's "The Knowing" (2023) - also available on YouTube - is a beautiful three act structure within itself. Running roughly one minute longer than Russotti's film, "The Knowing" is a fully structured storyline. Nearly all of the elements are there to turn this into a feature-length film.

"The Knowing" is a deeply emotional, psychological and personal story of woman dealing with the trauma of a miscarriage. No one in the film says the word but Lovett finds a perfect metaphor when the lead character cuts her finger and her blood splats on the floor. All is immediately understood and draws a comparison to "There's Nothing There". Both movies have a woman cut her finger, symbolizing internal pain but Lovett and "The Knowing" convey more than symbolism; they add a layer of emotional depth to the image.

The film utilizes a flashback format - which I found slightly confusing at times - to tell the story of Lea (Anna Wood), a freelance reporter and a glass artist dealing with the lost of a child as she takes a break from the world and her husband (Rafi Silver) by visiting a cabin in the woods. 

Once again words aren't spoken but their implications are there. An artist creates. Creation is life. Life is contrasted with death. At the cabin Lea begins to have brief sightings of a dark mysterious figure. Is it her imagination? The Grim Reaper? A representation of her grief and trauma? The vision first occurs when she is working with red stained glass - signifying the same thing it did in "There Nothing There" - and looks through it. The figure is gone when Lea stares out with her naked eye but she instantly hears distant whispers.

During Lea's time in the cabin she is triggered into flashbacks highlighting her relationship with her husband. It ranges from his desire to become a father to the moment when she reveals she is pregnant. One powerful scene has the couple discuss the implications of Lea having a baby. The dialogue stresses the financial difficulty of raising a child as well as the sacrifices that a woman must make. Lea tells a story about her mother having to give up on her education in order to raise children.

This seems to be the thrust of what "The Knowing" is thematically hinting at. It is about the horror and trauma within that women experience. It isn't fully explored as well as it could be in a feature-length format but an addition story of a woman who had a "back alley" abortion suggests this is a story about women and motherhood, societal expectations of mothers, and the devastating consequences that can occur.     

As with "There's Nothing There", the lead actress carries the film. Anna Wood is remarkably good in the role. She has acted in some mainstream television productions, appearing in episodes of shows such as "The Good Wife", "Madam Secretary" and "Law & Order". It is quite apparent she is no amateur. Her acting craft shines through as she expresses a wide range of emotions from guilt to fear. We not only accept her as a believable character, we actively follow her on her journey.

It seems to be in line with the work of the director, Erin Lovett. This is her narrative film debut but she has directed episodes of two CNN docu-series, "Our America with Lisa  Lang" and "This is Life with Lisa Lang". That background implies a desire to tell real world stories from an emotional perspective. That is what gives "The Knowing" its strength. For a short film it is grounded in the techniques of filmmaking but has emotional weight. Lovett did direct a Lifetime television movie called "A Deadly Threat to My Family" (2024), which sadly I have not seen. I do however look forward to seeing more of her work.

By the time "The Knowing" ends, I was reminded of Jennifer Kent's fantastic horror film "The Babadook" (2014). Both films suggest people must learn to find ways to live with their grief and not let it control them. Kent found a terrific symbol for "feeding the beast" that I slightly prefer to Lovett's final image but it is just as powerful in a quieter way. It would be great to see Lovett's get the opportunity to expand this story in a feature-length film as Kent did with her short film, "Monster" (2005).

The value of watching short films is to be able to discover new talents like Erin Lovett and Alessandro Russotti. Both have potential but Lovett comes off as the more complete filmmaker - technically aware, mature, emotional and honest. "The Knowing" has moments of suspense and compassion. It shows how much narratively you can get out of a fifteen minute movie.

Tuesday, October 7, 2025

Film Review: Fright Night - 40th Anniversary

 "Fright Night"

  *** (out of ****)

"You have to have faith for this to work on me!" declares the vampire when confronted with a crucifix. It is a line that's spoken near the end of the film but it is at the core of "Fright Night" (1985), which is celebrating it's 40th anniversary. 

I don't believe this dialogue or scene is actually about spirituality or religion. It is about having faith in yourself. The man holding the crucifix is an old out of work actor, Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowall). He was best known for appearing in horror movies as a vampire killer; but he is a fraud who not only doesn't believe in vampires, he doesn't believe in himself anymore.

Peter was approached by a teenager, Charley (William Ragsdale) who is convinced his next door neighbor, Jerry Dandridge (Chris Sarandon) is a vampire; responsible for a series of recent deaths. Charley has made it known he is aware of Jerry's true identity and is now desperate for help when no one will believe him, including his girlfriend Amy (Amanda Bearse) and friend, nicknamed "Evil" Ed (Stephen Geoffreys). Charley must now place his own faith in his favorite actor to kill the vampire. "Fright Night" is not so much about vampires as it is these two central ideas - having faith in yourself and the relationship between life and art.

Writer / director Tom Holland immediately sets up these themes in the movie's opening sequence, which takes place at night, with the shot of a full moon and a wolf's howl. We hear a couple; a startled man and a flirtatious, sensual woman. She suggest they remain outside and sit on a veranda. The camera pans from left to right along a suburban neighborhood but we can't see the couple. The dialogue becomes sexually suggestive as the man begins to compliment the woman's pale, luminescent skin and red lips. The camera lands on a home and begins to zoom towards a bedroom window. We hear kissing and suddenly see a television, making it apparent this was the source of the dialogue; subconsciously blurring a line between life and art. The woman on the television is a vampire and the man is about to be defeated by her seduction and become her next victim. It is quickly revealed there are two people inside of the bedroom, Charley and Amy. The screams and moans of the vampire being killed by a stake in the heart fuses together with the sound of Charley and Amy's aggressive moans, drawing a link between sex and violence. Initially the television image doesn't match the real world as it is Charley that is the aggressor but soon life imitates art when Amy, much like the female vampire, becomes the sexually dominate one, after Charley complains he is tired of waiting to take their relationship to the next level, after a year of dating.

The movie takes this interesting gender dynamic of  Amy as the pursuer and Charley reluctantly pursued - much like the startled man first heard and the vampire woman the consoler - and transitions it into a Hitchcockian scenario a la "Rear Window" (1954) with Charley spying on his next door neighbors when he sees a coffin being taken into a basement. Much like Hitchcock's film the spying becomes a substitute for intimacy.

While male performance anxiety may have been the motivation for Charley's sudden avoidance of sex with Amy, it is fittingly as it serves one of the genre's most famous tropes; virginity as sacred. The concept of the dangers of pre-marital sex is often applied to female characters but notice how Holland flips the cliché; it is the male character's virginal status that saves the day. That's a subversive move on the film's part that went unnoticed in some mainstream reviews at the time.

This does lend itself to how the film treats these two characters differently. Charley's "purity" is contrasted with Peter. Notice when Charley aims a crucifix in front of the vampire, it immediately shrieks away. When Peter does it, the vampire mocks him. Charley's innocence becomes a weapon he can use against evil.

Compare that to how  Amy is treated. Her "purity" isn't a weapon used against evil. Instead it becomes her weakness, as she is seduced by Jerry. And notice the blatant sexuality evoked in how Jerry seduces Amy. The movie wants us to ignore / forget the fact Jerry is a grown man and Amy is only a 17 year old girl. The act of a vampire piercing the neck of their victim does have a sexual connotation to it, especially if the vampire is a man and the victim is a woman. You could make the argument Bram  Stoker's Dracula was about sexual repression during the Victorian era. Keep that in mind as you watch the scene when Jerry bites Amy's neck. Here is how such a scene is shot nine out of ten times. We start with a  medium shot of the victim's back. The vampire opens his mouth, so we can see his fangs. He goes into for the bite while the camera then switches positions. Now we see the back of the vampire in a medium shot, so we can see the victim's face, reacting to the bite. Again, this is standard but pay attention to how "Fright Night" does it. Amy's naked back is exposed to us in a long shot. Jerry seductively leans in to bite her neck. The camera position doesn't change. Jerry continues to bite Amy when suddenly blood drips down Amy's neck and back. How does an audience not interpret that as Amy being deflowered? Sure, you can brush off a deeper symbolism of the dripping blood and try to convince yourself it is just an example of excessive gore but the fact that  Amy is a virgin, makes the blood sexual and symbolic 

As interesting as these characters are however it is McDowall's Peter Vincent that brings the movie to life. In Roger Ebert's Chicago Sun-Times review he referred to McDowall as  "The center of the movie" and so he is. By having Peter Vincent - an obvious homage to Peter Cushing and Vincent Price - as the embodiment of the film's self belief theme, he becomes the moral center, along with Charley. Peter also becomes the perfect representation of art imitating life.

The realization of life imitating art becomes crystal clear to Peter in one of the most emotionally complex scenes in the entire movie; Peter witness the death of a vampire that has transformed into a werewolf. The scene is initially played for horror; in slow motion we see the werewolf charging towards Peter, who is preparing to meet his demise. When the werewolf leaps toward Peter, he accidentally impales the wolf with a banister railing. If vampire hunting wasn't real to Peter before, it  most certainly is now. The werewolf begins to return to human form and reaches out to Peter for help. The scene becomes both frightening and sympathetic at once. Holland doesn't break away, adding to the tension as Peter has a moment when we wants to grab the hand of the vampire. We sympathize with his decision to do so until Peter stops himself and realizes what the implication would be. He must watch the vampire die in front of him; as the painful howls of the wolf  fill the room; tearful Peter looks on.

This becomes more than what Peter was anticipating. His motivation for helping Charley had nothing to do with a belief in vampires and a desire to help. It was a purely financial decision brought on by an eviction notice. For Peter, this was all just a quick, harmless way to make a dollar.

And this becomes why the "You have to have faith" line becomes so crucial to the movie. Peter's acting the hero won't protect him. He needs to learn to believe in himself and his art. Only then will he be able to stop the evil in front of him.

It also shouldn't go unmentioned that the fact the movie takes place in the American suburbs is within itself a social commentary. A lot of emphasis isn't placed on it, so I won't belabor the point but ever since WW2, suburbia was considered a safer alternative to life in a big city. By the 1980s however crime was on the rise in the suburbs. A vampire moving into the area doesn't help either.

At this point it seems like I have discussed everything in "Fright Night" except for the vampires and the horror. The movie could be described as a modern day adaptation of the vampire legend, only instead of a European setting, it takes place in America. This isn't exactly an entirely new concept as "Son of Dracula" (1943) for example did something similar and could be interpreted as a commentary on WW2. For its part however "Fright Night" does a moderately good job of retelling a traditional vampire story while finding humor in its contemporary setting. Maybe that's why the wonderful New York Times critic Janet Maslin wrote in her review, the movie "has a lot more personality than the usual horror film". That "personality" most likely referred to the comedic elements in the story, which may have made this material feel fresh for 1980s audiences. If that were true, it would be quite ironic because back in the 1940s it was "Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein" (1948) that brought about a renewed interest in Universal's Monster characters.

The 1980s by extension seems to have been part of a trend of taking these horror monsters and adapting them in modern times, sometimes for comedy. In 1985 alone you had "Teen Wolf" and "Weird Science"; modern takes on the Wolf Man and Frankenstein's Monster. But the decade also saw  "Monster Squad" (1987), "An American Werewolf in London" (1981), "The Howling" (1981) and "Frankenweenie" (1984).

Part of what makes "Fright Night" fun to watch is catching the references to older vampire movies such as  "Dracula" (1931) and "Nosferatu" (1922). For example, how does Peter discover Jerry is a vampire? When he doesn't see Jerry's reflection in his pocket mirror, which is very similar to how Van Helsing discovers Dracula's identity in the 1931 movie. Or what about Jerry's long fingernails and skinny, long fingers? That recalls Count Orlok. In one of the movies within the movie, Peter drives a stake into a vampire's heart while blood squirts on him. This is supposed to make us think of the bloody Hammer horror movies.

One element of the movie that managed to divided critics was the movie's special effects. Movie critics like the Chicago Tribune's Gene Siskel felt the gore became too excessive and lost focus of the humor at the beginning of the movie. Janet Maslin had a similar complaint, stating in her review, "its horrific touches are more disgusting than scary." Meanwhile Roger Ebert praised the effects believing they never "overwhelm the action." The effects were done by Richard Edlund, who had previously worked on "The Empire Strikes Back" (1980), "Return of the Jedi" (1983), "Poltergeist" (1982) and "Ghostbusters" (1984). I found the special effects to be quite scary at times and always remained impressed by their craft and artistry.

Tom Holland's career seemed to show great promise with this feature-length directorial debut but the rest of his career never quite matched this movie's potential. One bright spot may have been as the director of the original "Child's Play" (1988) movie, which is arguably the best in the franchise. One of his low points may have been as the director of "Thinner" (1996), based on a Stephen King book.

"Fright Night" was a successful film at the box-office becoming the second highest grossing horror movie of 1985, only second to "Nightmare on Elm Street 2". It's popularity brought about a sequel, "Fright Night 2" (1988) which was unfortunately poorly distributed and unable to match the original's fame. A remake was created back in 2011 starring Colin Farrell as Jerry, as well as its own sequel, "Fright Night 2: New Blood" (2013).

For the last forty years it appears the consensus has been that "Fright Night" is a campy horror / comedy, and that is how the positive reviews describe it. Somehow the film's themes and subversion of horror clichés were lost on critics at its time of release. Perhaps because it wasn't deemed serious for a proper critical analysis. That makes me wonder who are these arbiters of taste that get to decide such things? Nevertheless, "Fright Night" is an entertaining horror movie that perceptive eyes will find many rewards in. Roddy McDowall steals the movie and becomes an on-screen delight.

Saturday, October 4, 2025

Film Review: Secret of the Blue Room

  "Secret of the Blue Room"

   ** 1/2 (out of ****)

The Universal horror / mystery, "The Secret of the Blue Room" (1933) is a true oddity; an inferior rehashing of various plot elements from prior Universal productions, and the strangest examination on the fragility of masculinity I've seen in a long time.

"The Secret of the Blue Room", which was based on a German film with a similar title, follows in the tradition of the haunted house genre established in silent films  "The Bat" (1926) and "The Cat and the Canary" (1927) and later in sound films like "The Old Dark House" (1932); coincidentally the latter two were released by Universal.

The film begins at Castle Helldorf  with the clock striking midnight, signifying the 21st birthday of Irene (Gloria Stuart), as she is surrounded by her father, Robert (Lionel Atwell) and three would be suitors; Walter (Paul Lukas, who I must point out was Hungarian, due to nationalistic pride), Frank (Onslow Stevens) and Tommy (William Janney). This scene will make many modern viewers uncomfortable. First, there is much emphasis placed on Irene's age. In the U.S. in the 1930s, the age of consent was between 16 - 18 but by 21 a person was a legal adult and wouldn't need parental approval for, oh say getting married. The way director Kurt Neumann lingers on this presents the men like vultures going after their prey. It is also bizarre that dear ol' dad just stands by and watches - so much for a paternal instinct (!). And doesn't Irene have any female friends that she could have invited to a birthday celebration?

Perhaps in order to restore some sort of gender balance, screenwriter William Hurlbut - who wrote "The Cat Creeps" (1930), which is now considered lost - has Irene go from prey to huntress, as she sits at a piano and sings I Can't Help But Dream of You; a song with a certain irony to it since the film will become a story about characters that don't want to fall asleep. While we are still able to see the men lust after Irene, it is also noticeable how Irene has these men wrapped around her finger. All she needs to do is simply look at one of the men while she sings a lyric and it causes the men to jockey for position amongst each other. Because this film was based on German material, it made me think of a famous scene from Josef von Sternberg's "The Blue Angel" (1930) when Marlene Dietrich's Lola Lola sings Falling in Love Again, which also had a coyish flirtation to it. The scene here doesn't have the excitement of Sternberg's scene however because Stuart is no Dietrich and Neumann is no Sternberg, meaning they lack the sexuality and visual flair of the former pair.

As the night goes on the group turns their attention to a potential curse that may haunt the castle. Twenty years ago three people were killed in what is known as  "the blue room". Each mysterious death occurred at the stroke of 1am, with the murderer never discovered. In order to prove which of the men is the most courageous - after Irene states the man she marries must have courage - Tommy suggest each of the men spend a night in the blue room, not only to demonstrate their bravery but to also disprove the curse. 

One of the mistakes "The Secret of the Blue Room" makes is not having us see the characters arrive at the castle. This is usually an old standby of the genre; creating extraneous circumstances for a group of individuals to all arrive at the same location. This was wonderfully done in "The Old Dark House". It would have also been better if the men didn't know each other or Irene prior to that night and each fell under her charms.

Also missing from the film is any atmosphere and mood. Where are the old clichés - rain and lightening, a power outage, sinister shadows and interesting camera angles? The film doesn't take advantage of its setting and has a consistent lighting scheme, creating no contrast. How is the audience supposed to be afraid of anything? 

This is quite remarkable considering Universal was the studio that was identifying itself with the horror genre through such titles as "Dracula" (1931), "Frankenstein" (1931), "The Old Dark House" and "The Cat and the Canary". Those films had rich aesthetics based on German Expressionism and Gothic architecture and were directed by stylish storytellers such as Tod Browning, James Whale and Paul Leni. "The Secret of the Blue Room" doesn't have that luxury; although director Neumann had done other horror films, his best known may have been "The Fly" (1958), a fun "B" movie though it does make a social critique. 

While it has been noted "The Secret of the Blue Room" was filmed on sets that also appeared in "The Old Dark House", the film's most distinguished aesthetic is its choice of the placement of statues of Knights in armor throughout the castle. This most likely represents physical acts of strength and bravery. It is as if the castle is a reminder and a taunt of their masculinity or lack thereof.

Notice how "Blue Room" films the scenes when the men individually spend the night in the "cursed" room. It never focuses on the men's apprehension to be in the room. It never heightens the suspense of the situation. Neumann continuously cuts away from the room. When Tommy is the first to spend the night in the blue room the film cuts to Frank and Walter, sharing a room in separate beds. Frank is worried about Tommy and Walter wants to go to sleep. This may seem like unnecessary comic relief but can be interpreted as the embodiment of Freud's Id, Ego and Superego. Tommy is visited by  Irene, while he is in the room. He takes her concern as meaning she cares for him. As he embraces her however she pulls away thus causing him to double down on his decision to remain in the room. In this sense Tommy is the Superego (morality), Frank, the Id (his instincts of possible danger take over) and Walter the Ego (rational).  So while Neumann may cut away to add to the mystery of not knowing what happened, in this particular sequence it can also add to the psychological nature of the characters. It also becomes a wasted opportunity of not visually presenting this psychology through the horror genre. 

One of Neumann's best attempts at horror / suspense is when Frank is in the room. Naturally not one to admit fear, Frank takes a bottle of alcohol with him into the room and begins to play the piano. The camera cuts away to Walter and Irene sitting side by side. They can hear Frank's playing though Irene remains afraid. Walter comforts her by holding her close to him. Within one shot we are getting a mixture of sex (Walter and Irene) and horror (the anticipation of the piano playing to stop). It becomes a visualization of a line Irene tells Tommy earlier in the film, "It must be terrible to be a man and have to be brave." Irene then adds as a woman she can be a coward and have a clean conscience. While the line reinforces gender stereotypes and expectations, it also serves as a justification for the very existence of the film; men proving their bravery. 

"Blue Room" then goes to the usual task of creating possible suspects for viewers such as the Butler (Robert Barrat), the Maid (Muriel Kirkland) and the Chauffeur (Russell Hopton) who are interrogated by a police Commissioner (Edward Arnold) after bodies start disappearing. In critic Mordaunt Hall's New York Times review he actually described this portion of the film as successful in "stirring up a good deal of suspense" claiming the Commissioner was clever. I found these moments rushed and rather than making the Commissioner "clever", I found the script made the suspects "dumb". The only thing that really stood out to me was the rather condescending way the Commissioner and other male characters spoke to the female characters often calling them "little girls".

Credit however should be given to the cast, who all more or less live up to what is expected from them. Some modern viewers may recognize the name Gloria Stuart as the Old Lady from "Titanic" (1997). Stuart appeared in a few of Universal's memorable horror films, "The Old Dark House" and "The Invisible Man" (1933). When a scene calls for Stuart to exhibit innocence, fear, and sexuality, she can do a modest job. Lionel Atwill was an actor I always got the impression wanted to be a great and serious actor and somehow found himself in "B" horror movies. Here he is asked to play his usual refined and distinguished gentleman. The Academy  Award winning actor Paul Lukas wasn't normally cast in leading man roles, due to his accent; however he is admirable in the role portraying not just bravery but a level and calm seriousness and intellect. It becomes the qualities the two other would be suitors lacked.

By the end of "The Secret of the Blue Room", in its attempts to add mystery and suspense, the film raises questions it never has answers for. Some mysteries simply go unexplained. This may be due to the film being Universal's least expensive production of the year, indicating little thought, craft and time went into the film's execution. It is said the film was shot over a six day shooting scheduled. Previous Universal films were just slightly longer in their running time; by no more than 15 minutes, however, there seems to have been a considerable amount of material left on the cutting room floor for this film.

The best that can be said is the film's theme becomes explicitly clear by the film's conclusion; it is perfectly summed up by one of the characters. I also believe the psychological significance of the color blue should be obvious. Blue can sometimes be interpreted as calm and serene - the color of the sky or water - or even melancholy - feeling blue - but it can also symbolize fragility. That can't be an accident.

Thematically this would not be unusual for the pre-code Universal horror films of the 1930s. They often centered around male insecurities and anxieties; man playing God, the fragility of life ("Frankenstein"), sexual repression ("Dracula"), fear of the unknown (honestly pick practically any horror film)..etc. That's what makes "The Secret of the Blue Room" disappointing. It touches on what Universal was doing; both thematically and stylistically, but fails to match or elevate that material. A result of its rushed production, maybe.

Universal evidently liked (?) this material because the film was remade twice; however both times comedic elements were added to the story. The first adaptation was called "The Missing Guest" (1938) and the second, "Murder in the Blue Room" (1944), which went as far as to add comedic songs.

Retrospective reviews I have come across have praised "The Secret of the Blue Room", believing it possesses all of the hallmarks of Universal's best horror movies. While the movie does begin with a storm, that atmosphere does not carry through the rest of the picture. Yes, there is one shot of the shadow of a figure that frightens Irene but the dramatic tension and suspense is not captured as it had been in previous films. These are minor efforts that make this film a "second tier" effort at best. Furthermore none of these reviews mention the film's themes and psychology, which leads me to wonder what exactly were they watching. 

"The Secret of the Blue Room" is a mild mystery / horror film that lacks scares, suspense and atmosphere. The strongest aspect of the film ends up being an examination on the fragility of masculinity. If you'd like to watch a better Universal movie that takes place in a scary old house, find "The Old Dark House".

Wednesday, October 1, 2025

Film Review: Monster

 "Monster"

  *** (out of ****)

One of my favorite horror films of the last decade or so was the Australian film "The Babadook" (2014) directed by Jennifer Kent. I was so impressed by it that I not only placed it on my year-end top ten list in 2014 but included it in my best of the decade list as well.

While "The Babadook" was Kent's feature-length film debut, many may not be aware the film was actually based on a short film she completed several years earlier called "Monster" (2005). Given this year's blog theme, Life is Short - my year long look at short films - and the fact it is October, a time of year when I review more horror films - now seemed like a perfect opportunity to discuss this short.

 As you watch "Monster" - you can find it on YouTube - you can see the germ of the idea that would become "The Babadook". In fact seeing this short again makes me appreciate that film even more, especially when considering where Kent started and how she flourished the idea, providing much needed context and layered emotional / psychological interpretations. If you watch these two films back-to-back you are seeing the growth of an artist.

At approximately 11 minutes "Monster" touches on the core idea presented in "The Babadook"; a nameless Mom (Susan Prior) is raising a Son (Luke Ikimis-Healey) by herself. Unlike in "The Babadook" however no explanation is given for the father's absence. The film opens with the Son loudly playing, as children tend to do. He is pretending to be a Knight killing a monster, a somewhat ugly looking doll. He runs around the house yelling. Mom is in the kitchen doing the dishes. All that can be heard in the house is the Son playing.

Within the first two scenes of "Monster", Kent has immediately addressed the movie's central conflict between Mom and Son. The "soundtrack" of Mom's life is her Son screaming. Kent keeps the sound design at a minimal. There's no music, no television playing the background, and no street noise. Just the sound of the Son playing. What Kent has done here is turned the audience not into impartial viewers but completely sympathetic to Mom's plight. Kent has taken something innocent, the joyous sound of a child playing, and transformed it into something agonizing. 

From there Kent visualizes what could be her greatest representation of Mom's emotional state and the film's theme; the difficulty of motherhood. When we see Mom doing the dishes it is a medium shot of her face but then the camera pulls back into an extreme long shot and now we are on the outside looking into the kitchen through the window; which has bars on it. Kent wants us to see Mom as trapped in "prison".

It is also important to pay attention to which room in the house Kent chose to film this shot; the kitchen. A room often fraught with sexism - a woman's place is in the kitchen - but also a sign of domesticity. Mom is doing the dishes and she is "trapped". Trapped by the expectations of society's view of women and mothers. Kent could have situated this shot in any room of her choice; how about mom lying on a sofa trying to watch TV? But that wouldn't conjure the additional layers of being in the kitchen and doing the dishes does.

Kent doesn't stop at this visualization however, she builds on it with cut away shots of water pouring onto the dirty pots and pans and a shot of liquid about to overflow from a pot on the stovetop. This is all done while the sounds of the Son's screaming fill the air. The nearly overflowing liquid capturing the simmering rage inside the Mom as she is about to reach her boiling point.

This reminded me of a scene in "The Babadook", where after a long day with her son, mom wants to unwind before she goes to bed and take a moment for herself. In the scene she reaches for her vibrator, which much like the kitchen, is loaded with multiple meanings; ranging from being identified with feminism to a symbol of sexual autonomy. As she uses it however; bringing herself closer and closer to orgasm, she is interrupted by her son, who jumps onto her bed, thus "invading" her space . A scene like this could have gone a number of ways. Mom could have been with a man and the son walks in on them but then you lose the lack of personal intimacy and loneliness the mother is feeling. She has no human companionship, just the inanimate vibrator. Both the kitchen scene in "Monster" and the vibrator scene in "The Babadook" capture the overwhelming sense of claustrophobia mom feels.

When "The Babadook" was first released Kent did an interview with the British newspaper The Guardian, where she confirmed her motivation for making the film. "We're all, as women" Kent said "educated and conditioned to think that motherhood is an easy thing that just happens." Kent went on to add in the interview, "I wanted to show a real woman who was drowning in that environment."

That sense of "drowning" goes beyond the kitchen metaphor. "Monster" shows us what appears to be a daily routine - doing dishes and laundry. And notice the little touch Kent throws in about the laundry. When Mom is in the Son's bedroom she is almost hesitant to flip over his blanket, where it is revealed the Son wet the bed. Putting aside whatever psychological trauma this behavior may represent for the Son, Kent keeps the focus on Mom's reaction, implying it is one more thing she must deal with and put up with. It becomes part of the "burden" of motherhood. That "burden" then becomes crystalized when the Son playfully tells his Mom he killed a monster to protect her. Mom doesn't smile or speak to the Son. She retains a blank expression on her face, stares at him and proceeds to finish the household chores. We can sense the tension in the air between them.

Once all of this has been established Kent then shifts the film's tone, creating a more atmospheric psychological horror story. After Mom and Son have a verbal outburst do we then get our first glimpse of the Monster (Trash Vaudeville, which I can't for the life of me believe is a real name but that's who is credited) crunched in the corner of a closet. At first Mom questions what she is seeing but then suddenly the door shuts itself. Startled, Mom opens the door again and sees no one is there.

This adds a rich layer to "Monster". It makes the audience wonder does the Monster really exist or is it a representation of Mom's frustration and anger? It is a move that elevates the material into the kind of horror film I personally prefer; one that examines the horror within us. That is much more scarier than any slasher movie filled with blood and guts.

Given the short running time of "Monster" unfortunately Kent can't quite properly continuously build suspense or create the same level of an eerie atmosphere as she did in "The Babadook" but Kent has the right instinct not to let the presence of the Monster dominate the film. The Monster symbolizes an evil force or spirit that has the potential to loom large over any scene. It is that anticipation that makes "Monster" scary. 

In both "Monster" and "The Babadook", Kent is rather forthright in answering the question of whether or not the Monster exist. I think Kent tips the audience off in two ways; a tender embrace between Mom and her sleeping Son; and a final image suggesting in one way or another we all need to learn how to "feed the beast" in order to lead happy, healthy and productive lives.

Attention should also be given to the acting in "Monster" and in particular Susan Prior's performance. Prior does a fine job of manifesting Mom's exhaustion and later transformation into contentment. Within a short period of time and with limited dialogue Prior's face tells us the whole story and finds a way to make her character sympathetic; despite the risky nature of the character; a mother disconnected from her child. In that same Guardian interview, Kent says she was initially worried about how mothers would react to her work but states, "I've experienced a collective sigh of relief that women are seeing a mother up there that's human."
 
When I first saw "The Babadook" I had hoped it would be the emergence of a fresh new talent. Disappointingly Kent hasn't been as active as I would have liked. Within the course of the eleven year span since the release of "The Babadook", Kent has only directed one other feature length film, "The Nightingale" (2018), which was also a powerful story. I can only hope sexism isn't playing a role in Kent's ability to get financing for her films.

Although it was my predilection to use this year's Life is Short theme to focus on older, silent films - D.W. Griffith, Georges Melies, Guy-Blache, Chaplin...etc. - "Monster" demonstrates the value of  the art of modern day short films. They can be used as a launching pad to help establish the seeds for talented filmmakers. Jennifer Kent is a great example. 

Jennifer Kent's "Monster" doubles as an entertaining, atmospheric horror film and as a strong social critique on the difficulties of motherhood. We can see the seeds of what would become "The Babadook", where all of Kent's creative talents would come together. "Monster" is a thrilling "first draft" which would make an excellent double-feature this Halloween with "The Babadook". 

Sunday, September 28, 2025

Film Review: Festival in Cannes

 "Festival in Cannes"

  *** (out of ****)

This review is dedicated to filmmaker Henry Jaglom, who passed away on September 22, 2025 at the age of 87.

"Festival in Cannes" (2002) was the first film I ever saw in a movie theater directed by the late Henry Jaglom. It was an experience that has stayed with me all of these years later; and one that I fondly recalled upon hearing of the recent passing of the sometimes maverick, independent filmmaker.

I had come across a mixed review of Jaglom's film in the Chicago Tribune, written by movie critic Michael Wilmington, who called the film an "acid valentine". He went on to describe the film as having "moments that are marvelously fresh and alive and others that seem a bit half-baked." Despite my great admiration for Wilmington, I had decided to take a chance and see "Cannes". I thought sometimes really good films go under the radar and are ignored by the public. Perhaps "Festival in Cannes" would turn out to be another example of that.

The film was only playing in one theater in Chicago and was practically empty. That didn't deter me but seemed to validate my initial suspicions of the American movie going public's taste. And then the film started. French music played over a montage of celebrities at the Cannes film festival throughout the years. This, I immediately thought, was going to be both a celebration of cinema and a satirical look at the behind the scenes world of the industry. The question was what kind of insights would Henry Jaglom have, who ever he was?

It wasn't until after I had seen "Festival in Cannes" that I would come to know who Henry Jaglom indeed was. He was an uncredited editor on the film "Easy Rider" (1969), the emblematic film of "New Hollywood" representing a major shift in film culture. Jaglom, though not as universally well known, was part of this movement of young filmmakers creating a generational transformation in the late 1960s / early 70s which included Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Peter Bogdanovich and Woody Allen among others. Jaglom would make his directorial debut a couple years after "Easy Rider" with his film, "A Safe Place" (1971) starring Tuesday Weld with roles for Jack Nicholson and Orson Welles, for whom Jaglom would become a trusted confidant to, as highlighted in Jaglom's book, My Lunches with Orson.

Jaglom spent his career working outside of the Hollywood studio system. It may have costed him greater fame, bigger budgets, and the opportunity to work with major stars but he would have lost something important in the process; his artistic freedom. Jaglom knew what Hollywood could do to an artist. He understood the movers and shakers; and all that had to go into getting a film into production. "Festival in Cannes" in some ways is a biting look into this kind of deal making. If you aren't familiar with Jaglom's work and his interests however that may be all you'll think the film is about. Jaglom had often centered his films around relationships between men and women and their search for love. 

In "Cannes" Jaglom juxtaposes the Hollywood deal making with characters seemingly falling in love with each other. That may hit at the true intent of Jaglom's film; what is the difference between lying to secure a film deal and the lying men do to manipulate women into falling in love with them? In the end it is all the same. Take for example a scene between a middle-aged actress, Alice Palmer (Greta Scacchi) and a renowned older leading lady, Millie Marquand (Anouk Aimee). They are discussing the limitations that come along with growing older in the business and the lack of roles available to women "of a certain age". Men, they both say, have trained women to only find value in themselves through their looks. The actresses almost hunger to hear men tell them they are beautiful. "Festival in Cannes" is filled with a lot of little moments like this. At first glance it seems to be distracting us from the "bigger story" of the deal making but quietly these scenes, I suspect, are really the true point Jaglom wants to make. 

As "Festival in Cannes" begins we learn Alice would like to direct her first feature film. Alice wants to make a "personal film". The kind of film Hollywood doesn't make anymore. In Alice's film it would center on a 60ish year old woman who after years of giving herself to her family would find time for herself. While in Cannes, for the film festival, Alice and her co-writers are approached by a film producer, Kaz Naiman (Zack Norman, who sadly passed away last year). Alice is originally apprehensive of Kaz, who she feels is a bit of a slimy mover-and-shaker, but Kaz has a certain charm about him. He is confident and very generous with his praise. So when Kaz says he has secured three million dollars for Alice's picture, suddenly she is all ears. There is a hitch however. The money comes with the condition the famed French actress Millie Marquand star in the film. This would be a major compromise for Alice, who had envisioned Gene Rowlands playing the role. In fact she told Kaz, the character was written with Rowlands in mind. It is funny though, with three million dollars dangling before her, Alice now thinks Millie may be perfect in the part. The conflict is a major Hollywood producer, Rick Yorkin (Ron Silver) is in town and wants to sign Millie in a new Tom Hanks film he is working on. Hanks will only do the film if Millie is in it. Which offer will Millie accept; the personal project that has meaning and is a starring role or the big budget Hollywood film where she can make a lot of money but will be given a supporting role?

On it's surface, that is the main thrust of the film but Jaglom juggles a lot of sub-plot lines into the story. One that the film spends some time on involves a young actress named Blue (Jenny Gabrielle) who is making her acting debut in a film that is generating lots of positive word-of-mouth and turning Blue into perhaps the next big thing. Blue is uncomfortable with the attention and the implications of what kind of life this could lead to. She meets Rick's assistant, Barry (Alex Craig Mann) and the two seem to be developing a very serious romance. 

This sub-plot mirrors two others; one that is between Rick and Alice and the other between Millie and Viktor (Maximilian Schell), her old lover and once a prominent filmmaker. Rick and Alice repeatedly get together as Rick tries his best to persuade Alice to either find another actress or change her shooting schedule to allow Millie to appear in the Hanks film first. By constantly meeting, "Festival in Cannes" almost suggest a romance could be blooming between these two as well. Meanwhile Millie and Viktor reminiscence about their past together and Millie asks Viktor for career advice. 

While there may be a natural tendency for an audience to become engage in the romance subplots between these characters, that isn't the point. The emphasis should be here are more examples of the shallow ways men interact with women. All Barry sees when he looks at Blue is a bright future in Hollywood. In one scene Barry and Rick get into an argument over Blue's career concerning what her next project should be. What complicates the scene is Blue is standing in front of both men. She is an afterthought in their conversation. No one asks her what would she like to do next. By contrasting Blue to Millie what Jaglom is doing is showing the audience the vicious cycle of the treatment of women in film. We are seeing how it starts and where it ends up. And comparing Blue's potential romance to Alice's, Jaglom is showcasing another cycle, this one less about film and more so about the performance of courtship. If you aren't immediately attuned to Jaglom's plot structure in "Cannes" you can miss the connection, which would make the film feel disjointed. That is probably why the otherwise very good New York Times critic Stephen Holden wrote in his review, "Many of the characters spend the movie badly lying to one another. Then suddenly, near the end, they pair off and begin hugging and dancing around. The abrupt change from bitter to warm-and-fuzzy doesn't compute." It isn't abrupt at all. Jaglom had been weaving this "contradiction" together from the start of the film.

If there was room however for audiences and critics to fail to see the link between these ideas, that speaks to a flaw of the film and Jaglom's inability to do a better job in guiding the audience's eyes. Like his hero Orson Welles, Jaglom is a trickster here making us think this is a biting movie satire when it really has other goals. Why is the film called "Festival in Cannes". Why does the poster show an actress dancing with a cell phone in her hand? Why did the movie's trailer focus on the deal making aspect? Did it all just help to make the film more marketable? Maybe. But now a lot of critics are going to misinterpret the film. Some critics had an inclination to not look so closely for meaning into Jaglom's films. He wasn't considered an "auteur" by their standards, which honestly wasn't fair. There were thematic links between all of his films. A Jaglom film was unmistakable.

The other flaw of the film in Jaglom's story is nothing feels resolved by the end of the film. Each character is wheeling and dealing and going back on their word. By the time the film ends we never see one contract signed. Instead the movie ends with two characters embracing, kissing each other. But even that is left up in the air. Will this couple, or any of the couples, actually stay together? Or does Cannes simply bring out the lover (or liar) in all of us?

For some though the Hollywood satire may be the more entertaining scenes in the film. They are more developed and add humor. "Festival in Cannes" wasn't quite at the level of Robert Altman's "The Player" (1992) - which itself was more than an industry satire but a morality study - but Jaglom also blends fact and fiction effortlessly together. When actors like William Shatner and Faye Dunaway appear on-screen, are they playing characters or do they appear as themselves? Much of the cinematography done by Jaglom regular Hanania Baer has a handheld shaky quality to it, as if this was all being secretly filmed on the Croisette. It creates an unnecessary and distracting contrast in styles.

What I loved most about "Cannes" however when I first saw it and now again revisiting it was Zack Norman's performance. Norman plays Kaz as a fast-talking, wild hand gesturing, at times overly confident charmer. It reminds me of Woody Allen. Think of Allen's performance in "Broadway Danny Rose" (1984). That's the upbeat tempo Norman is performing at. The downside is neither Norman or Jaglom have Allen's sense of humor and gift for one-liners. That would have taken Norman over the top. Norman would play a variation of this character in later Jaglom films such as "Hollywood Dreams" (2006) and "Queen of the Lot" (2010). But here Norman delivers one of his finest and funniest performances in a Jaglom film, on par with his work in "Sitting Ducks" (1980). 

In addition to Norman; Ron Silver, Anouk Aimee and Maximilian Schell all come out looking very good. This is the difference between having professional actors and amateurs, who Jaglom would sometimes cast in his films. When you are dealing with professionals they can make underdeveloped characters work because of their screen presence. They simply make you want to watch them. Aimee and Schell in particular are fascinating together making us believe they are a couple with a long history together. Even a cameo performance by the great Peter Bogdanovich is compelling and serves as another example of how men treat women. Listen carefully to his dialogue regarding Irene Dunne and the film "I Remember Mamma" (1948) and pay attention to how he treats his girlfriend (played by his real life wife Louise Stratten, the sister of Dorothy Stratten, who Bogdanovich once had an affair with).

"Festival in Cannes" was Jaglom's follow-up to his most mainstream film, "Deja Vu" (1998), which starred his than wife Victoria Foyt. Jaglom's work with Foyt represented a career high point - critically speaking - signifying a change of direction in Jaglom's films. He would no longer star in his own work and with Foyt co-writing the films, her input was able to add more dimension to the characters. "Last  Summer at the Hamptons" (1996) would be an example. She is sadly missing in this film, but to the two would collaborate on one more film together, "Going Shopping" (2005). Still "Cannes" secured some very good reviews from critics. Scott Foundas at Variety called this Jaglom's "quickest and funniest picture in years and his most accessible." while Rex Reed over at the New York Observer declared it "daffy, engrossing, enlightening, and entertaining".

The praise was well earned. While many critics often feel a director's later works don't equal their early successes; I've often argued against such thinking. Great filmmakers are capable of telling great stories throughout their career, but in the case of Henry Jaglom, I'd have to agree with the consensus. Jaglom's career went on a sad decline in his later years. "Festival in Cannes" was the last worthwhile film he directed, though he continued to make films until 2017 with "Train to Zakopane". It was in some ways a fitting end to his career as it told a very emotional story based on an experience Jaglom's father had. It seemed to have been a story Jaglom wanted to tell for a while. 

And that lends itself to what made Jaglom a sometimes divisive figure; the personal nature of his work. When reviewing Jaglom's "Venice / Venice" (1993), Chicago Sun-Times critic Roger Ebert wrote, "Jaglom has been more or less charting his life for a dozen years now, gathering his friends in front of the camera for mutual analysis, heavy on the psychobabble." Jaglom's films were personal diaries. We may not have known Jaglom in real life but you could tell what was on his mind by watching his films. To write a negative review of a Jaglom film was to write a negative review of Jaglom the man. He may have said bad reviews didn't bother him, but it most certainly bothered those around him. This wasn't unique to Jaglom as most filmmakers are dismissive of critics and protective of their work. But with Jaglom you were operating on a different level. A critic could be accused of personal insult just reviewing one of his films.

In a way it made Jaglom comparable to Francis Ford Coppola. Movies were a familial experience. Just as Coppola would cast his sister (Talia Shire), nephew (Nicholas Cage) and daughter (Sofia Coppola), so too would Jaglom cast wives and family into his films - Foyt, Patrice Townsend, Michael Emil, Tanna Frederick, and his children (Sabrina and Simon, who both appear in "Cannes").

While Jaglom was never appreciated at the same level as Scorsese, Coppola,  Altman or Mike Leigh - a fellow British compatriot - Jaglom was a maestro, though in a minor key. Jaglom's films didn't touch on the big subjects their work did, though he still made personal, quirky, and charming films. It was difficult not to admire his independent spirit, spending a career outside the Hollywood system. How many notable filmmakers come to mind that accomplished that? Off the top of my head only Roger Corman comes to my mind, another figure I admired.

In addition to directing movies, Jaglom was also a good actor, having studied with the legendary Lee Strasberg. He even taught acting as well. Outside of his own films, Jaglom appeared in Jack Nicholson's directorial effort, "Drive, He Said" (1971) and Dennis Hopper's "The Last Movie" (1971). Jaglom also spent a considerable amount of time directing in the theater. "Zakopane" for example was a theatrical play before Jaglom made it into a film. As was his film "Just 45 Minutes From Broadway" (2012). He was even the subject matter of a documentary, the aptly titled, "Who Is Henry Jaglom?" (1997).

Over the course of his career Jaglom directed 21 feature-length films and since the start of this blog, I have reviewed half of his films. He was one of the most reviewed directors on here. Although I haven't reviewed any of his films over the last few years, the thought of knowing there will never be a new Henry Jaglom film is sad. For those with an adventurous cinematic appetite, the films of Henry Jaglom may prove to be rewarding. I would suggest seeing his first film ("A Safe Place"), as well as "Tracks" (1977) with Dennis Hopper, "Sitting Ducks", "Someone to Love" (1987), "Last Summer at the Hamptons", "Deja Vu" and of course "Festival in Cannes".

"Festival in Cannes" can be an uneven experience but it has its pleasures - Zack Norman's performance among them. It is both a biting look at Hollywood and a revealing and disturbing look at how women are treated in Hollywood. Unfortunately that message in "Cannes" got lost in the critical reviews. It is what gives the film some of its heart and more sympathetic scenes, not to mention opportunities to give Scacchi and Aimee some fine acting moments. 

Saturday, September 27, 2025

Film Review: Nashville - 50th Anniversary

 "Nashville"

 *** 1\2 (out of ****)

The very first shot in Robert Altman's "Nashville" (1975) is of a van pulling out of a garage. The van is part of the political campaign of a presidential candidate named Hal Walker. He is running for the Replacement Party's nomination. There is a loud speaker attached to the van blaring Walker's political ideology, the last words we hear before the audio is juxtaposed to the next scene is of Walker explaining how the people can make change. As these words are being spoken we hear a song being sung with lyrics stating we must have been doing something right to last two hundred years.

Within a few brief moments, Altman hits at one of the tensions in his often brilliant film; the (unfortunate) dance between art and politics. Both in their way offer a vision of America and her path forward. They each offer stories meant to interpret who we are as a people and define our expectations - We can create change! Stay the course, we are doing something right! From there Altman expands his story to hit on targets of celebrity, ambition, the media, religion, gender and the American Dream with effortless ease; weaving twenty-four characters in and out of a satire that captured the zeitgeist of the 1970s post-Nixon and Vietnam era.

Yet as "Nashville" celebrates its 50th anniversary we can see how relevant this story remains; given the ascension of celebrity in our politics - the man in the White House used to host a reality TV show - and constant media consumption on our smart phones. A poll conducted in September 2025, published in the Wall Street Journal found that 70% no longer believe the American Dream holds true. The comparisons between then and now are too many to enumerate. That is what makes Altman and screenwriter Joan Tewkesbury's approach to this material so sharp; they are able to slyly insert moments of dry humor. "Nashville" isn't a heavy-handed morality picture; it is somehow elevated to a kind of humanist, populist critique filled with country music. By some definitions you could consider it a musical.

The first time I saw Altman's film I didn't know what to make of it. Before a second viewing I decided to take film critic Roger Ebert's advice and would tell myself, the movie is about whatever it makes me feel. But that wasn't satisfying to me emotionally or intellectually. I had to dig deeper and look at the movie again and again until it made sense to me. Something wasn't clicking in my brain. Why couldn't I figure out this puzzle? Then a lightbulb went off in my head; the title! Why is the film called "Nashville"? What does the city of Nashville represent to everyday Americans? What did it represent in 1970s America? Nashville, I believe, is a city that has art as its identity through country music. What other city is so connected to an art form? New York has the theater; Los Angeles has the movie industry. Both could have been possible locations and titles but "Nashville" is also a city - at least as presented in this film - built on tradition, a respect for the past but also a friction between young and old artists.

That brings us back to the film's opening moments, which immediately establishes all of the film's central conflicts by contrasting them against each other; and so we see country music star Haven Hamilton (Henry Gibson) in a recording studio; singing a song called 200 Years clashed against a Gospel group's recording session, introducing us to Linnea Reese (Lily Tomlin); two songs representing God and country; thus showing us the different ways art can interpret society. 

God and country are interweaved throughout the film as  Altman leans in on a Bicentennial mood in "Nashville". The film is supposed to take place in 1976, which wouldn't have just been a presidential election year but the country's true Bicentennial year. It would be a time of great patriotic pride. A moment to celebrate the country's history, especially coming off of events from the recent past. But this is where Altman and Joan Tewkesbury sneak in their humor, in sometimes not-so-subtle fashion. "Nashville" ultimately shows us a country divided; a country with sexism, political violence, racial tension and differing cultural values. It is as if Altman is telling us, is this what you really want to celebrate? The following year  Altman would continue this critique on the country's past with his film "Buffalo Bill and the Indians" (1976), a film that examines the mythology of America. Both films would make a powerful double feature.

One of Altman's best visual presentations to capturing this American gridlock in "Nashville" is to have a major traffic accident happen fairly early in the film, after all of the key characters have been introduced. The traffic accident occurs while a country music version of the Star Spangled Banner plays on the soundtrack. Is this Altman's way of saying America is this multi-car traffic accident, a chain reaction of messy conflicts? Notice which vehicle is directly in the middle of this accident; the political van. Are politics in the middle of our societal standstill? 

In many ways it all comes back to that political van. Politics is at the center of "Nashville" and Altman's analysis of America's dilemma. Pay close attention to how Altman situations the van and people's reaction to it. Sometimes we see the van driving along the street. Other times we just hear the loudspeaker as the van drives out of frame. But what we never see is anyone interact with the van. No one stops walking to pay attention to the words. It is as if politics is a "noise" heard in the background of our society. People don't engage with it, they pay no attention to it, and yet it is all around us and because of that it seeps through. This becomes sadly evident when the film ends with an assassination attempt. In Pauline Kael's famous New Yorker review of the film she characterized it as "the insanity of a fundamentalist culture in which practically the whole population has been turned into groupies." This becomes another sad mirror to today's political violence.

Another early target in "Nashville" is the media. Whenever the media is shown in the film it is usually in relation to celebrity journalism. There is a long sequence that takes place at an airport where country music star Barbara Jean (Ronee Blakley) is expected to arrive. A reporter stands by with a live report and proceeds to gives us a very detailed play-by-play of the plane arriving, Barbara Jean getting off the plane, walking to a podium...etc. This is news? In the opening scenes we are introduced to Opal (Geraldine Chaplin) a reporter for the British Broadcasting Corporation. She is presented as celebrity obsessed and always missing the big story. She can be in a room where political wheeling and dealing is going on but all she notices is Elliot Gould is there. In Vincent Canby's New York Times review he described the character as a "reporter of such gross idiocy she'd probably have trouble getting a job on a shopping guide."

This leads to my main problem with "Nashville" - the treatment of women in the film. On one hand it is a critique of the time period and sexist attitudes that prevailed in the country and in the media but Altman doesn't give these women opportunities to overcome their obstacles and sometimes presents them as fools. The Opal character is a case in point; she never does break any major news. The brilliant movie critic Molly Haskell made reference to this in her 40th anniversary review of the film on the Criterion site. Haskell gave much needed praise and attention to Tewkesbury's screenplay, even referring to her as an "unsung hero" of the film. She noted Tewkesbury's keen perceptive grasp on the "fragility of women country singers, trying to keep their dignity in a world run by men." But I felt there were times Altman let the tide shift a bit and lost balance. Barbara Jean for example is always presented under the crushing force of her husband, Barnette (Allen Garfield) and then there is the most damning indictment against male treatment of women when we see a  humiliating striptease performed by Sueleen (Gwen Welles); a young woman who had hopes of becoming a singer herself but is only valued for her figure and taken advantaged of. Even the gospel singer Linnea isn't spared indignity. She is a mother of two deaf children, married to a man, Delbert (Ned Beatty) that has no interest in his family, to the extent he doesn't even learn sign language to communicate with his sons. She falls for the "charms" of a rock singer and becomes a victim to his pettiness.

To be fair Altman doesn't present the men any better. While they aren't victimized the way the women are; Altman doesn't go to any great trouble to make them likeable either. The rock singer, Tom Frank (Keith Carradine) is the worse of them all. We see him multiple times disregard the feelings of female characters. Altman has the character sing a song called I'm Easy (which won the Academy award for best song), about emotional vulnerability, as a way to present another side to him but it isn't enough. Barnette becomes overbearing, Haven is pompous and a bully and Delbert clueless. When you get down to it, Altman doesn't give us much to root for. The one character that shows kindness to everyone he meets is an elderly man, Mr. Green (Keenan Wynn) who in the end must face a personal tragedy.

This seems to have been a conscious choice made by Altman in his handling of these characters. It may represent a dichotomy within all of us; sinner and saint. Altman will show a character like Tom emotionally abuse women but then contrast that image by showing us he can be sensitive and write a lovely song. Somehow  Altman does something remarkable here, he straddles both sentiments at once in this scene by adding humor. Multiple women Tom has deceived are all gathered to hear him sing this song and each believes it is secretly dedicated to them. In his original Chicago Sun-Times review (not to be confused with his later "Great Movies" review) Roger Ebert described Altman's approach to his characters in "Nashville" as " Altman sees them all with a judicious and ultimately sympathetic eye." 

With so many characters in the film not all of them interact with each other but one character that remains a through line is John Triplette (Michael Murphy). He has been sent by the Walker campaign to wrestle up support from the country music singers. Each interaction John has with these celebrities is a power play. These celebrities don't seem terribly interested in the ideas of the campaign - John never discusses the candidate's platform - as much as they are about what they can get out of the deal and how it may affect their image. The most blatant example of this is John's dealings with Haven, who expresses possible political ambitions of his own. In one way or another art is politics. And as for the idea that it takes celebrities to make the public interested in politics; well that's just commonplace now. Remember the brouhaha over Taylor Swift in the last Presidential election and if she would make an endorsement? It is amazing; society would lean into the very things Altman satirized 50 years prior.

One of the most important "characters" in the film I would argue however is the "loudspeaker". When most critics review "Nashville" they look to the songs as doubling as commentary on the film. In a review  Armond White wrote for example in 1998 for the New York Press, White highlighted the song My Idaho Home and called it an "all-American desire for harmony" believing the song evoked themes of sacrifice, school, army, heaven, children...etc. While there is truth to this, more attention I feel should be paid to the loudspeaker. "Nashville" doesn't have a narrator but if it did, it would be the loudspeaker. It is similar in a way to how Altman used a PA system in "M*A*S*H" (1970). In that movie the PA system was a kind of "authority figure" being used to contrast the zany behavior of the characters in cut-a-way shots. In "Nashville" the loudspeaker represents the heart of the film's ideas. It says the quiet parts out loud; all of the struggles the country faces. We hear it from the loudspeaker and than see it in action in the characters.

Those American struggles come to the fore by the end of film, which takes place at a Walker campaign rally. This is in many ways what the film has been building up to but notice some of the choices Altman makes here. Number one, we never do see Hal Walker. It is as if Altman is saying "the man" doesn't matter, it is the words that carry weight, the ideals that represent this country. Number two, an assassination occurs but a politician isn't the target, an artist is. It is as if there is an indistinguishable line between art and politics - the basic idea of the film. And finally, number three, notice what happens next. Within the chaos and confusion, someone needs to establish order and set the crowd the at ease. In theory it should have been John or someone from the Walker campaign but they are absent. It is a singer that steps in to do what art always does, bring us together. But again, its not just any artist, its  Albuquerque (Barbara Harris), a woman. Here is  Altman trying to restore order to what has proceeded this event. The people who were shown to have been the most abused by the system - the women - are the ones who are not only going to have to be there for the healing but will lead the way. The is a powerful statement on Altman's part. Some critics at the time either didn't see that message, ignored it, or simply didn't care. Take as an example the former Chicago Tribune critic Gene Siskel, who wrote a very positive review but also commented on the film's final sequence as, "its least interesting and most banal element." 

To end the film on an assassination is also a deeply revealing move on Altman's part. As soon as the incident happens, Haven, who was also on stage, cries out, "This isn't Dallas". The horrific event of President Kennedy's assassination transpired more than six decades ago. I wonder how many younger people know what the date November 22nd, 1963 represents? Sadly, I can tell you, my nieces and nephews aren't aware of its significance. In 1975 however Kennedy's death still loomed large over the nation as did Robert Kennedy's. The Kennedy name is spoken often in "Nashville". That's not by accident. Kennedy represented hope and great promise for the country. He was representative of all that was right about America. Nixon and Watergate signified what was wrong with politics. "Nashville" is a bridge between these two administrations and the assassination here brings attention to it.

When "Nashville" was released both Altman and the film were somewhat divisive. Some critics like Rex Reed at the New York Daily News and Dave Kehr at the Chicago Reader  were very dismissive of the film. Kehr in particular listed the film as one of the worse of 1975; but the film had its defenders from Judith Crist to Roger Ebert, Gene Siskel, Andrew Sarris, Pauline Kael and Molly Haskell. Each and every one of them considered it among the finest  American films made at that point. Perhaps because of that level of support, the film went on to earn five Academy  Award nominations, including one for best picture and another for  Altman's directing. It also scored an amazing 11 Golden Globe nominations including one well deserved one for its screenplay.

This year doesn't just mark the 50th anniversary of  the release of  "Nashville", it is also the bicentennial year of  Altman's birth. In Chicago, at the Gene Siskel Film Center they had a lovely tribute to Altman screening many of his films. As I watch Altman's films I come away feeling the work still feels fresh and exciting and yet as I take a look around at the contemporary films being released, I often fail to see Altman's influence on the current crop of up-and-coming filmmakers. Twenty or twenty-five years ago many critics commented on Altman's influence on the work of Paul Thomas Anderson; in particular his film "Magnolia" (1999) but what other American films in the last five years or so have carried on in the Altman tradition?

Despite some flaws, "Nashville" remains a remarkable achievement in Altman's career. For some it represents his peak, in a decade when his creative powers may have been at their height. Fifty years later the film remains as insightful and perceptive on American culture and politics as it did in 1975. That is the mark of a true masterwork.