Funky Forest: The First Contact

(2005) Written and directed by Katsuhito Ishii, Hajime Ishimine and Shunichiro Miki; Starring: Andrew Alfieri, Hideaki Anno and Moyoco Anno; Available on DVD

Rating:  *** ½

Where do I begin? Well, for starters, the wildly eclectic Funky Forest: The First Contact features a forest, and it’s decidedly funky, so it does live up to its name.  Further interpretation is solely at the viewer’s discretion.  There’s probably more weirdness here than in ten other movies, which isn’t a bad thing.  This genre-spanning film defies easy categorization, description, or notions of coherence.

Katsuhito Ishii, Hajime Ishimine and Shunichiro Miki shared the writer/director chores (Ishii and Miki collaborated previously on The Taste of Tea) for Funky Forest: The First Contact, and gave themselves license to let their imaginations and styles run free.  Instead of a linear narrative with a central story, it’s an anthology of short episodes, linked together by several different threads running throughout.

The Mole Brothers, a white-suited, slapstick duo, serve as our nominal hosts to the madness that follows, in a series of short bridging segments.  While their schtick doesn’t directly relate to any of the other vignettes, their presence serves as a welcome signal that the tone is about to make an abrupt shift.  In addition to the Mole Brothers, several characters appear in a patchwork quilt of recurring segments.  “Guitar Brother” features three unlucky in love siblings.  It’s never explained why one of the “brothers” happens to be Caucasian and significantly younger than his fellow siblings, but it’s just one of many things in Funky Forest that you accept at face value.  In another thread, a pupil discusses the nature of her relationship with her former English teacher (they’re together, but they’re not really dating).  They relate their dreams in a couple of elaborate sequences, accompanied by song and dance.  Woven into the mix are several “Home Room” * segments, which chronicle the bizarre goings-on in a most unconventional high school home room, populated by a mismatched group of students.  In one of the most disturbing/surreal/hilarious moments, a group of music students assemble to play various instruments that are comprised of mutant creatures. 

* Fun fact: Anime enthusiasts will be thrilled by the appearance of animator/director Hideaki Anno (best known for the Neon Genesis series) in a small role as one of the high school students, and in another segment, (surprise!) as an animator.

At more than 150 minutes, Funky Forest starts to wear out its welcome long before it’s over.  The filmmakers probably could have cut an hour from the running time, and said everything that needed to be said (whatever that is).  It feels as if the material had been stretched a little thin at times, probably best digested over several sittings.  Despite the film’s bloated running time, I can’t dislike it either.  I admire Funky Forest’s sheer chutzpah to wave its freak flag high and proud.  The distinctive music and images continue to linger in my brain as I write this, and will likely remain there indefinitely.  I suspect that your capacity to enjoy this film will be directly proportional to your need for everything to make sense. 

To call Funky Forest “dreamlike” doesn’t do it justice.  Acid flashback is more appropriate. If logic and coherence are not your priorities when seeking out movies, then you may have just found your nirvana.  It’s best described as a Dadaist film, heavy on absurdity, and short on logic.  Trying to make sense of everything is missing the point.  What’s the point?  Damned if I know.  In the “making of” DVD featurette, one of the cast members said it best when he remarked, “I think it’s better not to try to understand it.”  ‘Nuff said.

Classics Revisited: Kwaidan (aka: Kaidan)

(1964) Directed by Masaki Kobayashi; Written by Yôko Mizuki; Based on the collection, Kwaidan, by Lafcaido Hearn; Starring: Rentarô Mikuni, Michiyo Aratama and Misako Watanabe; Available on DVD

Rating: *****

Note: This review refers to the 163-minute Criterion Collection version, not the 183-minute original cut.

Kwaidan might possibly be the most beautiful horror film ever made.  Director Masaki Kobayashi imbues each scene with an artist’s eye, creating the illusion that the frames were painted rather than filmed.  Its signature style exemplifies one of the principal differences between Japanese and American cinema.  Instead of attempting to create realistic set pieces and special effects, Kwaidan maintains the conceit of an illusory world that could only exist in the realm of cinema.

The film, which consists of four supernatural tales set in feudal Japan, was based on a collection of stories published around the turn of the 20^th century by the American journalist Lafcaido Hearn.  Although Hearn was an outsider in a closed society, he eventually became a naturalized citizen of Japan, bringing traditional Eastern tales of the supernatural to the Western world.  The stories stemmed from a myriad of sources, including original Japanese texts, Chinese folklore, and tales that had only previously circulated orally.  Most of the stories concern ghosts, or yurei (with one notable exception – more on that in a moment).  The overarching theme in each segment is that one of the primary characters has made a fatal error, and as a consequence must pay a terrible price.

The first story, “The Black Hair,” is about selfishness and regret.  A young samurai (Rentarô Mikuni) leaves his wife (Michiyo Aratama) to find success under the tutelage of a wealthy and powerful warlord.  He eventually marries his mentor’s spoiled daughter (Misako Watanabe), and gets everything he wanted, only to realize that his life is hollow.  The story’s true horror lies within the fact that insight often works in reverse, after it’s too late to undue the rash decisions made during youth.   

In “The Woman of the Snow,” a woodcutter and his young apprentice trudge through a desolate, frozen landscape in search of respite from the cold.  The sky is filled with a menagerie of eyes, suggesting that they are not alone, but under the gaze of forces beyond their control or understanding.  They encounter a strange woman (Keiko Kishi) with an abnormally pale complexion, and icy breath.  She’s as scary as she is alluring to lonesome travelers with a stare that means certain death.  She’s not a ghost, as her appearance would suggest, but a being known collectively as a yokai, or specifically a Yuki-Onna (Hearn’s original story was aptly titled “Yuki-Onna.”).  This stands out as my favorite segment, due to its elegant simplicity, inventive use of art direction (thanks to Shigemasa Toda) and lighting effects. 

The third tale, “Hoichi, the Earless,” concerns a blind musician, Hoichi (Katsuo Nakamura), who lives in a monastery built to commemorate a great sea battle between two families.  Hoichi, with his gift for telling stories through song, is called upon by the dead warriors to sing about their legacy.  They return on a nightly basis to demand Hoichi’s ballads, but it begins to exact a toll on his health.  When he discovers the origin of Hoichi’s nocturnal disappearances, the head monk (Takashi Shimura) devises a plan to rid Hoichi of the ghosts and their draining influence.  But there’s just one flaw, which I won’t reveal here.  One of the highlights of this segment is the stylized, theatrical sea battle, accompanied by Hoichi’s mournful song.  Another memorable image is his body covered in kanji script to ward off the ghosts.

The final story, “In a Cup of Tea” is about a guard (Kan'emon Nakamura), haunted by the image of a rival samurai (Noboru Nakaya).  In one memorable scene, he fights against opponents that may only be a figment of his imagination.

 

Kobayashi dispenses with notions of realism, choosing a more impressionistic approach. 

Color is employed to great effect, with a palate ranging from vivid to subdued.  Red lips in a sky, along with a character clad in a rose-colored kimono, signifies lust and fertility.  A purple kimono symbolizes an aristocratic air, and a cold distance between a lady and her house servants.   In “The Woman of the Snow,” simple lighting effects make a huge difference, as the Yuki-Onna’s warm tones immediately transform to something cooler, and her visage changes from benign to menacing.

Kwaidan takes its time allowing each story to unfold.  Its deliberate, contemplative pace might seem slow and uneventful to viewers accustomed to quick cuts, jarring action sequences and thunderous explosions, but each segment is meant to be studied and admired, like portraits in an art gallery.  Kwaidan is a film to be treasured, filled with stunning visuals from start to finish.  It’s a true masterpiece that requires the viewer to be an active observer rather than a passive viewer.

December Quick Picks and Pans

 

The American Scream (2012) Halloween may be over, but for a small group of dedicated individuals known as house haunters, planning for October 31^st is a year-long process.  This surprisingly insightful documentary by Michael Stephenson (Best Worst Movie) follows three families in Fairhaven, Massachusetts that set up elaborate, immersive Halloween home displays.  We get an intimate look at what goes on behind the scenes to create these displays, some of which blur the line between amateur and professional efforts, and the people that make them happen.  Stephenson obviously has a lot of affection for his subject.  His documentary could easily have been an excuse to showcase the talents of a few eccentric goofballs, but instead takes the time to get to know the human stories behind the obsession.  The American Scream chooses to focus on the sense of community generated as family and friends band together for a common cause.  The film is currently available through streaming outlets or you can purchase it directly through the official web site.  Highly recommended.

Rating: ****.  Available on Netflix Streaming and Amazon Instant Video

Hansel & Gretel (2007) This bewildering adult fairy tale from writer/director Pil-Sung Yim is loosely based on the classic children’s tale.  While driving home to his wife and child, Eun-Soo (Jeong-myeong Cheon) loses control of his car and crashes.  He wakes up in a forest, and a young girl leads him to a house in the woods, where she and her siblings reside.  Everything seems a little too bright and saccharine sweet for Eun-Soo’s taste, but the trap has already sprung.  He’s become entangled in the children’s web, and escape is seemingly impossible.  The story plays a bit like the “It’s a Good Life” episode of The Twilight Zone, but that’s over-simplifying things somewhat.  It’s a hallucinatory, nightmarish odyssey into a world fueled by childhood psychological trauma.

Rating: *** ½.  Available on DVD and Netflix Streaming

 Saint Nick (aka: Sint) (2010) Writer/director Dick Maas’ (The Lift, Amsterdamned) Christmas-themed horror flick starts promising enough, with a prologue set in 1492, explaining Saint Nicholas’ (Huub Stapel) awful origins and inevitable demise.  The prologue continues in 1968, in which a boy witnesses the resurrected saint murdering his family.  The bulk of the film takes place in modern-day Amsterdam, as the boy, now a middle-aged cop (played by Bert Luppes), pursues Saint Nicholas in an effort to prevent more holiday bloodshed.  Saint Nick is sporadically entertaining, but never really takes off.  What begins as an offbeat take on Christmas traditions devolves into a rather pedestrian horror flick.  The paucity of interesting or likable characters makes it difficult to care who lives and who dies.  Saint Nicholas, who resembles a combination of Freddy Krueger and Santa Claus, never seems to display much logic in his selection of victims, picking off people randomly.  RareExports, this isn’t. 

Rating: ** ½.  Available on DVD and Netflix Streaming (Note: the streaming version is dubbed in English)

Beyond the Black Rainbow (2010) I really wanted to like this movie.  Too bad it felt like a bunch of other movies slapped together, with all vestiges of coherence leeched out.  This pretentious, ponderous exercise plays like an early 80s Cronenberg film (think Scanners), and also borrows liberally from Kubrick, Argento and early George Lucas (THX 1138).   Beyond the Black Rainbow suffers from many of the same problems that plague 2009’s Amer, being far too derivative and self-conscious of its inspirations to stand on its own.  A few interesting visuals don’t compensate for all of the mumbling of quasi-profound dialogue, and scenes that drag on way too long.  Stay far away!

Rating: * ½.  Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Netflix Streaming.

Classics Revisited: Black Christmas

(1974) Directed by Bob Clark; Written by Roy Moore; Starring: Olivia Hussey, Keir Dullea, Margot Kidder, Andrea Martin and John Saxon; Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Rating: ****

Note: The following is an expanded version of the capsule review from last year’s feature, “Have Yourself a Contrary Little Christmas."

What’s a Christmas movie without John Saxon?  Hey, if we can associate the holiday with the likes of Jimmy Stewart, Bing Crosby or even Peter Billingsley, then maybe it’s time to add Mr. Saxon as tireless police inspector Lt. Fuller to the list.  The film might not appear particularly fresh to 21st century eyes and ears, but it must have raised a stir when it debuted in the early 70s.  The residents of a sorority house are being stalked by a psychopath, and methodically picked off one by one.  Black Christmas was a big hit in its native Canada, but initially failed to attract much attention in the U.S., where it was released under the alternate titles, Silent Night, Evil Night and Stranger in the House (TV title).  In the years that followed, however, the little-slasher-film-that-could gradually gained a loyal following in the States and elsewhere.

Director Bob Clark, who would go on to direct the perennial holiday favorite A Christmas Story just nine years later, tweaked Roy Moore’s original script (originally titled Stop Me), adding touches of humor to an otherwise bleak story about a killer on the loose.  His lighter touch helped provide the right balance between light and dark.  Although the tone becomes increasingly serious as the plot advances, there are some surprising moments of levity early on. 

Olivia Hussey stars as sorority house resident Jess Bradford.  As her fellow sorority sisters begin to disappear, it’s apparent that she’s next on the killer’s list.  Her temperamental boyfriend, Peter (Keir Dullea) quickly becomes a suspect after they argue about the future of their relationship. He becomes increasingly unstable after she reveals that she’s pregnant and wants to have an abortion (It’s interesting to note that Jess wears a large cross around her neck).  Their exchange is significant, taken in the context of the time when this film was originally released, and that the Roe v. Wade decision in the States would have been fresh in the minds of filmgoers of the time.  Whether or not the filmmakers intended to make a statement for or against abortion rights is open to debate (and beyond the scope of this review), but the fact that these themes exist in the film sets Black Christmas apart from many of its lesser imitators.   

There’s some nice ensemble work by the other cast members who play residents of the sorority house.  Marian Waldman is amusing as the alcoholic house mother, Mrs. Mac (she hides her booze in every conceivable nook and cranny of the house).  Margot Kidder is another standout as Jess’ uninhibited, and acerbic house-mate Barb.  In one inspired scene, she discusses the mating habits of tortoises to one of her fellow residents’ uppity (and suitably horrified) father.  A pre-SCTV Andrea Martin, as the bookish Phyl, also helps provide some of the film’s lighter moments.

* In recent interviews, Hussey and Kidder provided somewhat conflicting views of the general atmosphere during filming.  Hussey described Kidder as being “distant” from the rest of the cast, while Kidder claimed that Hussey was very “serious,” and that she and co-star Martin tried to make her laugh on several occasions.

The aforementioned John Saxon brings his trademark intensity to the role of Lt. Fuller.  Clark originally started filming with veteran actor Edmond O'Brien as Fuller, but was forced to leave the production due to complications from the early onset of Alzheimer’s disease.  Thankfully, Saxon (who was the first actor Clark had in mind for the role) agreed to replace O’Brien, and made the last-minute trek to Toronto.

The phone calls from the crazed killer, arguably more unsettling than the murders themselves, are the creepiest aspect of Black Christmas.  Instead of utilizing one actor, three different individuals’ voices were combined (including the director, Nick Mancuso and an unidentified actress), and consisted of improvised dialogue that departed from the original script.  Another effective aspect was the then-revolutionary (and often-copied) use of POV shots, to show the audience the killer’s perspective.  Thanks to cinematography by Reginald Morris, and a camera rig designed by Albert Dunk, we follow the killer’s disorienting path as he stalks the hallways of the sorority house and climbs the trellis outside.

 

One of the conceits of Black Christmas (possible spoiler alert) is that we never learn the identity of the killer.  Interviews with several cast members failed to yield much in the way of clues.  If Clark had someone in mind, he remained mum on the subject.  It’s this combination of intentional ambiguity, along with healthy doses of humor and suspense that have contributed to the film’s cult classic status.  Unlike many other genre films, there seems to be something to appeal to virtually everyone, possibly explaining how it acquired a host of diverse admirers over the years, from Elvis Presley to Steve Martin.  It’s become a family tradition in some households, joining the ranks of White Christmas, It’s a Wonderful Life and Clark’s own A Christmas Story, as a ubiquitous holiday staple.