REVIEW: LUNOPOLIS

While I am a sucker for found footage/mock documentary horror films, too often fledgling filmmakers jump on this bandwagon to make a movie with next to no budget, all the while forgetting they’re supposed to put some thought into the actual story to make it compelling.

Admittedly, when Lunopolis began, I was intrigued, but at the same time, wondered if the movie was about to fall off the rails at any moment, as is so often the case with low budget genre pictures. The setup was, again, intriguing, but seemingly rather simple: a group of guys and a camera crew checking out a creepy boathouse. What would happen next? Would they become trapped within and threatened by alien monsters? Would they somehow be separated and have only their cameras to survive against their adversary? That’s what I was expecting, and I was very pleasantly wrong.

Instead, our characters find a strange object and are chased out of the place by an even stranger figure (in a very well executed sequence). What this strange object is our characters do not know, but when one of them slips it onto their shoulders (the object itself is some kind of harness), flips the switch, and vanishes into thin air for a microsecond before reappearing, they know they have something special in their possession. The true investigation begins.

Lunopolis is clearly satire on the Church of Scientology, and its founder, L. Ron Hubbard (the religion within the film is called the Church of Lunology, and founded by J. Ari Hilliard), but if it were that and only that, it still could have worked as a film…just in a different way. But Lunopolis goes even further to inject actual thought into the proceedings, and I’ll go as far to say that it’s one of the most intelligently-written low-budget sci-fi films that I’ve ever seen. It’s a striking combination of The X-Files, Asimov, The Butterfly Effect, and Michael Moore investigatory journalism, and it works.

The film consistently maintains the “guys with a camera” aesthetic until meeting a man named David James (Dave Potter), who seems to know an awful lot about Lunology and its founder. And this is where the movie is at its most fascinating and dumbfounding. For the next ten to fifteen minutes, we step out of the first person POV and into a sequence that would not look at all out of place on The History Channel. To attempt to recreate the explanation would be near impossible, so I will instead say this: you’ll never look at Ben Franklin, Thomas Edison, and Elvis the same ever again.

The movie ends with a twist that you may or may not see coming, which frankly doesn’t even matter—the story is so well-told and the twist so appropriate to the story that all it does is lend credence to the theories of Lunology and its potential dangers.

The acting is consistently believable, and in the case of Dave Potter, quite effective. He is a heavy presence whenever on screen, and his performance perfectly captures fear, conflict, and regret.

Alas, like any low budget genre film, there are problems. Some of the antagonists who run around in suits and sunglasses straddle that thin line between threatening and silly. There are some pacing issues, mainly in the beginning of the film. Of the few scenes containing visual effects, one of them involving a car just doesn't work. Lastly (and this is more of a marketing thing) that tagline, "There are people on the moon, they're from the future, and they changed history," is unforgivably cheesy.

Despite these very minor quibbles (and they are minor), Lunopolis is more than worth your time.

It’s a damn shame that a movie as intelligent as this one is reduced to festival screenings and DVD, whereas garbage like Apollo 18 receives a wide release (and little critic support). Like all things deserving, I’m sure the movie will gradually find its audience.

GRADE: A-

Lunopolis hits video October 11.

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REVIEW: EVIL THINGS

As of 2011, remakes are out, and found footage is in. And that's fine with me.

Found footage movies are my jam. 

As previously stated, there are over 30 found footage movies currently in various stages of production. Thanks to recent heavy hitters like Paranormal Activity and The Last Exorcism, movie studios both major and minor have learned that found footage movies cost very little money to finance, but yield great potential for easy profit. And if filmmakers know what they're doing, they can make the gimmick effective.

Does Dominic Perez, writer/director of Evil Things, know what he is doing?

Basically. (Minor spoilers follow.)

The movie begins and we meet our cast: a group of twenty-somethings on their way to a remote house to celebrate Miriam's birthday. Along the way they run afoul of a strange dark-colored van with tinted windows which seems to have randomly chosen the kids to harass. They routinely "escape" the tyranny of the van, only to periodically cross paths with it later.

Soon the kids make it to the house for some teen hijinks, pop culture references, and fun times had out in the snowy woods. However, the fun soon stops when they hear odd noises out in the woods - and this on top of the fact that they have somehow become turned around and found themselves lost. They eventually find their way home, relieved to be out of harm's way.

Until the phone begins to incessantly ring, and the knocks at the door ring out, and the mysterious package a la Lost Highway ends up on the front porch...

PROS

The director has assembled a talented group of actors - almost unheard of when dealing with a young cast and a low budget. The actors are fresh-faced (with a dash of acne), and look like realistic, average kids. They all share a believable rapport on screen and for the most part seem to genuinely enjoy each other's company.

The natural progression of the story allows for the sight of the van to become threatening, but without beating you over the head. Its presence is subtle and tastefully done, and the movie doesn't try to cheat by giving the vehicle a purposely garish appearance. The van itself is quite bland and nondescript - the type of vehicle that could follow you for miles and you would be none the wiser...

The set dressing at the kids' house is actually quite clever, if you noticed one minor detail: throughout the entire house, no curtains or shades adorn the windows - of which there are many. The kids cross from room to room with blackness just beyond the many windows. Later on in the film, when shit hits the fan, this detail truly helps to add unease to the mix. The kids literally have nowhere to go without being easily visible from outside the house - they are like fish stuck in a tank, parading themselves around for their attacker who sits outside in the idling van. (See also: CONS.)

"Cassy's" impression of "Leo's" Brooklyn-accented mother kinda made me fall in love with her a little bit. I was literally grinning from ear-to-ear during this scene. Just sayin'.

The movie definitely gets points for exploring a seldom utilized sub-genre: the slasher film. Nine times out of ten today, when a found footage movie is announced, it is about ghosts, or zombies, or aliens, or other not-quite-so realistic villains. Besides for The Last Horror Movie, Man Bites Dog, and the dreadful The Last Broadcast, it's simply an under-explored sub-genre, and I'm glad Perez chose it for his film.

The scene where "Mark" follows the chirping of his WalkieTalkie into another room was very well executed. I'll leave it at that.

CONS

Much like Jamie Kennedy explains in Scream - in the iconic scene that perfectly summed up the point of that movie - there are certain rules one must abide by to successfully create a found footage movie:

1.) Do not add music to your found footage movie. This is only acceptable in situations where your movie contains both the "found" footage and sit-down interviews reflecting on it (see: Lake Mungo, The Tunnel ). Otherwise, this is a cheap trick, and alludes to the notion that the filmmaker does not have enough faith in his movie to be scary without it. Yes, you can hire a composer to write you the most unnerving film score in history, but there will always be one thing scarier than creepy violins or a sustained piano key: complete silence. (Note: To be fair, this may or may not be a point of contention where Evil Things is concerned, as we find out at the end of the film that the footage we have been watching has been "prepared" for us by our unseen antagonist.)

2.) When your camera operator is also a member of the cast, his presence has to feel organic. He cannot feel like a cameraman - he must feel like a character undergoing the same conflicts as his fellow cast members. (SPOILER: During the scene where the kids discover that the videotape left on their porch actually contained footage - shot by their stalker - of the house's exterior, interior, and even of the kids sleeping, what could have been the most effective scene in the movie was ruined by the cameraman making sure to capture the horrified reactions of the cast. Put yourself in that situation: you are trapped in a house in the middle of nowhere, and you are seeing footage of YOU sleeping, taken by someone who intends to do you harm. Do you stare, transfixed at the television, your camera slightly off kilter, or do you focus more on your friends' reactions, being sure to cut from face to face to face?)

3.) Do not choreograph the camerawork in conjunction with the script. A character's dialogue should be impulsive and natural. There were far too many scenes in the film in which the camera whipped over to a focus on a specific character well before they started talking, as if the camera operator were anticipating this speaking part. If the gimmick behind found footage is for your events to feel as realistic as possible, filmmakers must take this into account.

Despite the fact that the movie's running time was barely 80 minutes, there are too many padding scenes. The drive to the house takes too long, and even the most monotonous scenes - such as the kids sitting around eating dinner and barely speaking - needed not be included (nor would ever realistically be filmed by our camera operator/character). It's always better to have a shorter and tighter film (example: [REC], with a running time of 78 minutes and not an ounce of fat in the film).

The kids tend to overreact to certain events in the film, as if already aware they are in a horror film. By the van's second appearance, the kids show genuine fear, whereas in reality, most people would pass it off as a minor annoyance. Same goes for when they become lost in the woods - panic seems to set in  bit too prematurely.

Earlier I mentioned the lack of curtains, and yes, it was effective in increasing the tension during the film's finale. But, on the flip-side...who doesn't hang curtains or shades in their windows, especially in a house which was clearly otherwise cared for by its owners? Sure, it's a minor quibble, but one line of dialogue would have made this a bit more palatable: "Sorry none of the windows have curtains - we just finished painting." Or, you know...something else.

The climax of the film felt rushed, which was a shame, given the amount of action taking place. I was hoping the film would build to unbearable levels of tension, but instead the movie seemed to go out with more of a whimper than a bang. (And the last shot inside the house owes quite a bit to the finale of The Silence of the Lambs .)

The end of the film introduces an interesting revelation - the unseen, van-driving stalker sets his sights on a new set of kids: a film crew wandering around Central Park. What is it about the presence of the camera that attracts our unseen antagonist? We've learned he likes to shoot his own raw footage, but what is Perez insinuating by showing us the stalker's attraction to video? That's a question you'll be wondering about as the credits roll.

Despite the cons, Evil Things was still a fun ride, with genuine moments of suspense and shock, and it was an admirable film debut by writer/director Perez. I look forward to seeing what he'll bring us in the future.

GRADE: B-

FILTERED REALITY

Found footage movies, especially in the horror genre, are very polarizing to both general movie audiences and the hardcore genre niche as well. Some people love the format (I’m one of them), and others hate it—and for a variety of reasons. Some cite the shaky nature of the camera as too nauseating to endure; others find the (sometimes) lack of a tangible and visible antagonist boring and anticlimactic (though these are actually the people who long ago abandoned the concept of using their own imagination).

My favorite argument: the filmmakers go through the trouble of making it look real, but we all know it’s not real, because it’s a movie.

Seriously?

I recall going to see The Blair Witch Project in theaters, and the crowd was quiet the entire running time, which in this day and age is almost unheard of. No one at my screening, at the film's conclusion, walked out complaining—in fact, everyone walked out quietly, as if in a daze. It was a movie I would end up loving and revisiting several times at home, along with the equally creepy and interesting Curse of the Blair Witch, a fake television special/documentary created to enhance the myth which established the foundation of the The Blair Witch Project.

And then it happened.

The inevitable.

The backlash.

The first people out of the theater doors (and probably well aware of the marketing approach) proclaimed The Blair Witch Project to be terrifying and utterly realistic. "The scariest movie since The Exorcist!" the TV spots would boast.

People, being people, reacted in the way that people do: if someone tells you something is scary, you must not only see it, but prove them wrong. "That wasn't scary! It was stupid! You don't know me! You don't know what scares me! Because NOTHING can!"

The last thing we as people like to be is predictable. This extends to every facet of our life—up to and including film as a medium.

And so we return to that one generic complaint people have about found footage movies in general: the common knowledge that what they are seeing isn't real, despite the filmmakers breaking their backs for their films to appear as such.

When The Blair Witch Project first came out, the Internet was booming—and not just for nerds in garages, but for regular, blue-collar folks like you and me. The Internet hoax was yet to be realized...until a brilliant marketing strategy from now-defunct Artisan Entertainment, the mini-studio that would go on to release the film.

Their marketing? 

Everything in The Blair Witch Project was 100% real. And those kids in the film? They weren't actors, but real students. And up to that time, they were still missing. At that point, everyone had visited the Blair Witch website, which unbeknownst to them, was secretly promoting the film, all the while seeming to instead serve as a sounding board for the missing students' heartsick parents. We all remember the photos of Heather's mom hanging up "missing" photos. We all saw the testimonies from the students' friends and families begging anyone with information to come forward.

And most people bought it like the suckers they are.

I didn't, however; and not because of my supreme intelligence or superiority over the hoi polloi, but because of my basic concept of common sense and my love for Fangoria Magazine. Yes, I knew walking into that theater that the movie was fake—yet I still managed to adore the film.

So why didn't people feel the same way?  Why—once the cast started making the rounds, and they each appeared on the covers for both Time and Newsweek, and Heather suddenly showed up on Jay Leno—did audiences suddenly feel cheated?

"We thought it was real!" they cried. "If it never happened, it's stupid!"

The irony that they had bought the lie and thought the movie was real—the intention behind Artisan's marketing—was lost, not to mention dripping with the subtle and creepy inference that audiences were disappointed to learn those kids in the film were actually quite alive and well. Audiences wanted them dead...strewn about in bloody bits and turned into witch hats. Especially Heather.

And since then, found footage movies have received lukewarm receptions by movie goers. Whatever steam had been established, up to the release of The Blair Witch Project, had suddenly dissipated.

None of it was real, you see. And that sucked.

But almost ten years later came a rebirth of the sub-genre, thanks to the recent success of Cloverfield and The Last Exorcism, movies which proved that money is to be made, and critics are to be wowed.

And so the found footage is back in a big way.

As I write this, there are more than 30 found footage movies (and probably more, considering my half-hearted Google attempt) either in production or waiting to be released. They range from low budget indies with casts of unknowns to crews of A-list talent (and Barry Levinson). Some of these films have already enjoyed film festival screenings, or await major wide releases, but regardless, they're coming. 

Break out the Dramamine.