ANOMALISA (2015)

Every single film so far in writer/director Charlie Kaufman's oeuvre has been about the longing between human beings, and the inevitable heartache and/or failure to which it leads. Anomalisa may have ditched those same humans in favor of an array of handmade puppets, but the humanity of the piece is still hugely present. Puppets aside, and to parrot some of the more on-the-nose critical notices that Anomalisa has received, this really is the most human of Kaufman's films so far.

Written and co-directed alongside Duke Johnson, Anomalisa is impressive on every single imaginable level--from the immediately obvious technical to the poignancy that slowly accumulates as we witness our lead character, Michael Stone, encounter a sea of sameness: the same faces, the same voices, the same disconnect. That these characters are brought to life with swappable faces isn't just some gimmick--it's essential to the story both thematically as well as logistically. Originally a "sound" play performed live for audiences during an extremely rare two-night event, that Anomalisa has been reimagined utilizing stop-motion animation and handmade puppets sounds like something doomed for failure. But as Kaufman has proven with his intimidating imagination time and time again, he's taken the most absurd of concepts and turned it into something oddly compelling and surprisingly emotional.

Perhaps Kaufman could have fashioned a live-action screenplay and used actual human actors on screen. Perhaps Tom Noonan's face could have been super-imposed on every single secondary character, and his voice dubbed over every single secondary line of dialogue. And as strange as it sounds, Kaufman could have pulled this off--with the same amount of sincerity balanced with absurdity. (If he did it with puppets, than anything is possible.) But it also would have been a page out of his Being John Malkovich (also about puppets, in a sense), and Kaufman doesn't like to do the same thing twice in the same way he doesn't like to make the same film twice, common themes notwithstanding.

As impressive as the puppetry is, what brings them to life is the phenomenal (and extremely limited) voice cast. David Thewlis presents Michael as sad and alone right off the bat, even when he speaks on the phone with his oppressed wife and indifferent son. Jennifer Jason Leigh (a refreshing reminder of her talents following her agonizing turn in Tarantino's insufferable western The Hateful Eight) plays coy and shy remarkably well, imbuing Lisa with believable mental scars as well as physical ones. But the performance of the hour belongs to Tom Noonan, whose calm, monotone voice is somehow simultaneously anonymous and instantly recognizable. It was an utter stroke of genius to cast him as "Everyone Else," being that his voice, with little manipulation on his part, easily suits the array of characters--male and female, young and old--that Michael encounters during his stay at the Fregoli Hotel. (Wikipedia describes "Fregoli syndrome" as "the delusional belief that different people are in fact a single person who is in disguise.") Noonan reads most of his lines with utter calm, easily garnering laughs during the more ridiculous dialogue, but also achieves laughs just as worthy during, say, the scene where Michael overhears a bickering newly wed couple swapping profanities that he passes in the hotel halls. Captured in the ideal way, all three voice actors recorded their lines during a reading of the script, each existing in the other's space to feed off the energy from their performances. This wasn't a case of their lines being recorded separately and pasted together later, and this helps to convey the relationships being established--or destroyed--during Anomalisa's running time.

It's easy to see that many potential viewers will write off Anomalisa before seeing a single frame of it simply because of the way it was made. But those potential viewers with small minds don't deserve to experience something so beautiful. Let it remain a secret for those who want and desire something far more emotional and significant than what can be found right now at the local multiplex. Anomalisa is a gorgeous film with a heartbreaking message at its core and just might be Charlie Kaufman's most personal and revealing film yet. 

If you're even a casual fan of Charlie Kaufman (if such a thing exists--you either love him or hate him), Anomalisa is the next step forward and upward for the acclaimed writer/director. It's a revealing look at the humankind disconnect, our at-times frustrating inability to communicate who we really are, brought to life by things that have the look of man, but not the soulfulness. For its ingenuity, innovation, and humanity, Anomalisa gets the highest recommendation.

IT AIN'T THAT BAD: DEAD SILENCE

In this column, movies with less-than-stellar reputations are fairly and objectively defended. Full disclaimer establishes that said movies aren’t perfect, and aren’t close to being such, but contain an undeniable amount of worth that begs you for a second chance. Films chosen are based on their general reception by both critics and audiences, more often than not falling into the negative. Every film, no matter how dismal, has at least one good quality. As they say, it ain’t that bad. 

Spoilers abound.

I suppose it was inevitable. I've mentioned James Wans' Dead Silence more than once, and always in a positive light. But now it's time to fully defend what I would never consider to be a "great" movie, but one I find myself revisiting fairly often, especially late at night when it's not quite ready to retire.

People love Saw. I will not begrudge that. It is easy to show enthusiasm for low budget horror that manages to be original (it was) and effective (well...some parts). I would not call Saw a legitimately good film, but will say it showed the promise of co-writer/director Wan. Luckily Wan's sophomore project allowed him to team up with Saw co-writer Leigh Whannell for an attempt at a hat trick success with both audiences and at the box office. I'm always pleased when first-time directors strike it big with a horror film and opt to stay in the genre. And Universal Studios, thestudio that really brought horror to life with all the classic movie monsters, were enthusiastic about the duo's approach in resurrecting the golden era of the horror genre with their tale of witchcraft, ventriloquism, and old drippy mansions. They even used the original Universal Studios opening logo, establishing the idea behind the film immediately. 

Strange that the studio would then get cold feet after reading the script and demand the duo insert a bit of violence and an OCD, electric-shaver-using cop (played by Donnie Wahlberg), all because sound (and the slow disappearance of) becomes a reoccurring gimmick. If you see enough films, it becomes easy to tell when one deviates from its intended form into studio meddling. Generally things become lame and corny, and endings become unbelievably happy/resolved. While you can kind of sense all that in Dead Silence, in my opinion (obviously) it never becomes distracting. 

Uh oh, I'm rambling.

Ryan Kwanten (Red Hill, "True Blood") plays Jamie Ashen, who lives in a charming city row-home with his pixie-haired wife, Lisa. All seems well, and the couple is very much in love. Once Billy shows up outside their front door, however, it all comes crashing down. Lisa is killed by this mysterious visitor and Jamie finds himself following the trail of her killer. 

Billy, by the way, is this guy:

Dead Silence respectfully rides the long-tattered coattails of films like Magic, and before that, 1945's Brit import Dead of Night, an anthology film whose dummy-dedicated segment is definitely the creepiest. Wan and Co. know that, outside of the Full Moon brand, living/killer dummies is a largely underutilized storytelling device. Therefore, Dead Silence's intended focus was originally on mood and atmosphere over violence, and while that largely remains, the bits of violence crammed back feel foreign at times. And the mood and atmosphere in Dead Silence is gorgeously haunting. Halloween enthusiasts will find a lot to love about the mysterious Raven's Fair, home of the Ashen family, as well as murderous puppeteer Mary Shaw (Judith Roberts). Fog comes standard and rolls across graveyard grounds as if it were alive. Even during the day the sky looks dark and foreboding. And then there's the playhouse, set by itself on an island surrounded by a mile of water. Even the scummy motel where Jamie takes residence after arriving in town is brought to eerie life by the neon lights that cast their colorful glows through the swaying curtains. All of Raven's Fair feels like it was designed and constructed to do nothing but unnerve those who enter. 

I love myths. I love back stories and towns with a secret. It's the reason why I love The Blair Witch Project, and Stephen King's unofficial Castlerock series. I love this idea of a town's residents smiling fake smiles and pretending all is well, but living day in and day out with a murderous secret. And Dead Silence has that down in spades. The origin of Mary Shaw is explained, as are the events which led to her death at the hands of Raven's Fair residents. And again, like The Blair Witch Project, actual thought went into establishing this back story. 

Kwanten does a satisfactory job of carrying the film, and doing his best to help legitimize a bunch of killer dummies running around ripping out tongues. It's nice to see him play a rather understated role, as most familiar with him are more accustomed to his Florida trash, misogynistic "True Blood" Lothario. Really, Dead Silence has a pretty commendable ensemble of supporting actors, boasting both Bob Gunton (most famous for playing the warden in The Shawshank Redemption) and Michael Fairman (Mulholland Dr, "Sons of Anarchy"). Gunton's performance as Jamie's father, Edward, is...off-putting and not quite there, which, if you've seen the film, is obviously by design. Fairman as Henry Walker, the local mortician, is the exact opposite: frantic, scared, and all over the place. He knows damn well what the citizens of Raven's Fair did to Mary Shaw, and he knows the descendants of those involved are dying one by one under mysterious circumstances. 

While we're talking about actors, we need to mention Judith Roberts as Mary Shaw. She is a big creep. Even before she's a blue-tinted grinning ghost, she's still a big creep. Wan and Whannell love creepy old women. This and Insidious proves that. And they are right to, because old women are creepy simply because they're not supposed to be. They're supposed to be pleasant and meek and quiet. They're supposed to give you garish sweaters for Christmas and listen to Frankie Avalon. They're not supposed to be murderous or evil. They're not supposed to rip you apart for uttering a single word.

Former NIN member Charlie Clouser has been scoring films for a decade now, his most notable work pre-Dead Silence being Saw, in which his extremely memorable track "Hello, Zep" (which would go on to become Saw's signature theme) helped to really sell that film's otherwise ludicrous twist ending. A scene that became more far-fetched the more you thought about it was instead turned into an effectively blocked and directed moment, capable of causing chills in the audience. For Dead Silence, he also travels back in time in creating his score. Filled with classic strings and piano, but also complemented with his signature electronic dynamism the results are certainly one of the most memorable main themes in recent history. There's Gothic, and then there's Gothic, and then there is this score.

I love Dead Silence. As someone who appreciates old fashioned horror and drippy atmosphere, it scratches all the right itches. It's not perfect, but hell, what is?