SHITTY FLICKS: AMITYVILLE 4: THE EVIL ESCAPES

Shitty Flicks is an ongoing column that celebrates the most hilariously incompetent, amusingly pedestrian, and mind-bogglingly stupid movies ever made by people with a bit of money, some prior porn-directing experience, and no clue whatsoever. It is here you will find unrestrained joy in movies meant to terrify and thrill, but instead poke at your funny bone with their weird, mutant camp-girl penis.

WARNING: I tend to give away major plot points and twist endings in my reviews because, whatever. Shut up.

After a highly-publicized series of bizarre encounters that the Lutz family of Deer Park, New York, allegedly experienced during the early 70s, it was only a matter of time before their debacle was made into a high-profile Hollywood film.

The Amityville Horror, starring a heavily-bearded James Brolin, a soon-to-be-crazy Margot Kidder, and the all-around loveable Rod Steiger, assaulted audiences in 1979. The movie contained terrifying scenes of buzzing flies, glowing-eyed ghost pigs, and multiple takes of James Brolin chopping wood and shivering. That's...about it. The movie that people now hail as a classic, frankly, is pretty fucking stupid. It’s quite boring, and for long periods of time, nothing happens, but it’s a premise that has somehow stretched on for eight films and one remake.

For years, debates between the former owners (now deceased), ghost hunters, lawyers, and occultists have long debated over the facts of this case. Did the Lutzes truly experience these ghostly happenings they had claimed, or did they overly-sensationalize a boring house that they realized far-too-late was well out of their budgetary means? The "was it/wasn't it?" debate to this day remains more interesting than any of the films it inspired.

Speaking of uninteresting, this particular installment was the first to introduce the idea that all future "plots" didn't have to involve the infamous house at all; instead, various objects acquired from the house itself could be the reason for the bumps in the night. What sort of objects, you ask? Oh, I dunno... perhaps a stupid lamp.

- "Ugh, there's a demon in it. Let's take a ride so I can return it."
- "Where to?"
- "IKEA."
- "Fuck that. Just keep it."

Our story begins with carloads of priests pulling up in front of 112 Ocean Avenue, the mailing address for TERROR. As three priests wander through the house with their arsenal of crucifixes and holy water-flingers, attempting to purge the evil from the house, it's okay for you to laugh as you remember this house was blown to bits at the end of the previous Amityville film. They walk through the house as shutters bang, doors open and close, chandeliers swing, and blood drips from the wall. While Father Kibbler dodges flung rocking chairs, Father Manfred deals with a wacko-jacko kitchen chock-full of flaming stove tops and banging cabinets...for the house is haunted by the spirit of Kevin McCallister.

As Father Manfred takes over Father Kibbler’s station and purges the evil, we see a small bulge pop from the plug of some unseen household device, which travels up and up the cord until blowing its evil load in...a lamp.

A cloud of really mean flies come and knock over a priest, so they all flee. Despite this, they believe they've exorcised the house of its evil, anyway.

Speaking of evil, Patty Duke's in this movie.

"I'm sorry, son. I didn't mean it when I called you Blockhead.
Now take your blocks upstairs, Blockhead."

Now that the house has been cleansed of all evil, the priests decide to have a random yard sale of the house’s content, since they own all the stuff...right?

Say, I have a question: who the frig is going to buy junk from a place that once housed a brutal mass murder, various supernatural instances, and a vortex? Helen Peacock, that's who.

Yes, that's right, the nearby community that grew more and more terrified of the house from hell over the years now paw eagerly through its contents like beavers looking for…oh, say, delicious beaver candy that beavers eat.

So, Helen Peacock—

“Wait, stop. Her name is Peacock? Who wrote this movie, Parker Bros.?”

Well, though they're referred to as Leacock during the movie, the DVD I very temporarily owned called the family the 'Peacocks' in the summary, so 'Peacock' it shall be for me because that lends me joy.

Helen Peacock eagerly ponies up $100 for The Lamp, which had bore witness to a long list of atrocities, and crates it off to her sister, Alice, in California. Also, she cuts her finger on The Lamp, which gets infected with whatever - Hell, maybe - and she dies.

Score 1 for The Lamp.

Granny Alice receives The Lamp at the exact same moment that her daughter and grandkids come to live with her after the death of their husband/father/plot device. So, luckily, all of The Lamp’s trouble-making bullshit antics can be easily blamed on her three stupid grandchildren.

And The Lamp? Well, it’s an asshole. For serious. And it’s also hideous. It's a bronze tree with two arm things, and it contains one large non-shaded bulb which may or may not contain a demon troll from Ernest Scared Stupid.

The Lamp has hobbies, like making Nancy’s young son, Blockhead, pick up a chainsaw and thrash him around the fruit cellar as he inadvertently slices and dices Granny Alice’s precious jams and preserves.

The Stupid Fat Blockhead Kid Massacre

Or it will shove Granny Alice’s pet parakeet into the toaster oven. (And Granny Alice even goes so far as to blame herself for her pet bird ending up brown and toasty, insinuating that the bird opened its own cage [using its hands], set the toaster dial to crispy [using its hands and previously existing knowledge of kitchen appliances], opened and then shut the oven hatch behind it. However, that idea lasts for about two shakes before she begins to suspect that maybe it was one of her evil grandchildren performing all these random acts of "horror" that so far have not even surpassed the level of a mean-spirited camp prank.)

The Lamp oozes a sort of magical black goo - magical because it possesses the ability to get in a girl's mouth, or kill a plumber.

Speaking of that plumber, after he gets slapped in the face by a rubber hand and drowns in the goo, The Lamp spirits promptly drive his van away as Granny Alice looks on, clearly being able to see that no one is driving. It's a good thing she doesn't care. I don't, either, believe me.

Billy was really sore that he had been grounded,
so he figured he would let Mom know that.

Nancy’s youngest daughter, Annoying Brat, continuously upsets the family as she speaks to The Lamp, insisting it contains the spirit of her dead father. In fact, the family is so upset about the loss of their husband/family that he isn’t mentioned a single time outside of a brief “why they had to move out” exposition (bad debt).

As The Lamp begins to take control of the Annoying Brat, she begins to go “crazy” and smile wickedly as if she could somehow pull off being threatening instead of simply irritating. At one point in the movie, the housekeeper is strangled by The Lamp's Haunted Power Cord of Doom, relegating everyone else to ask the little girl where she is over and over. And the annoying brat just smiles in her annoyingly evil manner and tells everyone that she’s “gone home.” She's so - in fact, wait. Stop. Fucking look at this:

Get your slapping hand ready.

After some tedious lolly-gagging, there is a brief moment when the family is separated, so Annoying Brat runs up the stairs to the attic, where The Lamp now resides. The door slams shut behind her and she fucks The Lamp.

No, I’m kidding.

I guess The Lamp is trying to possess her or kill her or whatever the TV was trying to do to Carol-Anne in Poltergeist, because this film is clearly trying to rip off the other.

Father Kibbler, who has attempted to contact Nancy several times during the movie to warn her of The Lamp’s evil intentions (haha, that's weird), performs a half-assed exorcism on The Lamp. And when that doesn’t work, he does what I’m sure tens of people were shouting at their televisions when this movie premiered years ago:

“Throw the fucking thing out the window.”

And boy, does he.

The Lamp sails down over the rocks of the neighboring shore-line and dies (maybe). The family rejoices and they trade hugs for hours and hours.

Then Granny Alice's cat sticks its cat face into the shattered lamp, and as it looks at the camera, its eyes grow red and promises another sequel that would have actually been more interesting than what we ended up with: teens in a non-Amityville haunted house.

"And in 1947, I sewed a whole mitten-NO, KEVIN!"

LEVITY

ZAAT (1971)

 

One day, a man named Kurt said "fuck humans" and turned himself into a giant, moss-covered fish monster. After doing so, he proceeded to swim around the Florida Everglades, murder, chase cute blonde girls in teeny bikinis, and be an all-around pain-in-the-fish. A special arm of law enforcement called INPIT (Inter-Nation Phenomena Investigation Team) is dispatched to the area to investigate the multiple slayings-by-fish that have occurred. This team consists of Agent Walker Stevens (the dude) and Agent Martha Walsh (the chick). The chick likes the dude, but the dude's obsession AND his near-brushes with death caused by said obsession cause the two non-lovers certain levels of stress. See, the chick loves the dude, and the dude just may love the chick, but the fish man of Florida often gets in the way of the two beginning a romantic courtship. (Somewhere, Chris Carter, creator of the ever-enduring "X-Files," is sweating this new DVD/Bluray release of ZAAT.) When Fish Monster isn't killing, or the agents aren't necking, there's a random dude – a prototype for the original hippie – singing entire acoustic tunes directly at the camera. It all, in the end, doesn't amount to much, and I'm sure in some alternate universe, my copy of ZAAT is still playing.

We'll just get quickly to the point: ZAAT is a pretty terrible movie. There's a reason that it's not only been mocked by our favorite human/robot team combination on an episode of "Mystery Science Theater 3000," but also enjoys a current user rating of 1.7 out of 10 on IMDB. The movie is just atrocious, and anyone who has visited this blog in more than just passing knows that I love a good train wreck—the more incompetent, the better. All a bad movie needs for me to like it is this: take your premise seriously, even if your audience doesn't, and do not be boring. That's it. ZAAT, while taking its premise seriously (and vetting a serious cause), was mercilessly boring. That I even made it through the thing without falling unconscious is some kind of half-miracle, being that I once famously fell asleep in theaters during the plane crash scene in Castway—a scene filled with nonstop carnage and jarring noise in a movie that I truly loved.

But the tedium of ZAAT is not the reason I chose to forgo putting this review under my Shitty Flicks banner. No, I am choosing to highlight this movie on its own because of one important element: this completely undeserved, and frankly, pretty damn good little home video release.

ZAAT's history of home video releases is spotty at best. There are claims that ZAAT was released once prior to DVD in various titles, and not just in the aforementioned MST3K's Volume 17 in which the film was duly ripped apart. However, a quick search for "ZAAT" does not turn up any prior video releases of the film, not even on VHS. Whether this is accurate or not is not the point; no, my point is that this new release of ZAAT is just remarkable. Even without watching a brief side-by-side comparison of the film both pre-and post-remastering (one of the special features), you can easily see that a picture of this budget, reputation, and from this era, should not look as good at is does.

In a world where some movies with more prestige, talent, and critical acclaim (in comparison, anyway) have not yet enjoyed even a DVD release (William Friedkin's Rampage, for one), I have to ask: Who on earth puts this much effort info fucking ZAAT?

The fine folks at Film Chest, Cultra, and HD Cinema Classics, that's who. Not only was the picture remastered, but an audio commentary consisting of director Don Barton, co-writer Ron Kivett, actor Paul Galloway, as well as a film historian, is also provided. In addition, there is an audio interview with the film's monster (Wade Popwell), a theatrical trailer, and even a friggin' postcard!

All for ZAAT!

ZAAT gets points for making a film, albeit one as misguided and unintentionally hilarious as it may be, that tried to highlight the dangers of pollution that was occurring during the late 1960s/early 1970s in America. Recollections of ZAAT tend to lump it into the paranoia-fueled monster movies of the 1950s, which were all mostly reactions to "the bomb" and the dangers of radiation that could ensue should that bomb ever be dropped. Even today, innocent films like The Lorax are witch-hunted as liberal propaganda whose sole purpose is to brainwash the minds of children. Like the black-and-whites of the 50s, ZAAT, too, was a reaction to the current landscape of that time. And while anti-pollution movements and going-green initiatives are finally coming to prominence, know that efforts were made as far back as forty years ago to show you the threat was real. As goofy and dull as it may be, it was trying to do a hell of a lot more than most of the movies coming out today. Because of that, I'll give ZAAT all the credit in the world.

Go green.

MISS PEREGRINE'S HOME FOR PECULIAR CHILDREN

I tend to buy books in bulk. It’s an impulse that I can’t control, which I’m fine with. In my estimation, a person can never have too many—unless of course they begin to line the walls in stacks and cover every inch of free space. I haven’t reached that stage yet, so I’m still good.

I mention this because by the time I finally picked up and read Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children after having bought it months ago, I had completely forgotten what it was about. All I remembered at the time, before I began reading, was that the book made use of strange, vintage photographs from the early party of the 20th century, which were woven through the story to add visuals of our characters where possible.

So with only that knowledge in mind, I began to read.

Admittedly, the story did not immediately grab me—at least not in the way I wanted to be grabbed. Based on the cover of the book – and the gimmick of these old photos – I wanted something creepy. I wanted a tale about unnerving, diabolical children. I wasn’t even sure I wanted a strict narrative. Because of my obsession with true crime material, I probably wanted a dossier-like account of these children and what it was that made them so peculiar (read: deadly); and with their photos would come their names, their origins, under what circumstances they had become institutionalized in Miss Peregrine’s home…and in what foul ways they had murdered their victims.

What I got instead was Peter Pan meets X-Men.

Because of this, I admit to being disappointed throughout the first act of the book, yet continuing to read, anyway. The book focused more on fantasy and adventure than horror (not that I'm not adverse to those former two, mind you, but when you're expecting horror, you want horror), and so I was tempted to tune out. I was glad I didn’t, however, as the story eventually hooked me.

Our first-person narrator is sixteen-year-old Jacob Portman. His relationship with his grandfather is paramount, and when the old man tragically dies – possibly at the claws of a monstrous creature – Jacob is shattered. As the boy sits next to his dying grandfather, the old man uses his last breath to mutter to Jacob random phrases, seemingly incoherent and without meaning.

No one believes Jacob about the animal he believes was the result of his grandfather’s demise, telling him it was most likely a wild dog, so he begins his own investigation into what may have happened—and what the old man’s last words were all about.

One thing leads to another and Jacob finds himself on a faraway island, accompanied by his father, to learn more about the time his grandfather had spent there as a boy—living in an orphanage headed by Miss Peregrine.

There Jacob meets all manner of peculiar children with an array of peculiar talents. They shoot bees from their mouths, float effortlessly above the ground as if filled with helium, give life to inanimate objects using animal hearts; one child is outright invisible. Among them is Emma, a girl with whom Jacob will grow undeniably – and uncomfortably – infatuated.

What immediately strikes you about the book is how realistically it’s written, even as the events become more and more fantastical to the point of bordering on cornball. The story honestly feels like absurdly embellished memoirs instead of a traditional novel. Specific traits and interests, and even weaknesses and flaws, are added to different characters, fleshing them out and making them feel as if they are based on real people.

The real draw to me was the budding relationship between Jacob and Emma, which effortlessly made me recall my own romances from that age—something that still fills me with both fondness and regret. Without giving much away, Jacob does his best to resist falling for Emma, though they had already shared a very complicated relationship before ever meeting each other.

My only real gripe with the book has to do with its main selling point—the photographs. While the majority of the photos do add to the story, some do not, and at times felt like they were crammed into the book by the author with their inclusion being explained by some "Family Guy"-ish “remember that time?” anecdotes. I can understand having access to such strange and fascinating photos and wanting to use them, but some could easily have been excised and not affected the story. Not to mention that the placement of the photos also throws off the formatting of the book. In some cases, there may only a single paragraph on an entire page, because a photo will take up all of the following one. It’s a minor gripe, but after a while this choice interrupts the flow of the story

The book was a quick and easy read, and I’m glad I persisted on following it to the end, even after part of me had checked out. It was equal parts amusing, saddening, and unusual.

While the book's main conflict is resolved, it is clearly set up for further adventures. From what I understand, author Ransom Riggs has not announced any kind of sequel, but in this day and age when serialized young adult lit is huge, I wouldn't be surprised if he has the next three books outlined in his mind already. 

It was recently announced that Tim Burton will be bringing Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children to the bring screen. While I wish the man would direct a movie based on one of his own original scripts again (which is when we get stuff like Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice), I have to admit this book is pretty much perfect for his fixation on Gothic visuals and dour characters.

Also, five bucks says Helena Bonham-Carter plays the titular role.

MYSTERY MAN

We've met before, haven't we?

I don't think so. Where was it you think we met?

At your house. Don't you remember?

No. No, I don't. Are you sure?

Of course. As a matter of fact, I'm there right now.

What do you mean? You're where right now?

At your house.

That's fuckin' crazy, man.

Call me. Dial your number. Go ahead.

[Fred dials the number and the Mystery Man answers]

[over the phone] I told you I was here.

How'd you do that?

Ask me.

[into phone] How did you get inside my house?

[voice] You invited me. It is not my custom to go where I am not wanted.

Who are you?

[Both Mystery Men laugh mechanically]

[voice] Give me back my phone.

It's been a pleasure talking to you.


If we don't, remember me.

UNSUNG HORRORS: FRAILTY

Every once in a while, a genuinely great horror movie—one that would rightfully be considered a classic, had it gotten more exposure and love at the box office—makes an appearance. It comes, no one notices, and it goes. But movies like this are important. They need to be treasured and remembered. If intelligent, original horror is supported, then that's what we'll begin to receive, in droves. We need to make these movies a part of the legendary genre we hold so dear. Because these are the unsung horrors. These are the movies that should have been successful, but were instead ignored. They should be rightfully praised for the freshness and intelligence and craft that they have contributed to our genre.

So, better late than never, we’re going to celebrate them now… one at a time.

Dir. Bill Paxton
2001
Lionsgate Films
United States

“I cannot imagine a God who rewards and punishes the objects of his creation and is but a reflection of human frailty.”

— Albert Einstein

Frailty is a sobering look at the impact of religion on the American family. On its surface it’s about demons that may or may not exist, and one man’s belief that he was chosen to slay them with God-given weapons. But at its core it’s about the family unit. It’s about a man and his two sons, and how they are torn apart when one son follows the father, and one does not. And who is right? The son who follows unconditionally, or the son who questions orders and rebels at all costs? The movie is about free will verses destiny. It’s about knowing when to think for yourself, and when to recognize that you’ve become a man. And it’s about realizing everything you know is wrong.

There’s a scene in the beginning of the film where the family sits down to share dinner together. The younger son spoons a large helping of peas onto his plate.

Dad exclaims, “Whoa, Tiger! Save some for us!”

“I sure love peas!” the son shouts.

“I bet! You better be careful or you’ll turn into one!” Dad replies.

Yes, the dialogue exchange is unbearable corny and clichéd. You may even roll your eyes, and that’s fine. That's the point. It’s supposed to come across that way. The filmmakers are willing to embarrass themselves by showing you that this is a typical, American, drama-free, completely undiluted, and ably functioning family. There is not even a hint of something dark and seedy simmering under the surface. Dad is normal. The kids are normal. Life is…normal.

Until God talks to Dad...

It’s a fierce, black, rainy night when Fenton Meiks (Matthew McConaughey) confesses to FBI Agent Wesley Doyle (Powers Boothe) that he knows the identity of the serial murderer plaguing rural Texas who the media has dubbed the God’s Hands killer. Fenton confesses that it’s his own brother, Adam, who earlier in the night took his life because he couldn’t stand what he had become. Being that Fenton has stolen the ambulance containing his brother’s dead body and driven it directly to the FBI headquarters in Dallas, Agent Doyle is understandably wary of anything Fenton might have to tell him. But as the night grows late, Fenton reenacts the past for Agent Doyle, explaining that the events that led up to this night were set in motion long ago…by the boys’ father.

In this past, Bill Paxton plays Dad, the aforementioned father of two sons: Fenton (Matt O’Leary) and Adam (Jeremy Sumpter). The boys’ mother died years ago, and so it’s been just the three of them against the world—which suited them fine. As Fenton says in the movie, “we didn’t need anyone else.” Dad worked as a mechanic during the day, but always came home to his sons in the evening and spent as much time with them as he could. Fenton and Adam, separated by only a few years, lived fairly typical lives, though Fenton was tasked with some of the duties his deceased mother likely would have handled (cooking dinner for the family, keeping an extra eye on Adam). The three were close, and despite the loss of their mother, the boys were happy. They went to the movies, laughed about girls throwing up, and did other things brothers/boys do.

It all changes the night Dad wakes them up in the middle of the night and explains to them both that in a strange vision, in which he was visited by an angel, he learns he was chosen by God to slay demons living amongst humanity in human shells. His weapons in this crusade consist of an ax named Otis, a lead pipe, and a pair of work gloves. To determine who is a demon and who is not, he is to lay his hands upon them, and their sins will be revealed.

Understandably, Fenton immediately doubts his father’s claims, wondering if the stress of single-fatherhood has finally taken its toll. Adam, however, is quick to believe; his young age makes him prone to easily accepting such claims, and if his own father believed them, then why shouldn’t he? Why would his own father lie to him?

The hunt soon begins. Dad orders Fenton to take part, and the boy at first refuses…that is until he realizes that he really has no choice. As much as he believes that his father has gone insane, he still loves him and does not want the family to be torn apart.

It all leads to shocking conclusions that cap off the past sequence as well as the present. Additionally, Frailty ends with my favorite kind of twist—which I won’t reveal here. But those who have seen the film know exactly what I mean.

Bill Paxton does a fantastic job with his meaty role in front of the camera. It’s a tough one to pull off, as he has to bring humanity to a role that audiences will have no choice but to vilify and fear almost from the very beginning. To make the role of Dad clearly villainous and cartoonish would have been a disservice to the smart story by the Texas-born Brent Hanley. Of course it would’ve been easy to root against the “antagonist” as he slithers around grinning ear to ear like Nicolas Cage, covered in blood, punctuating each kill with a truly bad pun. But it’s the strength of Paxton as an actor that he can make Dad flawed, human, and sympathetic—all the while making you feel uncomfortable and hesitant whenever he is on screen. (This is something I often bring up in reviews. I always find characters that skirt the line between antagonist and protagonist to be the most interesting, and the role of Dad is no different.) Put yourself in young Fenton’s shoes: how far would you be willing to go to follow your father? For you, what would be the line between real life and insanity? To our eyes, what Dad is doing is clearly wrong, but he doesn’t believe it to be. He believes he is doing God’s work, and it’s because of this that his work is carried out with care and concern. Like Abraham from the Bible, Dad loves his sons more than anything, but it’s the love for his God that will determine his actions.

Matt O’Leary and Jeremy Sumpter do commendable work with their roles. Let’s be honest, child actors are always a gamble. Their inability to grasp the concept of the kind of movie they are making is always reflected in their performance. Luckily, these two know what they’re doing.

O’Learly puts more work and effort into his role than most established adult actors. He sweats and bleeds and suffers with his character—it gets to the point where you wish you could pluck him off the screen just to get him away from all the misery his life has become. The movie rides on his shoulders, and he pulls it off gracefully.

Younger Sumpter, too, has a tough job. He is reciting lines that, at his young age, must have little to no meaning. The real-life complexities of the idea of a “God” and what people who believe in him are willing to do, even things that seemingly violate basic tenets one learns early on in life—it’s a tough thing for even adults to work their mind around, let alone a child of Sumpter’s age. But he plays his part with great confidence and assurance.

The young actors’ chemistry as brothers is believable, and especially in the case of Sumpter, their performances are utterly in line with how real people would react to such a trauma. As Adam begins to follow his father more and more, he, too, does not become comic bookish and antagonistic. He avoids turning into The Bad Seed. Adam wants nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps, even going as far as producing his own “demon list” that God allegedly gave to him—filled with the names of people that have bullied him in the past. The scene in which Dad explains the difference between destroying demons and killing people is morbidly funny. From Fenton’s disbelieving point of view, Dad is clearly out of his mind, and so this explanation between destroying demons and killing humans is hypocritical. (Additionally, there is one sequence in the film where Dad is forced to take the life of a human being in order to protect “the mission”—and upon doing so, he immediately vomits and begins to sob as his sons bury the body, lamenting what he was “forced” to do—that he has only just now become a murderer.)

As Fenton suffers through one punishment after another for not following orders, Adam urges his brother to conform—to believe in his family and accept his own responsibility. He does so with the love and admiration a younger brother has for his older. In his mind, Adam is unable to see why Fenton just won’t join them. It’s intelligently and realistically done.

Powers Boothe will always be a dependable bad ass, no matter the role he is playing. And while he might not have much to do during the first 2/3rds of the film, it’s the last act that shows even as someone as deeply intimidating as Boothe can be shaken under the right circumstances. He so rarely gets to play someone with weakness that when it does happen, it makes the events causing his transformation that much more disturbing.

Despite his slew of truly brainless rom-coms, Matthew McConaughey will always be an actor who makes me turn one eye towards whatever project he has in the works. Yes, he’s made a shit-ton of tepid movies (most with Kate Hudson), but his roles in A Time to Kill, Lincoln Lawyer, and even We Are Marshall proves he has the chops to pull off a great performance, so long as he’s got the passion to do so. His role in Frailty is one that’s quite understated, dark, and disconcerting. Like O'Leary, it’s up to him to make this movie work, and it’s because of him that it does. His performance is supposed to make you think he’s insane, but at the same time, possibly telling the truth—all at once. You’re supposed to question what you are seeing and hearing at all times, because as McConaughey looks at you with his thousand-mile stare, and as his eyes shimmer from the appearance of tears despite the lack of emotion on his face, you have to know that there’s something not 100% right about Fenton Meiks. What filmmakers call an unreliable narrator is the one leading us on this journey into the past—so everything you see on screen must be doubted. Nothing is to be believed.

Lastly, we have Otis, who plays the ax. Yes, the odd choice to have a random name carved into the ax's handle might seem erroneous until you realize that the ax really is a character. Never in the movie is it just a random household tool, but rather something that has the power to tear apart whole families. It comes to represent what Fenton believes to be the lie – the insanity – his father insists on perpetuating. 

The direction by Paxton is quite assured for a first time director. Most actors can make that leap successfully and Paxton is no different. The first appearance of the Meiks house – a former and very isolated residence of the gardeners who tended the Thurman Rose Garden, where the bodies of “demons” are soon to be buried – is haunting, nostalgic, and saddening all at once. As the brother burst from the trees and their large, white, farm-style house looms into view, the music (a subtly simmering score by the usually bombastic Brian Tyler) ceases, and the sounds of cicadas fill the screen. It’s perhaps the most beautiful shot in the film—a fuzzily recollected memory from childhood.

Another sequence that deserves special mention is the taking of the second “demon,” where Fenton is forced to play the part of an upset and crying boy whose dog, Trixie, won’t come out from under the demon’s car. What the soon-to-be-victim thinks are tears of sadness coming from this boy are actually from fear, as Fenton knows what’s about to happen.

(As an aside, the movie also makes awesome use of Johnny Cash’s “Peace in the Valley” in two very well done and connected sequences.)

Frailty is a movie whose ending I am desperate to dissect and explain in all kinds of tangential ways why it’s so awesome, but to those who haven’t yet seen this film, I would hate to ruin it. What I can say about Frailty, however, is that above all, it’s terrifying…because it could happen. And it does, every day. Even today entire wars are begun over the belief that God speaks through his followers and orders them to destroy the unclean and the infidel. And really…what’s scarier? Jason Voorhees wielding an ax and coming at you…or your own father killing someone else in front of you as you beg and plead him to stop?

Most films based on faith, religion, and peoples’ ties to both tend to come down on one side of the fence: either religion is good, or bad. Frailty manages to show you that it’s both. It shows you what it’s done to a simple family that, after losing their wife/mother, has already suffered enough. But it also shows you that sometimes you’re right to have faith, and you’re right to follow it, no matter the circumstances.

THE FP (2012)

For a filmmaker, attempting to manufacture a cult film is a fool's errand. To even try is just as disingenuous as those claims you see from film critics hailing a newly released movie as an "instant classic." No one filmmaker can knowingly create a cult film, and no one film critic can hail a movie as an instant classic. Time, only, will decide if one particular film is worthy of either title.

The FP just might have broken both of those rules in one dope move. 

Conceived and executed by The Trost Brothers (Jason and Brandon), The FP is destined to go down as the most unique film of 2012. I can honestly say I've never seen another film like it, and I absolutely love when I get to say that.

Jtro (Jason Troust) and his brother, Btro (Brandon Barrera), live in a not-too-distant future where underground games of Beat Beat Revolution (a recreated version of the popular arcade hit Dance Dance Revolution) are not only prevalent, but have become the way for gangs to claim dominance over a territory. Hordes of young people gather together in smoky, neon light-filled basement warehouses and watch as two challengers go head-to-head, pumping their legs and twisting their bodies to the roaring techno bouncing off the concrete walls; and when our characters speak, they do so using the most extreme street Ebonics not heard since the days of the NWA. Exclamations of "Oh snap!", "Whack!", and "YEah!! [sic]" flash on the screens during the dance challenge, either encouraging or dissing the dancers' moves.

If you're thinking this concept is ludicrous, that's because it is. And our filmmakers know it is. But that doesn't mean they aren't in on the joke. And wisely, they play this concept as straight as possible. When I tell you that the movie is flat-out hilarious, it's not because there are "jokes" throughout its running time...because there aren't...because the entire movie is the joke. Lines of dialogue like "I challenge you to a beat-off!" or "Dance with your mind, not your feet!" are spoken with the straightest of faces. And the audience who watches from the sidelines as two challengers hit the dance mats for a game of BBR aren't laughing at our characters, because what they see unfolding before them isn't an arcade game, or a joke, but a way of life.

Inexplicably, the entire movie is one absurd allegory of the Civil War. Two gangs, the 248 (the good guys from the north part of Frazier Park) and the 245 (the baddies from the south) are vying for dominance of the FP. The secret "training" headquarters for the 248 is mentioned as once being used in the Underground Railroad movement. The 245 is led by L-Dubba-E (aka Lee, aka Robert E. Lee, general of the Confederate Army). His lesser soldiers wear Confederate soldier hats and proudly display flags of the same. Allusions to Abraham Lincoln are made throughout the film. What it all means I couldn't say, but it's oddly appropriate to see something so historically significant, important, and realistically scary as the Civil War woven through such a strange tapestry of dancing and urban slang.

One smoky night, Btro and L-Dubba-E challenge each other to a game of BBR, and the match grows so heated that Btro literally dies on the mat, sharing an absurdly touching moment with his brother before descending to that big techno club in the sky.

Jtro glares at the heavens as he vows, "I'm never playing Beat Beat Revolution again!" and sets off to a life of isolation as a lumberjack.

But there are people from the FP who haven't forgotten about Jtro, and they beg him to return to his roots and help them regain control of their hometown from the 245s.

A visually impressive amalgamation of other films like Rocky, 8 Mile, The Warriors, and even Mad Max, The FP immediately grabs your attention with its off-kilter approach, and once it does, you are drawn into this peculiar world almost effortlessly, simultaneously laughing at the strange characters and their strange way of life, but also rooting for the boys from the 248 without even realizing it.

Jason Trost as Jtro has the hardest job as the lead character. He has lost his brother, and so he is a broken man; however, the other characters surrounding him are by contrast dynamic and quirky, energetic and bizarre. They have the ability to mask their own understanding of how silly their film is with their own idiosyncratic performances. Trost, however, remains dour for most of the movie, repeating the most ridiculous of lines while remaining stoic, calm, and disenchanted. The FP depends on his performance to work, and so it does.

Special mention must be made of Art Hsu and his manic performance as KC/DC. He remains energetic from the first minute until the last, serving as MC over all the BBR challenges and badly singing a profane version of the National Anthem (not so much of the United States, but of Frazier Park). He shares one particularly amusing scene where he explains that L-Dubba-E has come into ownership of the FP's sole liquor store, but refuses to sell its booze, forcing people to look to meth to satisfy their addictions. In a teary-eyed monologue, he explains that without booze, there are no bums, and because there are no bums, there is no one to feed the ducks...and so the ducks stop coming to the FP. "And what kinda town ain't got no mothafuckin' ducks?!" he demands through his tears. Hsu is not only the heart of The FP, but the catalyst, as it is he who retrieves Jtro from his lonely life and convinces him to come back and fight for all that the 248 have lost.

Lastly, The FP has perhaps the greatest final shot of all time.

Produced by the folks who brought you Paranormal Activity and Insidious, The FP is brought to you by Drafthouse Films, the infamous Texas-based movie theater who have for years hosted special screenings of films new and old. The FP marks another release by their relatively new distribution banner, and if it's just a taste of things to come, I look enthusiastically forward to their new venture.

The FP begins a limited theatrical release beginning March 16. To see if it's playing in your city, or for more info on the movie, go here.

Grade: A+