Hey there. I hope someone has taken the time to be nice to you recently. It’s been nonstop bullshit across the board on a sociopolitical level lately, and as such it’s difficult to maintain perspective without slipping into some dark places. Sometimes we must find relief in freshly made carbs. Sometimes it’s naughty escapades. Sometimes it’s spending some time in the woods talking to trees and chasing butterflies. Just figure out what it is that you need to do to not drown in bile. Perhaps these audiovisual offerings will aid in that.
As always, here are some recommendations for what to stream (or watch in theaters). Visit past issues of the Scene — or our website — for more suggestions.
V/H/S/94 on Shudder
As with any anthology, there are going to be some segments that work better than others. There are some great ideas for exploiting what’s fun and terrifying about the genre of found footage to be found in V/H/S/94 — the fourth installment in the V/H/S series — as well as some very gnarly gore. But let’s get the negative out of the way first: There’s no reason for this film to be set in 1994 if the filmmakers are going to use the modern 16:9 aspect ratio. To do so is basically to kill your entire concept from frame one, and despite the enjoyable turns the actual videos take, you can never get past that. Also, the framing story is easily the weakest of the series thus far. But — and here come the positives — this film has some great concepts that fit into the subgenres of white supremacists fucking around and finding out, funeral freakouts, underground (literally) religious movements, a nonconsensual melting on the evening news (that feels like a True Blood shout-out), and the steep precipice of listening to Mad Science. As a whole, it’s good enough, though I wish the producers would get back to the vibe of the first two V/H/S films — something’s definitely missing.Â
Dear Evan Hansen in theaters; streaming via Peacock starting Oct. 17
Dear Evan Hansen is Mulholland Drive for theater kids. And by that I mean it’s one of those films that makes you confront the absolute moral truth of yourself, and that’s a very difficult thing to do. So it makes sense that the vast majority of folks have had a lot of problems with this Tony-winning and deeply beloved musical, because the vast majority of folks don’t really understand what theater asks of — and can do to — you. Evan Hansen (Ben Platt, who is very good but also a bit much, which is an integral part of theater) is not a theater kid, but rather the character a theater kid waits for all their life: deeply insecure, hyperanalytical, clinically depressed and very nimble at thinking on their feet and accessing emotions both real and manufactured — not to mention ready to break into song or bust out some complicated choreography should the situation need it. The fucked-up aspects of the character come from needing to be a people pleaser but being unable to stop at the right point, which is the quintessential theater-kid struggle — but also that instinct to keep older folks entertained (partly out of respecting your elders, and partly because they as an audience determine what gets funding).
Dear Evan Hansen is not a musical about the tragedy of suicide, so don’t expect that. It’s a show about how the internet has killed empathy, how nobody is on the right dosage of their meds, and how your intentions mean nothing, because everything gets way too big way too fast. The dancing is great, director Stephen Chbosky (The Perks of Being a Wallflower) knows how to compose a shot, and it’s going to speak to the part of you that you’ve kept buried since the last time you set foot on a stage. For people who were never theater kids? This isn’t for you.
Gilgames on YouTube
Made for Hungarian television in 1975, this majestic whatsit uses state-of-the art ’70s video effects, forced perspective, miniatures and an expansive palette of textures and color to craft a singular take on the epic of Gilgamesh, the first surviving epic produced by any of earth’s societies. Gilgames (no H) is a remarkable work that feels strange and sensual, yet its touchstones feel reassuring, as they recur throughout global myth and literature. If you’re searching for inspiration for a Halloween costume, got into some Delta-8 shenanigans and are having a lovely evening with the couch — or if you just want to revisit one of the lesser-taught stories of our collective past — this is absolutely what you’re looking for.
Venom: Let There Be Carnage
Venom: Let There Be Carnage in Theaters
First thing: The first Venom was not very good, despite a gonzo Tom Hardy performance and some muculent symbiote kink around the edges. Second thing: The trailers for Venom: Let There Be Carnage are fascinating objects, because they depict things from the actual film yet do not work at conveying what’s actually exciting about the film. Because there are two movies here — and like the ongoing internal battle between reporter Eddie Brock (Hardy) and the alien symbiote Venom (also Hardy) — Let There Be Carnage is also battling against itself from the inside. The film with Woody Harrelson as a serial killer who likes to get in murderfights down at the special effects factory is more of the same. But the film depicting the travails of Eddie and Venom’s attempts to share the same body is kind of amazing — deeply queer like those late-’60s off-Broadway dramas about negotiating boundaries and the fights resulting from the pressure of society just not understanding — and never half-assed. Hardy commits to this film like it’s Chekhov or Miller, and he gives the audience everything. Hardy’s Eddie is a sad-sack palooka who just wants peace and not to make too much of a fuss, and his Venom is a rampaging id, a vaudevillian who wants to win your heart, save the day and eat your brain. The fact that there’s no Oscar for Best Performance as a Dialectical Situation is a crime, but for the time being, let’s let superhero movies be this weird on a consistent basis.
