I thought by now we would have moved into the post-election phase of life, but feet are dragging in regard to both executive succession and doing anything about COVID-19, and we’re still emotionally deep down in the omnipresent shit of everything. It didn’t have to be this way. Which is oddly the theme of this week’s collection of bleatings to keep people occupied. This is the 33rd installment of Pandemic Cinema, with infection rates spiraling out of control. Let the existential horror be for entertainment on your screens instead of real, inescapable, all around you. As always, you can look back at past issues of the Scene for scores more: March 26, April 2, April 9, April 16, April 23, April 30, May 7, May 14, May 21, May 28, June 4, June 11, June 18, June 25, July 2, July 9, July 16, July 23, July 30, Aug. 6, Aug. 13, Aug. 20, Aug. 27, Sept. 3, Sept. 10, Sept. 17, Sept. 24, Oct. 1, Oct. 15, Oct. 29, Nov. 5, Nov. 11.
The Dark and the Wicked via Video on Demand
I was warned. I was warned that this was a return to masterful, cruel form for Bryan Bertino, whose 2008 film The Strangers remains an incredibly auspicious debut as well as a master class in visual storytelling. His intervening two features, Mockingbird Lane and The Monster, I let slip by because of mixed responses from people whose opinions I trusted. But I shall remedy that, because The Dark and the Wicked is brutal, and Bertino has a gift for frame composition that just can’t be messed with (think Gareth Edwards for a similar CinemaScope artist). Two siblings (including Marin Ireland, from last year’s kind and beautiful Light From Light) return to the family farm, where their mother has been caring for their invalid father. Entropy holds sway, as does something not easily explained. And death comes to call at the farm. I can’t think of another American film propelled by such razor-sharp and hopeless fatalism, but there will be more.
Freaky in Theaters and Drive-Ins
Millie Kessler (Kathryn Newton from Big Little Lies) is treading water in the high school holding tank. So when the Blissfield Butcher (Vince Vaughn) stabs her with the ancient Aztec sacrificial dagger La Dola, you might think she had a date with tragic destiny. But instead, she wakes up in the Butcher’s body, as he wakes up in hers. And if the ancient rite that swapped their souls isn’t completed in a day, the transfer remains permanent. Chaos, hilarity and murder ensue (how many high schools have an industrial flash freezer anyway?), because with Millie’s body, the Butcher has got a wide-open playing field in which to slash. Freaky director Christopher Landon (Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones, the Happy Death Day duo) knows how to sell high concepts with maximum slash and big laughs. Freaky absolutely has the best Vince Vaughn performance since 2000’s Made, and it’s amazing to see the effervescent joy he brings to this role. Set free by an R rating, co-writers Landon and Michael Kennedy (an essential part of the sorely-missed Attack of the Queerwolf podcast) are not afraid to shed blood in grotesque abundance or work as blue as need be to get a point across, and it’s refreshing to see a contemporary mass-market horror film that compromises on neither gore nor social conscience. If the end result isn’t quite as delightful as the Happy Death Day films, this is still a profoundly enjoyable horror-comedy that covers a lot of emotional and visceral bases. As always, any film that aims to turn a glow-in-the-dark miniature golf course into a murderscape gets extra points from me. (See also: 2014’s Clown, now streaming on Pluto and Tubi.)
Come Play at Theaters and Drive-Ins
If every messed-up relationship has its own monster, Come Play’s Larry is an exceptional creation — a spindly, angular thing that projects Dire Wraith and landstrider vibes while taking up residence in the childhood mark left by The Monster at the End of This Book. Larry represents loneliness, the attention that humanity gives to screens of input rather than actual things, marriages in trouble, the danger caused by lies of convenience, and the tension between wanting to be a caring human being and not being patient enough to handle the non-neurotypical. Which is a lot for any monster to tackle, but this is a very, very good monster, courtesy of the Jim Henson Creature Shop. There’s a long and storied history of human conflict leading to a profound rise in monster-related encounters, so take that as you will. Come Play is so much weirder than you might expect, and it does phone-based horror in a new and intriguing way. It could have just inched on by on the strength of a great monster (many lesser movies have done exactly that), but it does so much more.
His House
His House on Netflix
There’s a sequence in His House that starts with a fraught kitchen-table discussion that becomes a tracking shot into the middle of unspeakable horror, and it’s a breathtaking moment in an exceptional film that will sneak deep inside your subconscious. When Sudanese refugees Bol and Rial, having suffered tragedy after tragedy, are granted temporary housing somewhere outside London, the first emotion is relief. Which is followed by a creeping unease that never relents. There’s something in this council house not subject to physical space, and an effective haunting knows no geographic boundaries. Educational, profoundly scary and an experience that delights in taking unexpected routes, this film is one of those debut features that makes you want to keep track of everything a director does from here on out. And Remi Weekes is a talent to watch. With Javier Botet (one of the world’s great performers of creatures), Matt “The 11th Doctor” Smith, and edited by former Nashvillian and USN alumna Julia Bloch (who also edited Green Room).
A Simple Favor on Hulu and Amazon Prime
Much in the way that 1988’s Heathers was embraced by the people it was mercilessly satirizing, this vicious comic mystery from Paul Feig (Freaks and Geeks) became a word-of-mouth hit among the mommy blog set back in 2018. It’s got strands of DNA from Gone Girl, Bad Moms, The Ice Storm and Frank Perry’s near-lost Compromising Positions, and it’s a candy-colored cupcake made with buttercream and bile about those who strive to maintain the illusion of perfection. (This makes for perfect companion viewing with The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City.) Anna Kendrick can do no wrong, and Blake Lively is right there with her, done up with the most glamorous of tragedy and impeccable accessories — magenta gloves really do need to be a thing again.
