Jackie (2016): Grief Embodied

In the last few months, the political climate has been profoundly perplexing to say the very least. It seems only fitting that a month and a half after this bizarre election, cinema allows us to turn back the clock to a different world of politics, one still complex, but elegant rather than crude in its complexity. Jackie (2016), however, is not a political film, nor should it be mistaken as one. It is a film that feels almost coincidently set in the world of politics rather than forcibly relying on it for drama. This is not about John F. Kennedy's Presidency, nor is it a film that is preoccupied with recreating a glossy version of his tragic assassination. In fact, this isn't even really a film about Jackie Kennedy when examined closely enough. While yes, the plot does detail her intimate struggles in the immediate aftermath of her husband's death, Jackie seems to stand in as a representation for something more substantial and perhaps even more resonating than a mere First Lady in mourning. Jackie's experiences in the days following the loss of her and this country's beloved King of Camelot is representative of how grief is capable of taking on a life of its own within a person.

The constant extreme close-ups and chilling score that carries an air of grandness with every violin stroke both do an extemporary job of detailing Jackie's personal strife as she comes to terms with life as a single mother, who has the eyes of the world glued to her every move. The movie is scattered, told non-sequentially as if to describe the distortion of mind and body that a mourner often elicits so soon after the death of a loved one. Jackie goes through stages of grief much like the way one watches the houses swoosh by while riding a train and looking out the window, with volatile and introverted enthusiasm.

Grief, at some point, becomes little about the person that has died and much about the mourner themselves. In Jackie, we catch Mrs Kennedy crying over the loss of herself and her continued worrisome plight that she's insufficiently capable of becoming someone new; Someone the public will still revere and admire. Natalie Portman imbues this performance with acts of both selflessness and selfishness. Jackie was far from one-sided, and Portman's portrayal allows her to be shown as the complicated multidimensional prism she was. Her witty quips and editorial notes to the journalist interviewing her prove that self-image was always a concern for her, First Lady or not. Still, however, it does not go unnoticed that the film has little to do with the Kennedy Legacy or even the legacy of this fine, often charismatic woman. No, Jackie excels because it makes the viewer feel in an all-too-real genuine manner the disturbingly cathartic sensation of human loss. Jackie Kennedy was truly grief embodied, but she refused to let this define her entire life. Those who suffer the loss of a great love one should take notice to do the same. When grieving you may allow it to take over you for a brief time, but true strength and growth is expelled once we take control of our grief and move on to tomorrow's harrowing journey, renewed and wiser than before—God Bless JFK, God Bless Jackie, and in a bizarre twist of emotion, God Bless Grief.

A Christmas Carol, a Christmas Story for the Ages.

There have been countless cinematic and television incarnations of Charles Dickens classic Christmas tale about a begrudged Christmas-hating miser, Ebenezer Scrooge. A Christmas Carol encompasses themes of greed, benevolence and the human capacity to love and be loved in return. While many esteemed actors from Albert Finney to Jim Carrey have portrayed the old grump, my personal favorite has always been George C. Scott's portrayal in the 1984's version of the story, brought to life on the screen by director Clive Donner. While Scott's version may not critically be considered the "best", I grew up watching it and after seeing many of the other versions, adamantly feel that this version of the tale resonates with me the most on a spiritual, emotional and psychological level. It's riddled with dry humor, dark subtext and moments of genuine warmth.

An interesting fact about this particular version of A Christmas Carol is a minor detail involving the wardrobe. In all the previous versions of the story (including the original novel), Scrooge is seen wearing a male nightgown and matching cap throughout the majority of the merrily eerie tale. George C. Scott, a prominent actor of the time, refused to parade around, sometimes in the winter snow, wearing pajamas! At his insistence, Scrooge wears his worn maroon suit during most of the film's running time. To a certain extent, Scott's pretentious wardrobe demand reinforces the essence of Scrooge's inner self. Scrooge is far too prideful and rigid to allow even a spirit to make him walkabout in his nightclothes. No, if he is going to have to face the facts of his tumultuous life, he shall do so in his business suit, calm and collected for however short a time. Yes, as he learns and discovers more about himself, it becomes tattered and tarnished, but it remains intact. While Scrooge does change, in the end, a part of him will always contain this external shell of his former self. A reminder of his past misdeeds which he must never repeat or risk facing the dire consequences. Scrooge's suit covers so much more than his body; it's an external representation of the façade he has put out onto the world. A poor reflection of his cold father, misguided business partner Marley and even his scorned long-ago lover, Belle. By Scott keeping it on throughout the film, Scrooge feels more ruthless and stifled and yet more human and conflicted as well.

A Christmas Carol may not be as visually appealing as The Nutcracker or as humorous as How The Grinch Stole Christmas, but it remains a timeless classic. I firmly believe this is because its message of love and appreciation of the power of the Christmas Spirit forever rings truth in the hearts of even the most stressed or strife-ridden holiday goer. Tiny Tim's sentiment, while occasionally overdrawn with emotional sentimentality is nevertheless accurate; "God Bless Us Everyone" yes, even those who may seem to lack any sort of merriment or jubilation in their candor, much like Mr Scrooge himself. God Bless them as well. Smile at these poor ignorant souls and remember at least, it's never too late for someone to change for the better. The holidays bring about an opportune time for such life improvement. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!

And to those who hate movies...Bah Humbug!

Nine: 9 Ways Movie Musicals Lose Their Way

Movie Musicals have been a part of cinema's history since soon after the innovation of sound on screen. They are spectacles of epic, yet often intimate stories told through song and dance. However, movie musicals are not the easiest films to write and produce. Execution of a top-quality movie musical requires a perfect storm of creative forces coming together at the right time with the right materials at their disposal. Nine (2009) came out in the winter of 2009 and was a movie musical based on a play (of the same name), that was also based on a movie, 8 1/2 (1963) . That's some pretty meta shit if you ask me.

Federico Fellini's semi-autobiographical story of Guido Contini, an esteemed Italian film director plagued by writer's block and the numerous women in his life, is a story of disparity and desire. It was no wonder that Rob Marshall, acclaimed director of the film version of Chicago (2002) chose to translate this tale back to the big screen. It has the glamour and glitz of any Hollywood blockbuster, which is also a part of its problem. The film, unfortunately, ended up falling severely short of expectations with both the critics and the box office. While the film has its many faults, it is still an enjoyable watch nonetheless, primarily thanks to its immensely talented ensemble cast. Where did the film go wrong? How do movie musicals that should be so easy to entertain, end up leaving us befuddled instead of bemused? I decided to use Nine as the test subject for this bewildering question.

Here are...

The Nine Do's and Don't of Movie Musicals.

9. Don't give it a complete rewrite.

If a musical is going from stage to screen, adjustments will need to be made so that the transition is smooth and effective. However, when the plot and story are changed too drastically, then the new version may get to the point that it feels reductive. The film version of Nine is not only altered greatly but is reduced to mere bones in certain areas of its skeletal story structure. This diminishes the psychological significance of the source material. You could also look at the film version of Rock of Ages (2012) to understand why complete story rewrites from stage to screen are a less than brilliant idea.

8. Do give the audience time to get to know the characters.

Movie Musicals are supposed to provide richly, memorable characters whose personal journey's are guided by music and dance. However, if the film is rushing to get to the singing and dancing before it gives us enough insight on who these people are and what they want out of life, the audience won't care what kind of songs they sing or how many tap dances they can do! Nine suffers from too short of a running time to give adequate enough character development to its characters. We have a brief introduction's to each before the singing starts, and they remain on screen for only a short time after. We catch fleeting glimpses into the lives of Guido and the women he loves, but we never watch them truly live and experience life.

7. Don't add characters unless they add significance.

While Kate Hudson is fabulous in her role as Stephanie in the film, she is essentially relegated to a glorified cameo as is the seriously underused Sophia Loren. Hudson's character is given little to nothing to do besides her 60's retro musical number "Cinema Italiano". She clearly represents temptation and Guido's insatiable lustful appetite, but she is not so much a character as she is a caricature. Her role could have easily been expanded had the writers been more thoughtful to how a female journalist may act and feel in a world dominated by powerful, successful men like Guido. Instead, she's more of a glossy groupie, and Kate Hudson already played that role much better in Almost Famous (2000). If your musical needs more characters, give them purpose, not just a glitzy costume and back-up dancers in sharp suits.

6. Do make good use of your setting.

This is something Nine got pretty right, its aesthetics. The use of the actual movie set as the setting for the musical numbers and the exquisite exterior shots of Rome in all its 1960's glory is extremely effective in setting the tone and vision for a film that's clearly about people obsessed with the visual images life has to offer them. Musicals are larger than life and Nine definitely resembles the renaissance of stylistic elegance that Italy was in the 1960's. That doesn't mean that the spaces are used well, only that they look good. 

5. Don't end on a whimper

"You Can't Stop The Beat", "We Go Together", Moulin Rouge's "Finale Medley". Musicals should end on a high note, pun intended. If possible the last song should be an ensemble number, because all of the storylines have come to fruition at this point in the climax. If the last song isn't a showstopper, it should have emotional resonance, a profound statement of change and evolution in the characters lives. Nine fails at this, giving Guido, and the women, only an orchestral accompaniment as they quite literally take their final bows in the film's conclusion. Yes, his wife is returning to him, and he has matured and grown, that's beautiful, but this is a musical for God's sake, sing about it!

4. Don't do clichés, unless they work.

Many musicals are campy at heart, and this is not a bad thing. It's an inevitability of a fantasy world of song and dance. Grease (1978) camps up the '50s and Hairspray (2007) certainly made full-blown campiness out of the '60s. Nine almost restrains itself too much. It shows its beautiful Italian setting with aplomb, but never really dives into its intimate innards. The studio-set where the musical numbers are featured feels artificial in the worst way. If every musical number had the campy energy of "Cinema Italiano" and "Be Italian", the movie would at least feel more fun. Musicals are meant to be made BIG!

  3. Do have a valuable message.

Musicals are not simply about singing and dancing just for the sake of it. Musicals are about an emotional build-up, about larger than life meanings and symbols being evoked through lyrical and rhythmic interpretations. If a musical has nothing to say, it doesn't matter how good the songs are or how mesmerizing the dance sequences are executed. Nine is a film that loses much of its meaning because the plot is significantly altered for the screen. The tale of a desperately conflicted man coming into his own with the aid of the underappreciated women in his life is itself undervalued and underwhelmed by glossy Hollywood melodrama.

2. Do contain, and take advantage of, chemistry amongst the cast.

Nine has a large ensemble of insurmountable talent, and from behind the scenes videos and cast interviews, it appears they all got on very well. On-screen, their chemistry is palatable enough, but unfortunately, most of the vibrantly talented women in the cast hardly get any screen time together. It's an unfortunate and unnecessary loss that if changed, could have helped elevate the film to greater depths.

1. Don't butcher the musical score!

Nine's greatest cinematic musical offense? The complete overhaul of the exquisite score Maury Yeston had created. The added songs don't do the film any wrong. "Cinema Italiano", "Guarda La Luna" and "Take it All" actually give the story more edges and curves rather than narrow it out into boredom. It is definitely a positive that Yeston, himself wrote the new songs. However, the film's story suffers greatly from Rob Marshall's poor misguided attempt at maintaining all the musical numbers inside the protagonist's head. It's even worse to know that several more numbers were filmed and then cut! Songs like "Simple" and "Getting Tall" give the plot of the musical its true meaning and invigorate audiences with the kind of passionate, poignant emotions one should feel when watching a musical of this stature. In the end, Nine cuts far too much and adds far too little to make up for it. It is simplified into insignificance, which is a shame because I believe its themes and messages have sizable weight to them. The musical score is the bone marrow of a musical, and it should be extracted and infused with great care and delicacy, for its implications are grand and purposeful. Nine may have missed the mark, but the incredible thing about musicals themselves is that they can still manage to entertain and bring delight even with faulty plot structures and mishandled musical scores. Musicals work on a level all their own.

Except for From Justin to Kelly (2003)....that movies just bad. In fact, it never happened.

Chick Flicks: The Non-Existent Genre

I don't think there was ever a time in my life that I felt comfortable with the term "chick flick" and if this world wants to get anything remotely productive accomplished before the end of 2016, it would be to abolish this phrase from our film-vocabulary.

To many, the term "Chick Flick" simply refers to films that serve and are well received by a predominately female audience. I, on the other hand, look at the term as encompassing a much more narrow-minded perspective. "Chick Flick" to me, detracts audiences members from seeing a film because it seems to carry around a burden of exclusivity. In simpler terms, a "Chick Flick" seems to mean that only a female can enjoy the film, and anyone else are not only deterred from watching but adamantly discouraged to take part in any viewing or discussion regarding the film. I am not advocating for "Male Rights" or diminishing the value of female-driven cinematic pursuits. I am merely stating that when you create a sub-genre that completely disregards entire genders from its potential audience demographics, you are working against the values and ideals from which cinema proper was first instituted. Films are not for the privileged or the affluent, but for all. It is an individual's God-given right to make various choices regarding their life: Who they'll love, what career they'll pursue and even what films they so wish to watch. I never have and never will allow societal pressure or gender politics to prevent me from indulging my cinematic curiosities, and no one else should either, male or female. Besides, men and young boys would do well to watch films with female centered characters and plot lines. It allows for open cross-gender discussions about a slew of essential topics, including sex and relationship issues amongst many others. What a person watches, can dictate what they think and how they view the world and if we disavow access to a particular genre of film for specific groups how could we consider ourselves true respecters of the visual arts?

You may think I am overreacting or being overly sensitive, but in my vision of the world, the term "Chick Flicks" has been eradicated, and the genre itself nullified. Let's appreciate these films for what they truly are, entertaining and feministic in nature, but not derivative in their cinematic significance or general quality.

Here are some of my favorite (wrongly branded) "Chick Flicks!" 

1. Mean Girls (2004)

- A standard watch for any millennial, male, female or gender-non-conforming.  The films comedy holds the test of time as does its pointed sentiments about high school living and finding your true self amongst a sea of vicious, adolescent sharks. 

2.  The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

- Those of us who have ever had to work in a stressful environment remotely akin to the halls of fictional fashion magazine "Runway" can find something sincere and meaningful to resonate with in this dramedy starring Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep and a still new to the screen Emily Blunt. 

3. 13 Going on 30 (2004)

- Anyone could learn some valuable lessons from Jennifer Gardner's tender and funny portrayal of a 13 year old girl who jumps 17 years into the future and discovers the ups and downs of adulthood with earnest wonderment.

The Girl On The Train: Commuting from a Book to the Big Screen

                                                          

Hailed as the next Gone Girl (2014) in the vein of introspective spectacles, this thriller begged to be adapted the moment the words were typed across the page. I read the novel in less than a month, ironically during my commutes to Brooklyn for school every morning and afternoon, and I did so with great anticipation for the film. Its cinematic potential is apparent from page one. If Hitchcock was around at the time of this book's publishing, I have no doubt he would've acquired the rights to it quickly. The material is voyeuristic in a vibrant and titillating fashion, seen through the eyes of three female characters that are questionably likable, but constantly compelling. However, The Girl On the Train (2016) doesn't live up to its source material the same way Gone Girl had, but it doesn't fail in engaging audiences attention and raising those marital and relationship questions that the latter threw at filmgoers with great tenacity.

Written by author Paula Hawkins and adapted to film by screenwriter Erin Cressida Wilson, The Girl On The Train tells the story of three women, Rachel, Anna and Meagan. Rachel is an infertile alcoholic who commutes every day to a job she's lost months prior, all the while reeling over the husband that cheated and left her in her time of need. Anna is Tom's (Rachel's ex), new wife and former mistress. Anna is additionally the mother to Tom's infant daughter Evie. Their neighbor and former nanny Meagan hides many secrets behind her guise as the sweet and perfect wife to the handsome Scott Hipwell. Rachel enjoys watching Meagan and Scott's seemingly blissful existence from the train window every morning, even though she knows nothing about who they actually are. One day, however, Rachel sees Meagan in an apparent act of infidelity and though initially enraged she quickly becomes paranoid when Meagan goes missing a few days later.

While the alternating POV flows quite seamlessly in the book, it becomes a bit messy and jarring at points in the film. Those who have not read the book may have trouble keeping up with when each scene is set within the overall narrative. Some could argue this confusion is almost befitting of a film with a deeply troubled alcoholic protagonist. Emily Blunt plays Rachel Watson with much vigor and charisma. Her drunken stupors appear real and non-stylized or choreographed. Her skin is blotchy, and her eyes dilated. However, the script lacks the complexities within the character to allow her to rise to the surface as she does in the novel. Blunt ends up coming short in substance, not because of lack of acting ability, but rather a deficiency in the material. Rachel's spiral into alcoholism and her struggles with infertility are glossed over in the film, depriving Blunt of key character-building moments. Even her obsession with this fantasy couple she sees from her train window is addressed hastily with little thought or consideration. We do not connect with Rachel's fantasy because we aren't given the time. I do, however, applaud her and the filmmakers for successfully creating a lead female character that is not a cardboard cutout of female hysteria or a damsel in distress cliché. More works of fiction should have the vision to portray real women with real problems, without demonizing or dehumanizing them in the process. Anna can be a catty shrew, Meagan a perverse, careless harlot and Rachel a rude, paranoid lush, but they are not defined by these character types and they all have opportunities within the script to transcend their transgressions. In some way throughout, they all do. Women are not perfect, they are flawed and conflicted, but they have a tremendous capacity to rise above these issues of humanity, and in many cases, they do so better than most men. The Girl On The Train is progressively feminist because it doesn't empower women with false prophets of perfection; it humanizes them with honest representations of various versions of the modern female. Housewife, Caretaker, Commuter, all different and yet so alike in many ways as the film details. The film, in fact, ends with a strange nod to the unbreakable bond of womanhood and the explosive power of secrets in female relationships.

The film makes a strange choice to alter its setting from Europe to America, and it seems the only reason for this was because it wanted to cast American actors as opposed to primarily English ones. While it may not make much change to the story, it seems uncomfortably xenophobic to be quite honest. I mean did they really believe they'd lose audiences if they set the film abroad? It's not as if there was a language barrier to be concerned over! Anyway, I digress, let's acknowledge one of the films few accomplishments, its ability to translate crucial information from the text into competent visual storytelling on the screen. Lisa Kudrow's character, Martha, is the ideal example of this. While not present in the novel, Kudrow's role is used to allow Rachel's internal deductions to become externally visualized with extremely useful dramatic effect. They bring novice creativity to the flashback format traditionally found in such thrillers. Though only in three scenes, Martha's addition to the plot displays the positive narrative contributions that can accompany a novel translated to film. These additions enriched the plot, as opposed to watering it down.

The Girl on The Train will likely be derided by many as contrived and convoluted, but I believe it to be an admirable effort of filmmaking at a time when thrillers are a dime a dozen, but so is unoriginality and banality. The Girl on The Train really only has one key thing in common with Gone Girl, they both have something interesting to say. How well they say it is debatable, though the consensus would likely agree the latter get's the message through with greater efficiency. The former has a habit of getting too caught up in nonsense to get its points across properly. Why do I need close-ups of Meagan's crotch region while she's having a therapy session? If Gone Girl was about lies and deceit within marital relationships, The Girl on the Train is about truths and the urgent need to make them known. Rachel must discover the truth in herself, Meagan must reveal a terrible truth about her past, and Anna must accept the truths of her life. The film is about discovery, but thrillers are judged by how well they construct obstacles around that discovery, which audiences must themselves navigate through. In a thriller, a protagonist is like a mouse in a maze, and in this particular film, the drunken mouse can't seem to make their way through to find a suitable exit convincingly. In the end, The Girl on Train doesn't completely derail from arriving at an entertaining piece of cinema. Still, its crowded cars and delays disallow it from being the truly exhilarating cinematic venture the source material calls to be. Some trains just take too long to get into the station.

                                                  

Blair Witch (2016): Remake, Reboot, Recycled

In the middle of this past summer, one late July morning, I woke up and went to the bathroom for my annual morning pee. I sat (judge me for sitting to pee early in the morning, see if I care) on the toilet and skimmed my Twitter newsfeed:

"Why in the world is Blair Witch trending?!"

- I thought to myself as my bladder emptied out. I soon found out the reason behind this trending topic. Comic-Con also known as Homecoming for Nerds, held a special screening for a new horror film titled The Woods except it wasn't just any new horror film, it was a new installment of a preexisting franchise.

Thus began my nearly two and half months of anticipatory waiting until I could once again enter the infamous Black Hills Woods of Maryland and discover what the insidious legend of the Blair Witch had in store for me. It has been nearly 17 years since the original hit the big screen. Rumors of a third film in the franchise have been around for years, but the fact that one had been created in complete secrecy was almost too much for a film geek's heart to bear. I decided in July that I would see this film opening night, to protect myself from the spoilers that would inevitably run amuck online immediately following the mass release. The film tells the tale of James Donahue, the brother of Heather, the main protagonist of the original film. James and a group of his friends, along with two tour guides enter the Maryland wilderness in search of his long-missing sister after a tape recovered in the woods seems to indicate she may still be alive out there. While the original film relied on the POV's of just two cameras, this film's story unfolds alongside the perspectives of several different earpiece cameras, professional cameras and even a drone!

I had high expectations for this sequel, particularly because it had such a positive reception initially at its Comic-Con screenings. This was reinforced when the original directors Eduardo Sanchez and Daniel Myrick gave the new film their blessing as well. Now, after seeing the opening night screening for myself I have to say, one word came to my mind when all the screaming and shaky cam had stopped, and the lights came up... "underwhelming."

I am going to split this review into three sections that I'd prefer to focus on; Characters, Mythology and Plot.

Characters

The Blair Witch Project (1999) gave us three well fleshed out leads mainly because when a person is put in a life-threatening situation, their true colors tend to come out. Therefore by seeing Heather, Mike and Josh before and after they got lost in the woods we have a decent sense of their personalities, their habits and triggers, even their fears. In this film, the character count is plus three. You'd think, with six characters heading into the woods, we'd have even more substantial character development and story arcs for our leads. Unfortunately, the script does little to add color to who these people are. Ashley and Peter (the film's token black couple) have undefined characters and relationships. Lisa is compelling in her relentless dedication to document James's grief even at his expense, but her confidence becomes deficient when she plays the damsel in the latter half of the film. These errors end up being at no fault to the actors themselves. They are a competent bunch, but aren't given much to work with in terms of substance in the script. Character motivations wants and needs are abysmal. The most underdeveloped character is, unfortunately, our protagonist.

James is Heather's brother and the group's designated leader. We sympathize with him as audience members because we know what horrible fate fell upon his sister in the first film, and it's a similar one likely in store for him. The audience does NOT, however, gain a good understanding of why James truly believes she could be alive after all these years, or what his minimal relationship with her (he was four when she disappeared) must've been like. In truth, James hardly speaks about her before or after they enter the woods. It's a true shame because an emotional monologue about her loss could've been almost as effective as Heather's famous "apology" monologue in the first installment's third act. It would've added a human layer to this otherwise supernatural centered film. The human element is almost completely forgotten by the writers and it relied so much on James's character. I did not believe he truly felt his sister was alive or that he was even after the truth. He just seemed to be a chicken without a head blindly walking into the forest that took his sister 17 years prior. He hardly behaves as if he's even seen Heather's footage! If he had, he would've logically saw a lot more in this film coming and possibly understood some of the signifiers he was coming across as they got deeper into the woods, which brings us to the next point of discussion.

Mythology

Blair Witches's fictional mythology is much richer than most people seem to know. Countless comic books, mockumentaries and dossiers have been released over the last several years that have expanded greatly on the rivetingly disturbing folktale. Director of the new film, Adam Wingard claims to be a longtime fan of the Blair Witch and its accompanied works, but he and screenwriter, Simon Barrett do little in the script to explore these potentially supple plot lines. Elly Kedward, Rustin Parr, Coffin Rock and Robin Weaver are all mentioned by the hiker's during a traveling montage as they're trekking through the vast greenery. Their stories are recounted with false allurement to the audience that they will do anything to serve the plot. THEY DO NOT! We learn nothing more about Parr's slaughtering of those seven children or the little girl who was drowned in the creek by a mysterious hand pulling her in. All we are given is an alternative theory to the "standing in the corner" myth, but this addition ends up not fitting well with the pre-established history. In this movie, it is stated that if you look at the Witch directly, that's how she kills you. This makes little sense in the Blair Witch Universe however considering that neither Mike nor Heather directly view the Witch in the first film and yet it is heavily implied that they died, especially Heather who falls to the ground. Also Mary Brown claims to have seen the Witch with her own eyes when she was a little girl, and she lived to a ripe old age so she could tell Heather and the film crew all about it! Why contradict a pre-established trope when they had so much untapped material to work with already? Why didn't Coffin Rock play a more significant role in the story or Elly Kedward and the historically abandoned town formally known as Blair? Wingard and Barrett only made the popular tropes (the house at the end, standing in the corner, the stick figures) significant without breaking any real new ground in the mythology at all. All this film did was reinforce the already widely accepted fan theory that the woods have the ability to distort and alter time. After 17 years and a smorgasbord of mythology to work with, I expected much more dammit. It's like filling a rocket with supplies for the moon and forgetting to light the damn match!

Plot

The film's first half-hour is extremely well-paced. We meet the characters, understand their primary goal and are off into the woods well before the half-hour mark. We get some pretty drone shots of the enormous Black Hills Forest and a history lesson from Lane and Talia, two local Blair Witch buffs who found the footage that prompted James to go back and search for his sister. Once nighttime falls, however, an unrelenting fright-fest begins. The second half of the movie is predominately set in prolonged nighttime, the Witch apparently toying with time and space to keep the group blanketed in darkness. Talia and Lane go off on their own and return hours later to say they've been traveling for five days. Again the time-bending element is alluded to, but never fleshed out. When the film begins to get truly horrifying is when it starts running into its primary plot problems. Ashley's foot injury is set up to be something disturbingly terrifying and maybe even gross, but all she ends up doing is extracting a piece of a tree branch from her leg! She should've been transformed into a giant stick figure or gotten possessed! Okay, neither of those ideas are very good, but still, come on! Her injury and illness is another example of the film offering a glimmer of originality before squandering it at its most interesting point. If you saw the trailer, you know how Talia dies, and this death would've had a greater reaction in the cinema had it not been a part of the marketing campaign. Peter is done away with off-screen. Unsurprisingly Lisa and James are the last two standing and when we finally reach the infamous house, are ending is beginning to shape up into something...ridiculous. The house in this film is treated as a haunted house maze in an amusement park, with various rooms and corridors that serve no purpose and add nothing to the storyline unfolding across the screen. It's clearly larger in structure, and yet it has much less impact than the small run-down shack found by Heather and Mike in the original film. Lane shows up again, now with a beard and seemingly under the Witch's control, but if this is true, he should've been the one to kill James and Lisa, the way Parr killed those seven children. Some even theorize that Josh killed Heather and Mike in the climax of the first, under the Witch's spell. Lane's reentrance into the plot makes little sense and comes off as convolutedly vague when it should be intriguingly ambiguous. Why is Lane experiencing time so different than the others, and why did the Witch choose him to possess? Josh was chosen because he was a nonbeliever, Lane was an adamant Blair Witch aficionado! A tunnel scene is effectively used for those who fear claustrophobia more than witchcraft, but the tunnel ends up going in a circle which makes the entire sequence feel pointless in the end; much like most of the film's second half. The ending scene in the attic (a nice reversal on the basement set ending of the first film I will admit) is frightening and suspenseful, but at the same time, it feels half-hearted. It's unsatisfying because the film doesn't guide you into it as well as the first film excellently carries its unsuspecting audiences into its hauntingly memorable conclusion. What should be profoundly horrifying comes off as, meh.

 

Closing Thoughts

Overall would I recommend horror fans to see this long-awaited sequel? Honestly, I would because while the film has its many faults, it is nonetheless made with a reasonable degree of respect to the Blair Witch name and legacy. It's well-intended, if not naively misguided to adhere to today's cliché horror movie conventions. It is hesitant to be innovative but still manages to evoke fear in interesting ways many times throughout the plot. I have confidence that if this film sparks a continuation of the series and I hope it does, future films can and will expand on the mythology in the way it so desperately deserves to be told on a larger scale. Until then the Witch and her devilish antics may be appreciated in this well-crafted but ultimately all too familiar sequel; Good ideas, dressed up in old clothes.

Note: During research today, I discovered an article with an interview with Adam Wingard and would like to clarify that the Witch is NOT seen in this movie. Those of you, like me, who thought or think otherwise are incorrect in your assumption. Still what the hell was that thing chasing them at the end? Possibly a scorned fan?