RETROSPECT: The Many Faces of Jim Carrey

I'll never forget the first time I saw the name "Jim Carrey". It was a T.V. commercial for a movie in early 1994. But the second time I remember seeing that name forever cemented it in my memory. 

I was eight going on nine, at a babysitter's house, when the same movie was playing on VHS. I was sitting close to the T.V. when the opening scene of footsteps walking towards the camera in slow-motion came up, before panning up to reveal a goofy UPS postman, the name Jim Carrey stamped against it. 

The movie was Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. The rest was comedy history. 

Out of any other leading actor in comedy at the time (Robin Williams, Mike Myers, and Adam Sandler come to mind as well), Carrey was the one who made me love comedy, and who influenced me the most in making people laugh, whether through imitations, physical slapstick, or various facial expressions.

I looked forward to any new film of his from there on, sometimes much to my parents' dismay. And although I'm a lot more discerning these days regarding some of his more crude comedy choices (close fans and filmgoers will know what I'm talking about), and despite some controversial headlines the actor-comedian has made in some recent years (particularly his role as a political cartoonist, as well as his worldviews), he remains an influential figure in film and in comedy, and has proven more versatile than people give him credit for. (His other memorable roles include a shape-shifting superhero, an enigmatic Batman villain, a psychotic cable installer, a compulsive fibbing lawyer, two Dr. Seuss characters, Scrooge, and even Andy Kaufman.)

His initial characters showcased his physical and energetic abilities in making people laugh (like the deranged Fire Marshall Bill on the Wayans' sketch comedy series In Living Color), while others displayed real thought and perspective, if divisive and conflicted at times. (Nowhere is this latter example best discussed or expressed than in the 2017 Netflix documentary Jim and Andy, which chronicles Carrey's behind-the-scenes drama and preparation in playing Andy Kaufman in Milos Forman's 1999 film Man on the Moon, while also juxtaposing Carrey's life with that of the late controversial comedian.)

So, in honor of the 25th anniversary of Carrey's breakout year in 1994, here is a look back at some of his most unforgettable roles (there are so many, to be honest, but here are those that really stand out), and proof that there will only ever be one Jim Carrey, rubber face and all. As the famous pet detective's tagline reads,

"He's the best there is. (Actually, he's the only one there is.)" 

"Make 'Em Laugh"

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective (1994)

Again, these earlier films were a showcase for Carrey's unique, outrageous, and physically (or facially) expressive brand of comedy. Ace Ventura (reportedly influenced by birds a la Anthony Hopkins influenced by reptiles for Hannibal Lecter) was the stepping stone, with his facial expressions, impressions, wacky antics (who could forget doing an "instant replay" in "super slow-mo," complete with black boots and a pink tutu), unforgettable one-liners, and over-the-top humor, including (pardon me) talking through his rear end. With this first of three collaborations with first-time director Tom Shadyac (they later collaborated on the 1997 legal comedy Liar Liar, and the 2003 spiritual comedy Bruce Almighty), Carrey has stated his intent was to make fun of the "leading man," as an animal sleuth on the case to find the Miami Dolphins' missing mascot. Carrey reprised the role the following year (a career decision he reportedly regretted) for the more over-the-top and hysterical sequel Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls.

The Mask (1994)
Mild-mannered bank clerk Stanley Ipkuss dons an ancient mask with the powers of the mischivous Norse God Loki (long before Tom Hiddleston immortalized said character in the Marvel Cinematic Universe) and transforms into a shape-shifting "love-crazy, wild man." Considered by many, in retrospect, as "the original Deadpool" (with his fourth wall breaks and pop culture savvy), The Mask was an unlikely success in the comic book-to-film medium (following Warner Bros' Batman and New Line's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles). Compared with the more violent and horrific source material (no joke), the movie version is light-hearted, but maintains a dark and retro atmosphere. Carrey's wild and crazy antics are brought to additional life by revolutionary visual effects that still hold up courtesy Industrial Light & Magic, as an homage to Tex Avery cartoons of the 1940s. One of the first movies I ever remember learning about VFX, and perhaps the best example of a human cartoon.

Side note: the color green played other subtle yet key roles for Carrey when he later portrayed the Grinch (the 2000 film directed by Ron Howard. with award-winning makeup by Rick Baker) and comic book characters the Riddler (1995's Batman Forever) and Colonel Stars and Stripes (2013's Kick-Ass 2, another career decision Carrey reportedly regrets).

Dumb and Dumber (1994)

As Lloyd Christmas, Carrey struck up a golden comedy duo with versatile actor Jeff Daniels (as Harry Dunn), as two dim-witted best friends on a cross-country quest to return a stolen briefcase to a beautiful woman, in one of the funniest (and most off-color) comedies ever made. This brilliant on-screen chemistry is the spark that makes the film work and, as Carrey claimed in an interview with James Lipton, "gave the film credibility". Even Daniels admitted that working on this film was a highlight in his own career. Furthermore, the unforgettable road trip/buddy journey (in an "84 sheep dog," no less), as simple and ridiculous as it seems, turns out to be ironic and unpredictable, with some scenes more offensive and off-color than others. Ditto its many convoluted situations and subplots which influenced several "smart-dumb" comedies of the 90s and 2000s, including subsequent movies by the Farrelly Brothers. 

"Let's Get Real"

Liar Liar (1997)
Comedian and former talk show host Jay Leno once joked about the basic premise of Liar Liar, which centers on a fast-talking, compulsive lawyer (Fletcher Reed), whose son makes a wish on his fifth birthday that his dad will stop lying for 24 hours. Joked Leno, "Boy, you thought there were a lot of special effects in Independence Day." Director Tom Shadyac (who previously directed Eddie Murphy in the 1996 remake The Nutty Professor) reteamed with Carrey and both successfully transitioned into more grounded-but-still-hysterical territory with the story of a family man who is forced to reconsider where his career choices have taken him and how far they've taken him from his personal life, as well as what it means to really be honest (which can be brutal and relieving at different times). The results (though often crude) find the actor-comedian at his most comedic grounded self. That doesn't mean the film is without some typical Carrey hallmarks: outrageous physical humor (including an office battle with a "royal blue" pen and a bathroom brawl with himself), and silly voices and expressions. The difference is that Carrey plays a real character affected by extraordinary circumstances, as both a curse and an eventual blessing. Plus, the way he portrays high pressure when trying to suppress himself and then saying the wrong (or rather, the honest) thing, and then being affected by it, is a riot. And the funnyman arguably wouldn't have made the subtle transition to his next film had it not been for Liar Liar. 

The Truman Show (1998)
And now the role that proved Carrey was, like Steve Martin and Robin Williams before him, as strong with drama as he was with comedy. In The Truman Show, he plays Truman Burbank, a naive insurance clerk who is unaware that his entire life has been broadcast on television. An intriguing if haunting precursor to the reality t.v. frenzy of the last two decades, the film's satirizing of social media and its impact on the general population (ditto themes of voyeurism, media moguls, and controlling creative minds) is both remarkable and thought-provoking. Director Peter Weir (Witness, Dead Poets Society) allows Carrey to show off a more vulnerable side, and empathy for a character who questions the meaning of the world and the people around him, as well as what is real and what is not. 

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

Carrey showed, perhaps, his most serious and committed performance as Joel Barrish, a man who decides to have memories of his girlfriend (Kate Winslet, equally engrossing) erased after she goes through the same procedure. Written by offbeat screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (1999's Being John Malkovich, 2002's Adaptation) and music video director Michel Gondry (The White Stripe's "Fell In Love With a Girl"), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is a daring and creative perspective on human romance, love, and the bitter hole (complete with angst and heartbreak) that such decisions leave on people's minds and hearts. Perhaps Carrey has never barred so much of his heart and mind than in here. (In "Film FreeQ"s inaugural year of existence, this was one of the first films I thoroughly reviewed and discussed.)

"In case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening, and good night."

~Truman Burbank

RETROSPECT: What Makes "Punch-Drunk Love" Personal

For the last several months, I've been compiling, evaluating, and reevaluating a list of some of my favorite films or (alternatively) films that have stuck with me the most over the years. Each of these films fall into one of two categories, for various and/or specific: those I believe are landmarks, and those that are very personal to me. Paul Thomas Anderson's 2002 feature film Punch-Drunk Love falls into this latter category. 

Written and directed by Anderson, and featuring Adam Sandler in arguably his best screen performance to date, the story (often profane, strange, unpredictable, and effectively mesmerizing) follows a small novelty business owner named Barry Egan (Sandler), who suffers from obsessive-compulsive anger and insecurities, who constantly tries to dodge his seven nagging sisters, and who seems to be on a quest for meaning. Things get complicated when he falls victim to the extortion schemes of a phone sex operator and a mattress store owner (Philip Seymour Hoffman). But his life begins to take a detour when he meets a mysterious woman named Lena (Emily Watson) and, therefore, slowly blooms and takes on new meaning. 

Typically, Adam Sandler doesn't make films for the industry or for Academy accolades. (He has, however, confessed that he once thought Billy Madison was going to get recognized at the Oscars.) And despite much of his filmography's lowbrow qualities and lack of critical praise (and let's be honest, Sandler has made some awful movies in his career), his movies have nevertheless generated countless fans and iconic status over the years, with their instantly quotable and idiosyncratic trademarks ("Are you too good for your home, ball?!?" from Happy Gilmore). Not to mention contributions of his musical and singing talents, and not just silly voices and sound effects, since his days as a Saturday Night Live cast member. Some could even make possible debates over whether these movies qualify as smart dumb comedies or just dumb-but-funny comedies in general. The late film critic Roger Ebert once wrote of Sandler, "He can't go on making those moronic comedies forever, can he?" 

Sandler has, however, proven (when paired with the right filmmaker and given the right material) that he is capable of in-depth, serious and genuine roles when he chooses, whether working with directors like Judd Apatow, Noah Baumbach, Mike Binder, James L. Brooks, or Jason Reitman. Even before working with Anderson, Sandler did begin to show traces of a softer, more grounded side in such comedies as The Wedding Singer and Big Daddy. And that seems to be the case again this year, based on early buzz and critical word-of-mouth, for his electrifying performance in the Safdie Brothers' new intense drama Uncut Gems. 

For me, Sandler's performance as Barry Egan in Anderson's film is the most personal one for me.
And here are seven reasons why. 

1. First and foremost, the very idea of "an arthouse Adam Sandler film" (as Anderson describes Punch-Drunk Love) was, at first, crazy, and reportedly made members of the press laugh. When the film premiered at the Cannes Film Festival (where Anderson won the Best Director award) in 2002, however, the naysayers were astounded, as well as by Anderson's idiosyncratic approach. I'll say it again, this is Sandler's most effective and relatable role to date. At the time, film critic Richard Roeper considered Punch-Drunk Love "a radical departure" for Sandler, and claimed the actor was "something to behold" in the film. In middle school, my class voted me as "most likely to be the next Adam Sandler." Even Barry Egan and I have the same initials.

2. Barry is a character who comes from a family of seven sisters -- complicated, dysfunctional relationships, to be sure. As a member of a big family myself, my family relationships aren't like Barry's in the film, but there are mental complexities and anxieties that I identify with, and which so many families go through, let's be honest.

3. One of the film's subplots involves Barry making trips to the grocery store (my longest job to date) to buy cheap Healthy Choice pudding and stack up on a frequent flyer miles promotion from American Airlines. Usually, Sandler's films use product placement, often shamelessly, similar to what Michael Bay does in his own films (we're looking at you, Transformers franchise). What makes Punch-Drunk Love an exception is that said products are part of the film's plot, and not there just to be there.

4. Speaking of flying, the year I first saw this film was the same year I flew a plane for the first time (as Barry does in the film). One YouTube video even went as far as discussing and analyzing how Barry Egan's story parallels Superman's.

"You can go to places in the world with pudding. That is funny." 

5. Another challenging and eye-opening aspect of Punch-Drunk Love is how the story presents polar opposite examples of "love". On one hand, there's the kind that is misguided and damaging, as Barry falls victim to the aforementioned phone sex line. (To its credit, the film doesn't condone this story element, but rather presents it as manipulative and devoid of real connection and emotion, as well as an example of searching for understanding and meaning in the wrong places.) On the other hand, there's the kind that is real and genuine, if strange, when Barry meets Lena. One of the song lyrics on the film's soundtrack reads,

You got to hope that there's someone for you, as strange as you are.

One of the film's subtler themes (at least, according to one review of the film) is the fear of whether those you love will still love you if they knew who you really were, as well as the theme of being real with others, which is what real relationships involve.

6. Anderson's filmmaking is very cinematic, artful, original, and daring. The film's use of color (including interludes by artist Jeremy Blake, as well as the prominent blue in Barry's wardrobe) and composer Jon Brion's offbeat, Baroque-style score (including the central harmonium Barry finds in the street at the film's opening, and even Harry Nilsson's Popeye song "He Needs Me" sung by Shelley Duvall), for one, represent varied emotions and even explosive bursts of color, such as anger, humility, loneliness, self-doubt, insecurity, worry, weakness, and later strength. Many were (and still are) put off by the unconventional and supposedly-experimental use of these elements. I didn't like the film the first time I saw it, due to the aforementioned elements combined, but it grew on me over time, and I connected with it more from there. That being said, there is poetry in the film's imagery, and in its simple-yet-ambitious story, in a way combining elements of fantasy (more emotional fantasy, actually) and reality. 

7. In his book "Into the Dark: Seeing the Sacred In the Top Films of the 21st Century," author and Christian pop culture analyst Craig Detweiller discusses a theological term known as "general revelation," which "suggests that God can speak through anyone or anything at anytime," whether it was the intention of the filmmaker or not. Detweiller adds, "The fervent discussions that swirl around [such films, like those of Anderson's, like the imagery of raining frogs in Magnolia] suggest that people with and without faith commitments find them to be occasions of searing insight, surprising comfort, and unexpected grace." Furthermore, "Movies serve religious functions for filmgoers, offering them time for contemplation, a change in perspective, a glimpse of the divine." Punch-Drunk Love fits these claims perfectly, displaying unexpected universal themes in a small-though-ambitious love story.

REVIEW: The Phenomenon and Controversy of "Joker"

A hard-R movie version of a popular comic book character. It's happened before with Blade, Deadpool, Wolverine, and even Batman. (Just look up the "Ultimate Edition" of Batman v Superman, if you don't believe that last one.) But perhaps no such film in recent memory has generated so much hype, so much bold and daring filmmaking, or so much controversy as director Todd Phillips' take on perhaps the greatest comic book villain ever created.

Phillips (whose previous credits include raunchy comedies like The Hangover trilogy and War Dogs) and star Joaquin Phoenix reportedly diverted from the source material of Batman's most iconic adversary (created by Bill Finger, Bob Kane Jerry Robinson in 1940) to deliver an original, psychological thriller less in common with the Batman mythos and more so with gritty 1970s cinema a la Martin Scorcese's Taxi Driver and Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange.

Set in a 1981 version of Gotham City (filming was based in New Jersey), Arthur Fleck (Phoenix) lives a lonely existence, working as a street clown while moonlighting as a failed comedian, all while he battles his own mental illness, whether from his illness, from a twisted relationship with his mother, from stalking his neighbor (a single mother), from the impoverished and chaotic status of Gotham, or all of the above. Phoenix's uncontrollable laughter (and higher-pitched voice) for this particular character is creepy and dark, ditto the way he contorts his body and gives himself a fake smile. Arthur's life and mind take a shocking turn from an incident on a subway train, when he shoots and kills three upper-class businessmen (a reverse clash of sorts between the rich and the "freaks").

Make no mistake, Joker (not to mention Phoenix's committed performance) is riveting and phenomenal, with many considering it a bold and original piece of cinema. It walks a tightrope between tragedy and dark comedy, and not just from its intense and thunderous score or its gritty and stirring cinematography. As Kubrick was known for subverting music and imagery in most of his films, Phillips incorporates classic, upbeat songs like Jimmy Durante's version of "Smile," Gary Glitter's "Rock & Roll, Part 2," and Frank Sinatra's "Send In the Clowns" to twisted effect.

Arthur Fleck dancing in a restroom

Like most of the character's comic book storylines, Joker presents merely everything about the villain's backstory and nothing as Arthur slowly takes a nihilistic downward spiral into madness, all while keeping it ambiguous and interpretive: Is he the Joker, or one of several? Is he the inspiration for the Joker? Also, who really created the Joker. Was it an ignorant society, or was it Arthur himself? Or was it all in his head? Or was it all of the above combined?

Some of these themes reiterate elements of Tim Burton's 1989 Batman film, including unexpected connections (or perhaps not) between the Clown Prince of Crime and the Wayne family, suggesting that Gotham was much darker before Bruce Wayne became the Caped Crusader. (This interpretation--or at least some of the ideas here--is going to anger a lot of people.) On the other hand, this film's portrayal of Thomas Wayne sometimes comes across as ignorant and negative; other times, not so much, despite a few other unnecessary connections.

"Is it just me, or is it getting crazier out there?"

Others, meanwhile, will find Joker just chilling and disturbing, which it is.

Way before its October 4th theatrical opening this year, many have considered the release of a film like Joker to be ill-timed, and have even criticized it for endorsing shocking violence and subject matter (e.g., incel violence, killing sprees or uprisings in clown masks), and for putting an empathetic view on an antiheroic character (a la Travis Brickle or Michael Corleone). And it's not hard to see why, considering the nationwide shootings and similar media in recent years. For one thing, survivors and families of the 2012 Aurora shootings, where James Holmes opened fire on an audience attending an advanced screening of The Dark Knight Rises, issued a letter to Warner Bros regarding their concern over the film's release. The studio issued a statement in response,

Gun violence in our society is a critical issue, and we extend our deepest sympathy to all victims and families impacted by these tragedies. Our company has a long history of donating to victims of violence, including Aurora, and in recent weeks, our parent company joined other business leaders to call on policymakers to enact bi-partisan legislation to address this epidemic.

In addition,

Warner Bros. believes that one of the functions of storytelling is to provoke difficult conversations around complex issues . . . Make no mistake: neither the fictional character Joker, nor the film, is an endorsement of real-world violence of any kind. It is not the intention of the film, the filmmakers or the studio to hold this character up as a hero.

AMC Theater's disclaimer on Joker

Phillips has stated one of his intentions with the film was not "to push buttons . . . I literally described to Joaquin [Phoenix] at one point . . . , 'Look at this as a way to sneak a real movie in the studio system under the guise of a comic book film.’ It wasn’t, ‘We want to glorify this behavior.’ It was literally like, ‘Let’s make a real movie with a real budget and we’ll call it [expletive] Joker’. That’s what it was.” Phoenix (who reportedly lost 45 lbs for the role), meanwhile, stated that "he wanted his version of the Joker to be extremely complex, so he did extensive research on various personality disorders so that even psychiatrists would not be able to identify what his character was."

To its credit, security around movie theaters during the film's release has been very good, with one report of a theater patron who stopped a disrupting theater attendee. And I applaud the many theater chains who posted disclaimers warning theater patron's of the film's mature content and atypical version of a comic book movie.

Still, that doesn't diminish the level of anarchy and chaos in the film: heart-pounding, on-the-edge-of-your-seat, stomach-churning. Not to mention a nerve-wracking and polarizing ending. This is the kind of film that will take days to recover from. Ironically, it'll stay with you for various reasons, like the above poster with the now-iconic image of Arthur first appearing in Joker makeup while dancing down a flight of stairs.

And that's no joke.

A Christian Examination of Horror, 2019 Edition

When it comes to different genres of film, everybody has their likes and dislikes, just as they do with music they listen to, shows they watch or stream, or the kinds of foods they eat. That being said, not everybody likes today's comedy--most of it, at least. And not everybody is waiting in line for the next Nicholas Sparks novel. And not everybody thinks Marvel movies qualify as "cinema". (Just ask esteemed filmmakers Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola.)

It's just that some genres or the like are more challenging to talk about than others.

Take horror, for example. Often associated with blood, gore, monsters and/or occult-like images, this particular genre (which has been around as long as fantasy, comedy, and drama) has been a difficult topic among discerning or sensitive viewers, critics, and readers. For one thing, one of its criticisms has been a lack of redemptive qualities in its stories and/or characters, and rather on "survival of the fittest" notions, such as when said characters are trying to outsmart either the razor-sharp nightmares of a sweater-/fedora-wearing boogeyman, or the grisly body counts of a hockey-masked, machete-wielding killer, or the twisted puzzle games of a psychotic maniac on a bicycle.

A couple years ago, I wrote as thorough of a piece as I could, observing the horror genre (with emphasis on some or all of the following: scares, shocks, disgust, terror, revolt), and its many sub-categories. Though it's obviously not for everybody, one intriguing thing I've found since then is how horror can be best used as a medium or form for using stories as reflections of real-life horrors and traumas--some too difficult or frightening to face--and not just monsters and scary places, just as comic books and animation can use various genres and stories, and not just be centered on heroes in capes and spandex and on silly slapstick and sound effects, respectfully.

Either way, it seems horror (as an art form and means of storytelling) has been churning out a few high-quality and (pardon the expression) engrossing and provocative films in recent years, some socially- or intellectually-conscious for better or worse, from such diverse filmmakers as Ari Aster, Jennifer Kent, John Krasinski, Andy Muschietti, and Jordan Peele, and James Wan.

With that in mind, here are examples (in bold) of thirteen different subgenres of horror films from 2019, as well as a few celebrating some anniversaries this year, each reflecting specific themes or ideas, or with the specific purpose of shock value. (Spoiler alert: None of them involves anybody from Camp Crystal Lake.) Brace yourself.

ACTION: Blade series (1998, 2002, 2004)
Although Marvel's first foray into live-action filmmaking was technically 1986's Howard the Duck (which would qualify as "horrific" on a whole different level), many argue that this feature-film debut of the iconic half-man/half-vampire (a charismatic and committed Wesley Snipes) who battles the undead predated the superhero movie crazy of the new millenium in style, not to mention gallons of blood and hundreds of vampire teeth. The 2002 sequel, helmed by Guillermo del Toro (two years before he first brought Hellboy to the big screen) is considered the best in the series. It's been fifteen years since the release of the poorly-received third film, Blade Trinity, with the announcement at this year's San Diego Comic-Con that the character will be joining the Marvel Cinematic Universe sometime in the next couple of years, with Mahershala Ali taking the mantel this time.

BODY: It: Chapter Two (2019)
Stephen King's bestselling novel actually incorporates many elements of horror, including drama, comedy, psychological, and in the case of its titular shapeshifting "monster," body.
The second film (following the 2017 hit) finds the Losers Club reuniting 27 years later to take down the evil entity known as Pennywise (a nightmarish-looking Bill Skarsgard), once and for all. Seeing the characters as adults (particularly James McAvoy as Bill, Jessica Chastain as Beverly, and Bill Hader as Richie, with flashbacks to their kid counterparts) is compelling, while the scare factor remains as frightening, if not as strong. Plus, as terrifying and problematic as the first film was, it did balance pathos and genuine scares quite well. Some unnecessary deaths of children in this latest film are gratuitous and unnecessary, to say the least.

COMEDY: Zombieland (2009)
This hysterical yet gory comedy follows a group of survivors (Woody Harrelson, Jesse Eisenberg, Emma Stone, and Abigail Breslin) who play by specific rules for how to survive a zombie apocalypse, or search for the last box of Hostess twinkies or the world's greatest theme park. Such a concept has never been quirkier, funnier, or more clever, if at times profane and graphic. The camaraderie among the main leads (who pretty much make up the entire cast, along with a surprise, stroke-of-genius cameo) forms the centerpiece of director Ruben Fleischer's film, which celebrates its ten-year anniversary, in part, with the release of the long-awaited sequel, Zombieland: Double Tap.

DRAMA: The Babadook (2014)
Writer-director Jennifer Kent's spooky and psychological drama centers on a mother and child (Essie Davis and Noah Wiseman) grieving the loss of her husband and his father, while trying to overcome her son's emotional behavior and discovering an old storybook with a mysterious and menacing character that seems to be coming to life. An emotional roller coaster that excels from genuine scares and terror, and spirals into a disturbing and frightening home invasion thriller. The Exorcist director William Friedkin declared (the year of the film's release), "I've never seen a more terrifying film."

GOTHIC: Sleepy Hallow (1999)
Tim Burton's dark and insanely creepy adaptation of Washington Irving's novel about police constable Ichabod Crane's investigation of the Headless Horseman's presence in a small American village in the late 1700s certainly has, no doubt, impeccable and lavish period production design, not to mention some committed performances from Johnny Depp and Christina Ricci. But there's an extremely thorough, nightmarish, and eschew sense that the filmmakers were thinking of many different creative ways to cut character's heads off, and to maximize the blood and gore factor. Burton's knack for the macabre has been a key factor in a majority of his other films, some of which represent other subgenres of horror. Take his 2007 adaptation of Stephen Sondheim's acclaimed dark MUSICAL, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, about a vengeful barber and meat pies. (That's right.) And then there are his animated musical features, such as 2005's Victorian-era Corpse Bride and 1993's idiosyncratic The Nightmare Before Christmas. Which brings me to my next example . . .

HOLIDAY: Gremlins (1984)
Watchmojo.com has a top ten list of the greatest "alternate" Christmas movies. And although it's arguably too soon to even talk about the holiday season before Halloween, this Spielberg-produced blockbuster about a mysterious creature that morphs into scary green critters is an exception to the rule (so to speak). Written by Chris Columbus (six years before he helmed Home Alone), Gremlins broke a lot of new ground in the 1980s, specifically in the formation of the MPAA PG-13-rating, after several children and parents were traumatized and appalled by the film's scary critters and violence. The movie does have its moments (how could one not love the titular "mogwai" Gizmo?), with originality, mischief, and clever humor and satire to spare. (Rotten Tomatoes refers to the film as "a statement on consumer culture [and] simply a special effects-heavy popcorn flick.") But it's bothering that such a concept uses Christmas as its primary setting. How's that for kid trauma?

NATURAL: Crawl (2019)
This Sam Raimi-produced creature feature, about a father and daughter (Kaya Scodelario and Barry Pepper) fighting against a group of killer alligators during a Category 5 hurricane in Florida (talk about a home invasion), proves exceptionally well-made and edge-of-your-seat, in spite of its seemingly campy factor. And while it does have cliche dialogue and drama at times, its setup and suspense is anything but. It goes to show how genuine suspense and terror is done, rather than what's done. The final film is quite bloody and bone-crunching, though.

PSYCHOLOGICAL: Us (2019)
Writer-director Jordan Peele's esoteric and chilling thriller of a family, on vacation at a lake house, who are terrorized by a family of red-jumpsuited, scissor-wielding doppelgangers (you will never think of Lupita N'Yongo the same way again), is another brilliantly-written and daring film from a brilliant and original filmmaker. While his previous film Get Out (2017) was a social commentary on race relations and dark realities in contemporary America, Us transcends that by focusing on, perhaps, the dark side of human nature and psychology (hence, the Hands Across America subplot). Some may see the overall message as an eye-opener to humanity's cynicism and ignorance (courtesy an implied governmental experiment gone wrong), or maybe as just a fleeting and nihilistic one. Either way, the result is effectively scary, ambiguous and provocative.

SCI-FI: Alien (1979)
"In space, no one can hear you scream." That iconic movie tagline is the perfect encapsulation of director Ridley Scott's equally iconic and terrifying sci-fi classic. In fact, Scott succeeded George Lucas in the late-Seventies with his own epic and grand space adventure, but with an emphasis on adult psychology and dread. The story follows a seven-member crew (featuring a breakout Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley) who pick up a distress signal while journeying homeward, and soon encounter a hostile alien lifeform never seen before or since. The film's massive scope against its small cast (complete with jarring hand-held cinematography, and its brilliantly written, paced, and unpredictable script) create a sense of claustrophobia, paranoia, and heart-pounding suspense that none of the other subsequent films in this franchise have reached, nor an experience that many sensitive viewers will want to take.

SLASHER: Wes Craven's New Nightmare (1994)
Wes Craven's fantasy-horror frightfest, A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), introduced audiences to Freddy Kruger, a razor-clawed killer who stalks and murders teenagers in their dreams. It was the film that set then-B-rated studio New Line Cinema on the map, and inevitably led to a string of less-than-successful sequels. Then, out of nowhere Craven returned to the series ten years later with this meta-driven thriller, set during the 10th anniversary of the 1984 original, featuring the original actors (an engrossing Heather Langenkamp and Robert Englund, and even a mysterious writer-director Craven) as themselves (plus the "reel" Freddy Kruger, the most sinister and horrifying he's ever been) during the making of the new film. Two years before he changed horror again with Scream, Craven experimented with blurring the lines between fantasy and reality in this bloody, unpredictable, and truly scary "nightmare."

SPLATTER: Ready Or Not (2019)
A young woman named Grace marries into a filthy-rich, board-game-selling family (perhaps undiscerningly), and is forced to play what seems like a silly children's game, only to find a demented, occultish, and literal life-or-death family ritual at the center. To its credit, Ready or Not does have three-dimensional characters and crazy, quirky banter, far exceeding its initially ridiculous premise (Adam Brody, Andie McDowell, and breakout star Samara Weaving steal the screen). Like Get Out, its main protagonist is an outsider "welcomed" into an upper class family, in spite of class and social differences, and eventually learns a shocking dark secret --and we root for her to get the best of the antagonists, who have apparently made deals with the devil long ago. That being said, the film wears its dark, twisted, and damaging mix of violence and macabre on its sleeve--or in this case, a bloodied wedding dress--even when children are allowed to witness such atrocities. Sad. And when Blade-like explosions happen, one can officially say how messed up this movie is.

SUPERNATURAL: Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark (2019)
Based on the 1980s children's anthology book series by Alvin Schwartz, and adapted to the screen by producer Guillermo del Toro and director Andre Ovredal, this cohesive feature follows a group of teenagers who find a haunted house and an ancient book where its stories of scarecrows, corpses with missing toes, and spiders crawling out of "red spots," come to life. Its 1968 setting, against the early years of Vietnam and Richard Nixon's re-election, while recalling the baby boomer nostalgia of walkie talkies, monster movies, and childhood adolescence is thoroughly engrossing (though, not always in the most tasteful ways) and (perhaps more than its title suggests) spooky.

RETROSPECT: Back to the Future With "The Terminator"

A murderous cyborg from the future is sent back in time to kill the mother of a future resistance leader, while a soldier from that time is sent back to protect her. That's the basic premise of James Cameron's original, thrilling sci-fi classic (or "tech-noir," as he prefers) The Terminator, which celebrates its 35th anniversary this year.

Set in Los Angeles in 1984 (present day), and in a futuristic and dystopic 2029 (which is now ten years away), the film is very dated and cheesy by today's standards (with its electronic score and special effects by the late great Stan Winston). Even so, its titular T-800 endoskeleton villain, who apparently cannot be stopped, remains just as merciless, pitiless, fearless, emotionless, and iconic as ever. (The role practically made Arnold Schwarzenegger a household name, as did many other action films of the 1980s.)

Its chase sequences (done with guerrilla-style camerawork) remain just as dynamic a la a horror-thriller, with relentless action, chills, thrills, and a sharp script, providing enough exposition through dialogue on themes of the dark side of technology and fears of the future. (According to IMDb, one of Cameron's cinematic influences was 1981's Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior.)

Michael Beihn and Linda Hamilton in The Terminator

And its central relationship between traumatized future soldier Kyle Reese (Michael Beihn's performance is arguably the best in this film) and present-day Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton), a young woman suddenly pulled into an unexpected situation and questioning her own future in the process.

Yet, as well-known and iconic as this movie (and its franchise) may be to both adults and kids ("I'll be back" may be the most famous movie line in history), the movie(s) itself/themselves are far from child-friendly. The first half of the 1984 original will seem nihilistic to some viewers. And consider the film's level of violence, sometimes merciless and graphic, as well as occasional profanities and brief scenes of nudity.

"No fate but what we make."

The 1991 sequel, Terminator 2: Judgment Day (or, T2), is the film in this series that is most remembered, the one that has arguably stood the test of time the most, and the one that cemented its status as an iconic and groundbreaking franchise. T2 tops the first movie in so many ways, and not just by its increased budget and knockout action sequences. It genuinely pushes the characters forward (especially Sarah Connor, which gave a beefed-up and developed Hamilton a role to really sink her teeth into), showing complexities and changes in technology (Arnold's "reprogrammed" T-800), shifting what was created for evil and destruction into something good, while maintaining the central themes of preventing or changing the future.

Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2: Judgment Day

Hamilton and Arnold (especially on a motorcycle, clocking a shotgun one-handed) practically own the movie, as does the subversive T-1000 liquid metal assassin (Robert Patrick), brought to life by revolutionary visual effects and Stan Winston's groundbreaking practical studio. According to IMDb, the premise of sending these two Terminators back in time was Cameron's initial idea for the first film. His ideas, however, proved "too ambitious" at the time. But when he made The Abyss in 1989, the computer-generated water creature sequence proved so successful that Cameron returned to his initial concept and incorporated it into this film.

If the film has a weakness, it may be in how it portrays John Connor (Edward Furlong) as a rebellious teenage boy. Plus, the film's opening credits sequence (with everything on fire) and sequences involving a nightmarish nuclear explosion (with flesh-burning results), an intense assassination attempt, and graphic robot imagery are a reminder of how non-child-friendly these films are.

Three sequels followed in the next three decades, none of which retained the same excitement or originality of the first two films. 2003's Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines at least had Arnold, and special effects artist Stan Winston (who passed away five years later) was still at the top of his game. 2008's Terminator Salvation, despite a reportedly-heated Christian Bale on set, had a compellingly gritty look, nonetheless, and newcomer Sam Worthington (one year before he was in Cameron's Avatar) made an impressive character. 2015's Terminator Genysis messed with the space-time continuum of the series and became convoluted.

They'll be back.

"You changed the future, but you didn't change our fate."

And now, Cameron has returned to the franchise with a sixth installment, next weekend's Terminator: Dark Fate, helmed by Deadpool director Tim Miller, and reportedly a direct sequel to the 1991 film (just as last year's Halloween followed the 1978 horror classic and completely ignored the other films that followed since). Most exciting is the return of Hamilton as a seasoned Sarah Connor, who will fight alongside an enhanced soldier (Blade Runner 2049's Mackenzie Davis) to protect a young woman from a new, more deadly, Terminator. One can also expect an appearance from a certain, seasoned T-800.

He said he'd be back, didn't he?

RETROSPECT: "Blade Runner" or, Those Moments in Time

There are certain years that are forever immortalized or synonymous with specific movies, particularly science-fiction. Back to the Future, for instance, has a few: 1985 (present day), 1955 (past), and 2015 (future). Then there's 2001: A Space Odyssey, Stanley Kubrick's quintessential 1968 space adventure. 

Next month and year marks when we would have had a futuristic Los Angeles, as seen in director Ridley Scott's bleak and intriguing "tech-noir" thriller, Blade Runner, from 1982. Based on Philip K. Dick's dystopic novel, "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?", from a screenplay by Hampton Fancher and David Peoples, the film is a prime example of this particular subgenre, mixing 1980s-based sci-fi with a gritty style of 1940s detective noir. This vision of the future (as in the film) consists of steam, rain, billboard- and blimp-sized ads, flying cars, and neon lights. (Two years later, writer-director James Cameron would follow a somewhat-similar suit with The Terminator, which features only a few scenes set in a dystopic future.) 

Screen legend Harrison Ford plays Rick Deckard, a retired cop (and futuristic Bogart of sorts) called back in to his former job, as a "blade runner," to hunt down and kill convicted androids known as Replicants (chief among them the compelling and, at times, frightening Roy Batty, played by the late Rutger Hauer), and which may or may not include the mysterious, bright-pupiled Rachel (played by Sean Young). Replicants look and act like human beings in every way, except for emotions (and with limited lifespans). "Replicants are like any other machine," Deckard tells us, "They're either a benefit or a hazard. If they're a benefit, it's not my problem."

Many viewers (myself included) agree that these are characters--on a quest to find their "creator" (in this case, the mysterious Dr. Elden Tyrell, of the Tyrell Corporation) and seek eternal life against impending death--illustrate the notion of "man playing God," and what it is to be human, what is human and what is not, and what is "perfect" and what is not. Ditto the plots emotional-response tests, mentions of "Off-World colonies," and roles of memories (or "implants"). The electronic score by Vangelis (1981's Chariots of Fire) captures these emotions, and this world, brilliantly, as do the amazing special photographic effects supervised by Douglas Trumbell (1968's 2001: A Space Odyssey).

Rutger Hauer

Released the same year as Steven Spielberg's critical and commercial blockbuster E.T. and John Carpenter's body-horror remake The Thing, Blade Runner (like the latter) was not well-received upon its initial theatrical run. Ford and Scott, for one, didn't like the studio-added element of Ford's voice-over narration and a forced "happy ending."

However, in subsequent years (like Carpenter's film), especially with the release of a 1992 "director's cut" and a 2007 "final cut" (both of which removed the narration and initial ending), the film has gained massive followings and discussions, including the decades-long debate (and possible suggestion) that Deckard himself may or may not be a Replicant. Edward Guthmann of the San Francisco Chronicle wrote (in 1992), "Today, [the film] works better than ever: Scott's version not only has more dramatic integrity, but its visual aesthetic and futuristic vision are more in sync with today's moviegoers."

Rita Kempley of the Washington Post adds, "Grand enough in scale to carry its many Biblical and mythological references, Blade Runner never feels heavy or pretentious -- only more and more engrossing with each viewing." 

And the film has had a massive influence on the science-fiction film genre: gritty atmospheres and moods, dystopic, bleak, intellectual, steampunk, cyberpunk (sound familiar?), and an immersive, believable experience. Wrote Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly, "This is perhaps the only science-fiction film [besides 2001] that can be called transcendental."

RETROSPECT: "The Shawshank Redemption" or, A Film for Life

Get busy living, or get busy dying.

I understand you're a man who knows how to get things.

Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.

Those are just some of the many taglines or quotes that have stemmed and endured over the last quarter century from a small prison drama based on, of all things, a Stephen King novella.

Voted by IMDb as the number-one rated film of all-time, The Shawshank Redemption spans two decades while following the growing friendship between inmates Red Redding (Morgan Freeman), a convict who has a reputation for "getting things" on the inside, and Andy Dusfrane (Tim Robbins), a mild-mannered banker wrongfully accused of murdering his wife and her lover.

Adapted by first-time director Frank Darabont from King's novella, "Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption," the structure of the film is quite remarkable and timely. (Darabont would later brilliantly adapted another King novel, The Green Mile, starring Tom Hanks, in 1999.) The story chronicles life inside (and the world of) the prison: its ethics, economics, lifestyles, masculinity, personalities, profane nature, routines, and trends, including the theme of fighting the world and what it does to you; elements of rape (a hard scene, and one that comes close), violence ("Prison is no fairy tale world"), conspiracy, and, in particular, the theme of institutionalization (illustrated, for one, in the film's saddest sequence). It also chronicles how Andy makes a difference in the lives of others (whether by making chess pieces out of rocks or building a library), even earning their trust, by bringing in things that aren't "normal" in this world, or perhaps things they've never seen or heard.

Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins

This film arguably made Freeman a household name (as Pulp Fiction did for Samuel L. Jackson that same year). His narration throughput the film is a great example of how to do narration effectively and necessarily (not to mention great). Plus, the parallel character arcs of his Red and fellow lifer Brooks (the late James Whitmore) represent those who've come to believe the lie that one cannot make it in the world after a life sentence, not to mention a sense of fear in the world.

If the film has any disadvantages, it's in its portrayal of women. In fact, the only women seen on screen are through posters of famous Hollywood bombshells as Rita Hayworth, Marilyn Monroe, and Raquel Welsh. Then there's the brief sexual moment in the film's opening, which is unfortunately the only time we actually see Andy's wife and lover) Some viewers may also take issue with some of the film's complicated use of religion, biblical references and spirituality (Bible and a pick ax, anybody?), especially in the case of the Warden from his first scene ("Put your trust in the Lord. Your a-- belongs to me"). Despite some intriguing Bible passage exchanges between Andy and the Warden, the latter's true character proves hypocritical. (At least some of the references on display do ring true, such as the frame in the Warden's office which reads, "And His judgment that cometh right soon.")

For the briefest of moments, every last man at Shawshank felt free.

In spite of these elements, the film does stand as a metaphor for hope for man. The change that Andy initiates (some would argue or even agree) echoes elements of eternity, and that this life is temporary, yet remembering what we once could do, and who we were/are, and what freedom is. Remember the classic scene of Andy playing an aria record over the loud speakers? Thomas Newman's unforgettable score (which I listened to a lot in college, and which could qualify as a "perfect" score) hits all the right notes and emotions.

Despite generally great reviews and seven Oscar nominations at the time, Shawshank was not a commercial success on its initial release in 1994. But like other similar classics as 1939's The Wizard of Oz and 1946's It's A Wonderful Life, audiences caught up with the film in time, and it's now declared one of the greatest films ever made. It may be the most unforgettable prison drama in film history. There are very few films that have a certain kind of magic (E.T., anyone?), that trigger certain memories and emotions. And though Shawshank is not for everybody, it does otherwise stand as one of those films.