I’m a friend of the family.

The Guest

(2014)

(SPOILERS) What if Michael Myers were a personable young man with excellent manners and piercing blue eyes? Would you let him in your family home? That’s at least part of what director Adam Wingard and writer Simon Barrett are angling for in this blackly comic ‘80s genre binge. The Guest is a well-made little B-movie, and has been audibly embraced by film geeks and critics alike. I wanted to like it more than I did. It is certainly, like a great many (too many?) movies at the moment, upfront with its influences, but it isn’t as rapier sharper as its knowing tone suggests. It’s engagingly absurdist psycho fluff, but Barrett and Wingard only occasionally rise above the tropes and references they’ve borrowed wholesale.

Ex-marine David Collins (Dan Stevens) shows up at the door of the Peterson family, claiming to have served with their deceased oldest son Caleb. He tells them he was with Caleb at the end, that he wanted David to check on them all, make sure they are okay. With smooth certitude he wins over even the less certain family members, and before long he is sorting out school bullies and securing dad that promotion he needs. In an ultra-violent manner.

The first half of The Guest is a sly riff on ‘stranger comes to town and sets things right’ movies. We’ve seen this in everything from westerns (Shane) to broad comedies (Uncle Buck), and there’s wit in the way David inveigles himself with the family with his “aw shucks, ma’am” politeness. But Wingard and Barret know they hold some good cards, and can’t resist getting over-excited and showing their hands. They’ve talked about how they wanted to start the picture off seriously and gradually expose its humorous side as they progressed, at which they are reasonably successful (a few rocky section aside).

Yet it’s always clear that they are playing with genre conventions. The soundtrack pulses with the ominous thunder of a horror movie from the first shot. Pumpkins announce the Halloween setting and a synth score inhabits a milieu decades past (Steve Moore’s score is a perfect throwback, but overwhelms the picture at times). The family woes (grieving wife, beleaguered husband who drinks to much, daughter with a drug dealer boyfriend, younger brother bullied at school) are instantly familiar. And when David is alone, his face becomes an impassive mask announcing an agenda beyond simple benefaction.

The idea that John Candy might turn out to be a knife-wielding (or golf club wielding) maniac holds a certain mirth, and Stevens, buffed up to his eyebrows, hits the tone perfectly. He confidently treads the line between guileless and intense (the scene where he is preparing lunch, playing with an extremely large kitchen knife as he explains himself to the now slightly suspicious family is masterfully edgy) and crosses to either side as necessary. When the violence breaks out big time, he carries the casual air and immaculate manners of one used to such nuisance; Grosse Point Blank (another ‘80s nostalgia piece) comes to mind, high school warfare played with wink and a grin.

But Wingard doesn’t quite nail it, and the script is a tad too eager. David taking down the high school bullies in a bar is classic material, but I found it slightly off. The spoilt teenagers react with the “movie” moves of a gang of street punks, and the results feel over-telegraphed (the short, sharp shock of Bad Santa was a far better cure for bullying). In contrast, David’s persuasive tone as sly manipulation of the headmaster when Luke (Chloë Moretz lookalike Brendan Meyer) is due to be expelled hits a more satisfying balance.

Wingard and Barret clearly feel compelled to cut to the chase, and the reveal that the military are after David, whoever David is, comes in a rush of half-exposition and a couple of SUVs posing as an entire SWAT team. David’s true identity is left intentionally vague, along with the military test programme from which he has escaped a week before. We know he isn’t the real David (both Luke and Lance Reddick’s Major Carver say as much) and that he his programming requires that, should his identity be compromised, he kills those who know about it. At one point I wondered, given the heavy visual clues, and the fact that David chooses Caleb’s family to intrude upon (even given his promise, it seems remarkably convenient), if David would be revealed as Michael Myers in all but name; that he is Caleb, adding queasy subtext to scenes such as the ones where Anna (Maika Monroe) bumps into him coming out of the shower buffed and Laura (Sheila Kelley) is expressing her gratitude while hanging out the washing.

That would probably have been a little too on the nose, but the invulnerable climax (stabbed, shot, but still he doesn’t go down) is completely Halloween, even if the fireman disguise is a standard thriller/serial killer staple (The Silence of the Lambs, Leon). Instead, Wingard lays down a strong Terminator vibe. For me, that’s the problem with the picture; it feels a little too much like a mash-up without ever quite ironing out the bumps and becoming its own unique thing. Scenes echo scenes we’ve seen before too strongly (even bad films; killing the gun dealer recalls The Jackal) and the marketers understandably fixate on the elements everyone is noticing (see the poster below).

I found myself less than enthused by the middle section; while there are some well-staged explosive thrills once it shifts into action territory, the movie becomes much more obvious and less arresting. The Guest clearly enjoys shifting gears in respect of the kind of picture it wants to be; domestic drama, psycho-ville, conspiracy thriller, black comedy, retro-horror. How successful it is may be down to personal taste. The murder of Laura is a masterful “so this is where it’s going” turning point (“I really am sorry about this, Mrs Peterson. I’m afraid I haven’t been fully honest with you”), but, as David proceeds to waste all loose ends (complete with hand grenades at a diner), it becomes evident that Barret has constructed the flimsiest of motivations for his twists, and hopes that keeping things obscure will be an end unto itself.

Ironically, since it’s the most homage-y it gets, the picture doesn’t quite right itself until the goofy horror trappings of the showdown, complete with ridiculously extravagant Halloween dance set, all endless passageways and dry ice. We know as soon as he is given it that Luke will end up putting the knife in David, but it can’t really be snooked at in a scene embracing conventions so fully (David even “dies” on graveyard scenery).

As for the movie’s take on returned veterans, it’s window dressing really. Barret does highlight the assumed worthiness of many “War on Terror” films, however. There’s a crafty scene where David messes with the head of a stoner claiming he and his friends “support you guys” to which David responds with sudden intensity (“But you wouldn’t support us by enlisting”). Elsewhere, they even throw in the old “military intelligence” joke.

The cast are outstanding, although Reddick could run through his role in his sleep. Maika Monroe, a young Gwen Steffani, keeps pace with Stevens measure for measure. Meyer is also strong. His reaction to David’s instructions on how to deal with bullies (go round their house at night and burn it down with their families inside) is priceless. Orser and Kelley add nuance to slim roles (Kelley in particular during the opening scenes) while Tabatha Shaun makes an impression as Anna’s best friend.

I should probably give Wingard and Barret’s You’re Next a look, although horror isn’t really my bag. The Guest is a good movie made by smart guys, but they could do with wearing their influences on their sleeves a little less.

The Illumi-what-i?

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022) (SPOILERS) In which Sam Raimi proves that he can stand proudly with the best – or worst – of them as a good little foot soldier of the woke apocalypse. You’d expect the wilfully anarchic – and Republican – Raimi to choke on the woke, but instead, he’s sucked it up, grinned and bore it. Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is so slavishly a production-line Marvel movie, both in plotting and character, and in nu-Feige progressive sensibilities, there was no chance of Sam staggering out from beneath its suffocating demands with anything more than a few scraps of stylistic flourish intact.

This risotto is shmackin’, dude.

Stranger Things Season 4: Volume 1 (SPOILERS) I haven’t had cause, or the urge, to revisit earlier seasons of Stranger Things , but I’m fairly certain my (relatively) positive takes on the first two sequel seasons would adjust down somewhat if I did (a Soviet base under Hawkins? DUMB soft disclosure or not, it’s pretty dumb). In my Season Three review, I called the show “ Netflix’s best-packaged junk food. It knows not to outstay its welcome, doesn’t cause bloat and is disposable in mostly good ways ” I fairly certain the Duffer’s weren’t reading, but it’s as if they decided, as a rebuke, that bloat was the only way to go for Season Four. Hence episodes approaching (or exceeding) twice the standard length. So while the other points – that it wouldn’t stray from its cosy identity and seasons tend to merge in the memory – hold fast, you can feel the ambition of an expansive canvas faltering at the hurdle of Stranger Things ’ essential, curated, nostalgia-appeal inconsequentiality.

Haven’t you ever heard of the healing power of laughter?

Batman (1989) (SPOILERS) There’s Jaws , there’s Star Wars , and then there’s Batman in terms of defining the modern blockbuster. Jaws ’ success was so profound, it changed the way movies were made and marketed. Batman’s marketing was so profound, it changed the way tentpoles would be perceived: as cash cows. Disney tried to reproduce the effect the following year with Dick Tracy , to markedly less enthusiastic response. None of this places Batman in the company of Jaws as a classic movie sold well, far from it. It just so happened to hit the spot. As Tim Burton put it, it was “ more of a cultural phenomenon than a great movie ”. It’s difficult to disagree with his verdict that the finished product (for that is what it is) is “ mainly boring ”. Now, of course, the Burton bat has been usurped by the Nolan incarnation (and soon the Snyder). They have some things in common. Both take the character seriously and favour a sombre tone, which was much more of shock to the

Is this supposed to be me? It’s grotesque.

The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022) (SPOILERS) I didn’t hold out much hope for The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent being more than moderately tolerable. Not so much because its relatively untested director and his co-writer are mostly known in the TV sphere (and not so much for anything anyone is raving about). Although, it has to be admitted, the finished movie flourishes a degree of digital flatness typical of small-screen productions (it’s fine, but nothing more). Rather, due to the already over-tapped meta-strain of celebs showing they’re good sports about themselves. When Spike Jonze did it with John Malkovich, it was weird and different. By the time we had JCVD , not so much. And both of them are pre-dated by Arnie in Last Action Hero (“ You brought me nothing but pain ” he is told by Jack Slater). Plus, it isn’t as if Tom Gormican and Kevin Etten have much in the way of an angle on Nic; the movie’s basically there to glorify “him”, give or take a few foibles, do

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Watership Down (1978) (SPOILERS) I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may on the face of it seem like an odd bedfellow), this doesn’t garner a PG certificate. As the makers noted, Watership Down is at least in part an Exodus story, but the biblical implications extend beyond Hazel merely leading his fluffle to the titular promised land. There is a prevalent spiritual dimension to this rabbit universe, one very much

What’s so bad about being small? You’re not going to be small forever.

Innerspace (1987) There’s no doubt that Innerspace is a flawed movie. Joe Dante finds himself pulling in different directions, his instincts for comic subversion tempered by the need to play the romance plot straight. He tacitly acknowledges this on the DVD commentary for the film, where he notes Pauline Kael’s criticism that he was attempting to make a mainstream movie; and he was. But, as ever with Dante, it never quite turns out that way. Whereas his kids’ movies treat their protagonists earnestly, this doesn’t come so naturally with adults. I’m a bona fide devotee of Innerspace , but I can’t help but be conscious of its problems. For the most part Dante papers over the cracks; the movie hits certain keynotes of standard Hollywood prescription scripting. But his sensibility inevitably suffuses it. That, and human cartoon Martin Short (an ideal “leading man” for the director) ensure what is, at first glance just another “ Steven Spielberg Presents ” sci-fi/fantas

Twenty dwarves took turns doing handstands on the carpet.

Bugsy (1991) (SPOILERS) Bugsy is very much a Warren Beatty vanity project (aren’t they all, even the ones that don’t seem that way on the surface?), to the extent of his playing a title character a decade and a half younger than him. As such, it makes sense that producer Warren’s choice of director wouldn’t be inclined to overshadow star Warren, but the effect is to end up with a movie that, for all its considerable merits (including a script from James Toback chock full of incident), never really feels quite focussed, that it’s destined to lead anywhere, even if we know where it’s going.

Whacking. I'm hell at whacking.

Witness (1985) (SPOILERS) Witness saw the advent of a relatively brief period – just over half a decade –during which Harrison Ford was willing to use his star power in an attempt to branch out. The results were mixed, and abruptly concluded when his typically too late to go where Daniel Day Lewis, Dustin Hoffman and Robert De Niro had gone before (with at bare minimum Oscar-nominated results) – but not “ full retard ” – ended in derision with Regarding Henry . He retreated to the world of Tom Clancy, and it’s the point where his cachet began to crumble. There had always been a stolid quality beneath even his more colourful characters, but now it came to the fore. You can see something of that as John Book in Witness – despite his sole Oscar nom, it might be one of Ford’s least interesting performances of the 80s – but it scarcely matters, or that the screenplay (which won) is by turns nostalgic, reactionary, wistful and formulaic, as director Peter Weir, in his Hollywood debu

Get away from my burro!

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) (SPOILERS) The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is beloved by so many of the cinematic firmament’s luminaries – Stanley Kubrick, Sam Raimi, , Paul Thomas Anderson and who knows maybe also WS, Vince Gilligan, Spike Lee, Daniel Day Lewis; Oliver Stone was going to remake it – not to mention those anteriorly influential Stone Roses, that it seems foolhardy to suggest it isn’t quite all that. There’s no faulting the performances – a career best Humphrey Bogart, with director John Huston’s dad Walter stealing the movie from under him – but the greed-is-bad theme is laid on a little thick, just in case you were a bit too dim to get it yourself the first time, and Huston’s direction may be right there were it counts for the dramatics, but it’s a little too relaxed when it comes to showing the seams between Mexican location and studio.

If that small woman is small enough, she could fit behind a small tree.

Stranger Things Season 4: Volume 2 (SPOILERS) I can’t quite find it within myself to perform the rapturous somersaults that seem to be the prevailing response to this fourth run of the show. I’ve outlined some of my thematic issues in the Volume 1 review, largely borne out here, but the greater concern is one I’ve held since Season Two began – and this is the best run since Season One, at least as far my failing memory can account for – and that’s the purpose-built formula dictated by the Duffer Brothers. It’s there in each new Big Bad, obviously, even to the extent that this is the Big-Bad-who-binds-them-all (except the Upside Down was always there, right?) And it’s there with the resurgent emotional beats, partings, reunions and plaintively stirring music cues. I have to be really on board with a movie or show to embrace such flagrantly shameless manipulation, season after season, and I find myself increasingly immune.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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