Stay quiet, stay close, and stay fast.

No Escape

(2015)

(SPOILERS) Alternatively titled Those Lousy Central Americans Really Want to Kill Poor Owen Wilson and His Dearly Beloved, this picture received not a little lambasting on its release for perceived brazen racism and xenophobia, the fear of Johnny (or gooky) foreigner writ large. And that’s not without some justification. No Escape is certainly a ridiculously insensitive movie, in which an all-American family of the United States variety are relentlessly pursued by faceless hoards, bent on their destruction, after a coup unleashes anarchy in their newly arrived locale (and Owen only went there to help the natives, that kindly patrician westerner, him!). But that’s probably (I say probably, as I’m feeling charitable) more because this a horror movie disguised as a suspense thriller disguised as cautionary tale of the dangers of being an expat in an unstable locale; it’s made by a horror director, highly effectively it must be said, and his gangs of nationality-obscure locals (the country borders Vietnam, it was filmed in Thailand) are essentially zombie legions, or the legions of the damned found in any urban, night-shrouded horror.

To wit, I don’t think No Escape is necessarily the same kind of reprehensible exhibit that, say, Blackhawk Down is. Opportunistic yes, but that comes with the genre trappings; you can see at every turn that John Erick Dowdle (co-written with his brother Drew) is thinking “How can I really make this unnerving, really tighten the screws?” and he’s very successful at hitting his target. From hapless Wilson getting caught in a street fight, to the mayhem in his besieged hotel, the tension is ratcheted up with devilish skill. I’m not familiar with the Dowdles’ previous pictures, but if this is their attempt to broaden their palette (John devised the story following a near miss with the 2006 Thai coup), he very nearly succeeds, just unfortunately failing to make the content in his genre switch any more respectable.

So yeah, No Escape might put the fear up Americans considering a sojourn in foreign climes, but it comes from the same place as putting the fear up a rural type finding themselves alone in the big city. The mechanism is more visceral than political, even though such flagrant disregard isn’t to be commended.

And besides, there is at least a dump of wholly unfinessed exposition, courtesy of Pierce Brosnan in a top-form supporting role (“Got into a foit with a toiger”), enjoying himself as a less-than-suave secret agent (and showing he still has the moves nearly a decade and a half on from his last 007 outing). He admits it’s the gluttonous West that has caused the coup (“Guys like me pave the way for guys like you to wind up here”), going on to note that the undiscerning victims don’t usually fight back; the corporations who run the UK and the US offer a loan to pay for their services, knowing the debt can’t be repaid, and then “we own them”.

The problem is, excised from the horror genre, or even the more flamboyant action movie, the successive feats of unlikely derring-do increasingly beggar belief, from Wilson throwing his kids across streets onto roofs opposite, to Lake Bell going apeshit mental with a shovel. The push-pull between grounding and pure pulp exploitation is ultimately too uneasy to make No Escape a winner, the high point coming early on, when Wilson desperately kills a man and his reaction is every bit as shocked as it should be. But as the ante is upped, with the kids used for increasingly flagrant, tension-rousing purposes (including doing very stupid things) and Bell being subject to an attempted rape, the feeling of being led into something much less judiciously managed begins to take over. Nevertheless, with the right script, Dowdle could make something really impressive at some point.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Comments

My name is Dr. King Schultz, this is my valet, Django, and these are our horses, Fritz, and Tony.

Django Unchained (2012)
(MINOR SPOILERS) Since the painful misstep of Grindhouse/Death Proof, Quentin Tarantino has regained the higher ground like never before. Pulp Fiction, his previous commercial and critical peak, has been at very least equalled by the back-to-back hits of Inglourious Basterds and Django Unchained. Having been underwhelmed by his post Pulp Fiction efforts (albeit, I admired his technical advances as a director in Kill Bill), I was pleasantly surprised by Inglourious Basterds. It was no work of genius (so not Pulp Fiction) by any means, but there was a gleeful irreverence in its treatment of history and even to the nominal heroic status of its titular protagonists. Tonally, it was a good fit for the director’s “cool” aesthetic. As a purveyor of postmodern pastiche, where the surface level is the subtext, in some ways he was operating at his zenith. Django Unchained is a retreat from that position, the director caught in the tug between his all-important aesthetic pr…

She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

I don’t think you will see President Pierce again.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)
(SPOILERS) The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and other tall tales of the American frontier is the title of "the book" from which the Coen brothers' latest derives, and so announces itself as fiction up front as heavily as Fargo purported to be based on a true story. In the world of the portmanteau western – has there even been one before? – theme and content aren't really all that distinct from the more familiar horror collection, and as such, these six tales rely on sudden twists or reveals, most of them revolving around death. And inevitably with the anthology, some tall tales are stronger than other tall tales, the former dutifully taking up the slack.

One day you will speak and the jungle will listen.

Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle (2018)
(SPOILERS) The unloved and neglected Jungle Book movie that wasn't Disney’s, Jungle Book: Origins was originally pegged for a 2016 release, before being pushed to last year, then this, and then offloaded by Warner Bros onto Netflix. During which time the title changed to Mowgli: Tales from the Jungle Book, then Mowgli, and finally Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle. The assumption is usually that the loser out of vying projects – and going from competing with a near $1bn grossing box office titan to effectively straight-to-video is the definition of a loser – is by its nature inferior, but Andy Serkis' movie is a much more interesting, nuanced affair than the Disney flick, which tried to serve too many masters and floundered with a finale that saw Mowgli celebrated for scorching the jungle. And yes, it’s darker too. But not grimdarker.

You look like an angry lizard!

Bohemian Rhapsody (2018)
(SPOILERS) I can quite see a Queen fan begrudging this latest musical biopic for failing to adhere to the facts of their illustrious career – but then, what biopic does steer a straight and true course? – making it ironic that they're the main fuel for Bohemian Rhapsody's box office success. Most other criticisms – and they're legitimate, on the whole – fall away in the face of a hugely charismatic star turn from Rami Malek as the band's frontman. He's the difference between a standard-issue, episodic, join-the-dots narrative and one that occasionally touches greatness, and most importantly, carries emotional heft.

Don’t you break into like, a billion homes a year?

The Christmas Chronicles (2018)
(SPOILERS) Tis the season to be schmaltzy. Except, perhaps not as insufferably so as you might think. The Christmas Chronicles feels very much like a John Hughes production, which is appropriate since it's produced by Chris Columbus, who was given his start as a director by Hughes. Think Uncle Buck, but instead of John Candy improving his nieces and nephew's lives, you've got Kurt Russell's Santa Claus bringing good cheer to the kids of the Pierce household. The latter are an indifferent duo, but they key here is Santa, and Russell brings the movie that all important irrepressible spark and then some.

There's something wrong with the sky.

Hold the Dark (2018)
(SPOILERS) Hold the Dark, an adaptation of William Giraldi's 2014 novel, is big on atmosphere, as you'd expect from director Jeremy Saulnier (Blue Ruin, Green Room) and actor-now-director (I Don’t Want to Live in This World Anymore) pal Macon Blair (furnishing the screenplay and appearing in one scene), but contrastingly low on satisfying resolutions. Being wilfully oblique can be a winner if you’re entirely sure what you're trying to achieve, but the effect here is rather that it’s "for the sake of it" than purposeful.

A steed is not praised for its might, but for its thoroughbred qualities.

The Avengers Season 3 Ranked - Worst to Best
Season Three is where The Avengers settles into its best-known form – okay, The Grandeur that was Rome aside, there’s nothing really pushing it towards the eccentric heights it would reach in the Rigg era – in no small part due to the permanent partnering of Honor Blackman with Patrick Macnee. It may not be as polished as the subsequent incarnations, but it has the appeal of actively exploring its boundaries, and probably edges out Season Five in the rankings, which rather started to believe its own hype.

You counselled him and then he shot himself.

First Reformed (2017)
(SPOILERS) This uneven at best Roman Catholic – I know, it concerns a protestant church, but who are we trying to kid? – eco-guilt picture from Paul Schrader that has been hailed as his best in years, which it probably is, but these things are relative. Schrader has made, for the first hour or so, an engrossing study of faith, doubt and despair, but his choices after that, particularly during the last half hour, undo much of the effort.

Rejoice! The broken are the more evolved. Rejoice.

Split (2016)
(SPOILERS) M Night Shyamalan went from the toast of twist-based filmmaking to a one-trick pony to the object of abject ridicule in the space of only a couple of pictures: quite a feat. Along the way, I’ve managed to miss several of his pictures, including his last, The Visit, regarded as something of a re-locating of his footing in the low budget horror arena. Split continues that genre readjustment, another Blumhouse production, one that also manages to bridge the gap with the fare that made him famous. But it’s a thematically uneasy film, marrying shlock and serious subject matter in ways that don’t always quite gel.

Shyamalan has seized on a horror staple – nubile teenage girls in peril, prey to a psychotic antagonist – and, no doubt with the best intentions, attempted to warp it. But, in so doing, he has dragged in themes and threads from other, more meritable fare, with the consequence that, in the end, the conflicting positions rather subvert his attempts at subversion…

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

Search This Blog