It’s a goddam bad story, isn’t it, Hawk?

Twin Peaks

3.12: Lets rock.

(SPOILERS) I have to admit, this is the first episode of the run that felt merely “okay” to me. Not bad in any respect, but having little to really distinguish itself. You have to think Lynch stuck in that one sliver of a scene of Dale-Dougie playing ball (or rather, having a ball bounced off his head) because he realised Kyle McLachlan would be otherwise absent.

Instead, it’s almost The Gordon Cole Show. Repeated business with his hearing aid, and with some floozy (Bérénice Marlohe) he picked up in the hotel bar (leading to another mirthfully extensive sequence as she very laboriously prepares to leave when Albert calls by; this is evidently the kind of carry on Duchovny’s Denise was warning Cole about, in very meta fashion, way back at the beginning of the season). And Albert delivering some extensive exposition Tammy should surely be partially aware of, having compiled The Secret History of Twin Peaks, regarding the Blue Rose as a follow-on group from Project Blue Book.

Notably, Lynch and Frost are most definitely taking the interdimensional rather than extra-terrestrial path here, with Philip Jeffries, Albert, Coop and Chester Desmond (poor old Chester) – but no Windom Earle – on a quest to find answers to Blue Book anomalies that could not be reached “except by an alternate path”. Tammy’s induction, in a red-draped room, drinking quality vino (this is the new coffee of Twin Peaks, clearly) is accompanied by some of Chrysta Bell’s most oddball performance choices yet, as she attempts to express her enthusiasm in a manner that would make you squirm for her acting coach, if she had one.

Gordon Cole: What do we know, that we haven’t asked her about?

There’s also Diane’s cryptic text message (Q: Las Vegas? A: THEY HAVEN’T ASKED YET), the co-ordinates revealing, surprise, surprise, the town of the title, and, most disconcertingly, Diane uttering, Man from Another Place styl-ee “Let’s rock” in response to being deputised.

Ben Horne: I loved that bike that my father got me.

The second most significant chunk of the episode consists of the Hornes. Jerry finally gets out of the woods. Ben expresses regret over his grandson’s actions like a man struggling to look concerned (although he does stump up for the operation bill), and most importantly, finds his way to giving Sheriff Truman Coop’s Great Northern key, to give back to Harry (why not, there’s about as much chance of seeing the latter again as the real Coop).

Audrey: You’re not going to tell me what she said?

And then there’s Audrey. She’s back… and she’s a real bitch? Is this Lynch playing sadist with his once-prized Peaks totty? Now she’s middle-aged and heartless, reduced to some sort of marriage of convenience with Charlie (Clark Middleton, who I know best from Fringe), her “spineless no-balls loser” of a husband. What exactly is going on here is at least partially inscrutable, but Audrey’s waving her infidelity with Billy under her Charlie’s nose, who retaliates with audible silence when she demands to know the contents of his phone conversation with Tina (Billy’s other half).

First Albert’s notable silence, now Charlie’s. A running theme? I half-expected a reveal that Audrey now has one leg (post-bank explosion), but thus far the explanations for how she got to where she is are entirely elusive. Also referenced: Paul and Chuck? Keep watching, and we’ll hear about more people we’ve never met.

Yes, I had a similar lack of a frame of reference for the bar scene at the end – Heineken aside – between Abbie (Elizabeth Anweis) and Natalie (Ana de la Reguera), discussing how Angela is off her meds and hoping Clark doesn’t fuck this up, and the arrival of Lynch regular (going back to Wild at Heart) Scott Coffey, as Trick, showing up shaken after a traffic altercation. At least there’s the comforting return of the Chromatics.

Sarah Palmer: I don’t feel good!

The rest is kind of piecemeal. Sarah Palmer gets freaked out – no one does freaked-out quite like Grace Zabriskie – with an extended meltdown in the supermarket when confronted by some newly arrived beef and turkey jerky and later rejecting Hawk’s offer of assistance in whatever way she needs (that ominous shot of the turning ceiling fan in her home, and Hawk thinking he heard someone else inside is almost as eerie as Lynch’s sound effects). Hutch and Chantelle put an end to the warden, much to the distress of his wee bairn. Doctor Amp is doing the vamp for liberty (“It’s working for me, Doctor Amp”), and Carl advises neighbour Kriscoll (Bill O’Dell) not to sell his precious red stuff (“Keep your blood”). Tres chic, tres bon, or turnip farm? I expected Let’s rock to rock a bit more than it does, with that title.

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

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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…

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…

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…

Must the duck be here?

The Favourite (2018)
(SPOILERS) In my review of The Killing of a Sacred Deer, I suggested The Favourite might be a Yorgos Lanthimos movie for those who don’t like Yorgos Lanthimos movies. At least, that’s what I’d heard. And certainly, it’s more accessible than either of his previous pictures, the first two thirds resembling a kind of Carry On Up the Greenaway, but despite these broader, more slapstick elements and abundant caustic humour, there’s a prevailing detachment on the part of the director, a distancing oversight that rather suggests he doesn’t feel very much for his subjects, no matter how much they emote, suffer or connive. Or pratfall.

Whoever comes, I'll kill them. I'll kill them all.

John Wick: Chapter 2 (2017)
(SPOILERS) There’s no guessing he’s back. John Wick’s return is most definite and demonstrable, in a sequel that does what sequels ought in all the right ways, upping the ante while never losing sight of the ingredients that made the original so formidable. John Wick: Chapter 2 finds the minimalist, stripped-back vehicle and character of the first instalment furnished with an elaborate colour palette and even more idiosyncrasies around the fringes, rather like Mad Max in that sense, and director Chad Stahleski (this time without the collaboration of David Leitch, but to no discernible deficit) ensures the action is filled to overflowing, but with an even stronger narrative drive that makes the most of changes of gear, scenery and motivation.

The result is a giddily hilarious, edge-of-the-seat thrill ride (don’t believe The New York Times review: it is not “altogether more solemn” I can only guess Jeannette Catsoulis didn’t revisit the original in the interven…

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.

Can you float through the air when you smell a delicious pie?

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
(SPOILERS) Ironically, given the source material, think I probably fell into the category of many who weren't overly disposed to give this big screen Spider-Man a go on the grounds that it was an animation. After all, if it wasn’t "good enough" for live-action, why should I give it my time? Not even Phil Lord and Christopher Miller's pedigree wholly persuaded me; they'd had their stumble of late, although admittedly in that live-action arena. As such, it was only the near-unanimous critics' approval that swayed me, suggesting I'd have been missing out. They – not always the most reliable arbiters of such populist fare, which made the vote of confidence all the more notable – were right. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is not only a first-rate Spider-Man movie, it's a fresh, playful and (perhaps) surprisingly heartfelt origins story.

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.

I don’t know if what is happening is fair, but it’s the only thing I can think of that’s close to justice.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)
(SPOILERS) I think I knew I wasn’t going to like The Killing of a Sacred Deer in the first five minutes. And that was without the unedifying sight of open-heart surgery that takes up the first four. Yorgos Lanthimos is something of a Marmite director, and my responses to this and his previous The Lobster (which I merely thought was “okay” after exhausting its thin premise) haven’t induced me to check out his earlier work. Of course, he has now come out with a film that, reputedly, even his naysayers will like, awards-darling The Favourite…

Never compare me to the mayor in Jaws! Never!

Ghostbusters (2016)
(SPOILERS) Paul Feig is a better director than Ivan Reitman, or at very least he’s savvy enough to gather technicians around him who make his films look good, but that hasn’t helped make his Ghostbusters remake (or reboot) a better movie than the original, and that’s even with the original not even being that great a movie in the first place.

Along which lines, I’d lay no claims to the 1984 movie being some kind of auteurist gem, but it does make some capital from the polarising forces of Aykroyd’s ultra-geekiness on the subject of spooks and Murray’s “I’m just here for the asides” irreverence. In contrast, Feig’s picture is all about treating the subject as he does any other genre, be it cop, or spy, or romcom. There’s no great affection, merely a reliably professional approach, one minded to ensure that a generous quota of gags (on-topic not required) can be pumped out via abundant improv sessions.

So there’s nothing terribly wrong with Ghostbusters, but aside from …

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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