Welcome to The Reviewers

The Reviewers are a group of educated ladies who are interested in

reviewing film, literature and music. In the coming weeks we will be

building up a collection of reviews ranging from recent films, albums

and novels to classics from days gone by.

Horror - The Remake

Recently we have been seeing an increasing number of remakes in the horror genre ranging from the Westernisations of relatively modern Japanese films like The Grudge (Takashi Shimizu 2004) and The Ring (Gore Verbinski 2002) to updates of cult seventies and eighties classics like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Marcus Nispel 2003) and most recently The Omen (John Moore 2006). There have been claims that these remakes show a loss of imagination or creativity on the part of filmmakers in the genre, indeed, claims that there is no artistic justification for the “remake”. Is this the case I wonder? Or does the remake, particularly the horror remake, have both explanation and artistic merit?

Perhaps one explanation for the rise of the remake in the genre can be found in the technological advancements of the industry. Certainly the special effects in these reproductions are significantly more advanced and, indeed, more memorable than the effects seen in the originals. Yet there is another change to be seen here. Despite the reputation of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (Tobe Hooper 1974) for its gore and violence, there is surprisingly little of both. What is disturbing about the film is the intent – the twisted desires and motivations of the deviant family. Modern horror, however, has become increasingly concerned with presenting graphic images of violence. Thus these modern remakes update the original films, placing them within the current trends of the horror genre. Can this alone justify their existence? I must admit that I am not convinced. Again the remake of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a good example. Though the film was popular with the public it has little artistic merit. It is not designed to. Rather the film is aimed to merely entertain. Unlike the original, there are no underlying messages or warnings. Indeed the problem with many of these films is that they are designed to be Hollywood blockbusters – designed, as it were, to be light, unchallenging entertainment.

Yet, as always, there are exceptions. The Omen is perhaps the best example of this. The original, directed by Richard Donner in 1976, is skilfully made and yet extremely flawed. The remake is much the same. The chilling score of the original (by Jerry Goldsmith) both encapsulates and enhances the sense of foreboding on which the film thrives. Yet the music used for the remake is equally effective in a very different way. The graveyard chase of the remake is both more exciting and more effective because of the music which accompanies it. Indeed, while the music of the original is successful in sustaining a sense of foreboding throughout the film (giving the film a unity which is perhaps absent in the remake), the music of the remake enhances each scene individually. Though the remake is successful in this respect, it fails in other. By recreating the iconic images of the original it opens itself to criticism mentioned earlier – that the “remake” is merely a repetition, and that it has no artistic merit of its own.

I would argue that the “remake” in itself is not completely devoid of artistic merit (indeed films such as Moulin Rouge (Baz Luhrmann 2001) can be seen to give original ideas a whole new lease of life), but that recently the horror genre has placed too much emphasis on the recycling of previously successful films. The remake does, in itself, have potential. Yet it must be treated carefully. It cannot be a repetition of an earlier film, rather it must be a reinterpretation of the film. It must place this previous success within modern trends, filmmaking techniques and cultural conditions. Indeed, perhaps it is the cultural significance, or subversive messages of films like The Hills Have Eyes (Wes Craven 1978) or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, that make them so unsuitable for these superficial Hollywood makeovers. Or perhaps the importance of their gritty, realistic style to the horrific atmospheres which they so successfully create. Whatever it is, the genre must reconsider its use of the remake and explore new avenues in order to move forward – avenues which are perhaps heralded by Eli Roth’s Hostel (2005).

An Affair to Remember (Leo McCarey 1957)

You might remember this classic romantic movie from the numerous re-enactments in the 1993 hit Sleepless in Seattle. Indeed, this is the very “girly” movie that causes the women to cry uncontrollably, and the meeting at the top of the Empire State Building is inspired by the missed rendezvous in An Affair to Remember. This charming romance tells of the budding romance between the handsome playboy Nickie Ferrante (Cary Grant) and delightful nightclub singer Terry McKay (Deborah Kerr). Both are engaged to marry, but having fallen hopelessly in love, arrange to meet in six months at the top of the Empire State Building if “everything goes right”. Love, it seems, can never be that simple, and Terry is unable to make their date because of a tragic accident. This accident takes place just moments away from their meeting place and the ambulance sirens can be heard as Nickie anxiously awaits his lover. Needless to say the emotional impact of this is intense, as are the scenes which follow as the two lovers try to accept a life apart. Even the audience is unaware of the extent of Terry’s injuries until her first unexpected meeting with Nickie – a meeting which pulls at the heart string with a satisfying force. She cannot bring herself to tell him what happened and he, it seems, cannot bring himself to ask… but can he forget?

The couple’s first kiss is perhaps one of the most intriguing shot of the whole film. Rather than zooming in on the kiss, McCarey has his two mains move out of shot. The audience is left in no doubt that they have kissed – how their legs can tell such a story is a mystery – but the absence of visual confirmation leaves them longing for something more. This longing is not satisfied by their hurried pecks on the cruise, nor by the unwanted kisses of their spouses, but is somehow quenched by the emotionally charged embrace of the finale.

Does the film live up to the hype created by Sleepless in Seattle? I would have to say yes. It is both well made and emotionally charged. The characters are believable and the relationship between the two leads is skilfully developed. The finale too is stunningly effective and drawn out to just the right point. This film is certainly entitled to its status as a “classic”.

The Phantom of the Opera (Joel Schumacher 2004)

In 2001 Moulin Rouge (Luhrmann) combined stunningly overwhelming aesthetics with powerful musical numbers. The Phantom of the Opera does much the same thing. This is not to say that it is any less effective because it has been done before, indeed, this style of filmmaking – foregoing the constraints of reality in favour of a wholly more colourful, adaptable and awe-inspiring film world – is sadly neglected by contemporary filmmakers. The only draw back is how closely it follows Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical. Rather than the occasional and musical numbers of Moulin Rouge, The Phantom of the Opera is presented completely in song. Coupled with the, all-be-it incredible, operatic (or classical if you prefer) music style, this makes the film considerably less accessible than it’s 2001 counterpart.

The acting is superb. Most notable is Gerard Butler who plays the Phantom. His interpretation of the Phantom is both monstrous and sympathetic. It becomes surprisingly easy to forget the dark side of the Phantom’s nature as his experiences and desires are gradually revealed to the audience. The audience, like Christine, is drawn to the Phantom and in the final scenes her confusion is mirrored by the confusion of the audience – there is no simple happy ending here, someone will always lose. Though some of the emotion inspired by the tale is lost in the use of music as the only form of expression – sometimes silences and dialogue can be more effective than music – it is still a heart-wrenching tale of unrequited love.

The film is worth watching for its aesthetic merit alone, but if musicals do not appeal this is not for you. Yet if you enjoy tales of love and despair, if you are drawn to the fantastical excesses of the theatre and the colourful romanticised images of Hollywood cinema, then this film is a must see!

My Super Ex-Girlfriend (Ivan Reitman)

I’m a big fan of Uma Thurman but when I heard rumour of her new film My Super Ex-Girlfriend I couldn’t help but wonder WHY! The premise – Boy meets girl, boy dates girl, girl turns out to be a super-hero (G-Girl?!?), boy dumps girl, girl takes revenge on boy – is amusing, but still it’s difficult not to roll your eyes. The ad campaign did nothing to counteract this and I sat down to the film with serious reservations… but I was pleasantly surprised.

It quickly became clear that Reitman wasn’t going to just cut to the action (as the ad campaign certainly implies). Instead he works on establishing the characters and developing the relationships between them. Thus when the action begins three quarters of the way through the film - and by action i mean the actual revenge, there are plenty of super-hero special effects to keep us entertained before this - the audience is sympathetic to both Matt and (surprisingly) G-Girl. The ending is predictable enough but still pleasing. The film certainly has feel-good factor.

What was also impressive was the standard of the acting. We have come to expect quality from Thurman, but I was particularly struck by Anna Faris. Here she plays a character that, though blonde and beautiful, is also intelligent and caring. Perhaps this is just a small variation on the ditzy blondes she plays in films such as Scary Movie (Wayans 2000) and Just Friends (Kumble 2005), but the difference is notable. In the absence of the over-the-top humour of these films she shows herself to be a talented and believable actress.

Don’t be put off by the disappointing ad campaign. The film is well worth watching – a light and entertaining summer movie!

Frankenstein (James Whale 1931)

The spiel claims that many believe Frankenstein ‘to be the greatest horror film ever made’ and indeed it is an interesting and well-made film which excels over modern interpretations of the tale. Frankly the film has grown such a reputation that it is automatically considered to be a classic by those who have not seen it and even those who shun the horror genre itself. Such a reputation can be difficult to live up to but Frankenstein carries it well. Both the story and characterisation are skilfully done and the cinematography is impressive. The image of Frankenstein and the monster, seen through the turning wheel of the windmill is particularly effective – creating a visual representation of the barrier which has come between Frankenstein and his creation.

Karloff’s portrayal of the monster is both perfect and dated. His slow, juddering movements, mocked in modern society, are more effective at portraying a creature learning a-new than any special effects could be today. Romero can be seen to acknowledge this in Night of the Living Dead (Romero 1968). The jerky movements of the zombies are not unlike those of Karloff’s monster and Johnny, who mercilessly teases his sister about the threat of the twitching, stumbling man in the distance, falls at the hands of this all-too-believable threat. Though his stunted movement is perhaps the most memorable characteristic of Karloff’s monster his portrayal of the creature’s emotions is equally important. Karloff makes the audience sympathise with the monster. It is his plight, not Frankenstein’s, in which the audience becomes involved. Yet Frankenstein too is played incredibly well. Colin Clive initially present a man teetering on the brink of sanity – the mad scientist, himself with little concern for right and wrong. Yet Clive pulls him back from this (a difficult task after distancing the audience as he has) by presenting a confused young man, unwilling to accept the monstrosity of the creature he has created but also determined to do the right thing. Though the monster is the object of sympathy, Frankenstein is not presented as the villain.

The key to Frankenstein is that the monster is not a monster at all. He is more like a child with superhuman strength, with no understanding of good and evil. His first kill, though this is not to say it is not wrong, is clearly provoked by the cruel of Fritz. His father and maker fails him – when he should be helping his creation to develop, teaching him as he would a child (not how to sit or follow instructions but in social and moral values), he instead brands him a monster and helps to plot his death. No wonder then that the creature reacts as he does. What is astounding about the film is how it explores these issues of nature or nurture. The audience is invited to consider whether the creature’s monstrosity is ‘born into him’ (the product of a criminal brain destined to be immoral) or induced by his father and those who would seek to destroy him.

Is Frankenstein, then, the greatest horror film ever made? Certainly it would be a forerunner for such a title. Though, to a modern audience at least, it does not have the ‘scare factor’ which we have grown to expect from horror films, it remains entertaining. Seventy years have not diminished its appeal, nor have they rendered it any less effective. Thus the film is a success, not only in its cinematic superiority, but in its ageless appeal – in its ability to entertain generation after generation of moviegoers.