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Dear Filmmakers: Subvert A Genre All You Want, But You Have To Respect It First.

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Black Rock

A little while ago I tossed up an article about the sale of Black Rock at Sundance. In fact, it should be the piece right below this one.

Right after doing so I saw that Devin Faraci, one of my favorite critics, had already filed his review of the film over at Badass Digest so I headed over there to check it out. You can do the same by clicking here.

Now I’m gonna state in bold letters that I have not seen Black Rock. For all I know it could become my favorite movie of 2012. I don’t always agree with Devin (maybe 70% of the time), but he’s one of a handful of about 5 or 6 critics whose reviews are my “go-tos” when I’m deciding what films to spend my time or money on as a consumer (I don’t always see everything for free, especially non-horror stuff). Whether or not I ultimately agree with his take on something, he’s got a knack for thoroughly explaining the reasoning behind his reactions that’s in a language I can relate to.

So I was surprised to come across a couple lines in his piece on Black Rock that echoed something that’s been on my mind for sometime in regard to genre and people who think they’re slumming in it.

Hit the jump to see what I’m talking about. From his review, “I rarely take such things into consideration, but at the Q&A after the movie Aselton said the script was written in 18 hours. I’m surprised it took them that long. There’s something so contemptuous about this movie – such a sense of ‘We can do one of those, no problem, no effort’ – that I find myself going from disliking ‘Black Rock’ to actually hating it. ‘Black Rock’ plays like a movie made by people who have never seen stalk and kill horror films; it’s easy to believe that Aselton and Duplass thought they were doing something unique with the genre by having the girls fight back, but this has been happening in the genre for decades now.

Again – I have not seen the film. And until I do so, I can’t speak to whether or not I personally feel this sentiment applies to it.

But I do feel it’s applicable to more and more genre efforts these days. In the case of horror, it sometimes seems that studios and indie filmmakers alike think of it as a way to just get something made. A product. After all, horror’s often cheap(ish) to make. And there’s a built in audience – you. And a lot of people don’t think you’re as smart as you actually are.

At least half the horror movies I see are made with an utter disdain for the genre and its audience.

It’s often assumed that it requires almost no effort to craft a horror film that will satisfy its audience. I find it especially strange that people who are successful in other genres of filmmaking could somehow believe that making a good horror film is somehow less difficult. As filmmakers in the trenches they have to know by now that making a good film – of any kind – will always require, thought, consideration, sleepless nights and thousands upon thousands of hours of hard work.

Ironically, I think it’s these exact people who have the skill set required to make the very best horror films. While horror is one of my favorite genres, I don’t think it’s possible to make a truly great horror film without embracing a ton of other styles of film and filmmaking as well.

If Alexander Payne were to followup The Descendants with a slasher film I would hope that he’d put as much consideration into the characters he’s slaughtering as he did the King family in that film. If Diablo Cody ever returns to horror (Evil Dead polish aside) after hitting a new creative peak with Young Adult I’d want her to imbue her new protagonist with just as much inner turmoil as she did Mavis Gary. While the genre often dictates that just as much screen time is devoted to kills as it is to character – neither should be skimmed on in terms of effort and imagination.

And that’s not even speaking to the technical/editorial side of things, which I don’t have time to get into right now (and which it sounds like Black Rock bungles as well).

It all boils down to this – anybody working on any film should be always pushing themselves to the best of their abilities and beyond*. It doesn’t always mean the film will be great, but it’s kind of the nature of the game. And it’s part of the nature of paying respect to those paying to see your film.

*As an admitted fan of Friday The 13th: Part 2 I feel somewhat hypocritical saying this. As with anything, there are no absolutes, and I must admit that some films I do like don’t exactly qualify as “pushing the envelope” material.

Some of my favorite horror films (admittedly a muddled mix off the top of my head) where I can feel the filmmakers pushing themselves are: Halloween, The Thing, Friday The 13th: Part 6, An American Werewolf In London, The Shining, Scream, Kill List, Shaun Of The Dead, Seven, You’re Next, Let The Right One In, Psycho, and, of course, Jaws.*

How about you? What are your favorite horror movies that make you taste the filmmakers’ blood, sweat and tears?

*EDIT – perhaps I should clarify that list and clear up some confusion. I don’t mean that all of those films are of equally quality, or are all classics. It’s just that I love them all. I know JASON LIVES is not as good as JAWS.

Editorials

‘The Company of Wolves’ at 40: One of the Most Underrated Werewolf Movies Ever Made

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There’s a compelling idea in anthropology that many ancient werewolf legends are derived from our species’ need to rationalize the more animalistic side of humanity – which is why lycanthropy has historically been used to explain everything from medieval serial killers to cannibalism. While I personally think there’s a lot more to unpack when it comes to tales of wolfmen and women, this is still a great example of why so many of our most enduring fairy tales involve big bad wolves.

And in the world of film, I think there’s only one feature that really nails the folkloric origins of werewolf stories, namely Neil Jordan’s 1984 fairy-tale horror classic, The Company of Wolves. Even four decades later, there’s no other genre flick that comes close to capturing the dreamlike ambience behind this strange anthology, and that’s why I’d like to take this opportunity to look back on one of the most underrated werewolf flicks ever made.

The Company of Wolves was originally a short story contained in the 1979 anthology The Bloody Chamber, a collection of deconstructed fairy-tales intended for mature readers penned by English author Angela Carter. With the book quickly becoming a hit as readers became fascinated with its subversion of classic folk stories and (then) controversial feminist undertones, it was soon transformed into a duology of BBC radio-dramas which adapted both The Company of Wolves and Carter’s reimagining of Puss-in-Boots.

These radio-dramas soon attracted the attention of then up-and-coming Irish filmmaker Neil Jordan, who decided to meet with Carter to discuss expanding on her stories and bringing them to life on the big screen. The duo soon realized that a single short story wasn’t enough material for a feature-length film, so they decided to adapt all of Carter’s werewolf tales into a single anthology.

With a completed script and a $2.3 million budget, Jordan decided to tackle the project like a hybrid between a theatrical period drama and a schlocky monster movie. Effects-heavy creature features were a hot commodity back in the ’80s, with films like The Howling and An American Werewolf in London proving that there was an audience for horrific lycanthrope transformations, so the director soon recruited a team that could turn this odd collection of feminist folk stories into something commercially viable.

Not exactly a great pick for family movie night.

Shooting would eventually take place almost entirely within the England-based Shepperton Studios, with notable production designer Anton Furst (who would later be known for his work on Tim Burton’s Batman films) helping to bring Jordan’s vision of a darkly romantic fairy-tale world to life. Appropriately enough, production would also involve a real pack of trained wolves (as well as a collection of dyed dogs), though extensive puppetry and animatronics were also used to flesh out the more gruesome parts of the flick.

After a grueling nine-week shoot where budgetary constraints led to corners being cut on props and costumes, The Company of Wolves was finally released in September of 1984 – just in time for spooky season. In the finished film, we follow the strange dreams of a sulky teenage girl named Rosaleen (first-time actress Sarah Patterson) as the film unravels an Arabian-Nights-inspired tapestry of both familiar and not-so-familiar stories about big bad wolves.

From sexually charged cautionary tales to parables about female empowerment, this surreal collection of deranged bedtime stories is much more than the creature feature that the marketing initially suggested. Like a more horror-oriented version of Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, The Company of Wolves exudes that same kind of hormonal teenage energy that transports us back to a time when the world was both scary and exciting in equal measure.

That’s not to say that this is an entirely pleasant experience, however, and I’m not just talking about the film’s horror elements. A big portion of the flick’s overtly sexual moments involve the then 13-year-old Patterson coming to grips with her blossoming womanhood and the dangers of predatory men (usually marked with a humorous unibrow), something that naturally makes for some intentionally uncomfortable viewing – especially in the year of our lord 2024.

Obviously, I don’t think it’s my place to dissect (or even judge) the effectiveness of the film’s commentaries on being a young woman, but even as a man I can still appreciate the thought and care that went into crafting this Jungian cocktail of serious themes in a genre-movie package that almost certainly went on to inspire future werewolf movies like Ginger Snaps.

Not the worst wedding I’ve been to.

That being said, what really keeps me coming back to the film is the absurd amount of memorable imagery. From a wedding party being taken over by canines to lonely treks through snowy groves, this is exactly the gloomy world I imagined as a child when reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales – and the dreamy atmosphere is only enhanced by the movie’s overall theatricality.

This also extends to the effects, as it’s easy to forgive decapitated dummy heads and ripped rubber skin when everything is happening in a magical hyper-reality, with a great example of this is being the scene where Grandma’s head unexpectedly explodes like a porcelain doll when it’s knocked off by a wolfman. That’s not to say that the effects are bad, as several of these transformations are downright grisly and likely influenced future lycanthrope effects like those in Underworld and even Trick ‘r Treat (even if the wolf-dogs here often look more cute than scary).

Of course, these aren’t the only things that The Company of Wolves has going for it, as the main trio of Patterson, Micha Bergese and the late, great Angela Lansbury exceptionally bring these exaggerated caricatures to life and the orchestral score is an absolute delight. I also really get a kick out of that bizarre ending implying that the dangers of adult life have literally come crashing into Rosaleen’s bedroom.

The Company of Wolves may not be a perfect film, suffering from some wonky pacing and the classic anthology problem where some stories are clearly much more enjoyable than others, but I’d argue that the flick’s iconic visuals and powerful thematic throughline more than make up for any minor flaws. And while we’ve seen bigger and better werewolf films since then, when it comes to adult-oriented fairy-tales, this is one psycho-sexual journey that is still worth revisiting 40 years down the line.

The Company of Wolves

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