Dogville (2003)

5 STARS

General Information:

The information from below is taken from the following link: http://www.imdb.co.uk/title/tt0276919/

15  178 min  -  Drama  -  13 February 2004 (UK)

Director

Lars von Trier

Writer

Lars von Trier

Stars

Nicole Kidman; Paul Bettany; Lauren Bacall

Plot:

Dogville (2003)

A woman called Grace (Nicole Kidman) is on the run from a group of dangerous gangsters. She runs into a village called ‘Dogville’ and has to bargain with the people in the village to see if they will hide her from them. However, as the plot unfolds, the residents of Dogville are just as malicious and evil as the gangsters looking for Grace are…

Review:

You’d have to be absolutely insane to come up with the style in which this film involves, and completely daring to see it through. Fortunately for controversial and always experimental, Lars von Trier, it works. Really well.

Dogville is less of a film but rather a piece of filmed theatre. The setting itself is in a small village called ‘Dogville’. In the centre of the village is a road and either side of it are buildings and houses. Apparently there is a beautiful view surrounding the area. I use the word ‘apparently’ because we cannot see it. Dogville is shot inside a soundstage, and the walls surrounding this ‘village’ are black. None of the houses have walls, instead there are lines drawn onto the floor. Characters have to mime knocking on a door or opening it because there are no doors. There are some gooseberry bushes, which we cannot see, but rather it is drawn onto the floor, and characters interract with air itself pretending that they are there. There is a dog, who again, is simply drawn onto the floor, occassionally we hear a sound-effect of a dog – but we are very much aware that this is a sound-effect. When it is day-time, the walls of the soundstage are white, when it is night-time they are black. Other elements of light are created by spotlights.

Dogville (1)

Dogville (2)

The film is heavily influenced by the theatre practitioner, Bertolt Brecht – a man who believed that theatre should not emotionally draw the audience in, but rather distance them, alienate them, so as the audience questions constantly what they are seeing and thus are intellectually challenged throughout. Why, Brecht was so anti-emotion I do not know. I like the idea of showing him a Steven Spielberg film and watching his face twitch until finally his his brain turns into goo and slowly drips out of his ears and nose, simultaneously. Or something. Either way, this is an absolutely fantastic film in terms of audience-response. We are constantly reminded that none of this is real: that the characters are played by actors, that the world created is actually merely props inside a soundstage, that all the lines have been written – due to this, it is partly an investigation of the elements that make of narrative art forms, mainly: theatre and film. But this is merely subtextual reasons of how the style aids the messages of the film.

Bertolt Brecht (1898 – 1956)

The film is a critique on right-wing America, a burningly vicious satire about the American dream which would quite happily rampage and trample on the white picket fence itself. Grace, a brittle innocent blonde-haired girl, excellently played by Nicole Kidman, arrives in the village running away from gangsters. There is a sense of unnerve already, do the villagers want her there or not? Is she a risk to them? I would say ‘yes’ to both, but some audience members may say ‘no’ – after all, the Brechtian influences on this film make the viewing experience very objective. In a sense, there is perhaps no definitive message, as whilst watching, we are forced to come to our own conclusions. I get a sense that because this is all filmed it is more distancing – it is often a technique to mime certain elements in theatre, and thus the audience is used to it (and perhaps even expects it). But it is so effective here, because we do not even imagine this technique being used in film. It subverts all expectations.

Later on, the police arrive, and they pin up wanted posters. Tom the moral voice thus far of the film calls a meeting, Grace leaves, and they all vote on whether Grace should stay or not. What we have here is a sharp dissection of democracy itself, delving into how political spin and personal gain are all part of the decision itself. There is a sneering hypocrisy to it all. Can a real democratic society exist? Or will it always be hindered by matters of selfishness and pride?

Either way, she is allowed to stay.

Later on in the play, more threats occur, and the tension within the community builds up again. There are more meetings, more effortless dissections on society. Now the people of Dogville want Grace to stay, but for a price. She has to work longer hours, work harder, and perform more helpful tasks for more people. Following this, she is essentially forced to stay by brutal means which I will not give away. What we have here is an excellent examination of the human condition: of how humans are essentially greedy, selfish and will progressively do anything to get what they want – of course, society mimics this harsh nature, because society is essentially a group of people. Dogville knows this, and this is what makes it a masterpiece.

Also of note is Nicole Kidman’s astonishing performance. She is an actress that I have always admired for her impecabble subtleties. As I have said countless times before, the best actors are those that do not try to act. There are moments when she will stand and stare into the distance. By acting with her eyes, she becomes a real person. This is something I admire in Lars Von Trier, ensuring that the acting is that of the utmost believability. He blends emotion with coldness. Intimacy with distancy. By combining depth of the acting with the brechtian conceit, we have a film which is emotionally engaging as well as intellectually challenging.

Nicole Kidman’s subtle, but intense performance in Dogville (2003)

As the play progresses, Grace is not only psychologically abused but also sexually abused. There is a scene where she is raped on the floor. Lars von trier shoots this at a distance, from the other end of the ‘street’. Of course, in Von Trier’s world, the audience can see everything that occurs. The message being, on the outside things appear to be innocent and normal, but dig deeper, go through the walls is a world of oppression, abuse, hypocrisy, and absolute evil. People may not believe that this sort of thing would occur – but then again, in the real world, the walls aren’t stripped away for us to see what really occurs behind closed doors.

Lars von Trier makes this message so utterly clear that it is impossible not to leave the viewing utterly depressed, but more importantly: questioning the society that we live in. Has anything really changed?

Verdict:

A masterpiece of invention and originality. Here is a film which style aids its substance to great effect; and blimey, this film has substance. It is about society, the human condition, and Art itself. Dogville will greatly benefit repeated viewings: there will be more taken from it after each watch, and this makes it even more the masterpiece.

Solaris (1972)

“Solyaris”

5 STARS

General Information

The information below is taken from the following link: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0069293/

15    167 min  -  Sci-Fi  -  20 March 1972(Soviet Union)

DirectorAndrei TarkovskyWritors Stanislaw Lem (novel); Fridrikh Gorenshtein; Andrei Tarkovsky Stars Natalya Bondarchuk; Donatas Banionis; Jüri Järvet

Solaris (1972)

Plot:

Kris Kelvin goes aboard a space station. Whilst there he discovers that his ex-wife, Hari is on there to. However, he later realises, that this isn’t a real person, but a phyicalised memory, an impression of her…

Review:

Solaris is a film so emotionally complex and dare I use the critic-cliche, ‘layered’, that it essentially urinates all over the majority of films which attempt to be ‘deep’ and ‘rich in meaning’. It is about everything and nothing – and I am fully aware that this statement makes no comprehensible sense at all. The only way that statement will ever be justified is when you watch Solaris. Of course, this statement applies with most of Tarkovsky’s work. His films are intentionally slow, and unfold like a droplet of water dripping glacially down a glass pane. Even though he is a careful and slow director, it all builds up to something significantly powerful; because his films are long, he can go into more depth than a shorter film. The power of a short film is that it can make its points with a quickening force. The power of a longer film is that it can make more points and in more depth. I find that longer films have the power to immerse you more in their universe. As you spend more time with a film, you geet used to the tempo or the rhythym of it, and thus get progressively more obsorbed into it.

It is bizarre that this film is oft compared to Kubrick’s 2001. Perhaps it’s because they’re both philosophical and set in space. Or something. I don’t know. To me, they couldn’t be more opposite. Paradoxical to Kubrick’s nature, 2001 is very optimistic; whilst Solaris is rather cynical. 2001 goes on a journey to the outer edges of space itself whilst Solaris goes to the edges of the human psyche, right into the subconscious, and beyond. And Solaris doesn’t even have any monkeys in it, to my rather large disappointment.

Tarkovsky vs Kubrick: Solaris and 2001 are often compared to one another

Solaris is a film about memory and perception, and how what we experience is related to what is actually happening. It is also about how the metaphysical concepts of truth and reality may not even exist. Our memories are evidence that we have lived in this world – yet humans are unreliable, and our perceived notion of what might have happened is naturally warped, made sentimental and romanticised.

Kelvin, a psychologist is sent on a mission to a space station. This space station is studying the eluvious planet, Solaris. The gases on this planet somehow effect the human psyche and memory itself. Kelvin then sees his ex-wife, Hari, on board the ship. This is a bizarre occurrence, as a year ago she committed suicide. However he falls in love with her again. What is stranger is that the other crew members see her as well. Kelvin is not hallucinating: his memory has taken a physicalised form. He doesn’t necessarily fall in love with his ex-wife again: he falls in love with the memory of her, the idea of her. If your partner has died, all you will be left with is the time which you sent with them.

Perhaps falling in love with a person and the idea of that person are the same thing. We cherish our experiences of people that we love, and this is how our thoughts and memories are shaped. The genius of Solaris is that it knows these many factors. Tarkovsky is a subtle director. He does not need dialogue to put across these complex notions, but merely images and sounds – which once made, he puts forward for us to interpret.

Beautiful imagery in Solaris #1

 

Beautiful imagery in Solaris #2

Complications arise. Hari begins to believe that Kelvin does not love her anymore. She becomes irratic and attempts suicide. Of course, she cannot die. Human beings can die, but memories transcend this notion, memories can never die, they live on inside the mind. Yet what makes this notion more haunting is that his memories can be seen. The presence of his memory haunts him more because she has the appearance of being real. Of course, this poses the question: is reality as real as our perception of it?

Tarkovsky takes this fantastic singular idea of a memory having a physical presence and develops it to such complex levels that it forces us to engage with the piece and engage it with our own lives.

The character of Kelvin’s memory of Hari also develops the central idea to the film. She does not know where she comes from. She has no parents or friends. The only memories she has are those with Kelvin. In this sense, she is incomplete, and she is aware of this. She of course, never tells us these things, but Tarkovsky is such a masterful director that we can interpret the look in her eyes, or the way she moves, or simply how we’d react in the situation that she’s in to understand her position. It must be horrible to think that your lover isn’t in love with you, but must be even more horrific if you know that this is because you are not even a real person, just a fictionalised construct of their imagination. Khari is a complete mystery: what she thinks, feels, and even means is unknown – she is the human form of the memory that is created after watching Solaris.

Verdict:

So mysterious in what it could mean that numerous interpretations could be drawn. Perhaps the entire film is a dream, a memory – who knows? Either way what we’re left with is a challenging film filled with beautiful shots and a haunting score, a film so organic and complex that it defies categorisation.

Cinematography

Cinematography. The art of setting an atmosphere via visuals or simply making the frame look visually impressive. Often underrated as aspects  such as screenwriting, directing or acting are more commonly praised. This is bizarre considering the fact that cinematography is at the heart of cinema itself, since it is concerned with expressing an idea, stimulating an emotion or telling an idea simply through visuals.

Rambling aside, here’s a lovely piece of expressionistic cinematography concerned with spring and nature. It is visually dazzling and has awe-inspiring colours and extreme-close-ups. Please watch.

Three Colours: Blue (1993)

Trois couleurs: Bleu

3 STARS

General Information:

Information below is taken from the following link: http://www.imdb.co.uk/title/tt0108394/

15    98 min  -  Drama | Music | Mystery  -  15 October 1993 (UK)

Director

Krzysztof Kieslowski

Writer

Krzysztof Kieslowski; Krzysztof Piesiewicz;

Stars

Juliette Binoche; Zbigniew Zamachowski; Julie Delpy

Plot:

First film in Krzystof Kieslowski’s Three Colours Trilogy.

Julie and her family have a car-crash. She wakes up in hospital to discover that her husband and son have died.

Review:

Three Colours: Blue (1993)

Sometimes I just feel utterly rejected by art-films where nothing particularly happens, whilst everyone else is ‘deeply’, ‘profoundly’ and ‘mesmerizingly’ moved by them – such is the case with Three Colours Blue. Here we have a film perhaps influenced by Italian Neo-Realism: all of the events after the car-crash happen through chance, are random and feel slightly disconnected – like life. There is no sense – like in a Classical Hollywood Narrative – of one event leading to the next, leading to the next, then leading to an explosion and a sex scene shot with orangey mood-lighting. This is not necessarily a bad thing, and one of the reasons why I liked Blue very much.

Following the car-crash, everything is mundane and horrifically normal. There are frequent amounts of moments where there are long unsettling silences. When Julie does talk, it is only ever in small sentences, sometimes inaudible mumbles. Juliette Binoche, who plays Julie is deeply and profoundly mesmirizing in this film – and I am not being sarcastic. She does that rare thing, when she is no longer ‘a character’, but a real person. She can stare into the camera, not moving any muscle on her face and seem totally real; she acts with her eyes rather than her face. In fact, she hardly ever acts in this film because we can never see her ‘act’, rather she is being this deeply complex character. Nothing in her performance ever feels ‘forced’. This is a difficult thing to do. Most actors given the chance, would plunge straight in and start externalising all of these emotions, Binoche does the opposite and internalises them – a smart move and I commend her for it.

Juliette Binoche’s wonderfully understated performance in Three Colours: Blue

After the car-crash, Julie drifts in and out of coffee-shops, street-corners, houses and gardens, and occasionally meets someone, converses with them, and will never talk to them again in the film. Perhaps she does, but only briefly. They are insignificant to the plot in the same way that they are too her life. The film really concerns her and is about her reactions, how her views on the world change, and how she expresses this by interacting with objects and other people. It is an interesting and excellent case study. I cried three times in the opening 45 minutes.

The director, Krzystof Kieslowski is a director who understands the relevance of actors in films. Too often is it the case, that I am never moved by a performance – not necessarily because it is a bad one, but because the director shoots it in such a way, that it is never in full focus, as if the actors are just another set of cogs and wheels in the whole mechanics of the film. Kieslowski dispenses with this despicable construct, and he incorporates as many close-ups on Binoche’s face as possible to ensure that the viewer is engaged with what is occurring in her thoughts. There is one striking moment, when Binoche’s character wakes up in hospital, after the car-crash, at the beginning of the film. It is an extreme-close-up of her eye. Never has the phrase ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul’ been exploited as much as this since that horrifically unsettling shot in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Following this, she leaves the ward, breaks a window as a distraction and then sneaks into the medical cupboard. She finds a box of pills, unloads multiple pills into her hand, and puts them in her mouth. But she cannot swallow. This moment feels utterly real as opposed to melodramatic – the camera focuses completely on the reactions of Julie’s character, to the extent that we can almost attempt to guess at why she did not kill herself.

Woman on the edge of a nervous breakdown portrayed with sincerity and brutally honest realism

Julie tries to recover from what has happened in the most unexpected of ways. She calls an old friend over, they have sex. This, however, never feels out of place. It feels perfectly normal. The scene isn’t meant to shock, but rather to make a point about Julie’s character. She doesn’t enjoy sex, she has lost all feeling.

She abandons her mansion and goes to a flat in town so that nobody can find her. She wants to completely reinvent her life. However, she can’t erase the thoughts from her head. There is a moment when she is in a swimming pool, and suddenly a group of children enter – she puts her head against the sides of the pool, and the thoughts of her dead child come rushing back.

I have said all of this praise, and you would have expected that this film would have been five stars. But, I find that the film never particularly went anywhere. Not necessarily in plot, but in character. I have nothing wrong with films where its plot(s) meander into a black hole. I like Slacker. But Slacker doesn’t have such an interesting central character. Julie is so mysterious and quite clearly complex. We want to know her more and no more about her, but Kieslowski puts a hand against our shoulder so we can’t get closer towards her. It felt more of an annoyance that we are presented with such a unique and well-portrayed character, but are prevented to know more about her. We are presented with what she shows the world as opposed to what she thinks. Perhaps this is the point, but if so it’s damned irritating.

After 45 minutes, the films tone never changed and it stayed constant: all of these shots of this ambiguous character living normally, but knowing that she is unlike anybody else. The film plodded on like this constantly and constantly. I wasn’t bored, but rather I became progressively uninterested. I knew that the film would hold onto itself and never let me get closer to the inner-workings of this character’s deeply troubled mind. If anything, the fact that I knew that the film would stay the same, was more of an inconvenience.

Verdict:

Contains one of the most fascinating characters ever in cinema. Julie is up there with Lisbeth Salander in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver. Yet, we’re never allowed to get inside her mind. Sometimes, the mystery of a character’s thoughts and personality is an advantage, but here, I don’t think it worked, and I really wanted to know and understand her more.

Cannibal Holocaust: UNCUT (1980)

4 STARS

General Information:

The information from below is taken from the following link: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0078935/?ref_=sr_2

18  95 min  -  Adventure | Drama | Horror  -  7 February 1980 (Italy)

Director

Ruggero Deodato

Writer

Gianfranco Clerici (story)

Stars

Robert Kerman; Francesca Ciardi; Perry Pirkanen

Plot:

Subversive 80s video-nasty cult-classic. Filmmakers who went to shoot a documentary concerning Amazonian cannibals have been missing for over two months. A professor then discovers that they are dead, but more importantly finds the footage that they made.

Review:

Cannibal Holocaust (1980): The film’s tagline was “Can a movie go too far?” – was this describing the film within Cannibal Holocaust or Cannibal Holocaust itself?

There has been much written about Cannibal Holocaust’s behind-the-scenes mal-practice. Specifically the shots where we see a real live turtle’s head and feet cut off, and watch as its entrails are disembowled. This review will not focus or be influenced by the horrific mal-practices of the film. Yet this does not mean that I condone what occurred on the set of this film – far from it. However I firmly believe that rating the quality of a film should be about the film itself: the images, sounds, editing, narrative devices (etc), not  when it was made or what occurred on the set itself. To use the cliché to accentuate this point: “Let the film speak for itself.” There has been extensive analysis on the morals of the filmmakers and how their anti-sensationalist message collides with their practice, however, in this review, I seek to decipher whether the film is of quality, and what elements construct to shape my rating of it.

Cannibal Holocaust is a surprisingly intelligent horror-film about the dangers and morals of sensationalism, and what struck me more about the film was how it was less about the gorey found-footage of the filmmakers being beaten, raped and eaten alive – but more about how the television producers want to get the footage put on screen – and obviously, the makers of the footage. Who are the real savages? The cannibals, or the people who provoke them to the extent that they are able to make the most shocking documentary ever made? The film is excellently structured as we jump backwards and forwards from the found footage to the story concerning whether the producers will or won’t release its contents. But what is even more surprising is that we don’t even see the found footage until around forty minutes in. Judging by the reaction to this film, you’d imagine that the film would be a ninety minute gore-fest, filled to the brim with legs being hacked off, stones being used as raping implements, and brain-meat being chewed on. Far from it. Instead we start off with news that the filmmakers have been missing for over two months. The film doesn’t start in the jungle of Amazonia but rather in the concrete jungle of New York, and we cut backwards and forwards between these two locations.

A professor and various soldiers then go into the Amazon to find the filmmakers. They then meet the tribes themselves. Later on, they then discover various skulls and bones propped onto a tree, with one of the skeletons still holding a camera. (I hate it when that happens).

Awkward.

Between them arriving and this infamous shock-shot, we have prolonged scenes of them interacting with the cannibals, and we observe their way of life: from the charmingly innocent (naked girls throwing water at one of the men in a river), to the gruesome: a brutal scene of a girl being dragged from a boat, covered in mud, and then raped with a large stone.

After collecting the footage, the professor is now famous and is interviewed live on TV. He then meets up with a producer who wants to release the footage to ‘educate’ the public. We now see what really happened to the filmmakers and how they ended up as skeletons, one of them holding a camera.

The leader of the crew is Alan Yates, and we discover that he is the prime reason for the film-crew’s impending doom. His practice is to use set-ups to provoke a reaction from the cannibals: burning down one of their huts with the tribes-members still inside is the most horrific. He is as savage as they are. We are shown a previous film that he has made. It involves numerous executions of children, mothers and fathers for highly political reasons. Some of these executions were faked in order to provoke a reaction from the viewer.

The iconic shot of the film: Are the filmmakers as savage as the savages themselves?

Ironically, the footage we see of Alan and his crew is not fake. Their deaths are not staged. Eventually the cannibals surround him and his crew. I imagine you can figure out what happens next. The rest is then shot with heavy use of shaky hand-held camera to miraculous effect. I usually despise shaky-camera techniques, but here it is the best I have ever seen. It adds to the documentary-realism of the film: this is happening, this is not fake. They are being pinned down, tortured, mutilated, raped, killed and then eaten. More to the point though, the film exploits the viewer as a voyeur. It knows its effect on us. It knows that we want to look away, but can’t, because we are so curious, and when they are finally killed and cannibalised, we are made to feel horrible for feeling curious. Some people watch horror-films to see how far they can be pushed and to see how shocking the film is. This is why people went to see The Human Centipede and A Serbian Film. There are moments in those films where you want to look away, but can’t. But what if the deaths were real? What if it was no longer a horror film, but actual live footage? Cannibal Holocaust exploits this issue, and it knows that we (and the producers of the found-footage) will find it irresistable to look away, even if it may be real. We buy into shocking news-stories, we are just as bastardised and curious as the journalists themselves.

The footage no longer becomes sensationalistic footage that will make a good news story, but instead harrowingly brutal scenes of humans being killed and the killers who have already lost their humanity – and TV executives wanted to make money out of this.

Of course, the fatal flaw of Cannibal Holocaust is the concept that it appears to revel in shocking us. It does shock, in certain sequences my mouth formed a prominently large ‘O’ shape. Yet simultaneously it attacks shock-tactics. Is this the point? Perhaps so. I am in no doubt that the film’s aims were to shock the audience – the title itself can be mere proof of this. But it feels like two films: one which is to simply shock the audience, and the other which opposes this concept. Sometimes these two films conjoin and work, sometimes they clash. Can a film shock the viewer and simultaneously attack shock-tactics? I’m not quite sure. What is clear however is that Cannibal Holocaust is exceptionally good at shocking and criticising those who shock. The shocking scenes of cannibalism are so realistic that you could easily mistake this for a full-blown snuff film. The satirical scenes against shock-tactics and media-sensationalism are so effective that they critique the producers, the filmmakers and our reactions right down to the bone.

Verdict:

Perhaps the most hypocritical film ever made due to the fact that Ruggero Deodato was a sensationalist pig and used mal-practice, but if you ignore that and just look at the film itself we have one of the greatest horror films ever made. Here we have a brutal, blunt satire on how the media will go too far to shock, and how we are just as savage as the journalists for getting sucked into it.

N.B. Just to clarify, no humans were killed or cannibalised in this film – the deaths presented are just incredibly realistic.

Horror Fest: To Conclude on this Movie Bloodbath

The last fortnight has been simultaneously depressing, boring and un-adventurous. It is surprising to think that when a director has the power to frighten an audience, how uninterested the majority go about it. I feel this is the case with most films, particularly horror. The majority of horrors which I watched didn’t seem to exploit the fact that I am a human, that I have fears, that I have weaknesses. Some merely came across as an exercise in killing, and others managed to make murder and rape as disturbing as a five year old, pink-dress-wearing-pig-tailed girl holding a placard saying ‘Boo’. Good horror is about style not content. Getting a serial killer to murder someone isn’t necessarily scary, but rather: the context, the atmosphere and the way the scene is constructed.

To contrast this, some of the films I viewed this fortnight were quite memorable. The majority of these were the camp B-movies ones. The horror-comedies, or just the comedies which had a grizzly subtext. I think I might re-watch Teeth and The Terror. I’ve also come to the conclusion that Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth is one of the greatest ‘so bad it’s good’ films ever made.

Frontiers is a landmark of extreme-political cinema and I desperately wish I was in the correct mood for watching it during viewing; I also wish there were more films like it.

Now what? Well, now I’ve listed all 18 films from worst to best. Oh, and The Terror is below Detention even though The Terror got 0.5 stars higher in my mini-review of it. I think I was too generous when I wrote it.

ANYWAY. Enough of the rambling. Here goes…

18. Bloodlust

17. Detention

16. The Blood on Satan’s Claw

15. The Blood of Fu Manchu

14. All the Boys Love Mandy Lane

13. 99 Women

12. The Final

11. Red Mist (aka. ‘Freakdog’)

10. Scream 2

9. The House on Haunted Hill

8. Night of the Living Dead

7. Ju-on: The Grudge

6. The Beyond

5. Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth

4. The Terror

3. Bloodbath at the House of Death

2. Teeth

1. Frontiers

Horror Fest: DAY 14

Scream 2 (1997):

http://www.imdb.co.uk/title/tt0120082/

And now, my horror fest comes to a final close with Wes Craven’s sequel to his hit genre-defying modern-classic, Scream.

Plot:

Copy-cat killings of the original Woodsboro murders occur at the university that Sidney Prescott is in, during the release of a horror film based on the same murders, called Stab.

Review:

Scream 2 (1997)

The original Scream was intelligent, observant and importantly: self-aware throughout. My problem with Scream 2 is that its self-awareness is at a peak in the opening thirty minutes and then disappears instantaneously afterwards. In the opening 30 minutes there are jokes about how sequels aren’t always as good, jokes about how the sequels differ from the original, and a continuous gag concerning the fact that the fictional film Stab is based on real events…which we saw in the original Scream – this great gag develops itself by the fact that we’re shown clips of Stab which are identical to moments in the original Scream. The opening of Scream 2 is self-aware about being self-aware.

But then it dispenses with the satire completely and morphs into a conventional unscary slasher. Yes, this is the point, but if it mocked itself and the slasher genre continuously, it would’ve been as great as the original. You could easily be forgiven for thinking that this is a conventional slasher. Sure on one level, it works as such, but it’s not particularly scary, meaning that its satire is all it stands up on…just about.

Really great sequels are better than the original, and to are able to do this because they amp up the idea of the original to the next level, by exploring it further. Scream 2 had so much potential: there could have been more self-referential gags, the jocks and the blonde bimbos could’ve been dumber and more attractive, the music could have been more ridiculously conventional as to mock the genre, there should have been so many more gags about how most sequels are terrible, yet the film you are watching now is a sequel.

If the rule of the sequel is that it is not as good as the original, then rather ironically, Scream 2 succeeds and is up there with Halloween 2.

Verdict: 2.5/5