Film Trace

Where did it all go wrong? The Halloween films have been an uneven mess since John Carpenter forsook his creation back in the 1980s. Much like the Nightmare on Elm Street series, nothing quite touches the original. Halloween Kills is the 2nd film in the newest Halloween trilogy (its 3rd reboot no less), which will culminate in the finale Halloween Ends next year. All the right elements are in place here: Curtis is back, horror maestro Jason Blum is producing, Carpenter and son are making music, indie journeyman David Gordan Greene is at the helm with Danny McBride scribing. 

The first film was a huge hit and the 2nd best performing slasher film ever at the box office. Why then is this sequel such a god-awful mess? Almost everything goes wrong in this textbook case of sequelitis. Completely forgetting the strong emotional narrative of the first film, Halloween Kills lists from zany to brooding until it capsizes in a preachy mob violence scene. The only joy to be had from this shipwreck of a film is figuring out what caused the disaster by piecing together its creative debris.

Dust off that clear plastic case to find a BASF video on the inside with the handwritten title "Toy Soldiers" on the spine. It is hard to trace the cult status of the 1991 teenage action flick Toy Soldiers, but it might have something to do with young women bootlegging the movie during free HBO weekends. Or perhaps, it is so hokey and anchored to the awkward cultural transition from the 1980s to 90s that it acts as a living time capsule to our misremembered youth. Tiger Beat meets Commando sounds great on paper: young studs for the ladies and gory violence for the maladapted boys. But it plays out more like a deranged afterschool tv special where the hero gets mp5'd and the lesson is that breaking rules is the only way to battle international terrorism. A direct line to Guantomo Bay no doubt. 

Joining us this week is first-time watcher and great friend Brigitte from the awesome Screen Time: A Quarantine Podcast. Without nostalgia clouding her judgement, what is the verdict: gonzo cult classic or vapid 90s trash?

The pandemic film has mostly become a term of derision. Filmmakers rushed to stay busy as the entire industry shut down, and we were subject to claustrophobic diary vomit (Malcolm & Marie) and pretentious claptrap (Songbird). Even the good pandemic films, like Host, felt underwhelming. On paper, Ride the Eagle reads like a bored creative's first draft of lil indie film: Nick from New Girl, a dead mother, a dog, a literal quest for redemption. But it plays out as a small labor of love shot in 10 days with a highly riffed script written between two friends. It manages to avoid the pitfalls of both indie films and pandemic films. It feels small but not light, sad but not maudlin, joyful but not manic. It moves forward like a hiker in the woods: determined yet indolent.

Join us as we trace the life of the best pandemic film out there, Ride the Eagle

In October 2001, only a month after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a bizarro coming-of-age film was dumped in 58 theaters to die. Donnie Darko's trailer prominently featured a plane engine falling from the sky into a suburban bedroom, crushing an empty bed. It was terrible timing, but it is hard to say if Donnie Darko would have ever done well at the box office. It is one of the strangest films released in the early Aughts. Donnie Darko is an intoxicating mixture of nerdy genres, 80s vibes, and wing nut ideas that has become a touchstone for older millennials (us). Adding to the cult mythology of Darko, Richard Kelly has all but disappeared from filmmaking after being unable to live in the shadow of his own masterpiece. We try to unravel the mystery of how a small indie film became a cultural icon and how it continues to mystify younger generations.

Special Guest: Great friend Molly joins us to discuss this canonical film of our young adulthood. We relive the first time and revisit how Donnie Darko has never let us go.

Join us as we trace the life of the Donnie Darko from conception (white boy blues) to production (speed shoot by a greenhorn) to release (Chris Nolan begging studio execs) to reception (DOA but DVD late bloomer)

Great art can often seem to appear out of nowhere. It can also be hidden in genre and forms that don't always carry the clout of prestige. A trilogy of straight-to-streaming slasher films is not exactly where a film scholar would go to find depth or richness. Yet, the farther we dug into the Fear Street trilogy, the more we tended to find. The experimental release strategy of three feature films being released over three weeks on Netflix doesn't sound that radical. But the final results created a sweet spot between the boldness of film and the strong narrative skeleton of television. Leigh Janiak has created something special with the Fear Street trilogy, and we hope what she accomplished isn't lost in the daily dump of new streaming content.

Join us as we trace the life of the Fear Street trilogy from conception (Fox News exec wants an MCU for horror) to production (shot back to back over 6 months) to release (theatrical scuttled for Netflix 3 weeks rollout) to reception (critically praised, widely watched, but will it be remembered?)

Did we just cancel John Landis? Of course not, how could we! It's the 40th anniversary of his groundbreaking horror classic, An American Werewolf in London. We celebrate the great: Rick Baker's astonishing practical effects, Griffin Dunne's career-defining performance as a slowly decaying best friend, and Landis's ability to balance and blend extreme gore with witty humor. We also look at what has not aged so well over the last four decades: the stilted dialogue nicked from a porn set, the empty fantasy that Jenny Agutter plays, and the brick wall ending that is more a whimper than a howl. At the end of the day, An American Werewolf in London is a definitive film, worthy of study and scorn alike.

Special Guests: Chris, Josh, and Alex from the hilarious and fun There Are Too Many Movies podcasts. 

Join us as we trace the life of An American Werewolf in London from conception (the sophomoric mind of a 20-year-old Landis) to production (loosey-goosey - see the Twilight Zone deaths) to release (a big hit for the newly minted Polygram Pictures) to reception (part of the horror film cannon)

What are we to do with Steven Soderbergh? His prolific cinematic output is matched only by his recalcitrant refusal to stay in a single lane, style, or medium. Maybe we should rethink the term auteur as Soderbergh defines and transcends the term at the same time. His work has no signature other than you feel his presence in every shot and cut. With No Sudden Move, Soderbergh dives back into the heist genre, but this time leaning into the hard-boiled noir vibe of the 1950s and excising any sense of playfulness and joy. The irony is gone here, and this will make you love or hate the film depending on your predilections. A wonderful cast and production design are filtered through vintage lenses and a script by the guy behind Men in Black and the Bill and Ted series. It's pretty odd, but ultimately the film feels at home in the Soderverse.

Join us as we trace the life of No Sudden Move from conception (A Don Cheadle vehicle) to production (strict covid precautions) to release (straight to SVOD) to reception (film nerds yes, everyone else snoozes)

I'm with Cancer. That was the original name of this cancer comedy that somehow got produced in the early 2010s. Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen pilot this wobbly feature towards a miraculous smooth landing. It is a genre paella where you can pick out the best bits and scrape off the rest: still funny boorish chauvinist improv humor from Rogen, Levitt staring into the middle distance, Bryce Dallas Howard trying to outact her shrew character, a hilarious support group of character actors with cancer, Anjelica Huston outshining the entire cast with a single glance. Ultimately, this black comedy is a tight rope walk that actually makes it from end to end without doubling over into the narrative abyss. That feat alone is worth the watch.

Special Guest: Blaine Andrews from the very cool Critically Aroused podcast, where they watch movies cold to avoid getting skewed by the critics. Really fun listen! 

Join us as we trace the life of 50/50 from conception (nothing sells like a cancer memoir) to production (rehearsed improv) to release (break-even at worst) to reception (a low key highly adored film)

James Wan just wanted to make a fun haunted house movie when he accidentally launched a 2 billion dollar cinematic universe with The Conjuring in the summer of 2013. Wan is a modern horror master. Saw, Insidious, and the entire Conjuring Cinematic Universe are all his spawn. His creative spark has begotten us 8 CCU films in less than 8 years. Here we have the 3rd mainline Conjuring film starring the pillars of the CCU, Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga as the real-life paranormal investigators, Ed and Lorraine Warren. What has the CCU accomplished and where does it go from here? How has its factory model of filmmaking suppressed or supported creativity within the horror genre?

Join us as we trace the life of The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It from conception (a very real murder blamed on the devil) to production (Wan passing baton to Chaves) to release (covid pushed to day and date release) to reception (give the people what they want)

One Fine Day is a time machine back to the 1990s Rom-Com boom. It was a simpler time: you got ink on your hands while reading the newspaper, people talked into large grey bricks called cell phones, and all women, regardless of age or relationship status, were supposed to flirt aggressively with George Clooney. We dive deep into the inner workings of romantic comedies with our special guest, Michelle Hsu from the great Rom Com Weekly podcast. We try to figure out why romantic comedies have disappeared from the movie theater over the last decade but have proliferated on Netflix. Are those halcyon days of the 90s behind us? 

Join us as we trace the life of One Fine Day from conception (written by a couple of nobodies) to production (40 different NYC locations) to release (DOA holiday movie, a week after Jerry Maguire) to reception (Millenials getting nostalgic)