Not the One With Jewish Gary Oldman

If there’s one thing the woman in me finds frightening, it’s pregnancy.

Think about it.

There’s something GROWING INSIDE YOU. EATING what you eat. INHALING what you breathe. FEELING what you feel. It’s just SITTING there like some couch surfing broke friend, giving you nothing in return for nine months but morning sickness, bodily restrictions, and, if you’re taking your prenatal vitamins, outstanding hair.

(Based on observing friends and family carrying children, my understanding is that the only benefits one reaps during pregnancy are an increased chance of getting a seat on the subway and truly outstanding hair.)

Yeah yeah yeah, I know. The horrors of stretch marks and labor pains are eradicated by the birth of your beautiful perfect baby and all that jazz. Sure. I believe you. But what if said offspring is…

Not. Quite. Right.

Quick Plot: Brooke Adams plays Virginia Marshall, a children’s book author happily married to a successful lawyer and living the white collar dream of any American in the 1980s. The only thing missing is a baby, something Virginia and hubby Brad have been trying to make for several years but have hit roadblocks with both infertility and the nagging specter of Virginia’s occasional bouts with depression.

Enter James Karen as a wait-list-worthy gynecology superstar known for his stunning success with in vitro treatment. Past beneficiaries include Virginia’s annoyingly proud pal Cindy and a young Kathy Griffin’s New Age man-hating girlfriend. Never mind the fact that Cindy’s supposedly genius toddler drowned her older brother or that Kathy Griffin’s wife has turned violent. The baby seems fine so all must be in order…right?

The Unborn comes 17 long years after the better known mutated killer baby film It’s Alive but still follows in its tiny footsteps. Both films are interested in the oddness of the childbirth process, though The Unborn focuses most of its attention on the actual period of pregnancy. Where Larry Cohen’s wonderful It’s Alive trilogy was ultimately about a reluctant man coming to terms with fatherhood, The Unborn is more a scientifically minded Rosemary’s Baby exploring a hesitant mother-to-be learning her reservations might have been more justified than common cold feet.

As Virginia, Brooke Adams is the real strength of The Unborn. She’s a hard-working professional woman with a sarcastic sense of humor, someone who has to fight the urge to roll her eyes every time fellow women speak of the glow of motherhood and wonders of their perfect children. Both the writing and performance are impressively sharp for Virginia, making her come off as an actual person that you or I could certainly know (or even, in some cases, actually be). It’s a shame then that the ending ultimately betrays her.

I’m not going to spoil The Unborn, but if you’ve seen almost any My Child Is Evil film, there’s a good chance you’ll see the final shot coming. Well, I doubt your imagination will be that specific since once we meet the baby, it’s quite a unique little work of puppetry, but still: the outcome is obvious, and yet, quite unearned.

Directed by Rodman Leprechaun 2 Flender, The Unborn is a far better film than its VHS-only reputation might lead you to believe. Because Adams and the character-based writing (by “Henry Dominic, which is apparently a pseudonym for the Catwoman team of John D. Brancato and Michael Ferris) is so good, the audience is led to believe we’re watching an ambitious thriller about parenthood, the medical industry, and what it means to carry a child. Virginia’s past with clinical depression is a fascinating story thread that goes far in establishing her fears even before the mysterious rashes and cat-killing fetus shows its true colors. Much like how It’s Alive began with parents who almost terminated their pregnancy at its first signs, The Unborn starts with a self-aware woman unsure if she has what it takes to be a good mother. Sure, the film ultimately resolves that, but it seems like there was a more interesting answer to that question.

“Dominic’s” script also flirts with some amusing satire on the general culture of pregnancy and parenthood. Virginia’s yuppie friends set the bar for having obnoxious pride in their kids, something dashed rather horribly when one of them commits fratricide. The lighter touch is Griffin and her girlfriend espousing crystal energy and placenta power to a group of dubious non-lesbians. It’s still funny 21 years later.

So what doesn’t work about The Unborn? Sadly, the actual horror movie portion. Once we meet Mini Marshall, all the carefully wrought tension evaporates into bad puppetry and a rushed conclusion. At just 80 minutes long, The Unborn could certainly have taken more time in its resolution, though any more time spent showing the actual monster would have only hurt all the work building it up.

Ah well. The baby still looks better than Bijou Philips’ monster kid in the It’s Alive remake.

As does the crayon drawing made by my cat.

High Points

With the help of a surprisingly smart (when dealing with character) script, Brooke Adams absolutely nails the role of Virginia. Like Mia Farrow’s Rosemary, Virginia is pretty much onscreen for the film’s entire running length, making it vital that Adams registers with the audience. She does.

Low Points

Blargh

Lessons Learned

A dozen or so children still read in this country

There is something called placenta recipes and they are apparently delicious

The best venue to reveal the horror of expensive fertility clinics is generally not a lightweight morning talkshow

Look! It’s…

A young dark-haired Lisa Kudrow as James Karen’s assistant

Rent/Bury/Buy

The Unborn is currently streaming on Netflix and anyone with a passing interest in pregnancy horror will certainly get something out of it. My disappointment comes from the film’s squandered potential, but thanks to Adams’ performance and the occasionally very clever script, the film is still more than worthy of a watch. Especially if, like me, you just want the world to acknowledge how weird the act of pregnancy truly is.

Q This

I’ve wanted to watch Q The Winged Serpent for a ridiculous amount of years. Then I forgot about it. Rinse, repeat. Thankfully, I had lunch at a Thai restaurant last week and what poster should they have hanging on their lobby wall? 

Oh yeah. Q-ueue it! 

Quick Plot: Random New Yorkers are being grabbed by a gigantic stop animation winged creature, their blood and limbs that don’t make the diet dropped down upon unsuspecting and horrified pedestrians. Only Michael Moriarty--here playing an ex-con, ex-addict wannabe jazz pianist--and cool detective David Carradine can save the city.

The best thing I can say for Q is that in the first ten minutes, the following events transpire:

-A man is skinned

-Blood rains down upon Manhattan

-Michael Moriarty scats

I’ll bet you a Metrocard swipe you guess how I feel about this film.

Slowly, but surely, I’m coming to realize how very much I adore the canon of Larry Cohen. From the haunting monologues of God Told Me To to the giddy insanity of The Stuff, he’s a filmmaker that never fails to be interesting. Like The Stuff, Q is never actually scary, instead tapping into the grimy spirit of ‘80s Manhattan, the utter oddness of Michael Moriarty, and the glorious then-modernization of old school giant urban monster mashing. It’s kind of a joy in all possible directions

High Points

Enough can’t be said about Michael Moriarity in a Larry Cohen film. The man seems batshit insane in real life, but when working with a Cohen script, his bizarre approach is simply fascinating.

Low Points

Between the adorably dated stop motion and quirky script, there’s nothing actually scary about Q, but isn’t that okay when we have lines like “Maybe his head just got loose and fell off?”

Lessons Learned

The Chrysler is a great place to hide things

Even the toughest gangster can lose some street cred when he sports a vibrant velour track suit

Mimes can make surprisingly effective--and silent--spies

The more PC way of saying ‘flayed’ is ‘skinning’

Rent/Bury/Buy

I will eventually add Q to my collection because much like just about every Cohen film I’ve ever seen, I get the feeling it will benefit from repeat viewings when the surprise factor can be replaced with relaxed enjoyment. The DVD includes a typically fun Cohen/Bill Lustig commentary, a great discussion that reveals some hilarious tips for directing Moriarty (hint: it involves songwriting). 

Everybody's Doing It...

For no reason whatsoever, America’s youth (ranging in age between three and seventeen, by my accounts) have become insanely obsessed with collecting colorful bracelets vaguely shaped like random nouns. Bandz, as they’re called, are simply the latest commercial product in a long line of short-lived trends that serve to annoy teachers, rob parents, divide schoolyard friends and generally make the world a worse place.

Need further proof? Examine, if you will, today’s genre-centric list of films that capture the horror of materialism gone wild:

Gremlins

Joe Dante’s seminal Cabbage Patch Kids-inspired Christmas classic is the educational gift that keeps on giving, riffing on the dangers of irresponsible materialism with the cutest metaphor to ever squeak. As parents mowed each other down in shopping malls to deliver chubby faced baby dolls to their greedy kids, Dante captured the overly ambitious gifting craze with Gizmo, and adorable living teddy bear with a rule book even Santa couldn’t follow. Predicting--or possibly, inspiring--future toy fads like Tickle-Me-Elmo and, in an odd twist, the clearly Mogwai-based Furbies.

Child’s Play

It’s hard to be the fatherless poor kid at daycare in downtown Chicago, but even harder when mom’s idea of an appropriate birthday gift is a box of pants. Between delicious breakfast cereal and Saturday morning cartoons, it’s no wonder that young Andy Barclay becomes so fixated on obtaining a Good Guy Doll, a promised ‘friend to the end’ with a $50+ price tag. Misguidedly believing such a My Buddy knockoff will bring him peace, Andy guilts his mom into using her bonus in the back alley to purchase the toy. How to punish a child for his greed? Soul snatching, naturally.

The Stuff

Remember when your teachers, friends, neighbors, cousins, and kittens were shedding belly fat with the Atkins Diet? Didn’t it sound like the best idea since WOW Doritos? Then, just as you were about to declare jihad on bagels, you remembered that WOW Doritos were officially declared an agent of the devil (via your toilet). That’s the lesson you should remember watching Larry Cohen’s The Stuff, a gleeful satire that uses a delicious fat-free frozen treat to explore America’s obsession with lo-cal commercialism.

Halloween III: Season of the Witch

Perhaps the holiday’s best lesson at teaching kids to make their own costumes and avoid the temptations of everybody’s-doing-it store bought digs. What happens when your child wears the same rubber mask as 75% of the buying public? He or she turns into a rotten pumpkin. Serves you right for not thinking outside the box.

Suicide Club

Peer pressure has led to many a minor tragedy: feathered hair, bullying, Phish. But few lapses of individual judgement are quite as unfortunate as the events that occur in this 2002 surrealist genre glob, wherein offing oneself becomes way cooler than XBox, ‘N Sync, or talking to the hand. As usual, pop music is the main offender, with the sweet siren songs of girl group Dessert (or Desert) calling teens, comedians, housewives, and policemen to hurl their bodies in front of racing subway trains, chop off their appendages while slicing sandwiches, and leap to their deaths at the urging of their peers. Though the exact nature of the suicidal craze isn’t quite explained and the cure comes off as questionable, Suicide Club remains the thinking gorehound’s philosophical bible for exploring mass societal behavior with macabre humor and scraped off earlobes.

Fido

Sometiems it’s not just the kids that get hooked by ubiquitous marketing. Take Carrie Anne Moss’s June Cleaver-esque homemaker in 2006’s zombedy Fido. All this stay-at-home mom wants is to have the same merchant goods as the neighbors. In this case, that good is an undead servant to call her family’s own. Though most of the films on this list demonstrate the negative aspect of trends (and Fido’s premise basically equates to modern slavery), this quirky black comedy ironically results in the most positive outcome of all. Sometimes, true love truly does start with a price tag. 

It's Alive, Unfortunately

If I was hard on Grace for not quite living up to its hype, I’m sorry. If I complained about the second half of Rob Zombie’s Halloween, I apologize. Hell, if I insulted--and I did insult--Halloween 2, I kneel on the crunchy fallen leaves of autumn in atonement. Even the unbearable Black Christmas can get a pass for I have seen what may indeed be Hollywood’s most failed attempt at a horror remake.

The competition is still stiff. The Stepford Wives remains a painful embarrassment for all involved (most notably, the audience) and the rotting stench of The Hitcher was so awful, I had to burn the very clothes I wore the day I screened it. While I love a good dose of Nicolas Cage beating up women while dressed like a bear, I’ll never forgive Neil LaBute for the cinematic sacrilege that is The Wicker Man. But you know, Josef Rusnak’s 2008 remake of the classic 1974 Larry Cohen chiller is kind of horrible in a way that defies any and all kinds of logic.

Quick Plot/Low Points: Grad student Bijou Philips--

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa 

No, seriously--

leaves the world’s most spacious college dorm room to have her boyfriend’s baby, seemingly marrying and changing her name to Lenore Davis en route to the hospital. A muddled delivery six months into the pregnancy leaves a few doctors and nurses slaughtered in the OR and Lenore holding a monstrous, then gigantic (perhaps? it also seems to change shape and face, so who really knows) baby boy. The pretty couple brings little Daniel home to meet the rest of the secluded household: uncle Chris, a wheelchair bound 12 year old, and an ill-fated, underloved, and easily forgotten pet cat. Stuff seems to happen. I’ll attempt to list it now:

-Lenore drops out of school because she plans to spend the rest of her life breast feeding and cooing 

-Lenore’s roommate, Marnie, understandably becomes worried and keeps trying to call her. We get riveting scenes of the young woman leaving voicemail. It’s thrilling.

-Chris makes friends with a girl at school. This is important enough to warrant a five minute scene of dialogue. And then we never see her again.

-Police are mildly concerned about the fact that a woman gave birth as six people were brutally murdered around her. But really, who needs to investigate that thoroughly when the new mother seems so well adjusted? Especially when the actors cast as authority figures seem to speak in dubbed looping

-Baby Daniel starts to kill people with awful CGI magic

As a loyal fan of all things Larry Cohen, I didn’t expect to be overly pleased with It’s Alive. Still, I do believe it has a solid base story that could easily be retold in an interesting way for a 21st century audience. But it’s not.

About five minutes into It’s Alive, the seams were beginning to pop. It’s pretty clear that this was either a hastily made rush job or something that had gone through massive recuts during the editing process. I can imagine the director getting tired and looking around for the nearest body to take over. One scene may have indeed been shot by a kitten. It was later edited by that kitten’s hairball. And the script seems to have been written by a dyslexic sloth. 

I’m sorry. That’s insulting to sloths. And dyslexia.

The point it, everything about this film is just not good. The most egregious error comes in the very nature of the Davis baby. We first get a glimpse of him on his way from the home, a little large for a 6 month delivery but normal enough. Then we’re not allowed to to see his face for 80 minutes. Fine enough for suspense, but are we also to believe that neither the kid’s father nor uncle noticed that Daniel had evolved into an infected vampire zombie from I Am Legend? There’s nothing wrong with suspending disbelief for a piece of work, but it’s a whole different story when a film fails to ground its characters in any sense of reality. 

High Points

I like to believe the actual greenlighting of this film yielded a well-deserved royalty check for Larry Cohen. I also like to believe that the innovative filmmaker used said check to make a special order to Elite Hunting and when he arrived in Slovakia, he had a great time with everyone associated with this film.

Lessons Learned

Every mother truly does think he baby is the cutest, even when the infant resembles a cross between a lump of yogurt and a piranha

Doorbells run on battery power

When taking experimental Plan B tablets, it’s probably best to not to wash it down with a glass of Merlot


If you’re going to use a body double to display heaving pregnant breasts, it’s probably a good idea to not cast a naked woman with a DD bra cup and immediately cut to the lead actress covering her more-than-modest assets with a bony arm

Rent/Bury/Buy: 

Unless you’re a movie masochist or auditioning for a gig on MST3K, do not, under any circumstances, waste 90 minutes on this movie. It’s rare that I get so negative on a film, but It’s Alive is like the first draft of what would eventually become a C- paper. Granted, this may have earned a tad less of my hatred had it not been a remake of another film I cherish, but it remains something that should not have been released in its current form. Maybe I’m just getting grumpy, but I feel insulted as an audience member if this is what studios believe to be passable entertainment. 

Quick Fix Finales

Paul Solet’s Grace is a fascinating, disturbing, and haunting little thriller that wedges itself under your skin, then dies suddenly before it can lay eggs. It’s effective and upsetting but for me, it stumbles in its third act by forcing its characters into a contrived and somewhat predictable violent confrontation.

I love cinematic violence. Splatter films have their own sub-section in my DVD collection and my heart tends to drop a tad when it learns a kickass trailer is approved for thirteen year olds. Recent favorites include the French import Inside, which provided a powerful example of how to end with (SPOILERS) a do-it-yourself C-sectiom and not have your audience feel exploited, and William Friedken’s woefully underrated Bug, a play-turned-film chronicling a romantic descent into mania that culminated in a horrifically graphic nightmare. The flawed but fun Silent Hill is rightfully memorable for its razor-sharp ivy-filled finale. And yes, Carrie is a classic example of how to build character and story well enough to earn a 20 minute massacre. These films--and their endings--leave the audience feeling hurt and abused, but not cheated.

Think of the apex of baby horror, Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby. It never teases us with the suggestion that poor Mrs. Woodhouse is going to have to stab her way through a coven of satanists or wrestle her evil neighbors (although the sight of pregnant Mia Farrow tumbling with the gloriously spry Ruth Gordon would have bested Yoda’s dual with Christopher Lee as greatest fight in mainstream filmdom). There is no final chase with slain civilians or blood-soaked showdown. Rosemary confronts her tormentors and makes a decision, leaving us terrified of what’s to come by the sheer force of suggestion.

One of my favorite films of this year so far has been Neill Blomkamp's incredibly innovative District 9. Thoughtful, skeptical, and not afraid to twist and reshape the typical summer blockbuster cliches, this film comes dangerously close to being Great (yes, with a capital) and then...well it gets really...fun. By its final act, the documentary style and social subtext so carefully explored in the opening half hour take a break while a Trasformers-y chase and shootout closes the show. It’s fun to watch and rich with suspense, but ultimately, it reduces what started out as an almost subversive and important popcorn film to a smarter-to-than-your-average alien actionfest.

Some films take the opposite route by opening with the money shots and slowly fooling us with second act smarts. Take Larry Cohen's God Told Me To, which features a terrifying first scene wherein a madman guns down New York extras and quickly moves slows down into more heady fare. Its most disturbing scene is a mere monologue (although said speech is said by a father explaining how he killed his entire family). The blockbuster juggernaut The Sixth Sense is admittedly low on the type of violence found in a Clark film, but notice how it also leaves its entire last 30 minutes to quiet moments as characters deal with the supernatural in calm yet creepy ways. Even Shion Sono's Suicide Club--an avant garde piece of sorts busting with blood, flattened-out human skin, and stickily stubborn earlobes--ultimately steps away from its insane visual nastiness to wrap up (kind of) its plot (although for some, J-pop may be more frightening and offensive than jumping in front of a moving subway or slicing off your own hand while making a sandwich for the kids).

This brings me back to Grace, which is indeed a strong and worth-your-money movie. The problem I have with it (cue SPOILER sirens) is not that it ends with an act of violence between its two female leads, but that it reduces a complex relationship into what you can do with a hammer and ex-girlfriend. Did I expect family counseling or a custody case? No, but the sudden resolution felt too easy in eliminating a character that had been developed so carefully throughout the film. I believe anyone is capable of violence, and more specifically, that most mothers would not hesitate in doing whatever it would take to protect their children. 

It just doesn't mean that's all we deserve to watch.

Agree, disagree, want to end this with a quick and sudden act of violence? Leave it in word form below:

God Told Me To Tell You To See This Movie

Few things are more frightening than everyday people committing heinous acts of violence. It's part of why I recently found myself explaining how haunting Gus Van Sant's Elephant is. For 90 minutes, you meander through high school walls and eavesdrop on its 'real life' teenaged conversations. Then, right between the afternoon sun and the lunch bell, a pair of 16 year olds march inside and open fire on everyone from the head cheerleader to the shy library aide. Yes, it's disturbing for being so close to the actual Columbine massacre, but it's also the non-Hollywood look and sound of amateur actors role playing a situation that hardly seems forced.


The great Larry Cohen's God Told Me To begins with a scene of almost documentary-esque violence, setting viewers up in a recognizable universe where general rules of safety and conduct are no longer guaranteed. For the first half or so, this is the terrifying environment we find ourselves in. Once plot points are revealed, Cohen takes us in an equally interesting, if slightly less primal place. The end result is memorable and will make you think; the opening is unsettling and will give you nightmares.


Quick Plot: A typical workday in NYC comes to a bloody halt when a rifleman perched on a water tower starts gunning down passing strangers. Detective Peter Nicholas (Tony Lo Bianco) attempts to talk the shooter down face to face. Not surprisingly, he’s unsuccessful, but this strict Catholic cop does get an answer when he inquires about the motive: “God told me to.”

Later that week, Manhattan preps itself for the annual beerfest--I mean, St. Patrick’s Day Parade. A phoned warning hints that one of NY’s own Finest will open fire on 5th Avenue, but being as “The Irish have waited all year for this!”, the march continues and none other than a fresh-faced Andy Kaufman in uniform goes postal before the world knew what city employees were capable of. Dying words? See title.

To continue with a plot description leads me into dangerously spoiler filled terrain I dare not enter. There’s a lot of directions you’d expect this film to take, but I’m fairly certain most viewers will be surprised by where God Told Me To goes and how it gets there. Cohen wisely grounds his story in Lo Bianco’s Catholic detective, a Catholic struggling with his own decisions who ends up on a journey far more terrifying and weird than one would expect.


God Told Me To is not an explicit horror film along the lines of It’s Alive, nor is it a fluffier piece of satirical insanity like the Dolls House favorite The Stuff. This early Cohen piece has, not surprisingly, its own unique mood aided by the gritty beauty of NYC in its glorious gritty 70sness. The action, however, is hardly limited to 42nd St sleaze. I'm biting my tongue to not give away the force behind the lordly commands, but let's just say it's transcends the Tri-State area in ways only a restrained Larry Cohen could conjure.

High Points
An early scene wherein a murderous father calmly explains how and why he slaughtered his family is one of the most quietly disturbing monolgues I’ve heard on film

Likewise, Sylvia Sydney turns in a strong one-scene performance that succeeds in revealing a surprising, potentially laughable plot point and making it into something sad and scary


The relationship between Pete's two loves plays out in an intriguing and honest way, avoiding the cliches we'd expect from a mistress/ex-wife meetup. Their discussion is well-acted and reveals a few more chilling details


Low Points
Perhaps there’s a better DVD out there (more about that later), but much of the dialogue was muffled. This was especially frustrating since my Netflix’d copy lacked any subtitles


I imagine the low budget had some say here, but it would have been nice to get a liitle more of how the rash of killings were affecting the city of New York


Just as it’s hard to watch any John Carpenter movie and not wish for a dose of Kurt Russell, any Cohen flick without the weirdly charismatic presence of Michael Moriarity also feels a tad incomplete

Lessons Learned
Never let your son hang out with a dirty long-haired hippie...particularly if said bad influence possesses an angelic glow and oddly placed vaginal opening


It’s easy to sweet talk a nun


Speaking to God will make you rapidly age ten years before your 22nd birthday; other side effects include going on a killing spree

When a man calls in a serious terrorism threat and begins his warning with “Don’t ask who I am,” the first thing you should not do is ask who’s speaking


Never date a married Catholic. Soooooo much guilt there


Rent/Bury/Buy
Like most of Larry Cohen’s work, God Told Me To is rich in ideas and a little less wealthy in execution. Still, the central themes about faith and free will combined with fairly wacky (yet somehow very grounded) story twists overcome some of the awkward plotting and low budget restraints. The performances are top notch all around and most of the early scenes are truly frightening in how they depict random violence hitting everyday urbanites.


A note on the DVD: It seems as though there are a few versions of this film floating about on those fragile little discs, and should you purchase this film (which you should), be sure to get the right release. My Netflix edition was disappointingly bare bones and the transfer was messy and muddled. Look for the Blue Underground edition which features a Cohen/Bill Lustig commentary (yes, that is the team that gave us the sadly inferior, yet gleefully patriotic Uncle Sam). Be sure to tell ‘em God sent ya.