lucifer_over_tinseltown

Evan Peters captures the dull, blunted tone and unnervingly icy - I'm here but not really here - mannerisms of Jeff Dahmer. His acting is on another level and much better than all of the others who have played the man, the monster. While watching Evan Peters in this role, I was reminded of another actor, another character, this one fictitious. None other than Jon Heder as Napoleon Dynamite. Which makes me wonder, knowing that Evan, off set, has a mordacious sense of humor, if he channeled Napoleon D just for some inside craps and giggles. Kind of the way he channeled Pacino's Serpico in Mare of Eastown. Aside from Peters' profound, if somewhat, at times, derivative performance, Niecy Nash is special as the nosey (in more ways than one) neighbor - glad she passed on that gift sandwich from Jeff, and Rich Jenkins logs his finest outing since Six Feet Under and/or Step Brothers. I'm glad they showed not only the monstrous side of JD but also the human side. It's important to show the latter in these kinds of shows as it may help with prevention of crime in the future; you know, early warning signs and all. Also, the sets, especially Jeff's apartment, look so real and scuzzy that you may be inclined to take a long Silkwood shower after viewing half an episode. In the end, it is the palpable, oozing eeriness that will get you and haunt you long after you view this.

Perched up and decided to watch this to see the late, great Ray Liotta's final performances. As usual, he exceeded my expectations and went out in a blaze of glory. His Big Jim scenes with Little Jimmy are riveting and emblazon themselves on the mind. The problem is this show is a little too light on Liotta. In the brief scenes he's in, he truly elevates the show. He's always had that sort of continuous intensity, piercing no bs eyes, and a laugh for the ages. Conversely, Egerton drags it down with his stiff acting that grossly lacks tonality or nuance. I suppose the washboard abs got him in the door. It's tough to shoot a gritty show with a polished lens, but hey, they pull it off mostly. It can be unflinchingly real and too close for comfort at times. I was reminded of prison movies I watched with my pop growing up. Movies like Short Eyes and Midnight Express. They scared me straight for dang sure. You won't get so much as a misdemeanor out of me. This filmic show kind of does the same. Especially fine acting by Moafi, Kinnear and Hauser. The darkness, too, can bloom and sing.

I've seen two horror films in the past few weeks that have fully restored my faith in the genre. Ti West's X was one of them, Black Phone is the other. It seems that for the past couple of decades horror has taken a dead end turn and devolved into some kind of homogenized collage art project. One that is incapable of transcending its weak influences or asinine politics. A crude copy and paste job done by a long line of hacks. The Black Phone has a diametrical ring. It has a strong point of view and concept. Joe Hill's source material provided a Kingly starting point. Raw 70s realism that really looks like the 70s offset by surreal bursts of the supernatural. Ethan Hawke brings his own spirited brand of black magic to the proceedings. The most unnerving thing about the Grabber he portrays is how he can go from creepy, soft-spoken, even droll deliveries to blind rage in the binky of a rabbit out of a magician's top hat. He often employs a groomer's tone, which makes it all the more disturbing. Equal parts human and monster, the masks, brilliantly crafted by horror legend Tom Savini, illustrate this duality better than words. Half-clown, half-demon, that aptly sums up Hawke's Grabber. There's a Gacy vibe going on for sure. Duality of nature is addressed throughout with the other characters, too. From the grief-struck, abusive father who looks a bit like Charlie Manson, to the kid actors who exceed all expectations with mint acting. Just like the adults, they go from sweet to cruel, prayer to cuss, in the blink of a shadowed eye. You'll also find a fine surprise with James Ransone's bit part as Max, idiot brother of the Grabber. He provided sorely needed levity during some heavy times. Back to the kids, Mason Thames and Madeleine McGraw are stars in the making. They more than hold up their end of the bargain here. You may want to return to good old rotary phones after watching this, let's just say they serve and protect better than the cellular ones. Anything more would spoil the fun. In ending, the Sinister duumvirate of Hawke & Derrickson, one on the level of say, Kinski & Herzog and/or Lee & Hammer Studios, just did it again. In doing so, they may very well have saved the classic horror genre which was fit to be abducted by a would-be magician in a black van (when I was a kid, they always warned us about blue vans) full of black balloons and never to be seen or heard from again. Imagine a horror movie that is not just horrifying, but strangely compelling and uplifting. A mastery of magic and misery, detail and layer. That's the Black Phone. Black is back and it never looked so bright!