Jonny_Numb

"Where the Scary Things Are" addresses a lot in a relatively compact 93-minute run time. It takes the notion of the horror genre as our most fertile artistic arena for articulating real-world fears and holds a mirror to the kids (and grownups) who inhabit our modern-day society. It's a "monster movie" where there's a literal monstrous Other (in this case, an urban legend known as "Lockjaw") that is besieged by the whims of some particularly monstrous teenagers looking for cheap thrills.

Depictions of bored, amoral youth seeking the social-media spotlight often suffer from sledgehammer-subtle depictions of youth and out-of-touch depictions of social media. When films commenting on the corrosive effects of social media are good, they are very good: think "Ingrid Goes West"; "Like Me"; or last year's "Bodies Bodies Bodies." Each of these efforts are keyed into the boredom and delusion that play into depictions of online celebrity.

(Read the rest of my review over at Movies, Films & Flix.)

Several days after viewing it, I have come to the conclusion that I like "Sucker Punch." I *think* I like it, anyway. At the very least, I have been unable to shake its alternatively bleak, exhilarating, and brazenly energized imagery from my frontal lobe. Coming from director Zack Snyder (who co-wrote the original script with Steve Shibuya), the notion of calling this film a vanity project is redundant, as Snyder is the whiz kid who gave us Green-Screened visual feasts like "300" and "Watchmen" (graphic-novel adaptations that, in the case of the latter, came very close to perfection) -- films that gorged themselves on a unique kind of visual beauty. The difference between a technical auteur like Snyder and the soul-dead commercial hackwork of, say, Michael Bay is a reliable core of character and plot to push the visuals along with a sense of purpose, no matter how disparate. Which is what makes the initial machinations of "Sucker Punch" somewhat jarring -- set in an anachronistic, parallel-universe America, where Babydoll (Emily Browning) is sent away to an all-girls asylum after attacking her grotesque pervert of an uncle, she is covertly signed away (by an equally lecherous orderly) and set to receive a trans-orbital lobotomy at the end of five days, thus setting into play an imaginary world that may be her only chance of salvation. Old-world notions of psychiatry, patriarchy, and the role of women in such a repressive society is not where Snyder's interest lies, though he does create some distinctive (if not particularly well-drawn -- probably the film's biggest flaw) female ass-kickers, literally battling it out against unfathomable odds. Like Terry Gilliam's oeuvre on a dose of David Lynch mindbender, "Sucker Punch" is a largely self-indulgent work -- frequently chaotic, but mostly fascinating; Snyder's interest in cohering the various combat sequences (which run the gamut from a steampunk vision of WWII, a Medieval siege, and a futuristic train populated by android assassins) into a consistent narrative is minimal at best, instead opting for an epic, "bigger is better" mentality that reinforces the film's "against all odds" schematic (it may not be subtle or original, but the driven vision of it all makes it fly). Like Gilliam's undervalued "Tideland," "Sucker Punch" is destined for cult status -- and, unlike Tim Burton's lame interpretation of "Alice in Wonderland," is never boring.

While I seldom flat-out reject a film based on personal bias, I can't say I went into "Frozen" with great expectations. Even more so than the blaringly outspoken Eli Roth, the would-be "cult auteur" visage of writer/director/pilferer Adam Green (he of the wretched slasher throwback "Hatchet") comes across as representative of all the smug douchebags whose most (and sometimes only) original move was ripping off the horror films they were weaned on without throwing much creativity into the mix. Listening to the characters of "Frozen" exchange their initial lines portended an onslaught of spoiled-brat attitude that didn't bode well for its premise: three college types (played by Emma Bell, Kevin Zegers, and Shawn Ashmore) who become stranded high above a mountain in a ski lift, and their subsequent battle to survive. Once the time-killing setup has been dispensed with and we are looming high above earth with our defenseless trio, however, "Frozen" starts to build a dread that, while not completely terrifying, is at least gripping enough for its duration. The cinematography develops a sense of vertigo early on, and Green's script quite admirably avoids the urge to cut away from the lone setting (no flashbacks playing during the dialog, for instance), stranding the audience with the characters (who develop into near-three-dimensional people whose fates we care about) in a seemingly no-exit scenario.