MonsterVision99

One could "defend" some of the story's follies by seeing them as a parodic exaggeration of the silly hysteria surrounding the deviation from traditional gender roles, but Lamberto's view of gender seems as ignorant and anti-scientific as De Palma's. At best, it ends up being irrelevant or a means to an end when it comes to films as unencumbered by conventional realism as De Palma's and giallo films. Although "anti-realist" (in the colloquial sense) Italian horror cinema always exhibits a high degree of self-awareness regarding its status as a film, Lamberto here embraces more of Argento's approach than his father's, in that he directly grapples with the exploration of art itself and its creation, following a composer (just as Argento's films followed writers, dancers, or musicians, delving into the process of artistic creation and the pure artistic experience). But Lamberto makes everything more mundane, making it referential and obvious (the cheap image of the death with the film negative and the dialogues that comment on the relationship between fiction and reality). Lamberto wouldn't find a substantial way to address these themes until he found himself collaborating directly with Argento, as everything he aimed to do here would develop gloriously in films like Demons (not to mention Argento's entire oeuvre).

If you wanna take a look at the astounding critical and cinematic decay of today you can just look at how Tangerine was received by the "intellectual" and "cinephilic" establishment, particularly in the USA.

We used to believe that digital filmmaking and cellphone devices would somehow democratize filmmaking and a new era of great artists would arrive and create formally daring new works that used the medium to its full advantage. Movies like these are proof that what's needed isn't technological advancement and that perhaps artistry is something you can't get from your phone. Never once a good image, a motivated and informative shot, or even an interesting use of its format. Never once something resembling what a good Z-grade craftsman can do with their eyes closed, nowhere near a Chris Alexander, Dylan Greenberg, Ted V. Mikels, Mark Polonia or Jess Franco (all of them neglected or despised by those praising films like Tangerine). The real reason for the artistic stagnation in modern indie filmmaking is that it's been formally, aesthetically and narratively regressive.

Baker is unable to link an idea to what he shoots or how he shoots it, creating a smoke screen of make-believe tricks that dream themselves as refreshing to justify any careless/arbitrary decision: make-believe dirtiness (exaggerating sleaziness to resemble an exploitation film), make-believe style (sloppy and unmotivated camera placements, compositions and movements), make-believe abstractions (the irrelevant blowjob car wash scene) and make-believe affection (the tired drama involving it's shouting cardboard characters, or the constant degradation of the same characters, reducing them to grotesque caricatures). Here we even have make-believe representation, make-believe sociopolitical consciousness and make-believe study of marginalized people (it's always a given that you can deliver the same cheap drama sprinkling lazy "social and political themes" and it will be taken seriously, something nefarious in a regressive film like this one, but you can't expect much from the mostly white normative liberal establishment). An atrophy of tricks that can only reach ordinariness unless they work within a greater framework and Baker's mediocre "academic" sensibilities can't capture anything. Defendable only in simplistic phrases: "It's ugly because California is ugly" but failing to realize that this is a starting point, not an aesthetic, as it is tautological and redundant because it never goes anywhere.

Not only is it not a movie that takes advantage of and incorporates its subject matter, scenery, characters, story and visuals to any formal/artistic idea, but this has also been achieved elsewhere to a greater effect and in unpretentious ways.

Parallel montage uniting the opening wrestling match and the apparition of the Python. The brawl in the ring intercut with the confrontation between henchmen and the killer beast. The versus monster movie seen as an overwhelming spectacle, closer to professional wrestling with all its anarchic energy, a radical spectacle of extreme and earthly pleasures.

We see a woman taking her clothes off and taking a bath, the lusting shot changes to a POV shot of an unknown menace stalking her, it turns out to be a small pet snake of a rich billionaire boyfriend. It should be noted the talent of these filmmakers, who manifested these low impulses out of nowhere and still made them fit into the structure of the movie seamlessly, with complete cohesion in tone, it would actually be distracting if it had an explanation.

Extremely schematized and aggressively impudent. Bombastic accumulation of pseudo-scientific and military deliriums of DTV creature features from it´s era. American excess and it´s absurdity pushed into a perfect parody. That's the heart of the gonzo cgi gringo monster movie, it reached an unprecedented height with Mega Shark vs Kolossus (2015, Christopher Ray) and hasn't been as good since, well maybe Ray´s father came close with Supershark (2011).

Modern monster movies need the ironic distancing from the most pure incarnations of the genre, from Honda to Corman. You need transparency and shamelessness, only then can the images flow and flourish. Do you imagine Michael Dougherty or Adam Wingard reconfiguring the genre to express their view of it? How could they? They don't have a view or ideas. Long gone is the mask of vulgarity that hides brilliance, there´s only attempts at "elevating" what shines better on the lower depths. That's why Jaws could never be as good as it´s rip offs.