mark boomer redmond

The Not-So-New 52: Superman — Doomsday (2007)

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Welcome to The Not-So-New 52, a new Swampflix feature for 2024. For background, I was a twenty-year-old college student in 2007 when there was a brand-new surge of comic book adaptations into films. Iron Man premiered in theaters the following year and, although it didn’t seem like it at the time, foretold a society-moving shift in the cinema landscape that would echo through today; elsewhere, someone at DC Comics was like, “What if we just started making animated direct-to-DVD features?” We were still four years out from the controversial 2011 DC comics reboot “New 52” (from which this feature takes its name), which most non-comic fans in the general public ether know nothing about. If they do, they might half-remember seeing a morning or midday show fluff piece about Superman’s new outfit (it was the one with the blue t-shirt and jeans, to make him seem more down to earth), or the noteworthy controversy surrounding the fact that DC’s creative staff dropped from 12% women to 1% during the editorial shake-up, or the fact that the new continuity portrayed Barbara “Batgirl/Oracle” Gordon’s previously permanent paraplegia as a temporary condition from which she recovered, essentially getting rid of one of the very few notable wheelchair users in comics. Or they might know of it from the fact that it was the new continuity introduced in the wake of Flashpoint, a Flash-centric timeline changing event that the general public is more aware of since it’s been adapted several times — first as an animated film in 2013 (which we’ll be getting to), then again as a plot point on the CW’s long-running (no pun intended) Flash TV series, and most recently last year as one of the inspirations for the narrative for last year’s Flash film. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Since that year, Marvel has produced thirty-three features (and over a dozen TV shows), while DC’s animation wing has produced about fifty-two of their animated movies without, to my knowledge, a single one of them ever hitting cinemas. I say “about fifty-two” because there are some that are split into two parts, the placement of Batman: Mask of the Phantasm within this list is debatable, at least one that is a repackaging of episodes of a webseries, and because anyone familiar with DC comics knows how much they love the number 52. With that in mind, I thought I might torture myself for as long as I could take and watch every single one of them, a new review coming each week to your virtual comic book stand here on Swampflix. I might go insane. Come along with me?

Superman: Doomsday was the first (give or take your feelings about the above-mentioned Mask of the Phantasm) of these films to hit the shelves of your local Best Buy, and I remember very clearly watching it on a Netflix DVD shortly after release. I also recall being impressed by it, with one particular scene standing out; it’s the intro scene for Lex Luthor (James “Spike” Marsters), in which his assistance Mercy Graves (Cree Summer) enters a room and he motions for her silence before finishing some kind of calculation in his head and entering it on his device and handing it off to her. When she asks if it’s the cure for cancer, he tells her it’s actually the cure for muscular dystrophy and directs her to have one of Lexcorp’s internal biomedical scientists work on turning the cure into a treatment—that is, to water it down and turn a one-time windfall into an ongoing source of income. I remember being utterly shocked at the sheer banality of his evil, truly the epitome of corporate emperors. 

This is immediately contrasted with Superman (Adam Baldwin), whom we see in his arctic Fortress of Solitude, spending his down time between rescuing cats from trees and fighting mechanical spiders trying to protect human life in a more mundane way. Lois (Anne Heche) is there with him, trying to get him to admit his secret identity—which she has already figured out on her own—as Clark Kent to her, which he skirts around with the excuse that confirming would somehow put her in danger, which she chalks up to simple fear of commitment. Elsewhere, an illegal drilling operation under the Lexcorp banner uncovers a buried spaceship, which turns out to contain an alien called “Doomsday” which was genetically engineered by an extraterrestrial race as the perfect, unstoppable soldier, which they then threw into space when they were unable to control him. Doomsday carves a swathe of murder and destruction all the way to Metropolis, where he engages in a lengthy battle with the other title character that ends with both of their deaths. 

In some ways, this is a condensation of the infamous “Death of Superman” comic book arc of the ’90s, with Kal-El’s death at the hands of Doomsday leading to the rise of several potential replacements, the most notable of whom were Conner “Superboy” Kent and Steel. In some ways, that’s what initially led me to be interested in starting this project, as 2018 saw the release of a more direct adaptation with the DC animated release of Death of Superman. Having long lost touch with this animated feature endeavor, my mind boggled at the fact that within ten years, they had already circled back around and were remaking their own work. I’m sure it won’t be exactly that when (if) I ever get to that one, but a quick look at the cast list and their associated characters tells me that it is a story that’s more extensively involved with a larger comic book character community. In Doomsday, the “Reign of the Supermen” super-mantle succession crisis of the comics is replaced with a singular clone of Superman, created by Lex from blood shed in Kal-El’s battle with Doomsday, one who starts out with the same ethos as the character that we have seen die but who gradually becomes more fascistic, going so far as to execute a recaptured super-felon rather than risk the possibility that he escape again. 

That’s an awful lot of discussion of Clark and Lex, but in my eyes, the real main character of this story is Lois. In a cast full of great performers (Martha Kent is voiced by Swoosie Kurtz!), the late Heche is doing absolutely phenomenal work selling Lois’s frustration, grief, cautious hope, and fierce determination. Having seen some of the later releases from this animation house, I can tell you that it would be easy to sleepwalk through the recording sessions and that some actors definitely do later on, but not Heche. I mourned her more watching this movie than one would expect from a purely commercial enterprise, but she carries this movie, with no apparent strain at all. A lot of the scenes are clearly condensed, but there’s still a surprising amount of pathos there. Particular standout scenes include her first meeting with Martha Kent, where both women are necessarily cagey—Martha because she’s unaware that Lois knows Superman was Clark and is thus concerned that the younger woman may simply be looking for a scoop, and Lois because she’s hesitant to admit how much she knows, and the scene in which the apparently newly resurrected Superman flies Lois home and responds with confused indifference when Lois kisses him—because, as a clone, he knows only what Luthor knows about Superman, and so isn’t privy to the real Superman’s private life. Heche and Lois are great here. 

Where the movie is less enjoyable is in the visuals. Although there is a lot of really great, dynamic animated action (the Doomsday vs. Superman battle takes up a solid chunk of screen time but never quite reaches the point where the audience is bored), the character designs are inconsistent. Some of this can be blamed on the designs being imported from the DC Animated Universe of TV shows that had recently come to a close with the ending of Justice League Unlimited in 2006, very shortly before this film went into production. That canon began with Batman: The Animated Series all the way back in 1992, where the eyes under Batman’s cowl were simply featureless white space, which allowed for the animators of that series to allow the character to express emotion through the shape and change of the “eye holes.” When Bruce was out of costume, he and the other characters had a fully drawn eye, with an upper and lower line representing the outline of the eye, sclera, and a single dot for both the iris and the pupil. When Superman: The Animated Series started airing in 1996, both Clark and Superman were drawn with a simpler eye design of a single line to indicate the upper edge of the eye, and again with a single dot to represent the pupil and the iris, but no identifiable sclera; I can only assume that this was to keep Clark’s face from looking too “busy” or being too detailed with the addition of his glasses. When you look at all of the Justice League together in their respective shows, they all have different eye designs, but they don’t look odd next to each other because there are so many different designs: Supes has his single line and dot, Martian Manhunter has his red eyes, Wonder Woman has very detailed eyes (full upper lid line, partial or full lower lid line, visible sclera, distinct blue iris and black pupil), Green Lantern has his distinctive fully outlined eye shape with a singular green iris with no pupillary dot, and the characters with masks like Flash either follow the Batman design of white spaces under their cowls or, in the case of Hawkgirl, have solely pupils under the mask but pupils and an iris when unmasked. 

Here, however, three of our main characters are so disparate in their design that they look janky together in a way that distracts the eye. Superman once again has the single upper lid line and the single (almost beady) pupil dot, while Lois has the fully detailed eyes like the Wonder Woman example above, except that her eye color is darker, so that she appears to have a distinct pupil and iris in some close ups but in most wider shots appears to have a single, gigantic pupil. Jimmy Olsen, in turn, has all the details, including a blue iris that also appears to be too large when compared to the other characters. I understand that importing these character designs from the TV animation probably saved a lot of time and work, but I can’t pretend that I didn’t notice it, and even if you’ve seen this before and didn’t consciously recognize that had happened, your unconscious probably did. Once you add in Mercy Graves’s lack of any nose (she just has two nostril slits), it’s messy. 

That having been said, this is a fun movie. In a pre-MCU and pre-Big Bang Theory world, it was pretty daring to have an animated feature—and therefore to many people’s minds, a movie for kids—that is so unflinching in its depiction of violence and grief. It was moderately controversial at that time for precisely that reason, although I feel it’s probably faded into relative obscurity now that the self-appointed so-called moral guardians have moved on to harassing accepting parents and inciting violence against librarians. Looking at it now, fifteen years later, when the market has been completely oversaturated not just with superheroes but various conceptual deconstructions and reconstructions of them with the mainstream adaptations of things like The Boys and Invincible, this one looks rather tame in comparison. Still, it’s not to be scoffed at, and there are much worse ways to spend seventy-seven minutes. 

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

Boomer’s Academy Ballot 2023

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I managed to see more new releases this year than I saw in any prior year writing for Swampflix (at least as far as I can tell, having started noting every movie that I see with the date I watched it just a few years ago). The issue is that sometimes I see movies that have some individual elements that are fantastic but aren’t enough to push that movie into the “best” of the year for me. For instance, I didn’t care for Infinity Pool very much—it was excellently made, perfectly sound edited, expertly cast—but still want to highlight that it deserves consideration in some field, even if I can’t consider it one of my favorites for the year. Cobweb was a fun movie that fell apart toward the end, but its lead child actor deserves special accolades for the performance that he turned in. There are also times when some of the most beautiful parts of a movie only become clearer later on, sometime after I wrote my review, and I want to make sure that I highlight a performance that had a bigger impact on me after I had more time to ruminate on the piece.

So, in order to make sure that I give out all the laurels that my limited internet presence allows, here are some of the standouts in every category. It’s based largely on the Academy ballot, but without the categories I’m not qualified (either because I didn’t see enough of them, like documentaries, or because I don’t have access to some relevant material, like best original screenplays, etc.) to judge. I also didn’t include Best Original Song because there’s really only one contender in my mind: ”Dear Alien (Who Art In Heaven)” from Asteroid City. I also fiddled with the Supporting Actor section to split it up between age groups rather than genders, both to ensure that nonbinary actor Quintessa Swindell had a seat at the table for their stellar performance in Master Gardener (another film that didn’t make my Top 20) and to highlight that this was an amazing year for children and young adult performers. Whether as uncannily unchildlike creeps in There’s Something Wrong with the Children, or the victims of terror as in Cobweb and M3GAN, a lot of young actors brought a lot to the table this year. Please enjoy these recommendations, and happy holidays!

  1. Best Visual Effects
    1. M3GAN
    2. Asteroid City
    3. Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part 1
    4. No One Will Save You
  2. Best Actor in a Leading Role
    1. Nicolas Cage – Dream Scenario
    2. John Boyega – They Cloned Tyrone
    3. Joaquin Phoenix – Beau is Afraid
    4. Zach Gilford – There’s Something Wrong with the Children
    5. Ed Norton – Asteroid City
    6. Paul Giamatti – The Holdovers
  3. Best Actress in a Leading Role
    1. Margot Robbie – Barbie
    2. Julia Garner – The Royal Hotel
    3. Kaitlyn Dever – No One Will Save You
    4. Sandra Hüller – Anatomie d’une chute (Anatomy of a Fall)
    5. Da’Vine Joy Randolph – The Holdovers
    6. Teyonah Parris – They Cloned Tyrone
    7. Greta Lee – Past Lives
  4. Best Adult in a Supporting Role
    1. Dominic Sessa – The Holdovers
    2. Quintessa Swindell – Master Gardener
    3. Patti Lupone – Beau is Afraid
    4. Jeffrey Wright – Asteroid City
    5. Tilda Swinton – The Killer
    6. Ursula Yovich – The Royal Hotel
    7. America Ferrera – Barbie
    8. Mia Goth – Infinity Pool
    9. Antoine Reinartz – Anatomie d’une chute (Anatomy of a Fall)
  5. Best Non-Adult/Young Adult Performer in a Lead or Supporting Role
    1. Woody Norman – Cobweb
    2. Brielle Guiza – There’s Something Wrong with the Children
    3. Jake Ryan – Asteroid City
    4. Armen Nahapetian – Beau is Afraid
    5. Violet McGraw – M3GAN
    6. Enzo Ferrada – La vaca que cantó una canción hacia el futuro (The Cow Who Sang a Song into the Future)
    7. Milo Machado Graner – Anatomie d’une chute (Anatomy of a Fall)
    8. Iman Vellani – The Marvels
  6. Best Art Direction
    1. Moon Garden
    2. Enys Men
    3. Asteroid City
    4. Ang Pagbabalik ng Kwago (aka Leonor Will Never Die)
    5. Fumer fait tousser (Smoking Causes Coughing)
    6. Barbie
    7. Master Gardener
  7. Best Cinematography
    1. Enys Men
    2. La vaca que cantó una canción hacia el futuro (The Cow Who Sang a Song into the Future)
    3. Infinity Pool
    4. Past Lives
    5. Moon Garden
    6. A Haunting in Venice
  8. Best Costume Design
    1. The Holdovers
    2. Asteroid City
    3. They Cloned Tyrone
    4. No One Will Save You
    5. Cocaine Bear
  9. Best Director
    1. Celine Song – Past Lives
    2. Francisca Alegria – La vaca que cantó una canción hacia el futuro (The Cow Who Sang a Song into the Future)
    3. Martika Ramirez Escobar – Ang Pagbabalik ng Kwago (aka Leonor Will Never Die)
    4. Brandon Cronenberg – Infinity Pool
    5. Brian Duffield – No One Will Save You
    6. Alexander Payne – The Holdovers
  10. Best Film Editing
    1. Enys Men
    2. The Royal Hotel
    3. Infinity Pool
    4. Scream VI
    5. Anatomie d’une chute (Anatomy of a Fall)
    6. No One Will Save You

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

Boomer’s Top 20 Films of 2023

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20. A potent fable about the cost of notoriety and fame, Dream Scenario is a strong showing from Norwegian writer-director Kristoffer Borgli, who also edited the film. The movie charts the sudden memetic popularity of a sad sack professor at a lower tier university who is always on the verge of self-actualizing but never has the wherewithal to stop procrastinating and apply himself; when he begins appearing in people’s dreams, through no action of his own, he becomes an instant internet star, only to see that fame come crashing down when his dream avatar becomes a more frightening figure. Read my review here.

19. A coming-of-age story that incorporates many of the best parts of children’s fantasy that came before it, from The Chronicles of Narnia to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and more, The Boy and the Heron sees these familiar narrative devices through the lens of a childhood haunted by grief and as imagined by the most talented living animation director, Hayao Miyazaki. A movie that can be frustrating to an audience that is unwilling to float along with its dream logic or to those viewers who are uncomfortable with ambiguity, it’s hard to imagine that something this stuffed with the fantastic could be said to leave a lot to the imagination, but it does. Most recommended movie of the year for bird people. Read my review here.

18. Not just for fans of Haruki Murakami’s literature, but perhaps poised to be most appreciated by them, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman was adapted from disparate pieces from Murakami’s canon to create a (mostly) singular narrative by composer Pierre Földes, who also produced, directed, and scored it. The animation style is not as beautiful to the eye as the previous entry on this list, and can take a moment to adjust to, but it has a DIY magic all of its own. Read my review here.

17. Like The Boy and the Heron, Moon Garden draws a great deal of inspiration from the children’s fantasies of yesteryear, but instead of pulling from literature, it takes its direction from the darker kid’s fantasy films of the 1980s, like Return to Oz, The NeverEnding Story, Paperhouse, Labyrinth, and later works that evoke that same feeling like MirrorMask and Pan’s Labyrinth. A throwback to more creatively articulated dark fantasy through the use of older film techniques and (apparent) rejection of computer effects, this is one that I predict will have a lot of staying power in years to come. Listen to the Lagniappe Podcast Crew talk about it here.

16. Is there a way to describe something that’s almost the platonic ideal of an indie darling? Like, something that could accurately be said to be simply a rebundling of cliches but which is also somehow entirely new? That’s what Christmas sleeper hit The Holdovers is—to be honest, there may not be an entirely original idea anywhere in here, but that doesn’t make it any less affecting, emotional, or funny. Alexander Payne masterfully molds together a film that made me ache for every person on screen, a story I’d seen before but nonetheless brand new. Read my review here.

15. I absolutely adored Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of Little Women and wept openly at Lady Bird, but I must admit that I didn’t exactly have high hopes for this corporate synergy vehicle. Even as the date of Barbie’s arrival drew near and the entire internet burst out into endless grassroots marketing via Barbenheimer memes, I still mostly considered it more of a curiosity that was likely to make a dump truck full of cash than a potentially moving addition to Gerwig’s canon. It didn’t move me as much as her previous movies; America Ferrera is very close to my heart and I absolutely love every speech that she gives in this movie, but Jo’s declaration of independence to Laurie in Little Women wasn’t interrupted by a Chevy commercial like one of Gloria’s monologues here, which cheapens things a bit. But I did laugh more than in the others, and that was a lovely experience. It’s been six months and I still giggle when I think about Barbie’s frustration at being called a fascist — “I don’t control the railways or the flow of commerce!” Read my review here.

14. Another knockout bizarro comedy feature from Quentin Dupieux (Rubber), Fumer fait tousser (Smoking Causes Coughing) is a delightfully bloody flick that features a framing device that reminded me a lot of one of my favorite TV comedies, Danger 5, and this movie is similarly deconstructive. When a team of tobacco-based superheroes in the vein of Power Rangers is sent on a retreat by their leader, their telling of stories to one another stitches together vignettes of horror set against peace: an unbothered young man is reduced to a pulp by an industrial machine, a welder’s mask grants its wearer serenity but turns them into a murderer, etc. Delightfully funny and worth the attention. Read Brandon’s review here.

13. A slow burn thriller, Brandon initially pitched The Royal Hotel to me as a more grounded version of Alex Garland’s Men, and in his review, he also mentions Dead Calm, which is a personal favorite of my mother’s that became a favorite of mine. Both are good points of comparison, especially in regard to this film’s sense of omnipresent danger from a dangerous man (or men) in a completely isolated place, but the movie that I couldn’t stop thinking about while watching this one was Queen of Earth, which was my favorite film of 2015. I’ll echo the sentiments he expressed in his review completely, and add that I loved the slow burn of the relationship between the two women here, and loved that so much was left up to implication. 

12. Some time after I initially reviewed it, Brandon texted me to let me know that he had enjoyed There’s Something Wrong with the Children more than expected, citing that it had “tapped into ‘I don’t really like being around kids’ energy in a relatable way,” which was also one of my favorite things about this anxiety-riddled second feature from director Roxanne Benjamin. There’s a little bit of fumbling at the finish line, but it’s not enough to wash away the bitter, unsettling aftertaste of the first three quarters. Read my review here.

11. I love a movie that pushes the boundaries and isn’t afraid to try something novel. As a film with virtually no dialogue, No One Will Save You is a triumphant example of how to make a story that’s 100% show and 0% tell without ever losing any of the tension of the main threat. Kaitlyn Dever is phenomenal here, and every emotion that crosses her face is palpable, one of the best single performances in anything I saw all year. Read my review here.

10. I was surprised by how much I still liked what will likely be the finale of my favorite horror series—and if it isn’t, the series is dead to me at least absent some major reparations for its cast. There might not be another one after Scream VI, but this was a pretty decent way to go out. I didn’t think that this series could continue without Neve Campbell, and the only way that it does manage to work is through the return of the previously presumed dead Kirby, played by Hayden Panettiere. The twists are less twisty here than they were in the immediately previous installment, and the connection to horror tropes are the most tenuous they’ve been since Scream 3, but the newer cast that was introduced in 5cream have gelled into a more interesting group this time around, with Melissa Barrios as the standout for improved performance since last time. It’s the best it could be without Sidney, and Gale Weathers’ inclusion in the plot from the start makes sure that the film hits the ground running. It’s rare for a horror franchise to hit this milestone without having such severe diminishing returns that it becomes a shell of itself, but this one finishes strong. Read my review here.

9. It’s been so, so long since I saw M3gan, but I made a vow to myself that I would not let the fact that I saw it allllll the way back during the first week of the year prevent it from being considered for its rightful place here on this list. To be honest, despite all the intervening time, I don’t think I’ve managed to go more than a week or two without thinking about it, even after its memetic success was completely obliterated by the Barbenheimer blitz. Discourse about both “iPad kids” and artificial “intelligence” has only gotten bigger since January, with the film having presaged that conversation with all of its discussions about screen exposure time and the fact that interaction with a machine is no substitute for real human contact and genuine love. And all wrapped up in a perfect killer doll movie. What more could you ask for, really? Read my review here.

8. It’s kind of hard to talk about Enys Men. More like a cinematic tone poem about loneliness and isolation than a “movie.” I want to say that it does have the semblance of a narrative, but even that isn’t really true, as while there are events, their relation to one another is an exercise in imagination rather than observation, requiring a patching together that will never fully reconcile into a legible text. There’s a woman, an island, and a mineshaft, and there’s too much silence and not quite enough tea. Listen to the Lagniappe Podcast Crew talk about it here, and check out Brandon’s review here.

7. The truth is, we take Wes Anderson for granted. Asteroid City is an instant contender with The Life Aquatic and The Grand Budapest Hotel as the most triumphant example of his imitable style made ever, ever so vast. It’s all encompassing, with more layers of reality upon fiction upon more fiction upon reality than The Matrix, with an utterly gorgeous set design and a cast of actors who are giving what may be career best performances. Just marvelous. Read my review here.

6. Sandra Hüller is captivating in Anatomie d’une chute (Anatomy of a Fall) as a woman who must stand trial for the murder of her husband, all while we in the audience never learn whether his death was an accident, suicide, or murder. That absence of information is a shadowy void in the center of this film, a known unknown whose invisibility means that, just as in life, all we have to go on are people’s imperfect memories, their self-serving rationalizations, and the presumption of honesty. One of the most mature movies for adults of recent years and the one with the most enduring appeal of 2023. Read my review here.

5. A genre-bending mash-up of blaxploitation crime thrillers, social commentary comedies, and body snatching sci-fi pulp, They Cloned Tyrone was the funniest movie of the year. Incorporating that feeling of mind-numbing, endless monotony that was part of the quarantine experience, the film breaks new ground when it comes to conspiracy thrillers, taking its characters on a wild ride and us along with them. John Boyega is a knockout in this one. Read my review here.

4. I still can’t believe that the premiere screening for Beau is Afraid was followed by an outburst from an attendee stating that he “better not hear any fucking clapping.” This movie is undoubtedly bizarre, and I’m not the least bit surprised that it was so divisive, but it’s also hard to believe that there wasn’t something here for everyone to laugh at, at least once. Beau is a man in the midst of an endless waking nightmare in which every one of his paranoid delusions proves to be true, but what lies beneath the surface is even more frightening (and hilarious, and disgusting) than one would initially anticipate. I don’t think that this one will be recalled as fondly in the coming years as Hereditary and Midsommar have been, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t fantastic. Read my review here.

3. It’s been five months since I saw Past Lives, and I still think about it once a week, at least. There was only one other person in the theater with my viewing companion and I when we saw this one, and she was bawling by the end. There’s just something so palpable about the feeling of the life you could have had slipping away from you, the way that the number of doors that are open to you start closing exponentially faster as you get older, and the way that the love that could have been lingers on the tongue and on the heart. Sometimes the doors do close, and there’s nothing you can do but hope to catch the same bus as your soulmate the next time around. Read my review here. 

2. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a movie quite like Ang Pagbabalik ng Kwago (aka Leonor Will Never Die) before. There are easy comparisons to other “character enters a fantasy land” narratives, but none of them have such a thin membrane between the fantasy inside of a character’s mind and the “real” world in which they are comatose. Sometimes, the narrative within the fictional world that Leonor scripts and then enters gets completely stuck until Leonor herself decides to focus on another part of the action. Blending in supposed behind the scenes photographs and footage from the filming of this actual film only further shreds the curtain between reality and fiction, and it’s sublime. Read my review here.

1. I knew from the moment that I saw it that La vaca que cantó una canción hacia el futuro (The Cow Who Sang a Song into the Future) would be my number one film of the year. A haunting, beautiful meditation on that which pollutes—undermines our love for our families, poisons our air and water, leaches toxins into our soil and our relationships. The narrative moves like the river that forms the backbone of the film, dreamy and languid at some points and deep and rushing at others, but never at the wrong pace, solemn when needed and joyful when called for. Read my review here.

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

The Holdovers (2023)

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Every year, I get into a discussion with at least one person about the fact that I don’t much care for Christmas music. There are a lot of reasons for this. For one thing, I grew up in a household in which we were only allowed to listen to one radio station, one that was Contemporary Christian music 10.5 months of the year and nothing but the same 30-40 Christmas songs in the six weeks leading up to Christmas. It wasn’t as if you were going to hear anything tongue-in-cheek on 92.7 “The Bridge,” which means no “Santa Baby,” no Chipmunks, no mothers kissing Santa Claus or grandmothers getting run over by reindeer; you might get something haunting and ethereal that you wouldn’t get on a mainstream station like Amy Grant’s “Breath of Heaven” to almost make up for the dearth of otherwise worthwhile material, but that was about it. Add in that they didn’t even have more than one version of the standards that they did have, and it was a monotonous time. Secondly, I often find that people who have positive associations with Christmas have never had a job working retail, which means that they’ve never heard the same unimaginative version of “Little Drummer Boy” six times while manning an eight-hour shift at the cash register at Urban Outfitters (or worse, the Nook nook at Barnes & Noble, where you attempt to convince people who just came in to get a copy of Green Eggs and Ham for their niece to buy a less-functional iPad at the same price point), which will kill any fondness you might have had for a song. Still, every year, my best friend and I watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, and it’s part of our tradition that sometime during “It Feels Like Christmas” I turn to her and say “Y’know, I think this is my favorite Christmas carol. Not my favorite Christmas Carol adaptation, but like my favorite Christmas song,” and she says “Y’know, you say that every year.” That film came out allllll the way back in 1992, and although there have been a few other Christmas movies that have come out since whose appeal was universal (Elf), blandly inoffensive in a corporate way (The Santa Clause), or bizarre (Krampus) enough to be considered part of the Christmas Movie Canon (at least to some), they are few and far between. We may have a new one with The Holdovers, though. 

It’s almost Christmas, 1970, at the New England boarding school Barton Academy. Junior Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa) is excited to spend his winter break in Saint Kitts with his family, even packing up a pair of beach briefs that he describes as the most masculine thing that he could wear, as they’re the same as the ones James Bond wore in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. On the last (half) day of the term, the strict and authoritarian ancient civilizations professor Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti) “generously” offers to let one of his classes, comprised mostly of boys who have failed the midyear exam, to take a retest upon their return, although there will be new material on that test, which means more studying during their vacation. Both of their Christmas plans are derailed, however. When one of his peers fakes a relative’s illness to get out of chaperoning the “holdovers” (boys who will be staying at the school rather than returning to their parents for the holidays), Hunham is enlisted to perform these duties, and he is all but told outright by the school’s headmaster Dr. Woodrip (Andrew Garman) that this is in retaliation for his refusal to give a passing grade to the son of a senator, costing Barton one of its largest donors. While waiting for his pickup, Tully receives a phone call from his mother, canceling their family trip at the last minute so that she can spend this time as a late honeymoon with the boy’s new stepfather, thus leaving him as one of the aforementioned holdovers, all of whom will be bunking in the infirmary as the dorms and school building will be without heat for the duration, for cost-saving reasons. The only other person who will be around consistently is Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), the cafeteria manager, who is hesitant to leave the last place that she spent time with her late son Curtis, who was recently killed in action in Vietnam. 

Although there are initially five students at Barton for Christmas, that number is whittled down to just Angus when one of the other boys’ father, a mogul of some kind, comes to collect his son for a ski trip and takes the other boys along, with Angus’s mother being unreachable on her vacation in order to give permission for him to go. When Angus injures himself while leading Paul on a chase around the school building, he is taken to the hospital, where he lies to cover for Paul and prevent the older man from losing his job, although he says he will call on the return of an equivalent favor one day. While eating in town on the way back, they encounter Lydia (Carrie Preston), Dr. Woodrip’s assistant, who tells them that she picks up a few shifts waiting tables over the holidays every year, and invites them to her Christmas party. They take her up on her offer and attend the party along with Mary, and while Angus hits it off with Lydia’s niece, Paul falls into the trap of being optimistic about Lydia’s potential to be attracted to him only to discover she has a boyfriend, and Mary drinks too much and has a breakdown about the loss of her son in the house’s kitchen. She’s not too drunk to tell Paul off about how he’s treating Angus. This eventually leads to the two taking a field trip into Boston after Christmas, but one of the stops they make along the way ends up having consequences that neither of them could have predicted. 

Paul Hunham is a fascinating character. We’re not meant to like him very much at first, and I think that he’s off-putting in that he represents the version of ourselves that we fear others see: unattractive, smelly, clumsy, incapable of telling a story. Our sympathy for him grows, however, as the pieces of his life fall into place as he and Angus get to know one another and open up to each other more: abusive father, scholarship to Barton Academy at age fifteen, went on to an Ivy League school where his more privileged roommate deflected his own plagiarism by framing Paul and Paul’s subsequent retaliation costing him his education. He returned to Barton, where he was given a position by a kindly former headmaster who saw his potential, only to now be serving at the leisure of a man who was once his own pupil. His backstory also intertwines with Mary’s, as she reveals that although Curtis likewise was able to attend Barton on scholarship, but upon graduation, he wasn’t able to go straight into university like his rich classmates and enlisted in the service in order to attend school on the G.I. Bill when he returned — but he didn’t come back. Along with Angus, who didn’t grow up in wealth and is only in attendance at Barton because his mother’s new husband is wealthy, they are the outsiders amongst the elite. In contrast, school’s effortlessly charming quarterback is initially left at the school by his father because the boy refuses to cut his long blond 1970s hair, but when he hears the helicopter approaching the school, he exclaims that he knew his father would break first, and he returns to school after break with a shorn head. Unlike the tragedies of the lives of our three leads, his troubles are shallow and silly, as his father’s feud was over nothing more than vanity and was resolved with no real loss since the boy was being stubborn about his hair because, in a world where you really have no other problems, what else are you going to fight about? 

If you’re reading this and thinking to yourself, “Wait, didn’t I hear that this movie was a comedy?” you are correct, it is; it’s just my nature to get hung up on the melancholy parts of these kinds of dramedies. Now that it’s addressed, it’s worth noting that this movie is, in fact, hilarious. Sessa is fantastic, a breakout freshman performance from an unknown actor who just happened to audition for the movie because he attended the school at which it was being filmed. There’s a scene late in the film when Paul is sitting at a bowling alley bar and he attempts to talk to two of the Bostonians there, a bartender and a regular dressed as Santa. He attempts to ingratiate himself with them by delivering a rambling monologue about how Santa should be dressed according to Grecian tradition, and although it’s exactly the kind of thing that would be very annoying behavior from a stranger at the bar, Giamatti plays it with the perfect intermix of attempted frivolity and joviality with witless, unobservant boorishness that it’s impossible not to be charmed by it in spite of oneself. Sessa manages to do the same with Angus, making him a triumphant example of a kid who’s too smart for his own good but is also struggling with rejection from his peers and his lack of friends in spite of his good nature underneath. It’s a very charming form of humor, and it works just as well as all of the great physical comedy that is going on around it (special mention to Paul Hunham’s absolutely pathetic attempt to throw a football). 

We throw the phrase “instant classic” around a lot these days. I’ve said it myself about things that didn’t stand the test of time and which have faded into obscurity. I don’t know if we’ll be able to look back on this one in ten years and say that it’s part of the canon, but I do know that I’ll be watching it one year from now, and that’s good enough for me.

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

The Boy and the Heron (2023)

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Full disclosure: I’ve been struggling with what to write about The Boy and the Heron for over a week now. It’s obviously a beautiful movie, made with loving care, attention to detail, and bizarre imagination that one has come to expect from Hayao Miyazaki, and has all of his hallmarks of adorable and anti-adorable creatures, but also has a narrative that feels more incomplete than normal. I should also disclose that, although I am a forever proponent of watching these films with subtitles rather than with dubbing, my viewing experience was of the dubbed version of the film, and I’m not certain if there are differences between the two versions that could explain some of what I’m missing. 

Mahito Maki is a twelve-year-old boy who awakens one night to learn that there is a fire raging through Tokyo, and that the hospital where his mother is located is in the center of the conflagration. He runs toward the fire’s destruction, but his mother is lost. Some time later, his father, a manufacturer of air munitions, evacuates his family to his wife’s ancestral estate, currently occupied by his late wife’s sister, whom he has married in the interim since the opening scene. Mahito has trouble bonding with Natsuko, whom everyone remarks upon as being nearly identical to his late mother, and he further isolates himself by intentionally gouging a nasty wound in his head that is then presumed to have been the result of violence from bullies, and he is allowed to remain at the estate rather than having to go to school. Exploring the area, he finds a run-down structure and enters it through a doorway that is not completely sealed; later, he learns from one of his stepmother’s seven attendants, Kiriko, that this was the library of his great-granduncle, who was obsessed with magic and who disappeared in his youth, prompting the tower to be sealed. Mahito also finds himself the subject of the attention of a large grey heron, which speaks to him in a language he understands and tempts the boy to follow him into the tower. Fashioning himself a bow and an accompanying arrow (fletched with a recovered feather from the heron), Mahito enters the tower with Kiriko when searching for Natsuko, who has disappeared; deep within a hall, they encounter the heron again, who tempts Mahito with an image of this mother. Mahito manages to injure the heron in its beak because of the transitive magical properties of the heron’s feather, turning him into a grotesque bird man, who is ordered by a wizard to assist Mahito in his journey, and the heron, Kiriko, and Mahito find themselves transported to another world.

This isn’t a new story, not really. Children going to fantasy worlds is one of the oldest tropes of children’s literature, whether that world be Narnia or Oz or Neverland or Wonderland or Fantasia or the Labyrinth (etc.), and, from what I can tell, the novel from which The Boy and the Heron takes most of its narrative inspiration, 2006’s The Book of Lost Things, is also one of these narratives. In that novel, the main character’s stepmother has already given birth to his half-sibling (rather than being pregnant still, as in the film), and so there are even more parallels to fantasy media of this kind; I haven’t read the book, but a review of several summaries implies that the presence of a new baby is part of the incitement of the protagonist’s journey, as in Labyrinth. The tropes here are from all over. Just like the Pevensies in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Mahito has been evacuated from a city center during WWII (although we’re not supposed to think too hard about the fact that Majito’s father is making military equipment for the Axis); the recent death of the boy’s mother is even more strongly felt here than in The NeverEnding Story; and this film manages to ride the line that divides the Oz books from their most famous adaptation with The Wizard of Oz, as Mahito’s journey is clearly real, as Dorothy (et al)’s travels into Oz were in L. Frank Baum’s novels, but said world contains images that are derived from things that he has seen in the real world, as in the 1939 picture. 

What is new here also seems to have come largely from Miyazaki. There’s nothing in any of the summaries of The Book of Lost Things that indicate recurring bird images and motifs as part of that novel’s narrative (the book seems to largely feature canines and lycanthropes), but we all know that this man loves flight; it’s all over his work. Here, this is seen in the “real” world via Mahito’s father’s work as an air munitions manufacturer but which translates into several different species of birds in the “fantasy” world, all of whom have different natures that present to Mahito as things which at first seem cruel or wicked to him but which ultimately prove that the apparent violence of nature exists not because of malice in the world, but simply because existence does not conform to us as individuals. There is the heron first, whose motivations are unclear and who exists more as a trickster, whose behavior is inscrutable. Second are the pelicans, who first attack Mahito and are later seen descending upon and devouring this film’s cutesy sprite creatures, the Warawara. Although they seem to be malicious in this attack at first, a dying gull tells Mahito that their people are starving as a result of having been brought to this place, where they have no other natural food source. Finally, we meet the parakeets, who are largely anthropomorphic and willing to eat human flesh. The last of these do have some malicious intent, just as Mahito’s emotional climax of the film requires that he recognize that he has malice within himself as well, which saves him from the same fate as his great-granduncle. It’s this same realization that he has come to an age where he has to force himself to grow and mature as a person by recognizing that he can feel negative emotions and not act upon them that leads him to finally accept Natsuko and go home. After he has a fun adventure with the time-traveling child version of his mother, of course. 

I’m not sure that this one is destined to become an indisputable classic like some of Miyazaki’s other work, but that’s what we always say about late additions to the canon of an auteur with a career that has already proven that it will have a lasting legacy. It’s clearly a deeply personal film, and when making something that is created with an intentionally idiosyncratic worldview (rather than aiming for something more like universal appeal), there’s always the danger of making it insular and inscrutable. I certainly expect this one to have a smaller audience of devotees than something like Princess Mononoke or even Howl’s Moving Castle (which was greeted with a similarly lukewarm/confused audience reception as The Boy and the Heron upon initial release, to my recollection), but if there’s one thing that I’ve learned over the years, it’s that there’s no Miyazaki film that isn’t someone’s favorite, and that will apply here, too. It could even happen to you. 

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

Suitable Flesh (2023)

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Before his death in 2020, director Stuart Gordon was planning a comeback, alongside his screenwriting collaborator Dennis Paoli, with whom he had worked on films like Re-Animator, From Beyond, and Castle Freak. That intended return was to be Suitable Flesh, another Lovecraft adaptation, and although Gordon didn’t live to see it completed, his friend and longtime collaborator Barbara Crampton was determined to usher it to completion, which she achieved this year with Joe Lynch in the director’s chair. I’ve never seen any of Lynch’s feature work, but I was very impressed with his short film Truth in Journalism that was a bit of an internet phenom a few years ago (although the fact that everything that references the film online now gives away the twist, sometimes in the title). And while there’s nothing that’s technically wrong with this one, I have to admit that I just didn’t enjoy it. 

Elizabeth Derby (Heather Graham) is a psychiatrist living an idyllic life of career success, loving marriage with handsome if temporarily unemployed husband Edward (Johnathon Schaech), and a fulfilling best friendship with colleague Daniella Upton (Crampton). After a session with a man who is trying to give up smoking, a young man from the nearby Miskatonic University bursts into her office and introduces himself as Asa Waite (Judah Lewis, of The Babysitter). He tells her that his father, Ephraim (Bruce Davison), wants his son’s body, in a scene that would have been more effective if it had been played with more ambiguous dialogue that implied (for instance, abuse at the hands of his father), but instead just sounds like ranting and raving. When she gets a phone call from Asa later, she fears that he’s in danger and goes to his house, only to become embroiled in an apparent domestic disturbance situation that belies dark magic. Eventually, Derby finds herself swapping back and forth between her body and that of Asa, but the entity with which she is exchanging corporeal forms with is not Asa, but something much older and more powerful, and if they switch a third time, it will be permanent. 

Narratively, this one is a bit sloppy, and it’s also not really a surprise that the Lovecraft story from which is takes its concept, “The Thing on the Doorstep”, is often considered one of the talented racist’s lesser works. Lewis is doing fine work as the menacing thing that first possesses Asa’s father before taking him over, and although I love seeing Graham in just about anything, there’s a bit of a disconnect between Lewis’s version of (what we’ll call) the spirit and hers, and I wish Graham’s version was as menacing as Lewis’s. There’s also something very fun about the idea of a possessing spirit that has bodysurfed through time in male bodies because of its misogynistic ideals, only to end up in a woman’s body and learn how much it enjoys riding dick. Unfortunately, that’s not enough to save this movie, nor is its gruesome final act, which is what I think will end up being what Suitable Flesh is most remembered for. A shambling, battered corpse that begs for death isn’t the freshest idea (An American Werewolf in London and Return of the Living Dead immediately spring to mind), but it’s realized here in a truly horrifying fashion. 

Still, for me, the film’s highlight was Crampton (as she often is). She looks amazing here, and her turn as the confused Dr. Upton who has to come to terms with the fact that her best friend is not losing her mind but is in fact experiencing a truly supernatural event is a sight to behold. In many ways, she’s the true protagonist, the one with the most character development and the person with whom we sympathize the most. It makes the first half of the narrative seem like filler until we get to the good parts, and I have to be honest, I think the late Gordon would have gotten us there faster and better. 

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

Lagniappe Podcast: Moon Garden (2023)

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For this lagniappe episode of The Swampflix Podcast, Boomer, Brandon, and Alli discuss the dreamworld fantasy film Moon Garden (2023).

00:00 Welcome

01:22 Inu-Oh (2022)
05:11 It’s a Wonderful Knife (2023)
08:22 Thanksgiving (2023)
11:35 The Marvels (2023)
22:06 The Killer (2023)
28:00 A Fish Called Wanda (1988)
33:45 E.T. (1982)
39:40 Godzilla Minus One (2023)
42:50 FYC Screeners

1:06:20 Moon Garden (2023)
1:33:13 Best of 2023 Catchup

You can stay up to date with our podcast through SoundCloud, Spotify, iTunes, TuneIn, or by following the links on this page.

-The Lagniappe Podcast Crew

Stroszek (1977)

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Stroszek is a relentlessly downbeat tragicomedy about one man’s inability to escape the prison of society. The film opens with Bruno Stroszek being released from prison, where the kindly warden makes him promise to never drink again, as the street performer’s only crimes were all related to or caused by his alcoholism. As soon as he departs the office, however, he goes straight to a local pub, where the bartender recognizes him and greets him (as) warmly (as 1970s German stoicism allows), despite the fact that Stroszek has been gone for two and a half years. Stroszek attempts to greet Eva, a woman he knew before, but the two men with her reveal themselves as her pimps and send him on his way, but not before he offers to let her come and stay with him in the apartment that his old neighbor Mr. Scheitz has kept for him. Stroszek attempts to return to street performance, but there’s little love for the vagabond who can never remember to zip his fly, and although Eva does find her way to him and tries to help him spruce up the place, this ultimately leads to further harassment and beatings at the hands of her former pimps. Unable to turn to the police for help, Mr. Scheitz offers to let Eva and Stroszek accompany him to Wisconsin, where he is moving to live with his nephew for his remaining few years, and he even gets jobs for them as a waitress and a mechanic, respectively. 

Upon initial arrival in the states, the trio feels a rush of excitement and possibility while sightseeing around New York before they purchase an old car and make their way to the prairie town of Railroad Flats, an indistinguishable little spot of nowhere, a barren place of dead grass brown and dirty snow. Scheitz’s nephew is amenable to them, and things start out well for them at first despite the humility of their surroundings, as Eva finds her new line of work much more agreeable than her old, and Stroszek gets along with his equally alcoholic colleagues, and the nephew Scheitz even lets them set up a mobile home on his property to give them a leg up. The elder Scheitz is considered a bit of a curiosity around town, but the townsfolk are more bemused than annoyed at his wandering around and purportedly measuring “animal magnetism” using some kind of ammeter, speaking a language that none of them understand. Unfortunately, the good times aren’t meant to last; a “friendly” visit from an officer of the bank reveals that they are behind on their payments due to Stroszek’s inability to read the fine print on many of the documents that he signed, and although Eva is able to secure a temporary reprieve from repossession by temporarily returning to her old line of work, she is unsatisfied with where life has taken her and ultimately runs away, hitting the road with a couple of Vancouver-bound truckers. 

When Scheitz is arrested for a poorly-thought-out attempt at vengeance on the bank for taking Stroszek’s trailer, he is truly alone, with no music to play and with no one around who even speaks his language. Stroszek seeks out the only person he knows, a German businessman who was being harassed at the start of the film by Eva’s pimps and who said that he was going to a specific place in America where there was a park where people could see freely roaming bears. This turns out to be Cherokee, NC, and it is Stroszek’s final destination as well. 

If this were a different kind of movie, one might expect that Eva would turn around one day at her waitressing job and see that her two pimps have found her and plan to take her back to Berlin, or you might think that the fact that there are four unsolved and seemingly connected murders in Railroad Flats would come back as a plot point or be relevant in some way, but nothing like that happens. There are many long montages of hard work that drive home the mindless repetition of labor, and which contribute nothing to the film narratively but serve a purpose for defining the film’s mood. It’s a movie that requires the kind of patience that a lot of audiences no longer have, as it often lingers on its tableaux in order to fully sell the scale of the feelings of loss, loneliness, and hopelessness that the characters face. As an indictment of the American Dream and all of its unfulfilled promises, it functions beautifully and has a real sense of immediacy; within a few days of arriving in Railroad Flats, Stroszek witnesses his American benefactor pull one of his own teeth with a set of pliers for a sense of relief, which he witnesses with shock made all the more isolating by his lack of understanding of English. 

The film is not without its comedic moments, but even these are meant to speak to a greater melancholy. The biggest laugh that I got came in Wisconsin, when Scheitz translates his nephew’s admonition to Stroszek to stay away from a particular fence because the strip of land on the other side is in dispute between two farmers, both of whom refuse to let his enemy plow the area, which is explicitly called “fallow.” We see these two farmers as each gets very close to the edge of the disputed territory, both of them driving their tractors with their shotguns on their hips, pointed skyward … for the moment. It’s a very funny visual, evoking the image of jousting knights with their lances at the ready, but it also speaks to the kind of violence that America is capable of. Just as the two pimps in Berlin exercised control over Eva, these two men are also primed and ready to commit violence, with potentially life-ending consequences. Stroszek also visits a kind of arcade where trained animals perform tricks; put in a quarter and watch a rabbit run into a tiny fire engine and sit there as if he is the driver, or watch a chicken peck at a tiny piano as it plays a tune, or watch another chicken dance after pushing a button in a tiny jukebox. Not so funny is how Stroszek presumably sees himself in these beasts, forced to perform over and over again for a pitiable amount of money like a trained animal; in fact, the dancing chicken is the last image that we see of the film, and it lasts for some time, as a reminder of what Stroszek became before the end. 

I have to admit that, despite all my writing about film, I’ve actually seen very little Herzog (in fact, this is only my second, after Grizzly Man), but from what I’ve absorbed about the man’s work from the pop cultural landscape, this seems like one of this works that defined his sensibility in the public eye. It’s bleak, but beautiful.

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

Dream Scenario (2023)

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There’s something distinctly Kaufman-esque about Dream Scenario, and it’s not just that the film stars Adaptation performer Nicolas Cage. All of Charlie Kaufman’s films are ambitious narratives that revolve around a man who is in some way, be it major or minor, removed from the reality of the people around him, and who ends up caught up in a widespread event that is (usually) not of their own making or volition. In Adaptation, meek screenwriter Charlie ends up caught in a criminal enterprise as a result of simply trying to adapt a non-fiction book into a workable film adaptation; in Anomalisa, Michael Stone’s apparent mental disorder causes him to see all faces as identical, and he gets swept up in a nightmare scenario of bureaucratic intrigue; in Synecdoche, New York, Caden Cotard’s creation of a nesting doll of reality takes on a life of its own and he is swept away inside of it. All of his works are also about a person being forced into a situation that is, to their mind, completely unfair, and their myopic reactions to it exacerbate the situation. It seems unfair to Joel in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind that Clementine has intentionally lost her memories of him, so he pursues the same avenue to have her removed from his thoughts; it seems unfair to Philip Seymour Hoffman’s character in Synecdoche that his wife has left him and taken their daughter with her, and his imaginings of the worst possible outcomes of that situation contribute to his declining health; the unfairness of a life of unfulfilled dreams causes the janitor character in I’m Thinking of Ending Things to fantasize a completely different life, which has its own horrors. 

Paul Matthews (Nicolas Cage) is, like many of the Kaufman protagonists listed above, a man with a fairly decent life, including a tenured position at a small college. He and his wife Janet (Julianne Nicholson) have a pleasant enough life, living in her spacious childhood home with their teen daughters, elder typical teen Hannah (Jessica Clement) and younger Sophie (Lily Bird). Paul isn’t a bad person, but he is hapless and overly invested in other people’s perception of him. The film opens in Sophie’s dream, where objects begin falling from the sky, and although she calls out to the Paul in her dream for help, he doesn’t react; when she tells her parents about the dream the next morning, Paul gets hung up on the fact that the dreamed version of himself was apathetic to his daughter’s concerns and worries about what his daughter thinks of him. On campus, he’s too focused on his students talking about him behind his back. He has the respect of his school’s administrator (Tim Meadows), but he yearns for acknowledgement from his former academic colleague Richard (Dylan Baker), who is known for hosting fabulous dinner parties for other people he considers elite. This seems terribly unfair to him, even though there are actions he could take to better himself. Instead of humiliating himself by pleading for a co-author credit from a different former colleague on a subject he claims to have conceived of first, he could stop talking about “thinking about writing a book” and actually do some of that research and writing himself. 

Despite his relative anonymity, Paul finds himself a sudden subject of internet virality. After running into an old girlfriend (Marnie McPhail) after a play, she tells him that she has been dreaming about him and asks if she can blog about the experience. In doing so, she links to his Facebook page, which results in a huge influx of notifications from hundreds, then thousands of others, all who have seen Paul in their dreams; Paul is flustered that he seems to be a passive observer in all of these scenarios. Suddenly flush with positive attention, Paul attempts to leverage this into a book deal, and signs up with a P.R. firm headed by the neurotic Trent (Michael Cera) and Mary (Kate Berlant), who swings back and forth between sycophantic and self-absorbed. In so doing, he meets assistant Molly (Dylan Gelula), who leads him to realize that doing nothing in people’s dreams is actually the best case scenario here. The general public turns on him for reasons I won’t spoil, and all of it is out of his hands. 

I couldn’t have imagined that I would reference the 2007 novel Mon Cœur à l’étroit (My Heart Hemmed In) by Marie NDiaye in a single review this year, let alone two. In writing about Beau is Afraid, I talked about how the protagonist of the novel awoke one morning to learn that all of her neighbors despised her, or perhaps that they suddenly all despise her at once, after years of apparent tolerance. Like her, Paul is a teacher here, and although the reason for the sudden change of heart among her peers results in not just the loss of academic prestige, but its conversion into outright hostility. Although the reason that the narrator of Hemmed is ostracized is less explicit than in Scenario, the reasons are nevertheless just as ethereal, and the horror comes from the way that something over which one has no control can completely destroy their life. Hemmed never mines that field for comedy like Scenario does, but they exist in the same rhetorical space nonetheless, wherein a fairly well-liked educator becomes a pariah because of circumstances in which they have no say. 

There’s a deft handling of the metaphor of fame in Dream Scenario that I really enjoyed. Like many people who achieve a modicum of viral fame, he didn’t do anything to make himself the center of attention, at least initially. His sudden appearance in people’s dreams has no explanation and isn’t the result of anything that he has done. Although he initially appears in the dreams of people who know him like his daughter and students, he only becomes known to the public because of his ex-girlfriend’s blog post, when strangers become aware that the man that they are seeing in their dreams is a real person. Like all internet fame, however, it’s fleeting, and his attempts to leverage it into achieving his actual desires are stunted when his dream persona moves from being an apathetic bystander in their dreams to an active participant and, eventually, a source of terror, all of it once again having nothing to do with anything that Paul himself has done. Sure, he’s hapless and selfish, but no more so than the average person, and it’s hard to blame him for wanting to use this unwanted stardom to get something that he actually wants. Although he is pathetic, letting his ego get the best of him, there’s nothing malicious about anything that he does, which makes his sudden turn into Twitter’s villain more pitiable; his poorly received, self-serving online apology makes things worse (as they often do, just look at Colleen Ballinger), but unlike a lot of the internet celebs whose attempted apologies are dissected to hell and back for their insincerity, Paul actually didn’t do anything to deserve his backlash. 

The film ends on an ambiguous and bittersweet note, which reflects the film’s slow turn from being a comedy about an upper middle class nobody to a horror story about being a public figure with no control over his perception. There are still comedic moments as the final minutes approach, including a scene wherein Cage goes full-camp in a photoshoot with a bladed gauntlet that is similar to but legally distinct from Freddy Krueger’s, as well as a visual call back to an earlier discussion of Paul’s Halloween costume from a few years prior, but it ends without setting everything in Paul’s reality back to where it was before, ultimately making it the kind of somber movie that so often plays so well during this time of year. 

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

The Killer (2023)

/ swampflix / 2 Comments

I would consider myself a David Fincher fan. I’ve long been a defender of Alien³, Se7en is a classic, and The Game is underrated. Although Fight Club is hyped to hell and back by the worst kind of people is not a negative for the film itself, in my opinion, because I think that Fincher is in on the joke that a lot of the film’s fanbase seems to have misunderstood. I also think that’s the case in his most recent work, The Killer, although several of the reviews I’ve read so far do not seem to agree. 

Michael Fassbender is The Killer, an assassin whose internal monologue is right up there with Christian Bale’s as Patrick Bateman or Ewan McGregor’s in Trainspotting, as he details the comings and goings in his day as he waits in an abandoned WeWork location in Paris for the right opportunity to slay a high-profile target. This includes a lot of unnecessary recitation of statistics about the world’s population, how his job as a professional killer has very little effect on these numbers and is therefore (to his mind) irrelevant, and how the clandestine nature of his work requires him to maintain the delicate balance between being intermittent garishness (because tourists are ignored in most big cities) and boringly invisible. In many ways, he’s not that different from Fincher’s previous unnamed protagonist in Fight Club, in that he is a disaffected man who believes he’s managed to concentrate all of life’s idiosyncrasies down into a series of mantras, but who isn’t really as smart, clever, or effective as he thinks he is. 

I watched the recent Sandman adaptation from Netflix with some trepidation, especially as it approached the adaptation of one of my favorite issues, “Men of Good Fortune.” That story comments about the constancy of human life despite the passage of what we perceive to be great periods of time in a way that I have always loved: when Dream enters a tavern in 1389, there are several overlapping, unattributed dialogue balloons that reveal little pieces of information about the people and the times in which they live: the “spirit of the working man” having died with the executed leaders of the Peasants’ Revolt, complaints about the mediocre restaurant fare and poll taxes, the need for the return of “law and order,” and how the general state of things means “the end of the world is soon.” When he returns to that same tavern in 1989, despite the change in the decor and the intervening centuries, the same talk is happening: “There’s going to be a revolution [over] Thatcher’s bloody poll tax,” “the labour movement died with the miners’ strike,” “no respect for law and order,” and, of course, “all the signs are there in the Bible[;] it’ll be the end of the world very soon.” There’s been so much superhero saturation in the last decade and a half, without much consideration of the fact that comic books and film/TV are very different media forms. That overlapping of dialogue balloons is something that the show tried to emulate but couldn’t capture.

When I was first getting into comics as a teenager, decompression comics were all the rage, as comics attempted to emulate filmic narrative, and as films continue to adapt and echo comics, some of the seams are showing. I didn’t know that this was based on a graphic novel before starting the movie, but as soon as a credit popped up at the film’s opening which stated that it was “based on The Killer by Alexis ‘Matz’ Nolent [and] Illustrated by Luc Jacamon,” I had an inkling of what I was in for, and it did not disappoint. While Fassbender delivered his character’s long internal monologue, I felt like I could see exactly how it would play out on the page. The Killer’s monologue in a series of rectangular boxes, with his repeated mantras of “Stick to the plan. Anticipate, don’t improvise” (which appears five times) and “Fight only the battle you’re paid to fight” (four times) broken out as their own individual pieces of the monologue, trailing down the page. And in my mind’s eye, it totally worked, that decompression of the monologue over a series of still images as The Killer does his dirty work, presumably only repeating it to himself once per issue/chapter as he performs that segment’s murder. But when repeated like this over and over again in a film, its effect seems more silly than anything else. If you’ve ever read a collection of old Chris Claremont X-Men titles from the 80s and 90s, you’ll know what I’m talking about—it feels like every issue contains Wolverine repeating to himself that “[he’s] the best there is at what [he] do[es] … and what [he] do[es] isn’t very pretty,” and either Jean or Scott explaining their “psychic rapport,” or Cannonball expositing his powers by declaring “Ah’m nigh invulnerable when ah’m blasting!” If you’re only getting that month’s issue and reading it, then waiting until the next month, these things don’t stand out as much, but when you’re reading them all at once, it’s not only noticeable, but intrusive. That feels like it’s happening here in The Killer, but it somehow still manages to work in Fincher’s hands because he manages to make that repetition feel more like an indictment of the character and his ego, at least in my reading of the film. 

The Killer is often shown to be less adept at his profession than his internal monologue would imply, and the film’s humor (to me) lies in the irony between how good said Killer thinks that he is and his multiple bumbling failures. The whole thing feels like an indictment of the manosphere way of thinking; every few weeks, some guy will post something online like “My wife freaked out that I didn’t check my blindspots before changing lanes, and I explained to her that I have kept precise track of every single other vehicle on the interstate for the last hour,” and a bunch of other dudes will post “Hell yeah, brother” and their own stupid variation on “I too inflate my ego by LARPing as a hypervigilant hero.” The Killer feels like one of these guys, and it’s not lost on me that Fincher’s most famous work, the one that so many people fundamentally misunderstand, is one of the pieces of media that is a favorite of exactly this kind of person; this guy saw Fight Club and loved it for all the stupidest reasons. It’s not an out-and-out comedy; this isn’t the kind of movie where the Killer completes a monologue about how badass he is after field stripping and rebuilding a rifle only for a spring to pop out of somewhere accompanied by a sound effect. It is a movie, however, where the first twenty minutes are spent entirely in the head of our lead as he watches for his opportunity to take his shot while sharing his exercise and dietary regimen like it’s the opening of American Psycho, right down to listing the number of McDonald’s restaurants in France before reciting the protein content of his meals. And, after all of that … he doesn’t get the shot, instead killing the woman that his target is entertaining. He recites to himself that he must “Forbid empathy” as “Empathy is weakness,” but from the second chapter of the movie onward, his entire motivation is revenge because his girlfriend got roughed up because he screwed up his assignment (which he fouled up by … killing his target’s lover, a symmetry that he never recognizes or acknowledges because, again, he’s just not as smart as he thinks he is). Like a lot of manosphere grifters, he pretends that he has no emotions at all, but he only listens to his “work” playlists, and they’re all just The Smiths, which is the saddest of sadboy music ever committed to audiotape. 

I’ve really only focused on that first chapter for the most part. Chapter 2 features The Killer’s flight from Paris and return to his home in the Dominican Republic to find his home ransacked before tracking down his injured girlfriend to the hospital and gathering information about the people who were sent to kill him. Chapter 3 takes place in New Orleans, where The Killer was first recruited and where his handler lives (although not for long), as well as his steps to prepare for his revenge and further track down the people who tried to kill his girlfriend, and in Chapters 4 and 5 he travels to Florida and then New York to take out these two killers, one called the Brute and the other known as the Expert (Tilda Swinton). Finally, in Chapter 6, he confronts the man who contracted him in the first place. Through all of this, he experiences good luck much more than he demonstrates cleverness; it may make sense that European airline employees don’t find his sitcom aliases (which include Archie Bunker from All in the Family, Lou Grant from The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and both Felix and Oscar from The Odd Couple) unusual, but once he’s back in The States, someone should at least make a joke about it. Most of the things that he manages to accomplish are things that just about anyone with access to the internet can do (like cloning a key card) or rely on other people to respond amicably to him (the garage owner who lets him use the washroom as if it were a public restroom, the taxi dispatcher allowing him entry after closing, the taxi driver agreeing to drive him despite the presence of other cabs and said driver’s impending smoke break), which is impossible to predict. 

The Killer sails through all of these interactions with ease and attributes it to his skill, but we rarely see anything that requires any actual skills. After missing that first shot, he does kill everyone else who crosses his path, but does so either by shooting from point blank range and thus making it impossible to miss, or breaking a middle-aged woman’s neck and pushing her down a flight of stairs, either of which are manageable feats of strength or skill for most able-bodied adults. His internal monologue frequently dips into smug assurances to an invisible audience that he knows what he’s doing by, for instance, predicting just how long it should take a person of a certain age and fitness to die from a particular attack, only to be instantly proven wrong when his victim doesn’t make it past thirty seconds. None of this ever makes The Killer question his self-assurance about how good he is at what he does, and while that’s a very annoying trait in the participants in the alpha male subculture that I feel is the target of the film’s mockery, it makes for a kind of tragicomic character that I found sufficiently amusing, if not precisely comedic. The most impressive thing that he does is fight off a much taller opponent, which relies more on his ability to take a beating than the memorization of little Snapple trivia facts. . 

What is funny about this is that, at least in my interpretation of the text, Fincher has made another movie that will see its proponents divided starkly along the lines of those who think that the machismo that the film is parodying is something to be unironically emulated and those who will read it as a satire of exactly that kind of person. It’s well-made and well-executed, but it honestly feels more like a mini-series than anything else, especially with its perfectly divided “chapters,” which I have no doubt is meant to invoke the nature of comic book storytelling if it isn’t directly lifted from the source material. Each one has something going for it, but taken altogether, the whole thing feels less than the sum of its parts, like when you binge a TV program and are suddenly taken aback at having reached the ending so suddenly and so quickly and are annoyed at yourself for not having savored the experience more. When it comes to staying power, it will likely find itself more in the lukewarm waters alongside Panic Room rather than Gone Girl, but it’s nonetheless solid, entertaining, and tongue-in-cheek. 

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond