I Think We’re Alone Now (2008)

tifanny

fourstar

Obsession with celebrities is something we have all experienced. Whether it’s scribbling “Mrs. Jonathan Taylor Thomas” on every inch of a notebook or writing absurd fan fictions about the members of One Direction, we have all participated in some form of celebrity obsession. But what happens when a celebrity obsession is taken to the extreme? Sean Donnelly’s 2008 documentary I Think We’re Alone Now focuses on two individuals that have an excessive obsession with Tiffany. Yes, Tiffany, the teen pop sensation from the 1980s. Jeff Turner (age 50) and Kelly McCormick (age 35) are both very bizarre individuals that share an unconditional love for Tiffany. She is more than a fantasy girlfriend or celebrity crush; she is their God. Tiffany ultimately consumes their lives.

When I first watched this documentary, I couldn’t help but find humor in the quirky lives of these two super fans. Turner’s peculiar laugh while he explains how Tiffany previously placed a restraining order on him made me chuckle. McCormick’s room filled with pictures of Tiffany and handwritten signs professing love to her brought out many deep belly laughs. I quickly became obsessed with this documentary about obsession and forced many people to watch it with me. It wasn’t until I watched the documentary for the fifth time that I started to notice something beyond the film’s humor.

I saw something more in Turner and McCormick than just two twisted, disturbing stalkers. I saw two lonely, misunderstood adults that are filled with passion and no one to share it with. What I love the most about them is their honesty. They say exactly what is on their minds, whether its reality or part of the fantasy world they created. There’s no sense of embarrassment or shame when either super fan elaborates on their Tiffany obsession. There are a few scenes with Turner and his emotionally abusive stepfather that were absolutely heartbreaking. He doesn’t have many close friends and one can assume he has a very unsupportive family that doesn’t give him the love and attention he deserves. McCormick is intersex and explains the struggles and emotional pain she has endured throughout her life, and much like Turner, she doesn’t have many friends or family members in her life. There is such a huge lack of love and understanding for both Turner and McCormick, and they believe Tiffany is their hero, an Aphrodite that serves as their guardian and protector giving them the strength to go on.

All in all I Think We’re Alone Now was the most uncomfortable 61 minutes that I’ve ever experienced. My cheeks were so sore from constantly cringing, and I caught myself constantly covering my face with my hands and peeking through the cracks of my fingers. That’s why I love this documentary so much. I commend Donnelly on his method of filming this documentary because it gives viewers the ability to be a fly on the wall in the lives of these two obsessive super fans. Turner and McCormick give a much deeper meaning to Tiffany’s one-hit wonder.

-Britnee Lombas

Scooby-Doo (2002)

scooby-doo

three star

EPSON MFP image

The idea of a live-action Scooby-Doo movie was unappealing enough to put me off for over a decade. There was just no way I could imagine the product as anything but hokey & outdated. The truth wasn’t that far off. The jokes in the 2002 Scooby-Doo were cheap & hokey, but no more cheap & hokey than its Hanna-Barbera source material. Adding an air of sophistication to a cartoon about a half-talking dog who solves mysteries with his stoner owner/bro would surely be a misstep. No, to do it right, you’d have to include some stunt cameos (including a bizarrely intimate moment with the band Sugar Ray), some “you meddling kids” call-backs and, of course, a multiple-scene fart gag. Something for the parents, something for the kids.

It was the curious detail of James Gunn’s screenplay credit that eventually brought me around on the idea. How could the twisted mind behind Slither and Tromeo & Juliet be responsible for a franchise so seemingly innocuous? The answer, obviously, is that Scooby-Doo actually has some sharp teeth hidden in its smiling jowls. Among the Sugar Rays & fart gags, Gunn worked in some subversive humor about things like Fred’s masculine vanity, murderous monsters, gender swapping, and Shaggy’s love of Mary Jane (a character whose name is winked at you too hard to ignore even if you wanted to). It’s not like this line of writer’s room mischief (including the drug culture references) wasn’t present in the hippie-era Scooby cartoons. It was there. Gunn just has a clever way of updating that rebellious spirit with just enough snark & meta-commentary to make it feel modern without undermining his screenplay’s reverence for the source material. It’s that balance of perverse pranks & childlike exuberance that Gunn brought to last year’s Guardians of the Galaxy, as opposed to the unbridled sadism he infused in projects like Super & 2004’s Dawn of the Dead remake. Scooby-Doo is far from James Gunn’s most personal work, but it’s easy to find his personality in it.

The only crippling flaw I can find in this (mercifully short) trifle is the shoddy CGI on the monsters & Scooby himself, which seems like an important detail to nail. Otherwise, it exceeded most expectations, especially in the 90s/00s flashback cast. Sarah Michelle Gellar, Freddy Prinze Jr, Linda Cardenelli, and Matthew Lillard were kinda perfect as the Mystery Inc. crew. Lillard’s Shaggy was so perfect, in fact, that he still provides the voice for the character’s current animated incarnation. Unfortunately, bringing back the same cast (with welcome additions Peter Boyle & Alicia Silverstone) and James Gunn’s pen for 2004’s Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed failed to overcome the sequel law of diminishing returns. Monsters Unleashed boasts the same brand of hokey fun as its predecessor, but with the sharp teeth & personality removed. It’s the bland paycheck project I expected when I read James Gunn’s screenplay credit on the original. Instead I was treated to some great, dumb, mischievous fun. I shouldn’t have waited twelve years for that treat.

-Brandon Ledet

Triangle (2009)

triangle fourstar

A horror film about geometry’s deadliest shape. Beware of its sharp points! Just kidding. Triangle’s title is as misleading as anything else in the film. Reasonably, an audience would assume that a horror film titled Triangle that features a shipwrecked yacht would be about The Bermuda Triangle phenomenon. When the destroyed yacht’s former passengers board a mysterious ocean liner and are hunted down by a masked killer, the natural assumption would be that the crazed killer is a ghost and the ocean liner too was sunk by The Bermuda Triangle’s bloodthirsty, time-warping ways. Wrong. Triangle is merely the name of the doomed yacht and, unlike the yacht, the movie refuses to be pinned down so easily.

Part of Triangle’s fun is figuring out just where the plot is going. Your initial viewing will most likely be filled with nagging questions of just “What. Is. Happening. Here?” Familiar explanations of time-travel, ghosts, and the whole ordeal merely being a nightmare will all creep up. They will also prove false as the movie escalates from a slasher flick to a psychological horror to, most terrifying of all, a philosophical one. A lesser movie would never leave the haunted ocean liner and blame the movie’s supernatural plot on the aforementioned Bermuda Triangle, but it’s what happens after the ocean liner nightmare that makes it distinct.

After leaving the ocean liner, we return to the beginning. To the dialogue of the opening credits. Triangle is a cyclical film that relies on repetition you’d expect more from a poem or a song. It is certainly a genre film, not an Upstream Color, but its aims are nearly as psychedelic. Its protagonist, Jess, is tormented just as much by a murderous psychopath as she is by guilt and déjà vu. Her fellow victims make these themes explicit by asking her questions like “Is it guilt? Do you feel guilty?” and “Don’t you see this is all just in your head?” Jess stares blankly, dazed, and though it feels like she knows more than the audience & her fellow passengers, she follows the plot like she has no choice. She is destined to go down this cyclical path like a needle following the groove of a broken record. This too is made explicit when Jess discovers a phonograph playing a broken record.

Triangle is a screenwriter’s film. Its themes are laid bare. Its characters leave the actors little nuance to work with, serving mostly as basic archetypes. There’s a humor to these archetypes’ simplicity, with the most hilarious examples being a two-way tie between the hot, dumb runaway teen stud deck boy and the rich & snooty WASP. Unlike with typical horror films, this artificiality is intentional, raising the question “Do these people even exist?” That unnaturalness is emphasized by multiple scenes set in the ocean liner’s on-board theater. Again, the writing leans more toward the explicit than the subtle, something that serves the horror genre well. Although it boasts a convoluted, supernatural plot that could easily be left open-ended and up for interpretation, the movie bends over backwards to answer all questions satisfactorily. There are multiple long-form YouTube videos “explaining” the story, but they’re all ultimately unnecessary. Triangle has its own set logic & rules, all explained within the film.

You can tell writer/director Christopher Smith had fun constructing this narrative. He enhances slasher film tropes by providing his masked murderer long-term goals, a reason for killing beyond petty revenge or morality. Its looping, cyclical story structure has its own supernatural reasoning & purpose. Because of its cyclical nature the film benefits from multiple viewings. The dialogue in the opening domestic scene becomes more significant over time, changes meaning. There’s a reason characters reference the myth of Sisyphus more than once. There’s a reason the story doesn’t end with Jess surviving the Hell of the ocean liner killings, but instead trudges on. Triangle’s Hell is constantly repeating, yet only temporary. Watching the movie is a puzzling, frightening and at times goofy experience you may find yourself compelled to relive, like a needle following the groove of a broken record.

-Brandon Ledet

Gentlemen Broncos (2009)

Gentlemen Broncos

fourstar

Like most movies championed as cult classics, Gentlemen Broncos never stood a chance. Upon an initial onslaught of abysmal reviews, the movie was yanked from its national theatrical release and cast to the damned life of a straight-to-DVD comedy. Unfortunately, it probably will never have its chance as a cult classic either. To help spread its name, I’ve purchased the DVD every time I’ve seen it for less than $5, more often than you’d expect. What I’ve discovered is that comedies are hard to defend. A joke doesn’t improve upon explanation. In particular, the movie’s gross-out gags require a physical reaction to work. For instance, when a pet snake releases diarrhea on an unflinching guardian angel, you either laugh or you don’t. I’ve played this movie for many friends in the past five years and their reactions to that scene understandably vary. Instead of defending the movie’s baser elements, though, I’d like to praise its more artistic ambitions. Gentlemen Broncos is the coming-of-age story of a young artist struggling with the loss of his father, the compromise of art vs. commerce, and his hormonal teen desires. Even more so, it’s about how an artist’s (especially a writer’s) vision can be tainted once it is purchased. Gentlemen Broncos is a movie about movies, art about art. If that sounds lofty for a Jerusha & Jared Hess film, it’s because it’s their most personal & ambitious work to date. Their first two films, Napoleon Dynamite & Nacho Libre may share some stylistic characteristics with Gentlemen Broncos, but they also suffer from a distinct personal detachment and lack of ambition that make them inferior by comparison.

Approximating the visual and comedic style of the Hess duo, I’d say they’re combining the meticulous fussiness of Wes Anderson with the juvenile depravity of the Farrelly Brothers. If when you were watching The Grand Budapest Hotel you didn’t pause and wish it were more like Movie 43, you’re not alone. Rationally, the two styles shouldn’t co-exist. Movie 43 actually shouldn’t exist at all, but that’s another matter. What this unlikely stylistic mash-up accomplishes in Gentlemen Broncos, though, is a more accurate depiction of childhood than Wes Anderson’s nostalgia-driven films brilliantly achieve in the abstract. Moonrise Kingdom & Rushmore make me wistful about boyhood, but doesn’t the picture seem incomplete without fart jokes and vomit? Gentlemen Broncos depicts a complete childhood, farts and all. While there are no farts proper depicted on screen, we’re instead treated to a testicle-eating bobcat, a puke-filled kiss, poisonous poo darts, yeast jokes, the aforementioned diarrheal snake and, perhaps worst of all, actor Hector Jimenez’s awful mouth. It would be a fool’s errand to contend that Gentlemen Broncos is a better coming-of-age film about a precocious teen artist than Rushmore, but the Farrelly Brothers brand of juvenile bathroom humor does help round out a more honest depiction in some ways. Either that, or I was just an exceptionally disgusting child.

What Gentlemen Broncos does successfully mimic from Wes Anderson’s aesthetic is the dollhouse-like, controlling obsessiveness of a child’s imagination. The story’s protagonist, Benjamin, is an aspiring science fiction writer, a true nerd. Not only does he organize the novels he’s written in self-decorated binders (stored neatly in a box under his bed, of course) but he also builds doll-scale sets for his favorite scenes. He designs and wears merchandise celebrating his own work. When he’s bummed at a pivotal point in the film, he sits at the edge of his bed reading his most recent triumph, a novel titled Yeast Lords, to himself as a means of exhibiting control. The main conflict of Gentlemen Broncos is how uneasy Benjamin becomes as he loses control over his work. The escapism he’s created for himself in Yeast Lords is compromised in two bastardized versions of his vision, a world he has distinctly established in his own mind. Twisting the knife, the bastardized versions of Yeast Lords are perpetrated upon Benjamin by his only friends and his biggest hero.

Benjamin’s hero is Dr. Ronald Chevalier, a prolific science fiction writer who, unbeknownst to Benjamin, produced his portfolio of pulp novels for the cash, not for the love of art. He betrays Benjamin by plagiarizing Yeast Lords and, worst yet, completely undermines the original vision by changing the names and stripping the main character of his hyper-masculinity. In Chevalier’s version, Brutus & Balzaak, the novel’s hero is a screaming queen Edgar Winter, played on the screen with expert flippancy by Sam Rockwell. Rockwell also plays the hyper-masculine version of the character, Bronco, in the original Yeast Lords. Bronco is an action-hero archetype meant to pay tribute to Benjamin’s dead father. Before he even discovers Chevalier’s betrayal, Benjamin is confronted with another watered-down version of his work. Having sold the rights to Yeast Lords to his two amateur filmmaker friends for a $500 postdated check, Benjamin becomes livid as minor changes are made to his dialogue and the image in his head doesn’t match the small-scale home movie shenanigans his friends are filming. When questioned as to why he wrote Yeast Lords in the first place, Benjamin confesses “I wanted to write a story for my dad. He died when I was young.” It’s easy to see why the integrity of Yeast Lords being compromised would break his heart. Benjamin foolishly asks Chevalier himself for advice regarding his loss of control over the Yeast Lords movie. He confesses, “The idea of someone bastardizing my work really freaks me out.” Chevalier responds, “Cash the check and enjoy the money.” His assertion that writers create for money, as means to make a living, may ring true with adults (especially with adults who write pulp novels for a living) , but it’s a crushing blow for an idealistic teenager. In that moment Benjamin receives an essential life lesson: never meet your idols. This goes doubly true if your idol serves as a replacement father figure.

Although Benjamin loses control of Yeast Lords to inferior imitations, Gentlemen Broncos expertly maintains control of all three versions. Benjamin, Chevalier, and amateur-director Lonnie all are afforded screen-time for their unique visions of the story, which run simultaneously with the main plot. This episodic storytelling recalls the structure of radio serials, comic books, or the old line of sci-fi novels published across multiple magazine issues. Instead of showing different versions of the same scenes, the Yeast Lords story is told from front to end through different lenses. The three versions are still available for comparison, but they resist becoming redundant and instead tell the sci-fi story as a scattered whole. The three versions only start to converge and become chaotic as Gentlemen Broncos’ main conflict comes to a head.

There is some real love for the genre in these scenes. The version of Yeast Lords that plays in Benjamin’s mind is the kind of sci-fi action epic that any dedicated fan of schlock would love to see actualized. Chevalier’s version is a much campier take and feels like an unusually flamboyant episode of the original Star Trek series. Lonnie’s version is thoroughly inept in every way, but exhibits a real love for filmmaking His backyard movies both call to mind the television series Home Movies (he’s made 83 films, “mostly trailers”) and the type of 8mm films directors like Steven Spielberg made in their youth, as described in the minor documentary Sci-Fi Boys. Yes, Lonnie’s films are terrible, but he feels compelled to make them and the quality isn’t that far below real life direct-to-VHS disasters like Redneck Zombies. This range of representations displays a real love and understanding of sci-fi schlock. Even though Chevalier’s camped up version is a blow to Benjamin’s artistic pride, it’s a joy for the audience and provides some of the movie’s funniest moments (Sam Rockwell just devours the scenery in that Edgar Winter getup). Lonnie’s movies are terrible but it’s hard not to share in Benjamin’s love interest, Tabatha’s enthusiasm when she gushes “This is going to be one of those movies that’s actually way better than the novel.”

This genuine love of trashy science fiction is evident as early as the opening credits, as is its love of the Wes Anderson aesthetic, Playing against Zager and the Evans’ novelty hit “In the Year 2525” the credits are worked into neatly arranged pulp sci-fi covers. Although certainly over the top, the artwork on these fake novels isn’t too far from reality. Instead of poking fun at the genre, it plays more like a celebration. I’d totally read any one of those books, and if I were still a teenage nerd they would be all I was reading. This love fest continues as a common thread throughout the film. The three combating versions of Yeast Lords are much sillier and parodistic than the opening credits, but they also have a true appreciation for trashy sci-fi as a subject. Gentlemen Broncos follows a long tradition of movies about movies, but it sharpens its view a little by narrowing in on a specific genre.

Of course, a loving tribute to trashy science fiction is only half the story. The movie also depicts the lives of the teenage nerds obsessed with it. The awkward anti-comedy that’s common to any young nerd’s social skills is laid on thick and early. The teen writer’s camp and multiple Dr. Chevalier book signings are particularly awkward. Even the camp counselors and Chevalier himself seem stuck in an embarrassing suspended adolescence, all exhibiting the social grace of a Tim & Eric episode. Teen nerds everywhere (and the adults they became) should be able to identify with the frustration of being overly-enthusiastic with garbage media no one else seems to care about. The counselors & Chevalier will make adult nerds question just how much of that enthusiasm sticks with you as the years go on and making money becomes necessary. Even though Chevalier claims he is writing purely for profit, you can easily detect the glee in his voice when nerds start nitpicking details in his novels. He geeks out with them and supplies readied answers. In addition to science fiction, these hormonal nerds are also sexually enthusiastic. Benjamin’s love interest, Tabatha, writes thinly veiled erotic fiction about horses & stable boys, sneaks into male dorms, and enjoys moist hand massages with her eyes firmly rolled in the back of her head. Benjamin writes lines like “Take me to your yeast factory” in his own work. Yeast Lords is a testicle-obsessed boy-gets-the-girl story way more forward and self-assured than its creator is in real life. It’s no surprise that Tabatha is the romantic instigator in the pair, since Benjamin is an unsure, passive coward off the page.

Having such a quiet, unassuming protagonist is a blessing in a comedy so dominated by over-the-top performances. Jennifer Coolidge is as ridiculous and loveable as always as Benjamin’s mother. The subplot in which she tries to launch a fashion line of homemade nightgowns not only mimics Benjamin’s own artistic struggle, but also provides such brilliant clothing designs as “Reachable Dream” and “Decent Beginnings.” Also never less than magnificent, Jermaine Clement absolutely kills it as Dr Chevalier. His one minute lecture about cyborg harpies art at the writing camp is one of the most perfect comedic performances I can think of in any film, and it’s quickly followed by a brilliant second lecture about how adding “-anous” or “-ainous” as a suffix on protagonists’ names instantly improves your writing. His performance alone elevates the material to cult-level significance. Sam Rockwell rounds out the film as the third scene-stealer, lisping and grunting his way through two polar opposite versions of the same character, Bronco & Brutus. There’s a reason Benjamin is so quiet and these three heavyweights never interact. The movie needed an unassuming straight man to anchor it down.

Benjamin is the bland everyman of awkward childhoods. Living in Utah, seemingly without an internet connection, he has been culturally left behind. Even his music is outdated. The movie’s soundtrack is mostly 80’s monster ballads, which is a stark contrast with Chevalier’s ever-present Bluetooth. The setting is oddly nostalgic, which along with the film’s gushing love of science fiction and its interest in socially awkward teens, affords the film its air of being a deeply personal work. To borrow a line from Sam Rockwell’s lisping Brutus, it’s as if Jerusha & Jared Hess put a “buttload of keepsakes” in a time capsule. It’s hard not to get swept up in the righteousness of Benjamin’s inevitable victory over Chevalier and Bronco’s victory over the yeast factories, because the movie’s heart really does outweigh any ironic detachment the audience can detect in the snake shit or in Hector Jimenez’s awful, awful mouth. I doubt the Hess duo has found any such satisfaction in their most recent work, an already-cancelled animated version of Napoleon Dynamite. I can only hope their ambitions & personal investment didn’t die with Gentlemen Broncos’ theatrical failure. It really pays off when you can tell they care.

-Brandon Ledet