Scream (1996)

The journey to success is not always linear. Even when granted a major opportunity, it often comes with strings attached. In the film industry, there are questions of financial backing, artistic integrity, and the recognition each member of the project deserves. The eponymous Michael Solace is aligned with many of his indie filmmaking peers when he says, “I don’t want to be a sellout”.

This sentiment is repeated multiple times throughout Michael Solace, a short film written by Kris Salvi and directed by Chris Esper. Throughout the 14 minute runtime, Michael debates whether to sell his screenplay to Mr. Blanc, a rich benefactor who has a habit of buying out screenwriters and changing their work entirely before it makes it to the screen. The decision riddles him with anxiety, sending him into a spiral where he equates selling his script to selling his soul.

The film blends reality and the supernatural world together, leaving the viewer unsure of what’s real and what’s merely a figment of Michael’s agitated imagination. An assistant named Shadowman has eyes that go black, and as he drives Michael into a forest they’re met by men in Scream masks made of written words. It’s eerie, and I especially love the way Michael’s agent, Monica (Diana Porter), goes from kind and collected to a vampire wielding the writer’s dreaded red pen.

Even before the supernatural elements kick in, this is clearly a horror. Justin Thibault plays Michael Solace as the type of guy who scratches at his collar and pays more attention to the clinking of cups on the table than the conversation at hand. He’s overwhelmed by his producer interviews and wants better for what he considers his “best work” yet. It’s an anxiety-driven nightmare that’s bolstered by sound mixing that makes the background noise louder than the conversations and a camera that swings violently, quick to jump to whatever new attention-grabbing thing there is to see.

When it comes the horror genre, I am VERY hard to please or impress, much less scare. Coming from a current mindset of appreciation for chilling, unsettling, tension-inducing efforts such as "Hereditary", "The Conjuring" (ONLY the first one to date, mind you), "Lights Out", "The Babadook", "Midsommar", "Talk To Me", "Oddity", "Bring Her Back", and the like, this Summer sequel offered low expectations for me other than to end up providing what I more so anticipated...a good laugh.

"If movies are the dreams of the mass culture... horror movies are the nightmares"-Stephen King

This simple question causes a lot of (sometimes dishonest) debate. While it is not reasonable to expect everyone to have film genre theory under their metaphorical belt, it is still frustrating to hear people spout problematic criteria that falls apart in microseconds under the most basic scrutiny. I'll be critiquing some of the more nonsensical takes before ending with a working definition. Horror filmmaking is rooted in stories, folk tales, tall tales, and any other storytelling intended to scare, shock, and thrill listeners. It is meant to repulse us, often with a central villain, monster, or threat that is often a reflection of the fears being experienced by society at the time. This person or creature is the monstrous other, a term that refers to someone that is feared because they are different or misunderstood. The Horror genre changes because society changes.

Most of us are very familiar with or even nostalgic about Western horror movies. After all, everyone has heard about films like Scream, The Ring, Halloween, The Shining, and so many more their entire lives. However, you may be surprised to find out that quite a few of your favorites are actually influenced by or even remakes of Asian cinema! Yes, Asia is actually quite a large hub for amazing horror films even to this day, some people just never notice! Well, I'm here to change that. It's time to not let those words at the bottom of the screen scare you but instead be scared by some of the best horror you never knew about.

Premise: Seven years after the death of his wife, CEO Aoyama is invited to sit in on auditions for actresses. Yamazaki Asami catches his eye, a striking young woman with ballet training. However, Aoyama soon realizes she is not as reserved as he first thought.

That was the longest Black Mirror episode ever. 

Don’t Worry Darling’s media circus was definitely attention-getting, drawing in everyone online like moths to a flame. However, the movie itself isn’t quite as engaging. Don't Worry Darling follows 1950s housewife Alice (Florence Pugh) as she discovers that her perfect world and her perfect husband, Jack (Harry Styles), aren’t what they seem. The highlights of this film were the big twist reveal and the performances from Florence Pugh, Chris Pine, and Gemma Chan. The coloring is bright and eye-catching, as are the costumes and makeup. The idea at the heart of the screenplay is strong, but the writing and directing falter in executing it. And while the other actors give amazing performances, it becomes increasingly clear over the course of the movie that Harry Styles can’t pull his weight. Spoilers ahead.

Let’s get into the Harry Styles dilemma first, since he is undoubtedly one of the biggest selling points for this movie. Styles, unfortunately, flounders in a sea of A-list actors. In the first half of the movie, he does well playing the charismatic husband. But it’s the moments when the reality’s cracks begin to show, when the true darker nature of the real “Jack” is supposed to be slipping through, that he fails to deliver the nuances the character requires. Maybe if he had been acting opposite actors more of his caliber, but the thing is, he’s not. Styles is thrown in the deep end, surrounded by stars whose acting talent totally outshines him, making his performance come off worse while you’re watching than it may actually be. 

At one point in my theater, we all began to laugh at him. For what, exactly, I can’t say. It happened when he’s screaming in the car after Alice has been taken, one of the most emotionally intense scenes in the movie (or at least, it’s supposed to be). And yet, there’s something about Styles that makes his attempts at acting out any darker emotion beyond basic lighthearted charm in vain. 

Shadow and Bones is based on the book trilogy of the same name by author Leigh Bardugo, an Israeli-American author. The series was noted for presumably changing protagonist Alina Starkov's race to half Shu - paralleling actress Jessie Mei Li who is half Chinese half Caucasian. In the books, she was just depicted as a “pale girl”. Showrunner Eric Heisserer and author Bardugo explained the reason for this supposed change “as an intentional way to highlight Alina's outsider status, without having to over-explain things with dialogue. He figured that racism would be universally recognized, and more visual.” Wow, way to use the race card for storyline context and minimizing exposition. Just kidding. I’m not complaining. In fact, I’m pretty thrilled with the decision. I’m also relieved with the creator’s clear reasoning and articulation. The fact that Alina was played by a half Chinese girl was emotionally powerful for me – and I would guess for many Chinese Americans and Asian Americans - given all the anti-Chinese sentiment that has been so prevalent in the American subconscious and attitude, especially throughout the last year’s global pandemic and rhetoric.

TW: Sexual Assault & Misogny // Spoilers Ahead

The height of subversive horror cinema is Jennifer’s Body. No, I will never budge on that. Yes, Cabin in The Woods is funny, Scream is very well made, and the Scary Movie franchise is …. there. But nothing is quite as satisfying as watching the teenage succubus that is Jennifer Check rip apart boys. In the post #metoo era where the industry is far from changed, watching revenge flicks like these is probably one of the most cathartic experiences due to the slow-moving progress being made. This 2009 film was so far ahead of its time and continues to be the ultimate metaphor, both on and off the screen, for revenge against misogynistic Hollywood. Megan Fox, the perfect casting choice, leads the film as Jennifer — whose body she reclaims power over after an assault by using it to seduce the men in the small town of Devil’s Kettle to their deaths. She feeds on their frightened, vulnerable (and rather unintelligent) souls and sustains her good looks through this. Her best friend, Needy Lesnicki (Amanda Seyfried), is caught in between her moral reservations about her BFF’s murder spree and grappling with her own “loyalty” toward Jennifer (hint: it's not just gal-pal platonic-ness). The film examines so many themes concerning romantic leanings in female “friendships,” sexual assault, and female empowerment all without falling victim to the male gaze or objectifying its stars. At its core, it's a fulfilling tale of revenge upon the perpetrators of misogyny and about young women finding their own justice in a world that is aimed against them.

The cast and crew being primarily made up of women is one of the reasons the film feels much more authentic and less exploitative than other revenge films such as I Spit On Your Grave. Director Karyn Kusama takes so much care in keeping the film from turning into torture porn (like the previously mentioned film) and instead focuses on the evolution of Jennifer and Needy. Needy goes through the classic She’s All That nerdy-to-cute transformation but also learns how to stand up for herself and use the succubus powers she later receives for good. Even Jennifer changes to the audience from seemingly together it-girl to the revealed abusive, power-hungry friend that she’s been all along — now heightened in her new supernatural form. Essentially, these women are given complexity that does not revolve around retaining their femininity. It’s about survival and testing the bounds of their tumultuous but co-dependent relationship. Standard horror films with female protagonists, usually written by men, make women’s unhinged struggles revolve around puberty and/or a need for male validation. This allegory examines a nuanced struggle in female friendships that can often lead to toxic codependency and the blurring of romantic and platonic feelings. Jennifer’s Body is the perfect example of why more diverse voices are needed in horror to give some truth to the framework of metaphorical storytelling that is central to horror films (I’m looking at you Midsommar). I mean, can you imagine Get Out if Jordan Peele was white?

In August of 2020, Rose McGowan (Jawbreaker, Planet Terror) accused director Alexander Payne (Election, Sideways) of sexual misconduct when she was a fifteen-year-old aspiring actress. McGowan has been outspoken about the “cult” of Hollywood — the power dynamic and hidden atrocities that come with it. Unless you have been avoiding all social media and news outlets for the past three years, you know that McGowan was one of the first and most prominent victims to speak out against Harvey Weinstein. Facing backlash and bombarded with questions like “Why didn’t you make it public earlier?” or “Why did you continue to work for him?” and so on, McGowan released a four-part documentary, Citizen Rose, as a means of explaining herself once and for all.

This series was filmed in 2017, during the same time that the New Yorker article by Ronan Farrow was published, beginning the outing of Harvey Weinstein, who McGowan refers to as the “monster”. In 1997, just after starring in Scream, a 23-year-old McGowan was raped by the Hollywood producer. For the next 20 years, McGowan lived with this (widely known) secret.

Citizen Rose deals with the aftermath of “coming out” as a victim. The importance of this series is the raw pain and conflict behind a woman speaking out against power. There are parts of Citizen Rose which weren’t my personal taste, but the themes of the series are new and refreshing. Especially in film and television, we often see the act of violence itself, but rarely are we given the perspective of the victim after the fact. Usually, the focus is on the criminal justice system, or even the effect on the accused, but rarely the trauma and pain of the victim for years after the event.

McGowan’s story is a textbook example of gaslighting. McGowan was ignored, vilified, and called crazy because of these accusations. When the Farrow article came out, and people understood that she was telling the truth the whole time, she then had to deal with the aftermath of being gaslit for so long. We see her navigate the initial trauma, along with the continued trauma produced by the public. While I adore Ronan Farrow as an investigator and writer, it is heartbreaking that the criminal justice system and the public needed him to “verify” the accounts of McGowan and the other women, who were ignored for so long. And people still wonder why women, and victims of sexual assault, don’t speak out.