Hamptons International Film Festival 2014: Photo Collection

The Hamptons International Film Festival took place this October. Film Syrup covered the festival as press, providing a few articles, so far including films, “The Duke of Burgundy” and “Force Majeure.”

Hamptons 2 Film Syrup Colleen Rowe Paige Skelly

Hamptons 4  Film Syrup Colleen Rowe Paige Skelly

Hamptons 3 Film Syrup Colleen Rowe Paige Skelly

Hamptons 5 Film Syrup Colleen Rowe Paige Skelly

Hamptons 6 Film Syrup Colleen Rowe Paige Skelly

Hamptons 8 Film Syrup Colleen Rowe Suzanne O'Regan

Hamptons 9 Film Syrup Colleen Rowe Suzanne O'Regan

Hamptons 10 Film Syrup Colleen Rowe Suzanne O'Regan

Photographer: Colleen Rowe

Photo Editors: Paige Skelly & Suzanne O’Regan

Five Underrated Horror Films from Some of Today’s Biggest Directors

By Jordan Danner

Autumn is making its return as the temperature drops and the leaves begin to fall. As soon as that first cold day in September arrives, I look forward to pumpkin everything, organizing all the frumpy sweaters I’m going to wear and of course, Halloween and all of the horror films that go with it. When I find I enjoy work from a director, I often try to see as many films in that director’s filmography, even though some may not be worth viewing. Watching an artist (I regress in some cases) is always fun to see as one finds their niche. After a recent subscription to Hulu Plus, I’ve begun to raid its Criterion Collection section (the one area of the service without commercials!), along with my own personal collection and started my marathon of horror films with a few overlooked works by some of today’s most critically acclaimed directors.

1. Sisters (Brian De Palma, 1973)

Before making films about organized crime such as Scarface (1983) and The Untouchables (1987), De Palma was beginning his career with a string of horror films and psychological thrillers. Sisters tells the story of French-Canadian model Danielle (Margot Kidder), whose separated conjoined twin Dominique is suspected of murder by her neighbor and local reporter, Grace(Jennifer Salt). Upon discovering no trace of a crime scene, Grace continues to investigate both the area and Danielle and Dominque’s past, resulting in a shocking twist.

As a member of the New Hollywood group of filmmakers, De Palma pays tribute to both Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) and Roman Polanski’s Repulsion (1965) in both story and aesthetics. Visually, the film is full of brilliant split-screen, point of view and iris shots. De Palma even managed to get Bernard Herrmann, one of Hitchcock’s favorite collaborators to compose the harrowing score. An interesting twins-themed double feature (all puns intended!) would be with David Cronenberg’s (a director I will also talk about in this list) Dead Ringers (1988).

2. Martin (George A. Romero, 1976)

When it comes to horror filmmakers, Romero is one of the most influential. Romero gave us the modern zombie film, complete with social commentary when he released Night of the Living Dead (1968), along with five more “living dead” films in a franchise over forty years. My fellow horror film buff friends and I often like to discuss our favorite films of Romero’s that do not involve zombies. The one film we often like to bring up is Martin, a criminally underrated film and an interesting take on the vampire genre.

Martin (John Amplas) appears to be a regular young man on the outside, except for the fact that he is convinced that he is a vampire. Martin doesn’t let his lack of fangs or a hypnotic gaze prevent him from feasting on blood, he just uses the aid of razor blades and sedatives to procure his next meal. After the death of his family, Martin is sent to live with his cousin (Christine Forrest) and grandfather (Lincoln Maazel), a Lithuanian immigrant and strict Catholic that believes Martin truly is a vampire. Martin works for his grandfather’s butcher shop, being threatened with a stake to the heart if he feeds on any of his customers.

Despite being a horror film, Martin is still full of dark humor as well. Martin’s grandfather tried to repel him with garlic and crosses, to which Martin is unaffected, telling him that magic is not real. Since being a young vampire is tough on your love life, Martin becomes a hit guest known as “The Count” on a radio show that he frequently calls to express his difficulties with women as a vampire. All in all, Martin is an overlooked, but worthwhile entry in Romero’s filmography, especially for those that are growing tired of the same vampire storylines.

3. Videodrome (David Cronenberg, 1983)

One of my all-time favorite horror/sci-fi directors, David Cronenberg created his own genre of horror known as “body horror”. Common themes in Cronenberg’s earlier films involve biotechnology and other invasive things taking over one’s body, often representing a physical manifestation of one’s psychological state. Nowadays, Cronenberg has toned down on the horror (though not the violence) a bit with films such as A History of Violence (2005) and Eastern Promises (2007).

Max Renn (James Woods) is the president of a television network that specializes in pornography and sensationalist programming, always on the lookout for the next big thing to shock his audiences. Max’s satellite operator Harlan (Peter Dvorsky) exposes him to a pirate signal he has discovered involving snuff and torture footage coming from Malaysia known as “Videodrome.” Upon seeing this, Renn realizes both the minimal costs of production and being a new level of entertainment and decides to start pirating the program. Appearing with Max on a talk show discussing the media, we are introduced to radio host Nikki (Blondie’s Deborah Harry) and Brian O’Blivion (Jack Creley), a media philosopher loosely based on Marshal McLuhan that insists he only appear on television if he is shown on a television. After Max and Nikki go on a date, they watch Videodrome, with Nikki even expressing interest in auditioning for the show. The more Max watches Videodrome, the more he notices himself having bizarre hallucinations and growths in his body, taking him down a path of learning the truth about the grim and nefarious origin of the program.

Besides being a straightforward horror film, Videodrome’s deeper meanings go into commentary on both the state of the media and its possible future. In 1983, cable television was in its infancy, the internet was reserved for the department of defense, virtual reality was more of a concept and the closest thing we had to reality television was Candid Camera and An American Family. Brian   O’Blivion states in the film that television will become our new reality, a statement that rings true in today’s media saturation.

4. Cronos (Guillermo del Toro, 1993)

Guillermo del Toro is an exciting face in the world of horror. His films often contain the Gothic imagery one would find in the writings of H. P. Lovecraft or the classic horror films to come out of Universal and Hammer, but with the gore you would expect from a film released today. I’m excited to see that del Toro will soon be releasing an adaptation of Lovecraft’s (an author usually not translated well on film) novella “At the Mountains of Madness” If anyone can make a faithful adaptation, he’s the man for the job!

Cronos is del Toro’s debut film, released in his native Mexico about the discovery of a 450 year old golden scarab with a still-living insect inside of it. Jesus Gris (Federico Luppi) is an antique dealer, who discovers the piece in a hollowed-out bottom of an archangel statue in his store. After messing around with it, the scarab sprouts legs, injecting him with an unknown substance that begins his transformation into a vampire.

We discover that a dying businessman (Claudio Brook) has been collecting these statues in search of the scarab with the help of his nephew (Ron Perlman), who offers to purchase the statue, thinking the scarab is still inside. As Gris starts to notice more changes, he decides to visit the businessman, in which he explains to him that his skin will soon turn to marble. The businessman tries then to make a deal with Gris to have a “way out” of his condition in exchange for the device. Little does he know, this way out will be as a result of the businessman and his nephew trying to kill him!

While not my favorite of del Toro’s films, Cronos is still a strong debut from a director who has continued to make some of the most stylized horror films this side of Dario Argento and the releases of Hammer Films. These last twenty years, del Toro has managed to tackle everything from the ghost story in The Devil’s Backbone (2001) , the comic book in Hellboy (2004), the nightmarish fairy tale in Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) and even the Japanese Kaiju/Mecha films I grew up watching in his latest work Pacific Rim (2013), all while maintaining his unique gothic aesthetic.

5. Dead Alive (Peter Jackson, 1992)

Growing up in the 90’s, I was one of those horror geeks that lived at the remaining independent video stores on Long Island. I discovered the good, the bad and the ugly, along with the film The Good, The Bad and The Ugly at these establishments. Those oversized clamshell VHS boxes of various Giallo films and Video Nasties, boasting scenes of gore and warnings about being banned in multiple countries intrigued my morbid self. One of my favorite splattercore directors to show people as a teenager was Peter Jackson. Most of you know Jackson from The Lord of the Rings trilogy, but before Heavenly Creatures (1994), Jackson’s films were over the top gore comedies that gave Sam Raimi a run for his money.

Set in the 1950s in Jackson’s native New Zealand, we are introduced to an explorer looking for a “Sumatran Rat-Monkey” (animated in my favorite medium, Claymation!) on Skull Island. After being bit by the monkey, he is killed by his associates after them exclaiming that he has “the bite”. We are then introduced to a very meek Lionel Cosgrove (Timothy Balme) and his domineering mother Vera (Elizabeth Moody). While on a date at the zoo with an employee at the local grocery, Vera follows them and ends up being bit by the same monkey that is now residing at the zoo. Vera begins to act even more erratic than usual, along with her skin peeling off and ear falling off. After killing a nurse, a chain reaction starts by which Lionel instead decides to keep his mother and the growing body count locked in his basement while giving them tranquilizers. As one can imagine, he cannot keep this under control for long as he is soon faced with a house full of ravenous zombies.

While being an extremely funny dark comedy, the film is also incredibly gory, albeit in a comic book manner. Once upon a time, the film boasted a record in gore, including 300 liters of fake blood being used in just one scene of the film. My eyes always light up, when I expose friends to this film, not only due to them not expecting it to be Peter Jackson, but because it really is that funny of a horror film and still cracks me up to this day.

A studied behavioral experiment gets the lush cinematic treatment in Ruben Östlund’s icy, darkly funny “Force Majeure”

Written by Daniel Spada

Force Majeure [Turist] (dir. Ruben Östlund, 2014)

Seen at Hamptons International Film Festival on 10/10/14

US (limited) theatrical release: 10/24/14

An avalanche – a visual spectacle most of us are unlikely to see throughout the course of our lives, depending on our fondness of the slopes and our class position. This spectacle acts as the inciting incident of Ruben Östlund’s fourth feature, Force Majeure, collapsing the family unit at the center of the film and leaving some very emotionally unstable “adults” in its wake. The avalanche dually serves as a metaphor for the bourgeois Swedish couple’s matrimonial meltdown and the effortless challenging of gender roles’ basic foundation (not lack thereof per-se, but situatedness). Filled with credible performances and well drawn characters, especially the supporting ones, Östlund’s ideological inquiry is bolstered by an obsessive, formalist attention to detail – frames filled with etched-in meaning and musical cues used to jarringly effective ends.

We understand Tomas as a well-to-do, distracted, work-obsessed father from the first few scenes, in which he sneakily checks his iPhone in bed, and his wife Ebba tells her friend Charlotte at the lodge that they’re there on vacation because Tomas has been working so much. “So now he has five days to focus on his family,” she says. This, however, makes him no more or less an empathetic character. The scene that definitively rules him out as an empathetic character is the one in which, on Day 2, while having lunch with his family at a restaurant overlooking the slopes and reassuring them that the cascading snow they’re seeing is controlled, he sprints away to his safety (not without said precious iPhone), leaving Ebba to wrangle up the distressed kids all by herself.

The pressures of hetero-monogamous familial relationships hang heavy in the French Alps air, as Ebba persistently attempts to figure out her husband’s insistence on their two self-professed differing perspectives regarding the incident. At one point during a dinner with Charlotte and her English-speaking date, he offers the absurd rationale of not being about to run in ski boots. Östlund very cleverly holds the long shot of the both of them for several seconds past the point of excruciating embarrassment when Ebba repeats what he said to the couple. Ebba’s entirely believable patent disbelief and Tomas’ authentic humiliation and discomfort underscore the impressiveness of both Lisa Loven Kongsli and Johannes Bah Kuhnke’s performances.

In a later, private moment between Ebba and Charlotte, Ebba’s dissatisfaction with her current situation hits a peak when she inquires about Charlotte’s sexual escapades (it is important to note that she does have a husband and children). Charlotte’s questioning and challenging of the foundation of human sexual norms is cut and dry. Ebba’s response, however, is not. Her anger is paired with nothing if not a distinct curiosity about Charlotte’s line of thinking (and self-professed actual lived way of life), which regardless of whether it is a put on air or not, deeply rattles Ebba. Ebba is not let off the hook, as she is depicted as a bit jealous of Charlotte’s disposition, but also neither is Charlotte. Her nonchalance is undercut by hypotheticals, the answers to which it is possible even she is unsure although she speaks with certainty.

A key moment comes along after Ebba persists in telling the story, once again, to an old friend of Tomas, Mats, and his girlfriend Fanny. The tension rises as Ebba becomes increasingly emotional about what it means that Tomas ran for his life, and Mats and his girlfriend get more uncomfortable over time. Eventually, Mats begins a tepid but clear defense of Tomas and Fanny comes to Ebba’s comfort (it is unclear about whether Mats actually believes the absurdity that he speaks or just feels bad for Tomas, attesting to the power of Kristofer Hivju’s supporting performance). Fanny then proceeds to tell Mats that she doesn’t think Mats would save their children in a hypothetical situation, while an older generation of men would have come to the aid of their spouses. Fanny understands the changing nature of gender norms and masculinities, just like the genesis of the silly contemporary gendered attachment to such colors as blue and pink, while Mats is overwhelmed by her apparent lack of belief in his ideal masculinity and paternal instinct.

In one of the most entertaining sequences of the film, Tomas and Mats are relaxing on beach loungers and drinking beers after a tough day of skiing during which Mats attempts to purge Tomas’ guilt and shame by making him yell into the snowy void. Electronic dance music playing in the background, Mats encounters a younger woman who tells him her friend thinks Tomas is attractive. A short while later, she returns to recant her statement, saying that she meant someone else. Mats’ initial reaction is disbelief – he thinks they’re kidding around – and then anger, while Tomas stays laying in his chair, clearly a little embarrassed about the mix up. The two of them then proceed to laugh it off, which is what the audience has been doing all along.

In what seemed like a tidy way to end the film, the second-to-last scene offers Tomas a chance at temporary redemption. While an open ending at once seemed likely, the viewer is slammed with an ending that calls for an overall deeper examination into how this vacation has affected everyone involved. Not to offset the serious philosophic base of the film, Östlund’s finely spun yarn is undercut with amusing and humorous visual gags – a child’s toy comes crashing into a serious conversation, while a judgemental janitor appears out of thin air at the most untimely moments. Vivaldi’s “Summer”, used to emphasize the chaos and disorder of the family’s post-avalanche scare state parallels well with the crisp, uniform images of the ski slopes being prepared daily, attracting our attention to man’s need to control nature. When the avalanche hits on Day 2, it almost feels too real, and though we haven’t really been given enough time to invest in these characters, I felt like running for my life, not unlike Tomas. What is certain, though, is that the professional photographs they had taken on Day 1 certainly don’t reflect who they are as people now.

Peter Strickland’s “The Duke of Burgundy” (2014)

By Colleen Rowe

It looks as if colored oils are being splashed and organized into figures on canvas before your eyes. Director Peter Strickland’s full-length Drama, The Duke of Burgundy (2014), is like a homoerotic Baroque painting, with its two female leads, played by Sidse Babett Knudsen and Chiara D’Anna, dominating the screen in separate, but conjoined spheres. Cynthia (Sidse Babett Knudsen) is Evelyn’s (Chiara D’Anna) employer, but their relationship escalates quickly with a peer through a doorknob’s keyhole. Looking in from the outside, Evelyn peers into her ruler’s world: Cynthia’s matured body in lingerie as she undresses in unassuming privacy. Does she know that Evelyn is watching her as her dress slips from her waist, down her thighs…and falls upon the floor like a splash of flowing ink?

And so, the ink dries and the women continue with their master-servant relationship. Cynthia orders young Evelyn to do her bidding, which includes cleaning her boots vigorously, her eyebrows raised almost as high as her expectations. Cynthia’s impatience grips Evelyn forcefully, pushing her into seemingly torturous punishments—at first these inflictions are usually unseen, initially; the bathroom door is closed and there are gurgling sounds of a mouth full of water, Evelyn is choking, sputtering…but somehow loving every single moment of it. If the master had been a man, these interactions would have been looked upon with disgust, and people would shake their heads slightly with immense disdain for the abuser. But, as an attractive, mature woman perpetuating the servant’s liking for her punishments, the audience seemed intrigued, and turned on to understanding the parallel roles that are expected of women. Are these expectations acceptable to condone? Of course not, but they are there.

A male “master” can be more frightening to a woman, because of the power men have tried to hold over women since written documentation was first recorded in the grand scheme of time. There is also the vast history of social inequality between men and women that really taints the filters of perspective while watching this film. In the past, women who were unrightfully enslaved were raped by their masters; an account of this was recorded in Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, written by Harriet Jacobs, a true story of a young girl who struggled for equality in a world where her race and sex subjected her to the abuses she faced. Jacobs’ written work was influenced by Samuel Richardson’s famous novel, Pamela, also known as Virtue Rewarded. Pamela is a tale with dense misogynistic undertones and a plot that circulates around a male master who follows, confines, and stalks his servant until she finally succumbs to his rule and has sexual relations with him. Yes, her virtue is rewarded in the end. Let us make it clear that any forced sexual relations are abusive, even if they are “achieved” by manipulation.

A woman ordering another woman to do something is more comfortable, simply on the level of an employer/employee relationship, but one should not assume this is the reason why Cynthia’s inflictions against Evelyn, as they pursue a more personal relationship, are somewhat condoned by viewer reactions. It’s because they love each other, and that’s where gender or sex is stripped of relevance here. These two people love each other, and if the master had been a man, in the context that they truly care for each other, the accepted “abuse” would seem less horrible because Evelyn is constantly begging Cynthia to “punish” her. Evelyn, at one point, asks Cynthia to lock her in a chest that is large enough to hold her small frame. Cynthia allows it, but, she is concerned for Evelyn soon after, asking her to come back into the bed. Evelyn proceeds to tell her to leave her in the chest, as if she is enjoying her opaque cage. Cynthia eventually enters a dreamlike state, where she seems to imagine that she opens the chest and all that is left is Evelyn’s rotted skeleton, lying in the same position that Cynthia left her in. This scene is comparable to William Faulkner’s short story, “A Rose for Emily,” in which the character, Emily Grierson, is found out to have been sleeping beside her dead lover for decades, after a single strand of her hair is found on the pillow beside his skeleton. Morosely similar, The Duke of Burgundy uniquely portrays this implied necrophilia in a series of frames that demonstrate a transient passage of time. With shots focused on a clothed female crotch, delving into all-encompassing darkness, and Cynthia’s venture into the woods to metaphorically revive her skeletal lover, lifting her from the chest that has become her casket, they are swallowed into the darkness together.

There are two scenes that are brilliantly paired in The Duke of Burgundy; one takes place at the beginning, where Cynthia reprimands Evelyn for incorrectly washing and tending to her clothing. Cynthia is the master here, her deadpan glare ripping into Evelyn’s timid demeanor with disrespectful loathing. A flicker of hate for Cynthia might rise in your chest, temporarily, during this scene. Her pretentious, lifeless glare is captivating, and you sort of feel like she owns you, too. In a later scene that parallels this, after the relationship between Evelyn and Cynthia has been established through playful, loving nights as they sleep beside one another, and Evelyn’s obsession with gaining new items and wealth becomes a dominant factor, disrupting their connection, the roles are reversed. Evelyn, the now master reprimands Cynthia, the previously glaring, dominant force within the film, and the woman you once hated, becomes the woman you now feel sorry for. With the dialogue and setting matching the earlier scene, Evelyn’s manipulations to rise above her social class have now succeeded, and as Cynthia cries, Evelyn reaches for her, as Cynthia once did, and whispers to her soothingly.

With profound directing, cinematography, acting, and editing leading this film into the depths of greatness, it’s almost impossible to look away as the storyline progresses and you watch the character development escalate.

This film is a work of art. However you paint the picture, after viewing The Duke of Burgundy, you will find your mind to be a color so incomprehensible that you won’t be able to forget what your eyes were just captivated by.

The Duke of Burgundy was a part of the Hamptons International Film Festival 2014 program.

The House of the Devil

By Daniel Spada

Minimalism in horror films has the distinct possibility of undermining the genre altogether. Not so much the absence of such an approach, but the lack of popularity reflects the need for instant gratification that is so deeply embedded within our culture. The more recent iconography that defines the horror film genre emphasizes grandiose conceptions of evil and reveals the trouble and reservations with which Western audiences grapple when viewing such a film. Horror film directors whose intent is to reinvent or consciously revise the genre are scarce because audiences are content with simply acknowledging the classic iconography that this particular genus of filmmaking has evoked, and are privy to ironic tendencies that would certainly offset their appreciation or enjoyment of the film and make them wary to come back for more.

The simple title of Ti West’s The House of the Devil explicitly puts the ownership of the house at the forefront. It would be reasonable to assume that the audience is not totally unaware of the macabre hiding underneath the woodworks of said abode, but that they are more concerned with the physical representation of the evil that is clearly lurking behind those closed doors. The rhetorical underpinnings of West’s authorial style and play with realism (making this markedly an art-horror entry) show a reverence for the genre (at least in the classical sense), with nothing in the film hinting at a satirical or mocking tone. West is neither imitating nor parodying horror, but paying homage (akin to Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut’s engagement with the American genre films they so heavily revered)  and playing with the audiences’ expectations of what is appropriately categorized as horror. By doing so, he “implicitly critiques contemporary horror cinema” while also creating a new future life for the film genre commonly known as horror.

West begins the film strategically, with text on the screen that hints not only at the physical Satanic ritual that occurs at the end of the film, but also the theoretical underpinnings regarding beliefs in the existence of such cults. Therein lies part of the importance of the era in which the film takes place. In American culture, the 1980s were marked by a major rise in people who actually did believe in the existence of Satanic Cults so this is factually correct information supplied by Mr. West (he consistently refers to it as “Satanic panic” paranoia in interviews). However, there is no evidence to show that the events in the film are based on some sort of unexplained truth to which the text alludes. This is not uncommon with horrors film from the 1970s and 1980s; some of the most popular ones purporting fact-based events include The Amityville Horror and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  It is important to note that this is a just simple rhetorical device used on West’s part to engage with both the genre and the viewer.

The common horror genre tropes are all there: a haunted house, the presence of evil in some form, an innocent young girl (whose decisions, although some would call stupid, are realistically conceived and depicted), etc. It is also impossible to miss the iconography that defines the film as horror: the creaky and creepy Victorian house in which Mr. and Mrs. Ulman live, the extensive use of shadows and low-key lighting when Samantha is roaming around the house (knife in hand), and the discovery of evil at the climax of the story. Ti West reinvents and revises the horror film genre by skillfully emphasizing the cognitive response of the audience, in addition to the aforementioned movement towards realism and implicit critique of the current state of horror cinema (which acts as the cultural commentary of the film).

Before continuing on to what West achieves and how he does it in relation to the genre, it is important to consider The House of the Devil’s narrative framework, coupled with its aesthetic style, to give a sense of what exactly the audience is dealing with, because it directly relates to how they view the film and react to certain shots and sequences. The House of the Devil only partially follows the requirements of the Discovery Plot  — there is no talk about what Samantha might find in the rooms of the Ulman home, but there is that basic overarching narrative ploy of discovery and confrontation that defines the first two essential movements of the Discovery Plot structure. However, in The House of the Devil the discovery and confrontation are combined in the climax.

It is not until 39 minutes through the film that the first violent, bloody act occurs (and images henceforth depicted on-screen), the intention of which is to evoke a cognitive response of shock and awe in the viewer, although the act is not entirely surprising. The setup is a tip-off: a young woman driving through a cemetery stops to light her cigarette. When a young man comes up to her window with a lighter, seemingly out of nowhere, her fright is directly mirrored by the audience’s – it is a “jump” moment, but not in the manipulative sense. The gunshot is sudden, but not completely unexpected. The execution is perfectly calculated for optimum audience response. West states that the importance of it “was what it would accomplish to the audience’s emotional response for the rest of the movie.”  The viewer now explicitly knows more than Samantha, and possibly fears for her safety. The initiation of a sexual discussion by Mrs. Ulman puts her at unease (and the audience as well). From the moment that the Ulmans leave, to the point at which they are reintroduced, West lets his film breath, and simultaneously breathes new life into the horror film genre.

The current state of horror cinema is largely characterized in part by throwing victims into horrific scenarios and showing how they deal with them. What sets The House of the Devil apart from present trends and its predecessors is that it is rich with characterization. Throughout the film, Samantha becomes an empathetic figure. We watch her stress over money (a familiar problem with college students, which plays toward the realism of the film) and become apprehensive when Mr. Ulman tells her that there is no child she will be watching after. We watch her explore the house, dancing around to the The Fixx’s 1983 hit “One Thing Leads to Another” on her giant Sony Walkman. The audience becomes concerned with her wellbeing.

The film, in essence, is not very suspenseful because the audience is aware of information not available to Samantha. Since Samantha is the main character and the bulk of the film is filled with sequences of her doing mundane human activities, like watching television and eating pizza, the viewer is forced to either accept said circumstances or reject them (the most common backlash thrust upon the film has been people calling it “boring” or “slow”). What makes West’s technique so effect is the contrast between the disparate sources of fear: Samantha walking around an ominous empty house versus Samantha surrounded by a Satanic cult and a deformed figure pouring blood into her mouth; the horror of not knowing versus the horror of discovery and confrontation; finally, routine versus ritual.

When the strobe lights and flashing kicks in around the one hour and 17 minute mark (with less than 20 minutes left remaining), the viewer is plunged into a disorienting state – the same state which Samantha is surely in. Samantha’s “felt agitations” are reflected in the audience’s “analogous emotional state”  as a distinctly physical response. Samantha’s physical state and reaction to being tied up (trying to break herself free) is caused by her fearful cognitive state. Samantha’s response is one of fear, disgust, and repulsion. It only worsens when her vision clears and she sees the deformed figure standing above her (she is situated on the pentagram at this moment) who is about to cut its own wrist and pour its blood into a skull as a sort of funnel going into her mouth.

Samantha’s response to the Satanic ritual she was the unlikely participant of and the deformed figure’s impurity partly define The House of the Devil as an art-horror entry. Samantha’s repeated flashbacks to the deformed figure after her escape from the pentagram, and the subsequent slowing down of her ultimate escape from the house, shows a preoccupation with its monstrous façade (which she, undoubtedly, will never forget). Her complete aversion to its physical being creates a tension within the viewer.

Critics of the last 20 minutes of the film cite the change in tone and pacing to be problematic. This analysis shows more about them than it does West. The switch from meditations in a minimalist setting emphasizing minimalist actions to maximum intensity (but still in a minimalist style) is done in a way that draws attention to itself – and that is exactly the point, to stress and heighten the contrast. By the time the Satanic ritual begins, we care enough about Samantha to root for her. We want her to shoot Mr. Ulman at the end. We want her to get help and get away.

The conditions under which Samantha’s character is built are believable and realistic, which make the last shot all the more sad and terrifying. Being a college student in need of cash is not a foreign prospect, especially in today’s economy. She likes pizza. She enjoys listening to music on her walkman and dancing. She isn’t averse to snooping around a house that is not hers. She is a curious, intelligible young woman who just needs money to make rent.

The fact that the monster (well, monsters if you consider Victor and Mr. & Mrs. Ulman) of the film is both more human than expected (and much less “big” than what Western audiences, if they do, usually conceive of the devil or evil) and does not appear until the last 20 minutes is a testament to the will of Ti West’s filmmaking. He realigns what we fear (implication versus reality), how we fear it (cognitive versus physical), and makes us challenge the actual fear itself and how we conjure it up. The movements of the film are dissimilar insofar that what we have been told about meaning in horror films is a cop out: what usually has meaning (the physical presence of evil or the devil, violence, blood and gore, etc.) is comparable to what usually doesn’t have meaning (mundane human activities, what precedes the physical presence of evil or the devil and the violence, blood and gore, etc.). This strategy is barely, if ever, used effectively in the horror film genre.

The lack of dialogue is supplemented by Jeff Grace’s piano and orchestral heavy score. The mix of quiet piano keys and orchestral music (the intensity of which rises throughout to the climax of the film) carries a certain power that parallels the action. The score becomes a language unto itself, not unlike the language of the cinematography or editing. West again tips his hat to some of the forefathers of the genre and the bygone era in which the film takes place: the opening credits (shot in 1970s/early 1980s style, using the zoom instead of the dolly and yellow-font title credits over by freeze frame shots) echo the electronic synthesizer music of John Carpenter and Goblin (who frequently collaborated with the master of Italian giallo films Dario Argento).

Extended long takes are efficiently used to show Samantha performing aforementioned mundane human activities and they are effectively used in the sense that they show her at a remove (akin to the perspective of a documentary) and enhance the realism of the film. The house of the title itself looks like any old Victorian home you might find Upstate.  However, the way the film emphasizes the temporal (interior and exterior) space of it adds to the eerie atmosphere already been established.

The theme of innocence is explored in a way unlike most horror films today. Since the viewer spends so much time with Samantha, we are much more in touch with her innocence than if she had just been thrown into the Satanic ritual right at the onset of the film. In an inversion of expected genre conceits, it is the adult talking about sex rather than the adolescent (Mrs. Ulman rather than Samantha, who is not very receptive to the conversation at hand – and there is rarely talk of sexual interest or identity even between Samantha and Megan, only a fleeting mention of a boy Megan is seeing and Samantha’s roommate having sex). This aspect of the film shows discipline and reserve, with which most horror directors struggle (sex is so commonly exploited in horror films it seems commonplace and natural).

The House of the Devil also subtly engages with sub-genres of horror, in particular that of the slasher film and the haunted house film. Characteristic of the slasher film (which was popularized in the late 70s and early 80s by such films as Black Christmas, Halloween, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Friday the 13th, etc.)  is that of a younger generation being the target of an older generation, the showdown between the main character and the force of evil (usually a killer, but in the case of The House of the Devil it is a Satanic cult), and the eventual freedom of the protagonist, which the audience later finds out is not truly freedom (in Samantha’s case she is impregnated with Satan’s child). On the other hand, the haunted house genre has been around since the advent of the horror genre itself, most popularly seen in The Amityville Horror (1979), The Shining (1980), and the more recent, independently made hit Paranormal Activity (2007). The House of the Devil maybe a little too obviously lends itself to the haunted house genre, especially when reflecting on West’s exploration of the interior and exterior space of the Ulman’s house and its surroundings.

To make an object that is ordinary and common into something that should be approached with apprehension and even “fetid disgust”  is an incredible feat which Mr. West accomplishes. Pizza, now known as some sort of qualifying college cuisine, becomes a harbinger of doom. This should make the viewer reflect on the ontological root of fear and consider the multifarious possibilities of where it may hide (unconsciously), including what we need to survive (food).

About the writer: Dan Spada has a Bachelor’s in Women Studies and Film from Hunter College. He currently works for Tribeca in the Acquisitions Department. Dan was on the Pre-screener Committee for the Hampton’s International Film Festival taking place this October (2014) and was on the selection committee for this year’s Rooftop FIlms Summer Series.

CBGB MUSIC AND FILM FESTIVAL 2014: BOWERY ELECTRIC & VILLAGE EAST CINEMAS

Film Syrup made its way down to the CBGB Music and Film Festival in the East Village, NYC, last Friday, October 10, 2014. The Bowery Electric, a dimly lit venue with lighting that casts a casual, personable tone upon its stage hosted a few music artists: highlighted here are Silver Dollar and Marc Ford with Elijah Ford and The Bloom.

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You have to love a band with a sense of humor.

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Silver Dollar:

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Marc Ford with Elijah Ford and the Bloom:

Elijah Ford took the stage by himself, initially.

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Film Syrup then headed to Village East Cinemas, where people were gathered around the theatre, getting ready for screenings.

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Overall, the CBGB Film Festival made a big impact on the city last week, bringing music and film together to form a collaboration between industries that help to entertain the masses. Film Syrup chose to cover the East Village venues where the personality is contagiously direct. There were many other venues that hosted different artists, and with high hopes we look forward to CBGB 2015.

CBGB Music and Film Festival says “Thank you New York: See You Next Year!”

THE GRID: ZOMBIE OUTLET MAUL

Film Syrup’s team posed as spin-offs of the characters from Filmmaker, Linda Andersson’s new animated film, “THE GRID: ZOMBIE OUTLET MAUL.”
FS asked Linda what caused her to make this film.
Linda responded: “I am a writer in Hollywood, who has decided not to wait to be chosen by the powers that be to get my work on the screen. Although, I’ve produced several of my other works, and sold and had other scripts produced by other companies, I felt that the economy that we were in, at the time I dreamt up the world of the Grid, was still in a stalled state and producers were only going to produce projects that were going to be a guarantee at the box office.”
Characters from Linda Andersson’s in-production animated film THE GRID: ZOMBIE OUTLET MAUL:
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After seeing the characters, Film Syrup wanted to know more. Who wouldn’t?
Linda Andersson explained, “Once I saw that a light switch is a nose, and plugs and outlets have faces, there was no turning back. The characters pretty much presented themselves to me. Their names were obvious. Shamus Plug is a sleazeball band manager. Auto d’Fuse has a very short fuse. Mega Watts has a big brain in that bulbous head of hers, but has an illogical weakness for Shamus. The characters have almost human lives, so their struggles are no different from ours, except for the fact that they are electricals. So, coming up with a story for them wasn’t very difficult.”
Film Syrup chose to recreate this scene, with the main focus on “Remo” and “Auto d’Fuse,” as they have a conversation at the bar, Auto obviously stressed after a long day of bar banter and pouring beers, with “Shamus Plug” and “JukeBox Hero” in the background, having a chat.

THE GRID SCENE 1 TAKE 1 Remo listens as Auto d’Fuse goes on to say “Chivalry’s dead!” and to explain his take on men pulling out stools for people, specifically women. THE GRID SCENE 1 TAKE 2 Obviously Remo is shocked by Auto’s negative attitude. THE GRID SCENE 1 TAKE 4 Auto then offers Remo some peanuts, which he denies. I wonder why? Maybe the clip “HOT NUTS” can spell it out for you! THE GRID SCENE 1 TAKE 3

“HOT NUTS” from “THE GRID…”:
For this next scene, we improvised a bit. We attempted to play along with the plotline without giving away too many details. Here, “Mega Watts” and “Hazel Switch” are at their band practice in, presumably, Hazel’s garage, with “Jukebox Hero.”

the grid scene 2 take 1 “Creative Outlet” shows up to Switch Hazel’s (the name of their band) practice, bringing along her friend “Disco Lucille Ball,” who is always whining. I mean, if I was a disco ball with orange hair, I’d probably feel a bit resentful, too. the grid scene 2 take 2 Film Syrup imagined that in the middle of their band practice, a loud noise would erupt. The only one who seems especially concerned is “Creative Outlet,” while her bandmates laugh at her slightly. the grid scene 2 take 3 “Creative Outlet” quickly closes the garage door, fearing for the threat of the undead, who might threaten to suppress the electricals into burnt fuses. the grid scene 2 take 4 When a strange figure arrives, the band members of Switch Hazel suddenly become extremely worried about this seemingly unstoppable foe. the grid scene 2 take 5 Time passes quickly, and it is unclear what exactly is happening inside the garage. the grid scene 2 take 6 Wait…, I think the door is opening… the grid scene 2 take 7

AND SWITCH HAZEL IS READY FOR WAR, ZOMBIES!

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But there’s also a strong possibility that it might have just been their band manager, Shamus Plug, lurking around in the shadows.

Switch Hazel has a show! It’s unclear whether “Shamus Plug” is particularly mad at them or if he is just extremely into the music. After a long day of offering peanuts to unaware electricals, Auto d’Fuse takes a break and enjoys the show. the grid scene 3 take 1 the grid scene 3 take 3 the grid scene 3 take 7 fini the grid scene 3 take 5 the grid scene 3 take 6 Film Syrup asked Linda Andersson what she wants to do with “THE GRID: ZOMBIE OUTLET MAUL” after its completion and release to the public. Linda Andersson: “It will be released as an internet movie, so people can watch it on the computers, tablets and mobile devices. Ultimately, I hope for it to be picked up as a 1/2 hour series. A cartoon for grown ups with storylines that people can relate to, and will hopefully get a charge out of.” If you’d like to see more of “The Grid…,” help Linda Andersson out: Great Perks!

The cast of Linda Andersson’s “THE GRID: ZOMBIE OUTLET MAUL” includes: “Shamus Plug,” to be voiced by Teri Maher. The bottle cap and peanuts guy, Auto d’Fuse, to be voiced by MJ Lallo, “Creative Outlet” and “Disco Lucille Ball.” voiced by Deborah Stewart, “Mega Watts,” voiced by Linda Andersson. Leah Cevoli from Robot Chicken will voice Sgt. Filament (not pictured here). Thea Gill from Queer as Folk will voice Hazel Switch (bass player in the band). Garet Carson will voice Jukebox Hero. The voice for Remo (the remote control) hasn’t be cast yet.
Film Syrup character recreations & crew:
Hazel Switch: Roxanne Pfaus
Creative Outlet: Colleen Rowe
Mega Watts: Sarina Penza
Remo: Marcello Mannino
Auto d’Fuse: Phil Zorawski
Jukebox Hero: Jordan Danner
Shamus Plug: Suzanne O’Regan
Writer/Content Producer/Photo Editor: Colleen Rowe
Stylist/Costume Design: Roxanne Pfaus
Creative Director: Sarina Penza
Asst. Costume Design: Paige Skelly
Assistants: Suzanne O’Regan & Grace McGovern
Photographers: Marcello Mannino & Yvonne Passaro
Featured Image photographer: Jordan Danner