MOTEL – a short film from Hammer and Saw on Vimeo.

For more information on Motel or Hammer and Saw films, visit www.motelshort.com.

Among the seven shorts to be shown at the Vermont Film Fest was Motel, the debut film by William Peters. The 13-minute short tells a humorous story of two hapless travelers who are swindled by “foreign triplet motel barons,” who turn what should be the simplest of tasks into a nightmare. Peters answered a handful of questions about making a quality film with a short budget, as well as disclosing his ambitions to carry on the legacy of the venerable director of classics such Porky’s and Black Christmas, Bob Clark.

Read the interview below, or click here to view Motel.

You shot the Motel short film with $700. What were the biggest challenges of filming with such tight finances?
The biggest thing you need to realize when directing a no-budget film is that you will be doing a majority of the production yourself.  Directing.  Operating the camera. Adjusting lights.  So obviously you need your script to accommodate your lack of production help.  The last thing you want to do is write a film that requires a dozen actors and shots that take a day to set up.

There were five people involved while on set of this film, including the actors.  But it really simplifies the whole process and teaches you to shoot within your means.  I would have loved to have an explosion of some kind, although I’m not sure it would have helped the film.  It would have been cool, nonetheless.

From the acting to the camerawork, the quality of the film completely belies the low budget. Can you give us some insight into who was involved and explain how you came to work with them?
You may not have any money, but you probably have talented friends that can act and will help you out, and that’s exactly what happened with Motel.

Michael Mooney, who also co-produced, is a great acting talent and friend who spent countless hours helping me with everything from finding a shooting location to casting.  He brought in Ben Watts for the role of the clerk and it was immediately apparent he was our guy.  Ben did a tremendous job at bringing that character to life.  Jeffrey Hatin also did a fantastic job with his role, and the acting in this film is what made my job much easier.  Working with these actors has definitely spoiled me.

Your film debuted at the Vermont International Film Festival and was enthusiastically received by the audience. What next for Motel? Are you hoping to tour the film festival circuit, and do you think the response it received in Burlington will help?
As a filmmaker you’re always nervous as to how an audience will respond to your film, especially a comedy.  Is it as funny as I think it is?  But the response at the Vermont International Film Festival was great and really energized me to want and get Motel shown in as many festivals as possible. We’ve submitted to a handful of festivals around the northeast and out west, as well as screenings at some colleges, so the experience has been very positive.

Moving beyond Motel, what is next? Do you have any forthcoming projects in the works?
I’m bidding for the director’s job on Baby Geniuses 3.  If I don’t get it, I’ll probably make a few more shorts before attempting a feature (Baby Geniuses 4).  Seems to be the way things go.

Click here to view Motel.

Originally published in Twisted Tongue Magazine issue #15

McEnroy could not believe his luck. Just as he was about to call it a day and try his odds at the shopping mall, the Lord delivered a gift right into his lap. Or at least that’s where it would end up once he lured her away from this public beach.

After scanning the numerous umbrellas and towels with his trusty pair of binoculars, McEnroy concluded the day to be a bust. The crowd was mostly older folks, comprised of twenty-something couples and frat boys trying to impress the scattered groups of sorority sisters with their football passes. But hunting on a weekday was always more difficult. McEnroy would have waited till Friday afternoon but the urge had come again, unexpectedly and ultra-aggressive as always. And like McEnroy himself when he confronted his prey, the urge never took no for an answer. So here McEnroy was: hopelessly searching for a pair of children playing hooky.

It was just as he was about to slam the door of his car in frustration that he overheard the mother speaking to her child. They were standing behind their oversized SUV to McEnroy’s left. Out of sight but not out of earshot.

“I have to go the bathroom!” the little girl whined.

“Can’t you hold it? We’ll be back to the hotel in ten minutes.”

“But I have to go nooow!”

McEnroy smirked at the drawn out last word. So precious.

“Madison, please.” The mother sounded tired and cranky, probably just having woken up from a long nap that had begun as sunbathing. “We have to wait for your father to get back from making his phone call. I can’t go anywhere till he gets back or else he won’t know where we went.”

“But I’m gonna have an accident!”

McEnroy licked his lips. He could tell where this was going.

The mother sighed. “Okay, Madison, listen to me. See that green building over there? Those are the bathrooms. I’ll let you go by yourself if you promise to be quick and come right back. I’ll be watching you the whole way there. Can you promise me?”

McEnroy could hear the little girl’s slapping flip-flops as she jumped up and down. “I promise! I promise! Can I go now? Pleeease?”

There was no answer but McEnroy assumed the mother must have nodded her head “yes” for the child took off at full speed.

“Madison, wait!”

The child immediately responded with an annoyed “What?” A second later, the rhythmic flip-flop grew louder as she returned to the SUV.

The mother spoke again, this time much quieter. McEnroy had to strain but he could just make out her whisper, “If a stranger comes up to you, only trust them if they say the secret word. You remember what the secret word is, right?”

Without hesitation, the child answered: “Marmalade.”

McEnroy’s exhilarated heart sprang into his throat. His stomach mamboed with pure excitement.

Ah, the secret word: the irrefutable code between a child and a stranger, the ultimate symbol of safety and trust. To think McEnroy had been pleased to discover the child’s name.  But to know a child’s secret word…

The prize was his for the taking.

The little girl ran off again, only to have her mother yell “Walk, please! You’re in a parking lot!” The girl obeyed. Good. This would give McEnroy some extra time, but he still had to move fast. Fortunately, the veteran predator had long since need to plan his actions. He now operated on habit, seasoned instincts taking care of the unexpected.

McEnroy flipped open his cell phone and stood up, using his other hand to block the sun as he made a panoramic sweep of the lot. “I’m at the car!” McEnroy shouted to ensure the mother would hear him. “I said I’m at the car! Where are you?” He allowed a beat of silence to make his performance more convincing. “Where are they? The green…oh! I see it. No, don’t move. I’ll come pick you up.” The phone flipped shut and the car’s engine purred to life. There. Suspicion extinguished.

***

McEnroy brought the car past the restrooms just as Madison pulled open the door. As he swung the wheel around the back of the building, he silently prayed for another blessing: a rear doorway.  A moment later his prayer was answered.  There was a second entrance, this one facing the beach and impossible to view from where the parents’ vehicle was parked.

Perfect.

As was McEnroy’s parking space, behind two very large rusty black dumpsters.  He couldn’t see any part of the car as he looked back over his shoulder, now having briskly walked half the distance to the restrooms.  A few more steps and the door handle found his grip. He prayed the little girl hadn’t beaten him back outside.

McEnroy swung the rear entrance open and immediately realized he’d arrived not a moment too soon.

“Madison!” The girl spun around as she had been surprisingly caught in a mischievous act.  The startled expression instantly turned to one of confusion when she did not recognize the man who was addressing her.

McEnroy did not hesitate. It was method acting at its finest. “Madison, I…oh! I’m sorry. The secret word is ‘marmalade.’ Your daddy told me to tell you that.”

Madison’s head cocked like a dog hearing a faraway bird.  Her hand fell from the door. “Who are you?”

McEnroy lips spread into a well practiced smile. It told of warmth and kindness and adult wisdom. “I’m Mr. Sheldon. I work with your father. He and your mommy had to go but he sent me to come get you.”

“Where did they go?” A hint of worry cut through the little girl’s words like piano wire.  There could not be anymore of that.

“Oh, don’t worry! There was just a mix-up at your hotel that needed to be taken care of right away. But you know what? I’m staying at the same hotel! So he called me and asked if I could come get you and to make sure I told you the secret word so you knew I was a friend.”

McEnroy could see the word break its way through the little girl’s guard and relished in its supreme influence.  It was truly remarkable: the power of language.

The magic of words.

The restroom door suddenly swung open, bringing his eyes up from the child as a heavyset woman in a one piece bathing suit came walking out into the hallway.  He brought a hand up and motioned forward. “Oh, honey, make room for the lady.” The woman gave Madison a grin and cheerfully said, “Excuse me!”

Madison took an unhesitant step towards McEnroy to allow sufficient space for the woman to exit.  Had she remained by the door, the mother might have seen her standing there. But this puppet master knew exactly how to pull the strings.

Once the door had completely shut, McEnroy moved in for the close. “If you’re all done in here, let’s go back to the hotel, okay? Your mom wants you back for dinner.” Madison nodded her head yes but immediately turned around. McEnroy slammed his hand against the door, hoping the action hadn’t been too aggressive.  The little girl shot her eyes upward.

McEnroy laughed, “Oh no, silly girl. I parked on this side.”  Madison glanced at the rear exit and back at her adult companion.  McEnroy exhaled at a sigh of relief when she said nothing but “okay” and led the way out the back.

***

“Yes, sir. She was in the restroom just like you said.” McEnroy spoke into his cell as he performed another mock conversation.  Madison walked alongside him, her tiny hand gripping his. “I’m bringing her back to the hotel right now.  We should be arriving in about ten minutes.  Yes, sir. ‘marmalade.’ Just like you said.” McEnroy pretended to say goodbye and stashed his phone back into the pocket of his tan trench coat.

“Was that my daddy?” Madison asked.

“It sure was, kiddo!” McEnroy gave the child’s hand a little squeeze. “I just called his cell and told him everything was all right. He told me to tell you how proud he was of you for being such a good girl.”

Madison said nothing back but gave a slight smirk with only half of her mouth.  Was there a hint of smugness in that expression?  McEnroy inhaled deeply to control his emotions. It wouldn’t be long now.  They were approaching his car and soon he would put the child her place.

McEnroy opened the rear passenger side door. “Okay,” he said as he gestured towards the seat. “In you go.”

Madison did not move.

McEnroy cleared his throat and spoke again. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go see mommy and daddy.”

Again, Madison made no movement towards the seat but instead turned his head up towards the man.  “You didn’t really talk with my daddy.”

The muscles in back of McEnroy’s neck tensed violently, but he was able to hide the apprehension from his face. “What are you talking about? Of course I did! We don’t have time for games right now, Madison. Please get in the car.”

“You said you called my daddy’s cell phone?”

“Yes, sweetie. Now please…”

“My daddy ruined his phone in the ocean. He forgot it was in his pocket when he went swimming. He had to find a payphone. You didn’t call his cell.”

McEnroy tried to reply, but without words of explanation immediately coming to him, he could only bite his lip instead.  It appeared the time for talk had come to an abrupt end and now only action would finish his plan.

After taking a quick glimpse around to make sure they were still well hidden behind the dumpster, McEnroy swooped down with both arms and lifted the girl from the pavement. With his right hand firmly pressed against the girl’s mouth, the other reached into his breast pocket to retrieve his keys. The trunk popped open with a hard press of the keychain’s locking remote and Madison was dropped in a moment later.  McEnroy immediately shot his hands up to the top of the trunk to slam it down…

…when the most dreadful sounding growl he’d ever heard rumbled behind him. The only thing McEnroy could envision making such a noise was a lion-sized bulldog with rabies, and expected to see exactly that when he slowly turned around to face whatever vicious creature was breathing down his neck.  But even the darkest creation of his imagination could not prepare him for what was really bearing its teeth and drooling yellow puddles of saliva on the ground.

The animal bore a gruesome smile of needle-like teeth which resembled the horrible porcupine quills that sprouted from its back.  It stood on all four bearish paws, great black talons scratching at the concrete.  And while most of its body was covered in coarse black fur, serpentine scales armored its legs and neck.

McEnroy paid no attention to the warm sensation of his own urine flowing down his leg.  He could only focus on the creature’s blood red eyes and the collar that hung just below its throat. Only one word was inscribed on the metal tag, which Madison joyfully shouted as she emerged from the trunk.

“Marmalade!”

Madison ran past McEnroy and up to the forbidding beast who greeted her with a lick to the face. She returned the gesture by scratching the monster behind its ears before turning back to her kidnapper whom she asked, “How did you know to say the secret word to make him come?  I thought only mommy and daddy knew his name. It’s always them or me who call him to take care of bad men like you.”

McEnroy’s legs quivered as they struggled to uphold his weight.  His breaths came short and shallow, his limbs completely paralyzed with fear. He could not answer Madison’s question.

But she just shrugged. “I guess I’ll just ask my parents when I see them later.” She turned to her pet. “Okay, Marmalade! Go get your dinner! Go on!”

McEnroy never had a chance to scream.  The beast’s first slash of its claws went directly across his throat, instantly clogging his airways with blood and staining his white collar a deep crimson hue.  Only a gurgling noise could escape his mouth as Marmalade began opening his stomach.

So McEnroy lay there silently awaiting the end of his agonizing death, fully realizing the power of language and the magic of words.

What makes Broken Bells so effective is that it is more than just the mashing of Mercer and Mouse’s familiar sounds.  While it is not difficult to identify the previous influences of both artists, the duo also experiments and offers some new techniques.  Danger Mouse, for instance, takes a break from his usual mixing and sampling, and plays live instruments for the entirety of the album. Mercer, whose unique vocal work has always been easy to recognize, treads some new ground as well by increasing the range of his notes.  In fact, one could easily be fooled into believing their track “The Ghost Inside” is a new Gorillaz song when Mercer belts it out in a Damon Albarn falsetto.  And if you ask me, a little experimenting is just the reboot Mercer needed after all the overexposure with the Shins.  Even the best music can make your ears bleed after you’ve heard it blasted from the speakers of the millionth college girl trying to express her “indie side.”

To say this album has highlights would be like taking a fluorescent orange marker to a road worker’s vest.  It’s hard for one song to stand out when the whole album shines. But personal favorites would be “The High Road,” with its psychedelic harpsichord that begins the album like the opening credits of a 1970s’ sitcom, and then adds a head-bobbing beat.  Then there’s “Sailing to Nowhere,” a tune that combines a haunting organ, sci-fi sound effects and a vaudeville piano into something darkly appealing.  And I can’t forget to mention “Trap Doors” and “Vaporize,” which also capitalize an outstanding organ backdrop, and “October” and “The Mall and Misery,” which revolve around Mercer’s guitar work.

Bottom line: this is a good album.  I can only hope that Broken Bells was not a one time project, and that Mercer and Mouse reunite someday to once again combat the villainy of today’s musical mediocrity.

(Columbia Records, 550 Madison Ave., 24th Floor, New York, NY 10022)

This is exactly what you should want from any respectable group’s third album: a variation in sound that doesn’t sacrifice the attitude you’ve come to love them for. I mean, what other group could feature the pairing of De La Soul with Gruff Rhys (of Sparklehorse) singing about breakfast foods on a track titled “Superfast Jellyfish”…and yet you would expect no less?  In order to maintain their status as one of the most original acts of 21st century, the cartoon quartet knew another adaptation of “Feel Good Inc.” or “Clint Eastwood” just wouldn’t suffice.  So instead the listeners are treated with the atmospheric “Empire Ants,” with its ‘80s-sounding keyboard work, and “To Binge,” a reggae-like melody over sweeping synths — both tracks featuring Swedish electronic band Little Dragon.

Plastic Beach is now available in both a regular and deluxe version, the latter containing two additional tracks, “Pirate’s Progress” and “Three Hearts, Seven Seas, Twelve Moons.”

(Virgin Records, no address provided)

In truth, End Times proves that E is still as genuine and self aware as he’s ever been, explaining his depression without asking his audience to feel sorry for him. In fact, the musician is almost apologetic for his current state, singing lines like “I know it sounds kind of sad” in the album’s first single, “Little Bird,” and in the unflinchingly honest, “I Need a Mother,” he follows up the title line with, “I’m sorry but it’s true.” And while there are those who have criticized E for his simplistic language and rhyme schemes, the Eels have always been a shining example of the best of musical middlebrow. To force feed unnecessary poetry into the lyrics would only replace Everett’s blunt honesty with flowery pretense, thus severing any connection with the listener.

As far as the music is concerned, it’s unarguably moody, better reserved for when you’re having a bad day. So while you shouldn’t expect anything as catchy as their Daisies of the Galaxy hit, “Mr. E’s Beautiful Blues,” E mixes up the tone like he always does, providing breathing room with the fun rockabilly tune, “Gone Man,” and the upbeat “Paradise Blues.” But if you still find End Times not to your liking, I’m sure E and his band won’t be surprised. As he sings in the track titled, “Nowadays,” “The truth is something no one really wants to hear you say/just ‘how ya’ doing’ and ‘have a nice day.’”

(Vagrant Records, 2118 Wilshire Blvd. #361, Santa Monica, CA 90403)

With “King of the Hill” coming to a close after a long run of 13 seasons, fans of Mike Judge had little time to mourn the end of the Hill family’s adventures when the animation icon released his fourth feature film the same month. Although Hank and the gang are being shoved aside to make way for “The Cleveland Show,” Judge’s latest directorial effort Extract proves he still has many more laughs to share with us yet.

Extract, like Judge’s 1999 film Office Space, centers around the on-goings and mishaps of the American workplace. But instead of examining the comedy within an office cubicle, Judge goes from white collar to blue and brings us inside a crazy character-filled extract factory. The owner, Joel (Jason Bateman), would love to sell the business and get it (and the employees who drive him nuts) out of his hands. But just when this goal seems to be within grasp, an accident injures a member of his workforce and attracts the attention of seductive con artist, Cindy (Mila Kunis). But even with a possible bankrupting settlement looming over him, Joel is more concerned with his problems at home, including a half-baked scheme to hire a gigolo to tempt his neglecting wife (Kristen Wiig) into having an affair so that he may do the same free of guilt. Who said being the boss was easy?

You might be thinking the film in general seems all too familiar, since you could describe the misadventures of Peter Gibbons from Office Space in the exact same way as Extract’s Joel: a man is dissatisfied with his work and life so he hatches an undeveloped plan that naturally backfires. And although you could say Mike Judge is simply reworking an old formula, like Joel’s mastery of flavor chemistry, it is a formula that always leaves a great taste in your mouth.

This is greatly due to Judge’s ability to consistently cast perfect actors for their particular roles. Like the unforgettable Michael Bolton, Samir, and Milton Waddams, the cast of Judge films never fail to turn potential archetypes into unique characters. Clifton Collins, Jr., who you may recognize from his exceptionally powerful portrayal of Perry Smith in 2005’s Capote, gets to show his lighter side as the dimwitted Step, a loyal (but easily manipulated) employee who falls under the influence of the scheming Cindy. And while Mila Kunis’s turn as Cindy is slightly bland and underdeveloped, other characters pick up the slack, like the often frazzled Brian, Joel’s second in command played by Bateman’s fellow Juno alum, JK Simmons. And even though Joel does not have to answer to a Bill Lumbergh, he gets his fair share of annoyance from his unbelievably overbearing and irritating neighbor, Nathan, played masterfully by David Koechner (Anchorman, Snakes on a Plane).

But the best performance was produced from a very surprising source. Rising above his veteran co-stars and completely stealing the show with a totally unexpected but incredibly funny performance is none other than Ben Affleck. Affleck, who I don’t remember laughing at (for the right reason) since 2001’s Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, received the pleasure of delivering the best lines of the film with absolute comedic perfection. As Dean, the longhaired, drug abusing bartender friend of Joel, Affleck fills the shoes of Peter Gibbon’s goofy neighbor, Lawrence, providing the biggest laughs of the film. In one fell swoop, Ben Affleck will make you completely forget (at least, for the duration of the movie) that he is the same actor who starred in Surviving Christmas, Jersey Girl, Paycheck, Gigli, and Pearl Harbor. No, really. He’s that good in this.

Jason Bateman himself has been quoted for saying he felt like he was just replaying Michael Bluth from his old TV show, “Arrested Development.” So if you’re going into your first viewing of the film expecting any ground to broken or boundaries to be crossed, your disappointment will be inevitable. But if amusingly smart dialogue, reality reflecting subject matter, and hilarious performances from some of the best names in the comedy game are what you seek, you will have made the right choice. Extract will most certainly extract some laughs.

The hype of Inglourious Basterds has many people saying it marks Quentin Tarantino’s best film in years. After seeing the movie for myself, I have only one question to those making that statement: How can you tell?

Not to say that this romping, rampaging, Nazi-killing piece of cinema isn’t highly entertaining in every way. As a loyal Tarantino fan throughout the years, I’ll be the first to say he’s done it again. But while I mean that to be a compliment to the iconic filmmaker’s work, I also mean it in the most literal sense.

Quentin Tarantino has done what he’s shown us before…again.

As a typical, everyday audience member, it’s impossible for me to say with any degree of certainty if Tarantino is poking fun at himself with his gratuitous style choices or if he really believes audiences won’t question the method of his madness. I, for one, am sincerely hoping the prior is true since it allows me to laugh with instead of shake my head at Tarantino’s recycled bag of tricks.

For example, the film begins with the words “Chapter One” fading up onto a black screen. I could hear stifled chuckles in the darkness of the theater, from people all probably thinking the same thing: didn’t we just see this in Kill Bill? And while Kill Bill’s length was of epic standards (so much that it had to be told in two different volumes), the use of chapters seemed traditionally appropriate. (i.e., The Star Wars saga). But again here? Personally, I don’t understand its purpose.

Nor do I get the use of freeze frames with 1970s style font splayed across the scene to introduce characters. Although this would’ve made total sense in the grindhouse salute, Death Proof, or again, in Kill Bill — a tribute to ‘70s style samurai flicks — here it only proves to be distracting and inappropriate. Especially since Tarantino only utilizes the effect one time, which only makes the randomness of the moment stand out more. And while we’re on the subject, halfway or so through the film we suddenly hear voiceover narration from none other than Samuel Jackson. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ll take Sam Jackson in a movie any day of the week, but weaseling in a random voiceover in just one scene seems obviously lazy to me. Could Tarantino not think of another more creative way to communicate this necessary exposition? It would appear so.

But I’ll lay off of QT’s case for a moment since he did manage to put together one of the best casts I’ve seen in quite some time. Brad Pitt is unarguably the big name in the credits and plays his part of smug, southern lieutenant Aldo Raine perfectly. Pitt keeps you smiling in every scene he’s in with his hilarious facial expressions paired with a great southern accent and scrappy leadership.

Pitt shares the spotlight with his other fellow soldiers, who include Eli Roth, BJ Novak, and Til Schweiger. Roth, alongside Death Proof alumni Omar Doom, split sides with laughter as their characters, who only know the word for “excuse me,” pretend to be Italians in a theater full of Nazis. And Novak, best known from TV’s “The Office,” brings some huge laughs of his own when he discovers the less-than-fear-inducing nickname his enemies have given him. And then there’s also Schweiger, who doesn’t need spoken lines to omit more emotion and intensity than anyone on screen. I’ll forever be in Tarantino’s favor if this movie brings the much deserved attention to this German actor, who has gone underrated since in his appearance in SLC Punk!

The same can be said for Christoph Waltz. Waltz plays, hands down, one of the best antagonists I’ve ever seen on screen. As Nazi Colonel Hans Landa (or, “The Jew Hunter”), Waltz brings breath-shortening suspense to all of his dialogue. To put it bluntly, Hans Landa is deliciously diabolical, the threat of violence always present under his deceitfully cheery demeanor.

So yes, the film does contain incredibly long conversations that would never go unedited from most other scripts. And yes, even in a movie that takes place during the 1940s, Tarantino has managed to fit in dialogue that boasts his infinite trivial knowledge of film history and pop culture. But at this point, 17 years since Tarantino’s debut, should we really expect any less? I would hope not. But I would also hope for a little more. Or at least something a little different. Maybe next time. Until then, I’ll enjoy all the blood, bullets, and Nazi scalping with a great big smile on my face.

According to the film’s trailer, “There are many secrets in District 9.” But what’s not a secret is that this movie is the must-see hit of the summer, with both critics and audiences agreeing that District 9 is a science fiction success.

District 9 is one of those movies that make you wonder why it wasn’t made years ago. Acting as a speculation of how our world would treat extra terrestrial immigrants, the filmmakers needed only to reflect how the nations of our planet have exploited unfortunate foreigners all throughout history. In fact, transform the term “illegal alien” to its most literal translation and you have the intriguing premise behind District 9.

Therefore, one might assume the movie to be a two-hour preach fest loaded with nonstop mouthfuls of force-fed social commentary. But while it doesn’t take much for a viewer to note the points the film is trying to make, District 9 restrains from overloading its audience with moral messages. Instead, the movie allows the story to speak for itself, never sacrificing pure entertainment to make room for superficial insight inserted here and there like we often see in so many other films that try to “say” something.

Interestingly, the best quality of District 9 could also be interpreted as its greatest flaw; that being its attempt to appeal to fans of various differing genres. A raw feeling of realism saturates this entire film from beginning to end with its use of real-to-life politics. However, District 9 also has more than its fair share of escapist moments when we’re treated to some of the coolest alien technology ever portrayed in cinema. In fact, it would not be completely unfair to accuse this film of having an identity crisis, as it moves from thought-provoking mockumentary, to Cronenberg-esque horror, to shoot’em up action before the final credits roll. Therefore, I wouldn’t be surprised if some viewers enjoyed parts of the movie while disliking others. But if all of these types of films appeal to you (as they do to me), then consider District 9 a buffet of cinematic delights.

And if that’s not enough to convince you to make a visit to your local theater, District 9 also introduces us to a new acting force which audiences have never seen before. His name is Sharlto Copley, who plays the film’s main character, Wikus Van De Merwe. It is not solely due to Copley’s previously unrecognizable face that we believe this movie to be Wikus’s true story. Copley, who’s in almost every minute of the movie, is so impressive in his realistic portrayal of an ignorant man learning the truth, that not even ray guns and space craft can distract the audience from his performance. Ironically, Copley’s work is so notable that it magnifies the shortcomings of some other underdeveloped, two-dimensional characters, not the least being the film’s main antagonist: a trigger-happy, gung ho mercenary who refuses to die.

Despite a few weak moments in the plot (referring to characters committing uncharacteristic actions just to move the story along), District 9 may very well be the best science fiction film of the new millennium. Its intriguing characters, reality-based issues, and kick ass special effects all combine to make the announcement: Neill Blomkamp has landed and this is sure to be his first success of many. Although it’s cool that Lord of the Rings director Peter Jackson recognized the great potential this film had and contributed as a producer, I now find it kind of amusing how much District 9’s marketing team used his name to sell theater tickets. Unlike so many flops that use established celebrities to garner whatever attention they can get, this film needs not benefit from a presenter. District 9 stands on its own two feet, whether they be human or alien.

Warner Bros. Pictures/Dark Castle Entertainment
123 min., dir. by Jaume Collet-Serra with Peter Sarsgaard, Vera Farmiga, and Isabelle Fuhrman

There are plenty of imperfect films out there that I enjoy for the simple reason I am able to ignore their flaws, as they are usually few and far between. But for one to enjoy Orphan, the film that tells of a family adopting an ominous nine-year-old Russian girl, one must ignore a lot. A whole lot.

For starters, ignore the fact that you once saw a little movie called The Good Son. In fact, forget that movie exists completely. So when Orphan utilizes a dangerously high tree house, a thinly iced body of water, an intentionally caused car accident, a child shooting a firearm at an animal, and one sibling sneaking into a hospital room to smother another, you won’t be left wondering how so many scenes could be blatantly removed from one movie and transplanted into another. And you’ll be able to join the hordes of fans who have done the same and label this film as “original.”

Now, if you happened to catch another “evil child” movie entitled Joshua, suppress that memory as well. This might prove to be a bit more difficult, since Joshua was released only two years prior to Orphan and both starred Vera Fermiga in an identical role: a troubled mother whose sanity is questioned due to the spurring of a diabolical youngster. True, Fermiga does a respectable job in both cases (and along with Isabelle Fuhrman, carries Orphan on her back), but how impressed can one really be with a repeat performance? But to be fair, I would’ve said the same thing about Jack Nicholson if he had played a man driven crazy by a haunted house a year or two after The Shining debuted.

The shaky pedestal on which Orphan stands is unarguably its twist ending. It alone serves as the source of so many viewers’ praise of the film’s originality, and I’ll admit I can’t think of another film that uses its final plot point. However, in order for the twist to truly work, one must again ignore key plot holes which occurred earlier in the movie. A truly great twist is one that allows the viewer to watch the film a second time and have fun realizing that the house of cards never falls (i.e., we never saw Bruce Willis interact with anyone other than Haley Joel Osmond). But a single cheat turns a brilliant execution into a good try, hence the end result of Orphan: a film that, upon reflection, leaves you shaking your head at the disregard of the integrity its own plot structure.

What you shouldn’t ignore is young newcomer Isabelle Fuhrman’s portrayal of Esther, the sinister adoptee. Except for the times when Esther is inexplicably physically overpowering adult characters, Fuhrman brings a chilling realism to the screen. It actually angers me that such a talented young actress couldn’t have made her breakthrough with a better script, but at least the film’s literally laughable lines were given to other cast members, leaving Fuhrman’s performance unsullied.

And behind every good acting display is strong direction, this task belonging to one Jaume Collet-Serra. If only Collet-Serra had toned it down on the incredibly predictable “false” scares we’ve seen over and over in horror films, then I could’ve given him more credit. Multiple scenes using the rising scary music for the umpteenth time to conclude with an “Oh! It’s only you” moment only proves that Collet-Serra has seen a horror flick before but doesn’t necessarily understand the genre. Though I will say his visual use of black light in this film is one of the more interesting effects I’ve seen in recent theater outings.

But ignoring so much that I have mentioned (and a lot I have not, including how Esther can threaten her deaf sister by whispering into her ear) is just too much for me. And for a horror film that is commonly referred to as “psychological,” I find it odd that it doesn’t take too much contemplation to bring light to its shortcomings. I know there are those who liked this movie, Roger Ebert being one of them (despite his fellow critics at Variety, The New York Times, and Entertainment Weekly all disagreeing). How they saw past the clichés, obvious rip-offs, and weak writing? Who knows. Maybe I just see too many movies.