Far North is like a half whispered tale told round a campfire way out in the tundra, a tale that keeps the fire going while freezing your blood. I’m not sure if it’s based on some Inuit parable or fable, but it certainly has the aura of such. There’s a whole lot of land up there, and most likely centuries of stories just like this one, witnessed only by the wolves and the winter cold, as well as the few hard bitten inhabitants who call it home. Michelle Yeoh is Saiva, an outcast from her tribe after being deemed cursed by her shaman at birth, left to wander the expanse alone. Her only companion is a young girl (Michelle Krusiec) who she rescued from marauding soldiers as a baby, and has raised somewhat as a daughter. The two live an isolated existence, until Saiva finds half dead soldier Loki (Sean Bean) wandering the tundra, and reluctantly takes him in. That’s where trouble begins, as he takes a liking to the young girl, a bond is formed, and another is soured and broken. There’s a third act shocker that will have your skin crawling, a jarring act of violence, deception and betrayal that leaves us feeling as cold and cast out as Saiva, an existence which probably foretold such horrors years ago when the shaman gazed upon her face. It doesn’t quite fit with the lyrical beauty and ambient pace that came before, but it’s definitely an unforgettable way to end the story, and a reminder of humans and their capacity for darkness. Roaming caribou, miles of ice, wandering wolves, and the few humans who survive out there, perhaps affected by something deeper, something elemental that lives in the very air. Not a perfect film, but fascinating and quite unlike any other. Oh, and a warning: ther are some graphic and suspiciously realistic scenes of animal violence.
Tag: films
Bong Joon Ho’s Snowpiercer: A Review by Nate Hill
Bong Joon Ho’s Snowpiercer is a cold affair in more ways than one. It treats it’s characters with the same icy indifference as the storm which batters the few remaining people on the planet, confined to a locomotive that speeds around the globe in perpetual motion, humanity’s last ditch effort against a cataclysmic ice age of their own making. The train is designed to house the poor and disenfranchised folks in filthy barracks at the back end of the train, while the rich and privileged elite live in glamerous excess at the front. What better metaphor for brutal classism? A confined vehicle from which their is no escape, dwindling resources and rising tensions eerily serve to remind us of our own situation on this rock. Chris Evans grimes up his Captain America image as the ruthless leader of the poor, rebelling traincar by traincar and waging an ongoing war against the upper class and their minions, his sights set on reaching the engine. Unfortunately they’re up against some nasty security forces dispatched to end their rebellion at any cost, including axe wielding henchman, a J.T. Walsh lookalike who is tougher to kill than a terminator and an absolutely nutballs Tilda Swinton, unrecognizable under a dairy queen cake of makeup and a muddled northern England accent, dryly playing the tyrannical head of propaganda. Aside from the obvious social satire that hits home, the film is also a rollicking action slam dunk with some jaw dropping, delightfully implausible set pieces and truly inspired visual design. Each train car has a different theme and purpouse, from a self sufficient aquarium (anybody want some sushi?) to a terrifyingly cheerful classroom where kiddies are brainwashed by a crackhead of a school teacher (Alison Pill in overdrive), and eventually the engine itself, a technological marvel presided over by a lonely, twisted and miscast Ed Harris as the architect of the whole deal, a role better suited for a Patrick Stewart or a Malcolm McDowell type. John Hurt plays the other half of the brains, stuck in squalor at the caboose, and there’s work from Ewan Bremmer, Octavia Spencer, Jamie Bell, Ah Sung Ko and Kang Ho Song as a resourceful explosives expert with his own agenda. The themes of this film will be difficult for some to swallow, which is what I imagine led to it’s piss poor marketing, at least in North America. The topical, callous and icy blunt truths about society, sacrifice and oppression won’t be willingly received by many, least of all the powers that be, who don’t want such notions floating around freely. That’s what makes it important though, and sets it a step above most. It reaches near taboo levels of thought, displaying ugliness and outrage that seems scarily logical the more you think about it. Plus it’s a humdinger of an action adventure flick. Strong stuff, both in visual and narrative departments.
The Crimson Rivers: A Review by Nate Hill
There’s a serial killer loose in a small mountain town located in rural France, and who better to track them down than the country’s two most prolific film actors (or the ones with better physiques than Gerard Depardieu anyway), Jean Reno and Vincent Cassel. Reno is the seasoned, slightly eccentric Parisian detective, called in to assist and step on the toes of local investigator Cassel, who is too hot headed to realize he could use the help. A body has washed up in a nearby river, mutilated to an unspeakable degree in gruesomely specific ways (think Sev7n on ice). The town just happens to be solely inhabited by the creepy residents of a nearby university that is notorious for incestuous classism and rumours of ties to the occult. You can imagine where this is heading, and it’s fun watching Reno and Cassel follow the bloodstained breadcrumb trail towards increasingly grisly secrets that would test even David Fincher’s gag reflex. Genetic research, mysterious twins (both played by Nadia Fares), and multiple corpses are a few of the hurdles our two heroes encounter. It’s delightfully convoluted, in the best way possible. Some people say that less is more, but I find that makes way for laziness and complacency, two attributes you don’t want to find in the horror/thriller genre. I’d rather a film throw every little brainstorm and margin doodle into the mix, even if it doesn’t all add up, than present a barely filled in canvas that begs for more. The real stunner with this one is a near Bond-esque climax set on a giant glacier overlooking the valley below, full of desperate violence and giddy exposition. You’ll need a strong stomach for the dark places this one ventures to, but it will reward you with crisp cinematography and lurid, blood soaked intrigue. Brutal stuff though.
Indie Gems with Nate: Guy X
Guy X is one of those tonally disorientating black comedies whose madcap antics hide a deeper truth, visible only to those patient enough to sift through the meandering detritus. It also helps I your sense of humour is on the right frequency, one that is decidedly off key in this case. Think of a Terry Gilliam film, that mad rush of arbitration and deafening bureaucratic hubbub that serves as a smokescreen for something a little more grounded. Jason Biggs, keeping his dick out of pies this time around, plays Rudy, a low level army grunt who is accidentally sent to an outpost right in the the Arctic, and the middle of nowhere too, as we soon see by his fellow soldier’s boredom fuelled shenanigans. It’s fish out of water, but we get an uncanny sense that he’s also there for a reason, one that takes it’s painstaking time to emerge. Smitten by the beautiful commanding officer (the always lovely Natasha McElhone), hounded by her petty boyfriend (Jeremy Northam) and constantly swept up in the feverish lack of discipline or coherence among the ranks. It’s all fun and games, to be sure, but there’s a melancholic aura that hangs around, especially when Rudy discovers the titular Guy X (Michael Ironside in a transfixing cameo), a lost and forgotten soul who hints at the futility of military operations, reminding us of how we all cloak our existential dread in frosty self depracation and ironic gallows humour. That’s the film, essentially, which I think many didn’t get. Most of the reviews I’ve seen on imdb are from folks who struggled deeply with the sharp, uncomfortable shift in tone, understandably jarred by a sobering rift between playful banter and troubling reflection. The important films are often more difficult for a idea audience to receive, they’re just constructed that way. This one is no exception, but there’s many a lighthearted moment and comedic situation to be enjoyed before the hammer of reality comes down.
B Movie Glory with Nate: Arctic Blue
Arctic Blue is as eccentric and loopy as I’d imagine such unique climate conditions make people behave up there. Indeed, instead of a straight up action adventure, they’ve gone for something a little more meandering and amusing, sort of like Midnight Run under the midnight sun. In a sea of direct to video flicks that Rutger Hauer has done, it’s tough to weed the gems from the turds, but this one is gold, especially if you’re a fan of him, as well as gorgeously photographed scenery. As Ben, he’s not quite hero, not quite antagonist, a wildman of a trapper who functions on instinct and has no use for the rule of law. When an altercation with a park ranger leads to murder at his own hand, Ben is set to be escorted to judgment by a local sheriff (Dylan Walsh). Walsh is green around the ears though, and Ben is determined to escape, aided by his familiarity with the land and climate, as well as his bawdy fellow trappers, who are hot on their trail. what follows is almost genre defying; it’s just this side of adventure, with the slightest hint of buddy comedy and even a few mournful notes to Ben’s backstory that give it that dramatic weight. I love an ambiguous character, one who makes real choices and has capacity for both compassion and viciousness in their spirit, seemingly free from the constriction of conventional plot development. Ben is his own man, and approaches both his environment and his fellow man on his own terms, which granted can lead to trouble, but is an endlessly attractive character trait to have. I think having grown up in such a rugged, untethered corner of the globe, people like Ben run on their own clock, and hum with the delirious atmosphere of such a far removed existence. The entire film has that going for it too, like everyone involved is running off of no sleep and whatever is in the water way up there in the north. A true undiscovered gem of a film, if you can find it anywhere.
On Deadly Ground: A Review by Nate Hill
I tend to actively avoid Steven Seagal films like the plague, and realize intermittently that I do in fact enjoy certain ones from back in the day. He’s made a ton of trash, no doubt, but the clouds part every now and again, for select occasions like Under Siege, The Glimmer Man, Above The Law, Fire Down Below and the snowbound On Deadly Ground. The main marvel in this one is an incredibly hammy Michael Caine as the mustache twirling villain, a Big Oil maniac who has his amoral sights set on sacred land belonging to Inuit tribesman. Seagal plays yet another martial arts trained badass who takes it upon himself to bring down Caine, his nefarious capitalist plans and the violent mercenaries he has hired to wipe the land of indigenous natives. It’s as silly as silly can be, right down to him falling in love with a beautiful Inuit girl (Joan Chen, actually Chinese), but enjoyable on its own terms when you look at the solid choreography, stunts and impressive location work. Also, the roster of villains is too good to pass up, starting with Caine’s outright, wanton psychopath. We’re also treated to the Sergeant himself, R. Lee Ermey as a merc with a particularly salty attitude, John C. McGinley over-playing one of his patented schoolyard bullies, and even Billy Bob Thornton shows up, adding to the sleaze factor. Watch for cameos from Mike Starr, Michael Jai White and an unbilled Louise Fletcher as well. Seagal directed this himself, so it’s essentially one big vanity piece where he gets to play Dances With Wolves for a couple hours, but the trick is to see the unintentional comedy in that and enjoy it. Seagal is one of those goofs who I am not a ashamed to say I am laughing at, not with. Caine is the real prize here, and his merry band of assholes. An action flick is only as good as it’s antagonist, and this guy is bad to the bone in hilariously over the top ways. A big dumb flick, nothing more, nothing le- well maybe a little less in places, but fun in other spots nonetheless.
Larry Fessenden’s The Last Winter: A Review by Nate Hill
Nature fights back in Larry Fessenden’s The Last Winter, a vaguely supernatural cautionary tale of of environmentalists and oil workers besieged by some unseen forces in the great north. Fessenden also brought us Wendigo back in the day, another snowbound chiller, and a keen sense of the eerie corners of the natural world and it’s unexplored areas comes built in with his skill set. Ron Perlman doggedly plays Ed, the headstrong leader of a research party scouting arctic land for Big Oil to plant an ice road and pipeline. Connie Britton is his second in command and former flame, now shacking up with wildlife journalist James Legros. When the dead, naked body of a team member is found near their camp, natural gas emissions from the ground are suspected (so logical, guys). Yet, people continue to die, and some ominous presence gathers in the night just outside the perimeter of the station, inciting rising dread and distrust among the team and claiming victims with gathering speed. It’s fun to watch Perlman slowly come unraveled, his grim sense of control slipping away as quickly as his rational explanations for what is happening. We never get a good look at whatever is out there, which is the smart way to go about your horror. The snow boils, strange sounds are heard and the natural world itself almost seems to be taking on angry life of it’s own. It’s obviously meant as a metaphor, but works just as well as a literal creature feature thanks to the sleek direction and well placed moments of chilly terror. Shades of The Thing, infused with this theme of the earth lashing out at the arrogance of human industrialization is a delicious flavour indeed.
Assault On Precinct 13: A Review by Nate Hill
Assault On Precinct 13 is less of a remake of John Carpenter’s balls out, guerilla action treatise and more of a branch off into timeless, near western archetypes, as well as the good old siege thriller format. It’s also one of the meanest, grittiest cop films of the last few decades, deserving a higher rung on the ladder of adoration than it has so far ascended to. Dark, merciless and full of yuletide gallows humour, it’s a searing blast of gunfire and snowbound pulp starring a roster of fired up talent, starting with an intense Ethan Hawke and an unpredictable, predatory Laurence Fishburne. Fishburne is Marion Bishop, a legendary criminal kingpin wrapped tight in police custody and shipped off to a remote precinct on New Years eve with a busload of fellow prisoner transports. The station is run by a few relaxed cops, all preparing to punch that clock and get the New Year’s festivities underway. Unfortunately, a gang of corrupt detectives have other ideas, descending upon the ill guarded outpost with the fury and firepower of animals set loose, determined to murder everyone inside and level the place to the ground in order to cover up their actions. Hawke is the veteran cop with a dodgy undercover past, blessed with the grit and gristle necessary to rally the troupes and self preserve til the morning light. Drea De Matteo, who’s awesome and welcome in anything, is a tough female sergeant, Maria Bello the sharp police psychiatrist caught in the middle, Brian Dennehy the salty old dog, and a laundrey list of rabid felons who pitch in to save their own asses, including Ja Rule, Aisha Hinds, Currie Graham and a wired up John Leguizamo. Together they all make a veritable wild bunch to hold down the fort, but the forces they’re up against are tactical and terrifying. The opposition is headed up by a dangerously quiet Gabriel Byrne as deeply a corrupt Police Captain, doing a coiled viper rendition of a Christopher Walken villain, his work one of the strongest aspects of the film. Watch for Matt Craven and Kim Coates in brief cameos as well. The action is a ballistic blitzkrieg of firefights, standoffs and ditch efforts, scarcely giving the audience time to breathe, let alone tally up the casualties, of which there are many. This ain’t no cakewalk, in terms of action films. It’s down, dirty and has no time for quips, smart mouths or villains that monologue. Everyone involved in a caged animal prepared to go to extremes at the drop of a hat in order to achieve their goals, with kneejerk reactions and off the cuff violence that feels real, and cuts deep. If you are serious about your action films, and enjoy ruthless, non patronizing narratives that get as cold as the snow drifts surrounding the precinct and as casually indifferent as the bullets that ventilate it, this is your ticket.
Taika Waititi’s Hunt For The Wilderpeople: A Review by Nate Hill
Taika Waititi’s Hunt For The Wilderpeople speaks to the lost boy in all of us, tweaks our sense of humour with subtle doses in all the right places, taking what could have been a familiar feeling story and sending it miles down the road less traveled, in terms of emotion, comedy, script and pacing. This film has the largest scope of any he has made so far, but it’s purely for atmosphere; he remains steadfast in his need to explore what fascinates him the most: people. Their fears, desires, eccentricities and idiosyncrasies laid out bare and blunt, with none of the trademark gloss or cookie cutter cue card normalcy that so much writing has these days, clouding the potential for characters to feel geniune. They feel just that here though, and inhabit a world of harsh realities, unpredictable outcomes and organic, unforced interaction. Hell, even when his protagonists are vampires, they still feel far more lifelike than many a human character in film these days. The story is benign, until slowly kindled by all the elements I have just outlined. Child services, in the form of a tyrannical bitch (Rachel House), bring wayward boy Ricky (Julien Dennison, a wicked new talent) to stay with his new foster parents on a remote farm in rural New Zealand. The couple (Rima Ti Wiata and the legendary Sam Neill) couldn’t be more different than the young lad. He’s a hoodie wearing, rap rhetoric spewing, pop culture paintball gun of colloquial gibberish and big city malarkey. They are a withdrawn, earthy, isolated type of folk, content with farm life and each other’s company. Ricky is a disruption which they both need, creating a mini culture clash that provides countless moments of amusement as we wade our way into the story. The aforementioned unpredictability strikes when Neill’s wife passes away without buildup or ceremony, leaving him and a kid he barely knows, let alone likes, alone in the world. What follows is a touching, picturesque and endlessly funny glimpse at two people who are thrown into the thick of it together. These people are both lost in different ways; Ricky has never known a real family, tethered to nothing and set adrift among a sea of cyber role models and unreliable elders. Neil has just spent the majority of his life in a rock steady routine with his farmer’s wife and clockwork existence, suddenly unmoored and left with not a clue how to proceed. The two are hilarious together, providing each other with bushels of character development and scene after scene of purely inspired, bona fide human interaction that feels so utterly, blessedly unforced. They’re set among a slide show of breathtaking scenery, lively supporting work and attention to detail that adds up to quite the unforgettable package. If Waititi’s latest is any indication of what’s to come, lay down that red carpet runway post haste, because he’ll continue to take us by storm.
Legacy: Black Ops – A Review by Nate Hill
Legacy: Black Ops is a good one. Like so many indie products, it has been marketed to look like an action flick for dvd, but the truth is something more akin to a psycho – political thriller. Clearly influenced by both the Bourne films and Jonathan Demme’s The Manchurian Candidate, it reins the intrigue in somewhat for an intimate, starkly paced look at one man who is on the brink of losing both his mind and memories in the wake of a special ops mission gone awry. Idris Elba gives a mini powerhouse as Malcolm Grey, a battle scarred veteran who has isolated himself in a drab motel room, ruminating on a calamitous outing with his fellow squad members to find and take out eastern European extremist Salenko (Julian Wadham). Whatever went wrong sent a chain reaction down the ranks and left them divided in years to come, but we are only treated to unreliable fragments of these events, reflected through the prism of Malcom’s broken mind. He receives visits from his squad mates, but are they really there, or yet another illusion dreamt up to avert his gaze from the truth? Character actor Richard Brake is O’Keefe, his longtime friend and second in command, providing sympathy and solid support during the mission we see unfold in hectic flashbacks. Adjacent to this plot is the political rise of Malcom’s brother Darnell (Eamonn Walker) riding the wave of an election that will put him in a seat of immense power, but one wonders how he’s connected to Malcolm and his past? How indeed. It’s confusing to say the least, but never trips over its own ambitions, sewing threads of concise cause and effect throughout it’s story, which is emotionally downbeat and melancholic in nature, a stylistic choice that really works in the film’s favour. If you’re willing to sit, absorb and meditate on a slow burner of a tale that feeds you pieces of the puzzle bit by bit, with almost zero action to be found, have at ‘er. I enjoyed it immensely.






