“We Should Have Gone To Vegas…”
Based upon British author Adam Nevill’s novel of the same name, the Andy Serkis produced The Ritual might go unnoticed within your respective multiplex this week amidst snow-obsessed serial killers and the latest big-screen Lego animation, and whilst black comedy horror is sometimes hard to get spot on, the likes of Dog Soldiers and Shaun of the Dead prove that when done effectively, such a genre is hard to top in terms of entertainment value, and whilst The Ritual isn’t exactly a movie rooted with jaw-dropping levels of originality, director David Bruckner has executed a movie which does manage to tick the entertainment box rather extravagantly, and with a central four man show including the likes of Rafe Spall at the heart of the action, Bruckner’s latest is a movie bursting with cine-literate genre threads and snigger-inducing, quip-laden dialogue which helps twists the narrative through both horror and comedy ridiculously smoothly through a beautifully harmless ninety minute B-movie feast.
Evoking a wide range of classic horror releases, The Ritual nods its’ twisted head primarily through a Blair Witch style setting into the Pagan influences of Anthony Shaffer’s The Wicker Man and through once again into the creature feature elements of The Descent, and whilst it was entertaining to mentally jot down the movies imbedded within the film’s narrative, Bruckner’s movie does hold enough strength to be classed as a movie on its’ own right, particularly with the four key characters at the heart of the movie each having their own individual characteristics to be much more than just horror movie cannon fodder. With director David Bruckner having past experience in low-key horror releases before, including the “Amateur Night” segment of the highly enjoyable horror anthology, V/H/S, The Ritual does manage its’ horror elements incredibly well, particularly in the first two-thirds of the movie when the film’s leading threat is seeped in ambiguity, and whilst the final act is incredibly ludicrous and ultimately predictable, The Ritual is a highly entertaining piece of popcorn horror cinema which revels in the chance to not take itself seriously whatsoever.
Overall Score: 7/10
“You Could Save Them You Know. I Gave You All The Clues And Everything…”
Tackling a subject matter light years apart from the similarly titled Raymond Briggs written animation, The Snowman, a cinematic adaptation of Norwegian crime writer Jo Nesbø’s best selling novel, marks the highly anticipated return of Swedish director Tomas Alfredson, whose decision to adapt his fellow Scandinavians’ work from page to screen makes some sort of sense considering the dark, twisty tones of his previous work, and whilst Nesbø’s novel is the seventh in a series based around the trials and tribulations of Michael Fassbender’s leading character, Harry Hole, Alfredson’s movie is the first attempt in bringing the author’s famous detective to some sort of cinematic fruition. With good omens behind it therefore, it comes at a complete surprise to report that Alfredson’s latest is unfortunately nothing more than a shockingly dire and unintentionally woeful, manufactured work of disillusioned trash, one which seems to have faltered primarily at a pre-production stage and ultimately released just for the sake of it, and when considering the talent behind it, with a cast which mirrors the impressive ensemble within Alfredson’s previous, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, The Snowman is undoubtedly one of the most infuriatingly contrived let downs in recent Hollywood history.
Suffering from a handful of flaws which range from sloppy unprofessionalism to sinful laziness, The Snowman seems to be the spawn of awful judgement primarily from a production standpoint, with the film’s narrative lacking any meaningful level of threat, coherence or substance in complete contrast to previous Scandinavian thrillers such as The Killing and the Millennium franchise, and whilst the absence of threat results in the bulk of the movie being replaced with utter tedium, the film is worsened by the bizarre comedic tendency it seems to evoke each and every time the movie slips into supposed dark territory, with awfully designed murder clips and the scene of a snowman’s head being planted on the top of a deceased body resulting in a combination of sniggers rather than the nail-biting thrills I believe the novels were famous for. With editing which verges on the point of insanity and scenes which move from one to another without any sort of meaningful connectivity, The Snowman is a incomprehensible mess of a movie, and whilst the likes of Fassbender and even Alfredson to some extent can’t be entirely to blame, the first entry of a supposed Jo Nesbø based franchise is a complete and utter stinker.
Overall Score: 3/10
“I Always Told You. You’re Special. Your History Isn’t Over Yet. There’s Still A Page Left…”
Reissued to the big screen last year, Ridley Scott’s 1982 cult, science fiction classic Blade Runner is one of the greatest films of all time, period. Directed by a Scott on form of which has never been topped and beautifully designed through soaring cinematography and a world class Vangelis soundtrack, the cinematic adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is likely never to be topped within the genre of forward-thinking futuristic fiction. Treading with an air of trepidatious caution therefore, the release of Blade Runner 2049 is shackled with a the undeniable questioning of why a sequel was ever needed to a film laced with ambiguity and uncertainty twenty-five years ago, but with Scott being reduced to a production role only, a factor most fortunate considering the lack of mediocre releases from the American lately, and arguably the best filmmaker working at this moment in the form of Sicario and Arrival director Denis Villeneuve in charge, 2049 manages to create a heavy sense of confliction regarding its’ existence inside my cinematic mind. With a returning Harrison Ford, a grit-infused Ryan Gosling and the who’s who team of top class filmmakers, featuring the likes of Hans Zimmer and cinematographer Roger Deakins, 2049 holds the ace card for complete success, and what Villeneuve has managed to create is fundamentally a multi-million dollar art house inflicted masterpiece, one which expands the Blade Runner universe into expansive, lurid territory whilst simultaneously paying complete tribute to an original so beloved by many by coming oh so close to toppling the foundations of its’ predecessors unwavered supremacy as the masterwork of nightmarish, dystopian science fiction.
Whilst dissecting the details of the plot would be utter sacrilege, 2049 works as both a worthy continuation of the plot threads left over from the 1982 original and an organic beast in its’ own right, using the underlying narrative regarding the existence of replicants to a more than effective degree in attempting to piece together a story which both points to the past and propels into the future, with Ryan Gosling’s Agent K central to a narrative which combats its’ high-profile cast by giving each star a sharply defined character of notable distinction and interest, with Jared Leto’s Tyrell inflicted Wallace and Sylvia Hoeks’ Luv the standout characters of the piece. Concluding with all the ambiguity and uncertainty of the original, opportunity ultimately remains open for yet another sequel in the Blade Runner canon, yet with the care and delicate approach clearly given to its’ creation, 2049 seems more beneficial to remain solely as a chance to explore deeper the world originally created by Scott as a one-off, and whilst Villeneuve has the American to thank for handing him the chance to mould the Blade Runner world to his liking, the touch of a man who directed the woozy tranquility of Arrival is all over Blade Runner 2049, a film which revels in handing its’ audience a sense of exploration in attempting to piece out the satirical, sociological and thematic notions which are laid out on the screen, a screen which attempts to hold together images which evoke a sense of jaw-dropping awe when attempting to conclude how any living human could create such art. With amber-infused radioactive plains of a destroyed Las Vegas, the surrealist, art deco interior of Wallace enterprises, and the polluted airs of downtown Los Angeles, cinematographer and long awaited Oscar recipient, Roger Deakins, is at the top of his game, creating eye-widening spectacle after spectacle in helping Villeneuve establish the world in which the darkness and despair of the plot ultimately relies on, and whilst beauty has never been absent from the work of such a talented DP (the descent into darkness from Sicario and the sniper scene in Skyfall to name a few memorable shots), 2049 is undoubtedly the picture which will make the world stand up and proclaim Deakins as the undeniable master of his respective art form.
With Gosling’s Agent K on Drive territory, the brooding, bloodied body of his character is essential to the picture’s overt sense of dread which is played straight from beginning to end, and whilst the deliciously packed two hours and forty five minutes may seem a tad of a stretch to some, the film’s excesses never bothered me and even could have gone on further without a hint of objection or disdain. With a eye-watering budget at his disposal, it is quite remarkable how Villeneuve’s approach to 2049 is to completely follow the essence of the original in terms of both tone and feel, using long, sometimes drawn out sequences to enforce the eerie sense of isolation felt by the film’s leading characters, with the best moments sometimes utilising no dialogue or musical accompaniments at all, with the camera focused instead on how a particular character moves, feels or reacts to a particular scenario or plot development, with even Ford managing to be so much more than just a cast-off cameo in his return as Deckard, with a tense and almost Lynchian scene involving him and Leto’s Wallace a breathtaking example of each of the respective actors at the top of their game. With Hans Zimmer supplying the honking, synthy, Vangelis inspired soundtrack to completely encompass the film’s heart of darkness, the resulting chemical equation of putting together so many skilled filmmakers in the same room is rather quite staggering, with Villeneuve’s film managing to not only topple the lofty expectations set upon it, but also managing to portray science fiction cinema at its’ most beautiful and imaginative. Handed with the chance of the lifetime, Blade Runner 2049 is undoubtedly Villeneuve’s film, and with the Avengers style team of movie makers around him all working in complete synchronisation, the world can now finally see what it truly means to be a true sequel to film that never thought needed to be continued in the first place.
Overall Score: 10/10
“Okay, Now’s The Point When You Say It’s All A Joke…”
Remake. Reimagining. Reboot. Whatever. Of all the many psychological horror one-off’s in the world, Joel Schumacher’s 1990 cult flick, Flatliners, is indeed a movie devoid of all reasoning for such a continuation, and whilst the original had interesting ideas and a youthful, enthusiastic cast including the likes of Kiefer Sutherland, Julia Roberts and Kevin Bacon, the jury still remains out on why exactly a sequel is needed at all. With The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo director Niels Arden Oplev helming the similarly titled sequel this week, which from trailers alone, comes across as the bare-bones, cheap money cash-in many would expect it to be, at least there is some reason to be slightly excited, particularly with Oplev helming the likes of Mr. Robot and the somewhat mediocre, if stylish Colin Farrell starring, Dead Man Down since his success with the first of the Swedish-based Millennium series. Whilst it’s almost lazy to tarnish Oplev’s latest with all the obvious cliched quips, it is startling how much Flatliners is completely dead on arrival, with the latest Hollywood sequel lacking both pulse and heart as it only manages to succeed in making the original look like a forgotten cinematic classic.
Using the narrative of the first film to almost pinpoint exactness albeit for minor, lacklustre tweaks, Flatlines suffers fundamentally from the age old issue with sequels with it being a film which doesn’t attempt to build on the successes of its’ predecessor but simply decides to rehash the exact same ideas, and whilst there is an idea at the heart of Schumacher’s original movie which could be made into a thrilling exercise of science fiction, screenwriter Ben Ripley resorts to creating a sequel which attempts to be more Final Destination-esque in tone than the Black Mirror style of story the underlying narrative brings to mind. Whilst Ellen Page tries her best in the leading role, her untimely conclusion creates a vacuum of dullness in the film’s second half, one which utilises tiresome jump scares aplenty and hopeless horror to carry the story to its’ overstayed conclusion, and without a sense of threat and the element of mystery to hold the audience’s attention until the very end, Oplev’s movie is unfortunately a remake than simply cannot be revived no matter how much adrenaline charged substances can be shoved into its’ veins.
Overall Score: 3/10
“Manners. Maketh. Man. Let Me Translate That For You..”
Arguably being the director responsible for the rise of Daniel Craig as the world’s greatest British secret agent due to his successes with Layer Cake back in 2004, Matthew Vaughn’s successful trip with the Kingsman series returns this week with The Golden Circle, a star-studded action sequel which follows on from the fanfare of the first by being a film fundamentally addicted with the Bond series and all its’ many pleasures, but too a sequel which is primarily focused on the excesses evident within arguably the worst Bond films in the canon, releases which chose CGI surfing and invisible cars over any form of substance, and whilst The Golden Circle does boast a returning Colin Firth, Julianne Moore and Jeff Bridges, there is too few elements to enjoy within the space of a two hour-plus movie which follows the common trends of the sequel by being not at all in the realm of critical greatness as its’ predecessor. Whilst the first film did have a variety of flaws, including a crass, laddish undertone which attempted to derail the film completely, The Golden Circle goes one further in mediocrity and suffers fundamentally from elements which so easily could have been avoided, particularly when admiring the previous works of director, Matthew Vaughn.
Of the many elements which do not work, the chauvinistic, sexist portrayal of female characters which began slightly in The Secret Service continues to an extent within The Golden Circle, a particular flaw which makes Roger Moore’s treatment of women in his respective Bond films seem gentlemanly beyond belief. Whether it be a completely twisted and jarring scene of sexual spy implementation rape in a Glastonbury tent or the total lack of substance for characters portrayed by the likes of Halle Berry and Sophie Cookson, The Golden Circle is ran by a script which simply doesn’t care for its’ characters whatsoever, and with the return of Colin Firth after his death in the previous movie, the film suffers too from a complete lack of peril or fear due to the notion that a bullet wound to the head can simply be fixed by magical glue. With fight scenes a-plenty which are just CGI-fueled mania, Julianne Moore arguably giving her worst performance ever and Elton John popping up to add humour to proceedings, The Golden Circle is an absolute mess of a movie, but one which is somewhat redeemed by flashy editing, a cucumber cool soundtrack and a solid leading performance from Taron Egerton but ultimately a sequel which still manages to be the lesser body of work when compared to its’ predecessor. Shame.
Overall Score: 4/10
“Here We Are, Again..!”
Based upon the 1994 novel “Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem” by English author Peter Ackroyd, American director Juan Carlos Medina hits the big time this week after a string of independent, low-key releases with The Limehouse Golem, a British murdery mystery featuring the enigmatic figure of Bill Nighy in the leading role of Inspector John Kildare and a supporting cast which features the ever-reliable figures of Olivia Cooke, Daniel Mays and Eddie Marsan. Adapted from novel to screen by writer Jane Goldman, whose previous successes include Kick-Ass and the jet-black gothic horror of the worlds scariest 12A rated movie, The Woman In Black, Medina’s movie is unfortunately a slog of predictability, one which forces through style over substance and shock tactics over story, resulting in a televisual murder mystery which ultimately feels rather too silly to be taken seriously even with some eye-catching performances from its’ leading cast and effective gritty, murky cinematography from the film’s DP.
Put onto the case of the “Limehouse Golem” after a string of grisly, violent murders in Victorian-era London, Bill Nighy’s Inspector Kildare’s high profile history and attachment to former stage actor Elizabeth Cree (Olivia Cooke) is placed onto the local spotlight. With Cree on trial for the supposed murder of her husband, Kildare balances his attempt to prove her innocence along with revealing the identity of the crowd-pleasing vicious killer, one who has striked both fear and excitement from the bloodthirsty London audience. With the violence ridiculous, the dialogue cliched and the final twist so obvious even a half-asleep audience would have got there eventually, The Limehouse Golem doesn’t quite manage to live up to the retro, murder thriller vibe it so obviously wants to excrete on-screen, and whilst Nighy, Cooke and Douglas Booth give it their best go, Medina’s big-screen debut is B-movie fluff of which memorability isn’t exactly its’ leading trait.
Overall Score: 5/10
“I Like Your Agenda. I Know Exactly What To Do With You…”
Based upon Vince Flynn’s 2010 novel of the same name, American Assassin presents itself within the realm of 21st century spy thrillers which take on both the ethos of the Bourne franchise and the direction of Paul Greengrass, with the filmmaking tactics deployed in The Bourne Supremacy onwards having a widespread influence on a vast spectrum of cinema ranging from the gargantuan Bond series to the more B-Movie approach of the Taken franchise. Brought to the big screen by Kill the Messenger director Michael Cuesta, this first entry into an anticipated string of Flynn-based releases features Dylan O’Brien as civilian-turned-killer Mitch Rapp and Michael Keaton as veteran training agent Stan Hurley, and whilst many audiences fall under the spell of money-grabbing action cash-ins due to a underlying love of anything with extravagant explosions and expletive-ridden dialogue, American Assassin is a prime example of an action movie so lazy and plodding in its’ creation, it is actually harder to comprehend its’ existence than it is to actually enjoy it.
With a lifeless, growling and utterly dull leading performance from O’Brien as the titular stone-cold killer, one who uses the cranked in and wholly exploitative plot point of a particular death as reasoning for murderous rampaging, American Assassin falls under the old chestnut of simply not being clever or eager enough to add any sense of depth to proceedings, resulting in a vacuum of space where the utter lack of either sympathy or empathy resides and is replaced by a severe level of tedium which in turn results in a much more enjoyable sleep-induced coma which the audience falls into in order to pass the time. Slapped with an 18 certificate, American Assassin contains a simply undeserved level of sadistic, awkward violence which has no reasoning for its inclusion and just results in a total sense of alienation from characters who are hard to distinguish between friend and foe, and with a conclusion which ranks up there with the most jump-the-shark scenes I have ever seen, Cuesta’s movie is the sort of tripe which brings absolutely nothing new to the overpopulated realm of action movies and is simply there for monetary issues. On this evidence, I can’t see that being a winner either.
Overall Score: 3/10
“You Give, And You Give, And You Give. It’s Just Never Enough…”
Encapsulating in human form the very definition of divisive, Darren Aronofsky for me is the idealistic, brave and shit-hot filmmaker needed within the midst of summer blockbusters and endless unwarranted sequels in the current climate of cinema, and whilst many understandably lift their nose at the thought of anything with the Brooklyn born movie-maker’s recognisable touch, there is an unparalleled level of talent within a man who in my eyes rarely puts a foot wrong. Whether it be the depraved, nihilistic portrayal of addiction within Requiem for a Dream, the depiction of regret and sorrow within The Wrestler, or indeed the Argento inspired ripeness of Black Swan, Aronofsky holds no standards for a crowd-pleasing cop-outs and that alone has resulted in widespread appeal for his movies, particularly mother!, Aronofsky’s latest feature which for all its’ lack of publicity and reportedly inflammatory subject matter still manages to secure a wide release across the UK. Challenging, subversive, oppressive and surreal, Aronofsky’s latest transcends the realm of cinema itself and leaves you in a state of prolonged shock as soon as the final credits roll, and whilst many are guaranteed to loathe the sadistic and ripe arty nature of the film’s final product, mother! is an experience of an ilk similar to the likes of Funny Games and Kill List by being a film so terribly haunting and tough, the execution of such simply has to be rapturously applauded.
Set wholly within the confines of the winding home of Jennifer Lawrence’s “mother” and Javier Bardem’s writer’s block ridden “him”, Aronofsky’s narrative twists between home invasion horror, jet-black comedy, Lynch-style surrealism and a Dogville-style societal commentary, and whilst the underlying story is undoubtedly based upon writings drawn from Christianity and the sacred texts within the Bible, the twisted nature of Aronofsky’s storytelling offers much more than just one simple way to manoeuver through the ambiguity and the three-act structure, with each act after the next increasing in tension and shock value as the movie progresses through to its’ ultimate conclusion. With the camera solely fixed on the subjective view of Lawrence, with all but a few minor shots either directly focusing on her face or over her shoulder, the Oscar winning actresses performance is absolutely mesmerising, conveying a rafter of facial expressions and emotions as the narrative forces her to compliment the downward spiral of horror which transcends upon the screen and a performance which evoked the spirit of Nicole Kidman in Lars Von Trier’s Dogville and Mia Farrow’s iconic role in Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby, a movie of which directly influences mother! in it’s rollercoaster ride of a final act, one which comes extremely close to dive bombing the movie altogether in its’ sheer jaw-dropping extravagance.
With Bardem on usual form as the somewhat ciphered, unknown quantity, and both Ed Harris and Michelle Pfeiffer reminding everyone of their raw and unquestionable talent, Aronofsky throws the remainder of his cast around and around in order to suit his narrative endgame, with jarring inclusions from the likes of Domhnall Gleeson and Kristen Wiig seeming so surreal it almost cripples the way in which you as a viewer should be embracing the movie, particularly in regard to its’ ever-wandering tone. If you head to in to a screening of mother! wanting a jump-scare ridden horror, you are bound to leave extremely disappointed, and whilst there is undoubtedly elements of genre-literate exploitation aplenty, with the film evoking everything from the likes of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me in terms of its’ hateful depiction of the human existence to the social commentary extremity evident within Ruggero Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust, Aronofsky’s latest is not a film to be enjoyed, instead it is the type of movie you digest, mull over and decide to what to make of it after three glasses of whisky and a trip to a puppy farm to combat the oppressive shock your mind is layered in after exiting the auditorium. mother! gave me nightmares, and not many films manage to bury that deep within the confines of my psyche but it goes to show how much of an astonishing, messed-up cinematic achievement Aronofsky has managed to create in a cinematic environment when risks are so rarely eaten up.
Overall Score: 9/10
“Out Here, You Either Survive Or You Surrender…”
Although first brought to my attention as the short lived Deputy Hale in FX’s Sons of Anarchy, Taylor Sheridan has effectively reinvented himself as one of the most effective and reliable scriptwriters Hollywood has to offer over the course of just two years, with the Denis Villeneuve directed Sicario and last year’s ballsy heist drama Hell or High Water, two of the most hard edged, grit fuelled thrillers to brace the big screen in quite a while, and too films which although featured extensive action set pieces and white-knuckle levels of tension, understood that in order to make a film of such an ilk be more than just surface, development and characterisation of the leading players is ultimately key and the true basis of any decent film’s narrative. Whether it be the battle between morality and revenge in the likes of Sicario or the double-edged sword of family and justice in Hell or High Water, Sheridan’s writing has so far always brilliantly balanced audience-pleasing drama with enough substance to make them much more than your average run-of-the-mill crime tale. Taking the jump this week onto directorial as well as scriptwriting duties, Sheridan’s latest release comes in the form of Wind River, a Scandi-inflicted crime drama set in the heart of the titular Indian Reservation in Wyoming, U.S, and a film which continues rather enjoyably the success rate of Sheridan, a filmmaker who is starting to earn a reputation as an auteur of modern day crime drama.
After the body of a deceased 18 year old female is found by local Wildlife Sevice Agent, Cory Lambert (Jeremy Renner) in the scarce, bitter landscapes of the snow-covered plains of Wyoming, rookie FBI agent Jane Banner (Elizabeth Olsen) is flown in to assist with the investigation in order to establish both a cause of death and whether a murderer is hiding within the vicious cold of the out-dated, unforgiving mountainous American state. Akin more to the likes of Hell or High Water than Sicario, Wind River is once again the character driven drama audiences have come to expect from the writings of Sheridan, and whilst there is indeed explosive action set pieces and a frighteningly executed concluding chapter, the film spends most of its’ time layering substance upon substance on the key players within the base of the narrative, particularly Renner’s Lambert, a practical, unflinching hunter who through a past trauma has more reason than most to attempt to solve the mystery which unravels trepidatiously throughout the course of the movie. With sweeping cinematography from DP Ben Richardson and a haunting, whispering score from Nick Cave, Wind River is the most low-key of the Sheridan back-catalogue to date, but with sparking leading performances and a nail-biting final movement, Sheridan’s latest is an absorbing, brilliantly written crime thriller. Who would expect anything less?
Overall Score: 8/10
“You’ll Float Too…”
Following in the footsteps of The Dark Tower earlier this year, the release of It is of course yet another cinematic adaptation of a novel from horror aficionado Stephen King and similarly is a story of which I have read from top to bottom, a particular strain when considering its’ mammoth 1400 plus page count, and whilst many regard the 1990 miniseries starring Tim Curry with high esteem, there is no doubting its’ staggered weariness since its’ release, particularly in regards to the cheap effects and corny dialogue which encompassed much of television serials for that particular period in time. With Mama director Andy Muschietti steadying the ship and King’s blessings showered over its’ production, the time for a contemporary adaptation of arguably King’s most iconic novel has been highly anticipated since the first murmurings of its’ release were afoot, and with the film following the natural course of a plain sailing narrative by focusing primarily on the story of the children and leaving the elder’s tales until the sequel, It has the capacity to be up there with the best King adaptations to date. With a script which is as faithful to the source material as perhaps practically possible, Muschetti has effectively managed to craft a crowd-pleasing modern day horror classic, one which combines the fearlessness of youth with rib-tickling comedy and of course, the underlying element of utmost terror, one which is amalgamated within the form of a simply terrifying incarnation of King’s most disturbing creation thus far.
Switching the 1950’s era of the novel to the late 1980’s, a period of time consisting of cinemas showing A Nightmare on Elm Street 5 and sounds of The Cult and The Cure, It begins in the horrific, iconic fashion of the source material, using the death of Georgie Denbrough as effective characterisation for both brother Bill and Bill Skarsgård’s portrayal of Pennywise, and whilst the death of a minor is always difficult to portray upon the big screen, Muschietti’s decision to act strictly within the confines of the film’s highly deserved 15 rating is both shocking and ballsy, but too a decision which ultimately benefits the sadistic and murderous nature of the film’s titular villain, and with Skarsgård’s portrayal of Pennywise carrying the fearful threat which made the character so powerful within the novel, each and every time his character appears on-screen either in clown form or the many other disguises depicted, the fundamental uncertainty of clowns which I believe resonates in almost everyone is absolutely and undeniably terrifying. With minimalistic, subverted facial twitches, surrealist voice cues and the bonus of added digital effects, the world has finally found the definitive portrayal of Pennywise, and although Tim Curry’s performance will always be admired by many of a certain ilk, Skarsgård’s interpretation is the character I totally envisioned when reading the novel and from a person who tends not to fall under the spell of jump scares, Skarsgård’s Pennywise managed to both fill me with terror and make me check my pants after a collection of effectively maneuvered horror set pieces.
In regards to both members and enemies of the Losers Club, casting director Rich Delia is arguably the real hero of the movie, accumulating an ensemble cast of primarily youth-inflicted, un-established talent which transcribes on-screen as pretty much perfect in terms of each respective character’s transition from paper to screen, and whilst the depth of characterisation prevalent in the novel was always impossible to fit into a two hour movie, Muschietti manages to direct each individual with enough vigour and charm to establish themselves as wholly believable and empathetic. Whether it be the sadistic parenting of both Beverly Marsh and lead bully Henry Bowers or the overbearing figure of Eddie Kaspbrak’s anxious mother, the development of the characters has the desired effect whenever they are placed in a position of peril, and even though from reading the novel I was aware of where each of the character’s narrative threads was heading, the channeling of the brilliantly constructed cast makes the horror elements much more effective. In a sentence, you’ll scare because you care. Whilst the threat of Pennywise does lesser slightly come the concluding battle between forces both good and evil in the surroundings of Derry’s less than attractive sewering system and the CGI construction of particular monsters not being as effective as the titular leading character, Muschietti’s movie is a masterclass of how to transition a story from page to screen, and whilst It is only part one of the story to come, the culmination of a superbly intertwined genre-swapping narrative, a perfectly moulded cast and an unparallelled faithfulness to the novel, Muschietti’s film is not only a marvel of modern horror cinema, but it redefines how Hollywood should be treating its’ horror-loving audience. See you in 27 years.