Total Recall (2012)

Rating: **

So outraged were some of the nerdery that when it was announced they were remaking Total Recall, many people acted like someone said Citizen Kane, or Casablanca. The original Total Recall, although definitely with its own charm, is hardly the type of seminal science fiction film, like 2001 or Star Wars, that should probably defy the odds of re-imagining. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, remakes, as a trend, is not necessarily something we need fear. There's a fine tradition of remakes sometimes exceeding the original, like John Carpenter's The Thing of the Humphrey Bogart-starring Maltese Falcon. Even in music there's the long proud tradition of the cover song.

But let's not to get your hopes up. Total Recall, the 2012 edition, is not in anyway an improvement on the Paul Verhoeven version from 1990. This one's directed by Len Wiseman with the general feeling that before undertaking the film he sat down one weekend and watched Star Wars, Blade Runner, and Die Hard a couple of dozen times. There are storm troopers, gravity cars, rain-soaked futuristic cityscapes and an everyman hero in over his head being pursued by a pair of dangerous women. One of them is being played by an actress married to the director.

Colin Farrell plays Douglas Quaid in this new Recall replacing Arnold Schwarzenegger. He too has a menial job, a hot wife and longs for something more of the secret agent variety, and he too has seen the ads for Rekall and wonders if he can get away for a couple of hours into an action-packed fantasy. The difference this time is that Quaid doesn't have to get his ass to Mars, the action's happening right here on Planet Earth, were an ecological disaster has rendered only two parts of Earth unscorched: England and Australia. Workers from Australia serve the decadent Britons via an elevator that spans the planet called "The Fall." And there are some nefarious seeds a-doin' as Britain seems to be making a move to reclaim Australia.

This is where Quaid comes in. He knows... Something, and the evil British Empire of the Future are prepared to do anything to keep him from remembering. Or maybe they want him to remember. Or maybe they want him to think he's still plain old Doug Quaid to keep him out of the equation. Perhaps they want him to turn back into Hauser so that he can lead them to the rebel Matthias. Either way, Quaid's pretty, American-accented EMT wife is a butt-kicking, British-accented assassin out to kill him. But on the other hand, there's the idealistic, equally action-capable and lovely sidekick that picks up Quaid and promises to help lead him to the truth. But which truth is the truth?

The original Total Recall was a thinly-veiled meat-head blockbuster filled with Arnold-ready catchphrases and over-the-top violence. Who cares if nothing about it vaguely makes any kind of sense? It was awesome for the sake of being awesome! I wish this Total Recall had that kind of self-awareness. While I appreciate any attempt to make an empty-calorie summer blockbuster more deeper than a shallow pond, Recall's mish-mash of greatest hits and the surprisingly long shadow of the original film create a difficult double hurdle for the filmmakers to vault.

In its favour, Recall has exception production design acumen, and I can tell that Kate Beckinsale relished stepping into Sharon Stone's well-worn bitch boots, but the screenplay's attempt to craft a puzzle out of the conundrum of what's real and unreal is more akin to a jumble than the New York Times crossword puzzle. The normally reliable Bryan Cranston seems to be working overtime to channel Ronny Cox, and Jessica Biel is remembered more for being a vague presence than actual creating a memorable character.

As for the man behind it all, director Len Wiseman, I think the best thing of him is to get away from the remakes and sequels. I may not have liked Sucker Punch, but I've got to give Zack Snyder a hand for at least recognizing that he can't build a whole career as a filmmaker reveling the ideas of others. Considering that much of what counts as "originality" in Total Recall is totally derived from other, better movies, Wiseman should approach the idea that he should be generated, at the very least, original stories that he could then integrate the recycled details. And as for the fans out there who were against this from the beginning, congratulations! Your sacred cow remains intact.

TIFF Review-The Loved Ones

Rating: ****

In what might end up being the best selection from this year’s Midnight Madness portion of the Toronto International Film Festival, we get The Loved Ones. Why, what makes this film so special? A horror genre rarity: a sympathetic villain. Built on equal parts pity and revulsion, we can understand young Lola’s desire to have the boy she likes like her back, and go to prom and make it a magical evening. What’s unacceptable though is having your father kidnap the boy, force him to participate in a psychotic home game version of prom under threat of torture and then feed him to cannibals living under the floor boards when you’re done with him. But maybe that’s implied.

From Australia, The Loved Ones is simple in concept and execution, but well written enough to make the characters worth caring about. These aren’t the morally dubious victims of Saw and Hostel, to whom perhaps a little torture porn is maybe called for. There are relationships between the characters, loving and caring relationships, scenes of concern between family members as the worries and the questions stack up. So in other words there’s genuine emotion displayed aside from the glee of psychotics doing what they do best, though there is some of that as well. Generally speaking, this is just a really well put together movie that should get the designation classic overtime, be it with the additional “cult” label or not.

The plot has young Brent (Xavier Samuel), still distraught over the death of his father a year earlier, looking forward to prom and stepping out with his loving girlfriend Holly (Victoria Thaine). After a fight with his mother, Brent takes a walk with his dog in the woods and de-stresses while listening to his iPod; a good recipe to be rapped over the head by a crazy Australian hillbilly and kidnapped. When Brent wakes up, he’s tied to a chair wearing a tuxedo in the living room of Lola (Robin Mcleavy) and her father, (John Brumpton). Lola is the discomfortingly quiet girl that asked Brent to the dance early, and though he let her down gently, having a girlfriend and all, it clearly wasn’t a request on her end. Despite his attempts to escape, Brent is stuck and the torture inflicted on him is increased exponentially. His worried mother and girlfriend call a police man neighbour who slowly puts the pieces together that something sinister’s a foot.

Now I’m no stranger to horror movies, or torture porn for that matter, but some of the stuff that Lola and her dad do to Brent had me cringing, not to mention a great number of people in the audience as well. The visceral thrill of seeing someone lobotomized with a drill is gone in The Loved Ones and replaced with a sense of dread that such an act isn’t the grand finale these two have in mind for the poor boy. Several blood curdling moments make this film far from disappointing, and writer/director Sean Byrne seems to have a handle on what exactly he needs to do to make an impact without getting gratuitous. (Granted your definition of “gratuitous” may differ from mine.)

On a technical level, aside from the horrors perpetrated, The Loved Ones is taunted, well-paced, and utter unpredictable. The plot could have easily taken things either way because it’s played in three dimensions. You want to see Brent escape and be reunited with his mom and girlfriend, but there’s the very real chance that Lola and her dad will get their way and have Brent join the pile of bones under the floor boards. And kudos to the filmmakers for turning the hit Australian pop song “Not Pretty Enough” by Kesey Chambers into one of the most terrifying pieces of music since the Jaws theme. Imagine a sociopathic Willow Rosenberg getting psychoed up to a Britney Spears song and you might get an idea of how messed up Lola is. It’s proof positive that sugary pop can be as frightening as a painted William Shatner mask.

TIFF Review-Last Ride

Rating: ***

There are a lot of really great Australian films coming out of this year’s Festival, many of them from first time or emerging talents. Among this new class is the film Last Ride from filmmaker Glendyn Ivin, which will be notable because it stars the once and former Agent Smith, Hugo Weaving. The good news is that Last Ride is an impeccably made film with lush photography and some rather excellent performances by a Weaving and newcomer Tom Russell. On the other hand, there’s a cliché ridden script governing the action, as another story about being on the run from Johnny Law is fraught with grey shades and nearly redeemable characters.

Weaving plays Kev, a felon with an ugly history in the criminal justice system. He’s on the run with his son, Chook, for reasons that are gradually filled in as the film wears on. Scrounging on the fringes for food, money, shelter and easy ways out of town, Kev and Chook move from one place to another as swiftly and as quietly as possible, using whatever resources they can. They’re tested on the road, the boy more so for being confused about his father’s actions while at the same time wanting to be a dutiful son. Kev tries to connect with his boy despite being the type of parent that’s unafraid to intimidate through abuse be it physical or leaving his son to fend for himself in the middle of nowhere to teach him a lesson.

Weaving as a lanky example of the Australian equivalent of white trash is easily intimidating, but you also get that there’s something good there too. Several scenes show a father and son bonding, and you forget for a moment that they’re trying to stay one step ahead of the police because Kev might be a murderer. You’re caught between dual thoughts that maybe he can be a good guy and raise his boy right despite being an outlaw, but Kev constantly undermines himself through his actions. The dual quality is interesting although you’re not exactly sure what you want to root for.

Last Ride likes to play games of moral ambivalence, but it uses a rule book borrowed from other films and stories. Add to that a felling of the story being dragged out for the sake of length. This film could easily be slimmed down by anywhere between 20 minutes and hour and you wouldn’t loose much but some pretty Aussie scenery and a couple of father/son disagreements of varying severity. Sometimes Last Ride feels played out, and in others it’s almost deeply enthralling. There’s an interesting discord, and I’m not exactly sure which way it’s going to go from one moment to the next. Sometimes the movie is great and other times it tests. It’s one of those things I’ll leave to the viewer to decide if what we have hear is failure to communicate or if Last Ride is really just half a movie.