On Rage Zombies with The Girl with all the Gifts and Train to Busan

The zombie genre appeared to take a little dip in the feature form following the unfathomable success of The Walking Dead (2010 -), yet two films, falling under the rage zombie sub genre, show there is creativity still to be found in less than two hours.

The Girl with all the Gifts is adapted from young adult fiction, but feels far more adult than it does young. A post apocalyptic world that plays on the fears of corrupted children has an excellent cast and opens with a stunning attack on a military base. After this, the film becomes something of a road movie as salvation is sought. Despite an interesting central premise, there are some missteps in narrative decisions taken before the unexpected and slightly strange ending.

One of the main issues with TGWATG is that the suspense and fear of the opening twenty minutes is never replicated, allowing the plot holes time to shine. It is really only the strong performances that keep the middle third from sagging. A slowing pace is not a criticism that can be levelled at Train to Busan (Busanhaeng), from Korean director Sang-ho Yeon.

Train to Busan is relentless and endlessly creative. Essentially a confinement movie, Busan traps a handful of people on a train with a whole lot of violent, horrific zombies. There is immediacy to the narrative, as it throws us into the action quickly and Sang-ho finds new ways to put his characters in danger for the two hours. This is thrilling cinema.

It feels like a bonus that the characters are also well thought out. We understand them and they have traits that are relatable, which adds to the tension because we care about them, or in some instances, wish their death would come quickly. In all areas this is a well-crafted film.

TGWATG presents moral issues that are well balanced and when a film can do this, it will always have some lasting power. Busan, for sheer inventiveness and doing exactly what you want from a zombie film may be one of the films of the year.

On 13th

13^th is one of more important documentaries that you will watch. From Selma (2014) director Ava DuVernay, 13^th is the history of mass incarceration in the US, argued here as being a new iteration of slavery.

This is a film of numbers that should not be forgot. The statistics are devastating and delivered in a measured tone. The interviewees are angry, as everyone should be, but they have turned that anger into productivity towards a fight for justice; they are academics, authors, and lawyers for the incarcerated, as well as past inmates. DuVernay frames them well against muted, but stylish backdrops and the industrial aesthetic is attractive to watch without distracting from the issue, which is presented clearly with the help of contemporary graphics and an excellent soundtrack. 

As gripping as 13^th is, the message is distressing and you cannot help but be moved by the final third, which highlights, through video captured on phones, the more recent deaths of young black men at the hands of police brutality. The Eric Garner footage has lost none of its power despite its ubiquity. 13^th is so important because of deaths like this. The hope being that the documentary is more than just a source of information, but can actually affect policy change in the American criminal justice system. Criticisms may be levelled at the film due to its one-sided approach (a lobbyist for the privatisation of prisons makes a pathetic appearance), but this approach is far more welcome than a more balanced documentary that favours the argument on the other side. And DuVernay fortunately avoids the sardonic Michael Moore approach, which trivialised the importance of the issue he was reporting on.

DuVernay isn’t alone in currently pressing this matter as she sees the danger lurking in the form of Trump. It is mentioned in the documentary that Bush the first won by creating a fear of the black man without ever saying it and through a short montage splicing together footage from Trump rallies with that from the civil rights movement, she makes her point with shocking precision. The detailed description of how the prison system operates has also recently been dramatised by the excellent The Night Of (2016) shown on Sky Atlantic, this mini series terrifies by illustrating the ease with which the system is designed to destroy lives. Ta-Nehisi Coates’ book, Between the World and Me also explores the destruction of the black body and like 13^th, traces the issue back to slavery.

The strength of the argument here is overwhelming and it becomes clear that those refuting the statistics do so for self-preservation. Neo liberalism incarnate. This is a film to not just anger, but to motivate people into action.

As was said of American Honey, and will be said of I, Daniel Blake, 13^th is a reflection of the right now, as important a documentary as there can be and essential viewing.

On Swiss Army Man

There may not be many more films as weird as Swiss Army Man. Yet, this weirdness slowly decreases as the film, with its creativity and inventiveness grows and the central metaphor becomes clear. The idea of loss manifesting themselves in a corpse that comes alive and offers just what is needed and just the right for the suicidal protagonist takes a while to warm up to, but soon becomes a heart warming and apt exploration of depression.

This is why the ending is so strange. We feel we understand the rules of the world that the Daniels’ have created, and as bizarre as they may be, they are adhered to and therefore make sense. So, when other characters appear at the end and the corpse remains more than just a corpse, the rules we thought we understood appear to have been broken, calling into question the preceding enjoyment.

Perhaps this is bathetic, perhaps there are no rules. Paul Dano’s performance is strong and holds the abstractness together and mostly Swiss Army Man works with moments that are beautiful and wonderfully imaginative.

On American Honey

American Honey is a document on contemporary America. It’s immediacy in style and performance is matched by its thematic relevancy. This is a broken, but beautiful America that Arnold has captured through the eyes of those that will either be its future, or have to survive in whatever the country becomes in the coming years.

There are a few professional actors throughout, with the rest of the cast hired based on their impromptu auditions and willingness to pack up and join the film crew. What Arnold is able to bring out of them with their lack of training is absorbing. There are moments of, what feels like, genuine authenticity in American Honey. As if we’re witnessing spontaneity and that is something so rare in cinema that the film becomes intoxicating.

This ability to draw you in is part of the film’s brilliance. The lingering camera, observing never intruding, positioned as if the unseen member of the travelling sales group. Yet, as intoxicating as American Honey is, it is also depressing as it explores the damaged, poverty wrecked, drug fuelled forgotten towns of America.  The hope in its young characters is negated by the reality of their situation and while the film ends with promise, and it would be nice to think that their path will be one of opportunity, the film begins with the abandonment of the young and this act haunts the rest of the narrative and provides apt commentary on certain political approaches to the post-university age.

The balance that Arnold finds between beauty and damage is handled with great skill and is one of the reasons American Honey lingers long in the mind after viewing. It is a film of right now, in theme and style. The 4:3 ratio reflects the edginess of the characters, allowing them to take centre stage and not get lost in the vastness of the American scenery, as well as setting Arnold’s film apart from other cinema releases. This is an important and stunning piece of cinema.