Gremlins

I’d never seen Gremlins before the other night, snuggled up on the couch with my 10-yr-old and expecting a fun little Christmas movie about cute furry creatures who turned into monsters that wreak family-friendly havoc.  I’m pleased to say that I mostly got what I wanted, but those monsters were deadlier than expected.  Gremlins turned out to be an effective horror-comedy.

Here’s the plot:  It’s Christmas Eve.  This guy wants to go out with Phoebe Cates, which is understandable (Fun fact: the commentary’s filled with stuff like, “Hey Phoebe, remember that one time you smiled at me in the lunch line?” “Umm, no.”).  His dad brings home a cute, fuzzy little Christmas pet, which we know will later turn into an evildoing gremlin from which Cates must eventually be rescued.  We’re talking about serious dramatic tension here, as we know springtime is only four or five months away and our hero’s gotta come through if he wants a red bikini in his future.  So the stakes are high.

Once the fuzzy pet multiplies and its offspring turn into monsters, Gremlins hits a delightful stride.  The eponymous gremlins are funny and wicked and evil and deadly but, most importantly, they’re practical.  Not only are they practical, but they’re masterpieces of puppetry and stop-motion photography, proving yet again that there’s no reality like objects that are actually, objectively real.

Not only does Gremlins bring nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat suspense in the form of the hero’s romantic aspirations, it provides lots of wicked gags and imaginative uses of those devilish little puppets.  This picture has it all – silly jokes, jump scares, and unbounded creativity.  It’s a nearly perfect Christmas movie.

Auto Focus

Paul Schrader’s Auto Focus ranks among the saddest biopics I’ve ever seen. 

Robert Crane is a nice guy.  He’s funny, likeable, and doing well for himself in the world of LA radio.  When he gets the call to star in “Hogan’s Heroes,” a sitcom that, essentially, plays Stalag 17 for laughs, he’s pretty well set for life. 

But Bob Crane, family man and churchgoing father of three, is not equipped to handle the temptations of fame.  He doesn’t succumb to alcohol or drugs, however – it’s sex that gets him.  All of a sudden, he’s attracting hangers on.  All of a sudden, he’s enjoying nearly limitless access to willing women.  And when one hanger on becomes his supplier of women, his enabler and even coach, well, it’s only a matter of time.

The underappreciated Greg Kinnear plays Bob Crane, and he’s perfectly cast.  Kinnear, an inherently likeable guy, keeps us on his team after Crane has alienated his family, his friends, his agent, and even himself.  The justly appreciated Willem Dafoe plays John Carpenter, Crane’s confidant, enabler, groupie, and (perhaps) would-be lover.  Dafoe does some heavy lifting here, giving us a man whose job depends on his access to celebrities and whose combination of pushiness and neediness mask a deep, deep hunger for love.

As you may know, someone murdered Bob Crane in his sleep in 1978.  When the Scottsdale, AZ police entered Crane’s hotel room, they found it filled with audiovisual and photographic equipment, homemade porn tapes, and the trappings of a man who’d given himself over entirely to his addiction.  That’s why Auto Focus feels so sad: Crane didn’t survive his journey to rock bottom.  He never did pull himself together.  He died alienated from everyone who loved him.  What a way to go.

The Killer Inside Me

The Killer Inside Me is a lurid, pulpy adaptation of a lurid, pulpy crime novel.  Thus, it’ll do all the things pulpy crime novels do: it’ll horrify, it’ll titillate, it’ll probably skeeve you out.  If that’s you’re thing, have at it.

Casey Affleck plays Lou Ford, a deputy sheriff in a West Texas town.  He has a boyish look and a high-pitched voice and he says “sir” and “ma’am.”  He seems like a nice fella.  Sure, he falls for a local prostitute and finds himself enmeshed in a blackmail scheme, but that isn’t anything that couldn’t happen to Joseph Cotton or Fred MacMurray.  It’s what happens next that’ll surprise you.

I hesitate to go too deeply into just what does happens\ next, because I think the surprise is half the film.  Instead, I’ll tell you what I think you need to know in making your rental decision:  this is a film of sex, violence, good, and evil.  It’s trying for pulp, and it succeeds: it’s everything pulp fiction is supposed to be.  If that’s you’re thing, The Killer Inside Me will work for you.  If not, well, move along.  Nothing to see here.