Suki Waterhouse, a deep-voice/zero-range “model/actress” plays the “new girl” at a “Seance” obsessed boarding school in this week’s classmate killer horror thriller.
While her look, voice and name are distinctive, I don’t recall her standing out in “The Broken Hearts Gallery” or “Assassination Nation” the way she does here. She’s utterly dreadful, but perhaps she hated the material and figured even “phoning it in” wasn’t worth the effort.
Expressionless Camille shows up an Eveldine Academy just after a seance that led to a teen’s suicide. But WAS it? A suicide?
Camille crosses swords with the mean girl clique, led by Alice (Inanna Sarkis) but including Roz (Djouliet Amara), Yvonne (Stephanie Sy), Bethany (Madisen Beaty) and Lenora (Jade Michael), young women of privilege prone to pranks.
“You really don’t want to get on our bad side.”
Luckily, the new girl with the English accent has one friend, Helina (Ella-Rae Smith), even if Helina’s agenda leans towards friend-with-benefits.
But they’re all in the same boat at this “haunted” school, with the recent suicide, which created an opening for Camille, perhaps caused by a ghost and not by the mean girls tricking, scaring and humiliating her into leaping out a window.
“Some people think that it was an accident,” Helina says. She and Camille are interested in finding out. But those scratching, creaking noises in the walls, lights constantly flickering out and apparitions mean that Alice’s seance-strategy is the one everybody pursues.
Is there a dead disgruntled alumna or something/someone else out to “get” the girls — picking them off one-by-one as they conveniently separate and find themselves alone and dead?
There’s a generous sampling of horror “mystery” cliches in this script, plenty of this or that death/disappearance “doesn’t make any sense.”
Writer-director Simon Barrett makes sure that everyone looks fabulous, as most are playing pretty, vain princesses, and those who aren’t immediately fall under suspicion.
The requisite titillation of the dead (female) teenager movie genre isn’t remotely titillating — a shower scene here, a leotarded dance rehearsal there.
And through it all stands Waterhouse, stone-faced and stiff, underreacting to this death or that bit of peril, selling the fight sequence with all she (and a stunt double) have.
At least she’s been cast in a new version of Jane Austen’s “Persuasion,” so perhaps that’s what was on her mind while Waterhouse was shooting this. But being second banana to the notoriously awful Dakota Johnson (google her and “bad actress”) tells us all we need to know about that. Perhaps Waterhouse realizes that, as well.
MPA Rating: R for bloody horror violence, language and some drug use
Algar, of “Wrath of Man” and “The Last Right,” is Ireland’s cinematic flavor of the moment and takes the spotlight in this horror mystery opening June 11.
“You were always quiet,” the old flame says of the big city cop who’s come home for a funeral.” “You always saw everything.”
That’s Eric Bana’s character in “The Dry,” a solid and engrossing police procedural from Down Under. He plays Aaron Falk, a detective who grew up in remote, drought-stricken Kiewarra, but left long ago, and under a cloud.
Now he’s been summoned home for the funeral of a former friend, a guy who killed his family in a murder-suicide. And that has the entire town furious. Aaron knew Luke. And Aaron and Luke lied about another death twenty years before. Now Luke’s gone and killed his wife and son and then himself. If only Aaron had told the truth back then, they think.
But Luke’s family (Julia Blake, Bruce Spence) want Aaron to clear his name, once again.
“Obviously, Luke didn’t do it,” his mother declares. Nobody else in town buys that. They’re pretty damned sure Luke, or Aaron or both of them had something to do with a girl’s drowning when they were teens. The harassment, led by the girl’s hard-drinking redneck brother (Matt Nable) turns from testy to ugly in a flash.
In scenes set in the present day, Aaron watches and listens. Unarmed, supposedly off-the-clock as a Federal police detective who just broke a big finance scandal case, Aaron avoids confrontations. He takes care to include the out-of-his-depth local police sergeant (Keir O’Donnell) as he follows leads and patiently asks questions.
There are no obvious answers, but suspects start to pop up and the town’s secrets start to emerge, one clue at a time.
Aaron meets up with former classmate, now a single-mom Gretchen (Genevieve O’Reilly) and there are sparks, even if he’s asking everyone questions, including her.
“Can’t we just sit and drink our body weight?”
In scenes set in the past, the teen Aaron (Joe Klocek) is just as subdued, the quiet partner to brash, abrasive and charismatic pal Luke (Sam Corlett), the handsome one that turned all the girls’ heads. And he’s just as observant, scenes the adult Aaron replays in his mind as he rethinks that “mystery” from long ago.
Ellie (BeBe Bettencourt), a haunted beauty who guards her secrets even if her unhappiness shows, had both boys’ attention.
What happened back then, and is it “connected,” somehow, to what’s happening now?
Aussie director Robert Connolly (“The Bank”) takes his time with this material, slowly building up characters, layer by layer. The stresses of the drought are stated overtly at first, and slip into the background. A visit to “the ol’swimmin’ hole” shows it to be dry, as is everybody’s favorite fishing lake.
“Shooting rabbits,” the European imports that overran Australia in the 19th century whose presence is even less welcome in times of drought, has become a local routine. “Can’t have’em on my property.”
Aaron doesn’t have the stomach for that. But we have to wonder how much abuse Aaron will take from a very hostile town where he’s no longer welcome. And while clues start to pop up, which he and we notice at the same time, the false leads outnumber the real ones for much of the picture.
The film’s downbeat tone suits its sedate pace. There’s room for characters to breathe and develop, and O’Reilly, Nable, Bettencourt and others play people with flaws and quirks and secrets insofar as anyone can have such things in a town this size.
Bana makes Aaron the most intriguing and “real” feeling character of all — troubled by guilt and questions he may not want the answer to, stumbling in the wrong direction, here and there, but never breaking stride, never panicking, never blowing up or melting down in that way “Hollywood” cops so often do.
The film’s resolution leaves something to be desired, but Bana pulls us in even and gets us past even the moments when “The Dry” threatens to leave us high and dry.
MPA Rating: R for violence, and language throughout
Cast: Eric Bana, Genevieve O’Reilly, Keir O’Donnell, BeBe Bettencourt, Matt Nable, Miranda Tapsell, Julia Blake and Bruce Spence.
Credits: Directed by Robert Connolly, script by Harry Cripps, Robert Connolly and Samantha Strauss, based on a novel by Jane Harper. An IFC release.
His name is Pineapple Tangaroa, and his resume mentions Austin, Texas, sometime actor (“Puncture,” Song to Song”), “entrepreneur” and — implied — “local character.”
His face is one big tattoo, punctured by piercings that turn him into a walking visual effect.
And in “Drunk Bus,” his character, naturally-named Pineapple, taps into that cuddly sort of intimidating that Terry Crews and Dave Bautista have mastered, bulky and badass, with just a hint of stoner Seth Rogen.
Pineapple is brought on board the Kent, Ohio “campus loop” bus driven by recent grad Michael (Charlie Tahan), who gets picked-on so often that it’s crossed over into violence.
Pining away over the longtime girlfriend who “moved on” nine months earlier, downcast and hapless with women, ready to take the might-as-well-make-a-career-of-it offer pitched by his boss (the heard, but never seen Will Forte) who tempts his “protege” with awards and a full-time contract via radio. Michael is literally trapped in a “loop” of his own, indecisive creation. Pineapple sizes him up in an instant and resolves, in the manner of such coming-of-age tales, to do things about all that.
Tahan, of TV’s “Ozark” and “Gotham,” makes Michael that loser who can’t even manage to be the hero of his own story. That’s how this works, and that’s how Tangaroa, playing the quintessential Force of Nature mentor, walks away with “Drunk Bus,” a rude, laugh-out-loud on-and-off-campus romp that premiered, of course, at South by Southwest in Austin.
Not that stealing the movie proves all that easy. Screenwriter Chris Molinaro and first-time co-directors John Carlucci and Brandon LaGanke populate this “Pineapple Excess” with a “Night Tara” (Sydney Farley as a sexy coed who has night terrors), a pot-dealing “Devo Ted” (comic writer and actor Dave Hill), a profane and insane old passenger in a motorized wheelchair nicknamed “F–k Y– Bob” (Martin Pfefferkorn) and other frat bros and sorority girls with AA in their futures.
Michael’s got a boorish dolt of a “registered sex offender” roommate (Zach Cherry) and two true blue friends, gay Justin (Tonatiuh) and unregistered pickpocket Kat (Kara Hayward), none of whom are having any luck at all at shaking Michael out of his funk over lost-love Amy (Sarah Mezzanotte). Then a bullying passenger clobbers Michael, Pineapple is “hired,” and Michael and the movie are changed…forEVER.
Pineapple’s stocky, inked, pierced and wearing leather and chains. Any argument with with is over before it begins. “The Bro Whisperer” sizes the kid up and says “What you need is a do-over.”
That’s how Michael meets the pot dealing, pizza bagel loving Ted, obsessed with “the seminal art punk band that formed one town over.” Devo and “devolution” are what Ted is all about.
That’s how Michael learns at the feet of his new life coach. “A wise Samoan once said, “Change doesn’t begin when you get knocked on your ass. It begins when you decide to get on your feet again.”
That “wise Samoan?” “Dwayne the Mother-F—–g Rock JOHNSON.”
Pineapple’s a loose cannon rolling the decks of Michael’s late night bus circuit, picking up drunks who vomit or poop on board, rolling by a frathouse that throws equally disgusting things on his windshield. Pineapple’s the one who understands the kid’s fundamental hangups, that he can’t make a decision and that he “never shampooed the Wookie.”
Ahem.
Tahan makes a fine straight man for all these funny people surrounding him, with Tangaroa, Hill, Cherry and Hayward giving him hilarious takes to react to.
The laughs in “Drunk Bus” may come in familiar places, but there’s a genuine effort to flip the script just enough to avoid the standard traps in such farces. “Revenge” has no upside, “growth” comes from making “an actual decision in your life,” and “settling” — in love or career — is not something you do when you’re this far under 25.
Michael needs to grow up, or at least start the process. Michael needs to listen to this hulking, over-decorated conscience that’s bellowing in his ear. His friends know this.
“I already like him better than I ever liked you.”
And Michael needs to learn the limits of any mentor’s wisdom. At some point, you stop listening, because otherwise, you never escape the loop, you never get off the “Drunk Bus” and stagger off to your real destiny.
MPA Rating: unrated, violence, sex, drug abuse, profanity
Cast: Charlie Tahan, Kara Hayward, Zach Cherry, Tonatiuh, Dave Hill, Sarah Mezzanotte, Martin Pfefferkorn and Pineapple Tangaroa.
Credits: Directed by John Carlucci, Brandon LaGanke, script by Chris Molinaro. A FilmRise release.
If you’re Muslim and you die in Newark, chances are your body will pass through the caring hands of Hanif, a casket-maker and ritual body washer who lives and works there.
Hanif is an accomplished craftsman and a member of the majority Black city’s large Muslim community. He is affable and outgoing, and in moments where it counts, empathetic.
But he is quick to admit that when he was younger, he was in trouble — in and out of jail. He was a neglectful father, something he’s trying to make up for in his 50s. That’s why he takes an interest in two kids at a crossroads, both of them in his neighborhood.
Zeshawn Ali’s sympathetic if somewhat diffuse documentary “Two Gods” is a slice of Hanif’s life — watching him work, washing corpses with care, tidying up the rough, cheap pine coffins he builds, seeing him socialize in his little corner of Newark, a salty but friendly role model to kids looking for role models where they can kind them.
We also see Hanif’s efforts to be there” for his adult son Tyler, who missed having him as a dad when he was doing much of his growing up. We see Hanif good-naturedly trying to a father figure to Furquan, who is 12 and living with a troubled mother and her latest violent boyfriend. And we watch him struggle to reach Naz, a 17 year-old who complains about being a police “target” after an arrest, a distracted boy who makes these complaints after being picked up in a stolen car or “run in” for something else in front of a sea of pricy sneakers in his room.
“Just when they see you doing good,” the kid who is getting his cash from somewhere gripes, “they smack you.”
The biracial Furquan’s problems are with his environment, something Hanif can help with by simply asking for his “help.” He teaches the boy how to use the tools at hand to build coffins in his boss’s shop.
Tyler is amenable to a little bonding over father-son sparring, with boxing gloves.
Naz? He’s “hanging with the wrong people,” by his own admission, making mock rap videos glorifying violence, greed and guns. A dressing down from Hanif might help, or might not.
Ali’s black and white film follows one kid, “rescued” from his toxic home and taken to rural N.C., and loses track of another — as indeed do the authorities, briefly — after Naz cuts off his ankle monitor.
There isn’t much in the way of message, just a guy trying to make a difference, taking a Zen level of attention and care with his work, a regular at his mosque and setting out to be a steady, supportive presence in these young people’s lives.
“Two Gods” is a pleasant enough immersion in this world, with its close-ups of bees on flowers, birds rummaging through garbage and fly-on-the-wall scenes of Furquan in the shop with Hanif, mixing it up with him over his Super Soaker
But the movie loses its purpose and coherence whenever it drifts away from Hanif. The construction feels most haphazard when we’re following Furquan, half-following Naz and not getting much out of Tyler save for Facetime chats with his dad, getting teased for picking his nose as he does.
Movie Nation 