(1990)
Dir - Philip Ridley
Overall: MEH
For his full-length debut, English artist/novelist/filmmaker Philip Ridley was inspired by American prairie lands, American Gothic artwork, American films, and American literature to make The Reflecting Skin. Ironically shot in Alberta Canada then, it is a stylized piece of Americana cinema all the same and one that portrays some horrific elements through the imaginative eyes of a young boy while the sun shines brightly, the birds chirp, and the farmhouses are decorated in plain colors of yellow, brown, and white. While moments in it are certainly bizarre and it follows a sort of childlike, nightmare logic at times, it is so lushly photographed and even whimsical in nature that it makes for a bit of a clashing experience. The characters are not easily relatable and some are even downright off-putting, but the movie gets by on Ridley's somewhat eccentric vision or at least it tries to. Ultimately, the story is not particularly engaging enough to work though, save for a few interesting ideas scattered about.
(1994)
Dir - Kenneth Branagh
Overall: MEH
Two years after Francis Ford Coppola artistically and commercial updated Dracula for the big screen, Shakespeare enthusiast Kenneth Branagh attempted the same thing with the other big, classic cinema monster in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. While it is likewise far more faithful to its source material than virtually any other version before or since and goes for the same over the top, melodramatic flare that Coppola did, (at least on paper), Branagh misses the mark in a pretty consistent manner. Cranked up to eleven, it is incessantly loud with hardly a solitary moment of subtlety. For a two hour long movie, the story is bulldozed through in a typical, blockbuster-style, ADD manner. Since it never stops to catch its breath then, instead it bombards the screen with Romantic era set pieces, grime and nastiness, things being both soaking wet and laughably combustible, dutch angles, rapid-fire editing, and characters overacting to the very best of their abilities, all of which are set to lush, dramatic music that never lets up. Branagh does not show a quirky or even remotely avant-style; it is just a blaring, grandiose mess. For straight-up monster movie fans though, Robert De Niro's turn as the creature and Helena Bonham Carter's briefly as his bride are relatively memorable and some of the artistic details can be seen as a nice addition to the Frankenstein mythos overall.
(1998)
Dir - Andrew Parkinson
Overall: MEH
Distributed by Fangoria Films and serving as the debut from writer/director/editor Andrew Parkinson, I, Zombie: The Chronicles of Pain is a simple yet ambitious walking corpse yarn. Shot very primitively on 16 mm film which gives it a somewhat unfortunate SOV quality, it is not the most visually compelling movie in the world. It does win points for its earnest attempt at being a far more tragic and thoughtful zombie film, one whose entire premise is exploring the slow, emotional as well as physical deterioration of its subject; an average Joe that is randomly bitten by a woman and then goes on to rot as he holds off his flesh-eating urges. A unique idea on paper, but the execution is a bit dull beyond its poor look. It is presented as a part documentary, but also one that is narrated by the main protagonist who is presumed missing by everyone the entire movie. The concept is also a little TOO simple as it becomes predictably monotonous. Ultimately, it is a rather depressing experience as well. Probably better for zombies to turn as quickly as possible and then get a bullet in the head just as hastily than watch them mentally deteriorate and jerk off to their girlfriend.
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