2017 Horror Part Ten

IT

Dir - Andy Muschietti

Overall: MEH

Several years in development to somewhat redeem the rather flawed 1990 miniseries, the first inevitable remake of Stephen King's It plays all of its cards as safety as possible with predictably derivative results.  Argentine-born Andy Muschietti was the last in a handful of directors to land the gig, but this has all of the feel of a major budgeted, big studio production as opposed to a filmmaker's vision because the former is exactly what it is.  A criminal amount of jump scares are utilized that emerge literally every single time that the incessant music shuts up for a second or two, plus all would-be frightening set pieces are made ridiculous by atrocious CGI and hackey sound design.  So stylistically, this is pure, relentless popcorn schlock that renders the entire production laughable instead of even remotely scary.  The script, (which likewise numerous screenwriters took a stab at), updates King's source material understandably enough and wisely omits that whole underage orgy plot point, but even at over two hours in length, the film feels rushed in trying to establish its array of characters and the family dysfunction that motivates their bonding experience.  Because both the novel and the Tim Curry-led miniseries are seeped in popular culture at this point, this adaptation gets by on the familiarity of its bullet points as opposed to deeply exploring or enhancing them.  Speaking of Curry, at least Bill Skarsgård does not make a bad Pennywise for his select few moments on screen where he is not reduced to a pointy-mouthed cartoon.  Plus Finn Wolfhard steels the show as the wise-cracking Richie Tozier, the only character thankfully allowed to not take such nonsense seriously.

HOUSEWIFE

Dir - Can Evrenol

Overall: GOOD

Once again basking in the Satanic, Euro-horror sleaze of yesteryear like a gleeful kid in a candy store, Turkish filmmaker Can Evrenol delivers another nightmare logic bit of absurdity with Housewife, his English-speaking follow-up to 2015's equally grotesque and bananas Baskin.  Perhaps the best aspect of Evrenol's growing aesthetic is that he manages to create spiritual homages to the work of Mario Bava, Lucio Fulci, Paul Nashcy, and any other European cult movie trailblazer from the 1970s without stylistically copycatting old school cinematic tactics.  Instead, his vision is his own and something wholly seeped in the contemporary, even if this sometimes means that hacky dialog and annoying jump scares rear their ugly head to appease the James Wan fan who may come across his stuff.  The old school nods are unmistakable for those who share Evrenol's exploitation tastes but of course, this would be merely a derivative throwback for the sake of it if he did not up the ante with some gasp-worthy moves of his own.  Exploring repressed, childhood trauma and the fear of motherhood in a delightfully ridiculous manner that pulls out all of the occult stops in an off-the-rails finale, the story here will probably never hold up under a microscope, but if one is down for the hellish ride, you cannot help but applaud its absurdity.

THE BABYSITTER

Dir - McG

Overall: MEH

Far too in on its own self referential, meta joke, The Babysitter is another horror comedy that tries way too hard to be clever while making fun of genre tropes left and right.  Brian Duffield's script was picked up from 2014's Black List by director McG who had previous done those stupid Charlie's Angels movies and Terminator: Salvation, oye.  Going in blind which is essential for something like this, there sure is one hellova rug pull that happens in the second act, but everything surrounding that rug pull is a combination of idiotic and obnoxious character traits for everyone on screen, plus plot points that are nowhere near funny enough to justify how nonsensical they are.  Samantha Weaving's title character and Judah Lewis' "afraid of everything who of course is going to overcome all of his set-up fears by film's end" protagonist assuredly make the most unrealistic babysitter/babysittee duo in the history of recorded fiction.  Having adorable science-fiction nerd-out conversations, sharing in-jokes, reciting lines to old movies, and, (most nauseating of all), actually performing a choreographed dance with each other, it is all enough to bail on the movie before it even gets going.  Once it does, the blood-drenched, foul-mouthed gags solely rely on everyone behaving in a preposterous manner, but the movie goes for heart-warming, coming-of-age cuteness at the same time which makes for a misguided, annoying tone that never formulates itself successfully.  By the time "We Are the Champions" plays while Lewis inexplicably drives a retro car into his own house, flips over several times, and walks away without a scratch, it is also about time to ask for your eight-five minutes back.