Dir - Pablo Agüero
Overall: GOOD
A sobering look at a once thriving exploitation genre, Argentine-French filmmaker Pablo Agüero's Coven, (Akelarre, Coven of Sisters), pulls off a nifty trick where it plays with ambiguity via a historical context. That is to say that this is not a witch-hunting film where the supernatural is irrefutable. The devil is not made flesh, and the accused women do not take to the skies on brooms while cackling wildly. Yet, there is still an enchantment that transpires between the helpless and doomed young women who are captured, tortured, and condemned by men in authoritative positions with unwavering bias and no basis of evidence. This is of course because what they are accused of does not exist, yet that did not stop the Labourd witch-hunt of 1609 form putting seventy people to death, mostly peasant women who were helpless against such onslaughts. It also does not stop Alex Brendemühl, (portraying the real life historical figure Judge Rostegui who led the charge and authored what was then considered authoritative texts on the subject of witchcraft), from falling under a spell that promises to provide evidence of the akelarre, aka Witches' Sabbath ceremony. As the captured girls play into their predicament with plans to escape when the village men return from their fishing expedition, (it is interesting to note that at this time, men were both the captors and saviors of women who had no rights to speak of), Brendemühl becomes entranced with their charade, desperately clinging to it as the illusion promises full freedom from the burden of fanatic dogma.
Dir - Yeon Sang-ho
Overall: MEH
Yeon Sang-ho's Peninsula, (Train to Busan Presents: Peninsula), serves as the sequel to 2016's Train to Busan, though the animated prequel Seoul Station was also released that same year. This makes Peninsula the third in the series, but not the last time that Yeon would rehash the same formula of infected people ravenously attacking surviving humans, (see 2026's Colony). In any event, it is a forgettable action-horror hybrid with the usual detriments. It is nearly two hours long, the middle section drags, the characters are either charisma-void dead weight or cartoonish villains, the plot has foreseeable dramatic beats, and most of all, 28 Days Later-styled rage-jacked zombies are inherently overdone and boring. Yeon got away with them in his previous live action film due to the gimmick of having everyone trapped on a high speed KTX 101, as well as giving its main protagonist a humanely justified arc to redeem himself as a parent, come hell or high water. The characters here have their own stakes and trauma from living four years now in a post-apocalypse, but their one-note nature and the movie's humorless tone just makes for a stagnant watch no matter how many Mad Max set pieces we get, or how many snore-inducing hordes of ferocious undead fly at the screen via CGI. It is an impressive production and fits the template of a sequel going bigger and louder, but this does not stop it from also being front-to-back dull.
Dir - Amy Seimetz
Overall: MEH
Existential Dread - The Movie, She Dies Tomorrow is a frustrating psychological zone-out, something that merely toys with dark humor and intense themes as if it has every aim to keep the viewer at a distance. The second full-length from actor-turned writer/director Amy Seimetz, it is not so much that she dangles a carrot in front of us since the nature of the story is an unwavering and mysterious assurance of one's own demise that leaves everyone on screen as confused as we are. To her credit, Seimetz avoids copping the obnoxious and self-indulgent style of Lars von Trier, who frequently tackles similar nihilism through meandering monologues and dehumanizing behavior. Refreshingly then, each of the characters deal with such a revelation without being egregious. Inhibitions vanish, honesty comes to the forefront, will power deteriorates, numbing contemplation sets in; it all depends on the individual, though none of them loose their cool. It is difficult to grade the performances since they all succumb to a different form of aloofness, and Seimetz' plot makes sure that it goes nowhere, disorienting us with spontaneous flashbacks, perspective changes, nature closeups, and jarring camera angles. Everything here seems to be here on purpose, so one can not call it a failure of intention, but it is too stuck on pause to be either profound, scary, or funny. Instead, the movie just kind of sits there and goes "Huh...".
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