DVD/Blu-Ray Review: Jennifer Kent creates a freshly tense and claustrophobic take on horror in "The Babadook"

"If it's in a word, or it's in a look, you can't get rid of The Babadook."

by Jon Petre

With that tagline and a fringed, post-traumatic nightmare sequence begins The Babadook. Writer and director Jennifer Kent has really outdone herself with her latest piece, which is a fresh and cognitive film that shows you can still make proper horror without the jump scares. Seriously, I don't remember a single one.

Oh look, it's like a newspaper. Perhaps we can burn
it for more nightmare fuel.

Amelia is a widow before her time, her husband Oscar having died in a car accident on the way to the hospital to give birth to her son, Sam, played by a surprisingly talented Noah Wiseman. Sam is something of a problem child, spending his time creating dangerous traps and talking about the monsters. Something I found very close to home (because it was realistic, and genuine) was the sense of weariness that Essie Davies and Kent conveyed in Amelia; she is exhausted, physically and mentally. This adds to the tension in shifting our sympathies to her and against Sam, who is presented as something of a brat for the first half of the film, serving only to make things worse for our embittered single mother. Amelia hasn't slept in weeks. Every night she has to comfort Sam and read him a story; one night, he chooses a book that his mother doesn't recognize, "Mister Babadook". After a few pages, it's clear that there's nothing normal about this story, and all the clues suggest that it's not going to end well for mother and son. But with all the stress and all the misfortune, we're not sure whether there really is a Babadook, or if Amelia's been, ah, working too hard.

I didn't get a chance to see this when it came out, which disappointed but didn't really bother me. It should have. This was great, in that it was unconventional enough to stand out and surprise me in a good way but familiar enough that I wasn't lost and that we were still standing on solid ground with what to expect, guessing what was going to happen, and so on. It was disturbing, and it broke the rules of British TV, so be warned. But then it was Australian. In a previous interview Kent had stated that she'd wanted to go for a handmade, homebrew feel to the props and the effects, and this really came out well--in the book, Mister Babadook, and in the creature itself. There're obvious Eastern European connotations (for those of you interested, the inspiration for the monster came from the Polish myth of the Kikimora) and that compliments this, although don't call me xenophobic. Furthermore the film was acted well enough, at least where it counted, in Amelia and Sam. Those dead, blank stares that Davies delivers really say volumes about the isolation and the confusion that the Babadook causes, and in their way this unsettled me more than many of the less subtle devices should have. I suppose there's the difference between a slasher movie and a psychological piece: the slasher makes you scared of what lurks behind the shower curtain while psychological horror makes you question what your existence is about, and if that's the monster. Or something.
 

Is this where all the jump scares went, mommy?

But the real success came in Jennifer Kent herself, in the writing and in the filming. The dialogue and the photography served to create a tense, claustrophobic atmosphere that put me on edge in the same way that more tawdry horror films do but without taking the easy road of the jump scares, which are frankly embarrassing when they are so often overused. Like a good haunted house maze, the minute details all add up to create a thrilling environment. I felt however that several of the plot points, such as Daniel Henshall's Robbie and the dead Dad were slightly underused, or even forgotten; not to mention one or two plot holes (who reads a book with a Babadook on the cover to a disturbed child with access to knives?) and a lukewarm ending, but I can forgive it for what all the things it got right, which were done brilliantly. I guess it is fiction, after all. The Babadook is available on DVD now.

4.5/5

 

Special Features Included On Disc:

Featurettes:

• Special Effects: The Stabbing Scene
• There’s No Place Like Home: Creating The House
• Illustrating Evil: Creating The Book
• The Stunts

Trailers:

• Alternate trailer
• Original trailer
• UK trailer 

John Lithgow and Alfred Molina's chemistry is remarkably sincere, in Ira Sach's latest feature, "Love Is Strange". Written by Scott Gentry.

“Love Is Strange” (15)
Directed by: Ira Sachs.
Starring: John Lithgow, Alfred Molina, Marisa Tomei, Darren E. Burrows and Charlie Tahan. 
Rated: ‘15’ for containing strong language.
Running time: 94 minutes.
Released in UK cinemas from the 6th of February (West End) and the 13th of February (Nationwide), 2015.

Once again, acclaimed filmmaker Ira Sachs has returned to cinema with yet another drama, focussing heavily upon the subject of gay relationships. His previous feature (“Keep the Lights On”) followed the lives of two young and prosperous gay men, whereas his latest piece revolves around two much older men, a same-sex couple named Ben (John Lithgow) and George (Alfred Molina). Having lived together for almost 40 years, the pair have finally decided to tie the knot, which unfortunately results in George being promptly fired from his teaching post in the music department of a Catholic school, once the archdiocese learns of his matrimonial activities. Ben is sadly retired, and due to the expensive apartment in which they live, they are forced to reach out to their friends and relatives (Marisa Tomei, Darren Burrows etc) in order to find a place to stay until the pair can get back on their feet, requiring the couple to live in separate accommodation, placing them further away from each other than they’ve ever been before. Soon patience, and the limits of Ben and George’s love is put to the test, prompting the question, can love truly endure? 

“Love Is Strange” is most definitely not a romantic comedy. In fact, this is perhaps one of the most delicate and intimate love stories seen in some time, which can not only be related to gay relationships, but also love of any kind. Sachs is perhaps treading over already-covered ground, but in another sense he isn’t. This is perhaps a spiritual (lighter in tone) sequel to “Keep The Lights On”, showing the development of love in old age, and also the effects which life has on us, in a realistic manner, which is undeniably relatable. The piece itself has unfortunately been marketed wrongly as a comedy, whereas Sachs himself has written and directed a clearly astute film with very little aspects of comedy, clearly designed to make you think about what love means to you, whilst absorbing the events on-screen.


The film is also filled with wonderfully affecting and intimate moments shared between its distinctly rich and engaging characters, which help to make up the better sections of the film, when Sachs finally decides to stop imitating Terrence Malick in scenes made up of (inaudible) shots of New York City, and embraces his own style. This is particularly evident in a short but delicate scene, in which Ben and George visit a bar, and their love reignites upon the screen in a deliberately heart-warming, yet deserved manner.  After a short while, the charm begins to fade, and the audience are shown a true depiction of love not bogged down in Hollywood stereotypes, but the film itself isn’t so much of a showy, awards-snatching piece, instead it is a calm and thoughtful film, which doesn’t require your full attention, it just requires an audience who are able to sit back and appreciate its greatest strength, a talented cast, bolstered by two intriguing lead actors: the uncompromising pair of Molina and Lithgow. 

Both are acting heavyweights, having starred in films with demanding roles throughout their expansive filmography, but its here in which they both excel, particularly Molina, arguably stealing the piece from under the cast’s feet, much like his performances in “Boogie Nights” and “Magnolia”. Lithgow himself has never been better, and exacts true emotion upon the audience through his deceptively frail performance, as a talented painter, who is hilarious in his scenes shared with the ever-brilliant Marisa Tomei, portraying the character Kate, a novelist and wife of Elliot (Darren Burrows, excellent), whom Ben lives with, who finds it hard to concentrate due to Ben’s incessant, yet endearing chatter. 

Verdict

Charming, if perhaps showy in its style, yet Sach’s latest feature is a film with heart, first-rate performances and a valuable lesson to couples (gay or straight), in regards to triumphing over adversity.

6 Stars out of 10

Written by Scott Gentry.

Film/TV Rating Key

1-2 stars out of ten = Awful.

3-4 stars out of ten = Average.

5-6 stars out of ten = Good.

7-8 stars out of ten = Excellent.

9-10 stars out of ten = Amazing.

 

Trailer
 



Clip

The New Weird: Haruki Murakami's "The Strange Library"

by Jon Petre

The self-dubbed "New Weird" movement has found quite substantial
favour in recent years, in authors such as China Mieville and Jeff VanderMeer. It combines literary experimentation with the old styles of H.P. Lovecraft and Mervyn Peake, with a modern genre twist that gives you something recognisable enough to understand but still strange enough to shock. Though I doubt Haruki Murakami would describe himself as a New Weird writer, his latest novellete "The Strange Library", I think, certainly belongs in that category.

A young boy, wandering home from school, wonders vaguely about how taxes were collected in the Ottoman Empire. He goes into the city library, because, as his mother's taught him, if you don't know something look it up in a library. But no sooner has he stepped over the threshold than he is spirited away to a hidden reading room below ground, where he's imprisoned with a mute girl and a man in a sheep skin by an elderly, imposing librarian.

This is just one example of the book.
It comes in a variety of colours.
I chose purple. 

I think you can see where the 'weird' comes into it.

This was a Christmas release, so if you're only just coming on to Murakami then hopefully you can probably get this cheaper than the reccomended £13.00 odd pounds, which I think for the content is pretty much extortionate. It's probably got something to do with the fact that it's only available in hardback, and the book itself...well, the book is beautiful.

This is a toe-dipped example of "Ergodic Literature"--books which play around with layout, fonts, formats and pictures to create something more interesting than words on a page. There are pages here designed like library cards, pictures and diagrams of things mentioned in text, and words organised in patterns and shapes that give the feeling of reading almost a children's book for adults. And this is definitely for adults; not because of sex, drugs, or anything like that, but I was surprised to get such a deep and dark plotline in such a conceivably short story. The boy himself is worryingly passive, and hopelessly attached to his mother--and for good reason, as we find out later. Weird fiction, generally, revolves around taking one key theme and changing it in one 'weird' way, and then accepting that as fact- so here we have submissive and benign characters, but in, say, Mieville's "Kraken" we have a giant squid accepted quite readily as a God. So although "The Strange Library" is lacking in realism that doesn't mean that Murakami's portrayal of his characters isn't realistic. In fact, it's impressive that he manages to make us care so much for the characters in such a short space.

This layout is great, but...there aren't many words, there. 

That said, I can't help but feel slightly cheated. I mean, come on. When I bought the book I hadn't realized how short it was; honestly, at times I felt that the pictures--many of which took up a whole page--were there to pad out the short length. Most short fiction is available at a fraction of the price with often more content in terms of word count. I think Murakami's relative celebrity is what allows him to get away with this--cough, cough, George RR Martin, cough, cough--because you can bet a publisher wouldn't waste their money printing a vignette like this for a new author. All the storytelling in the world doesn't make up for what smells not so faintly of profiteering.

It's a great book, don't get me wrong. It's just that it's not a novel, it's a novellete. As long as you know what you're getting that's fine. The Strange Library is beautifully written and beautifully designed, garunteed to give you something to think about on the train in and out of work in the morning. But. The fact that the price is (relatively) so high deters me from giving this what it, in itself, deserves. It's things like this that turn people to e-books, and you can't get something as unique as this on a kindle. If you can get this cheaper online, perhaps second-hand, I really urge you to go for it. It won't take long to finish.

3/5