Sweet Baby Ray’s tag line says it all: “The Sauce Is the Boss.”

Something similar holds for “Caddo Lake.” The Max thriller’s best asset is its title – the swampy landscape where the story takes place.

It’s a character unto itself, a sprawling vista that can swallow up someone if they’re not careful. If only the rest of the film proved as compelling.

“Caddo Lake” boasts solid acting, strong production values and a story we haven’t seen before. Yet the narrative never gets under our skin. The same applies for its small-town characters.

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Young Ellie (Eliza Scanlen), is having trouble untangling her family ties in her quaint rural town. Another lost soul, Paris (Dylan O’Brien), is mourning the death of his mother. She died in a car crash following a seizure, a medical incident that doesn’t make sense to Paris.

Ellie’s sister Anna (Caroline Falk) runs off one day, sending the small town into a frenzy. They form search committees, rallying every available body to find the girl, hopefully alive and well.

Good luck. The sprawling waters would leave even the hardiest travelers at a loss. The cinematography makes fine use of that fact, creating an eerie canvas long before the girl goes missing. It only grows knottier from there.

Can Anna be found? What mysteries lurk within Caddo Lake? How do these stories intersect?

Just know it’s no accident that M. Night Shyamalan co-produced the film. Writer-directors Celine Held and Logan George lean into that filmmaker’s vision, but they fail to replicate his sense of storytelling whimsy.

There’s little outwardly wrong with “Caddo Lake.” Solid performances. Credible production design. A setting that screams out for an unsettling mystery. The story never builds the requisite tension, and the angst in play feels secondary, in the service of a greater narrative engine that never roars to life.

All these earnest pieces can’t coalesce into a sci-fi yarn worth our time. Even scenes designed to ratchet up interest play out more like a puzzle with its pieces scattered across the room. The picture eventually comes into focus, but by then we’ve lost interest.

The real-life Caddo Lake, a cypress forest hugging the borders of Texas and Louisiana, inspired the filmmakers. That speaks to their aesthetic sense and potential. The unfolding story lacks the grit and gravitas to make the most of that unique setting.

HiT or Miss: “Caddo Lake” offers some tangled surprises but can’t sustain our attention.

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The joke is on us with “Terrifier 3.”

The twisted franchise gave us Art the Clown, the best serial killer since Freddy sharpened his nails.

Its torture-porn aesthetic felt almost quaint given Art’s shtick. He’s still yukking it up in the third and demonstrably weakest installment.

What’s missing? Tension. Surprise. Coherency. Everything series creator Damien Leone lovingly slathered onto the first two chapters.

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The film opens in the present, with Art gussied up like ol’ St. Nick to skewer an unsuspecting family. The sequence plays out longer than necessary and there’s nary a chill to be had.

Leone is inadvertently telegraphing the franchise’s waning strength.

We then flashback to the final events of part two, and we see Art shake off the wounds inflicted on him by fiery Final Girl Sienna (Lauren LaVera).

The story then flashes back to the present. Poor Sienna now lives with her Aunt and Uncle, but she hasn’t emotionally recovered from the Art-inflicted trauma.

Can you blame her?

 

 
 
 
 
 
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Art and a new accomplice come back to life in a curiously flat sequence, setting the stage for more signature kills tied to Christmas.

It’s torture laced with maniacal laughter. Again. It feels mechanical, as if Leone is giving fans what they want without the cinematic flair he brought to parts One and Two.

The “Terrifier” films are made exclusively for horror junkies, but even they may sense the diminishing returns in play.

There’s barely a story to follow this time around. Sienna bonds with her extended family, scenes that scream “filler” and plod on for-e-ver.

Meanwhile, Art goes through his motions, pinging from one set piece to another with no rhyme or reason. The kills are monstrous, as expected, pushing the boundaries of practical effects. Have a barf bag within arm’s reach.

“Terrifier 3” boasts a bigger budget – $2 million this time around – but the film looks as cheap as before. Maybe cheaper.

The only sequence with a pulse finds Art crashing a bar where a Rent-a-Claus is hoisting a few with friends. We all know where it’ll go but Leone gleefully stages the gang’s sense that Art may be more threat than nuisance.

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We’re treated to some horror genre cameos, adding to the sense that the franchise is running on goodwill, not creative spark. Remember how Freddy Krueger eventually became more cutup than killer in the “Nightmare on Elm Street” saga?

Something similar settles in with “Terrifier 3.” That’s not a good sign for a franchise teasing a fourth installment.

The second film in the series ran long, but the story rarely felt pokey or unnecessary. Leone expanded the mythos piece by piece, each new element bringing something creepy to the saga.

Even that “Clown Café” ditty proved an impressive earworm. Part three feels smaller, and less significant by comparison.

Poor LaVera gets little to do until the third act. Instead of growing into her role as Art’s nemesis she’s struggling with her mental health. Kid brother Jonathan (Elliot Fullam) gets even less to explore.

A potential wrinkle that gets introduced and shoved aside? A true crime junkie fangirls over both Sienna and Jonathan.

Series standout David Howard Thornton does everything possible to rouse Art back to life. His clownish tics never fail, but they’re at the service of a story that gives him little to do but grind through his greatest hits.

At its worst, “Terrifier 3” is another cheapo slasher film with thin characters, indifferent acting and gore aplenty.

Art deserves so much better. So does the franchise.

HiT or Miss: “Terrifier 3” brings the gore, and more, but the chaotic thrill is gone.

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There’s a fascinating story to be told about Donald Trump’s Big Apple ascendancy.

“The Apprentice” sniffs around the edges but isn’t interested in that yarn. It’s about channeling nearly a decade of anti-Trump rage into one film.

Mission … accomplished?

That devalues bravura turns by Sebastian Stan as Donald Trump and “Succession” alum Jeremy Strong. Their performances are taken out at the knees by partisan fury.

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Trump’s meteoric rise begins in the 1970s, a time when we’re told he had to collect rent payments in person for his aloof father Fred Trump (Martin Donovan).

This Donald Trump isn’t as cocksure as the current model, nor the mogul who penned “The Art of the Deal.” He finds his footing courtesy of Roy Cohn (Strong), a legendary fixer who finds a way to win no matter the odds.

Lie. Go on offense. Crush any flicker of morality. He finds an apt pupil in Trump.

Why, it’s like Donald Trump is the Apprentice years before his reality show of the same name!

So far, not bad. Cohn’s soulless shtick dates back to the McCarthy era, and Strong makes his methods seem almost admirable in their effectiveness. Watching an unsteady Trump attempt to make his Daddy proud is equally intriguing.

Stan dials down the familiar Trump tics, helping us access the character. Why, he almost seems human, albeit a deeply flawed one.

Almost. And it doesn’t last long.

Once Trump finds real estate success his legend, and ego grow. It’s here where the film loses interest in storytelling and goes for the jugular.

Trump’s jugular, to be precise.

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There’s nothing consequential left beyond attacking Trump from every imaginable angle. 

The screenplay, by notorious Fox News critic Gabriel Sherman, repeatedly echoes 2024 amidst its talking points. Sherman loathes Fox News, but he’d be better served by turning off MSNBC.

In one scene Trump picks up a Reagan-themed button with the phrase, “Make America Great Again” emblazoned on it.

Subtle.

How the “very fine people” hoax didn’t make the final cut is a miracle.

That button moment has plenty of company. Much of the dialogue plays out like a story written today, not in the roaring 1980s. It’s fine to mirror Trump’s initial rise to his current political brand. “The Apprentice” wouldn’t matter if it didn’t attempt a variation of that.

The film, shot via an ’80s-friendly aspect ratio, looks consistently garish (on purpose). This is a villain’s origin story, and the palette hammers home that perspective. The score is equally off-putting, embracing tones that crawl under the skin.

The message? “It’s alive … it’s alive!”

 

 
 
 
 
 
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The Frankenstein’s monster unleashed on Manhattan will later torment not the village but America in toto.

Why else would director Ali Abbasi bring up scalp reduction, liposuction and impotency? Aren’t Trump’s “evil” deeds enough?

Cheap shots, all.

The film’s already infamous rape scene, debunked by the real Ivana Trump before her 2022 death, is hard to watch. Seeing Trump verbally dismiss her in a separate sequence is almost as cruel.

It’s akin to the media forever lying about Trump. If the mogul’s reign was so traumatic why not just repeat the facts?

Every time “The Apprentice” inches closer to humanizing Trump it takes a large, calculated step back. One scene finds him talking to Ivana (Maria Bakalova) while a nanny tries to get young Don Jr. to stop crying. Papa Trump briefly holds the child, his touch soothing the toddler’s pain.

When the lad starts to cry again he’s quickly handed back to the nanny. That cycles happens so many times in “The Apprentice” it would make a frat-friendly drinking game.

RELATED: TRUMP ABSOLUTELY BROKE THESE CELEBRITIES

Stan’s Trump isn’t a satirical swipe but an honest attempt to recreate the bruising ego behind all things Trump. And it’s mostly glorious. The actor isn’t given an actual person to portray but a caricature. It’s the only reason the performance falls short of being awards-season worthy.

The film can rightly savage Trump, and the mogul is no one’s idea of a saint. The best stories give their villains a dollop of humanity. That’s Storytelling 101.

Strong is another story.

The actor’s enigmatic Cohn is a callous delight. We’re not rooting for Cohn and recoil at his sinister touch. Strong still captures a unique screen monster with every heavy-lidded glare. The real Cohn’s final years, denying his sexual appetites and AIDS diagnosis, give Strong’s Cohn an unlikely dimension.

Empathy.

The real Donald Trump has many facets. The ego comes first. Always. There’s a generosity, too, that tracks back decades. He’s very funny, something his rabid fans adore. He also can be rude, crude and abominable. Few would deny that.

Oh, and he’s pretty good at making deals. Most of these positive elements are in short supply.

That’s sad. A movie combining all of Trump’s tics would make a helluva biopic. As is, “The Apprentice” is a helluva hit piece. Watch accordingly.

HiT or Miss: “The Apprentice” squanders two mighty performances at the altar of Trump Derangement Syndrome.

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M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Sixth Sense” (1999) arrived with such a quiet, understated amount of hype at summer’s end that no one expected it to be the durable classic that it became.

I have an embarrassing story about “The Sixth Sense” that I’ve shared many times – I was at an early screening of the film, a test screening taking place not long before the film’s wide release at the tail end of the busy summer of 1999.

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Once I left the theater and found myself in the lobby, I was approached by a lady holding a clipboard, who asked me what I thought of the film. I told her it showcased Bruce Willis’ best performance, that the film was really scary but strangely touching at the same time and was one of the best movies I’ve seen all year.

The lady thanked me and smiled as she quickly jotted down everything I said. While walking out to my car, my friend who accompanied me asked if I thought the movie was going to be a hit at the box office. My response?  

No way. Not a chance.

I explained to her that the movie was too slow, too talky and too disturbing to grab a mainstream audience. It had Willis playing a similar guardian role that he just played a couple of months earlier in “Mercury Rising” and he never carried a gun in the Shyamalan film.

I also said that the then-current box office domination of “The Blair Witch Project” all but guaranteed that “The Sixth Sense” had no commercial chance, since there was no room for another breakout horror movie coming out at summer’s end.

I said all of that.

A week or so later, the movie opened in the number one spot…where it remained until October. By the end of the year, it became the top-grossing thriller of all time. I’ve been wrong about a film’s commercials chances before, but rarely like this.

I didn’t trust that an audience would be patient enough for the film’s careful pacing, unsettling reveals, subtle/internal dramatic power and clever puzzle of a narrative. I was happy to be wrong about “The Sixth Sense” and find that not only did the majority of filmgoers not blab the big reveal to their friends but shared an appreciation for what Shyamalan achieved, which was deeply felt and wide reaching.

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For the uninitiated, here’s a brief, spoiler-free plot description: From the opening shot, it’s paced like a film from the 1970s, with the first visual a light coming into illumination.

We meet Dr. Malcolm Crowe (Willis) and his wife Anna (Olivia Williams), whose celebratory mood is broken by the unannounced arrival of a prior, truly haunted former patient of Crowe’s. Following that nightmarish encounter, we see that Dr. Crowe, sometime later, is now struggling to connect with a young patient named Cole (Haley Joel Osment).

Some moments are presented via reflective surfaces, suggesting that what is seen can be interpreted in more than one way.

Willis is wonderful in this, giving an understated, focused and deeply moving turn, and he’s matched by Osment who, frankly, gives one of the best performances I’ve ever seen from a young actor. There’s a soulful, genuine quality to Cole that Osment connects to, as well as an inner anguish that is, movingly, about his inability to fully communicate with his mother.

In a single, chilling scene, Donnie Wahlberg gives an amazing performance (it’s odd that Wahlberg, as well as Willis, wasn’t Oscar-nominated for their acting). Toni Collette, who did receive an Oscar nomination for her performance as Cole’s mother, proves here and elsewhere that she can play anyone in any genre of film.

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Cinematographer Tak Fujimoto’s shots, whether hand-held or formerly captured, are perfect compositions. The way in which the color red is presented as a thematic warning in key moments is as admirable as the amount of restraint given throughout this sensational story.

Note how the camera either pulls in or away to convey the state of the relationship between Cole and Malcolm. My college Film Theory professor used to instruct us to watch “Manhattan” (1979) as an example of a movie with perfect cinematography.

Fujimoto’s work here is another major example.

Once we start seeing what Cole sees, the movie turns on us. The encounters Cole has with the supernatural are terrifying, reminding me more of “Repulsion” (1965) than any contemporary horror film at the time. Shyamalan connects with how unsafe we can feel in our home and explores parental fears of being unable to protect our kids.

FAST FACT: Shyamalan, then a mostly unknown scribe, put his foot down when pitching “The Sixth Sense” around Hollywood. He had to be the director, and the project must generate a bid north of $1 million

The story utilizes media for plot points, such as Malcolm’s wedding video, the awful commercial starring Cole’s smarmy classmate and the nightmare-inducing, telltale surveillance video that reveals a horrible secret during the film’s climax.

“The Sixth Sense” believes in ghosts, that they are an extension of our anger and frustration at an unresolved life. Being a lifelong horror movie fan, it’s hard to think of another film that can give me the creeps one minute, and then move me to tears the next.

The subplot of Collette as Cole’s mother, who is struggling to connect with her son, could have dragged this down but instead, it’s such a strong anchor to the entire film, largely because Collette is so heartbreaking here.

Shyamalan, in addition to the confidence and control he exudes as a director, has also given us a dialog-heavy, character-driven, compassionate and disturbing story. Arriving at the tail end of the busy summer of ’99 (with such mega-hits as “The Phantom Menace” and “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me” in pop culture dominance), the last thing anyone could expect was the true arrival of Shyamalan, establishing himself as an auteur at age 29.

Shyamalan has made great films subsequently and famously rebounded from the ones that didn’t work; it’s easy to see why cinephiles keep going back to this one, as it’s a genre masterclass.

So many sequences here play like perfect little movies, like Cole and Malcom arriving unannounced at a funeral and the scene where Cole finally tells is mother the truth she doesn’t want to hear.

The legendary plot twist is so good because the movie plays fair, and the punchline is cleverly constructed. There are quick flashbacks provided to illustrate how Shyamalan fooled us with his “Twilight Zone”-worthy climax.

Yet, “The Sixth Sense” is so much more than its legendary climax.

If you haven’t seen “The Sixth Sense” in years and only remember the twist – or worse, you only know the twist but never saw the movie – it’s worth reporting that this isn’t some quaint classic where the final reveal is the only strength.

In fact, had the movie simply ended with Cole’s theater performance and concluded before the big whammy ahead of it, this would still be one of the best films of 1999.

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Todd Phillips’ “Joker: Folie a Deux” (hereafter referred to as “Joker 2”) defies expectations and will put to the test all of the pre-packaged welcome and fanboy glee that greets it.

The return of Phoenix’s Arthur Fleck, aka Joker, isn’t another opportunity to watch Phoenix murder in the name of nihilistic comic book authenticity, nor another attempt to mimic (or steal outright from) Martin Scorsese’s “The King of Comedy” (1983) and “Taxi Driver” (1976).

Instead, Phillips has made an honest-to-goodness musical, with visual allusions to “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg” (1964) and “Dancer in the Dark” (2000) as just a few of the many reference points.

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Phoenix’s Fleck is now incarcerated and awaiting trial, with his extremely patient lawyer (Catherine Keener) struggling to keep him restrained, while the lead prison guard (Brendan Gleason) abuses him. When Fleck meets Lee (Lady Gaga) an enchanting, dark soul with an obvious crush on him, Fleck finds someone to live for, even as he’s just barely trying to keep his Joker persona under wraps.

Considering how much Fleck’s story resembles the horror show of Bernie Goetz’s 1984 New York City subway shooting and the shocking turns that followed, it is fascinating to see Phillips and screenwriter Scott Silver take this in the direction of a Goetz-infused daydream. I’m unsure that we need the interesting but crass animated short that opens the film but I’m positive that Phillips missed a golden opportunity by repeatedly referencing a TV movie made about Fleck but never showing us a clip.

Phillips’ film is a high-wire act from start to finish, the rare occasion where everyone involved decided to take a real chance on alienating material and not simply provide a bigger sequel that retells the same story. Even when the first act is still warming up, Phillips directs the hell out of every scene, including some long tracking shots that must have been a nightmare to choreograph.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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The story is sad and often unpleasant, as it was in the first film, but avoids being redundant and obvious, which was most of “Joker” (2019). Aside from the riveting sequence that pit Phoenix against Robert De Niro, there is little in the blockbuster original that I’d care to revisit.

The controversy, pre-release hype and accolades attached to Phoenix’s performance made it a phenomenon, but here is a follow-up that is not only better but, amusingly, disinterested in audience adoration.

Although “Joker 2” is a musical, this a creative choice that avoids any obvious or commercial directions, even with Lady Gaga in the cast. At times, we’re seeing musical numbers break out, reflecting the fantasies of the characters.

Just as frequently, characters simply break out into song and sometimes it’s instinctive, such as when we sing along with a song on the car radio and aren’t even aware of it.

The model adapted for the musical numbers isn’t anything traditional or contemporary, like “La La Land” (2016), but Dennis Potter musicals, like “Pennies from Heaven” (1978) or “The Singing Detective” (1986), where musical numbers (fantasies or otherwise) are mental escapes that wallpaper over the real tragedies taking place.

At times, it’s a joy to hear Lady Gaga belt a big number on a highly stylized set but, just as often, she’s giving an intentionally pitchy, rough-voiced take on a radio standard. Likewise, Phoenix, whose singing here ranges from tolerable to far less than that.

It reminded me of Woody Allen’s “Everyone Says I Love You” (1996), a little-seen musical in the Potter mode where actors are either singing well with proper accompaniment (like Edward Norton) or, more often than not, giving musical interpretations that sound like emotional, tone-deaf rounds of karaoke.


 

Phoenix is still giving a highly-mannered turn that will either strike some as tour de force acting, a commentary on performance itself or a smattering of both. I still think his best performance is in Paul Thomas Anderson’s “The Master” (2012) and that his take on Arthur Fleck is like an extension of his work in the Anderson film.

At times, his Brando-esque turn here is extraordinary, but I also grew tired of it. Thankfully, he’s paired with the dazzling Lady Gaga – they have terrific chemistry, and her performance has depth and nuanced acting choices.

Unlike Margot Robbie’s take on the character, Lady Gaga isn’t playing Harley Quinn as gleefully crazy but as a lost soul who finds the wrong man to be her messiah; Lady Gaga makes Harley Quinn vulnerable and tragic.

I loved the musical numbers, even as every single one of them feels like a press-PAUSE intrusion on the story instead of an extension of it. Although Phillips has made a musical with a three-act structure (prison film, courtroom drama, love story), this isn’t a watered-down or any less nihilistic work than its predecessor.

In fact – and I won’t describe it or provide any spoilers – the disturbing final scene, which is so cruel and comes as a shock, manages to be poetic justice and tragic at the same time.

I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

“Joker 2” will be a challenge for most, even those who adored the stubbornly unlovable original. What Phillips and his team have created is distancing, often experimental and risky.

Coming a week after the all-or-nothing roll of the dice that is “Megalopolis” (which I adore), it’s exciting and encouraging to see yet another lavish movie, getting a mainstream wide release, that wants to challenge its audience as sincerely as it wants to entertain.

Three Stars

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Chris Sanders’ “The Wild Robot” has emerged as a true sleeper in an age where animated movies are mostly sequels or spinoffs of toys or games.

Based on Peter Brown’s 2016 book, Sanders’ CGI-animated comedy is about a robot stranded in nature, but also about resisting the way we are programmed.

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Lupita Nyong’o is the voice of Roz, an advanced, physically capable robot who can hold her own when marooned on a planet. Once she realizes there is wildlife around her, Roz’s mission isn’t just survival from desertion but avoiding being torn apart.

The first act, in which Roz cannot understand the animals she encounters and is surprised when they don’t reply to her voice commands, is fantastic. If the entire film had gone in this direction, it could have resulted in something truly refreshing.

Seeing Roz earnestly attempt contact with an angry horde of mammals is hilarious (I love her late-night battle with an army of squirrels) but it has a nice edge.

A pivotal moment comes when Rox discovers a goose egg that quickly hatches. She recognizes the need for a mother figure and doesn’t immediately see the value of taking care of the newborn. To her surprise, Roz not only sticks with the hatchling but turns to a fox (Pedro Pascal) for help.

Later, Roz sits completely still and figures out the language of the animals, simply by observation (weirdly, the same way Antonio Banderas learned to communicate with Vikings in “The 13th Warrior”!). Roz is able to talk to them, and we understand what everyone is saying.

It’s at that point the movie gets a major case of The Cutes.

“The Wild Robot” doesn’t fall apart and is never an insufferable time waster like so many children’s films, but the promise and comic potential of the early scenes is sanded down. There’s a version of this movie where only Roz speaks English and, more believably, no one else on screen can speak with her.

Perhaps what we have here is the more commercial choice, but the film is often at its best when no one is speaking. I recall Disney’s “Dinosaur” (2000), which was majestic, until all the dinosaurs started chatting and telling jokes, undermining the grandeur.

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“The Wild Robot” is a different case, though I suspect the film could seriously work with no one onscreen talking.

There’s only one other sequence in the film that is as poetic as the opener – Roz goes on a rescue mission during a blizzard, which results in some wondrous and very funny reveals.

“The Wild Robot,” both the film and appearance of the title character, have been compared to Brad Bird’s 1999 masterpiece, “The Iron Giant” (1999). I also saw moments that are strikingly similar to “Wall-E” (2009.

Look, these are great comparisons. I wish there were a minute, let alone an entire scene, in the disposable “Despicable Me 4” or the over-praised “Inside Out 2 that made me think of “The Iron Giant,” let alone inch near that level of greatness.

While the middle of “The Wild Robot” is pure formula (it becomes, weirdly, an extended training montage), it reconnects with the dramatic power and invention of the beginning during the emotionally charged third act.

Another thing I loved? The wrap-up isn’t a given, as the story goes as far as it can and finds surprising dramatic richness.

I cried more than expected and my 8-year-old was dazzled and laughed frequently.

There are deeper films about how a robot can learn to love (everything from “A.I. Artificial Intelligence” to “Robot and Frank” come to mind) but this is less a cautionary tale about A.I. and more an allegory for the role and mindset a parent has with their adopted child.

While there is a lack of depth overall (look how cute those animals are! Ohhhhh!), “The Wild Robot” is touching and awfully entertaining. It doesn’t hit the milestone of “The Iron Giant” but, in many complimentary ways, it is, like Bird’s film, thoughtful and compassionate.

Few recent CGI animated children’s films are on that level.

Three Stars

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Bob Clark’s “Black Christmas” (1974) is a petrifyingly scary film, easily one of the all-time most unsettling to take place during the yuletide holiday season.

While not a hit upon a release (it left a very small impression), it was among the first of the Canadian Tax Shelter films made, so called because a budget was established to help create a Canadian film scene and allow budgets for films with commercial potential.

“Black Christmas” and the early works of David Cronenberg were among the Canadian Tax Shelter films; while Cronenberg eventually broke through to widespread success and acclaim, neither his earliest works nor “Black Christmas” were hits in their day.

The film that wound up super-charging the Canadian film industry was none other than Ivan Reitman’s “Meatballs” (1979).

Decades later, not only does “Black Christmas” stand out for being one of Clark’s best two Yuletide films (more on that later), but it also ended up influencing dozens of subsequent horror films.

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Clark’s film opens on a beautiful shot of a cottage decked in Christmas lights on a snowy night. It looks like we’re in for a heartwarming family film, until the title font reminds us: this is a horror film.

We meet the lovely young members of a sorority – the central characters who stand out are Jess, played by Olivia Hussey (post- “Romeo & Juliet”) and Barb, played by a pre-Lois Lane Margot Kidder. While everyone in the bunch is buoyant and lively, ready to celebrate the holidays, a horrific phone call brings everyone to a cold silence.

Then some of the sorority members start to vanish.

Potential suspects arise, like Peter, played by a mop haired, unrecognizable Keir Dullea (Dave Bowman from “2001: A Space Odyssey”) who plays Jess’ moody, controlling boyfriend and…wait…did you hear that? Is there someone up in the attic?

The point of view shots, establishing the fractured mindset of “Billy,” aren’t steady and establish a distorted perspective of life. The shock reveals are extremely effective but don’t come looking for gore and excess- despite the killer on the loose angle, Clark’s film is closer to Hitchcock than “Friday the 13th” (1980).

Cinematographer Reginald H. Morris (who later lensed subsequent Clark movies) displays some tour de force cinematography here. Remember, this is the early 1970s, with big, heavy cameras performing acrobatic feats, all to convey the visage of a broken mind.

“Black Christmas” plays on the overly familiar angle of a sorority of potential victims, but exploiting them isn’t what Clark does here, as the characters are beautiful, of course, but also strong-willed and intelligent. In addition to Hussey, Kidder, a pre-“SCTV” Andrea Martin (who is also in the dreadful 2006 remake) and the terrific Lynne Griffin (who is also a standout in the underrated 1983 horror cult film, “Curtains”).

Martin played a role that once belonged to Gilda Radner, who left the film to become a part of the original cast of “Saturday Night Live.”

Clark’s film, which is savage in small doses, and subtle and creative more often than not, is a masterpiece of mood, tension and suspense. I didn’t catch up with it until I was in college, where I watched it with a roommate (we were both horror movie aficionados), only to be rendered in stunned silence by the ending credits.

An aspect of “Black Christmas” that makes it unusual and classier than much of what followed: it doesn’t fetishize any of the murders. What occurs here is a tragedy. This is the rare horror film, then and now, that exudes a rare compassion for the victims.

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John Saxon’s supporting role as a law figure would, oddly, become something of a horror movie staple, though Saxon, as evidenced by this and “A Nightmare on Elm St.” (1984) does the concerned cop better than anyone else.

The moments of humor are welcome (and mostly via a scene-stealing Kidder) but the tone is mostly serious and dread-inducing. A chilling crossroad is presented for Jess: she either has a violent, unstable boyfriend in Peter or, far worse, Peter and “Billy” are the same person.

Instead of presenting a definitive answer to that mystery, Clark ends things on a far more provocative, haunting note.

“Black Christmas” is, to state the obvious, a precursor to “Halloween” (1978), “When a Stranger Calls” (1979), “Silent Night, Deadly Night” (1984) and countless more. The alternate titles include “Silent Night, Evil Night” and “Stranger in the House.”

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Another, far more provocative factoid is that Clark declared that John Carpenter’s “Halloween” copied the blueprint of this movie (as stated in Richard Nowell’s exhaustive and excellent 2010 book, “Blood Money: A History of the First Teen Slasher Cycle”). Rather than pick sides or declare one superior over the other, the easy thing is to note how strong and stylish both are.

Noting the ways this influenced subsequent horror movies makes watching this a game for horror fans: with many scenes being from the perspective of “Billy,” and only a few chilling shots of his eye but his face covered, the mold was set for everyone ranging from Michael Myers to Jason Voorhees and on and on.

Whereas just about every horror film, Christmas-themed or otherwise, would sacrifice style and compassion for cheap thrills and gratuitous, well, everything, Clark’s film is still petrifying but also elegant.

This is a master class that manages to get under your skin.

The post How ‘Black Christmas’ Changed the Face of Horror appeared first on Hollywood in Toto.



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