There was only one film I didn’t make it into at Fantastic Fest last year: the Nordic thriller Headhunters. Even with a press pass, I was left to bleed in the stand-by line. I ended up seeing a Japanese musical-pink film about a cheeky, mythical sea turtle – so, win-win in my book. Graciously, the Florida Film Fest recently screened Headhunters – so I was redeemed. And I was floored. Based on Norwegian crime writer Jo Nesbø‘s novel of the same name, Headhunters is an expertly crafted crime thriller that doesn’t rest on any genre crutches and presents a stylistic, complex look at the well-worn subjects of revenge, insatiable greed,  and devotion.

Roger Brown (Aksel Hennie) is an accomplished corporate “headhunter”; a recruiter who pre-screens candidates for high-paying positions. He’s a smooth bastard who compensates for his short stature with a mountain of charisma and a continent of debt. He owns a $30 million dollar house he can’t afford and racks up more debt every month – all to keep up appearances for his wife Diana, an art gallery owner, and the socialites she rolls with. Unbeknownst to his wife, Roger supplements his lavish lifestyle by stealing valuable art from the very same job candidates he screens in his 9 to 5. He’s a much better art thief than he is a husband. Roger’s world spirals out of control after his wife befriends ex-military playboy Clas Greve (Game of Throne‘s Nikolaj Coster-Waldau).

When Diana tells Roger that Clas has an incredibly rare Rubens painting stolen by Germans during WWII, the gears of greed start turning in Roger’s mind. He can’t help himself. With the aid of his partner and security expert Brede, the two attempt the biggest score of their lives – the one that could pull Roger out of debt forever. Things turn sour quick during the heist and Roger is hurled into a cat-and-mouse throwdown for his life, marriage, and sanity. No one said stealing priceless art from an ex-military tracking expert was going to be a walk in the park.

Aksel Hennie is perfect as Roger. His short stature and cartoon-baby eyes make him the perfect wolf in sheep’s clothing. Early in the film, he presents his philosophy on the most important thing a man can have = reputation. This whole ideology is the root of his desire for endless wealth. He’s a charming villain, but never comes off as a scumbag or overly slimy. He’s not without his insecurities though and that’s what makes him the most likeable character in a film populated entirely by bad guys.

The suspense in Headhunters is ridiculous. Whether he’s hiding in a toilet or playing possum, you never think Roger has a chance. There’s a solid 30 to 40 minutes where it never lets up and it’s like a vice grip on your throat. Just when you think the film has climaxed and Roger is a goner, you’re allowed to catch your breath. There’s even a nice little epilogue of sorts that feels well deserved rather than forced. This kind of pacing in a film isn’t easy to pull off, but director Morten Tyldum does it flawlessly. The cinematography is sleek but never over-stylized like it is in most big budget crime films with all of their MTV editing and such.

You’ll be hard pressed to find a more well crafted, darkly comedic thriller this year. Wonderfully paced, shot, and acted, Headhunters a perfect storm of the genre, while also transcending it. An absolute can’t miss. Opening in NY and LA April 27 from Magnolia Pictures. For a list of theaters and dates, click here.

In 1977 the film Short Eyes, Robert M. Young‘s brazenly ferocious look at the hell that prison holds for a child molester, was released. Besides the entire prison population’s desire to shred child molesters to ribbons, another aspect of life behind bars examined in the film is the staking out of turf by different ethnicities. The blacks automatically have the best section of the poke because Curtis Mayfield is an inmate and the misery of prison life hasn’t quelled his need to bring R&B to the masses. But this review isn’t about Short Eyes or its awkward musical number. It’s about the other Robert M. Young movie released in ’77: Alambrista!

Building upon a short documentary Young shot for the Xerox company, Alambrista! (“The Illegal“) is an unsentimental and intimate look at a Mexican’s illegal crossing into California and his search for a better life in the alleged land of opportunity. Young Roberto (Domingo Ambriz), who speaks zero English, leaves behind his wife and child in hopes of making enough money to have them join him in a few years. It’s a story that happens every day, to this day, in the U.S. While other directors may have injected their tale of immigration with plenty of sap or caterwauling criticism, Young’s lens remains honest and intimate through all of Roberto’s encounters across the border.

After his first labor job is raided by Immigration, Roberto finds himself picking strawberries alongside a fellow Mexican named Joe (Trinidad Silva). Joe’s a card and teaches Roberto how to act like a gringo – essential gringo mannerisms like crossing your legs and macking on women in cafes. Roberto’s a fast learner too, he quickly befriends then becomes sweethearts with a waitress in Stockton who takes him shopping and to church. Here’s the catch-22 of Roberto’s new life. Joe insists that every Mexican who crosses the border keeps a girl in each country, but the whole reason he’s there is too raise funds for his family back home. Roberto is just naive enough to not realize Americans would find this absurd and a little gross. Young’s treatment of this subject is one of the most affective in the film.

For Young’s bold and creative cinematography, Alambrista! won the inaugural Camera d’Or Award at the Cannes Film Festival. Young uses many different approaches with his camera angles – most notably in a frantic scene when Immigration is raiding a tomato field. The camera moves with Roberto as he ducks and dodges capture. There’s also a harrowing scene of Roberto and Joe riding the rails that’s more intense than anything Michael Mann has shot ever. Young shot in 16mm – giving it an appropriate gritty look that oozes authenticity. Young’s documentary background definitely aids the realism of Roberto’s tragic tale. The film’s presented in its original aspect ratio of 1.66:1 in a 1080p transfer. The colors in the film are mainly natural to begin with, but Criterion’s transfer help them pop dynamically. The only audio track included is a Spanish LPCM 2.0.

Young’s 1973 short documentary Children of the Fields, which acted as important research for Young, is included, as well as a 10 minute interview with Young himself. There’s also an interview with one of Young’s long-time collaborators, Mr. Bill Adama himself, Edward James Olmos (Young directed several episodes of the reimagined Battlestar). Olmos discusses his brief, albeit powerful, scene in Alambrista!, as well as Young’s directing style and the importance of the film. In his commentary with coproducer Michael Hausman, Young talks about the film’s relevance, shooting locations, and the production history.

While not the usual genre fare I normally push on you faithful Bloglin readers, I highly recommend Criterion’s Blu release of Alambrista! It’s is a prime example of an important part of the Criterion Collection‘s mission to restore and reintroduce films to important films that would have otherwise been doomed to pathetic home video treatment. I also recommend this film because it offers an early glimpse at Eddie Olmos’ uncanny ability to act drunk, which by the time BSG came about, he had mastered.

The metaphysical horror comedy novel John Dies at the End is a gonzo mash-up of Stephen King and William Burroughs that’s overflowing with creativity and gleeful weirdness. For his adaptation, Don Coscarelli (Phantasm, Bubba Ho-Tep) manages to cram as much of the novel’s key plot points and batshit insanity into 90 minutes as possible. The result is a relentless blast of humor and gore that’s destined for cult classic status, but not without its share of hiccups. The good far outweighs the bad though, and it’s safe to say that John is going to leave fans rabid for more adventures with inexplicable mind-altering drugs and inter-dimensional leech creatures.

The film’s brief prologue sets the tone for the playfulness, philosophical excursions, and horror comedy that follows. The vignette delivers a macabre riddle about killing a man two times with the same axe. It might be my favorite part of the movie. Then we’re introduced to David Wong (Chase Williamson), our protagonist and narrator, who is sitting in a dark Chinese restaurant, telling his unbelievable tale to a reporter (Paul Giamatti). The narrative frequently jumps back and forth through time and it could be easy to lose track of when the events are taking place. David’s story is long and twisting, but the bulk of it involves his best friend John (Rob Mayes) and their search for the origin and source of a powerful drug known as “soy sauce.” The sauce heightens perception and unlocks gateways in your mind. It’s like a telescope for your third eye!

At a party one night, John is given soy sauce by a mysterious Jamaican. Earlier, this same Jamaican read David’s mind and told him what he dreamed of the night before. David brushes the encounter off, but early the next morning he gets a phone call from a delirious John and after he swings by to take John to the ER, the two are picked up by the cops for the brutal murder of the Jamaican and several of the other party-goers. David is able to escape custody from a phone call by John, who continues to call him several times despite the fact that he might be dead.

From there the plot continues its barrage of supernatural weirdness and creature set-pieces – teetering on the brink of near-incoherence. We meet characters like the one-handed Amy, her dog Bark Lee, and a Vegas-style mystic named Albert Marconi (Clancy Brown – KURGAN!). They aid David and John as they pass through different dimensions in an attempt to find the root of the soy sauce and prevent an other-worldy invasion. These supporting characters, especially Marconi, feel clumsily placed in the film. There’s a scene in which Marconi explains to David and John how to cross to the other dimension that’s incredibly awkward. And Amy, who has a much larger role in the book, falls flat in the film as David’s love interest. Giamatti, who also helped produce the film, is fantastic as always.

At times, the pacing and editing feel just as awkward as the supporting characters. The confrontation with the other dimension’s supreme being is terribly anticlimactic and fizzles out right when you’d expect an attempt at suspense. There’s no time to celebrate before it’s a quick cut to another weird set-piece. It’s frustrating because there’s so much to enjoy in John, but Don doesn’t give us any time to soak it in. Individual scenes act well on their own, but as a whole it’s kind of a narrative shamble.

Every review I’ve read of John has panned its special effects, calling them “laughable” and comparable to SyFy Channel originals. I can see why, but I think it’s completely unfair to do so. This isn’t a big budget film – having seamless CGI wasn’t possible for Don and his crew. But they do make the best of what funds they have and we should all applaud them for being brave enough to go practical on many of the creatures. The day you’re too cool to enjoy a giant meat man with sausage fingers is the day you should give up.

For all of its faults, John stands as an utterly ballsy breath of fresh air. Zealous fans of the book are going to salivate over this film and use it as a friendship litmus test. Newcomers to Wong’s wacky world might be left with their head spinning, but wanting more. With a second novel, This Book Is Full of Spiders, set for this October, here’s hoping Don gets to revisit the series.

John Dies at the End just played the Florida Film Festival and Boston Underground Film Fest. No date has been set for a wide release.

You don’t need to be a fan of Joss Whedon – or, a Whedonite as his diehards are terribly named – to know that his output is wildly smart. The man knows how to play with genre tropes without rubbing how clever he is in our face. Nevertheless, after hearing repeatedly about how innovative The Cabin in the Woods is, I was afraid that it was going to be overly self-conscious like the Scream series and be a massive wink and nudge at how clever Whedon and director Drew Goddard are. Thankfully that’s not the case and Cabin manages to be immensely entertaining without any third act twists. From the first frame Whedon and Goddard slowly feed us information so by the end, you don’t feel duped by a left field twist.

I’m not going to over-hype it though. I’ve read a lot of hyperbole in other reviews – terms like “game-changing” and “brilliant,” other critics declaring that Whedon and Goddard have “revived” the horror genre. If that’s the case, every subsequent horror film is going to have to upstage Cabin, be smarter and more clever than it or risk sucking balls. Let’s just say that Cabin is exceptionally thrilling, funny, and unconventional. It’s not going to change your life but you’ll have a fun ride.

I do agree with other critics on one aspect of Cabin: the less you know the better. I can tell you that five not-so archetypal college kids head to a cabin in the woods. They swim. They party. Things go haywire and horrific things go down. But all of this secrecy begged for by Whedon and Lionsgate has me worried. I fear it’s going to build people’s expectations of a gigantic reveal to a boiling point. Cabin isn’t built around some Keyser Söze-level twist or floppy Crying Game penis. It’s structured with parallel narratives that meet at some point. Nothing innovative or brilliant about that.

What is remarkably clever is the motive behind what plays out in the cabin. It’s a series of events we’ve seen countless times in horror films: naive college kids illogically set-off an unspeakable chain of events that ends in slaughter. But what Whedon and director Goddard do is turn things inside-out so that the characters’ actions makes sense. You know the old moronic “we should split up” choice always made in horror movies? There’s a logical reason it happens in the heightened reality of Cabin.

The ensemble is terrific, especially Fran Kranz as stoner-conspiracy theorist Marty. He’s the voice of reason in the group and managed to pull the most laughs from the audience. Mainly because people LOVE weed jokes. Not even jokes, per se. Someone can just casually slight up a joint in a movie and people crack up. The rest of the kids, including Thor himself Chris Hemsworth, are great, but the best acting comes out of Richard Jenkins and Bradley Whitford as 9-5 office workers. That’s all I can say about that.

Absolutely go see The Cabin in the Woods in theaters. Bring as many people as you can. Go get drinks after and talk about all the crazy shit you just saw. You’ll have a blast as long as you aren’t expecting to have your mind blown. Cabin hits theaters this Friday.

Bobcat Goldthwait has been writing and directing hit-or-miss films since 1991′s Shakes the Clown. Since then he’s been developing himself as an honest and unique voice in American comedy. He took a big leap in the right direction with 2006′s Sleeping Dogs Lie, establishing himself as formidable American filmmaker. 2009′s World’s Greatest Dad was something special – an incredibly dark and human film. WGD was also one of the first movies I officially reviewed for the Bloglin. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Sometime in between 2009 and his latest film, Bobcat watched a marathon of MTV’s loathsome “reality” “show”, My Super Sweet 16. If you’re not familiar, it’s a celebration of the most spoiled, shitty kids in the U.S. who had their genitalia dipped in gold at birth. This celebrated display of mean-spirited self-entitlement enraged Bobcat enough to pen God Bless America – a cinematic assault rifle aimed at all of the inconsiderate pricks, those West Baptist MFers, TMZ leeches, Fox News simpletons, and shock jocks our country has to offer. And Bobcat’s got a lot of ammo.

The movie opens with our anti-hero, Frank (Joel Murray), an average white collar man who firmly believes in common sense and decency, fantasizing about murdering his loud-mouthed neighbors. He can’t sleep at night due to their yelling-approach to parenting and his chronic headaches. Adding fuel to the fire is his ex-wife who is gradually turning his daughter into one of those demonic Sweet 16 snots and all of the bullshit Frank watches during his bouts of insomnia. After one particularly horrible day at work, Frank takes out his pistol and embarks on a homicidal roadtrip  – like Natural Born Killers targeting everything Idiocracy farcically warned us about.

He’s joined by 16-year-old Roxy (Tara Lynne Barr), a girl with a surprising amount of beef and Alice Cooper love for someone so young. If it was up to Roxy, the duo would gun down anyone who made a bad movie (Diablo Cody), anyone who high-fives, or says “stoked” (I’d be dead). She’s more intolerant than Frank and way more blood-thirsty. Together they shoot, stab, and choke their way through the assholes of America – leading up to a stand-off at the douchiest reality TV competition of them all. The violence is always cartoony (except the choke) and comical with lots of blood splattering around. After a little while though, Bobcat kinda runs out of things to say.

Shortly into the film, Frank delivers his speech on American culture. It’s a fervent manifesto on “why should we have a civilization if we’re not going to act civilized.” It’s a fantastic, moving movement that’s supremely well-written by Bobcat – a man with a serious axe to grind. While I agree with everything he has to say, after it’s said the movie just becomes a 90 minute hit list that jumps from awful person to awful person. There’s no development of theme or character. There’s plenty of room for Frank’s outlook to shift as he sees hope in our future through Roxy, but it never happens. He starts out gunning and goes out gunning.

That’s not to say the movie isn’t entertaining. It’s very entertaining at times – the teddy bear target practice and handkerchief gag are maybe my two favorite moments. It just sort of runs out of steam quickly and we’re just left waiting for another murder. There’s a baffling plot twist that I feel was inserted to bring some kind of depth to the story. It sadly just comes off as ham-fisted. Maybe Bobcat just needed to let off some steam with this film. In the end, I’m fine with that. It’s worth seeing just for that – it’s a great middle finger of a movie that’s well shot, written, and acted – especially by Frank. Don’t expect character development or any of that crap. You know, none of the stuff you’d find in an MTV reality show.

God Bless America is On Demand now and will be in theaters May 11.

Aesthetics and the attire of a band can sometimes drive me away from listening to their music. Completely. “Don’t judge a book by its cover” and all that crap, but when a lead singer is wearing a top hat, welding goggles, and dreads, I’m out. With that being said, I was never into Ministry. It’s not just their look that drove me away though – industrial music as a whole was never my bag. So did I go into Fix: The Ministry Movie with a bit of a bias going on? Yeah. But I’m open minded and was looking forward to learning about a tremendously influential band and the industrial scene as a whole. After watching the film, I had learned nothing.

Douglas Freel’s film provides little to no insight into the history of Ministry, the rise and fall of the band, or the industrial scene. I’m not even sure diehard Ministry fans will walk away with any revelations. The film focuses only on Al Jourgensen, founder and lead singer of the band, and his proficiency for consuming a shitload of drugs and booze. But I’m sure anyone who loves the band already knows what a narcotics enthusiast Al was (yes, I’m calling him Al, no way I’m typing Jourgensen this entire time).

There’s some brief information given on the band’s rise to fame and how massive the 1994 Psalm 69 world tour was. They talk with music execs about the band’s appeal and how they were roped in and marketed by major label fat cats – who deliver some funny anecdotes about Al. There’s interviews with the likes of Trent Reznor, Maynard, Lemmy, David Yow (from The Jesus Lizard), Jello Biafra, and other musicians who admire Al’s talent but question the role drugs played in it. But it all never adds up to anything but a 90-minute drug-diary that gallivants in and out of Al’s drug abuse and paranoid psychosis.

The other members of the band (of which there have been a lot) are barely given any screen time to give their two cents. When they are onscreen, they all come off as really intelligent gentlemen who never really wanted to go along with the whole rock legend junkie mythos that Al was milking every day. A lot of the musician cameos reinforce this. Except David Yow of The Jesus Lizard. Al’s descent doesn’t seem to bother him. The film has lots of live footage of Yow’s dick, by the way.

The movie proceeds to pound how legendary Al’s drug use was into our heads, and also touches on groupies and stalkers. There’s absolutely no narrative or sense of time. The live and backstage footage is essentially from 1996 to 2000, but other than that we’re never told what year the other scenes are in. It honestly would have helped. Early on in the film, there are glimpses of the present day lives of Ministry – including Al. This type of footage is non-existant in the second half, which would have made a nice bookend to all the debauchery. I wanted to learn about their history and influences, but no cigar. The only history addressed in the film is how Al and David Yow used to suck dick for money at a bus station.

There are some entertaining moments and Al really is a charming son of a bitch. I did walk away from the film appreciating the band’s sense of humor and refusal to take itself too seriously. I just would have loved to be able to put the addiction and madness into more context.

The DVD’s special features are just more interviews with other musicians. Maynard talks about how being older when Tool got huge helped him and the band not believe their own press. He thinks that’s one of the reasons Al ate heroin so much. The endearing Jello Biafra discusses a range of topics and in five minutes provides more insight than the entire film can. Unfortunately, there a lot of Dave Navarro who I fucking can’t stand to listen to. He sounds like a guidance counselor. There’s lots of Casey Chaos from Amen as well. After he’s shown downing an impressive amount of liquor, Casey drunkenly rambles about “new life.” He’s as deep as a bird bath.

Fix: The Ministry Movie is out on DVD April 10.

When someone brings up Hole, you might think of bleak images from the nineties. The new documentary Hit So Hard, directed by P. David Ebersole is that documentary. It gives an unprecedented look into the life of Hole’s drummer Patty Schemel. The loss of Kurt was a huge part of the sadness of that time, but before his tragic end, there are many stories which most us don’t know. And a lot of unseen performance footage, full back stage access, as well home movies with Kurt, Courtney, and their baby at the time Frances Bean Cobain.

This doc looks like a must see for anyone who grew up in that too short but amazing era, or for anyone who wants to know what it was like from the inside looking out. Hole and Nirvana defined an era, and Patty Schemel was caught right in the middle of it all. We get an inside look at her (and Kurt’s) drug addiction at the time, the pressures of rising to super stardom in the music industry, and the all out insanity that is life. A lot of the footage is from Hole’s Live Through This World Tour. Dam, that must have been seriously fucking nuts. I will be sure to see this documentary, and you should too.

It screens on April 13th in New York City at Cinema Village and on April 20th in Los Angeles’ Five Star and Laemmle Monica 4-Plex.