Even mix of excellent and mediocre stuff this week.

Killers of the Flower Moon

With Killers of the Flower Moon, Martin Scorsese has made his best film since 1990’s Goodfellas – a powerfully sad, frighteningly relevant, and nearly forgotten history lesson about the lengths some men will go to for extra money. Based on the 2017 non-fiction book, Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI about how the Osage people of Osage County, Oklahoma became wildly wealthy in the 1920s when they discovered large oil deposits on their land. Over the course of a decade, at least 20 were murdered in a complex plot, allowing the perpetrators to eventually inherit their money.

From what I understand, the book was told from the perspective of the FBI and their investigation, but Scorsese and writer Eric Roth (Forrest Gump) wisely reframe the narrative to be through the eyes of the killers – William King Hill (Robert DeNiro) and his bumbling, easily manipulated nephew, Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio). King, seen as a pillar of the Osage community at the time, managed to orchestrate his crimes in the shadows while pretending to be an ally of the Osage. While it would have been perhaps more interesting to frame the film through the perspective of the Osage, specifically the Osage women who seemed to be King’s most prominent target, I don’t think Scorsese is the filmmaker to make that movie. Perhaps in a decade or so, we’ll get Reservation Dogs‘ Devery Jacobs or another Native American auteur’s film adaptation told from this perspective, but this version works with Scorsese‘s sensibilities. After all, the auteur has been making movies about bad men for fifty years, and this story allows him to examine evil through the eyes of “gangsters” far less flamboyant than the Italian mafiosos he generally explores. His Killers of the Flower Moon is really about the banality of evil, how some people can order murder like you and I order coffee.

King’s elaborate plan involves steering his nephew Ernest to romance and marry Mollie Kyle (an incredible Lily Gladstone), whose family owned the oil headright, then killing off the other siblings and family members so the money flowed straight to Mollie and Ernest. They never talk about it outright, but King’s plan would, of course, involve eventually killing Mollie so the oil would go directly to Ernest and him. This plot is shown through exceptionally well-written and flawlessly played conversations between DeNiro and DiCaprio, each delivering some of their best work. I don’t think DiCaprio has ever played such an uncharismatic dip shit, and I don’t think DeNiro has ever played such a subdued evil presence. The real heart of the film is Gladstone as Mollie, who delivers a remarkably nuanced and empathetic performance. A lesser film would make her into a one-dimensional martyr, but through the lens of Gladstone, Scorsese, and Roth, she’s the most complex and interesting character of the film. There’s also a wealth of great supporting characters and performances here, including Mollie’s alcoholic sister Anna (a great Cara Jade Myers), King’s clinically depressed driver, Henry (William Belleau), John, a remorseful hitman hired by Ernest to kill Osage (non-actor and real-life ranch owner, Ty Mitchell, in an impressive performance), and Brendan Fraser in an enormous performance as King’s showboating lawyer. Jesse Plemmons also shows up as the lead FBI agent investigating the case in the final hour of the film, and he’s just as nuanced and wonderful as usual.

Look, I get that three hours and twenty-six minutes is a long ass time to spend in a movie theater, not even counting the twenty or so minutes of coming attractions, but if there was ever a movie and a story that demanded your presence, it’s Killers of the Flower Moon. This is not only an important film that tells a story hardly anyone knows, but it’s also a phenomenally well-executed piece of mainstream cinema that flies in the face of all the rote and unimaginative remakes, reboots, sequels, and franchise entries infesting our multiplexes like hungry termites. This is worth making a trip out to theaters to see. Your bladder might even forgive you someday. Grade: A- (In Theaters)

The Fall of the House of Usher

Every Halloween season since 2018 we’ve been treated to a Mike Flanagan Netflix horror miniseries. Well, every year except 2020 with the production shutdown due to Covid-19, and every other year they were great. The first was Haunting of Hill House (2018), which was a surprise hit that managed to be both scary and extremely engaging from a human drama standpoint. The second was Haunting of Bly Manor (2019), which was a significant step down from Hill House and a safe haven for American actors doing terrible British accents. The third was Midnight Mass (2021), basically a gigantic homily made up of a bunch of little mini homilies, which is to date’s Flanagan‘s best and most beautifully written work. In 2022, we got The Midnight Society, a frustratingly dumb and frequently boring miniseries, which is to date Flanagan‘s weakest output. In 2023, he’s back with The Fall of the House of Usher and while it doesn’t hold a candle to Hill House or Midnight Mass, it’s definitely in the upper echelon of the horror baron’s work.

Although it has the name of one specific Edgar Allen Poe short story, the miniseries combines elements and storylines from several Poe stories to tell a very straight forward morality tale of two siblings who came from nothing being seduced by greed and power. Roderick Usher (brilliant Canadian character actor Bruce Greenwood) and his puppet master sister, Madeline Usher (Oscar nominee Mary McConnell) are the illegitimate bastards of some big company owner or some shit. He dies and they begin working for his company, climbing their way up the corporate ladder, until they see an opportunity and they take it, catapulting them into being Succession people. They’re rich and powerful, and it might be because they made a deal with the devil who from the very first episode, the viewers are pretty sure is represented by Carla Gugino, always smiling in every scene. Roderick loves to fuck, so he has a lot of kids – two legitimate, four bastards – who all get a stake in the company. However, one by one the kids start to mysteriously and outrageously die and we’re left to wonder why.

First of all, the production value and effects of this little miniseries are top notch. The death scenes are all fairly elaborate and theatrical, and the performances are excellent for the most part. Almost every actor on the show is given an arsenal of monologues that really allow them to chew the scenery like a Pupperoni-filled squeak toy. My favorites were Greenwood, McConnell, and Samantha Sloyan as Roderick’s oldest daughter, Tamerlane. Flanagan‘s wife and most consistent collaborator, Kate Siegel, also plays one of the disgusting siblings as does Bly Manor‘s T’Nia Miller and Midnight Mass‘ Rahul Kohli. Henry “The E.T. Boy” Thomas is fantastic as the eldest son, Frederick, a real disgusting piece of work. Mark Hamill is less convincing, sporting a jarring, you-don’t-always-die-from-tobacco type of voice as the family attorney, and the only good part of Midnight Society, Ruth Codd, has a scene-stealing role as Roderick’s young, opioid addicted wife.

I should mention the family company is pharmaceuticals, and the Ushers here are loosely based on the Sackler family of Purdue Pharma – the OxyContin people. This is a very relevant choice by Flanagan, but often, and especially towards the end, he really hits you over the head with it and other random, boiler-plate political things of the day. There’s one scene, I think in one of the last episodes, where the Carla Gugino character mentions making a deal with Donald Trump. I think I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly severed my optic nerve. Some of the monologues on power and such are much more ham-fisted and on-the-nose than anything in Midnight Mass. Perhaps if we didn’t just conclude Succession earlier this year – probably the most nuanced portrait of these billionaire families we’ve ever seen on television – then the rich shit heads of Usher might feel more novel or cutting. As it stands, they come across as nothing more than rougher illustrations of these types of people. The Fall of the House of Usher aims to be great, but must settle on pretty good, which isn’t a total tragedy.

If you’re looking for a fun, spooky miniseries where hate-able jackasses get violently creative comeuppenances, then this is the show for you. If you’re looking for something on par with the best of Poe, you should probably keep looking, pal. Grade: B (Netflix)

Anatomy of a Fall

Sandra Huller delivers the best performance I’ve seen so far this year as a German novelist on trial for the murder of her failing artist husband in Justine Triet‘s Anatomy of a Fall. Basically the finest episode of Law & Order never made, the film is a courtroom drama that is far more interested in the dynamics of the defendant’s marriage than it is on if she actually did it or not. Neither Sandra (Huller) or her blind son, Daniel (a fantastic Milo Machado Graner) seem to have witnessed the death, they only discovered the body after the fact. Sandra is convinced her husband must have fallen because she had no indication he would ever commit suicide, but her lawyer, Vincent (Swann Arlaud), believes their best defense is to play up the possibility that he jumped. The prosecutors, led by a snarling Antoine Renartz, use everything wrong with their marriage against her – the fact she was successful and he wasn’t, the fact he was responsible for their son’s optic nerve being severed, the fact that Sandra is bisexual and had an affair with a random woman when denied sex from her husband. Anatomy of a Fall plays out almost like a horror movie in that it shows how traumatic it would be if every intimate detail of your life and flawed marriage became public knowledge in an instant via a highly publicized murder trial. What a nightmare. Playing back an intense and violent argument the dead husband recorded just days before his death, Sandra is forced to defend herself by pointing out that every couple fights and every couple exaggerate in a fight in order to win said fight. At 151 minutes, it’s perhaps a bit too long and drags a bit in ways Killers of the Flower Moon‘s 206 minute runtime never did. However, this is a film built entirely around a monumental performance by Huller who nails every nuance and beat of Sandra’s struggle, often communicating complex emotions and realizations using only a shift in her face. Huller never overreaches even when the material practically begs her to do so. If she doesn’t receive an Oscar nomination for this performance, it may very well be the biggest snub of the season. Grade: A- (In Theaters)

Chucky Season 3 Part 1

CHUCKY — “Let the Right One In” Episode 302 — Pictured in this screengrab: Chucky — (Photo by: SYFY)

One of the most consistent horror movie franchises, top to bottom, is the Child’s Play series, featuring the killer ginger doll Chucky and his voluptuous punk Goth girlfriend, Tiffany. This is because each entry was written by the same dude, Don Mancini, so unlike Jason or Michael Myers, Chucky gets a story progression that makes sense. Well… sort of. Shit gets really wild and meta with Seed of Chucky, where Tiffany, Chucky’s GF, possesses the human body of actress Jennifer Tilly (the actress who actually voices Tiffany) to properly mother their twin non-binary children. It continues chugging on down the insanity train when it’s revealed that Chucky can fracture his soul into hundreds of other Chucky dolls and that his and Tiffany’s ultimate plan is world domination in the name of their voodoo God, Damballa. It’s amazing that after seven film entries, this story still had life in it.

When Chucky the series premiered back in 2021, it started off a bit slow but quickly found its footing as a self-referential horror comedy through an ultra-queer lens. It followed Chucky attempting to groom (as a killer) but ultimately terrorizing a bullied gay middle schooler, Jake, as well as Chucky reuniting with his ex, Tiffany, now in complete Jennifer Tilly form. The second season saw the bullied middle schooler, Jake, and his friends terrorized by Chucky, Tiffany, and their cult-like followers at a Catholic boarding school. This season sees Jake and his friends trying to stop Chucky in his new home – the white house. I won’t reveal why Chucky is in the White House, but he’s fucking shit up for the country’s first elected Independent (Devon Sawa – who plays a different character each season). 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue has its first serial killer, and it’s a two-foot redheaded doll with a mouth like a New Jersey truck driver! Academy Award Nominee Brad Dourif (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Lord of the Rings, HBO’s Deadwood), who has voiced Chucky through seven films and three seasons of this show, continues to knock it out of the park and Tilly is a constant scene-stealer as herself possessed by a serial killer. There’s a tidal wave of great guest appearances throughout this season, including SNL’s Keenan Thompson and Sarah Sherman. The kids are merely all right, though, with Alyvia Ayn Lind being the clear standout.

The first half of Season 3 represent a real high for the series. The campiness is well-calibrated, the references don’t seem too far up their own ass, and everyone involved seems to be having a blast. It will depend on how entertaining you find a foul-mouthed killer doll. It’s far from high art, but I personally can’t get enough of this show. Grade: B+ (Peacock)

EARLY LOOKS

Goosebumps

Having watched five of the ten episodes of the new Disney+/Hulu Goosebumps reboot, I don’t see the need to continue. It’s a well-produced and polished piece of mainstream television, to be sure, competent around every corner compared to other YA shows. Still, there’s nothing too compelling or interesting about the characters or the overarching plot. Basically, it takes a bunch of different Goosebumps books and frankensteins them into this major story that puts kids at the receiving end of the sins of their parents. Kinda like A Nightmare on Elm Street but without a scary villain or legitimate sense of danger and teen performances that are slightly better than your average slasher movie. I will say Will Price is definitely the standout as Lucas, the perpetual screw-up kid. The adult performances are also good, with Human Giant‘s Rob Huebel being the highlight as a frustrated principal trying to be a cool guy. I may even prefer the Canadian TV series 90s to this cause while that show is far less polished, it’s quite spookier. Grade: C+ (Hulu / Disney+)

Living For the Dead

Do you know who is much less obnoxious than super bro Zak Bagans? Five queer ghost hunters loudly vogueing through haunted houses purse first. That’s the premise of Hulu’s new “reality” ghost show that focuses on the trauma left behind by the dead or hauntings. It’s obvious these five didn’t work together before the network slapped them together, as their chemistry is severely lacking. They all seem like they’re at the getting-to-know-you stage with each other. That’s fine, but a pre-established dynamic would have made you care for these people more. Usually I wouldn’t need to care about them, but seeing as how this show is more about them talking about their past traumas than it is actually catching ghosts or recording ghost activity, I would have liked better-defined personalities. The most engaging individual by a country mile is retired drag queen Roz Hernandez, the team’s paranormal researcher. Most of the humor comes from her, and she’s honestly the only one who cracks jokes about ghosts. Seriously, folks, it’s just ghosts. Let’s not take this toooooo seriously. Living for the Dead isn’t a good show by any stretch of the imagination. It’s derivative, cheaply produced, and relatively unimaginative, but when putting shit on in the background for a random chuckle here or there, you can do a lot worse. Grade: C (Hulu)

John Carpenter’s Suburban Screams

Wow, what a misfire. I guess I should have known when I saw the name John Carpenter and double checked my calendar to confirm it wasn’t still the 80s. This new show that he narrates and produces is a dramatic re-enactment show that takes a hodgepodge of true crime, paranormal, and unsolved mystery stories and sloppily puts them into a dramatic re-enactment show format. Generally, each story offers little to no insights and some of the more engaging ones end on cliffhangers. The re-enactments are really poorly acted for the most part, about on-par with most of the ones you’ve seen from other dramatic re-enactment shows. The difference here is that the re-enactment actors can curse, which is a total mind fuck for the viewer at first. Imagine watching a really cheesy dramatic recreation that’s punctuated with a “motherfucker” or “fucking bitch.” That alone made for some loud howls in the Margetis household, but you quickly get over it and realize what you’re left with is a poorly made and very disengaging show that exists solely for a cash grab. Grade: D+ (Peacock)