Under the Skin (Jonathan Glazer, United Kingdom, 2013)
An alien, in the form of a desirable woman, stalks the streets of Scotland looking for male prey. A basic plot description makes Under the Skin sound like a trashy sci-fi thriller in the vein of Species, that late night cable mainstay aimed at boys eager for a side of pin-up sexiness with the main course of B-movie alien action. The fact that said sexy alien is embodied by Scarlett Johansson no doubt brought much of the same crowd to Under the Skin in droves.
Many were probably disappointed, as Under the Skin is almost entirely lacking in sexy, gooey genre thrills. This is one of the strangest, most challenging science fiction films of recent years. It opens with an abstract animated sequence, reminiscent of 2001: A Space Odyssey, which might represent the alien being formed - circular shapes emerge from light and darkness to form an eyeball, a woman's voice pronounces syllables that form words. We then see a nameless woman (Johansson) driving the streets of Glasgow in a white van, picking up lonely men. She flirts with mechanical skill, but otherwise has a blank, impassive face. The men (whose Scottish accents are so thick that I only understood half of what they were saying) are amazed by their luck that this beautiful woman is interested in them. They fall into a lustful trance as she lures them into her inky black lair, where they slowly sink into a dark pool and disappear.
Under the Skin not only centers around an alien, but the film itself adopts her alien perspective. There's an unnervingly discordant, off-kilter rhythm to the editing, the sound design, and the soundtrack, which consists of shrieking strings and eerie droning synths. The scenes set on the streets of Glasgow are filmed with mundane realism and a coolly observant quality, similar to a nature documentary. But once we enter the alien's lair, Under the Skin becomes stylized and uncanny. When the alien witnesses tragedy - an entire family swept away by the seas on a rocky Scottish beach, a truly disturbing scene - she observes calmly, totally unaffected. The camera mimics her perspective, filming the horror from a distance, detached from their struggle.
We begin to wonder how much the alien knows and what she is thinking. Does she know what her victims want from her, or is she ignorant and merely programmed to complete a task? Can she even be called a "she"? Cracks begin to appear in the alien's facade. She observes herself in the mirror, lingering on her reflection with some sort of dawning awareness. She begins to watch people, with curiosity more than predatory intent. And she meets one victim who is different than the rest, in a moving and surprising scene. This causes a change of heart that perhaps not even the alien can explain. Considering her fame, it's amazing how quickly I forgot that I was watching Scarlett Johansson in the role. Under the Skin would not have worked if she could not convincingly play a non-human character, but she does - it's a quiet but unique and unearthly performance, free of any celebrity ego.
When I was a kid, I wrote a short story about an alien who visits earth and views humanity from a different perspective. My alien was a sentient blue glob and not a seductress, and the story probably did not add up to anything of insight, but I've always been fascinated by that idea. Under the Skin is the best take on that concept I've seen. As the alien becomes increasingly fascinated by humanity, she discovers its capacity for kindness and for hatred. She tries to become one of them, yet runs against her own alien nature. Her attempts to navigate this foreign place are bizarrely endearing, but ultimately pathetic and tragic. Under the Skin provokes many divergent reactions, often within the same scene. It is somehow compassionate while being pitilessly cold and cruel. It is frightening and disturbing, but exploratory and curious. As someone who loves both creative cinema and thoughtful science fiction, I found it exhilarating.
High Plains Drifter (Clint Eastwood, United States, 1973)
A nasty, brutish western with a supernatural twist. It opens like many a classic Clint Eastwood western. A Man with No Name rides into town, and his mysterious presence immediately causes a stir among the skittish townspeople. He is the meanest bastard Eastwood has ever played, a cold-blooded murderer and rapist. The town has a troubled history. We see flashbacks of its former sheriff being whipped to death by hired killers, while the townspeople stand by and do nothing. Without stating it outright, the film eventually makes it clear that Eastwood is the sheriff's spirit, returned from the grave to seek vengeance and expose the communal sins of this cowardly town. Despite his righteous anger, he's no hero, merely a vengeful agent of chaos. There's nobody good in High Plains Drifter, just the bad and the ugly.
High Plains Drifter is among Clint Eastwood's earliest efforts as a director. Stylistically, it's a classical all-American western, but ultimately little about it is comfortable or familiar - it is tinged with horror and black comedy, and has a subversive sting of cynical social satire.
Vampire's Kiss (Robert Bierman, United States, 1988)
The Cage is unleashed, and it's a glorious thing to witness. Vampire's Kiss is essentially a showreel for Nicolas Cage at his most deranged. The film is dominated by Cage's insanity - the inexplicable way he enunciates words, his unnatural body language and bugged-out eyeballs, his bizarre outbursts.
Sure, there's a story here. Cage is an 80s yuppie and businessman, and an obnoxious misogynist who harasses his poor secretary. After a bat flies into his apartment, he meets a woman who bites his neck. He begins to believe that he's turning into a vampire, though it's clearly a delusion. There's something like a social satire here, though it's never clear what the movie is actually satirizing. It's easy to imagine Vampire's Kiss as a dark psychological thriller, but in practice that's not what happens. In practice it's Nicolas Cage prancing around Manhattan yelling "I'm a vampaya! I'm a vampaya!" while wearing plastic fangs he bought at a novelty shop, chasing pigeons, shrieking at crucifixes and begging passerby to drive a wooden stake through his heart. And whatever the hell this was all about.
It is, legitimately, one of the funniest things I've ever seen. I am at a loss as to what Vampire's Kiss was trying to be, but I'm equally delighted that it exists and is so totally bonkers. A must-see for Cage cultists.
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