Quite recently, I finally watched SON OF FRANKENSTEIN (from 1939), the sequel to the far more emotionally powerful and better directed BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1935). This was the 3rd and final movie starring Boris Karloff as the monster creation of Dr. Frankenstein’s. I would say the main stars of the film were the indoor sets, art direction, and lighting of the Frankenstein castle and laboratory. They were ominous and fascinating, especially since the movie was filmed in black and white. All of these elements were influenced by German Expressionism of the 1920s.

Pamela Hutchinson  and Alex Barrett in their 2017 article “10 great German Expressionist Films” explain: “Offering a subjective representation of the world, Expressionism descends partly from German Romanticism and reveals the angst of its human figures through their distorted, nightmarish surroundings.” (1) This was particularly apropos following the widespread gruesomeness of World War I. A full generation later, this expression of a weltanschauung of sorts had permeated American movies, including SON OF FRANKENSTEIN. Its main characters certainly embody angst conveyed through “distorted, nightmarish surroundings” and, for two of them, also within bodies fitting this description. Both surroundings and these beings are one and the same, specifically the characters of Ygor (Bela Lugosi), the deceased Dr. Frankenstein’s surviving but maimed and sociopathic assistant, and his only “friend,” the electrically reanimated monster (Karloff).

The impact of war trauma on such a large scale was unprecedented prior to the First World War, leaving a ripple effect around the world of increased anxiety about overall safety in life and, hence, no doubt, an increase in actual nightmares for people, soldiers the most of course, though for many civilians as well. Some wounds looked monstrous on both fatalities and survivors alike, with psyches also damaged beyond hope at a time when psychiatric treatments were still quite primitive. Lugosi’s crooked necked Ygor can be viewed as a misunderstood, socially discarded person similar to a wounded war vet. And the monster can be seen as a walking dead, like the trenches of killed soldiers rising up in the living’s memories and dreams, eternal reminders of atrocities committed that conflicting governments’ rationales couldn’t fully justify. War is distorting in every sense of the word. And while SON OF FRANKENSTEIN is not at all a war movie, its aesthetics stem from a sensibility developed at least in part in response to war. Both Lugosi and Karloff play their roles powerfully within the limited emotional intensity and uneven writing of the script. It is their respective appearances and acting that carry the movie within the sets they are so naturally a part of, like rats in an abandoned farm house or some such desolate, godforsaken place and its creatures.

The tragedy of the monster comes through in his recognizing himself in a mirror as both hideous and sad to behold. He turns, gesturing by pushing his hands away from what he sees and moans in disgust. Within him lies some human consciousness, a semblance of right and wrong, ugly vs. beautiful or at least plain/neutral. We cannot help but to feel sympathy for him, a being who did not ask to be reanimated into life.

Ygor is a bridging character between the rest of humanity and the scary monsters of our nightmares and worst mistakes in life (e.g., war), such as Dr. Frankenstein’s creation. Ygor had likely once been more humanly sympathetic, even if always an outcast. Having survived being hanged, this left him physically and more mentally twisted for the rest of his life. What is not understood by many is often vilified and either killed outright or its destruction attempted. Ygor is himself a walking dead, dead to the rest of humanity and, hence, closer to Frankenstein’s monster than to anyone else. Not surprisingly, Ygor’s ability to order the undead/reanimated being about affirms a sense of control he somehow has in a world that has otherwise rejected and disempowered him. Lugosi, with his sinister grins and dramatic widening and slitting of the eyes, conveys bitterness and distrust effectively here, like a war veteran come home to find his life disconnected from a largely indifferent, lacking in resources society after serving his country. Ygor had served Dr. Frankenstein faithfully, only to be left like an orphan upon the doctor’s death, his life purpose still to attend to the monster he helped (re)animate to life. Similarly, soldiers come back from warfare unable to adjust to civilian life, having become repeatedly primed for battle and nothing else.

I don’t mean to completely equate Ygor and Frankenstein’s monster as war casualties. There are large differences between the two categories, obviously. But, the existing parallels are nonetheless significant, as I discuss above. More broadly, the two characters can be viewed as aspects of human nature that are troubling to look at and accept, the shadow sides of a psyche, if you will. It is Dr. Frankenstein who, out of initially well-meaning scientific curiosity, dangerously plays with fire like the creators of the atom bomb did in fairly recent history. Just because one can do something doesn’t mean one always should. Messes are then left behind for others to later clean up, where and when even possible.

Enter Basil Rathbone as Dr. Baron Wolf von Frankenstein, the son of the deceased mad genius Dr. Baron Henry Frankenstein. Inheriting his father’s legacy, including a castle and partially destroyed laboratory, he moves to the estate with his wife Elsa (Josephine Hutchinson) and young son Peter (Donnie Dunagan). The younger Frankenstein is curious to pursue his predecessor’s research and experiments, particularly after seeing the monster for himself. Ygor’s long-awaited scheme to bring the creature back to life and take revenge against the villagers who had persecuted him is then fulfilled. Together, with Ygor as the brains and the monster as raw muscle power, the two form a symbiotic killing team. The Baron is inadvertently caught in the middle but, like his father had been, fascinated with the monster and the implications of power that come with creating life out of death. He begins to awkwardly cover his tracks against the suspicious questioning by Police Inspector Krogh (Lionel Atwill).

Lionel Atwill as Krogh deserves special mention. Atwill’s theatricality was what he was known for and he delivers it wonderfully here. Krogh has an artificial arm from having survived being attacked in childhood by Frankenstein’s monster. He often moves the stiff prosthesis with his actual arm while snapping his heals and looking gravely at the Baron. I found myself thinking of Captain Hook and Adolf Hitler if they had been somehow combined. Very entertaining. When he places some darts in his wooden arm I chuckled.

Other comic relief, though likely unintended, comes through whenever little Peter von Frankenstein (Dunagan) speaks in a Southern drawl. This awkward juxtaposition against his parents’ British (Rathbone’s) and mid-Atlantic (Hutchinson’s) accents respectively amused yet also endeared me to the little boy. Some viewers may simply find this to be poor, inexcusable casting, since children naturally speak like one or both of their parents and not like those within a unique region of America of which clearly neither Baron or Baroness Frankenstein are from. He also made me think of a male Shirley Temple, with a similarly full head of curly hair, though she was older than Donnie Dunagan at the time. He was probably brought in to appeal to a younger audience and make this often grim, dramatic movie more “family friendly.”

This unevenness of overall tone and technical consistency to the film resulted in an ebb and flow of mildly grating to mostly amusing for me. I would call the end result Camp, for sure, particularly when factoring in the dramatic music, Rathbone’s and Atwill’s delicious overacting, and some of the sets, particularly the bubbling, steaming pool of sulfurous mud inside the foreboding lab. And then there are the requisite electricity effects and explosions adding to the campy fun. A nod to Kenneth Strickfaden creating such cutting edge electrical effects goes to him here. However, I somehow remember there being a bit more of them in BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, also done by this master electrician.

Last but not least, there is Josephine Hutchinson in her role of Elsa von Frankenstein. She competently plays a well-spoken, proper and dutiful wife to the Baron, fitting in beautifully with the indoor sets of the castle. Both she and her surroundings are classically elegant in style, with overlays of melancholy and concern, both enhanced by the play of light and shadows in each room she sits or walks within. The residence is built by old-time country people filled with superstition, and the intuitive, worrying Elsa herself tends toward this kind of thinking. She is perfect for the part within the foreboding and grandness of the indoor sets. I imagined owning framed photographs of some of these incredible, atmospheric set designs.

Overall, I am glad I finally watched this final installment to the Karloff Frankenstein trilogy, despite its shortcomings and decreased potency when compared to the two prequels. Karloff is compelling as always in the role of Frankenstein’s monster, one in which he endured hours of makeup work (by the talented Jack Pierce) and wearing an uncomfortable, heavy-layered costume. The directing is decent though less immediate and intimate feeling than FRANKENSTEIN and BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, the latter being an improvement upon the former. It is admittedly a weak way to end a trilogy, but enough effective elements keep the movie a worthwhile classic. This is not least of all due to the addition of Bela Lugosi, who effectively plays a character so against the type of suave villains he often played earlier in the decade. It is sad how the talented Lugosi was under-utilized with his wide-range acting skills. We at least get a good glimpse of them in SON OF FRANKENSTEIN.

In conclusion, I purposefully call SON OF FRANKENSTEIN part of a trilogy, as do many others. The sequels that came after not only did not star the skillfully nuanced, tragic presence of Boris Karloff as the monster, but also they are each comparatively less thought-out projects that have rightfully faded into obscurity. I reached a small but satisfying sense of completion by watching this Rowland V. Lee directed film after so many years since I had viewed its masterpiece prequels, both directed by the very gifted James Whale. Perhaps this will be the result for other viewers as well.

Notes:

(1) Hutchinson, Pamela and Barrett, Alex “10 great German Expressionist Films.” BFI (https://www.bfi.org.uk) (8 June 2017)

Actress Kristen Stewart has a way of occasionally choosing interesting parts in movies. For me, her portrayal of 1960s and 70s actress Jean Seberg in Amazon’s production SEBERG is her most intriguing and dynamic role yet. However, I freely admit to having not diligently followed Kristen’s career. I’ve seen her in less movies than I can count on both hands. That said, Ms. Stewart’s natural brooding quality is effectively congruent with this particular film’s main subject. I sense that she has come into her own as a fully mature actress through playing the beautiful, complex, and troubled Ms. Seberg.

Loosely based on Jean Seberg’s life from 1968 into 1972, the story focuses on her involvement with the Black Panthers, subsequent surveillance and persecution by the FBI, and eventual mental decline. Departing Paris, France in 1968 to star in the musical Western PAINT YOUR WAGON, Ms. Seberg meets studly civil rights activist Hakim Jamal (Anthony Mackie) while flying to California. Out of ennui and wanting to be a part of something far more meaningful than a frivolous movie project, Jean promptly inserts herself into his life and that of the Black Panthers, bankrolling their cause.

Depending on the time of day, the interior scenes of Jean’s Southern California home, with its many floor to ceiling windows, are filled with a dim-lit to sunny ambiance. Shortly after she has met her lover-to-be Hakim Jamal, we view her lounging languidly in a thin negligee, clearly bored and lonely, Ms. Seberg’s much older husband (novelist and film director Romain Gary, played here by Yvan Attal) having opted to remain with their young son in Paris. I immediately thought of a lovely bird in a gilded cage as well as a woman being spied upon and secretly admired.

We viewers are immediately drawn into being voyeurs of a glamorous film star who is ready to throw caution to the winds. Enter the movie’s leading man, young and gorgeous FBI agent Jack Solomon (Jack O’Connell), who is assigned to spy on Ms. Seberg because of her new affiliation with the subversive Black Panthers. Solomon becomes obsessed with his subject, spending hours photographing her from a surveillance van and listening in to her conversations, which are being taped. O’Connell is very convincing as a man conflicted between duty to job and country on one hand with his desire of and growing concern for the daring, exquisite Seberg on the other. Everyone else around him in the FBI are either impersonal colleagues or unsympathetic bureaucrats, particularly his brutish work partner Carl Kowalski (Vince Vaughn) and seemingly neckless and heartless field boss Frank Ellroy (Colm Meaney). This leaves Solomon feeling isolated. He draws comfort over being consumed with his sexy, vivacious work project as he surveils her day and night. Periodically, Jack comes home to his increasingly alienated-feeling medical student wife Linette Solomon (Qualley).

I was struck by the frustrated passion Seberg and Solomon each experience in their differently constrained lives. The former tries to have fun while doing good for others in an increasingly untenable circumstance of tensions. These are fueled by her appearance-oriented fame and related loneliness and dissatisfaction coupled then with her being swept up in fighting the good, meaningful fight against racism. But, among the Black Panthers, Jean stands out like an elegant giraffe fraternizing with, well, panthers. Her wealth and white beauty are used against her, resulting at one point in a tense exchange with Hakim’s angry African American wife Dorothy Jamal (Zazie Beetz), who has been tipped off to her husband’s infidelity with Seberg. We are reminded here of the very real social tensions existing between white women in a higher income bracket and women of color with less resources and privilege. The former mean well but often can be unaware and insensitive over how they choose to go about doing their good deeds with and for their oppressed sisters/peers.

Agent Solomon finds himself contributing to others’ problems more than not in the name of patriotic duty. His naive idealism becomes dirtied, as foreshadowed in an early scene whereby Solomon fishes out of the kitchen trash his 1941 published #1 issue CAPTAIN AMERICA comic book. His wife Linette (Margaret Qualley) had thoughtlessly thrown it out. As the drama steadily unfolds, the preoccupied and frustrated Solomon grows angry and guilt-ridden, which Jack O’Connell powerfully conveys.

Seberg’s lover Hakim is somewhat fetishized here by her, the “Mandingo,” or muscular, well-endowed black man representing forbidden fruit for a white female and the sexual rush that goes with courting potential danger, including deep shaming. The reverse is also true for Hakim cheating with a white woman. Such a transgression– even wrongly suspected– historically brought on lynchings of black men. The doomed, taboo affair is presented tenderly, with Jamal portrayed sympathetically in this film.

From what little movie footage I’ve seen of Jean Seberg (having only viewed her very early film THE MOUSE THAT ROARED all the way through), she was clearly a sensual and striking woman. With a similar look to the older Audrey Hepburn, who was also waif-like and often wore her hair short, Seberg’s sexuality was more bold, which suited the establishment-bucking late 1960s and early 70s. Sadly, her movie projects became pedestrian, unremarkable during this time period, Hollywood offering her mediocre fare after she had done avant-garde and more vibrant projects (e.g., BREATHLESS) in Europe. It is no wonder this intelligent, sexually precocious and liberated actress sought excitement and meaning in her life off-screen.

Jean’s growing paranoia is clearly justified in SEBERG. Those around her, such as her husband Gary and agent/handler Walt Breckman (Stephen Root), are initially skeptical of Jean’s assertions that her phones and house are bugged. She turns to alcohol and pills to relieve her mounting stress.

To be clear, this is a white-centered movie where African Americans and their fight for equality are a back-drop and support to the story about a very privileged Caucasian woman who is part of the white run Hollywood establishment. If Ms. Seberg had, say, ventured instead into white, anti-war hippie culture, the movie would be very different, including probably completely devoid of African Americans, except as incidental bystanders. The one Latinx individual in the film is the actress’s housemaid, a reminder that Jean actively participates a-top the economically racist social order. Obviously, this movie is deeply tinged with racism. Yet also, in refreshing contrast, African Americans are portrayed sympathetically, with the positive community-building efforts of the Black Panthers getting show-cased here. For once, this social activist organization is fleshed out more for what it truly was instead of being negatively shown, yet again, as simply comprised of scary domestic insurgents or terrorists to be quelled, which the mainstream media unfairly portrayed them as being, ad nauseam. With the current existence of Black Lives Matter, the parallels to the Black Panthers make SEBERG feel quite currently relevant for me. It is the FBI with its shady COINTELPRO that is villainous in this story. And with the current White House administration pushing vicious smear-oriented agendas on as large a scale– if not larger– than this now defunct Intelligence program, the movie is relevant to the present day in that respect as well.

Jean Seberg died at forty years of age under suspicious circumstances, some seven years after the year SEBERG concludes. This screen drama is psychologically gripping and aesthetically pleasing, the assorted music of the era comprising a pleasant sound track. Many of the clothes Kristen Stewart wears for her role are fun to look at. There are a few moments where the actress seems uncannily like Seberg, particularly around the eyes and in some facial expressions. Her face and that of Jack O’Connell’s are the real stars of the film, both often like beautiful live paintings or landscapes of shifting emotions. The well-done lighting further enhanced this effect of them over me the viewer.

The late 1960s are a fascinating time for me and SEBERG effectively conveys a slice of the upheaval and sensibilities of that brief but loaded period.

The entire cast is excellent, but, in particular, Kristen Stewart and Jack O’Connell do solid, thoughtful, and noteworthy performances in this little gem of a biopic.

After over forty years since its initial theatrical release, I finally saw what passed me by during my later childhood: DRACULA, starring Frank Langella in the title role. Having seen all of Hammer Studios’ DRACULA cycle, which spanned fifteen years (1958-1973) of nine continuous productions, I can’t help but compare this Mirisch Company project to that body of work.

The production values in this 1979 romantic horror version of DRACULA are a cut above Hammer fare, which generally had stagy– albeit campily fun– sets. The bulk of the movie takes place in and around two large buildings: the home and attached insane asylum owned and run by Dr. Jack Seward (Donald Pleasance) and Carfax Abbey, a run-down castle leased by Count Dracula (Langella), having just arrived in England from his native Transylvania. The sets are effectively old-looking, dark and, where needed, filled with requisite spider webs. I particularly enjoyed a bird’s eye view of camera work from the ceiling in Carfax Abbey, in which a large spider in its web looms directly above Dracula and his lone guest Lucy Seward (Kate Nelligan) below. It’s a touch of blatant symbolism and foreshadowing but an effectively foreboding one nonetheless.

A forty-year-old Langella makes for quite the suave, seductive Dracula. A young Ms. Nelligan as an initially slightly bored and willful, then soon lovestruck Lucy matches up well with him. I found the romantic and sexual chemistry between the two convincing, fun, and intriguing. It reaches an ecstatic peak during a certain scene of them in bed together, which is filmed with dramatic back lighting and shadow play, accompanied by energetic orchestral music by John Williams. I had never seen this more sensual side of the Prince of Darkness so played out in a film produced before the 1980s or 90s. We also get to see the Count’s sexy animalness as he scales up and down walls in slow motion, his thick 70s styled hair and black cape moving in the night wind. Undoubtedly, this particular special effect was simply accomplished by having the actor crawl along a side of outer building wall placed on the ground and then angling the camera vertically while actually filming or switching the film’s position of the footage afterwards. I did wonder if filming was done backwards for some or all of these brief action scenes. In any case, Mr. Langella is show-cased nicely with his intense stare, angular face, and full lips. I certainly understand why Lucy is so taken with him and not with her young, pretty, and eager but otherwise uninteresting fiance, Jonathan Harker (Trevor Eve).

Grand thespian Laurence Olivier portrays a grieving, mysterious Professor Abraham van Helsing, who comes to Dr. Seward’s home immediately after the strange, sudden death there of his daughter Mina (Jan Francis), a close friend of Lucy’s. Having seen the lovely Peter Cushing play van Helsing several times in Hammer’s earlier DRACULA movies, I think Olivier does equal justice to the character, if not perhaps more so, with his nuances of ponderousness and sadness. A comparatively younger Cushing plays the same role with a business-like efficiency, which has its due place in such a campy-minded series than this comparatively serious screenplay about the cinema’s most popular vampire.

Where the screen drama falls apart for me is at the very end, which I won’t completely give away. Script writer W.D. Richter and director John Badham switched things up a lot throughout the story, which is quite varied in places from the original book, DRACULA, by Bram Stoker. Granted, I am fine with how most movie adaptations stray far and wide from the classic novel. And following the actual ending can be viewed as unoriginal and too predictable, I suppose, particularly given how frequently this story has been filmed over the past century. In this version’s ending, however, I find Professor van Helsing’s thunder to be pointlessly stolen. Just as cunning and determined as the dark Count himself, van Helsing is the other central figure of the narrative, the polar opposite to and powerful arch enemy of Dracula. Hence, he is the true main hero with the naive Jonathan Harker a supporting, secondary hero. Clearly, there was an attempt to appeal to a younger audience by giving a youthful Harker (Eve) a more central piece of the action here. What last minute, ageist nonsense.

Since it is largely public knowledge at this point in time that Dracula dies at the end of the story, a common question for viewers surely arises: “How will he actually die in this particular movie?” Well, rather awkwardly and ridiculously here in this Mirisch Company effort. How pathetic and annoying. But, hey, at least the movie sails along pleasantly enough before its denouement crashes and burns.

I should have followed my initial gut sense and avoided BIRDS OF PREY (AND THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN), the DC Universe sequel to SUICIDE SQUAD, which was not a good movie either. BIRDS focuses on Harley Quinn, one of the ensemble cast of 2016’s SUICIDE SQUAD, a self-serving woman in Gotham City’s organized crime world. A former psychiatrist in Arkham Asylum, she has recently broken up with the Joker and sets forth wreaking havoc while fighting another crime lord, Roman Sionis (Ewan MacGregor). One main adjective comes to mind for me here: gross. Others quickly follow: vicious, cruel, and glorifying of crime, entitlement and sociopathy. I almost walked out of this hot mess of a show, with its intense, unrelenting violence and over-the-top crassness parading as humor. I was hoping that Ms. Quinn would get her comeuppance by, well, either becoming rehabilitated from her awful ways or getting imprisoned like a rabid animal that she seemed so much to act like. Her companion pet, not surprisingly, is a hyena, one of nature’s particularly vicious carnivores, inelegant and savage.

I did enjoy a few of the supporting ensemble cast members, namely Black Canary (Jurnee Smollett-Bell), Detective Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez), and The Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), in that order. All three were sympathetic and evolved for the better to some extent or other in the story. I see Black Canary having an interesting origin movie of her own, if it’s not too violent. But, in this film, her superpower of a forceful super-sonic voice seems to suddenly come out of nowhere, tacked on as an after-thought, with no explanation of how this developed for her or that she even actually had such an ability all along. There are other occasions in the narrative that Black Canary would have likely wished to use it sooner than when she finally does. Yeah, not exactly good script writing.

I get that women-focused action movies are on the rise, showing how they too can rightfully join the ranks of being kick ass and mean like men in movies (and real life) have been throughout history. Now, it’s a free-for-all of gratuitous violence for everyone, as BIRDS OF PREY affirms. Great. I left the theater feeling battered after watching so much frenetic, bloody mayhem and from the movie’s morbid message being that crime can actually pay.

This is part of a whole series I will definitely not be following. Margot Robbie in the leading role and producer of the screen drama rose to the occasion, but I think she surely has better projects to occupy her time and talent.

GRETEL AND HANSEL is a wonderfully dark little gem of a movie. And it’s about one of my favorite subjects: witches!

Directed by Osgood (Oz) Perkins (son of the late actor Anthony Perkins), this eery, atmospheric production stays close to the Brothers Grimm fairytale “Hansel and Gretel.” Added in are supporting characters, interesting stylized scenes, and some background about the evil Witch, played here by veteran screen maven Alice Krige (as the older/crone Holda) and Jessica De Gouw (the young Holda). Gretel (Sophia Lillis) is switched up to being a teenager, while her younger brother Hansel (Samuel Leakey, in his film debut) is around eight years old. The two siblings wander into a dark forest in search of work and food, their impoverished widowed mother having cast them out of the house.

The lighting is largely dim throughout, with Robin Coudert’s synthesizer and rock music score effectively rounding out the movie’s overall mood of dread and intrigue. The cinematography was beautifully done, with stark, often claustrophobic interiors juxtaposed with lush yet foreboding outdoor forest scenes. The look and feel to almost every frame is dreamlike, as fairytales generally are. This is also helped along by a script with stretches of brief dialogue coupled with ponderous camera work over scenery and people’s faces.

This is a purposefully ponderous yet active, at times hallucinatory, movie. The Witch and Gretel are the core, yin-yang characters whose psyches initially join in alliance and then become locked in battle. Gretel is the heroine who, with the help of portentous dreaming, comes into her own power as both a newly-menstruating woman and a novice witch, the implication being that these are one and the same. Gretel becomes Holda’s apprentice in hedge witchcraft, including herb and food sorcery. But, acting as protector and surrogate mother to her brother, Gretel is determined to avoid going the way of corruption as the lone, aged Holda has long done. Hansel becomes the central sacrifice and means for Holda’s devious plans over bringing Gretel over to the dark side. Gretel, the maiden, makes a conscious decision to use her budding power for good. This affirms that the eventuality and mysteries of motherhood and then crone-dom, when approached mindfully and with care, can and should be ultimately viewed as positive cycles in women and in nature overall. That said, sometimes power corrupts a few (such as Holda) along the way in the challenges of life and the world, and still even others can be born into darkness at the start. Both the dark and light sides of witches are thoughtfully, respectfully portrayed here, making them more human and accurate to real life. Such complex and nuanced treatment of an all-too-often maligned subject is refreshing for me, an eclectic Pagan, to see played out on-screen.

I am no folklorist, but I’m familiar just enough to recognize some references to folklore in GRETEL AND HANSEL. For example, during a lesson from Holda to Gretel in hedge magic/sorcery, the elder witch introduces the younger to a clear salve for rubbing on the hands. This salve or “flying ointment” then opens up one’s innate telekinetic powers, with Gretel soon able to move Holda’s nearby stang by concentrating her mind on the object. Later, the maiden goes outside to find she can mentally cause a large tree to rock to and fro. I grew up hearing about women in olden times using a hallucinogen-filled ointment to rub inside their vaginas with a stick in order to produce a sense of flying. This appeared to be a more G-rated and literalized reference to that old lore.

Cloth dolls, likely poppets (though I’m not sure), show up in odd places in the woods in one scene, such as a few in a tree. Gretel comes across another one by a stream where she is cleaning clothing soaked in her menstrual blood while she’d been sleeping. There is probably some old folklore reference here concerning the placement of such dolls in trees and by rocks for magical purposes. Regardless, the effect was intriguingly creepy and involved no dialogue. I had the sense that Gretel was perhaps symbolically finding a part of herself, such as her nascent female power or capacity for witch craft. Fascinating.

I am not sure what the meaning is behind that of Holda’s, and later Gretel’s, black (or deep blue)-stained fingers, which are likely colored by woad, an herb that produces a very dark blue dye. I suspect this may have been another ancient Germanic folkloric reference, with (possibly) woad indicating a witch/sorceress/master herbalist, i.e., someone unique and powerful who works with herbs and other plants. I do know that woad goes back to being used by the ancient Celts and Picts, who would paint their skin with it as part of preparing for battle. Marion Zimmer Bradley, author of the Arthurian fantasy classic THE MISTS OF AVALON, has her main characters in that novel painted up in woad as part of a magical rite. In any event, the darkly dyed fingers of the witch crone Holda and, later, of the maiden/young witch Gretel make for an intriguing mark of having acquired earthly, feminine, plant-based powers.

Yet another example of folklore in the movie arises in one of my favorite scenes in the film. Just before arriving at the Witch’s cottage deep in the woods, the starving Gretel and Hansel come upon a cluster of red-colored fly agaric mushrooms. Gretel proceeds to talk to the fungi, asking permission for her and her brother to eat them without dying from their possible poison. After then ingesting probably a handful each, the two children enter a hallucinogenic trance state, which both the indigenous Sami and Siberian shamans historically have also done from eating these same kinds of mushrooms. We the viewers do not actually see what Gretel and Hansel see. But, watching their dramatic facial expressions and noise-making, enhanced by a wonderfully strange sound track, make for an effective transition into the next part of the movie. For, the two wake up in the morning after an afternoon and night of entheogen-enhanced inner journeying and enter an alternate world of sorts, that of the Witch Holda’s house and surrounding property. In a sense, the children are unknowingly initiated into a shamanic state to then enter the Middle World, Dream Time, or any number of other ancient indigenous terms used to define the realm of the supernatural and/or place beyond what the naked eye sees in the day-to-day physical world. Very cleverly done.

Dream and reality intermingle throughout this movie, particularly right before and once the crone Holda enters the story. Gretel is frequently dreaming, only to wake up and find some aspect of her dreams to be somehow true– past, present, or imminently. The abundance of beautifully-prepared food by Witch/Holda is suspect to Gretel, given there are no farm animals around to produce the milk and meat placed on the long table before them. Is the food even real? What are Gretel and Hansel actually eating? After all, having entered a shamanic state en-route to Holda’s and having since drunk her mysterious milk and herbal tea concoctions and eaten her oddly perfect, unspoiled food, it is possible the two are continuously consuming entheogens, thereby hallucinating these seeming results of magic. Within Witch’s domain, is it all simply just a haunted dream? The implications are bizarre and gruesome. Again, fascinating.

I’m impressed by the acting of everyone in GRETEL AND HANSEL, particularly that of Krige, Lillis, and Leakey, the three primaries. Ms. Krige, with her dark beady eyes, bony body, and deliberate movements is a powerful mix of crafty, sad, scary, and dominating. Sophia Lillis conveys a believable and compelling complexity. In particular, she expresses a young woman’s inner struggle to keep her sense of innocence while experiencing a fast encroachment of deep suspicion of others, having been thrust too soon into learning how people can’t be trusted, especially when you’re poor, young, and pretty. Hansel’s presence keeps her grounded in valuing innocence and goodness. She grows confident and clear-thinking before our eyes, a wonderful character for mothers with their daughters to see up on screen. Lastly, Samuel Leakey is excellent, portraying a believably naive boy determined to live in his mind of fairytales and trust in the world no matter what, until even he too finally begins to mature and briefly question things, though not before enduring an ordeal of sorts.

Filmed mostly in Dublin, Ireland and then later for a time in Langley, British Columbia, Canada, this short and thoughtful supernatural horror movie comes in at at eighty-seven minutes. The screenplay is both Pagan and woman affirming as well as female centered without being anti-male. It taps into the currents of nature and shamanic and magical practices informed by the use of herbs and entheogens in particular. It honors the Brothers Grimm’s source text of “Hansel and Gretel” while building upon it in some creative and thought-provoking ways.

I enjoyed and deeply appreciated GRETEL AND HANSEL. It is fantastical and stimulating without being overdone, a very special work of cinema. This is largely not for those who always prefer a lot of fast-paced violent action in movies. Also, intolerant Christians (or any number of other rigidly-practicing followers of assorted religions) will find this film sinful and heretical. But, as I’ve always sensed, and this screen drama affirms, spirituality can be practiced in many forms, including as a witch.

The new movie DOLITTLE displays some interesting imagery here and there, but the overall pacing is incessantly frenetic and the script seems thrown together without much thought. Some of the CGI is good while some isn’t particularly impressive. Colors are too bright and clean on some of the talking animals. Many move too fast to seem fully credible as living beings. Also, I would have chosen a deeper voice for the perpetually fearful Chee-Chee the gorilla instead of Rami Malek’s overly-youthful one that had me thinking of a hyper-active, white American teenager. That is a poor match for a large imposing creature from Africa, even if he is scared, and what sounds his vocal cords would naturally emit.

One scene towards the end of the production has overly drawn-out puerile humor to the point that I found myself wondering if I’m simply getting old. Rather, I think it’s actually one of many instances of poor writing, whereby cheap laughs are emphasized over a missed opportunity to deepen an emotionally bonding situation for Dr. Dolittle (Robert Downey, Jr.) and the supporting characters of animals and humans around him. I longed for more lingering moments to give me, the viewer, a chance to connect further with what the players were seeing, feeling, experiencing. But, no, it’s quickly on to the next action or scene. It often feels like the film is actually speeded up.

The cast is mostly excellent (save Rami Malek’s voice) but not given much decent writing to work with. One actor who deserves special mention here is Harry Collett, who plays Tommy Stubbins, the self-appointed child apprentice to Dr. Dolittle. Not only is Collett good-looking, he is effectively emotive. His face quickly conveys feeling states, including tender ones, even with a fast-panning camera– though it does seem to linger on him at times, which is pleasant. I foresee Mr. Collett showing up in a lot more movies to come, though hopefully ones far better than this slap dash project.

The juxtaposition of a 19th century timeline with some supporting characters expressing very current terms and sensibilities comes across as awkward and annoying, even crass in one particular scene involving talking insects. If more real care had been put into DOLITTLE instead of doing such a rush job on it (and I heard from a local movie theater employee this is what it was) I think two or three good films could have been produced from out of this material. However, improvements on some of the CGI would also need to be made. Opportunities at being attentive to and more creative with character development and storylines were frequently missed and that’s sad.

I finally saw STAR WARS: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER. I thought it was actually pretty good, because the movie was simply a lot of fun. The storyline had some pat, thrown-together moments to it, but it remained easy to follow. And some of the writing was corny. But, I didn’t go see this film expecting genius writing or clever and consistent plot (which wasn’t always there in this production). I went for the fun, impressive spectacle and the sentimentality. I came away satisfied over having watched an entertaining, often cute, splashy movie.

I was impressed with how the late Carrie Fisher as Leia Morgana was able to be included into the story as much as she was. I imagine her image was occasionally CGI in places, this technique being ever more seamlessly honed into seeming just like live, on-screen actors/entities. (There was also some impressive, brief CGI of a young Luke Skywalker and Leia.) Apparently, her scenes were drawn from previously un-released footage for THE FORCE AWAKENS and THE LAST JEDI. From what I could tell with my amateur eye, they were all effectively edited into this film, and then extended out as needed via using a double for over-the-shoulder shots. The writers must have had to consciously keep Fisher’s limited footage in mind the whole time they created the script for this final installment to the series.

I have to say, John Boyega as Finn has grown into quite the handsome young man since his appearance in THE LAST JEDI. He and Oscar Isaac (Poe Dameron) both pleasantly lit up the screen (and quickened my beating heart), especially every time they were in-frame together.

Overall, I think THE RISE OF SKYWALKER was worth seeing in the theater. I watched it in Dolby, which made the music and sound effects especially engrossing and powerful. I came away feeling like I had just enjoyed a very long attraction at Disneyland. And since this is a Disney production, that studio seems to have accomplished exactly what it set out to do: take us viewers on a fun fantasy ride.

I watched the movie ARRIVAL (from 2016) last night, starring Amy Adams, Jeremy Renner, and Forest Whitaker. What a fascinating premise: A linguist assists the U.S. military to communicate with highly advanced alien visitors. I particularly enjoyed the weird atmosphere and vibe within the aliens’ spacecraft. Amy Adams is very believable as a grieving, open-minded yet freaked out professor trying to peacefully connect with enormous heptopod (seven-legged, seven-digited) beings from another world. The claustrophobic environments of the spacecraft and the military tents for much of the film lend an immediacy to the narrative. It also made me, the viewer, more readily able to empathize with Dr. Banks (Adams). Her past becomes interwoven into the story, making the drama a very personal one. The way time gets looped is purposefully confusing and intriguing. The primary shape of the circle is a key element in the story, symbolizing interconnection, the foundation of language, nonlinear aspects of time and space, and probably other things. Very clever. There is a lot to ponder in this contemplative film.

I appreciated the ultimate message of ARRIVAL that inter-cooperation among people and nations is vital in order to save humanity and the planet. I also valued the movie’s other main message: from one’s personal pain can come deep learning and even success. My hope is that it does not take an alien race catalyzing world peace to finally occur. But, I’m certainly open to this if that’s what it will require to accomplish such a dream. In any case, I enjoyed watching this thought-provoking, introspective, hope-inspiring movie. If you like this sort of screenplay, I recommend you see ARRIVAL.