Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn

Release: Friday, November 19, 2021 (limited)

👀 Hulu

Written by: Radu Jude

Directed by: Radu Jude

Starring: Katia Pascariu; Olimpia Malai; Claudia Ieremia; Nicodim Ungureanu; Andi Vasluianu

 

 

 

****/*****

If you are someone trying hard to block out the noise of the last few years of heightened enmity, this confrontational tragicomedy out of Romania is not going to be your friend. I’m not sure it’s anyone’s friend; it’s more like a troll in movie form, designed to trigger and infuriate. Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn is not always an easy watch but in getting under your skin, it’s one you are going to struggle to forget.

Yes, it’s a silly title — there’s some nuance lost in the translation from the original Romanian title into English — but the subject matter is serious and the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable. Set in the nation’s capital of Bucharest and filmed during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, the award-winning Bad Luck Banging holds up a mirror to our current times. It harnesses all the emotions and energy that have been bottled up inside and directs almost all of it toward a lone woman, a history teacher named Emi (Katia Pascariu), whose sex tape that she makes with her husband ends up circulating around the internet and causes an uproar at the well-to-do secondary school where she works.

It isn’t just the subject matter that makes this a challenging and sometimes maddening experience. Writer/director Radu Jude plays with form in a way that’s both fascinating and frustrating. He deploys a familiar three-act structure but really this is a self-contained, day-in-the-life style narrative interrupted by an interminable middle section. Here, the filmmaker free-associates every single pertinent concept and symbol in a montage that distills humanity down to its base functions. Though not without purpose, the second act is so cynical it eventually becomes off-putting. There’s a lot of national identity and rage tied up in this sequence but the criticism of society is so encompassing it feels like an unfocused rant.

However what lies on either side of this creative intermission is a modern social satire with serious teeth. Marius Panduru’s camerawork plays a large part in shaping what and how much you feel as the story evolves. What begins as objective, an observation of a woman going about her day doing errands and trying to figure out how to get the video removed from a place it was never supposed to be in the first place, steadily grows more opinionated, more vicious, more ridiculous.

In the first segment Panduru follows the actor from a distance as Emi makes her way through the busy city toward the parent-teacher conference that will soon determine her fate. Moving like a tourist, or perhaps a child trying to make sense of the circus around them, the camera occasionally, and suggestively, comes to rest on the immovable and inescapable objects of a world where sex sells everything from books to Barbie dolls. 

Eventually though, and like her fellow educators who purport to be morally and intellectually upstanding (despite their liberal use of offensive epithets, particularly to women and ethnic Romani), the camera too turns on her and settles in with the hecklers. The climactic confrontation is a spectacle worth the wait. Indeed, it won’t be the eyebrow-raising opening scene that will have people talking — cleverly-placed graphics serve as a running gag throughout, the more racy content suited and tied under the guise of decency. Rather, it will be the combustible third act which chains Emi to the whipping pillar as the accusations and insults fly.

As humiliating as the scene is, it’s also galvanizing and weirdly thrilling. Without divulging all the gory details, there are yet more surprises in store in terms of the way Jude experiments with traditional narrative delivery and subverts your expectation of where things go from here. It’s not that any of the hateful rhetoric being thrown around is funny but as the animosity intensifies it becomes almost impossible not to let something slip out; a nervous chuckle does the same job as the Xanax Emi is denied in a drugstore. You need some relief from the stress.

Bad Luck Banging embraces taboo in a way that will draw only passionate responses, not just from those who endured it but from those who have only heard things about it and want to dismiss it out of hand. That’s understandable, but the movie doesn’t end up as exploitative as the title sounds. Some of the artistic choices annoyingly delay what could be a more streamlined narrative, but as the tension builds in the final stretch there appears to be a method to Jude’s class(-less) madness.

Yummy.

Moral of the Story: Not for the faint of heart, Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn is caustic, bizarre and features elements so heavy you kind of wonder whether this even qualifies as comedy. This is my first experience watching a film from Romania (I think) and while it’s not one I will necessarily return to, it is a breath of fresh air away from Hollywood, a bold film barely able to contain its righteous anger. (Dialogue is in Romanian with English subtitles and captions.)

Rated: NR

Running Time: 106 mins.

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited.

Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.imdb.com 

Sing Street

sing-street-movie-poster

Release: Friday, April 15, 2016 (limited)

[Netflix]

Written by: John Carney

Directed by: John Carney

John Carney returns to the emerald-green shores of his native Ireland for his latest quasi-musical/romantic comedy Sing Street, his third such feature after 2007’s Once and 2014’s Begin Again. Though it possesses many of the traits that made his higher-profile, New York-set dramedy an inspired blend of genre-blurring cinema and original sound, Sing Street is a woefully misguided venture that suggests people who form bands are really just in it for the notoriety and not the craft.

The film may be set in 1980s Dublin but the whole enterprise reeks of that part in Van Wilder where Ryan Reynolds professes his loneliness to some passing stranger — a college sophomore with a cute face — through the majesty of Air Supply’s ‘All Out of Love.’ Far from being the only flick to feature a boy trying to win over the girl by strumming a few chords on a Gibson acoustic, even in the context of that particular lampoon the level of cheesiness was shameless. But at least it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. In Sing Street it is. This is a matter of love-and-death, a 14-year-old boy’s whole-hearted attempt to half-ass a band just enough to impress The Cool Chick fulfilling not only plot but thematic components.

Irish musician and singer Ferdia Walsh-Peelo makes his acting debut as Conor, the youngest of three in the Lalor clan, spearheaded by patriarch Robert (a criminally underused Aidan Gillen) and wife Penny (Maria Doyle Kennedy) who all throughout are falling out of love. With his family also plagued by financial hardship Conor finds himself transferring into Synge Street CBS, an inner-city public school where he is met on a daily basis with ridicule and hostility, most notably from bullying archetype Barry (Ian Kenny) and school principal Dr. Baxter (Don Wycherley), a disciplinarian plucked straight out of Pink Floyd’s ‘Another Brick in the Wall.’

When Conor spots the mysterious Raphina (Lucy Boynton) standing on her stoop just across the street from his school, he’s instantly smitten — so much so that he tells her that since she’s aspiring to become a model in London she should appear in a music video he and “his band” are about to shoot. What he doesn’t tell her is that he is yet to form a band. So he sets about recruiting fellow classmates who might have some musical talent. It’s not so much recruitment as it is serendipity. A drummer, a keyboardist/pianist and a bassist all fall right into his lap. Oh, and there’s also Eamon (Mark McKenna, a 19-year-old who simply “has that look”), whose multi-instrumental abilities instantly liberate the band from sonic stodginess.

Carney strings together a few fun musical sequences where we see the band starting to find their groove. They dub themselves ‘Sing Street’ in an ironic gesture to the miserable school they attend. What begins in a back alley as a cringe-inducing exercise in amateur cover-band antics soon develops into a more unified, distinctive and fashionable quintet playing original songs. Such change is encouraged by Conor’s older brother, Brendan (Jack Reynor), a college drop-out who knows a thing or two about how this whole life thing works. Because music. Because records. Reynor is a wonderful presence, fully supportive of his brother’s decision to pursue music as a way to melt Raphina’s heart. Who knows, maybe Conor will end up finding success and breaking out of the depressing hole that is Dublin circa 1985.

Once more viewers will leave the theater with much of the soundtrack stuck in their head. And the way Carney infuses the work of real-life, established bands into the mix — Duran Duran, The Cure, The Clash, Genesis and others are called upon here — remains a strong draw. All the same, the very premise Sing Street runs with smacks of pretension. At its core Carney’s latest rings totally insincere. The music is good — often great — but the story is . . . well, it’s something else. Something kind of the opposite of good.

sing-street

Recommendation: Sing Street is bound to appeal to fans of John Carney’s previous outings as it stylistically shares a lot in common with Begin Again (this reviewer has yet to track down Once but I’d venture a guess that it’s more of the same) but the story is just god-awful. Unless you enjoy watching serendipitous little confections that make you roll your eyes so much they end up flipping backwards into your skull I gotta say give Sing Street the ole swerve. 

Rated: PG-13

Running Time: 106 mins.

Quoted: “When you don’t know someone, they’re more interesting. They can be anything you want them to be. But when you know them, there’s limits to them.”

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited.

Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.imdb.com 

Deathgasm

'Deathgasm' movie poster

Release: Friday, October 2, 2015 (limited)

[Netflix]

Written by: Jason Lei Howden

Directed by: Jason Lei Howden

Visual effects artist Jason Lei Howden’s blood-splattered horror-comedy debut may operate within some fairly limited confines but budgetary constraints seemingly have no effect on the creativity of his project and its metal-as-f**k attitude.

So you come to expect a few things with a title like Deathgasm. Those who can’t handle copious amounts of red syrup blood, here’s your exit door. Don’t let it hit you on the way out. Three-parts grindhouse gore-fest, one-part supernatural thriller with just a sprinkling of awkward humor to keep a narrative of grossness lubricated just enough, this New Zealand-produced film is, yes, absolutely ridiculous. It is so over-the-top violent I don’t know where to begin.

Let’s start at the beginning. Set in the fictional sleepy town of Greypoint, Brodie (Milo Cawthorne) is forced to move in with his religious fanatic uncle and bullying cousin after his mother is carted off to an asylum. His dad’s dead. Life is miserable for Brodie, even at school. His friends, much like himself, are clinging to the fringes of high school society and so he often finds himself diving into music to escape the humdrum of his every day existence, while keeping an eye on the cute girl, Medina (Kimberley Crossman), of course. Also of course: she is the girlfriend of none other than Brodie’s cousin.

One of the positives in Brodie’s life is the local record store. There he happens to come across Zakk (James Blake), whose unconditional love for violent-sounding but ultimately galvanizing death metal is evidenced by his all-black attire. The two decide to pour their mutual love for music into forming a band that Zakk will christen ‘DEATHGASM.’ All capital letters, because that’s f-ing metal man. One day Zakk talks Brodie into breaking-and-entering into an abandoned-looking home rumored to be where metal legend Rikki Daggers (Stephen Ure, looking somewhat more human than he did in his contributions to both the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit franchises) still lives.

It’s here where they come into possession of some sheet music that’s simultaneously being protected by Daggers and coveted by a local cult. Soon enough the metalheads, along with dorksters Dion (Sam Berkley) and Giles (Daniel Cresswell), are experiencing first-hand the power of the music they’ve just stumbled upon. If played, what’s on the page will summon demons from the underworld. They rock out, and sure enough the world as they know it becomes overtaken by bloodthirsty creatures. The biggest problem though, is that they’re being targeted by the very cult that was originally after that sheet music.

Here’s where I should probably make mention of how much more bloodthirsty Howden is, his direction spinning off into some crazy territory where once-living humans turn into ghouls that meet some very, very messy fates. One guy gets his face removed by a belt sander. Another accepts a chainsaw where the sun don’t shine. Gorehounds and metalheads are sure to come together to champion the film for its sweet, sweet brutality and unapologetically cheesy escapist frills. The movie is pretty goddamn metal. It’s also, sadly, too sloppy for it’s own good.

Everything boils down to a confidence issue. Brodie is still learning how to jam like a bonafide rockstar and he wants to be with Medina (but only because she showed an interest first). When push comes to shove, will he be able to send those pesky demon bastards back to where they belong? Will his playing save the girl before it’s too late? Okay so I admit I just made the premise sound worse in writing but in execution there’s a lot to like, even if you just can’t avoid addressing what’s painfully obvious: learning how to play the right chords at the right moment makes for a kinda lame horror finale.

And that’s certainly not the only weak spot; half-baked logic abounds when it comes to how they plan on solving the issue (which I won’t spoil) and the usual wooden performances. And perhaps most surprising of all, there’s actually not a great deal of music. Deathgasm holds so much potential to be better, and I’ll even forgive it for it’s occasional shameless elitism (see how Brodie and Zakk introduce themselves to one another for a prime example). It’s all too easy to lay out all of the ways in which this film is just . . . plain . . . silly, but let’s not overthink things too much. Let’s take it for what it is: pretty bloody fun.

deathgasm-2

Recommendation: Bonafide guilty pleasure material, Deathgasm doesn’t quite capitalize on its whacky premise but it’s worth a watch for genre fans and it might even entice anyone who calls themselves “not much of a metal fan” because they believe they’re communicating with the Devil through their music — just to see these kids do literally just that. If you want certain stereotypes confirmed in a suitably twisted and hilarious fashion, this is totally your jam. 

Rated: NR

Running Time: 86 mins.

Quoted: “Three AM Pacific . . . or three AM Eastern time? Do demons recognize daylight savings?” 

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited. 

Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.ilgiornodeglizombi.wordpress.com