Now here's another festival day involving a typically hair-brained scheme of mine. You see, being the Canadian film history buff that I am, I really wanted to see both Un génie, deux associés, une cloche (a spaghetti Western shot in French and starring Robert Charlebois) and Death Weekend (Canada's answer to the American rape revenge films of the 1970s). Of course, I didn't know by then just how generic and underwhelming the latter film would reveal itself to be. And so I entertained great expectations for that particular title, seeing it as a landmark in Canadian exploitation cinema.
At any rate, for me to catch both screenings, I had to cover the distance between the Norris Building and the Cinémathèque in... 0 minutes. The only chance I had was that I could shave a couple of minutes from the first screening by dashing away as soon as the screen went black and jumping into a taxi. But that was without taking into account the numerous construction sites I had to cross on my way. Ultimately, I ended up paying 15$ for a trip that would've been only scant minutes longer had I decided to run all the way. Still, while I missed some exposition at the beginning of the second film, I didn't miss any of the "action" as the home invasion hadn't started by the time I crossed the threshold into the familiar darkness. Then, gasping for air during for quite some time, I set down to appreciate the rare offering that was Death Weekend... but I bitterly found out that I couldn't.
Needless to say that I was fairly disappointed by the film, and by the fact that it made me eschew a dodgeball practice. Seeing how little Death Weekend has to offer, I actually felt cheated by the programmer who made me want to see it on pretensions that it was a serious offering that could contend with the American heavyweights from the same era. Still, I have only myself to blame for I was so blinded by desire as to completely disregard a mediocre review from a reliable source, which I had read the very same day, convincing myself that there still could be something to the film, something that snooty film critics might disregard on account of its shocking nature. Rape revenge films have that effect on me. Actually, any film which is tagged as "extreme" is an instant must-see in my book, making me oblivious to common sense. But in the end, as is common in all areas of life, an unpleasant taxi ride was to show me the truth behind the very fabric of the universe.
Luckily, I still had the last film, and the accompanying celebration of director John Landis (who received a lifetime achievement award that night), emphasized with great energy by the very same loud-mouths who peopled his Animal House back in the 1970s. A sold-out Theater Hall is always a sight to behold, and especially if it is filled with contagious love for film. On that day, love was fueled not only by its own sense of exhilaration, but by a splendidly manic retrospective of the director's work, which made the crowd as ecstatic as a speeding car on nitro. That said, the film at hand was a shoe-in for the audience to which it was shown and a delightful ode to the dumbly, unpretentious comedies of the 1980s, with Isla Fisher as an added bonus to top the cake. Still, on this rather fruitful night at the festival, Un génie was by far the tastiest treat.
FILMS SEEN
Un génie, deux associés, une cloche
Another of this year's special treats, this rarely seen comedic western boasts a star-studded cast that includes Terrence Hill, Patrick McGoohan, Miou-Miou, Klaus Kinski and homegrown music legend Robert Charlebois in the role of self-denying Indian swindler Locomotive Bill. Infused with a large dose of slapstick brilliantly carried out by veteran Hill and a memorable, circumstantial soundtrack by Ennio Morricone, Un génie is a delight to watch, especially in the original French version. Together, Hill and Charlebois form a surprisingly efficient comic duo by complementing each other's moods while Miou-Miou takes care of the lingerie bits with princely negligence. A great achievement, from the Leone-shot opening sequence to the humanistic finale involving the restitution of stolen Native properties and moneys, this film is a must-see for all Québécois western fans, and it comes highly recommended to both casual western and comedy fans.
ENTHUSIASTIC THUMBS UP
Death Weekend
Well, we can pat ourselves in the back! As exemplified by this lackluster, underwhelming home invasion film, it seems that Canada can successfully emulate American genre excesses. Whoop-de-fucking-doo! So here we have Diane and Harry, a would-be couple out for a weekend retreat outside of the city. After an unpleasant road encounter with a band of thugs that leaves their shiny hot-rod in the dust, the pair prepares to enjoy the quietude of Harry's lakeside estate, blissfully unaware that those they have "wronged" are craving retribution. When the gang finally reaches them, everything you would expect happens... in exactly the order that you would've expected. Short on logic (a burning man runs across a dock toward land instead of simply jumping into the water), female flesh (we get a glimpse of a nipple) and blood (we get only a slit throat), this film has little to offer but a mildly exciting car chase near the end. And the reassurance that Canadian cinema can equate American cinema in terms of ineptitude. The only fun one might derive from Death Weekend stems from the wanton, nearly comical, destruction of Harry's numerous properties (including a large motor boat), which the viewer is likely to wish he could partake in so as to overcome his boredom.
THUMBS DOWN
Burke and Hare
Before handing it to him, I spontaneously etched a few words on a friend's ticket for the film, as if entrusting him with the greatest secret of the universe. What I wrote down was actually no secret. It was a celebrated fact of life: Isla Fisher is hot! What can I say? She's drop-dead gorgeous. And even as an object (which she is in the film, considering her minimal output), she remains a great motivation for the central protagonist. According to director Landis, Burke and Hare is a rom-com. But while it isn't so in earnest, Burke's last words at the gallows, before the hangman pulls the lever of destiny, remain: "I did it for love". And he did, quite foolishly so. But it doesn't matter, for the film is more than just its central, rather clichéd love story. It is a delightful romp involving splendid art direction and a wide array of extremely talented comedic actors. Aside from Pegg and Serkis, both of whom do a flawless job of portraying a pair of joyous murderers, the cast includes Tom Wilkinson and Tim Curry as two competing M.D.s and Ronnie Corbett as a zealous police official. Cameos include everyone from Jenny Agutter to Christopher Lee, Stephen Merchant, Ray Harryhausen and Costa-Gavras. Historical accuracy brushed aside imperiously, the film is unapologetic in its attempt to recapture the naive humor which has made Landis famous. Yet far from appealing only to completists, this is an effort that anybody could enjoy, granted an open mind and a propensity for chuckling.
THUMBS UP
Footnote: I'd like to take this occasion to address the film's terrible reviews of late, earning it a mediocre 36% aggregate score on Rotten Tomatoes. To the film's detractors I would like to ask very dearly how they managed to dislike the film to such an extent. Certainly, the narrative is rather conventional in its framing of the central love story and the titular duo have had their exploits adapted to the screen maybe a tad too much. Nonetheless, here's an irreverent mock period piece with impeccable art direction and a wide array of star players, the kind of fodder that mainstream critics usually lap up like scurvy dogs. Maybe it's the irreverent part that they fail to appreciate, or the lack of subtlety in the humor, which is aimed at the same raucous crowds as was Animal House back in the day. Or maybe it's the setting, the sold-out Hall theater vibrating to the beat of unrestrained cheers, which has momentarily clouded my judgment. But from where I stood, this most recent effort is a great return to form for the venerable John Landis, who adds to his catalog of weirdly wondrous sights with a wide array of comical tidbits including corpses in rolling barrels and foot fetishists played by Tim Curry. As for the claims according to which the film is either "not political enough" or "not black enough a comedy", I would like to refer naysayers to Mr. Landis himself who, prior to the screening, described the film as a romantic comedy. Political satire and dark humor is only superficial here, brushing the surface of the narrative like a feature on the ripe foot of the establishment. There's no need to dwell on it, or try to find anything deeper here than the joyous desire to entertain. Which is all a film of this ilk truly needs.
