Talking to Myself: Bone Tomahawk

Bone Tomahawk is a strange film. However, it is not strange for the normal reasons like characters, setting, or plot. All of those are actually pretty straight forward. It’s strange because there is something… off about it.

First things first, the most obviously strange part of this movie is the lack of a soundtrack. There is only one piece of music throughout the whole movie. Initially this is jarring, but eventually it seems natural. The sound track becomes the sounds of the actors and their surroundings. This glaring departure from typical movie making defines the entirety of the film. In one sentence, Bone Tomahawk strips away the tropes of its genres and uses their absence to elevate itself above them.

One term that could be used to describe the bizarre feel of this film is campy. While I suppose that there may be some exaggerations of genre tropes in the movie, campy is still not the right word for it. In essence, Bone Tomahawk combines two genres, the western and horror. But, under the surface, there is also a tinge of comedy. And by “under the surface” I mean that it rarely, if ever, shows up in dialogue.

At no point in this movie is there a really blatant attempt at making a joke. Instead, the comedy comes from the obsurdity of the very way in which the film is constructed. For instance, on the morning after a deputy, a nurse, and prisoner are abducted a dead stable boy is discovered. Sheriff Hunt and his “back up” deputy, Chicoroy, go to investigate. In one shot, they approach the barn door, guns out at the ready. The scene is set up to be both serious and suspenseful. In any other film, it would most likely be shot up close, from over a character’s shoulder or focused on their face. But here, we see Hunt and Chicoroy approaching the barn from a wide and withdrawn angle which places their full bodies left of center screen and allows the barn to fill up the rest of the frame. This, quite honestly, looks ridiculous. It makes the set look fake and the character’s look like they have no clue what they’re doing. On a first viewing it’s kind of a put off, on a second viewing it’s genius. A scene like this goes beyond campy and seems to comment on the act of filming a western itself. We know this movie is fake and the characters are actors but choose to ignore that fact. Here, we can’t ignore it because the camera reminds us of it. Instead of two cowboy’s approaching a murder scene we are given two men, crouching awkwardly and swinging their guns from side to side approaching a fake barn. It got a chuckle out of me for sure but not at the expense of the film. Shortly after this scene, the body of the stable boy is revealed and it is quite uggly. Although I was somewhat removed from the film while watching Hunt and Chicory approach the barn, the shot of the body in the barn brought me right back into the narrative.

Another aspect of the film that reflects this weird humor is a kind of a running joke. John Brooder (a notorious Indian killer who volunteers to aid the rescue attempt) is in possession of a very expensive telescope they call “the German”. At first, he will not let anyone else use it. But when the group arrives at their destination and try to figure out which valley the Indian tribe lives in, another humorus scene unfolds. Brooder looks through the German, turns to Chicoroy and asks him if he’d liked to use the German. We then watch a scene that is a couple minutes long in which each character is invited to use the German only to discover that they all see the same three valleys and none of them knows which is the correct one.

Do you see what I’m getting at here? No? Well I’m not sure I see it either. So lets try a comparison. This is gonna sound crazy but hang in there. I’d like to compare this movie to Deadpool. Now, in Deadpool, Wade Wilson continually goes out his way to reference the super hero genre as whole. With lines refering to the X-Men movies, Green Latern, studio expenses, and even predicting things like the “Super Hero Landing” Deadpool continually points out every super-hero trope as well as some of the aspects involved with making a block-buster super-hero film. In Bone Tomahawk, we see the same things. The true “cowboy” of the film, John Brooder, is not much of a hero, the filming of the barn scene actually looks ridiculous when you’re slightly removed from it, and the group of men have trouble finding the right valley because, well, there was no GPS’s back then.So, in a way, Bone Tomahawk is a movie that is self-referential to the western genre, like Deadpool is to the super-hero genre. However, I’d argue Tomahawk pulls off this trick in an even better way.

Bone Tomahwak does not just point out the tropes of the western genre to crack a joke about them, like Deadpool does with the super hero genre. In my mind, it is more like it throws those tropes out the window and highlights the fact that they’re no longer in the film. In westerns, characters always seem to know where they’re going even though they never look at a map. Well, in Bone Tomahawk, they know the general direction and distance they need to travel but when they get there they have trouble finding the actual spot. In westerns, the cowboy’s and sheriffs always look cool and smooth with their guns drawn, ready for a shootout. In Bone Tomahawk, they look bumbly and clueless approaching the barn and the combat scenes come across as badly scripted and sloppy, like they often are in real life. The movie erases many of the tropes we are used to, and in their place, puts something directly opposed to them. This not only highlights the fact those tropes have been removed but it creates the “strange” humor within the movie as well as allows the film to acknowledge what it truely is, a film. Bone Tomahawk is one of those few movies that readily admits it’s a movie and uses that to its advantage. Sure, this kind of thing is more prevelant today, but as in Deadpool, the fourth wall breaks and trope acknowledgements are often used only for laughs. In Bone Tomahawk (there are no fourth breaks by the way) these techniques are used to give the film a “feel” (for lack of better word) that seperates it from all other horrors and westerns. Beyond this, it revels in every part of the movie making process. It is accurate to it’s time period, yet points out the downfalls of that time period. It has a good amount of action sequences, yet it makes them aesthetically amusing and, probably, more realistic than most. It contains well written dialogue, yet uses that dialogue to set up some very odd but impactful sequences. It has no soundtrack, yet uses the sounds of the actors and their surroundings to create a soundtrack. And, as I will explain in the next paragraph, it contains violence, but uses the absence of some instances of violence to make others even more disturbing.

If you’re still with me, lets dive into the violence I just mentioned. We will be looking at one scene in specific but it is near the end, so spoilers ahead. The movie’s very first shot is actually one of violence. A man about to have his throat slit. However, the camera cuts away and all we get is sound effects (which are still gruesome as there is no soundtrack to muffle them). Throughout the rest of the movie we see some people being shot and the aftermath of a murder that, while gory, comes after the fact. I’m kind of an advocate for the presence of violence in films, not because I necessarily enjoy it, but because it gives the film more power and allows it tell the story with more of a wallup behind its punches. Besides, real life is violent so why wouldn’t movies be so too? So, when directors cut away from the violence I find myself searching for reasons as to why they would do such a thing. How does it enhance the film? Well, in this case, it leaves you totally surprised and distrubed during its most brutal scene of violence. One character is dragged from his cell within the Indian’s cave. We have been informed this tribe is composed of  cannibals and we’re ready for this guy to be killed and eaten. The character is stripped naked and I was prepared for a cut away during which we’d hear his screams (like the scene from the start of the movie). However, there is no cutaway. The Indian’s proceed to scalp the man, put the scalp in his mouth, drive a spike in behind it, then they flip him upside and cut him in half with a bone tomahawk (thats where the name comes from, I guess). This is not only shocking because it is incredibly graphic but it is also shocking because the viewer has been purposefully lulled into a sense of security. We have seen no “real” violence until this point because the camera has gone out of the way to avoid it. But here, the threat of violence is presented and the camera stays in that same spot, holding the same angle, until the victim has died. We await the cut-away but the camera holds our eyes in place and forces us to watch what is happening. Again, this an example of Bone Tomahawk taking a trope (in this case actually using it), stripping that trope from the film (in this case rather unexpectedly), and using its abscence to the film’s advantage.

Overall, I enjoyed Bone Tomahawk for what it was. Something different and new. I wouldn’t recommend it to everyone because, for some, its strangeness will be a turnoff. If you like horror, westerns, or just weird movies, check this one out. If not, check it out anyway because it is a very creative movie that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Unless you’re looking for date movie, cause this ain’t it. Unless you and your date are movie buffs, then this could work.

P.S.

Thank you very much to anyone who took the time to read this review all the way through. It was certainly the most difficult one to right thus far. However, I tried to take my time and really get across what I was trying to explain. I apologize if it did not make much sense.

Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought about this review. If you liked it, leave a like so I can visit your page and see what you’ve got cooking. My next review may not show up until next week because I’m still a few days off from finishing the book. And it will probably be even more confusing than this one. However, Closer to God: Episode Four will be up by the end of this week so please stop by again when you have the time!

 

Talking to Myself: The Familiar Volume 1 (Why I Stopped Reading It)

The best way to start this post is by saying that I think Mark Danielewski is a fantastic writer. I loved House of Leaves. The story was interesting and creepy, the form was inventive and original, and I was hooked after only a few pages. Alas, this isn’t a review for House of Leaves, but is instead an examination of The Familiar: Volume 1 and why it has not worked (for me) as well as Danielewski’s previous books.

I think part of the fault lies with me. Unlike my approach to House of Leaves, I kind of picked up The Familiar out of the blue. I had an idea what I was getting into but my mind was not in the right place. There were also two books on my nightstand that I could not wait to read and that I was obviously more excited for. In other words, I was not prepared. So, now that I’ve owned up to my part of the blame lets move onto the book.

As the title mentions, I did not read this book to completion. I still plan to, but for now I’ve had enough. Being about half way through (around page 400) my favorite aspect so far has to be the style. It’s typical Danielewski, solid prose morphing into chaotic and/or simplistic pages that can contain one word to hundreds of words. While I loved the style in House of Leaves, I’d argue it works even better here. The pages where Xanther (the main character and a 12 year old girl) goes into her quesion song are beautiful. Her repetitive and rambling thoughts flow across these pages looking like the rain pouring down around her. Each of the other eight character’s stories take on their own complex forms as well. This turns each section of the book into a unique experience and something you have to approach from a completely different angle. However, the form is really the only thing that worked for me.

I’m not saying the characters are flat (they’re not) or the story is unoriginal (also not) but there wasn’t enough of either to keep me reading. Every 10-30 pages the narrating character is changed, which is not necessarily a bad thing, unless you don’t give the reader enough time to care about them. Which is exactly what happened to me. They’re interesting people but the constant shift in perspective meant I couldn’t see enough of them, or they’re stories, to stay invested. I’ve come to understand that this book is the first of twenty-seven planned volumes and, as such, is meant to be an introduction to what is sure to be an expansive story. Still, I’m not sure a writer can ask his readers to delve 400 plus pages into a novel before the story even starts to pick up speed.

This brings up a ton of questions regarding how much work the author should be doing for a reader. I am all for ambigious plots, language, and challenging prose. I don’t mind, and even enjoy, piecing together the narrative as it is given to me. However, Danielewski asks us to do much more than that. He asks the reader to dissect sections written in extremely shoddy english mixed with madarin and russian. He wants us to take mysterious hints and descriptions and put them in our back pocket for later, despite the fact that we don’t know if we’ll even need them. Sure, in House of Leaves he did not give us all the answers, but he supplied enough of them to keep people interested. We knew the characters, their motivations, and the stakes. Here, at least half-way through the book, we know none of that. Instead of full portraits I felt like I was getting snippets of each character and I found myself asking, why do I care? Give me a reason to care! Besides the stories connected via family members the rest made the book seem like a collection of random novella’s and short stories pulled apart and rammed into a book.

I know what people who’ve read this book are saying. Don’t be so impatient, answers are coming. I understand that, and I will return to this book. I am positive that, by the end, I’ll be blown away. However, right now, I don’t feel like waiting until then. And I think that reveals the major flaw with this first installment to The Familiar. Unless I am completely dedicated to the style/format of this book as well as to Danielewski himself, the book risks losing me as a reader. Most of the people I know (who are not as crazy about fiction as I am) would have given up on this well before 400 pages. Does that matter? Probably not. Does Danielewski care? Absolutely not. But I firmly believe that one of the things that makes good fiction good is that it reels the reader in like no other medium can. Only books take place completely in your mind, but this books feels like it takes place on the page. It does not complete the circuit, the agreement, we all join in when we write or read something. From the author’s mind, to the page, to the reader’s mind. Instead, the best aspect of the book, the form, sticks out the most due to the plot’s and characters’ lack of presence which grinds said circuit to a halt. The result is a story that has a hard time getting inside the reader’s mind as its most endearing qualities link it to the material nature of the page itself. Some may say thats fair and that the reader is meeting the author halfway in this circuit. Thats a valid point that I cannot disagree with, but in this instance it instead felt like the author wasn’t doing enough. In the end, after 400 pages of feeling lost I grew tired of putting in the effort required to read this book because I felt like I was getting nothing from it. Was it my fault for being unprepared to take this journey or the author’s fault for not doing more of the work for me? I have no freaking clue.

What make’s Danielewski such a special writer is that his books bring up questions like the ones I’ve just struggled to talk about. No other writer manages to challenge the status quo quite like Danielewski. So, if you like confusing plots, beautifully realized textual experimentation, and (at times) extremely challenging prose then give The Familiar: Volume One a read. But don’t be like me, read it all the way through. And if you don’t like those things, I can’t really say much because I am like me and I haven’t this finished book. Instead, I started The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell. It’s out of this world amazing and my very much in this world mediocre review will be coming soon.

 

Talking to Myself: The Abominable

Today’s review is on The Abominable by Dan Simmons. This novel is probably best described as historical fiction. However, it is also a horror, mystery, and dare I say, love story.

If you’ve never read Dan Simmons before its best to know, going in, that he incorporates pain-stakingly detailed research into many of his books. For example, in The Abominable, you are not only reading a story that is set in and around the 1920’s but you are also learning about the rock climbing, political atmosphere, and various cultures of that time period. Part of what makes this book so compelling is that the plot is driven by historical events (or fictional historical events) as well as the real problems one might face climbing the tallest mountain in the world in the 1920’s. This story will not just surprise and entertain you, but it will educate you. So if you don’t like history, or you just don’t think mountain climbing is that interesting (I assure you that it is), then this book probably isn’t for you.

Sadly, a piece of the horror side to this novel was ruined for me before I even started reading it, although it was not the author’s fault. On the back of the book the summary clearly states that there is no abominable snowman or yeti in the story. This, and I’m sure Dan Simmons would agree based off of his various interviews, dampens the suspense of the first three quarters of the book. There are scenes where evidence of a yeti is discovered and the local lore surrounding the mountain, perpetuated by the Tibetan monks in the region, claims such demons inhabit the glaciers of Everest. If the publisher had avoided revealing this simple plot twist the novel would have an entire other layer of suspense added to it. And I’m sure that was what Simmons intended. However, while these scenes do lose some of their suspense, they are not completely ruined. Instead of the question, is there really a yeti, the reader is forced to ask, who wants people to believe there is really a yeti and why? Surprisingly, this question does tie back into the plot quite nicely. But that doesn’t change the fact such a cool plot element should never be revealed on the back of the book. I mean, it is called The Abominable for goodness sake.

On the other hand, the mystery aspects of this novel are really what make it a great book. In first section, the plot seems quite simple. The main character, Jake, and his friend J.C. and the Deacon secure their funding for an Everest expedition by agreeing to help one Lady Bromley locate her son, who was last seen on or above the infamous Second Step of Mount Everest. Yet, as the novel continues, more questions are introduced as well as more characters. And like a good mystery novel all of these questions are answered and all of the characters serve an important role by the stories end. Without saying too much, this is a mystery of murder and conspiracy with grand proportions that manages to shock the reader with its true scope. I honestly had no clue what to expect by the time I reached the third and final section of the book and that was a good thing.

Finally, as I mentioned, this book is a love story. But not between two people. Between Jake, his friends, and the mountain they are climbing. Simmons includes an incredible amount of detail regarding the tools and techniques moutain climbers used in the 1920’s, which have lead to many of the modern aspects of the sport. As someone who knew nothing about moutain climbing before reading this novel, I found this part of the book to be very interesting. Simmons does a fantastic of job of slowly introducing the various elements involved with attempting such a climb and manages to do so without overwhelming the reader. By the time the characters are on Everest, I felt like I was part of the expedition, able to understand the challenges playing out on the page. I also developed a love for the mountain similar to the love the characters had for it. Everest is cruel, unforgiving, and unpredictable but that, mixed with her aestethic beauty, makes the mountain that much more amazing.

Overall, this book is a read well worth the time it takes to get through all 660 pages. Some parts will seem slow, especially as the characters prepare for their expedition, but there are no wasted scenes. No matter how long, each piece of this book contributes an essential part to the story, whether that be a continuation of the plot or vital imformation about the sport of mountain climbing. The history in this novel also makes it a worthy read. Jake’s tale reveals the fictional causes of real events and paints a picture of a story that I would easily believe had I read it in a history book. The intertwining of true and imagined events is seemless here and that is not an easy thing accomplish. Jake himself comes across as a fully fleshed character that seems to have been plucked straight out of histroy. Impressively, unless you are familiar with the time period, it is hard to tell what is real and what is imagined. That is the mark of a truely talented historical fiction author.

If you’re looking for a book that will take you to foreign places, teach you something you know nothing about, and have you lost in its mystery along with its character, then you should definitely read The Abominable. If not, read it anyway because rock climbing is awesome, Everest is a place worth visting, and we should all try to be more familiar with history. Unless you don’t like the cold, yeti’s, or brutal death ceremonies.

Talking to Myself: Southbound Review

I’m not a huge fan of reviews or criticisms because many of them make something that is subjective seem objective. However, I love talking about movies, books, video games, and television shows. So this is Talking to Myself, a segement of my blog in which I will express my opinion and overall interpretation of the books I read, the movies I watch, and the games I play. Today’s topic will be the horror film, Southbound.

Southbound is an anthology style film created by some of the awesome people behind the VHS series. The difference between the two is that Southbound maintains a stronger connection between each “section” of the film.

Overall, there are five different stories, all of which follow different characters while just a few of them appear in multiple segments. For me, the movie seemed to be about the setting of the film more than the individual characters. That setting is an unnamed road that leads into an unnamed town which is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Within this town there are demons, cults, and people who are probably possessed. It’s a place akin to hell or pergoratory, although I don’t think any of these people are actually dead. Basically, its a more gruesome version of the Twilight Zone.

What I found so compelling about Southbound is the way each story flows into the next. Without giving too much away, the best way I can describe it is that each story ends where the next one begins. Meaning, the first story ends one hotel room over from where the next character’s start their journey and that story ends on the same road where another character starts his and so on and so forth. This not only gives the story a more fluent flow than any of the VHS films but it also makes the audience feel like they are a bystander being carried throughout this town by the characters they latch onto.

The way Southbound is written and shot also allows each story to suggest a larger narrative. Whereas in VHS the viewer was seeing short stories spliced within another short story, in Southbound, they are seeing short stories that are a part of, and make up, a larger tale that encompasses the entire town, the people living there, and the forces at work there. For me, this is the way an anthology film, or show, should operate. Creating seperate, completely unrelated stories is good, but having those stories come together to build an even larger narrative the audience has to infer is genius.

As for the content of the five stories, in my mind, the section of the film that most embodies the spirit and style of Southbound is “The Accident”. Again, I don’t want to reveal too much but this segment is gory, darkly humorous, fast paced, and utterly disturbing. To be honest, it’s one of the most shocking and visceral moments of film I have seen in the horror genre in a long time.

In regards to the technical work behind the camera and the cinematography I cannot really say how good or bad it was. I was too absorbed by the story to really notice. However, I did enjoy the various instances when the camera panned from one character to another in order to switch to the next story. It made the film feel like one long cut. I didn’t really notice the quality of the acting either, which probably means it was good. What I did pay attention to was the script and I loved it. The dialogue was quite creative at times, yet easy to follow.

Overall, Southbound is a horror movie I enjoyed immensely. It’s style of storytelling and creativity makes all of the other horror films that came out in the last year (with the exception of The Witch) look boring and cliche. On a scale of one to ten its easily an eight, at least. If you like horror, watch it. If not, watch it anyways because its good. Unless you don’t like demons, gore, unnamed highways, or mysterious meats.