Zombieland: Double Tap

Zombies continue to terrify the living and have even grimly mutated in the ravenous Double Tap.

Rules and regulations still provide psychoshelter as predictable routines and collegial cheer augment feisty brainiac exhilarations.

The new zombies fall into 4 categories, none more deadly than the T-800, who can dodge bullets and employ martial arts, with more ferocity than the agile ninja.

While hunting insatiably en masse.

Or scouring the land strict and solo.

Zombieland's heroes have resiliently returned to face the undead once more, but youth has blossomed with age, and seeks less old school jejune internships.

And after argumentatively co-existing for combative years on end, group members set out in search of riled alternatives.

Like bears opposed to sleuthing.

Uplifting independence, unpasteurized brays.

If you've forgotten what took place in the original, fret not, for you will be reminded, about so much of what transpired in fact, exceeding recourse to novel genealogy.

And somehow, even though the internet has lost its edge, and most of the planet has been infected, news still travels remarkably fast, and stats still motivate restless recollections.

Without maps or GPS peeps travel instinctively far and wide, always aware of where they're going, often sticking to backwoods paths.

The next generation has yet to materialize but good relations remain free from censure, and even conjugally express their bold rewards, extant shenanigans of a secular age.

Non-perishables uphold and sustain commercial values, and nothing seems to have run out after all this perilous time.

Platonically speaking, healthy appetite flourishes unrestrained, the loyal spirit still courageously defending a laid-back immured intelligentsia.

Who peacefully refrain.

With warm impassioned jouissance.

There are some new developments and I won't deny that it's fun to watch, but Zombieland 2 still relies too heavily on source material, and makes way less sense so many years later.

I suppose a zombie horror-comedy sequel doesn't have to abound with plausibility.

But its focus on rules still rationally suggests otherwise.

A bit too much spirit.

Not enough strategy.

Effervescent clandestine innocence.

Free to fluster, exile, array.

Ready or Not

Ornate bedazzling conjugal prudence, quizzically steeped in risk-fuelled dilemma, substituting strategic seance for picturesque pleasures, familial fraternizing, an evening bygone, enormous wealth obtained through rash demonic recourse, bearing conditions, inextricable bounds, a friendly gathering perhaps, a meet and greet, presumed paternal pastures, pejorative precipitate, malicious discountenance, you must play by the rules, dissembled decrees, overstated maladroit discerned incumbent acrimony, bewitching flights of fancy, hidden codes, simplicity.

It could have been sundrenched and storybook, their marriage freely uplifting protest, age old yet modernly equipped, escapading nascent naivety.

A beach even.

Some ice cream.

Yet their wedded bliss is dependent upon satanic ceremonious sanctity, as humble and waylaid as it is despotic, cruel, assumed tensions with in-laws ballistically manifested, stubborn caprice immortally presumed, a game of chance as alluring as apple pie, with a slice of cheese and whipped cream and cinnamon, no preparation given to the rapturous bride, her adoring husband rather upset.

Run for it.

Deconstruct the embargo.

Grace (Samara Weaving) outwits her adversaries for some time, but in so doing Ready or Not runs into trouble, for the logical course she frenetically follows lacks character and interactivity, the question, "how do you fill a script, wherein which a newly wed must be grimly hunted down and then ritualistically sacrificed, with steady doses of thoughtful conversation?", remaining, the answer to which requires necromantic genius, and supplies more verbose discontinuities.

I think the idea was to keep most of them around to perform the sacrifice in the end, even if it could have been done with a far less complementary ensemble.

Such an approach wouldn't have made as much sense, but it would have provided more spoiled food for thought, I'm not sure how seriously horror writers have to take sense anyways, inasmuch as the genre's inherently nuts.

If they had still made it seem realistic it would have been phenomenal.

There are some great horror films that do come across as if they're real though, their horror producing much more lasting feelings of anxiety, why do I watch these films?, but it's not as if they reasonably or rationally make sense when you think about them afterward, it's more like they do a much better job of making the absurd seem plausible, as if meaninglessness were something profound.

Which Ready or Not could have been with less chase and more pace as it generates distressing alarm.

I know I wrote I don't watch horror films much anymore.

But Les Fauves made a perfect fit with my schedule.

And Ready or Not co-stars Kristian Bruun (Fitch Bradley) from Murdoch Mysteries.

He has some great lines.

I would have ended the film with the phrase, "got married."

It seemed more appropriate at the time.

Not the greatest but still above average.

It's like it has action figures in mind.

*I didn't even mean to rhyme all that.

**Damn.

The Predator

The Predator franchise having adjourned several years past on a rather unexpected bone-trilling high note, I was quite eager to entertain its brave successor, inasmuch as it seemed reasonable that it would reach even greater heights, hope logically characterized through lighthearted thrift, the lack of prolonged accompanying anticipatory proclamations (trailers) further augmenting wondrous presumption,  I imagined it would impress, if not at least, mischievously diversify.

Yet it seems as if the new team was somewhat overwhelmed by their preceding act, and therefore sought transformative comedic consolidations, the resultant feature perhaps shocking resigned traditionalists, who no doubt stayed till the campy end regardless.

Not to say that Shane Black's unique approach lacks merit, but the Predator films do generally attempt to frighten, relying more heavily on horror than the absurd, often tending to terrify demonstrously.

Within elite commandoes find themselves replaced with a duty-free band of misfits, who have the audacity to tell jokes and exalt mischief, the rapidly paced loosely structured plot maladroitly reflecting their shenanigans, the resulting synthesis bizarrely endearing, typically tantalizing withheld revelations, bluntly shared, unabashed, tomfoolery.

It's more like a keg party than a night out at Saint-Bock, enthusiasm and excess carelessly abounding without taking much time to consider effect, mood, ambience, or likelihood.

Correspondingly, solutions readily present themselves, albeit in an inebriated way, chaotic resiliencies flying high on adrenaline, a family caught up in the jetstreamed carnage.

It's like Joes who haven't done much research suddenly find themselves experientially reaching ingenious conclusions, heavily saturated with kitschy ingenuity, as unconcerned as they are bewildered.

But even if they charmingly hypothesize, they can't outwit the film's brazen capacity.

It is fun though.

I like what they're trying to do, i.e, write a critical horror/comedy, and they mention all kinds of cool things like buses and science and global warming.

Plus it's co-starring Jake Busey (Keyes).

But the script could have perhaps used another round of edits, during which perhaps the predator dog idea would have been reimagined or left out.

A courageous attempt not lacking in ambition that still goes way too far, while mischievously diversifying no less, The Predator may have seriously impressed had it been crafted with more critical insight.

It may convince people to start thinking more seriously about climate change though.

Climate change is definitely real within.

And hopefully still will be in upcoming sequels.

*I never even listened to the Yardbirds!

Harrumph!

The Killing of a Sacred Deer

The darker side of contemporary sick demented psycho comedy distraughtly horrifies in The Killing of a Sacred Deer, which is sort of like The Lobster's less nuanced emaciated bile, striving to absorb Yorgos Lanthimos's excess fat, while also producing gut wrenching nausea.

Whereas a lot of time and care went into crafting The Lobster's clever maniacal sociocultural criticisms, Sacred Deer is more like that other idea Lanthimos had while ingeniously writing, an idea that was perhaps quickly given the green light after the former's success to capitalize on wry sadistic sensation.

All the elements for a bit of intelligent woeful macabre distraction are there, and whether or not he was being intentionally banal is beside the point, it's just too content with suffering to offer any critical stoic insights, as if it wants to be masochistically beaten to the point of bitter exhaustion.

Even if you're being intentionally banal to comment on how disenchantment abounds, it doesn't change the fact that banality is banality and your audience is still stuck sitting through the entire practically pointless slide show.

Perhaps such endeavours do encourage creative growth, I'm in no position to measure such outcomes, but if it's not a way to make a trite point that metaphorically condemns a lack of bold fictional imagination, it's a lazy way to disinterestedly appear genuine for a mundane bit of excruciating tedium.

Why does the new Twin Peaks come to mind?

The Secret History of 'Twin Peaks' book is quite good.

Barry Keoghan (Marting) haphazardly steals the show and is given the best material, notably his interactions with infatuated Kim (Raffey Cassidy) and his ice cold emotionless curses.

Nevertheless, like Sophie's Choice if it had an aneurism, The Killing of a Sacred Deer begs brilliant qualifications but flops down more like an unappealing B-side, or Belle and Sebastian's How to Solve Our Human Problems (Part 1).

La Femme's Mystère?

Which means it is an excellent horror film.

Comedic tremors notwithstanding.