Capone's Art-House Round-Up with THE HALLOW, IN THE BASEMENT, and A POEM IS A NAKED PERSON!!!

Hey, folks. Capone in Chicago here, with a few films that are making their way into art houses or coming out in limited release around America this week (maybe even taking up one whole screen at a multiplex near you). Do your part to support these films, or at least the good ones…


THE HALLOW
Steeped in Irish folklore and featuring a nasty, black, spiky ooze covering nearly every square inch of each location, the feature debut of visual artist-turned-director/co-writer Corin Hardy plays it smart by not rushing its audience into the true nature of the horror at work or what its intentions are regarding a family of newcomers to the forest in which it is set. THE HALLOW follows the travails of Adam Hitchens (Joseph Mawle), a conservationist who has been relocated with his wife Clare (Bojana Novakovic) and infant son to a small town deep in the woods and bogs of the Irish countryside. He hasn't even been in town a month, but he's already noticed a sickness in some of the trees in the thick forrest that surrounds his home—something that will require them to be cut down in great numbers to stop the spread of what he believes is an aggressive fungus.

Once the townsfolk are made aware of Adam's job and intentions, the make their displeasure known, especially neighbor Colm Donnelly (Michael McElhatton), who tells tale of the creatures and forces that dwell in the Hallow who will resist any attempt to have trees removed or too much attention paid to their little corner of the woods. One night, the window in the baby's room breaks and some unseen entity trashes the room a bit before vanishing, triggering a call to the local law enforcement (Michael Smiley), who doesn't believe in the legends of the area, but doesn't entirely discount them either.

THE HALLOW takes a good half of its modest running time to give us a real sense of what's really going on, leaving open the possibility that the strange noises and other disturbances at their humble millhouse are simply angry neighbors harassing this new family. But after a couple of violent attacks in the dark and fleeting glimpses of inhuman shapes dashing between the trees, it becomes clear that some misshapen humanoid creatures are living in the woods intent on snatching the Hitchens's child. The story itself takes place only over a couple of harrowing days and nights, but by the beginning of the second evening, the terror sets in and the danger is quite real.

Hardy and co-writer Felipe Marino not only wisely keep us from seeing these monsters in any detail for quite some time—although the visual effects makeup is extraordinarily grisly—they also don't give us too much information about the nature or origin of this roving band of snarling beasts. In addition, details about the black ooze that seems to play a role in the creatures' chemistry is kept to a minimum, although it seems clear that it is essential to spreading whatever disease they and much of the surrounding wildlife have.

With the helps of his low-light-capable cinematographer Martijn van Broekhuizen (whose use of figures in the shadows to establish high tension is exquisite), director Hardy establishes a undeniably terrifying final act, with woodland creatures closing in (not unlike the underground dwellers in Neil Marshall's masterful THE DESCENT) and the dynamic between the husband and wife... substantially changed over the course of the film. Clare steps up to become the unexpected hero of The Hallow, protecting her child and urging Adam to pull it together and save his family. The fear and tension throughout the work is undeniable and unmistakable, thick with anxiety and raw fear.

Extracting many a scream from a simple use of what you see—or think you see—as well as a masterful sound design from Steve Fanagan, The Hallow makes great use of its small number of settings, spending the majority of the film either in the woods or in the couple's small, fragile cabin, which features its own infestation of creeping, squishy ooze. And the only thing more cringe-worthy than the black muck in this film is the moment someone puts their hands on or in it to remove it from whatever its obstructing. A sequence involving Adam stripping away the ever-expanding mass from under the hood of his car is wonderfully repulsive.

Admittedly, the movie begins following a familiar horror pattern—rather than simply leave at the first sign of trouble, this couple decide to be tough and stick it out, even after its clear that something has its sites set on their baby. But a combination of creatively realized, organic-based monsters, regional mythology, and a seriously scary final act make THE HALLOW essential viewing for lovers of the scary. There are subtle nods to classic terror films throughout (including a few choice dedications in the credits), as well as a ridiculously fun during-credits stinger that offers one more shock for the road.


IN THE BASEMENT
In all honesty, for about the first 15 minutes of the new Ulrich Seidl (the PARADISE trilogy, DOG DAYS, IMPORT/EXPORT) film IN THE BASEMENT, I didn't know if I was watching one of his expertly observed documentaries or one of his carefully crafted feature films, featuring eccentric characters doing bizarre things. Seidl makes both styles of film so compellingly that, rather than look it up, I was keen to figure it out on my own. It took me a while to accept that people doing some of the things we see in this examination of the hidden lives people have in their basements would ever open up their secret worlds to a filmmaker, but sure enough, that's exactly what they've done. And the results are often fascinating and occasionally startling.

Set in his native Austria, the film allows us an opportunity to peer into the darkened sublevel of homes and people's psychological depths. Some of the subject are touching, in particular a woman who keeps life-like baby dolls in their coffin-like boxes on shelves, and pulls them out to talk with them, pamper them, sing them lullabies, and put them back in their box until the next day. But if you've ever seen a Seidl movie, you know he's interested in something a bit more twisted. The most unsettling characters aren't the S&M couple, in which the dominating mistress hangs small weights onto her male slave's testicles. No, the one that disturbed me was the tuba player who likes to gather his four-piece brass band in his basement and play tunes while surround by a massive collection of Nazi memorabilia. This guy never voices his opinions about Nazi policies or values, so there's a chance he just enjoys the collection as a collection, but it's easy to read a great deal into his silence on the subject.

I don't know what Seidl's feelings are toward his homeland, but a few of his subjects seem chosen as a means of criticizing certain pockets of dangerous types in the society. One man has a shooting range in his basement and clearly fancies himself a type of gunslinger. He's shown drinking heavily with his gun-toting pals, talking about how dangerous it is to allow so many foreigners into Austria, especially from the Middle East. Good times. Next to these characters, the guy who has filled his basement with the heads of dozens of exotic species that he has hunted and killed seems downright tame.

A decidedly adult film (which carries a "some images may be disturbing to more sensitive viewers" warning), IN THE BASEMENT isn't just a display-case work, where we can stare at the freaks and comment upon their lifestyle. There's a distinct attempt by Seidl to dig a little deeper and allow his subjects to talk about what they're up to away from prying eyes. Some fare better than others, and I was genuinely moved by a couple of the S&M interviews (yes, there is more than one couple) who explained the role of tenderness amid punishment and mild torture. It's a tough watch at times, but I dare you to take your eyes of the screen. Seidl knows exactly what he's doing, and what's he has produced is endlessly captivating.


A POEM IS A NAKED PERSON
Some music documentaries want to make sure you are painfully aware of context—who everyone on screen is, where everything is taking place, and what every song is that you're hearing. But after about five minutes of watching the long-lost A POEM IS A NAKED PERSON doc about Oklahoma phenom Leon Russell, I'd like to make a case for throwing the audience into the deep end and being totally immersed in time and place. What I write in this review is more background than I had when I began watching this film, commissioned by Russell (he's even seen giving instruction to the cameramen) in 1974 and directed by then-first-time filmmaker Les Blank, who also edited and went on to do such moving documentaries as BURDEN OF DREAMS and THE BLUES ACCORDIN’ TO LIGHTNIN’ HOPKINS.

Aside from the embarrassing wealth of great concert footage of Russell and his loose but tightly rehearsed band, the movie also attemptis to capture the Oklahoma that the musician grew up in. As a result, we get a scrapbook of shots revealing everything from the religious and spiritual backbone of the community to local fairs to a group of onlookers waiting for a building to get demolished and then rummaging through the debris for choice artifacts. We also get random drop-bys in the studio or concert stage by the likes of George Jones and Willie Nelson, which only adds to the impressive musical selections. Perhaps my favorite/least favorite random sequence is of a local boa constrictor enthusiast feeding both a baby chick and full-size chicken to his pet. Nothing says good eatin' like watching a snake unhinge its jaw to fit a chicken's wiry feet into its mouth.

Watching Russell simply hanging out backstage can occasionally be enlightening as well. He seems to surround himself with two kinds of fans and admirers: good ol' boys who are thoroughly drunk and slightly aggressive and dirty hippies who love spouting their vague philosophies at Russell and getting more of the same right back. The film does sometimes identify these people, but never actually tells us if they're in a band or are some local celebrity or are just a hanger on looking for free weed. And that's actually okay, because in many ways, our glimpse into Russell's life is as much of a blur of faces, smoke and music as it likely was for him.

Behind his piano, Russell was part Elton John (who was coming up at the same time as Russell), part Dr. John, part Southern shaman who turned any space into a revival. If the stories are true, Russell disliked this film so much that he held it back from release, due in large part to the "asides" taking up so much of the film. But the film has been fully restored, and is an amazing, too-long-delayed tribute to a great musician who very few people actually know from this period in his career. A POEM IS A NAKED PERSON is not your standard-issue concert film or music doc; it's an utterly unique, near spiritual experience that's about as funky as you can get on top of it.

-- Steve Prokopy
"Capone"
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