Black Gate

There was only one film I planned to watch on July 24, and that was writer-director Johannes Nyholm’s Koko-di Koko-da. It promised to be a strange movie about characters trying to break out of a time loop, and I settled in at the De Sève Theatre wondering at the horror elements implied by the film’s description in the festival catalogue.

It’s a little difficult to describe the plot of this movie without giving away a major swerve at the end of the first act. But: an opening section introduces us to the happily-married Tobias (Leif Edlund Johansson) and Elin (Ylva Gallon). Then we see tragedy strike, and after an interlude with shadow-puppets we skip forward three years to the main part of the movie. Tobias and Elin are on the verge of separating, sniping at each other as they set out on a vacation together. They end up camping overnight in the woods, and in the morning are attacked by three vicious wanderers: the brutal giant Sampo (Morad Khatchadorian), the sinister Cherry (Brandy Litmanen), and a short ringmaster named Mog (Peter Belli). With them is an attack dog. Tobias and Elin are killed — and then Tobias awakes at dawn and the whole thing begins again.

We eventually come to understand what is happening here, and roughly why. The conclusion ties up the loop in an interesting mobius strip of causality. And one of the loops follows Elin instead of Tobias, producing an unusual resolution. But there are problems here.

Before I get to them, I want to note what the movie does right, and how I read what it’s trying to do. To start with, it looks very nice, and it’s shot with a strong eye for point-of-view. The woods are a place of dread, not just dark but cold and damp. The more joyous early part of the movie is bathed in light, brighter in atmosphere, but still with an almost subliminal sense of weirdness.

Character is the driver of the film, and the basic sense of who the leads are is very strong. This is not true of the wanderers, but that’s fine; their purpose is to drive events, to put stress on Elin and Tobias. I am not sure that the dramatic structure really helps bring out the interaction and relationship of those two. But then again the film seems to aim at establishing them less through dialogue and more through a close observation of their actions — not just what they do but how they do it, their every shiver and every wild glance.

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I had one film on my schedule for July 23, an Irish horror-themed comedy named Extra Ordinary. It was preceded by one of the best shorts I saw at Fantasia this year outside of a short film showcase.

Directed by Jason Gudasz, “Place” is a horror-comedy that works well in both its aspects. It opens as a young family moves into a new home, and finds something unwelcome waiting. The place, evidently, is haunted. But the pressures this puts on the family are resolved in an unexpected way. This results in a film that’s spooky, yet that also deftly deflates the tension it raises. The jokes work and set up character points, explaining the conflicts in the family and how the relationship between mother (Emily Green) and step-father (Nick Hurley) doesn’t really work. The images subtly create a tone that works both with horror and comedy, and it ends a series of related vignettes in a satisfying way that ties the 11-minute story together.

Extra Ordinary was written and directed by the duo of Mike Ahern and Enda Loughman. It follows Rose (Maeve Higgins), a driving instructor in her thirties in a small Irish town; she also happens to be the daughter of a long-dead paranormal investigator, and can see ghosts. She’s turned her back on her abilities as a medium ever since her father died during the course of one investigation. Unfortunately, an American rock star named Christian Winter (Will Forte) has plans to revive his career with a diabolic pact, which involves sacrificing the daughter of local widower Martin Martin (Barry Ward). Barry, already haunted by his dead wife, must seek Rose’s help, and hope she’ll return to her ghostbusting ways.

The movie’s a pleasant, entertaining watch that doesn’t do anything especially surprising but does what it does quite well. I described it as a ‘horror-themed comedy’ above instead of a ‘horror-comedy’ because while it’s all about ghosts and ectoplasm and black magic, there’s nothing actually horrific in it. There’s a reasonable amount of dramatic tension, but the supernatural goings-on aren’t used to inspire dread or fear. They’re there to set up gags, and to provide a solid story structure which in turn supports and generates further gags.

It has to be said the plot isn’t too solid in its details. The nature of the pact inspires a deadline in which Rose and Martin race around town trying to get a specified amount of ectoplasm during a night which seems far too long for the amount of activity that takes place. There’s another point where the evil Winter uses magic to locate a vital component of the ritual, only to find out said component is not usable; one therefore wonders why the spell led him where it did.

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I had been planning to head home after the first movie I saw on July 22, Fly Me to the Saitama. But looking at what followed it in the Hall Theatre, I decided to stick around. Bliss was billed as an unconventional punk vampire movie, and indeed director Joe Begos introduced it to the crowd as a “hallucinatory splatter movie about sex, drugs, rock n’roll, and vampires.” Fair to say I was curious, unsure whether to expect something very good or off-the-rails bad. What I got is maybe best described as off-the-rails good.

First came a 13-minute short, “MJ,” directed by Jamie Delaney from a script by Delaney and Coral Amiga. Amiga also stars as Mary Jane, a quiet, isolated young woman who becomes increasingly wrapped up in social media and online hook-ups. It is not long before this obsession turns violent. It’s a well-shot film, with engagingly minimal dialogue. Amiga underplays her part to good effect, letting viewers alternately sympathise with and be appalled by her character.

Then Bliss. Dezzy (Dora Madison, of various TV series including Dexter, Chicago Fire, and Friday Night Lights) is an artist in Los Angeles, behind on her rent and about to get kicked out of her apartment-studio. She’s promised her agent a new painting, but hasn’t completed a picture in some time as she tries to get clean. Then she visits her old drug dealer Hadrian (Graham Skipper) and his pals (one of whom is played by George Wendt, of all people), where she gets a new drug called bliss, which fuels a wild night for her with her friend Courtney. And afterward, everything is different. Dezzy begins to paint again, sometimes without being conscious of what she’s doing, creating a weird hellscape. But her behaviour becomes more erratic and extreme. And bloody.

Also disorienting, even psychedelic. The haze of LA smog becomes the haze of altered consciousness. Dezzy finds her new creativity fuelled by bliss, meaning she has to seek out more and more of the drug to keep going. As she’d drawn into her painting, the people around her — landlord, agent, friends, boyfriend — become at best irrelevant and at worst obstacles to be dealt with. She is the painterly equivalent of a poète maudit, and even if there were nothing else happening in it Bliss would be notable for its depiction of artistic obsession with a woman as the tormented transgressive genius at its heart.

It is a very unintellectual (though not necessarily anti-intellectual) look at artistic obsession, though. There is a lot of viscera, and Madison spends a lot of time naked, including while working at the easel. This ought to feel ludicrous, exploitative, or both; it doesn’t, thanks largely to Madison’s talent and conviction. The film is locked on Dezzy as a character, and Madison carries it capably. She’s got a charisma that keeps the story from feeling monotonous or predictable, even though the outline’s familiar and the sequence of events — Dezzy looking for drugs, Dezzy engaging in extreme behaviour, Dezzy painting — repetitive. Each of Dezzy’s adventures feels like it goes a step further than the last, and Madison’s depiction of Dezzy’s reactions helps sell us on that.

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