December 2023

The Lake (2022)

The Lake is a movie about many things. Oddly enough, a lake isn’t one of them.

Rather, Thai filmmaker Lee Thongkham has gifted us with a magnificently exotic specimen that defies easy categorization. It also has to be one of the dampest movies ever! There is pouring rain in like 75 percent of the shots!

In a humble Thai village, bordered by a river and a lake, humble Thai fishermen and toad wranglers gather in the gloomy darkness (with rain dumping buckets) to hunt their respective quarries.

While pursuing tasty amphibians one group of men discover an enormous egg and wisely decide to run off with it, no doubt with visions of enormous omelettes in their futures.

Seeking quick profit over respecting the sanctity of the nest, draws the ire of a rampaging parent monster and the interlopers are dealt with harshly.

The egg is found by May (Wanmai Chatborirack) a curious and empathetic little girl who becomes its protector, much to the dismay of her older sister and brother, who now find themselves as the heads of the household and in charge of the willful child, since their father, an unlucky fisherman, was recently squashed by the angry monster.

One of many points raised by writer-director Lee Thongkham, is that the family unit is a sacred thing, which explains why the kaiju from the lake is so thoroughly pissed at these poor starving peasants who’ve made off with her bambino.

Thongkham encourages peaceful solutions to the conflict between the enraged monster and the humans that poached its egg. On the way to forgiving and forgetting, there are many lessons to be learned, including, who knew that Thai monster movies were such a kick?

The creature effects are first-rate. Whether it’s a very nimble dude in a rubber suit raising hell among the fleeing villagers or the XXL version that’s ready rock in Bangkok, fans of monster mayhem will be tickled pink.

Go ahead and take a dip in The Lake. You’ll get all wet, but it’s quite refreshing.

Berberian Sound Studio (2012)

If you’ve ever remarked aloud words to the effect of “this job is killing me,” then perhaps you can understand the kind of hell that protagonist Gilderoy (Toby Jones) faces in Berberian Sound Studio, a meticulously unnerving film by Peter Strickland.

Gilderoy is a sound editor for movies, recognized internationally as a true artisan in a mostly vulgar industry. He takes an assignment in Italy that turns out to be a lurid horror movie about the Inquisition, and finds himself at odds with everyone around him, including the raging director (Cosimo Fusco), a playboy producer (Antonio Mancino), and various unhappy actresses who complain that they haven’t been paid.

Time is measured fitfully. Gilderoy, feeling more trapped every day, is unable to get reimbursed for his airfare by a sneering secretary (Tonia Sotiropoulo), forcing him into a captivity spent devising gruesome sound effects for a movie about (mainly) torture and screaming women.

We are witness to countless taping sessions of chopping, stabbing, boiling, and mutilating many pounds of fruits and vegetables, which never seem to get cleaned up, giving us a behind-the-scenes look at a studio full of moldy produce.

And it appears the mold is growing in direct proportion to the increasing torment depicted in the film being made, which the viewer never sees.

Meanwhile, actresses continue to scream in the sound booth. The director isn’t remotely satisfied with anyone’s terror level, and bullies the hapless audio supervisor into turning things up a bit.

Not surprisingly, the mild-mannered and repressed Gilderoy begins to lose his grip on reality, cheered only by an occasional letter from his mother. Even these become sinister as the days roll by, as if the carnage he helps create in this cursed Italian production has infected every branch in his life.

Writer-director Peter Strickland has cunningly fabricated a stinging slow-burner about the frailty of the creative spirit and how the battle between art and crass commercialism can cost you your very soul—not unlike say, Barton Fink.

Berberian Sound Studio plays out as a hypnotic and haunting collage of rolling tapes, clipping VU meters, and the turning of knobs, all of which contribute to a very soft man’s ruin, brilliantly realized by veteran stage actor Toby Jones (also sublime in The Detectorists), with whom we sympathize every awful step.

It’s also a “way homer” and worth the time it takes to puzzle over. I’m still thinking on it.

Cobweb (2023)

Pity poor Peter (Woody Norman), an eight-year-old kid who just wants a decent night’s sleep, a life without bullies, and a normal mom and dad.

In Cobweb, we learn that Peter’s school days are spent hiding from evil classmate Brian (Luke Busey, a third-generation movie psycho), while his home life is watched over by his stern parents Carol (Lizzy Caplan) and Mark (Antony Starr), an odd, secretive couple who aren’t afraid to dish out severe punishments for being too curious.

The problem is, Peter is being kept awake at night by intermittent tapping in the walls and his freaky parents dismiss his concerns by telling him he has an overactive imagination!

Peter tries to enlist the help of Miss Devine (Cleopatra Cole), his new teacher, but her appearance at his home results in the lad getting locked in the creepy basement, where he makes further contact with someone else living in their house. Someone who develops a powerful hold over the lonely tyke.

Cobweb‘s rookie director Sam Bodin shows off a fully stocked cabinet of gothic panache, creating a nightmare landscape to rival Tim Burton, one that seems all but inescapable to our young protagonist.

Bodin and writer Chris Thomas Devlin understand a child’s limited worldview and what perceived threats can endanger it.

Question: Is it my imagination or does the creative team of this movie enjoy tormenting kids just a bit too much? In any case, Cobweb is a fiercely original film that should scare the bejesus out of any average, run-of-the-mill rugrat.

It’s not for them, anyway.