One Missed Call

One Missed Call: Chronicle of a Death Foretold

Takashi Miike's One Missed Call, from 2003, is a creepy horror effort that investigates the legacy of child abuse. The film is a game of phone tag with young women dying after receiving messages that foretell the date and time of their deaths. Logically, the film doesn't hold up and characterization is not Miike's forte. He does, however, have an eye for unsettling images. What sticks in one's mind about Miike's films, particularly his masterpiece, Audition, are not the conscious tropes of narrative and character, but images that conjure the dread and power of the unconscious. Miike is a master of slow tracking shots and pans that capture a peculiarly modern sense of unease. He is also expert at crafting soundtracks that have an unnerving tactility. Cronenberg is an obvious influence and Miike shares with the Canadian master a gift for evoking an alienating atmosphere from modern interiors and exteriors. 

The Story of a Cheat

Sacha Guitry's The Story of a Cheat, from 1936, moves along with the propulsive energy of a Dixieland band. A delightful frolic, The Story of a Cheat chronicles the life and times of a scoundrel who climbs the greasy pole of French society whilst shuttling back and forth from the cafes of Paris to the casino in Monaco. Guitry, directing only his second film, plays the protagonist as an unrepentant cad. The tone is one of ironic detachment, as in Lubitsch or Moliere. Guitry narrates the film, which largely eschews expositional dialogue. The film hurtles along at a swift, entertaining pace punctuated by swift pans and exclamatory close-ups. The effect is musical. Equal to the 30s comedies of Chaplin and superior to most of Lubitsch's from that era.

Fido

 

Andrew Currie's Fido, from 2006, is a pleasant, if meandering zombie comedy. In an alternate mid-century America where zombies are domesticated servants and pets, Currie pokes fun at a Leave it to Beaver type suburbia with fascistic underpinnings. The costumes and décor are eye popping. The cinematography by Jan Kiesser glows with well contrasted color. However, Fido's pacing is as shambolic as its zombies. Currie is more interested in exploring the subtext of his narrative, zombie as American outsider, than in pacing or comic riffs. He is too tight on the leashes of his players, confining them to a set place in his frame. Zombie movies require a sense of creeping anarchy that is missing here. The zombies don't get to shamble enough in Fido.

Still, a movie that utilizes such undervalued talents as Billy Connolly, Henry Czerny and Tim Blake Nelson has some points in its favor. Best of all is Carrie-Anne Moss, freed here from her usual uptight bitch typecasting, who casts a warm maternal glow as a Mom chafing against the strictures of a repressive society. Fido's obviousness slows down its proceedings, but it is relatively well-crafted and amiable.