Inside Out

              There is a moment while watching a great film or reading a wonderful piece of literature when it appears the screen between the filmmaker and audience member has fallen.  On these rare occasions (rarer still in the current Hollywood climate), a true connection is made between artist and consumer.  The reader or viewer finds something in the story or image that speaks to them personally.  As the late Richard Griffiths explains to his student in The History Boys, it is like a hand reaching out and grasping yours. 

                I had such an experience while watching Disney Pixar’s Inside Out.   Directed by Pete Docter and Ronaldo Del Carmen, the film does what all Pixar films do best; it industrializes and anthropomorphizes a concept.  Monster’s Inc. looks at the economics of fear within a society of monsters under the bed.  Finding Nemo explores mass transportation in the aquatic realm.  With Inside Out, Pixar brings to life the internal business of thoughts and emotions. 

                In the film, every human and sentient creature’s head is filled with walking talking emotions. The “head office” (not my pun) of our young hero Riley is populated by Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Fear (Bill Hader), Anger (Lewis Black), and Disgust (Mindy Kaling).  While the group takes turns controlling the main computer, Joy is the clear leader.  Riley is a happy sprite and Joy spends her days creating fine memories for her young charge.  However, Riley’s life is turned upside down by a sudden cross country move.  What follows is a unique and enthralling take on the coming of age story where both Riley and her emotions must grow up and accept the complexities of life. 

                This was what I found most surprising in Inside Out.  Many Pixar films deal with adult and somewhat dark issues.   The first twenty minutes of Up?  Jeez.  My heart still hurts from that one.  Inside Out has no lack of tear jerking moments.  In the tradition of Pixar and all Disney films, growing up is tragic and beautiful.  Friends die and memories are lost.  Yet, with Inside Out, the filmmakers don’t just tackle the darkness but also the greys.   Joy is not always the most helpful and sadness isn’t always harmful.  It is in their meeting that we truly live.   For anyone who has been to therapy, sometimes it’s okay not to be okay. 

                This abstract, high concept is the film’s greatest strength, but also its greatest weakness.  The symbolism of Joy dragging Sadness through the vaulted hallways of memory is clear.  While these analogies can be thought provoking and personally resonant, the logic isn’t always stable.   The main question I ask is “Who has agency here?”  Are the emotions in control of Riley or are they simply performing based on her moods?  Is every action the emotions take reflective of an action taken by Riley?  In films like Toy Story it is clear that the Woody and Buzz are separate from Andy.  In Inside Out, the directors seem to have bitten off more than they can chew. 

                These questions of logic do not linger long when bombarded by the film’s dazzling imagery.  The production and character design of the brain world are vibrant and evocative.  They stand in stark contrast to the photorealistic, drizzly streets of San Francisco.  The “real” world is less Uncle Walt and more David Fincher.  Both worlds are rendered in such glorious detail, I found myself easily transported. 

                That is the true magic of this film.  On one hand, I felt whisked away to a strange, colorful land.  On the other, I found myself going deeper into myself, examining my own life and struggles with mental health.   In a summer where the explosions are bigger and the ideas smaller, Inside Out reminds us what great film can truly be.   It is an invitation to travel far and deep.

                

It Follows

              Midway through David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows, Jay (Maika Munroe) enters the office of a high school, looking for answers to her supernatural case of the Clap.  As she passes through the frame, the camera begins to spin in a slow circle, establishing the cinematic space and revealing the deadly creature, hot on her trail.  While a tremendously effective sequence, I could not help but jump up and scream, “That’s the shot from De Palma’s Blow Out!”  I didn’t actually do that, but I was really, really close to embarrassing myself. 

                For the obsessive cinephile, this is one of many shots, music cues, and sequences culled from the masterworks of 70s and 80s genre directors like De Palma, Carpenter, and Craven.  Many new, indie horror directors have a habit of referencing the greats in the hopes of elevating their material or at least pleasing the crowd.  This is not the case with David Robert Mitchell.  Unlike the generic pandering of Eli Roth or the uncontrolled stylings of Adam Wingard, Mitchell’s mosaic of horror throwbacks is both invisible and seamless.  He weaves his homages into an original story that is at once a love letter to genre fare and the most important American horror film released in the last decade.  Sorry for the superlatives.  It’s just that good. 

                In his debut feature, The Myth of the American Sleepover, Mitchell exhibited a gifted ear for teen dialogue and an Altman/Linklater style of direction.  In Myth, the writing and performances are understated and allow the audience to feel privy to real conversations and real lives.  In It Follows, this is no different.  When we meet Jay’s sister, Kelly (Lili Sepe), and friends Paul (Keir Gilchrist) and Yara (Olivia Luccardi), their characterizations are quick and effortless.  In a mere three minutes, their friendships and history are communicated subtly, yet clearly. 

                Mitchell surrounds these characters with a realistic, yet impressionistic environment.  On one hand, Jay’s street feels like it could be Anywhere, USA, an important feature in many classic horror films.  On the other, the fact that this is a Detroit suburb lends the film an undercurrent of class warfare and economic strife.  This subtext is somewhat sabotaged by the production design inside these suburban houses.  The televisions, radios, and decoration are a mix of 1970s and 1980s interior design.  It makes sense considering the cinema the film references, but these design choices take away from the realistic sense of time and place. 

                Watching Myth, it is hard to see how the director would transition to horror.  Well, I’m sorry I had any doubts.  Mitchell’s well-drawn characters and realistic relationships give the film real stakes.  Relatable characters are so often absent in horror.  When Mitchell’s group of teens enter the fray, we care about them, and that makes it all the more terrifying.  They are not attractive cattle waiting for the slaughter.  They are identifiable and, more importantly, lovable.   Mitchell is greatly assisted by the performances of his main actors, namely Maika Munroe.  Considering her role in The Guest, Munroe is making her mark as a modern day scream queen. 

                And she does scream.  A lot.  Following her throughout the film is an invisible, yet physical force.   Employing lighting, sound, and framing, Mitchell creates a great sense of unease and existential dread.   This is the sign of great horror direction.  The director shies away from computer generated effects and cheap scares.  Like Carpenter or even Kubrick, Mitchell makes use of cinematic fundamentals.   He dynamizes the frame so that the threat can come from any direction.   No place is safe for Jay…or the audience. 

                Great horror fiction and film goes beyond scaring the audience.  They tackle or at least struggle to deal with real fears.  So many horror films have dealt with fears of sexually transmitted disease.   Tony Scott's The Hunger and David Cronenberg's Shivers both find ways of making disease tangible.  In It Follows, Mitchell not only finds a new analog for STDs but adds a new dimension to the horror.  What if you could pass on your disease and save yourself?  That is the very question Jay must answer. 

                Now, I have to admit that I may be biased toward this film.  With a 80s synth score like this one, I would pretty much give a positive review to any film.  If you put the Thief soundtrack over Paul Blart: Mall Cop, I would love that film.  Disasterpeace’s score for It Follows is pure Tangerine Dream/Jan Hammer magic.  Unlike the 80s design aesthetic, the throwback score fits the film’s mood and atmosphere perfectly.  Like John Carpenter, Mitchell understands that an evocative score can make a horror film into one unified piece. 

                And that is what It Follows ultimately is.  It is a composite of great genre films and it is something new.  It is all this at once.  This is so rare, especially in the horror genre.  It Follows is wonderfully singular and represents a new voice in American Independent filmmaking.   Now, time to watch Blow Out again.