300, but with less homoerotic tension, thanks in part to the contributions of Eva Green, a vicious, smoldering twist of an invader, who turns in one of the more ridiculous yet strangely intoxicating love scenes in the history of cinema. Before and after this scene, it’s just a lot of slo-mo spears and swords, a comic-book Spartacus-meets-Gold’s Gym.
On reflection, Eva Green’s mating style is remarkably similar in Dark Shadows:
The trend away from gore porn and toward chilling, moody scary movies remains welcome. Oculus is a worthy fingers-over-the-eyes addition, in the mold of The Conjuring, and sporting a clever storyline that tracks, and intersects, the childhood trauma of two kids whose house was haunted by a spooky mirror and their attempts as adults to destroy it. The execution is crisp and even ingenious, and the child actors (Annalise Basso and Garret Ryan) are superb. As to the flaws, there is one, and it is a rather big one, but I can’t reveal it without telling too much. Suffice it to say that it falls under the “Well, if X, then why the hell would they do Y?” variety. It’s a testament to the skill of writer/director Mike Flanagan (born, I shi** you not, in Salem, Massachusetts) that I was able to shelve the issue and just sit back and enjoy the film.
Jason Bateman’s directorial debut is bracingly cynical and consistently funny. Bateman stars as a jerk who has found the loophole that allows him to enter and win kids’ spelling bees, making it all the way to the nationally televised (on PBS) Golden Quill finals. On the way, he torments the journalist covering/funding his story (Kathryn Hahn), the competition director (Allison Janney), its founder (Phillip Baker Hall) and various parents, but he also befriends a young competitor (the wide-eyed and charming Rohan Chand). At just under 90 minutes, it never nears wearing out its welcome, and Bateman’s hand is steady. There are a few flat notes. Rachael Harris reprises her role from The Hangover as another repressed, psychotic type, and again, her performance is too much (as is her comeuppance). Bateman’s engagement with his child’s competitors is brutally funny, but his treatment of one girl, while a testament to his commitment, is perhaps too painful to endure. These, however, are minor problems. Bateman has depth beyond being a mere crank, and Chand’s insouciance blends perfectly with his deadpan amorality.
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