Day: November 6, 2014

Rendle Sham: LFM Reviews Hangar 10

By Joe Bendel. The Rendlesham Forest “Incident” is often dubbed “Britain’s Roswell,” so you know it must be pure hokum. Nevertheless, ostensibly grown adults really believe there was some sort of UFO cover-up going on at the old RAF Woodbridge while the USAF was in residence. To feed conspiracy theorists’ persecution complexes, Rendlesham gets the found footage horror treatment in Daniel Simpson’s Hangar 10, which opens late night tonight in New York at the IFC Center.

Sometimes there is a good reason found footage was lost in the first place. In this case, Gus heads into the woods with his girlfriend Sally and her ex, would be filmmaker Jake, who will document their efforts prospecting Saxon gold for YouTube posterity. This has to be the first extreme metal-detecting film—and hopefully the last.

Of course, things are highly awkward from the start and get even edgier when strange lights start appearing. No abductions yet, just lights. Basically, for the first forty-five minutes, Gus and Jake stagger around saying things like: “Hey, did you just see that? But what’s with you and Sally anyway?” At this point, the audience would find alien abduction to be a relief.

That said, Simpson deserves credit for stepping up his game in the third act. The sequences shot in the not-so-abandoned Air Force base have a really stark look that pops off the screen. His special effects are surprisingly well rendered, but he does not show too much here, thereby maintaining the tension derived from uncertainty. It is a shame we can’t simply lop off the last twenty minutes or so and append it to a better movie.

Frankly, Simpson is already late to the found footage party, following up his middling Saw knock-off Spiderhole with a Roswellish abduct-and-probe horror show. Devin McGinn’s not-half-bad Skinwalker Ranch got there earlier and delivered more genre goods (it also co-stars the eternally cool Michael Horse). Throughout Hangar, Simpson does not get much help from his white-bread-and-mayonnaise cast, but the design team makes the base look huge and ominous, in a crummy government-issue kind of way.

An hour after Hangar ends, you will completely forget what Gus, Sally, and Jake look like, but some of Simpson’s Woodbridge visuals will stick for a while. There are much better found footage alternatives out there, such as The Taking of Deborah Logan and the VHS franchise. If you are in the West Village with friends hoping for a horror movie fix, it will suffice, but it is not worth seeking out when it starts its ‘round midnight screenings tonight (11/7) at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: C-

Posted on November 6th, 2014 at 10:28pm.

It’s Worse Than You Think: LFM Reviews Lance Armstrong: Stop at Nothing

By Joe Bendel. In 1998, Greg LeMond was the last American to win the Tour de France. In 2012, LeMond once again became the last American to win the Tour. He had not staged a comeback. The US Anti-Doping Agency had stripped Lance Armstrong of his Yellow Jerseys. Everyone (including Armstrong, to some extent) now concedes the cyclist lied and cheated. However, his former fans will be shocked by the systematic deceit and vindictiveness exposed in Alex Holmes’ Lance Armstrong: Stop at Nothing, which airs on Showtime this Friday.

In a matter of seconds, Holmes conclusively proves Armstrong perjured himself. In a videotaped deposition, he flatly denies taking the illegal performance enhancing drugs (PEDs) he later copped to during his Oprah confessional, while readily acknowledging he was under oath. Holmes then rewinds to chronicle the unvarnished story of Armstrong’s rise and fall. Once, he was a clean and promising talent, but he was already cutting shady deals with competing cyclists—or so they allege with accounts of Panettone tins full of cash.

Ironically, Stop at Nothing implies the first Tour might have been legit, but soon thereafter, Armstrong commenced a professional relationship with Michele Ferrari, a notorious sports physician with a reputation for crossing over the line. We know from Armstrong’s own lips he consumed a whole battery of enhancers. According to teammate Frankie Andreu and his wife Betsy, Armstrong also admitted it to his cancer doctors, in their presence, during the early stages of his treatment. That conversation would become the focus of a pitched legal battle.

Arguably, the heroic protagonist of Stop at Nothing is Betsy Andreu. Alarmed by the obvious risks of PED abuse, Andreu forced her husband to stay largely clear of them, which ultimately cost him his place on the US Postal Service Team. Knowing what they knew, Armstrong and his surrogates did their best to pressure the Andreus into silence, but they stuck to their guns when subpoenaed.

The other heroes of Stop at Nothing are Greg and Kathy LeMond, who were vilified in the media when the former Tour champion diplomatically cautioned colleagues not to lash U.S. Cycling’s wagon so tightly to Armstrong’s star. Former Armstrong Foundation executive director Steve Whisnant explicitly regrets not heeding LeMond’s advice. For his common sense, LeMond was rewarded with canceled endorsements and wild rumors of alcohol and heroin addiction.

From "Lance Armstrong: Stop at Nothing."

At times, Stop at Nothing resembles a gangster movie, where whistleblowers are routinely intimidated and ostracized. Yet, other times, it plays like a spy film, documenting the elaborate means by which Ferrari’s treatments were smuggled to Armstrong’s team. It is all completely gripping and absolutely scandalizing in the tradition of the best true crime books.

There is a general sense that Armstrong started lying to himself as well as the cycling world at large, essentially losing sight of the truth. As problematic as that is, the reality is far worse. The portrait Holmes paints is of a clinical sociopath, who fully understood the implications of his actions and would do anything necessary to maintain his righteous public image. It is not pretty, but it is fascinating. Stop at Nothing is a damning indictment and a grab-you-by-the-lapels watching experience. Recommended for fans of cycling and legal thrillers, Lance Armstrong: Stop at Nothing premieres this Friday (11/7) on Showtime, with multiple airdates to follow.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on November 6th, 2014 at 10:27pm.

Politicians and Madmen: LFM Reviews Viva la Libertà

By Joe Bendel. Enrico Oliveri is as tired as his platform. The current leader of Italy’s leftwing opposition was considered the safe choice, pretty much guaranteeing their continued electoral futility. It hardly matters when Oliveri precipitously disappears. In fact, the party just might find itself in better hands when he is secretly replaced with his legitimately certifiable twin in Roberto Andò’s Viva la Libertà, which opens this Friday in New York.

The reserved and increasingly depressed Oliveri has become a convenient punching bag for frustrated party members. His business-like relationship with his wife Anna does not provide much joy either, so finally walks away from everything, turning up unannounced on his former lover Danielle’s doorstep in France.

With elections fast-approaching, Oliveri’s chief of staff Andrea Bottini stalls for time as best he can. As a temporary stop-gap, he recruits Oliveri’s lunatic identical twin to impersonate him until Oliveri returns. However, the recently de-institutionalized brother, who writes under the pseudonym Giovanni Ernani, demonstrates a far greater flair for politicking. Suddenly, Bottini is not so sure he wants his old boss back.

Ironically, it is unclear whether Andò realizes Ernani’s red meat demagoguery is just as substance-less as Oliveri’s mealy-mouthed prevarications. Aside from some class conscious blaming “the man,” there is really nothing to Ernani’s supposedly inspiring rhetoric, especially his third act recitation of Bertolt Brecht’s “To the Wavering,” which is a great way to say precisely nothing. It would all be rather clever if it were deliberate, but one gets the impression Andò accidentally satirized himself.

From "Viva la Libertà."

Regardless, Toni Servillo clearly has fun mugging and goofing as Ernani, but he is far more compelling as the world weary Oliveri, coming to grips with his personal and political failings. However, it is Valerio Mastandrea who supplies the film’s real heart and soul as Bottini, a tragic true believer not yet completely disillusioned. Unfortunately, most of the women are rather bland supporting characters, even the Machiavellians (although Giulia Andò’s snake tattoo certainly makes an impression, especially for a junior aide). Eric Trung Nguyen is similarly underutilized as Danielle’s filmmaker husband, but at least he adds some diversity.

Given Servillo’s remarkably accomplished work in films like Il Divo, Dormant Beauty and the Oscar winning Great Beauty, expectations will be high for Viva, but it is a surprisingly lukewarm affair. Nonetheless, its lack of ideological brass knuckles makes it relatively accessible to a wide spectrum of viewers, much like Ivan Reitman’s Dave, except even less pointed. Harmless and sometimes pleasant in a non-taxing way, Viva la Libertà is mostly just recommended for fans of Italian cinema (and Servillo in particular) pining for a fix, when it opens this Friday (11/7) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

LFM GRADE: C

Posted on November 6th, 2014 at 10:27pm.