Backrooms (2026)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Backrooms (2026) – K. Parsons

Underwhelmed, I guess, but it isn’t that clear why.  High expectations? As longtime readers know, I’m certainly open to surrealism and weirdness generally.  Backrooms set up its premise well and I was intrigued – when sad/frustrated Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) pushes through the wall of his discount furniture store’s basement into the yellowy maze of hidden fluorescent-lit rooms, I wanted to explore with him.  The shadowy figures in the distance, the possible danger – it was alive with possibilities.  But somehow those possibilities turned from intrigue to tedium and then to incomprehensibility.  Is there a metaphor here about memories (never accurately recalled, only reconstructed via the present), about past traumas (and how they might gather strength and defeat us), about frustrated dead ends? It seems either too glib or too hard to fathom.  The film felt somehow incomplete, less encouraging me to fill in the gaps with my own interpretations and more missing essential information. Perhaps though it is just my awareness that there’s lore galore lurking somewhere on youtube, available to some but not all viewers (certainly not this one), ahead of time.  A connected story featuring Clark’s therapist, Mary (Renate Reinsve), holds promise for revealing needed detail but ends abruptly (as does the film). A briefly involved scientist remains unexplained (in the film proper).  Of course, I’ve tried to reflect whether my reaction to the film is unfair – after all, I’ve eventually come round to David Lynch appreciation, even if my initial reaction to Lost Highway was similarly uncomprehending.  (Mulholland Drive, in contrast, was immediately recognisable as a masterpiece).  These Lynch films, while bizarre and without clear explanations, provide more details to let the dream logic kick in. Backrooms seems to require a third act, just to provide more fodder for our imaginations (and not necessarily to provide some sort of explicit explanation).  Otherwise, am I supposed to go to youtube to flesh this out?  Some commentary suggests that this is a Gen Z movie -- possibly because director Kane Parsons is so young, but maybe because this generation faces the kind of disrupted trajectories (career and life) that the characters in Backrooms also face (even if the film might be set in 1990 when my own generation was trying to find their footing in what may have been a more predictable world). Speaking of unpredictability, as the film ended, I couldn’t help thinking that most of the replicas of things in the Backrooms felt like artificial intelligence versions of our reality – not quite right and possibly not really serviceable, if they start to stand in for what used to be there.   

A Samurai in Time (2023)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

A Samurai in Time (2023) – J. Yasuda

Good-natured family fare (although probably too introspective for actual kids) with a high concept: samurai hit by lightning ends up 140 years in the future – around 2007 for some reason (those flip phones tipped me off). Despite the not-so-original (fish out of water) premise, there were a few real laughs in the first half, as Kosaka-san (Makiya Yamaguchi) experiences the shock of the future.  The only job he is suited for is as an extra in TV jidaigeki productions, so it is lucky he’s landed right on a set in Kyoto. Ayako kept remarking that everyone was using different dialects in Japanese, so there are bound to be other aspects to the film (funny or otherwise) that natives will take away that foreigners will not. And just when you think the film has no place to turn, its gentle comedy dissipating, there’s a surprising twist that takes us through the second half of the film (which is more drama than comedy).  This does require a bit of Japanese historical knowledge, about the end of the Shogunate and the move toward the modern era, but not much more than to sympathise with Kosaka-san, whose clan ended up defeated. The screenplay builds to one final twist and ends in a relatively satisfying place. Nothing too threatening or challenging here but enjoyable nevertheless.  And it is fun to say the original title:  Samurai Taimusurippa (“timeslipper!”).

Fracture (2007)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Fracture (2007) – G. Hoblit

Anthony Hopkins works a lot but his projects seem to be all over the place.  In this one, he’s back to evil-genius mode, not quite Hannibal Lecter but smart enough to outwit the legal system after killing his wife and clearly enjoying tormenting public prosecutor Ryan Gosling with taunts and head games. The internet recommended this as a twisty legal thriller (one that I had somehow missed) but as directed by Gregory Hoblit (who got his start with Hill Street Blues), it feels rather passé or cliché.  This might be due to the music (too familiar) or cinematography (too slick) or sets (too boring, despite what is supposed to be amazing architecture or engineering delights).  There might actually be a clever script under there but that too feels very pat by the end. Critic Jonathan Rosenbaum (of the Chicago Reader, back in the day) saw this as an interesting duel between Hopkins’ classical acting style and Gosling’s method approach. Perhaps.  Gosling is supposed to be cocky then contrite but I’m not sure he pulls it off.  Hopkins is a little more subdued than I would have expected for this part.  So there – average at best.

 

Thirst (1949)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Thirst (1949) – I. Bergman

Returning to Criterion’s massive Ingmar Bergman boxset after a bit of a hiatus, this is the 34^th (out of 41 or so) film in the boxset but only the 7^th in Bergman’s career. Critics suggest that this is the first film where Bergman’s longstanding themes and directorial style start to emerge and, yes, it is a film about people experiencing relationship problems. Although not scripted by Bergman (instead it was written by Herbert Grevenius, adapting short stories by Birgit Tengroth who herself plays a supporting role in the film), it feels like it could have been, as it charts the relationship dissatisfaction felt by a young woman played by Eva Henning, both in a past affair with a married military officer (Bengt Eklund) and in her marriage to Bertil (Birger Malmsten).  After these two episodes, the film diverts to the experiences of Bertil’s former girlfriend (played by Tengroth) who is pursued by both her doctor and by a lesbian former ballet school classmate.  Add an unfortunate abortion to the plot and this must have been quite controversial for 1949 -- but Bergman was just getting started. Overall, not without interest, but you’d be silly to start here if you want to explore the great Swedish master’s works.

 

My Name is Julia Ross (1945)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

My Name is Julia Ross (1945) – J. H. Lewis

Director Joseph H. Lewis may be best known for Gun Crazy (1950) or The Big Combo (1955), two great noirs, but this 65-minute thriller from 1945 is also a gem. Nina Foch plays the title character who is tricked into accepting employment as a live-in secretary for the Hughes family (mother Dame May Whitty and son George Macready) who subsequently try to gaslight her into thinking she is someone else.  Essentially she is trapped in the Hughes mansion and everyone is led to believe she is crazy.  Great premise but not for those prone to paranoia.  Macready is a perfect edgy villain (with Gilda and Paths of Glory yet to come) but it is a shock to see Dame May Whitty on the dark side, since I identify her strongly with her heroic spy in The Lady Vanishes.  As directed by Lewis, this is a tight film, suspenseful, and ultimately fulfilling.  Is it noir? Perhaps but Julia Ross does not deserve any of this (perhaps that is exactly why it is noir!). 

 

Exhuma (2024)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Exhuma (2024) – J.-H. Jang

Can I be forgiven for not recognising the lead actor from Oldboy (2003), Min-sik Choi, in the title role?  Perhaps I haven’t spent as much time with Korean cinema as I should (although I have seen Oldboy, of course, and Choi is twenty years older, after all).  In this film, Choi plays a “geomancer” who uses the principles of feng shui to recommend gravesites for wealthy clients with partner Hae-jin Yoo, who seems to be a Christian funeral director.  They sometimes work with the shaman team, Go-eun Kim and Do-hyun Lee, who get engaged to purify unclean areas or when there are unruly spirits with which to contend.  The film introduces the characters as though this was the pilot for a TV crime series and in some ways, it feels like it could very easily spin-off into an ongoing TV show.  The film itself might be broken into two episodes, with the first focused on an elderly patriarch ghost who, once accidentally released from his sealed coffin, seeks to revenge himself on the descendants who wronged him (including a baby in the USA), and the second focused on a demonic samurai ghost leftover from the Japanese occupation who protects a particular plot of land, slaying anyone who comes near, once freed. (Including a Japanese villain seems to be standard practice for Korean films, not unlike the Nazi villains who still crop up in Hollywood; not sure this is useful for world peace at this stage, but alas). The film wants to be spooky/scary, wants to be a folk horror describing Korean traditions, wants to endear us to the central team, and desires a linear plot with clear resolution (and hope for a sequel or two – or that TV series?).  It mostly succeeds but misses that magic ingredient that might elevate it further into a horror classic.  I’d tune in each week though.

 

The Ninth Gate (1999)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Ninth Gate (1999) – R. Polanski

Is this a guilty pleasure?  I’ve returned to it more than once -- but it isn’t exactly challenging fare and some may call it trashy.  Somehow director Roman Polanski evokes both the detective story and the devil (providing nods to two of his greatest films, Chinatown and Rosemary’s Baby); a more recent antecedent is probably Alan Parker’s Angel Heart (1987).  Frank Langella hires freelance bookdealer Johnny Depp to determine whether his copy of a rare book (“The Nine Gates…”), a book apparently used to conjure Lucifer himself, is authentic or not, as compared to two other copies in Europe.  How Langella got the book away from Lena Olin whose husband has just committed suicide isn’t really clear but she wants it back and pursues Depp for it.  So, they all run to Europe where Depp visits each of the other book owners, unravelling the mystery of the books while also being stalked by a mysterious witchy woman (Emmanuelle Seigneur, Polanski’s wife) and leaving death and destruction in his wake.  Of course, we know that Depp isn’t really pulling the strings here but what mysterious forces are driving things (whether controlled by Langella or someone/something darker) remains out of the viewer’s grasp. And the film ends at a sort of beginning (much like Rosemary’s Baby again?), leaving viewers only to imagine what comes next.  Based on Arturo Pérez-Reverte’s The Club Dumas.