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[SFF ’15 Review] ‘The Boy’ Is a Great Argument for Birth Control

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The Stanley Film Festival really had it in for kids this year, man. From the rabid hordes of youngsters in Cooties to the haunting memory of a dead child in The Invitation and even more killer kids awaiting in Goodnight Mommy (which I unfortunately didn’t get to see), the 2015 Stanley made a strong argument for birth control. The Boy was the most profound reason to wrap it up that I saw, as it depicts a kid’s growing fascination with death set against a backdrop of isolation and subversive terror.

This is one of those suckers that even if you don’t realize it at the time, truly gets under the skin and festers. It can feel arduous at times, almost aimless, but by the time the climax kicks in, the deliberate pace and disconnect from backstory fully reveal the terrifying impact of mommy’s little monster.

The Boy is about a (you guessed it) named Ted. He lives in a dusty roadside motel that his alcoholic father manages. Guests are sparse, so Ted spends his free time collecting road kill and selling it to his old man for change. When there is a guest, young Ted has difficulty interacting with them – human interaction isn’t really his bag (I feel you, bro).

[Related Posts] Read All Stanley Film Festival Reviews Right Here!

The first truly frightening moment happens when it’s revealed that Ted isn’t just collecting road kill, he’s actually baiting animals out on to a sharp curve in the road to be killed. The slow realization that Ted is incredibly more intelligent and sinister than he initially seems is where The Boy draws a lot of its horror. It’s a slow, slow burn that actually delivers on the unsettling suspense and intrigue it accumulates. And the payoff? It’s a disturbingly celebratory sequence where we know we shouldn’t be feeling such a great degree of catharsis flooding over us. It certainly is satisfying, but for (maybe?) morally the wrong reasons.

Yes, after viewing The Boy, your moral compass may be a bit fucked.

Child actor Jared Breeze, besides having a kick ass name, delivers an impressively expressionistic performance. In the Q&A following the screening, he explained that he used two faces: stone and sour. From these two seemingly simple expressions, Breeze simply nails it. There’s a natural depth to the kid that on screen, making you want to stay the hell away from him one second and then high five him the next.

Rainn Wilson (The Office, Cooties) shows a deeply menacing side as a suspected arsonist hiding out at the motel. Him and Ted develop an unusual friendship that drives much of the core plot as the film moves towards its chilling climax. It’s a conclusion that you may see coming, or hell, you may have been anticipating since the first frame. Either way, the dark heart that propels The Boy is the impossibly assured direction of Craig William Macneill and the willingness of the film to take its time letting you know that Ted is fucking dangerous. It’s a frightening thing to witness: Ted’s psychopathy maturing before your eyes.

We’ve seen killer kid films before. But maybe not one as psychologically ratcheting as The Boy. During its 100 minute running time, we literally witness the blossoming of a child’s urge to kill.

And with that, I’m gonna go hug my dog.

Patrick writes stuff about stuff for Bloody and Collider. His fiction has appeared in ThugLit, Shotgun Honey, Flash Fiction Magazine, and your mother's will. He'll have a ginger ale, thanks.

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‘Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror’ Review – The Definitive Rocky Horror Documentary

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You can’t force a cultural phenomenon. At the end of the day, it’s the audience who decides what is and isn’t remembered, and all artists can do is try their best to express themselves honestly enough that their work might eventually connect with a certain crowd. As it stands, the gold standard for a cult hit that grew into something much larger than its creators could have anticipated due to fan involvement happens to be The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

A musical love-letter to the b-movies of yesteryear that also inspired generations of LGBTQ+ inclusive fan communities around the world, both the film and the original stage musical boast an ongoing legacy that shows no sign of slowing down decades down the line In honor of the 50th anniversary of the original film’s relaunch as a midnight movie that cemented it as a perpetual big screen hit, Linus O’Brien, son of Richard O’Brien, the creator of Rocky Horror and actor behind the fan-favorite Riff Raff, presents fans with his long-awaited documentary: Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror.

Of course, you might be wondering if this new release justifies doing the Time Warp again after so many existing celebrations of the original film, so let’s dig a little deeper into Linus’ production.

Through a dynamic combination of archival footage, personal photographs and in-depth interviews with the original cast (such as Susan Sarandon, Nell Campbell, Patricia Quinn and Tim Curry), as well as commentary by hardcore fans like Jack Black and Trixie Mattel, Strange Journey follows the origins of Rocky Horror all the way from Richard O’Brien’s New Zealand upbringing to the shadow casts and online fandom motivating the film adaptation’s modern-day screenings. The documentary also serves as a surprisingly poignant look at how O’Brien views the “franchise” as a whole and how it reflects his personal journey of self-discovery.

Right out of the gate, the film sets itself up as something of a trip down memory lane for hardcore fans as we’re treated to footage of Richard reckoning with the statue of Riff Raff in Hamilton, New Zealand – right next to where he used to cut hair for a living. While the film benefits from plenty of b-roll borrowed from the Rocky Horror Picture Show as a means of hyping up segments of the documentary and even serving as the occasional punchline, Linus expects that viewers are already familiar with the landmark film and dives straight into the cultural context in which his father began working on the surprisingly lo-fi project.

Information goes by fast due to the brisk 80-minute runtime, but I appreciate the nods to Richard’s creative process as we see handwritten songs in a personal notebook that was eventually expanded into the musical’s script. The idea that O’Brien’s method training informed a different view of B-movie performances is undeniably fascinating -as are his musings on genre cinema – but it’s really when the rest of the cast and director Jim Sharman show up that the documentary really shifts into gear.

Sharman’s insight into the low-budget production aspects of the play makes it clear that this was a rag-tag team of artists taking advantage of raw talent and a new cultural zeitgeist that allowed them to confront taboo subject matter. Susan Sarandon is (unsurprisingly) a joy to watch as she reminisces about her time working on the movie adaptation, showing genuine appreciation for the hardship inherent to passionate indie productions. Of course, Tim Curry’s contributions are some of the most compelling, with his comments on how he originally wanted Dr. Frank-N-Furter to have a German accent until a random encounter on the bus made him realize that the good doctor should speak like the Queen, really making you appreciate the big ideas that turned a small production into a smash hit.

That being said, my personal favorite source of snarky quotes and anecdotes is Patricia Quinn, who originally played Magenta. Her stories about a brief romantic encounter with Meatloaf and how grateful she is that the film adaptation of the musical kept most of the original cast are incredibly entertaining and add to the sense that the production captured lightning in a bottle in a way that can never be replicated.

Susan Sarandon in ‘Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror’

As a longtime fan, it was hard not to get swept up in the nostalgia when the file showed pictures of these young performers unaware that their lives were about to be changed forever by a weird little musical – especially when Richard O’Brien would come in with his guitar and perform acoustic versions of some of his most iconic tracks.

Yet, the completely justified pride that Richard appears to feel when presenting the music to his son, and by extension the audience, alongside the existential questions that this exceedingly personal project forces him to revisit, are what make Strange Journey so much more than a corporate puff piece. While I would have liked to see more interaction between the two generations of O’Brien’s, as you get the feeling that Linus is searching for his place in a legacy that extends far beyond his unusual family history, there is enough of an emotional core here that you’ll likely walk away from the experience thinking about what it means to have a single project define your entire life.

At the end of the day, I can’t imagine a more definitive exploration of everything that makes The Rocky Horror Picture Show such a cultural landmark. Featuring memorable insight from nearly all the major players, with the obvious exception of the late, great Meatloaf, and enough behind-the-scenes imagery to make you feel like you were there alongside the team from the very beginning, Strange Journey is the perfect companion to the 1975 masterpiece. That’s why I’d recommend this return to our favorite Frankenstein Place for both diehard fans and newcomers alike.

Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror is available now on digital platforms everywhere.

4 out of 5 skulls

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