Connect with us

Editorials

‘Cube’ – Surviving the Canadian Original and Its Japanese Remake [Revenge of the Remakes]

Published

on

Pictured: 'Cube' (2021)

I’m thirty-plus entries into Revenge of the Remakes and have finally reached an original/remake pair where neither is American. Vincenzo Natali’s Cube (1997) is a maple-scented product of Canada’s independent filmmaking scene, while Yasuhiko Shimizu’s 2021 remake hails from Japan. You’re free of rants about stale Americanizations and Hollywood’s sometimes shortsighted approach to horror remakes. Welcome to a wholly international edition of my column that’s, in comparison, outside the box. I’m honestly surprised Japan beat us to a Cube remake in a post-Platinum Dunes world — although Bloody Disgusting’s Brad Miska reported Lionsgate was taking new Cube pitches as of May 2022. Don’t be surprised if a domestic project surfaces soon.

It’s a tale of two geometrical prisons influenced by cultural horror norms. Natali aligns with genre-bending Canadian minds like David Cronenberg, whereas Shimizu leans toward more operatic and soapy Japanese storytelling. One incorporates flashbacks that break free from the titular Cube’s containment, and the other seals characters in a meticulously measured tomb. They’re two distinct approaches, but unfortunately, in my humble opinion, one outpaces the other. Natali’s original has a serrated edge that Shimizu’s remake lacks, which is disappointingly apparent when watched in quick order.


The Approach

‘Cube’ (1997)

Shimizu and writer Koji Tokuo fixate on the Cube’s functionality and grand purpose more than Natali’s open-ended character study. Natali’s many script iterations alongside co-writers André Bijelic and Graeme Manson — one reportedly involving a cannibal, another a roaming cube monster — eventually boil down to a volatile combination of personalities that fracture under duress. Tokuo dials back the elevated psychosis and magnifies moral elements about sinners having to atone for their actions. The Japanese remake invests in meandering relationship drama and human sympathies; Natali provokes individuals until they’re at one another’s throats with far more nihilism.

The first half of 2021’s Cube doesn’t veer too far off course. A cast of captives congregate in a steely sci-fi-freaky room with no reason for their predicament and must traverse a maze of chambers that are eventually understood to be in motion. Characters resemble those of Natali’s crew, from Masaki Suda’s 29-year-old engineer Yuichi Goto (based on David Worth) to Hikaru Tashiro’s 13-year-old middle school student with autism, Chiharu Uno (based on Kazan). Removed shoes are used to trigger hidden traps, and mathematics prolong survival, but then Shimizu and Tokuo’s differences start to appear when characters begin remembering (through flashbacks) what could have earned them a place in synthetic purgatory.

There’s a stark contrast between the philosophical hopelessness of Natali’s original and Shimizu’s brand of divine reclamation. Natali provokes claustrophobic mania through close-up shots and a panting score, whereas Shimizu sanitizes the experience with brighter appeal. Both are undoubtedly horror movies, as indicated by each stage-setting death, but the Japanese remake comes in a distant second when measuring follow-throughs. Shimizu and Tokuo devolve the situational anxiety that Natali so violently unleashes as the original’s power struggle ensues, limply pushing these new, not-as-interesting explorers through a coldly designed maze that feels repetitive after a while.


Does It Work?

Cube Remake SCREAMBOX Original [Trailer]

‘Cube’ (2021)

I’m torn on Shimizu’s take because the updated structure is what remakes should strive to deliver. At the same time, it’s one of the unfortunate remake examples where unique differentiations weaken the overall impact. Shimizu breaks through the structure’s outer shell but lets precious tension escape, drawing attention away from the immediacy propelling survivor arcs. In trying to beef up the emotional resonance, Shimizu and Tokuo drift too far away from the frantic unpredictability that has audiences holding their breath throughout Natali’s low-budget conspiracy thriller. There’s something vastly more unsettling about 1997’s indie darling, between purgatorial assessments and blinding lights with no answers.

You know we talk about SPOILERS here, right? If not, here’s your chance to turn back because I’m about to reveal the “big twist” of Cube (2021).

Tokuo’s story drags Natali’s concept kicking and screaming into the future, basing the overlord concept on artificial intelligence. Cutaways to amoeba-like digital particles at random moments assure viewers there’s something bigger at play, but the rationale adds nothing of substance. Anne Watanabe, as Asako Kai, is revealed to be an agent of the system, perceived from her introduction as robotic, but again, the rationale adds nothing of substance. Natali does a fantastic job of questioning the frivolity of his characters’ escape attempts as human nature turns despicably irredeemable, which doesn’t translate in the Japanese iteration. Supercomputer upgrades are surface value tweaks that dampen horror vibes in addition to the film’s listlessly introspective social dilemmas.

Shimizu’s remake is more culturally resonant between old and young Japanese characters’ generational commentaries while touching on a grief-stricken, unaliving subplot. There’s an insinuation that Kōtarō Yoshida as 62-year-old Kazumasa Ando is intertwined in the lives of his youthful counterparts, who they see as a symbol of the abusive, dismissive, calloused breed of elder-aged Japanese patriarchs. Shimizu oversees his Cube as a sobering family drama that bleeds into otherwise suffocating genre entrapment, which is a choice that will divide audiences. Natali makes mention of character backstories through dialogue only, where Shimizu and Tokuo over-explain (verbally and visually) in a way that disservices the killer labyrinth machination of it all.


The Result

‘Cube’ (2021)

From square one, something seems amiss. Natali chops Julian Richings into itty-bitty flesh steaks with a wire grate like a vegetable pressed into one of those tabletop container cutters (which looks awesome). Shimizu lasers a square out of his opening victim’s stomach that plops down all jiggly like the animated stomach plug in Kung Pow! Enter the Fist (regrettably not awesome). Natali’s atmosphere favors this horror-forward, I’d say Clive Barker-influenced, shrouded-in-darkness vibe that’s bleakness incarnate, while Shimizu has trouble separating one metallic monochrome room from the next. Reds, greens, and auburn-y oranges all pop in Natali’s original, where Shimizu’s production feels like the drab laboratory equivalent of an alien race’s research experiment. Shimizu robs audiences of the pleasure of theorizing alongside “military-industrial complex” blamers and tells us precisely what his Cube is used for, and that’s a bummer when considering the film’s overall lackluster presentation.

Everything hits softer, no matter what example you pull. Kazumasa Ando as a sorta stand-in for Maurice Dean Wint’s original bastard Quentin McNeil is no contest, one infinitely more imposing than the other (noting altered traits). Production design feels less confining and infinitely less detailed — the Japanese set feels like a neatly sealed lunchbox. In contrast, the Canadian set is designed like characters are trapped inside the Lament Configuration. Shimizu stays true to significant plot points like the importance of Cartesian coordinates and prime numbers but loses the deepest-rooted sensations of mania that drive Natali’s cast insane. Even the traps are less fulfilling in their mostly computer-animated states, none more representative than the sound-activated slicer Natali expertly uses to render us anxiously silent. It’s just another scene in Shimizu’s rinse and repeat cycle — a frustration that never plagues Natali’s vision.

Japan’s Cube speaks in wordy platitudes, whereas Canada’s Cube descends into anarchistic madness. Shimizu’s God Cube makes choices for the scurrying Japanese prisoners, versus how Quentin influences his squad’s demise in the original, which is a far more frightening outcome. Natali’s script is far wittier and quirkier (that “Worth, worth worth” line [laughs]), which threads a darkly comedic underline through an absurdly evil scenario, where Tokuo’s adventurous spin with a hero’s journey plays with formulaic blandness. There’s more control and level-headedness in the remake, which becomes a tonal mismatch within the architectural deathtrap.


The Lesson

‘Cube’ (2021)

American remakes get a bad rap because they’re the most prevalent. The success of any remake is wholly dependent on the production itself. There’s no generalized failure across an entire market. Shimizu approaches his Cube with the correct mindset of reinterpreting Natali’s core concept for a different country, in a different period, under different societal circumstances — as a remake, the Japanese Cube achieves the goal of creative originality. Quality, unfortunately, will always be another question (and in the eye of each beholder).

So What Did We Learn?

● Remake culture expands beyond our domestic borders — not just our obsession.

● One’s trash is another’s treasure, as I know others who love the different directions of Shimizu’s Cube.

● Atmosphere is so important when establishing horror, as exemplified by both Cube films.

● You’re probably in trouble if your 2020s movie utilizes weaker effects than any 1990s predecessor.

I’ll confess, Cube is probably my oddest instance of seeing the remake before the original. I saw the Japanese remake not even on SCREAMBOX, but because of my subscription to Terror Vision’s Blu-ray club (who released Shimizu’s on physical media) before I ever watched Natali’s highly-acclaimed original. This is who I am; embrace the chaos. Heaven knows I did a long, LONG time ago. Don’t be ashamed of the order you watch movies or your blind spots; more importantly, don’t let others shame you for the same reason. There are too many movies!

Your journey is yours alone to curate and celebrate.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

Published

on

Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

Continue Reading