Hd Movie Trailers

As a horror icon, the Wolfman gets no respect. In theory, he’s the embodiment of a great horror concept—the literal manifestation of the Beast within, who busts out every other fortnight to rip the shit out of Victorian aristocrats or horny teens in Oldsmobiles—and yet in American cinema he’s given the strict Michael J. Fox treatment. In order to get a werewolf taken in any way seriously, American directors have to send them to various catacombs and ossuaries in London or Paris, and even then, they’re just not scary. In fact, the scariest werewolf movie to come out in the last 15 years was about a heavily ax-wounded 16-year-old girl (if you have not seen Ginger Snaps and you have a vagina, consider this your mandate). The Wolfman just doesn’t do it for us—there are consequences to having that much back hair.

As such, the reincarnation of the classic Wolfman (in theaters today) had a good shot at full image reinvention. First of all, it’s set in London, thereby solving the Euro problem. Plus now we have all sorts of things they didn’t have when the original (which was made in 1941) came out. Like Benicio Del Toro. And CGI! LOTS of motherfucking CGI!

Of course, the production team had to go all purist on us: The creature effects were done by an actual makeup artist, meaning they WERE NOT CGI. Which, on the one hand, assures the preservation of all that’s pure and sacred in horror special effects—but on the other hand means that the post-transformation Benicio could pretty much be a stand-in for Teen Wolf at the prom. There is only so much one can do when one is dealing with a real corporeal human body, as opposed to the wondrous artificiality of a digital creation (hey, why not make the Wolfman bright blue and diamond-freckled? Sure, why the hell not?!).

And so The Wolfman falls into the same trap as its predecessors: it’s not that scary. Yes, the gore is decent—but if James Cameron’s giving us nine-feet-tall blue chicks hair-fucking giant trees, then those entrails BETTER look good as they exit the belly of yet another pasty landowner. Gore is a necessary with the Wolfman; it’s the visual depiction of just how beastly he becomes. The gore is what draws us in, connects us to the darker place that good horror films take us—one day we too could succumb to our animal urges, and all the messy carnage they demand. That openly-sneezing dude on the subway or the lady who sex-grunts on the treadmill next to you—neither would stand a chance if The Beast Within had its way. In this sense, the film needed MORE wolf slaughter; the one truly satisfying scene involves Benicio being “examined” as a mental patient by a class full of priggish med students and their monocle-wedged-in-his-anus professor. Who wouldn’t want to see a monster unleashed on these supercilious pricks?

But alas, the gore is sparse and the acting hack-jobbed. On the up side, the movie looks beautiful, in the same way Helena Bonham Carter looks beautiful—pale and chiseled and about to collapse from rickets. The moody malevolence of Victorian London is a stunning backdrop, and the sets make Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes look like King Ralph. But you can’t cast Benicio as a pedigreed British gentleman, let alone a professional Shakespearean actor—in fact it’s not clear what you CAN cast him as these days, other than a Fenster Redux. Plus at this point Anthony Hopkins has phoned in his “Stroke-Addled Patriarch” role from Legends of the Fall so many times, you’re half expecting him to wave a paycheck in front of the camera.

And there’s another inconvenient thing about remaking a 1940s movie: us womynfolk are so fucking demanding these days. We want a female role that doesn’t mash every stereotype and bromide cliché into Cute-Girl-Character pudding. Emily Blunt is unequivocally awesome—she can pull any movie from the pit of suckery, even if it contains Anne Hathaway and 600 pairs of shoes.

But sloppy writing traps her in the tired cavity of “I’m irresistibly drawn to this dangerous man for no apparent reason and I ignore every sign that something is amiss and oh look I’ll ride out on the full moon and maybe get fed my own pancreas, all because I must SAVE my doomed hero!” Aren’t we past the assumption that women want to die for love? Hasn’t that whole meme been securely stowed in the bowels of antiquation? I mean, if there’s a third-party aggressor in the picture, maybe I’d push my man out of the way and take a bullet—but if Mr. Fantastic turns into a bloodthirsty Hellbeast bent on carpeting the woods with my intestines, fuck if I’m not hauling out the shotgun. Because Lord knows, The Beast can live in ovaries, too.

Melissa Lafsky will probably not date you if you turn into a monster once a month.

I’m bunching up two different Cool Stuff posts here, but just as I was about to highlight the two great new Alamo Drafthouse posters for The Wolf Man and The Wolfman I saw this tasty little Soylent Green t-shirt that I thought folks might get a kick out of. And because the shirt is from TeeFury it is available today only — about ten more hours, to be exact. Then again, the two posters might not last much longer than that. Hit the break for details on all of them.

First up are the two posters made for Alamo Drafthouse showings of the classic The Wolf Man and Universal’s remake The Wolfman.

(Click either image to see a large version.)

MondoTees is selling Martin Ansin’s 24″x36″ poster for the classic The Wolf Man for $45; there’s also a variant with glow in the dark ink that sells for $80. Meanwhile, Daniel Danger’s image for the new The Wolfman is 12″x24″ and runs $40. Sadly, Mondo’s deal with Universal prohibits these being sold to buyers outside the United States. If you can’t connect to Mondo now, keep trying; they’ve been hammered with traffic while selling these and had to switch servers.

By John Gholson — review reprinted from 12/21/2009

We've come to expect Martin Scorsese to swing for the fences every single time he's at bat, so when a movie comes along like Shutter Island, a pulpy, by-the-numbers thriller, it's easy to feel a slight twinge of disappointment. Here, we're dealing with a lesser work by a modern master, which is to say that Shutter Island is still a crackerjack mystery, executed with great artistic care, but it's also Scorsese working about as close as he ever has to popcorn-munching cineplex fare. It's a hard-boiled and unpretentious outing, but the individual parts of Shutter Island are greater than the whole — particularly the cinematography by Robert Richardson and outstanding work from a dream team ensemble cast.

Leading that dream team is Leonardo DiCaprio as U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels, called in to a state-run mental institution on a storm-battered, rocky island on the East Coast, along with his new partner Chuck (Mark Ruffalo). The delusional murderess Rachel Solando has gone missing from her cell, leaving behind no evident clues, and with those in charge of the facility (Ben Kingsley, who needs to work with Scorsese more often, and Max Von Sydow) only forthcoming with information to the officers as it seems to suit them.

Daniels immerses himself in the investigation with unhealthy abandon, perhaps as a way to force back the memories of the recent death of his wife (Michelle Williams) at the hands of an arsonist, or, more troubling, to quiet the voices that constantly remind him of his own violent past, time spent serving out gruesome wartime justice to anonymous Nazi soldiers. Trapped on Shutter Island during a nasty storm, Daniels begins to let on to Chuck that he knows more about the hospital than anything they've learned while investigating Solando. There's a connection with Daniel's wife's killer and the institution — a connection that Daniels is convinced leads to secret House Un-American Activities Committee-funded neurological experiments taking place in Shutter Island's nigh-impenetrable lighthouse.

The handling of this information is indicative of greater problems at work in the screenplay of Laeta Kalogridis (Pathfinder), adapting Dennis Lehane's 2003 novel. Daniels unloads soggy exposition about his wife's murderer, the island, and HUAC, in big, sudden chunks that seem to come from nowhere other than the plot demands these twists and turns exist. He just seems to know stuff when the film wants him to know stuff, and the more coincidental information he seemingly knows about the island, the more determined the folks who occupy the island seem to be in keeping him stuck there (yet letting him run free all over the facility).

This created a problem for me — I became less interested in the mystery that moves the film, that of Rachel Solando, and much more interested in the “why” of Daniels getting the run-around from doctors and patients alike. I couldn't figure out to what end it would serve to have a U.S. Marshal come out to help with a dangerous situation, then have him stomp around the whole place hamstrung by selective lying on the part of the institution. The film loses focus as Daniels loses his focus (his preoccupation with the lighthouse superseding his drive to find Solando) — creating situations that make you question your own suspension of disbelief over the questions at hand in the plot itself.

It's to the film's credit then that it answers all pressing questions by the time it reaches its finale, including those questions of “why” that I'd found distracting through most of the film's running time. If my brain hadn't been allowed to wander, trying to figure out character motivations in Kalogridis' convoluted script, I'm sure the wrap-up would've had a greater emotional impact on me. Scorcese certainly gets the best from DiCaprio in those final scenes, elevating what could've been a forgettable thriller into an exceptional performance piece.

DiCaprio's violent streak is utterly believable, though we never see it fully on display. There's rage in Teddy Daniels' eyes and a body language that speaks of high-blood pressure and binge drinking. He's perpetually sweaty and perpetually troubled, about a great many disturbing things, and it makes for an interesting contrast against everyone he comes in contact with in Shutter Island — from the oddly peaceful Dr. Cawley (Kingsley) to the jovial alpha-male hospital guard played by Ted Levine (who attempts to verbally goad Daniels into violence during one of the film's most memorable scenes). If Shutter Island's delay to 2010 kept anyone out of the 2009 Oscar race, it was Leonardo DiCaprio.

Scorsese gets fabulous work from cinematographer Robert Richardson as well (as usual). Richardson lensed Casino, Bringing Out the Dead, and The Aviator for this director, and the two, when paired, seem especially interested in playing with color palettes. Shutter Island's flashbacks and dreams are vivid beyond belief, offering an eye-popping respite from the grey, rain-soaked cliffs that so often fill the frame. Story quibbling aside, Shutter Island is high on atmosphere, in large part due to the visuals, and the collaboration between Scorsese and Richardson actually feels like the two men having a blast with their craft.

I'm certainly sure Scorsese is having fun. While I wouldn't describe Shutter Island as a “fun” movie, its B-movie roots show through with obvious abandon. Everything exists in a heightened reality here. Everyone is a little too sinister; the cops are a little too hard-nosed; the shadows loom a little too large. Shutter Island, despite all of its flaws, is not a career misstep for the director, just a bit of a sidestep. I have no doubts that Scorsese made exactly the film he wanted to make, with all its corkscrew logic and earnest intensity, but it's missing a bit of the visceral punch we're used to from a Scorcese work. Maybe we're a little bit spoiled?

Seen on: February 16, 2010

The players: Director: Martin Scorsese, Writer: Laeta Kalogridis, Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Kingsley, Michelle Williams, Max von Sydow

Facts of interest: Based on the book by Dennis Lehane.

The plot: Two marshals travel to Shutter Island to investigate the disappearance of a prisoner from the mental institution, but neither of them is ready to face what really happened there.

Our thoughts: Martin Scorsese’s psychological mystery thriller “Shutter Island” is by far not a masterpiece, but the film’s creepy atmosphere, compelling characters, outstanding technical credits and fabulous cast definitely help overshadow some of its rather obvious story flaws. Although no Scorsese classic, “Shutter Island” is still worth a trip to the multiplex.

In what is one heck of a brilliant opening sequence, we meet Leonardo DiCaprio’s character Teddy Daniels, a U.S. marshal struggling with seasickness on his way to Shutter Island, an infamous prison-like hospital for the criminally insane. He and his new partner Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) are sent to the remote island to investigate the disappearance of a prisoner.

Shortly after their arrival, Teddy and Chuck quickly realize that Shutter Island is a strange place. In yet another brilliant performance, Ben Kingsley plays the hospital’s head, Dr. Cawley, a strange fellow who makes it very clear from the start that the visiting marshals don’t have any authority on Shutter Island. He even makes them surrender their firearms.

From here, it all goes downhill for Teddy and Chuck. As the mystery of this vanishes patient deepens, Teddy begins to suspect something else is haunting this unconventional institution, and as he attempts to dig deeper into finding the truth, he soon uncovers a secret that will push him to the edge and make him revisit the darker moments of his life.

At this point, this is all I can say about plot without revealing too much. “Shutter Island” is one of those thrillers trying to shock audiences with a big twist in the end, and while I admit I figured out the puzzle rather early, I’m still happy to announce the movie kept me intrigued up until the very last minute. That, of course, is a great sign.

Now, the script by Laeta Kalogridis has some obvious plot holes, and one thing that annoyed me at times is the film’s 138-minute running time. Some parts here and there end up dragging a tad too much without really advancing the story, and what we end up seeing on the big screen could’ve been easily packed into a shorter, more efficient movie.

Still, Teddy’s adventure on the mysterious island is intriguing enough to keep audiences captivated, and Scorsese does an excellent job at slowly revealing what his character is all about. Recurring dream sequences, for instance, prove yet again that Scorsese is a master at creating outstandingly beautiful sequences that help establish character onscreen.

Apart from that, “Shutter Island” looks gorgeous, and the film’s atmosphere builds suspense throughout. It’s definitely a compelling look into the unusual psyche of a man not ready to face the truth about the puzzle he’s trying to solve. I never read Dennis Lehane’s novel, so I can’t comment on whether “Island” stays true to the source material.

While the plot occasionally stalls and the story line remains on the more superficial end at times, “Shutter Island” luckily boasts a cast that will blow you away. Leonardo DiCaprio just keeps getting better and better, and he handles the challenging role of Teddy without a problem. Sure, he’s over thw top at times, but that’s what this role requires.

Ruffalo, as usual, turns in a fine performance, and Kingsley, as I already mentioned, is phenomenal. He is a real instigator of suspense, and he just dominates in every scene he’s in. The supporting cast includes great appearances by Patricia Clarkson, Emily Mortimer, Michelle Williams, Max von Sydow, Elias Koteas and Jackie Earle Haley.

Freaky quote: “Don't you get it? You're a rat in a maze.” – Jackie Earle Haley as a scary dude

The final word: “Shutter Island” is not for everyone. It’s neither Scorsese’s best recent film. It’s a remarkable effort, for sure, and while it delivers in certain areas, it falls flat in others. The stunning look, edgy direction and superb cast boost the experience of seeing this one in theaters, and if only the story worked as well, we’d be watching a masterpiece. Maybe next time.

Article by Franck Tabouring