The Empty Horizon
The Ward (2010)
directed by John Carpenter
rating: 1 out of 5 cravats
on DVD from Netflix
Nothing about the institutionalized premise of The Ward excited me, and nothing about the mere fact of Carpenter's return compelled me to expect... anything. John Carpenter was never the "master of shock," he was a lover of storms, and weather, and strong women. Putting the action inside four walls made no sense, so it's no surprise that the elegant Steadicam shots of Amber Heard gliding through a leafless forest in her slip - The Ward's opening sequence - alone reminded me of the director whose ten-year run from 1976 onward is my favorite career in movies.
There is a place in cinema for the horrible things that people do to one another, but it isn't horror films. Torture, molestation, medical experimentation: all terrible, imposed and endured throughout human history. The photographs from mental hospitals that fragment through the credits are sad and sorry testaments to our selfish natures. But they aren't scary, except to the degree that they imply a loss of control.
Great horror movies rely on some assertion of the individual - a conscious decision not to surrender, to face down the dark and fight back. Even in the final shot of A Nightmare on Elm Street, Nancy is still herself. Her situation might be hopeless, but she is strong. Not so Kristen the schizophrenic, trapped forever in the poorly written dialogues, executed by rote, of her own head.
directed by John Carpenter
rating: 1 out of 5 cravats
on DVD from Netflix
Nothing about the institutionalized premise of The Ward excited me, and nothing about the mere fact of Carpenter's return compelled me to expect... anything. John Carpenter was never the "master of shock," he was a lover of storms, and weather, and strong women. Putting the action inside four walls made no sense, so it's no surprise that the elegant Steadicam shots of Amber Heard gliding through a leafless forest in her slip - The Ward's opening sequence - alone reminded me of the director whose ten-year run from 1976 onward is my favorite career in movies.
There is a place in cinema for the horrible things that people do to one another, but it isn't horror films. Torture, molestation, medical experimentation: all terrible, imposed and endured throughout human history. The photographs from mental hospitals that fragment through the credits are sad and sorry testaments to our selfish natures. But they aren't scary, except to the degree that they imply a loss of control.
Great horror movies rely on some assertion of the individual - a conscious decision not to surrender, to face down the dark and fight back. Even in the final shot of A Nightmare on Elm Street, Nancy is still herself. Her situation might be hopeless, but she is strong. Not so Kristen the schizophrenic, trapped forever in the poorly written dialogues, executed by rote, of her own head.
posted by NPK at 12:01 AM
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