Archive for The Bottle Imp

The Bottle Imp

Posted in FILM, literature with tags , , on March 14, 2019 by dcairns

It seems I don’t own a single image from my second short film as director, THE BOTTLE IMP. (And yet I’m sure I have a postcard SOMEWHERE.) And I never uploaded it to YouTube. I guess that probably means it’s the black sheep in my filmography, or one of them. It’s the one where the flaws are entirely down to my inexperience, even those brought about by my collaborators, because I *chose* the collaborators. And some of them did great, which makes it all the more disappointing that the film isn’t better.

I’ve just spent a dusty ten minutes guddling about under various beds and I can’t even find the prop bottle I modified for the film (with electrical help from my dad), which I *know* is here somewhere. And so this is to be probably the first UN-illustrated blog post in the history of Shadowplay, and that feels apt in a way.

The ancient short film (1992 or so) only comes because the nice people at Glasgow Short Film Festival are screening it, as part of a retrospective on the short film scheme that gave birth to it. So, with trepidation, it looks like I’m venturing forth to the city of Glasgow on Sunday to see the damn thing for the first time in decade. I’m expecting a bit of a reunion feeling, combined with a bit of embarrassment. Honestly, the film can’t be as bad as my memories of it. Robert Louis Stevenson gave us a good story, anyway.

They asked some of the participants to write about our memories of taking part in “First Reels,” so I did. Here.

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“We’re gonna need a bigger goat.”

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2009 by dcairns

drag-me-to-hell

The above line is copyright a guy called David Solomons. So please forgive him for writing FIVE CHILDREN AND IT.

But our subject today is a different fairy tale, one by Sam Raimi. It’s about a magic button that can transport you to an enchanted kingdom. Called Hell.

But should Sam’s movie, DRAG ME TO HELL, be called DON’T DRAG ME TO HELL? Anyhow, as everyone will tell you, it’s a more-funny-than-scary thrill-ride full of bodily fluids and things that go bump. It’s also rather ethnically insensitive in its stereotyping of gypsies as curse-giving harpies and drunken revelers. One sympathetic gypsy, that’s all I’m asking.

Since nobody seems to be shouting about the film’s borrowing from Jacques Tourneur and Charles Bennett’s NIGHT OF THE DEMON, by way of MR James’s source story The Casting of the Runes, Fiona wants me to point this out, particularly how the film’s climax shows a character caught between a pursuing demon and an oncoming train. The idea of the object that dooms its owner to hell and must be passed on to some other poor victim also appears in Robert Louis Stevenson’s tale The Bottle Imp (filmed by me, not too skillfully, some years ago). 

If there was something missing here, and I felt there was, it was a lead character in tune with the hyperkinetic ‘toon slam-bang of Raimi’s action sequences. Bruce Campbell in the EVIL DEAD films is popular precisely because he makes everything funnier. Alison Lohman’s casting here is supposed to evoke sympathy, which seems at odds with the film’s gleeful splattering and battering of the poor protag. The film’s second act is basically a serious of savage beatings and facials. It’s in keeping with the kitten-slaughtering gimmick, admittedly, since Lohman’s chief attribute on display is perkiness and wide-eyed naivety. But torturing a cutie-pie may be entertaining to some people on some level but I don’t know how funny it is. Bruce Campbell always engaged the audience in a strange way so that they shared his sense of the ridiculousness of his ordeals. Maybe Lohman could have done some of that, but she certainly hasn’t been required to.

Lorna Raver (!) is suitably vile as the Romany hell-hag, Bojana Novakovic is striking as her grand-daughter, and Dileep Rao underplays nicely as a mystic who keeps saying “Yes,” in a calm voice. But the trouble with underplaying in a Raimi movie is that he kind of lets the air out of every scene that isn’t a ghost-train/abattoir action set-piece. The performances don’t seem to quite connect with each other, the words dying in the sound stage vacuum between the actors: a thin murmur of post-dubbed atmos is piped in to fill the gaps, but blank spaces seem to yawn between each shot, Peter Deeming’s photography seems overlit, especially compared to what he achieved on LOST HIGHWAY, and CG shadows are a poor substitute for the real thing.

Borrowing from his SPIDERMAN franchise a little, Raimi fills the screen with CGI (another MR James adaptation, Jonathan Miller’s TV play Whistle and I’ll Come to You shows that a mere piece of floating fabric can be truly terrifying, but it must be real fabric) and gets the heroine wet. Because that’s the way to a fanboy’s heart. 

Still, Fiona and I somewhat enjoyed the film, possibly because the central romance between a cute girl and a nerdy guy sort of resonated with us for some reason.

Now I’m off to shoot my low-budget remake, DRAG ME OVER THERE. It’ll be quite short.