Categories
Horror Lawful Evil

Let Boys Be Boys: A Look At “The Boy” (2016)

tw: mentions of suicide, physical violence, allusions to abuse

The first question we need to ask ourselves is why are dolls so prevalent in horror movies? What is it about this non-human puppet that manages to nuzzle its way into our human psyche? In the case of The Boy (2016, now on Netflix), starring Lauren Cohen (Greta) and James Russell (Brahms), a doll is, kind of, the main character. But the overall shallow plot, and the wild character choices really cemented The Boy as a horror movie that peaks anxiety once or twice, but can really be laughed at the whole way through. 

In short, The Boy is about an American woman named Greta who takes up a job nannying in the middle of nowhere in Britain in order to escape her abusive ex Cole (Ben Robson). The house has no neighbors or wifi, and she’s immediately creeped by it, but chooses to stay at the advice of her friend. She learns from Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire (Jim Norton and Diana Hardcastle) that the “boy” she’s babysitting is actually a doll named Brahms. After going through the strict daily schedule with her, including things like reading loud and clear and putting leftover food in a freezer instead of throwing it away, the Heelshires go on vacation. After the Heelshires leave, the only other person Greta sees is Malcolm, a grocery delivery man who she takes a liking to, and who informs her that Brahms is a representation of the Heelshires real son, who supposedly murdered a girl in his youth and then died in a house fire. Yikes. This is less important, but it’s worth noting that Malcolm doesn’t bring many groceries to Greta, and never mentions delivering to anyone else; I don’t know where in Britain they are, but clearly living is cheap. Watch out InstaCart, Malcolm is coming for your brand. The two plan on a date, but weird things start happening that lead to Greta being knocked out in the attic, just in a towel because all of her clothes are gone, for 8 hours. The next morning she wakes up, perfectly fine after being out for an entire night and not in any need of medical attention, and decides to start taking Brahms’ rules more seriously. In doing so she forms a sweet connection with the doll and is able to settle in. Unfortunately, just as this is happening we see the Heelshires commit double suicide together after writing a letter back home. Greta is trapped and she doesn’t even know it. Through more ominous events, Greta is able to prove to Malcolm that Brahms is alive, or that something else is in the house. The two continue their lives until Cole turns up in the house, demanding to bring Greta home. A fight ensues, the doll breaks, the real, 30-year old Brahms comes out of the wall and chases everyone around, killing Cole and trying to kill Malcolm. Greta escapes but comes back to save Malcolm and stabs Brahms to do it. The two drive off into the night, and we see a pair of hands putting the Brahms doll— which wasn’t just cracked, but smashed into literal dust— back together. The end. 

This plot summary is way too long; every elementary school teacher I had would be gravely disappointed. But here’s where things get fun. None of the logistics of the film are explained, and what is doesn’t add up. Cole is a contractor, but his financial situation is unstable. How did he get the money for an immediate, overnight flight to the UK? Did he rent a car? How did he not crash said car driving with his opposite side? In that same vein, this movie follows typical genre conventions, but tries to subvert them just enough to make them look new. Greta enters the house, after being told by her driver that no one is home, but still walks around and calls out to people. The only difference is that it’s daytime when this happens, and so there’s not the ominous dark lighting to build suspense. She’s a gal walking around a huge mansion looking into perfectly clean and bright bedrooms. Greta’s friend manages to call her via a landline, the same way that the two of us do all the time, meaning that there has to be some service at the house. 

Working backwards, I don’t know if The Boy was trying to set up a sequel, but that’s pretty much impossible since all the realities that make the plot possible have been destroyed. It seems like the director chose to include the scene of Brahms rebuilding the doll to create a feeling of suspense, but it’s really unnecessary. The plot wrapped itself up nicely and didn’t leave room for a sequel, so why not let dogs lie and let the protagonists drive off into safety? The only thing this scene was effective for was giving us a bit more insight into Brahms’ character, but, again, it’s the end of the movie. These nuances could have been established earlier in the production. 

The overarching theme of this movie is the horrors of family. The Heelshires went to such lengths to protect their son, creating a monster all the while. Arguably, the Heelshires set their own house on fire in order to protect their son. Not necessarily to maim their son but to make everyone think he’s dead— which they don’t have any neighbors so he probably could’ve vibed after a year or so once things settled and just went back to his hidey-hole when people came. But I think his parents were also disgusted with him so they just made him stay behind the wall. Perhaps all parties were trying the best, but they all ended up with major trauma which is really the hallmark of any real family right? The pitfall comes because we don’t know anyone’s true motivations besides Greta, Cole, and Malcolm. Not knowing why the Heelshires did what they did, why they’re okay with it, the family history that led to this situation all leave gaps that would elevate this movie if they were filled in. 

The next problem with this movie is one a lot of horror movies have: the lighting during some scenes is really dark. Now, dark lighting does work to set the mood, but it’s more effective when shadows and highlights and details are still visible. This was the typical wash of blues and grays, and it didn’t do anything for us. The rest of the lighting was fine, but it was nothing new. I’m not saying they needed to reinvent the wheel, but they followed genre conventions at pretty much every turn (old creepy house, classical music, simple tonal lighting) and it was boring! That’s the main thing with this movie. It’s okay, somewhat interesting, but at its core is just an amalgamation of typical plot points and design concepts except this time they made it british. The across-the-pond factor didn’t work as well as it did with The Office. 

The last part is the character of Greta. Malcolm is cool, really the main draw of this whole thing, except for the gross gum thing at the top, but I digress. Greta is okay. Lauren walks the tightrope of being unhinged but hopeful, terrified and exhausted, well. But her choices follow the “I am acting the opposite of how anyone would” path, and also her relationship with Brahms isn’t super developed in the mid-stage. For example, we understand the shift happens after she breaks down and then he gives her a sandwich, but then we only see a few scenes of her following the rules and building their relationship. This is the fault of two factors: small cast, and obsession. Brahms and Greta have a fair amount of scenes alone, which means she isn’t sharing most of her thoughts out loud to someone because she doesn’t need to, but her thoughts aren’t clearly illustrated enough physically that the audience can understand them without a vocal cue. Secondly, Brahms is obsessed with Greta. We don’t know why, necessarily, and we don’t know how they found her, or if he heard the conversation about her lost child because that happened outside. Maybe the lack of detailed relationship focus was because it didn’t matter to Brahms— he had her, and that coral dress, and that’s all that matters. From a first watch, though, the overarching theme and concept the director had to explain these choices isn’t clear, so there’s no way to suspend disbelief and really feel like you aren’t watching a movie. It clearly exists in a plane above reality, which could be used to their advantage, but The Boy is really just another one of the boys. Same peach polo and khaki shorts, same amount of mutual disappointment when he opens his mouth, still successful because it’s predictable and well-known. 

Alignment: Lawful Evil.

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About Us

What the Heck are we Doing Here?

Hopefully you’ve read our “About the Authors” page because that gives a lot more context as to why we’re here. (It doesn’t answer why you’re here, but we’re glad you are!)

Basically, Faith and Allie have been watching movies together for years, and they spend half the time talking about the movie and all its aspects as opposed to actually watching. With the amount of content already on the internet and the ever-growing library of cinema available at our fingertips, we figured we have nothing better to do than review all the movies (and tv shows) we can think, and post our opinions online.

Now let the record show that neither of us have any formal education in film review, but we do find that a lot of people with that education are pretentious at times, and we’ve been told really weird things regarding our taste in films. Teachers have said we have “unrealistic expectations about what a movie should be,” and we’ve straight up been told that the way we watch movies “is wrong.” We think that’s silly. We think art is is important, and everyday people’s opinions of it are too. So here we are.

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Drama Old Movies

Vertigo isn’t that Good

Note from the Author: This was written only by Allie as an assignment for her intro to performing arts class. It’s considerably more formal and more researched than most, if not all, of the other reviews will be. This could be considered an actual review and not just a chaotic good time. I don’t remember the prompt that I needed to fill with the review, but I do remember having to watch the movie twice because I fell asleep the first time.

Art is subjective, but it is hard to argue that Alfred Hitchcock is not one of the best filmmakers of all time. His distinct film style earned him numerous awards and nominations from some of the most respected organizations, such as the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences and the New York Critics Circle (Alfred Hitchcock- Awards). In 2012, the movie Vertigo topped the list of the greatest films of all time, as decided by the British Film Institute. In watching the movie, I felt and noticed many things that still continue to influence movies and television today. However, I would be hard pressed to call Vertigo the greatest film of all time, especially sixty years after it was made. Through the complex theme, genius use of music, and distinct editing style, Vertigo is certainly a movie for the books, but emotionally I did not enjoy the film. 

Obsession—  obsession leading to destruction— this is the main theme of the movie, as recognized by myself and multiple others, such as Peter Bradshaw in his article “Vertigo Review- Still Spinning in its Dizzying Magic.” In his article, Bradshaw notes, “… And therefore extremely applicable to this drama of obsession and voyeurism….” Scottie is driven solely by his obsession; first by his obsession to save Madeleine, and then again by his obsession to prove that Judy was Madeleine and that he was duped, which leads to Judy’s death. When Scottie first begins to follow Judy, who is dressed up and acting as Madeleine, he quickly falls in love with her. His only objective is to help her out of her “possession,” and he does this by any means necessary, even telling her she is safe and kissing her when she desperately wants to be let go. In the end, she still ends up dead because he forces her to the top of the church tower in a manic episode as he recounts how she and Gavin Elster tricked him, and after this she falls. Scottie’s obsession with her and with the truth leads to her demise, and it leaves Scottie with nothing. 

Though Scottie’s obsession with Judy is the main component of the theme, Midge is also proof of how obsession can destroy the things people love most. It is known that Midge and Scottie dated in college, and it is clear through Midge’s actions and words that she still feels something for Scottie. For example, when she tells Scottie, “You know there’s only one man in the world for me, JohnnyO,” when they are first shown together in her apartment. Midge is somewhat supportive of Scottie’s endeavors with Madeleine; she allows him in her apartment, and they have easy conversations most days. That is until Midge decides to fully commit to Scottie, painting herself into Carlotta Valdes as she tries to convince Scottie that she is just as good as Madeleine, and instead Scottie leaves in a fit. Midge is upset with herself but tries again to be there for Scottie during his temporary stay in the hospital. Despite her efforts, she realizes she has lost him, and that is the last the audience sees of her. It is not Midge’s fault that Scottie has his breakdown; however, the audience does not see any interaction between the two until his breakdown after the painting incident. Perhaps the relationship could have been saved, tragically one-sided, but still existing. Due to Midge’s obsession with Scottie and her love for him, she loses him in a way similar to Scottie losing Madeleine. 

As is clear from the beginning of the movie, the sound, specifically the music, is of great importance, so much so it even supports the theme. Music is used primarily throughout the film to illustrate the intensity of the characters’ feelings at any given time. At the very start of the film, during the police chase, Scottie is feeling very anxious, and this is shown as the music swells and dips to him sliding down the roof and then watching his coworker die. Another example of this is when Scottie lays eyes on Madeleine for the first time. As quickly as she comes into the shot, a light, heavenly music overtakes the scene, highlighting an almost love-at-first-sight experience, and it is clear Scottie likes what he sees. This choice affects the audience because as the music becomes more suspenseful through volume and pace, or more lustful through the use of minors or majors, the anticipation grows for all those watching just as it does for those involved. When the waves splash over the rocks, and the elegant, long phrases in Bernard Herrmann’s score wash over Scottie and Madeleine during their first kiss, it also washes over the audience, who are enthralled with the mystery and passion of the scene.

Music is also used as a foreshadowing and stylistic device; Midge plays Bach, a classical composer, during her first meeting with Scottie. She then tries to pull him from the void of his mind using Mozart later in the film. Scottie does not like the classical music from the beginning, which shows the audience that the relationship Midge and Scottie have is out of sync, and that this dislike of her music is the beginning of the two slipping apart. 

Aside from the use of music, the editing styles used in Vertigo are central to how audiences perceive the film. Overlapping editing, which is showing the same action from multiple angles, is used heavily in Vertigo (Part 4: Editing). The repetitive shots allow the audience to see the same motion from different perspectives. For example,when we first watch Madeleine gaze at the painting of Carlotta and again when we watch Scottie admire Madeleine as she gazes. This creates a deeper mystery than if an audience had just seen the shot once; it creates a sense that there is something else to be looked for in the scene. As Paige Driscoll further explains in “‘The Hitchcock Touch:’ Visual Techniques in the World of Alfred Hitchcock,” “Odd angles… place the audience members in a place they don’t normally find themselves and alert them of what they may not have noticed otherwise.” It makes sense that this type of editing was used given the prominence of observation in the movie as opposed to the use of dialogue to find out information.

Not only do angles help shape the movie, but the editing of Vertigo also greatly affects its pace. The pacing connects back to the use of music because the pace of the music directly correlates to the pace of events. There are distinct changes of pace: before Madeleine dies, immediately after she dies, and at least one year after she dies. Before, the pacing is slow but tolerable. The audience watches days go by somewhat lazily despite the amount of information and intrigue that comes from them. For instance, watching Madeleine stare at the portrait of Carlotta adds to the mystery even though she is not doing anything dramatic. Scottie follows Madeleine, then Scottie and Madeleine start going out together, then Scottie goes to Midge’s apartment and relaxes with her; all of these are mundane events that at times may become hard to follow, but follow them the audience does. 

Immediately after Madeleine’s death, however, things come to a screeching halt. A close shot, lasting only a few minutes, of Scottie sitting in a chair, oblivious to the world, portrays how Scottie’s life seems to have stopped after Madeleine’s death and the trial. He no longer has things to do, not even mundane things, nor does he have any motivation to do said things now that he is reeling in the loss of the source of his obsession. 

Fast forward an unmentioned amount of time, possibly between six months and one year, and the pace begins to pick up, even faster than it was during the first half of the film. When Scottie speaks to people and makes observances it feels more rushed. He decides to follow Judy and enters her apartment, and then they begin to date, and then he begins to change her into Madeleine, and it all happens quickly even though the individual shots are slow. The movie crescendos as the pair once again ascends the tower steps, this time under much different pretenses, and then share a last kiss, before a nun startles Judy and she falls to her death. The pacing is somewhat disorienting; at times it feels too slow or too fast to fully absorb the major plot points, but it also makes the movie that much easier to sink into. The mundane tasks may seem boring, but they are broken up enough to keep an audience interested, and they become even more important once the plot finally is revealed, and the scenes can be revisited with a new attention to detail. 

Another interesting point of Vertigo is the blocking, specifically the use of levels in blocking to emphasize a difference in power. Hitchcock often shows the one in power at a higher level than the one without, even if neither the character nor the audience knows it at the time. The first time this is done is when Galvin Ester and Scottie are talking in the former’s office. Galvin is standing as he speaks about the woes he and his wife are going through, and Scottie listens intently while sitting. As Galvin’s true motive is finally revealed at the end, it is clear that he held the true power and was only using Scottie as his puppet. Scottie briefly regains power in this scene when he forcefully stands and refuses to take the job at first. However, once he consents to following Madeleine the power is again in Galvin’s hands. This also happens after Madeleine wakes up from her dip in the bay and Scottie tells her to sit by the fire; he throws some pillows on the floor for her and then sits on the arm of his couch, studying her. He has the power then, only to lose it when Madeleine runs off into the night. The emphasis on power dynamics in Vertigo is crucial to understanding the plot, especially later in the film, and understanding why characters make the choices they do.

While everything aforementioned does make Vertigo an analysist’s dream, I did not have a positive emotional reaction to it. The film was my first introduction to Hitchcock’s work, so I came into it as a fairly clean slate apart from what I know, or perceive to know, about Psycho. I thought the first half of the film was fairly boring; the mystery did not seem to fit together in an enticing way. As time progressed, however, I began to enjoy the movie far more. When the pacing sped up was when the true story started to unravel in a way that kept my interest. In spite of my interest, however, some parts of the plot, such as Scottie’s forced recreation of Madeleine onto Judy, are hard to swallow from the perspective of a female in 2018. While I understand its significance to the plot, these actions were only partially motivated by his obsession with her. These actions were also motivated simply out of Scottie’s desire to love Madeleine, and Madeleine alone; it is hard to watch that type of assertion for any reason. That conflict specifically angered me, and washed away any positive feelings I had towards the film. I also felt the story was fairly weak in terms of writing, which made it hard to like. Instead of feeling fulfilled at the end of the film, I felt betrayed which further angered me. Emotionally I was left hanging, looking for a better explanation, trying to remember any real clues provided in the film that would have actually helped solve the true plot. I came up empty, as did some of my peers whom I discussed the film with after. The lack of cohesion in writing was irritating.

Aside from the writing issues, I do not personally connect to the film as a psychological thriller or as a film noir, which it is credited to be by American Multi-Cinema. I felt it lacked the spark that would have truly made it psychologically thrilling. None of the plot points were enough of any one thing to provide a sense of discomfort or fear or anything, really. As I watched the story unfold, I was more so looking for the next moment of conflict than feeling there was so much information I needed to solve this mystery myself. Overall, Hitchcock made many masterful decisions in his crafting of Vertigo. It is understandable, from a cinematic perspective, why it is considered one of the greatest films of all time. Nevertheless, from the standpoint of someone watching a movie for entertainment, it does lack some of the key ingredients, such as chemistry or suspense, to stand out as the best. While Vertigo aims high, I do not feel its elements were able to come together enough to hit the bullseye of greatest film of all time; Vertigo, like many of its characters, triumphed in some ways but fell in many others.

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