SXSW Film Fest, Day 4: "The Lords of Salem," "The Spectacular Now," "Upstream Color," & More

Director: Rob Zombie

Stars: Sheri Moon Zombie, Bruce Davison, Jeff Daniel Phillips, Ken Foree, Patricia Quinn, Dee Wallace, Maria Conchita Alonso, Judy Geeson, Meg Foster

Running time: 101 minutes

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Score: 7/10

This time, Rob Zombie really isn't fucking around.

Not that he's ever made a horror film that's been lighthearted or pleasant, mind you. Starting off with the uneven but curious House of 1,000 Corpses, the heavy metal hit-maker's second career as a genre director has been notable for its attention to depravity and humorless brutality. That batshit film's superior, more nuanced, and altogether first-rate sequel, The Devil's Rejects, was a huge leap forward artistically, and, although they're mostly derided by hardcore John Carpenter enthusiasts, Zombie's two Halloween flicks each contain numerous well-directed and impressively relentless sequence amidst their storytelling missteps.

Zombie's fans haven't seen anything yet, though. Steeped in European sensibilities, the writer-director's latest horror extravaganza, The Lords of Salem is his most ambitious and befuddling work yet—befuddling in positive ways comparable to the least comprehensible, yet no less enthralling and delightfully appalling, films from, say, Alejandro Jodorowsky and Dario Argento. Except that The Lords of Salem is unmistakably a Rob Zombie vision, one that never suffered the same big-wig interference that befell his Halloween studio assignments. Given total creative freedom from mega-producer Jason Blum (Insidious, the Paranormal Activity series), Zombie holds nothing back.

And the outcome is about as close to modern-day audiences may ever come to experiencing the midnight-movie weirdness of films like Santa Sangre and Alucarda. Zombie's wife, and go-to actress, Sheri Moon Zombie takes the lead as a radio DJ living in Salem and trying to put her past drug addictions behind her. At work, she receives a mysterious box containing a vinyl recording, addressed from "The Lords," and whenever she puts the needle to the record, she starts having hallucinogenic flashbacks centered around Margaret Morgan (an insanely game Meg Foster), who, during the days of the Salem Witch Trials, led a coven that got burned alive and left a curse on their murderers' ancestors.

That, in a nutshell, is what little story The Lords of Salem has, but this isn't a movie where narrative matters much. As Zombie pointed out in the post-screening Q&A, some of his all-time favorite movies are ones that he's not even sure he understands yet can't stop thinking about; through their bizarre imagery and haunting concepts, they've left imprints on his mind.

Nearly 10 hours after watching The Lords of Salem with an energetic Topfer Theatre crowd here in Austin, I'm still thinking about the film's endless barrage of creeping dread and demonic visuals. Especially throughout its final third, Zombie's totally out-there picture morphs into a demented collection of sights, not all of which, it should be noted, entirely convince. Burnt-faced surgeons performing a hideous C-section, paintings that ooze blood, Foster's jarringly skeletal body tucked away in the corners of frames, and long tracking shots that give way to phantasmagoria, all to the sounds of a dizzying electro-metal score, have a lingering effect; seeing demons in priest outfits violently stroking dildos, however, is a bit much.

In this case, fortunately, it's easy to give Zombie a pass. The Lords of Salem opens with naked and flabby witches performing a wild Satanic ritual, so there's never any doubt as to what kind of movie you're viewing, and Zombie completely uses that license to his advantage. The film's parade of grotesqueries will definitely repulse some, if not have them laughing for all the wrong reasons. Chances are, though, anyone who voluntarily seeks out "video nasties" and prefers the lurid over logical will happily kneel before Zombie's strange altar.

Director: James Ponsoldt
Stars: Miles Teller, Shailene Woodley, Brie Larson, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Kyle Chandler
Running time: 95 minutes
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Score: 8/10

Filmmakers don't always handle young love with much honesty—how often do on-screen romances get dealt with in realistic ways that viewers can relate to? The flash mob scene at the end of Friends With Benefits always comes to mind as an example of Hollywood's inclination toward exaggerated fairy tale conclusions.

Screenwriters Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber don't seem to have any interest in those kinds of forcibly optimistic resolutions. First, they depicted a nice guy's emotional devastation caused by an incompatible partner in (500) Days of Summer; and for their follow-up screenplay, The Spectacular Now (based on the novel by Tim Tharp), the duo has taken it back to the uncertain coming-of-age high school days. The result is an uncommonly thoughtful and powerful examination of angst. It's also the second top-notch, character-powered dramedy from director James Ponsoldt, coming on the heels of last year's underrated Smashed. Like Neustadter and Weber, and proven by The Spectacular Now, Ponsoldt has a special voice.

In a performance that should officially turn him into a star, Miles Teller (21 and Over) plays Sutter, an aimless, borderline alcoholic kid whose girlfriend (Brie Larson) has just broken up with him; his father (Kyle Chandler) is nowhere to be seen; and his mother (Jennifer Jason Leigh) isn't exactly affectionate. To hide his self-loathing, Sutter goes about his senior year being the perpetual class clown, a jokester who doesn't take anything seriously.

After a drunken bender, he gets woken up on a stranger's front lawn by Amy (Shailene Woodley), a slightly nerdy, far less popular classmate who reads comic books and has never had a boyfriend. There's an immediate connection, and it doesn't take long for Amy to fall head over heels as she inspires Sutter to confront his family issues and finally approach life with a straight face. But in The Spectacular Now, love doesn't necessarily conquer everything. Ponsoldt's film isn't concerned with taking the safe way out—it's at times surprising just how real The Spectacular Now keeps it, sending its characters headfirst into heartbreak, downward spirals, and physical harm.

And when the characters suffer, you're right there with them. Aside from its resonant themes, The Spectacular Now is furthermore a showcase for two of the best under-30 actors. Teller and Woodley have an effortless chemistry, even as their characters really go through it emotionally. When Sutter endangers himself by pushing back against what's good for him, you can't help but feel for the guy; as Amy becomes more and more blinded by her first love, you're own heart melts watching her helplessly encounter desire's darker sides. And when Sutter delicately pops Amy's cherry, it's a tender, excellently performed and masterfully staged moment.

Last year, the sleeper hit The Perks of Being a Wallflower blindsided critics with its atypically frank and fearless depiction of high schoolers who don't just flirt with chicks, bump uglies, and goof around in class—that film's characters are just as complicated as those in the best adult drama. Now that we've got The Spectacular Now (which will open theatrically in August), it's officially a burgeoning trend: the mature, reality-based teen movie. This is a very good thing.

Director: Shane Carruth
Stars: Amy Seimetz, Shane Carruth, Andrew Sensenig, Thiago Martins, Kathy Carruth, Meredith Burke
Running time: 96 minutes
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Score: 9/10

In 2004, hardcore and, more importantly, adventurous science fiction fans were blown away by a little independent time-travel film called Primer. Written and directed by first-time writer-director Shane Carruth, it's an astounding piece of brainy, uneasy plotting that, nine years later, still holds up for many as the best time-travel film ever made—a bold statement, sure, but singular experiences like Primer provoke such hyperbole.

Stemming from that response, the film's passionate supporters have since been anxiously awaiting Carruth's next move, and when his sophomore feature, Upstream Color, premiered at the Sundance Film Festival two months ago, the reactions ranged from emphatically positive to pass-the-Tylenol disorientation. At the very least, Carruth didn't disappoint.

Now that Upstream Color has elicited the same impact here at SXSW, there should be little doubt: The man remains indie cinema's most exciting new voice. And Upstream Color—an ambiguous and puzzling head trip that'll no doubt reward those who give it multiple viewings—is a surge of free-flowing imagination that tops Primer.

It's also a textbook example of a movie that's best seen with little to no prior knowledge of its plot machinations. But here's a little something to whet curious film buffs' appetites: Two morose strangers (Amy Seimetz and Carruth) meet on a train, slowly begin seeing each other, and have no idea that they share a common past experience that neither one of them truly understands. Somewhere not all that far from their city, meanwhile, resides an eccentric farmer with a giant pen full of pigs. How all of those pieces connect is what Carruth challenges audience members to formulate for themselves—the necessary details for comprehension are there, but laid out in such a way that posits Upstream Color as a slightly less menacing relative of Mulholland Drive.

Carruth is working on several artistic levels here. The film's core is the whirlwind romance, but, true to his idiosyncratic form, Carruth surrounds that beating heart with other particular influences, including body horror, bleak drama, and (bizarre) biology. Which, on the whole, could leave viewers cold if not for his ability to capture moments of sublime beauty.

Even at its most impenetrable, Upstream Color is a superb technical achievement. For its nuts-and-bolts filmmaking alone, the film is one to seek out immediately upon its April 5 self-distributed theatrical release. Just be sure to bring thinking caps and an open, willingly susceptible mind.

Director: Geoff Marslett
Stars: Trieste Kelly Dunn, Francisco Barreiro, Ashley Rae Spillers, Melissa Hideko Bisagni, John Merriman
Running time: 99 minutes
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Score: 4/10

Expect good, potentially much bigger things from Trieste Kelly Dunn, the star of director/co-writer Geoff Marslett's Austin-set character study Loves Her Gun. A naturalistic performer, Dunn (who also currently co-stars on the Cinemax original series Banshee) has a legitimate star quality about her, that certain blend of presence and range that should open the door for more projects and a strong buzz out of SXSW. To put it bluntly, she deserves material that's better than Loves Her Gun, a thematically confused mood piece that opens promisingly but hastily loses its way worse than a city slicker stranded in the Texas wilderness.

Dunn plays Allie, an outgoing Brooklyn resident who, late one night after her loser boyfriend leaves her alone, gets brutally assaulted while walking home. Shell-shocked by the incident, Allie spontaneously hops in an Austin native/friend's van and takes a road trip the Longhorn State. Before long, she's exposed to the Texas gun culture, strapped, and ready to make some poor, life-threatening decisions.

Despite Dunn's best efforts, something strange happens to Allie once she arrives in Austin: She begins making one contradictory move after another and, no thanks to the misguided script, degenerates into a wholly unlikable character. Random visual cues allude to her past trauma, conveniently reminding viewers that Allie is still mentally unstable due to the BK attack, but each on-screen reference to that event feels more forced than its predecessor.

Loves Her Gun plods its way through a series of interactions during which Allie casually hurts her friends' emotions, hooks up with people she just down-talked, and introduces the story's firearm aspect simply to set up a final scene that's equal parts predictable and unjustified.

Flawed protagonists are commonplace in movie; indeed, they're often the strongest characters. Yet there's a difference between blurring the line between empathy and dislike and merely writing a person who's plain-old infuriating, devoid of any silver linings. Talented folks like Ms. Dunn will always be powerless against that.