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Rating:
Jim Mickle. Remember this name.
In recent years, this has been happening: if a genre film is valid, then no one pays attention to it. No big names in cinema talk about it (no, Spielberg and "Paranormal Activity" tell us nothing...), no big "actor," tight budget. If you're lucky, the film's name might circulate among genre enthusiasts, generating a lifesaving word-of-mouth that can save a film otherwise destined for complete oblivion, at least in the home video circuit. "We Are What We Are" isn’t yet at the word-of-mouth stage, and nothing tells us it will succeed. But the very fact that it has been distributed via DVD even in Italy is a good starting point.
The semi-unknown Jim Mickle (who is spoken of quite well in the USA), now on his third feature film, has to deal with a remake of a Mexican horror that is equally unknown from 2010. Initially, he refuses, aware of the absolute nullity of remakes birthed on American soil in recent years. Later, he accepts, and the final result is one of the most intriguing things in American horror in recent years.
God has chosen the Parker family to perform this rite. This has been going on for centuries and cannot change, because it is so, it has been chosen this way. We are what we are, and nothing can change the state of things. The Parker family consists of damn cannibals. Okay, put that way, it might actually seem like the usual banal horror about cannibalism. Nothing could be more wrong: WAWWA draws all its strength from not showing any kind of gore scene for 3/4 of its duration. It doesn't need to because Mickle builds tension through editing and a fluid direction, dry and clean, without having to resort to exhausting long takes, tracking shots, dolly, and other technicalities. Close-ups and medium shots prevail, and a gloomy, perpetually "sick," almost post-apocalyptic setting. An overall atmosphere that fits wonderfully into what for an hour is a sort of noir suspended in time, where Mickle shows he has learned well the subdued style of some European genre cinema. It’s a film that works precisely because it is far from the stereotypes that have inflated (and shattered) American horror: no handheld camera, no need to accelerate the pace, no blood scattered here and there to give the semblance of brutality to a work that doesn't need it. Then there would be a discussion about the reflection on the impossibility of altering one's fate in poor America wedged in misery, mountains, and mud. But it’s a film about cannibals, who cares about its social implications?
Oh, it’s not like Mickle suddenly became the new Tobe Hooper, but an American horror film this well-conceived had not been seen in years. And indeed it will continue to remain in obscurity because no one saw it, and it grossed as much as a drug dealer manages in the Roman suburbs on a summer night. To be clear, our uncle Jim's film is not perfect, and the hasty way the village doctor reveals the mystery is a decent plot hole. But we don’t care, because Mickle still has magic in store for us. What could go wrong and ruin a film that has worked almost in its entirety? The ending... Instead, Mickle manages to deliver a finale that is finally gore, necessary, hard, harrowing... yes, especially harrowing.
The rating would be a 3 and a half, but I, too, have been a cannibal for years, so I slap it with a 4.
In recent years, this has been happening: if a genre film is valid, then no one pays attention to it. No big names in cinema talk about it (no, Spielberg and "Paranormal Activity" tell us nothing...), no big "actor," tight budget. If you're lucky, the film's name might circulate among genre enthusiasts, generating a lifesaving word-of-mouth that can save a film otherwise destined for complete oblivion, at least in the home video circuit. "We Are What We Are" isn’t yet at the word-of-mouth stage, and nothing tells us it will succeed. But the very fact that it has been distributed via DVD even in Italy is a good starting point.
The semi-unknown Jim Mickle (who is spoken of quite well in the USA), now on his third feature film, has to deal with a remake of a Mexican horror that is equally unknown from 2010. Initially, he refuses, aware of the absolute nullity of remakes birthed on American soil in recent years. Later, he accepts, and the final result is one of the most intriguing things in American horror in recent years.
God has chosen the Parker family to perform this rite. This has been going on for centuries and cannot change, because it is so, it has been chosen this way. We are what we are, and nothing can change the state of things. The Parker family consists of damn cannibals. Okay, put that way, it might actually seem like the usual banal horror about cannibalism. Nothing could be more wrong: WAWWA draws all its strength from not showing any kind of gore scene for 3/4 of its duration. It doesn't need to because Mickle builds tension through editing and a fluid direction, dry and clean, without having to resort to exhausting long takes, tracking shots, dolly, and other technicalities. Close-ups and medium shots prevail, and a gloomy, perpetually "sick," almost post-apocalyptic setting. An overall atmosphere that fits wonderfully into what for an hour is a sort of noir suspended in time, where Mickle shows he has learned well the subdued style of some European genre cinema. It’s a film that works precisely because it is far from the stereotypes that have inflated (and shattered) American horror: no handheld camera, no need to accelerate the pace, no blood scattered here and there to give the semblance of brutality to a work that doesn't need it. Then there would be a discussion about the reflection on the impossibility of altering one's fate in poor America wedged in misery, mountains, and mud. But it’s a film about cannibals, who cares about its social implications?
Oh, it’s not like Mickle suddenly became the new Tobe Hooper, but an American horror film this well-conceived had not been seen in years. And indeed it will continue to remain in obscurity because no one saw it, and it grossed as much as a drug dealer manages in the Roman suburbs on a summer night. To be clear, our uncle Jim's film is not perfect, and the hasty way the village doctor reveals the mystery is a decent plot hole. But we don’t care, because Mickle still has magic in store for us. What could go wrong and ruin a film that has worked almost in its entirety? The ending... Instead, Mickle manages to deliver a finale that is finally gore, necessary, hard, harrowing... yes, especially harrowing.
The rating would be a 3 and a half, but I, too, have been a cannibal for years, so I slap it with a 4.
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