Through the transformation of the glorious WTF-Films into the even more
glorious Exploder
Button and the ensuing server changes, some of my old columns for
the site have gone the way of all things internet. I’m going to repost them here
in irregular intervals in addition to my usual ramblings.
Please keep in mind these are the old posts presented with only
basic re-writes and improvements. Furthermore, many of these pieces were
written years ago, so if you feel offended or need to violently disagree with me
in the comments, you can be pretty sure I won’t know why I wrote what I wrote
anymore anyhow.
Meg (Heather Bolton perfectly embodying a mixture of inexperience/naivety and
hidden strength) has left her country home for the big city (I'd insert a joke
about what "big city" means in New Zealand here, but that would be oh so
inappropriate seeing where I live), where she works in an antiquities store. To
make it easier to visit her parents over the weekends - and probably as a symbol
of her freshly won independence - the young woman buys a used Jaguar.
Her first long drive with the car does not go quite as well as Meg would have
hoped for. When she stops by the side of the road to take a night nap, she's
awoken by hard and pretty unhealthy sounding breathing noises from the back seat
of the car that start whenever she turns off the interior lights. Worse, or at
least even more frightening to her, there's nothing and nobody to see on the
back seat.
After that experience, Meg becomes increasingly nervous and afraid of the
car, a state of affairs that is certainly not improved by further peculiar
happenings surrounding it. After Meg has had a nightmare centring on a
long-haired woman, she sees the exact same woman standing by the side of the
road trying to hitch a ride in her waking life. For whatever reason, Meg stops
for her.
However, the woman isn't alone. A man (David Letch) gets in together with
her, but he doesn't seem to actually be together with the woman as Meg assumes.
In fact, he doesn't seem to know about the woman's presence at all, which
becomes understandable but not exactly less peculiar when she suddenly just
disappears from the car. The guy is more than just a bit creepy too, and Meg has
a hard time getting rid of him.
This experience is nearly enough to convince Meg of getting rid of her car as
soon as possible, and when she learns that its last owner was a young woman
about her age who was murdered, and whose killer has never been caught, our
heroine does indeed try to sell it off.
That, however, is much easier said than done, for the car begins to sabotage
Meg's efforts in ways that could be explained away by bad luck, if it weren't
clear to the young woman her car was haunted.
While all this is going on, a mysterious someone begins to send Meg roses -
surely, this won't have anything to do with the rather more horrible things
going on in her life right now?
I know little about the movie scene in New Zealand (with the exception of
being quite intimate with the films of Peter Jackson and Jane Campion and some
random bits and bobs here and there), so I can't really say how typical Gaylene
Preston's Mr Wrong is for the cinematic output of the country in the
mid-80s. What I can say is that it is a pretty fantastic little film in mode and
mood of the clever - and quite weird - ghost story. Given that this is based on
one of the handful of supernatural tales Elizabeth Jane Howard wrote, the
"clever and weird" part isn't too much of a surprise; it is, however, quite a
positive surprise how well the Weirdness of Howard's story and Preston's
naturalistic eye on the New Zealand of the 80s complement each other.
As frequent readers of my ramblings will know by now, I am an admirer of low
budget films that make use of the cheapest of all special effects - local colour
- to set the mood of their stories, and am even more of an admirer of films that
are letting the very real of a specific place and time collide with the Weird
and the peculiar, so I am predisposed to liking Mr Wrong, as it is a
film whose whole modus operandi is very much based on these techniques. Even
better, Preston really knows what she's doing in this regard, showing herself to
be equally at home with taking a - slightly sarcastic - look at her central
character's live and times (I wouldn't be too surprised if there was a certain
autobiographical element at work here, either) and with slowly showing the seams
and cracks of Meg's existence where the disquiet and the strange can enter
through, cracks, the film seems to say, even the most unspectacular of lives
has. Are, after all, Meg's life and that of her unhappy predecessor in car
ownership all that different from each other? Preston doesn't overstretch the
parallels between the woman and the haunt. In fact, if you don't want
to see this aspect of the movie - that is most probably there to demonstrate
something about the way a woman still has to fight for her independence (in the
sense of self-ownership) - you will probably never notice it at all. It's always
excellent when a director is subtle with the treatment of her film's
metaphorical level.
From time to time, Mr Wrong is a bit rough around the edges, but
it's the kind of roughness that comes with the territory of making movies for
little money in a place where making a movie can't have been all that easy to
begin with, and is offset by direction that can be creative and imaginative
without feeling the need to show off. After all, it's clear to see for everyone
that the director really knows how to use the idiom of the ghost story and the
thriller without any need for her to point it out to her audience like a bad
Hollywood actor trying once in a blue moon for actual acting. Instead, Preston's
film impresses through an unassuming intelligence.
Friday, March 16, 2018
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