If you head on over to the Cannes Film Festival website you will find the press release announcing the films that are set to be screened at the festival in May.  And I don't know about you, but it looks like this is going to be a very strong and unpredictable year.

As previously announced, Pixar's Up will be opening the festival (out of competition), while Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds will be gunning for the Palme d'Or.  Normally I would say that Tarantino has a shot, but with so many great filmmakers in the mix this year, I’m not sure.

Almodovar will be bringing Broken Embraces to the fest, which should be interesting because any new Almodovar picture is like a mini celebration of sorts.  Art house phenom Michael Haneke returns with The White Ribbon, a story revolving around ritualistic murder happening in a school in the early 1900s, so be prepared to hear about a lot of audience walkouts.  Haneke wouldn’t have it any other way.  Ang Lee's Taking Woodstock, which looks quite good, will be having its world premiere at the festival, while the triple threat of Park Chan-Wook (Thirst), Johnnie To (Vengeance) and Bong Joon Ho (Mother) will undoubtedly impress audiences with their unique approach to storytelling.  And then there's the always eccentric Lars Von Trier, with his take on the horror film in the form of Antichrist, while Sam Raimi will bring his horror film Drag Me to Hell to the Midnight Screenings program.

While the films I mentioned were expected by insiders to premiere at the fest, there were some titles that caught me by surprise.  Terry Gilliam's The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus will premiere out of competition, along with Alejandro Amenabar's Agora.  I've been waiting for something new from Amenabar since The Others, so needless to say I'll be paying very close attention to the status of this film.  The announcement that surprised me the most, however, was that the notorious Gaspar Noe (Irreversible) will be returning to the screen with Enter the Void.  I know nothing about the film, which, in this case, is probably for the best.  However, by reputation alone, color me intrigued.  By the way, keep an eye on Map of the Sounds of Tokyo.  I have a feeling it's going to surprise a lot of people. 

All in all, it looks like Cannes 2009 is going to be one for the record books.  Give the press release a gander to see what tickles your fancy, there’s sure to be something to your liking.  With such a wide array of talented and challenging filmmakers unveiling their films, it's going to be interesting to see what makes it out of the Riviera alive. 

In 2003, I was excited to see one film over all others.  Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation had been building steam while making its way through the festival circuit and was finally going to be unveiled at the Toronto International Film Festival.  Needless to say, it was a hot ticket, but I was fortunate enough to get my hands on a couple of them.  I loved The Virgin Suicides and was anticipating Coppola’s follow-up.  When the house lights dimmed, I was ecstatic.  When they pulled me out of the dark… all I could think was, “Is that it”?

It happens to all of us.  We see a highly anticipated film that just sort of… fades away from memory.  We write it off, until we realize that it’s become far more popular than we anticipated. 

With Lost in Translation, I had trouble understanding why it was receiving such glowing reviews.  To me, it was slow and prodding, with uninteresting characters that barely developed.  The film’s saving grace was its beautiful cinematography, which by the film’s end, almost overstayed its welcome.  If anything, I was interested more in Giovanni Ribisi and Anna Faris’ characters rather than the hum-drum leads in the form of Bill Murray and Scarlet Johansson. 

After I left the screening, dumbfounded by what I had just seen, I followed the films triumphant rise in popularity that lead to the Academy Awards, where it was nominated for a whole slew of awards.  I remember thinking that I would have been a monumental mistake if Murray won for best actor.  Why?  If the Academy didn’t acknowledge his wonderful work in Rushmore (still the best Murray performance), then he definitely didn’t deserve it for this one.  The real surprise, though, was Coppola winning the Best Screenplay award.  Apparently this heavily improvised and lackluster tale had grown to become the best screenplay the year had to offer.  I was in shock.  Did I miss something?

Now, six years later, I’m starting to think maybe I did.  Maybe Coppola hit a nerve that I wasn’t (and probably still am not) ready to confront.  I have to stress that I don’t think Lost in Translation is a bad film; it’s just one that I feel failed to connect with me on almost every level.  But that’s the magic of the movies.  What is one man’s trash, may be another man’s treasure. 

But lately I’ve started to think that I should give Coppola’s film another chance.  Maybe the anticipation for the film absolutely killed it for me from the start.  Maybe it wasn’t what I wanted it to be.  Whatever the case, I’m sure I’ll give Lost in Translation another viewing in the very near future.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll fall in love with it.  Or maybe I’ll dislike it even more than I did before.  If that’s the case, at least I gave it another chance.

There are thousands upon thousands of great assholes in the annals of cinema; the kind of characters that are both goofy and smarmy, but also cunning and devious.  For some, Hedley Lamarr from Blazing Saddles is the perfect example, while others might see Biff from Back to the Future as the quintessential goofy villain.  Both great choices.  But for me, look no further than one Shooter McGavin from Happy Gilmore. 

As brought to glorious life by magnificent character actor Christopher McDonald, Shooter has become one of the most memorable villains to emerge from the 90’s.  He’s a great villain, in that he pulls some pretty despicable shit, but he’s funny because McDonald was in on the joke the entire way.  That ever present “I’m better than you” smirk, that weaselly voice, the way he carelessly mouths off to a guy who is ten times bigger than he is (who, in case you forgot, also wore a “Guns don’t kill people.  I kill people” t-shirt)… these are all striking characteristics of a man who is an unabashed dumbass, but hasn’t been clued in to the fact, nor does he care.

As soon as we see Shooter saunter across the frame, you know you’ve just laid your eyes on a living legend.  The way he pulls his imaginary guns out of his holster in order to shoot the golf ball into the hole is beyond pathetic, yet we can’t get enough of it.  His absolute lack of class and respect is something we, the audience, cherish simply due to the fact that he is proudly larger than life. 

His odd threat of “I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast” is still a regularly uttered phrase within my close knit group of friends.  His hiring of the Jeering Fan who yells “You jackass!” is a stroke of genius.  What’s more, it’s because of Shooter’s relationship with the Fan that got me to fall in love with Red Lobster.  So for that, I thank you, Shooter. 

I mean, even the way he asks for a Diet Pepsi is slimy and rude.  But that’s what’s so great about McDonald’s delivery.  He’s played plenty of antagonists before and since Happy Gilmore, but none were even close to achieving Shooter’s legendary status. 

Now that I think about it, that’s the missing ingredient from the more recent Adam Sandler movies, the one thing we grew to expect; in other words, great villains.  As disappointing as Little Nicky was, the long list of villainous characters were great.  And who can forget “O’Doyle rules” from Billy Madison or the greasy bastard from The Wedding Singer? 

Every time I watch Happy Gilmore, a part of me hopes that Shooter will pull through and win the big game and get that damn jacket.  But to no avail.  Every time, he’s on the losing end.  And every time, I shed a tear of respect for the great man that he is.  Here’s to Shooter McGavin… that jackass.

Author Roald Dahl is known for his classic children's stories, such as The Witches, James and the Giant Peach, Matilda and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  However, very few are unaware of his wicked and decidedly mature sense of humor.  Although, it can’t be too much of a surprise to some, given the dark undertones prevalent in almost all of his stories.

A number of years ago, I picked up a collection of Dahl’s short stories and was floored by the incredibly menacing nature of his storytelling.  I’ve always adored him as an author simply because he refused to talk down to his audience.  Chances are, when you walk into your nearest bookstore, most of his writing will be found in the children’s section.  It’s probably because he is so hard to categorize.  He blends atmospheres and genres and plays on our preconceived notions of them.  He was a master storyteller, the kind that challenged his readers with deliciously dark and twisted fare.

One of his most haunting short stories is The Man from the South, about a foreigner vacationing in Las Vegas who coerces a young hotshot to take part in a most twisted and disturbing bet.  If the young man can strike his cigarette lighter ten times without fault, then he wins the foreigner’s Lamborghini.  If he misses just once, however, he’ll lose his pinkie finger.  Admittedly, it’s an absurd plot, but a frighteningly plausible one.  Dahl lathers on the tension from the moment the young man and the foreigner cross paths and it doesn’t let up until the final sentence; what’s more, he takes it seriously, with just the right amount of tongue in cheek humor to ease the tension. 

Chances are, most of you are familiar with this scenario thanks to Quentin Tarantino’s contribution to the anthology film Four Rooms back in 1995, in which Tim Roth’s Ted the Bellhop encounters a room full of psychos taking part in a similar bet.  For me, though, it was an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents that brought this story to my attention. 

Starring Steve McQueen and the great Peter Lorre, the episode is a classic, not only of the series, but of episodic television as well.  As opposed to Four Rooms, it doesn’t stray from the source material one bit.  The tension is almost unbearable and the low budget of the series only enhanced what we were seeing.  But then again, who are we kidding?  This is a great story, starring two of the greatest actors to ever grace the screen.  McQueen has never been more arrogant and confident, while Lorre has never been more out and out creepy.  Just look at the way in which he gleefully hugs the cleaver, as McQueen strikes his match each time.  Seeing these two act opposite one another is a treat you all should witness.

Dahl’s sensibilities were a perfect fit for Alfred Hitchcock Presents.  It’s a shame that more of his short stories weren’t adapted for the series.  And seeing as how Tarantino is an admirer of great storytelling, I suppose it was a tribute on his part to have one of his best films (I dare you to argue that fact) based loosely on Dahl’s story. 

What’s more, this episode represents a time in which big Hollywood stars served the story… not the other way around.  My, how times have changed.

Before making the lackluster adaptation of the Silent Hill videogame, director Christophe Gans made a much better, yet widely overlooked, film in the form of Brotherhood of the Wolf. 

Taking place in 18^th century France, Brotherhood tells the story of the Gregoire de Fronsac, a man sent to investigate a series of mysterious murders which have been running rampant in a sleepy town that may or may not be attacks brought on by a werewolf.  That’s all I will say about the plot because half of the (admittedly frustrating) fun comes from watching the story veer off in different directions for the next two hours. 

I remember seeing the film back in 2001 with little advertisement to hint at what I was about to see.  It was because of the accolades it received at the Toronto International Film Festival that made me want to see the film.  And as soon as the opening credits rolled, I was hooked. 

Any good film should begin with something that grabs your attention, or else why should you be sitting there for a couple of hours?  Something has to intrigue you.  In the case of Brotherhood of the Wolf, opening the film with a sensationalized werewolf attack was a stroke of genius.  It uses the ‘Ramp up, slow down’ action technique we see often nowadays, but it never comes off as being intrusive or gimmicky.  As well, aside from it being an aesthetic touch, it gives the proceedings a unique and unmistakable sense of intensity and brutality. 

The only glaring fault in the film (and this may be something that makes or breaks the film for some) is the fact that it gets incredibly outlandish by the third act.  The film does a wonderful job at bringing this interesting and supposedly factual story to the screen, with larger than life characters and a touch of the supernatural.  But you just can’t help but suspect the filmmakers of being afraid to make an outright genre film, so they slyly turn the tables on you near the end.  Personally, it didn’t bother me too much.  But for a number of my friends, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back; which is a shame, because in the last ten minutes, the film regains the storytelling vigor that made it interesting in the first place.

The cast is an eclectic one at best.  Samuel Le Bihan (to me, an unfamiliar French actor) really impressed in the lead role as Gregoire.  He’s got classic movie star charm and can believably crack a few skulls when he has to.  Vincent Cassel, most familiar to mainstream audiences for his crackling turn as Kirill in Cronenberg’s Eastern Promises, plays the most intriguing of all suspects here.  Monica Bellucci plays a woman who works in a brothel, but who also has ties with the occult.  The most interesting cast member, however, is Mark Dacascos.  That’s right.  One half of the Double Dragon team.  The Chairman of Iron Chef: America.  Here, he puts his martial arts skills to good use as Gregoire’s Native American companion, Mani.  The filmmakers wisely give Dacascos most of the show stopping moments, allowing his avant garde style to shine.   Believe me, when he’s not on screen, you’ll notice it; he’s surprisingly that good.

As I said before, the film has a tendency to veer off in different directions at any given moment.  Brotherhood of the Wolf can be seen as a martial arts film, a historical drama, a supernatural suspense and a horror film, sometimes all at once.  While the outcome of the story (and the true story behind the werewolf attacks, for that matter) isn’t as strong as it should have been, Brotherhood of the Wolf presents a fun ride; one that would have been even better, if only it embraced its outrageousness. 

Robert Kurtzman, Gregory Nicotero and Howard Berger make up KNB Effects, one of the most impressive and prolific special effects houses in the industry.  They’ve worked and built a niche for themselves in an industry dominated by the talents of Rick Baker, Tom Savini and the late Stan Winston, which, in itself, is no small feat. 

First and foremost, it’s obvious that the KNB Effects House is made up of people who love movies; it’s evident in their intricate and homage infused work.  But with such an intimidating and strong filmography, which films contain KNB’s most effective and memorable work?

Look no further than this truncated Top 5 list of the best KNB films.

5: The Hills Have Eyes

After making a splash with the French language horror film Haute Tension, Alex Aja turned his sights on remaking Wes Craven’s classic The Hills Have Eyes. 

Aja kept Craven’s “good people forced to do bad things” scenario intact, while also emphasizing the monstrous appearance of the antagonistic mutant family.  With the help of Nicotero and his cohorts, KNB’s effects shocked and disturbed, elevating the film above your average quick cash-in remake.  Each member of the mutant family was given a unique physical characteristic that helped develop their personality, merely alluding to the atrocities they must have endured in order to turn out that way.  From that point on, the viewer begins to paint a grotesque backstory of these characters in their head that definitely makes the experience much more frightening and visceral. 

And let’s not forget Big Brain, the most memorable of all the mutant clan.

4: Grindhouse

KNB’s work in Grindhouse shows two different sides of their talent; the in your face nature of gore and the much more subdued, disturbing side of it.

For the first half of horror/exploitation double bill, KNB brought Robert Rodriguez’s zombie story Planet Terror to life.  Filled with blood, puss, mucous and a plastic bag filled with severed balls, KNB harkened back to the carefree, un-PC, good old days of 1980’s horror movie gore.  It’s gross, but it’s a fun sort of gross; so absurd that you can’t help but cheer with excitement when it goes even more over the top (and it does quite often).  Nothing show stopping here, just unabashed fun.

On the opposite end of the spectrum we have Tarantino’s contribution to the double bill, Death Proof.  At first, KNB’s work in this story about a psycho who uses his muscle car in place of a butcher knife is deceptively simple.  But look a little closer.  Jarring glimpses of severed limbs grace the screen on more than one occasion, while bones shatter, crack and snap in half as they meet glass and metal.  If you want further proof of KNB’s talent, just look at the moment in which Stuntman Mike crashes head on with the film’s first quartet of female victims. 

3: The Cell

Tarsem’s The Cell is one of the most underrated films of 2000.  The story of a psychologist who enters the mind of a comatose serial killer in order to find his latest victim was one of the most intriguing cinema going experiences I’ve had in the past ten years. 

The look of the film is what sets it apart from all others.  Tarsem is one of the most visually gifted filmmakers working today and his talent perfectly fits that of KNB.  The alternate physical personalities that psycho Vincent D’Onofrio changes into throughout the film are haunting, yet alluring.  KNB beautifully captured what a madman would think of himself in his own narcissistic and egotistical mind.

For me, though, it’s the moment in which D’Onofrio slowly pulls out another character’s intestines using a medieval torture device that grabbed my attention (and turned my stomach) to the work of KNB.

2: From Dusk till Dawn

Another Rodriguez/Tarantino collaboration, this time telling the tale of a unique western/vampire horror hybrid.  Vampires allow any special effects magician to truly let their imaginations run wild.  In the form of From Dusk til Dawn, KNB didn’t disappoint. 

Whether it’s creating a gargantuan vampire in the form of Danny Trejo, a weasly pathetic vampire in the form of Cheech Marin or a slithering goddess of pain in the form of Salma Hayek , KNB pulled out all the stops.  Gore flows in abundance, while your eyes try to take in all of the little nuances (yes, there are quite a few) that the effects house threw in for fun.  And how about Tom Savini’s cameo?  Without a doubt, his transformation into a rat-like vampire from hell still makes me smile from ear to ear.

From Dusk til Dawn may very well be what KNB is remembered for.

1: The Mist

Was I the only one who was tickled by the collaboration between director Frank Darabont and the KNB crew?  Sure, almost everyone knows Darabont because of his successful adaptations of Stephen King’s The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile.  But I remember him from his days of writing A Nightmare of Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors, The Fly II and The Blob; severely flawed horror flicks, but ones that reveled in gristle and grue and true genre storytelling.

KNB’s work on The Mist starts off as quite subdued, but once the creatures come out of the mist to play, the effects team’s true talent comes to the forefront.  The crew plays with our imaginations, making us wonder what really is out in the mist.  What are those tentacles attached to?  Where did those big bugs come from and is there something bigger that feeds off of them?  And what exactly is causing that earth shaking rumble?

The Mist is a culmination of KNB’s best work to date.  It’s subtle, yet in your face.  It pays homage to the great monster films of yesteryear, but also creates a few of their own monsters that will last in our nightmares for years to come. 

KNB is good at what they do because they know that special effects aren’t the be all and end all of a story; rather, effects help drive the story forward.  And like some of the best storytellers, KNB has the ability to make us believe in the impossible.