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The Hitcher
Director: Dave Meyers
Cast: Sean Bean, Sophia Bush, Zachary Knighton, Kyle Davis, Neal McDonough
Screen Writers: Eric Red, Eric Bernt, Jake Wall
The original The Hitcher (1986) would probably have faded away unnoticed into the land of forgotten horror films had many
right wing reviewers at the time not been physically repulsed and morally incensed, outraged at the sick sensibility that
would make such a piece of filth(!). This OTT response, naturally, triggered an interest in the film and it became a cult
classic.
However this new remake of The Hitcher left me feeling just as angry, although not on any moral grounds. It left me angry
because it's totally chronic on so many levels. It's not simply a misfire or a disappointment; it is just droolingly, mind-numbingly
stupid.
The plot has two college students bound for a break with their friends many miles (driving) away. Easy-on-the-eyes Grace
Andrews (Sophia Bush) has partnered up with shaggy Jim Halsey (Zachary Knighton) - a super nice guy who lets family cars pass
him on the lonely desert highways as he's a careful and considerate driver.
Almost inevitably, the lovers cruise through the pouring rain at night, and they talk and the guy gazes over at his lady
love for such a long time that begin to wonder who's driving the car. During this moment, predictably, they nearly hit someone
standing in the road. Jim wants to help, but Grace urges him to drive away. At the next rest stop Grace takes so long in the
bathroom that the guy catches up on them. Feeling guilty, they give him a ride this time, he tries to kill them, and they
boot him out of the car. He winds up with Grace's mobile phone, but the script astonishingly forgets all about this potentially
scary element and there's no development whatsoever.
The guy calls himself John Ryder (Sean Bean) and is, of course, a psycho killer. He kills everyone, cops especially, without
a second thought. But for some reason, he continually avoids killing Grace and Jim and keeps following them so that he can
sidestep murdering them again. As for Grace and Jim, they blow just about every opportunity to get away or apprehend the baddie.
At one point, they're escaping in a stolen police car. They have a radio upon which they can report the actions of the killer,
and they completely fail to do so.
Of course, they're not the only stupid ones in this film. At one point a guard stares blankly at our bound bad guy from
three feet away as he slowly wriggles out of his handcuffs. "Hey quit movin'" the victim says, just one moment before
it's too late. Apparently director Dave Meyers couldn't figure out how else to provide the "scares" this film requires
other than to make everyone daft enough to blunder into them. He uses the old "jump/shock" trick several times,
but sets these up so obviously that he may as well be directing a romantic comedy. Even more offensively, Meyers pays tribute
to the master, Alfred Hitchcock, by showing a clip of The Birds (1963) on a TV set. This drivel doesn't deserve a Hitchcock
reference.
The real question is: why are we here? What's supposed to be scary about The Hitcher? The answer lies in Steven Spielberg's
superb Duel (1971), in which a henpecked travelling salesman (Dennis Weaver) offends a mysterious trucker and tries to get
away from him throughout the rest of the film. The key to that film is that Spielberg never shows the truck driver's face;
he relies on that strange psychological terror of threatening anonymity. We see a car coming up behind us, but we can only
imagine what its driver is like. Is this a challenge? Or are they completely oblivious? In The Hitcher, Meyers shows a close-up
of a gleeful Sean Bean repeatedly crashing into the back of the hero's car. We see it all, and the reality doesn't register
as emotionally true.
However, probably the worst thing about The Hitcher is the statistic that opens the film: 42,000 people die on USA highways
each year. That's tragic, but why is it mentioned here? Could Meyers really be hoping that this crass film will help save
lives?
Zodiac
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Like many others, I'd been eagerly anticipating the latest from David Fincher. I adored the fierce anarchy of Fight Club,
I revisited the nightmarish intensity of Seven many times, I admired the flawless stylistics of Panic Room and I was even
one of the few who thought The Game was wonderfully daring and ambitious - even Alien 3 I felt was underappreciated. So here
comes Zodiac.
In 1968, California saw the beginning of a new cycle of fear and violence that would remain unsolved to this very day.
The Zodiac killer first came to people's attention when he wrote a letter to the three main newspapers in San Francisco. He
bragged of his killings and threatened that unless three specific codes were printed that very day, he would kill many more.
It was the beginning of a stream of brutal murders by a merciless killer who left no clues and infuriated the cops on his
trail. Homicide Inspector Dave Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) and his partner William Armstrong (Anthony Edwards) find themselves flummoxed
by the lack of evidence and the city becomes terrified by the possibility that almost anyone could be next. Robert Graysmith
(Jake Gyllenhaal), a cartoonist for the San Francisco Examiner, becomes an unlikely ally in their bid to capture the killer.
His dogged determination and methodical logic turn him into the only man out there with the ability to find the elusive psychopath.
In telling the story of one of America's most notorious and sadistic serial killers, the filmmakers have to make an important
choice. Do they stick as close to the truth as possible and let the narrative suffer (since real life depressingly doesn't
unfold like a feature film) or do they fabricate to make for a more thrilling drama? More often than not, they choose the
second option. It's an admirable, if not entirely successful, choice that the makers of Zodiac decide to take. The lead character,
played by Gyllenhaal, is based on the real-life cartoonist who wrote the book which inspired the movie. The film is painstakingly
close to the truth and although this ends up becoming one of its major flaws, it does raise it into a different class when
compared to other serial killer flicks.
The first half is phenomenally good and since the film is just under 3 hours, that's quite a lot to enjoy. The opening
murder is shocking and reminds us what a skilled suspense director Fincher is. All of the death scenes in fact are brilliantly
tense and combined with the beautiful aerial shots of San Francisco and the teasing letters from the killer, the first 90
minutes belong in classic thriller territory. Fincher makes sure that even though we're watching a long flick, especially
considering the genre, we're never bored. There's always a visual flourish or a nice surprise to settle us back into the swing
of things. Zodiac's problem lies with the frustrating source material. When you're making a film about a killer who was never
caught, it's obvious the sting in the tail simply isn't there.
The death scenes soon dry up and as the killer goes AWOL, the film settles into TV detective mode. Cue the scenes where
our hero's wife (played by Chloe Sevigny) gets tired by his obsession with the case, or the scenes where everyone except our
hero continues not to give a monkey's about finding the savage killer. They wouldn't be so bad if they were wrapped up in
a satisfying way but alas, truth prevails and the killer was never caught. However, the sense of inconclusion is almost worth
it for the feeling of authenticity that is apparent throughout. This helps to make the violence and terror that the Zodiac
killer spread all the more shocking. Jake Gyllenhaal also proves to be a nice choice in the lead. He's engaging and unexpected
and makes a refreshing change from the typical protagonist in serial killer thrillers.
Zodiac, as flawed as it may be, is an excellent piece of work. A fascinating case, flawed in itself, is lovingly brought
to life by a team who value truth over fiction. Fincher's Hitchcockian flourishes, especially apparent in his gorgeous aerial
shots, bring a much needed style to the proceedings, as does his intrinsic attention to period detail, which directed by anyone
else, could come off as a little mannered and dry.
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