Feast; famine
I wasn't sure what to make of the first Feast, and I'm not sure what to make of the second. The first flick, born out of the Project Greenlight movie-competition TV series, is an odd creature and a movie greater than the sum of its parts; this is because most of these parts are stupid. Self-aware, overreliant on super-fast-mo action, deliberately tasteless with a teenage sense of humor, I somehow found myself enjoying it, and there were moments when I had to admit what was onscreen was something I hadn't seen before. Sort of terrible, but undeniably energetic and occasionally creative, it might not hold up to a second viewing, but there is credit due for the things it does right.
The second relies more heavily on the same tricks, with much more deliberate boundary-pushing. It usually feels overeager, but better any number of funnish flicks elbowing you in the ribs a little too hard, pushing boundaries with stupid glee, than one more drab August Underground exercise in simulated snuff for the purposes of extremity.
Feast's gross-out humor is magnified tenfold in [sigh] Feast 2: Sloppy Seconds, and there was at least one moment when I felt vaguely like throwing up, which one has to think director John Gulager would consider a big MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. If you happened to casually mention that there was a new horror flick coming straight to DVD with little-person wrestlers, half-naked Suicide Girls, three members of the director's family prominently involved, and jokes revolving around at least three different bodily functions, I would happily acknowledge that there is a target market for that film, and that it isn't necessarily me, and go off to my Netflix copy of The Nameless.
But Feast got me again, with non-winky performances from Jenny Wade and stalwart Clu Gulager, a couple creative bits, excellent pacing, solid and at times even very good photography, and that same dumb, juvenile exuberance. The ending is make-or-break; I dug it. We'll see where they go with it in [sigh] Feast 3: The Happy Finish.
The second relies more heavily on the same tricks, with much more deliberate boundary-pushing. It usually feels overeager, but better any number of funnish flicks elbowing you in the ribs a little too hard, pushing boundaries with stupid glee, than one more drab August Underground exercise in simulated snuff for the purposes of extremity.
Feast's gross-out humor is magnified tenfold in [sigh] Feast 2: Sloppy Seconds, and there was at least one moment when I felt vaguely like throwing up, which one has to think director John Gulager would consider a big MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. If you happened to casually mention that there was a new horror flick coming straight to DVD with little-person wrestlers, half-naked Suicide Girls, three members of the director's family prominently involved, and jokes revolving around at least three different bodily functions, I would happily acknowledge that there is a target market for that film, and that it isn't necessarily me, and go off to my Netflix copy of The Nameless.
But Feast got me again, with non-winky performances from Jenny Wade and stalwart Clu Gulager, a couple creative bits, excellent pacing, solid and at times even very good photography, and that same dumb, juvenile exuberance. The ending is make-or-break; I dug it. We'll see where they go with it in [sigh] Feast 3: The Happy Finish.
Labels: feast, john gulager
