Streaming non-recommendation: Netflix's crappy German time-travel series, DARK

Yes, I know that conventional wisdom  has long insisted that Germans (and German movies) have no sense of humor. But Look Who's Back, to use just one recent example, disproves that theory entirely. Unfortunately, the idea bounced back into my mind while viewing the dismal new Netflix-produced German series entitled DARK, which is now available pretty much worldwide via the cable behemoth. There's not a moment of levity, lightness or anything approaching humor anywhere to be seen in these ten tiresome, derivative and annoying 50-minute episodes.

This is one of those series chock full of pseudo-science, pseudo-religion, pseudo-philosophy, and pseudo-entertainment that keep promising some kind of coalescence that never arrives. Worse, it consistently trips over its own ideas. All about time travel, supposedly made possible every 33 years via our not-quite reliable calendar, it posits a bunch of kidnapped children used in some experiment (above) to facilitate this time travel who keep turning up dead (the experiments evidently continually fail).

And yet, as we see throughout the series, time travel in this sodden little German town is not just possible but is increasingly discovered by a number of its citizens (the one above, for instance), who simply open a couple of doors in a cave beneath the earth (see poster, top) and find themselves either backward or forward in time by those 33 years.

Yet the movement of those citizens is certainly well known to the "experimenter," so what's the point of keeping up the experiments on that rather silly-looking machine? This piece of nonsense is only the worst example of stupid plotting that relies completely on the viewer's inability to stop and "think" for a moment or two. There's so little logic in so much that happens here (the dead come back to life, along with other nonsensical dreck) that you might as well place your brain on hold as you watch.

Yes, the series offers its titular "noir-ish" themes, cinematography, ugliness and gloom. All this is offered up with the kind of expert professionalism we now expect out of Netflix. But then it merely keeps repeating the stuff, over and over, until one has to ask (to quote Peggy Lee), Is that all there is?

Nuclear energy is also on view here, and is part and parcel of the town's problems, as are other things like lust and love (unrequited, of course). The characters are as sullen and sodden a bunch as you will have ever seen in any TV or cable series. The only humor finally arises mostly from how utterly lacking in any the series actually is. It almost becomes something of an inside joke. You can image the producers, writers and directors watching the day's shoot and suddenly saying, "Oh, my god -- that actor just smiled. Delete that moment immediately!"

The performers are mostly good-looking and get the job done, but as we keep moving from 2019 back to 1986 and then (in the last three episodes) 1953 and piecing together exactly who is the grandfather of this one or the mother of that one, not only our interest but any chance to care much about these people dissipates. Also, the series lasts twice as long as it needs to, thanks to its very slow pacing and the camera constantly stopping to focus on a character's angst for maybe two to three times as long as necessary to get the point across. (Were the filmmakers worried that we might miss the abject "seriousness" of all their fine work?)

The finale helps in no way whatsoever, except to begin a whole new section in what I imagine is the year 2052. The series keeps promising some closure, none of which ever arrives. Dark exists to simply string us along. Perhaps that's its point, but if so, then it's mostly for folk who enjoy being diddled without ever reaching a climax. (Think of it as the television equivalent of Tantra Yoga.)

Netflix has just announced that it is renewing Dark for a second season. Good luck -- but count me out. These eight hours-plus have now taken their place as my biggest waste of time this year.

"Dreck" the halls: Craig Anderson's "nut"meg eggnog, RED CHRISTMAS, hits a few theaters

Can you make a decent slasher movie while tossing in themes of religion, pregnancy, parenting and abortion, among other things? Yes, if your film is as good as, say, She Who Must Burn. But a big, fat "no," if the new RED CHRISTMAS, written and directed by Australian filmmaker Craig Anderson, serves as a more recent indication. Once the killing starts -- among family members gathered to celebrate here -- these characters begin acting stupider and stupider, breaking even the cardinal rule of this kind of film: When under siege, you idiots, stick the fuck together!

Mr. Anderson, pictured at right, proves pretty good when he keeps his gore effects on the subtle side, as in the "offing" of his first victim (below, left), a nasty Outback outlier who makes quite unnecessary fun of the movie's Michael Myers/Jason/Fred Krueger stand-in, a poor cobbled-together creature named Cletus, who arrives unbidden but hell-bent for revenge at the family gathering mentioned above.  The second killing (but the first, so far as this family is concerned) is also handled with exquisite tact/taste.

Following that, however, the bigtime stupidity sets it, and the movie, as well as all its further killings, never recovers. Characters begin doing things for either no discernible reason that makes any sense -- other than merely separating them from the pack so that each can be "offed" more easily -- or to give the filmmaker another opportunity to grace us with further tiresome past history/exposition.

The cast is mostly Australian, with the exception of Dee Wallace (below), who plays the family matriarch with appropriate fear and ferocity, though even she finally joins the full-out nonsense on parade here. If you're a fan of Ms Wallace, better to revisit The Howling (does she not make the cutest werewolf in film history?), or even E.T., than waste your time with this one.

Other cast members meet either grizzly ends, via very unbelievable-looking "special effects," as below, or find themselves on the wrong end of various lethal objects. Either way, you'll probably be drumming your fingers in something like boredom, waiting for the final body count, as it piles up with tiresome regularity.

What's particularly grueling about Red Christmas is the highly unlikable group of characters thrust upon us by Mr. Anderson. They argue incessantly, while they're not doing dumb things, and as the increasingly obvious chunks of wholesale exposition come plotzing out, you'll find yourself more than ready for this overlong-even-at-82-minutes movie to end.

The film opens with demonstrations pro and con regarding abortion, above, and with a flashback sequence on which a lot of what happens later depends (below), but whatever the filmmaker might imagine he's trying to say here

gets quickly and thoroughly lost within the extreme idiocy of his poorly concocted characters. As my spouse remarked wearily, post- viewing, "What should have been aborted was this movie."

From Artsploitation Films (great moniker, by the way!) and arriving in a Los Angeles theater (Laemmle's Music Hall 3) this Friday, August 25 (just four month prior to the holiday!) for a once-daily showing at 9:55 pm, Red Christmas will then expand to San Francisco, Denver, Dallas and other cities over the weeks to come. 

HIGH-RISE: Ben Wheatley/Amy Jump's version of the J.G. Ballard novel hits screens

Ben Wheatley -- he of those very violent movies Down Terrace, Kill List and Sightseers and then of the more modulated, explorative and interesting (though somewhat violent) A Field in England -- is back, this time bringing to the screen a novel about the collapse-of-civilization-in-microcosm by J.G. Ballard that he has directed, the screenplay for which has been adapted by Wheatley's partner Amy Jump. The movie is HIGH-RISE, and I have to say that it is a colossal failure by almost any standard against which you'd care to measure.

Visually arresting (for a time, at least) and sporting an ensemble cast of relatively big names, the movie boasts certainly the largest budget with which Wheatley, shown at right, has yet been allowed to play. Leading the ensemble is Tom Hiddleston, below (in a shot that should give you some idea of the classy design scheme the movie offers), as a successful doctor who has recently moved into a semi-spectacular high-rise building, in and on which the penthouse and roof offer things nearly unseen anywhere else. (You may note, however, that as the building deteriorates, it does not seem to be the same structure that we saw earlier, at least not where that penthouse and roof are concerned.)

Wheatley is known for his semi-original crushing of dark comedy and ultra-violence (Down Terrace and Sightseers, particularly). Almost any comic factor has leeched out of High-Rise so we are left with Wheatley and Jump's usual cast of of characters that we care little for or about. While this is all to the good, considering what happens to most of them in all of Wheatley's movies, it doesn't do much for our overall enjoyment of his films. Without characters to care about, there is far too little at stake.

Other occupants of the high-rise include Sienna Miller (above) as a slutty single mom and Elizabeth Moss (below, with Hiddleston) who plays a constantly pregnant woman dragging around a huge brood of kids. Add this role to the one Moss is most famous for (remember that first season of Mad Men?), and you have an actress taking her pregnant characters to new heights (or depths).

Every apartment building ought to have its macho man, and here that role is played by a heavily mustached Luke Evans (below), who pulls out all the stops in the manliness and stupidity departments (though, in truth, most everyone else here proves pretty stupid, too). The film's plot, if it has any, simply shows us the destruction of the entitled upper class and working class aspirants, yet adds nothing to what we've already seen, from Pinter/Losey's The Servant onwards.

Jeremy Irons (below) plays the guy in charge of it all, a surprisingly fit senior citizen, but his character, too, proves a big nothing, about whom the most important thing may be that he likes the color white. His nutty wife is essayed by the always interesting Keeley Hawes (shown at right two photos below with Sienna Guillory), who is interesting here, too, and is given a good deal of screen time to little avail.

High-Rise may be the biggest waste of my time so far this year. Wheatley's stock-in-trade would seem to be pushing the envelope violence-wise, and this grows increasingly tiresome. Yes, there are some classy visuals here, too, and that evidently is enough for some critics to view and then imagine that they're watching a good movie. I hope Mr. Wheatley goes back to something more edifying like his best work, A Field in England.

Mr. Hiddleston, below, acquits himself as well as possible under these tiresome circumstances. What a sexy, classy and talented actor he is. Compare his work as Loki (in the Thor films) with his performances in The Deep Blue Sea and Only Lovers Left Alive, and you'll wish for better roles for him soon. (I hear he is very good in the current cable series The Night Manager.)

Meanwhile, High-Rise -- from Magnolia Pictures and running a way-too-long two hours -- opens on VOD, Amazon Video and iTunes this Thursday, April 28, and then theatrically around the U.S. on Friday, May 13. Click here to view currently scheduled playdates, with all cities and theaters listed.  

Michael J. Saul's gay melodrama, THE SURFACE, offers little more than its title

All about a whiny little no-account kid named Evan who desperately needs to grow up, THE SURFACE is one of those movies that, after but a few tiresome minutes, has you asking, "Why does anybody put up with this guy?" Well, he's cute. As played by a lithe and lovely Australian model named Harry Hains, (shown at right and below) our Evan is eye-candy par excellence. Unfortu-nately, what he does in this movie is mostly model. He possesses no vocal range to speak of, and his facial expressions run the gamut from pout A through pout B, and just very occasionally venture into pout C (which has a slight smile attached).

Haines knows how to look good. But that's pretty much all he does. The Surface turns out to be one of those gay movies that give the genre its generally iffy reputation and inability to almost ever cross over to a straight audience. Not campy enough to be loony-tunes fun, nor good enough to stand on its own screenplay and direction (both here are by Michael J. Saul, shown below), the film just meanders along from scene to scene, dragging us with it (or not, depending on how much fun you find it to gaze, as the camera constantly does, upon its star).

TrustMovies lasted out the film, but only because, having received a free DVD, he felt duty-bound to watch and cover. Evan, you see, is an orphan whose mom abandoned him early on and, regarding the identity of his dad, he has no idea. The movie milks every imaginable bit of sadness from the plight of this poor kid's orphan status until all this becomes more than a tad repetitive.

Further, the film is both sloppy and lazy in the way it elides dialog and situations via music and either a little voice-over or near-dialog-free scenes of people frolicking at the beach or chit-chatting over dinner. This may be just as well, because when we do hear the dialog, it never rises above the so-so.

The film's main plot point is how, at a local garage sale, Evan purchases an old fashioned camera which then enables him to become a filmmaker and find a hunky addition to his love life. The films we see that he is supposed to have made do not auger much of a career for our boy, but the sexy, ginger-haired, and only slightly older man he meets (played well by Michael Redford Carney, above, right ) could prove possible relationship material.

If only Evan can break away from his former lover/caretaker, (played by Nicholas McDonald, shown rear view, above, right). What happens may surprise you a bit, though its doubtful you'll really care much, given the wooden, one-note and uninvolving performance from Mr. Hains. But, hey, he's pretty, so that may be enough to see you through.

The Surface (perfect title, as there is little real depth here), from Ariztical Entertainment,and running only 80 minutes, arrived on DVD this week -- for rental or purchase -- and includes behind-the-scenes interviews, set videos, a "Barcelona" music video and some trailers.