By Simon Abrams

Of all the reprehensibly corralled lump of films that most know as "torture porn," the Saw franchise is the one with the longest legs. But what was once the cause of the moral crisis de jour is now laughed at because of its success. All you need to do to get a rise out of someone is tell them that you're watching the sixth entry in the Saw series. Stifled guffaws are guaranteed. After all, these films have been around for a while—almost a decade!—and the fact that they will be back for at least two more entries is, I must admit, funny in a manic-depressive kind of way. Unfortunately, this means that critics are less likely to give Saw VI the drubbing it and the dunderheaded series that spawned it deserve.

Satisfying as they may be, knee-jerk reactions to the film are not sufficient, especially when the most common remark you can find regarding the franchise's last entry on, say, Metacritic, is about how convoluted the series' flashbacks are. Really? That's the worst thing that can be said about these films? Somebody's got to take one for the team and risk looking like a nerd for the sake of taking the film to task for its stupidity. Modestly, I have elected myself. Spoilers ahead, this is going to get ugly. Continue Reading »

[Antichrist opens today at the IFC Center in Manhattan. Click here for screening information.]

If you're a fan of cinema with a capital 'C,' you're surely aware of the buzz surrounding Antichrist, the latest from Danish enfant terrible Lars von Trier (he of the Dogme 95 manifesto, that phobic and depressive auteur rumored to have driven Bjork to eat her own sweater during the making of Dancer in the Dark). The film garnered a Best Actress prize at this year's Cannes Film Festival for its leading lady, Charlotte Gainsbourg, who was upstaged only by her director proclaiming to be the Holy Father himself. Gainsbourg plays "She" to Willem Dafoe's "He"—they're a couple whose toddler crawls right out an open window while they're engaged in some hot, slo-mo, B&W-shot sex. Unable to come to terms with her child's death, She spends an unproductive month drugged out in a hospital before He, a therapist by trade, decides the only cure is to whisk her away to a cabin in the woods called Eden for some intense fear facing. Of course, since this is a von Trier film, things can only get devilishly nasty. Continue Reading »

By Chris Gisonny

On September 21, 1970, television viewers beheld Dick Cavett welcoming John Cassavetes, Peter Falk and Ben Gazzara to the set of his show. Cavett initially describes them as "three animals" and before long their behavior supports his claim. They were there to promote Husbands (1970), a film directed by the notoriously unorthodox Cassavetes and starring all three of them. Cavett's questions about the film failed to penetrate the barrier of their rowdiness and the show quickly transformed into farce. A cigar-chomping Gazzara dances absurdly, Cassavetes lifts Falk over his head, Gazzara kisses Cavett, everyone screams over one another, the three guests wrestle as their amused host disappears from the set, and every so often this spectacle is interrupted by commercials whose constrained insincerity contrasts sharply with the trio's vitality. Continue Reading »