October 12th:
The Protagonists (1999)
Luca Guadagnino's first — and worst. The Protagonists blends true-crime documentary and dramatized reconstruction to retell the murder of Mohamed El-Sayed, an Egyptian chef. Both portions of the film are bafflingly callous.
The supposed highlight of the documentary segment is Tilda Swinton's interview with El-Sayed's widow which climaxes with Swinton inquiring about the late husband's sauce recipes. It’s awkward and out of place, made even more jarring by the fact that we’re not watching the interview itself, but the crew watching it back on tape. The Protagonists, indeed.
The detached callousness is intentional; this is made obvious by a monologue Swinton delivers later during yet another reconstruction of the murder. I imagine the project is supposed to be intellectualized as a critique of the true-crime format and its hungry audience (long before its heyday), but the point comes across as painfully hypocritical when it's tacked onto a film that at best comes across as an insensitive vanity project.
El-Sayed's death is restaged three times in a film that includes copious nudity (including a full-frontal shot of a female cast member's genitals), extremely sexualized and questionable portrayals of the murderers, and even musical numbers. All of this in the same project that interviews the heartbroken real widow of the man murdered only four years earlier.
What I’m ultimately saying is that Luca Guadagnino made a Ryan Murphy film in the ’90s — and I never want to go back.
October 13th:
Crystal Eyes (2017)
Style as substance. Crystal Eyes is a micro-budget slasher, but among the countless films trying to emulate the ’80s, this might be the most successful one I've seen. A fashion model dies on the runway, and a year later, a masked killer emerges to eliminate anyone daring to take her place.
It's clearly crafted with pure love for cinema, particularly giallo — though its influences range from Hitchcock to telenovelas. The blend works immensely well. Crystal Eyes is pure camp: its killer, dressed to the nines as a living mannequin, catwalks and strikes poses amid the chase sequences.
Statuesque divas, a sparkling synth score, and a breezy 82-minute runtime easily balance the weak kills and a paper-thin story populated entirely by dead meat.
Argentina knows how to pull off a legacy slasher, damn.