The Birthday (dir. Eugenio Mira)
Corey Feldman is a name that so often doubles as a punchline these days, and it’s not hard to believe given how much of a character Mr. Feldman has become. His most iconic work is associated with his childhood, and for good reason — he starred in so many untouchable classics (yes, every single Friday the 13th movie is an untouchable classic in my book, and I won’t hear otherwise). As is common with child stars, audiences have trouble watching them age into adulthood and their careers tend to fizzle as a result. But it’s important to remember that for all his strange musical projects and bizarre outfits/hairstyles, Corey Feldman is an exceptional actor.
Enter The Birthday, an uncategorizable 2004 comedy/horror/romcom/thriller that places Feldman, here playing Norman, a meek, lovelorn young man, into a familiar situation: meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time. It’s not a standard meeting over dinner, however, but rather a ritzy, lavish birthday party at a hotel owned by the very family Norman hopes to impress. Things are immediately strange upon Norman’s arrival. His significant other is distant, her father is dismissive and cutting, and the actual birthday celebration is rather cryptic. Whose birthday is it?
What begins as a comedy of errors, tonally similar to Robert Rodriguez’s The Misbehavers segment of Four Rooms, slowly morphs into something more surreal and horrifying than I’d be willing to spoil. This is the ultimate “go in blind” movie. The comedy runs concurrent with the overall mystery, leading to a pervasive feeling of unease that only increases as the movie hurtles along. Once the truth behind this insane circus becomes apparent, it would be easy to dismiss it as too absurd to work, but in the able hands of director Eugenio Mira (who co-wrote with Mikel Alvariño), the descent into genre madness unfolds as organically as such a thing possibly could. I’m trying sooooo hard not to spoil, can’t you tell?
The one element that can’t be spoiled is Feldman’s performance. He’s doing a voice that would make Tom Hardy jealous, and playing Norman with a similar ferocity. It’s a quiet ferocity, however, existing somewhere between Venom and Alvy Singer, with Feldman fully embodying a one-of-kind character that couldn’t be played by anyone else. It’s a shame this film was lost for such a long time without a proper release, because it’s the kind of thing that surely would’ve boosted the star’s profile. Here’s hoping this re-release does the trick.
Drafthouse Films has restored The Birthday in 4K UHD in celebration of its 20 year anniversary. You can currently see this unmissable film at Drafthouse theaters, before it expands to wider release on October 11th. If the film gods are good, there will be a physical release as well. Drafthouse, if you’re listening, and I know that you are, please consider at least one copy purchased. I need it for my collection.
Ghost Killer (dir. Kensuke Somomura)
One of the most quoted lines in film history comes at the point in The Matrix when Keanu Reeves’ Neo has a martial arts program uploaded into his brain. “I know Kung Fu,” he states with a dry incredulity before using his newly acquired skills to spar with Morpheus. There are many reasons why this line became so iconic, but the most prominent has to be because of how desirable it is to somehow learn a lifetime’s worth of skills in just a few seconds. We’d all love to master Kung Fu, but who has the time? I did karate for over a decade and never came anywhere close to being able to dodge bullets (don’t fuck with me, though).
With Ghost Killer, a similar concept is stretched to feature length, but instead of learning karate via a coaxial cable to the brain, our hero becomes proficient in the martial arts in a more supernatural way: by accidentally getting possessed by a deceased hitman.
The mechanism behind the possession are broadly explained, but wholly irrelevant. All we need to know is that Fumika (Akari Takaishi) would like to be rid of her supernatural passenger, but the only way to do so is to complete his unfinished earthly business. This task, unfortunately for Fumika, involves lots of karate.
It’s a clever twist on All Of Me that mostly exists to exploit an incredible visual gimmick. The only person who can see or hear the deceased assassin is Fumika (and us), and when she grabs his hand, he’s able to control her body as if it were his own. This results in a wealth of well-choreographed fight scenes, and a handful of madcap bits of comedy. Fumika has to act as the middle-woman both in fisticuffs and conversation, and Takaishi plays the switch between her normal movement and that of the late assassin to great effect. I’m reminded of Upgrade, in which the protagonist brutally dispatches baddies against his own will. Similarly, Fumika effortlessly kicks and punches her way through a series of underworld thugs, but does so while dealing, quite explicitly, with the shock of seeing her own body do things she’d never even imagine. It’s also difficult for the possessor — his new body lacks the strength his once had, and he’d hate to find his host injured against her will.
It’s a high concept, but the film wastes no time trying to make excuses. Instead, we must accept the quickly stated rules and just enjoy the ensuing action. It’s easy to do since the choreography is strong and its direction is tight. And who doesn’t love a “revenge from beyond the grave” story?
