"THE LAST NIGHT" REVIEW

Beautifully photographed and immaculately scored, “The Last Night” takes the viewer on a Latin flavored voyeur voyage through expectation and deception. The films writer/director Brad Cruz delivers a raw and sexy cautionary tale, redefining old ideas of risky behavior.

Alejandro, (Augusto Valverde) is the perfect man, chivalrous, sensitive, and successful with powerful features and a chiseled body. Of course, like most perfect men, he’s too good to be true. No sooner does his fiancé call to cancel a date because of a last minute babysitting emergency than Alejandro gets ready to hit the town. He soon finds a beautiful companion to share his evening, but even from their first encounter, the whole thing is a little too perfect. Alejandro soon learns that this night will be much more than he could have anticipated.

Cruz does a wonderful job of making sure every detail of the film lends itself to the mood of the moment, creating a strong sense of place and time. He doesn’t shirk from the grim details of the plot as men and women switch roles in this bizarre power struggle. “The Last Night,” is sensually evocative, and is at once both thought provoking and a cheap dirty thrill.

"THE CHRONOSCOPE" REVIEW

Now this is how a historical mockumentary is done. Immaculately constructed or altered 1930s footage discussed by actors that seem to have crawled straight from the archives of the top European universities build a narrative that slides effortlessly in and out of history.

Charlotte Keppel (Serena Brabazon), is an Irish female scientist at a time in history when neither females nor the Irish were looked on very highly. During the rise of the Third Reich, science (both real and crackpot), was exploding. It was the time of Einstein and of Hitler. It was on this treacherous and often friendly stage that Charlotte unveiled her great and later marginalized contribution to human history, the chronoscope. Capable of capturing waves of energies past, the chronoscope could accurately reconstruct the images of history the way a television captures broadcast programming. Imagine a world stripped of pretense and lies, a species forced to confront its past exactly as it was, void of gloss and glory.

Beautifully narrated by actor, Jeremy Irons, "The Chronoscope" forces audiences to ask themselves, who would I be if I could not escape my past? One may even come to realize, with sadness, why Charlotte Keppel was wiped from the pages of history.

"Loma Lynda: The Red Door" Review

While many indie filmmakers try to blur the line between their creations and studio pics, it’s refreshing to see a film that hearkens back to the indie spirits of rabid experimentation and pure emotional evocation. “Loma Lynda: The Red Door” does this, but refuses to sacrifice quality. It displays the kind of stunning visual imagery one would expect from a big budget film but can only get now a days from art created where not too many people can get their hands on it.

This was a fascinating movie to watch. Its dreamlike movement from scene to scene was captivating. The film moved image to image like a series of still photos, each one worth the proverbial thousand words. For all this film expressed, however, there really wasn’t any discernible plot to speak of. There were two young girls, or maybe just one, and an older woman (she might have been the only one who was really real). Then there was the father. He was nuts but then he died, so he got what was coming to him. Or was it he who killed the young girl(s)? Maybe it was the older woman he killed, but only on the inside. And what was up with the puppets? Were they symbolic of innocence corrupted?

On an intellectual level, the film can get pretty confusing. However, if one just tells the mind to shut up and allows the heart to feel its through “Loma Lynda: The Red Door,” one quickly realizes why making sense can be overrated. In abandoning plot, time line continuity, and the laws of nature and common decency, only one thing remained: the reality of the psyche. It was like taking a tour through human thought. Images and the sensations they created blurred together, emotions rose and fell, sadness, fear, sensuality, perversion. Quick glimpses of a dejected future broke through the dreams and abuse like the very embodiment of self-doubt.

Make sense? It shouldn’t. That’s “Loma Lynda: The Red Door.” It was sexy, dark, and disturbing in a way something can only be when you suspect that parts of it, probably the worst parts, are true. I am without criticism in this sense if no other: when it’s well done and deeply moving, art endures no criticism. That is the sole duty of art, to be good and to move us. And, like it or lump it, this film was art.

One last brass tacks note: The acting in this piece was impeccable. The two young women in the film (Estefania Iglesias and Becky Altringer), though vague and detached, were lovely to watch. They seemed to yearn for connection and yet be incapable of achieving it. They were beautiful and damaged. David Fine, who played the father in this film, was tremendous. His violent fits of temper, homicidal threats, and disturbing sexual fixations were disconcerting in how believable he made them. Thumbs up to director, Jason Bognacki. Another SHOCKFEST must see!

Check it out at SHOCKFEST 2009, November 7 at Cinespace in Hollywood.