Salty paths and corny fields
It’s been a whole week since we last spoke (or since I last sent words out into the void) and in that time I saw two new releases that fall on opposite ends of the demographic spectrum.
One is about English boomers walking for their life after losing their house, a prospect so foreign to the Western Suburbs over-70s in the Windsor’s audience that I’m sure they expected subtitles.
The other is about American teens running for their life from murderous clowns, a prospect so familiar to Terrifier and It fans that I’m sure they (like me) weren’t expecting much.
But before I disappear into a dubious crop, let’s take a walk along the southwest coast of England.
The Salt Path — Marianne Elliott
Not long after confessing to his family that he’d lost all their money and would probably have to spend some time in white collar prison, Jason Isaacs fled Thailand for his mother country and found a much more supportive wife in Gillian Anderson.
They play Moth and Raynor Winn and their characters are based on real people who really did lose their house after a dodgy investment (Jason Isaacs’ characters really shouldn’t be allowed to make financial decisions). Raynor Winn’s 2018 memoir serves as the source material for The Salt Path, with screenwriter Rebecca Lenkiewicz (Ida, She Said) writing the screenplay and Tony-award winning theatre director Marianne Elliott at the helm for her feature debut.
When we meet Moth and Raynor, Moth has just been diagnosed with a neurodegenerative disease. But it’s not degenerative enough for the state to consider the couple for urgent housing, and they find themselves immediately homeless and with only a small amount of savings to their name.
With their adult children’s living situations thankfully sorted, Moth and Raynor see no other choice but to spend what little they have left on some camping/hiking gear and let nature clear their heads.
Thus, they embark on the salt path – 1,010 kilometres of uninterrupted coastline from Minehead to Poole abundant with rain, metaphorical terrain and cranky old men with stupid little terriers.
The Salt Path is a very simple film - it wears its heart on its sleeve and its themes in its dialogue - but that’s not to say it’s not a worthwhile trip to the movies.
Isaacs and Anderson have believable chemistry and their characters have the kind of relationship that suggests there is such a thing as true love. Shots of shared teabags snuck into free hot water, noodles cooked on trangias and sleeping bags zipped together provide a silver lining to an otherwise desperate ordeal.
While I found some of the more swelling emotional beats a bit obvious, there are a few more layered plot points that did move me. One such moment occurs when the couple’s daughter calls to let them know she missed a connecting train and can’t afford a hotel, overwhelming Raynor with a profound feeling of powerlessness that she can’t do anything to help her child.
Cinematographer Hélène Louvart (The Lost Daughter, La Chimera) does a wonderful job of capturing the beauty and the difficulty of the Winns’ new ‘home’, as well as giving those of us who’ve never visited the UK a window into its less inhabited but more welcoming corners.
If you’re after looking for something to see with parents or grandparents, The Salt Path is a highly palatable, nice film on which to spend a Sunday afternoon. It’s not a film that will change your life. But it may prompt some introspection, should you find yourself in the increasingly likely event of financial strife.
Verdict
☆☆☆
The Salt Path is in cinemas Thursday 15th May.
And now for something completely different…
Clown in a Cornfield — Eli Craig
I appreciate films that are what they say they are (An American Werewolf in London, Cockneys vs Zombies, Hot Tub Time Machine) and Clown in a Cornfield does indeed feature both of its title’s nouns.
Its opening kill takes place in Kettle Springs, Missouri, 1991 (a year that produced some wonderful things, including yours truly) and consults the Jaws handbook by showing a free spirited young woman disappearing into a sea (of corn) and getting absolutely wrecked by the film’s eponymous antagonist.
Some 30 years later, our heroine Quinn (Katie Douglas) moves to the same small town with her GP father Glenn (Aaron Abrams). Quinn is like Bella from Twilight if she had a personality, thus she falls into the cool group of teens with ease despite warnings from jealous outsiders.
The adults in town have branded them bad eggs and it’s not hard to see why; these teens’ favourite pastime is producing fake murder videos for YouTube featuring Frendo, the beloved clown mascot of the town’s old corn syrup factory. When the friend group starts shrinking and the blood starts spilling, the teens who cry “clown!” find it hard to be taken seriously.
Whenever a horror movie uses “from the producers of” you know you’re in for a mediocre time at best. Clown in a Cornfield comes from the producers of Smile, a film that poaches It Follows’ transmissible evil concept but fails to be anything more than an inferior copy.
A sliver of hope remained in the fact that director Eli Craig also made Tucker & Dale vs. Evil, a hugely entertaining and effective horror comedy that satirises classic genre conventions while also adding unexpected heart through its central misunderstood characters. While it does manage to squeeze a few decent jokes in, Clown in a Cornfield reaches no such heights.
My main gripe with the film is its reliance on nostalgia alone without really adding anything subversive or new to the genre. It’s touted as “an old school slasher for a new generation” and the team’s interpretation of that brief seems to be hitting every trope from 90s and early 2000s horror movies to the absence of any originality.
It’s got bloodless kills, a plot like swiss cheese and moments that had me muttering “what?”, which is curious considering it’s based on a best-selling book by Adam Cesare. I’ve not read the book so I have no idea if something’s been lost in translation from page to film, but I was hoping for a little more nastiness from our Wednesday night screening.
Despite my disappointment, the film did manage to elicit some laughs through its gags about youth haplessness with old technology. Jokes about not knowing how to drive stick while trying to escape a chainsaw wielding clown and unfamiliarity with a rotary phone while trying to call the authorities are both funny and relevant to the movement of the plot; had the film explored more of this theme, it might’ve been more successful in meeting the creative brief.
Clown in a Cornfield is an okay horror film and an okay comedy; I wish it was better at being both and I’m not sure I’d recommend seeing it in cinemas over waiting for streaming. One thing’s for sure: there is absolutely no danger of Terrifier’s Art losing his Scariest Clown trophy to Frendo. If your tastes lean more towards horror lite, that may be a drawcard.
Verdict
☆☆½
Clown in a Cornfield is in cinemas now.
The main event for next week is the media screening for Mission Impossible: The Final Reckoning, a film I’m giddy with excitement over. Will Tom Cruise depart his physical form like a Jedi at the end of his life? Will Tramell Tillman get to dance to defiant jazz? I’ll find out in four days and report back.
