The Collector

The four words that best describe The Collector are: Don't waste your money! As is the going trend in horror films of late, The Collector starring Josh Stewart (the name you may not recognize but the face belongs to former police Det. William LaMontange, reluctant husband of FBI Agent JJ Jareau on CBS's Criminal Minds), gives very little attention to character development and plot and more attention than could accurately be seen as necessary to gore for gore's sake.

Yes, loyal readers, I understand there are people in this world who enjoy these directionless gorey displays of human entrails and torn flesh. I don't understand WHY these people enjoy these movies but I do understand they are out there.

The premise of the story was a decent one. Arkin (Stewart) is an ex-con (a character flaw you'll miss if you go for popcorn at the wrong moment; it's only mentioned once and in passing) whose ex-wife (a detail I only learned from reading the synopsis on the IMDb....see what I mean about poor character development? There's more information about the MC in the synopsis than the actual movie)... Arkin is an ex-con whose ex-wife needs an indeterminate amount of money to repay a loan shark so Arkin decides to rob his jeweler boss's house while the jeweler and his family are away on vacation. Unfortunately, someone else beat Arkin to the punch and littered the house with traps.

That was all I knew about the movie going into it. Sounds tame enough, right? Wrong. Shortly after Arkin breaks into the home we learn that not only are the traps rigged to kill but the trapper would rather do it himself...as slowly and painfully as he possibly can. Any unsuspecting victim would prefer the traps to the alternative. Wait, didn't I see this movie when it was called.....every other spatter-gore movie about a deranged sociopath?

Seriously, kids, if we keep watching spatter-gore pictures, they'll keep making them. If we keep watching them, there is nothing to force horror movie writers to try using their own imaginations. Don't waste your money on The Collector. Skip it. It's not worth it. Go see ....frankly anything currently playing has to be better than this. I would even advocate seeing G-Force before recommending anyone giving money to the unoriginal lunatics who created The Collector.

S. Darko: A Donnie Darko Tale

Not quite a full decade after Richard Kelly introduced us to the ill-fated Donnie Darko, his family, his girlfriend, "Gretchen," and philosopher Roberta Sparrow, we are taken on another journey, this time following young Samantha Darko, ten years old when her brother was killed by a falling airplane engine, now 17 and traveling from Virginia to California in search of a better life.

While Daveigh Chase reprised her role as Samantha, Richard Kelly disavowed any involvement with the sequel. This was not encouraging. But it was a Donnie Darko Tale, as the cover clearly states, and therefore, as a card carrying Donnie Darko nerd, I had to watch, no matter how painful.

As is the case with most ill-conceived sequels, S. Darko rehashed much of what we loved about the original and made several obscure references to it as well. After blowing out the water pump in the car they are driving, Samantha and friend Cory (played by Briana Evigan) find themselves at Frank's Echo Service in Conejo Springs, Arizona. Work that one out on your own. The rest of the story is too bizarre to effectively convey without a scene by scene breakdown.

Basically, I think it was not a bad movie but I'm really not sure because I was far too distracted by the too much-ity of it all. In the original, there was a moment, when Donnie first meets Frank, when he touches the glass of the bathroom mirror and it ripples. That ripple effect was littered throughout S. Darko nearly every five minutes, and not just in mirrors and glass...thin air rippled (and rippled and rippled until I feared the onset of motion sickness) when it was touched as well. Scenes ran at double time more often than could fairly be called necessary. And there was a great deal of psychedelic lights and colors. There was a terribly upsetting moment where it seemed as though the writers had forgotten which movie they were sequeling and drifted into Invasion of the Body Snatchers, as Jackson Rathbone's face contorts and morphs into something less human and more alien.

As for rehashing the original, there was an ultra-creepy youth pastor slash cult leader, a fire burning hotter than any normal house fire should, a man in a biomechanical bunny mask. There was an "I would give anything to bring her back" sacrifice. And, 2000 miles from the setting of the original story, there was the grandson of Roberta Sparrow.

It is the opinion of this writer and viewer that, had it not been so overtly gimmicky, it might have rivaled the original in story quality. Not surpassed it by any means, but could have stood proudly on a shelf beside it's predecessor without rubbing its toe sheepishly in the dirt like a disdained younger sibling. As it stands, however, I can only think of two words to accurately describe what I saw: Grossly overdone. But. Twenty-four hours later, after having some time to think about it (and I did think about it) I say, if you are a fan of Donnie Darko, rent S. Darko.

However, if you are a fan of Donnie Darko, watch this film without expectations (or as I did, expecting it to be a total disaster). Ignore the spiraling neon lights, ignore the double exposed flickering images of what may or may not be a ghost Sam (Samara? If Daveigh Chase isn't thoroughly screwed up by now, she's one tough cookie). Ignore the gimmicks and pay attention to the story. And watch it again. Because having endured it once, I can tell you with absolute certainty, that once was not enough...another part of it that was just like the original.