Hell's GateDirector: John CecilGenre: Action Publisher: Vodka Martini Productions Released: TBA MPAA Rating: Unrated Cast: Brian Faherty, Jeremy Cohen, Chelsea Miller, Teddy Alexandro-Evans & Sara Foldenauer |
A Review by Lucas Stensland
12/04/2006
The above conversation is the first scene of John Cecil's Hell's Gate, a crime drama being privately promoted across the U.S. in hopes of attaining distribution. The film has only four main speaking parts and is set primarily in a warehouse where the woman is tied to a chair. Based upon Cecil's own play, the film pulls off a great feat: by opening up the script through his lean direction, the audience never gets the feeling that they're watching a play adaptation. Maybe Mike Nichols should give Cecil a call.
The story involves ex-con Kevin and his former cellmate Ben (Jeremy Cohen, delivering the film's best performance) getting involved with a mysterious Brit who seems to have more information on the pair than he should. The moneymaking venture involves the kidnapping of a Paris Hilton-esque figure in hopes her father will pay the bribe to keep the story out of the press. Things, of course, don't go quite like that.
It carries many of the elements that characterize successes in its genre. There is leanness in its visuals and scenes. One is never aware of those tired expositional dialogues that lesser filmmakers rely upon so they can blow their wads on hip posturing and action setpieces. Cecil unfolds the story so organically that you don't even realize its intricacy until later: it has the wonderful appearance of simplicity. People who suffer post-1994 cultural amnesia may file this under Tarantino Wannabe, though while QT's residuals are hard not to see, the essence of the film—the human concern and moral quandary—harks back to film noir. Remember that Samuel Fuller's Pickup on South Street's final outburst of violence was not concerning the thief's code of honor: he just didn't like the woman being slapped around.
Having a character tied to a chair in a warehouse will remind many of Reservoir Dogs. However, having a woman sitting in a chair in front of a bunch of men in a darkly lit, spacious room will remind some of a strip club performance. She is not only the subject of the hoodlums' gaze but the audience's as well, and this cognizance of the female spectacle is at the heart of the film.
This woman being forced to take a seat and then assaulted by the men surrounding her likens the film more with Tobe Hooper's The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and its politics than to Tarantino's domination motifs, which seem more fetishistic than political. Cecil's concern isn't overtly feministic; a palpable disgust with oppressors takes center stage in his film. Don't confuse Kevin with a vigilante, however. He's a temperamental beast whose decisions derive more from the gut than from good. He must have watched a lot of Eastwood in prison.
I have referred to Quentin Tarantino a lot in this review, usually stating how he is irrelevant to the conversation—and I admit to the irony. It's hard to escape his umbrella. After all, he did, for better or worse, change filmmaking and the way many watch films. The dilemma is that there are many directors who have hunted in the same celluloid wilderness as Tarantino and walked out with different stories and experiences. Audiences have begun to mock sincerity and treat moral dilemmas as kitsch. For many hipsters, they want style so bad that they no longer recognize it. Style isn't simplification and exaggeration (like Sin City). Style can be subtle and to the point. And John Cecil's Hell's Gate has real style.
© Copyright CultureCartel.com 12/04/2006
