Critic After Dark

Resident Evil (Zach Cregger, 2026)

2026-09-24T13:09:50.739-04:00

Dying is easy; comedy, hard.

Of course I was going to check this out-- Zach Cregger's Weapons was one of the more interesting horrors of last year, Barbarians one of the more interesting horrors before that.

Does it deliver? Save you the suspense: yes, but how it delivers is I submit the question to ask.

Word is Cregger's a fan of the video games and wrote a spec script on his own, ready to convert to a standalone if his bid failed. But I remember Austin Abrams' dopehead in Weapons being the more easily relatable woozily resourceful consistently funny character in that picture, and I could totally see Cregger envisioning a spinoff based on his character, sending him running across the shattered landscapes of the Evil games.

Abrams is the MVP here-- the movie stays with him for nearly its entire length, and you really don't mind the quality time. He's Bryan, a gig delivery worker tired and trying to shake off some very real problems (the news his girl is pregnant for one) to focus on the job. So when he has just finished delivering after a long shift and a doctor offers him a last-minute run at double the pay, easily the most relatable moment in the whole movie (perhaps in all the movies I've seen recently) is when he swallows hard and says "I can do that."

"You have snow tires or chains?"

"Yeah yeah I got em."

"Are you sure? If you don't have snow tires or chains I have to find someone else."

"Hey-- no sweat."

I like him already.

Love Bryan's sadsack shambling, the way he fumbles and drops things, the way he keeps running up against padlocks-- easily the picture's funniest running (standing?) gag, not to mention Bryan's inexpert way of dealing with them. Cars swerving, cars crashing, car keys gone missing, solidly planted metal gates, infuriatingly high chainlink fences, electric fences (they're no joke, the current hurts like a sonfabitch), prominently displayed shotguns whose shells are always kept in the last drawer you look-- it's like this so-called 'postapocalypse' world is actually the real world only a notch more annoying.

Cregger employs Polish cinematographer Dariusz Wolski to light-- barely-- his landscapes; Wolski is a good pick, having lit (barely) Alex Proyas' moodily stylish The Crow (supposedly Detroit, but I've been to Detroit and it doesn't look as dank as the Wilmington NC locations the film was actually shot in) and Ridley Scott's dark comedy The Counselor, so if anyone can achieve the environments Cregger wants-- basements with fungus stained walls and a single flickering bulb, dim corridors ending in giant metal doors rusted shut, the occasional bright biolab with antiseptically gleaming lab equipment-- it's Wolski.

There are moments where Cregger shifts to first-person shooter mode, the gun barrel doubling as camera lens trained down one unlit hallway after another, angling downward to peer into yanked drawers looking for ammo or food or something to use. At one point Bryan pokes his head into the fridge (Why not check the freezer? I know folks that store ammo in their freezer), actually takes a moment to chug down a gallon of milk (gotta stay hydrated, and the protein helps)-- classic gamer move to replenish his stamina bar. Early on Bryan stands against a farm fence looking around, and what he sees has an eerie beauty-- the snowblanketed landscape, the brutal glare of arc lamps, the muffled silence; later he's scrambling away from the farmhouse front door when the creature, having assembled itself from a pair of corpses, finally introduces itself-- and introduces itself, and introduces itself-- a hilarious yet somehow evocative image, like something Hieronymus Bosch and Tom Six might collaborate on after chugging down a gallon of bad milk. Possible Cregger actually does confine himself to the kind of shots you'll see in the video game, but this doesn't look like a game, more like a well-photographed horror with flashes of brilliance-- possibly you have to be a player to recognize said shots.

There are moments-- Bryan's encounter with the little girl in the RV for one-- where his decency shines through (he keeps giving the girl reassurances he can't possibly deliver on) and it's crucial because that point onward he has you on his side, you know he really wants to do the right thing, even deliver that ridiculous cooler-bag mcguffin instead of tossing it aside and driving home to spend his last days with his girlfriend. He wants it all-- including yes the extra hours of double pay-- against increasingly impossible odds.

What Cregger's doing isn't anything new, is if anything as old as the silents. Referring of course to the thriller comedies of Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd, and Cregger fares best working in the margins of or adjacent to that hallowed comic tradition, ringing fresh changes on or totally new situations from this postapocalypse (I think I can say that even if the situation is only a few hours old). I'm thinking of Bryan at the barn ("ladder!") and Bryan in the truck facing the farm gate (actually the latter might have been inspired by Wile E. Coyote more than anything). When Cregger sets himself up for more direct comparison-- stealing, say, the climactic climb up the side of a building in Lloyd's classic Safety Last-- the momentum doesn't build, the previous gag doesn't set up for the next one, the viewer (as James Agee would put it) isn't really a victim being led "up this ladder of laughs by cruelly controlled degrees to the top rung, (which the comic) would then proceed to wobble, shake, wave and brandish... until he groaned for mercy." Cregger does his best, I'll give him that, but he's no Lloyd, much less a Keaton.

The climax inside Umbrella Corporation's top floor biolab is something of a letdown-- Abrams isn't really driving the mayhem and the poor scientists aren't skilled or distinct enough comedians to make us want to root for them, much less laugh at them. They emanate the distinct odor of flop sweat, poor performers strutting and fretting their final minutes on-camera long after the star has checked out-- tho the closing minutes do give us a heroically posed Bryan, ready for his upcoming sequel.

Pretty good for the most part, sadly doesn't stick the landing, doesn't resonate as much as Cregger' previous horror, still my favorite of his works (mainly for Cary Christopher's surprisingly poignant performance); not even sure I can call this the best of the franchise as I still hold affection for Paul WS Anderson's less arty versions (my favorite being Resident Evil: Retribution, complete with gorgeous fight choreography straight out of a '90s Hong Kong action flick). Afraid my verdict on the picture's finale is harsh but what can I say? I've been spoiled by the very best.

Resident Evil: Retribution (Paul WS Anderson, 2012)

2026-09-22T12:44:32.937-04:00

Poetry in motion

Surprised to see Dave Kehr interviewed on Movie Morlocks; was even more surprised to see that Kehr is a fan of Paul Anderson--W.S., not Thomas--and that he loved Resident Evil: Retribution.

Not a big fan, myself (thought Anderson's Death Race was a mere shadow of Paul Bartel's 1975 satiric original), but did like Soldier, Anderson's science-fiction remake of George Stevens' Shane which, taking its cue from Kurt Russell's expressionless title performance, had a sneaky understated sense of humor. If you gaze at the soldier's genetically impassive face for any length of time you start reading emotions into it, much like a Rorschach blot; I thought this both a clever parody of the action hero's traditional impassiveness and a surprisingly effective way to suggest soulfulness (?!) in a science fiction action flick (these soldiers may be genetically altered to minimize the impact of pain, guilt, shame but nevertheless they feel these emotions--and the fact that said emotions have been trained out of them and still manage to register suggest the power of these suppressed feelings). Later when you're more accustomed to their stylized (Bressonian?) acting you can read pages into their expressionless mugs: a mountain of sarcasm in a slightly raised brow, a floodplain of sorrow in a downturned mouth.

Several comments raised my brow in the Resident Evil interview--I suppose one can see Milla Jovovich's Alice being lead heroine as some kind of triumph for the feminist cause, but video games (and their big-screen adaptations) use sexy female protagonists (Lara Croft, anyone?) so often it's practically a cliche. Same with the Umbrella Corporation--faceless corporate villains are a classic trope in the genre, nothing truly innovative about their use.

Also a pity he needed to use Anderson to bash Joss Whedon's work. Whedon possibly lost some street cred with the ubersuccess of his The Avengers (he's establishment now, for better or worse), but I've always thought his writing sparkled (Cabin in the Woods) and his directing capable of continuity and flow (perhaps not necessarily in this multimillion production--though I'd cite Black Widow's escape early in the picture--but in titles like Serenity and the "Once More With Feeling" episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer). He can even do musical numbers, always a plus in my book ("Once More with Feeling," Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog).

Those points set aside, I can see Anderson's film being a continuation of what the Hong Kong filmmakers were doing in the '80s and early '90s; not so much Tsui Hark as John Woo, with his penchant for fetishized gunplay and stylized homoeroticism. Not a lot of development with relationships in this, homoerotic or otherwise, but plenty of development of action sequences, from handgun to automatic rifle to rocket-propelled grenade, with side trips into weighted chains and curved blades along the way. Plenty of actual as opposed to digitized stunts-- on occasion Alice will face a CGI creature, which she mostly disposes of with a brief strafing and a belt full of explosives; the real confrontations involve human adversaries doing non-digital kicks and spins, in knock-em-down-drag-em-out fights that recall (distantly but authentically) Drunken Master 2.

And they're dances; they're exuberant exhibitions of balletic motion, done with grace and skill; Anderson shoots them in such a way that the movements remain clear in your head, entire sequences glitter like elaborate jewelry in the mind (that glorious moment when, at the beginning of this Resident Evil, we get a slow-motion reverse-play recap of the ending of the previous Resident Evil). Astaire would approve, I think; Kelly too, though I suspect the one who would truly clap his hands in sardonic appreciation would probably be Bob Fosse. What can I say about Resident Evil: Retribution? Best dance movie I've seen in a while, easy.

9.26.12

Armando 'Bing' Lao, 2026 National Artist for Film

2026-09-17T10:40:01.755-04:00

Armando 'Bing' Lao is 2026's National Artist for Film

This September 2026 Armando 'Bing' Lao (1948 - 2024) was posthumously granted the title of National Artist of the Philippines, generally considered the highest honor the state can give one of its citizens.

Personally ambivalent about this. First instituted by Ferdinand Marcos Sr. in 1972, the award-- meant to recognize those who contributed significantly to the Philippine arts-- is actually an attempt to ingratiate the president into the Philippine artistic community, possibly give folks something to talk about beside the inflation crisis; after declaring Martial Law later that year Marcos used the award to give his 'New Society' a progressive air, signal his support for Filipino artists (who were becoming increasingly critical of him), distract the public from the more fascistic actions of his regime.

Nowadays this aspect of the National Artist is largely forgotten or willfully ignored. Subsequent presidents-- Cory Aquino, Fidel Ramos, and so on-- have maintained the award (now an 'order') in part because yes it lends their administration a progressive high-culture tone, in part because it's 'something we've always done'-- convenient excuse for continuing a tradition unexamined.

The award or order or whatever isn't all bad-- the recipient (or his heir, if the award is posthumous) receives financial benefits, life insurance, prestige. Not bad for a country that traditionally pays its artists mostly lip service while still alive.

Maybe my favorite awardee was Nick Joaquin, not so much for his contributions (which are significant don't get me wrong) but for what he did with the 'honor'-- absolutely refusing to accept every time it was offered and only giving in when the regime agreed to release activist and scriptwriter Jose 'Pete' Lacaba, who had been kidnapped, tortured, and detained for two years. When Joaquin delivered his acceptance speech he spoke about the importance of an artist's freedom and was subsequently banned from speaking at important cultural events-- now that is what I call leveraging one's privilege.

All that said if anyone deserves to be called 'National Artist' for his 'significant contribution to the Philippine arts' it has to be 'Bing' Lao. He first worked for William Pascual in 1984 but it was his third script for the director that stood out-- Takaw Tukso (Passion Play, 1986), a brilliantly knotty four-person chamber piece that I described as 'Bergman transposed to Southeast Asia, all sweaty and squalid and begrimed.' The film itself survives in a poor video copy, no print that I know of, but those who remembered it (including me) were impressed.

Lao worked steadily henceforth but the next time I remember seeing his name was in the Good Harvest 'pito-pito' film* Sana Pagibig Na (Enter Love, 1998), about the death of a young man's father and the youth's subsequent discovery of and developing friendship with his father's secret mistress. The film (director Jeffrey Jeturian's debut) was a minor gem whose lowbudget production values served to emphasize the intriguing premise, the delicate handling of a potentially lurid topic, the exceptionally fine performances.

*('Pito-pito' literally meaning 'seven-seven'-- seven days' shooting, seven days' postproduction, a quick cheap way to realize one's script on the big screen)

Pila Balde (Fetch a Pail of Water, 1999) is perhaps Lao's and Jeturian's finest collaboration, sketching the interdependent relationship between two communities, a middle-class apartment complex and the squatter area surrounding it. Again the no-budget aesthetic manages to highlight how much Lao and Jeturian achieve, not just narratively but visually, not just with a single protagonist but with a handful of interacting characters.

Tuhog (Larger Than Life, 2001) is Lao and Jeturian's meta film, about a mother and daughter and the film adaptation made from their life, and it shows the pair working at a more sophisticated level, weaving satire and parody into a story of women being abused (twice-- first by the men in their lives, second by the filmmakers).

Lao also worked with director Chito Rono, notably on La Vida Rosa (The Life of Rosa, 2001), Rono's sleek noir about a con artist and a lockpick struggling to survive in the streets of Manila. Where Sana Pagibig Na and Pila Balde are microbudget affairs, Rosa shows Lao capable of storytelling on a larger scale, with established stars (Rosanna Roces, Diether Ocampo) and a director commanding a proper production budget, and still the humanity of his characters shine through-- Rosa has a child Enteng (Jiro Mano), and their relationship onscreen is refreshingly unsentimental; lockpicker boyfriend Dado stays in contact with his ex Jing (Angel Aquino), and their rapport is understated and believable. Arguably Rono's best work, and easily the performance of Rosanna Roces' career.

But it's Lao's collaborations with director Dante 'Brillante' Mendoza that may have achieved the most international recognition, from Serbis (Service, 2008)-- detailing a day in the life of a second-run movie theater, complete with sex workers servicing the audience and a goat wandering into the building-- to Kinatay (Butchered, 2009), another day in the life, here the last in a prostitute's life. The latter achieved notoriety when venerated American film critic Roger Ebert blasted it as 'the worse film in the history of the Cannes Film Festival,' or words to that effect, startling hyperbole that drew more attention to the picture than it otherwise might have enjoyed (Mendoza's Prix de la mis en scene notwithstanding). I found it grim, and it took not just Mendoza's relentlessly measured deliberately crude visuals but Lao's recently developed writing philosophy-- the Found Story-- to create that unforgettable grimness, freak Ebert out along the way.

Found Story was a set of principles Lao formulated after the boxoffice failure of one particularly expensive production-- basically his observation of what works in the Philippine and international market, what Filipino writers and filmmakers are especially good at, and where the two spheres intersect-- reduced to a set of rules a producer could follow. It was his belief that realism and truth are a Filipino artist's sharpest weapons, and it's when said artist focuses on these weapons-- on eschewing what's fanciful or irrelevant and limiting oneself to what's immediate-- that a Filipino filmmaker is most guaranteed to succeed, artistically if not financially (implied: that would likely follow). Kinatay's success in Cannes is in many ways a validation of Lao's theory.

An interesting anecdote with an appropriate finale and matters might end there except Lao must have realized that what works for a producer would work just as well if not better for the writer. Thus began his lifelong effort to proselytize his system to up-and-coming writers and this, if nothing else, may be Lao's lasting legacy. He established a Found Story Screenwriting Workshop that he taught for a number of years; he has fostered a new generation of writers and filmmakers, some of whose works I've admired (Ralston Jover's Bakal Boys (Child Metal Divers, 2009), Edgardo Roy's Pamilya Ordinaryo (Ordinary Family, 2016)).

Ralston Jover on Lao: "His stories are remarkably mundane everyday Filipino life with distinct tones of playful humor, spiritual-social honesty, philosophical meaning. He is a great mentor and colleague who respects talent, never condescends, genuinely loves teaching with the aim of honing your craft." Jover adds that with Lao's manuals "I truly found my 'voice' in scriptwriting."

"Any director who works on a Bing Lao script cannot go wrong," Jeffrey Jeturian said. "That's how solid and rich Bing's screenplays are. His dialogue is sharp, his characters alive and multi-dimensional, with clear motivations, his storytelling is fluid and dynamic." He adds: "You'll notice the social realism of Brillante and my own films all bear the stamp of Bing, sometimes in a more pronounced voice than the directors'."

Writer-director Honee Alipio: "I didn't want to see him as a friend, but as a mentor, with me as student. I lived in Zamboanga but every time I came to Manila, I go straight to him. When I eventually moved to Manila, I helped him with his workshop, ten sessions in five weekends, for ten years. Eventually we became less like mentor-student, more like father-daughter to each other.

"The Found Story approach is foundational to my creative process. Rather than start from abstract fiction, I anchor my scripts in meticulous research and documented facts.

"In the film Enjoy Your Stay (co-created with Dominik Locher, who directed), I synthesized testimonies from migrant workers to portray systemic issues with precision, accountability, and absolute realism. The approach guides me in translating raw reality into authentic cinematic storytelling.

"When we pitch Sir Bing would always ask: 'Why this story? Why now?' He would probe our intentions and check our ego.

"When dealing with the common man, we try empower them, especially minorities. 'Talo na naga sila sa lipunan, aapihin mo pa,' he would say ('They already lose out to society and here you are oppressing them'). This addresses the issue of 'poverty porn' in indie films."

Brillante Mendoza: "Armando 'Bing' Lao has been part of my journey in cinema for more than four decades. We started working together in the 1980s on Takaw Tukso but our collaboration became much deeper with Masahista in 2005, my first film, which went on to win the Golden Leopard in Locarno.

"At that time Bing was developing his Found Story theory, and without realizing it I became his student. He was creative consultant in many of my films and wrote Serbis and Kinatay, both of which competed in Cannes.

"But what I value most is not the credits, it's everything I learned from him-- how to observe, how to listen, how to trust reality, how to allow a story to reveal itself.

"The learning never stopped. Every film became another lesson, and even today, I carry his teachings with me in the way I make films and see the world.

"Bing is not only my collaborator or mentor. He is my friend, my brother, one of the people who helped shape the filmmaker I have become.

"I will always be grateful for that journey-- and for everything from him that continues to live through my films."

Writer-director Zig Dulay: "Bing Lao's scripts taught me to look at people more deeply. His stories were never just about what happened. They were about what was underneath-- the wounds, contradictions, fears, desires, and truths that make us human. He taught me that if you look closely enough, there is always a story waiting to be found.

"But for me Sir Bing is much more than his scripts. He is one of the people who opened the door for me. I will never ever forget that.

"He allowed me to learn standing beside him. I became his production assistant, then his assistant director, eventually the scriptwriter of his film Ad Ignorantiam-- all while he mentored me.

"Sir Bing changed my world. He helped me see the world differently, but more importantly he helped me see myself.

"That is what Found Story means to me. I learned from Sir Bing that a story is not always something we simply invent. Sometimes it is already there-- in a person, a place, a community, a memory, a wound. You have to research, observe, listen, immerse yourself, and allow the story to reveal itself to you.

"Found Story taught me humility. It taught me that as a filmmaker I do not always have to impose a story on people. Sometimes I have to be patient enough to discover the story that life is already telling.

"He did not simply teach me how to write a story, he taught me how to see the world.

"For that I will carry his lessons with me for as long as I can tell stories."

First published in Businessworld 9.15.26