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CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD

Producers: Marty Bowen, John Fischer and Wyck Godfrey   Director: Eli Craig   Screenplay: Carter Blanchard, Adam Cesare and Eli Craig   Cast: Katie Douglas, Aaron Abrams, Carson MacCormac, Vincent Muller, Kevin Durand, Will Sasso, Verity Marks, Cassandra Potenza, Ayo Solanke, Alexandra Martin Deakin, Jean-Jacques Javier, Daina Leitold and Bradley Sawatzky   Distributor: RLJE Films/Shudder

Grade: C

Given its title, you might expect “Clown in a Cornfield,” with the obvious mash-up possibilities of “It” and “Children of the Corn,” to be played as high camp, but though Eli Craig’s movie is clearly indebted to the teen slasher flicks of the eighties, it’s more homage than spoof.  It’s jocular in many respects to be sure, but the humor doesn’t cross into “how ridiculous is this rubbish?” territory, even in a last reel one might be inclined to chortle over.  The genre might be absurd, but in a strange way the movie takes it seriously.  Perhaps that’s because it’s an adaptation of a 2020 YA novel by Adam Cesare, who actually has a reputation in the horror field.

The setting is a typical American small town, Kettle Springs, Missouri (here portrayed by the Winnipeg area in Manitoba).  A prologue set in 1991 shows a couple of randy, drunken teens from a party at the Baypen Corn Syrup Factory outside town traipsing into the surrounding cornfield, where they’re killed by a figure hidden in the rustling stalks, the boy hoisted high on a pitchfork.

Now Glenn Maybrook (Aaron Abrams) arrives with his daughter Quinn (Katie Douglas) to relocate his medical practice from the east to Kettle Springs.  Quinn is unhappy with both the move and their dilapidated old house, but aims to make the best of things, and she gets some immediate support when Rust (Vincent Muller), an awkward but kindly neighbor boy, arrives to walk her to her first day at the local school.

In the rowdy class presided over by peevish Mr. Vern (Bradley Sawatzky) she meets the group she’ll hang out with: saucy blonde Janet (Cassandra Potenza) and her pal Ronnie (Verity Marks), Ronnie’s hunky boyfriend Matt (Alexandre Martin Deakin) and his goofy bud Tucker (Ayo Solanke), and cute rich kid Cole (Carson MacCormac), whose family founded the Baypen business that’s still the town’s sole claim to fame.  In fact, Kettle Springs holds an annual parade in honor of the outfit’s mascot, Frendo the Clown, who’s also featured in little jack-in-the-boxes that pop up all over the place.

These kids engage in typical teen hijinks, like causing a ruckus in Otis’ (Jean-Jacques Javier) general store so they can cadge some booze.  And they’ve taken to the web to post mini-slasher movies with Frendo as the killer.  But one would hardly think them the sort of existential threat to local well-being described by the likes of Sheriff Dunne (Will Sasso), or Trudy (Daina Leitold), the waitress at the local diner, or Cole’s own father, Mayor Hill (Kevin Durand).

Moreover, they become the targets when Frendo actually appears—first glimpsed by Quinn in the background of one of those slasher posts—with slice-and-dice tools in hand.  The practical death effects that follow are awfully cheesy, whether it’s because of a low budget or the desire to hew to 1980s models.  But in this day when gallons of fake blood and mountains of grisly gore are what horror movies usually offer, the restraint, whatever the reason, is actually kind of refreshing.

But however much good will that might bring, it’s squandered in the protracted last act, which offers one of the silliest, most outlandish revelations in the history of slasher movies—which is saying something, given the absurdities that the genre succumbed to as it decayed.  A near-death sequence that goes on long after the intended victim would have expired, but emerges unscathed, is dumb enough, but even it is exceeded by the inanity of the explanation the verbose villain gives for all the mayhem.  A revelation regarding Rust is presumably intended to add a note of modern enlightenment to the ending, but feels like prefabricated pandering to current social norms.   

Douglas nevertheless emerges as a spunky last girl standing, and while most of the other youngsters are just adequate, MacCormac has a twinkle in his eye that telegraphs a decision to play Cole tongue-in-cheek; he even manages to get through that awful finale.  In any event, the kids are far superior to the adults, most of whom—Durand, Sasso and Sawatzky are the worst offenders, but the others aren’t far behind—are simply dreadful.  The sole exception is Abrams, who pulls off the sad sack, Jason Segel/Daniel Stern-style doofus well enough.  Technically this is a pretty threadbare effort, but production designer Brian Kane and cinematographer Brian Pearson have done what they could with the meager materials at hand, and one probably shouldn’t blame editor Sabrina Pitre for the fact that the finale drags badly.  The score by Brandon Roberts and Marcus Trumpp does its job.

Those who recall the teen slasher movies of forty years ago with affection may get a kick out of this virtual tribute to them, but despite a couple of likable youngsters in the leads, the ludicrous last act proves fatal in one too many ways.  

Now Showing

NONNAS

Producers: Gigi Pritzker, Rachel Shane and Jack Turner   Director: Stephen Chbosky  Screenplay: Liz Maccie   Cast: Vince Vaughn, Lorraine Bracco, Talia Shire, Brenda Vaccaro, Linda Cardellini, Susan Sarandon, Joe Manganiello, Drea de Matteo, Campbell Scott, Michael Rispoli, Theodore Helm, Kate Eastman, Karen Giordano and Richie Moriarty   Distributor: Netflix

Grade: C+

Like a dish of rich vanilla ice cream, “Nonnas” is bland but goes down easy, the sort of feel-good dramedy about food and family older audiences will happily eat up despite its high sugar content.   Stephen Chbosky’s movie is based on the life of Jody “Joe” Scaravella, a Staten Island restaurateur, who opened Enoteca Maria in honor of his mother and the tradition of big, boisterous family meals she and her mother had hosted in their home.  

In a nostalgically glossy opening, schoolboy Joey (Theodore Helm) navigates one of those gatherings—a typical Sunday in his Brooklyn home— while his mother (Kate Eastman) and grandmother (Karen Giordano) prepare the feast in the kitchen.  Joy watches rapt as his nonna makes her special gravy and gives him a taste.

Cut to decades later.  Joe (Vince Vaughn), a mechanic in the metro bus system, is grieving his mother’s death, consoled by his childhood friend Bruno (Joe Manganiello), a contractor, and Bruno’s wife Stella (Drea de Matteo).  Seeing Joe’s inability to get past his loss, reflected in his repeated efforts to replicate the meals his mother made for him, they advise him to take the life insurance money she left and do something for himself.

What he impulsively decides, during a jaunt to Staten Island’s open-air market, is to reopen a closed restaurant he finds nearby, but with a difference.  He intends to staff the kitchen with actual Italian grandmothers who will prepare the dishes they’ve made in their homes and thereby create a true family atmosphere for the customers.  He enlists Bruno to refurbish the place despite his pal’s initial concern about the financial viability of the concept. 

Then he goes about finding his staff of nonnas.  His first recruit is his late mother’s best friend Roberta (Lorraine Bracco), who’s living in a retirement home. At the outdoor market he bumps into Antonella (Brenda Vaccaro) choosing tomatoes at a stall run by Al (Michael Rispoli); she’s being squired around by her next-door neighbor Olivia (Linda Cardinelli), a lawyer who was Joe’s high school classmate as well as his prom date, whom he hasn’t seen in years.  Teresa (Talia Shire), a mousy former nun, responds to his advertisement on Craigslist. Finally Gia (Susan Sarandon), his mother’s erstwhile hairdresser who makes wonderful pastries, takes charge of desserts.

What follows is a warmhearted but entirely predictable account of how Joe’s dream meets with a succession of obstacles but ultimately prevails against apparently insuperable odds.  The nonnas, coming from different regions and representing varied gastronomic traditions, squabble, but a session at Gia’s salon, followed by a talk-it-through session, resolves their rivalries.  Joe needs to keep his city job to pay for the renovations, so his fellow workers are happy to fool his officious boss (Richie Moriarty) into thinking he’s at the garage when he’s absent.  A kitchen fire leads to a visit from a city inspector that threatens to put the kibosh on the entire enterprise until Teresa drops to her knees and prays for a miracle, which arrives on cue (though with a non-miraculous explanation).  And when escalating expenses cause a rift with Bruno, the problem is solved by an act of selfless friendship on the contractor’s part, one requiring him to sell a cherished car. 

Even after the restaurant opens, hostility against outsiders from Al, and Joe’s inability to get news coverage for the place, are overcome, the first by a stern lecture from Antonella and the second by a visit to a prominent food critic (Campbell Scott).  By the end happy customers are joining in a joyous group dance after savoring such heavenly dishes as Capuzzelle, or stuffed sheep’s head.

There are, inevitably, further saccharine addenda—a budding romance between Joe and Olivia, who still remembers how their prom date soured; the revelation of why Teresa left the convent, the result of what used to be euphemistically termed in ecclesiastical circles a “special relationship”; and Joe’s reluctance to open a letter from his mother left for him in Roberta’s care, which turns out to contain…well, something he’s always wanted.

How much of this comes from the true story Liz Maccie’s script is based on is a moot point.  What’s undoubtedly true is that though the nonnas here (including Gia, the single woman who doesn’t really fit the bill, and Teresa, who’s presumably never married either) are stereotypes, that doesn’t matter when they’re played by actresses as winning as Bracco, Vacarro, Shire and Sarandon, all of whom prove irresistible, refusing to become the “super old ladies” played by the likes of Diane Keaton, Jane Fonda and Sally Field in movies such as “Book Club” and “80 for Brady.”

It’s the “youngsters” who bring things down.  Vaughn is oddly drab as Joe, meandering through the movie in semi-sleepwalking mode. He’s obviously underplaying, but he tamps down his usual volatility to such an extent that Joe’s personality practically disappears.  His romance with Cardinelli’s bright but rather distant Olivia is curiously limp, more a pro forma subplot than a convincing late-in-life rebirth.  In fact, the best element of Joe’s story, emotionally speaking, is his relationship with Manganiello’s Bruno, which is also pretty stereotypical but nonetheless touching.

Still, despite the emptiness at the center, “Nonnas” is a slice of cinematic comfort food that will prove a sentimental crowd-pleaser with older audiences.  Chbosky and editor Anne McCabe take it at a leisurely pace, allowing the grandmotherly types plenty of time to register the charm beneath their feisty exteriors, and cinematographer Florian Ballhaus gives the New Jersey locations (including the shuttered Spiritos restaurant in Elizabeth, standing in for Enoteca Maria), along with Diane Lederman’s production design, a glistening look. 

But Marcelo Zarvos’ score beats you over the head with obviousness; how many times can one take another tarantella or repeat of “Funiculi Funicula”?  In the end while “Nonnas” intends to warm the heart, too often its cloying clichés might induce heartburn instead.