Safe (1995)

Writer/Director Todd Haynes
119 mins.

California, 1987. Housewife Carol White (Julianne Moore) has been dulled into a life of reserved routine and muffled stupidity after years in suburbia. She can barely comprehend herself, let alone the outside world, and has no idea how to react when that world begins to attack her.

She develops "multiple chemical sensitivity", a possibly psychosomatic aversion to everyday chemicals and pollutants. She nearly suffocates while driving on the freeway, then collapses at a friend's birthday party. Her husband Greg (Xander Berkeley) is dumbfounded, and a doctor incorrectly diagnoses her as lactose intolerant. She does not get better. Desperate, she retreats to the Wrenwood Center, a new-age community run by the calm-yet-sinister guru Peter Dunning (Peter Friedman), with a cult-like hold over its "patients".

Whether viewed as a black comedy, or the quintessential horror film for the '90s, Safe is a unique and disturbing experience.

After her first attack, Carol retreats to an underground parking garage, a place as lonely and antiseptic as the world above. By the 21st century, it seems, there will be no place to run.

The film is relatively subtle about everyday chemicals, never presenting them as overpowering until Carol becomes ill. By watching carefully, we see the physical pressure the modern human body can be put under, especially for women.

Carol spots a flyer: "Are you allergic to the 20th century?" Infected might be a more accurate word. The modern age isn't just giving Carol the sniffles and a headache, but a full-on human collapse.

Carol is informed of her condition. What better way to learn about the evils of 20th century technology than through its most diabolical creation - the television? Again, nowhere to retreat.

As she pulls into the Wrenwood center via taxi cab, Carol gets a glimpse of what she will become via a senior patient - that is, a raving, paranoid mess. But she is still too stunted to realize it. We never learn the ultimate consequence of her ignoring the call to stay away, but we can imagine it.

As with any good cult, it hardly matters what leader Peter Dunning is saying, as long as it contains buzz words, positive energy, and phony empathy. He doesn't seem so sick himself, so where are his motivations?

Whether sanctuary or techno-coffin, Carol's personal "igloo" turns out to be the most evocative location in the movie. In the scene above, she leaves behind exactly what she needs to get better - a warm, altruistic friend - in favor of retreat. The world can't touch her here, but neither can she touch it back.

Above and below: "I love you", Carol repeats to herself. Of course, she can hardly be blamed for trying to save her own body, but it might be too late to cure what is contained inside it.

The Missing Person (2009)

Writer/Director Noah Buschel
95 mins.

Hard-drinking detective John Rosow (Michael Shannon) is understandably suspicious when a proxy, Ms. Charley (Amy Ryan), arrives with a client willing to pay him hundreds of dollars a day to tail Harold Fullmer (Frank Wood) across the country.

Rosow is good at his work, but unbalanced and unsuited to the rules and technologies of the modern world. We slowly learn, however, that his mind isn't stuck in the 1940s of Bogart and Hammett, but September 10, 2001 - his wife perished in 9/11, leaving him an emotional wreck. Fullmer, it turns out, was also presumed dead in the attacks, but used the opportunity to vanish and start a new life moving exploited children to a Mexican sanctuary. Does Fullmer have a right to his own life, or should Rosow retain his loyalty to the client and bring him home?

Written and directed by relative newcomer Noah Buschel, The Missing Person is a slow-burning take on the film noir, setting aside the artificial role-playing of a movie like Brick for something deeper and more satisfying.

Above and below: Michael Shannon and Amy Ryan have two of the most interesting faces in modern film. They share a common expression of simultaneous curiosity, humour, and contempt. If the film has a significant error, it's in keeping these two perfectly matched actors apart for most of the plot.

Above and below: two brief allusions to 9/11. The first comes after we learn of the date's significance to the plot, as Rosow and Fullmer's plane drifts into a cloud and vanishes, instead of merely exiting beyond the frame. Subtle and haunting. The second (a cartoon on television) is seen much earlier in the film, and appears out of place until we re-watch from the beginning. More blunt, perhaps, but curious.

On a plane back to society, we get a glimpse of the man Rosow might have been - charming, but not overly so, a father to a child never born.

Buschel places the noir hero in the modern world, and has some fun at his expense. Rosow is perplexed, at one point, to find a cop on a Segway, and in the image above, struggles with a new camera phone forced upon him by the client.

No interrogation lamps, but plenty of bright lights to bring secrets out into the open. Is Rosow having a moment of genius, or burning under the heat?

Another blink-and-miss allusion, as two columns of light stand in place of the buildings that once stood, but don't stand anymore.

Rosow and Charley in a final moment of harmony. Two buildings in unison were brought down together, seperating countless couples and families between the living and the missing. But we'll always try to put two back together.

Dogtooth (2009)

Writer/Director Yorgos Lanthimos
94 mins.

A son, and two daughters. The children have been completely isolated from the outside world their whole lives. Father and Mother teach them a strict and usually absurd system of learning, discipline, and competition with each other. Father acts as if only he can venture beyond their security gate. The children are led to believe that a second, more disobedient son is isolated behind a tall fence, never to be seen.

The only visitor allowed to interact with the children is Christina, a security guard employed at the same plant as Father. She provides physical contact for the son.

Things begin to disrupt this alien environment. Christina makes advances on the daughters. She brings them Hollywood videotapes, causing the older daughter to lapse into memorized passages and scenes.

Father intensifies the imagined dangers of the outside world. He smears himself in fake blood, pretending that the "other son" has been mauled and killed by a small house cat that has wandered into the yard. The son becomes dangerously afraid of this cat.

The children believe that only by losing their "dog teeth" (canines) will they earn passage to the outside world. Which is exactly what older daughter desires.

Lead frame: The human body, at an angle. The characters are in constant symmetry. Even in music and dance.

Father is not very tall, but he becomes an increasingly imposing figure.

Layers of people. Generations of family. Stacks of influence. In this insular environment, everything is passed on and eventually shared. On a side note, Aggeliki Papoulia and Mary Tsoni are eerily closer in appearance than most other on-screen siblings.

More layers. This open garden area becomes a repeated, eerie location on the property, given distinction by a large gray square of indeterminate construction. Another geometric image.

An alternate translation of Kynodontas is Canines, which makes more sense in that it refers directly to the family's behavior, their mythology, and the film's gruesome climax.

Older daughter spits, imitating Rocky after watching a smuggled videotape.

The estate is tranquil, it has to be admitted. Father does not deny his children certain amenities, and the chance to improve mentally and physical, albeit in strict ways. They engage in increasingly dangerous endurance competitions, including running their hands under hot water.

The top image fits neatly over the bottom, though they are not juxtaposed in the film. We wonder what will be passed on from this father to his son.

Father goes for full effect in his campaign against disobedience and a stray cat.

More human shapes. The bodies of the children become their only vessels of freedom. Despite their upbringing, there is still something in side of them that subverts and forges on with the rest of humanity.