NonSequiturL

Any first-year screenwriting student worth their salt will regurgitate the age-old adage of "Show, don't tell". After all, film is a visual medium, we have eyes; we're not reading a novel, or listening to a radio play, but there are many times during "September 5th" when you could close your eyes and miss nothing.

This is a low budget film. The drama takes place in a claustrophobic broadcasting facility. Our only window into the 1972 Olympics hostage situation is through screens inside our screen. We're trapped in this confined space with the people tasked with getting the news out to the world. And while on paper that might be an interesting perspective to explore, it doesn't really do much to excite in execution and relies far too much on verbal exposition.

There's nothing egregious here in terms of performances and technical details, but the presentation of the events is limited by the perspective and ultimately becomes frustrating and bland. As a viewer watching screens within screens, I felt too far removed from what was going on. The characters we spend time with make some tough journalistic decisions, but their development as characters never justifies us spending time with them while the actual important stuff is happening elsewhere.

This had no business receiving a Best Original Screenplay Oscar nomination. It's not awful, but it never sparks. It's flat. It doesn't even do a great job of conveying the events as they happened, especially for an audience unfamiliar with the details. It's workmanlike, for want of a better term.

After watching this, I feel I need to revisit Spielberg's "Munich", or even 1976's "21 Hours at Munich". Maybe those will fill the emptiness of experience this version of the story left me with.

With a title that's more than a mouthful, "Raiders!: The Story of the Greatest Fan Film Ever Made" follows the exploits of a group of boys-now men-who once set out to make a shot-for-shot remake of Steven Spielberg's classic, "Raiders of the Lost Ark". Beginning in the early 1980s when they were young kids, the film took seven years to complete, using nothing more than rudimentary home video equipment and a lot of passion. This documentary picks up their story almost thirty years later when a successful Kickstarter campaign enables them to attempt filming a final scene and finish the project that defined their childhoods.

In an age where Hollywood's every second release is a remake, few topics could be more appropriate than a shot-for-shot recreation of a beloved film. Besides the obvious amateur nature of their production, the major difference here is that Chris Strompolos and Eric Zala's adaptation of their chosen source material was made without a heavy dose of corporate cynicism. This is one of those rare occasions where "remake" is not a dirty word-it was made with love.

That love for the material and passion for their project shone through enough to make it an underground viral hit. Over the years, it was circulated via bootleg VHS tapes until it found its way into the hands of Eli Roth, who passed a copy to Harry Knowles. Knowles then helped bring it to a wider audience. There's a natural appeal to the idea that speaks to the fan inside all of us, so it's no wonder that it inspired people to donate to the Kickstarter campaign. The main players visibly age throughout the remake, as its seven-year production unfolds before the audience's eyes-like a Spielberg-flavored version of Richard Linklater's "Boyhood". Their remake is a distillation of childhood fandom projected onto the screen.

But we're here to talk about the documentary that tells the story of its making, which frames its narrative around Strompolos and Zala's struggle to film the final scene on a limited budget. The rest of the runtime is filled with interviews featuring their friends and family, along with ample clips from the film itself.

There's a frustration here-felt not only by myself but also by some of the interviewees-that so much creative time and effort was spent on an inferior version of a film that had already been made. Other documentaries about low-budget filmmaking (such as American Movie) had a much easier job getting the audience to root for the success of their subjects. As Zala pours more of his own money into finishing the film, it's hard not to yell at the screen, "Why? Why are you doing this? Make something of your own!"

It's up to the documentary's filmmakers, Jeremy Coon and Tim Skousen, to provide insight into the determination and reasoning behind such a project. For the most part, we're left wondering-though there are a few moments where the surface is scratched, revealing that Strompolos' family life wasn't exactly ideal. Perhaps the collaborative process of remaking Indiana Jones was the only stable part of his and Zala's existence? Unfortunately, the documentary doesn't dig into their psychological motivations as much as it could have.

There's also not enough screen time dedicated to examining Strompolos and Zala's friendship. We know they must have been close in their teenage years, but in adulthood, they seem distant. They're rarely on camera together, leaving us to question why they're bothering to finish the film. If not to rekindle their camaraderie and complete what they started, then why? Are they simply doing it for the money or the limited fame this documentary might bring them? Are they playing it up for the camera? Has resurrecting their passion project tainted it with the same cynicism that plagues big-budget modern remakes? The documentary doesn't go deep enough.

Still, "Raiders!" is a tight and entertaining account. It's hard to fault Jeremy C. And Tim S.'s ability to craft an engaging narrative from what is inherently interesting material-not only for fans of Indiana Jones but also for anyone with an interest in low-budget filmmaking. It is slightly disappointing that there's no involvement from Harrison Ford, George Lucas, or Spielberg, but that's hardly surprising.

What is surprising is that there has been no litigation from the Disney camp thus far. They seem to be turning a blind eye. In fact, while they're in a good mood, I'd go so far as to suggest that Disney shortlist Zala and Strompolos for the director's chair when they inevitably reboot the Indy franchise. I mean, these guys spent almost three decades aping Spielberg-why not give them a shot? They wouldn't do a worse job than some of the current mercenary directors handling big-name reboots, right?

If the concept of "Raiders!: The Story of the Greatest Fan Film Ever Made" piques your interest, then it's certainly worth your time. I only wish it had dug deeper into its subjects.

Violence against children is one of cinema's greatest taboos, and in an age where audiences are completely jaded, and almost anything goes, it's a taboo that still remains rarely broken. Other than the death of animals, there's not much that will offend a viewership more than hurting a child. Only a sick individual would want to see something so awful on screen, and with that in mind, I approached Child Eater with great anticipation.

Based on a short (which was successfully funded via kickstarter), Erlingur Thoroddsen's Child Eater is a supernatural slasher that recalls childhood fears brought on by legends, ghost stories, and monsters that lurk inside the minds of the pre-pubescent. Thoroddsen (I won't pretend to know how to pronounce his name) brings a Finnish perspective, which isn't exactly discernible in the filmmaking, but more evident in the Scandinavian folklore-esque nature of the villain.

The story revolves around newly pregnant Helen - daughter of the town Sheriff - who is tasked with babysitting Lucas - a precocious boy living in a house with a horrible history. Lucas swears someone is watching him, first from across the forest, and soon, from his bedroom closet. Things get stranger when a local woman, once attacked by an infamous child killer, calls the Sheriff's department and claims her assailant is back and ready to kill again.

Strangely, this is the second film in a row that I've watched featuring a protagonist named Helen, and here she's played by Cait Bliss, who has a refreshing girl-next-door quality. Colin Critchley gives a rare decent child performance in amongst what, for the most part, is a mixed bag of acting.

The fall atmosphere is palpable, as the opening scenes of the film are dressed with dead trees and dry, broken grass. The villain is suitably creepy and mysterious, until we see a bit too much of him. Unfortunately, the cracks in the production begin to show through. The low budget holds it back. Some more layers of post-production may have helped with the look and sound, but that obviously wasn't an option.

Beyond the budget restrictions, all slasher films run the risk of hitting a creative wall, since there's only so much you can do with the genre. Child Eater falls into the trap and devolves into people running aimlessly through a dark forest while making increasingly poor and irresponsible decisions. The cop characters are predictably useless, and before long it becomes hard to sympathize with anyone on screen. The kills are lackluster and the stakes never feel quite high enough.

Our heroine's transition from babysitter to hardcore badass who doesn't feel pain isn't really convincing either. Her arc doesn't gel with the rest of the story. I guess there's an attempt here to say something about the anxiety of incoming parenthood, but how that relates to the villain's backstory and the rest of the characters doesn't really become apparent.

I haven't seen the short Child Eater is based on, so I can't speak to how effective the transition was to full length, but as a feature it's admirable when taking its budget into account, even if it's wonky overall. You can feel there was passion here and a genuine attempt to make something fun.

But with all that in mind I have one major complaint, and it's about the name of the film - it's false advertisement! The villain spends far more time eating adults than it does children, and for that, I can't forgive it.