Mandy is a 2018 action-horror movie, directed by Panos Cosmatos, starring Nicolas Cage, 
Andrea Riseborough, Bill Duke, Ned Dennehy, Linus Roache and Richard Brake. With its vintage visual style reminiscent of old school cinema, the movie has a colorful, but at the same time nostalgic mood, that certainly adds a dense element to its intricate and elaborate visual artistry.    

On this film, Nicolas Cage plays Red Miller, a woodman that is happily married with Mandy (Andrea Riseborough), a cashier in a shop on their nearby neighborhood, and a talented artist on her free time. They live a simple lifestyle in relative isolation in the Shadows Mountain region of California, where peace and quietness are part of daily life. On a certain occasion, Mandy crosses the road when an eccentric group of people in a van is passing by. They are members of a bizarre cult, called Children of the New Dawn. Unbeknownst to her, the leader of the cult, a man named Jeremiah (Linus Roache) asks his right-hand man, Brother Swan (Ned Dennehy) to capture her, as he wants to have her. 

Brother Swan, then, goes along with other cult member to fulfil his task. On arriving in a secret place, he makes a devilish arrangement with a nefarious horde of demonic motorcycle maniacs to kidnap Mandy. The group arrives when Mandy and Miller are sleeping, so Miller is easily subdued, and Mandy is successfully captured. On her captivity, she recognizes an old woman from before, who had earlier bought something on her work place, asking her something about the book she was reading. Mandy is then drugged with the venom of a giant wasp, and afterwards, completely hallucinating, is introduced to Jeremiah. In a delirious journey provoked by the substance administered to her, she begins to laugh hysterically, to Jeremiah’s disappointment.   

Miller is also held captive by the malevolent sect, tough outdoor. After her time with Mandy, Jeremiah goes outside with Brother Swan and one of his female servants, and begins to torment Miller psychologically, eventually stabbing him with a dagger. Then they excruciatingly torture him, by burning Mandy alive in front of him, tough she was involved in a giant fabric bag. On watching Mandy completely burn to death, Miller becomes severely distressed, and an irrepressible fury against the members of the sect strongly resonates on him. 

Strangely, after the event, the group goes away, leaving Miller alive. Completely tied in barbed wire, Miller frees himself with extreme difficulty, injuring himself deeply in the process. He then goes to the place where the ashes of Mindy are, and contemplates its remnants, as what has left of her is rapidly dispersed by the wind. Then he goes home, and sees the TV is still on. Miller goes to bed, and collapses on extreme fatigue. He then dreams of Mandy, shown in an animated sequence completely disfigured by the burns. 

He then wakes up, completely disrupted. He goes to the bathroom, and drinks an alcoholic beverage from a bottle he had hidden. He also starts to overflow all his fury. After recovering a little, Miller decides to visit a friend, Caruthers (Bill Duke), to pick up a weapon. He initially says he will go hunting, and tries to disguise his pain, but eventually he crumbles, and tell his friend what happened. Caruthers then tells him that a criminal gang called Black Skulls are the probable culprits behind the atrocity Miller and his wife have suffered, as they have terrorizing some nearby regions of the country for some time. They drive black motorcycles and can be seen only at night. Their main fuel is a very potent form of LSD they used to deliver, as a service to an independent drug lord. Caruthers tells Miller that he saw the gang once, at safe distance, and informs him the location they are most likely to be. 

Miller then displays all his ability as an ironsmith, to create a giant combat axe to fight his nemesis, and afterwards, drives along in search of the gang. In one occasion, Miller manages to shoot one of them with an arrow, after precisely capturing him through the lens of his gun. Rapidly, he stepped into his van, and drove on where his victim had felt on the road to run over him. Nevertheless, the assailant has managed to stay on his knees in the middle of the pavement, and with a gun shot Miller’s van several times, before a fatal collision between the two took place.  

Miller loses his conscience. When he wakes up, he finds himself imprisoned in a very claustrophobic deposit. His right hand is handcuffed to a pipe, while his left hand is nailed to the ground. Soon, he realizes he is being held captive by one of the Black Skulls. His assailant starts to beat him, talking to him in a very grotesque voice. But Miller manages to subdue his aggressor, breaking the pipe that was indeed a little loose, freeing his right hand, and spanking his antagonist with the pipe until he falls into a lateral pit.  

Miller then starts to explore the place where he is, and suddenly realizes it’s a very underground hideout. He sees an assassinated couple in a bed, and then confronts one of the Black Skulls, that was consuming large quantities of drug in a very dark living room. Miller is able to subdue him, but with great difficulty, as this Black Skull in particular is thoroughly truculent, aggressive and bestial. But Miller kills him by slashing his throat with a razor. The TV then is destroyed by a fire shoot, and Miller confronts again the assailant from before, the one he had thrown into the pit. But once again, Miller is successful in subjugating his attacker. Miller then “celebrates” his victory by consuming a large amount of cocaine that was over a table in the living room.  

On further exploration of the place, Miller encounters his axe. He also accidentally experiments the degraded version of LSD the Black Skulls are addicted to, and have a voraciously and intense delusional acid trip. When he leaves to proceed on his vengeance hunting, he shoots another Black Skull with one arrow, in front of a burning car. The Black Skull doesn’t die, though, and the two begin to fight. After some moments, this member of the gang tells Miller that his wife is still burning. This infuriates Miller, who throws his antagonist directly into the flames and then, in a vicious rampage, decapitates him with his axe. Miller then lights a cigar with the fire in the burning head of the assailant. 

He then drives in the dead of night to continue with his revenge plan, until he sees a tower. He then enters a vast laboratory, where a drug lord (Richard Brake) works. He threatens to catch a Luger pistol to defend himself, but hesitates. There is also in the precinct an enormous tiger named Lizzie in a cage. The drug lord pushes up a button, that opens the gate of the cage where Lizzie is confined, and the animal leaves. With his large pupils dilated, the drug lord also seems to be having a drug-related trip. Anticipating the feeling that Miller is desperate to get information about the Children of the New Dawn, the drug lord tells Miller that they may have gone towards the north. 

Miller then leaves his motor vehicle in a cave, and decides to sleep a little. He then have another dream with Mandy, which is a brief animated sequence, where she is naked, and pulling of the heart of a dead monster. Miller then finds the mountainous region that serves as the new headquarters for the members of the Children of the New Dawn.

Miller begins his irrational fury by viciously attacking Brother Swan, who was leaving his vehicle. Upon the aggression he brutally receives, he manages to say that Mandy has “burned brightly”, scorning Miller by asking him “don’t you think?” – Miller then introduces the sharp lower tip of his axe into the mouth of Brother Swan, breaking his jaw. He then pushes his axe more profoundly, brutally injuring and killing him. The younger woman, a member of the cult, was there, accompanying Brother Swan in the van. She silently cries, but Miller does nothing to her.    

Miller then proceeds to kill other members of the cult. He kills the next by throwing his axe directly into his head. Another one was fought in a battle of chainsaws, although Miller’s antagonist had one whose blade was much longer. Miller manages to inflict a profound wound in his opponent, but this fight proves to him thoroughly difficult to be won. Miller then picks up a chain, and manages to throw it out around the neck of his enemy, pushing it and forcing him to fall over one of the chainsaws – who was on –, that completely eviscerates Miller’s antagonist in the process. 

Miller then finally arrives at the satanic pyramid of the cult, and picks up out of curiosity their “holy” scripture. He then walks through the underground tunnels, finally arriving in an antechamber, where he meets the old matriarch of the cult. She begins to talk to him about Jeremiah. Miller’s only reaction is to stare at her coldly. 

Jeremiah is naked, alone with his egocentric godly delusions in a closed room, when the decapitated head of the matriarch is thrown at his direction. Jeremiah says to Miller that he can’t hurt him, as he continues to proclaim that he is a type of god. When Miller attacks him, Jeremiah starts to beg for his life. But after just a few moments, Jeremiah has a change of heart, and begins to insult Miller, saying that it’s him that should knee, and not the contrary. But Miller says to Jeremiah “I am your god now”, and starts to crush his head, until his eyes pops out, and his skull is brutally smashed. Miller then, feeling at least a little redeemed, sets the place on fire.  

Feeling at least partially relieved, Miller let the good memories related to Mandy flow back. He then drives away, with the sensation of mission accomplished. 

While this movie is good entertainment, it’s not a fantastic, exhilarating nor a superb work of art. More or less, it’s basically a typical revenge for love type of story.

The psychedelic features and the more exotic vibe present in the visual elements are an interesting feature, that certainly adds a genuine and interesting quality into the atmosphere of the movie. They are well developed, and used correctly, not overtly exaggerated throughout the whole production, but applied in precise and effective moments, to increase the effect and to transmit to the audience a correspondent sensation about what a specific character was feeling in a precise given moment. But this component, despite it’s cohesive usefulness on various passages of the movie, does not serve as a guarantee concerning the artistic efficiency of the film.  

Don’t get me wrong. Here there is beautiful cinematography, exceedingly dense and poetic visual scenes, artistic elegance, a consistent narrative, but in the end, Mandy is just a little above the average action flick. Like I wrote some lines above, it’s a very good entertainment. If you like generally reasonable action movies with somewhat generic storylines, you will certainly be pleased with this one. Just keep your expectations low. Don’t expect too much out of it. Yes, you will be thrilled by some really amazing, genuine and colorful exotic scenes. This will be your main reward for risking your time to see this really cool hipster piece. The scenes where Jeremiah delivers an esoteric monologue while his face is entirely red, and his facial features constantly shift to look like Mandy’s are certainly a good exemplar of the colorful unusual imagery that sets the tone of this somewhat relatively audacious vengeance story.

In the end, Mandy is not a bad movie. On the contrary, it’s a very good action flick. It serves to prove that, in the end, Hollywood still manages to do some decently good conventional action sequences. But don’t expect too much out of it. Despite decent visuals, and a plausible conjuncture of good ideas, Mandy will hardly exceed your expectations. In just a few weeks, it will be just another Nicolas Cage movie.           


Wagner

Skyggenes dal is a Norwegian mystery drama film, directed by Jonas Matzow Gulbrandsen. On this movie, the audience see the world by the eyes of Aslak (Adam Thornes Ekeli), an innocent and quiet, but sensible and introspective boy, who filters with his lugubrious, but vivid intelligence all the disturbed and restless occurrences around him. Aslak lives with his mother, Astrid (Kathrine Fagerland), and it’s not possible to discover anything about them, besides what becomes implicit in the storyline. For example, in the beginning of the movie, it’s possible to perceive that Aslak has an older brother that he doesn’t see for some time. Eventually, the police come to their home to talk to Astrid, and then Astrid begins to cry desperately. When the police enter their house asking to see the room of her older son, it becomes gradually implicit by the facts revealed that Astrid was forced to expel her oldest son from home, as he was probably addicted to drugs. Uncomfortable in having him around being a bad influence on Aslak, she may have expelled him. The circumstances unveil that he probably has died from a drug overdose, and so Astrid becomes severely distressed over her son’s death. 

Aslak is too young to perceive with all its lethal densities and implications the dramatic urges and the pungent complexities of the world around him; nevertheless, he easily assimilates all the conjuncture upon which pain and suffering are latent, as the movie slowly, but consistently captures the sensibilities of existence from the point of view of the vast innocence and puerility of the young boy, although his acute intelligence warns him against the unwanted frivolities of the adult universe, from which he becomes somewhat protected, doing his best to be cautious and guarded in the cozy refugee of a very personal world. His light blond hair and his profoundly questionable and vigilant green eyes gives an insight about the peculiarities of his relationship with the world around him, how he relates to it, how he understands it, in all the vicinities familiar to him.

Soon, a friend comes to play with him outside, and eventually shows him mutilated cattle, that were probably attacked by a wild, ferocious animal, that – as a local urban legend that probably originated from rumor explains –, lives in a great and desolated hazy mountain nearby, that grows to be a folklore of its own on Aslak’s fertile imagination. Nevertheless, the somewhat solitary existence of the boy makes him wander throughout the pale ocean of his own related fantasies, driven in the invisible storm of his inquisitive restlessness, that are in full juxtaposition of a monotonous life, where anything relevant happens.

In a certain occasion, when his dog escapes, Aslak goes after him. Eventually, he ventures into a vast forest, which is basically obscure unknown territory, and finds a man in a remote cabin. The man seems to be friendly, and both begin to talk. At this point, tough – as Aslak’s mind drives the omniscient grace of the narrative – it’s impossible to know what is real and what is not. Aslak could just be talking and interacting with a product of his own fertile imagination, his psychological device to deal with the pervasive, hostile and disgraceful monotony of reality.     

Any significant part of this movie, but especially from the second half onward, could be an extension of Aslak’s dream. He frequently runs down the lake in a boat, sometimes sleeping on it. In several passages, Skyggenes dal has reminded me of Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker, a movie where the delusional blur between fantasy and reality are projected as a matter of perspective; a sensible impression on the conscience of time, that touches the tissue of reality with such an imperial pragmatism, that existence itself is comprehended as a lucid dream. 

For me, the formidable degree of artistry applied to this work was simply fabulous, despite the fact that the story in itself is relatively simple, and absolutely anything too exuberant or significant ever happens. The movie seems to stand still over the lethargy of a frozen time, but this may be deliberate, to conceive a frame of opaque monotony that could give to the audience the dimension of the vast introspective world inhabited by Aslak. The contrast between the calmness of his whereabouts and the security of life in a remote secluded area – a small village in rural Norway – with the empty and unknown infinity that lies deeply behind  his expressive eyes, is also a major highlight in the movie, that definitely conceives the human existence as more than just a solitary shadow in the background: in the melancholic boundaries of the lugubrious, albeit vivacious dream world of Aslak, there is the frontier to the real world, a much more painful and sanguinary place, that makes him feel uncomfortable. So, fortunately, he has his own personal world to inhabit, that exists in a personal universe where absolutely anything bad could harm him, or inflict to him any type of injury. 

Despite the fact that the story is somewhat very simple – and is, to an extent, stricken with a modest degree of monotony –, the movie has a cohesive storyline, a decent and realistic premise and very decent interpretations. At one hour and twenty five minutes long, it is also very objective and direct to the point. The beauty of the cinematography makes the visual element definitely very elegant, and the intense, lucid, captivating and dense, yet discreet performance of Adam Thornes Ekeli as Aslak, definitely makes this film an extraordinary feature. You may not become extremely impressed by this movie, but certainly its poetic eloquence, its artistic imagery, its unorthodox premise and the profound philosophic virtuosity applied upon themes of loneliness, vagueness, imagination and a childish world of dreams conceived as a refugee against the pain of reality, certainly makes Skyggenes dal a marvelously sophisticated, gracious and poetic feature.   

​Wagner

Koan Sound is a British electronic music duo, composed of musicians Jim Bastow and Will Weeks (don’t confuse with Koan, an electronic musical act from Russia, upon which I wrote here). Recently, I’ve heard their four songs EP, Forgotten Myths, that for a certain amount of time has been calling me, out of nefarious curiosity. Despite its brutal conciseness, the work is only a few minutes long, the EP is certainly more or less intriguing, although, to a certain extent, you instantly recognize ordinary patterns on their music, regardless of their natural and incontestable talent. Nevertheless, all the elements in these four songs are very well arranged altogether, and dissipate a dispersive, but quiet and consistent aura of majestic splendor right through it, envisioned by a sagacity that instinctively drives the harmonies. The duo definitely has an interesting signature sound – with a more fatalist, but delicate and gracious infatuation, so to speak – that keeps the melodies popping up. There is a vague, but latent sincerity in the music that lines up with their dissolute introspective universe that easily acknowledges its profound impetus.   

Right away, it’s easy to notice their references, since it becomes a little obvious that they have been influenced by genres like EDM, chillstep and electronica, but they effortlessly try to sculpt in the razorblade chain of their expansive compositions their own personal style, with successful composure and mordacity. 

With only four songs – Strike, Sentient, the title track Forgotten Myths and View From Above – there is not too much to be highlighted here. These are very good songs, but my main curiosity was hit when I discovered the duo’s existence while searching for the other Koan two-piece. For individuals who really love electronic music, Forgotten Myths it’s a decent possibility. Of course, don’t expect anything glamorous, rapturous, nor extraordinary from this work. It’s a modest promise, but it will entertain your senses, though, although I speculate that Koan Sound is only beginning their journey. 


Wagner 

bandcamp

Koan is a Russian electronic experimental musical duo, consisting of musicians Daniel Roeth and William Grey (these are probably only pseudonyms, since on their official FB page it is informed that William Grey’s real name is Vladimir Sedov), who are veterans active in the underground scene since the early nineties. 

Despite their somewhat modest fan base, Koan is definitely one of my favorite electronic musical acts of all time. Their sound is majestically vibrant, ostensibly original, genuinely proficient, and powerfully exhilarating, with dense and hyperbolic melodies that transcend and redefine all the extraordinary possibilities of its groundbreaking, but consistent expansive essence. With sensible, but complex intuitive cadences that reacts over the waves of harmonies that engulf the soul of its implosive expressive musical features, the sound of Koan makes extensive use of superimposed notes, that creates abrasive sonorous effects over its intricate continuous densities. And you certainly can feel that for yourself, especially if you hear the album I consider their masterpiece, the astounding, fantastic and fabulous The Way of One. 

With a glorious, energetic and effective sonority that runs over the excesses of forgotten universes lost over a billion consciences that sleep in the existential grace of its pungent veracity, this album is a masterpiece that will completely reset your standards in the genre. An expressive audacity that runs over a universe of dispersive and dense harmonies, The Way of One delivers the laborious synergy of unrestrained inventiveness, generating to the relief of its exceptional musical tonalities a new principle of virtuous and organic originality, that anticipates a whole new category for genuine electronic art. On the playful allegories of the colorful universe envisioned by the grandiosity of this monumental eulogy of artistry, the dispersive elements of the genre are astoundingly agglutinated altogether, to reimagine the transcendental grace of life, reinstating over the vicinities of its latent, but powerful creativity a new dimension of lucid catharsis. That being punctuated, it’s more easy to assert that The Way of One anticipates in the marvelous cosmogony of its creative anatomy all the vast possibilities dormant within the genre, but perfunctorily displayed on this album, in the fertile vivacity of its dream-like everlasting atmosphere of sensibility and cohesiveness. Although I think it’s unfair to emphasize my favorite tracks – since the entire album is thoroughly excellent –, I must write them down, to relieve my conscience. The first two, Alone in Canoe and Eagle's Tale, as well as the last two, Uenuku and Peta-Owi Hankeshni!, in my modest opinion, are the highlights of this album, and deserve to be deeply appreciated by the exceptional poetic virtues of their sensible sonorous overpowering restlessness. 

Another album that I think deserves to be highlighted is Argonautica. Not as marvelous as The Way of One – at least in my personal evaluation –, nevertheless, this album deserves its place of honor. Exceedingly extensive as well, being seventy-nine minutes long, this record contains the following tracks: Orpheus and Eurydice, Lost Lyre, Peleus and Thetis, Irida Falls to Morpheus' Pits, Crying Prozerpine (blue mix), Pegasus, In the Garden of the Hesperides (Golden Apples mix), Seven Mirrors of Atlas and Ladon (Serpent mix). The title of the tracks, as well as the mood in every song, displays a mythology-inspired work, a little more serene, soft and balanced than The Way of One. Argonautica gets better and better as reaches the end.  

Ariadne's Thread is a thirty-eight minutes EP, that has a deep, vastly dimensional, linear and imponderable musical diagram. Although this work follows in a general basis the creative standards of Koan, here it is possible to notice the duo following a more reflexive, philosophic and soft harmonious theorem. With four songs – Astraea, Alpheus & Arethusa, Hyades and Galatea –, the first one is definitely my favorite, although this EP is majestic from the beginning until the end. 

Diving deeply into an infinite ocean of sensitive splendor, colorful sentimentalities, abysmal nights of incurable tenacious placidity, being completely embraced by the gracious waves of its melodious charismatic fortunes, on Ariadne’s Thread, restless universes collide over multiple horizons of impatient indulgence, pretending to be lost in a stream of diligent sonorous flavors. Deliberately, a precise and salutary consistence rearranges the dynamic patterns of its anatomy, in a convergent alliance of splendor that easily understands the logic behind its own impulse. The introductory enchantment prevails over the benevolent compulsory rapture of its unlimited sonorous configuration. All the way through – expanding in the vicinities of its latent infinity –, a regressive set of harmonies rapidly overflows under the skin of its convergent sonorous projection, intelligently tracing and defining the impalpable frontier of its mordacious, but lucid musical gravity.    

The eleven minutes song Underwater Moonlight is a marvelous exemplar of a beautiful, expressively soft Koan song, that definitely has an intelligent melody, despite its extravagant and graceful simplicity.

Rainfall is a very simple and basic Koan song, although it is also very beautiful. The placidity of its texture, and the calm intensity of its main harmonious line gives to its sonorous configuration a deeply gracious vivacity, whose arrangement intertwines on the space between the notes the consecration of a vast continuous melody, whose main surface is a lot more fragmented, though the affinity of its own discreet sonorous subtleties perpetuates the dense virtuosity of its major notes.     

The discography of Koan has a lot of options and versatility. Literally, this is a musical act that has everything to please all the ardent enthusiasts of electronic music. Here – aside from emphasizing which one is my favorite, The Way of One, a masterpiece, in my opinion – I want to invite you to explore them by your own account, giving here only some suggestions to provoke your curiosity, but giving you the liberty to explore the works of this fantastic electronic music duo at your own expense. Be free to do it. I’m sure you’re going to deeply enjoy this fabulous journey.  



​Wagner