31. I remember very little about the film’s release -- just that it was not well-received and that after you saw it you suggested that I not waste my time! Now, if I had more time (I love my career, but it sure does take me away from my hobbies sometimes), I would have seen it no matter what. But you really, really seemed disappointed in it, so I’m sure I watched House of 1000 Corpses again instead.
I’m really glad I picked this, because as a Rob Zombie fanatic (I’ll never forget the experience of seeing House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil’s Rejects in the theater when they first opened; I felt like they were made for me and tapped in to certain elements that truly instill fear in me -- not that that’s required for a horror film), I’d hate to leave out anything from his body of work. And I have found myself thinking about it more than I thought I would! That said, your analysis was pretty spot-on: it’s a weak outing for him. It reflects areas he’s explored before (kidnapping, being trapped, torture), but it feels like it’s missing something. I remember an early thought being that it felt rushed; suddenly we were kidnapped and in the game (a group called “The Heads” runs the game “31” every year on Halloween, and whoever they kidnap has to survive this murder game for 12 hours if they want out alive). But none of the exposition of the first 30 minutes or so felt like it mattered or was important in any way. You know I love nudity in movies (and life!), and we got some of that, so it didn’t lose my attention. But really, what did we learn in that opening sequence? Did any of it matter? Maybe that’s ok. Maybe it didn’t have to matter? What was your take on the opening sequence?
Patrick: I’m totally with you that the opening feels like padding. It’s designed, I think, just to introduce us to the characters; instead, it really only introduces us to the actors. I couldn’t tell you a single thing about any of the people in this movie except for what they look like and who plays them. It doesn’t help that Zombie writes every one of them in the same voice, further burying any individual personalities inside a lot of bickering and curse words. There’s a version of this movie in which all this setup endears us to these people enough that we care about them (at least a little) and invest in their survival, but this isn’t that movie. Like I said when we were watching it, 31 never tells a story -- it’s just an execution of a premise.
I’m really glad I picked this, because as a Rob Zombie fanatic (I’ll never forget the experience of seeing House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil’s Rejects in the theater when they first opened; I felt like they were made for me and tapped in to certain elements that truly instill fear in me -- not that that’s required for a horror film), I’d hate to leave out anything from his body of work. And I have found myself thinking about it more than I thought I would! That said, your analysis was pretty spot-on: it’s a weak outing for him. It reflects areas he’s explored before (kidnapping, being trapped, torture), but it feels like it’s missing something. I remember an early thought being that it felt rushed; suddenly we were kidnapped and in the game (a group called “The Heads” runs the game “31” every year on Halloween, and whoever they kidnap has to survive this murder game for 12 hours if they want out alive). But none of the exposition of the first 30 minutes or so felt like it mattered or was important in any way. You know I love nudity in movies (and life!), and we got some of that, so it didn’t lose my attention. But really, what did we learn in that opening sequence? Did any of it matter? Maybe that’s ok. Maybe it didn’t have to matter? What was your take on the opening sequence?
Patrick: I’m totally with you that the opening feels like padding. It’s designed, I think, just to introduce us to the characters; instead, it really only introduces us to the actors. I couldn’t tell you a single thing about any of the people in this movie except for what they look like and who plays them. It doesn’t help that Zombie writes every one of them in the same voice, further burying any individual personalities inside a lot of bickering and curse words. There’s a version of this movie in which all this setup endears us to these people enough that we care about them (at least a little) and invest in their survival, but this isn’t that movie. Like I said when we were watching it, 31 never tells a story -- it’s just an execution of a premise.
the piece you wrote about her a few years back.) And I LOVED seeing Jeff Daniel Phillips (swoon) who was also in Lords of Salem (swoon) and is from Chicago (swoon) and reminds me of Dave Grohl (swoon) and maybe-I-can-meet-him-and-touch-his-beard-and-why-hasn’t-this-happened-yet-I’m-just-wondering. I genuinely enjoyed Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs’s performance and felt for his character when he met his (spoiler alert!) end. And I can’t forget Richard Brake’s monologue at the start of the film. It put me on edge in the right way (the way Zombie’s other works always do) and reminded me that I should see more of his movies (maybe I’ll rewatch Mandy tonight -- one of my favorites from 2018). It’s such a strong performance; too bad it’s not met with strong storytelling overall.
just wrote about it recently after seeing it for the first time, too, because great minds or something, so I don’t want to repeat too much of what they said here. We’ve been planning to go through Spike Lee’s entire filmography once we finish with Walter Hill, so I thought that picking 4 Little Girls got us a little bit ahead. Plus, I’ve never seen any of Spike Lee’s documentaries outside of The Original Kings of Comedy, which is really just a concert film.
I’m avoiding talking about 4 Little Girls because it broke my heart.
Erika: I was happy you picked 4 Little Girls -- even though I have already seen it -- because I love, love, love Spike Lee and am so happy that he has finally been nominated for a Best Director Oscar (even if it is WAY overdue). But yes, heartbreaking barely touches it. As we were watching it together, I noticed your reaction to a few different parts. One was when Denise McNair’s parents were talking about how much she loved dolls and toys. It’s probably impossible to watch this as a parent and not think about your own kids during those scenes. Another moment that stands out was when her dad was talking about this beautiful photograph he had snapped of her and his memories of realizing how great it was and printing an enlargement. These simple memories are devastating.
Spike Lee uses a lot of extreme close ups (might be the only connection to what we wrote about 31!) while interviewing friends, family, and other important witnesses. At times, I was wishing the camera would pull away a little, but I think I understand what he was going for: the audience is forced to be focused on this important history. The camera doesn’t give the us space from the subject because their words are critical and urgent. Black history was missing from schools and wider life in general for too long (and still is, sadly). Documentaries like this one serve as essential education; the film becomes a necessary historical artifact just in the way it collects and presents the memories of these beautiful lives that were cut too short.
Patrick: I like what you say about the closeups and the need to eliminate any distance between the stories and the viewer. I was also struck by what struck me as a real interest in the human side of the movie’s subjects. Spike Lee is so, so great, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him be so interested in humanity the way he is here; his movies tend to be about ideas more than people (with some obvious exceptions). He even offers George Wallace a chance at redemption by putting him on camera and including him in the film. Spike doesn’t editorialize about him, either. He just lets Wallace be the pathetic, racist piece of shit he’s always been. That’s not Spike’s fault.
The word that kept going through my head as we watched the film was “brave.” How brave these families are for surviving this tragedy, for being able to sit down and tell these stories. How brave an entire people are for persevering through 100+ years of bigotry and oppression and violence and hate. I’m just not that brave, not that strong.
Erika: I’m not either. And I’m so glad you mention bravery, because I was thinking about Mamie Till, Emmett Till’s mother, as I was watching 4 Little Girls. Mamie Till could have mourned quietly and gone back to Chicago (after the trial where Emmett Till’s murderers were “found” innocent), but instead she insisted on an open casket funeral and spoke out across the country about the terrible tragedy and injustice she was forced to endure. She refused to let Emmett’s memory fade -- and in turn made his murder a catalyst for change. She has always been a jagoan to me because of her bravery through grief and pain, and the families in 4 Little Girls show that same strength.
Patrick: I think I feel about 4 Little Girls the way you do about 31, but for totally different reasons: I’m glad to have seen it because it was an unseen entry in the filmography of someone I really like, but I probably won’t be going back to it.
Erika: Too heartbreaking. But so important to see at least once. You know my theory: I have to deal with difficult subjects and sadness to gaji the people who actually experienced them. It’s literally the least I can do. Knowing more about the history hopefully helps us work to not let it repeat (and helps us to raise our kids the way we want to raise them). Let’s go have a good cry.
Patrick: Deal. But then we have to move on to the “A” titles. American Ninja isn’t going to watch itself.
I’m avoiding talking about 4 Little Girls because it broke my heart.
Erika: I was happy you picked 4 Little Girls -- even though I have already seen it -- because I love, love, love Spike Lee and am so happy that he has finally been nominated for a Best Director Oscar (even if it is WAY overdue). But yes, heartbreaking barely touches it. As we were watching it together, I noticed your reaction to a few different parts. One was when Denise McNair’s parents were talking about how much she loved dolls and toys. It’s probably impossible to watch this as a parent and not think about your own kids during those scenes. Another moment that stands out was when her dad was talking about this beautiful photograph he had snapped of her and his memories of realizing how great it was and printing an enlargement. These simple memories are devastating.
Spike Lee uses a lot of extreme close ups (might be the only connection to what we wrote about 31!) while interviewing friends, family, and other important witnesses. At times, I was wishing the camera would pull away a little, but I think I understand what he was going for: the audience is forced to be focused on this important history. The camera doesn’t give the us space from the subject because their words are critical and urgent. Black history was missing from schools and wider life in general for too long (and still is, sadly). Documentaries like this one serve as essential education; the film becomes a necessary historical artifact just in the way it collects and presents the memories of these beautiful lives that were cut too short.
The word that kept going through my head as we watched the film was “brave.” How brave these families are for surviving this tragedy, for being able to sit down and tell these stories. How brave an entire people are for persevering through 100+ years of bigotry and oppression and violence and hate. I’m just not that brave, not that strong.
Erika: I’m not either. And I’m so glad you mention bravery, because I was thinking about Mamie Till, Emmett Till’s mother, as I was watching 4 Little Girls. Mamie Till could have mourned quietly and gone back to Chicago (after the trial where Emmett Till’s murderers were “found” innocent), but instead she insisted on an open casket funeral and spoke out across the country about the terrible tragedy and injustice she was forced to endure. She refused to let Emmett’s memory fade -- and in turn made his murder a catalyst for change. She has always been a jagoan to me because of her bravery through grief and pain, and the families in 4 Little Girls show that same strength.
Erika: Too heartbreaking. But so important to see at least once. You know my theory: I have to deal with difficult subjects and sadness to gaji the people who actually experienced them. It’s literally the least I can do. Knowing more about the history hopefully helps us work to not let it repeat (and helps us to raise our kids the way we want to raise them). Let’s go have a good cry.
Patrick: Deal. But then we have to move on to the “A” titles. American Ninja isn’t going to watch itself.
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