Witchboard, 2024.

Directed by Chuck Russell.
Starring Madison Iseman, Aaron Dominguez, Melanie Jarnson, Jamie Campbell Bower, Antonia Desplat, and David La Haye.

SYNOPSIS:

A young woman becomes obsessed with an antique pendulum board, opening a gateway for an evil spirit to enter our world.

Kevin Tenney’s 1986 movie Witchboard was a flawed-but-fun slice of ‘80s cheese that wasn’t without its charms and became something of a VHS rental hit. It told the fairly simple story of a love triangle and a young woman becoming obsessed with a Ouija board as those around her died mysteriously, and for a 15-rated horror movie in the 1980s it was fairly grisly and starred Whitesnake music video siren Tawney Kitaen for extra teenage male fantasy points.

So now we have the remake and, to be fair, Witchboard was a movie that could have benefitted from another telling, updating the mullets and multi-coloured punk fashions for something less garish. Unfortunately, it has been remade in the 2020s, a decade that has its own tropes and characteristics that will likely age it as quickly and negatively as the knitted cardigans and big hair of the 1980s did with the first one. At least that original movie was entertaining.

What Witchboard 2024 has in its favour is a director with a bit of a pedigree. Chuck Russell can easily be credited with reinvigorating the A Nightmare on Elm Street franchise and setting the direction that series would go with Dream Warriors, and his 1988 version of ‘50s classic The Blob normally falls in just under The Fly and The Thing as a remake that improved on the original. In this case, however, Russell’s magic touch just isn’t there, the director setting up scenes of occult horror only to be let down by a lacklustre cast that cannot seem to emote and CGI that would have (possibly) been great if this movie had been made in 1997.

Instead of the Ouija board of the original we have a pendulum board, which is ostensibly the same thing, only you dangle an item such as a necklace over it and it moves the necklace in the direction of an answer to your questions. The board has been possessed by the spirit of Naga Soth (Antonia Desplat), a witch who was the target of fanatical witch hunter Bishop Grogan (David La Haye) in 17th century France, and is found in the woods by Emily (Madison Iseman) after it was stolen during a robbery in modern-day New Orleans.

Emily is a recovering drug addict, and with her boyfriend Christian (Aaron Dominguez) they are opening a restaurant in the city’s French Quarter. After Christian’s ex Brooke (Melanie Jarnson) – who happens to be an expert on the occult – confirms what the mysterious board is for, Emily starts to use it, at first for innocent things like finding a lost ring, but things get weird when accidents start happening to those around her and Christian. Seeking Brooke’s help, they are introduced to Alexander Babtiste (Jamie Campbell Bower), a New Age Pagan who seems to have extensive knowledge of the board and what it can do, although his motives for helping Christian and Emily may not be entirely honourable.

Taking just the bare bones plot of the original and adding to it, Witchboard is messy and needlessly long, collapsing under the weight of its own ambitions long before its 112-minute running time is up. To their credit, the filmmakers have made a solid backstory for how the pendulum board came to be, and the opening scenes set in 17th-century France are the best of the movie, with Chuck Russell capturing the chilling and exciting atmosphere of a witches’ sabbath being broken up by vengeful clergy. Reminiscent of the flashback scenes in Rob Zombie’s Lords of Salem (but without the naked witch body suits), whenever the movie reverts back to the 1690s it immediately becomes more interesting, making you wish the whole thing was like this.

Unfortunately, whenever we are in the modern-day Witchboard is crammed with far too many flawed characters played by bland actors – which is pushing it – with too many plot contrivances to make the story feel anything other than forced and bloated. Madison Iseman is the standout, taking what is essentially the Tawney Kitaen role from the original and making the dual-personality of Emily when she is under the board’s spell the focal point, and she injects a lot of personality into what she has to do, especially when Emily is being possessed by Naga Soth.

The trouble is Christian is a very dull ‘hero’, which is telegraphed when you first see him collecting mushrooms in his man bag, and whereas Brooke had the potential to be the character with something about her – after all, she is an expert on all things occult, which just doesn’t seem to sit well with her overall personality – Melanie Jarnson’s performance can only be described as one-note, the note being a similar vocal tone to that of a record being played at a slow speed. Which leaves Alexander Babtiste (which is too close to Clinton Baptiste to not make him even more hilarious) as our other main character, and if Witchboard was in desperate need for a bit of scenery-chewing then Jamie Campbell Bower provides it, although you sometimes have to wonder if he knows he is the same movie as the other cast members as none of them seem to gel together.

There is some tasty gore here and there, although picking out the practical effects from the CGI is easily done as the computer generated visuals were clearly made using a processor that is close to being obsolete, and there is a very macabre tone throughout, even when the movie seems to be channelling The Devil’s Advocate (again with that late ‘90s vibe) with its depictions of glossy black magic and stylish occultism. It is just a shame that we didn’t get a witchfinding movie set in the 17th century as that is where this movie is strongest, but as a remake of Witchboard it is very disappointing, filled with awful characters, bad acting, pointless plot threads – such as Emily’s heroin addiction past, and the few scenes with her former supplier that could easily have been chopped out – and far too many ideas fighting for room in a script that cannot sustain them.

There is a solid occult horror in here somewhere that a bit of editing and streamlining could probably have brought out, but if Chuck Russell – the man who brought Freddy Krueger out of the shadows – couldn’t find it then what chance do we have of seeing it?

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★

Chris Ward

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist

Some actors who appear right on the edge of becoming household names and who happen to be hosting “Saturday Night Live” for the first time might be leery of letting a famous relative steal their spotlight.

Alexander Skarsgård let it happen twice in the same “SNL” episode when his father Stellan Skarsgård appeared in a returning sketch about immigrant fathers (in which Cardi B also appeared) and one about a Scandinavian film’s giggly production. To be fair, though, his dad is currently Oscar-nominated in the supporting actor category for “Sentimental Value.”

If the Alexander of the Skarsgård was bothered, it sure didn’t show; the first-time host of the 1,000th episode of “SNL” was loose and committed throughout, even if not all the sketches hit. And yes, before you go racing to Peacock to confirm, Alexander gave his father Stellan a big ol’ hug in the closing goodbyes. Aww.

If “SNL” shied away last week from directly addressing the quickly devolving situation in Minneapolis last week, it found its footing with a cold open about ICE that didn’t rely on James Austin Johnson’s impression of President Trump. Instead, it featured former cast member Pete Davidson as border czar Tom Homan taking over command of clueless ICE officers. This was followed, after the monologue, by a well-executed sketch about a mom (Ashley Padilla) slowly changing her mind about the Trump administration.

Elsewhere, the guest host played a coach to a skittish Olympics luge athlete (Jane Wickline), a preteen girl with aggression issues, a Viking who feels like everyone is forming cliques during a bloody raid, a guy who uses Cards Against Humanity jokes to make himself seem funny, and Tarzan trying to get out of a relationship with Jane (Sarah Sherman).

As the younger Skarsgård’s career has shown (“Murderbot,” “True Blood,” “The Northman”), he’s used to playing odd, extreme characters and “SNL” was a nice fit.

Musical guests Cardi B performed “Bodega Baddie” and “ErrTime.” A tribute card for Catherine O’Hara, who died on Friday, was shown before the goodbyes. O’Hara hosted “SNL” in 1991 and 1992 and appeared in a short “SNL” film (with Laurie Metcalf!) in 1988.

For the first time in a while, Trump didn’t dominate the cold open of the show; instead, Davidson came back to the show, wearing a bald cap to portray Homan. Homan points out the irony that things have gotten so bad in Minneapolis with ICE that he’s now considered the voice-of-reason adult in the room. ICE commanders (Kenan Thompson, Andrew Dismukes, Johnson, Ben Marshall, Mikey Day and Jeremy Culhane) claimed their orders were “wildin’ out” and wondered if they’re supposed to be releasing the Epstein files. As Homan pointed out, the ICE raids were to distract from those, but now the Epstein files are being released to distract from ICE. Davidson is remembered more for his “Weekend Update” segments and his Chad character on “SNL,” but he does some nice work here even if he breaks character at one point.

Skarsgård’s could have spent his monologue discussing his TV and movie roles, like his upcoming film “Wicker” or his role in the new Charli XCX mockumentary “The Moment,” but instead he focused on the band members who appear on stage but rarely get to speak on the show. He interviewed some of the band members, poorly, and then grabbed a saxophone to do some inspired fake playing. It was silly and fun, a nice start to Skarsgård’s night.

Best sketch of the night: Mom’s having a change of heart, but you can’t say anything

For most of this season you can count on at least one sketch to feature a standout performance from featured player Ashley Padilla, who has become a ringer for playing women who are either very deluded and are trying to pretend they’re not, or who are trying to manage other people’s reactions to her odd behavior. For this sketch, she gets to do both, playing a mother who, after a lengthy preamble, reveals to her adult children and husband (Skarsgård) that she’s starting to change her opinion about Trump’s policies, from immigration to guns to trans people. As her kids struggle to hold back their reactions, lest she swing back the other way, her husband just wants to go to Red Robin for his birthday scoop. Best line: “If I hear a single ‘I told you so,’ I will go see the ‘Melania’ movie tonight!”

Also good: Having the right body shape for Olympics-level luge, even if it’s a corpse

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Wickline, another featured player, has become a polarizing cast member among fans, some of whom simply don’t get her humor or appreciate her performances, while others love her quirky songs and see her as bringing a unique vibe to the show. For this Olympics-themed pre-taped piece, she gets to have a lot of fun as a reluctant luge competitor who is terrified to go down the mountain and tries to fake being sick to avoid going to Milan. This might remind you of Patti Harrison’s perfect performance in the “Capital Room” sketch on “I Think You Should Leave,” but Wickline manages to make the character her own.

‘Weekend Update’ winner: They scored again ahead of the Super Bowl

Sherman was promoted to “Weekend Update” weather correspondent in a segment that included a surprise appearance from “30 Rock” star Jack McBrayer, but it was Dismukes and Padilla as a couple who just had sex winning the week with their awkward, infatuated banter, which tied in nicely to a discussion about next week’s big game between the New England Patriots and the Seattle Seahawks. The couple predict that the Patriots will be on top the first half, but at some point the Seahawks will come from behind and dominate the Patriots for a little while. “Maybe the Patriots get tired and ask the Seahawks to play themselves for a while,” Dismukes suggests. Things go off the rails when he says no matter what happens, someone’s getting a ring, which puts tension on the budding relationship. “I didn’t say that night!” he explains to a disappointed Padilla. The two previously hooked up for the first time in the Glen Powell episode.

We did this to ourselves. Not the second Trump presidency, though our representative democracy, however flawed, would hold that that’s on us as well. It’s Melania I’m talking about, the film about Slovenian-American fashion model turned First Lady Melania Trump, which arrived in theaters yesterday on a wave of infamy. Melania — made by Brett Ratner, a Hollywood hack who hasn’t directed since 2014 due to multiple allegations of sexual assault that emerged at the height of the MeToo movement — attracted a lot of attention for the $40 million that distributor Amazon paid for it, an unprecedented amount for a documentary even before you take into account that the company spent almost as much again on marketing. That eye-popping price looked less like an investment and more like a hefty tribute offered up to a corrupt strongman. Melania doesn’t stand a chance of making that amount back at the box office, but it doesn’t need to. It could play to thousands of empty houses all weekend and still be a success by the perverse metrics that led to its production.

The theater at my Union Square multiplex last night was maybe 40 percent full, and judging from the bursts of applause and occasional jeers, the crowd was made up with as many Donald Trump fans as hate watchers. This shouldn’t have come as any sort of surprise. Melania, which tracks its subject over the 20 days leading up to the 2025 inauguration, isn’t a MAGA screed arriving with raised middle fingers aimed at everyone who isn’t ready to get on board with its gilt-rimmed regime — though it can’t resist a few digs at the outgoing Biden administration by way of shots of a dazed-looking Joe and an exasperated Kamala Harris. Its aims are quieter and more insidious. Instead of leaning into the political, it insistently takes the form of a glossy celebrity documentary, a genre that’s become omnipresent and that we’ve been increasingly primed to accept even though it often consists of brand building exercises masquerading as movies. (The Beckham family docs, Lady Gaga or Selena Gomez’s projects, Arnold.) It attempts to enshrine Melania as the kind of figure everyone is so desperate to get more of that they’d endure this extravagantly boring experience made up of endless treks from black car to private plane to meeting to black car.

“Everyone wants to know, so here it is,” Melania says at the start of Melania, kicking off a wooden narration full of awkward platitudes. This is a fascinatingly bold claim from a woman who showed no discernible signs of public personality throughout her husband’s first term in office, and whose legacy from that period consists mainly of goth Christmas decor and a confoundingly named public interest campaign with aims no one she meets with on screen appears to understand. And what, precisely, does everyone want to know? That Melania has very exacting taste in blouse necklines? That she loves white and gold as a color combination? That she’s a fan of Michael Jackson? This is the sort of previously forbidden knowledge that Melania deigns to let us in on. There’s a formula here, one that’s been ingrained into us by countless hours of accepting hagiographic movies and series offering subject-approved glimpses into the private selves of various famous people. These properties make promises about unprecedented access, but of course, everything we see is highly controlled and mediated, and in exchange for overlooking that fact, we’re treated to a few carefully doled out instances of real vulnerability.

That’s the bargain Melania nominally tries to strike as well, though it’s unable to offer convincing proof that there is anything going on beneath Melania’s impeccably manicured surface. Her voiceover is a numbing litany of meaningless observations and claims like “For me, it’s important that timeless elegance shines through every element of the inauguration’s decor, style, and design.” She is never seen in anything less than full hair and makeup, and she appears to only be capable of two facial expressions — a professional smile and a neutral face. At one point, Ratner shoots her watching news of the Los Angeles fires, and zooms in on her eyes as though he could create visible emotion there through sheer force of will.

Ratner, who never appears on screen, does sometimes speak up behind the camera, and during one especially surreal moment, goads Melania into singing along to “Billie Jean” with him during a car ride with desperation that speaks to how little workable material he realizes that he’s getting. An attempt to humanize the First Lady by showcasing her grief over the loss of her mother the year before instead ends up feeling mystifyingly unconvincing, maybe because the scene in which Melania visits St. Patrick’s Cathedral to light a candle is so slickly filmed that it looks like a commercial. When one of the priests offers Melania a blessing, she accepts with the exact tone someone would use when offered a warm towel on an airplane.

The gap between Melania’s insistently anodyne tone and what’s happened in the year since it was filmed can become downright vertiginous, especially when Melania intones observations about her immigrant journey and how “everyone should do what they can to protect our individual rights.” But the people who’ll seek out Melania aren’t going to care about how distant it is from or contradictory it is to our brutal realities, or care about how little it delivers in terms of manufactured intimacy. Because the sort of celebrity documentary that Melania has been made in the image of aren’t made for general audiences — they’re made for fans who treat the experience of viewing them as another act of devotion to their idols.

Melania can’t, despite its efforts, make its subject look like the movie star it tries to pretend she is, but she’s not the reason people will buy tickets. They’ve come to see her husband, who saunters in occasionally and, I hate to admit it, considerably livens up the proceedings because he knows how to play to a camera. There’s small consolation to the fact that Trump, who’s posted about having seen the movie twice, surely finds it as tedious an experience as I did. Melania has been described as having an audience of one, but that intended viewer’s taste runs more toward Ratner’s earlier work, and Rush Hour 4 is going to be a lot harder to manifest than this vanity project.