Today’s Spoils: The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)

This week on My Bleeding Ears: Jessalynn’s Corner (musical interlude TBD), we discussed the film The Killing of a Sacred Deer, written and directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, who is also known for the critically acclaimed, The Lobster.

The movie opens with Dr. Stephen Murphy (Colin Farrell) leaving the hospital and meeting a boy named Martin (Barry Keoghan) in a diner.  It’s unclear how they know each other.  Martin later joins Stephen’s family for dinner, and meets his wife Anna (Nicole Kidman), his daughter Kim (Rafferty Cassidy) and his son Bob (Sunny Suljic). 

Farrell and Kidman have a spooky hott chemistry. I don’t think The Beguiled 

is as good, but it’s definitely worth a watch to see these two together again.

At first, Stephen claims the boy is a friend of his daughter’s and is interested in medicine and also looking for a male role model since his father was killed in a car crash. We find out that the story about his father’s death is not entirely true. Martin sought Stephen out because his father died on Stephen’s operating table. Martin believes his father died because of Stephen’s reckless alcoholism (something Stephen will dispute by insisting that there was nothing he could do, and when a patient dies on the operating table, it’s always the fault of the anesthesiologist). And if you think I've already spoiled a lot, believe me, I haven’t.  Wanna watch it?  Stop here.

When Stephen begins to pull away from Martin after an awkward dinner with Martin’s mother (Alicia Silverstone), in which she attempts to seduce him, Martin makes known his true intentions.  He wants to even the score for his father’s death.  Stephen must choose one of his family members to be sacrificed, or they will all die.  In a chillingly even voice (yet rushed and still somehow juvenile, because he’s promised Stephen that he’ll “say it fast”), Martin tells Stephen that first, his family will lose the ability to walk, and then stop eating.  Once their eyes begin to bleed, Stephen will have only a few hours left to choose, or they all die. 

HI! SUP GURL?! ILY, even though it’s kinda weird
you fed your kid like bird moms do.
Just: ICK.  That’s all.

Sure enough, Bob wakes up one morning and can’t feel his legs.  Their daughter Kim is next.  Soon after, they refuse to eat and must be fed through a tube.  In the hospital, they are subjected to extensive testing, but the doctors can find nothing wrong.  They believe the issue is psychosomatic. 

Lots of other stuff happens, but I’m droning, so real quick: Stephen is in deep denial that Martin is actually doing this, Martin calls the hospital, speaks to Kim, who can suddenly walk again while she’s on the phone, but relapses when the connection is lost.  Anna goes to Martin’s house to plead for her life and the lives of her children, asking why they should be punished for Stephen’s mistakes, and Martin says that it’s the only thing he can think of that comes close to justice (there’s a really tense spaghetti-eating scene. I bet you didn’t think one of those existed. Well, it does. Ok fine, it’s not the only one ).  Anna asks the anesthesiologist if Stephen had been drinking that day, and he agrees to tell her if she gives him the saddest handy ever.  He says that Stephen had been drinking that day, and adds that when a patient dies on the operating table, it’s always the surgeon’s fault. 

With no other medical options, the children are brought home. They begin to argue over who Stephen will choose to sacrifice. Stephen kidnaps Martin and demands that he stop this, repeatedly beating him.  Martin doesn’t budge. 

 You guys, WHO IS THIS KID?  He’s in Dunkirk and
I haven’t seen that yet. Is he terrifying in that, too?
I had nightmares.  NO, I AM NOT JOKING.

Kim is in love with Martin and I can’t with this one.  It’s based on a Greek Tragedy, so I was expecting some really unhealthy life decisions, but Jesus. 

Eventually, Anna lets Martin go, realizing that his captivity won’t help the situation.  Bob’s eyes begin to bleed, so Stephen ties them all up, gets a shotgun, covers their heads and his own with a sack, places them in a circle, in which he is standing in the center, spins around with the shotgun and fires.  Two shots miss, the third one hits.  I won’t spoil who he kills I’M JUST KIDDING HE SHOOTS HIS FREAKING ADOLESCENT SON IN THE CHEST AND KILLS HIM.

The movie ends with the remaining family in the diner, where they run into Martin.  They leave, but it’s clear that Kim is still very taken with him.  CREEP.  CITY. 

So, I did really like this movie.  It is without a doubt a horror film. As I said in the podcast, this director has his own unique style.  He films in gray colors, and he inserts loud and unsettling music at very quiet points of the movie, which is effective in keeping you on edge throughout. I was very stressed out by the end. It's never revealed how Martin is making the family sick, and I like that it's ambiguous, even perhaps supernatural. It wouldn't add anything to the film to understand the "how" of their illness and it's scarier to believe there's no cure than to hope for possible solutions.

I will say that I am a little tired of the dead-eyed line delivery you get in movies about rich white people.  Maybe the point is that even earth-shatteringly horrible things can’t get to you when you’re really rich?  I dunno.  When Martin does it, it’s more effective, because this dude is clearly a psychopath, but the rest of the cast performances tend to bug me at times. There’s even a moment when Anna casually suggests to Stephen that one of the children should die, because they can always have more children and, IT’S NOT A GOLDFISH, ANNA. THESE PEOPLE CAME OUT OF YOUR BODY.  (Plus, I didn't even get into the fact that apparently Anna has to lie there like a dead person before she and Stephen have sex, but that was also a thing.) The only one who’s really allowed to emote is Colin Farrell, and I think we all know that he’s good at it, so there's that. 

Anyway, I'd like to say I would watch it again because I do think it’s the type of movie that has hidden little nuggets throughout that you could find in a second watch, but I’m not sure I can put my heart and brain through it all again. I’m very sad now. Will The Lobster make that better or worse?  I’m going to find out either way. 

Letter Grade: A

---

The Killing of a Sacred Deer

Director: Yorgos Lanthimos 

Writer: Yorgos Lanthimos, Efthymis Filippou 

Cast:

Colin Farrell……………………………….Stephen Murphy

Barry Keoghan…………….………………Martin 

Nicole Kidman…………………………….Anna Murphy

Sunny Suljic…………………………………Bob Murphy

Raffey Cassidy…………………………..…Kim Murphy 

Alicia Silverstone…………….…………..Martin's Mother

Barry G. Bernson………………….……..Dr. Larry Banks

No Animals were Harmed in the Writing of this Blog

That's your cat now.

I wanted to talk about violence against animals in film.  If you’re a fan of horror films, there’s just no way to avoid violence against animals in the movies you watch.  This is part of a theme in horror movies where the filmmakers are subjecting you to something you don’t want to see.  It’s a warning shot that if the filmmakers would make you watch this, what else will you be dared to sit through in this scary film? 

The American Humane Association (AHA) is an organization, founded in 1877, is committed to ensuring the safety, welfare, and well-being of animals. The AHA’s leadership programs are first to serve in promoting and nurturing the bonds between animals and humans. It was previously called the International Humane Association, before changing its name in 1878. In 1940, it became the sole monitoring body for the humane treatment of animals on the sets of Hollywood films and other broadcast productions. American Humane is best known for its trademarked certification "No Animals Were Harmed,” which appears at the end of film or television credits.

I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that in my research, I, unfortunately, came across articles like this one, which were obviously very troubling.  Now you know about it, too.  I should also mention that it's obvious to me that violence in movies is disproportionately exacted on cats, because of the myth that cats are aloof and don't care about you, makes it easy for many to find humor in said violence.  This makes me very angry, but, like the failings of the AHA,  it's a topic worthy of a whole separate blog, so I'll digress.  

I am an animal lover, and I have been all my life.  There have only been brief periods of my life when I didn’t own something adorable and furry, and in those periods, I usually still had something that receives oxygen in water.  Not as cuddly, but still a living thing I took care of.  At one point, we were the proud parents of three cats, one rabbit and two hermit crabs.  That was a lot of maintenance and I will not do that again, but I wanted to illustrate my love and need to care for a pet.  My favorite veterinarian once said to me (when I brought in my fourth animal for a check-up) that I can’t save them all.  (This statement seems to piss off my husband, which makes me love him more if that’s possible.)

Personally, and I’m sure I’m not alone here, I can’t stand to watch animal violence on screen.  There are several movies that I’ve turned on because of “that one scene.”  (I’m looking right at you, Drag Me to Hell. That wasn’t the only problem I had, but you lost a full letter grade after that kitten incident.)  Even watching the latest Planet of the Apes movies upset me, and I know full well that there are no real apes at all. 

Animal violence in horror films is supposed to be hard to watch.  Many times it serves as a plot device to make the viewer dislike the characters they are supposed to dislike. Since we discussed it in the latest podcast, I’ll use IT as the example.  Henry Bowers almost shoots a cat (and I almost gave it a B- for that stunt). These scenes make it easier, and almost enjoyable for the viewer to watch that awful character’s ultimate gory demise (no, Henry Bowers isn’t dead in the rebooted movie…..not yet).

I couldn't bring myself to add a real still from the movie.  They break my heart.

It’s interesting the way animal violence can affect people more than violence against humans.  For me, it’s probably because animals are always innocent.  Cujo is scary, but it wasn’t Cujo’s fault that he was able to wander alone into a hole filled with rabid bats.  Watch your dog better, Cujo’s Owner.  Now we have to kill him because you let him wander around (ugh, don’t even get me started on dogs off the leash.  You’ll really wish you hadn’t).  It’s also more effective because animals can’t consent to be in your movie.  It’s not like they reviewed their contract and struck things they weren’t comfortable with. They are essentially at the mercy of their handlers and agents. 

You might be wondering why this is on my mind (even if you weren’t, idc, it’s my blog, so here we go). 

A few weeks ago, I had Scout put to sleep.  All five of the people who read this blog probably knew her.  I’ve written about an animal I’ve lost in this blog before, but I really didn’t think I could bear writing about her.  I didn’t want to share this pain with anyone else; it’s mine.  Because she was mine and no one else’s.  I got her in 2003 when I was still new to the city, and when I’d moved into my first real apartment (I’d been living in a hotel room with a friend previously).  I was alone in this apartment a lot, and Scout and I saw lots of movies together.  Because she was mine and I was hers and no one else’s.  And I was never scared, because she was there and she was never scared of anything ever. 

Here are some movies we watched together when it was just us alone in a great big city:

Freddy vs. Jason (We agreed that we needed more Katherine Isabel in our lives)

Ginger Snaps (Because we needed more Katherine Isabel in our lives.  Then we were like, “WHY HAVE WE NEVER SEEN THIS??” and then Scout remembered she had just been born this year, so what’s my problem?)

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) (Scout always wondered if Jessica Biel would be able to make the transition from twee WB show to A-list actress. I guess she sort of did.) 

Final Destinations 1 &2 (I told her about how I’d been warm for Devon Sawa since Casper.  She wasn’t really into him, but to be fair she really liked Idle Hands and Seth Green is the one who shines in that film)

Bride of Chucky (She never said it, but I could tell she thought the doll giving birth at the end was totally unnecessary)

I was 23, and I remember telling my mom that I was not going to declaw her, because I don’t have anything nice, anyway.  My mom reminded me that she could live until I was 40 years old.  She lived until I was 37.  So close.  And in that time, she burrowed a hole in my box springs, and in the back of my easy chair, and mauled the arms of not one, not two, but three couches. Like, I can see the wood underneath the fabric, and that wood also has scratch marks on it. So violent.  Maybe I shouldn’t have let her watch all those horror movies when she was a baby. 

I wasn’t ready for her to go.  She wasn’t old enough.  We had so many more movies we should have caught up on. 

Those of you who love animals, and always have one in your home, you know that there are some who belong to you more than others.  Scout was mine and only mine.  She belonged to me more than any other animal ever has.  And I belonged to her. 

Anyway, where was I?  Animal violence in movies.  I hate it, but I have to admit it can serve a purpose to advance the story.  Just don’t get greedy, Movies Like Drag Me to Hell.  I’m watching you.

What do you want to tell people about it?

I’m proud to announce that I am officially a co-host of the podcast, “My Bleeding Ears.”  The executive producer (aka my husband, Larry) asked me last week and I was honored to accept.  One of the job requirements is that I write a blog once a month that maybe has something to do with the podcast.  He suggested that the first one focus on “our dynamic.”  My inner teenager (let’s call her Jeva) rolled her eyes because she’s the part of me who knows that feelings are stupid and admitting to them leaves your soft underbelly exposed.  She hates anything that isn't sarcasm.

Ugh even just then I took a pause from writing this to look at Buzzfeed because I don’t like telling you this stuff.  Did you know the Honey Bunches of Oats lady is retiring?  She is, and I for one am really happy for her.  It’s unclear from the article whether she’ll receive royalties when the commercials air in the future, but she better. 

Ok, our dynamic.  When Larry first suggested that topic, I had no idea what I would write. When he asked me to write a blog, I thought he was asking me to report out on the horror movies I watch without him, or the ones we talk about on the podcast. I felt better about having those boundaries.
 

Because, what do you guys care about who we are as a couple?  You don’t. Why would you? You have your own stuff. 

Then today, I watched The Incredible Jessica James. The title character is a struggling playwright who teaches theater to grade-schoolers. At one point, one of her students, Shandra, tells her she can’t write about how she feels regarding [whatever subject; doesn’t matter] because she doesn’t feel anything.  Jessica encourages her to write four sentences about that lack of feeling. Shandra does this, and after Jessica praises her for articulating a very complicated state of mind that anyone can relate to, she says, “This is your one and only life.  What do you want to tell people about it?”  

Out loud on the train to work, much to the confusion of several other passengers, [Jeva] said, “Ugh, fine.”  I do want to tell people about it. 

I met Larry when I was 25.  I had decided to take a break from dating, and yeah it’s not like anyone was outside my window protesting that life choice, shut up.  It’s still a decision I made.  Then I met him.  You know how when you like someone, you project all kinds of things onto them to assure yourself that you belong together because otherwise you are clearly going to die alone?  Do most people do that, or am I the weirdo?  Well, I wasn’t going to do that with him.  Yes, he had nice teeth. Yes, he was a movie nerd.  Yes, he mentioned an obscure movie that I actually owned in our first conversation.  I wasn’t going to read into any of that, because that’s what I do, and then I have to undo all that crazy emotional stuff I did to myself once the relationship is over.

That was some private stuff I just wrote.  I’ve never written that or even said it out loud.  Jeva wants me to delete it and start again, but I’m not going to.

Men and women of science define love as an intense feeling of familiarity. I like that definition.  It puts a very large and labyrinthine feeling into a kind of perspective for me.  Makes it seem logical.  Like I can exist without it. 

When I met Larry, I really believe I had reached a point where I was ready, even looking forward to, living without that kind of romantic love. Also, he was Star Wars and I was Star Trek, so nice teeth or not, it couldn't work, duh. That made this blossoming whatever-it-was seem safer still.  What I didn't know then is that Larry had already done a good amount of individual soul searching just before we met. I don't know if he would call it that, but I would.

Everyone exists in this world alone, and no one will ever truly know anyone.  I lifted that from any number of authors; the one that comes to mind first is Mary Shelley, the last is Bret Easton Ellis, but that doesn’t make the sentiment any less true. 

Our dynamic.  So, how do I write about our dynamic?  Well, we are really different people.  I’ve known that since the beginning and accepted it.  I didn’t try to force us into an identity as I’d done in past relationships.  I think we work because I don’t know FEELINGS BLECH STOP. -Jeva

In our podcast, we are going to have similar and differing opinions.  I’m pretty sure that’s all he wanted me to focus on when he pitched the idea to me, but I have defied both him and Jeva to give you a teeny insight into who we are together. We’ll almost always agree about practical effects over CGI.  Maybe that makes us purists, but practical effects are usually better and if you disagree, you are the worst.  We both grew up watching horror films with our parents. Larry’s mom loved Army of Darkness; my dad and I have watched Fright Night countless times together. (And, Mom, we totally watched Invaders from Mars together, I remember.) We both love documentaries about horror, but not when the documentarian didn’t get the rights to show clips of the movie.  How can we assess the practical effects without clips? Be better. 

Different things scare/entertain us (and that statement is not exclusive to horror movies). Like how Sucker Punch didn't offend him to his very core and that almost hurts my feelings. Or that he didn't think Suicide Squad was that bad, like HOW CAN YOU NOT HAVE A STRONG REACTION TO A MOVIE LIKE THAT. Or that his genre of horror is squarely in the 80s realm, and while I have a few favorites that I watched with my dad, my true loves are horror movies from the 90s. He’s The Thing to my I Know What You Did Last Summer.  The Blob to my Urban Legends.  We work because that last sentence really means something to me, and I know it will mean the same thing to him.  We all live and die alone, but sometimes we are really lucky and get to spend a lot of time with someone who makes us feel like we’re not. Alone. Larry is my someone.

And in the spirit of our mostly horror-themed podcast, we also die alone when we say things like, “I’ll be right back,” or partake in alcohol and drugs, or run up the stairs instead of out the front door, or enjoy sex out of wedlock, or investigate a strange noise, or make proclamations that the serial killer is totally dead now and we can all go back to camp, or generally trust anyone ever.  So we’re probably not out of the woods yet.  (I promised Jeva she could end with a bad horror movie-type pun.

BOOM.)  

#YOTOOYELO

Today I’m celebrating my Frankie Angel’s first re-birthday. One year ago today, his soon-to-be foster mom would get a text that he survived a surgery he was not expected to live through and was ready for life.  Three days earlier, he’d been found emaciated, anemic from fleas, with two large abscesses on his chest from wounds that hadn’t healed. The “nine lives” joke about cats really is based in truth. 

I was lucky enough to bring him home a few months ago. He may only have eight lives left, but this guy has a zest for it that rivals yours. His personality reminds me that when life randomly selects you for a beat down, you can come back more optimistic than ever. (And also that indoor plumbing is a fascinating miracle that shouldn’t be taken for granted, but mostly the first thing I said.) Happy Rebirthday, Frank.  (Yes, I got him presents.  Plural.  You only turn one on your eighth life once.  #YOTOOYELO)

Taxi of Love....Love on the Water...River Romance....Something Like That, Who Cares, It'll Sell Tickets.

Today on the way to work, I tripped up the stairs to the Metra and smudged my new dress and just missed the water taxi that would get me to work on time.  Since the blister on my heel from my new boots is still pretty tender, I couldn't walk the mile and a half to work, so I grabbed a coffee to wait for the next water taxi.  I promptly spilled that all down the front of my new dress, and got on the water taxi as The Shirelles played in my head.  It was such a beautiful day in Chicago on the river that I couldn't stay mad.

Larry should be careful.  It's all lining up for me to literally run into a brutish, yet handsome blue collar worker and spill the contents of my briefcase into a big puddle and I'd hate him.  At first....  Although it would really make more sense if Larry were a slimy corporate executive who cheats on me with his secretary, and we were engaged to be married next week.  Then of course, Luke and I (because isn't his name always Luke? Plus we'd have to change Larry's name to Chad or Bryce or something) would fall in love, and I'd run away from my wedding to Bryce and go to the river all decked out in my wedding dress and Luke would be there and we'd ride off on the water taxi to eternal happiness!

You guys, why am I not writing rom coms? Are you there, Jennifer Aniston?  It's me, Jessalynn.  I'm your density.

The Silence of Our Friends

I'm on the metra. I didn't have my ticket pulled up on my phone when the conductor came by. He walked away to check other tickets. The black man behind me had purchased a weekend pass when he meant to buy a Ravinia pass. They are the same price. The man calmly argued that he didn't want to buy another pass, because they are the same price. Can't the conductor just rule it as a mistake this once? The conductor said he was making a scene and to please exit the train at the next stop. He did. Calmly. The conductor walked right past me and smiled.

I never had to show him a ticket. I was silent on the train. I probably shouldn't have been. So I'm making noise here.

"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

I'm not mad, just disappointed.

Hi, you guys.  I haven't written a blog in a while.  I thought I didn't have anything to talk about, but I think really I just got worried about how many times I mention myself in my blog.  How egocentric it is.  When I admitted that to my husband, he said that as soon as he realized that he's writing for himself and no one else, posting blogs was easy.  Thanks for mansplaining that to me, darling.

I'm totally kidding about the mansplaining.  He did not do that.  If he ever did, I don't think we'd be married.  I just wanted to add that term because I like it and I honestly am not sure if I can fit it in this blog, even given the topic.  The topic started out as "Ghostbusters," but I don't really know where it's going now.  Here we go.

I watched Ghostbusters.  The new one with Kristin Wiig (kinda Venkman), Melissa McCarthy (kinda Stanz), Kate McKinnon (kinda Spengler) and Leslie Jones (pretty clearly Zeddemore.  Sorry, but it's part of the problem, although I didn't cringe as much as I thought I would.  About this, anyway).  These ladies are fucking funny.  If you don't think so, and are attributing that opinion to the fact that they are women, then you're wrong.  (See?  I can also have opinions, which is all your argument is.  Sit down. The grownups are talking, and some of them have vaginas. No reason for panic.)

Now, I always regret reading the comments on anything posted on the internet.  There has never been a time that I did not regret this.  I read a lot of the comments on the reboot of Ghostbusters' trailer.  I was truly blown away.  I've read about men's activist groups.  I've seen them parodied on TV.  I've watched "Women Aren't Funny."  I've been called "abrasive" and "emotional" at work because I said what I was thinking out loud and cared about the issue. I've been asked to smile by strange men on the street. I know the drill.

Still. The animosity this trailer had triggered because the new comedians are women. And not just women, y'all. Some of the funniest fucking women in Hollywood right now. (I know, an opinion! I have so many, just like you!) I mean.  THIS.  Try to keep it together, Ryan. 

So I was going to LOVE this movie. Like, TO SPITE YOU ALL if that had to be the only reason. Then I saw it. It's not good. *coughOPINION* As I watched it, I even thought about lying to everyone including myself because the fear that these ladies in the movin' pictures had generated in the hearts and minds of a sea of 42 year old men tweeting from their granny's basement was too much for me to accept.

I didn't, though. Because you might be frightened of me and my terrifying inverted genitals, but you don't scare me.  I quit trying to be what you wanted me to be (and then started mocking me for like your gender didn't back me into a corner of icky "girliness" in the first place) years ago. 

Ghostbusters is bad. It's a mess, but it's a mess because it looked like they had 10 minutes to make a movie, so they slapped some proton packs on it and put it in the theater. NOT because it stars women. So everybody just relax. DON'T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE and slap the laptop off your enormous cheeto stained belly. 

And you, Ghostbusters. I'm not mad, just disappointed. Go back and do it again.