Author: Ryan Dilts
So, global warming is kind of a big deal, right? In 2067, directed by Seth Larney, we’re shown a future where humans have essentially rendered themselves extinct; a future that doesn’t seem too far off, considering the way the world is currently going. Although we’re not completely hopeless quite yet, 2067 asks the question: are we worth a second chance? It’s a good question, but ultimately gets lost in the mix due to poor execution.
When I had the chance to write a retrospective look-back on this film, I was beyond thrilled. Not only is today the 25th anniversary of it’s release (which also happens to be my birthday), but it’s one of my favourite films from one of my favourite directors, David Fincher. Films like Fight Club, Zodiac, The Social Network and Gone Girl never fail to rope me in with their superb writing, twisty plots and dark character drama (no matter how many times I’ve watched them). But before all those, there was one film that truly established Fincher’s style, and practically changed the game for the psychological-thriller genre. That film was Se7en.
Criticism, whether you’re critiquing art, film or anything in between, can be a very persuasive tool. This “power of the critic” can make the most insignificant things seem meaningful, or the most valuable things seem worthless. To put it simply, it’s all one big trick. This is exactly what The Burnt Orange Heresy is trying to convey.
Horror-comedies, especially of the creature-feature variety, have become more and more common in recent years. Films like Shaun of the Dead, Zombieland and Jennifer’s Body have come along, setting a pretty high precedent for what these types of movies should be: funny, entertaining and filled to the brim with gore. But like all genres, you also have the lifeless duds that don’t provide more than a few chuckles and rely far too heavily on just being gross. Uncle Peckerhead, written and directed by Matthew John Lawrence, is an absurd little film that falls somewhere in between.
