A Chronicle of Corpses

A declining aristocratic family, rife with secrets and sexual intrigue, finds itself being systematically murdered in this utterly pretentious piece of garbage. This film asks many questions like "Who is murdering these people?" and "Why are they being murdered?" but the only question I found myself asking was "How could a New York Times film critic could buy into this tripe?" The title got me interested, but the quote on the box from a New York Times critic made me take a look. After seeing the film all I can say is "Cancel My Subscription!" How a critic from a major publication could take this film seriously is beyond me. The photography has an interesting early- 70's European feel, but that's the only compliment I can muster. While the film makes it plainly obvious that writer/director Andrew Repasky McElhinney has seen a lot of foreign films, it isn't so obvious that he understood them. McElhinney's style is as forced and unnatural as it is laughable. He tends to set his actors in static poses and forces them to disclaim the stilted dialogue the flattest possible manner. This film could be featured in the old Saturday Night Live "Bad Cinema" skit. I can't say for sure whether the acting is bad. The overall effect of the acting is bad, but I believe the actors probably delivered exactly what Mr. McElhinney wanted. I know the list of films I have reviewed here on this website must make me look like the worst kind of cinematic philistine, but, trust me, I went to Film School. I appreciate a good art film. This isn't one. I thought I would be able to say this is the worst, most pretentious piece of crap I have ever seen, but then I saw McElhinney's first film: Magdalen. Geez.

WARNING TO HORROR FANS. Don't be fooled by the title. This is not a horror movie. It is horrible, but it is not a horror movie.

A brilliant effort by a young director and writer. The cinematography is superb, with each transitional scene reminiscent of a major painter, such as Vermeer, Caravaggio, Da Vinci, or Goya. While the story itself is relatively simple, the telling probes the psyches of its characters with a masterful insight into their collective anxieties about their pending fates, and a thematic breadth superb in its brevity. Even if one were to take issue with the writing, the visuals alone are worth the viewing. It was also refreshing to hear a well-selected choice of master composers accompanying each major scene. It is to be hoped that Mr. McElhinney will develop his style and become a major force in new cinema.

The kid who made this movie shows films at the public library every week. It's as if he's been spending the last ten years showing his favorite films so we'd understand his. A Chronicle of Corpses is unlike anything else, it is spectactually gorgeous and deeply haunting while the mystery and ambiguity is terminal and exactly the point. More like music than cinema.

The decline and fall of the Elliott family (of Virginia?) is rendered completely uninteresting in this pretentious distortion of colonial era norms. McElhinney's bygone art film style evidences contempt for his audience -- those who don't admire wooden performances, high-school costume drama dialogue and dorm room allusions to cultural relativism, are simply not hip.

And yet, many technically well executed scenes do impress, considering the project's micro-budget, and McElhinney does not lose sight of his narrative objective. If you are interested in taking a look, try to focus on "whodunit?"

(Here is an extra line of filler so that my submission will reach the minimum required 10 lines.)

We just finished watching this film and are in the process of poking out our eyes. The only bright part of this movie was the superb acting performance by the baby. Fat bastard's cameo helps, along with Elmer Fudd hunting with Bob Newhart but nothing can redeem this travesty of the silver screen. No, those actors were not in the film, but making fun of the dead script, hollow characters and aggravating plot line was the only way to get through 90 minutes of sheer boredom. Watch for the historical inaccuracies that abound. Director-producer-editor Andrew Repasky McElhinney need not worry that anyone would ever copy or redistribute his masterpiece. We have just signed up for electro-shock therapy - please pray for us!