Monday, September 10, 2018

The Borrower (1991)

directed by John McNaughton
USA
90 minutes
4 stars out of 5
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I watched this because the plot couldn't be ignored. An alien criminal, forced to assume the shape of a human, is exiled to the savage planet Earth, and he goes around ripping people's heads off and attaching them to himself after his own head explodes.

While I was watching this, I realized that I watch so many "bad" movies that I can't tell when a movie is actually bad anymore. I have a vague idea that certain movies are worse than others, but I no longer know where to draw the line between things I enjoy and things that are actually good. Bearing this in mind, it's my personal opinion that this movie owns. It's wonderful. It didn't sneak up on me unexpectedly, either; I could tell from minute one how good it was going to be- that opening scene with the buggy alien speaking to the human-shaped alien set me up for greatness. I was going to rate this a full five stars, to be honest, but some random transmisogyny turned me off.

I don't even know why this rules so much. I could have just been in a certain mood last night. But while watching The Borrower I was totally disregarding the commonly-accepted terms of "good" filmmaking and I was enjoying the gross practical effects, laughing at the sometimes-cheesy humor, and not putting too much stock into anything, because the film itself takes itself blessedly un-seriously. Besides the head-snatching alien adventures, there actually isn't an abundance of plot to this. The alien doesn't really have a goal on Earth, seeing as he was sent here involuntarily, so he just wanders from place to place picking heads like pumpkins. We don't even know what he did to get sent here or anything else about his species, and that's fine: this film knows when to explain and when to hold back.

It's hard to believe this was directed by the same guy who made Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, of all things. But when you think about it, this movie is as irreverent and passionate about being a goofy alien flick as Henry is about being a transgressive and uncomfortable movie about a serial killer. Though they are two vastly different subjects, they have similarities in how committed they are to the subject matter. I would call this a guilty pleasure, but what does that even mean anymore? Why should I feel guilty about how much I liked this? I thought it was good and so that means it was good. Art is subjective. We should all chill out.

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