Howl | Devil - Prague, Czech Republic

Howl the movie is, or tries to be, many things: a faux-documentary narrated by Allen Ginsberg (played by James Franco), a biographical re-creation of important scenes in Ginsberg´s life, a courtroom drama about the infamous obscenity trial brought against Ginsberg´s poem Howl, and an animated interpretation of Howl set to a Franco reading. At a brisk 75 minutes without credits, Howl doesn´t really do justice to any of these elements, nor does it come together as any kind of cohesive whole, but there´s a lot of wonderful stuff going on here.

Best are the animated sequences: not because of the animation, but because of Franco´s reading of the poem, which is the most thoughtful and evocative version of Howl that I´ve heard. Franco never disappears into the role of Ginsberg (and the narration frequently veers into Freaks and Geeks´ Daniel Desario territory), but the actor´s passion for the work is palpable. It´s cut up and organized in snippets throughout the movie, but would be more powerful if cut together and viewed in sequence.

Also great are the courtroom sequences, which take up a surprisingly large portion of the screentime (Ginsberg himself is absent during these scenes). Jon Hamm (AMC´s Mad Men) is publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti´s defense attorney, David Strathairn is the prosecutor, and Bob Balaban is the level-headed judge; Jeff Daniels, Mary Louise-Parker, and Treat Williams play expert witnesses. The characters are barely sketched, but Hamm (Don Draper as a lawyer), Strathairn (in full Edward R. Murrow mode), and Balaban are impressive.

It´s Agatha Christie´s And Then There Were None – the stereotypical Old Dark House story where the lights go out, somebody gets killed, and the survivors try to figure out who among them is the killer – set on an elevator. Yes, an elevator, which can be pretty terrifying (see: Dick Maas´ The Lift and its infamous decapitation scene) but may not be the best setting for a murder mystery, given the total confinement and proximity of the characters to each other; I mean, shouldn´t somebody notice something?

Following some pretty nifty upside-down aerial footage, a narrator tells us the story of the Devil´s Meeting: that the devil has come to Earth (or, downtown Philadelphia), taken human form, and will test evildoers by tormenting them. That´s a convenient excuse for all the supernatural stuff in the film – the lights going out at just the right time, the cluelessness of the characters in the elevator, the ineffectiveness of all attempts to get them out – but a poor explanation (a cheat, some might say) for an Agatha Christie mystery.

Thankfully, the supernatural angle isn´t overtly defined for much of the film; I dearly wanted the narration to prove metaphorical, and the first hour of the film didn´t let me down. That´s despite a Greek chorus in a security guard character, Ramirez (Jacob Vargas), who instantly recognizes that the devil is afoot and warns his supervisor Lustig (Matt Craven) and Bowden (Chris Messina), the detective on the case, that death is imminent. To prove his point, he tosses a piece of toast in the air; when it lands jelly-side down, he knows that Satan must be responsible.

Inside the elevator are a mysterious mechanic (Logan Marshall-Green), an old woman (Jenny O´Hara), a young businesswoman (Bojana Novakovic), a temp security guard (Bokeem Woodbine) and a brash salesman (Geoffrey Arend). But we seem to spend most of the film outside the elevator, and each of these characters is sketched as thinly as possible; we don´t care who lives or who dies, though we do want to find out what, exactly, is going on. A reasonable explanation would have generated a lot of enthusiasm for the film.

Shyamalan has always been a gifted director whose weaknesses as a writer have become more pronounced with each passing film; here, he gets story credit while handing off the directorial reigns, which is precisely the opposite of how it should be. Still, director John Erick Dowdle (Quarantine) handles the film admirably; there´s an almost complete lack of atmosphere (which may be appropriate given the setting) but the film moves along at a fast enough pace to distract from all the contrivances and is short enough (approx. 75 minutes minus credits) to avoid overstaying its welcome.