Whether an animated film resonates with me or not is often dependent on the style in which it’s created. If I don’t like to look at it, I probably won’t enjoy it, regardless of how well-crafted its story may be. It’s for this reason I was initially put off by Nuno Beato’s My Grandfather’s Demons. I didn’t care for the way it was drawn and animated, falling somewhere between wannabe Pixar and poorly executed Pixar. As it so happens, its story — something about a big city girl who’s lost touch with her countryside roots — wasn’t doing much for me either. It’s safe to say that my hopes were far from high. That is, until everything changed. My Grandfather’s Demons may begin with a whimper,  but it quickly becomes an absolutely fantastic tale of loneliness, loss, and generational grudges. 

This extremely welcome turnaround comes when the Portuguese director unexpectedly transforms his film’s mundane animation style from a bland hodgepodge of familiarity to one of exceptionally crafted stop-motion. On top of this, his story moves from expected cliché and freneticism to quiet contemplation, playfulness, and hallucinatory surrealism. Fans of 1985’s The Adventures of Mark Twain should take note, but so should those interested in poignant, thoughtful stories about redemption, community, and self-improvement. Grade: B-plus —James Rosario

Do you remember the first time you saw Peter Jackson’s Braindead (Dead Alive for those of us in the states) or Bad Taste? What about Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, Alex Cox’s Straight to Hell, or the unforgettable Roddy Piper vehicle Hell Comes to Frogtown? Do the works of LIoyd Kaufman fill you with glee? If you cheerfully answered “yes” to any of these pressing inquiries, Álex de la Iglesia’s violent and chaotic Acción Mutante might be for you.

Taking influence from the very best in dystopian, bullet-riddled freakouts, the Spanish export liberally reinvents the story of Patty Hearst and the Symbionese Liberation Army as a futuristic heist film set against the backdrop of a fascistic society run by only good-looking rich people. It might be light on logic, but de la Iglesia’s roguish appeal and surprisingly good special effects carry it almost all the way to a completely satisfying conclusion. Where Acción Mutante falters is in its failure to capitalize on the political issues it initially introduces while almost completely ignoring the opportunity to critique the marginalization of people with disabilities as well as Spain’s history with fascism. That being said, Acción mutant will likely prove irresistible for those with a deep fondness for blood squibs and mutilation. Grade: B —JR

Did you ever wonder what happened to all those rich college kids who went slumming and took acid in the ’60s? Well, according to Jeff Lieberman’s wonderfully off-the-wall Blue Sunshine, 10 years later they all had massive freakouts and brutally murdered everyone around them while in the midst of a mid-life hair-loss crisis. Don't let this bonkers premise fool you, though. Hidden deep within Blue Sunshine is a surprisingly crafty critique of post-hippy America at the dawn of Reaganism, and its abandonment of ideals in favor of selfish neoliberalism, if you can believe it.

Plus, it has lounge singers throwing people in fireplaces, crazed meatheads rampaging shopping mall discotheques, extensive chromosomic aberrations, and a very off-kilter paranoia about the long-term effects of LSD. And, perhaps in a fit of second sight, Lieberman throws in a line near the end of the film that superbly predicts our current climate under a half-century's worth of self-serving boomer leadership: “There’s a bald maniac in there. He’s killing everybody.” Grade: B —JR

(Photos courtesy of the Fantasia International Film Festival)