TWIXT

(A.k.a. TWIXT NOW AND SUNRISE)

Hall (Val Kilmer) is an author of witch-related novels whose career has fallen on hard times. So much so, that his agent Sam (David Paymer) has sent him on a tour signing books in the smallest towns in the furthest reaches of rural America.

One such town is Swann Valley. It's here that we first meet Hall, waiting patiently in a local store for locals to turn up wanting his autograph. Alas, there's only the oddball sheriff, Bobby (Bruce Dern), who shows an interest. Even he has an ulterior motive: an aspiring writer himself, he wants Hall to collaborate with him on his account of a true crime that occurred in the town.

Despite suffering from writer's block, Hall is initially reluctant to entertain Bobby. But is also aware that his wife Denise (Joanne Whalley) won't tolerate having to make ends meet much longer - at one point she even threatens, via Skype, to sell Hall's cherished Walt Whitman First Edition if he doesn't start bringing in some money. The problem is, Sam refuses point-blank to forward Hall an advance until the writer can prove he has something concrete to offer.

Invited by Bobby to the local morgue, Hall is intrigued by what he's shown there: the body of a 12-year-old girl who was found with a stake driven through her heart. Suddenly Bobby has his attention, as he suggests penning a novel entitled "The Vampire Executions".

Hall decides to stay on at Swann Valley a little longer and checks into the local motel. That evening, he ventures out to the Chickering Hotel, which he's previously been warned against visiting. There he meets the odd proprietors, who tell him of a spate of grisly child murders which took place years earlier - the bodies of all but one of the kids being buried beneath the hotel. The other, a girl, is said to have disappeared into the neighbouring woods and has since been referred to as "damned".

Hmm, could this have anything to do with the pale waif he met in the woods on his way to the hotel, who goes by the enigmatic name of V (Elle Fanning)?

Hall now has the inspiration he's sorely lacked since his daughter Vicky's accidental death some years back, and stays in his motel a while longer to begin typing out his latest book. As he does, his drinking problem worsens, tensions between him and the remote Denise intensify and the local tales of child-killing, vampirism and deception begin to twist his already fragile mind. He's even visited by the ghost of Edgar Allen Poe (Ben Chaplin), who may or may not be trying to help him solve the murders...

The plot is a tricky one to synopsise, especially when not wishing to give too much away. Even watching it, it unravels in a manner which is almost as fragmented as the lead protagonist's mind. Which is okay, as it's clearly intended to play out that way. The problem arrives when a muddled climax fails to tie up loose ends satisfactorily and poses more questions than it can possibly answer.

Kilmer and Dern bring certain gravitas to an otherwise rather low budget-looking production, while Fanning manages to steal the show in a performance that marks her out as a more credible actress than her more famous sibling, Dakota. Other performers are all adequate, though they've clearly been directed to play out their characters as gross caricatures. The end result is a weird, definitely Lynchian environment. This does, I suppose, fit well with the dreamlike set-pieces and general oddness that permeates throughout almost every scene.

Though a little messy with its storytelling, TWIXT does boast some keen Gothic atmospherics and at times rather beautiful visuals. Swann Valley is well realised, and the overlooking bell tower - the heart of the town, which is rumoured to be possessed by Satan - is successfully imposing in stature.

In fact, had TWIXT been the product of some up-and-coming director, I'd be content to say it needed improvement but definitely showed potential. But TWIXT was written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola. I know, I know, we should judge it on its merits. But, fuck me, this is the guy who gave us THE GODFATHER, THE GODFATHER PART 2, RUMBLE FISH, APOCALYPSE NOW, THE CONVERSATION ...

I understand that Coppola has reached a point in his career where he wants to eschew the big studios and just make small, personal films to his own liking. That's fine. But this is such an odd film from such a one-time big hitter. It has its moments of Gothic-flavoured beauty, but at other times looks and feels like a TV pilot. It doesn't help that the plot and its characters bring to mind both IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS and BAG OF BONES.

Kilmer doesn't really add much in the lead role. He's a decent actor, as evidenced in everything from THE DOORS and TOP SECRET, through TOP GUN to HEAT and beyond - a very versatile chap. But here, aside from one short sequence where he slips into various impressions while combating writer's block, he's pretty wooden and unconvincing. It's a shame, but had he been great he still would've been up against Coppola's curiously flawed sense of storytelling.

TWIXT isn't a bad film per se, it just could've been better. And, coming from such a master of cinema, it SHOULD'VE been better. Then again, I could say the same about JACK or BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA...

The film is being released on UK DVD by Metrodome. Unfortunately their screener disc was another where it's only possible to accurately pass comment on the film, and not the disc.

Unless, of course, the retail disc presents the film in a noisy pillar-boxed transfer with ugly "Pathe Distribution" watermarks running throughout it. Don't worry; I'm sure it won’t...

Still, you could tell - even from this most basic of screeners - that the film is keenly shot and benefits from some wonderful nocturnal scenes. I trust Metrodome's official DVD will look mighty fine.

There were no extras or menus on the test disc provided for review.

TWIXT is an interesting, moderately engaging thriller. Nothing more, nothing less. It feels like a TV adaptation of some latter-day Stephen King effort. Which is fine, but it should've been so much more in the hands of Francis Ford Coppola.

Review by Stuart Willis