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 What is it about Eliza Dushku? To be sure, she seems great. Hands down gorgeous, for one. When she casts those Albanian browns towards the camera there is a sudden rush of just how wonderful looking she is. Never have I seen an interview where she was anything less than approachable, humble, intelligent and, well... cool. She always seems genuinely eager to explore more of the worlds film has to offer. I knew a fellow who was producing a no-budget, pseudo-horror flick -- and had a letter of intent from Dushku for the project. So, she's willing to give the little guy a chance. That's doublepluscool.
And yet.... And yet, it just never quite happens.
| I have not seen the performance from Dushku that she has within her to bring. The closest she's gotten was in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. If Kevin Smith could only bring one close, then I shudder to think what it will take for her to truly break through. Don't get me wrong, she had some stellar moments as Faith, back in the day -- but I suspect it is only because the Buffyverse was our introduction to Dushku. Regardless of the role, Eliza Dushku is Eliza Dushku. Sometimes, this method works. Unfortunately, she doesn't have the quirk of Walken, the party-in-a-bottle of Caan, nor the near cresting, boiler of emotion of Kathy Bates. Without a signature black mamba that whips out and smacks the viewer square in their third eye, Dushku is simply a chick with a serene exterior and cool, collected air about her... who is stuck in second gear. | 
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Did I say black mamba? Why, yes. Yes, I did. You see, black mambas also come into play in Open Graves -- a film I feel much the same way about, as I do of Dushku. It's a film I liked, but would have liked more if it hadn't frustrated me so.
Open Graves is a new stab at that age old story of young people being stupid, and summarily meeting their Earthly demise as a result of said stupidity. The film is billed as "...picks up where Final Destination leaves off..." -- though, "... where Witchboard left off..." might have been a more apt appraisal.
During the inquisition, an alleged witch was tortured to death. Her essence was captured in a game. A board was hewn from her flesh, lettered with her blood and tears, was boxed in with tiny, demonic figurines and playing card-sized epitaphs and leaked out into the underbelly of this world full of opportunistic sinners who are willing to pay any price in the hopes of being granted a wish.
Spain, it turns out, is not much different than a cozy find along the mid-California coast. There's surfing, a smattering of Americans and a largely bilingual population. Jason (Mike Vogel) works at an estuary there, and is reticent to return to the US. Erica (Dushku) is a hot American chick Jason's friend encounters on the beach. As so often happens with Americans in foreign locales, Jason chances into a Voodoo shop. Disregarding the Fundamental Rules of International Travel, which clearly advise against accepting free Voodoo gifts from a legless local, Jason returns to his buddies with the game in tow. At which point, they proceed to play the cursed game.
First Issue: Again and again viewers are forced to make leaps of character evolution, rather than feed upon the story presented. We're capable of doing so, as we've been around this block before, but really, it's a better experience when the filmmaker does the heavy lifting.
The idea behind Open Graves is simple, but solid. To his credit, director Alvaro de Arminan wasn't making a Final Destination Pt 5. This felt like an 80's throwback right out of the gate... but then it stumbled, and possibly broke something. 
| Case in Point: Jason's best friend, Tomas (Ethan Rains), is a sleaze. However, Rains ultimately turns it around. I'm not sure how, but the fellow's got natural charisma, and it permeates into the film, no thanks to the writing, and limited runtime. Thing about 80's slasher movies, men were whores because, really, they had to be. Sleazy best friends were truly hopeless best friends who had to get it where they could. So often, these were guys who knew the pussy plaza was only available to them for a limited time. Tomas, on the other hand, gets chicks in abundance. Hot chicks. Not only does he score hot chicks, the hot chicks let him photograph them. He's squirrelly -- cute but not nearly handsome enough to drive those cars -- and his laugh riles my internal phaser from stun to kill. His Girlfriend #1 is a haughty blonde number who doesn't mind Tomas being a prick. His Girlfriend #2 is a Xenia Seeberg-ringer, and a pathetically lovelorn, backstabbing slut.
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Couple all of that with what we'll call the Dushku Factor (need a fabulous looking woman who might harbor a secret darkness? Put Dushku in your film, and you won't have to bother actually writing all of that into the script)... and the beginning is a bit of a mess. At the onset of the game play, I found myself watching out of sheer curiosity to the degree of mayhem the deaths would feature, and -- ever hopeful -- whether or not Dushku would pull one out of the hat this time (she doesn't, but I don't feel that was her fault this time around). Was not anticipating sticking around until the end credits.... when... unexpectedly, it was director de Arminan who pulled one out of the hat.
The writers, Bruce and Roderick Taylor have got to bring their game next time, because they won't get this lucky again. Either through meticulous orchestration or sheer, dumb luck, Open Graves bears a resoundingly endearing cast. The haughty blonde has fragility, the Seeberg-ringer elicits a gasp of sympathy when her fate is unveiled -- and that squirrelly bastard of a boyfriend ends up registering as a likeable fellow. Mike Vogel gave a sturdy lead -- refreshingly unobtrusive throughout.
Another feather in de Arminan's cap is the breast quotient of the film. There is an ominous lack of bared, bouncing broads. Given the gaping holes the story choppily navigates around as it gains steam, eye candy would seem a suitable mortar, but the film never goes that way. Really, the only breasts we see are lustless and ghastly, in a situation we'd rather not have seen them in -- and the otherwise absence of desirable mammories makes the scene that much more potent.
There are fine elements in the script, to be sure, and some fabulous decision-making by the director... I just wish they could have gone a little bit further. Aside from the strong first few seconds of film, when de Arminan gives us the first true clue of the film he was striving towards, it arrives in increments. A decidedly *not* depraved death occurs. But then, we find it actually is, slightly, depraved... and then... a bit more. It is the first flicker of hope the film might become something more than Dushku's rent payments. Low-key, but effective -- and real! -- F/X is worked in here and there -- but again, not far enough. If only some of the cgi filler could have been some stop motion. Crab-attack, an impromptu snake pit and dragonfly-come-Lilith scenes, in particular, would have been masterful with some jittering figurines, rather than the slick graphics (which served only to spoil the momentum).
Lessons learned, I hope.
So, de Arminan has snagged my attention. A far cry from the first time efforts of some of his predecessors, but not everyone can introduce themselves with a Waxwork.
Next time around, I'll be grading more harshly on character development, F/X use. He stuck to his guns on the ending of Open Graves -- but next time around, perhaps a little less preface to it. And, um... I don't believe the Inquisitors wrote in English. Contact Angela Mac:
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