Dir - Gareth Edwards
Overall: GOOD
A minimalist debut from filmmaker Gareth Edwards, Monsters is impressive for what it manages to accomplish with shoestring production aspects, bringing a "less is more" aspect to giant, rampaging creature spectacles. In fact a spectacle this is not, instead focusing exclusively on its two person cast who embark on a dangerous trek across the boarder where extraterrestrial entities have ravished the Mexican country-side. Such an event is mostly treated as a matter-of-fact byproduct for people to deal with, as Edwards story fails to get into international politics or the specifics of its octopi-like, otherworldly invaders. Shot without permits over three weeks and in five countries, Edwards originally had a four hour cut to work with, but the streamlined narrative proves to distinguish the film from others that emphasize special effects-laden set pieces. The CGI here is unavoidably cartoony as is always the case, but the monsters are kept off the screen for enormous portions of the running time, usually only showing up in the distance and against a pitch-black, nighttime backdrop. This makes them both mysterious and menacing instead of frightening, which is wonderfully conveyed in the closing moments where Scoot McNairy and Whitney Able finally succumb to their pent-up emotions while witnessing two enormous, alien forms engage in what can be interpreted as a harmonious exchange with each other.
Dir - James Wan
Overall: MEH
Writer/director team Leigh Whannell and James Wan keep the schlock train rolling with Insidious, their third collaboration and first to be rated PG-13. Though the gore is omitted and the profanity kept to a bare minimum, the watered-down approach still continues Wan's trajectory of big, loud, and stupid when it comes to horror. Bombarding the audience with one tired trope after the other, the first act plays everything comparatively more still, yet also with all of the spooky elements being as arbitrary and conventional as possible, plus violin screeches and piano chords punctuating a plethora of jump scares. By the time that Lin Shaye shows up, explains that cartoon character demons and ghosts are trying to "enter our world" via an astral projection plane, and puts on a gas mask to talk to spirits while her assistant translates the ominous text, whatever stock level of subtly was on the table gets violently thrown out the window and the movie becomes nothing more than a tacky Halloween haunted house attraction brought to life. On the one hand, it is admirable that Wan is solely interested in emphasizing played out genre motifs and jacking them up to eleven, but his penchant for tonal inconsistencies still makes his work here unintentionally silly at best. Combined with Whannell's lazy screenplay that is exclusively made up of unoriginal details, the movie cannot help but to be a disappointing mess for anyone except those who want their popcorn horror served up with heaping amount of cornball aggression.
Dir - John V. Soto
Overall: MEH
The sophomore effort Needle from Australian filmmaker John V. Soto, is an innocently schlocky horror offering that throws back to arguably the genre's most awful era, meaning the late 90s, American teen/college-aged slasher boom. Why anyone would have blatant cinematic nostalgia for such films as Final Destination and I Know What You Did Last Summer is a question best answered by the gods, but despite its inherent flaws, Soto's work here is not as terrible as it should be on paper. A sincere tone is kept in check, there is an open lesbian couple, and also a relatable dynamic of two estranged brothers reconnecting that lies at the heart of an otherwise forgettable story. Granted, said lesbians are of the lipstick variety and are played by actors that are distractedly attractive, (as are all of the young adults on screen for that matter), but gracious viewers can still award the film some progressive points all the same for not just having the supermodel bombshells shack up with douchebag jocks as is the usual norm. The performances are passable at best, with Travis Fimmel having the worst go of the bunch at the material, smirking his way through every scene while letting his New Zealand accent slip as much as he cannot settle on an American surfer bro or a redneck one. Utilizing a predictable and ergo boring slasher framework even if the kills technically revolve around a Hellraiser-esque revenge box, it ends up forgettable if not aggravating.
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