2013 Horror Part Fifteen

EUROPA REPORT

Dir - Sebastián Cordero

Overall: MEH

 

This sci-fi thriller from Ecuadorian filmmaker Sebastián Cordero recalls virtually every other sci-fi thriller ever made, which is as much a detriment to it as the fact that it is also presented as a found footage mockumentary.  Neither of these elements work to Europa Report's favor, both being derivative and distracting despite the top-notch production design, refreshingly no-nonsense characters, and Cordero's masterful use of tension as it inches its way to the preordained and doomed conclusion.  In other words, it is a frustrating watch that gets a lot right, yet it also puts itself in all too familiar waters that leave little room for genre advancement.  In between increasingly sporadic talking head interview segments, we are given a barrage of recovered footage from a Jupiter moon spacecraft mission, capturing every angle of the vessel in pristine A-budgeted cameras that are edited together like a conventional horror movie, with consistent music no less.  As always, if the footage was instead presented in its bare-bones form without the added melodrama, it would be more unsettling and surprising.  Anamaria Marinca being the only astronaut who appears to be interviewed throughout ends up being a dopey twist, and it is also faulty because her commentary is ridiculously hyperbolic.  Still, the third act is well done for those who can forgive the overall issues.

 

RIGOR MORTIS

Dir - Juno Mak

Overall: GOOD

 

The first film from Hong Kong actor-turned-director Juno Mak, Rigor Mortis is a grimy, bloody, humorless, and updated homage to the Mr. Vampire series, featuring many of the same thespians in a tonally unrecognizable work that re-imagines the comedic jiangshi sub-genre.  Chin Siu-ho portrays a fictionalized version of himself, the now downtrodden actor who plans on committing suicide in a derelict apartment complex after his wife and son had left him some time earlier.  Instead, he is saved by some old school hoping vampire hunters in a blaze of slow motion, Matrix-styled CGI moves that reveal a set of vengeful twin spirits who inadvertently posses one of the tenants that has been resurrected as a jiangshi via black magic by his grieving widow.  We meet a barrage of other characters whose sagas intermingle with each other, never leaving the gray apartment setting and never allowing any slapstick hijinks into the proceedings.  It is an interesting concept to see what one of these films would look like if it was done in a completely different manner, and for the most part Mak succeeds in creating an oppressive atmosphere via a deliberately stylized approach that paints a harrowing picture of exhausted and now miserable people either facing off against or abiding supernatural evil as they come face to face with their own mortality.  The script by Mak, Philip Yung, and Jill Leung comes off more as an afterthought compared to the glossy and digitally extravagant set pieces, bordering on incoherent as it fails to establish any of the otherworldly rules that are so dire to the situation.  Still, it has enough redeeming qualities to interest any curious fans of the types of films that it is grittying up.

 

KNIGHTS OF BADASSDOM

Dir - Joe Lynch

Overall: MEH

 

Heavy metal horror comedies are inherently suicide inducing, and if one element could make them even worse, it would be throwing live action fantasy role playing into the mix.  The miraculous thing then about Knights of Badassdom is how it manages to not be the most obnoxious movie ever made, landing some of its easy layup humor with a cast that has enough charisma to forgive some overacting that should otherwise be considered criminal.  It all fits director Joe Lynch's tone, (though allegedly there is a more horror-tinged cut of the film that has yet to be released at this writing which suits Lynch's original intentions), where grown men and a handful of way-too-attractive-to-be-there-women partake of a Dungeons & Dragons version of Civil War reenactments where real otherworldly forces are haphazardly unleashed.  The specifics are not important, nor is the plausibility of such a setting where people talk in wacky renaissance fair vernacular while running into other cosplayers who pretend to engage in epic battle with each other.  Worse yet is Ryan Kwanten who graces us with two "please kill me" metal musical numbers that are the antithesis of both funny and authentic, automatically garnishing a severe warning for any viewers who cannot stomach such braindead cliches being played up to outlandish levels of schlock.  Still, it is difficult to hate Peter Dinklage eating copious amounts of mushrooms, Jimmi Simpson being his usual pompous and weasily dickbag, Summer Glau classing up the joint, and Brian Posehn popping in to correct someone's metal sub-genre grammar.

2011 Horror Part Twelve

THE THEATRE BIZARRE

Dir - Douglas Buck/Buddy Giovinazzo/David Gregory/Karim Hussain/Tom Savini/Richard Stanley/Jeremy Kasten

Overall: MEH

 

A cheap anthology extravaganza that is as inconsistent as the lot of em, The Theatre Bizarre brings together seven filmmakers, Richard Stanley and Tom Savini being the biggest names.  This was Stanley's first foray into horror in a decade and a half, (if one is to count his mangled The Island of Dr. Moreau which he was fired from only two weeks into filming), and he opens everything here with the Lovecraft-adjacent Clark Ashton Smith adaptation "The Mother of Toads".  A schlocky Euro-throwback of sorts, it is far from memorable, but considering that it may be the best segment here, that does not bare well for what follows.  Buddy Giovinazzo's "I Love You" is half-baked, Savini's "Wet Dreams" is merely squeamish, Douglas Buck's "The Accident" does not belong here at all, (it has nothing to do with horror), Karim Hussain's "Vision Stains" has an equally awkward presentation and premise, David Gregory's "Sweets" is nauseating and pointless, and Jeremy Kasten's wrap-round segment with Udo Kier playing a sentient marionette brings nothing of interest to the table.  Though tones vary, the entire production has a soft digital sheen to it that is poorly conducive to sinister atmosphere, but fans of gross-out gore, boobs, and squishy sound effects might not find it to be a complete waste.

 

THE SELLING

Dir - Emily Lou Wilbur

Overall: MEH

 

The only film thus far from director Emily Lou Wilbur, The Selling it typical of many contemporary comedies, namely in the fact that it refuses to allow a single character to air on the side of normal.  While it is less obnoxious than many other prime examples of this faux pas, (looking in your direction Josh Ruben), it is still a mediocre melding of haunted house tropes with wacky hijinks for the mere sake of them.  The movie's screenwriter Gabriel Danni plays a sheepish real estate agent named Richard Scarry, (that is not a typo), who tries to sell an aggressively haunted abode that is inhabited by the same demon/ghost/whatever that possessed a serial killer years back, as well as said serial killer's many victims who whisper "get out" in a Sizzler voice and arbitrarily cause mischief while other times laying dormant.  Taking liberties with supernatural behavior is nothing new to the genre, so it would be unfair to pick on Danni's screenplay for that, and he does make it a point to take the piss out of many genre motifs that have long become hackneyed.  The tone never stops being ridiculous even when Danni is dealing with his cancer-ridden mother, and some of the gags are silly enough without being grating, but it still tries harder than it succeeds, regularly teetering on announce. 

 

MIDNIGHT SON

Dir - Scott Leberecht

Overall: GOOD

 

This full-length indie debut Midnight Son from writer/director Scott Leberecht is one of many vampire films that leans into the addiction angle of such a fictional ailment, something that fits well within such a low budget and intimate framework.  Zak Kilberg portrays a young man that has a "skin condition" and works the night shift, eventually running into drug dealers who score him some crimson plasma to suck down by nefarious means, as well as Maya Parish's waitress with a nose powder problem who would otherwise be an ideal person to start a romance with.  Digitally shot, most of the film is presented in handheld sobering closeups, enhancing a type of claustrophobic atmosphere that plays into the character's trapped sense of isolation, both Kilberg and Parish finding it difficult to connect with each other as much as they would like to due to their substance dependency issues.  As things inevitably escalate, some of the dramatic plot points seem forced, springing up suddenly and coming off as less convincing than the more lingering moments of Kilberg and Parish merely dealing with their day to day struggles and inability to open up to each other.  For the most part though, the film plays to its strengths and suffices as a low-key tragedy that makes it a point to take the romanticism out of blood-sucking tropes.

2010 Horror Part Eleven

DANTE'S INFERNO: AN ANIMATED EPIC

Dir - Mike Disa/Shūkō Murase/Yasuomi Umetsu/Victor Cook/Jong-Sik Nam/Kim Sang-jin/Lee Seung-Gyu

Overall: MEH

 

A boatload of directors and a boatload of production companies join forces on the full-length adult animated adaptation of the same year's Dante's Inferno game from Visceral Game and Electronic Arts.  Dante's Inferno: An Animated Epic therefor shares an identical plot with its playable counterpart, making this both a redundant watch for fans of the game yet something that should suffice for people who would rather skip out on said game.  Though it only runs for just shy of ninety minutes, (and as the title would suggest), it is epic in scope where our Knights Templar title character returns from the Crusades only to venture into the nine circles of Hell with the poet Virgil at his side in a quest to rescue his beloved Beatrice from Satan's clutches.  Each director takes on a different layer of the underworld where Dante confronts his past sins and slices up some demons and/or condemned souls in overblown gory detail.  The animation style is consistent and impressive, plus the voice over work is appropriately grandiose, (Mark Hamill even collects a paycheck as Dante's gluttonous and abusive father), but the film still overstays its welcome.  This is due to its bare bones narrative which allows for a repetitive structure that is mind-numbingly bombastic from frame one to frame last.  The finale is oddly underwhelming, but at least it all looks great and may hit the spot for those who just want some loud, violent, and non-stop netherworld action.

 

LUNOPOLIS

Dir - Matthew Avant

Overall: MEH

 

An indie mockumentary project and debut from filmmaker Matthew Avant, Lunopolis weaves an absurd tale of UFOs, time travel, government conspiracies, cults, clandestine string-pulling organizations, and 2012 prophesies, all thrown into a blender and done within a format that hardly suits the material.  As always, the use of consistent music and cinematic editing comes off as laughable at best since we are witnessing wild phenomenon caught on camera, but this is actually one of the movie's lesser problems.  The main issue is the way in which Avant puts the footage together.  Large portions go by where we are following the exploits of an aspiring team of researchers as they film everything, follow some coordinates, and uncover a mysterious contraption in a subterranean bunker, all while a talking head in a French accents interjects with some commentary.  Eventually though, this format is abandoned and we get an extended sequence that comes off as your average Ancient Aliens episode or a pseudoscience equivalent thereof, bombarding the viewer with ridiculous conspiratorial information that is legit in such a scenario.  A clumsy finish that reinforces the amateur level performances does not help matters, but despite the film's multitude of faux pases, there is a better movie lurking in here that could have been compelling instead of just awkward and goofy if it had a heftier budget and acceptable production values.

 

SENNENTUNTSCHI

Dir - Michael Steiner

Overall: MEH

 

This live-action reinterpretation of the Swiss mountain legend of the same name is a rarity in the fact that Switzerland has never delivered much in the way of horror cinema, but the results are equal parts satisfying and disappointing.  Sennentuntschi, (Sennentuntschi: Curse of the Alps), it technically told in flashback since it bookends with modern day segments, the main narrative set in the mid 1970s when a mysterious feral woman arrives in a small village and also appears to three Alpine herdsman who seem to drunkenly summon and abuse her.  Timelines eventually converge, and director/co-writer Michael Steiner utilizes James Wan-style rapid cuts in the third act, just to catch up any viewers who are missing enough brain cells concerning the mind-blowing revelations being delivered.  Sadly, these quasi-twists are more convoluted than gasp-worthy, plus the characters all range from unsympathetic, to underwritten, to inconsistent, to downright idiotic.  Roxane Mesquida turns in an admirable performances as the mute title character who is both brutalized and frightening depending on the situation or how much her suffering has warped her.  The presentation borders on schlock here or there, plus the ambitious structure renders the entire affair about twenty minutes too long, but at least it goes for something bold and heavy within its bloody folk horror playground.

2000s American Horror Part Thirty-Eight

FREDDY VS. JASON

(2003)

Dir - Ronny Yu

Overall: MEH

 

Hot off his success with Bride of Chucky, Hong Kong director Ronny Yu breathes some more schlocky life into two additional and already schlocky horror properties with the inevitable crossover Freddy vs. Jason.  Coming after a near decade long wait each, this was the last entry into both the Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street franchises before the immediately forgettable reboots that came a few years later, so it is triple noteworthy for being Robert Englund's final foray as Freddy Krueger.  Englund hams it up as much as he ever did in a movie that has every business being as idiotic as it is, with Canadian stuntman Ken Kirzinger stepping in for Kane Hodder since all that is ultimately required for Jason Voorhees is to just be a big dumb walking meat sack with a machete.  Several years in the making with various script treatments being done before all of the legalities could be sussed out, it does what a Freddy versus Jason movie is supposed to do.  The bar was low enough considering the multitude of "making it up as they went along, because fuck it" sequels that came before, and this one is doubly obnoxious for adhering to the early 2000s trope of deplorably stupid teenage horror romps that insult the viewer with a nod and wink.  To be fair though, Yu knows what kind of product he is tasked with making here, delivering enough nonsensical cartoon mayhem between his two slasher icons to forgive stereotypical characters who only behave the way they do because the script needs to wrap itself up at some point.

 

IN MEMORIUM

(2005)

Dir - Amanda Gusack

Overall: MEH

 

It is a common thread amongst found footage movies to be presented in a framework that begs the question of why they were done as found footage movies in the first place.  The full-length debut In Memorium from indie filmmaker Amanda Gusack is just such a movie, since it opens with our lead character installing dozens upon dozens of cameras in a suburban house that him and his girlfriend are renting for a few months, just to make sure we get boatloads of conventional coverage to edit from.  Why they are renting one instead of just chilling at their own is never convincingly explained, but that is less of a problem compared to others.  The premise involves Erik McDowell being diagnosed with terminal cancer, so he decides to document the last few months of his life so that we can get a full-length movie out of it.  McDowell and his devoted girlfriend Johanna Watts hold their own with the material, but Levi Powell as McDowell's stoner dude brother turns in a horrendous performance, something that devalues the heavy subject matter which deals with mortality, guilt, and the struggles that adults face with the sins of their parents having affected them.  Gusack at least resists adding any scary music, but she is only able to muster the type of derivative plot points and scare tactics that have been seen countless times before and since.

 

DEAD AIR

(2009)

Dir - Corbin Bernsen

Overall: MEH

 

Actor-turned-director Corbin Bernsen has popped up in a number of horror movies throughout his career, with Dead Air serving as his only venture into the genre from behind the lens.  It is also a film that can be seen as the American Pontypool, being close enough of a carbon copy to warrant comparison.  Unfortunately. this is the cheaper and schlockier counterpart to Bruce McDonald's Canadian film from the previous year, which itself had its share of problems and was done on a meager budget.  Bernsen's work here has a low-rent, digital television sheen, one that looks like a pathetic dollar bin action movie that used to pop up in droves on Redbox.  The performances are of the same caliber, even genre mainstay Bill Moseley coming off like he is only mildly over-qualified for a high school drama production.  He is the best actor here though, which does not bode well for Kenny Yakkel's heavy-handed script that utilizes post-September 11th paranoia as its driving force.  The "zombie" outbreak is caused by terrorists, and the film almost becomes interesting in its third act when one of the culprits hijacks Moseley's radio broadcast and lays out all of the expository dialog and justifications.  Yet it just as quickly divulges into preachy platitudes, all the while the Hallmark movie aesthetics undermine any sense of tension, as well as making the rabid 28 Days Later-style zombie attacks come off as clumsy at best.

2000s Foreign Horror Part Nineteen

POLTERGAY

(2006)

Dir - Éric Lavaine

Overall: MEH

 

With a title like Poltergay, one can accurately deduce what they are in for, and the resulting film delivers lightweight and low stakes silliness, yet little else.  The debut from French filmmaker Éric Lavaine has a premise that is borderline ingenious; what if a house used to be a gay disco and it is now haunted by flaming queens who accidentally blew up in it when a foam machine short circuited?  Besides the goofy behavior of said queens and stereotypes being played up on how fashionable, good at cooking, and sharp they are as dancers, the rest of the humor resolves around straight Clovis Cornillac who seems to be the only one that can see them for awhile, losing his job, his girlfriend, and his mind in the process.  While none of the gags are obnoxious and the tone never becomes offensive, there is nothing here that is laugh out loud funny either.  It works more conceptually than anything, playing it tame the whole way through without going for any wild set pieces or trying to reinvent any haunted house motifs.  Not that it needs to be a game changer though, since for most viewers, the bare-bones set up will be enough as the film writes itself from there.

 

LONG PIGS

(2007)

Dir - Chris Power/Nathan Hynes

Overall: MEH

 

A redundant mockumentary about a cannibalistic serial killer, Long Pigs is the debut from the filmmaking duo of Chris Power and Nathan Hynes, their only co-directed full-length to date.  While there have only been a small handful of such movies where a documentary crew follows around somebody who nonchalantly murders people, the topic is so specific that yet another one coming down the pike with no differentiating qualities provides a superfluous viewing experience.  This particular reworking of The Last Horror Movie, Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon, and Man Bites Dog is noticeably lacking in production values, with a few unconvincing talking heads sharing screen time with Anthony Alviano's schlubby and chatty murderer that picks off anyone that looks tasty, as well as the two indie filmmakers who are following his exploits.  While the premise is inherently faulty and ridiculous from a logical standpoint, there is a moment in the final act that causes even more plausibility problems concerning how the finished product was edited together, with a tagged-on coda that the movie-within-a-movie directors could not have possibly added on.  To be fair, the film is played for dark chuckles and knows how far-fetched it is, but it still ends up being just a grisly and unnecessary entry into a niche sub-genre that has already made the same point several times over.

 

THE LOVELY BONES

(2009)

Dir - Peter Jackson

Overall: MEH

 

Hot off the monumental success of the Lord of the Rings trilogy and the also success of his blank check King Kong remake, Peter Jackson takes on the popular Alice Sebold novel The Lovely Bones, and he does so in a fashion that these later works adhere to.  This is to say that it is a bombastic film, loaded with artificial digital effects, tonal issues, a lack of subtly, and incessant music done by Brian Eno no less.  It is also a film about a fourteen year-old girl who gets murdered and probably raped by her seemingly mild-mannered, serial killer bachelor neighbor, and there lies the problem.  Jackson's fusing of CGI whimsy and having his central protagonist/victim narrate the film from an artificial nether realm where her mood switches it to either a Candy Land heaven or an Autumn-hued hell is not an egregious concept, and it easily seems like one which Jackson would gravitate towards.  What does not work is ill-placed comic relief, (stemming from Susan Sarandon's floozy and oddly insensitive grandma), underwritten characters, and a rushed plot that fails to delve into the harrowing ordeal that families suffer through when one of their children is taken from them.  Jackson is expert enough at his craft to stage some suspenseful moments, and his cast is A-list enough to deliver commendable performances with what they have to work with, but it feels like a bloated mess that is trying to be two different movies at once and not spending enough time delving into either of them.

1990s Foreign Horror Part Thirteen

KARANLIK SULAR

(1994)
Dir - Kutlug Ataman
Overall: MEH

This confounding debut from Turkish filmmaker Kutlug Ataman is a vampire movie on paper, but it takes a persistently distracting route to weave its indecipherable narrative.  It is anyone's gu+ess as to what is going on from a plot perspective in Karanlik Sular, (Dark Waters, The Serpent's Tale), let alone being able to decipher any symbolism.  While this could merely be a cultural issue that is lost in translation to Western audiences, (though most of the dialog is in English, an American protagonist being at the forefront), there seems to be something profound lurking within such ambition.  A scroll that either resurrects the dead or curses those who handle it, (again, little is made clear), drives the narrative, but the handful of characters that are after it, discussing it, or have it are poorly drawn and often times just as poorly performed.  Most of the males have their dialog ADRed, giving it an unintentionally stilted Euro-trash vibe that recalls laughably dubbed giallos.  Atmospherically though, Ataman is going for wet, gothic, and ominous darkness, which is appreciated yet better serving to a story that solidifies itself more.

 

BLOOD AND DONUTS

(1995)

Dir - Holly Dale

Overall: MEH

 

Arriving a few years after the vampire comedy boom of the 1980s, Blood and Donuts is a modest non-documentary debut from director Holly Dale, who even managed to score David Cronenberg in a small part as a calm and collective crime boss.  Cronenberg has always been one to lend a hand to any up and coming fellow Canadian filmmakers, and he is the most amusing and welcome presence here in his small handful of scenes.  Unfortunately, the two male leads are consistently off-putting.  Justin Louis does a weird/annoying Christopher Walken doing Béla Lugosi impression for reasons that are anyone's guess, and he is not even the film's vampire.  That would be Gordon Currie who wears a ridiculous wig that makes him look like a grunge musician, and he seems to be allergic to emoting throughout most of the movie, instead mumbling, stuttering, staring blankly, and cracking his undead limbs as he finds himself caught up with a bored donut shop waitress, an old fling who is bitter that he never turned her, and Louis' deadbeat cabbie who is in some sort of vague trouble with the local mob.  Currie's lack of charisma is problematic, but the entire movie suffers from its clunky approach that consistently lacks humor in its barely detectable attempts to be funny in the first place.

 

IN THE WINTER DARK

(1998)

Dir - James Bogle

Overall: MEH

 

An adaptation of Tim Winton's 1988 novel of the same name, In the Winter Dark is a miserable and ugly Australian film that takes an unflinching look at damaged people without allowing for any audience members to sympathize with them.  Well, on paper we can with at least two of them, (the older couple portrayed by Ray Barrett and Brenda Blethyn who exude pent-up trauma after losing one of their children), but the other two protagonists remain elusive.  Miranda Otto drinks through her pregnancy, screams at people, and acts emotionally dependent upon stranger Richard Roxburgh who is an ambiguous creep that undresses and fondles her when she is passed out while also scolding her for her reckless behavior.  There are only fleeting moments of palpable warmth exhibited between anyone on screen, and they are always followed by bursts of rage and frustration, all the while an unseen creature may be murdering livestock around their properties.  This horror angle is a MacGuffin at best, merely serving as a inconsequential plot point to get everyone together to fight and act unpleasant towards each other.  Director James Bogle keeps up an unflinching tone, but such an approach renders the material too cold and distant to want anything to do with.

1990 American Horror Part Seventy-One

DEAD MEN DON'T DIE

(1990)

Dir - Malcolm Marmorstein

Overall: WOOF

 

Long-running screenwriter Malcolm Marmorstein finally gets behind the lens on the thankless zombie comedy Dead Men Don't Die; a childish and embarrassing would-be nyuck fest that scored Elliot Gould of all people to portray a news anchor that turns into a walking/mugging corpse.  This falls in line with the type of painfully unfunny movie that tries relentlessly to be hilarious, failing at every instance in a fashion that is actually impressive.  The film has shoddy production values, being shot almost entirely at a single office building that the production had access to, though they did splurge for a high-speed car chase as the closing set piece where both zombies and not zombies take turns climbing into each other's cars while cruising along in broad daylight.  One could single out Gould as the actor who most humiliates himself, rendered mute, (at least when the script needs him to be), after being resurrected via singing voodoo by Mabel King, since that leaves him with nothing else to do but make cartoon character faces and wild hand gestures that there is no rhyme or reason to.  In actuality though, you feel bad for everyone on screen, even Marmorstein from behind the lens who amazingly thought that he had a funny concept to work with here.

 

GHOST BRIGADE

(1993)

Dir - George Hickenlooper

Overall: MEH

 

The first non-documentary from director George Hickenlooper, Ghost Brigade, (The Killing Box, Grey Knight, The Lost Brigade), is an ambitious yet flawed genre work set during the American Civil War.  Lots of familiar faces show up, (David and Alexis Arquette, Dean Cameron, Matt LaBlanc, Ray Wise, Billy Bob Thornton, Corbin Bernsen, and Martin Sheen), and in the lead, Adrian Pasdar does a blatant and annoying Charlie/Martin Sheen impression ala Platoon and Apocalypse Now.  This makes sense in more ways than one, considering the war setting, Sheen's cameo, and Hickenlooper having directed the acclaimed Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalypse which chronicled Francis Ford Coppola's Vietnam masterpiece.  The resulting film is a combination of grittiness, high concept yet vague ideas concerning the many facets that fellow countrymen struggled with during the Civil War, and schlocky production values.  Hickenlooper utilizes one of those cheap keyboard scores throughout almost the entire thing, (always a sign of B-movie cheapness), the sunny exteriors kill any sense of foreboding atmosphere, and a small handful of trippy flashbacks and hallucination scenes come off as hackneyed.  Such direct-to-video aesthetics undermine Matt Greenberg's promising script which would have benefited from a more experimental and/or nuanced approach.

 

SPECTRE

(1996)

Dir - Scott Levy

Overall: WOOF

 

Though it borders on insulting due to how blatantly derivative it is, the made-for-tv cheapie Spectre, (House of the Damned, Escape to Nowhere), by director Scott Levy suffers even worse from its consistently embarrassing and unintentionally hilarious scare tactics and heightened performances.  In other words, everyone involved makes a fool of themselves and every viewer will feel bad for them.  The script from Brendan Broderick may constitute as a hate crime for those who cannot stomach yet another "family moves into a remote haunted house" film, and it directly references Carrie, The Shining, various Italian La Casa films, Poltergeist, The Amityville Horror, and The Omen to name but a few.  It hits all the beats plot wise, (a ghostly imaginary friend, evil spirits acting immediately to murder people while other times dilly-dallying around, infidelity hallucinations, paranormal experts brought in, the skeptical husband, possession, a sacred amulet, a ghost's body buried behind a wall, everyone thinking the problem is solved when there is still thirty minutes left in the running time, etc), but the production values are a combination of Showtime sleaze and Hallmark aesthetics, failing to create any convincing macabre atmosphere.  We even get a computer generated, transparent gargoyle that looks like a Sega graphic for fuck's sake.

1990s American Horror Part Seventy

CAMPFIRE TALES
(1991)
Dir - William Cooke/Paul Talbot
Overall: WOOF

 

This South Carolina shot dung heap was the first of two insufficiently budgeted horror movies that the writer/director duo of William Cooke and Paul Talbot did with Gunnar Hansen, but the OG Leatherface's inclusion is hardly enough to make it watchable.  Campfire Tales, (as the title would suggest), is an anthology film with a framing story set around such a campfire where mulleted bad actor teenagers sit and listen to Hansen's mysterious hobo who comes out the woods to spin some yarns.  None of the stories are good, but at least two of them are borderline unique, the grimy Reefer Madness tweak "Overtook" and a Yuletide segment "The Fright Before Xmas" where a literal Satan Clause murders an asshole who kills his mother for his inheritance.  The bookending "The Hook" and "Skull and Crossbones" are more trite, though the latter has some acceptable zombie makeup that comes off sillier than it deserves being shot on broad daylight.  Overall, the production values are nearly nonexistent and the performances terrible, rendering this a scuzzy and embarrassing watch that just makes you feel bad for everyone involved.  Hopefully Hansen at least made enough to pay some bills.

 

LOVE BITES

(1993)

Dir - Malcolm Marmorstein

Overall: MEH

 

Screenwriter Malcolm Marmorstein only got behind the lens on two movies during his long career, both horror comedies and neither worth remembering.  The low stakes, vanilla-humored Love Bites was the second and last of them, one with a dopey plot that forgives its consistent comedic blunders that are more innocent than egregious.  It also scored Adam Ant as the lead blood-sucker, Start Trek: The Next Generation's Michelle Forbes playing his smirking and embittered other half who comes back into his unlife right when he decides to recalibrate his digestive system into that of a human with his new and wholesome love interest Kimberly Foster.  The plotting is about as logistically sound as a Saturday morning cartoon, with a handful of "Wait, what?" throwaway lines that contradict other information.  At one point, Ant and Foster are watching Universal's Son of Dracula on TV, only for it to turn into the Béla Lugosi version, at which point Ant admits that Lugosi is his "favorite" after previously having established that he was asleep for a full century and would therefor have no idea who Lugosi is by 1992.  This is of course a minor nitpick, but Marmorstein's script is full of such lazy excuses for lame gags.  Ant is charming enough to make the lousy material work to his favor here or there, and some of the dated yuppie and health craze humor is clever on paper, but there are so many better vampire nyuck fests out there to kill ninety minutes with.

 

THE CREEPS

(1997)

Dir - Charles Band

Overall: MEH

 

Charles "the man who makes nine-hundred movies a year for about the combined cost of a ham sandwich" Band drops another one with The Creeps, a horror comedy that is mildly amusing despite its penny-pinching attributes and deliberately dopey story.  As always, Band cranks out these straight-to-video B-movies so aggressively that most of his actors have no choice but to embarrass themselves with the few takes that they are given, let alone the silly material that they have to work with which only lands about a tenth, (at beast), of the intended gags.  This is what makes Phil Fondacaro's portrayal as Count Dracula that much more impressive since the always busy character actor gives it his all without the use of scenery chewing, instead playing it straight and coming off as a charisma-oozing professional who seems hellbent on saving face in a turkey of a film that most other thespians would mug their way through.  Some of the other monster makeup that the little people wear is effective, (why they are all smaller sized is never convincingly explained, but a gag is a gag), yet Fondacaro is the only such actor to get any dialog; a werewolf, a mummy, and the Frankenstein monster merely stumbling around at his beck and call.  Frequent Band collaborator Neal Marshall Stevens' script is too stupid to delve into, the special effects are predictably lousy, and every one on screen besides Fondacaro is forgettable, but the film gets in and out quick enough with some adorable attempts at humor and one set of naked boobs, so trash fans may be able to endure it at least.

1990s American Horror Part Sixty-Nine

NOT OF THIS WORLD
(1991)
Dir - Jon Hess
Overall: MEH

 

A sluggish made-for-TV movie from schlock director Jon Hess, Not of This World updates the usual "crash landed alien entity taking over a small town" scenario with some gore, but it is an instantly forgettable watch.  Two actors from Tim Burton's Batman are present, (Pat Hingle and Tracey Walter, respectively), with one or two other familiar faces joining the proceedings in order to put something on their resume so that they can maintain their SAG insurance.  They all play it straight, no one giving in to wacky mannerisms or scenery chewing, which fits Hess' oddly serious tone that takes too much time establishing the run-of-the-mill characters before it gets to the extraterrestrial creature that feeds off electricity and goes for larger and larger power sources.  Lisa Hartman portrays a woman who is in charge of a local power plant, but of course it is her young son instead of any trained professionals that comes up with the plan which will stop the out-of-control monster.  This gives it an old school drive-in B-movie vibe where children were often more clever than the adults and got to mingle with military and authority figures during dangerous threats.  While this angle could have been cute if leaned on, Hess Hess never lets anything divulge into camp, making for a dull watch that only occasionally remembers that it is a stupid monster movie instead of one about boring adults talking about their jobs and starting relationships.

 

DR. GIGGLES

(1992)

Dir - Manny Coto

Overall: WOOF

 

Like most inherently piece of shit slasher movies, Dr. Giggles is obnoxious, hackneyed, and insults the viewer at regular intervals.  Based on the Dark Horse comic of the same name, it gives character actor Larry Drake a meaty enough title role as a lunatic who thinks that he is a physician and is running around murdering people because who cares.  Director Manny Coto and co-screenwriter Graeme Whifler maintain a mostly comedic tone while delving into the Giggles backstory with some flashbacks, but it hardly matters since Drake's antagonist is merely here to predictably sneak up on people and off them in ways that pertain to medical instruments.  Some of the deaths are mildly amusing in their impracticality, (he uses a blood pressure pump to make a guy's face swell up, per example), and Giggles manages to avoid capture and have numerous gear at his disposal because again, who cares.  The plotting is pure nonsense and indulges in cliches like horny dipshit teenagers acting as such, the police force dismissing any reports or accusations of danger, a final girl who plays it straight, conveniently timed plot maneuvers, and the bad guy being armed with an endless supply of groan-worthy quips.  It does everything that one would expect it to do, but a movie can only be so lazy and formulaic before someone asks why they should bother watching it in the first place.

 

TWILIGHT ZONE: ROD SERLING'S LOST CLASSICS
(1994)
Dir - Robert Markowitz
Overall: MEH

 

As opposed to letting them continue to collect dust, Rod Serling's widow Carol decided to get two unearthed scripts from her famous husband into production.  The resulting CBS television film Twilight Zone: Rod Serling's Lost Classics acts as a coda then to the beloved television show that wrapped up three decades earlier, with James Earl Jones stepping in for Serling as host, as well as Richard Matheson scripting the first segment "The Theatre" based on Rod's story treatment.  The other and longer tale "Where the Dead Are" was authored solely by Serling, featuring Jack Palance as a mysterious scientist living on an island who has found a way to revitalize dead tissue.  The aforementioned "The Theatre" is actually the more Twilight Zone worthy vignette, dealing with a woman who sees her recent life events unfold on a screen in the middle of His Girl Friday showings, eventually leading to a paranoid, deadly, and ambiguous climax.  Director Robert Markowitz worked exclusively in television throughout his career, and his results here are aesthetically and tonally in line with the time period, meaning far removed from the original black and white program.  This is understandable and not a bad thing, but neither of the stories are anywhere near as memorable as even the more mid-range Twilight Zone episodes from the show's heyday, making this merely an appreciated addition for purists to check out.

1990s American Horror Part Sixty-Eight

NO TELLING

(1991) 

Dir - Larry Fessenden

Overall: MEH

 

Coming from the authorship of genre purist Larry Fessenden and judging by the fact that one of the protagonists does mad scientist-adjacent work in his locked up laboratory, one would assume that No Telling belongs in the horror camp.  In actuality though, it is an increasingly uncomfortable domestic drama, one that mixes forced emotion with indie filmmaking tactics like being shot on 16 mm, in actual locations, with an unknown cast, and with plenty of intimate handheld camera work.  Throughout his directorial career, Fessenden has made it a point to channel his classic monster movie influences into a contemporary and low-key setting, but this one strays far enough from the Frankenstein path to make those influences undetectable.  Miriam Healy-Louie and Stephen Ramsey's marriage falls apart while the later becomes a reckless asshole who is frustrated that he cannot experiment on enough animals in a hurried fashion, while the former nearly has a fling with a smirking local douchebag and occasionally paints dead things.  There is little else to it than that, and because the stakes are so small, the performances are frequently unconvincing, and the dialog stilted despite the actor's going into a rage here or there, the movie falls flat.

 

ASWANG

(1994)

Dir - Wrye Martin/Barry Poltermann

Overall: MEH

 

An ultra low-budget debut from filmmakers Wrye Martin and Barry Poltermann, Aswang, (The Unearthing), is equally impressive and embarrassing on account of the meager production.  Utilizing the Philippine monster of the title, (one that is vampire-like with a comically long tongue that sucks the blood from its victims), it was shot on location in various Wisconsin areas and with local actors, all delivering uneven performances that occasionally go for heightened gusto while other times feeling amateurish.  That is the end result of the entire movie actually, one that is imbalanced at best with solid practical gore effects and some eerie sound design, but ruined by an awful and steadfast keyboard score and tons of obnoxious jump scares.  Martin and Poltermann's script, (which was collaborated upon by Frank L. Anderson, someone who had apparently grown up in the actual Philippines and could provide some first hand input on the film's chosen creature), is bare-bones and would probably have worked better as a short vignette in an anthology movie instead of being stretched out to eighty-two minutes.  Such elongating of the material only enhances the technical flaws, as well as making the unlikable and/or underwritten characters that much more of a chore to endure.

 

RUMPELSTILTSKIN

(1995)

Dir - Mark Jones

Overall: WOOF

 

Trying and succeeding in making terrible lighting strike twice, Mark Jones' Leprechaun follow-up Rumpelstiltskin is just as awful and idiotic, despite how awful and idiotic it knows that it is.  The title goblin is portrayed by Max Grodénchik from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine fame, and he knows the assignment by hobbling around, chewing the scenery, and quipping away as much as Warwick Davis' Leprhecaun does.  Rumpelstiltskin also speaks in modern vernacular, effortlessly can ride a motorcycle and a Class A heavy truck, can shapeshift only when the script needs him to, and has a New York accent despite the fact that his character is at least several centuries older than New York is.  Jones must have gotten a deal on various vehicles since cars, a go-kart, and a bulldozer are also used, Rumpelstiltskin referring to them as steeds and whatnot because "funny".  Tone, production values, and performance wise, it is on the level of schlocky Charles Band nonsense, deliberately playing up its stupidity while obnoxious dialog, dipshit characters, lazy and monotonous plotting, and brutal violence fly at the screen in equal measures.  Anyone coming into such proceedings will know what they are going to get, but the best that this can do is to be at the bottom of anyone's "bad movie night" pile, which is where it belongs.

1980s American Horror Part One-Hundred and Twenty-Seven

RAIDERS OF THE LIVING DEAD

(1986)

Dir - Samuel M. Sherman/Brett Piper

Overall: MEH

 

This dopey low-budget schlock excursion from producer, screenwriter, director Samuel M. Sherman, (stepping in behind the lens allegedly after co-screenwriter Brett Piper was dismissed), gets off to a solid start with the banger title song by George Edward Ott, but things are awkward from there.  Raiders of the Living Dead, (Dying Day, Dark Knight), exists in at least three different versions, some credited exclusively to Piper and some not, and some explaining less than others.  In any event, they all deliver a clumsily executed zombie movie that fits more in with D-grade drive-in cheapies from the 1950s then the era of gory slasher nonsense.  To compensate for both Piper and Sherman's lifeless direction, music is played almost continually throughout scenes that are only suspenseful on paper, barely establishing any characters or sense of plot as a needlessly suspicious reporter roams around the suburbs while zombies haphazardly chase him once in awhile.  Scott Schwartz from A Christmas Story shows up as a teenager who makes a laser gun and then goes undead hunting with his grandfather without either one of them bothering to notify authorities, but otherwise the film is void of many recognizable faces.  It is detrimentally void of anything really, only sporadically being stupid and low-effort enough to point and laugh at, never with.

 

NIGHTFLYERS

(1987)

Dir - Robert Collector

Overall: MEH

 

The first feature-length film adapted from the works of George R. R. Martin, Nightflyers brings to cornball B-movie life his 1980 novella of the same name.  Martin penned the screenplay along with official input from producer Robert Jaffe, much of the former's source material getting the standard jettisoned treatment to cram everything into an acceptable running time.  Doug Timm's aggressively cheap keyboard score takes about fifteen minutes to finally chill for a bit before things settle into a hackneyed plot about a sentient spaceship computer going AWOL while a small crew of affordable actors ADR their campy dialog.  Though nothing here reinvents the wheel on paper, there are some inventive ideas in Martin's script, namely consciousness transference and how humans and emotionally-charged artificial intelligence interact with each other.  Yet the Roger Corman caliber production values and some scenery-chewing performances undermine any bold intentions.  Catherine Mary Stewart, James Avery, and a particularly trying-too-hard Michael Des Barres are among the names who take things seriously, and the special effects work is a mixed bag of unconvincing and admirable considering the clearly meager funds that were available.  It is hardly a sci-fi thriller that anyone will remember once the credits roll, but it has some "little movie that could" energy that saves it from being an embarrassment.

 

WATCHERS
(1988)
Dir - Jon Hess
Overall: MEH

 

Shot in Canada in order to take care of those convenient tax breaks, Watchers kicked-off a forgettable and measly budgeted straight-to-video franchise based on the Dean Koontz novel of the same name.  Because Canada, Michael Ironside is present doing his usual cold villain routine as efficiently as he did in both better and worse movies, joined here by a top-billed Corey Haim as a teenager who unknowingly teams up with a lab experiment Golden Retriever.  Oh, and there is also another lab experiment on the loose, this one a gorilla monster that brutally murders people off screen until the last ten minutes.  It is a good thing that this is the case since the B-level production clearly could not afford a convincing monkey suit for its rampaging beast, Ironside himself coming off far more sinister as the relentless NSO agent that is out to get the dog, stop the monster, and kill whoever he feels like while smirking and poorly managing the government cover-up that he alleges to be in charge of.  Canine lovers will enjoy the bits where Haim's super-smart furry friend types on a keyboard and plays Scrabble, and Ironside fans will probably get a kick out of him effortlessly playing another scumbag, but otherwise this is a dopey chore to sit through.  Director Jon Hess maintained a tone that is part cutesy and light, part brutal and R-rated, all with a monotonous script where characters keep being one step ahead of other characters until the lackluster finale that finally shows off how not convincing the killer mutant animal is.

1980s Foreign Horror Part Thirty-Five

THE VINDICATOR

(1986)

Dir - Jean-Claude Lord

Overall: MEH

 

Opening with a scene where reckless dipshit scientists terrorize a monkey because "science", The Vindicator, (Frankenstein '88, Roboman), proceeds into a cornball 50s B-movie throwback, just with more gore, more animal abuse, Stan Winston providing the special effects for some reason, and eventually Pam Grier because a girls gotta eat.  Shot in Montreal, Quebec and directed by Canadian genre peddler Jean-Claude Lord, the "dangerous escaped lab experiment on the loose" script by Edith Rey and David Preston is formulaic and predictable, allowing for mostly unlikable characters to behave like idiots while uttering persistently hackneyed dialog at each other.  Grier can hold her own in any schlocky nonsense thrown her way, and she does commendable work here in a thankless role as an assassin literally named Hunter who gets to say things like "Inside that suit is a man...and I've never, EVER lost to a man" and "Well well well, hello spaceman" while pointing weapons at people and kicking everyone's ass.  Elsewhere, the performances are embarrassing at best, but again, the material that everyone has to work with takes itself way too seriously to come off as anything but groan-worthy.  At least a couple of unintentionally funny moments and Grier's involvement keep it from being a total waste.

 

THE 13TH FLOOR

(1988)
Dir - Chris Roache
Overall: MEH

 

The only directorial effort from Chris Roache, (who also penned the screenplay here), The 13th Floor is a rightfully forgotten one out of Australia, technically belonging in the horror genre since it features the ghost of an electrocuted child that is sometimes haunting a high-rise office building.  In actuality though, it is a low-level crime film, where a mafia boss tries to track down his estranged daughter Lisa Hensley who is slumming it up in said office building with two of her friends.  Hensley witnessed her father murdering the now ghost kid when she herself was a youngster, but it has taken until she reaches adulthood for their paths to cross again.  Horny guys try to get in Hensley's pants, one of them succeeds, her friend Miranda Otto is jealous of this and overdoses on smack which the ghost child watches her, and a guy gets the bloody shit beaten out of him by hired goons who want to get their hands on some incriminating documents.  The film is competently done and atmospherically photographed by Stephen Prime, but there lies the problem; it has neither a deliberate style nor any accidental camp appeal, just a haphazard supernatural element thrown into some unengaging gangster dealings.

 

LA MORT MYSTÉRIEUSE DE NINA CHÉREAU

(1988)

Dir - Dennis Berry

Overall: MEH

 

French/American filmmaker Dennis Berry worked on both sides of the Atlantic, his 1988 film La mort mystérieuse de Nina Chéreau, (The Mysterious Death of Nina Chereau), serving as his only full-length foray into horror, though such elements are largely underplayed.  Clumsily executed and plotted, the script by Claude Harz and Steven Bawol starts off with a rocky premise where a smug and persistently unlikable therapist, (unfortunately the film's main protagonist), recklessly ignores professional protocol in his attempt to get the to the bottom of what happened to one of his escaped patients.  Said patient is portrayed with awkward aloofness by Maude Adams, while Scott Renderer is her therapist that is clearly smitten with her, bumbling through Paris as he smirks at Adams' aggressively distant mother, smirks at the detectives that knows he is aiding and abetting a wanted criminal, and botches various attempts to uncover the mystery.  He eventually does, and it proves to revolve around cinema's favorite blood-bathing Countess Elizabeth Báthory, (hence the horror angle), but despite some agreeable location shooting, the film is poorly written, poorly performed, poorly paced, and fails to deliver on a mystery that should be more suspenseful than it is.

1980s Ramsay Brothers Horror - Part Three

TAHKHANA
(1986)
Overall: MEH

 

Men trying to rape women, other men jumping in to save those women with their martial arts abilities, villagers with torches, and a growling unleashed monster are all motifs that the Ramsay brothers had utilized many times before, all of which are at the forefront of Tahkhana, (Dungeon).  It is a paint-by-numbers effort in this regard, offering up nothing unique to Shyam and Tulsi Ramsay's oeuvre, just more of the same, done the same.  Musical numbers and embarrassing comic relief segments drag out the already hefty running time, another hallmark for Bollywood genre films in general, not just the ones made by these prolific gentlemen.  The rape angle is comically overdone as Imtiaz Khan portrays a scumbag that forcibly tries to get in a women's pants in virtually every scene that he is in, going so far as to murder a lady in his first attempt yet still going for it time and time again.  Slow motion, much fog, an imposing creature that wails ridiculously with garish makeup on, females being objectified left and right, and a finale where our hero dressed as Rambo pushes enormous pillars onto the monster in order to defeat it are all silly additions.

 

VEERANA
(1988)
Overall: MEH

 

Opening with the usual gag of a black sorcerer doing black sorcerer shit, Veerana, (Deserted Palace), ultimately morphs into the Ramsay brother's version of The Exorcist, be it in a singular enough manner that is nowhere near as blatant as many of the other knock-offs that came in the wake of William Friedkin's masterpiece.  A young woman gets possessed by an ancient and powerful witch who mostly allows her to live her life normally as said young woman for over a decade before occasionally having a monster voice, widening her eyes, and threatening to kill people more than she actually kills people.  Her powers are arbitrary, (she has the ability to change her form, teleport, and make a scared therapist's car stop, all of which she only does once, per example), and as usual, Shyam and Tulsi Ramsay are more concerned with stretching the running time to over two hours with musical numbers and atrocious comic relief, neither of which have any barring on the narrative.  Naturally, this is all per the course and unfortunately, one has to suffer through roughly forty plus minutes of irritating and tone-murdering nonsense in order to enjoy the overtly horror elements which are the true selling points.  Said elements are here and they are fun, but as a whole, this is as faulty as all of the Ramsay brother's other work.

 

PURANI HAVELI
(1989)
Overall: MEH

 

Their last horror film of the 1980s, the Ramsay brother's Purani Haveli, (Mansion of Evil), does almost everything that their previous many other horror films did, for better or worse depending on one's tolerance level.  We have a monster living in a crypt, a big haunted mansion, roaming thugs of rapists who the hero kung-fu fights in broad daylight, pointless side arcs and obnoxious bozos who provide ruinous comic relief, and a shady asshole who is trying to get his hands on something of value.  Also, the Ramsay's have long locked-in their style which persistently contradicts itself.  They can create cranked-up atmosphere, yet they also dilute it with large amounts of horrendous silliness and song and dance numbers.  The horror set dressing looks great on account of the meager budget, but the set pieces are clumsily handled.  There is aggressive misogyny and scantily clad women getting eye-humped left and right, but never any nudity or sex scenes as to avoid going full exploitation.  The music is often better and more memorable than the cheap synth scores that their Western counterparts lazily utilized, but they overdue it by playing the same snippets dozens and dozens of times throughout.  These movies always feel their length and yet there is always a better movie hiding in there somewhere, one that requires significant editing to take out half the things that routinely fail.  This is no exception, so proceed with caution.