Endnotes for 2022 Films

And some flippant summaries and general thoughts on last year's films.

Most muddled motivation during the final act: ‘Nope’

It’s on-the-nose, but it just makes me smile: ‘Men’

Unexpectedly exuberant ending: ‘Hit the Road’

Now that’s a superpower showdown: ‘The Innocents’

Take-what-you-want-from-it buffet: ‘Bones and All’

Tenser than any thriller: ‘Playground’

My gut was wrenched and then I was deeply moved: ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’

Pretty but troubling in retrospect: 'Blonde'

Eye-rolling coda that nearly undermines a long movie: ‘The Batman’ … yes, but Barry Keoghan!

Genre pandemic films, doing what it does best: ‘The Harbinger’ and ‘Ego’

Best alternative universe/multiverse movie: ‘LOLA’

Best flirtation: 'The Worst Person in the World'

Unexpected fun and/but gave me genuine unease: ‘Deadstream’

Best Odd Couple: ‘Something in the Dirt’ and ‘Next Exit'

Best mother role: Judy Davies in 'Nitram'

And: ‘Mad God’ rather than ‘Pinnochio’

Film Notes 2022: other Horrors

I have already written about my genre favourites ‘Deadstream’ and ‘The Innocents’ and many others in my previous Notes, so don’t forget them HERE and HERE.

The first thing about Damien Leone’s ‘Terrifier 2’ is its length: well over two hours for a slasher? Unheard of! But I was never bored, even when it fell into a He’s dead! No he’s not! She’s dead! No she’s not! loop. The overriding issue it presented was that by having an unkillable supernatural killer motivating by coulrophobia and sadism, there was nothing to vouch for, since he was unvanquishable, other than a litany of kill scenes. There was a lot of sibling family stuff to convince you there was humanity in there, but when it could only retreat into magic to resolve its issues, all that was left was sadism and silliness. But the practical effects were impressive and David Howard Thornton truly unnerved in as Art the Clown. And box office popular,

Probably what non-horror fans think horror is: over two hours of sadism and outrageous gore with a magic sword get-out clause.

But Christian Tafdrup’s ‘Speak No Evil’ troubled me in a different way, and I am yet to fully untangle my appreciation from the reservations on that one. I’ll write on it later.

So to other women in the slasher playing field. 

Shana Feste’s ‘Run Sweetheart Run’: Not quite what might be anticipated at first, but a bright and breezy woman-in-peril story updated with contemporary feminist concerns directed by a woman, which is a welcome trend and upgrade to the sub-genre. It’s slick and colourful and aware but doesn’t quite fulfil its promise. The moments of breaking the fourth wall are a little too cute and smug (where he stops the camera from following when he does his worst; he smirkingly does this as, condescendingly and controllingly, he doesn’t want us to see his guilt rather than the camera independently averting its complicit gaze out of respect). The importance of the manipulative, corrupt omnipresent power of the patriarchy is somewhat reduced to secondary when the supernatural takes over. The feminist concerns are mostly resolved in kick-ass fashion, although Ella Ballinska delivers more nuance than just archetype. Entertaining rather than astute.

With an almost sit-com brightness and lightness, Hannah Barlow and Kane Senes’ ‘Sissy’ allows the social runt a little revenge fantasy, as is the genre’s wont. The twist is all Cecelia’s malevolence and psychopathy is hidden behind the surface veneer smile and empowerment of the “influencer” trend (a lively and sympathetic Aisha Dee). ‘Eighth Grade’ goes slasher, sort of. It fails to address the race issue that is visible (they’re white; Sissy is black) but its play with dark humour and nastiness makes this an enjoyable horror farce.

Although relatively straightforward genre piece, Sissy/Cecelia was a relatively complex character. Recent trends have shown the serial killer genre looking in more shaded corners for more nuance, and certainly by centring on women it they show up and criticise the demands put upon and roles expected of women. 

Take Jill Gevargizian’s ‘The Stylist’. The strength of this particular slasher variation is that it’s a centred in a feminine world. The motivation – there’s no explanatory flashback here – seems to be a homicidal insecurity and envy of other, apparently more certain feminine identities (not so dissimilar to the ‘Cabinet of Curiosities’ episode ‘The Outside’). The scalpings are quite matter-of-factly presented and nasty (I think, after ‘Maniac’, that scalpings really get to me) and, although there’s nothing new here, the presentation is clean, vivid and often deceptively casual, distinguished by Najarra Townsend’s excellent performance, swinging from gorgeous to desperate with ease. And Brea Grant is always reliable. A solid contemporised slasher, and somewhere in here is a criticism of the toll it takes choosing and playing the roles expected of women.

Or Joe Le Truglio’s ‘Outpost’, for example, which takes a moment to settle down and make sense, but soon relaxes in to a seemingly straightforward tale of a woman trying to escape a troubled past of domestic abuse by becoming a fire marshal atop a forest lookout. A film unafraid to takes its time, strong on empathy and performances – Dylan Baker as the prickly neighbour and Ato Essandoh as Kate’s taciturn boss were personal favourites. 

It was obvious from the FrightFest Q&A afterwards that Joe Lo Truglio wanted to be as sympathetic to his approach to PTSD with a potentially conventionally conventional thriller, and it is this that distinguishes ‘Outpost’ and motivates as well as allows for its narrative surprises.

And then there was Brea Grant’s ‘Torn Hearts’, in which an average and hokey country music rags-to-riches story finds itself in a Gothic horror scenario in pursuit of that one golden chance and breakthrough. It’s a lot of fun as it becomes increasingly unhinged with three great central performances – with Katey Sagal the standout, making the most of her role without going full ham. Brea Grant proves again that she is a solid brand.

Dario Argento gave us ‘Dark Glasses’. We are at the stage with Argento where there are not any impressive set-pieces to offset the daftness. Admittedly, I find Argento films unintentional comedies, so I am not the one to come to for maestro love. And this is no different (excepting  ‘Suspiria’, which I do love). Dodgy “blind” acting; dodgy police procedure; “Let’s hide in the reeds!” and the water snake attack with the following road fight, is notably comedy gold. Unconvincing. But funny.

Ti West’s ‘X’ was the favourite, proving again that vivid execution can elevate a homage. West recreations of horrors from previous era never feel condescending or fawningly fanboyish, but rather meticulous and loving like the care taken to make miniatures.  

Similarly, where one in five genre films seem to be homages of some kind, John Swab’s ‘Candy land’ proved most impressive. even though you feel you might catch some some very nasty germs or a STD just by watching it, and even though it’s explicit, it never quite feels sleazy. But it IS gory and a shocker. One of those films that IS the era rather than just pastiche, but with a modern sensibility. Well played and effortlessly engrossing, it’s got its subversive side in that it’s not the blasphemous sex workers that are the unhinged.

There was also a nice Seventies vibe to Scott Errickson’s ‘The Black Phone’. Popular and a little tonally imbalanced – from vivid and shocking teenage bullying violence to ‘Goosebumps’ level ghostly apparitions – it was nevertheless enjoyable. 

The other more mainstream horror favourite was Parker Finn's ‘Smile’. We know this stuff and perhaps the promise was of something a little different, but it does this well. (Have to agree with AlfredAngier that this is a good movie with a bad one trying to overpower it - but it never does.) It’s horror fun, well-executed with many memorable images and genuinely unsettling with its nightmare monster feeding on trauma. Its problematic subtext of suicide/mental illness as a supernatural virus is one that the film doesn’t seem self-aware of in its superficial thrills and genre tropes.

Quietly smug and smart, ‘Bodies Bodies Bodies’ by Halina Reijn was a horror satire highlight. Fun with slasher tropes at the expense of privileged obnoxious teens, typical of the genre, where the greatest threat is their own pettiness and egos. Colourful, entertaining, full of knowing performances and satirical enough to raise a smirk.

Also of note was the Adams family’s ‘Hellbender’, building oin the genre promise of ‘The Digger You Deep’. The Adam’s family have proven that they make reliable horror of ideas, atmosphere and attitude  rather than budget. 

And Kate Dolan’s ‘You Are not My Mother’. Where mental illness is a monster from folklore. But the film’s true power is in the portrayal of the streets of a friendless, grey, unforgiving world that is as tangible as Ken Loach. The allegory is obvious but not hammered home (something the wonderful ‘Hatching’ was guilty of), and it is the young resilience of Hazel Doupe and the broken/crazed performance of Carolyn Bracken that strike emotional chords. This is the place where the shabby mundane meets the supernatural without a blink, undermining family stability. This is an excellent example of the special place horror traverses between the nightmares of reality and fantasy.

And ‘The Deep House’. Directors Bustillo & Maury are always worth watching, and are particular good with location and set-up and above average with characterisation. This is no different, being Underwater Haunted House, and played for all that's worth with many memorable images and much creepiness. But, just like their 'Among the Living', there's the sense that it ends up a little too average although there's a lot of flair, technological and otherwise.

Then there was the surprisingly good entry into the Predator franchise in  Dan Trachtenberg’s ‘Prey’. Although erring on the side of earnestness rather than fun – every five minutes we’re reminded that the patriarchy isn’t respecting how kick-ass this girl is – this is probably the least insulting Predator sequel. A little temporal relocation and forgoing the Urban Jungle stuff, a little reboot of the predator’s look and some decent action and we’re in solidly entertaining territory.

Oh, and Mark Mylod's 'The Menu'. Although you will go in knowing the nature of the beast, there's enough unpredictability to keep you at the table and the sprinkling of social commentary adds a little substance. Mostly, it's an enjoyable enough Mad Chef tale.

And there were others, but I reckon I am done here. 

The only film that I actively disliked was the Soska Sister's ' 'On The Edge', I'm afraid. Aramis Sartorio gives his all while the Soskas pose and pout their performances. Any message about female empowerment is filtered into sadism-revenge fantasy as a family man that books a dominatrix in a hotel gets more than he bargained for. This sadism-revenge agenda also guided the Soska’s far superior ‘American Mary’ but the body-horror fascination there is replaced by two-bit Catholic morals here. Anal rape is the main source of humour. But even more egregious is the badly recorded diagetic dialogue and amateurish sound mix that makes much incomprehensible. Which is problematic for a film that is constantly talking at you. Eventually it devolves into strobe lighting and bible verse and a simplistic morality play that makes a nonsense of any of its transgressive and feminist intent.

Look to 'Promising Young Woman', 'The Beta Test' or even 'The Special' for more nuanced, troubling and fun interrogations of these themes.

So the first film I saw I saw at the cinema in 2023 was 'Enys Men', so that's off to a good start. That was after I started this year with a week of COVID, which turned out to be a fully enjoyable binge-watching era, because I couldn't manage to do anything else.

Film Notes part 3: dramas & thrillers

 

Film Notes part 3: drama & thrillers

 

Aside from ‘Casino Royale’ – which I love and consider one of the best in action he-man cinema – and earlier instalments, James Bond doesn’t do so much for me, but it seemed fully appropriate to complete Daniel Craig’s Bond arc in ‘No Time to Die’ with the finale explosion. I thought Craig was good, but the urge to give backstory and introduce children seemed an unnecessary and a bad fit for this particular action-fantasy.

 

A film like Teodora Mihai’s ‘La Civil’ was the kind of drama that shows up fantasy-action films for lacking the social consequences the crime scenarios riff on.

Park Chan-Wook’s ‘Decision to Leave’ played with thriller and noir conventions and dark romance. He’s a detective, she’s a murder suspect: they are attracted to one another and so he wants to keep investigating and she wants to be suspected. Structural play, mystery and a few twists keep this always fascinating; it’s elegant and, if it perhaps lacks a little of the visceral punch of some of Park’s other work, this is still beguiling and brilliantly rendered.

 

Jonas Govaerts’s ‘H4Z4RD’ came from the more lowlife end of crime fiction. Filmed totally from within a car, this is a fun and furious thriller that is perhaps ultimately not a quite as goofy as expected from the first half. One of those “One Bad Day” plots where the bad luck just piles on for our petty-crime adjacent protagonist. He and his car must take punishment upon humiliation until he learns his lesson (well, we can assume he does).

 

The formal fun and pounding soundtrack and some off-colour gags make this entertaining, a memorable entry in the lowlife farce sub genre.

 

In David Victori’s ‘Cross the Line’, mild-Mannered people-pleaser Dani (Mario Casas) has devoted his recent life to caring for his father, but now it’s time to move on and start anew. And he’s on the verge when he crosses paths with the kind of domineering good time girl that you know is going to be trouble. The film makes exceptional use of music as it goes from dad’s unremarkable dying room to neon nightmare as Dani finds that straying from his caution only gets him deeper and deeper into trouble and desperation.

 

Victori is obviously going for something more poignant here with the title (online translator says the original Spanish translate as “You will not Kill”?), but the fun is following how things, pretty realistically, spiral out of control, forcing increasingly desperate and extreme reactions. Like ‘Victoria’, there’s a sense of playing out in real-time across the city, the handheld camera staying close to the protagonist– in this case, across Barcelona. It won’t win any friends with portraying the threat as a wild side female, in film noir style or a nineties “yuppie peril” scenario, but Smit’s performance is compelling. However, it’s Casas’ portrayal of a man being altered for life by one night, the toll taken showing increasingly on his face, that really grounds the film. Perhaps the film ultimately overreaches for sadness rather than closure, but it’s a vivid and entertaining thriller with lots of panache.

 

Adam Mackay’s ‘Don’t Look Up’ had a pedigree cast and a satirical bent that was sharp enough to upset the right people with a certain criticism of the mainstream media’s shallowness and callousness. Perhaps I thought its targets were too obvious, but it captured a certain zeitgeist with its focus on the venality and egos of politicians and media and the narcissism of a tech-bro scuppering the survival of humanity. Applying a typically American Mainstream bright-and-breezy gloss and a little sophistication to politics – ref: ‘The Big Short’ – certainly helped reached a wide enough audience to outrage.

 

Joachim Trier’s ‘The Worst Person in the World’ was peppered with memorable moments (the flirtation at the party being a personal favourite), this is a superior character study of fickleness and the roaming intentions and disappointments that come with aging. Indecision about who you are and where you are going lingering long after you’ve grown up is a theme not widely pursued aside from the dominance of the Man Child in mainstream entertainment, so it’s nice to see it dealt with such a mature eye here.

Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s ‘Drive My Car’ suffered from taking a little overlong to reach its destination. The journey was beautiful, understated and immaculately crafted, but coming to the last act you may wonder if it will actually arrive anywhere. But it does, so all the beguiling incidentals aren’t left hanging. It’s a mature film about the lingering and open-endedness of grief and life, and knowing its destination, a second watch will no doubt be an even more fulfilling journey.

 

Jane Campion’s ‘The Power of the Dog’ had a slow burn that paid off if you were willing to pay attention. Of course, it had beautiful vistas, a certain understatement of performance and plotting and smouldering pace to keep you engaged. Ultimately, it achieved a chill that was hard to shake off and made it truly memorable.

Speaking of upsetting chillers: Justin Kurzel’s ‘Nitram’ scored high in its deceptively mater-of-fact rendering of the infamous Australian mass shooting. Between this and "Snowtown", Justin Kurzel proves again a master of the upsetting and grim, in capturing with empathy and a relentlessly clear eye on pending national trauma. With stunning performances by Caleb Landry Jones and Judie Davis, this again shows Kurzel's adeptness in fleshing out characters that commit monstrous atrocities with empathy but not endorsement (including ‘The True History of the Kelly Gang’).

 

In this portrayal of "Nitram" and the build-up to the 1996 Port Arthur massacre, the frightening observation is of someone that has no sense of the consequences of his actions, and of how dangerous he is. Although one can sympathise with his ineptitude with social skills and subsequent loneliness, this lack of self-awareness is terrifying. Although not quite as relentlessly bleak as ‘Snowtown’, and on top of its anti-gun polemic, the focus on issues of how to assimilate someone with problematic behaviour and mental health issues was uncomfortably central.

 

Philip Barantini’s ‘Boiling Point’ delivered one of the best portrayals of working life on screen, focusing on a single night’s shift in a restaurant. It’s focus on the overlap of detail, on the interplay of mini-dramas hardly aware of one another, struck a recognisable truth to anyone familiar with a busy workplace.  For this, it deployed a single take to capture how drama and conflict unfolds in real time, giving this aesthetic a purpose that surpassed its gimmick status (and I am a sucker for the choreography of the one-take).

Alternatively, on the less neo-realistic side, there was Mark Mylod's 'The Menu'. Although you will go in knowing the nature of the beast, there's enough unpredictability to keep you at the table and the sprinkling of social commentary adds a little substance. Mostly, it's an enjoyable enough Mad Chef tale.

 

Olmo Omerzu’s ‘Bird Atlas’ provided a droll family drama focused on a ruthless, selfish patriarch of a technology company. He is an irredeemable aging bully and, when taken seriously ill, one son seems to be making his move, the other is a quiet enabler, and the daughter is preoccupied with a new baby. The trouble starts when company millions go missing. Yes yes, a ‘Succession’ scenario, but less gaudy and acerbic and the characters aren’t wholly obnoxious. In fact, there’s a straightforward approach to mundane glass and vanilla set design that is akin to the drabness of soap operas. But there is a bright trip to a snowbound apartment, and one fantastic shot of a blue train going through a snow-white mountain route.

 

There’s weight when the unappealing Ivo – a stony Miroslav Donutil – momentarily turns into an unlikely anti-hero detective to pursue the mystery and money. Just when it verges on being too dry for its own good, to almost tedium tedium, there’s a touch of the fantastical when birds, via subtitles, start to give philosophical and business observations. And it’s a tale where no one gets what they want and one man’s loveless attitude leaves a trail of unhappiness. A moderate drama that occasionally hits real heights but might be an underachiever. But the Greek Chorus of birds is inspired.

 

Ben Parker’s ‘Burial’ was perhaps minor, but a decent World War II that I expected to be a vampire flick, maybe, for a moment, but isn't. Rather, it's a solid wartime drama set in a horror landscape - coffin, woods, shadow-monster and isolated taverns. The tone is suitably austere but not drab and desperate, the performances good, the action decent too if occasionally lost in the shadows.

 

But for the real wartime deal, there was Edward berger’s ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’. A German adaptation of Erich Maria Remarque’s phenomenal novel which whilst marking key moments deviates from the source is truer in spirit rather than detail. It is a truism that war films are often remarkable and thrilling in spectacle, admirable and awe-inspiring in technical achievement even as they depict the very worst human kind has to offer (‘Come and See’ is as beautiful as it is traumatic, for example), and this ‘All Quiet on the Western front’ is no different.

 

Its depiction of the trenches and the use of stunning aerial shots, for example, are cinematically transcendent even as they glide into the mud and corpses of the trenches and No Man’s land. It stays on the front and forfeits the tale of soldiers returning home and being dissatisfied, of no longer fitting in, so the final image of Paul finally finding peace is somewhat lessened. This is replaced with a focus on the subplot of the politics, of men trying to stop the war and of arrogant, warmongering higher-ups sacrificing young men for their own ego and jingoism, a theme true to the novel. However, Paul’s final intimate scuffle that pauses when both soldiers realise that they are really just the same in their fatigue and horror, which is at odds with the faceless slaughter on the battlefield, strikes a resonant chord.

 

Rightfully horrifying, pretty and brutal, nicely performed and often stunningly filmed, an outstanding achievement.

 

For something joyful, if troubled: Panah Panahi’s ‘Hit the Road’ is set against rugged Iranian terrain and powered by the non-stop energy of child actor Rayan Sarlak, this slightly mysterious family road movie seems minor and intimate but reaches deep. Superficially jubilant and bright, but there’s desperation and persecution beneath. Nevertheless, the family never the let the peril get in the way of family squabbles and age-old grievances, so there’s almost a farcical edge. It’s bright, fizzing with interplay and detail (starts with the kid drawing a keyboard on a leg cast), amusing (the encounter with the cyclist is a highlight) and not adverse to a little musical interlude to reach even further, achieving something bittersweet.

 

And Martin McDonagh’s ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’ was his most satisfying since his debut. Maybe verging a little ‘Father Ted’ at times, but mostly this is a picturesque exploration of the heartbreak that can enter male friendships and how those feelings manifest as bafflement, bitterness, resentment and violence. Oh, and self-destruction. The women know to get out when they can. Fine performances (is there no end to Barry Keoghan’s utterly mesmerising disturbing-disturbed-sympathetic oddballs?), sparse aesthetic, funny and increasingly dark and weighty.

Film Notes 2022 part 2: Borderline genre & mash-ups

Film Notes 2022 part 2: Borderline genre & mash-ups

Or rather, films that used genre flavouring for other concerns.

There were two pandemic horrors of note.  Alfonso Cortés-Cavanillas’ ‘Ego’ took a thoroughly locked-up approach. 19-year-old Paloma is suck in Madrid lockdown and still getting over her breakdown. However, she seems a typical brattish young woman until she seems to be victim of identity theft by a doppelgänger.

Unless we don’t get the point, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” is a constant motif, but it’s soon apparent that beneath Paloma’s bullish exterior, there is a troubled soul. María Pedraza’s remarkable performance only gets more involving and devastating as Paloma feels that her identity, her reality is being threatened. By herself. And no one will believe her. A supernatural peril or a portrait of increasing mental instability, the film carefully maintains ambiguity – ‘Repulsion’ is an obvious comparison, but there are moments when it verges on ‘Insidious’ style scares – and it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that, as Paloma gets into more of a state, you suddenly realise that you are likely just as unnerved for no good reason – which is exactly her plight and distress.

Not only a horror incorporating the digital world but also a bona fide lockdown drama using the horror genre to empathise with the mental health crisis running alongside as a direct result of the pandemic years. Some may begrudge that there is no big showdown, but the film ends with something more insidious and heart-breaking. And the final symbolism implies this is just one of many.

And then there was Andy Mitton’s ‘The Harbinger’, an exceptional downer and unnerver. Horror being the perfect genre for expressing the personal and global anxiety and terror of the pandemic. ‘The Harbinger’ starts with standard ghost/demon spooking, but as it goes on its use of dreams and despondence gets increasingly sophisticated so that it becomes apparent that the film is after deeper existential horror.

Rooted in crucially warm and believable performances, the failing reality and psychological threats are layered on to capture the dread and fear of the early pandemic years, especially the psychological toll. It proves itself something truly haunting and captures that sense of being at a loss and losing all the time which defined that period.

Then there was Arsalan Amiri’s ‘Zalava’, which I saw as part of the virtual  Glasgow Film Festival programme. If I was watching this at FrightFest or Grimmfest, I would have been more sure of where this was going. However, this Iranian drama dresses up in a horror clothing to speak of the dangers of superstitious and blind belief, and one can extrapolate to religious faith, in a way that feels bold in is lack of ambiguity. It's not shy about it's targets

1978: Massound is a gendarmerie sergeant sent to a village in Kurdistan to investigate complaints of being under siege by demonic possessions. But Massoud does not believe in such things, which puts him at odds with the townsfolk, especially when an exorcist gets involved. Soon, the general hysteria infuses every shadow, breeze, creak and empty pickle jar with supernatural potential, not tot mention the cute black cat cameo. The pickle jar is the central macguffin. And the audience will play into that too because, as this a film, anything is possible. The atmosphere is thick with portent and the location is fascinating, and we will not get so deep into the characters, although we don’t necessarily need to. The abstract nature of a person is part of the point.

Ryan Lattanzio calls it “slight”, perhaps with expectations of a more conventional horror. It felt to me more akin to the work of Aharon Keshales and Navot Papushado (see 'Big Bad Wolves'). When a film is the dangers of mob delusion, about the battle between the irrational and rational, I wouldn’t call it slight. Being about man’s hysteria and inclination for lynching, it’s more of a genuine horror than just the spookily inclined drama than I perhaps initially assumed.

Luca Guadagnino’s ‘Bones and All’ was a genre-blender that allowed you to lean on whichever side you preferred: horror, road movie, young adult angst, romance, adventure, indie downbeat ramblings, etc. Of course, publicly it tried to underplay the first, but all its cannibal moments were genuinely gruelling and genre satisfying. 

Jean Luc Herbulot ‘Saloum’ was equally a genre mash-up, this time of lowlife crime, disenfranchised cult communities and then demons. African mercenaries extract a drug lord from Guinea-Bissau and hide out in Saloum, impersonating good guys – a storyline that takes up a majority of film, featuring flashbacks, a clean and bright veneer and gruff, macho striking performances. They’re compatriots and blood brothers, but there’s still distrust and suspicion. Then revelations ensue and increasingly the film shows itself to be a heady mash-up of genres that nevertheless doesn’t lose any hold on its forward-momentum, careening right through.

Bright and quite unique in tone, with picturesque vistas, flashbacks, tough guy plotting, mercilessness and gunplay, folklore and regional history effortlessly segueing into demons that look like gatherings of swarms. Another example of cultural specifics and genre blending giving traditional horror new angles.

Although ostensibly a biopic based on Marilyn Monroe – although the makers would shrug at this – Andrew Dominic’s ‘Blonde’ was troubling. Monroe through a disturbed/disturbed lens that often felt like a Lynchian Hollywood nightmare. Much to commend, not least its black-and-white aesthetic, but also to doubts it intensions as it leered a little hard into exploitation. 

Mariama Diallo’s ‘Master’ did not quite gel for me. It hits many of the right beats in build-up but doesn't quite resolve it's mash-up and conflation of underlying racism and the supernatural. And all the subplots end in defeatism without any real insight other than "it's everywhere", or "it's America" to what feels like little purpose or catharsis.

More successful with its verge-of-horror drama was Nikyatu Jusu’s ‘Nanny’, in which a nanny’s guilt at being an absentee parent seemingly allows the presence of something supernatural to exert its influence. Just a little. Or maybe she’s just losing it under the strain, ever so slightly. Leaning psychological rather than supernatural, Anna Diop’s performance is captivating in its pride in the face of exploitation and taking on the domestic troubles of her privileged Manhattan employers. Rina Yang’s cinematography is appropriately décor magazine crisp, and the sound design maintains the consistent unease. As a horror-inflected film about work-life, it’s chock full of themes such as privilege, exploitation, maintaining pride and that guilt, etc. Impressively proving again that there is nowhere the genre cannot go to use its tools to shine on the everyday horrors of existence, whether existential or not.

Then there were genre odd couple dramas with genre contexts, like ‘Something in the Dirt’ and ‘Next Exit’.

‘Something in the Dirt’ was another wonderfully heady offering from the Moorhead & Benson duo. What starts seemingly as a couple of guys find incredible phenomena in their LA apartment, which thy then intend to document/exploit, unfolds into full-scale conspiracy theorising and increasing sadness. Filmed by the duo and producer during lockdown, again it’s the stacking up of ideas that engross (morse code in fruit!), but their evocation of male relationships are always excellent. As an vocation of thinking you have something wold-shattering that you can't quite reach so head into conspiracies and delusion, it stands as a striking analogy. 

From the first flush of friendship to the moment where the more you know of someone, the more you can hit your target when you criticise, they excel at providing deep characterisation so that even their arguing during mid-phenomena doesn’t strain credibility.

Mali Elfman’s ‘Next Exit’ presented a world where the existence of ghosts has some scientific proof, a mismatched couple head across the country with the intention of giving up their lives to further study.

Despite the supernatural/sci-fi backdrop (and a fine creepy opening), this is mostly a road trip of two central brilliant performances of an odd couple going through existential crisis. If it perhaps becomes a romcom for horror fans, the characters and performances convince hard, with a lot of humour and pathos on the way.

Even a more minor film like Jacob Gentry’s ‘Night Sky’ offered another well-acted odd couple. It reminded me of the likeable VHS sci-fi thrillers of the Eighties. Like ‘Next Exit’, another slow-burn road movie with good central performances this one is like 'Starman' crossed with 'No Country for Old Men'; although Alan Jones namechecks road movies from the '70s. With the thriller element in play, the narrative keeps moving until the canyon and bright lights finale, and up until then its proven decent if not quite profound entertainment. Includes a decidedly nasty, pontificating hitman and Brea Grant effortlessly doing "innocent".

If magic surrealism/oddness was what you were after rather than genre mash-ups, then there was Quentin Duprieux’s ‘Incredible But True’. Accessible Duprieux comes in a satire of magic realism that doesn’t feel the need to go further than a limited time portal in your house and an iDick to illustrate human absurdity. In this case, how people will go to extraordinary lengths and delusions to keep up gender constructs of youth and desirability. Light, easy and surreal, this is not quite the divisive film I anticipated as it's fun with a little cruelty to spice things up.

More oddness: Nikias Chryssos’ ‘A Pure Place’ pretty soon reveals itself as a cult narrative, but there’s a lot of offbeat edges that leave it a slippery beast, such as Jodorowsky, a nod to magic realism, a hint of ‘The City of Lost Children’. On a Grecian island, a delusional man has created his own narcissistic religion and class system with homeless orphans working below and white-wearing upper class above. They earn money by making soap, which fits Furst’s fascistic obsession with cleanliness. Furst’s mixture of unforgiving fascist classism mixed with Hygenia as its God makes for a credible belief system (and no telling how ugly it would all be if race was a factor), topped with Romanesque pomp and theatre.

Beautiful imagery, courtesy of the Greek island and heightened set design, and layered with themes of exploitation, delusion, class, abuse, etc.; but it leans towards fairy-tale rather than horror in its tone. Indeed, there’s a permanent doubt of just how much this is set in the real world, being somewhere between Lucile Hadzihalilovic’s ‘Evolution’ and Ariel Kleiman’s ‘Partisan’; and even the poverty magic realism of ‘Tigers are not Afraid’. The acting highlights are Sam Louwyck’s performance as Furst, his natural dancer’s tendencies giving the character an innate elegance and charm, and young Claude Henrick’s feisty turn as Paul.

Intriguing, entertaining, sunny, slightly ethereal and slightly disturbing, the tone is one where lacunas barely matter. Certainly, in discussion, Chryssos talks of its grounding in real cases of cults, but the tone is not one that relies on veracity. A curio which maintains its oddness to the very end, where escape is a strip joint.

Mark Jenkins’ ‘Bait’ was a sensation in its DIY formation. His follow-up ‘Enys Men’ is similarly constructed with a clockwork Bolex camera and an even more audacious post-production sound design comprised of often sharp diegetic sound and blaring drone. (If there is any evidence is needed more that lazy jump-scares are simply results of volume, see if you jump and innocuous Cornish landscapes because the music here blasts out.) The feel is of a 70s folk horror with bold colours, some print flares and speckling, and this is intrinsic to the success of its feel. What seems to be the tale of a volunteer on an unpopulated Cornish island taking the temperature of some flowers and dropping a stone down a mine shaft gradually evolves into something inscrutable, fascinating and disquieting. Past and present seems to increasingly overlap and, for me, her world became a lost continent of ghosts. If it hits your buttons, it’s a superior horror-inflected ambient mood piece. Mike Muncer (Evolution of Horror) calls it ‘Penda’s Fen’ meets ‘the Lighthouse”, and that’s a fair description. 

But it was Andrew Legge’s ‘LOLA’ that really wowed me. Hugely impressive and inventive alternative history filmed with a Bolex camera and vivid imagination, blended with reimaged historical footage. A  highlight is the music by Neil Hannon, reinventing popular songs for this alternative reality. It's all thoroughly convincing. The scope the film is able to achieve is wide, with the skill to hand to make it work while formally playing with the medium. Quietly stunning, provocative and a highlight.