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.

Frightfest 2022 Day 3: 'Something in the Dirt', 'She Came from the Woods', 'LOLA', 'Dark Glasses', Candy Land', 'Deadstream'

Something in the Dirt

Directors: Justin Benson, Aaron Moorhead.

With: Justin Benson, Aaron Moorhead,

Sarah Adina Smith, Ariel Vida.

USA 2022. 116 mins.

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 hen you criticise, they excel at providing deep characterisation so that even their arguing during mid-phenomena doesn’t strain credibility.

She Came Frrom The Woods

Director: Erik Bloomquist.

With: Cara Buono, Clare Foley, William Sadler, Spencer List.

USA 2022. 101 mins.

Summer camp. Kim Wilde's ‘The Kids in America’. Yep, it’s the 80s homage. The turning point from coming-of-age to horror is the high point, coming as a surprise, and from there on it’s a well-done homage of things you’ve seen before, but enjoyable as horror comfort food. With acting  a cut above average and a somewhat uninteresting spook.

LOLA

Director: Andrew Legge.

With: Emma Appleton, Stefanie Martini,

Rory Fleck Byrne, Aaron Monaghan,

Hugh O’Conor.

UK 2022. 76 mins.

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 festival highlight.

Dark Glasses

Director: Dario Argento.
With: Ilenia Pastorelli, Asia Argento,
Andrea Gherpelli, Mario Pirrello.

Italy 2022. 86 mins.

We are at the stage where there are not any set-pieces to offset the daftness. Admittedly, I find Argento films unintentional comedies, and this is no different (excepting ‘Suspiria’, which I 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.

Candy Land 

Director John Swab.

With: William Baldwin, Eden Brolin, Olivia Luccardi,

Sam Quartin.

USA 2022. 90 mins

And here’s the grindhouse homage. But 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.

Deadstream

Directors: Joseph Winter, Vanessa Winter.

With: Joseph Winter, Melanie Stone,

Jason K. Wixom, Pat Barnett.

USA 2022. 87 mins.

Showcasing Joseph Winter’s brilliant comic performance, this is both hilarious and scary. The relatively new internet culture genre is truly finding its footing, and perhaps reaping more multi-layered rewards than just straight Found Footage. Certainly, our funny internet-celebrity protagonist has to face manifestations of his own fame-hungry demons.

Peppered with many great one-liners and details that reap narrative rewards later, belying its seemingly superficial veneer. The social media comments scrolling are sure to provide even more comedy upon a second watch. But, again, considering how daft this is, and no there is just something inherently creepy about empty buildings like this. I admit also to being on edge at times.

One moment in: Zombie Flesh Eaters

 ZOMBIE FLESH EATERS

ZOMBI 2

Director – Lucio Fulci

Writers – Elisa Briganti, Dardano Sacchetti (uncredited)

1979, Italy

Stars – Tisa Farrow, Ian McCulloch, Richard Johnson

Probably the film that saved Italian cinema and part of a particularly notorious strain of extreme splatter that would fuel the  Eighties’ Banned Films list. The eye-gouging is the other scene, but the shark-versus-zombie is the sequence that stands out. It registers high on the WTF!? chart because whereas the eye-gouging is special effects, that’s a real shark.

Fulci is not an elegant filmmaker (although I did find that quality in 'Don't Torture a Duckling'), but he knows how to lay out a set piece. It’s only the set-pieces that matter; or at the RottenTomatoes critic consensus says “Zombi 2 [‘Zombie Flesh Eaters’’ original title] is an absurdly graphic zombie movie legendary for some gory scenes and nothing in between.” Yes, but it scores high on the schlock meter. One moment you can laugh at the dialogue and inattention to detail and the next admire the boldness of the set pieces. So two people got past that guard on the boat, and then he just shakes his head upon finding a couple canoodling on a crime scene? And there’s no escaping the fact that the main reason the zombies get to chomp on the cast is that they stand still long enough for the undead to shamble up. Yet it’s not in the So Bad It’s Good camp. It’s the kind of laughable inattention to internal logic and detail that brings out the nit-picker and in me, although I am less likely to dismiss an entire film on what I see as flaws now (say, far less likely to reject the roast meal because I don’t like the swede), and I do not gravitate towards schlock. However, there is something in Fulci that always intrigues me, and I put it down to the set-pieces. The final cellar scene in ‘The House by the Cemetery’ is another favourite. Although it’s the gore-pieces that get the renown, ‘Zombie flesh Eaters’’ scene of the rising of the dead from the graveyard is equally effective (hey this helmet must be 400 years old!). 

So, the scene goes: exploitation objectification of Auretta Gay as she undresses and stays topless to do a spot of underwater photography (regardless of any urgency in the search for a missing father); a bit Jacques Cousteau; then the threat of a shark; then the appearance of a zombie – underwater! – then a showdown between shark and zombie. Ramón Bravo as the zombie gets up close to tussle with the dangerous fish and it’s most satisfying. There’s an inherent pasted-together veneer to Fulci’s direction that makes any clumsiness and continuity issues in this sequence irrelevant. Is there a little inconsistency with how big the shark is portrayed? Didn’t the zombie tear a chunk from the shark? Just the verve and audacity of the concept, and the knowledge of the perils involved with filming (it would just be CGI if done now), make this fun and unique. You even get ripping sounds when underwater foliage is torn off to fend away attacking zombies, and chomping sounds from the shark. Meanwhile, Georgio Tucci’s* score throbs along most leisurely and incongruously. 

And then the characters never mention it again. 

Wikipedia says: “The underwater scene featuring a shark attack was devised by Ugo Tucci, and was shot without Fulci's approval, by Giannetto De Rossi, in Isla Mujeres, with the zombie portrayed by a local shark trainer.”** It is, of course, the kind of juvenile mash-up concept that leads to ‘Sharkotopus’, or ‘Freddy vs Jason’, or ‘Frankenstein meets the Wolfman’ and its ilk; the kind that can be more silly than inspired. But this is an occasion where it works, and of course one cannot help but think of ‘Jaws’ and in terms of a face-off between two mighty monsters. We can go meta with it: low-budget battling mainstream takeover. There’s no higher, smoother art required from Fulci – the typically negligible logic, drama, characters, dialogue, and dubbing undermine that from the start. But, again, the execution of the set pieces is all. 

The film looks great: Sergio Salvati’s cinematography capturing the anti-Gothic crisp brightness of the crewless boat on the New York City Harbour and then of the tropical island. It also means there’s no shadows for these undead – Romero’s ‘Dawn of the Dead’ showed how these monsters weren’t interested in dark corners – and these zombies look great and disgusting. Again, there’s almost a juvenile edge to this too – worms in eye-sockets!! – and how they regularly seem to have freshly blood-stained chins is a bit of a mystery.

Compared to Romero, this is unintentional comedy, but Fulci was capable of far worse (‘Zombi 3’***). It may be mockable for its flaws but its set-pieces still make this enjoyable. And notorious. 

·       * Music by:  Giorgio Cascio      (as Giorgio Tucci), Fabio Frizzi          and (uncredited) Adriano Giordanella and Maurizio Guarini.

·       ** Albiero, Paolo; Cacciatore, Giacomo (2004). Arriva il "poète du macabre", ovvero: Zombi 2 (1979), in Il terrorista dei generi. Tutto il cinema di Lucio Fulci (in Italian). Un mondo a parte.

*** As a friend chides me: "the Zombie 3 reference isn't really fair cos he only directed like 20%, the rest was Bruno Mattei."

X

X

Writer & Director – Ti West

2022, US

Stars – Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, Brittany Snow

 

The opening fly-buzz acknowledges ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’: 1979, somewhere in Grindhouse Hicksville, Texas, where a group of people hire a property next to a creepy house owned by creepy old folk to make an arty(?) porn movie. There are no true story surprises, but Ti West is one of the best at capturing not only period look, but the feel of the films being pastiched. Being true to the spirit of its chosen era, it even stops to let Brittany Snow pick up an acoustic guitar for a song.

 

So what it lacks in originality, it makes up for with details like the opening ratio gag, some vivid editing and shooting and crowd-pleasing gore and violence. The first killing unsettles in its length, and other killings are perhaps less impressive and a killing to "Don't Fear the Reaper" is groan worthy, but by that time, a lot of goodwill has been built up by the slow burn, period homage and mood.  It’s true value is in the strength of its characterisation, which is what Ti West is reliable for. Here’s a small band of porn-makers which, typically, would have been annoying sleazeballs, except for the more innocent/reticent wallflower girl. But here the producer guy Wayne (Martin Henderson) is not just a lecherous manipulative hustler, and Bobby-Lynne (Brittany Snow) isn’t just an annoying sex-crazed vamp, and Lorraine (Jenna Ortega) isn’t simply a disapproving thrill-killer in over her head. And there’s a hint of Nice Guy about RJ (Owen Campbell; obviously one to watch with ‘My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It Too’). There’s complexity to their relationships. It’s layered characterisation, without trying to make them conflicted or apologetic, is quietly subversive. West isn’t sleazy, and although he obviously enjoys exploitation, the quality of the filmmaking – the initial sequence introducing the alligator has been rightly celebrated – and writing rises above just that. But that isn’t to say he scrimps on the nastiness and bloodletting: the first kill is particularly gnarly.

 

But it’s with Mia Goth and her remarkable freckles where the true meat of it emerges. Especially when you discover she plays both Maxine and Pearl. I did not know this going in or realised during. But once I knew this, it only reenforced the themes already obvious, about fear of loss of desirability; about a sex drive outlasting the body. This is a film where getting old makes you murderous when desire and body are no longer in accord. Here comes a bitter old couple, torn between an evangelical television and a group of adults in their prime gleefully making a sex movie. But with the same actor playing both Maxine and Pearl, the picture deepens further: in retrospect, Maxine seems quietly more the disturbed one, snorting drugs and conflating a big sex drive with ambition and fame; Pearl becomes the natural twisted outcome of Maxine’s getting old and not having this satisfied. It's as if this group has been caught in her porny fever dream where, as is the way with slashers, sexual dysfunction emerges as homicidal cum-shots. And without fiercely trumpeting as such, this is a woman’s film (see how the men die first?).

 

This is the truly intriguing stuff, but the film is otherwise simply good slasher fun with superior writing and execution. All this means that already pending prequel, ‘Pearl’, already feels like more than just a cash-in. Although it doesn’t truly transcend its basic genre pleasures, and may be seen as an underachiever for that, it’s certainly exploitation for those that like their horror with reflective pretentions. And did I mention fun?

Shinjuku Triad Society

新宿黒社会 チャイナ マフィア戦争 

Shinjuku kuroshakai: Chaina mafia sensô

Takashi Miike, 1995, Japan

Writer: Ichirô Fujita

 

“Actually, I am a lazy person,” says Takashi Miike, the man whose video, cinematic and TV output is legendarily prolific. Certainly not when it comes to filmmaking. Between 1991 and 1995, IMB lists that he had already made twelve straight-to-video and TV films before this, his first theatrical release, so perhaps it is no surprise that  ‘Shinjuku Triad Society’ comes as a practically fully formed Miike, full of the touches that would define his cinema. The melting pot vibe that runs through Miike’s films seems to erupt from the basis that it’s all been done before, that we know all the tropes and so let’s go mixing things up a little.

The opening to ‘Shinjuku Triad Society’ is not quite as fevered as ‘Dead or Alive’, but it works up a similar appetite of expectation with its cuts between several incidents and letting the audience find its own way in by recognising the tropes it is working with. A nude man on a bed, a hustler, a throat slashing, an invasive strip search, all before the credits. And, like ‘Dead or Alive’, ‘Shinjuku Triad Society’ then settles into that oddball melancholy that characterises Miike’s work.  It is this trait that has come to strike me most upon second viewings of his films. Like many in the West, it was ‘Audition’ and ‘Ichi the Killer’ that introduced me to Miike, then ‘Visitor Q’, so it was truly only when I saw ‘Rainy Dog’ that I sensibly saw past just the shock value and was fully aware of how focused on the downbeat he was. It’s an unhappy chaos. The first time, you just have to go with the ride as with scene-to-scene there are tonal shifts and quirks that keep you a little disorientated.

This carefully controlled balancing act of provocation and an underworld characterised by resignation and doom is what keeps a constant draw of fascination. Typically, ‘Shinjuku Triad Society’ is peppered with the violent, the outrageous, the despondent and the grim. But Miike offers the offensive and the empathetic in equal measure so buy the time we get to the rape-by-salaryman, we are already in a heady confusion of the bleak and the transgressive. This is the first of Miike’s ‘Black Society’ trilogy, followed by ‘Rainy Dog’ and ‘Ley Lines’ which all focus on social rejects as antiheroes. There’s no one really to root for as you have the Triad on the one side, battling over turf and business, and on the other there’s our protagonist Detective Kiriya (Kippei Shina), who is guilty of brutality and rape and only gets to do what a cop has to do by – and isn’t this always the way? – going untamed and off the grid. Established as abhorrent, Kiriya then embarks upon a principled quest to save his brother from falling in with an unstable gang leader, which follows a trail of gang war and organ trafficking.

Miike and writer Ichirô Fujita offer as much a portrayal of the underclass of crime as ‘City of God’ or ‘Gommorah’, but this is not so obviously neo-realistic because the tone is so offbeat. Each scene has a little idiosyncrasy that seems offhand, even goofy, but informs and speaks to a wider context. Like a gang leader defiantly exposing himself to his rivals as an act that is simultaneously eccentric, excessive, and confronting the machismo that defines the Triad world. But it should be noted that this is a gangland drama very much defined by homosexuality, and this alone criticises that macho realm/genre. Michael Mann this isn’t, and the angst here is more freaky than whiny.

And yet Miike has weird sympathy for the grotesques and warped ones of this most depraved context. One detail that stands out across this ‘Black Triad’ series is that the protagonists exist between Japanese and Chinese cultures, being mixed-race or/and displaced, but at home in neither and vulnerable to prejudice. It’s a theme that runs throughout his work. There’s slim room for morals or betterment – although it does depend on which Miike you are watching. It’s the sad and outrageous world for outsiders.