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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?

To your Last Death & Max Reload and the Nether Blasters - Grimmfest May Madness

 To Your Last Death

Jason Axinn

2019, USA

Writers: Jim Cirile, Tanya C. Klein

Originally conceived as alive action, it seems, but ‘To Your Last Death’ being an animated horror distinguishes it in a way it probably wouldn’t have been otherwise. Dysfunctional siblings are summoned by their psychopathic and obscenely wealthy arms dealer father and unleash death traps and cosmic malfeasance in equal measure. The animation is the style familiar from ‘Archer’, the characters are the antagonistic kind and there are enough bonkers and outrageous touches – ‘Saw’-style death traps; reprehensible Russian henchmen; a little time-travel; comic-book style omnipresent beings for which we are just playthings; but surely missed out on a killer robot – to make this entertaining throughout. The faintly clunky animation only makes the pulpy excess and ultra-gore more amusing.

Max Reload and the Nether Blasters

Writers & directors: Scott Conditt & Jeremy Tremp

2020, USA

And here it is, the 80s homage that always pops up at a genre festival. This follows features such as ‘Beyond the Gates’ (homagey fun) and ‘Game of Death’ (playing things straight and nasty) in gamer culture unleashing demonic apocalypse; one might even include the delightful ‘Deathgasm’ in this playpen with its metal nerdiness.

Comic book colours – red lightning! – likeable young protagonists, retro-synth score, genre favourite cameos playing to the gallery – Kevin Smith! – thick messaging about the power of friendship, nerdiness and lots of retro-video gaming love. Although it has to be said that neither Max’s (Tom Plumley) proclaimed asshole lone-wolfish and the apocalypse are thoroughly convincing, but it’s light, funny, fun and exudes a lot of goodwill. It also contains one vivid and creepy moment where our heroes travel through a city where all the people have glowing red eyes.  And it’s all resolved with gameplay. 

Grimmfest Day 2 ‘The Special’, ‘Unearth’, ‘They Reach’

The SPECIAL

·       Director - B. Harrison Smith

·       Screenwriters – James Newman, Mark Steensland

The kind of genre film that goes into streets and corners that those with bigger budgets just don’t. With toxic masculinity firmly in its target sights, it’s starting point is when a guy is persuaded to go to a brothel to get revenge at his wife’s infidelity, and to try “the special”. And then the film runs on the question, “what’s in the box?”

Darkly funny but played straight: it reminded me of Henenlotter films ‘Basket Case’ and ‘Brain Damage’ but not so tongue-in-cheek; or even reminiscent of  early Cronenberg. It deals with monster fetish, sex, addiction, body horror; although, for the most part, it’s quite discreet. Although the suffocation by plastic bag is disturbing. But then, for the finale, it is thoroughly satisfying as it lets loose and rip roars, putting an exclamation mark to all the repugnancy going on. Its targets are well-and-truly skewered. Delightfully absurd, a little rough, and as neatly tied and bundled as tale from an EC comic (As the Grimmfest blurb says). It has that quality of the real deal. Only Horror can do this kind of satire.

 

 

UNEARTH

·       Directors: John C. Lyons, Dorota Swies, 2020, USA

   Screenwriters: Kelsey Goldberg, John C. Lyons

 A horror very much rooted in socio-economic concerns of American farming communities. There is much careful contextualising with a great cast – including genre legend Adrienne Barbeau – and a washed-out look to let you know this is serious. So assured is this setting-up that it’s a disappointment that the chaos of the final act, which kicks in a little too late, has a far less certain hand and descends into shaky-cam and close-up incoherence. Although there is plenty of topical dread to be had in the poisoned water due to fracking, and a dissolving baby is truly chilling, but there isn’t quite enough of the genre transcendence to satisfy. For a script so aware of detailing the horrors of making a living, it then goes on to leave so much unspecified and unanswered. Intriguing, but it ends up more a worthy tantalisation.

THEY REACH

• Director - Sylas Dall
• Screenwriters - Sylas Dall, Bry Troyer

Another retro-horror homage, this time a 70s minor horror vibe. An untypical teenage girl – she’s into robots – unwittingly unleashes demons on her small town by bleeding on a reel-to-reel tape recording of an exorcism. As so often with these things, the kids steal the show in a scenario that leads to things like ‘Stranger Things’. Yep, director Dall cites Stephen King and John Carpenter and ‘The Goonies’ as influences.  There’s the annoying dad, comedy cops, unexpectedly cool librarian, but the adults are the less engaging, because it’s all about the kids. There’s a nice small town backdrop and the retro-feel is nicely done. Strangely (like 'Unearth') it doesn’t seem to play as much as it could with its horror assets – not enough of the demon-kid make-up? Or the demon revealed at the end? But mostly it’s demon-hands in doorways. Likeable horror comfort food.

 

FrightFest 2020: digital edition - day 1

 

Of course, Corona19 is pretty much a horror scenario come to life. Didn't I see an article saying research shows horror fans coping better with its stresses?

Anyway, the pandemic put paid to the annual trek to London to stick my head into horror films  and, as they say, “the dark side of cinema” and not to come out for days. Dodgy eating, racing for the night bus, spending a bit much on new films at Fopps, etc. But, like everything else, FrightFest moved online, so here we are. It’s minus the casual party atmosphere and it means there’s no eavesdropping on other’s comments when leaving a film for the lobby, or overhearing the groups outside The Empire Leicester Square, or buddying with your seat neighbour, so I’m missing out there.

It’s a slimmed-down programme, but it’s great to still have it!

And I am going to take a moment to recommend the documentary Chris Collier’s ‘FrightFest: beneath the dark heart of cinema’, made by friends and acquaintances of mine. This is a great primer for those that don’t know or those that are new to it (I’m assuming devotees have already seen it), and as I’ve been going for ten years now, I remember several of those events and speeches featured. 

So to digi-FrightFest 2020.

Things started off with the Evolution of Horror podcast’s FightFest pub quiz, hosted by the very agreeable Mike Muncer. This was on YouTube and free for anyone. I got about 50% of the answers right each round, give or take, so I maybe I’m not as much of a nerd as occasionally accused. Actually, I’m just crap at trivia. But I did get a particular question in the FrightFest specific round - the question was (I’m paraphrasing): what was the film screening at FrightFest where two people were caught in a sex act. It was ‘R.I.P.D.’: two people were caught masturbating and the incident was labelled the “‘R.I.P.D.’ shuffle” (I’m pretty sure it was Paul McEvoy announced this).

The Short Film Showcase used to be on the main screen but has moved to other screens in recent years. I always enjoyed the short films but mostly just stay on the main screen. I even asked Alan Jones once if there was going to be a FrightFest short film release DVD, but he said no as it was a rights nightmare.

Even if not remarkable, the Short Film Showcase One starts off with at least agreeably quirky genre angles. Ryan Irving’s ‘Bark’ a slasher scenario told from the point-of-view of a tree; Florence Kosky’s ‘A Bit of Fun’ where a séance exposes the rifts in some housemates’ friendship; ‘Breakfast’ by Paul Beattie and Melanie Rios is decently conveyed portrayal of a woman’s descent into zombiedom; Christopher McSherry’s ‘FLESH Control’ told from the point of view of bugs and featuring agreeably clunky costumes. But ‘Subject 3’ is all set-up and then ends just as it gets going.

The second half is a stronger crop. Ordinarily I find a story’s retreat into anthropomorphosis when concerning robots and AI a weakness, but of course it depends how it’s done. Aidan Brezonick’s ‘Jeff Drives You’ does it right, concerning a self-driving car loaded with so much AI and raised empathy that it’s more a commentary on how everything is marketed to sell to the consumer’s preference, the customer’s indulgence. You know: The world revolves around you. It’s wry, darkly funny, nicely played and, considering where it goes to, convincing within its 17 minute run time.

Nat Luurtsema’s ‘Ouzo and Blackcurrant’ isn’t remarkable, but it knows what it is and does what short films do so well: a striking single location, nice performances, the hint of backstory, just enough to let us know what the trope is, and then find an angle to hinge scares on.

Similarly, Finn Callan’s ‘Guest’ uses an anxious air and one unforgettably creepy visage to power his short. Inspired by a nightmare, apparently, and it shows.

Brian Gillespie’s ‘Tarrare’ has hardly any visuals at all, just an unsettling drawing and words across the screen. It’s a tale told in narration by Ian Lassiter but it’s fully engaging for it’s one of those horror tales that’s simple and nasty and works vividly in the imagination. Alternatively, although using similar storytelling, Shaun Clark’s ‘The Beholder’ is an Edgar Allan Poe rendition that uses animation and live action for a super-short (1 minute) Gothic shock. It’s a beautiful as it is quick.

 

SKY SHARKS

Mark Fehse, 2020, Germany

Nazi-zombies riding on flying sharks, so you know that drill. And there's plenty of amusement to be had from that even if you have to sidestep the issue that Nazi's aren't perhaps so much a thing of the past that they can be harmlessly trivialised.

It starts of decently enough with the first attack on an unsuspecting flight and there’s plenty of CGI gore and breasts and that knowing homaging to 80s cheese. Oh, and there’s some family stuff. But it’s one of those meta-exploitation tributes that gets bogged down in backstory – Nazi experiments to raise the ultimate army from the undead, etc – and in plot instead of gags that the fun wears thin. Decent zombies though, and that’s where practical effects have the edge.

'The Shape of Water' and irksome wonderment

Guillermo del Toro, 2017, USA

Despite any originality in the premise, Guillermo Del Toro’s fishman-and-woman romance unfolds predictably, being the kind of tale that Mike Mignolia turns out in his sleep. Although the art design is sumptuous and the players devoted in reliably Del Toro style, there is something a little sloppy at the edges as if it thinks its pretence to romanticism is enough. Actually, Mike Mignolia would not be quite as sentimental. You know how it is all going to play out: this is just a routine persecuted-outsiders-in-love tale for Forrest J Ackerman fans. Yes, it’s a romance about a woman and a fish-person (someone on social media called it ‘Grinding Nemo’), but the narrative is quite safe and pulls a shower-curtain upon the truly tricky stuff. 

Monsters-in-love is older than Mary Shelley and it is perhaps

telling that this spends equal if not more time with Richard Strickland (you know: the real monster here) because that has more substance. After all, Beauty-and-the-Beast is a standard genre trope. Michael Shannon is too entertaining and skilled for sadistic Strickland to be anything but intriguing, but a less offbeat actor would have immediately shown up how two-dimensional and hammy the character is. Michael Stuhlberg as Dr Robert Hoffstetler is far more fascinating and possessed of layers (and because he too is better than the material). More importantly, it is hard to find Elisa Esposito’s character beneath all the knowing smiles and symbolism as she falls for the amphibian, despite Sally Hawkins’ committed performance: for example, she has no voice and was found as a child near water as an orphan; the marks on her neck that apparently make her mute look like gills; she masturbates in the bath, linking sex and water, etc. But then again, maybe these are all clues that she might be an amphibian too – this would make sense of the flooding-the-bathroom scene which doesn’t really address the problem of drowning – but then there would be more questions raised by the domination of her air-breathing persona (she would surely know she is amphibious by the time we meet her, but there is no indication of this). 

This half-baked thinking dogs all the details, such as much is madeof a single security camera but there seems to be no cameras or security at all surrounding the actual prize creature. Or a bathroom becomes a water tank and floods… but there’s no attention to the damage this would surely cause (it floods the cinema below, but this leads to nothing). Or when Elisa and the amphibian have sex, she pulls the bath curtain as if to gain some privacy from the audience, even though there has been a graphic sex scene with Shannon beforehand.* The graphic sex is saved for the monstrous human but there’s no visual evidence of the romantic possibilities of intimacy for the amphibian (I mean, he sparkles colours which is pretty but that isn’t quite enough). And then everyone just accepts this interspecies relationship as the epitome of romance. Borowczyk’s ‘The Beast’ surely bursts the bubble of this. The amphibian itself (Doug Jones) is given so little character, despite evoking pity, that it comes close to Elisa simply projecting onto him as if she saving a puppy from a mill. It just protests so hard at being romantic, its nadir being two raindrops merging into one, that it becomes as enamoured with itself and is just as uncomfortable as a ‘Love is…’ cartoon. Love is … an amphibious god-like humanoid that will kill the nasty man. When such details of internal logic are left wanting, it’s in danger of being a house of cards that will collapse with the merest prodding.

That it’s a fairytale is meant to excuse any lacunas, but its sense of its own wonder of wonderment is as narcissistic as Disney with very little that is independent of its own magical magicalness to earn genuine characterisation or investment. It all feels a little unearned. A paean to cinema must surely do more than just indulge in its own homage (of course the lost monster will be found mesmerised in a cinema). Even ‘La la Land’ took time to show why music can be so important to people by demonstrating that a whole alternative and romantic story can be imagined in a song. ‘The Shape of Water’ rests upon a well-worn love of black-and-white movies and musical numbers because fantasy is so close to nostalgia. For all its elegance, it’s often about a subtle as a glass of water thrown in the face, followed by a handful of glitter. 

I felt ‘The Devil’s Backbone’ move into pure story was a delight and ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ is surely about how fantasy makes harsh realities bearable, even if cognitive dissonance solve nothing, but ‘The Shape of Water’ starts at the pitch it means to go on with no shifts or questioning of its own reality. It's not quite as art-design-over-substance as 'Crimson Peak' but its lack of inquiry into its own basis means is a movie-movie and that an audience may find themselves probing at its weaknesses and finding it unsatisfactory. But a lot of people have taken it at face value and found it emotional. I myself am thinking that (like Nolan’s ‘Interstellar’ which I had similar reservations about on a first watch) I may find myself more accepting and less prone to criticism the second time, with a less demanding eye. As it is, I found it entertaining enough but unconvinced by its conviction in its own magic-realist poeticism. In the end, I found that more irksome than moving.

• Here is another moment that suffers from the lack of clarity or follow-through that typifies the script: Elaine Strickland (Lauren Lee Smith) seduces her husband for consensual sex, but then the scene is filmed and executed in an aggressive style that is typically coded for a rape, especially when Strickland tells her to be mute and to relinquish her character. But they have had kids together: has he never acted this way before? If he has, is it something she likes as she instigated this sex? If she doesn’t (and the moment hints her reaction isn’t fully consenting), then where does it leave their relationship? What does this say about her and consequently him? There is no follow-up to this so we do not know, leaving her character somewhat underserved.

Baby Driver

Edgar Wright, USA-UK, 2017

Edgar Wright’s ‘Baby Driver’ is highly entertaining as it starts off dancing with car chases to The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and then keeps jigging around through it’s near-constant soundtrack. Indeed it’s like one big music video, the conceit being that our young-faced super-driver “Baby” (Ansel Elgort) uses iPod music to battle ever-present tinnitus and that gives the film a continuous soundtrack. It’s a good soundtrack and Wright edits the whole film fast and furiously to the tempo of the songs. Consistently amusing, frequently exceptionally directed and a movie-movie concerned mostly with genre all makes this highly appealing. And of course, the true origin for this goes back to Wright’s video for Mint Royale’s ‘Blue Song’ (below). 

The slender narrative is typical for such a concept. People are name-checking Refn’s ‘Drive’ obviously, but this goes back to ‘The Driver’ and ‘Thief’, to a moment when music and motion became firmly glued together and the thrill of car chases became the whole theme. All these films are movie-movies where people are archetypes and cool is the aim. For example, Baby doesn’t talk much, communicating with his deaf foster father through sign language and dancing around the apartment. It’s parodic with Wright’s background in comedy making sure things stay light, but it’s also too much of a homage to truly run loose from its type.

‘Baby Driver’ throws passing glances at reality like it glances at the corpses of innocent bystanders but never lingers or gets up close. It is a getaway driver fantasy as musical and that’s all forgivable but for the weakness of the romance where it becomes apparent that the two female characters of note – Lily James and Eiza González – don’t really exist outside of male fantasy. This is a shame because all the charm Elgort and James generate can’t avoid the fact that she increasingly disappears into being Baby’s fantasy girl. Not quite one for ladies then, except if you want to be the pretty face for a boy racer’s imaged music video life. Then there’s Jon Hamm and Kevin Spacey who do their thing but it’s Jamie Foxx that stands out as “Bats”, the harbinger of true danger and death. He’s just one one-note as anyone else, but he is intriguing in his display of smarts along with a kill-kill-kill! mentality.

The chases by foot benefit from Elgort’s agility and dancing skills and the chases make good use of the multi-levels and slopes offered by Atlanta, Georgia. It’s strongest behind the wheel with perhaps a little reliance upon Wright’s considerable editing skills to achieve effect instead of just letting cars do their thing without cuts.  When ‘Baby Driver’ skids into its final act it gets increasingly overblown, meaning the smaller pleasures of Baby simply going to get coffee with the whole world around him seemingly turning into a musical are long lost by the time a big denouement is called for. The acute highs and lows makes this pretty messy and perhaps with stronger writing less geared just to homage it would have been more remarkable. As it is, it’s fine entertainment.