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.
