Neill Marshall’s The Descent: A Review by Nate Hill 

Don’t watch Neil Marshall’s The Descent if you suffer from claustrophobia. Just… don’t. This film does for caves what Alien did for derelict space stations and what The Ring did for videotapes. Cleverly combining close quarters panic, the gnawing fear of losing your way in a near infinite set of tunnels and some visceral, throat ripping terror, it’s one horror package that will leave you reeling. I believe this is the one that put Marshall on the map, and since then he’s been doing mostly medieval style action adventure (he helmed the pilot for Game Of Thrones). This is his first, and most effective outing in a really solid career. The premise is simple: a group of girls decide to go on an excursion deep within a cave system in Eastern Europe. They run into a string of bad luck though, as they first find themselves hopelessly, sickeningly lost. Then the real fun begins as they realize they’re not alone down there, and that something is hunting them. Terrifying subterranean creatures emerge like Gollum on bathsalts, fast, wiry, agile terrors from the deep that know the system inside out and prey on these poor girls one by one. Once they show up its a chaotic bloody free for all that will shred your nerves, but I almost found everything leading up to that even more scary. The slow buildup where they realize they are just so lost and may be stuck down there forever just puts a knot in your stomach and instills a hopeless dread that can’t really be equalled by any monster or gory scene. Still, those things are pretty gnarly and provide more than a few wicked scares, especially when the girls first catch fleeting glimpses of them around corners and between cracks, dismissing them as tricks of the light. Marshall also employs cunning narrative tricks to perpetuate the lack of any kind of way out, one in particular that just curdles the blood in its ruthless, resolute sense of doom. The scariest film you will ever see set in a cave, and one of the premier fright fests ever made.  

Mark Pellington’s The Mothman Prophecies: A Review by Nate Hill 

Mark Pellington’s The Mothman Prophecies takes a harrowing look at a curious set of events that did indeed occur for real in the rural West Virginia area. Now, just how much of what we see in the film actually happened is eternally unclear, but I’ve read up on a lot of it and there’s enough testimonials, independent of each other, to both justify the film and shiver your spine. A myriad of unexplainable phenomenon plagued those poor people for some time back then, including visions, eerie phone calls and a mysterious red eyed creature in the shape of a giant moth. Businessman Richard Gere and wife Debra Messing come face to face with what appears to be this entity one night on a lonely stretch of highway, causing a grisly car crash and leaving Messing in a dire psychological state. With the help of a local policewoman (Laura Linney), Gere unwisely tries to figure out this terrifying mystery by putting himself way closer to the occurances than I would ever go, experiencing the stuff of nightmares along the way. Pellington comes from a music video background and as such he is incredibly adept at creating style and atmosphere (his opening credits for Arlington Road are almost as foreboding as anything in this film), two key elements in successfully telling a tale such as this. Gere wanders around in a daze most of the time, distraught over his wife’s condition and obviously influenced by forces unknown. Whatever is out there remains blessedly unseen save for a few hurried glimpses, say, behind a tree or at a kitchen window momentarily, spurring heart attacks from both audience and the poor sods stuck in this brooding bad dream. Rounding out the cast is Alan Bates as the obligatory historian who has seen this all unfold previously in some far corner of the world, and an excellent Will Patton in a frightening turn as a rural farmer who comes who becomes tragically influenced these dark forces. No one plays disturbed quite like him, a jittery, resolute calm always playing around in his eyes, the perfect presence to set anyone on edge. The finale sort of emerges from the chrysalis of dark atmospherics into large scale disaster mode, a choice which didn’t really work for me. I would have preferred to have it kept intimate and creepy right up until some kind of moody end, but they went with fireworks instead. Not enough to hurt the film of negate what came before though, it’s just too good of a time in the haunted house to be dragged down by anything, really. Chilling stuff. 

Cherry Falls: A Review by Nate Hill 

The slasher genre never got a tune up quite like it did with Cherry Falls, a tongue in cheek satire that while hilariously high concept and silly, can actually be pretty frightening, especially during it’s intense climax. Here’s the premise: Cherry Falls is a small town in Virginia that has fallen prey to a masked serial killer. The twist? Said killer is only targeting virgins, which causes quite the uproar. As the high school kids all scramble to get laid before they get laid six feet under, the prudish townsfolk become unhinged and disgusted by the whole affair, and a decades old secret involving some of the town’s best and brightest comes to light, a scandal to rival tr sleazy parade of flesh this murderer has set into motion. Young Jody Markum (Brittany Murphy) has yet to have her cherry popped, and fears for life in between bouts of teenage angst. Her father (Michael Biehn), who also happens to be the town sheriff, wrestles with demons in his past, as well as his own. A schoolteacher (Jay Mohr) scours the town archives for clues before it’s too late. And every horny adolescent tries to desperately get their freak on, providing some of the funniest moments you’ll see in a fright flick. Gymnasium orgies, rampant fornication and all kinds of naughty antics ensue. Nothing beats the faculty meeting where parents violently argue as to who has the sluttiest offspring. Full of in jokes, innuendo and sly sexy humour, this is one of the great overlooked horror comedies out there. 

Dario Argento’s Trauma: A Review by Nate Hill 

Dario Argento’s Trauma is simultaneously one of the most loopy and coherent efforts from the maestro. Most of his earlier work is pure sensory and atmospheric bliss, detached from things like logic and story. While this one does in fact have a discernable narrative to go along with its giallo splendor, it’s still as whacked out as anything else in his ouvre. This was the first of many times he would cast his exotic beauty of a daughter Asia in a lead role, here playing troubled Romanian teenager Aura Petrescu, on the run from dark forces that seem to plague her family. Her lunatic mother (a terrifying Piper Laurie) has her commited and examined by a freaky Doctor (Fredric Forrest in a glorious train wreck of a performance), meanwhile a mysterious serial killer called the headhunter is out there somewhere, decapitating people with a piano wire. It all gets a bit overwhelming for poor Aura, and she runs off, straight into the protective arms of an ex drug addict (Christopher Rydell) who becomes her guardian and eventual lover. Argento is terrific in the role, exuding dark beauty and burnished resilience in the face of many terrors. Brad Dourif has an intense extended cameo as a doctor with icky ties to the origin of the headhunter as well, adding a welcome bonus horror flavor. Also watch for another intense actor, James Russo, playing a police detective determined to nab the killer for good. As far as Dario’s stuff goes, this is about as complete and cohesive a narrative as you will find. Granted it’s not the garish psychedelia of classics like Suspiria, Phenomena and Inferno, but a little more subdued and clinical, a dark fairy tale that gets geniunly scary in several excellently staged scenes and provides loads of uneasy atmosphere. 

Balto: A Review by Nate Hill 

Anyone remember Balto? I remember Balto. Pepperidge Farm remembers Balto too. How can you not, when it was one of the most charming, beautifully done non Disney animation films we saw as kids. I think the fact that it was not made by Disney threw it into obscurity a bit, but there’s the odd copy floating around out there in the Arctic snow. It’s an underdog story (built in pun there eh) about half husky, half wolf Balto (Kevin Bacon having a blast) who hangs around Nome, Alaska and is ridiculed by the local sled dogs for being a mudblood. Every dog has his day though, and Balto gets his when a deadly epidemic breaks out in town during a storm, and he courageously volunteers to make the perilous journey to a far away outpost that has the required medicine. Joining him are his lovable goofy goose friend Boris (Bob Hoskins trading in his jovial cockney accent for a jovial russian accent), ant two adorable polar bears called Muk and Luk. Watching out for him is the only purebred dog in town who cares about him, Jenna the husky (Bridget Fonda), determind to muster a rescue party when he gets in over his head. Balto must brave raging blizzards, treacherous fellow sled dogs and the world’s biggest grizzly bear (seriously that thing is like 15 feet tall) to save the town’s population, and he does it all with bravery, charisma and a winning attitude that’s essential in any animated film. His sidekicks are endearing, his efforts intrepid and the film a winner. 

Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers: A Review by Nate Hill 

Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers has a reputation as one of the lesser quality adaptations of his work, which led me to put off watching it for years. Well I don’t know what film the critics saw, cause the one I watched was wicked good. Nestled in that perfect area of 80’s horror where the blood was corn syrup, the flesh was latex, there wasn’t a pixel or rendering in sight and atmospherics mattered more than excessive violence, this is one serious piece of horrific eye candy with the backbone of King’s wicked imagination to hold it steady. The story tells of a small Midwestern town (is there any other kind in the man’s work?) That falls prey to a pair of vampire werewolf hybrid creatures who subside off the blood of virgins and morph into slimy behemoths that conveniently show off the impressive prosthetics. Brian Krause is one of said creatures, drifting into town with his creepy mother (the wonderful Alice Krige) and setting his sights on severely virginal schoolgirl Madchen Amick, by dialing up the charm past eleven. People and animals start to die all over town and the suspicions arise, but the pair are cunning and have most likely been doing this for centuries almost unnoticed. It’s nothing too unique as far as the concept goes, but the fun of it lies in the gooey special effects and one demon of a performance from Krige, a veteran stage actress. She is one part beautiful seductress (even to her son, in one unsettling scene) and one part volatile banshee, setting your nerves on edge time and time again throughout the film. Krause does the demonic James Dean thing nicely and Amick shows blossoming reilience beneath the required mantle of terrified cream queen. The three of them run amok in a beautifully realized fever dream of psycho sexualized terror, small town atmospherics and a classic old school horror climate. This film loves it’s cameos, so watch for Clive Barker, Ron Perlman as a grouchy state trooper and King himself as the world’s dumbest graveyard caretaker. Baffles me why this was panned upon release. It’s actually one of the best films I’ve seen based on King’s horror work, and there’s a lot to compete with. 

James Wan’s Death Sentence: A Review by Nate Hill 

Charles Bronson ain’t got nothing on the level of grit seen in this revenge story. James Wan’s Death Sentence is obviously inspired by the endless Death Wish films, which by their end had gone from classy exploitation (sounds like an oxymoron, but trust me, it’s a thing) to lazy spoofs. This one goes back to the gritty roots, as well as udating the setting to our present time and laying on the gloomy, oppresively violent atmosphere so thick you’ll want a shower and some cartoons after. Kevin Bacon is Nick Hume, a mild mannered advertisement executive living an idyllic life with his wife (Kelly Preston) and two young sons. All that changes one night when one of his boys is murdered in cold blood by some punk in the midst of a gas station robbery. The thug gets released on a technicality, and Nick gets shafted of both justice and peace of mine right at the start of his grieving process. Making one of those penultimate crossroad decisions that alter both his life and the fate of the film’s narrative, he takes it upon himself to murder the perpetrator in a grisly display of vigilante justice. Only problem is, that ain’t where it stops. The murderer has a brother who makes him seem like tweety bird, a terrifying urban scumbag named Joe Darley (Garrett Hedlund) who puts Nick and his family directly in the crosshairs of revenge. Nick is forced to become a one man army to protect his family and eradicate the evil that has entered hiss life once and for all, assisted by a wicked arsenal of nasty weapons provided by sleazeball arms dealer Bones Darley (John Goodman). If you look up ‘scene stealer’ in the dictionary you’ll find a picture of Goodman’s jolly visage grinning back at you. No matter who he plays, he’s the life of the party, and his Bones is a fast talking gutter-snipe who jacks up every scene he’s in with scuzzy dialogue. He plays an integral part in Nick’s brutal and often disturbing quest for justice, a hard R urban bloodbath that pulls no punches and aims to shock. Bacon often plays morally questionable pricks, walking a fine line between upright heroes and corrupt nasties. In one character arc he gets to traverse that whole spectrum here, a regular guy who is pushed to criminal extremes until he’s barely recognizable, even to himself. Intense stuff that heads down a dark alley of human unpleasantness. 

Creep: A Review by Nate Hill 

Everyone has, at some point, wondered what lurks in dark corners and abandoned tunnels within a city’s underground subway system. Well Franka Potente gets to find out exactly what’s down there in the murky and atmospheric horror flick Creep, and trust me it ain’t pretty. Potente plays Kate, a girl on her way home from an office party in the heart of London. Harassed and stalked by a no good coworker, she dips into a derelict train, and her attacker follows. Suddenly, somethin crawls out of the dark, murders him and drags his corpse off into the night. Kate goes from the frying pan into the fire as she realizes that whatever this thing is, it’s really not something you want to be stuck in a labyrinth of desolate subway tunnels with. I won’t spoil too much, but the Creep himself is a repulsive deformation whose origin I’ll let you see for yourself. The actor who plays him is terrific though, admittedly a maniacal monster, but almost a little bored and jaded by his situation and just dryly going through the motions, which proves to be oddly amusing. That’s not to say he’s not dangerous or smart though, as Kate repeatedly finds out, fleeing through the dark accompanied by a terrified homeless couple. Potente is riveting in anything, and she seems to seek out more intense fare to star in, always taking her performance to the extreme without ever losing that gravity that I love so much in her work. This one will put you through a wringer, all across the board. It doles out gross out horror, eerie chills and suspense in equal measures. Solid horror. 

Summer’s Moon: A Review by Nate Hill 

Summer’s Moon, also given the slightly less exotic title Summer Blood, is a fascinating little family centered psycho sexual treat, starring an actress who previously hadn’t ventures into such intense territory. Ashley Greene is a porcelain beauty best known for those Twilight train wrecks, and its that marketing style these filmmakers have latched onto because of her involvement. The poster has a hazy hue that almost hints at the dreaded vampiric sparkle we’ve come to loathe. It’s picturesque to be sure, but doesn’t really provide any warning to the disturbing, gritty and uncomfortably intimate nature ofnthe story. Greene plays Summer, a wayward drifter who arrives in a small bucolic burg, out to find the father she never knew. Enter the Hoxeys, an I’ll adjusted family of serial killers claiming to be her long lost family, and beckoning her into depravity with all the charm and hospitality that small town folks can muster. Her brother Tom (Peter Mooney) keeps a kidnapped girl in the basement as a plaything and sleeps with his unstable mother (Barbara Nixon), and that’s but a taste of the horror that Summer has waded into. The film takes on new virility when the resident patriarch Gant Hoxey blows back into town, played with visceral ferocity by veteran tough guy Stephen Mchattie. Intense is the word for this guy (ever catch his cameo in A History Of Violence? Christ), and he’s a beast as Gant, Summer’s estranged father, a man who functions on violence and feeds of fear. The film examines how a clan of murderers might indeed function, right down to twisted lover’s spats and drama right out of an R rated Addams Family special. Greene nicely shatters her teen image by bringing us a broken protagonist who finds her dark passenger through resilience and torment, the blackness that sweeps over her soul clearly visible, loomed over by Mchattie’s grim reaper influence. Murder and the desire to do so is regarded as a genetic trait in this film, passed along the line of kin, generation to generation, wreaking havoc in the process. A film that I underestimated going in, a terrific horror entry that takes its it’s with character and suspense, slow burning up to a spectacularly gory third act filled with tension, blood and Mchattie, that icy voiced devil who steals every scene he’s in. Well worth your time. 

Stir Of Echoes: A Review by Nate Hill 

Stir Of Echoes is not outright horror, not plain old thriller but rests somewhere in between, a nerve frying festival of suspense and the type of scares which send those lovely shivers down your spine. Kevin Bacon plays Tom Witzky, an ordinary dude who agrees to be hypnotized, just for funsies, by his sister in law (Illeanna Douglas). As soon as he’s under, he’s subjected to a terrifying and confusion vision that suggests violent torment. It turns out that he’s one of the fabled ‘one percent’ of humans who are so succeptible to hypnotism that they unwittingly soak up other psychic energies in their vicinity. Something, or someone from the other side has found him and latched on, which is bad news for him and us, as we get to sit through several sequences that will cause you to need new pants. The initial vision is nothing outright or discernable; just images and abstract impressions that eventually serve as clues. That’s what makes it so creepy though. Someone being murdered is someone being murdered, but specific, harrowing little glimpses unnerve us all the more in their fleeting nature. Reminds me of that infamous videotape from The Ring in it’s style. Tom finds himself trying to solve a murder mystery, never sure whether the forces guiding him are on his side or pose a threat, always hit with a sense of dread upon turning every corner. This is the only kind of horror that actually scares me, in the true sense of the concept. Creeping, uneasy and subtle, where anything could be haunted and the scares aren’t predictable. What’s more,  it’s a smartly written, tightly paced, remarkably well made film. One of the best paranormal thrillers out there, plain and simple. There’s a sequel with Rob Lowe (of all people lol), but I’ve avoided it thus far, it looks kind of cheap. Stick with this original fright fest, it holds up wonderfully.