Witchboard

80’s horror veers all across the board from campy to atmospheric and everywhere in between but I think my favourite specific aesthetic from that era is, and it’s a bit hard to describe in written words, the sort of super dialed-up sexy, billowing curtains in night breezes set to spooky kinky sax/electronic music, permed hair, Ken-doll, Harlequin Romance-esque, impossibly attractive stars, ridiculously lurid 80’s style horror. Make sense? Stuff like the original Fright Night, Spellbound, parts of Hellraiser fit the bill. I am pleasantly surprised to be able to add Witchboard into the category as well, it’s a spectacular horror film I’d never heard of until it popped up on shudder but one that now owns the Ouija board sub-genre for me. It stars Todd Allen, Stephen Nichols and the late Tawny Kitaen as three childhood friends who grew up but never got out of the dysfunctional love triangle they’ve always been in. After fooling around with a Ouija board one night they find themselves in deep supernatural shit when two long dead spirits fixate on them, one the ghost of a little boy who is more or less harmless, the other a frightening, dangerous phantasm who wants them all dead. Now, this could have easily been a cheesy, routine haunting flick full of bumps in the night, POV shots and endless chase scenes but instead they’ve made it packed with dripping atmosphere, full of measured suspense and some writing and characterization that was far more mature and grounded than I was expecting. The two male leads have a genuine history together and their arc develops with believable friction and camaraderie. It’s so sad that Tawny Kitaen passed away so young, this is the first film I’ve ever seen with her but she’s just the *perfect* badass scream Queen in every way. Gotta give a shout out to Kathleen Wilhoite (Twin Peaks, Colour Of Night) too as an outlandish spiritual medium who is so impossibly over the top and adds the only element of genuine camp to the film. The score by Dennis Michael Tenney (Night Of The Demons, Leprechaun) is a beautiful, occasionally legit scary composition that for me stands with the best Carpenter electronic jangles and adds so much to the film. This is one of the coolest 80’s horrors I’ve seen in some time, and I can’t wait to check out the sequels to complete the trilogy.

-Nate Hill

Neil Marshall’s Hellboy

Why we couldn’t have just gotten a third Hellboy movie with Guillermo Del Toro and Ron Perlman at the wheel is beyond me, instead of this grossly miscalculated, eye melting mish-mash of bad CGI and disorganized storytelling. It’s sad too because it could have even been decent, they got an accomplished filmmaker I really love and a handful of super awesome cult icon actors to cast the material appropriately, but somewhere along the line of creative process, Neil Marshall’s Hellboy just shits the bed and comes out largely a piss poor effort. I love David Harbour too, he’s a terrifically charismatic and versatile artist but he just doesn’t fit the bill here, his Hellboy comes across as whiny, dour and all the wisecracking fells inorganic and forced. Plus let’s face it, there just wasn’t any hope for any other actor than Perlman to properly sell the character, plain and simple, he was born for it. Harbour’s Hellboy is stuck in a murky plot line about an ancient evil sorceress called the Blood Queen (Milla Jovovich) who has been resurrected by a human/wild boar hybrid to wreak havoc on humanity in some vaguely malicious ritual that involves knockoff Del Toro creatures stomping around London ripping people in half, cue the tiresome CGI. It’s loud, messy, the gore is off putting and there’s just too much noise and commotion to properly discern story or character. Does it do anything effectively? Yes, credit where credit is due, there’s a wonderfully eerie sequence where the pace mercifully calms down a bit as Hellboy visits a terrifying monster called the Baba Yaga, it’s essentially an expository interlude but it’s handled incredibly well, full of tangible atmosphere and genuine terror. Some of the cast fare pretty well, Ian McShane is always awesome and adds a brittle, corrosive edge to Trevor Broom where John Hurt was more subdued. The lovely Sasha Lane is quite effective as a member of the paranormal defence team who is a medium and can summon dead spirits in a genie-like mass of ectoplasmic slime, but Daniel Dae Kim comes across painfully lifeless as a guy who can only be described as the offspring of a werewolf and a cheetah. Most of the supporting cast are just drowned out in a flurry of noise including Sophie Okonedo as a ghost lady, Brian Gleeson as Merlin (yes, that Merlin) and a brief, bizarre appearance from Thomas Haden Church as some dude whose name is Lobster (can you tell I haven’t read the comics?). The film just doesn’t work, aside from a few exceptions that come too little, too late. Everywhere the Del Toro films were tactile, colourful, atmospheric and well written this one is obnoxious, needlessly gory, rushed and unwieldy. You’re better off just revisiting those and pretending this one doesn’t exist.

-Nate Hill

Gigi Saul Guerrero’s Bingo Hell

Gigi Saul Guerrero’s Bingo Hell is a clever, super gory, socially conscious little slice of societal satire wrapped in a vicious, slimy cautionary tale, it comes to us as part of the yearly round of borderline anthology output called “Welcome To Blumhouse”, ostensibly a mini horror film festival with fierce, imaginative original entries from new filmmakers. Set in an obscure L.A. barrio that’s halfway towards tofu eating, hipster overrun gentrification and halfway hanging onto the old school ways for dear life, a group of elderly friends finds themselves forced into a jarring new way of life when their beloved, modest bingo hall gets bought out by a mysterious magnate named Mr. Big (the inimitable Richard Brake). Led by feisty Lupita (Adriana Barraza), these old timers make a stand and fight to fend off the advances of this sinister businessman who is using obviously supernatural methods to lure members of their group in with promises of big wins and big bucks, an act of selling their soul to the grind of progress that has hellish, gory, ill fated consequences. The themes are surprisingly grounded for such a quick, breezy Grindhouse flick and one gets a real sense of care put into the script. Barraza is a fierce protagonist and Brake, as usual, makes a leering, memorable, deranged cartoonish villain in the best way, a living personification of of Big Money mania, he’s a presence that serves any film well. I’m reminded of last years VFW, a somewhat similar horror film about old timers defending what’s theirs from encroaching forces. They both have the same neon soaked, madcap gory vibes that I love to see in the genre. This is a solid effort from an exciting new voice in horror, and I’m stoked to see what she creates next.

-Nate Hill

Neasa Hardiman’s Sea Fever

I love a good aquatic set horror movie, whether the events take place down below in the depth in a submarine or on the surface in a boat. Neasa Hardiman’s Sea Fever is a solid offering that features a bit of both of these worlds, set aboard a trawler somewhere off the Irish coast that encounters something previously undiscovered in the animal kingdom. Captained by a veteran couple (Dougray Scott & Connie Nielsen, always welcome in my book), the boat soon finds itself marooned way out in open water as some massive, otherworldly creature attaches itself to their hull with with powerful phosphorescent tentacles and holds them in stasis. It’s up to a loner marine biology major (Hermione Corfield) to try and discover the nature of this animal and how to get it off their craft, but soon it becomes clear that this thing has a terrifying way of reproduction that involves tiny spores ending up in human anatomy systems after which some truly shocking body horror commences. The scenes of horror are bloody, frantic and genuinely disturbing but they’re juxtaposed with an ethereal beauty and reverence for this creature, and the power that nature has over us as a species. One character even observes that this animal isn’t malicious or evil but simply mistook their boat for another large animal and did what is in its nature: attempt to feed and reproduce. There’s a compassion there in the scriptwriting that you don’t often have in these types of horror films, and it gives it a different aura overall. We never truly see the creature in its entirety but the luminous encroaching limbs emanating ghostly blue light from the deep and the vague suggestion of a vast body mass below it are incredibly haunting, almost profound images that linger with you. If you’re a fan of aquatic horror in the vein of things like The Abyss, DeepStar 6, Leviathan and The Rift you’ll get a kick out of this. It’s restrained yet scary, brutal yet lyrical and does a great job at evoking atmosphere.

-Nate Hill

Ant Timpson’s Come To Daddy

Come To Daddy is a fairly… unnerving title for a horror movie, it just suggests all manner of demented depravities, so needless to say I went into this one expecting to be… jarred, lol. It was a bit less messed up than I was geared up for, but it’s still a slice of darkly humorous, cheerfully sadistic fun that is genuinely tough to predict as each bizarre new plot point barrels along like a sideshow act at a circus freak show. Speaking of freak shows, Elijah Wood has been deliberately choosing some of the most crazy, weird, off the wall horror scripts in the last few years, stuff like Wayne Kramer’s Pawn Shop Chronicles, Grand Piano and Maniac. This can be squarely added in that category and might even be the strangest in his latter day run of Midnite style horror stuff. Here he plays a fellow called Norval, a semi celebrity DJ (or so he says, anyway) who journeys to Tofino, BC to see his long estranged father (Stephen McHattie) at his remote beach house. Things get odd pretty quick, as daddy seems to be acting anything but like a father, tension mounts, behaviours get increasingly nuts and… I’ll leave it at that, because the plot is one deranged ball of diseased yarn that unravels with stunning arbitration and hilariously madcap, nonsensical abandon, to the point where at times it feels like the writer had a mini stroke at his keyboard and the misfiring neurons took over for the third act. Wood is the Oxford definition of ‘wide eyed’ and while his presence in films can often irk me somehow (don’t even get me going on his fucking haircut in this one), it’s played to effect here where you’re almost supposed to mock this guy and his self applied role as some famous arthouse DJ (snicker). Aforementioned ‘wide eyed’ attribute goes along way here and I promise you my eyes somehow got wider than his as I watched this thing unfold alongside him, both of us confused, perplexed and utterly revolted. McHattie is Canadian acting royalty, an absolute invincible workhorse of supporting villains, indie leads and big budget character actor work, he’s been spinning gold in his craft for decades, often thanklessly, I love the guy to bits and he just lights up a screen with brittle, organic, terrifying charisma every time. His role here is hysterical, a hard drinking, volcanically unstable, verbally abusive, mentally corroded old fucker whose next move is always unpredictable, the guy could just as well pour you a drink as smash the glass across your face and laugh in it, and he lets it rip here. As much as I’d love to mention the rest of the cast (who are all terrific as well) I simply can’t do it without spoiling this thing, which I promised myself I wouldn’t do. It’s well worth a look, for the beautiful coastal Canadian cinematography (Tofino is a happy place for me), for the shocking, disarming black humour, for the certifiably insane performances, McHattie’s in particular, and just the sheer dedication to madhouse intensity, unpredictable thrills and grab-bag scriptwriting. Great stuff.

-Nate Hill

Sarah Pirozek’s #Like

The internet is a dangerous place, and the issues arising from it make for some pretty provocative, challenging films. Sarah Pirozek’s #Like tries desperately to be one of these films and falls frustratingly, maddeningly short of being effective with a narrative that starts out incredibly promising and just nosedives so hard it disheartens the viewer. It tells the depressing story of a teenage girl (Sarah Rich) who is dealing with the grief of losing her younger sister one year prior, after a cruel and vicious cyber bullying incident ended in her taking her own life. The forum user responsible for the despicable act was never found or charged, and now, a year later, she thinks she might have a lead on them based on old chats from her sister’s computer. She brings this information to a police detective (Jeff Wincott) who is too busy and too tied up in red tape protocol to be of any help, so she attempts to track this person down on her own and deliver what she believes to be justice. She does end up finding someone with coincidental ties to the event, a middle aged construction contractor (Marc Mancheca) who she promptly lures to her shed and imprisons indefinitely. From there the film falls into sadistic doldrums as she tries to make him own up to what he maybe did, and here is where it all just goes bananas. The problem is, she was never one hundred percent sure that this is the right guy, and you have to be sure in situations like this, so my sympathy meter quickly ran dry for this girl as she subjects the man to all kinds of torment and it becomes steadily clear that he’s most definitely not who she’s looking for. It’s a cruel, misguided narrative stunt to pull that leaves a bad taste and an aura of extreme malaise in the air, which I’m sure is deliberately meant to mirror her confusion, lack of resolution and anger over losing her sister and never having anyone to properly blame, but it just felt like a weird storytelling choice to me. The actors are all terrific, no complaints there, the cinematography and locations have this lived-in, upstate burnished quality to them that sets atmosphere nicely and the first act of the film really does draw you in… until it loses itself hopelessly to a tone deaf basement captivity routine that just numbed my bones and stalls any narrative progression fatally. Twice during the film there’s a soundtrack choice with the repeated lyrics “Do I make you uncomfortable?” Well if that’s a question the filmmakers are asking then my answer is yes, you did make me uncomfortable with your film, but not in a constructive, illuminating or thematically effective way, just in an icky, ill advised way. A film needs more than that to get any kind of message across intact, and this one sadly drops the ball.

-Nate Hill

Miranda July’s Kajillionaire

I wanted so so badly to love Kajillionaire, and I tried many times but each new plot turn, scene of impenetrable human behaviour and sequence of forced eccentricity drew me further and further out of it until I felt wholly excluded from its brand of off kilter weirdness, an unearthly indie timbre that I could personally find no rhyme, reason or discernible profundity in. It’s sad because there’s four wonderful actors and an attempt at some kind of story full of existential meandering and humour drier than a soup cracker left in the sun, but simply none of it landed for me. Richard Jenkins and Debra Winger play a couple of terminally odd career petty thieves who have raised their daughter Old Dolio (Evan Rachel Wood) to be just like them, and as such have a strange, stilted codependency dynamic. They rent out an empty office space next to a, um, ‘bubble factory’ and called their kid Old Dolio after a homeless dude of the same name as part of some legal con. They live a bizarre outsider’s existence until a newcomer they meet on a plane (Gina Rodriguez) drives a wedge between them all as the parents recruit her for their latest scheme. Wood plays her role with a husky voiced, awkwardly tomboyish approach, someone who is clearly the product of unconventional parents who didn’t raise her quite right. Rodriguez, so effective in stuff like Annihilation and Deepwater Horizon, is lovely here and the closest we get to a real human performance but she’s mired in obtuse dialogue, brittle character interaction and the overall deliberate strangeness of the narrative. Nothing quite makes sense, none of the people speak, act or intermingle like actual human beings would and it all just feels… off. There’s something in here about how stiff pragmatism and emotional coldness can derail a life and how it takes someone with an actual personality to ground someone back to planet earth, as we see in the sometimes sweet, sometimes brusque but ultimately perplexing relationship between Wood and Rodriguez but it’s lost in a sea of puzzling acting choices, nonsensical dialogue and peculiar editing. In attempting something along the lines of a quaint Wes Anderson-y, Michel Gondry-esque bit of whimsy, filmmaker Miranda July has wandered into a dimension whose vernacular, cosmic laws and artistic language I could simply not identify with and as a viewer I felt stranded in a void. I’m sure to many this dimension rang true to and they were able to get enjoyment from it. I certainly hope so, but it sadly did little for me.

-Nate Hill

Villains

Some films are good, some are bad and some are great, but there are those that can only be described as an utter delight and Villains fits that bill. It’s one of those demented, go for broke horror comedies that doesn’t always add up or coalesce it’s various tones together symmetrically but goddamn of it isn’t a blast of pitch black humour, blessed practical gore effects and four lead performances that truly push the boundaries of the craft of acting into something else. Maika Monroe and Bill Skarsgard play two unbelievably dumb petty criminals, a sort of dimestore Bonnie & Clyde, who run out of gas as they’re on the run after robbing… wait for it… a gas station. Their only option is to break into the nearest, and only, house in the area to look for more options and it’s there they find a five year old girl chained up in the basement, and must contend with the homeowners, a deranged pair of loons played with American Apple Pie hospitality and charm by Jeffrey Donovan and Kyra Sedgwick. These two chipper darlings are as crazy as they come and have soon ensnared the two wayward youngsters in their bizarre antics, while the two race to outsmart them and free the poor mute girl below. The plot can be kind of random and wanton, but the real treasure here lies in the meticulously calibrated, phenomenal acting work from all four and the razor sharp, diabolical scriptwriting to back them up. Monroe is already horror royalty from modern classics like It Follows and The Guest, while it goes without saying that Skarsgard is squarely in the pantheon for his portrayal of a certain evil clown. They work brilliantly together because they both lose their trademark moody, withdrawn and wistful styles of acting for a bubbly, effervescent, mile-a-minute-slapstick concoction that is joyous to watch, and manage manage to find a genuine sweetness and caring for each other that shines through all the more madcap, lurid elements and makes them rough yet lovable and blessedly bumbling characters to invest in. Donovan has slowly been building a repertoire of darkly sarcastic, terrifyingly dangerous villains in stuff like FX’s Fargo, Let Him Go and more, his work here is a class act in balancing insanity, southern charm and sudden bursts of punishing sadism. Sedgwick is a natural beauty who has this spotless Miss America aura to her that she turns on its head and plays to full effect as the mot certifiably bonkers character in the story, she’s at once scary, pitiable, sultry and hysterical. This is one of those specific, special flicks like Raimi’s Evil Dead or Friedkin’s Killer Joe where the story might not always play by the rules or stay on the tracks but you really don’t care because the actors just tear the scenery to shreds, the laughs and violence come fast and furious, there are even a few arthouse flourishes sprinkled in and it’s just such a wild fuckin ride. Great film.

-Nate Hill

John Carpenter’s Escape From L.A.

I don’t know about Escape From L.A., man. It’s kinda like when someone tells you a really funny joke and just tells it perfectly, and then somewhere down the line you’re like “tell that awesome joke again” and they do, but they just don’t quite encapsulate or get it right a second time and the magic goes sour. Escape From NY is that first time and this sequel… well let’s just say the magic was lost on me this time around. I get that John Carpenter wanted to expand the lore, his first film was definitely popular enough to warrant a sequel and Kurt Russell’s Snake Plissken for sure deserves many more films, but this… was just not a great time at the movies. Snake once again finds himself in a near identical predicament as the first film: infiltrate futuristic Los Angeles, now also a cordoned off no fly zone for dissidents, find and neutralize a Che Guevara clone (kind of a weak villain, I might add) with plans on rebel terrorism who is in cahoots with the daughter of the US president (Cliff Robertson) who is about as corrupt, evil and unscrupulous as you can get. So a ponytailed Stacy Keach handles his mission and he ventures into LA where he meets a motley gaggle of freaks, criminals and outliers including a renegade surfer (Peter Fonda), a twitchy guide (Steve Buscemi), a Botox saturated mad doctor (Bruce Campbell, but you’d only know by the voice) and more. Poor Pam Grier shows up as a gang commander but they’ve dubbed her voice over with a different dude to make her sound like a man, which was a huge WTF, like is the character supposed to be transgender or just fuckin really husky? There’s fights, shootouts, hang gliders, betrayals, but none of it happens with the sheer Grindhouse joy of the first film, and it all feels very strained, try-hard and disingenuous. Even Russell as Snake falters here and there, his whispery tough guy shtick that was SO effective in Escape from NY feeling a tad silly here. The obligatory final ‘fuck you’ Snake gets here is fun and appropriately cathartic but it’s too little too late after an entire film of subpar antics that just don’t cut it. Not impressed.

-Nate Hill

Adam Salky’s Intrusion

Home Invasion thrillers are pretty much their own genre by now, and another has entered the fold with Adam Salky’s Intrusion, a sleek, nerve wracking, fairly predictable yet really well oiled piece that Netflix funded and just added to their lineup last night with little fanfare or marketing. This film doesn’t necessarily spend too much time on the invasion itself, but rather on what comes after and the motivation behind the crime. Logan Marshall Green and Freida Pinto are an affluent yuppie couple who have moved into a swanky post modern home that seems absurdly out of place in the flat, humdrum prairie county they’ve moved to. One night a group of masked men breaks into their house and tosses the place, clearly looking for something. After they are shot in self defence by hubbie, it seems as if the case is closed and it’s time to move on… right? The suspicious local sheriff (always nice to see Robert John Burke) doesn’t seem to think so based on details from the investigation that don’t add up and soon Pinto doesn’t either as she notices her husband’s odd, elusive behaviour and secretive ways. Why did these guys choose their house, and just who were they anyways? That’s the fun, and if the unfolding plot veers frequently into easily predicted beats, that’s made up for with some truly breathtaking tension and innovative camera work, some fluid visual dynamics in shot composition that clearly echo the work of Brian De Palma and add layers of atmospheric dimension to the film. Pinto, beyond being one of the most drop dead beautiful women I’ve ever seen onscreen, is also a terrific actress and owns the role here, never devolving into hysterics or going into stoic autopilot mode and always coming across as a real human being in a terrifying situation. The score by Alex Heffes adds another layer of spooky electronic beats and pulses too, especially in breathless sequences set inside their large, spacious and inherently eerie home. It isn’t anything groundbreaking in terms of thriller material and you can pretty much guess where it’s going midway through the first act but it’s very well executed, slickly produced and suspenseful like nobody’s business.

-Nate Hill