Film Reviews by NP

65 years ago, a masked man attacked residents of small town Texarkana. Now it appears the miscreant is back. Speaking with a modulated voice in slow deliberate tones, the ‘moonlight murderer’ begins his killing spree all over again.

The production values are decent, the acting is convincing. So why do I find this tortuously dull? How can something with a fair amount of screaming teens and restrainedly gruesome killings not arrest my attention?

Could it be that Jami (Addison Timlin) speaks in a monotone and insipid manner no matter what the emotion? To be fair to her, her contempories are often much the same. Far from the strutting posturers that frequent such films usually (which is a mercy), they are on the other end of the spectrum. Humbly mumbling their lines to one another, it is difficult to work out one character from another. Inoffensive –sweet even - to the point of inertia, these characters are barely even cyphers for the marauding killer, who is also without much in the way of presence.

It may be that I am simply not in the mood for this, but there seems to be no life in any facet of the proceedings. Even the occasional sex scene fails to break free of this miasma. Why is the murderer doing these things? Just *because*, really. I feel bad about my nonchalance – after all, a great deal of work has presumably gone into creating this: the bleakness of the locale is nicely conveyed by Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon, and Ludwig Goransson’s musical score is nicely haunting; there’s a good set piece where a couple wake up to find their scarecrow perched on the wooden stand has been replaced by the bloody corpse of a young girl … and then within moments the lacklustre performance of those trying to solve the mystery drags things back down again. Sadly unengaging throughout.

This is a sumptuous, beautifully produced period horror drama. It reminds me of the kind of carefully crafted historical chillers the BBC sometimes produces for the autumn audience, the like of which receives acceptable ratings against the talent show dross elsewhere on mainstream television, and receives complaints from the cavilling general public for being ‘too dark’.

I love it: the smoky charnel houses, the rain and waste-strewn cobbles, the dim light, class divides, penny dreadfuls, pox-ridden low-lives, music hall drabs, salty gags, cockney peelers, pea-soupers and the streets of London ‘running red with blood.’

Dan Leno (Douglas Booth), a kind of Victorian Russell Brand, takes an avuncular interest in young Elizabeth Cree (Olivia Cooke), who is under suspicion for murdering her husband. Inspector John Kildare (Bill Nighy in a role originally taken by the late Alan Rickman) has evidence that her husband may be the legendry murderer ‘the Limehouse Golem’, and is determined to save Elizabeth from a date with the gallows.

There are those who say Bill Nighy only ever plays himself. I think there is truth to this, but when you have cornered the market so brilliantly, why step outside of it? Here, he is exceptional as always as the Inspector, with much support from the excellent Daniel Mays as Constable George Flood. In a small role Damien Thomas (Count Karnstein in Hammer’s 1971 ‘Twins of Evil’) plays heavily bearded Soloman Veil. Maria Valverde is wonderful as the arch Aveline Ortega.

A terrific twisted, twisty tale admirably directed by Juan Carlos Medina. Well worth your time.

Changed from ‘Barbies’ to ‘Barbys’ to avoid confusion with a certain well known blond toy, this Jess Franco film is typically as crass and weird as you may expect. By this time in his career, Franco was about to start working with One Shot Productions, a strictly no-budget company sympathetic to his style, as he was of theirs. So it’s interesting to see that ‘Killer Barbys’ is a comparatively slick affair. For a start, it isn’t shot on video. Secondly, it boasts some fairly impressive production values and set-pieces.

The Barbys are a suggestive punk rock outfit touring in a Scooby-Doo-type van that breaks down, leaving them at the mercy of the sinister Arkan (Aldo Sambrell) and the huge and gothic castle he frequents. There are two distinct styles here, and Franco makes little attempt to marry them together – incessant punky-music-scored wise-cracking and softcore scenes featuring the band, and some nicely lit sinister scenes involving Arkan and the castle’s Countess, punctuated with the antics of skivvy Baltasar (Santiago Segura) and his two dwarf ‘children.’ Interestingly perhaps, band-member Rafa is played by Carlos Subterfuge, who would go on to play a dreadlocked Frankenstein’s Ghost in Franco’s 1998’s ‘Lust for Frankenstein’.

I don’t know what on Earth to make of this, but that is hardly surprising. Clearly a vehicle for The Killer Barbys, much as ‘Spice World’, for example, was a vehicle for The Spice Girls, this venture is a much more lurid and less comprehensible affair. But in Franco’s hands, would you expect anything else? Also, it is enjoyable in its way. There are eerie sex scenes, full nakedness and an expectedly thin storyline. There are also a number of nice gore scenes, perhaps befitting a band with such a ‘raunchy’ image. Main singer Sylvia Superstar as Flavia gets the most to do here, which isn’t a huge amount.

The dubbing in this is some of the worst I have seen, with little or no attempt to marry the lines with the actors. The dialogue is pretty ropey too (“You are the most beautiful bitch I have ever seen in my life,” Rafa informs the Countess by way of a compliment).

Reviewing a comedy is difficult. If you examine the jokes too much, they fall apart. If you quote various lines out of context, they lose their impact. ‘The Cottage’ is very much of the type that deserves to be watched, enjoyed and left at that.

To skirt over the story, David (Andy Serkis) and Peter (Reece Shearsmith) have kidnapped Tracey (Jennifer Ellison) but the situation becomes more complicated than any of them could imagine. Then, those complications become complicated … and so on. Even in the very last scene, the situation that has taken on such satisfyingly ridiculous proportions becomes … even more complicated.

My one real problem with this are the excessive profanities. At the risk of sounding like everyone’s elderly parents, I found such expletives are shockingly funny to begin with, but become wearisome once they are established as the normal way of speaking. Other than that, this is a fine slice of black comedy. Politically incorrect in places, but mainly the laughs come from the extravagant blood and gore on display.

Tracey’s large breasts only feature once as the focal point of the comedy, serving only as a distraction allowing her to get the better of Peter. The males are the subject of the humour here, their ineptitude and consistent failures causing the mayhem that propels the story. It’s good to see Hellraiser’s Doug Bradley in this, but a shame his appearance is limited to a ‘villager with dog’ credit.

All performances are enjoyable, with the excellent Shearsmith getting the brunt of the gory punishment. With Serkis, it is easy to note his performances as a number of CGI creations in other films, but this is a reminder what a good ‘physical’ actor he is too.

This British/Irish film doesn’t present a particularly reassuring image of the police force, at least not in the remote Scottish village in which the story is set. They are either using their patrol duty for sex opportunities or taking steps to make life as uncomplicated as possible for themselves. This is the environment new recruit PC Rachel Heggie (Polyanna McKintosh so good in 2011’a ‘The Woman’, 2014’s ‘White Settlers’ and the ‘Walking the Dead’ television series) walks into.

A mysterious man, known as Six (the always excellent and intense Liam Cunningham) arrives without explanation at the police station and is placed amongst the other prisoners held there – wife-beater Ralph (Jonathan Watson) and a small time crook Caeser (Brian Vernel). The colour-grading is hugely drab: all dawn raw blue and urine yellow. It induces a slightly sickly atmosphere.

This is superbly directed by Brian O’Malley who manages to create some gory death moments virtually guaranteed to lift you from your seat. The ending, and the true identity of Six, remains enigmatic to the end. And yet there is a sense of closure on this particular night’s events that satisfies whilst appearing to be end only of the first chapter of a continuing narrative.

‘Let us Prey’ is a tremendous production that never slackens its pace and doesn’t put a foot wrong. Love it.

Can you have too much atmosphere? I ask this because I love films that transport the viewer to the fictional world of the production, incite you to shudder at each shadow, marvel at each misty dawn, gasp at the scale of the architecture and actually encourage you to feel you are part of the experience. The very stylish and sublime Swiss rehabilitation centre featured here is extremely scenic and beautiful but at 2 hrs 26 minutes long, your fascination with the mysterious healing base is stretched out too thinly.

Dane DeHaan stars as Lockhart, a character who is, at least initially, difficult to like. Strictly a businessman, an ambitious go-getter, someone whose personality is comprised of spreadsheets and business projections, and who is never out of his shirt and tie, he represents the cogs of industry and is surrounded by, manipulated by and obeys the rules of others just like him. Their mission is purely to ‘get ahead’, to make money, and when he is sent to the mysterious centre of wellness to locate and bring back the man he replaced - Roland Pembroke (Harry Groener) - he considers it a waste of his talents. To balance things, the money he earns helps keep his aged mother in the best care home he can afford. DeHaan plays the role exceptionally well, his ambition slowly being eroded, displaying a semblance of humanity beneath - a nice balance to the apparently benevolent Doctor Volmer (Jason Isaacs), whose ‘journey’ heads in the opposite direction.

For such a driven character, it is ironic that when he is *being* driven to the centre, a mishap with a deer causes a crash that sends him there as a patient. Once there, he experiences the unorthodox, somewhat HP Lovecraft-ian techniques of healing the patients of their alleged maladies. That Lockhart is so arrogant in the face of the peacefulness of the doctors and inmates ensures the audience is far from on his side. Also, the reason The Company need Pembroke back is so they can pin various illegal business activities on him.

The finale is a terrific spectacle of Grand Guignol, with the reason finally revealed for all the atrocities committed. The closing scenes are lovingly crafted by Director and Producer Gore Verbinski. It is just possible Verbinski is too in love with the project, for there is no reason it should last 146 minutes. Possibly this is a major factor why the film failed at the box office. The fact that audience attention is allowed to wander on occasion is a huge shame, as intricate and meticulous scenes will be passed over.

The ending (SPOILER) is satisfying, with Lockhart rejecting both the wellness ‘clinic’ and his former life as a business drone.

Watching a couple of what I can only call Designer Nerds and their girlfriends flirting and arguing in a room can be a less than fascinating experience. The actors are all competent and veer from amusing to irritating alternately, and ultimately into a panicking menagerie when things go wrong. To explain:

Skeet Ulrich plays Brice, who hosts an ‘escape room’ event. Agitated that his project is no longer the popular resort it once was, he buys a ‘skull box’ (a device we are introduced to the film’s prologue, which is almost a movie in itself) thinking that its legendry curse will drum up interest in his business. To this end, Jess, Jeff, Ben and Angie agree to be locked in the room filled with potential clues as to their escape. If they don’t escape, they ‘lose’. However when a masked figure appears, to all intents and purposes a prop, Angie feels – in the film’s lowest point – that it is ‘looking at her boobs’. It isn’t a prop however, it is a killer, and every few minutes, the chain keeping it close to the wall loosens, allowing it to come into closer contact with them in the confines of the room.

A nice touch is when the killer gives a round of applause once the allotted time to escape the ‘escape room’ has come to an end but despite the best efforts of the cast, this exercise is pretty average at best.

SPOILERS

It must have been a challenge to go about a sequel to a film in which the original cast all appeared to die, but to its credit, ‘The Houses October Built 2’ – from here on in, THOB2 - actually begins as the earlier instalment ended – with the group of haunted house ‘enthusiasts’ being buried alive. Pretty soon, the ‘five thrill seekers’ are free once more.

Like the earlier production, this plays with the idea of found footage, in that it cheats with the concept by apparently including scenes that would have been impossible for the characters to film – but when it helps the flow and heightens the chaotic sense of the grotesque brutality to this extent, it is forgivable.

Like the Blair Witch trilogy before it, THOB2 takes the events from the previous movie and treats them as reality; the YouTube exploits of Zack, Mikey, Bobbie and Jeff have made headline news – and made a star out of the sole female of the group Brandy (Brandy Schaefer). Problem is, this new fame pushes the others to go further into the world of haunted houses and realistic funfair demons than ever before – and Brandy, or ‘Coffin Girl’ who has attracted 24 million YouTube hits, assuredly wants no part of it. I don’t like the way the boys cajole Brandy into the gang again, even considering the pressure they are under from their audience. Before, the group were extreme but likeable; now, that appeal has been diminished, although their recklessness proves to be entirely in character. Also, it would be unrealistic if at least one of the gang wasn’t reticent about coming for another journey. To help to understand why people enter into this kind of macabre exhibitionism, Brandy meets Dr Margee Kerr, who engages with scary things to help her ‘grow’. It wouldn’t convince me!

Other than that, it is business ‘as unusual’, as they traverse haunted houses and extreme Halloween attractions much as before. Their travelogue becomes a world where every face is horrifying, around every corner is a new reason to shudder, and fairground horrors become their life. The ‘bigger and better’ scares (and use of a drone to film them) open things up in the way sequels often strive for, but in turn, events lose some of the grimy intimacy of the first film. The enigmatic Blue Skeleton organisation is still trailing the gang, for reasons that are never clearly stated, other than their notoriety. Throughout, the haunted house network encourages them to ‘seek out Hellbent’ (a phrase which is more profound than they imagine) as an example of the most extreme experience you can get. Inevitably, when they arrive there, things are not as they seem …

I thought this was terrific. I’m not sure it topped the weirdness of the first, but Director Bobby Roe certainly tapped into the same vein. My favourite character from the first, the jerky, awful Doll Girl is here briefly and this time there are others like her. As sequels go, this is a good one. But I can’t see – now that the main characters have been exposed in such a way – how there can be any more instalments.

How it must have been for a horror film fan to be of cinema-going age in the early 1970s – this is another Italian giallo film that was released into the already bulging world in 1971. Directed by Mario Bava, it contains all the hallmarks – beautiful locations, beautiful people - and someone dressed in black who is killing them all, one by one.

Bava is lauded as an inspirational to many more modern film-makers, which is great. I find his work a little hit-or-miss. Perhaps his reputation goes against him for me; I try not to read reviews of any kind before I’ve seen a film, but it is difficult to avoid Bava’s status. Perhaps if he were not so revered, I’d (unfairly) be more open to appreciate his work.

That said, this unquestionably contains some gruesome moments and handsome set-pieces for the growing number of killings. Stelvio Cipriani’s very rhythmical soundtrack plays its part in cultivating the unnerving moments too.

As always with Bava, colour is very important. Garish and lurid, even when muted by day-for-night, it presents my main issue with his work. It is too stylised, giving a stage-bound feel, even on location. Such starkness also robs the sumptuous locations of their natural atmosphere and charms.

The story revolves around the lengths people will go to safeguard what they as their inheritance. It’s a thin plot, hardly elevated by a very contrived ending. As giallos go, it has enough memorable moments to make it worthwhile (my favourite involves daft and giggly Brunhilda (Brigitte Skay) skinny-dipping, when a bloated corpse brushes against her – dissolving into hysterics. Her fate is also soon sealed), but it is far from the most compelling in the genre.

I found this to be a genuinely surprising horror; not that possessed children is a particularly new concept, but rather in the way their threat is treated and revealed to us. In the opening moments, a flurry of activity involving a briefly seen horned creature abducting young Joey Girl (Olivier Cavender) from her trailer park home occurs while her mum Anna (Gabrielle Stone) is in bed with her current beau Creighton (Carl Jensen IV). At first it seems that her wayward past has made Anna into a scapegoat for judgemental and very religious townsfolk, who assume she is simply a bad parent and Joey has run away – but it’s a different story when all the children in the neighbourhood disappear too. And then one day, they come back.

Yet something is wrong and the children become increasingly feral. Joey, the only injured youngster, has had her tongue removed and soon begins to exhibit sporadic possessed episodes that increase in frequency. Soon the whole town is in the grip of fear and marauding, demonic youngsters. Things have reached this point so quickly, as does the descent into animal behaviour as the possession grows in intensity; events become hard to follow. But I get the feeling this is a deliberate decision of behalf of Director/Writer Roze to highlight the sense of chaos such a rapid decline has caused.

Children – apart from Joey – are rarely treated as individuals, rather a pack of animalistic hooligans. Pivotal moments like the death of loyal, quiet Creighton happen quickly and without fanfare. Blink and you’ll miss it. This approach is highly unusual in general, and for horror in particular, where such moments of graphic violence and spectacle are usually dwelt upon. Here, we waste no time on incidents – rather, we cut away and move onto the next occurrence.

I enjoyed this unusual, choppy film. The very simple effect of hollow eyed children with black vomit around their faces and clothes is extremely effective – as is the briefly seen demon itself.

A group of young people agree to subject themselves to a 30-day medical trial in order to win themselves £10,000 each. Among them are Rachael, who hides her illness, sensible Sam, Julie who’s every gesture and expression is a tantrum waiting to happen, feisty Tracey and journo Amanda. Among the menfolk are cockney Steve, Scott, massive Martin, non-descript Dave. The trial is conducted not in the controlled environment of a hospital, but the vast rooms of an isolated castle.

This is a low-budget production written and directed by Richard Johnstone. The colour grading and cinematography are exceptional – very bleak and foreboding, but possessed of a kind of melancholic beauty at the same time. It wasn’t until I saw the extras that I realised how much post-production work went into managing the colours and textures of the visuals.

Where the lack of budget does have a detrimental effect, however, is reflected in some of the performances and lack of actual scares. An exception to that is the scene toward the end featuring one vampire character slowly succumbing to the effects of sunlight, which is terrific.

My favourite performances might well come from the evil-doers. The Co-ordinatior (Patrick Wilde), his secretary (Judith Alexander) and especially the little girl Jessica (Holly Newton) all exude a measured level of evil that becomes more blatant and bestial toward the end, when the true nature of the vampires is revealed.

Although ‘Vampires’ doesn’t quite gel together, it is quite clearly made with a lot of skill and love –some scenes (often the simplest) have a real sinister quality about them (Rachael being called to her undoing by a whispering child, for example).

There’s an instantly arresting opening credit sequence to this. Roberto Tobias (Michael Brandon) playing some dreaded progressive rock with his band, interspersed with a back background punctuated with a graphic beating heart. Ah, this will be directed (and co-written) by Dario Argento then!

The first few scenes are suitably macabre and bizarre also. Gruesome events are witnessed and apparently recorded by a strange figure wearing an outsized doll mask. Like Pete Walker’s later ‘The Comeback (1978)’, a male musician, rather than a female, is the victim of sinister events. In this case, this results in a lack of one of the many merits of giallo – no strong women characters. As Tobias’ wife Nina, Mimsy Farmer seems too weak-willed to stand up to him much of the time, and Nina’s cousin Daria (stunning Francine Racette) is very happy to fall into his arms (in the bath-tub no less). And yet the nervous Tobias is somewhat brash and arrogant, despite Brandon’s convincing portrayal, and this adds to a paucity of characters to identify with, much less side with.

Dario Argento’s occasionally overtly gaudy, wilfully weird set-ups and execution can sometimes actually work against the atmosphere of the films I have seen under his stewardship. This is very much the case here. There are some psychedelic moments, some truly surreal set-pieces and some impressive killings. He has a style which is very much his own, and rightly he has been lauded for his sense of unique imagery. And yet to my tastes, this is at the expense of a narrative I can really get involved in.

This was the final part of the ‘animal trilogy’ that had also included ‘The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970)’ and ‘The Cat o' Nine Tails (1971)’, all of which contain traits similar to this. Enjoyable giallo entertainment, but I’m not entirely enamoured of the lurid execution.

Something is amiss in the small town community of Maiden Wood. Animals are going missing, and people are being reduced to dismembered limbs scattered amongst the autumn leaves. In fact, this is a very autumnal film – in many scenes, the colours are bled out of the images, or a subtle filter is placed on the camera, reducing the atmosphere to a dawn coldness. The soundtrack, too, is a mixture of sombre music and what could be the sound of a hollow wind. Director Jack Teller certainly imbues his world with an unsettling unease.

Into this, Sherriff Shields (Kevin Durand) tentatively strides, acting on varied reports of ‘something in the trees’. Shields is played with a kind of weighty sense of unease and disappointment. The emergence of muddied hoof-prints running through the area does nothing to lighten his mood. His estrangement with wife Susan (Bianca Kajlich) and son Adam (Ethan Khusidman) is nicely underscored: two people torn about by a tragedy who were clearly meant to be together. Never over-sentimental, but quietly powerful.

Windiga, a creature from Native American legend, is revealed very slowly, a limb at a time. It finally makes its appearance during a terrific, isolating snowstorm. Sometimes what you don’t see is more effective – but the way the creature is realised doesn’t let anything down. The showdown is terrific. What comes after is even better.

It’s a monster-on-the-loose film, and is an exceptional example of its kind.

Talented artist, college student and waitress Paige (Marina Petrano) is sitting at the edge of a forest alone, while her friends party nearby. Unhappy, she wanders off. Finding a singular piece of rope hanging from the branches of a creepy willow tree, she brushes her hand against it, and recoils at the sensation.

Although clearly made with a miniscule budget, these opening scenes are moderately sinister, but not as (possibly unintentionally) frightening as Paige’s parents, who we meet in the next scene. Her Dad is a slab of clichés concerning studying and ‘the future’, and her mother adopts a sardonic, belittling tone ALL THE TIME. It’s a wonder that Paige and her friends - including love interest Cooper (Nicholas Barrera) and brother Tommy (Christopher Ingle) - are as grounded as they are (at times it seems as if Cooper could be the ghost featured in the title). Paige certainly doesn’t deserve to be terrorised by whatever spirit she brushed against in the woods.

This is not compelling. The slow pacing during the first half requires you to summon up interest in Paige’s day-to-day life, which isn’t made too difficult because she’s likeable. Her visitations are few and far between and consist mainly of shadows moving behind her that she doesn’t see. Things aren’t so dull that I was tempted to switch off or meander, because there’s some nice dialogue, some performances that succeed despite the inexperience of the actors, and the definite feeling I wanted to find out where it was all heading.

At over 100 minutes, this is simply too long. Twenty of those minutes could have been pruned, which would have improved things a lot. Some scenes simply meander without adding anything. Some of the characters’ dialogue is hard to make out, especially in the lengthy scenes explaining (to some extent) the mystery of Borley Woods, which is unfortunate. In contrast to tis, there’s a nice twist at the end, which is perfectly executed.

As someone who wouldn’t have the first idea how to make a film, I commend Stephen McKendree on his work. As a viewer, I would say that with more polish and refinement, this would have been much more consistent in its enjoyment.

I’m not sure what it is about Giallo films. They’re very stylish and often beautifully put together, but have a certain uniform similarity about them: lurid colours, an exotic musical soundtrack, a killer wearing black gloves, glamorous males and females. And yet for all the familiarity, they are always fairly thrilling viewing. I rarely tire of their exotic set-ups of jeopardy, or the rolling locations and arty direction. Here, Dario Argento certainly does not disappoint. Each shadow and reflection has sinister possibilities.

Ennio Morricone provides another in his inexhaustible supply of melancholic, haunting, beautiful musical scores, and the twists that come at the end are once more expertly handled. In fact, it is actually during Inspector Morosini’s (Enrico Maria Salerno) summary explanations of events that the credits roll – almost as if the film’s running time is not enough to contain it!

But there are no errors here. Argento handles everything with precision. My notes about the familiarity of giallo films and their style and structure have little bearing on ‘The Bird with the Crystal Plumage’. There were still plenty more such Italian horror-thrillers to come by this time; it is just that I personally have seen many of them out of order.

Amongst the cast (apart from Salerno’s sterling Inspector) are Tony Musante as main man Sam Dalmas, British Suzy Kendall as Julia and Reggie Nalder stealing all his brief scenes as ‘the assassin’.