Film Reviews by NP

A magnificent swooping shot towards and over Castle Dracula fades into an equally epic shot of The Demeter, the doomed ship that holds the casket containing Dracula, being rocked by a punishing storm – all with the backing of John Williams’ bombastic musical score. It’s clear this lavish production intends to be as spectacular as possible.

Frank Langella is a commanding, imposing and charming Dracula. A real life condition causes his very eyes to shiver –effective when Dracula notices butler Swales (Teddy Turner) has cut his finger whilst serving supper.

Interestingly, the characters of Mina (now Van Helsing’s daughter) and Lucy (Kate Nelligan) are swapped for this version: Mina is already sickly and prone to unpredictable behaviour even before Dracula’s arrival.

We have Trevor Eve’s rather sulky Jonathan Harker, Donald Pleasance forever eating or chewing as Dr. Seward and Laurence Olivier as a frail Abraham Van Helsing – Olivier’s health was precarious throughout filming, but he went on to live ten more years and continued making films.

In 2004 Director John Badham made the bizarre decision of draining much of the film’s colour for the DVD release. The result, especially for the scenes inside Castle Dracula, play almost like a black and white film (perhaps that is the intention. There are certainly similarities between this and the 1931 version: both films are based on the Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston stage version, and both feature leading men who helped make the theatrical runs so popular). The resultant imagery however, has scenes that are visually very flat.

A sequence that looks out-of-place, beneath its own glossy over-production, is when Dracula enters Lucy’s room and seduces her. Striding through plumes of machine-generated smoke, the following canoodling melds straight into laser-lit choreography, with whirling dry ice, blood red lighting and cartoon bats. Flamboyant it might have been in 1979, this is the only scene that dates the film.

Having said that, the set-piece that most remember is that of a vampiric Mina emerging from the sewers to entice Seward and Van Helsing. Beginning as a reflection in a muddy pool of water (vampires cast no reflection – indeed, Dracula is not shown in the mirror as he enters Van Helsing’s room), she looms from the shadows as a frightening, ragged, decomposing spectre. Brilliant and terrifying this transformation is, from the lovely Jan Francis into a monster, I’m not sure it makes a lot of sense – Mina has only been dead a short while, and vampires are known to retain their youthfulness once bitten, not decay as Mina has done (only in death does she revert to her original self).

Equally, Dracula’s eventual demise stretches things a bit. The notion that old Van Helsing, dying from being impaled, manages to hurl a hook in The Count’s back with enough force to embed itself enough for him to then to be winched into the sunlight is difficult to invest in.

These niggles aside, this is a powerful and vibrant adaption, and highly enjoyable. Released around the same time as Werner Herzog’s ‘Nosferatu’ and the George Hamilaton-starring ‘Love at First Bite’, its commercial impact was compromised a little, which presumably scuppered further interest from Universal.

In the short space of time she is onscreen, objectionable brat Lucy (Amberley Gridley) sulks and pouts so much that when she is knocked down by a speeding car during a spectacular strop, the relief outweighs any grief.

Next we meet Tess (Ryan Simpkins), a similarly uncommunicative young lady who initially displays all of Lucy’s charm (i.e.: none) – and yet Tess’s troubles are there for a reason: for years, she has suffered mental instability episodes throughout her life. We learn this from scenes of her isolation, even in her fairly bustling hometown. This may make her susceptible to Lucy’s undead spirit …

With so little happening throughout the running time, and when much of that time is given to focussing on Tess’s sullen moping, there isn’t much sympathy invited. It is suggested that Tess’s condition - a ‘dissociative identity disorder’ - makes her susceptible to Lucy’s undead presence. Her mother Jessica, fashionably not that much older than her daughter, is wracked with the applicable concern, but when her daughter is so cut off, so apathetic, as far as this drama is concerned, she just becomes a pain in the neck. With an unresponsive child possessed by a sulky adolescent, the subtleties of the drama are fatally unengaging.

And yet, amid the heart-wrenching soul-searching, Sarah’s wishes that her dead daughter Lucy needs to be ‘in a better place’ are somewhat unnerving, especially as the spirit seems unwilling to leave the host body. These scenes, and others, would have been so much more effective if more was made of the supernatural element.

Ultimately, despite what are presumably the best intentions of the cast and crew, two women screaming ‘Tess!!’ every time the young woman coughs or chokes or looks earnestly into the distance doesn’t really inspire much of a reaction. Sadly, I ran out of patience long before the film ended. As a guide in how not to look after a troubled teen, this may be useful, but as a horror film, it is duller than dull.

Disillusioned New York Taxi Driver Vinny Durand (Joe Spinell) is obsessed with cult film actress Jana Bates (Caroline Munro). He tells his mother, with whom he shares an apartment - actually Spinell’s home), that he intends to go to the Cannes Film Festival, meet Bates and direct her in a film that will kick-start his career as an acclaimed film-maker. His mother (played by Spinell’s real matriarch Mary – the star of the film, in my view) isn’t convinced. In a warning uttered without punctuation, she says, “Stop thinking about those crazy ideas, you’ll only get yourself upset again, I made baked macaroni, you don’t eat right.”

Caroline Munro seems to be re-dubbed throughout, with an American accent. Visually, she’s as 1980s as it is possible to get, her natural beauty often smothered by make-up and hair colouring and styling. She features in my favourite scene – wrapped only in a towel, running hysterically, barefoot down the middle of a bustling night-time road.

This includes what appears to be real news footage, charting the assignation attempt on then President Ronald Reagan (himself an ex-film star) in an attempt by an obsessed fan to impress actress Jodie Foster.

‘The Last Horror Film’ is by turns dreadful and very funny (especially the last scene). Every few minutes, we are treated to tracking shots of beaches, movie premieres and parties, incessantly accompanied by tuneless 80’s ‘songs, with hoarse-voiced singers, guitars and Linn Drums (which help to ensure the running time seems a lot longer than 90 minutes) – against this backdrop, Durrand comes across as a splendidly drab failure, who might even be responsible for a series of gory murders that seem to follow Bates around …

Filmed, without permits, at and around the Cannes Film Festival, this is somehow saved from being ‘a bad film’ by the genuine warmth and heart that belies the bad acting (although Spinell has moments where he is genuinely unnerving) and zero budget. It goes some way to explore whether or not horror films inspire real life horrific events. Bates’ comeback is that people watch the news, which is more terrifying than any horror films she has ever seen. It’s difficult to argue with that.

The usual collection of smart young hot-heads are embarking on a paranormal investigation for this found footage horror, visiting ‘the infamous Hillcrest Sanatorium’.

DJ Hazard plays Irwin Stacks, whose job it is to lead the entrepreneurs through the impressively sinister building and regale them (and us) with sinister stories as to what happened over the years, culminating the deaths of an estimated thousand people. The team’s frivolities and high spirits are mercifully calmed by this, as well as their eagerness to persevere (“Let’s get the **** out of here,” is a popular viewpoint).

Tuberculosis claimed the health and sanity of patient ‘Richard’ in 1955 who took his own life after bludgeoning to death three sleeping children. It is about this time that ‘Sanatorium’ begins to weave its sinister magic, which proves to me once gain that ‘found footage’ should not be maligned as a spent force in film-making – used with skill, it still packs a punch.

The over-insistence of one of the male characters in asking ‘are you kidding me?’ gets more than a little tiresome. As the usual scares reach a certain stage and one of their team, Tyler, goes missing in a quietly creepy episode, and his newly pregnant girlfriend descends into uncomprehending despair, it’s increasingly clear no-one is kidding anyone.

The resultant fate of the characters is very nicely achieved, although it might have been more effective had the producers resisted the temptation to add swirling ‘spooky’ music to highlight the effect. The POV shots of them slowly being slowly raised to the ceiling, where they are left dangling, is terrific.

If waking up one morning and finding the tower block in which you live, and those around it, have been sealed - and that you have no water and no electricity isn’t bad enough - the gang that Mark (terrific Lee Ross) finds himself lumbered with is unsettling indeed.

Abrasive neighbour Sergei, who talks like he thinks he is a gangster, breaks down the wall into Mark’s apartment (“Strengff in numbers!”), chain smoking bigot Enid (Sheila Reid), and sanctimonious nerdy twerp Aiden (William Postlethwaite) make up the motley bunch caught up in whatever maelstrom it is that has made people prisoners in their homes.

The enemy appear to be people in sealed orange overalls. There has been a virus epidemic, and the government are keen to contain it. Enid thinks it might be something to do with immigrants and is treated as if the idea is abhorrent and unacceptable; Mark is called a ‘sick b*****d’ for trying to help young, mute Nicu (Gabriel Senu) – two very topical reactions for modern times.

In the end we are fairly sure that Nicu is the only one to survive from the clan. Indeed, mute children like him have perhaps been ‘spared’ by the authorities for being unable to tell others about the outbreak – that is the only supposition I can come up with as to why a truckload of non-communicative minors are being taken to safety. But presumably they can communicate in others ways. Unless they are being kept in containment by a Government body – in which case, it doesn’t matter if they can communicate or not, surely? The ending – such a major part of this or any other film – is confusing, and I can only imagine the producers left it that way deliberately. Some clarity would have been nice.

Watching stupid people being stupid is never less than truthful, and yet ‘Containment’ doesn’t quite have a strong enough storyline to make such a side-line hugely interesting. What begins as a fascinating scenario and study into human relations in the most extreme circumstances sadly soon becomes a less interesting run-around featuring mostly unengaging characters.

Blond American Sara Price travels to Japan and doesn’t approve of raw fish. Her revulsion at the still moving food on her plate is noted with amusement by a group of giggling Japanese girls. Why can’t everyone eat burgers? Having overcome this initial obstacle, she concentrates on the business in hand. Her twin sister, dark-haired Jess, who has a history of wayward behaviour, has travelled alone to the suicide forest of Aokigahara, and Sara is off to find her.

Considering the twins are played by the same actress (Natalie Dormer), their few scenes together are very well accomplished. As usual for big budget horrors, though, we never really know either of them. Their personalities are reduced to concerned looks and bad dreams.

“Do not leave the path:” Sara is as dismissive of this advice as she is of the locals who merely try to help her. Her arrogance does not endear her. Luckily, however, she meets (or is chatted up by) another American (although we are told he is Australian), Aiden. At last! Someone she considers worth talking to!

With guide Michi (Yukiyoshi Ozawa), Sara finds Jess’s tent, and once more goes against advice given, and stays the night in the forest. This is when some long anticipated frights are hoped for. What we get are a Japanese schoolgirl and three anaemic looking spirits.

The forest itself - actually filmed in Serbia - provides a very impressive backdrop to (the lack of) events. Although Dormer plays her two characters very well, her role is under-written, all efforts instead seem to concentrate on atmosphere or scares – neither of which are particularly effective. ‘The Forest’ is a very dull exercise, where the blandness of direction and characters render it something of a chore.

This tale of gruesome murders around a supposedly haunted tin mine in Cornwall is similar to the kind of picture Tony Tenser or Pete Walker were producing at the time, although rather more ponderous – low budget, and full of well-known British actors. The real winner, as is so often the case, is the scenery. The barren Cornish beaches and windswept grassy hills make an effectively isolated stage for various deaths.

Ronald Lacey plays Michael Clare, an unhappy drunk and the son of odd, reclusive artist Victor Clare (Mike Raven). Victor has a mentally ill wife and fills his time painting and having affairs with his models. Victor is, by all accounts rather a tantrum-prone inadequate rather than the monstrous villain this film paints him to be. As the ‘mad sculptor’, he is entirely free of any sense of menace.

There is a sloppy approach to dramatic logic here, which the lack of budget cannot be blamed for. The (too) irregular murders are carried out with no pretence of cover-up, and yet no-one is ever on hand to notice any noisy disruption or trails of blood, or even to mourn very much for the victims. There’s a very vague lesbian subplot between young Millie and Marcia, but this leads nowhere.

The twist at the end is … strange, but rather effective. It doesn’t make a huge amount of sense, almost as if it had been added at the last minute, but as John Arnott’s Bill ‘explains’, “it was pre-ordained.” The idea of possessed clothing influencing the will of the wearer is a nice one. If some clues to this had been filtered through the storyline, it wouldn’t feel like so unsatisfying.

This is a tension-light film, but retains a definite charm. Although he throws himself into the role of Victor, Raven’s acting is wooden throughout – indeed this and the failure of his next project, the partially self-funded ‘Disciple of Death’, spelled the end for Raven’s horror film aspirations.

The camera prowls around the open fields, huge assembly rooms and rolling sports grounds to the sound of children singing, nicely and sedately setting the scene for this 1972 Hammer horror. Naturally, the camera comes to rest on the feet of a man hanging from a tree. It takes 94 minutes for us to find out who they belong to …

Sally Geeson plays the rather delicate woman in peril attacked in the first few minutes by a man with a prosthetic arm! When she meets the very friendly Headmaster of the school where her boyfriend Robert (Ralph Bates) is due to begin work, the fact that he has only one usable arm doesn’t appear to bother her unduly, at least not initially.

To say Cushing is excellent is rather like pointing out the sky is blue. His subtle wistful looks and occasionally rather breathy intonation when in close proximity to Peggy seem to betray the rather obvious fact that Headmaster Carmichael is behind the attacks on the unfortunate young lady. A testament to his performance here is that you remember him appearing far more than he actually does. The question is, is Peggy imagining it (she recently suffered a breakdown), or is Robert in cahoots with Carmichael?

A pre-Hollywood Joan Collins turns up as Molly the waspy wife of the headmaster (“She can be a terrible bitch!”). Curiously she considers Peggy almost a child bride to Robert – curious given the vast age gap between Molly and her husband.

The revelations, when they come, are very good. Peggy, a victim throughout, really has our sympathy as the bizarre double-twists are expertly delivered. The recording equipment where the deranged Carmichael broadcasts his private showcases are used to good effect in the finale, handsomely obscuring the fact that the scenes are simply filled with the Headmaster explaining the plot. Unspectacular, but enjoyably told and extremely well played by an excellent cast.

A ‘just married’ couple are driving through Las Vegas accompanied by a musical soundtrack that sounds as if it has been lifted straight from Hawaii Five-O. Everything is going well until the groom has his head blown away by a passing driver.

A similar shock happens later on. FBI Agent Naughton has all the hallmarks of a sharp-dressed hero. Before long, he is smeared along a sun-kissed highway by the same manic driver.

The storyline involves disfigured criminal Leonard Karlsson (Jeremy Fitzgerald), convicted of child molestation. He breaks out in a clumsily shot pre-credits sequence and starts a killing spree against the 12 jurors who convicted him. To hide his deformity, he takes to wearing the faces of his victims. Apart from this, we are never invited to learn much about Karlsson; he immediately becomes the standard slasher/killer whose victims are dispatched in a less than bloody way.

The characters are sketchily written. None of them are particularly obnoxious (a common complaint) but neither are they particularly interesting or easy to care about. Deputy Kent, who emerges as the unlikely hero, is probably the most likeable of them all – before he too is dispatched, leaving two young girls Vicki (Mercedes McNab) and Claire (Emily Hardy) to sort things out.

As a whole, ‘XII’ is competent, perfunctory and contains some gory moments, particularly towards the end. If we knew a little more about the main villain, he would have been more effective – as it is, he is simply another ‘bogeyman.’ My favourite aspect of this is the element of surprise; many of the deaths were truly shocking because the characters seemed the least likely to be despatched.

The marriage between Mark (Sam Neill) and his French wife Anna (Isabelle Adjani) is crumbling. Anna is having an open affair with Heinrich (Heinz Bennent), blaming Mark’s elongated time spent away for his work (an undisclosed spying mission he is trying to walk away from). Their unfortunate child, and the most stable character, is Bob (Michael Hogben), caught between the increasing madness and paranoia of his drifting parents. It’s apparent that the child’s presence keeps Mark and Anna more grounded than would otherwise be the case, for when he is out playing, or at school, increasingly violent hysteria ensues.

Through a private investigator, Mark discovers his wife has a second apartment in the rundown side of town. When the investigator discovers a slimy, living organism in the apartment, Anna glasses him. Events spiral further into rich absurdity and madness and with that, ‘Possession’ lurches confidently into uncategorisable territory. It is also the most enjoyable and refreshing horror film I have seen in a long time.

Conversations are replaced with intense dramatic exchanges involving characters forever at the end of their tether, frenzied even from the outset. The direction comprises of shots that give the actors space to do their thing, and what intense performances are unleashed! Often shot in cool blue colours, this was filmed entirely on location in cinematically drizzly Berlin.

Director Andrzej Zulawski wrote this whilst going through a divorce, which might well have contributed to the fraught emotions exhibited by the characters.

Each time we see the organism, it increasingly exhibits human shape until ultimately, it assumes Mark’s appearance (as well as the sexual attentions of Anna). In a bid to outdo even its own outlandishness, I feel the ending is ultimately slightly disappointing – however it cannot be easy to bring a satisfying closure to such an outlandish and shocking series of events.

Meeting with disappointing sales on its release, ‘Possession’ was banned by the usual feint UK hearts as a ‘video nasty’ yet has assumed cult status. It also won Isabelle Adjani multiple awards for best actress for her astonishing performance. As it is, every performance is astonishing, from Bennent’s passionate portrayal of the flamboyant Heinrich, to juvenile’s Hogben’s commendable playing of Bob.

Thom (Jay Sutherland) is very attracted to Stacey (Helen Crevel), but she is in denial about this. Why else would he drive her all the way from London to the peak district for a wedding he isn’t even invited to? It’s all a bit unfair on Thom, but not as unfair as the fact that he’s accidently shot by a recently released ex-prisoner who is showing his son how to hunt deer on private land.

Realising there’s more than a chance of him going back to Her Majesty’s Pleasure as a result of this, the miscreant Weaver (Andrew Coughlan) intends to make amends by hunting Stacey, who is the only one who could engineer his downfall.

This is a solid, steadily paced thriller featuring some terrific scenery, a good line in plot detail (the ongoing notion of Stacey’s perfume giving her presence away, the lack of driving knowledge that impedes her getaway) and some occasionally lacklustre acting. Crevel overplays some of her earlier scenes, whilst villainous Coughlan underplays some of his.

Horror film idiocy, of course, takes a hold. Hunted through the night by a wild man with a gun, Stacey finds a deserted building, which she sneaks inside. Does she shut the door behind her? You’d think so, but no.

I enjoyed this a lot. ‘Footsoldier’ doesn’t set out to change the world, operates within its budget and has plenty of twists in the story to stop it ever becoming stale. There’s a moment when Stacey pulls out Thom’s wallet from her pocket, whilst taking a rest in the woodlands some way through her ordeal. In it, she finds a snapshot of her and Thom together, and breaks down. It’s a good, touching moment in amidst the relentless chase.

This sweeping take on the vampire story has some stunning scenery, some impressive direction, lukewarm acting and a plethora of astonishingly bad CGI effects. To be honest, that is the review in a nutshell, but to expand …

Actors range from German, Italian, Spanish, and the Netherlands giving the production an expansive, truly European flavour. Rutger Hauer is probably the best known name here, playing Van Helsing in a typically under-written part – there is no question of engaging with any of the perfunctorily written characters. Vampire Tanja (Miriam Giovanelli) is perhaps the most striking character; her sensuality and smouldering looks bringing a real presence to the character.

The problem here is that for the most part, the long film is extremely dull, Dracula has a cunning way of disguising the bite marks on his victims by biting them on the back of the knee, at least in the case of the ravishing Lucy (Aria Argento – the director’s daughter).

There is an impressive effect sequence where Dracula (played with quiet menace by Thomas Kretschmann – sometimes too quiet, as his whispering is sometimes inaudible) forms into physical being from swarming flies, followed by a slow motion close-up of a man blowing his brains out, under the Count’s spell.

The castle, the village and locations are all extremely well shot, but as soon as a CGI effect is added, the whole spell is squashed, which has the curious effect of rendering the production a very expensive look that also appears to be incredibly cheap, all in the space of one scene. Quite an achievement.

A positive is the haunting musical score by Claudio Simonetti, a moody, heavily synthesised soundtrack augmenting a string section that provides a truly wistful feel to the various set-pieces.

About 45 minutes from the end, the campiness of Dario Argento’s directorial colours and camera swirls begins to become enjoyable (a campiness exemplified by a European power ballad used as the closing theme). Once the fact that the film is a colourful, cheesy extravaganza has been established, it draws you in. By the time Dracula has transformed into a billowing mass of ashes that suddenly looks like a wolf, the production has taken a hold – just in time for the end credits to roll.

Two gypsy children captured for stealing are taken into the custody of the Countess Bathory, a feared and legendry lady who lives in a huge impressive castle. While the younger brother Mischa (Lucas Bond) makes awkward acquaintances with other juveniles who live in the castle grounds, the young girl Aletta (a tremendous performance from Isabelle Allen) becomes friendly with the countess herself and her many serving women. The girl’s impudence is well matched against the Countess’s regal bearing and they grow close, Bathory dressing her in Riding Hood Red.

Visually, this is a wondrously epic fairy-tale of the darkest kind. Colours, costumes, locations and design are truly faultless. Vibrant warmth glows from crackling torches and illuminate the interiors and provide a contrast to the increasingly cold, stark exteriors. A collection of European actors head the cast, and help give a sense of other-worldliness to the proceedings. Only the story itself lets things down; it really is paper thin, and tends to drag – although the visuals ensure this is not as much of a hardship as it would otherwise be.

Bathory, reputedly responsible for the deaths of 650 children as the opening credits tell us, is written as little more than a Wicked Witch despite the delicious playing by Svetlana Khodchenkova. Her two closest serving girls Dorata and Ilona, elegantly bedecked in royal blue, are my favourite characters. They are wonderfully arch, bitchy characters, terrifically played by Lia Sinchevici and Alexandra Poiana respectively.

Although darkness pervades this gothic tale, the most gruesome moments are reserved for the very end, as Aletta recounts the fate of the various characters four years later.

Wes Bentley plays an unnamed man who regains consciousness behind the steering wheel of a car after a crash. He has no memory of what has happened except for a few sporadic flashbacks of a teenage girl in the back seat, and the blurred figure of a woman – presumably his wife – approaching him through the haze.

Kate Bosworth plays the finely chiselled, perfectly poised wife (also unnamed). Her emotions are in constant check and she barely speaks above an unobtrusive whisper, which is somehow suggestive of both kindness and hidden mystery – she is surely too good to be true? And what of the girl in the back seat? When the man reawakens some time later, bathed in cool sunshine, recovering from his ordeal, the girl is suspiciously absent from the spacious family home?

There is a certain intrigue here, and it is thinly spread. The wife’s obsession with cats, and her habit of littering conversations with random facts to keep her husband’s brain alert, his realisation that there is nothing wrong with his ‘broken’ ankle … all these things pepper the story with an increasing strangeness.

As if the husband’s suffering is not enough, nice Dave the postman is soon dispatched, a sudden unveiling of the woman’s insanity. Shashawnee Hall as the detective only appears to take an interest once things have reached a critical stage. ‘The daughter’ AudreyOlivia Rose Keegan, has been a ‘bad girl’, and is revealed to be kept in a cage. She will be released when the woman is made pregnant, as is the wife’s insistent wish.

In a satisfying twist, both the man and the woman are guilty of kidnapping young Audrey in order to raise money to pay for the wife’s ‘treatment’ – she might even have caused the crash that caused her husband to lose his memory. As he escapes her clutches and ends up in the unsympathetic care of the hospital, a nurse walks in following this revelation, and switches off the life support system, ending his life. It is the wife, and last thing he hears are her words, ‘I put things to sleep for a living, and they don’t wake up.’

This is an enjoyable mystery/lightweight horror with the final twist handled skilfully enough to make sense. The story isn’t quite as gripping as it would like to be. The performances are uniformly good, especially from Hall – the characters remaining icy and detached throughout.