Indulging in the strange and horrific in all pop culture forms, and appreciating the power of Film
I’m a writer, critic, podcaster, Editor in Chief (Filminquiry.com) Vice President of media genome operations (Katch Media), and overall film fanatic. While I enjoy all kinds of cinema/TV/Media, I have a special place in my heart for horror and the wonderfully weird in life.
David Cronenberg has been a pretty significant voice in the horror scene for a while, and I’m always delighted when he creates something new. With Crimes of the Future, I’m happily able to say it’s something not only current but different from a lot of his previous work. And let’s be honest, it’s been a spell since his last feature.
This is a film that is ultimately going to be polarizing with audiences. It seems to be either too much, or not enough. For me, this was subdued in terms of the director, presented in a curiously woeful sensibility, that I ultimately dug but not without its surprises.
In the future, only a minimal amount of people feel pain. Human anatomy has also changed in the sense that our innards form without meaning. For some, that meaning is art. Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen) and partner Caprice (Léa Seydoux) are performance artists, showcasing the live surgery of Saul’s newest creations. Of course, this is putting this, extremely lightly.
“Let us not be afraid to map the chaos inside.”
Saul is introduced to us in a bed that looks like a prop left over from an Aliens movie, and we are told he’s grown a new organ. Good news right? Even if it has no purpose in his body, it will be the star of a performance number, where one watches a surgery with a keen intrigue. It’s become a spectacle to the point where many others have outrageous deformities as an allure. You may have seen an image for the film which includes a man covered in ears. Well, if you haven’t, you can imagine it now. You won’t forget it either. It’s an inspired and intricate story that settles you into its narrative bones like flesh into a cavity.
At the department of registry for new organs, (Kristen Stewart), which, yes, sounds as ludicrous as it is, in the best possible way, is interested in Saul’s work. In ways, it seems he wills these new creations, which makes him even more fascinating. This film is compelling in the most unexpected ways. There are a lot of science fiction elements that are quite heady, but also resonant. It doesn’t matter if we are discussing an organ transplant as art, or as a real-life measure of mortality, Crimes of the Future is a contemplative take on the subject.
What unfolds is a melancholy imagining of bodily odds and ends. It’s a film that simultaneously feels old and new, as a futuristic embodiment it’s also directly tied lovingly into our cinematic past. The film fulfills in a lot of ways, as an homage to the artist and their creations with the dedication involved, sheer imagination, and also the concept of mortality. What does life look like?
Cronenberg is a master of his craft, and Crimes of the Future solidifies this. Our entire cast is at their best, ensuring that this experience of a film is delivered in the manner deserving of such an auteur. There’s sensuality at play here between the cast members, feeling often like a slow unfolding of prose rather than a feature, as their bodies and philosophical playings on our form come to pass.
The film is not without its frustrations and it’s one that I understand some may not fully be attached to. However, I felt it to be an exploration, one that seems mysterious and telling all at the same time in a way that is wholly original. This may not be the gore-fest you might expect, but it’s the strange, more introspective endeavor you deserve.
I’ve got to admit I was pretty enamored with this one. It was a no holds barred return to form opportunity that was seized with an instinctual, sexual-like curiosity. What can the human body do? What should it? A true visionary, Crimes of the Future sees Cronenberg as his most curious and morose in many years. One of the best of 2022 so far.
Crimes of the Future is now available on video on demand
Welcome to Cinematic Nightmare Candy. Providing your horror sweet toothits (hopefully) terrifying fix.
For me, as a lover of various genres, some of the most terrifying viewings are the ones that are based on true crimes. There are many real-life situations that have made me cringe, and curious and exploratory. Mostly, it’s the psychologically fascinated part of me that wonders, why? What happened? What caused this? Well, there are three recent cases to hit streaming for me to evaluate. Each of these had a lot of attention, and some tales were relatively unknown. Until now.
One I was very familiar with (The Staircase) but in the other cases, I was unaware. With all, I was able to scratch that itch for truth, and I was digging. Mostly. All three proved that true horror exists in the depiction of real-life monsters. For all three, go in blindfolded and wait until after if you’re someone who likes to do research, make your own assessment. Truth can be in the eye of the beholder. Yeah, it’s scary.
Candy (Nick Antosca, Robin Veith)
While, personally, the most disappointing of the three series I’m about to cover, Candy, I’ll admit, has its disarming charm. I say this with a definitive level of ickiness because it leaves the ultimate bad taste, but the performances keep it engaging, and the fact that the main character is named Candy is very ironic. This is not the kind you want to try. This limited series has the makings of a shocking, strange real-life story, but ends up losing some of its flavors as it goes.
Sweet than Sour
Candy (Jessica Biel) seems like the perfect housewife, mother, and community member. She’s attentive to her children, and active in her local church all with a pleasantly deceiving demeanor. She and her husband Pat (Timothy Simons) embody the perfect 80s household.
Meanwhile, on the other side of things, Betty (Melanie Lynskey) is having a harder time. Her husband, Alan (Pablo Schreiber), is away a lot on business and her career has taken a sideline as she raises her kids. Betty seems like she is just trying to get through each day, even as she feels unseen, and the always fabulous Lynskey captures her pain with sincerity; the idea that Betty could just disappear at any time.
These two women seem extremely different but remain on a similar trajectory as they are both mothers and their paths are inevitably crossed as their daughters are close friends. What occurs on this particular day though, is one of speculation, and one that even by its end, never fully feels answered.
Each feels isolated in their own ways, but Betty’s character, doesn’t get as much exploration, but still feels more understood (mostly because of the talent at hand), By the end, I didn’t really feel I knew Candy or what exactly was going on inside her brain. It does feel like these are real women and not parodies, and that sensitivity helps ground this series. I just wish I knew them both more.
This five-part series starts with a bang when a visit to Betty’s for a simple and innocent purpose: to get a bathing suit for her daughter who stayed the night at Candy’s house, ends in a bloody and confusing event. We don’t know quite what has happened yet, but give it time. The series calculates its reveal purposely, shifting from the before, to the future, and even the eventual trial, as a way of illuminating what exactly happened. Turns out, this suburban housewife has her secrets.
Candy has a very exaggerated feel, especially in its waning final two episodes, but it doesn’t fully deliver on the real psychological element at the center. What makes someone who seems relatively level suddenly snap?
Something I loved about the series, besides the performances, was the 80s vibe. This includes the perms, home decor, and costumes. Undoubtedly conventional, Candy is a true-crime series that doesn’t break the mold. It’s a gruesome event that becomes an unspooling of “truths” as it turns into a courtroom procedural.
Biel shines as the oppressed housewife, that we watch slowly become the opposite of what we and her small community know her to be. It’s a nearly unbelievable case, and the series handles this story with respect and care, which can be a slippery slope for many trying to recreate events as horrifying as this. Candy tells the story of two housewives, seething internally amid their unhappiness until one of them bubbles over. Is what really happened what is displayed in the trial?
Who can say?
Narratively the writers are able to give us sizeable portions to keep us sustained but still, I remained hungry. I wanted to know what happened and what became of Candy enough to follow the breadcrumbs to its finale. But, overall it’s an intriguing project that doesn’t totally stick the landing. As always, it seems like things come in pairs (sometimes more) as it looks as though another series on HBO will follow this story as well. It’ll be interesting to see how that one goes.
Candy is currently streaming on Hulu
Under the Banner of Heaven (Dustin Lance Black)
All of these series are packed full of star power, so it’s rightfully mentioned that the acting is never the issue.
Religion extremists can be some of the most terrifying portrayals of abuse of power, and a misconstruing of faith as a right to do horrific things. Much like within a true crime story, anyone who is an extremist, of any sort, is truly creepy.
When Brenda Lafferty (Daisy Edgar Jones) and her child are brutally murdered, the community is at a loss. The series starts with Detective Jeb Pyre (Andrew Garfield) a fellow Mormon who is investigating the heinous murder of a woman and her infant child. This happens in a generally Mormon community and its trajectory leads to an intro into some unfortunate and outlandish perspectives of the religion.
His partner Bill Taba (Gil Birmingham), doesn’t share his beliefs, and the two work concurrently to discover, the who, the why, and what has occurred. The biggest suspect? The husband Allen (Billy Howle), whose story seems plausible, and whose own family may be at the crux of the crime.
Under the Banner of Heaven is what a true-crime series should be (another from Hulu too) that’s not to say it didn’t have its faults, but it is aware of its own nature. I was intrigued and visibly disturbed from the opening murder to its ultimate truth. The show often traversed time and perspective giving us varying points of view ranging from early Mormon history to recent extremism and implied righteousness.
The story focuses on the Lafferty family, primarily: Ron (Sam Worthington), his wife Dianna (Denise Gough), Dan (Wyatt Russell), and his wife Matilda (Chloe Pirrie), Robin (Seth Numrich), Samuel (Rory Culkin), and many others. It focuses on this family in Utah, and the behavior and belief that separates many despite blood relations.
I am not to say what is true (I’m not knowledgeable enough in this religion, so I stake no claim) but I am coming from what is portrayed in this series. The truth is that people were murdered, and regardless of the reasonings, it’s a fact. Life was taken, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.
Andrew Garfield is excellent in his performance as the lead, often facing scrutiny from his community for his involvement, but ultimately, always, heartfelt in his endeavor for justice.
The performances are truly spectacular, some of the cast were next to unrecognizable which made this series simultaneously easy to breathe in but excruciating to exhale. Not only does the show tackle the murder, and the ideals of some members of the Lafferty’s, but also the undeniable and discomforting imbalance within marriage and home (specifically the lack of voice a woman has).
There are some stretches when the show gets tangled up too much in its backstory and history. However, it is able to recover with a vast amount of in-depth characterization, and a focus on the struggle with faith, and the laws of man. It’s unique, even if it is something too detailed for its own good.
Under the Banner of Heaven is a riveting series, with an ambiance of a character-driven narrative, and a realistically horrifying tale, that makes this series ultimately hard to take. This is a tough watch, but it’s important. It’s done with deft hands and a creative perspective that makes you realize the dangers of fundamentalism.
Under the Banner of the Heaven is currently available on Hulu
The Staircase (Antonio Campos)
This is one of those cases that is quite well known and having seen the documentary, I was unsure if this would bring much more to the table. With a combination of stellar performances and intricately discerned dramatic retellings, The Staircase is another HBO hit. If there’s already been a documentary, what else can be said? Well, let’s see.
Author Michael Peterson’s (played here by Colin Firth) wife Kathleen (Toni Collette) died at the bottom of the staircase in their luxurious South Carolina home. There are a lot of potential motives for murder, many odd coincidences with his past, as well as some curious answers that seem like a freak occurrence. The fact that this series acts out all three, portrayed in painful realization from Collette, makes for a visceral experience. All of these seem reasonable in how the creators master it, and the performances included.
But, I Regress
What really happened? What’s interesting is the dive into all of the possibilities, regardless of how obtuse or unbelievable they are. To this day this hasn’t been a case truly tested. Much like the Paradise Lost series, another I’d suggest to anyone interested in true crime or a look at the justice, and injustice system, this is a perspective that varies. What really happened? Do we know? That particular case is one I’ve studied a lot, and while I have my hypothesis, you don’t really know. It’s one of the struggles. It is also one of the intrigues.
In this series the star power is palpable. The family is portrayed by a variety of talents including Margaret Ratliff (Sophie Turner) and sister Martha Ratliff (Odessa Young), Dane Dehaan as Clayton Peterson, and brother Todd Peterson (Patrick Schwarzenegger). Rosemarie DeWitt as Candace Zamperini sister of Kathleen, as well as Juliette Binoche as Sophie Broussard, and Parker Posey as Freda Black. It’s a powerful group of talent that makes the storytelling and direction influences that much more impactful.
With The Staircase, this is a dramatized version of a story that has already had hot headlines and a full documentary devoted to it. What’s intriguing here is that it capitalizes on terrific portrayals, and the differentiating “possibilities” and also includes the documentary with an almost meta feel.
The series takes place from the initial tragedy and then 15 years later as the case and family deal with this circumstance that most should never have to navigate. It’s at times a family drama, a courtroom experience, and a retelling of potential scenarios. In all ways, the show goes the distance. What I appreciated and also felt most empathetic for was the extended family and how they dealt with this trauma. This is a truly untenable event, and those involved dealt with it as best they could. Everybody involved gives it their all, and it dismisses any hesitancy that I had when I first heard that they were making this series.
I was waiting with bated breath for the finale, and while I enjoyed it, it made me realize that some of the episodes did sag a bit, and the momentum had faded. That’s not to say it takes away from the performances or the immense dedication a show based on a true story and a documentary while remaining unbias requires, I just felt it lingered longer than needed.
Something that The Staircase is terrific at is the real emotion and empathy displayed. This family goes through so much, and the death of Kathleen Peterson is one of those mysteries that so many feel unable to move on from. This doesn’t necessarily give any indication or insight, it merely paints a few of the scratched-away corners in color, allowing us to see more of what may have been. Truth or not? Who knows.
Kudos to the final shot, it was chilling.
The Staircase is available to stream on HBO
All three of these have their highs and lows, but none of them are without their curiosity. Isn’t that why many watch things such as this? Sometimes the most unbelievable is reality. Regardless, even with the amassed amount of talent through these three, Under the Banner of Heaven definitely felt the most comfortable in its shoes. And let’s be fair, none of these was anything more than adequately discomforting. This is reality dissected, diluted, and ugly.
Have you seen any of these? What are your thoughts? Let me know!
Created by Silka Luisa Shining Girls (based on the book by Lauren Beukes) follows the mind-bending reality of Kirby (Elisabeth Moss) as she tries to navigate life after a devastating near-death attack. This series, which may very well only be one season (or at least I hope) can be head-scratching, nearly anxiety-inducing at times, but remains an intriguing, immaculately performed story that interweaves sci-fi elements with real character-driven drama.
In part, this series focuses on Kirby and her frequently changing reality. She takes notes each day reminding her of her place and where she is within this world as it shifts unexpectedly. One day her desk is moved; another it’s her apartment, her lifestyle, her hair, her pet – you name it. After surviving a nearly fatal attack, she becomes aware of a recent murder that may be connected to her assault. This starts her on an investigative hunt for the truth, and for the assailant, played with expertly portrayed malice, by Jamie Bell as the elusive Harper.
The show takes place in Chicago in the 90s and while there is an element of time travel, it also believably lives in the world of journalism at the Chicago Sun-Times. As someone who wanted to be a reporter, but after her attack worked in the archives, Kirby is a character that embodies a woman you root for. Moss, who has proved she can really portray any role, does it again with a performance that doesn’t leave anything behind.
The case grabs the attention of struggling writer, Dan (Wagner Moura) whose career has taken some hits after dealing with addiction. The two form a unique team, discovering many grisly murders that point to a serial killer. Shifting realities often derail Kirby, and she is an unreliable narrator at times, but one who is also committed to figuring out the connections with these deaths. There are a lot of plotlines at work here, one of which is a very enthralling murder mystery and a psychological thriller. Even though we know the who, early on, the why and the telling of the events takes time to be discovered.
Harper’s character is really, truly despicable. He doesn’t generate much empathy; a clear villain. Yet, and kudos to the writers and Bell’s performance, he’s quite curious. What are his motives? Even if we don’t get all of the answers, like the novel delivers more of, we can’t help but wonder about all of the questions.
What’s ultimately frustrating but somehow simultaneously stimulating is the constant differing realities. This is where the science fiction aspect becomes especially prevalent. You feel as if you are with Kirby, understanding her confusion and her relentless perceptions of what her life is. She has all of her memories, but her surroundings and the people involved, including her mother Rachel (Amy Brenneman) and her sometimes husband Marcus (Chris Chalk) make for an overly sympathetic protagonist that truly captures the damage and struggle of someone dealing with a traumatic event. The supporting characters are as equally important as they present a level of both sustainable empathy and disconnect. Shining Girls is nothing if not a vestibule for contemplation. At times, you may feel on par with Kirby, unsure of what you are seeing.
A Mysterious Take On A Serial Killer
While most of the victims are already gone, there is one that can potentially be saved, with a riveting performance by Phillipa Soo as Jin-Sook. The relationship with her and Kirby is one I could have used more of, but it provides a sense (much like her and Dan, but varied) of recluse from her loneliness. The pain and healing of such an event can make someone feel like they are on an island, and we get to see Kirby’s resurgence which is (by its end) is as satisfying as you could hope for.
Shining Girls may not be for everyone. It is an acquired taste because, much like the lead, you’re traversing a difficult situation. The fact that this series personified this so definitively is admirable. Personally, it took me a couple of episodes, but then I was hooked.
There is a lot to potentially spoil, and I won’t. Much like many of this genre, the value is in the experience. It also is a series that earns your approval, your investment, and in its end, proves to be worthy of it. AppleTV+, I feel, has been a streaming service that has very rarely let me down. I’ve had several I’ve written about admirably here and on my other site (filminquiry.com) and some I haven’t but appreciated all the same.
Shining Girls mixes investigative mystery with science fiction in a way that never feels exploitative and it gives a voice to trauma and an inventive story to boot; an avenue for imaginative storytelling that still somehow feels grounded. Come for the intrigue, stay for the performances; everyone is at the top of their game, and Elisabeth Moss, again, proves she is one of the best actresses on television.
A perplexing series with no shortage of hard-to-watch moments, Shining Girls is an enthralling, bold tale.
I dug it.
Shining Girls Season One is available to stream on AppleTV+.
Shockingly disturbing, discomforting, and entirely evocative; there are scenes from The Innocents that have still not left me, weeks later, and there are feelings trapped, wound with celluloid in their pristine heritage that makes me confirm a truth despite any negative reactions: this is talent.
The fact that Eskil Vogt co-wrote my favorite film of last year (The Worst Person in the World) hasn’t escaped me. This script is sharp, all edges and angles, aimed at disarming even the most impenetrable of us.
Ida (Rakel Lenora Fløttum) and her older autistic sister Anna (Alva Brynsmo Ramstad) have moved with their family to a new apartment complex. As Anna struggles to speak, Ida seems frustrated by her sister and overwhelmed by the circumstances of her family. When they arrive at their new home, she quickly meets Ben (Sam Ashraf) who shows that he exhibits strange abilities. Meanwhile, Anna befriends Aisha (Mina Yasmin Bremseth Asheim) who also has a secret, as she is one of the only people who are able to successfully communicate with Anna. Why are there multiple children with gifts in such a limited area? It is intriguing, and a detail that is never truly explained.
Written and directed by Norway’s Eskil Vogt, The Innocents is about a group of children who become unlikely friends and who also have to learn to cope with their newfound supernatural abilities at an age that is already challenging enough. But, when you dive deeper, it’s a look at the innate ability humans have to hurt, the cruelty in power, and what we do when given the arrogance of a toxic ability.
In some ways, it reminded me of Chronicle (without of course the obviously handheld camera element) but also in the fact that it is a group of teenagers who had to navigate unforeseen powers. With The Innocents, this is a much younger group, and it makes this film doubly horrific, but also tentatively sympathetic. That consistent contrast is what makes this one of the best genre films of 2022 so far.
Something that I really appreciate about this film, aside from the terrific child acting (which truly steals the show), is the fact that there are characters you root for and against, and there are those who are misguided. They are children who are working things out amid a situation that is barely understandable for an adult, let alone a child. It’s a thinly laid tight-walk, one that Vogt manages, even when it’s apparent that a fall is imminent.
There is a level of slow-burn agony that permeates throughout the entire film. From its opening scene until its last, even if your reasoning changes- the sensation doesn’t. The dread is decidedly apparent even when you want to look away; you have to see the gut-wrenching finale.
What is Evil?
Within its hour and 58-minute runtime, there are very few scenes that don’t feel creepy. Even when these kids seem to be getting along, there’s an undercurrent of waiting; waiting for the next bad thing to occur, or for reasoning to prevail. In other words: prepare to be discomforted. There is one scene that actually had me looking away, but the sound effects were vivid enough.
It’s an atmospheric blend of psychological terror and the eeriness that comes from our expectations for what will come next. We can see some of these children’s motives turning dark, and its idea is quite sinister. The cinematography and sound effects/design are truly impeccable.
Its final scene is delivered within a chilling near-silence, giving us the perspective, again, that the adults nearby are truly unaware and unable to change what is happening. The Innocents really buries deep, digging under the skin, ensuring your inability to escape.
The Innocents allows us to feel empathy, but also to genuinely judge the actions of its characters. Eskil Vogt definitely does not hold back from diving into the psyche of these troubled, emerging minds, allowing many conflicting emotions to arise. It’s an experience, to say the least, one that doesn’t bear repeating but remains resonant regardless.
For anyone considering this watch, definitely tread lightly as there are a lot of triggering, frightening scenes throughout.
Outer Range is truly a curious concoction of vibes, and intentions. Josh Brolin is as disconnected as I have seen him, giving us a fully charged and gutted performance. In just the first episode alone, there’s a murder, a curious arrival of a stranger, battling ranches, and of course, a random black hole that has appeared on The Abbott Family ranch.
And, bonus, I have to say there is a very inquisitive Buffalo.
But let’s rewind back through the mysterious universe of this strangely fascinating, slow burn, familial drama/sci-fi.
On a big ranch in beautiful, sprawling Montana, Royal Abbott (Josh Brolin), his wife Cecilia (Lili Taylor), sons Rhett (Lewis Pullman), and Perry (Tom Pelphrey) along with Perry’s daughter Amy (Olive Elise Abercrombie) reside. Before the arrival of said murky, mysterious hole, the family already has their struggles. Perry’s wife Rebecca went missing, and no one knows where she is. Rhett wants to be a bull rider, but can’t seem to leave the family and its ranch behind. Then there’s Royal, who has a mysterious past that had him finding his way to the ranch as a child, his memory gone, and his family with it. Not to mention, the wealthy Tillerson’s, who want part of their land, specifically, the one that has a potential time traveling yawn at the center.
Autumn (Imogen Poots) arrives in a seemingly innocent fashion: she’s just looking for a place to stay, to put up her tent and not be a bother, specifically a place ripe with natural beauty. It doesn’t take long for Royal to become skeptical of her intentions, and for the two to become borderline adversaries. Their connection and disconnect are one of the most intriguing aspects of the series.
Over the course of season one of Outer Range, a lot happens. There are many subplots and moving parts, and not all of them get their full due. Every member of the Abbott family is dealing with new strifes, and then there are the others in this smaller community, who have their own hardships and motives.
Will Patton is Wayne Tillerson, patriarch of the family, and someone who has a unknown tie to this discovery. Not in the best health, his children, Billy (Noah Reid), Luke (Shaun Sipos), and Trevor (Matt Lauria) seem to be running things themselves. These two families are clearly rivals from the onset of the first episode, but there are also tattered threads within the Abbott family threatening to rip them apart. These two families have more in common than they realize, which makes for an interesting dynamic.
When Royal finds this unbelievable discovery he keeps it to himself, and he puts the burden on himself, therefore, pushing away his family. This, and the accidental death, creates a fissure within their home that continues to grow, thicker and more aggressive with time. Time, as it is, is incredibly important to the mythos of Outer Range, especially as the season continues. It’s this secret that manages to set each of the Abbotts on their own unique collision course.
Some of what intrigues me most about Outer Range is its unpretentious use of random plot devices. There are some scenes (for example one with Lili Taylor) that serve no reasonable purpose, at least not yet, and despite this, I was intrigued. I even relished those oddities.
This is a series of mysteries, first and foremost. Some are revealed by the finale, and some are still throbbing and pressuring as the expectation (and hope, here) for a second season mounts.
Let’s Talk About Poots
I’ve been a fan of Imogen Poots for a while. Whenever I see her listed in the cast, I’m elated. She’s one of those actresses that really aces every assignment she is given. In Outer Range her character is enigmatic, completely imperceptible, but also incredibly curious. Why is she so interested in this ranch? Who is she really, and what are her intentions? That investment and uncertainty makes for a plot line, in itself, that’s very riveting. I have my theories, but we will see what comes to fruition.
There are some killer supporting characters as well. Deputy Sheriff Joy (Tamara Podemski) as the local police who wants to win her quest for sheriff, but also needs to be under the thumb of the community’s elite to do so, specifically the Tillerson family. There is also Rhett’s childhood love, Maria Olivares (Isabel Arraiza), that has come back into his life. This provides a sweet romance in the corner of Outer Range, further capitalizing on its intricate paths. Each of these characters has a vital role in what is to come. Even if the expectation is uncertain.
Outer Range proves to be quite the rabbit hole. There are so many threads to follow, some more compelling than others, but they are all equally pointed. What is the significance of this find? Can Royal save his family? Who is Autumn, really?
The finale of Season One gives us tidbits of an explanation but mostly proves to encourage more questions than it does answers. With a story like this, I’m not surprised. While this series definitely takes its time, sometimes questioning your dedication, it ultimately made me engaged to a point where I was genuinely disappointed that I could not see where its narrative was headed. There are some gorgeous shots, wonderful sound design, and truly incredible acting performances. If not for anything else (and there is plenty), it should be viewed for its technological achievements.
Narratively, the show takes a concept that is a collaboration of ideas, making it one that stands out even when it is muddled. There were no episodes I saw where I wasn’t immediately invested in its next adventure.
Outer Range proves to be unique, alluring, and infinitely odd. This isn’t a negative. If anything, I applaud its approach to the unknown with a distinctive, massive anomaly that still takes a personal approach. This is human meets the mysterious in ample scope.
Outer Range season one is currently streaming on Amazon Prime
Welcome to Cinematic Nightmare Candy. Providing your horror sweet toothits (hopefully) terrifying fix.
This time around I ventured into two very different horror films. I had heard previous praise for one and had nearly seen it at a festival, while the other was a completely new and exciting, surprise.
X (Ti West)
As a fan of Ti West‘s The House of the Devil, I was really looking forward to seeing what his newest venture would bring. For the most part, I had avoided spoilers, so I went into X with nothing more than a logline. Believe me when I say that this film will flourish in that sweet spot; between your presumptions and what X really is.
This allowed me to experience the film without knowing how weird or unexpected it would be and that unknown kept me immensely invested even when I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening.
X starts with a group of filmmakers headed out to a guesthouse in rural Texas to shoot an adult film. Maxine (Mia Goth), Lorraine (Jenna Ortega), Wayne (Martin Henderson) Bobby-Lynne (Brittany Snow), RJ (Owen Campbell), and Jack (Kid Cudi) arrive expecting to make the next adult sensation, but instead find themselves in a uniquely disturbing, nightmare circumstance.
It is the 70s and writer/director Ti West does an amazing job of capturing the era, both stylistically, and how the camera draws us in. It’s an alluring place, a piece of history that is often brought to the screen with a beautiful (and menacing) appeal. At times, this felt like a mix between The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, though, the former, was much closer in tone. The camerawork is by far one of the standouts, creating perceptible tension, especially in the first half when X is really at its best.
The young stars show up to be greeted by an elderly man, who is hesitant to rent despite a previous promise. Howard and his wife Pearl live on the premises and it doesn’t take long to realize there is something off about their situation, especially that of Pearl who takes to late-night strolls, peeping in on our group, and crossing many, many, boundaries.
X is a throwback in all of its aesthetics, reaching for inspiration in the grindhouse features that once populated this space. It can be a bit gratuitous with its gore, but that doesn’t bother me as much (especially if you’ve seen the new Texas Chainsaw) as much as its lack of exploration within its characters. While this is obviously a slasher in all of the typical ways, X’s insistence on the repelling of the aged form, call it ageism or just the horror of the reality of getting older, is the real root of terror.
I’d also check the credits when it’s finished if you didn’t figure out a detail yourself about Pearl.
The female performances are really the standouts of the group, especially Mia Goth. Among the camerawork, I have to give kudos to the editing done by West and David Kashevaroff, and a haunting score that adds to the excellently captured aesthetic. Overall, X is an entertaining and vivid throwback horror, with a mesmerizing performance from Goth, even if it doesn’t slash quite as deep as it intends.
X is available on VOD
Midnight (Kwon Oh-seung)
Kwon Oh-Seung‘s Midnight brings us a bleak setting from its start, a place dominated by fear, as young women seem to fall victim to an unknown assailant. The concept is a fairly simple one, and yet somehow Midnight doesn’t seem to play that way at all.
After a long day at work, Kyung-mi (Jin Ki-joo) meets up with her mother (Gil Hae-yeon). Unbeknownst to her, a serial killer is lurking in the shadows. He stalks women and murders them, on the scarce streets of South Korea. Do-sik (Wi ha-joon) had just preyed on his newest victim, a young woman walking home, and while still in the middle of the assault is seen. A mask obscures his identity, but his imperatives quickly shift as he realizes that Kyung-mi has not only seen what he’s done but has gotten away. He also assumes her deafness as an indication she’ll be a simple target.
This is where this mystery/thriller dials up to 10 and becomes a hunt, an escape, and a stirring fight for survival.
As clever as he is chilling, Do-sik finds ways to talk himself out of suspicion, even among his potential victims. The story mostly focuses on these three, but also Jong-tak (Park Hoon), the brother of the recent victim, who is still alive (albeit barely) as the film also turns into a desperate mission to find and save his sister.
Kwon Oh-seung also wrote the script, and it is an intriguing, biting, and ultimately suspenseful story that doesn’t stop for air (and I mean that literally, they run so much, that I felt winded). It’s got its finger on your pulse and it doesn’t let up. There’s always some new turn that you aren’t expecting which makes the lean 103 minutes all efficiently used.
There were times when I’d see how much I had watched and I was shocked there was so much left because I assumed things were nearing their end. And yet, something new would occur creating added tension and bringing in new characters or circumstances, and it’s like the board reset. Suddenly, you have no idea what would happen as you watch this character try to survive the night.
Kwon Oh-seung brings in a noir vibe, not sitting on social commentary and giving us a lot to think about. That is if you can find a beat between the kinetic energy. Jin Ki-joo is compelling and extremely genuine, making it easy to follow her struggles with empathy and hope. I can see this being one of those films with people yelling at the screen; not because she’s making poor choices, but because Wi ha-joon is so darn effective.
Midnight allows us to be immersed in the action, and the thrills, as we root for our heroine and curse this killer, who seems to charm the guard down on everyone he meets. In fact, Wi ha-joon, is superb. His truly menacing and chilling demeanor permeates through the film, often finding ways to remind us how he revels in this, smirking at the camera, or laughing to himself as he gets away with another vicious feat.
There are times when the film begins to get lost but quickly finds its footing, allowing some plot holes to form but not without forgiveness. Overall, Midnight prevails to satisfy fans of thrillers and horror alike, keeping you on your toes, and genuinely on the edge of your seat.
The performances by everyone are exceptional. In some scenes, occasionally consisting of long shots of running through the streets, you can feel the character’s air as harsh and splintered as it must be, until the victim and the aggressor collide. It makes for quite the visceral chase.
Midnight enthralls in its thills, excels in its execution, and allows a talented cast to bring this repeatedly anxiety-inducing stunner to life.
A child’s emotions can be confusing. So many can arrive at once in confounding and unsettling ways. Especially when you’re dealing with a lot at once: fear, grief, abuse, and it can almost feel… monstrous.
Jeremiah Kipp‘s film Slapface was a truly welcome addition to the genre in the sense that it tackled these themes from a child’s perspective without feeling overtly young or obvious. In fact, by its end, Slapface may leave things a little ambiguous, but it doesn’t take away from its significance or the parallels to real life, as fantastical/fairy tale-esque it may be, even in its final moments.
Kipp, who wrote and directed, drafts a tale that feels somewhat familial to A Monster Calls, but it’s like the disconnected cousin, where Slapface meanders more into the dramatic and the horrific but doesn’t slack on the emotional current that channels this entire tale.
Brothers Lucas (August Maturo) and Tom (Mike C. Manning) have been dealing with the loss of their parents. Of the siblings, Tom has been struggling with alcoholism and guilt. Lucas has as well, along with the usual uncertainties of youth and identity. Tom also has a new girlfriend, Anna (Libe Barer) who is especially cautious about their lifestyle. Lucas has started a new relationship with conflicted Moriah (Mirabelle Lee) who often feigns her feelings when in the midst of her friends: the twin girls who bully Lucas.
When Lucas can’t seem to stay out of trouble, a very limited cameo from Dan Hedaya as the local sheriff gives Tom a talk about how he is raising him. Is the behavior because of his personal afflictions or normal childhood angst? Meanwhile, Tom, who is still a kid himself, is more likely at a bar than paying attention to his brother. It’s a situation that no one should ever have to be put in, and one that exists without a directional roadmap.
After Lucas is bullied, he gives in to a dare and ventures into a boarded-up building, despite having read about some sightings of a monster. He does then encounter it; however, in time, he befriends this entity. Whether it is a formation of his fears, his inner uncertainties, or a real-life abnormal creature, is yet to be seen. Regardless, this creation is intimidating and yet soothing to Lucas in a way much like previous monsters of horrific lore have been. Most of them just want some semblance of understanding and connection. With Slapface the bond takes its time, and you see the relationship serving both healing and destructive purposes.
Sometimes, when in peril, you need a bit of both.
This “monster” is kind to him, but vicious to anyone who he feels threatens Lucas or anyone it is uncertain about. This makes the horror psychological in nature because we all have our demons, but how we rationalize them varies. When a child is at the center, it’s especially hard to do.
Jeremiah Kipp doesn’t do a courtesy to the audience; you know how challenging of a situation it is from the start with the brother’s “Slapface” practice, slapping one another to basically rid themselves of feeling or reliving their pain. These brothers exist amongst the wilderness, detached in many ways, and Slapface utilizes this to an especially stark degree. This is a bleak film. Don’t expect any joy, but definitely anticipate a level of empathy, regardless of the connotations. It’s important to note that the monster effects are low-key, but yet actively effective.
Slapface is a bit of a slow burn, with some tedious moments that don’t always add up. Some viewers may give up early, but hear my rally: it’s worth it. I think this is an independent horror that earns its viewership.
For the most part, the film capitalizes on its voice, which is that of a youth struggling with things most should never have to. No matter how you perceive Slapface, one thing is for sure: you will feel it. It’s gonna burn a hole in you, harsh but perpetually distinct. Its performances and writing are effectually inherent.
We all have our monsters. And, sometimes, we need the monsters to show us the truth, as ugly as they may be.
Welcome to Cinematic Nightmare Candy. Providing your horror sweet toothits (hopefully) terrifying fix.
I watch a lot of horrors. What’s new this past week for me? Stick with me and we’ll see what awaits.
This time I was welcomed to some bizarre offbeat horrors that meandered more comedic, but at least two kept a steady hand at being exactly what they intended. A breath of fresh (or is it disturbing?) air. *wink* Overall, not the most effective in everything, yet still this version of the column finds the highlights even when they are streaming, bloody, red.
Benny Loves You (Karl Holt)
This British comedy-horror is exactly what you’d expect from a film with a premise about a doll that comes to life with murderous results. This concept is not quite Chucky but not entirely without its inspiration. Instead, Benny looks to protect his beloved bestie, whether from friend or foe, often confusing those with good intentions and mirroring jealousy and obsession with love. It’s a strange comedy horror, that manages to hit all of the right notes.
Written, directed, and starringKarl Holt, Benny Loves You is one of those rare achievements where ridiculousness isn’t synonymous with “bad.” Instead, it is just plain fun. Holt also manages to make our lead characterincredibly sympathetic. And, I’ll be honest, even the doll, as psychotic as it was, imbued some sympathy too.
Jack (Karl Holt) is a production designer at a toy company. He lives with his parents until his unfortunate 35th birthday when they unexpectedly perish under strange circumstances. Magically, his childhood toy, Benny, gets empowered with vicious and supernatural abilities, all aimed at protecting his best friend, at any costs. Even, if it means murder.
This is a self-aware comedy that makes the most of its limited budget and hilarious output. There were so many times I laughed at Benny’s positions and decisions as maniacal as they were because the actions and visuals warranted it so. Sometimes, even something as simple as Benny on top of a car, wielding a knife, as the unsuspected victim cranks rock music, is quite memorable. Or, when he slices up an unexpected office break room. It’s all on par with a jolt of comedic timing and the perpetual massacre to come.
It’s partly a love for the past, the power where our childhood lingers on, and where our adulthood wonders when we have to let go. But when it is safe to do that? This is especially pertinent when our childhood buddy is a psychotic murderer. Luckily, most don’t have to consider such an idea.
There are a lot of scenes in Benny Loves You that feel borderline cheesy, but often, they settle in the terrain of lovingly horrific. It’s that strange place between what we want, what we need, and what we are terrified of having. We all want success, but at what cost? How much can we let go of our childish inclinations?
Benny Loves You is a blast; it’s funny and it’s disgustingly gory. A horror-comedy treasure with just enough heart, that doesn’t take itself too seriously.
New Year, New You (Sophia Takal)
This venture in Into the Dark was quite different than the first, and a much more entertaining bit. Who doesn’t like a group of young women ruminating on past teenagers’ pain with “friends” who they haven’t connected with in a while? Sounds like a mouthful, but it’s a very straightforward conceit.
I’m sure many of us have had bad exchanges or confrontations because of things that happened in our past, but New Year, New You takes this to a treacherous degree.
Let’s set the stage.
The players: it is New Year’s Eve, and what better way to celebrate when your family home is being sold than to invite your high school besties over? For some, it has been a while, especially one in particular, who has grown to massive social media success. Alexis (Suki Waterhouse) invites friends Kaela (Kirby Howell-Baptiste) Chloe (Melissa Bergland) and long distanced friend, Danielle (Carly Chaikin) whose clear stardom has made her detached from the onset.
Unbeknownst to Danielle, there’s a setup involved. Something less celebratory is afoot, and these girls have an idea of how to ring in the new year: by acknowledging a past sin. Vengeance for her behavior and stored resentment are bubbling over the glasses of champagne but, who will ring honest and victorious?
While this is a step-up from a previous Into the Dark, there are still moments that don’t feel as potent as others. Still, New Year, New You, emphasizes its lean runtime with adequate tension, and plenty of build-ups that makes viewers wonder, are they are being fooled. Who is the bully, and who is the victim? Ironically, this was also a theme in the previous column.
New Year, New You takesa crumb and turns it into a nasty, suspenseful holiday cake. One which they will all undoubtedly choke on. All these girls are on edge, many with their own regrets and insecurities, making for a perceptible suspense amid the festivities. In the end, we see the “truth” and it is ugly. But, it’s also relative to our current obsession with social media, online personalities, and perceptions (and misconceptions). It starts and ends with a similar shot, but with very different, satirical, and interesting, meanings. We all want to be heard, yeah? But what is truth?
By no means does this film breakthrough where its predecessors were at a standstill, but it does provide an engaging enough premise to satisfy most who are looking for this sort of revenge-fueled-small set narrative.
Despite its downfalls, Sophia Takal brings us New Year, New You, which is simultaneously emotionally erratic and smartly snide with its perception of relationships, vengeance, and the horror of piecing truths together.
New Year, New You is currently available on Hulu
Barbarians (Charles Dorfman)
I can’t deny that when you see a character portrayed as effectively as someone like Ramsey Snow/Bolton in an epic like Game of Thrones, it can be hard to see them differently. And honestly, it’s a compliment, because it means they nailed it; they have convinced you. I have seen many of the show’s cast members in other roles, but this is the first for me with Iwan Rheon and he (and the rest of the cast) does this film justice. Where is it lacking? Patience and practice. And believe me, you’ll need an appreciation of both to get through the experience of Barbarians.
There is a lot under the surface in this film that isn’t fully explored, it’s like we get the lean cut instead of the meaty one, one which would have fulfilled much more had it been served. I’d also say there’s a lot of misdirection as much as there are obvious nods to what will come. It becomes a bit confusing, but early on there is an indication of areas that don’t ever fully get explored.
But let’s back up.
It’s a new home; a dinner party and friends unite for a meal and a (purposed) good catch-up sesh. The table is set: Adam (Rheon) and Eva (Catalina Sandino Moreno) are the first tenants in a new development. They decide to have over Lucas (Tom Cullen) who is the proprietor of the property, and his girlfriend Chloe (Inès Spiridonov) on Adam’s birthday, but also to celebrate their new digs.
From the onset of Barbarians, there’s a sense of dread, an inescapable lingering sign of what will undoubtedly be an awkward and unfulfilling meal. There are secrets and uncertainties lingering under the surface, some brimming from how Lucas acquired this land, and others related to what he intends to do with it.
Purposefully frustrating, the characters are a bit sniveling, lost in their own greed or self-service to really ever give us a basis to connect to. The satire ends up being tiresome, and the positives (the original setup, the central locale, and the cast) become lost in what equals to a mismatched narrative.
It doesn’t elevate to its full potential by the time it reaches its home invasion phase, which makes the trite bickering seem rather futile, and makes what could have been some of the more intriguing aspects of the film come too late (or too early?) I’m not really sure.
Barbarians constructs a level of keen curiosity but eventually fades into the familiar. And, unfortunately, an unimpressive final showdown. I wanted to like this much more than I did, and I believe the bones for success were there, if not for a miscalibration of (skeletal) pieces. I was still hungry for more.
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I watch an ample amount of horror, sometimes more often than others, so why not recollect my recent foray into the genre? In the last week or so, I’ve seen 4 different kinds of the genre, and some were unexpectedly great, and others disappointedly so. Some were very different than what I expected, and while sometimes the surprise is wonderful, sometimes…not. Let’s recount, shall we?
Coming Home in the Dark (James Ashcroft)
This was a film I had looked forward to since missing it at Sundance last year. With some recent horror bangers at recent film festivals, I was excited to see this available on streaming (Netflix) and finally able to dive into this blindspot.
What came of my movie-going experience was mixed, to say the least. What starts off as a lovely picnic among family Hank, AKA Hoaggie (Erik Thomson), Jill (Miriama McDowell), and their two sons rapidly turns into a tale of some of the family being captive, and then… a turn into vengeance. While it begins in the countryside, a lot takes place within a vehicle, mulling through overextended conversation. These are bad guys that are in no hurry to dismiss any little detail, and then it becomes wider in scope, more advanced, reaching back to a place of childhood agony, that then spawns the rest of the film.
What is their motive?
I will say that Coming Home in the Dark doesn’t pull its punches early, with an opening act that feels genuinely terrifying. I had an “oh shit!” moment of surprise that made me instantly curious about where this was going. It was quite the bold position to levy so early on, but I admired the choice because it had me visibly shocked for a while after.
As the plot continued, it wavered between intrigue and tedium. There was a sense of continual tension that had this peculiar story ensuring I was wondering what would happen next. However, I was also wondering if I’d be fulfilled by its final stance. It’s a dichotomy that I wasn’t quite hoping for because it made the overall experience latent with ups and downs.
I will say that I respect the direction that our creators went in, and the cast was all for it, making this uncomfortable, drawn our affair, always uneasy. By its end, I still had questions, and I had my own contemplations of victim versus captor. It reflects on morality, coming head-to-head with your mistakes, and overcoming past trauma. In that way, Coming Home in the Dark hits its mark. The execution has some flaws, but overall nothing that will be too much for many viewers to overcome. In a way, it’s like the film lights a match, but holds it too long until it burns your fingers. Yeah, it was fire, but it also burnt out.
James Ashcroft‘s film has some interesting “bad guys” in the especially menacing Mandrake (Daniel Gillies) and more stoic Tubs (Matthias Luafutu). Gillies does a terrific job of keeping the narrative stretched out, and taut, conveying the feeling that at any moment, things are going to snap.
In the end, Coming Home in the Dark provides enough intellectual stimuli with adequate gritty, tension to chew on, even if it isn’t entirely persuasive in its intent.
Currently streaming on Netflix
They Come Knocking (Adam Mason)
They Come Knocking is part of the “In the Dark” anthology series on Hulu, something I can assure you, I will be exploring more. As my first, it didn’t necessarily strike the loudest chord, but it had its moments.
This movie plays with limited surroundings (reminding me of the Hill Has Eyes at times) with a family in an RV in the middle of nowhere. However, this film dives deep into grief, having our father and daughters reaching this point of a meaningful location, to discard of the matriarch Jill’s ashes. This, unfortunately, played out a bit like a TV movie, in a way that the acting waned sentimentally, with the scares secondary. Grief has long been known to take a lot of forms within this genre, often being a catalyst for our character’s eventual nightmare.
Haven’t they suffered enough?
The two sisters argue frequently and don’t make it easy on their father who is just trying to keep things together. Before they are able to lay their loved one’s ashes to rest, what seems to be young children appear outside, knocking and pleading for them to come out. When it doesn’t work they mess up their vehicle, making the family unable to leave, and also (dumb, dumb, dumb) split up.
Adam Mason‘s film doesn’t quite know what it wants to be. It sometimes engages us with a setup for what could be a well-executed thriller, but it also hands out doses of supernatural and psychological elements, making it a mixed bag of intentions.
There are some creepy-looking “kids” outside, with valid intrigue at large, making this family’s conundrum feel genuinely eerie. However, the stakes, aren’t as high. Also, there are a lot of those moments where you wonder…”why?” The whole idea of yelling at the TV screen while watching horror isn’t new; it’s basically embedded in its history, as poor decisions and a lack of awareness often spell death. They Come Knocking tests this tradition out.
The familial elements hit an emotional point, but also lean into melodramatic at times, which can cause a hiccup in connection. I had empathy for these characters, but I also wondered what was the inevitable outcome. Was this horror going to conclude in a way that made these details worth it?
Well, the ending was both somehow, unsuccessful and successful that couldn’t really please all of the varied horror audiences. Now, of course, no movie is probably aiming to do all of that, but as someone who is a fan of all the subgenres, I couldn’t find myself really feeling satiated in any department.
I liked the message, but the not the telling. With some creepy moments and some reasonably apt images of horror, They Come Knocking just struck short of being entirely compelling.
I assure you, I was as disappointed as the rest.
Currently streaming on Hulu
All My Friends Hate Me (Andrew Gaynord)
All My Friends Hate Me plays pretty fast and loose with its portrayal of what we generally refer to horror as, making the discomfort evident, even if it’s not quite what you think going in.
It’s Pete’s (Tom Stourton) birthday, and to celebrate, he’s meeting up with a group of college friends that he hasn’t seen in a while. Right from his initial drive in to the countryside, things don’t go as planned. He has to get directions, arrives alone to an empty house, and when everyone finally comes back, there’s the first inkling of this film’s thorny presence. Pete is proud of where he is in life, and often feels as if he’s trying to share that with his posh group of friends, but is being overshadowed in some capacity.
Archie (Graham Dickson), George (Joshua McGuire) Fig (Georgina Campbell), and Claire (Antonia Clarke) come back from the pub with a new addition, Harry (Dustin Demri-Burns) whose demeanor and intentions are so aloof, while his personality is so brash, that it is hard to get a read on what he’s doing. This spikes paranoia in Pete as well, making this a complicated cocktail of agonizing mixers.
It isn’t a normal horror by any means, but who wants to be in this kind of situation? Social anxiety becomes the monster here, creeping slowly into each exchange and permeating every scene until its firecracker end. The film purposely unnerves and doesn’t make any of the characters, including our protagonist, particularly likeable.
The overall snicker in All My Friends Hate Me is maintained, wedging the audience somewhere in between hilarity and stress. You know that sensation when you’re watching a character and somehow you feel embarrassment for them, as if you’re transported into that very situation yourself? This is a movie that does it masterfully through its direction and the entirely-up-for-anything cast. As a film that’s reliant on the dialogue snapping, and the camera on its stars with each reaction to a shift in energy, it achieves its satiric ability at full force. As the story unfolds, you start to really believe that everyone is out to get Pete, and Tom Stourton (who co-wrote with Tom Palmer) sells Pete’s behavior and perceptible unease aptly.
While this isn’t your average horror, it transcends that title by feeding into the potential fear and worst-case social situations that can arise daily. It gives us that discomforting moment of realization that maybe you aren’t who you thought you were, or maybe, your friends aren’t. But who has truly changed? This story dissects so many of the general awkward moments, making each scream to a degree that can challenge the viewer. In this way, All My Friends Hate Me is quite fluid and successful, giving a new (and yet familiar) perspective on what it means to be situationally horrified.
Currently available on VOD
Sweetheart (J.D. Dillard)
This sci-fi horror was one of the most positive surprises as of late. Sometimes, less is more. This is one of those cases. It’s a limited setting, with a lead that’s courageous and sympathetic, even if you don’t know the backstory. She’s alone, and she’s trying. That’s all that matters.
Jenn (Kiersey Clemons) washes up on an isolated island. She’s one of the survivors of a shipwreck (a story not shown or talked about) with a fellow friend/crewmember fatally injured on the shore. Clemons is magnetic, portraying a strong female character that jumps into action as soon as she acknowledges what exactly has happened. We see her explore the island for other survivors and any supplies (some leftover from a previous inhabitant) and food, as well as build a fire. It’s terrifying enough being isolated, the loneliness and pressure of survival building, but she’s not alone. At night, there’s a creature that comes ashore, and after it digs up her friend’s perished corpse, she knows she’s in serious danger.
Clemons holds the film into a place of reality even when the science-fiction element of the story soars. Her fight and her fear are in equal parts present, making her performance and this limited locale all that was really needed for such a lean film. The creature design is terrific, especially its slow reveal, in carefully curated doses. There are often just glimpses or disturbing sounds, expertly giving us just enough, as we’re hiding in a log with Jenn, closing our eyes tightly in fear as we hear it approach, not sure what’s going to happen, or what is truly lurking in the night.
A couple of others eventually come on a lifeboat, but at this point they’re starving, exhausted, and Jenn’s account of the events seems more like the rant of someone who was pushed too far in a horrifying situation. If most people spoke of a monster from the sea, and a black hole residing in the ocean, what would be your response?
While some eventual aspects may be predictable, it finds new ways to craft an inventive spin on the mixed genres, and with an excellent central performance, it is easy to be caught up in its mystery. And, bonus, it’s also hella fun! JD Dillard takes his mostly solo star and finds ways to make this lost island seem large and inescapable, and yet somehow also growing smaller by the minute. Limited on dialogue, but heavy on suspense and expanse: does it flaunt stylistically? No. Does it need to? Absolutely not. Sometimes the adventure and terror are perceived most vividly by what the audience isn’t shown. Sweetheart also shows that even the most beautiful of locales can have an underlying terror.
In many ways, Sweetheart is a very simple but effective story; a gorgeously shot creature-feature-survival-horror that does a lot with a little, elevates the genre, while also building sustainable tension. The little thriller that could.
And man, was I rooting for Jenn to kick this sea-monster’s ass.
When it comes to horror, I’m always rooting for a win. As with any film, of any genre, I go into it hoping to be elated, engaged, and by its end, proud.
With The Cellar, the film started by intriguing me right away. A family moves into a new, obviously creepy house, and there are haunted vibes that are hard to ignore. Yet, somehow, they do. Keira (Elisha Cuthbert) and her husband and co-worker Brian (Eoin Macken), daughter Ellie (Abby Fitz), and son Steven (Dylan Fitzmaurice Brady), check out the strange home, including the ominous cellar. Ellie seems to be the only one noticing the glaringly obvious TURN BACK signs, including strange mathematical symbols above the doors.
For me, the beginning and the end are really what works (with a middle section that tries way too hard to be a combination of horror tropes). There is a very creepy scene with Elisha Cuthbert on the phone with her daughter who is terrified as she has to go to the cellar when the power goes out. As she steps down she counts (which is her mom’s suggestion to combat fear, but it also ironically ties into the narrative too? HMM…). It’s a suspenseful sequence as her voice changes, almost stilled, soulless, eerie. I felt like this was going somewhere intriguing. Then it halted that impulse with a regression that reminded me of more successful, past horrors.
When her daughter then disappears, it’s clear that this new home the family got at a steal (shocker) isn’t so inviting. At first, everyone seems to think she’s run away, but her mother knows something more sinister is at play. Their relationship is clearly fractured early on (partly because of her parent’s job with social media and influencers, and her own struggles there) but it’s something that isn’t fully developed.
In fact, there are several moments that invoke a sense of a chilled, endless space, with visuals that stick with you. There’s a scene where the stairs to the cellar seem to go on forever, and you’re left wondering… where does it go? What kind of hellish arrival will await this family? If only they had leaned into that creepy impulse, this film may have gone another way.
Brendan Muldowney writes and directs, and while The Cellar was disappointing to me, and I truly wanted to love it, I’m still curious to see what he does next because there is some value to take away. One of the other biggest gripes with the film was the lighting, at times it was like we were completely in the dark, and it didn’t infer fear, just frustration.
Then the film pivots, leaning into its slow-burn too much. The insistence on horror tropes makes the movie fumble in its middle section, and even the last stretch, which shows some great promise, doesn’t make up for its downfalls. There are some interesting elements involving math (personally scary to me- HA) and folklore, but it doesn’t feel fully delivered. In some ways, its choice to go into “other dimensions” feels underdeveloped, and out there just for the sake of being “out there.”
Cuthbert is terrific, empowering as a mother trusting her maternal instincts that something is wrong and not giving up on her daughter. It was great to see her return to horror, but the movie doesn’t fully capitalize on an interesting idea. Instead, it lingers too much on its weak points, and refurbished brands, while losing the overall scope of what made it fascinating, to begin with. I can’t help but wonder what it could have been. This is what makes the film so disappointing to me: a premise that doesn’t take.