The Sect (1991)

A scattershot and scatterbrained Italian shocker that is massively improved by deft direction courtesy of Michele Soavi. A filmmaker of layered images, Soavi constantly throws in details to make his shots pop that little bit louder. In his movies you notice and appreciate something as simple as blossom floating in the air or the constant clashing of fire and the flesh. As with all his movies, Soavi proves to be a gifted scrapbooker of nightmare fuel.

The Sect opens with a 70s-set prologue involving a Manson-esque satanic cult, contains various references to the Rolling Stones and even finds room for a channel surfing bunny rabbit (no, really). There’s all sorts of nonsense happening in this stewing pot but it eventually boils into a satisfyingly haywire finale. Seeing a woman have her face peeled off by hooks, Hellraiser-style, and then that face then being stretched over a corpse’s head sure aint something I’m going to forget any time soon. There are also a bunch of scenes featuring giant birds pecking and raping people as well as Herbert Lom chewing up the scenery as if it were a generous slab of rare steak. It’s probably my least favourite Soavi film I’ve seen but only because it’s so hectic and un-focused. He definitely works best with 90 minute run-times. Still, he remains the best Argento disciple by a long shot.

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A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987)

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I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen this but it somehow seemed a lot cheaper and rougher than I remember this time around. Still, it’s a terrific course-correct that gets the series on sure footing after the muddled and confused Freddy’s Revenge. Without Craven’s input you can tell they had no idea what the rules of this concept were but Dream Warriors, boasting a “story by” credit from Craven himself, sorts all of that out something fierce.

The character-focused nature of this one, being about a group of suicidal teens, means it actually has something to say. Inventively directed by Chuck Russell and heightened by the terrific cast, given added continuity to the original by Langenkamp and Saxon returning, this is all-around a damn good time. Pretty good dose of Freddy too. It builds on his mythology with Englund peppered in with just the right amount of frequency. His performance still tuned to the sinister and mysterious for the most part too, which helps. Near enough the only traditional Nightmare sequel that lived up to the promise of the original whilst also expanding on Craven’s themes and ideas. Not hard to see why it’s a fan favourite. Even Angelo Badalamenti jumped on board the Freddy train with this one. Welcome to prime time, bitch!

Watched on blu-ray.

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Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982)

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I’ve grown to love this movie for all the ways it feels like a true successor to Carpenter’s Halloween and for all the ways it doesn’t. I like to imagine a world where this was a success and we got a slew of subsequent stand-alone Halloween anthology-style movies for twenty years instead of what we ended up with. I love Michael Myers as much as anybody but that was a true opportunity missed, in my opinion.

Take the VHS scan-style animated title sequence here and consider how it cleverly re-imagines the title sequences established in the previous two Halloween movies. Just think of the endless ways we could have seen a pumpkin be carved under opening credits. More importantly, the central concept for this is rock solid, creepy as hell and far more interesting than “dude in a mask stabs people”. This film is full of disturbing ideas and imagery. That whole sequence with the masks and the bugs is genuinely nauseating. Also the score by Carpenter and Alan Howarth is probably the best they’ve ever done. Certainly their most experimental. I own it on vinyl and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dropped it onto the turntable to make my late nights all the more discordant and unnerving.

And can I just say….
TEN MORE DAYS TIL HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN.
TEN MORE DAYS TIL HALLOWEEN.
SIL-VER SHAMROCK!

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Landline (2017)

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Edie Falco and John Turturro as Jenny Slate’s parents? The casting director of Landline is NOT fucking around. How perfect.

I didn’t love Robespierre and Slate’s previous collab, Obvious Child, as much as I probably should have but this one really worked wonders on me. The jokes are thick and fast, effortlessly delivered by the stellar cast who all feel like they have finally been offered the kind of parts they deserve. The whole thing is just beautifully pitched and observed. Never rises above mid-level, human stakes and is all the better for it. It even puts its period setting to good use. How many sex scenes have you seen that are interrupted by a skipping boom box? But doesn’t that just feel like the realest thing?

Speaking of real. Isn’t Jenny Slate just a pure fucking delight? That laugh could end wars. With all the bad shit going on in the world, just watching her perform and laugh that laugh makes everything seem better. Such a natural performer with oodles of charisma. She’s so natural and likeable that even if Trump blows up the world and we all die in hellfire, at least we got to watch Jenny Slate be charming in a bunch of stuff. See Landline, it’s one of the most satisfying films of the year.

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Paint It Black (2016)

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At the centre of Paint It Black is a symbiotic relationship between two women; Josie, a twenty-something whose boyfriend has just committed suicide, and Meredith, the boyfriend’s mother; a hateful resentful woman who seems determined to both destroy and possess Josie. Embodied by a pair of remarkable actresses – Alia Shawkat and Janet McTeer – the various, heated tête-à-tête’s between both women are full of feminine fire and brimstone. It’s a vivd and complex portrait of grief seen through the prism of two generational points of view. A lot of movies use a suicide as a jumping off point for psychological drama, but this feels fresh. It is skewed from a different angle.

Coloured with shades of neon-noir and gothy horror, director and co-writer Amber Tamblyn serves up an impressive debut. The expansive mansion at the heart of the film is like something out of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, full of bric-a-brac and boasting a drawing room with a roaring fire. The whole thing looks suitably tarnished and autumnal, as if furnished from props and costumes sourced from a vintage emporium. Tamblyn does succumb to “music video” filmmaking a few times too often – meaning we get a lot of woozy montages edited to music that lack an emotional anchor or especially revelatory imagery – but they don’t decrease the overall effect too drastically. This is the kind of film that feels like a hangover, and I mean that as a compliment. I absolutely adore Alia Shawkat too so any film that puts her in a leading role is immediately on my wavelength.

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John Carpenter’s Ghosts of Mars (2001)

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Ghosts of Mars is similar to Prince of Darkness in that it serves up an encore of Carpenter’s favourite storytelling tropes; the Rio Bravo remixing, the siege, the horde of supernatural baddies, the stoic antihero and plenty more. But where the previous film had an intensity and intoxicating bleakness that built on what came before it, Ghosts of Mars feels like a crash landing.

I think John Carpenter’s main problem wasn’t that his filmmaking got worse necessarily, it’s that it stayed the same. Alas what was striking and stylish in the 1970s and 80s just didn’t cut it in 2001. The costume and production design here feels painfully dated and artificial. While colourful cargo pants and a black vest-top worked wonders for Snake Plissken, they end up making poor Ice Cube look a bit daft (in fact, this film was originally conceived as a third Plissken outing – Escape from Mars – but was subsequently retooled and the Kurt Russell part became Cube’s Desolation Williams). Most of the backdrops look like painted polystyrene, as if from old episode of Star Trek, and the special effects are woefully bland. It’s also dreadfully overlit and lacks any sense of claustrophobia or atmosphere that Carpenter is usually so good at. You can’t help but feel that the director was disengaged with this thing from the get-go. It also doesn’t help that his influence on modern cinema was beginning to crystallise, meaning younger filmmakers were starting to beat him at his own game. The similarly themed Pitch Black came out the year before this and mostly succeeds in every way Carpenter’s film fails.

The movie also has a weird, back and forth flashback-within-a-flashback structure which dispels any proper sense of forward momentum with the plot. Even the over-reliance on dissolves instead of straight cuts drains the film of any sense of tension or immediacy. We know Natasha Henstridge survives, so whenever she’s put in peril it’s hard to care. There’s also a silly, numbing, thrash metal-tinged core that is a world away from the soundscapes of Carpenter’s glory days. It’s clear he just wanted an excuse to jam with members of Anthrax and Buckethead – which is great! good for him! – but is perhaps one misjudged creative decision too many.

All that said, even a bad John Carpenter movie has some saving graces. His Hawksian sense of character is just about alive, and you do come to enjoy spending time with this ragtag ensemble. Some of the performances are better than others – Natasha Henstridge is very good – but the sheer novelty of seeing actors like Jason Statham, Pam Grier, Ice Cube and Clea DuVall interact in this silly milieu just about makes it worth it. The film doesn’t take itself too seriously either and even ends with a cheesy wink-to-camera from Ice Cube making it hard to hate entirely. Not quite as bad as everyone makes out, but still a rather sad experience when you consider the heights this filmmaker once soared to. At least you can headbang to it.

Watched on Indicator blu-ray.

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John Carpenter’s Vampires (1998)

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While often lumped in with John Carpenter’s late-career slew of misfires, Vampires actually gets a lot of things right. It’s fun to see him finally indulge in the explicit Western iconography and tropes he had flirted with for his entire career. The sunburnt, desert vistas prove to be a perfect fit for Carpenter’s anamorphic lensing as well as offering up a fresh counterpoint to the supernatural stuff. The mix of bloody Peckinpah-tinged Western with vampiric horror bleeds together extremely well. The “cool-ness” of that central concept is probably what led this to being a firm VHS favourite in my younger days. After all, there’s a reason this spawned two straight-to-video sequels.

Carpenter is totally engaged with this material too and it shows. He’s well-suited to the subject matter and even heightens it somewhat. He’s still getting a kick out of the primal demands that come with genre filmmaking and the film doesn’t skimp on the necessary nastiness. The motel massacre that kickstarts the plot is especially well done with spot-on choreography and effects. Carpenter also utilises fades and slow-motion to spice things up even further. It all feels very purposeful, a film where the director knows exactly what he wants to achieve and how to achieve it, even if what he wants to achieve is a silly B-Movie. It helps that the mythology and logic of this world is well established and thought out. In a short space of time, you get a sense of how this team of vampire hunters operate, their methods and the rules as well as the code that governs them. It’s a masculine, teenage boy-fantasy film and happily accepts that role. The only trade-off is that the female characters are often shortchanged or non-existent.

That being said, Vampires also works as another welcome reminder of how fucking good Sheryl Lee is in everything she’s in. Even with material that has her tied naked to a bed, she makes a feast out of this role and, narratively, has the trickiest part. The idea of a vampire’s victim acting as a sort of video-link conduit to her attacker is a great little device and Lee really sells it with a gamut of emotions. Considering how amazing she is in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, it’s actually quite maddening to realise this was one of the few juicy mainstream parts she was offered in that film’s wake. She makes the most out of it though and is one of the reasons that keeps me coming back. Oh, and while we can all agree James Woods has devolved into a major-league asshole everyone is glad to see retire, its hard to deny he was a terrific actor and as Jack Crow he gets to play to all his strengths. Even Woods could happily play around in schlocky terrain from time to time and, in Carpenter’s hands, seems to be having a blast. Funny aside: Gene Siskel actively campaigned to get Woods some awards attention for his work here. Imagine that?

As a John Carpenter movie, Vampires ticks all the right boxes. But once you hold it up against his better works it does come across as slight. Unlike some of his other maligned movies, however, the film does work in exactly the way it means to and offers up a lot of well-made, if cheap and disposable, entertainment. It’s a mid-tier movie, not something from the bottom of the barrel. Underrated I guess.

Watched on Indicator blu-ray.

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The House on Sorority Row (1983)

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You know you’re in good hands about five minutes into The House on Sorority Row. As Richard Band’s lush score swells, the credits unfold over a series of images that depict a girl’s “getting ready” routine with totemic importance. Shot and lit like outtakes from a classy 80s perfume ad, hairdryers blow in slow motion, lipstick is twisted, nail varnish applied; it immediately lends the film a feminine edge and, unlike the similarly woozy opening to Brian De Palma’s Carrie, manages to do so without any nudity or sexualisation.

One of the earliest entries in the “guilt slasher” sub-genre – one that usually focuses on a group being stalked because they are all complicit in a crime or evil deed, think I Know What You Did Last Summer – a lot of what makes this such a striking and effective example is the strong female ensemble. Most of the girls are active characters, not just passive, half-naked airheads with a “stab me” sign plastered on their head. They are each defined and the film’s main conflict comes from the tension between them and not necessarily the threat of the killer. There’s an extraordinary moment as all the girls dance with all their respective boyfriends and the camera pans between them, one by one, capturing each of their faces weighed down by the secrets they hold and totally uninterested in their oblivious partners. Director Mark Rosman fills the movie with a lot of these inspired little touches to connect the girls through blocking and cinematography. This, paired with some impressive art design by John Waters’ regular collaborator Vincent Peranio (who would go on to have an accomplished career on countless Baltimore-set projects including The Wire) really add a lot of class to what could have otherwise been serviceable and plain.

Things even get weird and expressionistic at the eleventh hour with a trippy hallucinatory sequence which introduces some Bava-esque coloured lighting as the heroine is drugged and tries desperately to stay awake. Hardcore purists might bemoan the fact that most of the murder sequences lack the excessive gore and impressive effects work of most canonical slashers, instead the emphasis here mainly comes with the aftermath of the killings as the girls discover the mutilated bodies. There’s some good stuff there, including the eerie image of a girl’s head dumped in a toilet but for some it might be too little too late. There are a few other niggles like the weirdly abrupt, if effective, ending and the unceremonious way the “lead bitch” is disposed of. So much of the film builds on the conflict between her and the other girls but the thread is oddly cut-short amidst a hectic last act. It’s a narrative flump that probably could have earned this movie the full five stars if it was executed perfectly. Never mind. This is still a terrific slasher. An immediate favourite.

Watched on 88 films blu ray.

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One-Eyed Jacks (1961)

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While One-Eyed Jacks has the grandeur and elemental framing of a big-budget American western, its concerns and tempo feel unmistakably European. It presents itself as a revenge flick, but actually unfolds like a sweeping melodrama. This is far more interested in the interplay and emotion of human relationships than any old-fashioned gunplay. Brando, as expected, is excellent but this has the added novelty of showing off an excellence behind the camera as well as in front of it. It is shot and cut with real purpose and thematic depth.

After famously passing through the hands of countless heavyweight filmmakers such as Sam Peckinpah and Stanley Kubrick before Brando himself decided to plant himself in the director’s chair, what could have easily been a bloated vanity project is actually a pretty accomplished piece of work. It joins Charles Laughton’s The Night of the Hunter in the pantheon of great one-and-out directorial efforts by legendary actors.

Watched on Arrow Academy blu-ray.

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The Belko Experiment (2017)

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The Belko Experiment is a film totally committed to its blunt premise. Characters are there to be killed brutally, what little story there is is only there to provide the most basic of genre frameworks. It’s exactly the film it wants to be and your enjoyment of it totally depends on your own tolerance for this kind of thing. Me? Yeah I can get behind it…to a certain extent.

With its mix of dark humour and savage violence, as well as a revolving door of faces from the James Gunn repertoire (Michael Rooker, Sean Gunn, Gregg Henry), it’d be easy to take this at face value as an undiluted James Gunn Experience. But the film is only written by Gunn and in fact directed by Wolf Creek helmer Greg Maclean. The two have perfectly malleable sensibilities, however, so the distinction between where one voice ends and the other begins is even harder to gauge. And yet, people who do enjoy this movie seem to credit Gunn primarily, no doubt because he’s the more known of the two. To slight Maclean, though, feels wrong. I probably have more fondness for Wolf Creek than I do any of Gunn’s own movies (not a dig, just a preference) so I know where my loyalty lies. For a movie with a bloodlust as giddy as this, the moments you remember will always be the squishy, sensory ones. So when the film takes the time to bask in an extended musical montage of heads exploding (though granted Kingsman got there first), you’ve got to point to the director for making it work as well as it does.

Ultimately though, this is a silly and disposable experience built on only the thinnest of concepts. The film has no real allegiance to any of its characters which, on the plus side, means some unexpected faces occasionally succumb to the kill-crazy premise, but the trade off is that you find yourself lost in a cluttered ensemble with no connection to anyone beyond a vague curiosity about when and how these people will die bloody, violent deaths. With movies like this, sometimes it’s just hard to pluck up the courage to actually give a shit. Fine for a once over, but practically forgotten as soon as it’s done.

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