Intruder (1989)

Posted on October 22, 2016 by Ross Birks

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Scott Spiegel is best known as the co-writer of Evil Dead II and for his cameos in various other Sam Raimi movies, but as a filmmaker in his own right he is responsible for one of the more interesting entries in the 80s slasher boom. 1989’s Intruder is a zany splat-fest unfolding over one night in a supermarket. After closing, the night crew are restocking the shelves and it’s business as usual, that is until (you guessed it) a mysterious intruder appears and starts dispatching the workers one by one with increasingly bloody results.

Intruder is neither scary or unnerving but it is entertaining and inventive. Spiegel got his start making Super 8 horror movies in backyards with friends Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell and it’s easy to see why the group gravitated towards each other. Like Raimi, Spiegel has a penchant for combining slapstick with splatter (splat-stick?) and every drop of blood comes with a gag. In Intruder, one worker spends the first half of the film chopping melons in half, so naturally he gets a knife plunged into the middle of his cranium but not before noticing a nearby safety poster declaring “Knives are sharp. Please be careful”.  Fans of Raimi’s skewed eye and rollercoaster camerawork will also get a kick out of Spiegel’s approach. If you thought you’d seen every POV shot imaginable, Intruder is the film to make you reconsider. Spiegel shoots through trolley bars, bins, phone dials and glass bottles ensuring the visual style is always punctuated with some unique perspectives. I’m honestly surprised he wasn’t headhunted to direct episodes of Breaking Bad, a show that prided itself on sticking cameras in seemingly impossible corners and crevices.

Elaborate carnage is the bread and butter of any half-decent slasher movie and Intruder’s inspired murder sequences, courtesy of now-legendary FX house KNB, are a big part of the film’s lasting appeal. Spiegel doesn’t waste any of the sadistic opportunities offered up by the supermarket setting and everything from a hydraulic press to a buzz-saw is utilized for maximum carnage. Blood is spilled by the gallon and, thankfully, anyone who dies rarely does so in one piece. The effects–which should only be experienced in the 88 minute uncut version–hit that sweet spot between being rubbery, splashy and cheap as hell, but completely practical and satisfying. There’s such glee in their execution, you can feel the enthusiasm of the sick minds behind the camera enjoying every second of wiping out their cast in the wackiest way imaginable.

And how about that cast? Intruder’s body count is filled out by an impressive mix of faces ranging from genre faves to future Hollywood heavyweights. Evil Deadalmuns Bruce Campbell, Sam Raimi and Ted Raimi all crop up in addition to Renée Estevez and future writer/director Burr Steers. And let’s not forget that the film’s producer is none other than Tarantino right-hand-man Lawrence Bender, and even he appears in a small role. That’s a lot of trustworthy names to slap on a DVD cover meaning that Intruder has just enough star-power to be passed down from one generation of slasher fans to the next.

As far as B-grade slasher movies go, not many are as fun and kinetic as Intruder. Like a banana peel discarded into a pool of blood, the comedy goes a long way to heighten the film from a mere stalk’n’slash into a screwball bloodbath. Spiegel also has the foresight to deliver on the gore ensuring that it stands up against even the most straight-faced of stabathons. At times the film feels like a living, breathing cartoon in the Itchy and Scratchy tradition which I consider a lofty compliment to Spiegel’s ghoulish tone. Like best bud Raimi (and Raimi’s best buds the Coen brothers), Spiegel is a filmmaker with a pleasantly offbeat eye and he is more than happy to apply it to a genre framework in order to morph the mundane into something a bit more madcap. With Intruder he transforms what could have been a conventional kill count picture into a horror movie that is, refreshingly, kinda funny lookin’.

Reviewed as part of Dim the House Lights‘s Ten Days of Terror.

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Ganja & Hess (1973)

Posted on October 21, 2016 by Ross Birks

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After the surprising success of 1972’s dopey blaxploitation flick Blacula, financiers were keen to cash in on the “black vampire” craze and Bill Gunn’s Ganja & Hesswas born. But Gunn, a respected playwright and stage director, had no intention of turning in a daft bloodsucking cheapie, and instead created an impressionistic portrayal of black identity, addiction and pleasures of the flesh.

When Dr. Hess Green (Night of the Living Dead’s Duane Jones) is stabbed with an ancient dagger by a psychologically unstable colleague (Bill Gunn), he develops a thirst for human blood. His colleague commits suicide and Green turns to seducing and murdering young women in poverty-stricken areas to feed his addiction. With the arrival of Ganja (Marlene Clark), the colleague’s widow, Hess forms a romantic relationship before passing his affliction onto her. The two learn to embrace their new lifestyle and work together to lure unsuspecting prey into Hess’s lavish home.

For some, the term “horror movie” might be too simple for something like Ganja & Hess and, certainly for Gunn, somewhat derogatory. It isn’t designed like a horror film nor does it really operate as one. The pacing is languid and the characterization given prominence over body count. It is heavy on dialogue scenes and the stylistic tempo, dictated by the low-budget no doubt, relies on long, static takes furnished with heavy filmic grain. It is one of those 70s movies you find yourself squinting into or raising the volume to decipher.

Despite the rough edges, Gunn’s vision is loud and clear. Ganja & Hess has more in common with other breakthroughs of personal expression in black cinema, Killer of Sheep or Sweet Sweetback’s Badasssssss Song, than something like Blacula or other blaxploitation movies. Like those films by Charles Burnett and Mario Van Peebles, it is edited and structured unconventionally and driven by feeling, moments and texture rather than plot. When characters aren’t talking, the editing takes over and Gunn places us in a trance-like state with a collage aesthetic built up of sounds and culture. There are African chants on the soundtrack as well as snatches of jazz, gospel and blues. It also has an environmental diversity ranging from poverty-stricken streets to upper class museums. The film is an immersion. When Hess dreams, he is haunted by an ethereal image of an African tribe beckoning him. Gunn has an eye on heritage as well as a finger on the pulse of black culture in 1973 America. It is a sensibility so rarely displayed in this genre and quite thrilling to see displayed with such immediacy.

Both Ganja and Hess are rounded, complicated characters too, wonderfully brought to life by Jones and Clark. Gunn’s background on the stage is evident from his emphasis on their faces and their emotion. Both of them work beautifully together and share many of their scenes stripped of clothes. There’s an eroticism running throughout the film, it is sensual and erotic but doesn’t feel like gratuitous nudity to please the genre-hounds. The exposed bodies are a celebration of a skin-tone and race and Gunn gives their entire anatomy equal exposure. In one stand-out scene, Clark is granted an extended close-up to deliver a long, heartfelt monologue that unlocks her character completely for the audience. In this moment, she overtakes Hess as the film’s focus and becomes its star, not as a “final girl” but as a powerful, dominant black woman.

Needless to say, producers weren’t happy with Ganja & Hess when Gunn delivered his final cut, and the film left little impact with an audience despite making a minor splash at Cannes, where it won the Critics’ Choice Prize. It was then heavily recut and shortened to enhance the more straightforward and genre-based elements in the hope of getting investors their money back. Now widely available in Gunn’s original form, it’s easy to see that this is an incredibly individual film. While not a straight-forward horror picture, the film’s unsettling atmosphere and fractured imagery create a psychological unease that places it firmly in that territory. If anything, it is a textbook example of what personal horror filmmaking can achieve when in the right hands. It allows you to tap into a mindset and become moved and disturbed by ideas you may otherwise be ignorant to. Plus, as a film about vampirism it is wholly unique.

If you’ve been reading this feeling an increasing sense of deja vu, it’s probably because Ganja & Hess was re-imagined by Spike Lee as Da Sweet Blood of Jesus in 2014. Lee’s joint is a faithful rendition that successfully re-tunes many aspects to his own sensibility but it lacks Gunn’s hallucinatory spell and deeper meaning. It is an admirable work but perhaps its greatest achievement is leading viewers to discover Ganja & Hess, a great film.

Reviewed as part of Dim the House Lights‘s Ten Days of Terror.

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The Girl with All the Gifts (2016)

Posted on October 6, 2016 by Ross Birks

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The best advice I can give to people with an interest in The Girl with All the Gifts is avoid all trailers, avoid everything and go in as cold as possible. I really didn’t know much about this movie other than it getting great reviews from some critics I trust so went in blind and the experience was that much more satisfying.

This movie takes a lot of twists and turns and expertly meshes a handful of tired genre ideas into something very fresh indeed. Considering the various frameworks the filmmakers are playing in here (I’m trying to be as vague as possible) I was impressed with how original the plotting and design work was. You will have seen a lot of the individual ideas in this movie a million times before, and yet you won’t have seen them quite like this. That’s saying something.

There’s a version of this movie that could have had a lot of the edges blunted, maybe by producers with an eye to creating a new YA franchise (it certainly has that potential) but no, The Girl with All the Gifts is tough, violent and, at times, pretty fucking scary. It’s also occasionally weird and icky in that upper-class Del Toro or lower-class Cronenberg way. That’s going to do this movie a lot of favours in the long run, as it will give genre viewers something wholly fresh and true to itself meaning word of mouth will be its ultimate ally.

You know what else is awesome about this movie? It’s a great genre flick, sure, but it’s also BRITISH! This is exactly the kind of thrill-ride I want the British film industry to pump out alongside all the kitchen-sink, social realist, period true-story flicks we do so well. Besides Edgar Wright, I’m startled that really solid British genre flicks are actually quite scarce. The British landscape is so ripe with visual potential for heightened stories and The Girl with All the Gifts utilises it in the way I’ve seen in my head for so long but so rarely on the actual cinema screen. This is a good fucking movie and the fact it was made in my country makes me really proud. I want more of this, so see it, support it and tell all your friends but keep it vague. No bullshit: the less you know, the harder it delivers.

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Deepwater Horizon (2016)

Posted on October 6, 2016 by Ross Birks

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Deepwater Horizon is a movie that blows shit up real good. It shouldn’t come as a surprise being that Berg’s Lone Survivor has some of the most punishing action I’ve seen in an American movie this decade. He continues that film’s penchant for physicality here by actually building an almost full-size working replica of the oil rig before sending it up in flames. Basically, Berg went full-on James Cameron.

Now I appreciate commitment like that in mainstream movies and it goes a long way to make the action really pack a wallop. There’s a good 50% of the runtime spent introducing us to the characters and the rig with lots of techno-jargon for dialogue but it’s necessary to let the starry cast disappear into the environment. Of-course you never forget you’re watching Mark Wahlberg or Kurt Russell but you do believe in them in these roles which is important. Finally, when shit hits the fan and the big rig goes boom you won’t be disappointed.

With the all-encompassing blaze and torrent of smoke, the Deepwater Horizon is essentially transformed into the seventh circle of hell. At every turn our characters face new catastrophes, both micro and macro and if there was ever a film in 2016 to make you flinch and go “ouch”, it’s this one. The flame-swathed imagery is stunning and a good handful of frames had me swooning for their compositional beauty. The stuff at either side of the disaster is less inspired, and even some of the character beats within the chaos are mined from a genre well-trodden but this big stuff, the stuff that counts, really delivers. If you’ve got an impressive home theatre and want to push it to the limits, fire up this film from the first spark and take in Berg’s firey leviathan. I dug it.

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31 (2016)

Posted on October 5, 2016 by Ross Birks

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31 is the kind of Rob Zombie movie I could do without. As a big fan of The Devil’s Rejects and his Halloween interpretations, I was disappointed to find him making a straight and narrow body count flick.

31 is all meat and bone with not much in the way of brains. Zombie’s inspiration came from a stat stating more people go missing in the United States on Halloween than any other time of year. Somehow he took that idea and transformed it into the most obvious and brain numbing concept you could that has also been done to death. Basically: rich sickos kidnap a handful of people, lock them up in a secluded warehouse of horrors and unleash a bunch of psychos to kill them and place bets on their survival odds. Read that set-up and picture the Rob Zombie version. That’s exactly what 31 is. So if there’s no surprise, why watch it?

The grimy 70s period setting adds some nice flavour and, as ever, Sheri Moon Zombie is a stellar lead. Zombie’s love of the bizarre and deepening horror archetypes with reams of dialogue is on show as well. There’s plenty of striking imagery with a heavy Ken Russell vibe in a lot of the scenes but at the same time it looks like he just recycled some sets and costumes from his music videos and made a movie out of it. It’s certainly his most hollow movie and least inspired. The reason I’d push this over from being flat-out bad into being merely okay is because Zombie does have a handle on his set-pieces and also knows when to stretch things out stylistically. Content-wise this offers nothing more than any of the Saw sequels or Purge movies offer. But Zombie’s vision heightens it somewhat. There is some great use of music and the final scene, set to Aerosmith’s “Dream On”, morphs a predictable showdown into something far more interesting and visceral. But on the other hand…it’s a lesser version of what he did at the end of The Devil’s Rejectsbut you’ve got to take the good with the bad.

If you want to see a bunch of psychopaths mindlessly kill a bunch of people in a highly stylised milieu, you’ve come to the right place. But if you’re looking for deeper shocks, something that slices the psyche and dabbles in cerebral terror then you should probably check out Rob and Sheri-Moon’s previous collaboration The Lords of Salem instead. As that film proves, the Zombies can do far better.

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Scream 3 (2000)

Posted on October 5, 2016 by Ross Birks

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This was always my favourite of the Scream trilogy when I was a kid. Probably due to the fact that all the “buzz” elements are really brought into the foreground and dialled up to eleven. The self-referentiality is heightened to such a degree that Scream 3 actually takes place in Hollywood, on studio sets that replicate environments from the first film no less. Most of the supporting characters are actors playing fictionlised versions of Sid, Dewey and Gale in Stab 3 and the kills are more elaborate but less ugly. Ghostface even blows up a fucking house and has a nifty electronic voice-changer. Add to that an extended finale unfolding in a huge labyrinthine mansion adjourned with horror movie props and you’ve got quite the funhouse to reckon with. Spectacle and cleverness seem to the the driving forces behind Scream 3 and to my younger, less developed eyes, the more subtle and grounded previous instalments were no match for all this “coolness” and entertaining grandeur.

Watching it again today, however, directly after Scream and Scream 2 it’s clearly the weakest of the first three. Kevin Williamson’s voice is sorely missed and replacement Ehren Kruger doesn’t have his genre-savvy smarts and understanding of the material. It feels like an imitation. Plus, the reference points are wonkier being that very few horror series culminated in a trilogy and even less were conceived as such from the outset (the Scream series included, as it would turn out). The returning cast members go a long way to bridge the gap but even they feel like stock characters at this point. Dewey and Gale’s relationship is a rehash of their dynamic from Scream 2 and Sidney, due to scheduling issues with Neve Campbell, is relegated to the sidelines for much of the running time. The key addition of Parker Posey makes for some fun sequences and she’s definitely Scream 3‘s USP. Out of all the new characters, her death is the only one that actually has some weight.

However, the series is tipped more into comedy territory by this point and feels more like Scooby Doo than Scream. The setting is a big problem. By relocating the carnage to a more sprawling, extreme backdrop you lose the relatability which was so key to offsetting the madness in the last two films. The jump from suburbia and college campus to Hollywood is too far removed to feel natural. Scream and Scream 2 always had one foot on the ground, here they both go over the cliff. Look at the dream sequence in this movie and try and picture it appearing in any of the previous films. Sticks out like a sore thumb doesn’t it?

Still, as a novelty act Scream 3 comes with its own pleasures. As always it’s great to spend time with these characters even if they aren’t given as much depth. Randy’s return, while a stretch logcially, is nice. I think the extended blood bath/chase sequence in the mansion is a lot of fun and the Hollywood setting, while detrimental to the film’s overall impact, does lead to a lot of enjoyable visuals and inventive call-backs. It’s a novelty act but it is entertaining.

Campbell’s performance, as limited as it is, is very strong too, especially in her showdown with the killer at the end. Roman is probably my least favourite Ghostface but I like that they simplified it down to one killer for this (supposedly) last act. That being said I’ll never forgive them for the fake-out of killing Roman off earlier so we wouldn’t suspect him later. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the very definition of not playing fair. The Roman backstory is dopey as hell too and making him Sid’s long lost brother is so groan-worthy you can’t help but enjoy it but again, Campbell really sells it. You totally believe this woman has just fucking had it with these killers by this point and resents her Mother for constantly fucking her life up from beyond the grave as much as she resents the actual murderers. I like that that is a through-line running throughout the first three and, I suspect, is a holdover from Williamson’s original treatment.

I’m happy to admit that eleven year old me was wrong. This isn’t the best Screammovie, not by a long shot, but at least it’s a fun rendition of the universe. The returning actors are clearly still invested with nobody on auto-pilot. Wes Craven works hard to keep everything zipping along too and instills some genuine suspense into many of the set-pieces. Plus, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds even recorded a new version of “Red Right Hand” for this movie and the Creed song on the soundtrack got its own video featuring Ghostface slaughtering each member of the band. If only. The film’s final image is pretty great as well. The gang get together to watch a film (though fuck off Patrick Dempsey) and Sid, feeling safe, leaves the front door wide open. It’s a clean, simple image and the perfect capper for her arc. Bless. If Sid only knew, the end is yet to come….

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Crisis in Six Scenes (2016)

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Ross Birks

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Basically a very long version of one of those very average-to-mildly okay Woody Allen movies we get three or four of before a great one comes along. It looks nice. And I enjoyed Woody Allen and Elaine May as a (very unconvincing) married couple more than I probably should have. I’m honestly surprised Woody didn’t embrace the format more. Why not actually stage six very long play-like scenes? It’s hardly structured at all, just…stretched out. That being said, the three hours fly by thanks to the zippiness of the acting and (admittedly obvious) dialogue. There definitely should not be a second series ever but as a one-time-watch I enjoyed zoning out with it. Stick to the day job Woody.

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Anaconda (1997)

Posted on September 30, 2016 by Ross Birks

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This was a staple of my VHS-dominated childhood and I haven’t revisited it in a long time. Anaconda is dopey as hell but there’s something very charming about it.

The mix of early CGI with practical effects makes me happy. It exists in that sweet spot of American genre cinema that’s post-Jurassic Park but pre-superhero movie where could have a crappy monster movie but still see a rubbery mechanical version of the monster itself. There’s also a lot of old-school trickery on show – reverse photography, false-perspective and suggestive angles and POV shots – that makes many of the set-pieces admirable technically and, when watched today, pleasingly dated.

The location work is pretty great all things considered. I love all those shots of the Amazon river at sunset and all the sweaty, jungle atmosphere rendered in nocturnal shades. It doesn’t look like they just faked it all on a set or in a studio tank. It really looks like they tried with this movie, on a level you don’t really get nowadays on films of this ilk. I mean, yes, there’s The Shallows and shit, but with this film I actually believe they took a boat out into the fucking jungle, Herzog style, and dragged a load of snakes along for the ride. They even blow a wall up with dynamite!

I get a kick out of the cast too. We’ve got early performances from J-Lo (fine and easy on the eye), Ice Cube (playing Ice Cube), Danny Trejo and Owen Wilson (hey, Owen Wilson!) as well as hardcore character work from David Hyde Pierce and Jon Voight. Voight’s performance as Paul Serrone is somewhat legendary for its misjudged bombast and imaginary accent. He chews more scenery here than the fucking snakes but you can’t deny that it’s entertaining and a big part of this film’s replay value. I also enjoy how Eric Stoltz gets bed-ridden early on and has to sit much of the film out with a bandage round his neck. Though, the scene where he has the hole cut into his throat was easily a contender for one of the most wince-inducing scenes I ever saw in my youth. Voight getting the bones crushed in his body by an anaconda I can handle, but medical violence? Ouch.

As far as B-movie creature features go, I will always have a soft spot for Anaconda. I mean, I fucking hate snakes and all the shots of the huge mothers in this movie – no matter how rubbery or poorly rendered they may look – always make me shudder. I first saw this film at an age where imagination went much further than computer effects and it honestly worked on me. I admire the attempts at suspense and how director Luis Llosa really embraces the environment for added texture. Even the performances, as hammy or as nutty as they may be – are lots of fun. The fact you’ve got crazy Jon Voight in there as a villain on top of the giant anacondas is just wild. You only get characters like Paul Serrone in movies like this and you’ll never forget him. There’s a sick and knowing sense of humour to the whole thing too which I appreciate. The fact the anaconda throws up Voight’s melted body just for him to get in one last, pervy wink at J-Lo is fantastic. Oh, and that subjective shot from inside the snake’s body as it swallows him whole? Amazing. Had a lot of fun with this. I don’t care how long it’s been since 1997, this flick still does it for me, baby bird.

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Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance (2011)

Posted on September 30, 2016 by Ross Birks

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Where Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance really blazes is when the voices of its star and directors are in total harmony. The combination of Neveldine/Taylor and Nicolas Cage is spectacular. Naturally, when the film goes big it goes BIG. Ghost Rider pisses fire, converts a huge mining vehicle into a leviathan of flame and destruction and blares Death From Above 1979 during transformation sequences. When Cage does his batshit shouty thing in this movie, it works. When Neveldine/Taylor throw the camera around on roller skates during hectic flame-filled fight sequences, it makes sense. It’s wholeheartedly entertaining in these moments. These guys were born to make a movie together.

Where the film stumbles, however, is in its story. Beyond all the surface pleasures there’s not really much to get involved with. It’s a disappointingly basic good vs. evil tale dashed with some “sold my soul to the devil” pepper. It’s not as much a continuation of the Ghost Rider story as it is a stand-alone episode in his ongoing adventures which, actually, I kinda liked. That sort of storytelling is very in keeping with the character’s comic-book origins as are the abundance of nutty, visually-distinct side characters and villains. Sadly they just aren’t written that well and soon the high-octane visuals and performances can’t hold your attention through all the drippy exposition scenes and plodding narrative. There’s fun stuff in there and there’s not-so-fun stuff. For Neveldine/Taylor/Cage fans though, it showcases the occasional treat.

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Swiss Army Man (2016)

Posted on September 29, 2016 by Ross Birks

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Swiss Army Man is a weird fucking movie, but also gleefully child-like and optimistic in ways we don’t really see a whole lot these days. Which is another way of saying: it’s immature. And that might not be a bad thing.

I don’t really know how I feel about this movie. It’s irritating and pleasing at exactly the same time. I couldn’t believe I was actually seeing what I was seeing throughout. There are sights and sounds here – and combinations of the two – that will either set your world on fire or push your patience to breaking point. It’s the kind of film the word “divisive” was invented for.

I admire how game the actors are and how readily they throw themselves into this material. Without them, I might not have been able to make it to the end. Paul Dano is one of our great actors and Daniel Radcliffe, while a not-so-great actor, has been doing nothing but improve with his fascinating career choices and his turn here, as a farting corpse, must be one of the trickiest roles ever thought-up and executed for film. Together they get the job done and make a potentially disastrous concept somewhat viable. This film genuinely needs them in order to be effective and my hat goes off to them.

Unsurprisingly, Swiss Army Man is a supremely visual movie and a visually inventive one. Directed by music vid/short film mavericks The Daniels (Kwan & Sheinert to be specific) the film has that wide-eyed sense of imagination and infinite possibility that charms the films of likeminded filmmakers Michel Gondry and Spike Jonze. Perhaps that’s a lazy comparison, as the Daniels have their own point of view, but the path from music videos to features has now become so well-paved that it’s hard not to look back. The Daniels clearly know how to create a universe and translate bric-a-brac into barminess and some of that stuff is a real joy, some of it is just a bit much. As a slice of their imagination and personal outlook though, you can’t deny that it is individual.

At times the film feels like a short-film or music video idea stretched out to unruly length and I’m undecided on how effective the film is on a story and emotional level. It’s certainly an experience I will never forget but not one I feel the need to return to. It’s one of those movies you want to tell people about because, frankly, it’s insane that this movie even exists so I’m sure it will gain a loyal following and shelf-life as the years go by. Man, I’m so torn on this dumb farting corpse flick. Just see it. Love it. Hate it. It doesn’t matter, as long as you support it. There’s nothing else like Swiss Army Man and how often can we really say that about a movie? That’s worth something.

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