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timharries
Reviews
Hatchet (2006)
Worthy of a Hack
Only in the United States of America would a film like Hatchet come laden with such fatuous praise, offered up by those who should know better. Harry Knowles boldly declared this film to contain "the next icon of horror", while Time Out viewed it as a "benchmark" for the genre. Seriously? Could it be that after all the years of utter bilge, someone has finally pulled off a decent slasher film? One area in which the horror genre has never fallen short has been in its use of "optimistic" marketing, the like of which Hatchet comes draped in - a curse of the genre that has paved the way for many a fateful venture before.
This said, the opening ten minutes of the film punch in nicely, introducing us to a group of young revelers variously knocking back and spewing up beer on Bourbon Street, at the height of Mardi Gras season. Operating upon the same dynamic as that of any male ensemble might, they drift apart as soon as one of the pack loses interest in the depravity. Might this desire to steer away from all things projectile and topless, (several shots of which bagged just after the titles close) be an indication of where newbie director Adam Green wants to take us?
By the time the film has thrown in two cameos from horror legends past and had its cast exchange one-liners alongside an accent swopping Asian, we have found our answer.
To set the record straight, this is (as many others have duly noted) a comedy first and a slasher film last. This in itself is nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, daft, cross-generic horror can be very entertaining and should be praised as such. One could argue that pure farce was always going to be the natural end state for the slasher film, given its rapid descent into the formula and copycat in the early 1980s.
It is then, a grave misstep on the behalf of Green to try and bring scares into the mix when so much of the tone has already been established. (Specifically with his "Scary Movie" dialogue) When this gear change kicks in, (after the back-story of the killer himself – a sequence that lazily plagiarizes from 80s slasher The Burning) the film starts to lose its way.
Much has been written about the CGI free execution of the kills in Hatchet – Green adamant that latex molds and hose pipes gushing blood should be used over all. What this leads to are some impressive scenes of murder, so grande guignol in their scale that we do indeed, find ourselves laughing. Green himself has referenced Peter Jackson's bloodbath "Braindead" as something of a benchmark to aim for. What a shame then that he didn't also try to emulate that film's constant, manic humour, rather than blur the experience with an uneven mix of styles.
The end segment of the film dispenses with the (intentional) laughs in favour of dreary hide and slaughter business. Another blatant steal ties the movie up – (this time the dream sequence used at the end of "Friday the 13th") robbing the film of any hope it may have had as either comedy vehicle or radical reworking of the genre. One wonders if Green confused the word "homage" with the phrase "cut and paste" so reckless is he in the plotting and tone of his movie.
Another misleading notion about Hatchet is that it tries to be more than the sum of its parts. "Old School American Horror" reads the tagline on the poster – a practically meaningless statement that hearkens back to which era precisely? To the discerning fan, this may well mean the 1970s - when features such as " The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and "Last House on the Left", (both from first time directors) delivered scares light years away from modern day fare - films that had an agenda, that actually had something to say. In other words, the complete antithesis of Hatchet. If this is old school slasher fare, then all that Green is doing here is feeding back to us the movies of yesteryear, in the most base fashion.
That may well be the rub here, that with so little originality stemming from the contemporary horror film, it is depressing to see yet another first time "fan boy" (how I hate that term) director peddling the same cynical economic that served his forebears back in the 80s, slinging out wretched sequels with action figures to boot.
Here then is a simple tagline for the inevitable Hatchets 3, 4, and The Return of Hatchet's Son: "We have no ideas. We stole them from some guy who stole them from some guy. Remember to buy the t-shirt so your friends can remind you what it was you watched the other night" A little too long maybe? OK then, how about this: "Hatchet: A real hatchet job".
Paranormal Activity 3 (2011)
Just keep filming!
There is no question that there is still something refreshing about a contemporary horror film franchise that performs well at the box office, despite operating on the most elementary of structures.
The first film in the "Paranormal Activity" series required patience and discipline from its audience, an approach that tended to alienate the "slice and dice" contingent somewhat - whose ADHD leanings ensured the film's home movie "aesthetic" was met with yawns and snorts of derision. Yet for those blessed with slightly longer attention spans they would be rewarded with a film that contained some genuinely creepy shocks, heightened by those same choppy, ponderous video cam threads.
So it is then that we arrive at the third episode in the series and while the regressive narrative (the focus here is on the young Katie, whom we were introduced to as an adult in the first film) digs deeper into the mythology and origins of the story, the central structure of the film is in no way changed from parts one or two.
The emphasis on video taping and surveillance is just as pivotal here as it was in the first film - pored over all the more given the year in which the film is set, 1988, an era when technology in the home was reaching it's zenith.
In slightly more guerrilla style then, Katie's father, Dennis, rigs up cameras in the house, in response to various unexplained "events" stemming from daughter Katie and her vividly sketched "imaginary friend" - the results of which playing out at night.
While this gradual reveal worked so brilliantly in the first film, it's become almost redundant the third time around. What felt like creeping tension in the first, plays more like utter tedium two films later. It also feels like an increasingly cynical ploy, asking of its audience to sit tight for over an hour of viewing time before being drip fed their first real scare.
To it's credit there are some effective moments in the film's final section, as evil spirit "Tobi" starts flexing his muscles in ways that the micro budget first could never muster. Such moments are typically handled with restrain,(excluding a ludicrous sequence to rival the kitchen shock of the second film) and add a little excitement to the proceedings.
Sadly, the film fails to cash in on this late glimmer of promise, taking a fatal stumble in its last act, with an ending almost as far fetched as that featured in 2010's "The Last Exorcism". The final shock utterly predictable and xeroxed in a slew of penny dreadful scare flicks gone before. The message couldn't be writ any larger, this series has been mined to extinction and has now become yet another dull franchise of the genre.
Insidious (2010)
Are You Kidding Us?
Midway through "Insidious", James Wan's foray into the haunted house genre, comes a moment so misjudged and tonally out of joint, that a cynic might ponder the real intention of those behind this fitfully scary horror romp. I mention it purely because what has gone on up until this point has been for the most part, effective and enjoyable.
The premise of the upwardly mobile WASP family having their nest hauled apart by forces unseen is hardly groundbreaking territory, but the slow disintegration of this cosy, tad too opulent bubble invites the same hint of schadenfreude that audiences may have felt when spirits trashed designer chic in genre bedfellow "Paranormal Activity". (Notably, director Oren Peli takes the role of producer here)
The restraint Wan uses in the first portion of the film must be applauded. Much like "Paranormal Activity" the key lies in the domestic space and in the seemingly mundane. Our first glimpses of the "other" are brilliantly executed - more often than not we are left in horrible dread - what was it that just marched across the balcony? where in god's name did that child in Victorian dress disappear to?
The zenith of all this creeping tension comes at that most benign of places; at the dining table, (and in broad daylight) a hideous apparition that comes at you in a snarling flash. A knee jerk moment that sets the film at a cracking pace, raising audience expectation to giddy heights.
Such a tragedy it is then that the film dissolves so rapidly into a fairground/video game aesthetic, negating all of the good work gone on before in place of ill-judged, generic thrills that feel as creaky and predictable as the last time you were in a haunted house ride.
To take us back then to the point at which "Insidious" takes that fatal stumble: just when our nerves are suitably raw, we see the introduction of two "ghostbuster" dudes, who trade funnies with each other like extras in a Judd Apatow vehicle. Comic relief is entirely justified and a lot of the time, expected in horror films. The banter here though is on display for too long - the characters come off as too smart, too knowing, thus plunging proceedings into doubt.
When "busting" parafernalia is brought out we snigger, a ripple of derision that picks at all the plausibility carefully in place. When a medium starts to do her thing, (whilst wearing a gas mask no less) those sniggers turn into out and out howls of laughter - the like of which no amount of spooks or kooks could ever hope to dispel.
In short, a great opening 45 minutes followed by a needlessly botched second half. How sad that it is that it should be two of the characters in the film that reveal the smoke and mirrors, from which all of the film's horror emanates.
La casa muda (2010)
A case of (single) take it or leave it
For my money, the modern horror genre (and into whichever sub genres you choose to divide it) can be viewed as belonging to one of two different camps. The first of which opts for bloody spectacle over suspense, favouring the formulaic over the original and is quick to push out (largely inferior) sequels and spin offs. The second, far smaller, camp consists of unique, intelligent work that champions subtlety and economy over conventional means, often within tight budgetary constraints.
As to where current loyalties can be found, a quick glance at the average box office demographic would indicate a rather depressing trend for all things repeatable and by the numbers.
It is with relief then that "The Silent House" is a film which sits firmly in the latter group, (so expect the inevitable Hollywood remake soon) and for this fact alone it should be celebrated, which isn't to say it isn't without its flaws - the impact of its "scares" hinge solely on a single device, which can frequently test the endurance of the viewer.
Much has been made of this, a single rolling take in which the film is shot - a gambit that for the most part pays off. For a generation of horror fans grown accustomed to the "jump cut" and the rapid fire edit accompanying generic slaughter, the use of the single, detached, POV employed here reminds us of just how much control and security we've been used to.
Whilst the premise of the old dark house has been worn thin over centuries in horror literature and film, its creaky interiors and dreaded staircases lend themselves perfectly to the single take gimmick.
While you may find yourself tiring a little of the protagonist's rather turgid wondering about the house, as she goes from room to room with lamp aloft, laboriously recording each artefact and item, the jolt that comes after such a protracted period is sublime, setting the standard for further atmospheric scares to come.
Essentially, if you're willing to buy into the idea, which, much like "The Blair Witch Project" and "Paranormal Activity" ask from their viewer a little patience and imagination, you will certainly reap the rewards on offer here. If the film loses its way in the final act, bringing in an unnecessary cross generic "twist", then we can be consoled by the fact that this is for the most part an effective and at times chilling, piece of micro budget horror.
Invasion U.S.A. (1985)
Just how wooden is Chuck?
Even if you were not aware of the tongue in cheek web phenomenon that pitts Mr Norris against the world in a series of ludicrous, herculean stand offs, (it may well be one of the funniest and longest running "jabs" at a cult eighties celebrity) the re modifications the action genre has gone through since the Eighties have ensured that today, even the most casual viewer can expect something more from his hero beyond barking machine guns and cheesy one liners.
Sadly, it is not a question of "Invasion USA" simply having aged rather badly over the years. Without wishing to state the obvious the film is truly dire - for reasons that go well beyond basic maturation. In fact had Mr Norris not been so delightfully mocked in the site mentioned above, the film's ripe comedic scenarios could just have easily have been mined for other, far less savory material.
The film's opening could be said to ape that of the vastly superior "Scarface" - it's establishing shot depicts a small boat filled with Cuban refugees, drifting on the ocean. The appearance of the American coast guard, (apparent "saviour" here, judging by the ecstatic response of the boat dwellers) turns out, after fake smiles and reassurances, to be the bad guys in disguise. They then proceed to gun down the entire group in a typically meat headed episode that sets the precedent for all shoot outs to follow. (didn't punters tire of this sort of thing, even in the gung ho Eighties?)
The point is clumsily hammered home, in a manner akin to so much fascist propaganda and in that delightful oxymoron "I'm not racist but...". Real immigrants aren't the problem, (well, unless they're called Tony Montana) it's this "other" lot that we've got to watch out for.
At first this agenda is clearly set out - the group are led by a Russian. Russians are evil. (Nice and simple red baiting stuff, likely to be endorsed by even Reagan himself) Yet the boundaries drawn by this bad guy cut out start to become increasingly more blurred the more the film progresses.
As the bullets start to pile up so too does the apparent lack of concern displayed by Norris' character, Matt Hunter, (subtle huh?) as he casually guns down an increasingly more eclectic range of ethnic groups. The Russian defined at the film's start could now just as easily be "Asian looking guy" or "Latin American" or "African looking guy". Unsurpringly, these little blips regarding identity seem not to affect the gusto with which Chuck goes about his mission.
Which brings us to the acting presented here by Mr Norris. Consisting primarily of occasional, barely audible lines of dialogue, punctuated by stern, granite-faced stares into the distance, (in anticipation of the film's ending credits?) the overall effect is something akin to being told a bedtime story by an elderly relative who served in the Korean War. A relative that just happens to detest words in any shape or form and once drowned a book because its cover was too shiny.
Just in case you didn't get it, Norris won't be appearing anytime soon at your local fringe theatre. The man is all machine gun bark and zero bite - precisely the reason why he is so beloved within the action fan (and student) community. Ploughing through one showdown to the next, barely masking his contempt for Aryan commie terrorists or police officers alike, he makes even Arnie's "tougher" roles in similar vigilante fare (such as "Commando" and "Raw Deal") seem rather cuddly by comparison.
Whereas in an Arnie film a little harmless flirting from the obligatory "skirt" might just be indulged, Chuck, by contrast, views such actions as nothing short of criminal. The raging harpie on display here only has to address the briefest of words to our man mountain for her stock to take a sudden plunge. From that point onward, the survival of this character is put into extreme jeopardy, not so much from the bullet of an enemy's gun but from the far more likely source of Chuck himself, threatening at any time to stick one of his much feared "roundhouse kicks" on her.
God bless you Chuck, you great big misogynist, monosyllabic marvel. How richly did you embody the crass, paranoid landscape of 1980s America.
Monsters (2010)
Monsters, Chainsaws and Undying Brains
If ever there was a genre that used suggestive, often lurid titles to entice its audience into the cinema then it is the horror film. From the ludicrous promises seen in schlock fifties fare like "The Brain That Wouldn't Die" to the more sophisticated approach taken by seminal classics such as "The Texas Chainsaw Masssacre" one of the key roles of the horror film has been to undermine audience expectations - often through cynical, cheap means it has to be said, but occasionally by rewarding us with something truly unique.
Gareth Edwards' Monsters happens to be one such example, employing the same trickery to wrong foot its audience to masterful effect. In much the same way that Tobe Hooper grasped at the roots of our subconscious fears, so too does this film use similar (often semiotic) devices to encourage the viewer to use their own imagination in bringing the film to life.
A good deal of the criticism I have read about Monsters has centered on the confusion viewers have felt - not so much duped by the film's simplistic title,(any literal association conjuring up images of a fifties sub genre or a wretched CGI assault on the senses) but by the fact that there isn't enough actual "horror" in the film, watered down as it is through other, radically different genres.
Quite why this cross generic fusing has become such a problem for certain quarters is a mystery to me, as this is precisely what lends the film its authenticity.
Crucially, the horror we see here is often snatched at in the background. (the film's opening gung ho tour de force is the exception to this - a peak from which the film slowly descends, rather than visa versa) These provide rare morsels on which our curiosity can feed: a half torn down building, a helicopter whirring across the horizon, the awful bloodstained hand print on the side on an abandoned boat. Like jigsaw pieces for the psyche, Edwards' agenda for stoking the mind of the audience could not be clearer.
All these signifiers are enough to infuse just the right level of threat, the tone is unnerving as opposed to the all out mess of panic - where only the basest of senses are conveyed. Such a distinction only serves to heighten and enrich the nature of the human relationships at play.
By keeping events to a rumble as opposed to a boom, the human angle is thus allowed to flourish. In much the same way as we might marvel at those living their lives in harsh, inhospitable places, so life in this film is seen as a remarkably durable state, to be celebrated and clung to.
By this blending of styles, (it has been variously described as part horror, part romance, part road movie) director Edwards constantly confounds our expectations.
For those hoping for a "money shot" at the film's climax they would be wise to await the arrival of "Avatar 2", for those who like a more cerebral approach to their horror, they should look no further than this, a stunning debut from Gareth Edwards.
The Last Exorcism (2010)
And yet still it bares the mark of Hollywood...
Both director David Stamm and producer Eli Roth make it clear in the DVD extras accompanying The Last Exorcism that their intention was to make a character driven horror film - both highlighting the genre's habit of letting such matters drift once the horror starts.
Despite such an admirable declaration, The Last Exorcism ends up as a victim to exactly this, its final act subject to the same contortions of credibility that wrack poor Nell Sweetzer, (the film's possessed subject) when held at the mercy of an apparent demon.
The film starts effectively enough, with a nicely judged montage sketching out the character of Cotton Marcus; an "Exorcist" to his father's somewhat evangelical flock, who clearly revels in the absurdities inherent in such a role. At one point he swaps the words of his sermon with a recipe for banana bread – a crossover that his audience seem not to notice, mesmerized by the unchanging tonal hysteria of the speech. It's a nice touch, a swipe at a particularly frenzied sect of religion and of an early intent by the director to downplay the vocal over the visual.
In the scenes that follow, the film is quick to establish that which is truly "evil" in the world. As Cotton sets out on his last exorcism he drives through the poorer, shanty-like ends of Louisiana and comments that it is "illiteracy" and "poverty" that hold sway over these communities, not demons or spirits – though one tends to lead to the other. Though not mentioned implicitly, we can also sense the ghost of Hurricane Catrina in these barren snatches of the landscape. Though the natural world can be cruel, so too our own capacity for destruction - a fact nicely shaded here when Cotton slyly ponders his next career move: "maybe real estate".
With such a rational core embodied in the character of Cotton Marcus, it is little wonder he is so reluctant to accept the possibility of "real" demonic possession. Indeed, several layers are required to be peeled from him before he can gain any sort of acceptance: from his initial, arrogant rigging of the first exorcism, to the treatment of Nell at a Hospital, (which leads to a plea to her father for psychiatric intervention) to the belief that Nell herself is a victim of familial abuse - stages that are variously broken down so that he can finally admit the rational world has failed him.
It could be said that at the heart of this ambiguity lies Nell Sweetzer. Through the increasingly more ferocious attacks she is prone to, she represents the steady breaking down of both Cotton's and our own, rational standpoint. What is key, (and achieved so well here) is that these episodes are never allowed to spill over into the ludicrous, continuing to spark a range of hypothesis as to her true condition.
Even after she is given free reign, (making off with the documentary team's camera) her behaviour is carefully controlled. The butchery of a cat at the climax of the scene is meted out in bestial fury, yet not so incredulous that we dismiss the possibility Nell may have been the victim of abuse herself.
Similar, earlier behaviour allows us to entertain a multitude of ideas in the same way. For example, Nell's scaling to the top of the wardrobe in her room, her erratic parades both inside and outside the house, the second "voice" heard coming from inside her locked room – events all designed to challenge what we deem to be plausible.
It is then the tragedy of this film that after building such a unique and believable construction of its horror, that the whole enterprise is cast into jeopardy by an ending so misjudged that it detracts considerably from what could have been a well crafted genre piece.
In a plot twist totally against the grain of all that has gone before, a drawing discovered in the house by Cotton, (which depicts three individuals slain – Cotton himself and the two documentary makers) proves to be entirely accurate in its prophesy.
What then proceeds is nothing short of sell out farce. Whereas the finales in films following a similar aesthetic (such as The Blair Witch Project and Paranormal Activity) worked because of the constraints under which they were made, The Last Exorcism serves us with a lurid fantasy sequence so far fetched that one might think the likes of Michael Bay had strung it together.
Its a near fatal error, especially when you consider the exceptional work that that has gone on up until this point to ensure the film avoids just this type of harebrained plotting.
In a million other horror flicks one may well groan and smile: "Well, its what we expected" But when so called "progressive" voices in the industry, (such as producer Eli Roth) come together on a project, only to concede at the last hurdle, it speaks more of multiplexes than of a true passion for the genre.
The words of Tobe Hooper, discussing his approach to seminal classic, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, seem as relevant to the horror film today as they ever did:
"I knew that in film theory that tantalizing the audience with the promise of an image, and then getting around it editorially, allows everything to happen in the mind. We fill in the blank, I think, with much more serious information than we could have seen anyway."
If only such total restraint could have been shown here. As it stands the thought of a sequel to The Last Exorcism seems like a foregone and rather depressing inevitability.
Frozen (2010)
Stretching The Poles Of Plausibility
"Frozen" is the latest in a line of survival horror flicks that play around the central premise of being trapped within an "extreme" environment - a situation in each case made real by glaring human error. The appeal of such a genre may well be in the likelihood of such scenarios playing out "for real". Indeed a film that has clearly influenced Matt Green's work is the earlier "Open Water" - based on the real events that befell two extremely unfortunate scuba divers whilst on holiday in the Caribbean.
Frozen swops the vastness of the ocean with the altogether more familiar, snowy vistas of Mount Holliston, a rather down market ski resort run by a team of grizzled, jaded fortysomethings who've clearly watched one two many ski lifts wobbling up the mountainside.
Given the considerable malaise on display here, it really is no wonder that these grumpy serfs of the snow prove susceptible to the odd bribe - (especially when it comes in the form of a smiling college cutie) a rouse that ensures our three young "boarders" (skiing was so old school Bond) get their last run of the day. Except it doesn't quite work out that way.
Due to circumstances that we can say would be "exceedingly" unlikely the three college kids of the picture find their ski lift juddering to a halt, thus paving the way for the action to come.
Whereas "Open Water" built up to its key scenario with real, palpable tension, crucially serving us up an event that could (and did, if not quite so dramatically) happen, Frozen by contrast, hastily shovels in numerous other factors to its central premise that rapidly proceed to bury, rather than heighten, any sense of plausibility.
The first of which is the utter ineptitude shown by the resort staff - the careless mistake which leads to the three being stuck in mid air capitulated by another scowling stereotype, this time driving a snowplough, who fails to notice any of the various pieces of ski equipment raining down upon him and is all to quick to head back to base - no doubt to his beer and banjo.
The reason for his hasty exit serves up another of the disasters the film is keen to get to - that of a "vast" storm headed direct to the resort. (though in reality, it amounts to little more than some strong winds and a flurry of snow that very considerately stops just as day breaks)
No time for such matters though as we have wolves! Yes, several slavishly starving, rabid fur beasties who just happened to be in the area at the time. The explanation for their arrival linked to the accident befell by the film's first victim - leaking blood onto the snow after a rather messy escape attempt from the lift, in which leg bones are snapped like tooth picks.
It was at around this point that the film lost me completely - why on earth would one jump from a ski lift in such a way so as to ensure breaking both legs? Crucially, it is the fact that the character does this with such complete force, to pave the way for the wolves in waiting, that says everything about the film's need to sacrifice believability in favour of traditional Hollywood thrills.
The final nail in the coffin? The wailing admission of one of the group that the resort is now "closed for the week". On a day like this, you wouldn't be surprised if the whole ski lift was hit by lightening, or possibly a meteorite storm - a rather more fitting Hollywood metaphor in this case.
Piranha 3D (2010)
Piranha 3D (and thank goodness)
The first thing that struck me about this film, being a 3D "event" and all, was how effectively the medium was used. Let's get this right, this is a technology that started out in screamers such as "House of Wax" way back in the 1950s and was variously prodded at down the years in schlock like Jaws 3D and Friday the 13th 3D. Its very cinematic roots are in daft, B movie horror.
That last title in particular is a great reference point for Piranha, sharing as it does the same puerile desire to locate the viewer at the heart of the splatter. Like Friday the 13th 3D, which blended the innocuous, (a yo yo spun out toward the viewer) with the gross, (an axe splitting a head in two) director Alexadre Aja also starts simple, tracking a beer bottle as it floats gradually down to the bottom of a lake, before taking things a stage further, ticking boxes marked projectile vomit, gouged eyeballs and in a first for 3D cinema, the floating appendage of Jerry O'Connell - first inspected, then spat out by one disgusted fishy specimen. (Incidently, the fish themselves should not be overlooked, their first appearance "proper" causing a real jump)
OK, so far so good.
Aja was also quick to state that this was "nothing like" Joe Dante's original. Really? I could have sworn I saw a couple of similarities:
1. They both contain piranhas. Kind of an obvious point to make I know. One could argue that the original had more of a socio-political voice in stating that the fish were originally bred as a bio weapon against the Vietcong, but despite their beefed up CG status, it's still fish vs flesh. In the remake, they are simply "released", after seismic activity opens up their domain.(In a sense this is reminiscent of those old monster movies of the 1950s, where man's noisy plodding on the earth's surface prompts some gigantic "thing" to stir into action. Aja decides to steer clear of such agendas - clearly we're too far gone as a species anyhow) The lake splits open, the fish swim out. We are guilt free, apparently. However, the ensuing gusto with which the fish swallow down all those awful, nubile, partying teens is certainly up for debate and a much riper cause for discussing the director's own take on proceedings. 2. Both films feature a "highlight" scene midpoint, wherein the creatures are released upon their unsuspecting prey. (Aja simply does what any horror director would do here and amps up the blood and teeth. It certainly adds ferocity to the attacks, but the essential premise remains the same) 3. Both films contain a storyline thread wherein a child (or children in the remake) is/are in peril and need to be rescued by one of the main players. (putting them in great danger in the process) 4. Dante included scream queen Barbara Steele in a cameo in his film. Aja was lucky enough to have not one, but two such walk ons. In Richard Dreyfuss (whistling the "Show me the Way" tune, sipping "Amity" beer and directly ripping whole lines of dialogue from that "other" fish movie) and Christopher Lloyd - his the rather more nuanced performance, as the town's fish expert. ("When this piranha hits 88 mph you're gonna see some serious s*it!"...no, wouldn't really work)
Those were just the obvious examples. The entire arc of the story maps out in a similar way in both films, comprising of: intro kill, piranhas released, race to warn those in danger, the "bloodbath" scene, end rescue of others, marginal destruction of fish and then the final "but one survived" credit closer.
So these films really do seem cut from a very similar cloth. Which begs the question - why isn't Aja's version more of a revolutionary bound from the original? In short, it doesn't need to be. What is achieved here is an effective use of 3D technology, wrapped around the template of the original film. Yes, there have been some changes, but these are little more than superficial.
As if to prove his statement of intent, Aja seems positively obsessed with adhering to the film's triangulate of boobs/gore/3D. Such strict adherence meaning issues such as characterization are kept to an absolute minimum. Which explains why Elizabeth Shue's lakeside Sheriff suddenly leaps into action mode, bounding from one upturned boat to the next - a gung ho switcheroo only shadowed by the scientist before her who turns full "Arnie" at the blink of an eye; firing up a jet ski whilst wielding a shotgun in his other hand to despatch a few of the toothy terrors. Ving Rhames' character is treated with a similar recklessness, though in this case after motor boating a few of the creatures, he's given up to be sunk ungraciously below the waves.
As the film gives way to a fairly pedestrian climax, (and a particularly cynical declaration of a sequel) you're left hoping for something more, that what you've basically sat through is a lot of "t and a" getting minced and a few fish getting gutted in return. As a 3D event movie though, this is one of the the most entertaining I've seen and ideal summer trash entertainment.
The Firm (2009)
More Heart Than Hooligan: The Firm
Like a lot of people, when I first heard the news that Nick Love was "updating" the original version of The Firm I anticipated the worst. My objection lay not so much in the fact it was a remake of a classic film, but more as to why we needed yet another film centering on football hooliganism.
The argument that such material merely glamorizes the violence it depicts, (appealing as it does to a section of youth that also worship the fashion and lingo of the genre) is without question. The worst example of which (and still prominent in most bargain bins of HMV up and down the land) would be the truly execrable "Green Street". A film so inept in its plotting, acting and overall plausibility that you'd be forgiven for thinking the whole thing had been stitched together by a gang of football thugs themselves.
Contrary to what director Lexi Alexander may think, this was a film that at every opportunity served to heighten the voyeuristic delight of its male, teenage demographic. Self conscious fight sequences shot through with booming dance interludes, whilst a preoccupation with all things bloody gave way to an orgiastic ending which was more like a scene from Braveheart than a realistic portrayal of football mob violence.
Which brings us back to Love and The Firm. What immediately strikes here, as it does in "Goodnight Charlie Bright", and "The Football Factory" is the skill and accuracy with which Love conveys his subject matter.
The film is also a far warmer and optimistic piece than anything Love has made so far. Central character "Dominic" shares an all too believable rapport with his father, forever wrangling money from him, whilst both parents playfully tease him throughout the film - trying their best not to cramp his style when a friend catches Dom at his local sports store.
It is this held focus on the family, combined with the way in which Dominic is positioned when the violence first unfolds (felled by a single punch and then little more than a terrified witness for the remainder of the film)that make for a clear mission statement on the behalf of the director.
The scenes of violence here must also be commended for their reserve and authenticity. Thanks to Love's impeccable eye for the 1980s, the sense of watching a documentary on football violence runs close at times, with the camera skittering about to capture snatches of fight that never quite take off as quite accurately, the police intervene - with their standard uniform and makeshift formation, capturing them in flux before the later arrival of CCTV and full riot gear.
This lends real tension to these scenes. Yet Love has no agenda here other than to show how quickly such altercations are broken up and how they often amount to little more than benign screaming matches. Even the more "laddish" Football Factory tended not to dwell on the full scale chaos between its football gangs and Love has clearly kept this in mind with The Firm.
It must be said however, that the film hardly breaks new territory. (within what is already a very limited genre) Though there is no question that the look and feel of the era has been captured brilliantly and that as top boy "Bex" Paul Anderson is suitably charged, with its rather obvious ending - an eye for an eye simply meaning someone will end up losing their head, it is at least a refreshing twist to see Love's championing of the values of friends and family over the raging poison of the hooligans themselves.
The Ruins (2008)
The Plant does not stay in the picture!
In the extras for this film, somebody points out the lack of "killer plant" movies that have been made. Though the individual neglects to mention "Day of the Triffids" (based on the book by John Wyndham) it is true that this particular specimen hasn't really been focused upon in the horror film.
The reasons for this become gratingly obvious in "The Ruins", a truly unique mix of the viscerally grotesque juxtaposed with the bustling tendrils of a rather large plant.
Unsurprisingly, the plant in question (and in its full glory is rather impressive, one has to point out) doesn't really have an awful lot to do. It is the human players that are the agents of barbarism here. The villagers holding them captive atop the Aztec ruin not only dispatch one of the group for little more than raising his voice, but they also turn their guns on one of their own children.
The role of the plant then, is marginalized. It can imitate sounds rather well though. Playing tricks on the protagonists's already fragile states of mind, it provides a catalyst for some of the more fiendish scenarios that follow. Admittedly, it does also dispatch the incapacitated "Mathias", but with his legs broken and weak as a kitten, this hardly poses a great challenge.
It's only other victim is really one of suggestion - at the sight of a few wormy tendrils lodged beneath her skin the poor girl in question quickly sets out, (in one of the film's most effective and truly unnerving scenes) at hacking away at her legs and face, causing far more damage to herself in the process such brio culminating with her mortally wounding another of the film's key players.
The message is clear then, riffing along the lines of the "guns don't kill people, people do", the real enemy in this film is us, the plant is simply the bully in the playground stirring up an already volatile atmosphere, the rest is left for us to tear down.
Hardly the most original of statements, but orchestrated intelligently enough here, yet carried off so much more effectively in films carrying the same message as well as "monsters" we can be frightened of: "28 Days Later" "Dawn Of the Dead" (2004) and more recently "The Mist". Films that all tick the requisite boxes without losing the viewer along the way.
The problem then that plagues this film, is in the choice of its "other" - in this case, an overgrown clump of poison ivy. The sad fact is that killer plants have never been, nor ever will be, scary...at all. Their daft, scuttling presence here simply jars with the other, more effective elements of the story - such as the rapid breakdown of order that takes place within the group and the truly awful decisions they are forced to make as a consequence.
Should we try and put mutated plants into any sort of cannon at all then surely they belong to the 1950's cycle of "atomic threat" monster movies. Their use by turns campy ("Little Shop...") or unintentionally amusing. (Day Of...") Two states that more or less capture the full extent of their talents.
That said, The Ruins has a lot to recommend it. The scenes capturing the gruesome are uncomfortably realistic and provide much of the film's gravitas, the performances from the key players suitably frazzled, as the true nature of their situation dawns on them and it is rarely dull -coming in at a lean 1 hour 30 minutes the film never outstays its welcome. Next time though, leave the twitching, singing legacy of "Audrey" out of the picture.
Eden Lake (2008)
Eden Lake: A mirror into the dark
Eden Lake is an exceptionally brutal and unflinching film. Disturbing and bleak to its very end in its portrayal of Britain's "yoof culture" gone bad, it also happens to be one of the most important films of this year.
Never have I watched a film which adheres so closely to the coda of social unrest stories seemingly embedded in our past and current press-from child abuse, bullying, happy slapping and vandalism to the darker issues of gang mentality and knife crime, the film mines these issues to powerful effect, creating a patchwork of scenes sculpted with awful accuracy, ensuring that what unfolds on screen is never more than a half-step away from reality.
It is for this reason alone that we can dismiss all ideas of this film somehow "glamorizing" its subject matter. The violence here is deeply unpleasant, realistic and horrendous, without ever becoming a pastiche of itself. There is no doubt that the film pushes the margins at times -the sudden burning of an Asian boy is an example of one of the weaker moments, coming across as stuffing to the film's already high "shock factor" and threatens to push events into the sensational.
"Eden Lake" is quite the opposite to other similarly themed horrors such as: "The Last House On The Left" in that it is a film that refuses to offer the main protagonists the chance to take revenge on their persecutors. (a duality that was at the core of Wes Craven's film) Rather than the film fading to black once retribution has been served, here the act is punished with a further layer of violence, this time meted out by the older generation, who all show the self-same traits as their off-spring - their murky realisation quickly mounting to a mob-like frenzy. It is a chilling message indeed, made all the more for the rich seam of social-realism that runs throughout the film, leaving the viewer with a sense of utter loss and futility.
2001 Maniacs (2005)
Comic relief: "2001 Maniacs"
There are certain memories that define your childhood. One of those key moments for me happened as I was leafing through a stack of comic books at a local store. Quite out of the blue, I unearthed a glossy EC Comics reprint entitled "Tales From The Crypt" - the cover of which sold me alone; with its lurid bursts of colour, vintage typeset and eerie frontispiece. There was a wonderful nostalgia to it somehow - of some innocence lost. Needless to say these tales didn't disappoint, written as they were with real care, gallows humour and, (best of all) rich ladles of gore. Which brings me to the subject of "2001 Maniacs". A film that echoes this same sentiment - with its fairground approach to blood and mayhem. The film was directed by Tim Sullivan and involves various industry names of old and new - one of which, Eli Roth, even has a brief cameo at the beginning of the feature. Such obvious mugging aside, the film is quick to get down to business. The usual group of frisky college kids are just one lecture away from hitting the road and the inevitable beach party that awaits. Clearly time is of the essence here, as the lecture is bought to a premature close - a projector reel of Civil War images sabotaged, (the significance of which wisely ignored at this stage) and replaced with photos of high-octane partying. Savvy "Scream" teens these are not. Indeed the cast of males and females that share the screen time here are clearly of the "Gap" generation - fresh faces, toned bods and an urge to procreate so strong its as though "Halloween" never happened. As if to point this very fact out to us, the kids encounter a girl early on who shows all the behavioural signs we've come to expect from the genre. Sure enough, it isn't very long before sultry smiles and knowing looks give way to the inevitable. From a very early stage then, such hackneyed scenarios ensure empathy for the teen players is kept to a minimum. The emphasis on "flesh" though, is high on Sullivan's agenda, (as it also seems to be in producer Eli Roth's work) and once firmly ticked (no doubt so as to put smiles on the crucial "frat boy" demographic) he then sets about the task of dispatching his crew of pretty faces. The sex and gore quota here largely takes place in "Pleasant Valley" - a truly bizarre locale stumbled upon by the group after they, (rather predictably) get lost. It's here that we meet those "2001" of the film's title and here that the film really springs to life. (albeit for a short time) Assumed by the kids to be a military recreation, (of like...some war or something) the place oozes deep south hospitality - complete with giggling twins, Tom Sawyeresque juveniles, a banjo playing duo (who provide a lot of the film's humour - strumming inane blue grass ditties throughout) and Robert Englund's good ol'Mayor Buckman, replete with a confederate flag eyepatch to match his crackerjack looks. Time and place are all wonderfully recreated here - a sign of the film's impressive production values. In keeping with this, the on screen slaughter is as rich as the banquet laid on for the newcomers. The opening kill sees a young girl torn four ways by a pack of horses. Its an act so wildly over the top, amongst all the whacky stereotypes and kitsch acting, that we cannot possibly find it shocking. It's all just a little too over the top to be taken seriously and as a result of this, the film succeeds for a short time as a serviceable horror comedy. Generic blending of this kind makes it tempting to compare with the "Evil Dead" series, of which Scott Spiegel (here a producer) was involved, but sadly the film cannot find further material to fuel its last act. In what must be one of the most anti-climatic endings to a horror film, (no setpiece for England's character here - he merely has his eyepatch removed...scary stuff!)the two survivors leap onto a motorbike - leaving the "2001" to mull over the possibilities of a sequel. There is a slight twist to the proceedings, but nothing that redeems the events that have gone on before. Essentially, "2001 Maniacs" runs out of steam at its finale, not knowing whether to play up its comic elements or to try for something less hokey. In the end, it fails at both, which is a crying shame because there are moments in this film that remind you how much fun watching horror films really can be.