Taking that perfect example of how to pull off a writing exercise from a man for whom just producing a classic novel is mind-numbingly simplistic and turning it into a movie is probably a harder task than King set for himself. If anyone could pull it off, it’s Mike Flanagan: a director who has brought us some of the best horror films of recent years, including Oculus and Hush. Still, I have to admit, when it was announced Flanagan would adapt Gerald’s Game as a Netflix Original movie, I was a little concerned.

Jessie (played with gusto by the terrifyingly unappreciated Carla Gugino) and her horrible husband, the titular Gerald (Bruce Greenwood, another one of those actors they call when more-famous people can’t pull off a character) are off to their holiday home in the middle of nowhere to try to spice up their marriage with a pair of handcuffs and a sturdy bed frame. Unfortunately, Gerald has a mid-bondage heart attack and dies on top of Jessie, leaving her trapped.

The rest of the novel is told by Jessie’s internal monologue as her starving, dehydrated mind psycho-analyses itself and determines exactly what went wrong in her life that led her to her fate. As such, Flanagan’s adaptation is inevitably compromised by having to leave the confines of the bed that Jessie is chained to in order to flashback to her childhood. Similarly, there are a few things that sounded spooky when King hinted at them in narration, but are a little cheesy when plainly presented in earnest, and while the novel really draws out Jessie’s plight and lets us get to know and root for her, the film, despite some padding, goes by at a blink-and-miss pace.

Still, the film is almost point-for-point faithful to the source material – not a bad thing for a King story. Likewise, as expected with Flanagan, it’s beautifully shot; Gugino and Greenwood are on point; and while I scoffed when a friend who saw the film before me complained about how gory it was, I have to admit that parts of Jessie’s plight were absolutely harrowing to watch.

With all else being equal, Flanagan set himself an impossible task and you were always going to be far better off with King’s prose. However, let’s be honest, Netflix Originals are available from your sofa, at no extra cost and require far less attention and time to appreciate than good, old-fashioned reading, so far more people will find time for the film than will get around to reading the book. If you’re the former then there are a hell of a lot of worse ways to spend two hours than treating yourself to Flanagan’s adaptation.

- Neil Sheppard

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

I’ll be the first to admit that the anime isn’t without its problems; both the protagonist and antagonist are insufferable beyond measure, and there’s all sorts of bizarre leaps of logic that the anime goes through that you just sort of need to deal with…that being said, however, I’d never thought I’d actually miss them. Problems though they may be, they are a part of what makes Death Note Death Note, and unfortunately, in addressing them, Adam Wingard’s reboot comes across as merely a santisied, Westernised version of it.

Anyway, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Death Note follows the story of high schooler Light Turner (Nat Wolff), after a notebook providing its user with the power to kill anyone he desires – bar a few rules – literally falls into his hands. Initially using his power for good, it’s not long (and, with the amount of story Wingard has compressed into the film’s hour-and-a-half runtime, I really mean ‘not long’), before Light, under the pseudonym Kira – operating along with his along-for-the-ride girlfriend Mira (Margaret Quailey) – develops somewhat of a god complex as he begins to gather doting fans from around the world, all eager to see him continuing to punish criminals. Soon, he catches the eye of enigmatic detective L (Lakeith Stanfield), who vows to uncover the identity of Kira and bring him to justice.

The well-discussed issues of whitewashing aside, the primary problem I have with Wingard’s Death Note is that it’s simultaneously – paradoxically – too similar and too different from the original anime. In the anime, Light and L were both geniuses, completely on top of their games. Intolerable as they may be, it was an interesting game of cat-and-mouse between them as they both battled to outsmart each other. However, film Light is far from the popular-yet-arrogant anime Light; he’s unpopular, quiet and reserved. Consequently, the resulting conflict between Light and L is watered down far too much; gone is the finale’s battle of wits between two people convinced that they are the intellectual superior, and instead we are treated to a twenty-minute long action sequence. As much as I sound like an anime purist, a great deal of the tension – and the fun – of the anime came from the sense that the noose was tightening on Light as L steadily uncovered more and more about the mysterious Kira. Instead, in the film, rather than operating in the shadows to secure his safety, L confronts Light halfway through the film, and accuses him of behind behind all the murders that have been taking place. Had Wingard decided to tell a different Death Note story with different characters, this may have been more forgivable, but by naming his characters Light and L, he is acknowledging that the film and the anime are essentially one and the same. This is where my problem lies; Wingard hasn’t made enough changes to his film to allow it to stand on its own two feet, so consequently it’s hard to extricate the two from each other…and yet has made just enough changes to make it seem like a diluted imitation.

Setting aside the breakneck speed at which it runs, it’s tonally a little odd too, and nothing epitomises this more the scene in which we are introduced to Ryuk. Sat alone in a classroom, Light becomes aware of some movement behind him, and goes to investigate. After cautiously venturing forward, a shadowy bespiked figure emerges from the shadows; the death god guardian of the notebook, Ryuk. What follows is what can only be described as pantomime, as about thirty seconds pass of Light letting out a series of high-pitched screams as various bits of furniture go flying around him. And what makes it all the weirder is that Ryuk himself, instead of being the eternally bemused comic relief of the anime, is instead a much more sinister figure, largely relegated to the shadows. A scene that was played out with complete sincerity in the anime becomes farcical whilst at the same time, a character that was largely played for laughs becomes a great deal more ominous. It’s jarring to say the least.

I admit, I’m being super critical here. It’s not all bad; as with most of Wingard’s films it’s as stylish as hell, there are some pretty spectacular setpieces and Willem Defoe with his gravelly voice was born to play Ryuk. Ultimately, it’s still fun – especially some of the earlier death scenes that play out in a Final Destination sort-of way – and definitely something I believe people unfamiliar with the anime would perhaps enjoy more than those who are. It’s just a shame I wasn’t one of those people.

Rating: 4.5 out of 10 stars

Follow was released in 2015, and has received average scores on rating sites overall. It’s an Owen Egerton film, spinning the story of a man’s steady descent into insanity, after receiving an early Christmas present from his lover – only to wake up to disaster. As a warning – this review is going to be pretty spoiler heavy from the outset.

Quinn (Noah Segan) is a painter and bartender, living with his girlfriend in a quiet neighbourhood. He has dreams of being accepted into art school, but so far? Nothing. The couple are sweet together, and the on-screen chemistry is palpable. Hayley Lu Richardson (Viv) plays his unbalanced, unstable partner. A few days before Christmas, she hands him a wrapped box as an early present – and inside is a gun. Quinn blacks out, and wakes the next morning to find the gun in his hand, and Viv dead upon the floor. Honestly, that’s kind of where the film started for me.

I like things that make me uncomfortable. I have a love/hate relationship with the squirming sensation I get when I’m watching something that feels tumultuous and unending – and this film was no exception. Segan‘s performance as a man reaching an edge he doesn’t know how to come back from is legitimately unsettling, and for me, provided enough of a car crash to not be able to look away. It seemed to be a very genuine insight as to how a series of poor decisions can send your life crumbling around you – though I can appreciate that some viewers may find this more frustrating than captivating.

It’s a shame that Richardson‘s character seemed to just tick the boxes of the “crazy girlfriend” adage. Granted, she’s dead for most of them film, so there’s not a lot to be done in terms of character progression, but “small, scared girl” and “crazed cheating monster” seem to be an almost lazy way of translating mental instability, when placed next to the slow and incremental demise of the protagonist.

Thana (Olivia Grace Applegate) and Ren (Merik Tadros) provide solid support, adding extra emotional dimensions to the story, and ultimately furthering Quinn’s mental crash. Thana inadvertantly becomes a true victim through sheer misunderstanding, and Applegate’s portrayal of a woman trapped by a murderer is believeable and unsettling. Going through his girlfriend’s possessions, Quinn finds a camcorder and an envelope. On the camcorder is a home video of Ren and Viv in bed together, whilst she stares unfeelingly at the lens. In the envelope, is a clearly hidden acceptance letter to art school. It’s really at this point that Quinn fully embraces his darker side, and the kill count starts to go up.

There are certain twists and turns to this story that are heart-wrenching, frustrating, and ultimately for me, made the film very watchable. I genuinely think Segan gave a great performance (although honestly I have a predisposed soft spot for “broken” men), and whilst the rest of the character development was sadly lacking, it made for a gripping watch.

Would I recommend this film to other people? Absolutely. However, knowing how differing our views have been here, perhaps with the caveat that if your thing is resolution – this maybe isn’t the film for you. A lot was left untied at the end, and I won’t lie that I found it a little jarring. Overall though, my unmolded wandering mind being what it is – I really enjoyed this film. I thoroughly endorse decent psychological-based horror, and for me it stood up to other films in its ilk.

Sure, it has its downfalls – but if you like car-crash television, inevitable mental breaks and straight up hammer smashing murder – you might want to give this a go.

Rating: 6.5 out of 10 stars

Lockhart, a dead-eyed, ambitious Wall Street type is tasked by his superiors to travel to a wellness spa in the Swiss Alps to convince his company’s CEO to return to New York with him and complete important business. On arrival, the picturesque buildings and hauntingly beautiful surroundings immediately seem suspiciously perfect to the young businessman. When he fails on the first day to retrieve his boss, he travels back to the nearest village with a local driver, falling foul of a deer in the road on the way, which results in a horrific (but brilliantly realised) car crash.

When Lockhart wakes up from having blacked out, he’s back at the wellness centre, with a cast on his leg and greeted by the primary care-giver Volmer, who at once appears all too serene but vaguely menacing in his calm and purposeful gait. It’s only when Lockhart struggles to make contact with his CEO, meets the only other young patient; Hannah, and undergoes the spa’s unusual take on homeopathy that he starts to realise he’s in the middle of a deeply sinister waking nightmare.

A Cure For Wellness is a wannabe literary gothic horror in modern clothing. From the creepy interiors, to the occasionally overbearingly moody soundtrack, to the constant undercurrent of unsettling dread, it has most of the hallmarks of films like The Phantom Of The Opera and Wuthering Heights, but lacks the depth required to nestle amongst the greats of that ilk.

The lighting and cinematography are incredible from the first frame, however. The Swiss Alps are all sumptuous greens, subtle blues and spectral off-whites. The interiors of the impressive Wellness Centre (actually a German castle) are the perfect backdrop for Lockhart’s slow descent into madness and provide a feast for the eyes.

Dane DeHaan, despite occasionally looking like a rejected Leonardo DiCaprio clone, fills the shoes, or rather slippers, of the central character well. He reacts in believable ways and while initially starting the film as a loathsome money-chaser, he morphs into a much more sympathetic character the more emotional turmoil he’s subjected to. Mia Goth and Jason Isaacs are also perfectly good in their roles as patient and Doctor, respectively. Goth lends her character a much needed childlike innocence while Isaac veers more towards the theatrical, particularly towards the finale. The other patients and sanatorium staff are, at once, just the right side of suitably ominous but unnervingly congenial.

Taken as a whole, A Cure For Wellness is a stylish and compelling psychological horror, but when picked apart, one could definitely argue for a case of style over substance. While there’s plenty to engage the viewer, the story is also riddled with plot-holes and takes far too long to arrive at a handful of rather obvious conclusions. It does, however, benefit from one or two wince-inducing set pieces that may make even hardened viewers squirm in their seat.

A Cure For Wellness feels like an odd piece for Gore Verbinski, whose only other real foray into horror was 2002’s remake of The Ring, to tackle given his propensity for favouring more action packed material of late. Nevertheless, his film-making panache is surprisingly well suited to the story here, faltering and blowing it’s wad only in the final third. A more well versed horror film-maker may have done well to end the film a good thirty minutes before the actual climax, without feeling the need to tie up every last thing in a messy, fire-singed bow.

Ultimately, A Cure For Wellness isn’t a bad film, quite the opposite in fact. For the most part, it’s interesting, well-acted and absolutely gorgeous to look at but the ending left a Tim Burton flavoured bad taste in this particular horror fan’s mouth. It’s a solid piece of film-making, undermined only slightly by its cartoonish ending, so by all means, give it a couple of hours of your time and draw your own conclusions.

Rating: 6.5 out of 10 stars

After the body of an anonymous young woman is discovered half-buried in a basement in small-town Virginia, the local sheriff asks father-and-son team Tommy and Austin Tilden (Brian Cox and Emile Hirsch respectively), the local coroners, to try and establish a cause of death overnight.

The pair set to work, laying our Jane Doe out on the autopsy table. At first glance, nothing obvious seems to be amiss, however it’s not long before a number of bizarre and seemingly contradictory details are discovered; an unnaturally narrow waist, crushed wrists and ankles with no external signs of damage, a missing tongue, an unidentified and partially-digested plant in the stomach…it’s clear that Tommy and Austin have a long night ahead of them, and when a storm settles in overhead and the pair realise that they might be locked in, things start taking a turn for the spooky…

Øvredal, along with screenwriters Ian Goldberg and Richard Naing, wisely keep things slow and low-key, allowing the characters to exist and giving them a chance to breathe before slowly piling on the tension, and once shit starts going down as the story unfolds, it’s all better for it. This is perhaps the reason – or at least, one of the many reasons – why The Autopsy of Jane Doe succeeds where so many horror films fail; the characters are…well, exactly that. They’re not merely fodder to fuel the scares, but fully rounded characters, with their own wants and desires, which in turn gives Cox and Hirsch something substantial to sink their teeth into.

However, the real star here is, oddly, Olwen Kelly as the Jane Doe. Despite barely moving a muscle throughout the entire length of the film, she commands a powerful presence indeed, her corpse forcing the two men to question the only thing they professionally rely on; facts.

Largely set within the confines of the morgue, the film steadily feels increasingly cramped and claustrophobic as it progresses, especially when the two men realise they might not be the only ones moving around in their basement. The heavy use of chiaroscuro, along with the decidedly reto set, does nothing to allay this feeling; the shadows almost feeling tangible lurking in the background.

All in all, The Autopsy of Jane Doe is a fantastic little film. As well as being elegantly and subtly constructed, there are some amazing – not to mention stomach-churning – physical effects that deserve to be mentioned, and, while the ending veers a little too Hollywood for my liking, the rest of the film more than makes up for it. Well worth a watch.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10 stars

Tied together by a wonderfully creepy stop-motion animation by Mexican animator Sofia Carrillo, featuring a quadrupedal doll’s house stirring to life in a desolate Victorian mansion, the four stories explore a number of fairly familiar tales, but from a thoroughly female perspective.

The first film, The Box, based on a short story by The Girl Next Door’s Jack Ketchum, opens with a family riding the train home after a day’s shopping. The son notices a rather sinister-looking man nearby, holding a brightly giftwrapped present. His curiosity getting the better of him, he asks the stranger what’s inside, and the stranger obliges him with a brief look. The smile drops from the son’s face, and over the next few days his family notice his sudden and complete loss of appetite, which gradually spreads to his sister and father over the following week. Consumed by curiosity, his mother is lead on a journey to find the man they once met on the train, and to find out what was truly in that box…

It’s a very strong opener. Filled with a genuine sense of dread and some pretty great special effects, director Jovanka Vuckovic manages to maintain a very palpable tension throughout its 25-minute run-time.

Followed swiftly on its heels is the directorial debut of Anne Clarke, better known by her stage name, St Vincent; The Birthday Party. It follows the story of an overbearing mother desperately trying to make sure her daughter’s birthday party goes without a hitch, who discovers that her husband has inconveniently decided to pass on in the office. What follows is a short film that is considerably more light-hearted in tone than its predecessor, as the mother desperately tries to find a place to hide the body until she can deal with it properly later. Melanie Lynskey has tightly-wound down to a tee, and The Birthday Party features a punchline that genuinely made me laugh out loud.

The third film of XX is more standard horror fare, and is arguably the weakest. Directed by Southbound’s Roxanne Benjamin, Don’t Fall opens on four friends camping out in the American wilderness, who discover a sinister-looking pictograph on a cliff face. That night, something starts attacking the group’s RV. Don’t Fall features some likeable protagonists (annoyingly quite a rarity in many horror movies) and some pretty excellent creature effects, but is ultimately a little let down by how generic it feels.

Bumping XX over the finish line is Her Only Living Son, directed by The Invitation’s Karyn Kusama. It’s perhaps the most explicitly “feminine” of the quadrilogy, heavily dealing with the burdens and responsibilities of motherhood as well as the innate strength it has, and follows the story of a beleaguered and single mother whose son is starting to dramatically change for the worse as he turns 18. Echoing a number of films that explore similar themes, Kusama creates quite an emotionally-charged film in the short time she has.

All in all, XX stands head and shoulders above the anthology movies of recent memory; it’s easy to decry anthologies for their lack of character development and such, but I feel it’s unfair to judge them in the same light as feature films, and instead judge them for what they are; a collection of short films. With that of course comes all the pitfalls that short films have – including a lack of character depth and development – but it also carries the benefits; the ability to pack a punch – whether an emotional punch, a humorous punch, whatever – in a short space of time, and this is something that all four shorts in this anthology do mostly remarkably well.

Rating: 7 out of 10 stars

Now don’t get me wrong; the above synopsis makes the film sound far more interesting than it actually is. Satanic is a dull movie filled with horrendous characters, a lacklustre, uninspired plot and little-to-no tension. I don’t know what it is about horror scriptwriters and their apparent inability to write likeable characters, but with the exception of Modern Family’s Sarah Hyland in the lead role, who at least demonstrates that she knows not to be a total douchecanoe every single moment of her waking hours, all our supposed protagonists are utterly detestable. They’re boring, self-involved and have no sense of self-preservation…so when things inevitably turn to shit, it’s hard to feel any sort of remorse for their situation, because you just don’t care. They keep making terrible decision after terrible decision; from following the shopkeeper to his home, to meeting with the victim, to then taking her in. It gets tedious. I’m getting a little into spoiler territory ahead, so if you’re set on watching this movie regardless of this review, you might want to skip to the next paragraph, but we don’t even get the satisfaction of seeing these characters get their comeuppance; all the good stuff happens offscreen…and not even in a good, tension-buildy sort of way. It’s just an utter disappointment.

There’s an interest concept that goes a tiny way to redeem the rest of the film at the end, in which our heroine – I use that word in the loosest possible sense – finds herself traipsing through a labyrinthine abandoned industrial building (an interesting interpretation of hell, perhaps?), but this does little to make up for the utter dross that the rest of the film comprises.

Rating: 2 out of 10 stars

Hollywood cafes are staffed almost entirely with wannabe actors who dream of getting their shot at the big time. A very small percentage of them manage to land one or two lucky parts that earn them the kind of cache it takes to be able to pick among the offers that come rolling in.

Sometimes they’ll choose to pay back the person who gave them their break by starring in another of their movies; they might choose to direct something themselves; or they might fall in love with a particular script by a budding, young filmmaker that they can boost up with some star power. It usually turns out that any of those three choices will be a terrible mistake and they’ll lose all the goodwill they built up with a shocking stinker.

On some rare occasions, however, a whole group of talented newcomers will unite behind such a colossal turd of a movie that you will spend your entire viewing time wondering what the holy frack made them think that this particular script was worthy of anything more than a resolute flush.

The Lazarus Effect is just such a movie. It badly wants to be a cross between Flatliners and The Exorcist; it desperately wants to be creepy; and it urgently needs you to think it’s a reasoned discussion on life after death versus scientific fact. It is none of those things.

Mark Duplass from The League, Olivia Wilde from House, Donald Glover from Community, Evan Peters from American Horror Story and Sarah Bolger from The Tudors are a group of scientists who manage to re-animate a dead dog. Wilde’s character dies in an accident and Duplass sets about reviving her. She comes back evil and kills everyone with her new psychic powers. The end.

…no, honestly, that’s it…

Everything else is just filler that goes nowhere. Glover has a crush on Wilde, Bolger might be a spy for a pharmaceutical company and Wilde might be a super-evolved human driven insane by her experiences or could be possessed by something from hell. None of those plot points evolves and none of it has a point.

It’s shot like a documentary (no surprise given David Gelb generally shoots documentaries), the characters are so thinly sketched that they can be boiled down to bullet points and exist only to spout random and verifiably-false science, and you could do the effects yourself with a pen, Worst of all, the kills are just plain dumb. Telekinetically crushed to death in a cupboard? Really?!

What’s truly incomprehensible, though, is that the cast are uniformly good. They actually manage to raise some atrocious dialogue up to merely dull, which may well be the problem. Bad movies can at least be good for a laugh, but when a film this bad is played so straight by such a good cast, there’s not even fun to be had in mocking it.

We will likely never know why such a great cast chose to make such a pointless movie. All we can really do is try our best to forget about it.

Rating: 3 out of 10 stars

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. Ouija: Origin of Evil follows the story of Alice, a widow desperately trying to make ends meet by staging seances with her two daughters. With money getting tighter and tighter, they decide to incorporate a ouija board within their act to try and spice it up a little…and in doing so inadvertently invite a malevolent spirit into their house who possesses the youngest daughter.

Speaking of, I may as well jump into this: there’s no doubt about it that Lulu Wilson’s Doris is the standout of this film. The whole ‘creepy kid’ trope can be a hard one to nail; paradoxically it’s often the case that the harder an actor tries to be creepy, the less creepy they actually are. The reason Damien’s smile was so sinister in The Omen was because it was a genuine smile of happiness brought on by director Richard Donner’s jokes offscreen. Fortunately Wilson has the balance just right; her eeriness drawn out through her wide-eyed innocence.

The rest of the cast are fantastic too; Elizabeth Reaser is immensely likeable as the heartbroken yet tenacious Alice, Annalise Basso nails the rebellious teenager divided by her independence and her family, and it was a pleasant surprise to see E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial’s Henry Thomas.

Everything about Ouija: Origin of Evil screams vintage; not only superficially for the fantastically recreated 60s era in which the film is set, but in a wider, more meta sense too. Flanagan, along with frequent collaborator Jeff Howard, have written a slow-burning horror film that, thematically at least, wouldn’t have looked out-of-place in amongst the likes of The Exorcist and Don’t Look Now.

We’re a big fan of Mike Flanagan’s work here at Gorepress Towers, and Ouija: Origin of Evil is no exception; Flanagan masterfully recreates both the aesthetic of the late 60’s as well as simultaneously nodding at the horror films of that era, and in doing so creates a wonderfully retro – not to mention emotional and genuinely quite chilling – horror movie. And, as a bonus, it works perfectly well as a standalone movie too, so you don’t even need to waste ninety minutes watching the original movie either. Success!

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

Landmine Goes Click starts off fairly promisingly. We’re introduced to three backpackers (Chris, Alicia and Daniel; the latter two of which are a couple) trekking across rural Georgia – that’s Georgia the country, not Georgia the state – when one of the trio accidentally steps on a landmine. Terrified of detonating the device, Chris is rendered immobile while Alicia and Daniel try and find a solution. The situation is further complicated when a local man, Ilya, arrives to the scene with his rottweiler, and spots an opportunity for some sadistic fun. The situation escalates and escalates, culminating in the rape and murder of Alicia. Soon after, Chris manages to escape from the landmine, and vows revenge on Ilya.

I’m not going to beat around the bush; Landmine Goes Click is an unpleasant movie, in every sense of the word. It starts off fairly intriguingly; it transpires there’s been some infidelity going on between Alicia and Chris that lends Chris’ landmine predicament some interesting psychological potential. However, it doesn’t take the film long to start appealing to the lowest common denominator with Ilya’s entrance, and it’s at this point that Landmine Goes Click becomes weirdly anachronistic. Echoing so-called ‘torture porn’ horrors – the likes of Saw and Hostel – it wouldn’t have looked out of place being released in the mid-2000s…but now that fad has thankfully died off, ten years later it just seems incongruous nestled amongst the likes of The Witch, Green Room and The Invitation.

And as if that wasn’t tiresome enough, halfway through the movie we’re then subjected to the whole thing all over again once Chris tracks down Ilya after his escape; in a weird ‘is-this-a-flash-forward-or-a-flashback’ cut, Chris decides the best form of revenge is to turn the tables on Ilya and do a scene-by-scene recreation of his game, but this time with Ilya’s wife and daughter as the victims.

I understand the purpose and importance of showing the retaliation in films such as this – there’s a reason ‘rape-revenge’ is a thing – but to have a male character seek vengeance on the rapist seems to be missing the point somewhat. There’s not a single female character in this film that isn’t merely a victim of masculinity. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Chris isn’t even vindicated by his revenge, and you, as an audience, don’t even feel electrified by it. It’s unpleasant for him, and it’s unpleasant for us; if only for the fact that the second half of the movie is essentially a scene-for-scene remake of the first half…so much so that it feels like you’re not watching a single hour-and-forty-minute movie, you’re watching an hour-long film twice.

All in all, there is very little redeeming about Landmine Goes Click. The main cast are pretty solid (particularly Sterling Knight, whose situation gives him the opportunity to have a play with two very different personalities, even if the transition between the two isn’t at all believable or convincing), but they’re quickly let down by the script and story. It’s nihilistic and unpleasant, and not really worth your time.

Rating: 3 out of 10 stars

The Devil’s Candy succeeds in doing the one thing that seems to go under-valued by lesser directors, and that’s give us a handful of characters to invest in. The Hellman family are relatively normal people, they have a dynamic that feels real and wholesome, and they give the audience people to actually root for.

What solidifies Byrne as a talent to watch though, isn’t his visual flair or his knack for writing three-dimensional characters, it’s his ability to present alternative culture in a realistic way. So often are we shown characters that subscribe to a particular subculture and are wafer thin caricatures, usually there solely for comic relief. Byrne’s films present these people carefully and lovingly. Their music preferences and affinity for black clothing and body modification aside, the Hellman’s could be any other American family, and that’s what makes them great. Given that The Devil’s Candy was made in the same year as the hilarious Evil Dead homage Deathgasm, maybe we’re entering a new advent of diverse horror movie protagonists…although perhaps I won’t hold my breath.

Ethan Embry cements his well deserved comeback as the charismatic metal-head patriarch Jesse, and Shiri Appleby shows some under-used acting chops as his loving, bread-winning wife Astrid. Rounding out the cast are Kiara Glasco as just-the-right-side-of-precocious teen Zooey and the ever dependable, but somewhat typecast bad guy Pruitt Taylor Vince as Ray Smilie, who ironically, never smiles.

Where The Devil’s Candy really shines though are the truly tense moments in between the dialogue. The use of deafeningly loud guitar riffs, Pruitt Taylor Vince’s affinity for playing quietly intense weirdos and a bizarrely claustrophobic unease that runs throughout all add up to a memorable experience.

Special mention also goes to the attention to detail; the artwork being outsourced to an actual artist giving the film a more credible feel and original music by Sunn O))) rounding everything out nicely.

At the risk of using a rather tired quote, The Devil’s Candy is a bare bones horror movie that really cranks everything up to 11, and is a winning antidote to the usual slew of teens-in-peril movies that we’re used to because of it. Despite some moments being telegraphed quite early on, it’s not a film that ever feels predictable. There’s a climactic scene that dances on the outskirts of cheesy but Byrne somehow plays it with a straight face and manages to pull it off, so everything considered The Devil’s Candy is a must see for fans of original horror.

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

The film opens as Elaine, a beautiful young witch, arrives in a small town in California to start her life anew following the death of her husband. There, she sets herself up as a force to be reckoned with, single-mindedly pursuing her goal of finding a man to love and adore for the rest of her life. However, it soon becomes apparent that despite all her witchy seductive powers, the men she meets are inevitably letdowns, which in turn gradually adds to the trail of bodies she leaves in her wake.

The Love Witch is a gorgeous film. Shot with an entirely 60s aesthetic in mind, it manages to evoke the likes of Hammer and giallo, yet subverts the tropes that such films established. At first glance, Elaine is the cliched femme fatale, using her feminine wiles to beguile men; yet despite this, the stunning Samantha Robinson plays her character with such a wide-eyed naivete, she seems completely clueless as to the damage she’s doing on her quest for her perfect man. There’s an odd dichotomy at the heart of Elaine, between what we see on the surface and what’s going on underneath, which I think is something true of the film as a whole. You’d be forgiven for casting it aside as a pastiche of camp 60s sexploitation, but there’s a lot more to the film than that. After all, this is a film in which the classic male archetypes are reduced to nothing but emotional wrecks after being “drowned in estrogen”, to paraphrase Gian Keys’ gruff cop Griff. Anna Billers clearly had a strong feminist vision in mind when creating The Love Witch, and it shows.

Special mention must be given to the love and authenticity with which Biller has recreated the era; despite the film unequivocally being set in the present day, everything from the costumes to the sets to the makeup harken back to bygone days; so much so that it threw me off when a character pulled out a modern-day mobile phone.

It’s not without its flaws though; it perhaps lingers for a little longer than it should have done, but by and large it’s a lot of fun and definitely worth a watch.

Rating: 7.5 out of 10 stars

Directed and written by James Bickert, this flick ticks all the boxes for a decent grindhouse film – murder, rape, exploitation, nunsploitation, and boobs as far as the eye can see. But somehow he just didn’t get it quite right. I feel like he was spending too much time fulfilling the quotas of depravity and perversion to step back and consider if the film was actually any good. And realistically, it’s not.

It’s a shame that whilst I was expecting the violence and sex to be the main shockers (albeit the expected ones), I instead found myself jarred and dismayed mostly by the poor direction, and lazy script.

My issues with the script are thus – quite aside from not being able to hear what the fuck they’re talking about most of the time (which I appreciate is more a sound/enunciation issue), it’s so liberally punctuated with cursing it’s boring. When the first scene shows the decimation of a nun’s nether regions, something as banal as swearing constantly just becomes kind of tedious – it gives an impression of childishness and indolence on Bickert‘s part, and portrays the gang as a bunch of faceless idiots.

Pacing is obviously an issue with Bickert as well – some scenes felt unconsidered and rushed, whilst others were given too much screentime and presence, and realistically added nothing to the overall plot of the film – a prime example being the 5 MINUTE close-up topless dancing. I genuinely never thought I’d get bored of looking at dancing boobs, but here we are.

I’d also like to give a dishonourable mention to the ropey-as-all-fuck mother/daughter scene towards the apex of the house invasion – I won’t do you the disservice of ruining what I consider to be the only really shocking bit in the film by telling you what happens, however I do find myself questioning the morals and indeed sanity of the individual who thought that stuff up.

Plot-wise, the film seemed to centre around the degradation of women – with the only female parts being monsters, whores and victims – and everything else that happens seems to be concentrated around linking these exploitative scenes together. I didn’t find it offensive for that reason, but once again, a bit lazy and flat. In fact genuinely the only part of the film I found enjoyable were the scenes containing the Bigfoot-esque monster – what a costume! What a tour de force!

All in all, I would rate this film Not Very Good. It missed the mark on so many of the aspects that would have made it a truly great grindhouse film, and instead it made for dull viewing, and in my eyes, does a pretty poor job of paying homage to many much greater GH flicks that came before it. If you’re looking for something exceptionally gory and perverse, and don’t care too much for plot or acting talent, you’ve probably come to the right place – otherwise I’d give it a wide berth.

Rating: 2 out of 10 stars

After local loner-outcast Marina inflicts her friendship on the popular Laura, she is socially shunned by her. Distraught, Marina commits suicide, and it’s not long before spookiness ensues and something starts killing off Laura’s friends one by one…so it’s up to Laura and her group of friends to work out what’s going on before it’s too late! (Shocked gasp!)

Although the idea of ‘social media horror’ reeks of bandwagon-jumping, I try to give it the benefit of the doubt; cyberbullying is a very real problem, and a film tackling such a topic could highlight how insidious and devastating it can be; a lot of great horror movies are, after all, known for capturing the specific fears and tensions of a time period. However, unfortunately, Friend Request manages no such feat. It’s a generic horror movie wrapped in the veneer of social media, and doesn’t really do anything new, or even anything particularly well.

It’s one of those films that tries to appeal to a modern audience, but plays out in a “how do you do, fellow kids” sort-of way. Generic references to ‘FaceChatting’ and the use of a Facebook clone that’s Definitely Not Facebook do nothing to help the suspicion that it was written by someone’s grandparents, which, in turns makes it pretty hard to take seriously.

This isn’t helped by the ridiculous script and bland characters; it’s hard to really care what’s going on when they’re all so interchangeable with each other. Fear the Walking Dead’s Alycia Debnam-Carey does what she can with her role, making what could have been quite a self-centered character into something vaguely sympathetic, but her friends are merely there as witch-fodder to help rack up the body count.

It’s not all bad, however. There are some really nice visuals in the animations that Marina has on her profile that are reminiscent of the tape from Gore Verbinski’s The Ring (though why she’s posting things to Facebook when she doesn’t have any friends to see them, I don’t know), and the actual death scenes are quite a lot of fun. But unfortunately these don’t make up for what is a very generic, forgettable movie that tackles things that other movies do a lot better.

Rating: 3 out of 10 stars

Evan is a down-on-his-luck chap. His Mum has just passed away after what we’re lead to believe was a lengthy and aggressive illness, he’s just lost his job after a drunken punch-up in a bar and he seems less than successful with the ladies in his life. He does, however, have a valid passport and a reason to flee the US after the police come knocking on his door.

After a somewhat bloated pre-amble through Europe, Evan winds up in rural Italy where he finds a job and lodgings with a local eccentric farmer Angelo. On his first day there, he meets the intoxicatingly beautiful Louise who he immediately forms a tentative bond with after a clumsy encounter.

Over the next week we’re treated to glimpses of their fledgling love affair, all passionate encounters, gleeful teasing and deep and meaningful conversations about their respective pasts. It’s here that the obvious comparisons to Richard Linklater‘s seminal Before Sunrise come into play. The similarities end there though as we start to see that Louise is hiding a dark, primordial secret that may tear them apart before their bond is cemented.

Spring has only two central characters, with only a couple more notable characters on the outskirts of the story, but the directors have utilised their location with such affection that Italy begins to feel like the third wheel in Evan and Louise’s romance, constantly vying for the viewers attention. The handful of locations are shot in such a sumptuous, dreamy way that it almost works as an advert for Italy’s tourism board. The lighting, the framing and the colour grading all mesh incredibly well to make a film that’s truly stunning to look at. The vibrant reds and shots of insects peppered throughout also serve to remind us of the films dark edge whenever things start to feel a little formulaic.

Lou Taylor Pucci has been plugging away in the indie scene for well over a decade now and horror audiences will know him best from his turn as meek Necronimicon-toting Eric in Fede Alvarez’s sublimely bloody Evil Dead remake. Here he’s incredibly believable as a down-to-Earth fuck-up with hearts in his eyes. It’s not a career-making turn but he gives it his all and is a perfect match for Nadia Hiliker’s hyper-confident, exotic Louise. It’s a fine pairing and they’re fun to watch together for the most part.

My only real complaint isn’t with the film itself, but the way it was marketed. After seeing the trailers, I was eagerly awaiting a more traditional creature feature and was initially disappointed, but after a second and third viewing and a lot of percolating I’ve come to appreciate Spring for the unique experience that it is. It’s perhaps a tad too long and there are a couple of cockney wideboy stereotypes in the first third that quickly start to grate, but the comical and sometimes surprisingly tender exchanges between Evan and Angelo and the realistically charming and imperfect relationship of Evan and Louise more than make up for it.

Spring is a beautiful and simple movie with an unusual and entertaining twist, the mixture of practical effects and restrained use of CGI works well and although the last fifteen minutes sees a change of pace, it’s more satisfying than it has any right to be. This is definitely one for a more open-minded horror audience but if you’re not averse to very human storytelling alongside your gore then you’d do well to give Spring two hours of your precious time.

Rating: 7 out of 10 stars

After her car is crashed off the road, Michelle awakens, chained up, in an underground bunker built by imposing ex-Navy officer and tinfoil-hatter Howard and his neighbour Emmett, who both claim that the world outside has been rendered uninhabitable by some disastrous event. Doubtful and scared, Michelle tries to escape, but her attempts prove unsuccessful…so she has no choice but to put a proverbial smile on her face and bear with her new life as well as she can.

The opening of 10 Cloverfield Lane sets up the tone of the film quite nicely, with Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s Michelle tearfully throwing clothes into a suitcase, shutting the door of her flat behind her (leaving her keys – and engagement ring – behind) and driving off. This clearly isn’t the ensemble-casted extravaganza that the original consisted of; instead, it’s a much quieter (and actually more emotionally intense) affair. Consisting largely of the central cast of three – with occasional and brief appearances from a few other characters – it’s a lot more character-driven a film than Cloverfield was.

In his feature length debut, Dan Trachtenberg surprisingly nails the tension, helped along with an excellent script by Whiplash screenwriter Damien Chazelle; but it’s the film’s central cast of three that really shine. Mary Elizabeth Winstead shows echoes of Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley in her Michelle; a resourceful and tenacious woman who has been dumped into an extraordinary situation. As our gateway to the film’s world, we’re just as in the dark as Michelle is, and Trachtenberg makes sure to keep us there, questioning how much truth there behind the reasons for her captivity.

The surprise of the whole film, however, is John Goodman. Despite having seen him play a few similar characters, it always takes me by surprise how well he can play threatening. Goodman’s Howard is seemingly well-meaning – if unhinged – but Goodman manages to deftly coax out various elements of his character, leaving the audience, and Michelle, constantly guessing as to his true motivations, and whether he’s truly got her best interests in mind…

The ending may draw some criticism, although it doesn’t come as out of left field as it at first seems. For fear of spoiling it, I won’t get into too much detail, but I actually liked it; the film doesn’t really go to any great lengths to hide what it is, after all – it’s merely telling a familiar story from a different angle. I’ll be interested in seeing whether it inspires a spate of franchises telling stories in a similar way.

All in all, 10 Cloverfield Lane is an excellent film, and is definitely worth your time. Few films in recent memory have created such palpable tension and mystery, and it’ll definitely keep you guessing.

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

High-Rise, an adaptation of a J.G. Ballard book by the same name, tells the story of Dr Laing (Tom Hiddlestone), or, perhaps more specifically, the 45-storey skyscraper into which he moves. Brand new, it contains all the mod cons that you could possible need; a supermarket, a swimming pool, a sauna…even a primary school. Yet despite this, the building already is starting to have teething problems, and the frequent power cuts, rubbish blockages and water shortages start to cause tension among the residents. Eventually, the building descends into violence and chaos when food becomes scarce as the lower floors, the poorer denizens, rebel against the richer upper class.

My primary bugbear with High-Rise is that ultimately, the way the story progresses doesn’t logically follow. I appreciate that, without any other ways of solving their problems, this may indeed be the way the situation unfolds…but the high rise in question is situated on the outskirts of London. You can literally see a city on the horizon in many of the shots, and everyone has working cars parked right outside. Why someone hasn’t thought to call the police, or, hell, even do their shopping elsewhere, I don’t know. A throwaway shot seems to indicate that Mr Royal (Jeremy Irons), the building’s brainchild, has perhaps been paying off the police to turn a blind eye to the situation, but I can’t for the life of me work out what purpose this would possibly serve. Had access to the outside world been cut off somehow (more akin to Snowpiercer), I’d be more convinced by this movie, but I’m not sure I’m on board with the fact that people would rather endure the death and destruction that is going on around them – even actually becoming content with it – than actually try and escape it.

And yet, despite all that, the individual components of High-Rise are pretty fantastic. It’s extremely well cast – Luke Evans as a dangerously erratic documentary filmmaker is a particular highlight, and who knew Mad Men’s Elizabeth Moss could do such a convincing English accent? – and the art direction and sets are superb. By setting High-Rise in the 70s, Wheatley is able to capture a style somewhere between Kubrickian perfection and grindhouse schlock, and draws from them in equal measure as the narrative dictates (also, keep an ear out for an excellent use of Portishead’s chilling cover of ABBA’s SOS).

I think the thing I can’t quite wrap my head around High-Rise is the lack of cohesion. It oftentimes seems like a series of vignettes rather than a steady descent into madness, and maybe that’s what I find troubling. By jumping over the course of three months in the space of just over two hours, it feels like the film skipped over a lot of perhaps what you would need, as an audience, to help justify that descent into madness, and as a result it’s a little unclear as to whether this was a deliberate decision or just something that was completely overlooked.

It’s not a bad film, by any stretch, and I can see why people would enjoy it. I guess, ultimately, it’s just not for me.

Rating: 6 out of 10 stars

Fortunately, the gamble paid off. Wisely choosing not to directly remake one of RL Stine’s original stories, Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski, along with screenwriter Darren Lemke, instead opted to craft their own story that manages to tick all the boxes that made Stine’s original series so engaging.

After moving to small-town Madison, Delaware from New York with his mum, Zach (the excellent Dylan Minnette) becomes enamored with his new neighbour, Hannah (Odeya Rush). Unluckily for him, Hannah’s overbearing and extremely sinister father (Jack Black) does everything in his power to see to it that Hannah remains as isolated as possible. All hell breaks loose, however, when Zach manages to sneak into his neighbour’s house and discovers a collection of locked books that hold a supernatural secret…

Goosebumps is a total blast from start to finish. Director Rob Letterman wastes no time in setting everything up, throwing Jack Black’s uncharacteristically restrained “Mr. Shivers” into the mix as soon as he can. From then on, the fun really starts, when Zach, and his new self-proclaimed best friend Champ (Super 8’s Ryan Lee) unwittingly unleash an army of Goosebumps’ best and brightest…so it’s up to the unlikely four to try and work out a way of imprisoning the monsters before they ransack Madison.

Headed up by everyone’s favourite evil ventriloquist dummy, Slappy (also voiced by Black), the horde of villains are handled well. Rather than unleashing everything in one fell swoop, Letterman gradually turns up the chaos as the film progresses, as Slappy unites the creatures against Zach and his pals.

Sketchy Anglo-american accent aside, Black is a delight, an acerbic wit replacing his usual larger-than-life physical comedy, and Minnette brings a remarkable amount of heart to the movie. I think this is really where Goosebumps shines; chills and thrills aside, there’s quite a number of heart-felt, mature themes – namely of death and loss – running through it, that elevate what could have been quite a by-the-numbers family-friendly horror-comedy to something more.

Goosebumps is a film that – whether knowingly or not – drips with nostalgia. This in itself is quite surprising, since Letterman makes no effort to hide the fact that the film is set in present day. Even without the Goosebumps brand hanging over the film, there’s something very Dantean (Joe, not Alighieri) about the film that fills it with a late-80s-early-90s vibe, helped in part by Danny Elfman’s always excellent score.

Ultimately, Goosebumps doesn’t tread any particularly new ground, playing out a little like a PG The Cabin in the Woods-meets-Monster Squad, but that by no means is a bad thing. Regardless of whether you’re a fan of the original books or not, it’s a solid, solid movie that offers up a surprising emotional core.

As an aside, if you’re a longtime fan of the series, make sure to stick around for the end credits. You won’t be disappointed!

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

I’d put myself somewhere in the middle of that sliding scale. I like his musical output just fine and consider myself a fan of House Of 1000 Corpses, The Devils Rejects and The Lords Of Salem, but feel that his Halloween re-imaginings should have remained a concept and not been inflicted on an unsuspecting public. I always go into his work with an open mind and think of myself as fairly neutral though. As far as Zombie is concerned I’m Switzerland. Or I was, until I watched his latest offering.

31 (because it takes place on Halloween) follows a ragtag group of carnival workers who swear, spit and grunt their way through an unpleasant first act, setting themselves up as a bunch of people the average horror audience would justifiably hate. There wasn’t a single character I could align myself with, and while I know that’s not necessary to elicit empathy, in this case it certainly would have helped.

Once we’re introduced to this particular band of misfits, they’re quickly kidnapped and held in an undisclosed facility for the bizarrely convoluted entertainment of a ludicrously hammy Malcolm McDowell, who appears to be dressed as John Malkovich from Dangerous Liaisons. The “game” is that our heroes must survive 12 hours whilst being stalked through a labyrinthine prison by a gaggle of deeply unthreatening clowns with imaginative names like Sex-Head, Death-Head and Psycho-Head. All the while, the three spectators give them odds on suspected chances of survival.

I’d love to break down the core of what the rest of the film entails but the camerawork was so shaky, shoddy and unforgivably bad that it was often difficult to tell what was even happening. The close-ups, jittery death scenes and grindhouse-style filters made it unwatchable at times, and while I imagine the aim was to recall 70’s era schlock, it just fell flat for me.

A lot of column inches on a lot of blogs and websites have gone to great lengths to criticise Zombie for always seemingly insisting that his paramour Sheri Moon Zombie always takes the lead role in his projects so I won’t say much on the subject for fear of repetition. What I will say is that it’s either an egregiously bold or mind-bogglingly stupid idea to keep casting a woman who has gone on record several times to state that she never wanted to be an actress, and still doesn’t. If love is blind then in this case it appears to be deaf as well.

The whole cast actually seemed to be giving it their all though, and it’s always a pleasure to see Meg Foster as there are too few roles for women of a certain age in genre pieces. Malcolm McDowell was Malcolm McDowell, Jeff Daniel Phillips was a sleazy version of his character from The Lord Of Salem and Richard Brake monologued a lot at people in what I suspect was supposed to be a menacing way. The fault lies mostly with the weak script though, as the delivery was admirable given what they had to work with.

The most pervading and sickening aspect of the film for me were the seemingly constant threats of sexual violence throughout. “Put down your feminist pitchfork, you needlessly verbose, liberal leftie”, I hear some of you cry. On a more serious note though, I recognise that 31 is a throwback to a simpler time but I feel like film-makers should be utilising more imaginative shock tactics in place of an archaic, sexist trope in 2016. Nothing about 31 felt truly shocking and everything that was supposed to shock just felt cheap and immature.

Despite everything I’ve said thus far, it almost feels cruel to criticise the film too much. Rob Zombie famously crowdfunded the project and offered his fans genuinely badass perks and so as someone who didn’t contribute to the project I almost feel as though 31 isn’t for me from the word ‘go’. Maybe if I had more allegiance with the director I’d have been more forgiving or viewed it more favourably. Sadly though, it just didn’t do a lot for me, and isn’t a film I could recommend in good conscience. I’m sure Zombie achieved what he set out to do but unfortunately I can’t force myself to care.

Rating: 2 out of 10 stars

James Wan is an excellent storyteller, and shows this by being able to produce a sequel that in many aspects is a re-hash of the original, and yet still retains a level of freshness and individuality throughout. Whilst the story itself is well-documented and as such runs the risk of being almost tedious to watch, the film is given a deserved breath of life with clever script-writing, “Ed, this is as close to hell as I ever want to get.”, and a close attention to visual detail – proven when the end credits roll and we see images from the set juxtaposed with original photos from the house.

I found the link between Enfield and Amityville where the film starts, tenuous. Perhaps it was a ploy of sorts to pander to a wider audience, but to me it seemed like cheap and easy exposition – most everyone knows the story of The Amityville Horror, and so a lot can go unsaid.

I found the film enjoyable. It didn’t rock my world, nor was I disgraced in any way by it. There were some parts I found wonderfully shot – the scene where Janet phases into Bill Wilkins and back again out of focus whilst being interviewed by Ed was a truly smart use of CGI, and gave depth and chill to what could have been a relatively tame encounter. Madison Wolfe gave an excellent performance as Janet, her fear palpable. And that bit with the fire-truck and the tent? Creeped me out good and proper. However there were some points that didn’t sit right with me – the “Crooked Man” scene is a good example of that. I found the brazen and obvious use of that kind of CGI in a film set in 1977, with a distinctly aged feel, pretty jarring. I feel like it was an interesting avenue to explore, but failed somewhat in the execution, leaving me a little disassociated with the film for a time.

In all, I would say The Conjuring 2 is definitely worth the watch, and a worthy sequel to “The Conjuring”. It was well-acted, cleverly-portrayed and pretty chilling at times. One for the watch list.

Rating: 7 out of 10 stars

Mr. Jones is ultimately what happens when someone has a great concept yet lacks the skill to execute it effectively. It starts off with a fantastic premise – a sort of a hyper-sterilised Antichrist with echoes of The Blair Witch Project thrown in – but soon gets totally muddled up inside itself in act three.

One of the many troubles Mr Jones has is that it just doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be. It opens as a found footage movie, transitions inexplicably to a half-edited documentary, before giving up altogether and opting for a standard, run-of-the-mill film structure. It lacks the consistency that makes found footage / mockumentary horror movies often so engaging; if the film can’t maintain its own lore it makes it tricky for the audience to play along as well…especially when the ultimate conclusion is so flimsy and confusing.

It also, unfortunately, succumbs to the fate many horror movies do; that of having characters who are complete and utter imbiciles. What is it about dodgily-written horror films and characters who have absolutely zero concept of personal safety? If you find yourself alone in the dark catacombs below the house of a man with a penchant for making statues of scarecrows with only a walkie-talkie as your link to the outside world and the line suddenly dies, you get the hell out of there. What you don’t do is carry on deeper into the tunnels, find yourself in what is clearly a shrine dedicated to Wurzel Gummidge, and then steal something from it. Tell that to Scott, though…

Any tension the film manages to create throughout the first two thirds is abruptly thrown out of the window once it draws to a close; the more the film reveals, the more of a clusterfuck it becomes.

It’s not all bad, however; it opens promisingly, with the eponymous Mr. Jones ghosting his way eerily into the background of a number of shots, the cinematography is lovely and the concept itself holds promise…it’s just a shame that the opportunity wasn’t seized, since there’s genuinely some pretty smart ideas behind it.

Rating: 3 out of 10 stars

Early on into Coherence, we’re given an ominous foreshadowing of the events to come. Phones have begun to cut out, one phone has cracked inexplicably and you just get the sense of there being something in the air; an electricity that even you, the viewer, can feel. Maybe it’s the fly-on-the-wall approach to filming, that shaky camera believability we’ve seen in movies before, or maybe it’s just the conviction of the performances given; you can just feel it.

As the dinner guests start to realise what’s happening, that reality is fracturing around them, they set out to try and solve the problem, with science books, Schrodinger’s Cat theories and some of the most genius use of glow sticks I’ve ever seen. One particular scene, in which the dinner guests come into contact with their alternate selves not only comes out of nowhere, it’s utterly chilling. The movie brands itself as a Science Fiction Thriller, but there are some genuine horror elements wonderfully interlaced in there.

From the get go, Coherence attempts and largely succeeds in making an unbelievable premise believable, and that’s the real draw. Not only that, it makes you invested in the characters, most notably of which is Mike, played by Nicholas Brendan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame. His evolution (or rather, devolution) is superbly portrayed, and is perhaps the most relatable character arc.

Coherence is a film that will have wide appeal, despite its low budget and short shooting time. These things only add to its achievement. It’s a film that leans heavily on theoretical physics, but at no point is it confusing or patronising. Director James Ward Byrkit has succeeded in making a film that is heavy on the science and does not dumb anything down, with a finished product that not only works, does not make the viewer feel stupid. The ensemble cast each bring something different to the (dinner) table, and work perfectly with each other, and there is a chilling soundtrack that echoes through the entire piece, making the viewer feel uncomfortable throughout. This is highly reminiscent reminiscent of the soundtrack in Absentia, which also worked to great effect.

If there were any criticism to be made, it would be that there tends to be a little bit of repetition. It’s only natural to assume that there would be this repetition, given the subject material, but at times, it does tend to deviate from necessary repetition to just plain recycling the same thing.

Other than minor flaws though, it’s a thoroughly enjoyable ride, with an ending that will have jaws dropping and an overall film that begs for a repeat watch, just to see all the subtle puzzle pieces you missed the first time. In fact, it’s even better the second time around.

Highly recommended.

Disclaimer: Your viewing experience may be somewhat diminished if you’ve seen the alternate timeline episode of Community. You have been warned.

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

Peltzer is a put-upon young chap who suffers emotional abuse at the hands of his domineering girlfriend Deetz, and humiliation at work in his thankless office job. After a particularly gruesome accident involving, you guessed it, a ‘snapped banjo string’, he manages to accidentally summon his imaginary friend Ronnie who has no trouble enacting the vengeful carnage that Peltzer is too meek to act out on his own.

Director Liam Regan made Banjo following on from the success of his short film Confessions Of Peltzer, which in turn was loosely inspired by Regan‘s own experiences. It was a fun, if squirm-inducing tale that definitely warranted further investigation, and Banjo fulfills the promise shown.

The jaunty, unusual score harks back to lost 80′s gems and gives the film a vintage feel which smacks of borrowed nostalgia, but in the best possible way. Even if you can’t quite put your finger on what it reminds you of, there’s something about it that’ll trigger a gratifying familiarity.

With lines like “Now make like a tampon and get out of my bloody hole”, there are no qualms about what kind of an audience Banjo is trying to attract. It’s littered with genuinely amusing, vulgar one-liners but also takes its comedy cues and beats from surprisingly traditional formats, which not only works but adds to the offbeat experience. The script can never really be accused of being perfunctory as it aims to entertain in every scene and, for the most part, achieves just that.

Banjo also proudly declares its influences with references to things like Henenlotter Hospital and, most obviously the character Deetz, along with appearances from The Human Centipede 2 and 3′s Laurence Harvey and a cameo from the face of Troma himself (no, not Toxie).

Antagonist Ronnie is a monstrous creation but gives Banjo a much-needed cartoon-y edge that prevents it from ever stepping into uncomfortably serious territory. Without giving too much away, Ronnie’s prosthetic appearance might seem a curious choice but one that works in the context and highlights the disconnect with reality.

The most unexpected aspect of Banjo is that it essentially works as male rape-revenge movie, which, in the name of equality, I’ve been bemoaning the lack of for some time. The scene in question, and the one directly after it, will make you cross your legs in discomfort regardless of your gender, and silently beg for Peltzer to get his revenge. It won’t necessarily make you think deeply about actions and their consequences but it’s an effective conceit nonetheless.

I think the best part of Banjo is that it looks phenomenal. On what must have been a comparatively miniscule budget, Regan has made a film that is lit absolutely beautifully and that almost always belies its modest beginnings.

While it’s not a perfect film, Banjo is a pleasantly surprising indie gem, which might not be the best phrasing given that little about it is actually pleasant. It’s a gruesome ride through the psyche of a troubled man and is filled with unabashedly abhorrant characters. But it’s also genuinely funny in places and is so unashamed in its influences and, unlike a lot of other modern horror movies, it wasn’t made just to exist, but to tell a story that it’s writer and director wanted to tell and so it’s sheer lack of cynicism makes it worth a watch. If you’re a fan of low budget, Troma-esque, obscene fun then give it your time.

Rating: 7.5 out of 10 stars

It’s been one year since Laura (Heather Sossamen) killed herself after being the victim of cyber-bullying in the form of an embarrassing video taken at a party going viral. Former best friend Blaire (Shelley Hennig) and her friends are in a group chat on Skype. All is normal, until a mysterious anonymous account joins the conversation. Despite all their attempts to remove them, (exiting the chat and reentering etc) the faceless infiltrator remains ever present. All the while, Blaire begins to receive Facebook messages from someone claiming to be Laura. Has her account been hacked, or is something more sinister at play?

Unfriended plays out (almost) entirely on Blaire’s computer screen, and not only gives us a front row seat to what’s going on, gives us a voyeuristic view into the mind of a teenager growing up in a social media dominated world. The research into what a teenagers desktop would look like is spot on; a cluttered mess of open tabs containing concert tickets, YouTube music videos and TV shows (Teen Wolf? There’s no accounting for some people’s taste…). It also superbly demonstrates what is going on in the mind of the protagonist. In several instances you see her hastily type out an aggressive message, but pause before hitting send, only to delete it and type something more diplomatic; something I think we’re all guilty of doing.

It’s initially quite easy to forget that this is a horror movie, but soon enough, things start to get ugly. The mysterious intruder starts to play on the insecurities of each of the unsuspecting teenagers, revealing dark secrets, betrayals and even infidelity. It becomes real car-crash viewing; unpleasant to watch, but drawing you in, leaving you aching to see what the next big secret reveal is. There’s a dark ‘internet’ sense of humour too, which may completely pass over the heads of those not versed in the ways of the internet, but if you get it, it’ll leave you almost feeling guilty for watching, and in some cases, laughing. Even Spotify gets involved, sporadically playing songs to reflect the mood. A fine example of this being How you Lie Lie Lie by Connie Conway and I Hurt Too by Katie Herzig.

Unfriended really shines in it’s realism. Yes, it is a movie about a vengeful spirit out to pay back those who tormented her, but the film is so engrossing, it almost transcends this story. Take out the supernatural element, and you’ve got a film that highlights the dangers of cyber-bullying, an all-too-real threat in today’s world. Torment under the veil of anonymity is where the ‘real life’ scares come. These aren’t a bunch of naive kids running around an abandoned amusement park, or escaping a mad killer on campus; they’re in the safety of their homes, chatting to their friends on the internet. Therein lies the terror. Though they can see and hear their friends, they are all completely helpless.

It also greatly demonstrates how easily distracted we are when online. Even when faced with a supposed dead girl messaging you, don’t forget to check out those friend requests on Facebook, or the latest Spotify playlist, and by God, don’t forget to untag yourself in those unflattering pics. How much you enjoy Unfriended hinges almost entirely on how well versed you are with internet culture. If you fit this category, you’ll find it traumatic, witty at times and frighteningly accurate. If not, it’ll be a film that unfortunately goes straight over your head, with a few half-hearted jumps in there. Catered for a very specific audience, it does what it does exceptionally well, but wider audiences will struggle to appreciate the attention to detail, overshadowed by an ultimately weak ‘horror’ premise.

Rating: 6 out of 10 stars

Aaron, a videographer, (Patrick Brice) answers a peculiar ad on Craigslist requesting the services of someone to document ‘a day in the life’. When he turns up at his destination, he meets an affable, if over-eager and excitable man named Josef who soon informs Aaron of his cancer diagnosis. His plan is simple; create a video for his unborn son in order to leave him a legacy. Despite his initial reluctance Aaron agrees and the two set out to make a suitable visual birthright.

To begin with Creep starts out like most other found footage movies but after a first half that’s almost entirely devoid of scares, it switches gear into something much stranger and less predictable, following an inappropriately hilarious confession from Josef involving a wolf mask and a weirdly predatory sexual encounter with his wife. At which point it becomes difficult to tell if Josef is really who he says he is.

Josef is a peculiar and terrifying creation. At first glance he’s pleasant, earnest and refreshingly free of inhibitions but as the film wears on he becomes frightening in his calm but obsessive nature. It’s nice to see Mark Duplass playing against type and with this and his production credit on the wickedly funny Bad Milo, it goes some way to erasing his involvement in the dismal Black Rock and making the Duplass Brothers much more interesting players in the horror field.

Patrick Brice not only co-stars, as the only other character that we see on screen, he also takes the mantles of writer and director. One wonders whether or not his roles were borne of necessity or desire but he balances each well.

Much of Creep‘s charm comes from it’s balance of cringeworthy humour and sheer oddness. You’ll find yourself hiding your face behind your hands on more than one occasion but it’s hard to know whether it’ll be because you’ll be flinching from ill-at-ease laughter or fright.

Creep is a quiet, deliberate film that’s low on scares but high on atmosphere. It’s no thrill-ride but it’s surprisingly satisfying and mystifying in equal measure, although it certainly won’t be for everyone. Given the announcement that it’s the first film in a trilogy I’m very interested to see where Brice sees this theme going.

Although Creep is less of a horror movie and more of a psychological (or should that be psychopathic) character study, it manages to serve as an effective slice of tension whilst also offering us a dose of awkward humour and a character that’s fun and engaging enough to spend 90 minutes with. It’s an odd little film and will likely split audiences but if you’re in the market for something a bit different, that’s also an antidote to the slew of run-of-the-mill found footage flicks, then you should probably consider checking it out.

Rating: 6 out of 10 stars