In 2004, Swedish author John Ajvide Lindqvist wrote a remarkable coming-of-age story that deals with fatherlessness, alcoholism, school bullying, paedophilia, child transgenderism…and vampires*.

The book was a bestseller and 4 years later a film was made. Let the Right One In, directed by Thomas Alfredsen in 2008, was so well-made and so popular that within two years, Matt Reeves had directed a 1:1 Hollywood remake.

Surprisingly, the remake was also well-received and won fans such as Stephen King. A year later, in 2010, the stage adaptation premiered in Sweden, and in 2013 it was also adapted by the National Theatre of Scotland. Let the Right One In opened at the Apollo Theatre, London, in March 2014. Having heard plenty of positive reviews, I was keen to see how it worked on stage.

The interesting thing about the Swedish film is that it is both minimalist and still very powerful and visual – characteristics which I thought would be difficult to translate onto the stage. Firstly, the stage design was very well done. The great thing about theatre is that it provides so many different ways to portray place and emotion. In this case most of the background (an ethereal forest of silver birch trees) stayed static while parts of the set at the front changed in subtle ways to represent different locations, which were emphasised by lighting while everything else remained darker.

An interesting aspect of the show was the visual representation of emotions through the medium of dance and performance art. One character’s loneliness might be portrayed by several other members of the supporting cast dancing in the background; often mimicking the movements of the character in focus. I can’t say that performance art is normally my cup of tea, but it was still a very interesting approach and something entirely different to what you might expect.

Alongside this focus on fluidity and movement and the clever production/set design, the music played a great part in the overall effect. Most scenes were accompanied by loud, synthesised music, which set the tone and ethereal, mystifying atmosphere perfectly. The play definitely felt more like an adaption of the film rather than the book, on the basis that it omits the same passages and events from the book that were also missing in the films. Without revealing too much, something crucial about Eli’s (the vampire’s) past is explicitly explained in the book, whereas it is only hinted at in both the film and play. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing: the play is very entertaining and feels like a re-imagined remake in a new garment.

Despite the fact that the actors speak with Scottish accents, location-wise the play is still set in Sweden (although this is never really mentioned) and the characters have their original names, which are clearly Scandinavian. The acting is really great, especially by the two playing Oscar and Eli. Before watching the show, the most challenging and questionable part for me was how they would re-enact the final, dramatic scene of the film and, again, I don’t want to give anything away but it is very well visualised and a terrifyingly impressive staged representation of the scene.

Pleasingly, the play, like the film, is not afraid to get down and gory, something that’s unusual for theatre. The play is gory, beautiful, very entertaining and surprisingly cinematic (if this is possible), thanks to great design, awesome music and top-class acting. Fans of the book and films should be happy with the adaptation; and fans of dark and unusual theatre should like it as well. The play is showing at London’s Apollo Theatre until September 2014 and I would thoroughly recommend checking it out. It will bring the house down (hopefully not literally – but we all know the Apollo does have form).

*This was, of course, in the days before vampires sparkled, when they were still actually scary.

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

In the near future Humanity reaches it’s very own kill screen. If anyone played an arcade game back in the 80’s / 90’s you’ll remember the phrase ‘kill screen’ with a flurry of frustration and horror – it’s when the game becomes unplayable due to massive errors appearing on the screen. It sucked. But luckily the comic doesn’t.

The Kill Screen is a vastly unique take on the inevitable decimation of mankind, but this time with 8-bit hell. When digital errors transcended into the ‘real’ world and infected people, the world fell apart.

Issue #1 introduces us to that world – two years after the “Kill Screen Event” – and follows survivor Jill as she wanders through the broken landscape of our digitally-buggered world. Needless to say, it’s pretty weird. The infected’s blood explodes in an 8-bit splatter and errors roll up their faces like a busted computer screen. “Error 404” was horrifying enough when it wasn’t trying to smash your face in…

Written by Mike Garley, with artwork by Josh Sherwell and letters by Mike Stock, The Kill Screen is a thoroughly enjoyable, very well made comic and – most importantly – startlingly original. The concept alone makes it worth checking out.

Special mention has to go to artist Josh Sherwell as the ‘computer errors’ are genuinely well created, to the point I thought my PDF copy had stalled (stupid swirling circle of dots!!). The 8-bit effects are excellent and it adds a new dimension that elevates the comic significantly.

For more info on The Kill Screen, including artwork and other work by Mike Garley, check out his website – http://mikegarley.com/the-kill-screen/

Issue #1 of The Kill Screen (titled ILOVEYOU) will be premiering at the MCM London Comic Con on the 24th of May and will cost £3.50 for 28 pages (which is roughly $6 for all you American folks out there). Worth it.

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

First song ‘Teenage Nosferatu Pussy‘ is a straight up pounding intro track, treading familiar ground with the combined pulse of the guitar & drums beckoning you to chant along with the mad ringmaster. I can easily see this becoming a show opener with the crowd marching along like an army of demented followers. Oh, and that organ does add a certain something.

Next up is the first single from the album, ‘Dead Radio & The New Gods Of Supertown‘, a stomping pop-metal romp through the brain of Zombie, casting himself as the conductor of the reanimated corpse of radio. As a fan of RZ’s music I’ve got to say that I loved the rhythm of this track and instantly wanted to listen again. It definitely sounds different but also somewhat the same. The next track could have come straight from ‘The Sinister Urge’ with a thick wall of guitar riffery and loud brash drums, topped with Zombies old-school twang, I loved it. If you are a fan who yearns for a throwback to the dirtier, punkier days of White Zombie’s ‘Revolution Revelation‘ is it. Next is the now customary instrumental interlude.

Then we get to possibly the most interestingly titled track on the record, ‘Ging Gang Gong De Do Gong De Laga Raga‘, the cheerleading cry of Peter Pan Pentagram! A bombastic tune interspersed with movie quotes and eerie sound effects. ‘Rock And Roll (In A Black Hole)‘ then slows things down for the first time since the start of the album, but this is slowed down in a purely Zombie way. The song erupting with its chorus of ‘We’re all dancing in a black hole, when all we wanna do is rock and roll‘ is another chant for the mutated masses.

Track 7, ‘Behold, Pretty Filthy Creatures‘ possesses an awesome organ solo that everyone should love and a chorus that may contain a little bit of social commentary if you look into it far enough. Next we have a call to arms for ‘White Trash Freaks‘ everywhere. Oh, and don’t forget to bring your boogaloo dolls, just listen and it will make sense, maybe.

Onto the next song and we get to retain some sanity with a straight forward Zombified cover of Grand Funk Railroad‘s ‘We’re An American Band‘. After that forked road back to the village we find ourselves back in the familiar cannibal-infested woods of Rob Zombie’s world with a song dedicated to the dark lords rising. ‘Lucifer Rising‘ is a perfect display of a band who know exactly how they want to sound and have a damn good time doing it.

As we start to get to the close of the album we are greeted by one of the best tracks in my opinion and a strong contender for the next video, ‘The Girl Who Loved The Monsters‘, a story about a girl who wishes to be one of creatures she loves. Now we reach the final track ‘Trade In Your Guns For A Coffin‘. Sounds like an acoustic western song? Haha, Hell no! Rob Zombie puts in what could be one of his punkier songs of recent times, with a fast delivery and the familiar twang of John 5′s guitar, this is no album closer, this is a warning that Zombie is enjoying his music more than ever and he shows no intention of slowing down. Haters gonna hate, but myself? I enjoyed this album and I’m sure with a few beers I’d only enjoy it more.

First published: 2002

What would you do if you were the last man on the planet?

It’s one of those questions men have talked about at length, sat around a pub table, at home whilst gaming, at the dinner table, well, anywhere really. What would you actually do if you were the last man on the planet?

Y: The Last Man follows the story of Yorick Brown, a down on his luck escapologist who has this hypothetical question made a reality. He wakes up on July 17, 2002, to find that he is the last man on the planet. A plague has hit that has wiped out the Y chromosome, killing off every male species on the planet, save for Yorick, and his pet monkey Ampersand. The world is plunged onto chaos, as societies collapse, and the survivors are faced with the reality that, if an explanation and cure to this ‘plague’ is not discovered, humanity is doomed. Yorick realises his importance, and sets off to try and discover what caused this plague and see if he still has a place in the world.

That is essentially the premise of the comic, and it’s very hard not to get spoiler heavy by saying much more regarding the story, so I won’t. Because, in short, this is one of the best comics I’ve ever read.

Now I know what you you’re thinking. All the men on the planet are dead except him. It’s just poor little Yorick, and all the women on the planet? It would be a man’s dream come true surely? Initially you would think so, but Y: The Last Man does the genius thing of not making it about that at all. That’s the obvious plot line, but so seldom does it even come up throughout the entire series. That’s not to say it never comes up; it would be pretty ignorant to not add this story element; to look into the desires of men and women in such an extraordinary scenario. What’s so refreshing about this comic though, is that yes, he could go on a massive spree of bedding women left right and center, but he doesn’t. From the outset, Yorick has 2 goals. 1. Find out what caused this plague, and find out if he’s doomed to share the same fate as his species, and 2 get to the other side of the world and find the love of his life, Beth. This is what makes is such a great story and what makes Yorick a fantastic character. He could literally have anyone he wants, but he’s set on his goal and his girl, and nothing will move him from it.

Yorick is surrounded from start to finish by some fantastic supporting characters, including Agent 355, a woman sent to protect Yorick and aid him in finding out what caused the plague, and Doctor Allison Mann, a geneticist desperately seeking to find out what caused the plague and why Yorick survived. Yorick needs some serious protecting on his journey. He has to contend with newly formed military factions, governments, hardcore fanatics the ‘Daughters of the Amazon’ who believe that this plague was a deserved fate for the ‘oppressive species’, and hundreds of women that basically just want to jump his bones.

I don’t think anything I write will do Y: The Last Man justice. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of the 60 issues.. It’s funny in places, deep in others, it has scares, shocks, and some genuinely heart breaking moments. The end had me legitimately in tears. My only minor criticism is that some of the issues tend to be fillers that I felt didn’t really need to be there. Looking back though, as a complete story, they had their place in their own right, and so it’s forgivable.

Y: The Last Man is a beautifully written, stunningly drawn comic, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who loves comics, someone new to them, or anyone who likes a compelling story. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. It is a real story of trial over adversary, of a man who chose what was right, over what was easy.

So what are you waiting for? Go read it. You’ll be nothing short of amazed.

Rating: 9 out of 10 stars

This past weekend, i was lucky enough to nab myself a ticket to London Super Comic Con, at the ExCeL centre. Being a huge fan of all things comic related since the age of about 10, and even having one of my pieces about a girl falling in love with a tree published (don’t hate, it was a real tearjerker, promise), it may surprise you that i’ve never actually been to a comic book convention. With that thought in mind, i donned my Gorepress shirt, withdrew ample cash and headed off into the cold and snowy capital to see what the fuss was all about.

My Comic Con experience began even before we reached Excel centre. I’ve always struggled with the London underground, due to being colour blind, and pretty darn lazy in general, but luckily for me i was with a friend who uttered the most sagest of words: ‘Follow the cosplayers’. Never a wiser words has been spoken. As such, i can now say i know what it’s like to sit next to Wolverine on the Docklands light Railway.

We arrived in good time, to be greeted by long queues, doubled back on themselves. Luckily for us, the event was so well organised, the queue moved quickly and efficiently, and we weren’t waiting for more than 20 minutes. It’s important to mention though, that everyone in the queue was in the same environment; all looking forward to the convention, excited for their own reasons. I found it reminiscent of queuing for a movie such as Star Wars/Lord of the Rings on opening night, where everyone knows everything about it, some choose to go the extra mile and dress up, but you’re all there for the same reason, so you have a mutual respect and common ground with everyone.

Once we actually got into the venue itself, we were greeted by a huge open area, all clearly marked and labelled, impossible to get lost in. There was enough there to keep a newbie or a hard-core comic fan entertained, and it became instantly understandable how people can spend the whole weekend here and not get bored.

In terms of the pedigree of the artists there, it really was an A-1 turnout. Granted, last year topped this year and any other year, as Stan Lee, Mr comic book himself was there. This year however, didn’t disappoint. Notable mentions go to Dan Slot, writer of The Amazing Spider-Man, Arkham Asylum: Living Hell and She-Hulk, and the current writer of superior spider-man. I queued for a fair amount of time, but managed to get one of my Spider-Man issues signed by the man himself. Other favourites included Gabriele Dell’otto (Secret War, Marvel: Ultimate Alliance, Annihilation), Kevin Maguire (Justice League, Batman Confidential, Captain America, X-Men.), George Perez (Avengers, Teen Titans, and Wonder Woman.), Neil Edwards (avengers, Fantastic Four), and watercolour master Esad Ribic (Thor, Loki, X-Men, Silver Surfer) who i was lucky enough to watch paint an incredible portrait of Thor in about 15 minutes. In short, mind = BLOWN.

Aside from the big names, a favourite area of mine was Artists Alley; a place for the up and coming artists to showcase their work, and for a very reasonable price, would draw you a personal piece. I was lucky enough to get personal favourite Emma Frost drawn for me by the exceptionally talented Dave Stokes, (Twitter: @davestokes) which was my personal highlight of the day.

There were some great personal touches which impressed me, such as the portfolio review; a place you could go where professionals would check out your artistic/storytelling skills. I would have killed to have had my work overseen by a professional back in the day, and i thought it was really a great touch. It also explains why there were about 300 people walking around with chuffing great sketchbooks/canvases.

Oh, one more thing. Did i mention there were comic books there? Yeah, just the odd few hundred thousand or more… Comics, comics, as far as the eyes can see. I must say, i fell prey to the 25p each or 5 for £1 stalls, granted most of which were Spider-Women/Emma Frost influenced, but hey, I like what I like? In all seriousness, anything you wanted, they pretty much had it. Whether it was the 5 for £1 stalls, or the single, plastic encased $10,000 comics you were looking for, they had it all. Countless collectors with illegibly constructed lists of comics they needed greeted me at every stall, but this was no chaos at Christmas Eve mentality. Everyone was polite, everyone waited their turn, and it was a testament to the kind-natured people that attend conventions.

Of course no convention, especially a comic book convention can be talked about without mention of cosplayers. Those diehard fans who go above and beyond the call of duty, put in countless time and effort to dress up as their favourite hero/heroine. In short, it didn’t disappoint. I myself spoke to, got photographed with, and generally had a blast with Wolverine, Beast, Phoenix, Hellboy, Bane, Batman, The Riddler, Two-Face, Yorick (Y:The last Man), Black Cats (so many black Cats), Psylocke, Maya and Salvador from Borderlands 2 along with their 7 year old child dressed as a Psycho Bandit; and it’s the latter that really epitomise what cosplay and indeed comic con is all about. It had something for everyone, a family event, for all ages. Many people look down on people who attend conventions as geeks or nerds, but to fully immerse yourself in the day, you quickly realise that these are some of the nicest, most approachable people you’ll ever meet. They’re there to show their passion, their hobby, and they don’t care how people perceive them, especially the narrow minded people who typecast them.

All in all, i had an absolute blast. Came back having seen some of the best artists in the world, met some new friends, and with a backpack bulging with swag. I’d highly recommend it to anyone. Leave your preconceptions at the door, there’s something here for everyone.

So, see you at the MCM Expo in May?

Yeah? Sweet deals.

Peter Grant is just coming to the end of his two year probation as a constable with the Metropolitan police. Probies always get the shit jobs. So it’s no real surprise that he finds himself, on a cold rainy night in January, guarding the scene of a murder outside St Paul’s in Covent Garden. While his friend, WPC Leslie May, is off getting coffee, he is approached by an eye witness to the crime. This witness gives a graphic and accurate account of what transpired. The only problem is that this witness is the ghost of a man that died over a century ago. This isn’t going to be easy to explain to the brass.

Thus begins Peter’s journey into a London that he was completely oblivious to before now.

Ben Aaronovitch, the author, has written for TV and radio in his time, as well as a bunch of novels. Most notably he has worked on Dr Who (TV, radio and books) and Blakes’ 7 (radio plays). Rivers of London is his first foray into a world that is his creation, and he has created it well.

The book is written from the view of Peter, and a great deal of thought has obviously been put into the character and the style of the writing. It has an earthy quality and an honesty that made me completely believe that this was the narrative of a young policeman from a mixed race family, London born and bred. There is no pretention to draw you out of the world that he completely succeeds in creating. A ‘modernism’ (is that a word?) that brings it into the world of today. This is something that other authors often aim for, but sometimes fail to achieve with such conviction. However, this does mean that some of the imagery is not quite as poetic as it could be. But I see this as a good thing. Don’t get me wrong. I love colourful renditions of the images writers are portraying. But Peter is not a poet. This is a world seen through his eyes. It really worked for me.

It is a tale told through the eyes of a policeman. So, as such, it is a police investigation tale that strays into a world that is way outside of the realms of police reports. As a result, it is not a splatter book, nor is it a sinister, suspense tale. Yet it is both. Aaronovitch tells a tale which, seen through different eyes, could have easily been told by Clive Barker or James Herbert. But neither of them would have chosen Peter as their central character. So there are moments that are told more clinically than would be by other authors. But are no less shocking or disturbing, if one applies some thought and imagination to what you are being told.

I am truly impressed with the amount of research and accuracy that Aaronovitch has achieved with this book. His portrayal of the Metropolitan Police structure and operation is superb. I used to work for the Met Police Forensic Science labs. So many parts of this book made me think ‘Fuck yeah… that is so right!’ (Actual Policemen may disagree.)

Some may question whether this is truly a ‘horror’ book. And I would admit, it’s no Banks, Lumley or Hutson. But it is a foray into the worlds that we embrace, and it is a refreshing point of view to observe this foray from. It may not be filled with scares, gore or balls out nastiness. But it, in my opinion, completely achieves what it aims at. And as a result of this book, Mr Aaronovitch has made it onto my list of ‘Authors to keep an eye on for new works’. This list is not large.

Rivers of London is the first in a series. It is followed by Moon over Soho and Whispers Under Ground (to date).

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

Anyway, the bit in Titanic where Leonardo DiCaprio slides off of the door or bit of wood or whatever it is and sinks down to his watery grave?  How much better would it have been if he’d leapt back up out of the water like Jason at the end of Friday the 13^th?  I mean, this is James Cameron!  He gave the world Aliens!  He can do jumps and scares, if he wants to!  What the hell is this soggy romance about?

So, Chris Pauls and Matt Solomon have given us Deck Z: The Titanic, a story which singularly fails to capitalise on the fact that there are dead and dying everywhere, and instead decides to shoehorn a tired old “oh, no, not a T-Virus-like-thing escaping into a confined space” story.  I’m not sure exactly why they looked at a genuine tragedy like the sinking of the RMS Titanic, in which at least 1,490 people were deaderised in a horrifying manner, and then proceed to just chuck some zombies in for cheap laughs and tittering. 

Is it just me that’s had enough of these shitty “Situation X + Monster Y” novels that have been gradually filling up the shelves since the comedy abortion of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies shambled its way into view?  It’s the laziest form of cut and paste horror writing, and – while it’s not Shaun Hutson levels of derivative – it is a rather feeble nonetheless.  

Anyway, there’s a scientist, named Theodor Weiss (magician’s tip: Never trust a guy with the surname ‘Weiss’), and he has this T-Virus knock-off, and it turns people into zombies.  The military want to use it as a weapon, and he tries to sneak it to America, aboard The Titanic.  Chaos ensues, people are bitten, some minor concessions towards pathos are made, and a bunch of mildly interesting characters try and escape from the sinking boat.  Along the way they learn to live, laugh, love, languish, liquorice and liger.  Probably.

Some of the characters are enjoyable.  Louise and Weiss, in particular, show the most humanity throughout, but the rest of the cast appear to be mere exercises in stiff upper lippedness and shooty-bang-death-killeration statistics.  The zombies aren’t especially scary, and while the action scenes are sometimes enjoyable, there’s never any real attachment or involvement for the reader in what’s happening.  I just couldn’t find myself able to care about what happened to most of them.  Probably not helped by the fact that I was already resigned to the fact that they were probably going to drown or freeze to death in any event. 

On the plus side, it’s very short.  On the down side, it’s very short (barely 220 pages).  Normally I don’t make a big deal of price, but…£9.99 for 200 pages?  Really?

Rating: 4 out of 10 stars

Calabrese formed in 2003 and consists of brothers Jimmy, Bobby and Davey. Their distinctive horror-punk sound has earned them comparisons to some of the genres biggest groups and an adoring legion of hardcore fans. Bridging the gap between The Misfits and Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster, the boys have just released their 3rd album ‘They Call Us Death’ to typically positive reviews.

In addition to their already jam-packed resume, they appeared in one of this years Horrorfests’ 8 Films To Die For titles The Graves. Dipping their toes into the vast arena of horror is nothing new for Calabrese though, it was always a natural progression for the siblings. In his own words, Jimmy says “Why do you think we chose this genre? I don’t think we really had a choice. We just followed the bands we loved and grew up with. Since we are brothers we all ended up liking the same music and movies and video games.”

It would only require a cursory glance at any of the bands stylised and stylish music videos to see the abundance of horror movie influences present. For decades, bands within the genre have presented an amalgamation of classic horror and traditional punk rock but few have managed it so successfully as Calabrese. Possessing a sound that they’ve made their own and an intimidating presence between them, the horizon looks very bright (or should that be dark) for the current kings of the scene.

Brian Pulido; writer and director of The Graves says “Quite simply, Calabrese is the world’s greatest horror punk band and they’re coming to get you.” Never a truer word was spoken.

‘On set’ photograph courtesy of Jimmy Calabrese.

Calabrese on MySpace

Calabrese Official Website

Look out for The Graves, coming soon to DVD!

The circus brings out a kind of primordial fear in me. When I see scrawny people swallowing swords, or full grown men with painted faces performing slapstick, or gymnasts dressed in spandex balancing on top of each other, my gut response is not to clap and eat popcorn but to think : Kill them. Kill them with fire.

The only time people should ever be able to fit into suitcases is with the intervention of your local serial killer.

However, when my husband informed me that I was going to see The Circus of Horrors perform in Folkestone, I was optimistic. I was looking forward to seeing something that would push boundaries, that would channel inspiration from acts such as Franko B, that would tap into that core fear of the unknown, that nightmaric carnival of absurdity and spectacle.

I watched a dwarf lift weights with his turgid cock.

Perhaps it is my own fault for expecting too much. In reality, what I witnessed was not so much a circus of horrors, but the bastard love child of Repo the Genetic Opera and Jackass. If this sounds like your idea of bliss, then I can promise you that you will love this show. If this sounds like your idea of hell, well, join the club. I sat through the entire performance with my coat done up to avoid paying out for a rain mac – “You will get covered with bodily fluids” comes the warning – and grimaced as the opening gambit included the very tired “This show will contain language likely to offend, and if you don’t like it, we kindly ask that you FUCK OFF”. Risqué? Maybe in the nineties. Now it just seems prepubescent. Rude words and phalluses, blood and bodices. I can find more offensive material just by typing any random word into google image.

Perhaps I am being too harsh – a very talented turn by The Masked Wrestler aka The Priest aka The Man With The Chains Who Does Some Spinning In A Container Of Water Dyed Red To Look Like Blood – caused me to involuntarily draw breath, and I found myself clapping in approval. However, where the show really falls down flat is the plot. Or vast gaping lack of it.

There is no fault in simply having a showcase of talents, a spectrum of acts. The fault lies in trying to pretend there is an over-arcing plot tying them all together, bridging performances with seemingly random songs with indecipherable lyrics. The best I can surmise is this: They were in a mental ward, in France, and someone died, or perhaps got cut in two, so they went to Mexico to bring them back to life, where someone took a white potion as an excuse for an incredibly drawn out UV lit dance scene, reminiscent of Austin Powers. Then, erm… Some other things happen, and they sing about it. A dwarf sticks a light in his bottom, and it glows, and this means he can stick back together a man who was cut in two. Then we have some more gymnastics, a few more songs, have a break, eat some maltesers, quietly wonder what the hell that was all about, before being launched back into the fray.

The second half sees a woman’s throat cut with surprisingly dramatic effects – red blooms out in a gasp, caught in the spotlight.

Then, she gets up, puts some rollerboots on, and spins about. A lot. Quite fast.

We see sword swallowing, we see a dwarf lift weights with his penis, we see playing cards stapled to his face, we see him stick a hoover to his penis, and we hear songs. There seems to be some kind of conclusion – rather hastily, and out of nowhere, the circus master is accused of murder, taken up to be hung, the noose is tightened, the body falls, and… spoiler ahoy…

The ringmaster is dead! Or is he…? Here’s the switcharoo. Would you believe that the previously buff looking masked wrestler from earlier on is now revealed to be the ringmaster? Who would have guessed? Well, probably all the people with eyes. Firstly, because the dummy they hung was so unconvincing, and the switch rather ham fisted. Secondly, it’s also rather easy to spot the big reveal when the Masked Wrestler changes height, has grey hair sticking out of his mask, and a wealth of grey chest hair on display.

As for the body fluids they warn against? You occasionally get splashed with water (seemingly only to justify them asking for money for rainmacs) but in the second half some lucky soul gets phlegm from a swallowed sword flung onto them. The performers are very, very lucky it wasn’t me. Rainmac, no rainmac, I could be wearing a giant condom or a biohazard suit for all it matters, if someone lobs thready spittle on me I will destroy everything in a twenty metre radius, and not stop until my blood lust is satiated. Not edgy, not dark, just grim.

Anyway, another song, some dancing. A bizarre giant inflatable vacuum cleaner, for no better reason than they can.

FIN.

Would I recommend this show? Depends how much I like you, I suppose. Genuinely talented performers suffer from a set up that has lost its shock factor, and from hastily cobbled together framing for disparate acts. Scenes run too long, meaning what would have been, in passing, shocking, soon fades into tedium. The presentation of a man with a split tongue, or “free floating” ribs, or many tattoos is no longer a spectacle – my local pub offers much of the same. The direction fails to take into account those in the side seats, meaning that the interval heralded a scrabble to take up the vacant spaces in the central row. The Circus of Horrors has been running since 1995, and was something of a legend when I was a teenager. I can’t help but think it needs something new – a fresh take, a fresh direction, or perhaps just an influx of new blood, to carry it into 2010.

Conclusion : Moments of brilliance lost in a tired, confused setting.

Hailing from Leeds and signed to Brew Records, These Monsters are about to unleash their particular brand of darkly atmospheric punk-rock on the unsuspecting UK public. The four piece have already garnered much praise and have acquired quite the positive reputation for their memorable, orchestral live shows. Their first single, titled ‘Call Me Dragon’, is now available online. The video, directed by drummer Tommy Davidson with cinematography by Adam Conlon, has echoes of many classic and modern horror movies and seemingly takes its cues from Brit favourites such as 28 Days Later with its heavy use of filters and bleached-out imagery. Summoning a mounting sense of madness and blending rich surrealism with frenetic lunacy, it complements the track perfectly.

The album is released on 1st March 2010 but if you can’t wait until then, check out the video for ‘Call Me Dragon’ right here…

Chickenhawk was born in 2004. They recorded three songs in 2005 and released a demo before recording two more songs in 2006 for a split EP released on Millipede Records, alongside tracks from ‘I Breathe Spears’ and ‘With Scissors’. They then recorded 12 songs from April to December 2007 and released their album in 2008 on Sound Devastation Records. Their latest single; ’I Hate This, Do You Like It?’ is due for release next month courtesy of Brew Records and to accompany it, they decided to rope in over 200 zombie extras and create a gore-fueled promo which has been described as “Arguably the biggest zombie music video since ‘Thriller’”

Shot in four days over a three week period, the Chickenhawk zombie epic pulled together hundreds of people and created a community based blood-fest that Leeds had never seen the like of before. Completed with a meagre budget of just £1000, the project was intended to not only be produced on a vast scale, but living (dead) proof that a high level of film production could be attained with a small budget as long as you keep your hanging eyeballs on the cash and have plenty of ambition at the ready.

Written and directed by NME photographer Danny North and developed by Roach Productions, the video spent three months in pre-production. This involved creating a story that could be loyal to influences such as Snyder’s Dawn Of The Dead, 30 Days of Night and 28 Days Later, but still remaining within the confines of a music video. Modern zombie horror cinema saw a change in pace and this had a massive influence on the styling of the film.

Danny North says; “I always wanted to make a zombie video”.

The origins of the final piece came from an idea that North had. Band, Chickenhawk contacted Danny to photograph them, and production grimesters Roach to film the shoot.

Bright spark North then put an idea forward whereby they could combine both mediums to create a feature length music video to accompany Chickenhawks new single ‘I Hate This, Do You Like It?’ from their EP ‘A. Or Not’. The conception of a horror themed video came from the previous experience both parties had had in that arena and the idea of fast-paced horror was widely felt to be very much suited to the equally fast-paced tempo of Chickenhawks music. North, and low-fi Leeds-based production and creative team Roach worked together to turn this small idea into a workable narrative.

The special effects make-up was realised by Samantha Myers who was involved in development from the beginning of the production; bringing with her years of industry experience. Having previously worked on short horror ‘Cadaver’ together, Danny North, was well aware of Myers abilities in gore and horror makeup. She turned out to be the perfect candidate for the project.

“She sculpted the look we were trying to achieve perfectly” said director, North.

The entire film was shot in Leeds, West Yorkshire, with locations including the huge open space in Hyde Park and the Brundnell Social Club. The places selected all suited the grittiness and bleakly apocalyptic feel of the lo-fi style, whilst maintaining the easy accessibility needed between sets. Forsaking the use of constructed sets, opting for natural locations instead, contributed to the feeling of threat and terror overlapping into the ordinary and everyday life.

Chickenhawk’s zombie music video masterpiece is released on 7/09/09 so be sure to check it out. In the meantime, here’s the trailer to satiate your bloodlust.

www.myspace.com/chickenhawk

www.brewrecords.net

www.dannynorth.co.uk

www.roachproductions.com