A Rundown of the 13 Best, Most Recent Horror Movies I’ve Seen
[8 of 13]
HOSTEL: PART II (June 2007)


[Director Eli] Roth manages to keep things tight and engaging, as both groups on either side of the torturer’s chair, spiral deeper into the blood-caked labyrinth, and move inexorably towards the fateful meeting in the infamous factory.
Along the way, we catch glimpses of the psychology of torture and murder, the pitiless commodification of human life, and the cruel vagaries of business.

Read the entire review here.

(Hostel: Part II OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

LOST
Season 4 Episode 11
“Cabin Fever”
Written by Elizabeth Sarnoff & Kyle Pennington
Directed by Paul Edwards
(WARNING: SPOILERS)


“But you’ll understand soon enough that there are consequences to being chosen, because destiny, John, is a fickle b!tch.”
-- Ben

Hoo-boy!
Okay, Locke flashback first.
Turns out that John was a premature baby, brought into the world at 6 months because Emily got hit by a car as she was on her way to see John’s evil conman da. (Ironically enough, this installment is this season’s Mother’s Day episode…)
Apparently though, John was meant to survive, as he survived infections and other assorted medical troubles to emerge from the incubator, only to have Emily chicken out, thus resulting in him being put up for adoption.
But who should be at the hospital but Richard! Looking as young as he does on the Island present!


Years later, Richard visits John at a foster home, and says he represents a school for very gifted children. Richard has John take a test, asking him to choose from a number of objects those that he’s already owned.
John picks a compass, a small container of what appears to be sand, and, much to Richard’s disapproval, a knife.
This was apparently the wrong choice, as Richard quickly leaves, taking the objects with him.

Years later again, and John’s in high school and being bullied and beaten up. He’s told (by someone who I assume is the principal) that he’s been invited to a science camp in Portland, run by Mittelos.
But John says he isn’t a scientist. He likes sports and hunting and other physical pursuits. He’s told that he shouldn’t resist who he’s meant to be. He’s told that he can’t be a prom king, that he can’t be a quarterback, that he can’t be a superhero.
John says (and I’m sure you know what’s coming), Don’t tell me what I can’t do.

Years later again, after getting pushed out of that hotel window by his evil conman da, and while he’s still clearly despondent as he struggles with his physical rehabilitation, he’s visited in hospital by sinister Mr. Abaddon, who’s apparently the one who gave John the idea to go on the walkabout.
Abaddon tells John, You’ll go on that walkabout like I did, and you’ll discover who you really are, and when we meet again, you’ll owe me one.


And, back on the Freighter…
Keamy finds out it was Michael who told Ben all about him, and Keamy tries to shoot Michael, but his gun jams… (Guess the Island still needs Michael.)
Keamy breaks out Widmore’s second protocol, which apparently goes, “torch the Island.”
Gault sees this is all spiraling out of control, so he gives Sayid the Zodiac, so Sayid can start ferrying people to the boat. Desmond though, says he’s not setting foot on the Island again, and that he’ll wait on the boat for Penny.
So Sayid Zodiacs his way back to the Island.
Meanwhile, Michael tells Frank that Keamy’s on his way back to the Island to kill everyone on it. So Frank refuses to fly them back, to which Keamy responds by slitting the poor doctor’s throat and throwing him overboard, where his corpse will presumably float through some temporal anomaly so it can be found on the beach two episodes ago. (I just love this show!)
Keamy then warns Frank he’s ready to kill someone else if Frank doesn’t fly the helicopter.
Gault arrives and holds Keamy at gunpoint, but is distracted by some device strapped to Keamy’s arm. Keamy then shoots the captain, convincing Frank he does need to fly the helicopter.
But Frank surreptitiously places a NaomiPhone into a bag, which he later drops onto the beach as the helicopter flies over. (I assume Frank did this without Keamy noticing.)

On the beach, Jack (who is up and about against Juliet’s express orders to stay put, lest his stitches open up) finds the NaomiPhone, and thinks they’re being asked to follow the helicopter’s path.


Over with the cabin hunters, Locke has a dream where he meets dead Horace Goodspeed (Doug Hutchison), who John sees building the cabin. Dream Horace tells John to find him, so he can find the cabin.
John then leads them to the mass grave where the Dharma corpses are, and finds a map of the cabin in the pocket of Horace’s overalls. They then trek to the cabin, and when they get there, both Ben and Hugo opt to let John enter the cabin by himself.
Inside, John sees Christian (who admits that he isn’t Jacob, but that he’s representing him), and Claire, who seems to be acting very strangely, casually claiming, I’m with him. (This is so not the Claire we know and love…)
John’s confused by Claire’s presence (as are we), but Christian says, The Boat People are almost here. Ask the question that really matters.
John asks, What do I have to do to save the Island?

Later, John exits the cabin, and when Ben asks if he was told what needed to be done, John says, He wants us to move the Island.


Ho-kay… move the Island…
Riiiight…
And what is up with Claire?! Did that exploding house back at the Barracks do something more to her than just knock her for a loop? Is she really (like her father) now one of those dead people other people still see? What about Des’ “Claire and Aaron get on a helicopter” vision?! Did Charlie sacrifice himself, not in vain exactly, but not for the person he thought he was doing it for? Graaarrr!!!

With all the neat stuff in this episode though, arguably the most tantalizing scene here is the test Richard gives Locke.
And the interesting parallel between Richard apparently sensing something special about Locke, in (perhaps subconsciously) the same way Locke sensed something special about Walt…
And next up, in what appears to be yet another temporal anomaly, the season’s two-part, three-hour ender…

COUNTDOWN: 37.

(Images courtesy of ABC, ew.com, and usatoday.com [Keamy].)

HOSTEL: PART II
(Review)

I think I’ve mentioned this ‘round these parts before: I loved Eli Roth’s Cabin Fever, then was slightly less enamoured of his follow-up, Hostel. I did, however, come to appreciate Hostel because it is, after all, a well-made, and skillfully (ahem) executed film.
So it was with some curiosity and trepidation that I received word of Roth’s decision to go down the sequel route, this time, with a trio of females as protagonists. Given the bad rep gorno has managed to rack up for itself, I was concerned that Hostel: Part II would be an ultimately pointless exercise in cinematic misogyny.
I am so glad to report that it is not.


After a brief opening section which serves to wrap up the events of Hostel (yes, Pax is back), we are introduced to Beth (Lauren German, from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake), Whitney (Bijou Phillips, from Almost Famous) and Lorna (Heather Matarazzo, from Scream 3 and Saved!), Hostel: Part II’s would-be victims, and in a separate subplot, Todd (Richard Burgi, TV’s The Sentinel) and Stuart (Roger Bart, who previously worked with Burgi on Desperate Housewives), the tale’s would-be torturers.
It is this subplot, which explores the world of those who indulge in this gruesome enterprise, and those who run it, that elevates Hostel: Part II above the rest of the gorno pack.
In fact, it seems a misnomer to refer to Hostel: Part II as “gorno”: it’s arguably less bloody than the original, and ultimately plays better. One of its most disturbing sequences has absolutely nothing to do with the disfigurement of human anatomy or on-screen gore, instead displaying the insidious reach of those who traffic in misery and murder.
Hostel: Part II is actually more thriller (an effective one, at that) than a catalogue of voyeuristic killshots and fake bloodletting.
I hereby officially cease to use the word “gorno” in this review.


Roth manages to keep things tight and engaging, as both groups on either side of the torturer’s chair, spiral deeper into the blood-caked labyrinth, and move inexorably towards the fateful meeting in the infamous factory.
Along the way, we catch glimpses of the psychology of torture and murder, the pitiless commodification of human life, and the cruel vagaries of business.
The principals are also effective, particularly German and Bart. Given that I’ve gotten used to having Bart make me laugh (in Frank Oz’s The Stepford Wives and Susan Stroman‘s The Producers), I’m suitably impressed by his performance here; considering Stuart’s character arc, Bart is a fantastic choice for the role.


I should note though that as much as Part II is less gory than the original, there are nonetheless a couple of “Oh, that is so wrong” moments that will cling to you even after the film has completely unspooled.
And for fans of the original, some favorites—the lovable Bubblegum Gang and the too-cool-for-school Desk Clerk Jedi—return for a second helping. And, just as the original sported a Takashi Miike cameo, Part II boasts Ruggero Deodato. (Cheekily enough, the director of the infamous Cannibal Holocaust appears as “The Italian Cannibal.”)


Clearly, Hostel: Part II is not the sort of thriller that’s to everyone’s tastes. If, however, you like your suspense with teeth and subtext, you should feel free to leave your passport at the desk, and check in once more.
Enjoy Slovakia.
I know I do.


Parting shot: Adult Harry Potter fans may be interested to note that Stanislav Ianevski (Viktor Krum from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire) joins all the fun as Miroslav.
Also appearing in a small role is Cabin Fever’s Jordan Ladd, who also appeared in Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof.

Parting shot 2: Reviews of Oz’s The Stepford Wives, Brian Dannelly's Saved! and Tarantino’s Death Proof can be found in the Archive, where the article “Revelations: Getting At The Truths of Apocalypse Cinema”—where Cabin Fever is discussed—can also be found.

(Hostel: Part II OS courtesy of horror-movies.ca; images courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com; Eli Roth on-set image courtesy of twitchfilm.net.)

REVELATIONS

(Getting at the Truths of Apocalypse Cinema)

The man coughing violently in a darkened theater, spewing unseen plague into the cool air. A rain of fiery meteors falling from a blood red sky. The ravenous zombie pounding at the bolted door. The finger hovering over the red button.
Just a handful of images from the gallery of apocalypse cinema, the collective term used to encompass films chronicling end of the world scenarios, with civilization in dire jeopardy from threats natural and man-made, extraterrestrial and supernatural, biological and mechanical.

Apocalypse cinema has always been, more often than not, profitable at the box office, as if movie-going audiences yearn to witness the destruction of society from one safe remove, as if we are all, every single one of us, willing—and eager—voyeurs to ruination.
David J. Skal, in his excellent book The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror, observes, "Cataclysmic junctures in history usually stir up strong images in the collective mind..." And cinema is one of the repositories of these images.

From the atomic monster films of the 50's—produced in the wake of the bombs being dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki—where irradiated creatures grew to gargantuan size and went on real estate rampages from the United States to Japan, through the Irwin Allen disaster movies of the 70's, through the peak of zombie cinema (the late 70's to early 80's), all the way up to pre-millennial films like Armageddon and Deep Impact, the threat of our society's destruction has been a staple of cinema for a long time now.
One would think though, that after the calendar hit January 1 2000, that the millennium fever that always strikes at that sort of pivotal transition, would pass, and we'd be free from visions of the screaming populace of ruined cities, at least for a while.
Apparently not so.

It's only 2004, and we've already seen a remake of George Romero's classic Dawn of the Dead, and Roland Emmerich's latest CGI-popcorn offering, The Day After Tomorrow, while last year gave us The Core, Eli Roth's Cabin Fever and the year before that, Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later.
Now, within the confines of apocalypse cinema, I will cop to a preference for the flesh-eating zombies overrun the world scenario (and its variations) as opposed to the global disaster scenario of The Core and The Day After Tomorrow.
While zombies walking the streets is a very visceral, in-your-face threat, the CGI-generated catastrophes of films like Tomorrow seem a bit impersonal to me. (So much so that some movies of this persuasion feel compelled to pile sequence after sequence of "characterization" on our laps, till we're all but gnashing our teeth in aggravated boredom, waiting for the final ten minutes of eye-popping CGI devastation. See: Deep Impact.)
Additionally, in movies like this, you seem to have to be a brainy scientist to stand a chance of survival. (Either that, or be Bruce Willis.) If you're a regular schmoe who doesn't know anything about meterology or geology or some other -ology, you may as well just lie down and wait for the tsunami/asteroid/red hot magma to put you out of your misery.
I prefer films that give sedentary writer guys like me a fair shake.
Thus, my three films of choice for this article: Cabin Fever, 28 Days Later, and this year's remake of Dawn of the Dead.


“You look a little peaked…”

Though the effects of the flesh-eating virus in Cabin Fever are, for the length of the film, confined to a contained area (a remote cabin and the surrounding woods), it’s the first title on our list since it captures societal breakdown on a microcosmic level, as the bonds that hold a group of friends together decay and fester, much like their infected flesh does.

Directed by David Lynch protégé Eli Roth, Cabin Fever is a low-budget surprise, by turns funny and disturbing. It is also an interesting variation on the zombie film, where the infected should, by all rights, become objects of compassion and sympathy, but instead, become objects of revulsion, pariahs to their friends and lovers.
Part The Evil Dead, part Outbreak, part 28 Days Later, Cabin Fever deals out the proceedings with dollops of very black humor, and very visceral, unnerving shots of tainted blood spraying and gouting every which way. (There are also a number of shudder-worthy sequences here that are hard to forget: the leg-shaving scene is probably tops on that list.)

But above and beyond the gut shock, is the ugly, brutal reality of how friends can turn on each other when it becomes every man for himself, how tenuous the bonds of society and community can be when faced with the cold, inhuman workings of a highly infectious disease.
In the end, it is the onscreen corrosion of these interpersonal dynamics that is the lasting impression of Cabin Fever that remains alongside the blood and grue, an insightful and excellent metaphor for the disease of egocentrism, which is perhaps the greatest enemy of the societal body.


“Sorry about The Beach…”

Almost as if in abject apology for the Leo-starrer (adapted from the Alex Garland novel and directed by Danny Boyle of Trainspotting fame), director and writer teamed up again for 28 Days Later (directed by Boyle from a script written directly for the screen by Garland).
Another post-millennial variation on the zombie film, 28 Days Later begins with a prologue set in the Cambridge Primate Research Centre, where some animal activists unwittingly let loose a virus—called, appropriately enough, “Rage”—which causes the infected to go into a constant state of mindless, uncontrolled violence. Once infected by tainted blood or saliva, a person ceases being a person, and becomes nothing more than a wild, vicious beast; perhaps, the beast that lies in wait in all of us, free of the imposed restraints of ethics and morals and rational thought.
We then jump four weeks ahead—thus, the title—when Jim (Cillian Murphy) awakes in hospital (he was in an accident before the outbreak began), to find it empty and ransacked. (The scenes of Jim walking through a deserted London are far more haunting than Tom Cruise in an empty Times Square in Vanilla Sky.)

Thus, we are not witness to the actual breakdown of society, but rather—like Jim—suddenly thrust into some horrible New World (Dis)Order, where there is apparently no government, no police, no army, and a church is no longer a sanctuary.
So who do we turn to when all structures fail? We turn to one another.
Garland manages to avoid the clichés of this sort of film, where strangers are thrust upon one another in a bid to survive. He manages to write people; flawed, yes, but not necessarily good, not necessarily evil. (Some though, perhaps just horny and misguided.) It is a minor triumph of the film that we are not asked to endure the whiny self-important complainer whom the audience is just waiting to get offed in the next reel.
Reprisals and turn-arounds however, are sudden and brutal, and that mood is helped tremendously by the occasionally rapidfire, staccato editing of Chris Gill, working with excellent footage shot by Anthony Dod Mantle.

Generally a rather nihilistic film, 28 Days Later seems to say that in the face of such calamity, the tendency will be for little pockets of madness to bloom, merely echoing the insane society that’s just been eradicated. Garland seems to say that, in the end, man is his own worst enemy. (At least with the infected, there is no pretense of culture and civilization, while indulging in one’s basest desires.)
Which is not to say the film is all doom and gloom. There are surprisingly somber and melancholy notes struck in this dirge: Jim’s discovery of his parents’ fates; choral music playing during the taxi ride through the devastated and deserted city.
There is a strain of hope, however fleeting and ephemeral, that runs throughout the film, carrying us along with it, doing its best to raise us above the detritus and leavings of a society perhaps better off dead.


Dead Again

From the precious few moments of Ana’s (Sarah Polley) last night of normalcy, to her escape from a suburbia rapidly descending into chaos, to the quick-cut opening title montage set to Johnny Cash’s Revelations-tinged “The Man Comes Around” (with the credit letters scattering like blood in a high wind), it is immediately established that this is a slicker version of the original 1979 Dawn of the Dead.
What is also instantly obvious is that director Zack Snyder and his team seem to have taken a page from the rushing, rabid hordes of 28 Days Later; gone are the shambling, lethargic zombies of the original Dead trilogy. What we have here are strangely energetic and limber zombies, as if fresh from an aerobics class taught by an undead—though still horribly hyper—Richard Simmons.

What we also have here, in light of this article, is a curious paradox: What is possibly the most visceral and graphic of the three films we’re taking a look at, is also the most entertaining. “Entertaining” in that it pretty much sticks to audience expectations of what this sort of movie is supposed to deliver. (And yes, here we are asked to endure the whiny self-important complainer who we’re just waiting to get offed in the next reel. There is also the macho alpha male whom we at first hate, then find ourselves rooting for by film’s end.)

As with George Romero’s original vision, the exact reason for the zombie epidemic is left unstated (though the religious/supernatural reason is given a boost here by a televangelist who utters one of the best taglines in cinema history: “When there is no more room in Hell, the Dead will walk the earth”), and the mall setting—of which much has been said in the past by the more critically-minded of us gorehounds—is also left intact.
And although we do catch glimpses of societal breakdown, what we are more privy to here is the attempted rebuilding of society. Crossroads Mall becomes the stage for this new community, the idea of mall-as-Heaven, where everything you might possibly want can be found, an air-conditioned Paradise isolated from the Hell of Zombieville outside.
But what eventually comes to the fore is the fact that this is merely just another state of living death, mall-as-Limbo. (Though the indictment against mall culture is still present, it is perhaps not as overt as in the original.)
Again, as to be expected, the Paradise-turned-Limbo comes to an end, and the survivors are forced to flee once more, in the hopes of finding a more permanent surcease from the insatiable dead.

The 1979 original is considered a classic of horror cinema, described by David J. Skal as a “razor-edged social satire” and “an indelible image of consumerism gone mad.” Given that Snyder’s remake doesn’t add anything significant to the equation—and in some instances, actually mutes the anti-mall culture statement—it could very well be leveled with the accusation of being “unnecessary, but well-made,” as was the 1990 remake of Night of the Living Dead.
Quite possibly. But at least it’s well-made.
And there is a cameo by special make-up effects guru Tom Savini (who directed the 1990 Night). And can anyone honestly say they’ve seen the brilliant Sarah Polley in a role like this before, kicking zombie butt?! I think not!

Last words

So at the end of it all, why are we fascinated by these films of death and destruction? Is it only here that we can secretly and comfortably acknowledge our own mortality, accepting the presence of the ever-hovering shadow on the doors of our own existence? Is it that we wish to witness societal breakdown, wondering how we would react in that situation, whether it would bring out the best, or worst, in us? Or is it because we delight in seeing others' misery? (Better them than us...)
Perhaps the answer lies in the term itself. The word "apocalypse," after all, contrary to popular belief, does not mean the end of the world. It comes from the Greek, apokalypsis, literally, "uncovering" or "revelation." (A synonym for "apocalypse" is "disclosure.") Perhaps we are fascinated by these films because we see truths in them, about ourselves, and the nature of our existence.
Or do we just bloody like being scared out of our wits?
Maybe it's a combination of all of these reasons, and quite possibly, even more, unknown to anyone except God and our private, most secret selves.

Parting shot: Due to the graphic nature of these films, those easily repulsed, or with weak stomachs and hearts, should probably not even consider watching them. You have been warned.

(Cabin Fever, 28 Days Later, and Dawn of the Dead OS’s courtesy of impawards.com.)

(The above is a slightly altered version of an article previously published in 2004.)

ON THE LOT
Episode 9
Horror Night

As seemed pretty evident from last week’s batch of films, David ended up getting the least number of votes, and was sent home.
Personally, I always found a certain lack in David’s films. They weren’t awful like most of Hilary’s efforts, but they didn’t quite have that “Ooomph” that the work of the more talented and creative contestants display.

Now, a quick word before I run down this week’s shorts.
I found this batch sadly underwhelming, and this is quite possibly because it was Horror Night, and anyone who knows me or has read the reviews here at the Iguana, know I’m a certified horror geek.
As such, I was looking forward to tonight, but at the end of it all, there just wasn’t a single conceit that was particularly inventive. The shorts towards the top of my list are there on the strength of a particular scene or because of the film’s execution, and not because there was anything new in them.
I hope you all understand…

MY FAVORITE: Sam Friedlander’s “Anklebiters”
It’s got a simple premise: a new vicious species attacks a boy in the dead of night.
The strength of “Anklebiters” lies in the attack sequence, which is shot and edited well, ratcheting up the tension and suspense as any good creature feature should. And the child actor was effective as well.
I’m just not sure about the opening voice-over, which is borderline hokey-jokey, when I feel it should have been more Twilight Zoney. And the short’s punchline (or “tag,” as guest judge Eli Roth calls it) did lack some, er, bite.
But we still love ‘ya, Sam! (And try and smile a little more, dude; that should get you some more votes…)

Shira-Lee Shalit’s “Open House”
A young, expecting couple view an apparently haunted house.
This one is near the top of this week’s list because that scene in the nursery with the pregnant woman and the ghost was disturbing and very effective. But as Garry Marshall pointed out, there really wasn’t any conflict. The short is pretty much, set-up, killer scene, then bam, the couple is safe by their car.
But, as Eli Roth said, that tag was nice…

Mateen Kemet’s “Profile”
Okay, this one had balls. Mateen takes an everyday horror (the fear an individual of colour has of the police) and presents us with some of the most graphic scenes to emerge from On The Lot thus far.
I get what Mateen was saying, and like I said, I commend him for his cojones, but the fact that it was all a personal dread of the main character (though part of “Profile”’s point) just smacks of those horror movies that don’t quite pull off the whole “Oh, it was all just a dream” thing.
And the final pull-away till we see the entire planet doesn’t quite drive the idea—that this is horror happening everywhere—home in a particularly effective manner.

Andrew Hunt’s “Midnight Snack”
Even monsters get the midnight munchies…
Honestly, I’m surprised Andrew ended up in the lower half of this week’s list, but this one just didn’t do it for me.
Yeah, there were some creepy shots, particularly of the female ghost, but they were plainly influenced by Asian horror, complete with contortions and ghost revealed in ordinary, innocuous location (this time, it’s a coat rack).
And ultimately, it wasn’t particularly horrifying.

Kenny Luby’s “The Malibu Myth”
A couple set out to see whether there is any truth to “The Malibu Myth,” of people who disappear along a stretch of road; people who were purportedly irradiated, turning them into flesh-eaters.
This one just reeked too much of those current Hollywood horror films that are ransacking the feel and atmosphere of extreme 70’s horror classics like Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and Wes Craven’s The Hills Have Eyes, and not taking any significant steps beyond that.
Having said that, this is, though, Kenny’s best effort to date, and is a good step towards some clarity and a traditional narrative. (Like the saying goes, you need to know the rules first, before you can break them, and I’d like to know that Kenny can first tell a story well, before he gets all whacked out and experimental cinema on me.)

MY LEAST FAVORITE: Jason Epperson’s “Eternal Waters”
A mother grieving for her drowned son is about to face a real-life horror, and a supernatural truth.
Though the shot of the kid in the water-filled coffin was effective, this one is ultimately predictable and not particularly scary. (At least, it wasn’t an Un-Favorite.)

So there you have it. My reactions to Horror Night.
And though Jason’s effort was my least favorite this week, I think he’s got a voting following.
Meanwhile, Kenny might have been in trouble if he’d stayed in his usual mode, but he delivered what is one of the current understandings of cinematic horror in this day and age, so he should be safe.
Which could mean Mateen may be done for, if the viewing audience finds his provocative and in-your-face definition of horror a little too much for their sensibilities. On the other hand, he could have a voting following too, in which case, everything’s all up in the air, and the next director to leave The Lot is anyone’s guess.

As I mentioned above, this week’s guest judge was Eli Roth, whose Cabin Fever I really, really, really love, a film which definitely proclaimed there was a new voice in cinematic horror that demanded to be listened to.
And though my love for Hostel is not as all-encompassing and complete as the one I feel for Cabin Fever, it is still nonetheless a smart, sly, savage, and well-directed piece of gorno and I’m so looking forward to seeing Hostel II, hoping that Roth can somehow pull it all off without the film being an exercise in misogyny (and with three female protagonists being tortured in some perverse commercial enterprise, that seems to be a very real possibility).

Next week: shorts based on the key phrase: When Two Worlds Collide.

(Contestant image courtesy of thelot.com; Eli Roth image on the set of Hostel II, courtesy of twitchfilm.net.)