SEVENTH MOON (Review)

SEVENTH MOON 

(Review)

Though I found myself not really enjoying The Blair Witch Project very much, I have, over the years, tried to keep tabs on its co-directors, Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez.

I liked Myrick’s The Objective and didn’t like his Solstice; I also liked Sánchez’s Altered (reviews for all three can be found shambling about in the Archive).

Now, there’s Sánchez’s Seventh Moon, and this is squarely in the plus column, as far as effective horror films go.

On the full moon of the seventh lunar month, the gates of hell open and the spirits of the dead are freed to roam among the living.

That’s the Chinese myth that serves as the springboard for Seventh Moon, from a story by Sánchez and Jamie Nash (who also worked on Altered).

Upping the “fear in the wilderness” factor of Project, Seventh Moon finds newlyweds Yul and Melissa (Tim Chiou and Amy Smart) on their honeymoon in China, where Yul intends to visit his grandmother and other assorted relations.

Sadly, Yul’s return to the land of his forefathers, his new bride in tow, coincides with the festival of the Hungry Ghosts, and in a country steeped in superstition as China is, you just know things are going to go south sooner or later.

And they do, in an alarming, seasick-y sort of way.

Yes, there’s a semi-shakycam here, and unlike the “found video” format of Project, Seventh Moon is a straightforward narrative, so the choice of hand-held is purely an aesthetic (and perhaps economic) one, and I honestly have no problem with that.

But it’s entirely another matter when I find I can’t give the screen my complete, 100% focus, because I need to keep from getting nauseated. And if the film leaves me with an unsteady feeling (as Seventh Moon did), it’s an experience I’d be hesitant to repeat.

All that though, doesn’t serve to detract from the fact that Seventh Moon works, more so than the improv hullabaloo of Project (which was, for the record, far more disorienting and dizzying than Seventh Moon).

Taking the tack of Project (provide the set-up and have the protagonists run the gauntlet with a very simple cause and effect narrative as framework), Seventh Moon places us squarely with the newlyweds, lost in the dead of night in the Chinese countryside.

“Fish out of water” doesn’t really cut it when you’re running though fields in the pitch black, in a country where you don’t speak the language (poor Americanized Yul isn’t terribly fluent in Cantonese), and the traditions are utterly alien.

Having mentioned that, there’s an interesting depiction of the foreigner here whose complete ignorance of the customs and traditions of the country he’s passing through amounts to nothing so much as a kind of arrogance, a condescension of things far more ancient than MTV and apple pie. (Adeptly, much of this is conveyed in the title sequence, where we see Yul and Melissa partake of the event’s festivities, finding things amusing, and quaint, and “cool.”)

In Seventh Moon, Sánchez captures the anxiety and fear that develops from the darkness of the deep country night, bereft of the neon glow of the cities, of hearing voices speak in a foreign tongue, of having nothing familiar and comforting to latch onto, as the stuff of nightmare comes forcefully into our limited perception of the real world.

It’s scary, this, the sort of horror film that makes me want to avoid the country it’s set in (as I’ve said ‘round these parts before, if ever I may have had any desire to visit France in the past, I don’t now). 

Seventh Moon may not be doing wonders for China’s tourism, but it’s certainly upping Sánchez’s standing in my books.

Parting shot: With the success of Oren Peli’s Paranormal Activity, interest has once again turned to Blair Witch, and a third film has reportedly been pitched by Myrick and Sánchez.

Time will tell if that gets off the ground.

Personally, I’m open (and honestly curious) to see what they come up with this time. 

The Blair Witch Project 2: Book of Shadows may have ultimately been a disappointment, but I do appreciate its ambition and intent. I can only hope that with a third installment, they leave the shakycam at home.

Or, at the very least, have less dizzying shakycam action, as is evidently possible, if titles like [REC], Cloverfield, and [REC] remake, Quarantine, are any indication.

(Seventh Moon OS courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com.)

[REC] 2
(Review)

And I continue to be a Balagueró slut…


[REC] 2 kicks off right where [REC] ends, as four SWAT members are tasked to escort a Minister of Health into the quarantined apartment building where the horrors of the original took place. With the presence of the SWAT team, with their mounted cameras and heavy firepower, it initially gives the appearance that [REC] 2 is going the Aliens route, where the sequel doses up the horror of its progenitor with booster shots of adrenaline, testosterone, and gunfire.
But Jaume Balagueró and co-director Paco Plaza impishly tread other paths in this brilliant follow-up.


Contrary to the louder, “sound and fury” mentality of Hollywood’s hollower sequels, [REC] 2 targets higher ground in more significant ways. Not only are the shots more ambitious, but so is the narrative structure.
The diabolical aspects of [REC] are also opened up and taken further, neatly dovetailing into a sequence that takes the handheld camera from storytelling device to item of narrative consequence. (Battery life also comes into play at a certain point, so hurrah, for the acknowledgement of real life technological limitations on the found footage genre.)

Not only does [REC] 2 take the tantalizing promise of [REC]’s climactic reveal and run gleefully with it to places not normally seen in the zombie/infected genre, it also addresses some of the matters which were established in the original.
And in keeping with the spirit of [REC], it also has questions unanswered by the time the end credits roll, agonizing teases for more truly exceptional shakycam horror* in a third installment.**


* As much as I love what Balagueró has achieved with the [REC] films, setting some formidable standards for the first person horror experience, I’m also looking forward to his return to his own solo work, so my anticipation for Flatmate is rather high…

** [REC] 3 has already been announced…


Parting shot: [REC] was on the ¡Qué Horror! 2009 roll call, where it shared a slot with its English-language remake, Quarantine. Please feel free to scour the Archive, where reviews of Jaume Balagueró’s other films, Los Sin Nombre, Darkness, and Fragiles, can also be found.

([REC] 2 OS courtesy of impawards.com; images and PSA poster courtesy of jaumebalaguero.blogspot.com.)

GRACE
(Review)

“… it was clear to me that [writer/director Paul Solet] was really using genre as a way to tell a really profound story about women and childbirth and sacrifices and love.”
-- Jordan Ladd


There are some films you just really shouldn’t show pregnant women (or even women who are merely contemplating pregnancy, for that matter).
Films like Fruit Chan’s Dumplings or Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo’s À l'intérieur (Inside); the latter more so than the former. And then there's David Lynch's Eraserhead.
Well, I can now clearly add Paul Solet’s frighteningly impressive feature debut, Grace, to that shortlist.


In this highly disturbing film, Jordan Ladd (from Cabin Fever, Death Proof, and briefly, Hostel: Part II) plays Madeline Matheson, who is on her third attempt at pregnancy, when tragedy strikes.
What follows clearly proves the maxim, a lot of love and a little mental instability do not a good pairing mix. (It also proves that Ladd is a young actress who needs to be paid attention to.)
Solet delves deeply into the primal anxieties that inform the entire process of conception, gestation, and childbirth, those universal fears of something, anything really, going so very terribly wrong.


I suppose it’s only natural then, given the film’s subject matter, that this is a tale populated largely by the feminine; there are only three male roles of note here, and one is disposed of early on, while all three are influenced (to varying degrees) by a much more powerful female figure.
It’s also interesting to note that it’s not only the disintegration of Madeline that we witness onscreen, but the other females in the narrative also undergo mental and emotional stresses of their own (some more readily visible than others).


The psychology of the female, as well as the fierce, maternal instinct, is brought sharply into focus by Solet, and what we get is a very dark and unsettling piece. In that respect, Grace is also a sort of sister film to Neil Marshall’s The Descent, where the feminine is also something forbidding and formidable to contend with.
And above and beyond the feminine aspect, these are also characters who are yearning desperately for things they can’t have, and who are willing to go further than the usual distance to have and keep those things. Regardless of gender, that’s a very universal feeling, one that can reduce us to actions we’d never thought ourselves capable of.


So, just to reiterate: this one’s got teeth.
Not your easy-peasy Hollywood popcorn horror, this.
Among other things, Grace is a disturbing portrait of the lengths a mother will go to for love of her offspring (and that doesn’t just apply to Madeline).
Fittingly enough, Solet dedicates the film to his own mother…


Parting shot: Grace is produced by Adam Green, who brought us Hatchet.

Parting shot 2: Reviews of À l'intérieur (Inside), Hatchet, Death Proof, and Hostel: Part II can be found in the Archive.

(Grace OS courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com.)

TRICK ‘R TREAT
(Review)


For the record, I love Superman Returns; along with The Dark Knight, it’s one of the most mature superhero films out there (for very different reasons, of course).
There are a myriad of reasons why I love Superman Returns, but the one that has relevance to this review, is the screenplay, written by Michael Dougherty and Dan Harris. It’s a screenplay whose deceptively straight-forward narrative belies its emotional and thematic complexity.
Both Dougherty and Harris had previously worked with director Bryan Singer on X2, which also goes a long way in explaining why X2 was a whole lot better than the first X-Men film.
Now, the script that got Dougherty and Harris the X2 gig? Well, that happens to be the script for the film we’re taking a look at now: Trick ‘r Treat.
Finally getting a DVD release after two years of sitting on a shelf, this is one hell of a great horror movie that tips a Halloween hat to the memorable horror anthologies of yesteryear.


It’s Halloween in the little town of Warren Valley, Ohio, the night when the barriers between the living and the dead are at their thinnest, a night when we meet a number of individuals, whose stories weave in and out of (and at certain points, wind back on) each other, individuals who are about to find out that Halloween is more than just about costumes and candy…
Now what sets Trick ‘r Treat apart from those horror anthologies that came before, is the fact that the script is structured in such a way as to combine all four tales into a single narrative.
Whereas in the past, we’d have a framing sequence, and the separate tales of terror (Creepshow, Twilight Zone: The Movie, Asylum, et al), with Trick ‘r Treat, we have a film that has the kind of narrative structure you’d find in a Go, or a Pulp Fiction.
It’s a structure that helps inform the film with an added layer, where what seem to be throw-away lines and incidental little bits, turn out to have weight and bearing on all that we will eventually come to see over the course of the running time.


Another important distinction of Trick ‘r Treat is that this is the sort of horror film that’s fun. And that’s the sort of fun that doesn’t step foot into the horror-comedy arena, but basically still stays on the horror side of the fence, but laces itself with moments of black comedy and a sense that things don’t have to be all serious and sober.
What writer/director Dougherty calls “fun horror movies,” the ones that have a lot of replay value, as opposed to, say, what the French are contributing to the genre. I mean, I love some of those too, but you don’t see me rushing to give Inside a second viewing…
As a first-time director, Dougherty not only captures the essence and spirit of Halloween (spotlighting its dark, pagan origins in the process), he also understands this type of film perfectly.


And he’s got some formidable back-up.
For starters, there’s a rather good cast in this. If I had to cherry pick the best though, that would have to be Dylan Baker (as Principal Steven Wilkins) and Brian Cox (as crotchety Mr. Kreeg), both of whom also shone on the flawed, though certainly ambitious (and sadly truncated) reimagining of the Biblical story of David, Kings.
Here, in Trick ‘r Treat, they happen to be neighbours, and though their tales are ultimately separate from each other, they do occasionally intersect in wryly amusing ways.


Dougherty’s also got Bryan Singer producing, Glen MacPherson behind the camera, and Douglas Pipes on the score (Pipes also composed the score for Gil Kenan’s Monster House, another one of those “fun horror movies”; yes, ostensibly, it’s a CGI kiddie flick, so it skews a bit younger, but it’s a rather dark kiddie flick, if you think about it).
Plus, thanks to his visual background in animation, Dougherty also manages to introduce us to potential horror icon in the making, freaky little Sam (short for Samhain, one would assume, and played by Quinn Lord, who also plays the little peeper who gets to see Anna Paquin in the dressing room, lucky little…).
If it’s one thing that can keep a horror film at the forefront of the genre’s mass consciousness, it’s a visually unique character. Think Pinhead, or Freddy, or Chucky, or the masks of Michael or Jason or Ghostface.
Well, now we’ve got Sam, and hey, we’re all the better for it.


If Christmas can have titles like Doug Liman’s Go and Satoshi Kon’s Tokyo Godfathers, then Halloween should have some go-to films too. And John Carpenter’s Halloween is long overdue some deserving company.
So, if you’re looking for some fun Halloween viewing, Trick ‘r Treat is most definitely the ticket.
Just be sure not to piss off Sam, you hear?


“I’m just trying to create a horror film that I think hearkens back to the horror films that we all know and love and grew up with. I keep pointing to the early to mid-‘80’s when we had [A] Nightmare on Elm Street and Poltergeist and Creepshow and things like that, that to me are terrifying horror films but also fun and funny. I miss those, a lot.”
-- Michael Dougherty

(Trick ‘r Treat OS courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com; Michael Dougherty image courtesy of hollywoodreporter.com.)

OUTPOST
(Review)

In the dark heart of war-ravaged Eastern Europe, where the constant sound of distant gunfire is a grim reminder of the savage violence that resides within men, an engineer (Julian Wadham, from the Exorcist prequels) on retainer for some undisclosed company, hires a hastily-assembled squad of mercenaries led by Punisher Mark 3 himself, Ray Stevenson, to protect him as he surveys some recently-acquired “real estate” for “minerals.”
That’s the set-up for Steve Barker’s feature debut, Outpost, and it starts off promisingly enough, though ultimately, doesn’t quite get the job done.


Now, I’ve long had a fascination with the possibilities in the collision of war and the occult, and the relatively slow burn of Outpost’s script—by Rae Brunton, from a story by Kieran Parker, Barker, and Brunton—works in the film’s favour, allowing the audience fleeting glimpses of some of the characters, as soldiers and as men. (Though Wadham’s engineer, Hunt, stubbornly remains more plot function than actual person.)


In addition, credit must also be given to casting director Kate Plantin, who has assembled a cast who decidedly do not cut the photogenic Hollywood soldier of fortune figure. There’s nary a ripped, gym-toned body nor young, pretty boy stud to be seen here. Just grizzled veterans who’ve seen far too much, who aren’t exactly the type young ladies would take home to meet their mothers.


For all the checks in its plus column though, Outpost doesn’t really live up to its promise, and when the nature of the unstoppable enemy is revealed, the proceedings gradually revert to a vaguely mechanical (and vaguely familiar) rhythm; you just know how things will turn out in this little corner of Hell.
The film’s rather unimaginative coda also plays as a tired little echo of many a horror film before it.


Still, much of Outpost is a sight better than most of the recent “horror during war” movies. Disappointing entries that come to mind include Alex Turner’s Red Sands (set in modern-day Afghanistan), Rob Green’s The Bunker (WWII), and Kong Soo-chang’s R-Point (the Vietnam war).
Actually, the only one I’ve seen recently that I truly love is Daniel Myrick’s The Objective (also using the Middle Eastern conflict as backdrop).
If only Outpost hadn’t buckled, it could have enjoyed some rarefied company.


The fact that a sequel (Outpost II: Black Sun) has been announced leaves me rather ambivalent. If it’s going to be more of the same, I think I’ll pass.
If Barker (who returns as director) intends to step up his game though, then Black Sun could be worth a look.
We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?

Parting shot: A review of The Objective can be found in the Archive.

(Outpost UK quad courtesy of impawards.com.)

DEADGIRL
(Review)

Rickie (Shiloh Fernandez) and JT (Brick’s Noah Segan) are two high school misfits who’ve been friends since forever, and now, they’ve just discovered something in the bowels of an abandoned mental hospital, something that will deform not just their relationship, but their psyches as well.


Deadgirl is a disquietingly impressive feature from co-directors Marcel Sarmiento and Gadi Harel, working off a script written by Trent Haaga.
Haaga expertly takes a horror staple,* placing it firmly in a high school milieu we’ve hardly seen it in before (and certainly never dealt with in so serious a manner), a disturbing narrative that touches on, among other things, the cruel societal hierarchies in high school, the objectification of the female form, and the fantasies that buoy us through the seas of alienated adolescence.
Deadgirl also manages to examine friendships built on the foundations of circumstance and reinforced by their surroundings, and how extenuating factors can impact on those relationships.
The two main leads, Fernandez and Segan, are a large part of why Deadgirl works as well as it does. Though neither portrays a completely sympathetic character, they both nonetheless deliver terribly effective performances, finding the humanity at the core of their characters, even when they’re committing repulsive, heinous acts.


This is very strong stuff, horror not to be taken lightly, and that doesn’t treat its audience with kid gloves.
This may be about high school kids, but Deadgirl isn’t one of those PG-13 Hollywood horror films featuring some teen-ish TV stars on hiatus.
It doesn’t mess about, and rather single-mindedly, goes straight for the gut, and, in a very welcome surprise, also goes for the heart. For anyone who’s survived the psychic minefield of high school, there are some rather familiar feelings on display here, amidst all the blood and gore.


Another interesting characteristic of Deadgirl is that it implicitly acknowledges that all those huge, widescreen horror epics can find their roots in the smallest of stories, in the narrow divide between friendship and love.
It’s certainly a great gift to horror cinema from Haaga, Sarmiento, and Harel, that they chose to tell that small story (fittingly enough, about very big things), a tale of desperation and desire, of resentment and revenge, of life and death, and the yawning abyss that separates the two.


“[Deadgirl is] an important movie for me, because it examines how horrific being a teenager can be. Were you a f*cked up kid? Did you wish chicks dug you? Did you wish that just once you had control, a little right to something, the right to be the boss? Deadgirl put me in the position to answer those questions I've been asking since I was 13. These are real feelings in a surreal world and it helped me a lot, as terrifying as it was to dig down and bring up all that horrific truth and vitriol. I hope people see the movie as a metaphor and not just a horror movie.” -- Noah Segan


* Or what could very well be one (in fact, a particularly popular staple at the moment); we’re never told exactly what it is during the running time, though we can guess, given the evidence at hand…

(Deadgirl OS’s courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com; images courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com & deadgirlmovie.blogspot.com.)

BOOK OF BLOOD
(Review)

“The dead have highways, running through the wasteland behind our lives, bearing an endless traffic of departed souls. They can be heard in the broken places of our world, through cracks made by acts of cruelty, violence, and depravity.
“They have signposts, these highways, and crossroads, and intersections, and it is at these intersections where the dead mingle, and sometimes, spill over into our world.”


For Clive Barker fans, the opening words which echo out from the black will be familiar, and for those diehards, I am extremely pleased to report that following Ryuhei Kitamura’s The Midnight Meat Train, John Harrison’s Book of Blood is another solid Barker film adaptation.
Based on the Books of Blood framing stories “The Book of Blood” and “On Jerusalem Street: A Postscript,” Harrison’s take follows visiting American professor and noted author, Mary Florescu (Heartbeat’s Sophie Ward), who investigates a purportedly haunted house in Great Britain, in the interests of her next book.
But when she asks for the help of one of her students, Simon McNeal (Jonas Armstrong, BBC’s Robin Hood), she sets off a chain of events that will bring her the long-sought after proof of the existence of the paranormal which she has been chasing after for the past decade.
And it won’t be a pretty sight.
Not at all.


Harrison and co-screenwriter Darin Silverman expand nicely on the pair of short stories, altering some motivations and personal histories in such a way as to enhance and reinforce the material for the purposes of this adaptation.
There’s much to be noted here, and Armstrong’s sad-eyed portrayal of the apparently “gifted” McNeal is one of the film’s central strengths, thankfully making up for whatever lack we may find in Ward’s Florescu.
Though her bravery in going starkers matches Armstrong’s commitment to his own role by freely dropping trou whenever called for, there’s still something seemingly tired and non-committal in Ward’s performance, which is quite probably the key drawback to Book of Blood; her iffy line delivery also slightly hobbles what could have been a stupendous opening. (Barker’s prose most definitely carries the day in that initial voice-over.)
Then again, Ashley Laurence wasn’t exactly Meryl Streep either, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying the first two Hellraisers, eh?
And if you still need a little convincing, Pinhead and Butterball* are in here too…


Though this is getting a theatrical release in other parts of the globe, that may very well not be the case in the USA. Sadly, even as Kitamura’s Midnight Meat Train got a bum American theatrical deal, Book of Blood (by virtue of it’s having been completed just as the global recession hit) is also looking like it’s going to have a major US cable launch this September, with a DVD release thereafter. There also could be a US theatrical release, though in late 2009 or even early 2010, via Lightning Media. (Whether wide or limited is still up for grabs.)
One can only hope that Anthony Diblasi’s upcoming Dread will have better luck in American theatres…
Till then though, this, along with Kitamura’s Midnight Meat Train now make for a nice double feature to celebrate the resurgence of Barker on the big screen.
Hurrah!


* Well, Doug Bradley and Simon Bamford, to be more precise.
And, having mentioned Simon Bamford, it’s rather appropriate that he has a role in the film adaptation, as Barker reportedly based the character of Simon McNeal on Bamford himself.

Parting shot: A review of The Midnight Meat Train can be found in the Archive.

(Book of Blood DVD cover art and images courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com.)

DØD SNØ
(DEAD SNOW)
(Review)


Norwegian director Tommy Wirkola kicks off Død snø (Dead Snow) to Grieg’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King,” and this rousing (yet vaguely sinister) tune ushers us—without much ado—into this fun Nazi zombie romp.
Yes, you read that right.
Nazi zombie.
How cool is that?!


A bunch of med students are off in the snow-capped mountains for Easter vacation, and, well, they run into those pesky Nazi zombies, and much screaming, and bloodshed, and running around (yes, these are post-28 Days Later deadheads) ensue.
Now, despite that smirk-guaranteed premise (Nazi. Zombie.), Død snø isn’t a horror-comedy on the order of Shaun of the Dead, but rather a horror film that straddles two sub-genres (the zombie romp and the isolated-cabin-in-the-wilderness thriller), with some comedic touches thrown in for good measure.
Think a more sedate version of a latter day Evil Dead installment, when the humour was quickly encroaching on the material. To be clear, there aren’t any Three Stooges or dismembered-hand-giving-the-hero-the-finger moments in Død snø (I did say “more sedate”). But there are some laughs and over-the-top insanity amidst the shouty, gory bits.


In point of fact, early on in Død snø, the horror film milieu is acknowledged, with Evil Dead actually mentioned, a cheeky swipe all in line with Død snø’s sense of fun within a horror movie context; it’s also a sentiment I happen to agree with, a feeling that’s been with me ever since I was vaguely disappointed after seeing Evil Dead 2 for the first time.
Of course, what Evil Dead 2 and Død snø share is that both are rather fun experiences at the cinema. That common trait notwithstanding, Død snø does have its shortcomings, among them, the vaguely insubstantial back story to the wild goings-on. (And yes, Evil Dead did have a very basic back story as well, but somehow, the rest of the audacious proceedings more than made up for its rather elementary nature.)


Still, Død snø does have its moments, and has piqued my interest, not just in a proposed sequel (here’s hoping Wirkola hits it spot on a second time out), but also the reported Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, in which we find the titular siblings all grown up and having turned their childhood trauma into their livelihood. (In this case, I’m hoping Wirkola can get right what Terry Gilliam fumbled in The Brothers Grimm.)


(Død snø OS courtesy of twitchfilm.net; images courtesy of twitchfilm.net, empireonline.com, & shocktillyoudrop.com; Dead Snow OS courtesy of rushprint.no.)

À L’INTERIEUR
(INSIDE)
(Review)

And the French raze the house down once again…
There’s just seems to be something about France, extreme horror, and Christmas: Kim Chapiron did it in Sheitan, and now, it’s Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo’s turn to rain buckets of fake blood down on the holidays, in À l'intérieur (Inside).
Sarah (Alysson Paradis) is recently widowed, and scheduled to give birth on Christmas morning. First though, she must spend Christmas Eve alone, while riots and violence shake the city around her.
And to make matters worse… well… let’s just say matters are made worse. Very very much worse.


Now, since À l'intérieur is the sort of film that works best the less you know about it going in, I really shouldn’t say much more than that.
What I can say is that there’s some Hitchcock in here, along with some Argento, some Miike, and a smidgen of Cronenberg thrown in for good measure.
There’s also a discordant and unnerving score, courtesy of Francois-Eudes Chanfrault, who also penned music for Gilles Marchand’s Qui a tué Bambi? (Who Killed Bambi?), Alexandre Aja’s Haute Tension, Oliver Blackburn’s Donkey Punch, and Fabrice Du Welz’s Vinyan.


Make no mistake, À l'intérieur is extreme horror that brings the goods, a brazen bit of Grand Guignol that will find its audience riveted, watching slack-jawed over stretches of running time, as the onscreen atrocities—supervised by Jacques-Olivier Molon—just escalate to terribly ridiculous heights.
Either that, or they’ll simply flee to the bathroom to throw up whatever they’ve just eaten.


Pregnant women should not, I repeat, not come within a hundred metres of this one, and if you’re particularly fond of Christmas, you should probably steer clear of this too.
Yes, there are moments where the characters seem to forget the meaning of words like “phone” and “back-up,” but still and all, this one doesn’t mess about.
If you’re into loud horror that oozes and spurts, consider this a bloody present from Santa.
You have been warned.


Parting shot: After brief flirtations with the Halloween sequel and the impending Hellraiser reboot, Maury et Bustillo have instead chosen Livid to be their English-language debut. Livid is a dark fantasy with supernatural elements that sounds—at least to me—like it could wind up in Suspiria territory.
Bring.
It.
On.

Parting shot 2: Reviews of Sheitan, Donkey Punch, Vinyan, and Suspiria, for that matter, can be found in the Archive. There’s also The Children in there, which takes another brutal swing at the holidays.

(À l'intérieur OS courtesy of impawards.com; images courtesy of gomorrahy.com and shocktillyoudrop.com; Inside DVD cover art courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com.)