DOOMSDAY
(Review)

“It’s human nature to seek even the smallest comfort in reason or logic for events as catastrophic as these. But a virus doesn’t choose a time or place. It doesn’t hate, or even care.
“It just happens.”

That bit of voice-over, courtesy of the one and only Malcolm McDowell, helps kick off Neil Marshall’s third feature, Doomsday.
With streaks of Escape From New York, Aliens, and Mad Max storming through it, Doomsday could admittedly have been a spot of fun, if only, A) like Marshall’s debut, Dog Soldiers, it didn’t feel so damned derivative, and B) I didn’t know it was also from the man who gave me the crackling, claustrophobic intensity of The Descent.

On April 3, 2008, the Reaper Virus spreads across Glasgow, its devastating effects leading up to Scotland’s quarantine, and an impregnable wall being put into place some two and a half months later, isolating the hot zone, and leaving the unfortunate—infected or otherwise—to their own miserable devices.
It’s in this opening sequence where we see the traumatic childhood events that get little Eden Sinclair (Christine Tomlinson) out of Scotland, and turn her into the bad-a$$, eye patch-wearing Major (Skinwalkers’ Rhona Mitra) we see 27 years later.
It isn’t long though before a potentially catastrophic turn of events sends Eden back over the wall, the fate of what’s left of England, in her rough and ready hands.

Now, despite some bits that may recall more recent fare as 28 Days Later (only in so far as seeing the disastrous effects of a virulent outbreak hit England, hard; sorry, no speedy, pseudo-zombies here), Doomsday is very much a nod to the cinematic brand of ‘80’s post-apocalyptic action, where the taciturn hero—whether he be named Gibson, Russell, or Van Damme—travels through a blasted land where technology and civilization have gone the way of the dodo, and the law of the land would make Darwin both proud and suitably horrified.
There are the blatant Road Warrior bits, of course; there are the explosive moments of bloody gore; there are even a number of ‘80’s tunes you may recall from your wayward youth (that is, if you, like me, lived through that fashion-challenged age of hairspray and shoulder pads).
All of this is fun, yes, and there’s nothing terribly wrong with that, but somehow, Eden doesn’t make a very magnetic protagonist. Sure, she’s got the eye patch, and she’s certainly easier on the eyes than Kurt Russell, but she’s definitely no Snake Plissken. There simply isn’t enough mystery or intrigue surrounding the character to make her interesting enough to keep the audience focused and invested in the on-screen goings-on.

And whether this is fair or not, on the heels of The Descent, Doomsday is a disappointment, at least to me. As I recall, I believe I had a better time watching Dog Soldiers.
For all its shortcomings, Dog Soldiers was a much smaller and modest production than Doomsday, and given that it was Marshall’s first feature out of the gate, it showed tremendous promise, promise that was fulfilled with apparently impudent ease in The Descent.
To return with a film that revisits decades-old material without actually working to revise or reimagine it seems such a missed opportunity, it both disappoints and hurts. Not even the presence of Bob Hoskins (as Eden’s superior, Bill Nelson), and the aforementioned McDowell (as Kane), does much to liven up the achingly familiar party.
Tragically, Doomsday doesn’t even achieve the level of derivative fun which can be found in Stephen Sommers’ The Mummy or David Twohy’s Pitch Black. Instead, it just seems to cycle through a whole load of bits and (set)pieces we’ve all seen—and enjoyed much more immensely—before.

I am so terribly sorry, Mr. Marshall.
I wanted to love this, but ultimately, the best I can say is, It had its moments, and it was much better than Mitra’s other recent genre effort, Skinwalkers (review in Archive), but it just didn’t rev my engine.
I do look forward to Sacrilege, though. I mean, in your own words, “… Unforgiven by way of H.P. Lovecraft”; I am so there. Hopefully that will knock me back on my a$$, where The Descent left me.
(And yes, I realize Drive will probably come barreling my way first, but I’m not entirely sold on that one at the moment… Again, sorry about that.)

Parting shot: I will be there for The Descent 2 though, Mr. Marshall, despite your absence at the helm.
I can’t say I’m even actually thrilled with the idea of a follow-up to The Descent’s brilliance, much less the impending reality, but I am curious to see Jon Harris move from the editing bay to the director’s chair.
(Harris has edited Snatch., Stardust, as well as The Descent, to name a few, so seeing what he can bring to the table as a director, that should be something to see…)

(Doomsday UK quad courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com; images courtesy of doomsdayiscoming.com.)

SKINWALKERS
(Review)

As I mentioned in my review of Katja von Garnier‘s Blood and Chocolate, compared to the vampire, the werewolf has always gotten the shorter end of the proverbial stick (and in the case of the Underworld films, both races get screwed).
The latest film to feature our lupine friends, Jim Isaac’s Skinwalkers, is a curious mix of win and loss.

The premise is simple: skinwalkers (werewolves to the midnight movie crowd) exist, and the race is split down the middle; there are those who think of the monthly change as a curse, while others—those addicted to the kill—relish it as a gift.
There is a prophecy (isn’t there always?) of a special child who will hold the destiny of all skinwalkers in his hands.
Rachel (Nip/Tuck’s Rhona Mitra) is the mother of Timothy (Matthew Knight; The Grudge 2), who happens to be the child in question. Ignorant of their pivotal roles in this primeval struggle, widowed Rachel and child are being cared for and sheltered by Rachel’s brother-in-law Jonas (Elias Koteas, seen recently in David Fincher’s Zodiac) and his extended family.
And when skinwalker baddie Varek (Roswell’s Jason Behr) and his hairy homeys track down the prophesied child, Rachel realizes she married into a whole heap of trouble.

First, the cons.
The depiction of both sides of the war is decidedly uneven: while there is some attempt at sketching out the relationships and personalities of the good skinwalkers, Varek and his crew are little more than loping, savage ciphers. Save for one, there is no indication of who these skinwalkers were before they became the cruel hunters they are now, no inkling of motivation other than that they’re addicted to blood. There really aren’t even any tiny quirks to make one stand out from the other.
That’s exacerbated by performances that are rather bland and one-note, sadly a shortcoming that extends even to the goodie skinwalker camp. The only actors who actually register are the always interesting Koteas, Shawn Roberts (from George Romero’s Land of the Dead and the upcoming Diary of the Dead) as Adam, and, to a limited extent, Knight.
Particularly disappointing on this front are Mitra, who doesn’t quite convince as the woman who’s been lied to for thirteen years but must now step up to fight for her son’s life, and Behr, whose Varek isn’t the intimidating baddie this film so desperately needs. Their characters are all surface, with no emotional depth to them, like skinwalkers hiding behind flimsy human facades.

The script (by James DeMonaco, Todd Harthan, and James Roday) doesn’t help matters any either.
It’s a slow starter, taking some twenty minutes to kick into gear, really seriously moving only when Nana (Barbara Gordon), bless her soul, pulls out her piece and starts to shoot up Main Street. Once the narrative’s engine revs up though, it quickly settles into a choppy ride, the film never really quite hitting a satisfying stride.
Additionally, the plot’s surprises aren’t really surprises at all. Skinwalkers is rather transparent; given how the relationships and conflicts are laid out, you can basically see how it’s all going to turn out. And it’s never a good thing, when you can anticipate the beats of a story. (It also makes the characters looks pretty stupid when the audience knows more than they do.)

But there are pros.
One: the creature design by Stan Winston Studios.
Winston, who’s given us everything from xenomorphs to Pumpkinhead to animatronic dinos, delivers lupine bipeds with unsettling facial features, something new to the werewolf catalogue.
Sure, the transformation scenes could have used more bite, but man, those beasties were sure walloped by the ugly stick.

And two: despite my less than enthusiastic response to the film, it does end on a note that actually makes me look forward to a sequel, if one is even on the cards. Skinwalkers wraps on a situation that opens the door to the possibility of a down-and-dirty genre actioneer, with loads of guns and ammo, fangs and fur.

In the end, Skinwalkers isn’t a total loss, and if the right people can come together to deliver a swift and savage sequel, then this flawed effort would not have been in vain.

Parting shot: Jim Isaac’s past directorial efforts include The Horror Show and Jason X, both dismal affairs. Skinwalkers is his best film by far.
He’s also done fx work on such David Cronenberg films as The Fly, Naked Lunch, and eXistenZ, all of which I love.
(It’s safe to say I’m a bigger fan of Jim Isaac the special effects guy, than I am of Jim Isaac the director…)
It’s also interesting to note that Isaac considers Cronenberg a mentor of sorts, and not only thanks him in Skinwalkers’ end credits, but actually cast him in a small role in Jason X.

(Original Skinwalkers OS courtesy of empiremovies.com—the film’s release date was later moved to July; image courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com.)