X (March 2022)

 

X

(March 2022)

“That's right. The deviants are already amongst us, waiting for our sons and daughters. So heed dire warnings and repent before it is too late.”

Less than 24 hours in rural Texas in 1979 turns out to be enough time to build up to a disturbing and horrendous bloodbath in Ti West’s thunderous Iguana return with X.

As intimated by its title, X follows the cast and (minimal) crew of the, ahem, “adult” film, The Farmer’s Daughters, as they shoot on the sly at an isolated Texas farm.

Dreams of wealth and fame all come crashing down though, because this is “one G*ddamn f*cked up horror picture” from Ti West, after all…

“We shouldn’t disturb him. It would only make him angry. You wouldn’t like Daddy when he’s angry.”

West has been messing about on the TV front for the past few years (stray episodes of The Exorcist and Wayward Pines among his small screen work), so his return to silver screen horror is most welcome.

The fact that X comes not just with a soon-to-follow prequel (Pearl) but also a planned sequel, makes things all the more (heh) X-citing, even though this does look like the beginnings of the dreaded “F” word.

(Uurrmm… franchise?)

Still, West does remind us, “You can’t make a slasher movie without a bunch of sequels.”

And the fact is, X does position itself as a slasher, albeit one with other things on its mind aside from gory kills.

Prominently, it takes cues from cinema (and cinematic movements) at large to inform its narrative approach.

X is also juuuust self-aware enough so that West can occasionally remind us that there’s some grindhouse fun to be had here as well.

“Everybody likes sex. It’s a gas. We’re just not afraid to admit it. Queer, straight, black, white… It’s all disco.”

While there is an actual drug that’s showcased in X, the addiction that ultimately proves to be the most dangerous here is our very human attachment to youth (with the promise of ever-elusive fame coming in a close second).

Most of the film’s characters (played by familiar genre faces like Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, Martin Henderson, and Brittany Snow) still have their youth and are quite brazen about that; a couple of other characters don’t, and it’s the friction between those two groups that sets off X’s slasher powder keg.

So, come in for readily on-display “f*cked up horror,” but stay for all the substance beneath the bloody celluloid skin that West manages to explore here.

“Porn ain’t only gonna be for perverts no more.”

“Awww… Toast to the perverts. They’ve been payin’ our bills for years.”

“Hear, hear. To the perverts.”

Parting Shot:

Previous Ti West Iguana appearances may be found here and here, while mentions of TV’s The Exorcist may be found here and here.

(X OS’ courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com & twitter.com.)

reVIEW (51) SCREAM 2

reVIEW (51)

SCREAM 2

... and with a brand new Scream just around the corner, here’s the other zombie I wanted to resurrect…

Go, zombie, go!

Shamble across the Interwebz!

“Let’s face it, Sidney. These days, you gotta have a sequel!”

-- Stu (from Scream)

The menacing drone of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ “Red Right Hand” plays over the opening credits of a film called Stab.

Yes, Stab--the film based on the novel The Hillsboro Murders, written by the Antichrist of tabloid TV, Gale Weathers.

With an audience of howling gorehounds in white masks and black cloaks, the sneak preview of Stab (presented in “Stab-O-Vision,” naturally) serves as the opening sequence of Scream 2, an opening that is both a sobering indictment of how fanatical some gorehounds can get about their horror movies, and a brilliant follow-up to Scream’s taut opening; we even get to see Heather Graham (a long way from Twin Peaks, she is) do Drew Barrymore’s Casey Becker, in a great Psycho homage.

Slamming us with a coda that is a chilling example of what Scream 2’s “freaky Tarantino film student,” Mickey (Timothy Olyphant), terms “life imitating art imitating life,” the sequence drags us bodily into the second chapter in Kevin Williamson’s envisioned trilogy, a stunning continuation of the first film, many of its plot elements and surprises logical ramifications of events that occurred in the original.

“It’s starting again, Randy.”

-- Sidney

Two years after the bloodbath at Stu’s house in Scream’s climax, Sidney (Neve Campbell, back for a second round) and fellow Woodsboro massacre survivor Randy (Jamie Kennedy) have gone on to university, where they are pursuing a “pseudo-quasi-happy existence,” trying to put the past behind them. A past that refuses to go away, as not only has Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox) written a book about Woodsboro, but a film has been made from that novel.

Then there’s Cotton Weary (Liev Schreiber), falsely accused by Sidney for the murder of her mother (as seen in Scream), still trying to clear his reputation by getting on the tube to tell his story.

With Stab’s opening just around the corner, all these media prods set the stage for the renewed mayhem; as an Omega Beta Zeta sister puts it so succinctly, “It’s that movie, Stab. It’s bringing out the crazies.”

“If there is some freaked-out psycho trying to follow in Billy Loomis’ footsteps, you probably already know him. Or her. Or them. They’re probably already in your life. They get off on that.”

-- Dewey

The sly intelligence and self-referential wit evidenced in Scream is still here in the sequel, proving that Williamson’s skill at writing a nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat horror film that is also a statement on the genre and the medium, was not a one-off fluke.

From the broad thematic (and cinematographic) nods to Psycho (and, to a certain extent, Psycho II) to the particular--and peculiar--workings of the Scream universe (what could just have very well been a throw-away line from the first film crystallizes into “reality” as we see Tori Spelling essay Neve Campbell’s Sidney Prescott in Stab; it’s just too bad we don’t get to see David Schwimmer’s Dewey), Williamson displays firm control of plot and character, taking the survivors from the original and bringing them two years forward, each of them displaying scars--both physical and psychological--from the events in Woodsboro.

And given the strong sense of continuity between the first two chapters of the Scream trilogy, my mentioning Psycho may be very appropriate, since, the way I see it, after all the trauma the survivors of Scream 2 go through, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Scream 3 opens with said survivors running a motel just off the highway, dressing up in masks and cloaks and murdering unsuspecting secretaries on the lam.

“So it’s our job to observe the rules of the sequel. Number one: the body count is always bigger. Number two: the death scenes are always much more elaborate. More blood. More gore. Carnage candy. Your core audience just expects it.”

-- Randy

Though the death scenes here are not necessarily any gorier than those in the original, what are certainly more elaborate this time around are the set pieces leading up to those deaths; the chases, the thrills, the suspense. In an astoundingly nerve-wracking sequence, Williamson actually outdoes the “potential slasher victim trapped in the back of a cop car” scenario in I Know What You Did Last Summer with the one in Scream 2.

Williamson and director Wes Craven also utilize the Windsor College setting to its utmost, wringing all they can out of the “college campus as stalking ground” milieu.

Just as Scream played with the slasher setting archetype of the small town terrorized by the mad killer (as established in Halloween and done to death in many a subsequent film, such as The Prowler and My Bloody Valentine), Scream 2 trods the well-worn footpaths of such slasher fare as Graduation Day and Final Exam.

True to form though, Williamson takes it that one, smart step further. The script is so cognizant of its setting that the environment is exploited for all its thrill-worthy potential.

At one point, Kennedy, David Arquette, and Cox share a particularly intense scene set on the sprawling campus lawn in broad daylight, and in another (in what I like to think of as the film’s T.S. Eliot “Who is the third” moment), Campbell does a great turn in a slightly surreal dress rehearsal where Sidney plays the doomed prophetess Cassandra amidst a masked Greek chorus.

Even Sidney’s identification with Cassandra--who is doomed to live out a future she is intimately familiar with, because she can convince no one of its impending reality--is a stroke of genius on Williamson’s part. At one point in the film, Sidney laments, “I knew this was going to happen”; the police stations and reporters are now a painfully familiar sight for poor Ms. Prescott.

“Wow. That was intense.”

-- Cotton

Crackling with an air of tense expectancy and boasting a climax that has some last-minute mind screws and plot curveballs, Scream 2 is an expertly executed film that highlights not only the fascination of the movie-going masses with violence, but also the omnipresence of the media in our lives.

It is a film that once again proves that, 1) Wes Craven is alive and well and still quite capable of eliciting the scares, 2) it doesn’t hurt for horror to have a brain, and 3) Kevin Williamson is a brilliant writer with a deep respect for the genre and a great sense of humour.

Described by one critic as “a fascinating piece of work for a post-media society,” Scream 2 is a film that holds a mirror up to itself, the horror genre, and the audience, all in one graceful, knowing gesture (the audience being a microcosm of society at large); a film that gives you pause for reflection, as you’re running scared silly for your life.

“You do realize that if we were in a Scream movie, you'd be the prime suspect...”

-- Mark Gatela to me

[The above review existed in a former published life, and in slightly altered form, in the year 1997, under the identity of “Scream and Scream Again.”]

(Scream 2 OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

reVIEW (50) SCREAM

 

reVIEW (50)

SCREAM

With the impending release of Scream (the fifth installment and the first without the late, great Wes Craven at the helm), I figured I should resurrect a couple of corpses and let them do the zombie shuffle across the Interwebz, so… here’s one…
 
[The review below existed in a former published life--and in an altered form--in the year 1997, under the identity of “Hitting the Right Pitch.”]
 
“What’s the point [of watching scary movies]? They’re all the same. Some stupid killer stalking some big-breasted girl who can’t act, who’s always running up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. It’s insulting.”
-- Sidney
 
In 1977, former literature professor Wes Craven--who had already helmed 1972’s lurid Last House on the Left--directed the aridly vicious The Hills Have Eyes, cementing his reputation as a creator of gritty and uncompromising horror films.
A year later, on the last night of October, Michael Myers haunted the streets of Haddonfield in a blood-drenched homecoming that would spawn a whole sub-genre within the horror field, and would make the careers of director John Carpenter and actress Jamie Lee Curtis.
It would be six years later, in 1984, that Craven’s path would intersect with the trajectory of the slasher film genre, when he ended up creating a horror icon: A Nightmare on Elm Street’s “bastard son of a hundred maniacs,” Freddy Krueger--an icon that would later lose all of its potency to the insidious disease, sequelitis.
Flash forward a dozen years, and Craven once again plunges into the slasher genre with a little scary movie called Scream.
 
“See, the police are always off-track with this sh!t. If they watch Prom Night, they’d save time. There’s a formula to it! A very simple formula! Everybody’s a suspect!”
-- Randy
 
From its intense opening sequence which features a wicked ‘90’s take on When A Stranger Calls, coupled with a game all horror hounds would both love and dread to play (watch out for the trick question), Craven makes it clear he’s out for blood.
The 13-minute sequence is so taut and solidly crafted, it makes far better viewing than any number of random full-length slasher entries you might name.
It also utilizes a device hardly seen in the 36 years since 1960’s Psycho (though Chuck Russell’s remake of The Blob, and Craven’s own original Nightmare actually, also used it to good effect).
With that brilliant sequence, we are rushed headlong into what can perhaps be best described as a postmodern slasher film that could very well have been the final word on the genre.
 
“You should never say ‘Who’s there?’ Don’t you watch scary movies?! It’s a death wish. You might as well just come out here to investigate the strange noise or something.”
-- Ghostface
 
It will be remembered that Craven first attempted to do the postmodern meta thing with Wes Craven’s New Nightmare, where Robert Englund, Heather Langenkamp, and Craven himself, all appeared in a tale that presented them struggling against the evil they had created on the screen, now bursting through into the “real world.”
John Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness would also explore similar terrain.
However you may feel about either title though, I think it’s fair to say that Scream hits just the right (meta) pitch.
 
It’s a wickedly self-referential film that speaks the language of the movie buff: from the general (rated relationships and the “life is a movie but you can’t choose the genre” analogy) to the specific (the exposure of a slasher film’s conservative, puritanical heart in one of the cardinal rules of the genre: sex equals death, the virgin gets out alive--oft-discussed by the more critically-minded of us gorehounds in the nearly 20 years between Carpenter’s Halloween and Craven’s second slasher triumph).
 
In loving tribute to the very audience who had, by that point, held him in awe for decades, Craven’s Scream is a genuine joy for horror film fans, making reference to a whole slew of movies, from Terror Train to The Silence of the Lambs.
It even turns the entire “Do horror films create violent psychos?” debate on its head in one swift, clean stroke.
With the skill of a surgeon (or an anal-retentive serial killer), Craven and scriptwriter Kevin Williamson play with audience expectations, utilizing every trick they can get their hands on, including time-honoured horror movie clichés and the genre formulas we all know and love, to give us a solid slasher flick that cuts right to the bone.
 
“What movie is this from? I Spit On Your Garage?”
-- Tatum
 
Scream is a horror movie that manages to entertain, set you on edge, and study the genre it belongs to, all in one fell swoop. In doing so, it places the entire slasher genre on the hot spot.
Even Craven is not safe from himself. From the conspicuous-looking janitor to the throw-away line, “You’re starting to sound like some Wes Carpenter flick or something,” it’s clear this film also has a sense of humour.
But like all great horror movies, it’s also relentless and persistent--the Energizer bunny wearing a hockey mask, coming at us again, and again, till the bloody end; an end orchestrated to perfection with a videotape of Halloween playing as counterpoint.
 
“Only virgins can outsmart the killer in the big chase scene in the end. Don’t you know the rules?”
-- Randy

As I mentioned earlier, Scream could very well have been the final word on the slasher genre.
But its box office success would prove to be a siren song Hollywood was loathe to resist.
Which, in the final analysis, was still a very good thing, as Scream 2 (reView post to follow soon) proved to be a crackerjack sequel.
And while I was ultimately disappointed by Scream 3 (Williamson did not write the screenplay), the 11-years-after Scream 4 (with Williamson back on scripting duties) turned out to be a curious title for me.
I didn’t much care for it back in 2011 when it was released. But I went back to it just last year as a refresher and was pleasantly surprised to discover a newfound appreciation for it.
Whereas my initial reaction was that it was an ultimately pointless retread, it turns out my reconsidered opinion is now that 4 is a slyly wicked subversion of the “Let’s introduce the new generation to replace the OG characters” type of reboot, where
 
[SPOILER!!!]
 
some of the very characters you fully expect to have the torch handed over to reveal themselves to be the ones under the Ghostface mask.
Bravo, Craven and crew.
 
And now, we have the 11-more-years-after Scream to look forward to…
Hopefully, it does Mr. Craven proud.
 
(Scream OS & UK quad courtesy of impawards.com.)

OUT OF THE GUTTER (1) KADASIG: Walanghanggan Issue 1

OUT OF THE GUTTER (1)

KADASIG: Walanghanggan Issue 1
David Hontiveros / Romnick Magbanua

For the record:

In the Far, Far Away Time of the Long Ago, when Ian replied to my question of who was the bad guy he wanted Kadasig to face with "the Seven Deadly Sins", I had to give that a bit of a think.

Because I'd already previously done a version of the Sins in AVATAR.

 

During that period of consideration and deep dive research, the idea of leaning into elements like color and animal associations with the Deadly Sins seemed the way to go (since the approach I took in AVATAR was to anthropomorphize them).

In the end, I said "Okay," and The Septet came into being.

 

So while Magalit (Anger) is the Red Bear, Masakim (Greed) is the Yellow Frog.

(The full rundown of the Septet’s animal and color associations--as well as the reason why their names all begin with “Ma”--can be found in one of the in-between-chapters text pieces in the TATSULOK: A Vision of Dust compilation, art by the mighty fine Xerx Javier.)

 

Meanwhile.

 

When the idea of a demonic, sentient horror movie first came into focus, I immediately knew it would be an opportunity to nod towards a few of the subgenres that I feel a deep horrorhead affection for.

Thus, in issue 1, you have spotlights shined on giallo and the slasher films subsequently influenced by giallo, as well as the “disembodied killer hand” subgenre, as typified by Oliver Stone’s The Hand (an adaptation of Marc Brandel’s The Lizard’s Tail), Alfredo Zacarias’ Macabra (AKA Demonoid), Rodman Flender’s Idle Hands, and of course, Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead II.

(And though it’s a short fiction piece, it would be an insulting oversight if I neglected to mention Clive Barker’s “The Body Politic,” from Books of Blood. I haven’t had the chance to watch Mick Garris’ Quicksilver Highway, in which “The Body Politic” is adapted, so I have no idea if it does justice to the short story.)

 

But let’s step back and take a closer look at giallo, shall we?

When they hear the term, horrorheads will immediately think Argento, Bava, Fulci… but the term giallo originated from the world of literature.

And the meaning of the word giallo?

Yellow.

The term was used as a label for these pulpy mysteries and thrillers because the backgrounds of the book covers were uniformly yellow.

 

So, yes, I loved the serendipity of Walanghanggan also being about Greed (as per the long-standing Art Vs Commerce argument that has shadowed cinema since its inception), so that the story arc that featured giallo prominently within its narrative, would also happen to have yellow covers, like an old school giallo paperback…

 

Serendipity.

Mwah!

 

The next OotG post should be about DAKILA: Siyudad issue 2, and will probably go live at some point in the indeterminate future…

For now though, I should take this opportunity to note that one of the characters introduced in Siyudad 2 speaks with a font designed by none other than the mighty fine Edgar Tadeo, who drew the sh!t out of KADILIMAN: In Their Silent Shadow Carnival. (Hey, Ed! Howzit?)

 

Guess that’s all for now.

 

Stay safe.

Stay sane.

 

you can’t drink just six,

 

Dave

 

The new ‘Verse releases KADASIG: Walanghanggan 1 (art by the mighty fine Romnick Magbanua) and DAKILA: Siyudad 2 (art by the mighty fine Pyotr Mutuc), as well as 5 other previously released issues, are all available to order online at the Indies section of the Avenida website.

10 Slots for the Best Horror I've Seen in the Past Year
[1 of 10]

TRAGEDY GIRLS

(March 2017)

"I'm not a CSI person, but it looked like he was murdered."

This was a tricky one, in that for the most part, Tyler MacIntyre’s Tragedy Girls is a biting satire of today’s social media-obsessed youth.

But what convinced me that the film deserved a spot on this year’s ¡Qué horror! list, is the persistent streak of vicious, vicious Vantablack humour that rushes with gleeful malice through its runtime.

For its initial three and a half minutes, Tragedy Girls plays like your standard slasher piece, as we bear witness to a teen couple making out in a car in a lonely isolated locale.

But just before we’re treated to the oh-so-elegantly-‘80’s title card, Tragedy Girls lifts its mask and reveals its subversive, blackly comedic self.

This is a world where the only things that truly matter are hashtags, retweets, and Followers, where the monsters can be found in classrooms, on the football field, and on the screens of your laptops and phones.

Where the adults are incompetent and oblivious, and the youth are at best, callow, self-involved sheep and at worst, sociopathic, narcissistic murderers.

It’s telling that the households of the titular Tragedy Girls aren’t run by abusive parental units from Hell, but rather, well-meaning adults who nonetheless have no idea what their kids are really up to.

It’s like the film is saying, it doesn’t matter how a child is raised anymore; they will be exactly what they choose to be, paving the road to their own personal damnation, one retweet at a time.

"Okay. Well... ummm... if, if Sadie needs like an alibi or, or something just to get her out of a jam, just tell her she can say she was with me watching some Dario Argento movie, okay?"
"Dario DiGiorno."
"Da... Dario Argen... Argento."
"Dario Arpeggio. Mario Wario. I don't know. I don't care. Byezies."

Parting Shot:

There’s a bunch of genre faces in this one, among them: Brianna Hildebrand, Kevin Durand, and an uncredited Josh Hutcherson.

(Tragedy Girls OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡QUÉ HORROR! 2018

Candidate #4

TRAGEDY GIRLS

(March 2017)

"I'm not a CSI person, but it looked like he was murdered."

This was a tricky one, in that for the most part, Tyler MacIntyre’s Tragedy Girls is a biting satire of today’s social media-obsessed youth.

But what convinced me that the film deserved a candidate’s spot on this year’s ¡Qué horror! list, is the persistent streak of vicious, vicious Vantablack humour that rushes with gleeful malice through its runtime.

For its initial three and a half minutes, Tragedy Girls plays like your standard slasher piece, as we bear witness to a teen couple making out in a car in a lonely isolated locale.

But just before we’re treated to the oh-so-elegantly-‘80’s title card, Tragedy Girls lifts its mask and reveals its subversive, blackly comedic self.

This is a world where the only things that truly matter are hashtags, retweets, and Followers, where the monsters can be found in classrooms, on the football field, and on the screens of your laptops and phones.

Where the adults are incompetent and oblivious, and the youth are at best, callow, self-involved sheep and at worst, sociopathic, narcissistic murderers.

It’s telling that the households of the titular Tragedy Girls aren’t run by abusive parental units from Hell, but rather, well-meaning adults who nonetheless have no idea what their kids are really up to.

It’s like the film is saying, it doesn’t matter how a child is raised anymore; they will be exactly what they choose to be, paving the road to their own personal damnation, one retweet at a time.

"Okay. Well... ummm... if, if Sadie needs like an alibi or, or something just to get her out of a jam, just tell her she can say she was with me watching some Dario Argento movie, okay?"
"Dario DiGiorno."
"Da... Dario Argen... Argento."
"Dario Arpeggio. Mario Wario. I don't know. I don't care. Byezies."

Parting Shot:

There’s a bunch of genre faces in this one, among them: Brianna Hildebrand, Kevin Durand, and an uncredited Josh Hutcherson.

(Tragedy Girls OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

THE FINAL GIRLS

(March 2015)

"Welcome to Camp Blue Finch, where romance in the sun can turn deadly!”

--VO from Camp Bloodbath trailer

Taissa Farmiga is Max Cartwright, whose late mother Amanda (Malin Akerman) happened to play one of the luckless teens in the “granddaddy of all campsite slasher films,” Camp Bloodbath.

On the anniversary of her mother’s death, Max finds herself at a Camp Bloodbath double bill (the original and the “so much cooler than the original” sequel, Camp Bloodbath 2: Cruel Summer), where something strange happens, dumping Max and her friends--plus frenemy Vicki, played by a post-Vampire Diaries Nina Dobrev--right into the film.

Mad, comedic horror mayhem ensues.

“I’m The Mean Girl in the ‘80’s horror movie, and we’re past the midpoint, so, you know… I’d say that I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

--Vicki

Todd Strauss-Schulson’s The Final Girls is one of those titles that, though firmly rooted in the horror genre, is, in the final analysis, not a horror film. Thus, this extra-¡Qué horror! rundown shout-out.

Now, the above plot crunch should tip you off that this is a meta title, preoccupied with the rules and the conventions of the genre. It would, in fact, make for a very interesting comedic counterpoint to/double bill with The Cabin in the Woods. (It should be noted that what The Final Girls loses in outright horror, it makes up for in some potent emotion and heart.)

So, if you’re looking for some fun in your Halloween horror viewing, pack your bags for The Final Girls! (Which, BTW, is tagged by the trailer as “The Feel Good Horror Movie of the Year.”)

In the immortal words of The Party Girl, Tina, “Best summer ever!”

“They won’t be singing ‘Kumbaya.’ They’ll be screaming ‘Kum Ba No!’

“Pack your bags for Camp Bloodbath, where the only marshmallow that will roast… is your sanity!”

--VO from Camp Bloodbath trailer

(The Final Girls OS’ courtesy of impawards.com, slashfilm.com, & ew.com.)

A Rundown of the 13 (+1) Best Horror Movies I've Seen in the Past Year

[5 of 13]

MANIAC

(May 2012)

While Elijah Wood returned to the hobbit thing in An Unexpected Journey, he also revisited the whole serial killer thing in Franck Khalfoun’s redo of William Lustig’s 1980 slasher, Maniac.

Written and produced by Alexandre Aja (with help from frequent collaborators Grégory Levasseur and Maxime Alexandre), this one has some brutally effective kills courtesy of the awesome Greg Nicotero and Howard Berger of KNB EFX, plus it’s largely presented to us from the POV of Wood’s Frank Zito, the titular psycho.

As far as content and narrative elements, this is certainly not the most original of this year’s rundown (it's the only feature remake on the list), but it’s definitely got a bunch of things going for it.

There’s that tricky POV cinematography (from the aforementioned Maxime Alexandre), a score by Rob* reminiscent of Georgio Moroder’s work for Paul Schrader’s Cat People remake, and an excellent callback to two of Jonathan Demme’s films. (Note: Playing what has become the signature theme to The Silence of the Lambs’ Buffalo Bill may not be the smartest choice for a music cue after you’ve just invited a virtual stranger up to your apartment.)

* The Maniac score is available as a limited vinyl release from Mondo with "variant white vinyls randomly inserted."
How awesome is that?!

(Maniac UK quad courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡Qué horror! 2013

Candidate # 2

SMILEY

(October 2012)

There are a lot of interesting and intriguing ideas that inform Michael Gallagher’s feature debut, Smiley, which is ostensibly a Candyman for the age of the internetz.

Gallagher takes a screenplay he co-wrote with Glasgow Phillips (who’s written for such animated TV shows as South Park and Father of the Pride, and who came up with the story alongside Ezra Cooperstein) and gives us a crackerjack title that explores the idea of evil and nihilism as filtered through the enormity and anonymity of cyberspace.

Plus, we’ve also got Roger Bart in a supporting role, and one of the most simple yet freakily disturbing (and yes, awfully du jour) slasher designs ever seen on screen.

(Smiley OS’ courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡Qué horror! 2012

Candidate # 20

KALEVET

(RABIES)

(December 2010)

Touted, not just as Israel’s first slasher film, but actually the country’s first horror film, Navot Papushado and Aharon Keshales’ Kalevet doesn’t play like your standard slasher, unlike, say, Hong Kong’s Wai Dor Lei Ah Yut Ho.

Sure, there’s a killer in Kalevet, but in all honesty, this film is more about how we don’t really need insane psychos to do us in; we can handle that all by our petty, irrational selves, thank you very much.

The odd thing about this film, for me, at least, is that I really did not like the characters. At all.

But then, given what Papushado and Keshales are apparently trying to say, these are exactly the sort of characters you need messing about onscreen to get that point across.

It’s been interesting to see how other countries have been playing around with the slasher template, with titles like Wai Dor Lei Ah Yut Ho, and Kalevet, and if you grew up during the ‘80’s slasher heyday too, this one should be on your radar…

(Kalevet OS courtesy of shocktillyoudrop.com; Rabies OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡QUÉ HORROR! 2012
Candidate # 13

WAI DOR LEI AH YUT HO
(DREAM HOME)
(April 2010)


I think the most surprising thing about Pang Ho-Cheung’s Wai Dor Lei Ah Yut Ho isn’t the killer’s female gender, but that a film this gore-laden with over-the-top grue came to us from Hong Kong.
Given a Category III rating in its Hong Kong release (no one below 18 years of age is allowed to see the film; pretty much the NC-17 rating in the United States) and still trimmed down a bit before its official theatre run, this one brings back fond memories of the slasher heyday in the ‘80’s, when the splatter was both audacious and inventive.
Sure, there’s some slight commentary about the down economy and the housing shortage, but really, that’s just a little something to legitimize the violent on-screen madness.

(Dream Home OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

ALL THE BOYS
LOVE MANDY LANE
(Review)

“There she is, boys. Mandy Lane.
“Untouched, pure. Since the dawn of Junior year, men have tried to possess her, and to date, all have failed. Some have even died in their reckless pursuit of this angel.
“I’ve invited her out to my ranch this weekend… my kingdom.
“So I ask you, gentlemen, am I the sh!t? To which I reply, ‘Yes, I am.’
“But will she come?”

Hidden Palms’ Amber Heard is Mandy Lane, the virginal object of lust for every straight Junior male at her high school, and she’s about to spend the weekend with a bunch of her new friends.
The weekend, however, will turn out to be wilder than anyone bargained for.


Jonathan Levine’s All The Boys Love Mandy Lane is an old school slasher flick, shot in a decidedly modern style by cinematographer Darren Genet.
To successfully meet its slasher credentials, it’s got the rabid, horny teens drinking and doing drugs and having sex (or trying to, at the very least), as well as the steadily rising body count.
That part of All The Boys—and its climactic surprise—is the part that works. Even though I twigged to the “surprise” as early as the tragic prologue that opens the film, it’s still pulled off credibly and with grim conviction in the film’s closing moments.
My biggest problem with All The Boys though (and I’d still have this problem, even if I hadn’t seen the twist coming), is the fact that the majority of the characters are shallow twits who just want to get a good buzz on and squirm into Mandy’s pants.


Other than Mandy (who is, of course, presented as the film’s Last Girl), there are arguably only two other characters who could possibly elicit our sympathy, one of whom is the first to bite the dust, and the other (the ranch hand, Garth, played by Conviction’s Anson Mount) presented as initially suspicious in that brooding, mysterious sort of way; Could he be some psycho cowboy? You may very well ask yourself. (There’s even mention of Garth’s back story to get the audience curious and alerted to the possibility that he could conceivably be effed-up.)
Other than these three, the rest of the characters we’re made to spend the film’s running time with are immature, self-absorbed, and largely obnoxious teens who you honestly don’t mind getting iced.
But that sort of slasher film—where the audience cheers the killer and not the would-be victims—is deservedly dead and gone and I don’t appreciate being tempted into a state of indifference towards a movie’s characters, so much so that I start to ache to see them drop like flies just so I can be relieved of their annoying presence.


As much as I appreciate the climactic swerve the script—written by Jacob Forman—takes, it’s that distinct lack of empathy for a majority of the film’s characters that throws me off about All The Boys.
Would it have been too much to ask that we’d been given a few more characters to care about? I think that would have made the film’s climax even more potent.
Or maybe if even just Chloe (Whitney Able), the resident b!tch, had been given a little more character development, then things may have played out a little better; of the other characters, it’s Chloe whose issues we’re given a glimpse of, but the script sadly doesn’t take it much further than that.

On the plus side, there are good performances all around, particularly from Heard, Mount, and Joan of Arcadia’s Michael Welch (as Mandy’s friend, Emmet).
Here, Welch thankfully makes up for the bad performance he gave in Steve Miner’s Day of the Dead remake.


My misgivings about the characters aside, All The Boys Love Mandy Lane is still a noteworthy modern slasher flick that deserves a look-see, certainly more than many of the recent slasher remakes; Glen Morgan’s Black Christmas and Nelson McCormick’s Prom Night come readily to mind.
And being an original story, All The Boys also has the leg up on any of the recent slasher remakes, even the ones that had some merit.
At the very least, Levine and company are looking forward, instead of taking the Retrograde Express towards creative stagnation the way most of Hollywood seems to be headed.


Parting shot: Welch also has an on-screen reunion with his Joan of Arcadia co-star, Aaron Himelstein, who plays Red, whose family ranch is the setting for All The Boys’ bloody goings-on.

(All The Boys Love Mandy Lane OS courtesy of impawards.com [design by BLT & Associates]; images courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com and beyondhollywood.com.)