A Rundown of the 13 Best Horror Movies I've Seen in the Past Year

[6 of 13]
The Osgood Perkins Slot

Tie number 2...

THE BLACKCOAT'S DAUGHTER

(September 2015)

Osgood Perkins (son of Norman Bates himself, Anthony Perkins) gets a slot all to himself this year, and we kick off with his feature debut, The Blackcoat’s Daughter.

Originally titled February, the film follows Kat, Rose and Joan, the former two left largely alone and unattended at their virtually empty boarding school. Both are in a delicate condition (one, emotional, the other, physical), and soon, the quiet in the halls and rooms is shattered by the undeniable fact that this is, after all, a horror movie.

Under Perkins’ assured directorial hand, the off-kilter air that is in evidence very early on quickly settles into an unease that pervades the rest of the film’s running time, helped in no small part by Perkins’ younger brother, Elvis (himself a musician with 3 albums under his belt), who scores the proceedings with a jangly, atonal touch.

With Bryan Bertino (whose The Strangers nabbed itself a ¡Qué horror! 2008 slot) as one of its producers, and genre faces James Remar, Emma Roberts, and a nearly unrecognizable Lauren Holly along for the darkly disquieting ride, The Blackcoat’s Daughter is a must-see for anyone who treasures horror that doesn’t feel the need to over-explain itself.

THE GIRL IN THE PHOTOGRAPHS

(September 2015)

"I'll tell you what it is, kids.
"It’s that every f*cker in the country thinks they’re a photographer now, okay? And everyone can share an image, and it’s awful. It’s awful because it makes everything just like watery piss.

“Then you have this guy who creates an image that you actually can’t f*ck with, that you actually can’t ignore…”

Serial killers are like zombies and vampires; you need to look really long and really hard to find films about them that are actually worth your time and your attention.

Nick Simon’s The Girl in the Photographs is definitely worth your time, not just because it’s an excellent (and at times, frankly brutal) serial killer thriller, but it’s also one of the last things the late, great, and sorely missed Wes Craven worked on. (At the very top of the end credits roll, the dedication, “For Wes.”)

So if you feel any allegiance at all to the late Mr. Craven, then the least you can do is check out the film that he believed in enough to Executive Produce, before he had to so abruptly leave us…

And while that should be enough reason, if you find that you still need some more motivation, then Kal Penn’s total douchebag fashion photog Peter Hemmings is one of the definite draws of the film.

There’s also Mitch Pileggi, effectively de-Skinner-izing himself as the ineffectual Sheriff Porter, and Katharine Isabelle--late of the equally sorely missed Hannibal--in a brief role.

Plus, the D.P is Dean Cundey! Halloween! The Thing! And if your cinematic tastes lean more towards big-a$$ Hollywood productions, Jurassic Park! The Back to the Future trilogy! Cundey also shot the brilliant Psycho II, which leads us to one other notable…

The film’s screenplay is credited to Osgood Perkins, Rob Morast, and Simon.

So, yeah. Psycho. Perkins. (Osgood also actually played “Young Norman” in Psycho II.)
This double whammy is a promising sign for Perkins’ sophomore directorial effort, I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House, which already garnered some good notices from its TIFF premiere last month. (Incidentally, the double whammy we're looking at right now also premiered at TIFF, last year, just 2 days apart.)

So, yes, The Girl in the Photographs.

If you want a bit of brutality in your ¡Qué horror! viewing…

“This guy knows I’m from Spearfish. He’s doing this… this photography thing with his victims as… as… as an homage, as a… as a nod, a nod to me, Spearfish’s most famous citizen and only known living artist.

“Frankly, I’m flattered.”

(The Blackcoat’s Daughter, February, and The Girl in the Photographs OS' courtesy of impawards.com.)

¡QUÉ HORROR! 2016

Candidate #7

THE GIRL IN THE PHOTOGRAPHS

(September 2015)

"I'll tell you what it is, kids.

“It’s that every f*cker in the country thinks they’re a photographer now, okay? And everyone can share an image, and it’s awful. It’s awful because it makes everything just like watery piss.

“Then you have this guy who creates an image that you actually can’t f*ck with, that you actually can’t ignore…”

Serial killers are like zombies and vampires; you need to look really long and really hard to find films about them that are actually worth your time and your attention.

Nick Simon’s The Girl in the Photographs is definitely worth your time, not just because it’s an excellent (and at times, frankly brutal) serial killer thriller, but it’s also one of the last things the late, great, and sorely missed Wes Craven worked on. (At the very top of the end credits roll, the dedication, “For Wes.”)

So if you feel any allegiance at all to the late Mr. Craven, then the least you can do is check out the film that he believed in enough to Executive Produce, before he had to so abruptly leave us…

And while that should be enough reason, if you find that you still need some more motivation, then Kal Penn’s total douchebag fashion photog Peter Hemmings is one of the definite draws of the film.

There’s also Mitch Pileggi, effectively de-Skinner-izing himself as the ineffectual Sheriff Porter, and Katharine Isabelle--late of the equally sorely missed Hannibal--in a brief role.

Plus, the D.P is Dean Cundey! Halloween! The Thing! And if your cinematic tastes lean more towards big-a$$ Hollywood productions, Jurassic Park! The Back to the Future trilogy! Cundey also shot the brilliant Psycho II, which leads us to one other notable…

The film’s screenplay is credited to Osgood Perkins, Rob Morast, and Simon.

So, yeah. Psycho. Perkins.

Osgood happens to be the son of Norman Bates himself, Anthony Perkins. (And he actually played “Young Norman” in Psycho II.) Osgood also happens to be making a name for himself as a director as well, and I’ve been chomping at the bit to see his directorial debut, February (reportedly retitled The Blackcoat’s Daughter).

If this film’s screenplay is anything to go by, then I’m even more pumped to see February-or-whatever-it’s-being-called-now.

So, yes, The Girl in the Photographs.

If you want a bit of brutality in your ¡Qué horror! viewing…

“This guy knows I’m from Spearfish. He’s doing this… this photography thing with his victims as… as… as an homage, as a… as a nod, a nod to me, Spearfish’s most famous citizen and only known living artist.

“Frankly, I’m flattered.”

(The Girl in the Photographs OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

THE AGGRESSION SCALE

(Review)

(ag·gres·sion scale): noun: “A psychological test measuring the frequency of overt aggressive behaviors that may result in physical or psychological injury to others.”

So I waffled a bit on this since a significant portion of this film’s DNA is decidedly “thriller,” and it seemed odd to put this one up there on the ¡Qué Horror! candidate list (even with the horrific, violent bits), so here we are, outside of all of that.

Steven C. Miller’s The Aggression Scale is an interesting spin on the home invasion film, as a search for some missing money puts two young step-siblings in jeopardy.

Think Home Alone-style hijinx--where the baddies are put through the wringer by an underaged hooligan--but played with a deadly straight face; have Twin Peaks alumni Ray Wise and Dana Ashbrook, and Derek Mears (the “new” Jason Voorhees) along for the ride, as their bad guy a$$es are run ragged by The Thompsons’ Ryan Hartwig and John Dies at the End’s Fabianne Therese, and you’ll have a fair idea of what’s in store for you in The Aggression Scale.

If you ever wondered what Home Alone would have looked like if it had been made for an adult audience, well, here you go…

(The Aggression Scale DVD cover art courtesy of twitchfilm.com.)

TRANSSIBERIAN
(Review)


I’ve said it ‘round these parts before: I’ve been waiting for a Brad Anderson film to kick me in the a$, and while Transsiberian doesn’t completely do that, it’s close enough.
Husband and wife Roy and Jessie (Woody Harrelson and Emily Mortimer) are on a train from China to Russia when they cross paths with Carlos and Abby (Eduardo Noriega and Kate Mara); it’s this chance meeting between both couples that bring all four down a treacherous path none of them could have anticipated.


Clearly Anderson’s most accomplished work to date, Transsiberian brings together a solid cast that also includes Sir Ben Kingsley as Detective Ilya Grinko and Thomas Kretschmann as Kolzak.
All these principal performers make the best of their screen time, particularly the couples, who get a fair amount of the narrative’s focus, particularly during the film’s first act. It’s in this section where we learn who these characters are, not just from their dialogue, but from their mannerisms and their attitudes.
And not only does Transsiberian’s script—co-written by Anderson with Will Conroy—treat its characters with respect and inform them with a humanity that allows them to be individuals, it also takes some interesting turns, confounding conventional plot expectations.


Reuniting with Xavi Giménez, his cinematographer on El Maquinista (The Machinist), Anderson brings aboard editor Jaume Martí (who’s tag teamed with Giménez in the past on Jaume Balaguero’s Fragiles).
The manner in which Giménez and Martí capture the imagery and emotion of the narrative certainly helps Transsiberian keep its audience involved in this thriller, which allows the plot to grow organically from the solid foundation of characterization laid down by Anderson, Conroy, and the film’s performers.


Ultimately, Transsiberian delivers, though definitely on its own terms and not by the usual Hollywood thriller standards.
So if you’re looking for something absorbing and exciting, with some good performances in it, then Transsiberian is definitely your ride.


Parting shot: Reviews of Anderson’s other works, El Maquinista, Masters of Horror episode “Sounds Like,” and Fear Itself episode “Spooked,” can be found in the Archive, where a review of Balaguero’s Fragiles may also be found.

(Transsiberian OS courtesy of impawards.com and images courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com.)

PATHOLOGY
(Review)

Ironically kicking off with The Hippocratic Oath, Marc Schoelermann’s twisted and strangely riveting medical thriller, Pathology, focuses on Ted Grey (Heroes’ Milo Ventimiglia), brand new hotshot resident at the Metropolitan University Medical Center.
Life smiles on Ted when we first see him, in bed with his fiancee, wealthy Gwen Williamson (Charmed’s Alyssa Milano). Smart, connected, successful, he’s got a dazzlingly bright future ahead of him.
That is, until he’s drawn into the sinister world of a group of Met U. residents, led by Jake Gallo (Michael Weston), who draw out the worst tendencies that lie inside Ted, particularly the murderous ones.


Schoelermann (working off a script by Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor, who also wrote—and directed—the Jason Statham adrenalized actioner Crank, as well as the upcoming Game) delivers a nasty depiction of a world where cleverness and talent can be parlayed for a sense of entitlement and elitism, provided morality is chucked out the window.
There is, in fact, a disturbing lack of a moral compass in Pathology, which can be looked at as CSI gone so very terribly wrong, where the methodology of murder becomes nothing more than a game played by idle minds.
If there’s a weak spot to Pathology, an aspect of it that may be problematic for some viewers, it’s that; the fact that none of these characters, not even our erstwhile protagonist, Ted, is sympathetic, or even likeable. (Well, perhaps Gwen, but she’s far too unsuspecting a character for my tastes.)


So it’s fascinating that Schoelermann—and his rather good cast, which includes The L Word’s Lauren Lee Smith—serve up a film that, despite not really having a “hero,” is still an engaging cinematic experience.
Pathology is captivating the way an Animal Planet show is, where we see exotic and dangerous beasts that really can’t help their natures, turn on their prey—and each other—without the slightest hesitation.
This isn’t even a film like, say, Woody Allen’s Match Point, where there always seemed to be the constant danger of Jonathan Rhys Meyers being caught out; here, the aptly named Grey and Gallo and their coldly ruthless gang are apparently far too smart to be caught. That’s never really in the narrative equation.
Ultimately, not even Gwen knows her fiancee’s true face.
And neither do we, the audience, for that matter.

Again, we loop back to what could be troublesome for Pathology’s potential audience: that our “hero” is apparently a highly intelligent and amoral individual.
Seeing everything as it unfolds, we don’t even have the luxury of the obliviousness Gwen clearly has concerning Ted. We also don’t have the love for the character that she has.
There’s a fairly effective façade that Ventimiglia adopts for Ted, removed from the previous television persona he displayed on Gilmore Girls. Here, the charm and good looks are quite clearly on the surface, camouflage for the cunning, calculating creature Ted is.
Ted is Heroes’ Peter Petrelli on valium, with his humanity lobotomized.


There’s a definite emotional remove for the audience, without a sympathetic protagonist to identify with. But that’s a distance that’s constantly bridged by moments of shuddering revulsion as we witness the macabre on-screen antics of the residents.
Again, we watch, morbidly fascinated with these sexy, photogenic monsters, with the decidedly opaque Ted at center stage.
Honestly, I’m not even convinced that what he feels for Gwen is love at all. Or perhaps it is. Who knows with these sociopaths?
Suffice it to say that Ted is not your average movie hero, and Pathology is not the sort of film to comfort its viewers.
It paints doctors as egotistical and dangerous, for one thing. And there’s a whole lotta post-mortem make-up mayhem (three cheers for Tatopoulos Studios!) for the gorehounds. And some nasty, kinky sex too.
This is not for the straight-laced, I’ll tell you that much.


As a medical thriller, this one’s got some impressive credentials, certainly more than past films of this stripe like Stefan Ruzowitzky’s disappointing Anatomie.
But like I said, it’s probably not for everybody, so be advised.

Parting shot: John De Lancie’s in this, as Dr. Morris, as well as Empire Records’ Johnny Whitworth (as fellow resident Griffin Cavenaugh), and L.A. Law’s Larry Drake (though he’s perhaps best known to horrorheads from Sam Raimi’s Darkman and the schlocky Dr. Giggles) as, ermm, “Fat Bastard.”
Also, if you don’t blink, you may just catch Battlestar Galactica’s Sam Witwer as “Party Boy.”


Parting shot 2: A side-effect of my surprise at Pathology’s nasty effectiveness is a sudden and sweet anticipation of Neveldine and Taylor’s upcoming Game, which is headlined by Gerard Butler.
The near-future science fiction vehicle not only reunites them with Ventimiglia, Witwer, and Whitworth, it also boasts John Leguizamo, Michael C. Hall, Kyra Sedgwick, and Zoe Bell among its cast.

(Images courtesy of impawards.com [Pathology OS; design by The Refinery]; bloody-disgusting.com [Pathology banner and DVD cover art]; shocktillyoudrop.com [Pathology images]; and slashfilm.com [Game image].)