One of the members of Banarama has joined one of the members of Duran Duran in the cast of a new horror movie. That movie is assembled with the ideas and scenes from much better films, but young pop music fans probably haven’t seen any of ’em, so who cares?
Now, put on your mask and join us back in 2020. A similar mindset seems to propel 0.0 Mhz, a Shudder original that brings two stars of the South Korean K-Pop phenomenon to the screen.
Jung Eun-ji, lead singer of the band Apink, also takes the lead here as So-hee, the newbie in a teen team of ghost-chasers known as “Club 0.0 Mhz.” See, that’s the best frequency to call ghosts (don’t argue), and So-hee’s first outing with the group is to a supposedly haunted house in the woods where the kids aim to dial up a little necromancy.
But what Sang-Yeob (Lee Sung-yeol from the band Infinite) and the rest of the gang don’t know is…their new recruit comes from a long line of dead people-seers.
The local at the general store who tells them all not to go to there is just the first in a string of heavily borrowed narrative checkpoints. Pulling from The Grudge to Elm Street to The Conjuring to The Exorcist, first time director Sun-Dong Yoo adapts Jang Jak’s popular webcomic with barely a whisper of originality or visual flair.
But 0.0 Mhz is clearly aimed a notch below anyone who has seen those films. This is strictly teenage fare, content to provide good-looking idols to swoon over and warmed-over scares for kids who want to scream but not have nightmares.
It accomplishes that, and not much else.
So when get-togethers are all good again, 0.0 Mhz will be more than ready to slumber party!
The success of Shudder’s wildly informative and entertaining 2019 doc Horror Noire (still streaming – see it!) paved the way for their new 5-show doc series, Cursed Films. Each of writer/director Jay Cheel’s episodes spends 30 minutes examining one allegedly cursed horror movie production: The Exorcist, Poltergeist, The Omen, The Crow and Twilight Zone: The Movie.
Episodes 1 – 3 were made available for review, and the first thing we noticed was that each show is stronger than the last. Our hopes were highest for Ep 1: The Exorcist, but the series has a tough time finding its footing. The idea of a “cursed” production never really materializes and the episode feels padded with unrelated material.
In particular, time spent with a shyster modern day exorcist adds little to the overall theme of the program and offers limited at best entertainment value.
Poltergeist is a film more recognized for an alleged curse, so there’s a little more meat on Ep 2’s bone. Cheel opens up a handful of different, related conversations and braids them interestingly. The episode actually examines the bad luck that dogged all three films in the Poltergeist series and gets some skinny from one of the filmmakers (no, not that one).
It digs a little more at fan obsession in ways that non-Shudder audiences might mock while feeling perfectly at home with this target market. Still, the content feels light and the doc never seems to unveil much.
By Episode 3, though, Cursed Films finds its groove. The Omen offers not only more bountiful nuttiness to examine, but bigger and more interesting interview opportunities.
The big question: Why repeatedly use the single least flattering photo ever taken of Gregory Peck?
By halfway through the series, Cheel has begun to dig into the psychology of what makes a person – or the public – cling to the idea of a curse in the first place, and the psychology on display in this episode is fantastic. The random nut job guests, however, still feel like an unpleasant way to pad.
Though Episodes 4 and 5 were not available for review, the series seems to have hit its stride just as it hits two films that, while less popular than the first three in the series, suffered more profound bad luck than the first three combined.
Director Adam Egypt Mortimer’s stylish image of mental illness takes a kind of demonic Fight Club angle, hits some mildly homoerotic notes (like Fight Club didn’t?), and offers a quick and absorbing- if hardly new- horror show.
Co-writing with Brian DeLeeuw an adaptation of DeLeeuw’s
novel In This Way I Was Saved, Mortimer drops us mid-mom scream into an
average afternoon in the life of poor little Luke (Griffin Robert Faulkner,
painfully adorable).
As Luke wanders away from home to avoid his mother’s
psychotic episode, he witnesses the aftermath of a gruesome murder, but finds a
new friend: Daniel.
Quickly enough, Daniel is helping Luke cope with his
personal trauma, taking his mind off his problems, and maybe encouraging some
truly evil behavior.
From here Mortimer directs us to an effectively creepy doll
house (such a great prop in nearly any terrifying film or terrifying child’s
bedroom), which will become (as it does in Hereditary and The Lodge)
a fine symbol for the madness of the mind.
Mortimer’s film looks great and benefits from a trio of
strong performances.
Mary Stuart Masterson, playing Luke’s paranoid schizophrenic
mother, gives a brave and believable performance in a role that can easily be
overdone.
More importantly, Mortimer’s besties/worsties Luke and
Daniel (Miles Robbins and Patrick Schwarzenegger, respectively) create complete
characters and offer an uneasy chemistry that keeps the film intriguing.
As Luke’s life spins inevitably out of control, Daniel’s
clothing takes on a more and more Tyler Durden style, and I can get behind
that. And a certain point near Act 3, Daniel Isn’t Real takes a weird
and welcome Clive Barker turn, which is when elements stop being so stylishly
predictable and become sloppily fascinating.
The unfortunate Magical Negro trope that will not die
surfaces here. It doesn’t entirely sink the film, but it does its damndest to do
just that.
Even so, Daniel Isn’t Real is an Olympic-sized leap forward from Mortimer’s previous feature, Some Kind of Hate, the director here showcasing an unpredicted visual flair and storytelling finesse. Though his film treads some well-worn ground, the way Mortimer and team balance the supernatural and psychological push and pull creates an unnerving atmosphere.
Why was Tommy Wiseau’s 2003 cult classic called The Room, anyway? Why not Tuxedo Football? Doggie McFlowers? Or the obvious: Oh, Hi Mark!
I know, I know, The Room made no sense as a title, which made perfect bizarro sense for a perfectly bizarro film.
This The Room is the new Shudder premiere from director/co-writer Christian Volckman, and while its title is perfectly fitting (though curious, considering the ease of confusion with Wiseau’s entry, as well as Brie Larson’s Room from 2015), the film itself struggles to add anything compelling to a familiar narrative.
Kate (Oblivion‘s Olga Kurylenko) and Matt (Kevin Janssens from Revenge) are moving into their new place in waaay upstate New York. It’s quite a fixer- upper, and somehow nobody hipped these homebuyers to all the gruesome details of the killings that occurred there.
“Nobody told ya?” asks an incredulous yokel.
Nobody did, thanks old-timer. Good thing, then, that Matt can get filled in with a quick Google. But wait, that’s not even the home’s biggest secret.
It’s got a room, a special room, that will give you whatever you ask. A ton of cash? Done. Priceless art (Matt is an artist)? Van Gogh for it!
What about a child? After two miscarriages, the room could be the answer to the couple’s prayers…or there could be a catch to all this wish-granting.
Kurylenko and Janssens are all in, and Volckman (helming his first live action feature) sets an acceptably creepy mood on the way to a mind-bending, off the rails finale, but The Room can never get below the surface of themes that have been tossed around since the earliest Monkey’s Paw adaptations.
The only thing more dangerous than someone who gets nothing they want is someone who gets everything they want. It’s a moral declaration with numerous possibilities, but always more effective when left for an audience to realize on their own, and then maybe underlined by a Rod Serling parting shot.
The Room includes the lesson as a line of dialog, which is a crystal clear picture window into the subtlety to be found inside.
Shudder’s latest premiere, the French film Jessica
Forever, offers a scifi antidote to war films. This is a quietly absorbing genre
piece concerned with the lives left to those who know nothing more than
fighting for survival, those who must endure not only what battle has done to
them, but what battle has encouraged them to do.
In an unnamed future, Jessica (Aomi Muyock, Love),
collects and rehabilitates “orphans” — feral young men with nothing and no one.
Left entirely on their own, they wreak bloody havoc on society and are hunted
by government-controlled drones.
We open on one such young man, Kevin (Eddy Suiveng). He’s thrown himself through a pane of glass in what looks to be a recently abandoned home. As a heavily armed tactical unit descends on the premises, only to softly embrace the combatant, writers/directors Caroline Poggi and Jonathan Vinel introduce the visual and tonal fluidity the film will emphasize throughout its running time.
The dystopian cinematic landscape is highly populated, but Jessica
Forever manages to carve out a unique space.
Muyock’s enigmatic central figure, so quietly effecting,
provides the film its compelling center of gravity. Around her orbits a loose family
of young men, and as Poggi and Vinel weave in and out of their day-to-day, we’re
tuned into the filmmakers’ primary interest.
Unlike so very many movies out there, it is not the glamour
or danger of war that attracts these filmmakers. Instead, Jessica Forever
focuses on the mental and emotional wreckage these young men carry around with
them as they cling to each other and their varying ideas of family, home and
normalcy.
Everything about the design of this low budget scifi poem is
astonishing. Working with cinematographer Marine Atlan, who shot the pair’s short
After School Knife Fight, Poggi and Vinel create and sustain a hypnotic
mood.
An absurd beauty to some of the shots helps the filmmakers offset its deliberate pacing. The entire crew, sound design in particular, pulls their weight as well, and the cumulative effect moves this lightly plotted ensemble piece in daring directions.
After a tense, fast-paced second episode, the third episode
of The Dead Lands is a bit of a come down.
It’s not surprising that the show runners would choose to follow an action-paced episode with a slower focus on world-building. However, The Kingdom at the Edge of the World comes off more like a placeholder than an opportunity to further the series arc.
Searching for more information about how to right the wrongs in Aotearoa, Mehe and Waka seek out three sister witches. When they find two of the three, we learn more about what’s happening to the world, but not enough to justify devoting two-thirds of the episode to these characters. Much of the dialogue feels like riddles designed to confuse rather than enlighten, and it becomes tedious trying to keep track of what is important information and what’s merely filler.
Though we’re treated to more of the Maori style martial arts, Mau Rākau, there is a scene between Waka and one of the witches that comes off a bit silly. Their choreographed moves are beautiful, but the interaction never feels real.
It’s only during the last third of the episode that the pace picks up and a few truly tense moments occur, reminding us why this show is worth watching.
Even though the pacing falters, the character development is some of the series’ best yet, with a strong focus on trust. Many times, Mehe is advised not to trust Waka by both by her friends and by those who sense his dangerous nature. Waka is similarly advised to keep his guard up around Mehe, that she will use him to suit her needs and then betray him. This is the first time Waka truly feels like a danger, and to Mehe in particular.
Despite the obvious threat Waka might pose to her, it is
clear Mehe trusts him – she even says as much while they’re training. However,
Waka seems to punish her for that trust. It begs the question: will his deadly,
distrustful nature threaten their developing bond?
When he gives her a test, she passes it – in the audience’s eyes. Waka, on the other hand, seems to make a decision that reveals his true feelings. However, we’re left hanging as to how Waka will act as the show progresses. The end of The Kingdom at the Edge of the World promises greater conflict to come.
What does true art require of its maker? It’s an incredibly
common theme in film (and books and sculpture and painting and any other kind
of art) because, for an artist, it’s a common point of introspection. Why am I
doing this, why aren’t I better than this, what would I give to be really
great?
There’s such an underlying element of the diabolical and desperate in these questions that it’s only sensible so many horror flicks have sprung from this well. From Roger Corman’s A Bucket of Blood in ’59 to Sean Byrne’s Devil’s Candy in 2015, horror movies love to explore what we’re willing to become if only our art could be great.
Joe Begos returns to the concept with Bliss, an
unrelenting attack on the senses that equates artistic obsession with addiction
and monstrosity.
Frenetically paced and entirely reliant on Dora Madison’s
impressive performance, Bliss works like a hypnotic pulse. Madison plays
artist and malcontent Dezzy, who opens the film dodging her landlord, tooling LA
in her convertible caddy and panicking. She can’t finish her latest piece, her
agent wants to drop her, she’s about to lose her exhibit space.
Why isn’t her dealer answering the goddamn phone?
When she does catch up with him, he has something potent for her. She goes a little overboard and by the time she’s semi-conscious again, a house party is in full rage, the drugs, beat and sexy look from an old friend propelling Dezzy into a hypnotic night of excess and debauchery. But somewhere in the stew and slurry of the night, her painting starts to take shape.
It’s intriguing that the more minor the character, the more
likable the performance. Begos seems not to want you to care about the lead or
those closest to her, and that’s always an intriguing approach to a film.
The only real problem with Bliss is its lack of originality, but that’s a pretty big problem. Quick cuts and quicker tempo, nimble performances and concussive beat, like Gaspar Noe’s Climax, Bliss leaves you feeling worn out. But with little new to say, it mainly leaves you feeling more hung over than entertained.
Shudder launches a new series this week, The Dead Lands.
Ep 1: Tell the Dead I’m Coming
by Rachel Willis
For anyone who thinks the zombie genre has been thoroughly
mined of ideas, you might be pleasantly surprised by the New Zealand horror
drama, The Dead Lands.
The best thing about writer/creator Glenn Standing’s show is that it’s more than a tale of the dead coming back to life. Rooted in the indigenous Maori culture and religion of New Zealand, the setting is Aotearoa “in the time of the stories.” As the credits play, we’re shown the gorgeous natural splendor of this world while the camera rolls over scenic vistas.
The peaceful atmosphere is destroyed as the credits end and
the camera focuses on a bloody wahaika. A scene of carnage unfolds, and we’re
introduced to Waka Nuku Rau (Te Kohe Tuhaka), a person “more monster than man.”
As the narrative opens, we learn this monstrous man may be the only hope for
restoring the balance between the living and the dead. When Waka is barred from
entering the afterlife, he returns to earth to seek honor to atone for his many
crimes.
The opening episode of The Dead Lands is a bit
clunky. There’s a lot to set up in the space of 44 minutes. The pacing stumbles
as much of the focus of this episode is devoted to helping the audience
understand what has gone wrong in Aotearoa. The veil between the living and
dead is falling away, and the dead seek to harm the living. Why this is
happening is the heart of show’s mystery.
However, the weaker elements are far overshadowed by the stronger moments and the promise of what’s to come. Waka is a thoroughly engrossing character. Unfortunately, we’re only given a glimpse of his morally repugnant past. Perhaps his history will be explored in future episodes, but when Waka runs into Mehe (Darneen Christian), a woman seeking his help, he comes across as a curmudgeon rather than someone to be feared.
Though Waka has an agenda behind his agreement to help Mehe,
he never seems untrustworthy. He’s a character easy to like when, based on what
we’ve been told, he should be someone who makes us question our own moral
compass.
As Mehe, Christian is a bit stiff compared to the charismatic Tuhaka, but their relationship has the potential to grow into something truly captivating to watch.
There is more than enough intrigue to attract viewers to this show and keep them interested.
Ep 2: The Sins of the Fathers
by Rachel Willis
Where the first episode tends to drag, the second episode of
The Dead Lands opens in a sprint. Beginning with a human sacrifice, new
characters are introduced: villains both living and dead, members of Mehe’s
tribe who might not be trustworthy, and others who might have the answers Waka
and Mehe seek.
The mystery of who “broke the world” becomes the central
focus in this episode, though many thrilling scenes are devoted to the politics
of Mehe’s tribe.
After an attack on her tribe in Tell the Dead I’m Coming,
her brother, Rangi, and the rest of the tribe sought refuge with their uncle, a
powerful shaman who might have insight into what has caused the imbalance
between the worlds of the living and the dead.
Though their uncle welcomes them with open arms, there is
something sinister afoot. Mehe is suspicious, and in this episode, Darneen
Christian better embodies her character.
While Waka still has his mission, Mehe is given her own
hero’s journey to complete. By giving our two main characters their own
challenges and desires, the opposite nature of the characters is heightened.
Waka is a man who cares for no one, while Mehe is devoted to the well-being of
her tribe.
Despite their opposite natures, the chemistry between the
two flourishes as Waka’s connection to Mehe deepens. Though Waka professes to
dislike her, it’s clear she’s the closest human connection he’s ever had. There
are even a few comedic moments shared between the two, and those liven the
otherwise tense atmosphere.
Though still plagued by a few missteps, particularly some strange cinematography choices, the second episode successfully builds upon the first. With The Sins of the Fathers, the show has found its footing.
In a land of yore, the geography forbidding, a far off
trumpet calls for the hardiest of warriors—those equipped to fight beasts.
Director Jordan Downey shows much and tells little in his
nearly wordless medieval fantasy, The Head Hunter. The filmmaker parses
out all the information you’ll need to follow this simple vengeance myth, but
pay attention. Very little in this film is without meaning—no creepy image, no
creak or slam.
In what is essentially a one man show, Christopher Rygh
delivers a quiet, brooding performance for a quiet, brooding film. He cuts an
impressive figure as the Vikingesque warrior at the center of this adventure
and his work speaks of joyless endurance.
He answers the call of the trumpet. He fights monsters. He
collects heads, which he spikes to the wall of his isolated cabin. The festering
stench that must waft from this place!
The action takes place almost entirely off screen, which is
clearly one way for Downey to keep costs down, but it does allow you to focus
on a different part of the story. By denying viewers the release of battle victory,
we get nothing but the anxiety of the preparations and the pain – physical and
emotional – of the aftermath. A prime example of making your limitations work
for you, Downey’s confident direction and strong storytelling instincts draw
your attention not to the physical horror of battle but to the emotional horror
of this existence.
Kevin Stewart’s cinematography gorgeously creates the
mythical brutality of the land. Eric Wegener’s sound design is almost equally
impressive, from the drip and splash of gore to the crackle of a flame to the
clank of armor as well as the more ghastly, hypnotic sounds of the otherworld
so savagely interrupting this one.
With so much to experience and so little to tell you what
you’re seeing, the team effort is required and it pays off. It’s a far cry from
the filmmaker’s most famous effort, 2009’s ThanksKilling (an annual
seasonal indulgence for a small segment of us).
The only thing you’ll find in common between the two films is Downey’s inspired use of practical effects—another element that helps his bold and memorable effort stand out from the pack.
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a cute accent
will make even the silliest sentiment 20 percent more charming. So, it’s
fortunate that the dialogue in Kiah Roache-Turner’s action/comedy/horror is
mostly delivered in appealing Australian accents. Otherwise it’s a bit of a
mess.
A take on cell phone addiction, Nekrotronic asks the question, “What if demons got online and created a knock-off of Pokémon Go to steal our souls?”
Thankfully, Howard, a sanitation engineer/orphan, discovers
he’s the descendant of generations of necromancers (nekromancers?) with
demon-fighting superpowers, now upgraded with what look like coaxial cable
ports in the backs of their heads. Years ago, his necromancer parents split up
when mom, Finnegan, was turned to the dark side. Howard’s dad hid him with
muggles before being murdered by his ex.
Ben O’Toole delivers a decent performance in Howard. He’s
equally able to pull off his silly X-Men-style superhero suit and deliver the
occasional bit of banter that reminds us that the movie is supposed to be part
comedy. His chemistry with his tragically underused sidekick Rangi (Epine Bob
Savea) is probably the best part of the film. Too bad it’s mostly in the first
18 minutes.
After the initial setup, Nekrotronic often seems to forget the comedic slant and leans heavily into the action. The special effects and fight sequences are acceptable. But there are no stakes. What is Finnegan going to do with the power of the souls she devours through the cell phone game? Use the power to get more souls. Why? To what purpose? Unclear. What does Howard stand to lose? Little. He already seems to hate his foster family and his job. He’s not invested in random strangers. His BF Rangi might take a hit, but Howard’s powers can sorta mitigate that.
The movie mashes up Matrix, Tron and Ghostbusters and sets it to a half-hearted attempt at a Tarantino soundtrack. But there’s no focus or originality in the result.
The weakest part of the movie is probably Monica Bellucci’s
Finnegan. Possessing a gorgeous Italian accent, her delivery proves the
exception to the accent-makes-it-better maxim. She struggles to enunciate the
juvenile, expletive-laden dialogue that comes much more naturally from the
other characters. It feels like when your manager researches slang on Urban
Dictionary and pulls the results out in the conference room to seem relevant.
It’s cringy and off-putting.
In the end, Nekrotronic delivers a little bit of everything, but it not enough of the right things.
