Tag Archives: horror movies

Fright Club

Fright Club: Skin Problems

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Flesh is horror cinema’s stock and trade. Peeling back the skin on the genre takes us to places like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre or Tattoo. But what if it’s more of a personal skin problem? Like The Fly or The Believers (there are spiders in that zit!) or even Acne?

No, we’re looking at more skin than just that. These films ask you who you are and who that skin you’re wearing makes you.

5. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

There have always been those who claim The Silence of the Lambs is not a horror movie. A tale of a man who eats human flesh helping the FBI hunt down a man who wears human flesh feels like horror to us.

It’s to director Jonathan Demme’s credit that Silence made that leap from lurid exploitation to art. His masterful composition of muted colors and tense but understated score, his visual focus on the characters rather than their actions, and his subtle but powerful use of camera elevate this story above its exploitative trappings. Of course, the performances didn’t hurt.

4. The Skin I Live In (2011)

In 2011, the great Pedro Almodovar created something like a cross between Eyes Without a Face and Lucky McGee’s The Woman, with all the breathtaking visual imagery and homosexual overtones you can expect from an Almodovar project.

The film begs for the least amount of summarization because every slow reveal is placed so perfectly within the film, and to share it in advance is to rob you of the joy of watching. Antonio Banderas gives a lovely, restrained performance as Dr. Robert Ledgard, and Elena Anaya and Marisa Paredes are spectacular.

Not a frame is wasted, not a single visual is placed unconsciously. Dripping with symbolism, the film takes a pulpy and ridiculous storyline and twists it into something marvelous to behold.

3. Clown

Sympathetic, surprising, and often very uncomfortable, Jon Watts’s horror flick, though far from perfect, does an excellent job of morphing that lovable party favorite into the red-nosed freak from your nightmares. Because clowns are terrifying.

Watts, who co-wrote with the talented Christopher Ford, weaves a fantasy of Nordic folklore turned modern nightmare. There are moments of grotesque brilliance and edgy horror as poor Andy slowly, painfully morphs into a monster who feeds on children.

2. Under the Skin (2013)

Light on dialogue and devoid of exposition, Under the Skin requires your patience and your attention, but what it delivers is a unique and mesmerizing journey, a science fiction film quite unlike anything else out there.

Early elements call to mind Kubrick’s 2001, and once the film falls into its pace it conjures last year’s brilliant Upstream Color, but Glazer’s effort is certainly its own artistic achievement. Though an almost relentless series of similar incidents, somehow he punctuates this weird monotony with a fascinating balance of perplexity and humanity, and slowly, themes, character and plot emerge.

1. In My Skin (2002)

One of the less-scene gems of the New French Extreme, In My Skin is a tough watch. Esther (writer/director Marina de Van) loses grip on who she is at her very core when she fails to notice a serious injury done to her leg. This alienation from her physical self becomes an obsession with her physical self.

As bloody and uncomfortable as any film you will ever see, In My Skin succeeds as a horror film and a comment on identity and control both mainly due to de Van’s laser focused performance. Introspective, never showy, and unrelentingly believable, the turn anchors all the wild behavior in a way that makes it simultaneously mesmerizing and revolting.

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Legs

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Crawlers

by Hope Madden

Is Crawlers the best arachnid horror movie ever made? No. It’s not the best arachnid horror movie made in the last couple of years. Did I nearly scratch myself raw watching it, certain I had spiders crawling on me? And did I have a nightmare later that I was looting a shoe store trying to find tie-up boots for my son to protect him from the spider invasion?

Yes, to both.

So, obviously director Ángel Gómez Hernández was doing something right as he traps us for 90 minutes in a quarantined 4-floor LA apartment building very recently overrun with spiders. Not just any spiders. Spiders that, as clarified by the opening title cards, have decided to eat people.

Decided. They decided this. But you know what? Writer Jayson Rothwell’s lack of imagination here frees us up to spend more time where we want to spend it. And if you’ve chosen to see a movie where an apartment building full of tenants is trapped inside with thousands of killer spiders, my guess is that you want to see some nasty spider business. Crawlers has it.

Matilda Lutz (Revenge) is Serena, the put-upon would-be musician/building super, who finds the first body. It looks bad, so the police put the building on lockdown until they can figure out what kind of virus took out George (Chris Rogers). And then once they realize it was no virus, they drape the building so nothing goes in or out, just as Serena’s neighbors are starting to see evidence of the infestation.

It’s a great way to build tension. And we’ve spent just enough time with the tenants to root for some to survive, and root for others to get into that elevator. And the film’s CGI is believable enough that I was forever scratching and swatting in my seat.

There’s little underneath the basic story, so you’ll have to make do with surface level tension and character development. For more visual panache, check out Kia Roache-Turner’s 2024 terror Sting, and for more visceral scares with character, Sébastien Vanicek’s Infested makes every move Crawlers makes and does it better.

But those movies are not on the big screen right now, and if you want to be in a dark room full of skittering, hungry spiders, Crawlers delivers the creeps.

Outtakes

Migrant Fairy Tale

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Her Will Be Done

by Hope Madden

Julia Kowalski grounds each moment of Her Will Be Done in an utterly authentic day-to-day. Every chore, every mismatched but sturdy layer of clothing, every slap of a rubber glove or boot makes you ache with Naw (Maria Wróbel) for something more than the French farm life of a Polish migrant.

But that’s 20-year-old Naw’s life, with her kind but religious father (Wojciech Skibinski) and her two rowdy brothers (Przemyslaw Przestrzelski and Kuba Dyniewicz). Naw yearns to be a veterinarian, or to do anything that gets her out of this house, this life. Even if she believes, as her father does, that she carries her mother’s curse.

The realism of Kowalski’s approach keeps you guessing: are Naw’s episodes medical? Supernatural? Just plain rage? The filmmaker mixes messages, confounds clues, and transfixes you in the mystery, mainly through Wróbel’s convincing, wide-eyed observational performance.

Wróbel’s quite wonderful, rarely speaking, communicating the entire arc of the character with her enormous, searching eyes. Thanks to the performance it’s easy to question Naw’s reality and to worry about the way she interprets the reality around her.

Naw’s life of quietly raging frustration takes quite a turn when the neighbor’s daughter (Roxane Mesquida)—scandalous for some reason Naw’s father won’t tell her—moves back home.

From this moment, Kowalski spins a folk horror rooted in misogyny, patriarchy, religion, power, and superstition. All of this as observed by the sheltered, innocent Naw. It’s like a fairy tale where the beautiful fairy finds herself somehow in Naw’s miserable world rather than vice versa, and the filmmaker mines that concept to create a kind of backward folktale.

In its best moments, Her Will Be Done conjures Marcin Wrona’s 2015 treasure Demon. At other moments, the understated realism calls Emma Benestan’s feminist horror Animale to mind. Kowalski, who writes with Simon Beaufils, complicates characters, makes them tough to predict. And yet, the bones of both reality and fairy tale dictate what must be.

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Creepy Cellmate

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Ghost in the Cell

by Hope Madden

Joko Anwar makes a lot of movies. Not all of them are worth watching, but when he hits, you can expect grimy, bloody fun. Perhaps none more unexpectedly fun than his latest, Ghost in the Cell.

We open after midnight in a sweaty Indonesian newsroom, dedicated journalist Dimas (Endy Arfian) keying in the last sentences of his most perfect story. Capitalists are illegally mining a rainforest in Borneo where dozens of strange deaths occurred.

But the story never runs, and within a scene or two, Dimas is the new guy in an awfully unpleasant Indonesian prison.

Were it not for the gruesome opening (the reason that story didn’t run), you might not recognize Anwar’s latest as a horror film until after its midpoint. Instead, the filmmaker pits a rag tag group of not-so-badnicks (one telephone scammer, one small time robber, etc.) against more serious felons and a sadistic prison force. It’s somewhat traditional action with a bit of good-natured humor tossed around.

And then, meek little do-gooder Dimas arrives. Fresh meat. Or is he?

Though the most unhinged of the inmates, Tokek (Aming Sugandhi), has made his ill intentions clear, he meets a similarly grisly fate as that newspaper publisher. Is Dimas to blame? Or did he unwittingly bring something to the prison with him?

Ghost in the Cell showcases Anwar’s knack for truly ghastly body horror with a buoyant camaraderie, proletariat zeal, and well-placed bursts of comedy. His cast is up to the tonal challenge, each one carving out a memorable character, which can be tough to do in a sea of prison bars and orange jumpsuits.

There’s almost a sweetness and definitely a sense of optimism in the humor, characterizations, and storyline. The respect the inmates show the dance instructor, and Anwar’s earnest use of dancing in the film, can’t help but make you smile—even as massive chunks of inmate slide down the gore-slimed stone walls.  

Pick-me-up seems like the wrong way to describe Ghost in the Cell, but for a movie boasting the sheer volume of carnage, the film has a good heart.

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On the Road Again and Again and Again

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It Ends

by George Wolf

Just in case Backrooms was too abstract about the anxieties plaguing Gen Z right now, It Ends arrives to hammer the point home more directly. Writer/director Alex Ullom’s feature debut is a well-constructed metaphor for a timely existential dread, with a slam-bang setup fueled by one early kickass jump scare.

Four twenty-something friends pile in a trusty four-door and head out. They’re laughing, talking and trusting their GPS until driver Tyler (Michael Cole) suspects that something doesn’t seem right.

He’s correct.

One wrong turn has trapped them on a never-ending backroad through the woods, where stopping for even a few minutes can be deadly. Don’t worry about the gas gauge, bathroom breaks or starvation, Ullom sees those questions coming. Instead, worry about how Tyler, Day (Akira Jackson), Fisher (Noah Toth) and James (Phinehas Yoon) will try to deconstruct this road trip rubric, and what they’ll learn as the miles add up.

If you’re thinking Exit 8, understandable, but that game offered a finish line that these drivers can only dream of.

They’re fresh out of college, and now they’re just facing an endless road of toil and frustration, managing a few fleeting moments of joy while they hang on to the hope that one day they might find salvation.

What kind of life is that?

Horror movies have always reflected generational fears, and this particular anxiety continues to resonate as an anchor for psychological torment. After that first act blast of terror, Ullom settles into a groove of introspection and gloom, with his four talented actors elevating a script that is a bit light on character development.

The important thing is, we believe these people are friends, and for the most part, their reactions to the situation (and, by extension, what it represents) seem genuine. The road only gets bumpy in act three, when Ullon seems desperate to reach a feature length runtime, spinning his wheels a bit before hitting us with his Rod Serling-esque finale.

It Ends still leaves a well-earned mark. It’s more proof that horror can be trusted to these talented young storytellers, and the future is looking scary good.

Outtakes

Baby I’m a Star

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Big Baby

by Hope Madden

Is a horror film writer’s imagination creating real life carnage? Writer/director Spider One (Little Bites) asks the question in his latest, Big Baby.

Brandon Scott is Adam, an insecure but successful horror screenwriter who opens the film by listening to two dumbasses with a podcast say his latest movie is so bad that he should kill himself.

The point is not whether the movie is bad. The point is that Adam continues to listen. Then to stew and brood, even though his girlfriend Kate (Krsy Fox) reminds him that he’s too good to be bothered by these idiots. He’s kind of being a big baby.

Cue the nightmares: a hulking brute in a crying baby mask axes Kate in half. And the only way Adam knows to deal with this nightmare…and the others…and the waking hallucinations…is to write a script about it.

Spider One takes advantage of Scott’s genuine talent to anchor a film with a lot of insights and jabs. When you write horror, people forever wonder what’s wrong with you. Big Baby digs into this, as characters in Adam’s script show up in his life begging for theirs. He can change their fate. He has the control.

It’s kind of a cross between In the Mouth of Madness and Stranger Than Fiction with the baby mask from Happy Death Day thrown in for good measure. And it’s often fun and more often compelling, again due mainly to Scott’s committed performance.

Fox turns in solid support in a part that generates the film’s real tension as Big Baby nudges toward toxic behavior and domestic abuse. Things get sloppy once the film focuses more deliberately on what it is that Adam’s writing.

Had the script’s story tied into the core story in any way, the final product could have been quite rich. Instead, we get a series of non sequitur murders. While the tension outside Adam’s script amps to a spectacular, yell-at-the-screen level, the parallel story within the script Adam’s writing squanders that energy.

The result is curiously unsatisfying. Even as Big Baby leaves room for sequels, we’ve lost interest in the tale it’s telling.

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We All Scream

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Ice Cream Man

by Hope Madden

With Ice Cream Man, filmmaker Eli Roth visits the underappreciated horror subgenre focused on hordes of deadly children. Wolf Rilla may have done it first with 1960’s Village of the Damned, but Roth is following more closely in the footsteps of Narciso Ibañez Serrador and his 1976 film Who Can Kill a Child?

Since the Seventies, there’ve been plenty of killer-children flicks, most famously Children of the Corn from Stephen King’s novel. But Roth finds humor in the mayhem, channeling  2015’s Cooties in particular, but with a noticeable difference.

Generally, these films represent an adult nightmare. Our victim-heroes are grown-ups faced with the impossible task of defending themselves, and occasionally a handful of untainted children, from ravenous, murdering swarms of youngsters. It’s a tough spot to be in, hence Serrador’s title.

Roth changes that up. It’s little leaguer Jared (Charlie Zeltzer) and a couple of other kids who managed who find themselves face-to-face with the Ice Cream Man’s minions. His wares change children into frenzied killing machines. Only those lactose intolerant enough not to digest the tainted snack treats remain healthy.

Roth delights in the childish carnage. Early kills are especially nasty, all of it laced with a macabre humor and ghoulish playfulness. A similar tone is one of the reasons his 2023 film Thanksgiving was such an enjoyable return to genre work.

But Ice Cream Man never hits the spot quite as well as Thanksgiving. By removing the adult victim-hero, Roth creates a children-in-peril horror that doesn’t pull on the emotions of similar fare, like It or Devil’s Backbone, because children are also the villains.

The switch also eliminates the vicarious fear and revulsion adults often harbor, sometimes deep down, for children. Cooties read like every middle school teacher’s secret fantasy. It’s also funnier and better paced without foregoing any of the blood or nastiness.

Roth can’t manage to keep the pace moving, often pausing the action when it makes the least sense. The plot, what little there is, feels like a convenient, even cliché afterthought.

Which is not to say that Ice Cream Man is all bad. For bloodthirsty horror fans, it gets nasty. There are also a handful of randomly funny moments, and others that are just offensive. More offensive are the dips into gen AI, which is particularly weak and plain ugly during the backstory. The film’s less irreverent than it thinks it is, though, and that’s its biggest weakness.

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Crushed

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Obsession

by Hope Madden & George Wolf

Obsession is a film about consent.

Filmmaker Curry Barker made waves in 2024 with his free YouTube feature Milk & Serial, which you should watch if you have not. Made on a shoestring, the spare chiller is immensely impressive. His second feature shows what he can do with just a little bit more budget.

Barker writes a fresh and relevant take on the “deadly wish” fable. Sad boy Bear (Michael Johnston) can’t bring himself to confess his feelings for co-worker Nikki (Inde Navarrette). He’s so desperate after one cringy missed chance that he breaks open a One Wish Willow he’d purchased as a joke and—without reading any of the warnings printed all over the box—wishes that she would love him more than anyone else on earth.

And she does.

The themes Barker mines are incredibly of-the-moment. Bear wants what he wants, but he wants it to be true. It isn’t, but that’s not good enough. Make it be true. But you can’t make something be true if it isn’t true, no matter how sad the boy is who wants it. Male entitlement masquerading as loneliness leads to violently self-centered behavior. Barker’s story, however jump-scary or genre friendly it becomes, never forgets this central, relevant concept.

Navarrette is especially impressive, able to carve out a recognizable, realistic character quickly so you notice the changes. Johnston, also excellent, naturally unveils the selfish center of the “nice guy.”

Solid support work from Cooper Tomlinson and Megan Lawless root the fantasy in believable reality. The performances and dialog feel very authentic for this generation, and Barker settles us in to this familiar premise before making his pivot at just the right moment.

The third act not only ups the horror quotient, it draws Bear’s bargain with the sinister edges it deserves and begins a march toward a violent and satisfying payoff.

Barker has a bigger, more expansive canvas here, but his storytelling instincts remain impressively hungry. The film is atmospheric but never overstuffed, with a small group of well defined central characters delivering a clear, concise message of prices to be paid.

Reality can carry a sobering bias. Obsession is bloody reminder that no amount of spin can change the dangers that come from making desperate, narcissistic bargains with the future.

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Irish Spirits

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Hokum

by Hope Madden

Damian Mc Carthy is doing something right. The Irish filmmaker writes original stories, invests time and attention to visual storytelling, and produces eerie, memorable horror. There’s an elegance to his movies, but his tales are not meant simply to provoke thought or to elevate the genre. Caveat, Oddity, and now Hokum draw from a long tradition of Irish horror storytelling and love a jump scare as much as anybody.

Mc Carthy’s latest sees an absolute prick of an American writer (Adam Scott) checking into an Irish inn to spread his parents’ ashes. Is he having a problem with writer’s block? He is! Is the hotel haunted? It is!

Hokum does feel less original than either of the filmmaker’s previous features, but somehow that works in its favor. Mc Carthy knows you think you’ve seen this before, and he leans into its familiarity to lull you.

Scott’s prickly, unpleasant performance at the center of the film is a gift. His unlikability gives the film a nice edge. Scott’s lowkey, brittle performance anchors the macabre whimsy so gorgeously brought to life by Til Frolich’s production design. The inn looks like a place where time stood still, quaint to the eyes of a tourist, spooky in the hands of a talented filmmaker.

Though Mc Carthy’s script feels less original than expected, he knows how to light, pace, and frame scenes to heighten dread. The sound design is also an eerie delight. And Mc Carthy reminds you that jump scares are not just for kiddie horror.

It would be easy for Hokum to feel overstuffed. The protagonist’s own ghost story, a very flesh-bound horror, and don’t forget the witch—that’s a lot to fit into a honeymoon suite. Scott’s grounded performance provides a clear path through it, and Mc Carthy ‘s skill at crafting intelligent yet primal horror pulls it together.

Scene after scene balances a funhouse vibe with Irish folktale spookiness, and the vintage horror beauty of every frame beguiles you. Caviat offered quietly claustrophobic terror. Oddity delivered clever, melancholy horror. Hokum feels more polished yet more old school. It is perhaps less terrifying than Mc Carthy’s previous features, but it’s a haunting good time.

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Content Re-creator

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Faces of Death

by George Wolf

It’s almost quaint now to remember the word-of-mouth infamy achieved by the original Faces of Death in 1978. By the mid-80s it was a cult favorite at the video store, with a lurid promise to unveil shocking video of real fatalities.

Though the non-stock footage was faked (yes, even the monkey scene), hyperbolic stories of the film’s effect continued to gain traction and the sequels were cranked out.

This new Faces is not one of those. Writer/director Daniel Goldhaber smartly brings that pre-viral legend into the internet age, tucking the bloody hunt for a serial killer inside the dulling nature of modern-day voyeuristic fetishes.

Barbie Ferreira stars as Margot, who works as a website content moderator for a company promising to protect “the young and innocent.” Though she occasionally flags a video for violations, most make it through – which is just how her manager prefers it. But when Margot sees some videos of murders that look alarmingly real, it sets her off on the trail of a killer (Dacre Montgomery) intent on recreating scenes from the original Faces of Death.

Though employees at Margot’s firm are strongly discouraged from researching the videos they moderate, she begins sleuthing. What Margot finds, of course, is an internet audience eager for the brutality, and online footprints that aren’t difficult for a tech savvy psycho to follow.

Stupid decisions (especially by young people) are a staple of horror films, and Margot makes a maddening amount. But Goldhaber (How to Blow Up a Pipeline) is able to mirror most of them alongside the questionable bargains we’ve made as a web-obsessed society.

“It’s an attention economy, and business is booming.”

Our killer (Montgomery gives him both Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon vibes) knows his audience, and Goldhaber gives the funny games he plays with both his victims and Margot a nice sense of tension. Sure, you may want to slap some sense into most of these people, but then again, is your own browser history MENSA worthy?

The rough patches in the story go down easier thanks to the savvy, in-the-moment winks Goldhaber flashes while telling it.

Why has the explosion of technology that holds so much positive potential continued to reveal the worst parts of ourselves? If you give the people what they want, how culpable are the people that want it?

Michael Haneke may have asked the question more eloquently, but Goldhaber and Faces of Death have more trashy, finger-wagging fun.