Screening at 6pm on Saturday, Oct. 17 at Nightmares Film Festival.
by George Wolf
You like your thrillers with a good dose of blood splatter? Maybe even some deadly puzzle-solving and jabs of dark humor? Well, stand next to me for Dead Drop, a wickedly fun ride on a lethal freight elevator.
One hectic morning inside a large office building, the main elevator seems to be on the fritz. So eight strangers decide the large freight elevator down the hall will speed their busy day along, and they get in.
They push the buttons, the doors close, but the ride is a short one. The elevator stalls, and they are all trapped.
Writer/director Ned Crowley quickly sets an effective sense of people and place, getting us comfortable with the different personalities that will have to work together for a path to safety. The snappy dialog begins to reveal important connections between the “Teacher,” “Bike Messenger,” “Troll,” “Lawyer,” “Actress,” “Suit,” “Priest” and “Bro,” and that maybe this fateful meeting is not as happenstance as it seems.
There are engineering clues to decipher as well, and Crowley (Killing Faith) adopts a wonderfully mischievous tone for his frisky mashup of Cube, Saw, and even a dash of Da Vinci Code. The bloodshed can be sudden, and shocking, with Crowley making sure it all pops in the frame for maximum WTF? appeal.
The ensemble cast is locked in to the vibe that’s driven home by a couple well-played needle drops. And by the time the other narrative shoe drops as well, you’ll most likely be smiling at how skillfully Dead Drop pushes your buttons.
It’s hard not to root for Milly Shapiro to survive a horror movie. In writer/director Ben Sottak’s Hallowarrior, we see Shapiro as desperately lonely teen Pumpkin. Pumpkin’s been alone—truly alone—for four Halloweens now, since some kind of plague swept through and claimed everybody else, as far as she can tell.
So, this Halloween was going to be her last. She put out decorations, lit candles, watched the old home movie where she carved pumpkins with her family, and prepared. But then, a noise on the front porch. And suddenly, Pumpkin’s wish for a family comes true.
It’s a Halloween miracle!
Pumpkin may not have seen as many post-apocalyptic movies as some of us, which would explain a lot. Royce (AJ Bowen) only contains his hostility when he notices the piece Milly’s packing. Thalia (Shannyn Sossamon) seems more nurturing and understanding but angry young Wendy (Ajani Russell) wants to shake some sense into Pumpkin.
And these three are the nice ones.
Sossamon is particularly effective, languidly menacing and just convincing enough as a maternal figure to convince a lonely kid.
Shapiro succeeds as that lonesome, naïve Pumpkin. Her innocence is frustrating but never forced. Pumpkin’s awkward, needy chemistry with Wendy likewise carries an authenticity that helps the film overcome some of its shortcomings in pacing.
Once “Wax and the boys” come calling, Hallowarrior should be hitting its groove, but we get so little in the way of character or story development, the film doesn’t develop the kind of dread it could. Though the stakes are as high as they could be, you don’t feel it.
Still, each of the new guests is creepy in their own way and there are a couple of impressive (and one incomprehensible) kills.
We’ve seen the end of the world from a lot of perspectives. Pumpkin’s is different, and thanks in large part to Shapiro’s performance, Hallowarrior is a fine addition to the end of times canon.
A lot of people seem curious to know what Zach Cregger is doing following up Weapons—one of the most revered horror films of the last decade—with the seventh installment in a horror video game movie franchise. By the looks of Resident Evil, having a blast is what he’s doing.
Rather than offer another badass on a mission story, Cregger’s episode, co-written with Shay Hatten (John Wick 3 & 4, Army of the Dead), enters the newly overrun Raccoon City with a hapless courier (Austin Abrams) tapped to run an important medical package to the Raccoon City General Hospital. Things go from bad to worse to much worse to oh my god no pretty quickly in an impressive series of set pieces showcasing body horror, carnage, mutants, goo, and more.
Cregger’s direction is fresh and fun, building dread and releasing it with bits of humor. He gives us some nifty first person shooter POV, but not enough of it to become tedious. The camera lingers when you don’t expect it to, and turns away when you really hope it will.
Cregger never takes the film too seriously, which is usually the downfall of any video game adaptation. But he absolutely embraces the video game-ness of the film, digging into the grossest and most disturbing elements of the game while rooting the mayhem in a character you can care about.
Resident Evil is frequently funny without falling into camp. Abrams, who was such a standout comic force in Weapons, delivers an ideal doofus to root for. John Walter Hauser has a fun expository sharing cameo, and Zach Cherry is also pretty funny.
It’s also pretty gross, fast paced, tremendously violent, and harrowing in a fun way.
The unhinged horror of it all won’t surprise those of us who saw Cregger’s 2022 feature Barbarian. He’s a horror guy. He knows horror and he has fun with it while still leaving some scars. Resident Evil isn’t going to win anybody an Oscar, but it’s a good time.
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.
Body image, binge behavior, shame, and desire fuel Natalie Erika James’s (Relic) third feature, Saccharine. From its fascinating opening sequence, you’ll be glad if you don’t buy popcorn.
That opening, scored with sensual moaning, cuts between extreme close ups of various body parts of a lithe woman on an elliptical, and extreme close ups of binge eating, but in reverse. As if the eater is removing those sloppy snacks rather than inhaling them.
Hana (Midori Francis) is the eater. She’s also the person eyeing the woman on the elliptical, Alanya (Madeleine Madden), a trainer who invites Hana to join her 12-week diet and exercise program. Profoundly self-conscious but smitten, Hana agrees.
Then she runs into old high school classmate Melissa (Annie Shapero), unrecognizable thanks to weight loss brought about by a technically illegal supplement called grey. What Melissa doesn’t know but med student Hana figures out is that the supplement is human ash.
Hana takes it anyway, loses weight, but the side effects are hardly what she bargained for. In the Ozempic era, the idea that someone might swallow pills of human ash to lose weight without regard to consequences feels right.
There’s a fetishistic quality to many of the film’s sequences. These become the sticky residue holding together a ghost story, a tale of generational and cultural identity crisis, and some serious body horror. That’s an awful lot for James to pack into her 112-minute run time. Though she doesn’t resolve everything, it’s the surprises and loose ends that are most intriguing.
Francis impresses as the fractured main character, driven and yet unable to control her binging, however hard she tries. James expertly uses the sympathetic, believable central figure to wind viewers through startling sensual indulgences punctuated by family drama.
It would feel overpacked were it not for Francis’s grounded, compelling turn, supported nicely by the film’s small ensemble (Madden, Danielle Macdonald, Showko Showfukutel). Just when it looks like the family drama horror trope has won out, James surprises again, and the film leaves you stunned and wondering.
Objectification, internalized beautify standards, and the fetishistic nature of consumption drive Hana’s behavior and James’s film. Art over the post credits amplifies an aesthetic that James might have used to better effect throughout the movie. Still, Saccharine delivers something intimate and disturbing—too unsettling to be solved with Pepto Bismol.
So, Lee Cronin’s The Mummy. You may be wondering, who is Lee Cronin? Do I even know that guy?
You probably do, if you saw 2023’sEvil Dead Rise, the story of a family trapped in their apartment as their mother turns Deadite and tries to murder them all.
You may have missed his 2019 Irish horror, The Hole in the Ground, where a changeling takes the shape of a woman’s young son, traps her in a house and tries to kill her.
Now Cronin takes on a mummy’s curse, trapping a family inside a house with their daughter, who is now a monster out to kill every one of them. By the third time, you have to think that the idea of an evil entity taking over the body of a loved one is a real fixation for the filmmaker. Lucky for us!
Jack Raynor and Laia Costa are the parents of three: little Maud (Billie Roy), tween Sebastian (Shylo Molina), and their oldest, Katie (Emily Mitchell, then Natalie Grace). Katie went missing in Cairo 8 years ago, but she’s been found and she’s ready to come home. It’ll just take some adjusting.
The trailer for the film gave it the look of a PG13 horror—quick cuts, jump scares, and black vomit. I’m pleased to report that this is not the film at all. Cronin mines the situation for grief and sorrow before descending into body horror. It’s a wild line he crosses, manipulating your emotions and then throwing gross-out body fluid horror all over the deviled eggs.
It’s nasty. Like almost early Peter Jackson nasty.
And Cronin is not afraid to take the film places you may not want to go. The darkest, sloppiest comedy butts up against emotional horror so moving you may want to look away. Or if that doesn’t make you divert your eyes, the pus, eyeballs, tongues, and unspecified body fluids will.
It’s a mixed bag, this one, and it gets a little tedious toward the end. Plus, Cronin doesn’t always balance the tone effectively. This is very much an R-rated horror, at times taking itself too seriously and at others, delivering some of the nastiest comic gags you’ve ever seen during a funeral.
I was unsettled at times and grossed out at others, but I must say, I was thoroughly entertained.
Those teenage years can be beastly! A lot of vampire movies channel the alienation, hormones, angst and general misbehavior into a cautionary tale about teeth. Here are some of our favorites.
5. Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992)
Back in ’92, Rutger Hauer and Paul Reubens played vampires (thank you!) bent on draining a California town. But one superficial mean girl at the local high school happens to be the Chosen One, the Slayer, or so says Donald Sutherland, and it generally seems like a fine idea to listen to him. Kristy Swanson then flirts with Luke Perry while training to stake some bloodsuckers.
Swanson is joined by Ben Affleck and Hilary Swank as vacuous teens in a highly dated but no less fun horror comedy. Reubens was a huge inspiration for our own short film Drunkula. Plus, anytime you crown Rutger Hauer prom king, you can count us in.
4. The Lost Boys (1987)
Out and proud Hollywood director Joel Schumacher spins a yarn of Santa Carla, a town with a perpetual coastal carnival and the nation’s highest murder rate. A roving band of cycle-riding vampires haunts the carnival and accounts for the carnage, until Diane Weist moves her family to town. While hottie Michael (Jason Patric) is being seduced into the demon brethren, younger brother Sam (Corey Haim) teams up with local goofballs the Frog brothers (Corey Feldman and Jamison Newlander) to stake all bloodsuckers.
Michael’s a recent high school grad, and the coven of vampires seems to also be allegedly the same roundabout age. Certainly Sam and the Frog Brothers would be high school age, although none of them turn. (Spoiler!)
What’s most fun about this movie is how gloriously gay it is, from the “will he or won’t he” chemistry between Michael and David to Sam’s Rob Lowe poster to the grinding sax man, Schumacher’s film finds sexuality in the vampire tale that swings.
3. Fright Night (1985)
Fright Night takes that Eighties, Goonies-style adventure (kids on an adult-free quest of life and death) and uses the conceit to create something tense and scary, and a bit giddy as well. The feature debut as both writer and director for Tom Holland, the film has some sly fun with the vampire legend.
Roddy McDowall got much deserved love at the time for his turn as a washed-up actor from horror’s nostalgic past, and Chris Sarandon put his rich baritone to campy, sinister use.
Still, everyone’s favorite character was Evil Ed, the manic, pitiful loser turned bloodsucking minion. Credit Stephen Geoffreys for an electric and, at least in one scene, heartbreaking performance.
2. My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It To (2020)
Making an unnervingly assured feature film debut, writer/director Jonathan Cuartas commingles The Transfiguration’s image of lonely, awkward adolescence with Relic’s horror of familial obligation to create a heartbreaking new vampire tale.
Many things are left unsaid (including the word “vampire’), and My Heart Can’t Beat Unless You Tell It To confines itself to the daily drudgery of three siblings. Dwight (Patrick Fugit) longs to break these family chains, but sister Jessie (Ingrid Sophie Schram) holds him tight with shame, love, and obligation to little brother, the afflicted Thomas (Owen Campbell).
What could easily have become its own figurative image of the masculine longing for freedom mines far deeper concerns. Cuartas weaves loneliness into that freedom, tainting the concept of independence with a terrifying, even dangerous isolation that leaves you with no one to talk to and no way to get away from yourself.
1. The Transfiguration (2016)
Milo likes vampire movies.
So, it would seem, does writer/director Michael O’Shea, whose confident feature debut shows us the relationship between the folklore and the life of a forlorn high school outcast.
Eric Ruffin plays Milo, a friendless teen who believes he is a vampire. What he is really is a lonely child who finds solace in the romantic idea of this cursed, lone predator. But he’s committed to his misguided belief.
O’Shea’s film borrows ideas from George Romero’s Martin, Tomas Alfredson’s Let the Right One In, and openly gushes over Murnau’s Nosferatu. Inside and out, the film draws on the best in vampire cinema to help Milo deal with a world in which he is a freak no matter what he decides to do.
Ian Tuason’s paranormal podcast feature Undertone offers a lot of reasons to be impressed. It’s a single location shoot, and almost a one-hander. Aside from a catatonic mother (Michéle Duquet) and a variety of voices, Nina Kiri is on her own.
Kiri plays Evy, who is recording her paranormal podcast Undertone from her dying mother’s house. Evy’s been staying at Mom’s for a while now, and if she’s honest about it, she’d like it to just be over with. Evy’s waiting for the death rattle.
She loves Mama, but the relationship is thorny with Catholic guilt and shame. We sense this more than see it as Tuason crowds his set design with Catholic iconography. It’s a busy if impressive set, and Tuason makes great use of it with fascinating camera work. He uses mainly stationary cameras, often set off-angle so they feel more like a voyeur’s or ghost’s point of view, or even a security camera. The movement reinforces that sense. On the rare occasion that the camera does move, it does so in an obviously mechanical way that even more closely resembles security footage.
This gives the film a Paranormal Activity vibe—fitting, as Tuason is slated to write and direct the next installment in the found footage franchise.
But Undertone is less about what you see and more about what you hear. The somewhat oppressive sound design is intentional, of course, and frequently effective.
Kiri delivers a heroic performance. Not only has she no conscious actor to react to, but the vast majority of her performance is simply Evy, in headphones, listening to something.
The film falls apart at the story level. Evy and her podcast co-host Justin (voiced by Adam DiMarco) decide to listen to a set of 10 audio files emailed to them anonymously. The files conjure up something supernatural that, combined with Evy’s isolated, spooky, guilt-laden environment, starts affecting her headspace.
But the sound files and podcast are silly. The mythology within the house—Evy’s relationship with Catholicism and her mother, the demonic yarn being revealed by the audio files—none of it comes together into a coherent horror story. And worst of all, nothing happens.
Undertone is an impressive technical achievement but the story’s just not there.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year! The time when we celebrate the bad horror lurking in Oscar nominees’ closets. Because we have a lot of return nominees, we have some overlap with earlier years. But there is also fresh blood…
5. Amy Madigan, Antlers (2021)
Scott Cooper reimagines the Wendigo legend to lead us through a dour metaphor full of familiar genre tropes and leave us with a brutal, great-looking, well-acted lecture.
Antlers is not a terrible film. But it has at least one incredibly stupid scene, and that scene stars the otherwise incredible Amy Madigan. She plays a school principal who stops at a student’s home to check on him and then–in a film that otherwise mainly avoids those “what a stupid decision” horror cliches—makes every stupid decision an educated professional could make. There is nothing believable about one step of it, however hard the talented veteran tries. It it so dumb that our friends Tyrone and Vernell abandoned the good characters and joined “Team Creature.”
4. Renate Reinsve: Dark Woods II/Villmark Asylum (2015)
Pål Øie followed up his surprise hit Villmark – a cabin in the woods horror – with this odd sequel set in the high hills above those woods, where an old hospital used after WWII is being prepared for destruction.
Øie lifts most of his story from Brad Anderson’s far superior Session 9, mixing in some Nazi style experimentation and creatures. It’s not a terrible movie, and characteristically, Renate Reinsve, gives a strong performance. There are some real scares, too, and the cast on the whole is solid. The mythology makes little to no sense, the leaps in logic are impressive, and in the end, it’s not memorable outside the early career work of one of the most talented actors working today.
3. Stellan Skarsgård: Deep Blue Sea (1999)
Skarsgård’s made his fair share of horror. We considered both of his Exorcist movies for this list, but since they’re basically the same movie, which too choose?
Deep Blue Sea is a fun B-movie creature feature. It’s mindless, violent, action packed, and Skarsgård gets one of the most ludicrous deaths in horror.
2. Benicio del Toro: The Wolfman (2010)
We had such hopes for this one when it came out. That cast! Benicio Del Toro, Anthony Hopkins, Hugo Weaving, Emily Blunt!
Good God, was it awful. If you can look past the idea that Hopkins and Del Toro could be father and son, look past the insipid plot, look past Hopkins’s hamminess or del Toro’s disinterest, you cannot look past the heinous FX. But Blunt handles herself really, really well.
1. Leonardo DiCaprio: Critters 3 (1991)
Long before Django Unchained, Titanic, or even What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, a barely pubescent Leo DiCaprio donned a day-glow t-shirt and a pre-teen scowl to battle Gremlin rip-offs in Critters 3.
They are furry, toothy, ravenous beasts from outer space and, until episode 3, they were content to terrify rural folk. But now they’re in the big city, and (in a clear rip off of the not-quite-as-terrible film Troll), they are pillaging a single apartment building and terrifying all those trapped inside. It’s a comedy, really, the kind with farting furballs and dunderheaded people. Which is to say, one that’s not particularly funny.
Serving up the same derivative comedy/horror pap you can find in one out of every three films made that decade, Critters 3 has a lot of hair in scrunchies, oversized blouses belted over colorful leggings, stereotypes, and actors on their careers’ last legs. And Leonardo DiCaprio, which will forever be the only reason this movie was released to DVD.
New to Shudder this week is Matthew John Lawrence’s (Peckerhead) charming dismantling of the slasher genre and insightful look at the impact of adolescence on the generations.
Bloody Axe Wound stars a spunky Sari Arambulo as Abbie Bladecut. Her family video store lives and dies on the movies they package and rent, slashers starring her dad, the infamous serial killer Roger Bladecut (Billy Burke under heavy prosthetics), slashing his way through their hometown’s high school students and campers alike.
But ol’ Roger’s getting old. Well, technically he died as a boy at that campground, but for decades he’s been a grown man haunting Lover’s Lane and other tropey spots, coming back from the dead whenever the adventure takes that turn. But lately, well, he doesn’t seem to be healing as quickly. He’s lost a step or two.
Perfect! Because Abbie’s ready to step in. Dad reluctantly, tentatively agrees, sending her to the town high school to make minced meat of the chosen clique. But Abbie soon realizes that these kids are not so bad.
The film delivers some honest moments, however comedically staged, about watching your child outgrow you, lose their need for you, see what used to be honored tradition as old fashioned nonsense in need of change. Bloody Axe Wound is sharpest when Lawrence and his game ensemble use the coming-of-age storyline to make points about horror movies, and slashers in particular.
Burke and Arambulo share a delightfully begrudging chemistry, and their scenes at home and at the video store are populated with genre-loving easter eggs that suit the meta undertaking.
Likewise, the cast of high school misfits—Molly Brown, Margot Anderson-Song, Taylor Watson Seupel and Eddie Leavy—create a warm friend group you can see wanting to hang out with.
The kills (and near kills) are often clever and the characterizations are funny. The film’s mythology gets mushy and the story comes to a close with more of a nod to horror tropes than an acknowledgment of the internal conflicts and genuine emotion the story built, but it’s still fun.
