Monkey Shines (1988)

An athletic young man, Allan (Jason Beghe) is rendered quadriplegic and reliant on wheelchair use after being struck by a truck. He struggles to adjust to his new life, dependent on his domineering mother and uncaring ex-girlfriend to assist him. Luckily, he is given a life line in the form of a Capuchin monkey, trained to perform basic tasks on his behalf. At first it’s an almost utopian solution, with Allan even embarking on a relationship with the monkey’s trainer, Melanie (Kate McNeil). However, things soon turn sour when it becomes apparent that the tinkering of Allan’s scientist friend Geoffrey (John Pankow) has made the monkey’s loyalty to Allen a fatal danger to others.

Monkey Shines has exactly the sort of ridiculous premise that I love – the high concept of ‘service monkey on a rampage’ is very appealing. It’s a bit of a shame, then, that the ridiculous monkey stuff is all embedded in something of a more tedious melodrama. A lot of time is spent on Allan’s situation – not only his new-found disability, but his relationships too. No doubt this is meant to be character building, but when what you’re after is monkey violence, it doesn’t make for the most engaging watch (‘Allan Man’ is at least an appropriately bland name for our hero). There are also some tonally uneven moments of comedy, which are confusing, though perhaps the aim was for Gremlins – only the humour here isn’t quite dark enough to come close to the giddy heights reached by that masterpiece.

When the monkey violence does kick in, it’s very entertaining. There’s a reassuring disclaimer at the start of the film letting us know that the monkeys were all fully trained and happy while filming, and the evident switch from ‘real monkey’ to dummy is just as reassuring in the film itself. There are a few outstanding moments – notably near the end of the film – that show off some trademark gore from Tom Savini and Greg Nicotero. The film could certainly have done with at least 20 minutes less melodrama and upping the ante on the ridiculous – and entertaining – central concept.

That being said, it’s to the film’s credit that it doesn’t shy away from its potentially bad taste premise. The difficulties faced by Allan are handled very neatly, without being patronising or pandering – those sentiments are placed squarely in the mouths and attitudes of characters in the film, not the film itself. Allan is laid bare, unashamedly, and it doesn’t ever seem all that exploitative (all things considered). Of course, all the science and medicine is dodgy, but it’d be no fun otherwise.

It’s strange seeing such a high-budget film from George A Romero, being his first and last studio production, and I suppose it might be easy to attribute the studio’s interference with the film for its lack of charm. The cast are all perfectly fine, but aside from a suitably sleazy Stanley Tucci in a small role, no one really stands out – except perhaps it’s fair to say that Jason Beghe’s more extreme moments with the monkey are impressive if only because he’s kept a straight face.

All in all, Monkey Shines is worth a watch, certainly, and I imagine if I’d watched this when I was younger and on VHS maybe I’d have loved it. But, for the most part, I’m glad primarily to have seen it for the sense of completion at ticking off another Romero from the to-watch list.

Monkey Shines is available now on dual format Blu-ray/DVD, from Eureka Home Entertainment.

 

Revenge (2017)

Coralie Fargeat’s aptly-titled rape-revenge film caused quite the stir on the rounds of genre festivals last year, and has also had the honour of its own UK tour thanks to Birds Eye View’s Reclaim the Frame series. Revenge is a rape-revenge film made by a woman, which I suppose might, for some, make it a feminist coup from the outset. I’m not sure I’d go that far, but it is easily one of the best rape-revenge films for some years now, that manages a nice balance between unsettling some tropes and satisfyingly bloody vengeance.

French millionaire Richard (Kevin Janssens) arrives by helicopter at a lavish desert house with his American mistress, Jen (Matilda Lutz), in tow. The couple plans to spend a couple of days together before Stan’s friends Stan (Vincent Colombe) and Dimitri (Guillaume Bouchède) arrive so the men can have their annual hunting trip. But Stan and Dimitri arrive a day early, and spend an evening drinking with the illicit couple. The next day, all three men leave Jen for dead after Stan rapes her. However, they soon realise that Jen has survived, and the hunters become the hunted.

Revenge is a very stylish film and that extends to its depiction of its heroine. She is a socialite, seemingly in this relationship with Richard for the lifestyle – we’re not told enough about her (or him) to understand if there is some deeper connection between them other than he’s rich and she’s hot. His wealth is as objectified as she is. Beyond that superficiality they’re not unlikeable, as such, but there’s certainly not much depth to them. The way the first ten minutes or so of the film plays out, just them and a big house reminded me more of a video for a David Guetta tune than a film – she walks around in her pants a lot, he watches. When his friends first show up, for a while it plays out the same, but knowing the genre we’re in it doesn’t take much to see where things are going. It’s not so much Fargeat’s leering gaze at Jen that’s subversive in the film, but that Jen is depicted as comfortable with being the subject of that gaze. She dances for the men when they spend the night drinking, and her identity is closely tied, arguably entirely so, to her looks. This seems like a challenge to our sympathies, a trigger to the ‘but she was asking for it’ crowd. That Jen is comfortable with being looked at is not the same thing as consent, quite evidently.

What’s refreshing in the film, in considering it in its broader genre context, is that the rape scene is remarkably short – I Spit On Your Grave it really, really ain’t. However, what it does incorporate very well is all the other verbal traumas that a man might inflict upon a woman – from Stan’s ‘seduction’ of Jen, wherein he tries to convince her to have sex with him despite her clear opposition to the idea, through to Dimitri ignoring the rape while it’s happening and Richard blaming Jen for her own assault. Revenge may have a relatively short rape scene, but the traumas inflicted upon her are numerous – not least of all the trauma that results in her being left for dead by the men.

So, the film is primarily comprised of the revenge aspect of the narrative, and gosh, is it good. The film doesn’t shy away from getting bloody, and its success really rides on its all-in approach to gore. The bloody effects are glorious, and the vengeance set-pieces delivered with aplomb by an increasingly badass Lutz as Jen. Anything less – or less convincingly done – and things perhaps might not have been quite so entertaining. Jen becomes almost goddess-like in her vengeance – there are many, many instances of unsubtle symbolism in the film – and it’s an enjoyable depiction of the super-human qualities that female characters often seem to take on in these films. Considering the small cast, the second half of the film doesn’t really lose steam, and despite the film’s long run-time.

For all its more unsubtle elements, the film does also have something interesting to suggest about the commodification of people. When Stan and Dimitri first arrive at the house, they view Jen through the coloured glass of a floor-to-ceiling window, which frames her like a doll still in its box. She’s repeatedly referred to as irresistible, and, in the film’s climactic scene, Jen and Richard battle it out while a crass infomercial for a home shopping channel plays on a loop in the background. There’s something to be said, I think, for the close link then of Jen to Richard’s wealth, and the way in which that informs his ‘love’ for her – and his claim to her bodily autonomy.

Fargeat’s strong script and visual flair make the film, I think, and Lutz’s performance as the steely Jen is memorable – less so the male characters, but I think that’s essentially the point. The soundtrack is one of those ubiquitous synth jobs that genre films have at the moment, but the sprinkling of Bangalter in its Carpenter-eseque sounds makes it memorable. Revenge is a film well worth checking out if you’re after a film that’s fresh and wildly entertaining, but not entirely brainless.

Revenge is released to digital HD VOD in the UK on 7th September, from Vertigo Releasing.

Cinepocalypse 2018 Review: Satan’s Slaves (2017)

A potentially confusing title for anyone more familiar with Norman J Warren’s work than Indonesian genre classics, Joko Anwar’s Satan’s Slaves is a remake of a 1980 film of the same name. Anwar retains the 1980s setting and delivers a modern take on demonic possession, ritual and societal pressures. The film is currently screening at festivals worldwide, including Chicago’s Cinepocalypse, where it screened this past weekend.

Rini (Tara Basro) lives at home with her younger siblings Tony (Endy Arfian), Bondi (Nasar Anuz) and youngest Ian (Muhammad Adhiyat). Her mother Mawarni (Ayu Laksmi) is bed-bound by illness, while her father (Bront Palarae) and grandmother (Elly D. Lutha) struggle to maintain financial security for the family. When Mawarni dies, Rini is left to keep order on things while her father visits the city to settle up some finances. The household is increasingly disturbed as the boys all experience strange apparitions around the house. When the siblings discover their grandmother dead, an old acquaintance of the family (Egy Fedly) reveals long-kept secrets that might hold the key to the increasingly strange occurrences around them.

Satan’s Slaves is a wonderful haunted house movie that throws in elements of many other stalwart horror subgenres. Its scares are gloriously crafted with a couple of real stand-out sequences. These are heightened by a building sense of the familiar becoming unfamiliar, in both the living and the dead. The only distraction is its over-reliance on stingers, which unnecessarily under-line moments of fright, but put that aside and it’s a real fun house of a film. There are a few moments of slightly ropey SFX, but they’re totally negligible in the bigger picture of how well they’re used – including an unexpected moment of almost Fulci-esque gore.

There is certainly a lot going on in Satan’s Slaves, and there are a few changes in direction as the film progresses. As such you do have really be paying attention to keep up (I confess to uttering a ‘who are they, now?!’ at one point). The film manages its hefty narrative by rooting everything in its central family, though, lead mostly by Rini. Tara Basro gives a wonderful lead performance both in the quieter moments of domestic drama and the moments of out-right horror. The relationships between, particularly, the siblings are wonderfully constructed, and the performances from the younger actors are a delight.

There are thematic threads in the film that point to more slightly more profound concerns than fun-house scares – namely in the family’s secularity and their financial struggles. Mawarni was once a famous singer, and due to her illness the income her family receives has dried up, supposedly even from royalties. Tony sells his bike to help contribute to the household’s costs. Charmingly, none of the kids are bratty or annoying, even when they fight or irritate each other, which is quite the feat. The family also seeks help from the local religious leader, who suggests ways of dealing with the apparitions, and that perhaps this might not have happened had the family been stricter in their faith. The film is not so heavy-handed as to suggest right or wrong in either direction, which is entirely to its benefit.

Further to the film’s benefit is its rather magnificent look – the set dressing and costume design are spot on and provide a very rich sense of time and place. The rather cavernous bungalow in which most of the film’s scares take place is dressed sparsely but effectively – both for the set up of its scares and for portraying the sense of a once-wealthier family now facing hardship. Anyone who’s a sucker for period detail will likewise enjoy what’s on offer in the design.

Satan’s Slaves is a rock-solid scary film – characters to care about, well-paced and constructed scares and a deliciously creepy ending. Certainly, a film for repeat viewing, and I for one will be looking forward to seeing this title crop up elsewhere on the big screen before hopefully receiving a solid home release.

Our thanks to Cinepocalypse 2018 for granting us this preview of Satan’s Slaves.

Susu (2018)

Qian (Zitong Wu) and Aimo (Zhu Lin) are two Chinese students studying in London. In order to make some extra money, they take a weekend job at a country estate transcribing and translating old film footage of famed singer Susu (Junjie Mao). When the friends find things uncomfortable with their strange hosts, Shirley (Steve Edwin), housekeeper Margaret (Laura June Hudson) and Susu’s son Benjamin (Frederick Szkoda), they try to leave, but through various turns and machinations they cannot get back to the city and the mysterious Susu’s story comes to light…

Susu is the debut feature film from writer-director Yixi Sun. There’s a bit too much going on in Susu, and I think that’s ultimately its downfall; however, the story is intriguing and the film shows a lot of promise and potential in its maker. For a debut film it’s perhaps too ambitious – although the film looks gorgeous, its low budget shows in other ways, and the story unfolds rather clumsily. That being said, the story is interesting enough, and unusual enough, that my interest never really waned too much.

Zitong Wu is wonderful as the film’s lead Qian, and she and Zhu Lin’s Aimo hold the film together for the most part. Their story is the one I wanted to see, and there are one or two too many complications involved that distract from it. The performances around them are less strong, some line deliveries being particularly poor, so it’s rather instrumental that Wu and Lin are as convincing as they are.

Confusing matters are a myriad other characters, including the particularly throwaway role of Joia (Roslyn Hill), a journalist who is researching Susu at the house the same weekend Qian and Aimo stay there. The strangeness of Shirley, Margaret and Benjamin feels like something of a throw-back to eccentric British horror of the 70s and 80s (Susu is produced by British horror legend Norman J Warren), but the film is overall so po-faced that this doesn’t seem to quite work on that level. Other things that feel like throw-backs include the rather unfortunate Shirley, who is a cross-dresser, in what’s really quite a rather out-of-date short hand for, as it transpires, ‘mentally unstable’. There’s no narrative reason for Shirley’s character to play in quite the way it does, and that’s a shame. The film’s final act convolutes and confuses in a way that’s almost unforgiveable, but I had enough sympathy with, and investment in Qian that it just about gets away with it (the very last scene, however, is terrible and should never have made it to the final cut).

Susu, the film’s title character, is predominantly unseen in a mysterious past which is uncovered as the film goes on. Qian and Aimo also have secrets, hinted at but kept mostly hidden, and these parallel stories are the heart of the film for me. There are some interesting inferences to be made in the story about orientalism, exploitation and class, but they’re subtle and, frankly, possibly not even intentional. Had these bigger ideas been eked out a bit more then the serious tone of the film might have made more sense. As it is – with a tendency toward melodrama – the film could really have done with a dose of humour or camp to match.

All in all Susu is perhaps something of a clumsy film. It doesn’t quite seem to know what mode its working in – it uses horror tropes, but its story and feel is pure mystery or melodrama, and these things don’t quite gel together in the finished product. It does look lovely, though, and it has an intriguing story that just about holds up. As a first feature it showcases a great deal of potential, and in that regard it’s certainly worth keeping an eye on.

Susu has its European premiere at the East End Film Festival on 26th April; further details and tickets available here.

 

Blue My Mind (2017)

It’s been pleasing to see an apparent rise in films about girls and the aftermath of adolescence in the horror genre of late, with 2016’s Raw perhaps being the stand-out example. Blue My Mind is the latest, and it’s a striking and engaging film. The young woman at the centre of the film is Mia (Luna Wedler), who has just moved to a new town. Immediately attracted to the bad kids in her class, namely Gianna (Zoë Pastelle Holthuizen), Nelly (Lou Haltinner) and Vivi (Yael Meier), Mia struggles to fit in. They reject her at first, but soon the girls are Mia’s only source of happiness in the new town, particularly as she feels increasingly alienated from her parents. When her body starts to show signs of change – webbed toes and strange bruises – Mia becomes increasingly reliant on the normality offered by her wayward friends while she struggles to understand what’s happening to her.

A few years back I had the pleasure of seeing Der Nachtmahr at Imagine Film Festival, a film that still, for some reason, doesn’t seem to have been released in the UK. From seeing the trailer to Blue My Mind, I was immediately reminded of Der Nachtmahr, and the comparison is, I think, an apt one, though they might be flipsides of each other. Telling similar stories of distressed young women, where Der Nachtmahr is often loud, brash and aggressive in its style, Blue My Mind is the softer flipside, the hazy Spring Breakers-esque style being the dominant form.

That’s not to say that Blue My Mind is remotely a soft film, though – far from it. Its slow pace will be a challenge, and I did wonder early on whether my attention might drift or if the film might not reward my patience. The film proved me very wrong, in that regard. The narrative builds in a very subtle and ultimately very satisfying way, and the deliberate pace is an important part of that. The film is not without moments of action or loudness – it’s often about girls behaving badly, after all – but those moments never break with the overall tone of the film. Quite how a film succeeds in being both leisurely and urgent is beyond my interpretive skills, but that’s how it feels watching it, particularly in its final 20 minutes or so.

Blue My Mind is also a visual and aural treat – water and the colour blue are both recurring elements of that, as you might expect. There’s also a really refreshing depiction of female bodies – even though they are self-sexualised by these teen characters, there’s never a feeling of exploitation in how they’re depicted on screen. They wear skimpy clothes and copy sexy dance moves, but the way the film presents them to us is notably non-sexualised, and, further still, non-judgemental.

The film appears to do a great job of depicting modern teenagers, because at several instances I felt myself thinking, ‘young people are weird’. They skip school, shoplift, do drugs, drink, have sex with strangers, party and at one point partake in a breath play dare. Do real teenagers do all of these things, seemingly all the time? Who knows, but the film is about the outcast naughty kids in class, and what it does brilliantly is make them sympathetic: they’re bitchy and aggressive with each other, but they resolutely look after each other. The central bond between Mia and Gianna is built up so carefully and so well that by the film’s climax you can’t but believe that they would really do anything for each other.

It might be the female friendships that really make Blue My Mind stand out, but it also features a glorious display of body horror, as Mia experiences the inexplicable contortion and change of her body. This change manifests in her behaviour, too – she keeps compulsively eating the family goldfish – but primarily in the slow change of her legs through mottled bruising that spreads and skin that peels away. The trailer for the film shows us a bit too much, and from that I had my concerns that the film would lose its impact as a result, but not so. When Mia takes her final form it is elegant, believable, and just the right amount of grotesque.

Quite specifically what Mia’s experience is a representation of is open to interpretation, but whatever the interpretation, it’s a very well-presented metaphor for deteriorating mental health. At the same time, it’s also archly mythological, and needn’t be read as metaphor at all. Blue My Mind offers a complex and rewarding experience, making for essential viewing.

Blue My Mind will be showing as part of the East End Film Festival this April. For further information about this festival, please click here.

Re:Born (2016)

Re:Born marks the grand return of action star Tak Sakaguchi, in what is obviously a bit of a passion project. More a showcase of raw talent than a particularly coherent film, Re:Born is nevertheless hugely enjoyable if you like watching a whole load of remarkable fight choreography. The narrative is familiar: former special operative Toshiro (Tak Sakaguchi) now lives a quiet life in a small town with his adopted niece Sachi (Yura Kondo), but that sense of normality is shattered when his past catches up with him, and he must re-visit is deadly skills in order to protect all he believes in.

The story is paper-thin, but that’s intentionally so – this is foremost a chance to watch skilled performers and martial artists do their thing. That around 40 minutes or so of the film is taken up by an extended fight sequence in a forest indicates that well enough. If you’re expecting a necessarily involving story, then you might want to look elsewhere, but, having said that, for me there’s enough charisma and acting chops from the cast to make it work. Sakaguchi, in particular, manages to exude a brooding charisma despite a very un-showy performance. The way in which the film recounts Toshiro’s past life doesn’t always quite work – jump cuts are used in a very disorientating way, signalling flash back scenes or moments from a different timeline. It makes following what we’re being shown difficult, but, when it comes to the action, the editing is very well done.

Naturally, the action is what we’re here for. While the film features some interesting parallels to The Mo Brothers’ Headshot, namely in its depiction of children trained and used as henchmen, the action that’s found in Re:Born is distinctly different from what we’re used to in either the violent South East Asian action of Thai or Indonesian productions, or from the balletic style of modern wuxia films. With Re:Born, Sakaguchi, director Yûji Shimomura and combat director Inagawa Yoshitaka present an incredibly efficient vision of action and combat: the film boasts not so much fight scenes as very long sequences of very short fights, Sakaguchi less beating people up as dispatching them with a few strikes. Based on Yoshitaka’s own brand of combat, this ‘zero range combat’ is a marvel to watch on screen (and I only wish I could have seen this on a big screen for that very reason).

If this style of quick brutality sounds potentially repetitive, well, it is, but the film is mostly paced well and it really shines when Sakaguchi faces off with more impressive foes – his fight with child-soldier Casper (the brilliant Makoto Sakaguchi) being a particular highlight for me. The film also has a certain sense of realism to it – Toshiro dresses ready for battle in baggy clothes, and takes a moment to re-tie his ponytail, mid-battle. Moments in the film slightly undermine this, such as his nevertheless entertaining fight with assassin Newt (Mariko Shinoda), who is a short-skirted badass who rather seems to have stepped out of a different film.

Unfortunately, this release doesn’t include much by way of special features – a making of would be very welcome, for example, but rather it comes with just a very short festival introduction by the cast and crew (which makes more sense once you watch the film) and a couple of trailers. The film looks great, though, and I can’t recommend it enough to anyone who enjoys watching intricate martial arts work unfold in phenomenal fashion.

Re:Born is out now on DVD and Blu-ray from Eureka Home Entertainment.

House (Hausu) (1977)

A teenage girl, angry at her father for wanting to remarry, invites her schoolfriends to spend the summer break with her at her maternal aunt’s house in the countryside. Once there, the girls realise not all is right with the house, and they need all their wits about them to escape the terrible place.

A film like House is a joy to watch. Over 40 years since it was made, Obayashi’s feature debut is a true phantasmagoria of a film: inventive, exciting and downright weird. A haunted house tale with a pop-feminine sensibility, the teen girls who populate the house might be named for their stock personality traits, yet for this suggestion of superficiality they are entirely believable and likeable characters. Performed with verve by the inexperienced actresses who portray them, this is an entirely charming cast of characters at the mercy of a vengeful haunted house.

The film is visually arresting before the girls even reach the house, with colourful, overly-saturated skies and landscapes providing the backdrop for seemingly idyllic school days for these girls. When Angel, the most popular girl, arrives home to her father who has returned from a trip a day early, that idyll is destroyed – he intends to remarry and introduces Angel to her ‘new mother’. Unhappy, and recalling her mother, Angel decides to spend the summer at her aunt’s house and invites her dear friends to join her. Their journey to the house is a delightfully girlish affair, all giggles and joy, and that is, perhaps strangely, sustained throughout the rest of the film, even as things turn grisly.

House seems to have more in common with earlier Japanese horror films than the grittier, urban violence that seems to have dominated 1970s Japanese genre cinema with the likes of the Stray Cat Rock series. House seems to feature delirious meld of the ghostly goings on of the likes of Kwaidan and Kurneko with the fun and mischief of Yokai Monsters. For all its recall of older films, though, House is decidedly modern, featuring an abundance of knowingly obvious special effects and a killer soundtrack by psych-rock band Godiego. Curious to think, then, that House would lead into the decade that Japanese horror turned extra nasty, with the likes of the Guinea Pig series emerging in abundance.

For a film that often leaves the viewer slack-jawed with a sense of ‘what the hell am I watching’, the film’s conclusion is strikingly beautiful and it’s a real credit to Obayashi that he successfully balances the film’s real sense of madcap terror with the story being told. This was my first time watching the film in full, but its reputation really does precede it – I was surprised, then, at the extent with which it all made sense! That’s quite something for a film which is so absurd and fantastic.

Something that struck me most of all while watching House was the parallels one could draw with Suspiria, made in the same year on the other side of the world. While on the surface quite different films, both are female-led fairy tales, with imposing buildings housing inexplicable goings on. Particular sequences even stood out – the futon-attack in House, for example, seeming like the fluffy flip-side to Sara’s fall in razor-wire in Suspiria. What a double-bill that would make for.

House is the sort of film that doesn’t appear often: firmly grounded in traditions of cinema and storytelling while offering something totally original in its execution. The absurdity and surrealism is a delight, and its blend of horror, fantasy and melodrama is delicious. There is no doubt that any number of these elements might be off-putting to viewers – a film at once able to be not enough horror and too much, for example – but for me, it’s a singular work of cinematic brilliance.

House is available now on Blu-Ray from Eureka Entertainment, as part of their Masters of Cinema range.

The Housemaid (2016)

There don’t seem to be a huge number of horror films produced in Vietnam, but one of the most memorable of recent years was Tran Ham’s 2014 possession film Hollow. The similarly supernatural The Housemaid now arrives in the UK on Blu-ray after festival screenings last year, and this is a classy, if flawed, haunted house film, with a strong central performance and a deep-rooted history.

French-occupied Vietnam, 1953. Linh (Kate Nhung) is a poor country girl who looks to a former plantation for work. The staff takes pity on her and hires her, though they don’t seem to give her a warm welcome. Linh meets the owner of the plantation, Captain Laurent (Jean-Michel Richaud), and soon learns why the staff are so on edge – strange things happen in the house and its grounds, and whispers say that Laurent’s dead wife Camille (Svitlana Kovalenko) still roams the house. Despite the fearful atmosphere, Linh falls in love with Laurent and the embark on a whirlwind of an affair… until the past catches up with both of them.

The film drips with Gothic decadence. The rundown mansion is a wonderful setting for the admittedly mostly standard jump-scares and spooky goings-on, but they’re pulled off with a lovely sense of style and panache. The historical setting is rich, and here’s where I have to admit to knowing very, very little about the French occupation of Vietnam. The film is set during the very tail-end of this period, with around a year left of the First Indochinese War. Perhaps it’s down to my relative ignorance that it makes for such an intriguing backdrop, but something I genuinely enjoy about watching films like this is getting insights to unfamiliar histories.

The Housemaid is at its weakest when it’s a romance, and it’s perhaps unfortunate that it’s as much a romance as it is a horror film. Just that little bit too much time is spent establishing and confirming the relationship between Linh and Laurent, and it doesn’t quite sizzle as much as it should (it’s almost impossible to not at least slightly think about how good The Handmaiden is when watching, er, The Housemaid). While Kate Nhung is really wonderful as Linh throughout, Jean-Michel Richaud is frankly exceptionally bland as Laurent. Having to spend quite so much time watching them seduce and be seduced wears thin quite quickly – and the arrival of Laurent’s equally as bland fiancée Madeline (Rosie Fellner) doesn’t help matters. That being said, the relationship is key to how the horror plays out and how the narrative is resolved overall.

And that resolution, played out over the film’s final third or so, really is great. Even though my attention was waning from the weak middle section, the finale had me more than engrossed. Linh comes into her own in unexpected ways, and the way in which truths are revealed are very satisfying. There’s a lovely sense of ickiness to the horror as it progresses, and if anything, the film’s conclusion more than makes up for the earlier drudging pace.

The Housemaid is a satisfying, unashamedly gothic horror that’s well worth your time – as long as you can make it through the tedious romance.

The Housemaid is available on dual format DVD/Blu-ray on 19th February, as part of Eureka Entertainment’s new Montage Pictures range. 

Tokyo Ghoul (2017)

Tokyo Ghoul is a film based on a very popular anime and manga, and though I have since started on the anime, when I saw the film I knew very little about the series other than the brief synopsis. Bear that in mind then, when I say I enjoyed the film a great deal – no purist am I – and I acknowledge that a greater familiarity with the source material might have meant otherwise. The film is exactly what I both wanted and expected: kinda dumb, kinda melodramatic, delightfully over the top in its action and gore…in short, a lot of fun.

The film concerns regular university student Ken (Masataka Kubota), who likes reading, hanging out with his best friend Hide (Kai Ogasawara), and crushing on Rize (Yū Aoi). The world Ken inhabits is not so regular, however, as Tokyo has a ghoul problem – a humanoid species which survives on a diet of, well, people. A chance encounter leaves Ken mortally wounded, until a full organ transplant saves his life. Unfortunately for him, those organs were from a deceased ghoul, and Ken now finds himself existing as a rare creature indeed: half-ghoul, half-human, unable to live in the human world but disgusted by the ghoul world. He’s taken in by the staff of the cafe he used to frequent, Anteiku, which is in fact a safe haven for pacifistic ghouls, headed up by Yoshimura (Kunio Murai). There Ken is taken under the wing of hostile Touka (Fumika Shimizu) and he soon adjusts to his new life – only to have it all thrown into turmoil when he’s introduced to Agents Amon (Nobuyuki Suzuki) and Mado (Yō Ōizumi) of the CCG, the organisation tasked with wiping out ghouls once and for all.

Yes, that’s right, Tokyo Ghoul is basically a vampire story. Ghouls and vampires are not strictly similar – ghouls eat human flesh, can walk around freely in daylight, have elaborate hidden appendages known as kagune which are pretty nifty in a fight – but the story structured around these creatures and characters is fairly familiar. It’s nice, then, that the film still manages to be so entertaining, despite the sense of familiarity. That’s down, in part, to the earnestness of the performances, and the great sense of pacing – melodrama and action run along at good speed for its 2-hour run time.

The cast is all-round strong, and Masataka Kubota particularly does a great job as the perpetually conflicted Ken Kaneki, managing to never tip an emotional role into parody. Yō Ōizumi is immensely entertaining as the sadistic Mado, while the rest of the supporting cast is strong. Although the relationships in the story are portrayed with a healthy does of arch-melodrama, Tokyo Ghoul rather pulls it off, and interesting secondary – perhaps crucially human – characters such as Hide and Touka’s best friend Yoriko (Seika Furuhata) add a satisfying sense of depth and emotional investment.

Chances are if you’re going in cold you’re not necessarily watching Tokyo Ghoul for the story world – and, good thing is, the action more than holds up too. The ghouls’ kagune, tentacle-like appendages unique to each individual, make for imaginatively staged fight scenes – and if you think that sounds silly, wait ‘til you see what a quinque is. There is a certain element of camp to the film, particularly when you factor in the design of Ken’s ghoul mask, but it’s so well balanced that it never becomes overbearing. Even if it did, I dare say it would still be mighty enjoyable.

All in all, Tokyo Ghoul is unlikely to win you over if you’re not a fan of over-the-top manga adaptations in the vein of Attack on Titan or Parasyte, but if you are, then it’s just the ticket.

Tokyo Ghoul is in select UK cinemas from January 31st. Find out where it’s showing near you on the Anime Ltd website.

Nia’s Films of the Year 2017

To me, 2017 has been quite the bumper cinematic year. It helps that we’ve expanded our remit a bit here at Warped Perspective, so if you’ll forgive my indulgence, I’ve expanded my end of year list to fifteen films, plus special mentions. I’ve not been able to review or write about as many as I would have liked to this year, and there are still some major omissions simply because they’re films I’ve not seen (such as The Killing of a Sacred Deer, Destruction Babies, A Cure for Wellness, Antiporno, I Am Not Madame Bovary…or any number of other titles) – alternatively, some films might be on last year’s list (Raw, The Lure).

Hopefully it’ll soon become evident that this list really is a mixed bag of obscure things I’ve seen at festivals, so-called arthouse cinema and big budget nonsense you’re probably sick of. I am, at least, honest, but I’ve tried to keep the list to the broadly genre/arty/weird end of things, even if some of the entries are hugely mainstream.

On the strength of this year I’m hopeful 2018 will continue to bring high quality and interesting filmmaking, but I’m already particularly looking forward to Black Panther, Proud Mary, A Wrinkle in Time, Laplace’s Witch, Legend of the Demon Cat, Mary and the Witch’s Flower…and no doubt plenty of other titles that will grace a similar list to this next year.

These aren’t in a specific nor solid order of preference, but I have started with the ones that probably have no business being on a list on this website but that I just couldn’t not include…so maybe scroll the first few before getting to the genre meat!

Kedi (Ceyda Torun, Turkey 2016)

Look, I know this doesn’t really fit the WP remit at all, but there was no way I was not going to include this delightful documentary on my list. As much a film about the people of Istanbul as it is about cats, Kedi is an absolute treat. Stunningly shot and structured, Kedi is a gem of a film that really must be seen, even if you don’t count yourself as a crazy cat person.

Moonlight (Barry Jenkins, USA 2016)

Moonlight may have benefitted from all the awards-season buzz and fluffed Oscar announcement but it is without a doubt one of the most refreshing and stunningly made films of the year. The film offers a complex story told with remarkable simplicity and beautiful imagery. The cinematography is gorgeous, the performances are revelatory, and the soundtrack manages to be both melancholic and a bit of a banger. Believe the hype. (Moonlight is available now on DVD and Blu-ray from Altitude)

Lady Macbeth (William Oldroyd, UK 2017)

Lady Macbeth is a phenomenal debut for its director and a powerful calling-card for much of its young cast – an ice-cold period drama that’s anything but your usual bodice-ripper. Based on a Russian novel but adapted and transported to Victorian Northern England, the film is lean, sparse and a stunningly told tale of selfishness, complicity and self-preservation. In a year packed with nostalgic British heritage filmmaking, Lady Macbeth is anything but, and manages to be keenly modern while seeming to use the mode of traditional period drama. (Lady Macbeth is available on DVD and Blu-ray from Altitude)

Marlina the Murderer in Four Acts (Mouly Surya, Indonesia 2017)

Mouly Surya’s wonderful film is an under-stated celebration of female resilience and solidarity wrapped in a meditative Western casing. More Slow West than Bone Tomahawk, the two leads ground the film in a friendship forged through necessity, and Dea Panendra and Marsha Timothy give stunning performances. Not without its moments of brutality – both heart-breaking and satisfying – Marlina the Murderer in Four Acts is hugely impressive filmmaking.

Thor: Ragnarok (Taika Waititi, USA 2017)

The Thor­-arm of Disney’s massive Marvel Cinematic Universe finally gets unashamedly silly, as it should, by handing the reins of the latest Space-Viking saga to brilliant comic and filmmaker Taika Waititi. Funny, colourful, big and brash, Thor: Ragnarok has a strange structure and pacing but manages to work through sheer force of fun.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (Rian Johnson, USA 2017)

I’m not sure I was ready for just how polarising a film The Last Jedi has turned out to be. I enjoyed every meandering, joking second of it. There are flaws, certainly, but it truly felt like an epic – some films are meant to feel long, you know? And it did everything I wanted, from its characters, to its set pieces to its thematic concerns. I just hope handing the reins back to J. J. Abrams for Episode IX in 2019 somehow continues this upward ascent of the franchise…

Ben’s review.

Baahubali 2: The Conclusion (S. S. Rajamouli, India 2017)

Scarcely has a film so genuinely blown my socks off the way Baahubali 2 did. Even with all the other big budget action films on this list…Baahubali 2 is still the one that most impressed purely on action terms. I’ve still yet to see the first instalment of the epic story, and even though there were elements of the story that no doubt made more sense or resonated with greater depth having seen the first, the second part is no less enjoyable going in cold.

My review.

Get Out (Jordan Peele, USA 2017)

Every bit as entertaining and smart as the hype suggested, Get Out managed to be one of the few ‘big’ horror films this year that did not end up a disappointment to me. Daniel Kaluuya’s hugely likeable central performance grounds a biting satire and wonderful horror film. (Get Out is available on DVD and Blu-ray from Universal)

Vampire Clay (Sôichi Umezawa, Japan 2017)

Sôichi Umezawa’s debut feature film is a gloriously weird film, with a lo-fi feel that’s already seen it garner a slew of 1-star reviews. However, Vampire Clay is without a doubt one of the most memorable and original films I’ve seen this year. There’s a real grotesqueness to the film, and its demonic clay is both silly and uncanny. There’s a look and feel of desaturated 90s grime to the film that’s gloriously retro and if you can forgive the film the immensely silly ending then it’s well worth a shot.

Hagazussa: A Heathen’s Curse (Lukas Feigelfeld, Germany 2017)

A film that’s easily going to slot into many a ‘if you liked The Witch you’ll love this!’ claims, Hagazussa is arguably an even more powerful depiction of witchcraft and the female psyche. Archly sparse and bleak, this German film is not going to be to everyone’s taste – it’s slow, it’s vague, and it’s miserable. But if that’s your bag then you will adore Hagazussa – and it’s all the more impressive considering this is a feature debut.

I Am Not a Witch (Rungano Nyoni, Zambia 2017)

A film that makes me happy just by its mere existence, I Am Not a Witch is the French-German-Welsh-Zambian co-production that marks a most stunning feature debut from writer-director Rungano Nyoni. Offering a coming of age tale of persecution and self-identity and is both moving and bitingly funny. The film features a stunning central performance from Maggie Mulubwa as the accused child Shula, and showcases Nyoni’s incredible directorial eye. (I Am Not a Witch will be released on DVD and Blu-ray in January by Curzon)

Shin Godzilla (Hideaki Anno & Shinji Higuchi, Japan 2017)

I’m glad to say that my most anticipated film of the year did not disappoint at all. Shin Godzilla is a break-neck, nerdy, political satire with a massive god-like creature stomping all over people. It’s glorious. Godzilla’s iterations are wonderful, the massive cast of human characters is performed so well that characterisation is economical and effective, and the action set-pieces are thrilling – as are the political machinations. Weird though it is to see a film like Shin Godzilla on the DVD shelves in places like Asda, it leaves you with no excuse not to give it a go…! (Shin Godzilla is available on DVD and Blu-ray from Manga Entertainment)

Mon Mon Mon Monsters (Giddens Ko, Taiwan 2017)

Author-filmmaker Giddens Ko’s latest film, Mon Mon Mon Monsters, which has to go down as one of the most unashamedly nihilistic films I’ve seen in a long time, is an impressive fable about the cruelty of youth, the incompetence of authority and the ultimate, undeniable truth that, left to our own devices, we humans really are the monstrous ones. Cased in what might seem like a high-school horror, the performances are pitch-perfect, especially Deng Lu-kai as protagonist Su-wei and Bonnie Liang as Si-hua, and the humour is jet black, making this a perversely enjoyable tale of just how terrible we all might be.

Let the Corpses Tan (Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani, France/Belgium 2017)

I don’t even want to write too much about this one because it’s such a cinematic slap around the face that knowing very little about it is definitely best. It won’t convert anyone who hasn’t enjoyed Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani’s previous work, even though it’s arguably their most narratively coherent film. Even so, it’s still aggressively stylised, departing somewhat from their giallo-infused previous works to offer their take on a western – obviously, My Darling Clementine this ain’t. Phenomenally impressive on pretty much every level, with Let The Corpses Tan Cattet and Forzani have out-done themselves.

The Handmaiden (Park Chan-wook, South Korea 2017)

Out of all the films on this list this one might be the real contender for my favourite this year. Yes, it features some gratuitously graphic, male-gazey lesbian sex scenes, but it’s also a gleefully complex thriller, a triumphant love story, an incisive insight to a moment in history, a gorgeous soundtrack, a meditation on storytelling and it’s funny. From stunning sets and costumes to pitch-perfect performances, The Handmaiden is breathtakingly wonderful, and arguably even more satisfying in its longer, director’s cut.

Keri’s review. (The Handmaiden is out now on DVD, Blu-Ray and on-demand from Curzon)

SPECIAL MENTIONS:

Jackie (Pablo Larraín, USA 2016) – an ice-cold drama that somehow gets under the skin
Logan (James Mangold, USA 2017) – brutal and grown-up comic-book filmmaking done right
Dhogs (Andrés Goteira, Spain 2017) – a challenge to the audience on the nature of violence
Detroit (Kathryn Bigelow, USA 2017) – genuinely tense real-life drama
Colonel Panics (Cho Jinseok, Japan 2017) – a weird, neon-saturated and grim look at the future of VR
Canaries (Peter Stray, Wales 2017) – hilarious and good-natured Welsh sci-fi-horror-comedy
The Sleep Curse (Herman Yau, Hong Kong 2017) – grim and entertaining Hong Kong Cat III throw-back
Genocidal Organ (Shûkô Murase, Japan 2017) – heavy-going hard sci-fi anime
Tokyo Ghoul (Kentarô Hagiwara, Japan 2017) – tons of fun anime adaptation with just the right level of angst
Blade of the Immortal (Takashi Miike, Japan 2017) – gory yet somehow cutesy samurai epic
Top Knot Detective (Aaron McCann & Dominic Pearce, Australia 2017) – hilarious and authentic cult TV mockumentary

Most Beautiful Island (2017)

Most Beautiful Island is arguably one of this year’s most striking film debuts, perfectly defying classification as a clear-cut genre film and yet undeniably one of the most tense and horrific films I’ve seen recently. Straddling that always fine line between art and exploitation, and succeeding at both, Most Beautiful Island is certainly a challenge to fans of either.

Ana Asensio is an actress making her directorial debut here, as well as writing the script and starring in the lead role. The film entirely revolves around a day in the life of her character Luciana, an undocumented immigrant in New York City, as she takes on increasingly demeaning work to make ends meet, ultimately finding herself centre of a dangerous game that may be her path to redemption.

Most Beautiful Island is remarkably subversive for a film that is so simple and so seemingly straight-forward. For a film about the hard life of an undocumented immigrant, we’re not offered the angle we might expect – Luciana comes from a Western European country, escaping personal tragedy rather than war or persecution. In some ways, her plight might not immediately elicit sympathy in the same way as a more model, good immigrant might. And yet, her daily life is seen to be so unpleasant, unsatisfying and demeaning that it’s hard to imagine someone who would not sympathise on some level (admittedly, I’m a staunch lefty-liberal type, so I was easily won over).

The tension that runs throughout the film gradually builds from banal to out-right terror, as we are given space to project our own fears and expectations of the danger into which Luciana is knowingly entering. There’s an obvious presumption about what horror lies behind the closed and guarded door Luciana finds herself stationed outside of alongside a dozen other scantily-clad women, and it’s to the film’s credit that it doesn’t necessarily take things where you expect them to go. When the film does reach its climax it’s simple, effective and genuinely horrific.

Chances are the film’s grainy, 16mm, verité shooting style won’t be to everyone’s taste, nor will its unresolved, art-house inflected ending. At a snappy 80 minutes, though, the stylistic choices of the film make perfect sense as well as, presumably, having made practical sense while shooting. Upon second viewing Most Beautiful Island brought to mind a film that is both quite a contrast in style and yet seems to tread a parallel path, that being The Bunny Game. Now, I don’t mean to set up wildly off-the-mark expectations – the films are very different to each other – but thematically and in some ways stylistically they’re recounting similar stories.

Most Beautiful Island is a film that’s well worth your time and attention, and certainly benefits from as little prior knowledge as possible. Ana Asensio has truly marked herself out as a filmmaking talent to watch with this intimate and genuinely frightening debut.

Most Beautiful Island is in UK cinemas and streaming now.