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By Tristan Bishop

Despite an undeniably huge influence on the development of cinema (think Eisenstein and Tarkovsky), Russia doesn’t have a rich history of horror films, preferring to deal, at one end of the scale, with epic social(ist) realism, and on the other with lavish adaptations of classic fairytales. Whether this is down to regional tastes or the interference of government censorship (which was heavily in place right up until the 1990s) is a matter for debate, but aside from the occasional dark treatment of the aforementioned fairytales (1967’s Viy, which is a visual delight – and in fact was remade last year) and the blockbuster Nightwatch duology (which despite featuring vampires was closer to epic fantasy than horror), not much of note has been added to the annals of horror from Mother Russia.

Now along comes III, from second time director Pavel Khvaleev, to attempt to redress the balance. Set in an unspecified (and actually kind of confusing) time period in an equally unspecific rural region of Eastern Europe, sisters Ayia and Mirra are taking care of their dying mother and making plans to leave the village after her impending death – whatever illness she is suffering from seems to be spreading amongst the village. However their plans are dealt a swift blow when Mirra also succumbs to the illness. Having now lost their family home, Ayia takes Mirra to the local priest, Father Herman, who was a friend of the family, and he takes her into his own home to convalesce. As Mirra’s condition worsens, Ayia discovers a very strange (and rather unchristian) book of what appear to be magical rituals among Father Herman’s possessions. Realising that this may hold the key to helping Mirra, Ayia begs Father Herman for his help, and he relents, but the bizarre rituals that he enables might be life-threatening for all involved.

On first glance, III doesn’t really stray all that far from the standard Russian fairytale path – two young sisters left alone in the countryside to fend for themselves, for instance – but Khvaleev’s film strays into a direction more akin to, say, the possession subgenre in the second half, and the ‘dream’ imagery employed during the ritual sequences comes straight out of a Silent Hill nightmare world sequence (beds surrounded by chains; hideously deformed, lurching creatures). These are used to examine the power and influence of religion in Eastern Europe, which is undeniably an interesting concept.

The first thing that will strike the viewer about III, however, is the visuals. Every shot is stunning, with great use of colour and composition; it’s really no lie to say that the entire film looks like a painting, which is a real treat to anyone expecting yet another rough-around-the-edges low budget chiller. I’ve not been able to find any information about the budget of the film but I suspect it’s one hell of a lot less than any recent Hollywood horror film, and it looks ten times better, so full credit is due to cinematographer Igor Kiselev on what astonishingly appears to be his first film.

Unfortunately, after about thirty minutes of sumptuous visual elegance, the film starts to become a bit of a plod – The plot is drawn-out even at 80 minutes, there is no attempt to flesh out any of the characters, and the sombre mood remains throughout where a slight change of pace or even injection of a little humour might have helped. The performers aren’t really given much to work with by the script, and therefore none of them really manage to stand out, although the actors appear to be fairly competent. If you’ve not been lulled into sleep by the time the climax rolls around (as I admit I was on first attempt) the pay-off is quite good; although a little confusing and unsatisfactory, it hits a nice grim note, which is always a good way to wrap things up.

In conclusion III is certainly worth a watch for the visual poetry on display, but is unlikely to engage the casual horror fan, given the basic failings in pacing and tone, which is a shame, as there’s obviously a fascinating film in there somewhere.

III recently premiered at BIFFF, and is expected to appear at more festivals later this year.

III First Official Trailer from Pavel Khvaleev on Vimeo.

By Ben Bussey

The things that are left unsaid can resonate even deeper than that which we put into words; oftentimes the right facial expression or gesture can more than fill in the silence. But what if you’re blind? First time Ecuadorian director Joe Houlberg’s Thirst drops his sightless central protagonist Sara (Ana Cristina Barragán, also co-writer with Houlberg and David Viteri) into a hotbed of unspoken history and hidden feelings which gradually shifts from awkwardness and discomfort to outright danger. It’s an enigmatic, often perplexing film which isn’t quite as tense and compelling as it sets out to be, but boasts some effective scenes and intriguing ideas nonetheless.

Sara is on a weekend getaway with her cousin Carolina (Fernanda Barragán), and their respective boyfriends Jose (Ivan Alzate) and Pedro (Enzo Macchiavello). It’s evident straight away that Sara and Carolina were close in childhood, but not so much of late, and the men are complete strangers to one another. The four head out into the countryside to stay at a cottage where Sara and Carolina spent many childhood summers, back when Sara was still able to see – until something happened there which put an end to all that youthful innocence. The two young women would seem to have grown up rather different since: where Sara is somewhat withdrawn, Carolina is outgoing and flirtatious. Their boyfriends are even more pronounced opposites, Pedro being confident, sexually-charged but a little dim-witted, whereas Jose is intellectual, introverted, and possibly asexual. Carolina’s blunt taunts about Sara’s sex life or lack thereof chip at the thin veneer of civility in the group, and as the holiday passes the cracks spread deep and wide, until anger and contempt suddenly gives way to violent rage.

While the PR for Thirst pitches it at least in part as horror, this is one of those movies that’s perched precariously on the outer edge of the genre; overall, I daresay it’s more likely to appeal to admirers of more grounded arthouse drama. However, there are definite nightmarish overtones to the whole endeavour, as Houlberg seems to have done his utmost to convey how it must feel to be blind. We are, quite literally, kept in the dark about so much; the finer details of the relationships, exactly what went on in the house all those years ago and – perhaps most notably – just who is doing what to whom come the final act. Yet at the same time there’s as much emphasis, if not more so, on sexual tension than on slow-burn suspense (indeed, it might be argued the two go hand in glove), and as Pedro is given to engaging in rather close-range voyeurism on the seemingly oblivious Sara, there are interesting questions raised about just where sexual magnetism begins if it is not conveyed visually or verbally.

It’s an interesting approach which might have worked for a very good short film, but truth to be told it feels a little thinly spread for a full-length feature, even though Thirst’s running time is barely 75 minutes. After a while, the abundant lengthy silences radiate more tedium than tension, and once things take a grim turn in the final scenes it feels just a little forced and stereotypical. Even so, as a low-budget first time feature for not only the director but the bulk of the cast and crew, Thirst is an impressive piece of work which looks great and is well performed. It could have used a little beefing up, but it’s well worth giving a look regardless.

Thirst is set to appear at festivals worldwide in 2015.

By Quin

I just stumbled upon an article that made a claim that there are over 20 Stephen King stories in some stage of film or television development right now. I have to admit that the article felt like it placed a lot of faith in rumors – and it was also on one of those websites where you have to endlessly click to a new page to read a long list, which we all know is designed to add more web hits for advertisers. Despite all of that, I still read the whole thing. Apparently Maximum Overdrive is going to be remade? Things are getting really crazy, folks, when Maximum Overdrive is up for a remake.

As silly and uninformative as this article seemed to me, it still got me thinking about Stephen King. I’ve been a longtime fan, but I’ve realized that even though I am familiar with a big chunk of his work, I’ve still barely scratched the surface. I’ve read most of the classic works (some multiple times – like Pet Sematary) and I’ve seen almost all of the adaptations – even Kingdom Hospital (which is actually Lars Von Trier by way of King) as well as the plethora of other made-for-TV assortment of crap. While I’m still catching up on his 20th century work, he’s been awfully prolific this century – and I’m hardly aware of any of it. Therefore, I haven’t quite gotten to his 2010 collection of short stories Full Dark, No Stars (one of the best titles ever, by the way). In this collection, you will find A Good Marriage, which is now a major motion picture – not a short film, but a 102 minute feature length film. However, Stephen King’s A Good Marriage is loaded with problems and I struggle to find much to like about it at all.

Bob and Darcy have been married for 25 years. Life is good. Bob is a professional coin collector and looking for them keeps him on the road regularly. He and his wife run a coin dealing business out of their home. One day, when Bob is away, Darcy finds something shocking in the garage – a tin box filled with driver’s licenses of women who have gone missing. (This happens early, so I’m giving nothing away.) All the while there are reports of a serial killer in the area known as Beadie, and Darcy notices that she is being watched by someone lurking in the rain. This convoluted set-up, as well as the less-than-startling revelation that slaps you upside the head, all builds up to a wanna-be thriller that makes Sleeping With the Enemy look like a masterpiece of modern horror. Just so we’re all clear, it’s not. But the tone and theme of the two movies is so similar. The 1991 Julia Roberts film is infinitely more entertaining and satisfying while still remaining a less-than mediocre film. A Good Marriage is just dull and predictable.

The lead actors in A Good Marriage have both done a pretty even mix of good and bad work in the past. Joan Allen has been nominated for three Academy Awards and she was incredible as the title character in the biopic Georgia O’Keefe. Anthony LaPaglia is probably best known to horror fans for his role in John Landis’ Innocent Blood. I’m sure they both did their best with King’s surprisingly pun-heavy script, but for a married couple who have been together as long as they have, their conversations don’t seem very intimate at all. Even before the big reveal of who Bob really is, they both are just kind of spewing words at the walls rather than truly engaging with one another. As soon as Bob rolls back into town and Darcy has to deal with him directly, things get slightly more kinetic. The big problem is that we can see it all coming in slow motion. This just leaves the viewer frustrated and annoyed.

The best acting in the film comes from Stephen Lang as the sickly and mysterious stranger. I don’t even want to say much about him, because his performance is quite possibly the only thing worth praising in this mess. He absolutely overdoes it, but it’s still a joy to behold. He doesn’t hold back and he will make you cringe. I’ve liked him in just about everything I’ve ever seen him in. His role here as Holt Ramsey is no exception.

As for Stephen King, the master of horror and the macabre; what are we going to do with him? Mr. King is no stranger to adapting his own stories for the screen. Perhaps he feels as if they are in better hands if those hands are his own. But, over and over he has proven that not even he can translate his writing for the screen. It’s always missing crucial elements that only work on the page. He’s had a reasonable amount of success with this before, but even when they follow the source material closely, they still just don’t fully work. We’ll see if he has better luck with Cell, scheduled to come out later this year, but I certainly won’t be holding my breath. At least he stopped directing after Maximum Overdrive.

Stephen King’s A Good Marriage is available now in the UK on DVD and VOD/digital platforms via Grimm Entertainment.

By Stephanie Scaife

From Taika Waititi (Eagle vs Shark, Boy) and Jemaine Clement (Flight of the Conchords) comes this delightfully absurd mockumentary about a group of vampires sharing a flat in Wellington. It’s explained to us at the beginning by Viago (Waititi) an 18th century dandy, that even though some vampires like to live in old world castles, others prefer to flat together in remote countries like New Zealand. Waititi is utterly charming as Viago, who talks directly to camera an acts as a guide whist a crew from the fictionalised New Zealand Documentary Board follow the day to day (or should I say night to night) lives of this quartet of vampires in something akin to an undead version of The Real World. Along with Viago we have Vladislav (Clement), a medieval count known as “The Poker” due to his favourite method of torture and also supposedly because of his skill with women. Deacon (Jonathan Brugh) is the youngest and the self-proclaimed bad boy of the group, and finally Petyr (Ben Fransham) is a Nosferatu-like vampire that is over 8,000 years old and lives in a tomb in the basement.

What We Do in the Shadows is by far one of the funniest, laugh-out-loud comedies that I’ve seen in a long time. As with Flight of the Conchords, the film’s deadpan comedy and subtle irony is reinforced by its sincere examination of friendship. Despite the fairly ludicrous concept of vampires sharing a flat together their disagreements and frustrations are oddly relatable, from bemoaning the dishes not having been done to ensuring that everyone clean up after themselves (We’re vampires, we don’t put down towels!).

The film itself is fairly loose on plot but as with most of the best comedies this works to its advantage; it’s more of a character piece overall, and what great characters they are. As well as the awkward flat-sharing moments the main theme revolves around the vampires coming to terms with modernity, they are clueless about fashion as they are about technology and they are no longer able to get into the coolest clubs. Having been turned in various time periods this accounts for their differing personalities and also their combined ineptitude when it comes to fitting in in the 21st century. Everything changes though when a young local guy named Nick (Cori Gonzalez-Macuer) is accidentally turned and enters their lives like a hurricane, leaving their long established routine in tatters. Suddenly they find a new lease of life, and along with Nick’s best (human) friend Stu (Stu Rutherford) who works in IT they are able to get to grips with technology and the internet. Vlad is then able to do his “dark bidding” via eBay, much to his enjoyment and they are able to attend the annual Unholy Masquerade Ball with a renewed sense of vigour.

The film never flags when it comes to illiciting laughs and there are some particularly hilarious vignettes involving a rival band of werewolves, led by Conchords regular Rhys Darby, which for me were the funniest scenes in the film (What are we? Werewolves, not swear-wolves!). Another aspect of the film that I rally enjoyed was that they are not afraid of lashing on the gore – it’s probably up there with Braindead in terms of number of splattacular and hilarious visual gags. Which solves the issue I have with a lot of horror comedies, in that they’re neither, whereas What We Do in the Shadows is both. It is Deacon though that got the biggest laugh out of me, when he explains to Nick that he made “the simple mistake of fashioning a mask out of crackers, and being attacked by ducks and geese and swans.” This is deapan absurdist humour at its absolute best.

Really, I can’t express just how much I loved this film. I’ve seen it twice now and I laughed consistently throughout on both viewings. It’s true that this could’ve been tailor made for precisely my sense of humour, but that doesn’t mean it won’t find broad appeal. I’m certainly hoping that because of the huge success of Conchords, What We Do in the Shadows will find a large crossover audience. It’s so refreshing to see an original film that more than lives up to your expectations, it also proves that just when you think you’re all vampired out something comes along that reminds you why you loved the genre to begin with and although there are a lot of in-jokes for genre fans and some of the references feel quite parochial it only adds to its charm and I honestly can’t recommend it highly enough!

There are also some cracking special features on the DVD including deleted scenes, a making-of documentary and the original short film that this is an expansion of.

What We Do in the Shadows is now available on DVD and Blu-ray, from Metrodome.

By Ben Bussey

I thought I might be pleased to see Marcus Nispel take on an original horror movie. As much as I despised his rehashes of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Friday the 13th for Platinum Dunes, there was still clearly some visual flair and affection for the genre on show there, mishandled as it was. I’m also happy to admit I enjoyed his Conan the Barbarian reboot a great deal more than some. All these films demonstrated an eagerness to go all out there with the sex and violence, which counts for something in a filmmaker working in the mainstream at a time when PG-13 dominates all. So, perhaps with a fresh, new property that was all his own, it didn’t seem outside the realms of possibility that Nispel could make a genuinely great horror movie, something which really stood apart from the pack.

I suppose it’s still possible Nispel really does have such a film in him, but whichever title you give it – The Asylum, Exeter or its original moniker Backmask – this sure as shit isn’t it. And while it may not be a direct remake of any one horror movie, it’s little more than a ragtag patchwork of a slew of instantly recognisable tropes lifted from other existing genre entries. Imagine Rob Zombie had been asked to remake The Exorcist rather than Halloween, remove all shots of his wife’s arse, then mix it up with Fede Alvarez’s Evil Dead, and this is pretty much what would come slopping out at the end of it all: something that looks like it should contain all the value and goodness of the best teen-centred, gore-soaked horror movie, and might even go some way to satiating the bloodlust of less picky viewers, but is ultimately bland, obvious and lacking any personality of its own.

Indeed, the fact that it was ever called Backmask at all stands testament to how little sense of its own identity this film has, for the practice of backmasking – that old Satanic panic trick of hiding backwards messages in rock music – is referred to only briefly, more or less in passing, and doesn’t have a great deal of bearing on what transpires. Instead, Nispel (who, as well as directing, also came up with the ‘original’ story, fleshed out into a screenplay by – oh goodie – Texas Chainsaw 3D scribe Kirsten Elms) has seemingly gone out of his way to cover all the bases for our adolescent protagonists to provoke unholy wrath. First off, the young rapscallions abuse the trust of the church by throwing a massive booze and drugs-fueled party in Exeter Asylum, a burned-out abandoned mental institute owned by the local clergy, whilst the priest in charge (Stephen Lang) is off premises for the weekend. However, not content with all the underage drinking and indulgence in illegal narcotics (although sex seems to be left out of the equation, strangely), the few hardcore party people left over once the sun comes up decide to start messing around with – ominous thunder and lightning – the occult. Or, at least, they play light as a feather stiff as board on a kid brother who looks uncannily like a miniature Jason Mewes. And this, it seems, is enough for the kid to get demonically possessed. Or, at least, just about all of them immediately assume the kid is possessed, needing very little persuasion on the matter, as opposed to just assuming he’s wigging out from all the booze and drugs in his barely pubescent body. Anyway, you know the drill: before long all of them will either die horribly, become a puppet of Satan, or some combination thereof.

What else is there to say? The teens, all of whom are constantly glistening in a dirty-yet-clean way which only seems possible in a Marcus Nispel movie, are all utterly contemptible, constantly spewing half-witted trash talk with the overconfidence of a 10-year old alpha male who’s just discovered all the rudest swear words. Not one of them is worth giving a damn about, and so when the deaths come and various twists and turns occur they really don’t hit home at all. Yes, there are a few agreeably OTT deaths come the final act, but none of it is enough to slap you out of the stupor of having sat through something so generic and tedious. Likewise the feeble attempts at humour; there is a perhaps surprising emphasis on sub-Kevin Smith stoner comedy dialogue, and who knows, perhaps it might have worked had they just gone all-out and made it a bona fide horror comedy. As it is, The Asylum/Exeter/Backmask/whatever just isn’t funny, isn’t scary, isn’t interesting, and ultimately just isn’t worth bothering with.

The Asylum hits UK DVD and Blu-ray on 4th May, from Studiocanal.

By Ben Bussey

I rather doubt anyone needs to be reminded of this fact right now, but the anthology horror movie is well and truly back. From Amicus to Creepshow to Trick ‘R Treat, the portmanteau format has been utilised to craft some of the most enjoyable horror movies of decades gone by, and in recent years it has served as a great launchpad for a slew of indie filmmakers to collaborate on the high-profile (if variable quality) V/H/S and ABCs of Death movies. This new wave of anthology horror has left this writer for one with rather mixed feelings; pleased to see the format return, but not always that impressed with the results, wherein most filmmakers involved seem single-mindedly set on making their chapter that bit more fucked-up and nasty than the one before it. That approach doesn’t take long to get tedious, leaving one yearning nostalgically for the days when the primary aim of most anthology horror was simply to show the audience a good time. It’s with some relief, then, that I can report the latest indie anthology horror Volumes of Blood most definitely places shits and giggles over deep-set psychological trauma, presenting a simple and entertaining old-school horror which puts entertainment value first, and for the most part delivers on its humble ambition.

The opening does a pretty good job setting the tone right away, as two clearly-not-teenage actors playing stereotypical teen characters find their parked car love-in interrupted by the local knife-wielding maniac. This introduction proves to be that classic fake-out: we’re watching the film that a character is watching (nor is this the last metatextual, fourth-wall-breaking moment in Volumes of Blood). Not long thereafter, a long aerial shot – pretty impressive for a film clearly produced on a very small budget indeed – introduces us to the library that the film centres on, wherein four college students preparing for a paper on urban legends sit down for one of those classic Villa Diodati challenges to see who can dream up the best scary story, which they can proceed to insidiously spread around campus. The twist is, each story takes place within the walls of that very library, and in-keeping with the best anthology movies each tale tackles a slightly different breed of horror: we have a splattery take on a classic perils-of-unknown-substances tale, a dialogue-free monochrome ghost story, a monster in the house (or rather library), and a spot of demonic wish fulfillment – before the wrap-around story takes things in an unexpectedly different direction.

Few things seem more likely to underline how low-budget and grass roots a film is than an opening credit declaring the film to have been made in association with a public library. This was indeed the case on Volumes of Blood, which – the prologue scenes and a few brief exterior moments aside – was shot almost entirely in the Daviess County Public Library in Owensboro, Kentucky, mostly after hours from the look of things. It’s a nice idea which makes sense not only on a practical DIY filmmaking level (a shot of a book on Kevin Smith would seem to nod toward his debut Clerks, famously shot under similar conditions in a convenience store), but also from a horror perspective: libraries, even the comparatively clean and bright spaces they tend to be nowadays – a model this particular library very much fits – can be pretty spooky places, particularly when you find yourself among the last to leave after dark. The setting also allows for dialogue heavy on literary and cinematic reference, which we have plenty of from the script by PJ Starks (also producer and director of chapter ‘Ghastly’), Nathan Thomas Milliner (also director of ‘Encyclopedia Satanica’ and poster artist) and Todd Martin. The thought of a dialogue-heavy no-budget horror tends to fill me with dread, as very often a combination of poor acting, worse writing and direction and bad sound recording can render the films painful to behold, but happily that isn’t the case at all on Volumes of Blood. Aside from some minor sound issues it’s all very effective stuff; never quite whip-smart or laugh-out-loud funny, but agreeable nonetheless, with nice performances from a likeable cast.

One thing Volumes of Blood could perhaps have benefited from is a touch more variety. Whilst there are four different directors on board, there are no particularly notable stylistic differences between the chapters (‘Ghastly’s black and white photography notwithstanding), and the stories themselves do tend to get a bit samey: dialogue-heavy intros lead to central characters finding themselves alone in the library, until a mysterious, sinister stranger appears, and – of course – death ensues. It could also have done with being a little shorter and pacier, the final chapter in particular; based around a further fake-out, it feels like a twist too far, and drags on rather longer than it needs to. Still, the darkly humorous conclusion is satisfying enough, and I struggle to look too harshly on anything as light-hearted as this, which is so filled with affection for the genre.

Volumes of Blood is set to appear on the 2015 festival circuit – learn more by following the film on Facebook and Twitter.

By Matt Harries

I must admit it was one of those times when even the most fleeting of glimpses proved enough to whet my appetite. A while back my eyes skimmed over the description of The Samurai in these very pages, which at the time was causing a stir on the festival circuit. A horror (of sorts) involving a strange combination of wolf and samurai warrior manifesting in the modern day sounded right up my street in terms of sheer lunacy. There seemed to be a refreshing originality to the concept that just sounded intriguing. Then, for whatever reason, I lost track of the film and almost forgot about it. When the opportunity arose to review it I jumped at the chance. However, although I quite enjoyed The Samurai, it is so heavily rooted in allegory that in the end it felt worthy rather than exciting.

The plot is pretty straightforward. Wolski (Michel Dierks) is a young police officer in a small town on the German side of the border with Poland. Being surrounded by forest, the residents have a healthy trepidation for the dangers that lie therein, especially the wolves who roam there. Wolski lives a quiet life, his responsibility to his job and his grandmother meaning that he misses out on the youthful freedoms of others his age. Fascinated by the wolves, he tries to lure them closer. Although he says he intends to do so in order to remove them, his boss Horvath is not so sure, suspecting that young Wolski has an unhealthy interest in the predatory beasts. One day Wolski receives an unusually shaped package, addressed to ‘Lone Wolf’. A strange night-time phone call concerning this package leads him into a life changing encounter, one that will lead Wolski through fire and blood to revelation…

There was a pleasing randomness to the story’s trajectory during the opening sections of The Samurai. However, rather than continue down the path of folkloric surreality, the film quickly assembles itself as a platform for expressing a quite specific metaphor. In this case Wolski’s meeting of the cross-dressing Samurai acts as an extended analogy for sexual isolation and the battle between expression and repression. On one hand you have Wolski, young but certainly not free, beholden to his job and his role as carer to his grandmother. The wolf represents freedom, danger, the outside world, the mysteries of carnality. The Samurai marches through the village smashing and killing with his sword, while the residents remain locked away in their homes. Wolski’s pursuit of him serves two purposes; on one hand he is doing his job, trying to apprehend this destructive figure; on the other he is fascinated with the Samurai, who speaks to him with whispered intimacy, exhorting him to step forward into adventure and embrace his desires (or words to that effect).

Once we establish that this basis in the metaphorical forms the entirety of Wolski’s journey, I have to say my interest waned a little. Reading subtexts into tales of the supernatural is nothing new – Stoker’s Dracula is as florid a study of rampant yet nebulous sexuality as you could wish for – but when that subtext becomes the film’s main/only point it detracts from the sense of mystery that is so important to any such film. Nonetheless this a relatively short work and most importantly a debut feature. As such I think it is worth focussing on the positives, of which there are certainly a few.

Visually, the film looks excellent, the lush dark greens of the forest contrasting with the occasional bright blood and flame to remind me of the Hammer Horror Technicolor palette. Michel Dierks exhibits plenty of youthful vulnerability as Wolski, but it is the performance of Pit Bukowski as the Samurai himself who steals the show from an acting point of view. In white dress and red lipstick, leering from behind his lank blonde hair, he still manages to portray a certain danger and wildness despite his un-warrior like appearance. I daresay we’ll be seeing more from him in the future – perhaps as a successor to the great Klaus Kinski, with whom he shares a certain maniacal intensity.

There were a couple of moments that had me feeling rather less enamoured. The dance scene with Wolski and the Samurai was unintentionally laughable to these jaded eyes, but was eclipsed by the rather unsubtle stand off at the erm, climax of the film, in which our two combatants face each other with ‘swords’ raised. I’ll say no more. We then have the song which acts as the film’s final, emotional statement. I have no idea who performed it, but although it was packed with heartfelt sentiment it was pretty dreadful and the closing sequence would surely have been better served with an instrumental piece.

I don’t really think horror (or whatever you’d like to call it) has an intrinsic responsibility to portray minorities or alternative lifestyle choices in any particular light. Personally speaking I like to leave reality tied up outside before entering the hall… nonetheless, despite it being an ever so slightly grinding metaphor for sexual struggles, The Samurai is bold, adventurous and praiseworthy in many ways, and certainly deserves to be watched with an open mind.

The Samurai comes to UK DVD and on-demand on 13 April, from Peccadillo Pictures.

By Quin

Nazi horror really isn’t my thing. I’ve seen very little of it, and what I have seen does nothing for me. But, when it comes to reviewing horror films, I’m always up for a challenge. I am now very happy to report that I enjoyed Backtrack: Nazi Regression quite a bit. It grabbed me right away. The ninety-something minute movie flew by and I was actually invested in it. In spite of what you may have gotten out of the trailer, I was surprised at how well this film manages to not veer too far into exploitation – and that is something that is usually synonymous with Nazi horror. I’m all for camp and sleaze, but the subject matter should dictate which direction the tone of a movie should go. Backtrack: Nazi Regression is neither campy nor sleazy. It also doesn’t try to re-write history. Even though the past is important to the story, the action is still very much rooted in the present; and thankfully, I didn’t find any disrespect to anyone who may have been affected by atrocities committed during World War II. This is an original story, well directed and well acted, that should entertain you.

Our introduction to the two couples in Backtrack is slow and deliberate, but also slightly confusing at first. We see Ralph and Claudia beginning a session of past life regression. Claudia claims to be psychic and Ralph has been experiencing strange feelings and wants to see if his issues are connected to a past life. He lays on the bed with his eyes closed while she guides him through his thoughts. Ralph and Claudia are just friends – they’re actually both in their own relationships with Andrea and Lucas – but Andrea and Lucas are having a torrid affair with each-other. During the regression session, Ralph has a vision of himself doing some pretty horrible things and he appears to be a Nazi soldier around 1940.

The four decide to take a backpacking and camping trip and while they’re out, Ralph and Claudia are going to see if they can find some of the locations from the regression and hopefully figure out why Ralph is having weird thoughts and hallucinations. When Ralph and Claudia are out looking for clues, the other two have some sexy alone time in the tent. Well, that gets ruined by an old man who appears. He knocks them out, ties them up and takes them back to his lair. Now Ralph and Claudia have to find them.

If my description sounds convoluted, I assure you it’s not. The fact that there are only four main characters (not counting the creepy old kidnapper) makes it easy to follow. Plus, Ralph and Claudia are so likable and easy to identify with, while the two cheaters are annoying and rude. This all changes once the two are kidnapped and tortured. You really start to feel horrible for them. I am also quite aware that many of you are all tortured out. This is definitely brutal and realistic, but it never became gratuitous. The acting in these scenes is particularly good and the director gets some nice looking close-up shots with the victims gagged while their faces contort from the agony.

Julian Glover is the face you see on the poster art for the film. You can probably guess that he’s the one who is trying to get rid of these meddling kids. His acting is superb, but his prosthetic makeup looks more like silicon than actual facial burns. This hardly matters for a guy who has had a part in Game of Thrones, The Empire Strikes Back (General Veers – the creator of the AT-AT – the greatest vehicle in all of science fiction), an Indiana Jones movie and a James Bond movie. The man knows what he is doing. There are a few lines of dialogue that may have sounded silly if read by an amateur actor. Even though his mug graces the poster, he isn’t shown until almost the end of the film. This was a wise move. It made him a bit more mysterious and we got less time to be distracted by his face and weird makeup.

I definitely recommend Backtrack: Nazi Regression. I was honestly expecting things to go the other way, but it’s nice when you watch something you might not have and end up enjoying it. Excellent job, to all involved with this one.

Backtrack: Nazi Regression is now available in the UK on DVD and LoveFilm through Mandala Films and on Amazon Prime and Blinkbox through Kaleidoscope Home Entertainment under the alternate title Nazi Vengeance. The film is due for release in the US on May 5th through Midnight Releasing.

Backtrack | trailer from Substantial Films on Vimeo.