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By Stephanie Scaife

In a year brimming with Dark Knights, Avengers and Hobbits, not to mention the impending (if ultimately anticlimactic) apocalypse that was supposed to befall us last month I feel that 2012 has been a pretty weak year for us horror fans, where there have been far too many films eliciting nothing more than a slight “meh” upon viewing. In fact I gave up trying to write a top ten as I couldn’t actually think of ten genre films I’d seen this year that I liked enough, although I feel that I should say that I haven’t seen Berberian Sound Studio, Sightseers or Antiviral yet, all of which I have pretty high expectations of. So without further ado, I bring you my likes, dislikes, those in-between and what I’m looking forward to in the year ahead…

My Top Films of 2012

Killer Joe

My review – Ben’s review.

Killer Joe was an easy choice as my favourite film of the year, and I absolutely loved how unashamedly sleazy and violent this southern fried neo-noir from veteran filmmaker William Friedkin is. I can see why it was divisive – any film where Gina Gershon is introduced naked from the waist down won’t be to everyone’s tastes – but for me Killer Joe was unrivalled in 2012 for its humour, style and excesses.

The Raid

Ben’s review – Keri’s review.

Turns out my favourites of the year were all about being as excessive as possible; where Killer Joe had sleaze, The Raid brought us unrelenting, no holds barred violence for a solid 90 minutes. This Indonesian film directed by Welshman Gareth Evans seemed to come out of nowhere and became a true word of mouth success. By showcasing the Indonesian martial art of pencak silat The Raid proves that no amount of CGI and clever camera work can be a patch on the real deal; you seriously wouldn’t want to mess with any of these guys!

Looper

My review.

Rian Johnson’s Looper wins the award for being perhaps the most original mainstream genre film released in 2012. It also only works if you can completely suspend your disbelief for 2 hours, as it falls into many of the plot pitfalls associated with tackling time travel on film. That said, in a world where we’re treated to endless remakes, reboots and prequels, it’s genuinely refreshing to have something completely different, and with its fantastic cast, irreverent plot, and an ending that shifts the whole thing into straight up horror territory, it well and truly deserves a mention.

The Hunter

My review.

I saw this strange and haunting film on a flight and in my valium-induced state I thought I’d perhaps imagined some of it as the plot is pretty much bonkers, but after revisiting it on blu-ray I realised that no, this really is a film about Willem Dafoe hunting Tasmanian tigers. Although it’s perhaps a stretch to class this as a genre film, as it is pretty much a straight-up thriller, The Hunter does however have an uncanniness about it that ensures it’s not out of place on the pages of BAH. Criminally underseen, I’d urge you to seek out a copy of The Hunter.

Midnight Son

Annie’s review – Keri’s review.

Just when you think nothing new can be done with the vampire genre something pops up and surprises you. Very much in the vein of Romero’s Martin, Midnight Son takes a more human approach to the genre and works all the better for it. This ultra low budget indie film uses its small cast and limited locations to great effect and it turn creates something claustrophobic, frightening and ultimately very moving. A romance at heart, but Twilight this ain’t.

What I’m Undecided On

American Mary

My review – Nia’s review.

This film was a bit like marmite at BAH, but for me I’m still undecided. I have great admiration for the Soskas and their work but for me American Mary was, just slightly, too much style over substance. Katharine Isabelle and Tristan Risk are absolutely fab in their roles and I love the fact that this is a truly original piece of work but upon reflection I think I desperately wanted to like this film a whole lot more than I did in reality. Still, I’m eager to see what the twins do next as they are undeniably a force to be reckoned with.

Detention

Dustin’s review.

Detention is a weird one, and although many will have seen this in 2011, it didn’t get its official release until 2012 so I’m counting it here. The thing about this movie is that I genuinely have no idea whether it’s the most irritating film ever made or a work of pure genius. The good is that it’s completely and utterly bonkers and clearly doesn’t give anything close to a shit regarding coherency and plot; it’s anarchic, fast-paced and unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. The bad is that it may as well have been named Hipster: The Movie as it’s so painfully self aware and nostalgic for the 90s that frankly, it just made me feel old.

The Worst of 2012

Excision

Tristan’s review.

I just didn’t get this film at all and despite the great cast (usually John Waters is reason enough to watch anything) I found almost nothing to like here. The otherwise generally very positive reception it received confused me greatly, did we all really see the same film?! I found it vapid, the characters unlikeable and the fantasy sequences seemed like the work of a green behind the ears film school graduate working on their first music video.

Cabin in the Woods

My review.

This was another one that was heaped with praise that invoked little more than indifference followed by mild annoyance from me. It was just trying so hard to be clever that I found it bordering on smug and the ending was a complete and utter let down.

Prometheus

My review.

I mean, really? What a colossal and incoherent disappointment that was. Even without the likes of Alien to live up to if taken at face value as a stand-alone sci-fi film this was dire. The characters’ motives were all over the place, not to mention their actions borderline stupid, and the whole religious allegory, meaning of life nonsense was eye wateringly dull. Even Michael Fassbender couldn’t save it.

What I’m Looking Forward to in 2013

The Nymphomaniac – Lars Von Trier’s new laugh-a-minute comedy caper (or at least that’s what I’m assuming) starring the always fabulous Charlotte Gainsbourg.

Only Lovers Left Alive – Jim Jarmusch’s foray into the Vampire genre starring the exquisite Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston as her lover and vamp muso who spans the centuries primarily within the New York underground music scene. Sounds pretty fucking amazing.

Only God Forgives – Nicholas Winding Refn’s crime thriller starring his muse Ryan Gosling and Kristin Scott Thomas as a brutal mafia ringleader. Colour me intrigued…

Byzantium – Neil Jordan’s return to the vampire genre staring Gemma Arterton and Saoirse Ronan as a mother daughter bloodsucking team.

Under the Skin – Jonathan Glazer’s adaptation of Michel Faber’s bizarre novel about an alien, transformed by surgery to make her look like a beautiful human, who trawls the streets of Scotland looking for hitchhikers.

By Nia Edwards-Behi

I’m not very good at end of year lists, primarily because of my spectacularly bad memory. Another reason is that I’ll likely change my mind at any given second, making any list I make highly ephemeral. Regardless, I’ve gone right ahead and made an end of year list for 2012 anyway. Now – I say ‘2012’. That’s a fairly arbitrary way of grouping these films together, admittedly, given as half of them won’t be seen outside of festivals until 2013, and one of them I saw (for the first time) back in 2011. Confused? I know am. A great deal of the films below are ones I’ve seen at festivals, or through reviewing for this here fine website, and I’m quite proud of that. I’m incredibly lucky to be able to attend the festivals I do, in my capacity as a festival programmer, and coupled with the benefits (yes, benefits) of living in a town with no multiplex, the list below might have a tendency toward the ‘but that’s not even out yet!’ that usually so grates on me with end of year lists. Sorry about that. On to the films.

1. American Mary

Oh, don’t act like you’re surprised. While the rest of this list could be fairly changeable in the numerical order I’ve placed it, American Mary would proudly sit at the top of the pile irrespective of anything else. I’m not sure there’s much more I can say about the film, having briefly reviewed it back in May, and more recently and extensively in August. Many more people have seen the film by now, and the response seems to be overwhelmingly positive. It’s been one of the most highly anticipated and talked about films of the year. With hype, though, comes disappointment and backlash, and the film – quite fairly – has its naysayers. But – *dons hipster glasses* – some of us unreservedly loved the film before the hype machine took over, and for me the film stands up to multiple viewings, and so it shall stand to multiple more.

2. Kotoko

I don’t feel like Kotoko got the attention it deserved. The newest film from Tetsuo director Shinya Tsukamoto, Kotoko isn’t so much a horror film, or, necessarily, even a genre film. But it is unpleasant in the extreme, as it charts the downward spiral of a disturbed woman trying and failing to look after her infant son (and herself) while she suffers increasingly erratic delusions. Admittedly, this is a film I have yet to rewatch, and I wonder if it will be quite so impactful on second viewing. However, it still managed to shock and move me when I watched it on a big screen to a baying and unappreciative BIFFF crowd way back in April, and I think that’s fairly impressive in and of itself. Profoundly harrowing, Kotoko is one of those films that knocks the breath from you and then kicks you while you’re down.

3. Antiviral

Antiviral is the astounding debut film from Brandon Cronenberg, that while treading similar territory to his father, paves an original path through it. As much corporate thriller as it is body horror, much of Antiviral’s success, for me, lies in the hands of Caleb Landry Jones’ sickly portrayal of the central character. Looking genuinely ill for the duration of the film, his Syd March is an antihero only so much as he’s deeply entrenched in the distasteful cultural norm of this not-too-distant future. That we are thrust into this cultural norm, without any exposition, is another key strength of the film. It’s also rather refreshing to see Malcolm McDowell in a cameo appearance that doesn’t waste his considerable talent; I’m looking at you, second-least-favourite-film-of-the-year, Excision.

4. Berberian Sound Studio

One of the few films on this list that I actually saw at the cinema, Berberian Sound Studio managed to get a lot of attention (in the UK, at least) for being, well, a bit arty. Toby Jones plays a sound technician sent to Italy to work on a horror film. Such work does not seem to suit him, though, and the film unfolds a plot worthy of an Italian horror film itself. For a film that’s all about sound – and boy, is that sound design impressive – the film is memorably visual, too. The whole film looks sort of mucky, the horrible brown of the Four Flies-esque poster present in the film proper. The ending, I suspect, might frustrate some, but it’s one of those endings that I love for the sheer mettle of its inexplicableness.

5. Resolution

Speaking of endings I enjoy that frustrate others, Resolution has been doing the festival rounds this year to some acclaim. The debut film of Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson, Resolution is an interesting exploration of friendship. At the film’s core are the pitch-perfect performances of Peter Cilella and Vinny Curran as Michael and Chris. As Michael attempts to help his friend Chris go cold turkey, strange things start to happen at the remote lodge Chris has made home. Resolution is probably better described as a terror film than a horror film, as tension builds ever-so slowly, verging on the unbearable at times. As a feature debut, Resolution seems even more impressive, executed so precisely and effectively.

6. REC3: Genesis

I reviewed REC3 previously and more fully, but it’s worth restating just how much fun this sequel is. Completely different to the previous two instalments of the film series, REC3 is a rollercoaster ride of laughs and gore, all while retaining a considerable heart. Leticia Dolora’s performance is wonderful, and the image of a blood-spattered bride wielding a chainsaw is one of the most memorable and iconic of the year. The success of the film puts an immense amount of pressure on Jaume Balaguero and the forthcoming REC4, but with his own success this year (Sleep Tight), the franchise is at least in very safe hands.

7. Dead Sushi

I’d go so far as to say that Dead Sushi is a return to form for ridiculous Japanese splatter cinema. Though Dead Ball was already significantly better than the abysmal Helldriver, it doesn’t have quite so brilliantly ridiculous a central conceit as Dead Sushi. It’s certainly not a film to win anyone over who doesn’t already enjoy this particular brand of Japanese cinema, but for me it gives me hope that the subgenre hasn’t entirely stagnated. It’s slightly less CGI-reliant than recent similar fare, though it’s certainly still a presence, and the action sequences are much boosted by star Rina Takeda. And anyway – the film has a friendly piece of egg sushi as an actual character. What’s not to love?!

8. Lovely Molly

A far more serious film is Lovely Molly, another I’ve reviewed previously. I knew little about the film aside from its promotional artwork, and this was for the best. Boasting another stunning central performance from Gretchen Lodge, the film is not without its weaknesses, but is otherwise surprising and accomplished enough that missteps might be forgiven. Genuinely eerie in a supernatural sense, Lovely Molly is at its most impressively frightening in its depiction of one person’s very human breakdown.

9. Entity

Entity’s another debut feature film which proves itself accomplished and effective. Using what’s effective about found footage and adamantly not making a found footage film, Steve Stone’s film is a master-class in well-designed scares and tension-building. A great location and an incredibly precise soundscape makes Entity a film that begs to be seen on the big screen and played loudly. (Full review here.)

10. Midnight Son

Had I made a list such as this last year, Midnight Son would quite possibly have been right at the top of it. I saw the film in April 2011, at BIFFF, and had the pleasure of screening it at Abertoir 2011. Midnight Son was finally released in the States on DVD this year but it won’t be hitting DVD in the UK until February. That’s a long journey to a wide audience, but it surely deserves one. Annie has already sung the film’s praises, and I’m particularly excited for more people to see the film so that I can shout some more about how much I love THAT SHOT more than’s healthy. And please, UK DVD buyers: don’t be put off by the appalling DVD cover. It’s not even the wonderful Maya Parish, who packs in a nuanced performance, on the cover with lead Zak Kilberg!

By Ben Bussey

I’ve already taken a swipe at the posters and DVD covers of the last 12 months that got it wrong. Now it’s time to celebrate those that got it right, and I’ll admit that’s actually a thornier prospect. Pointing out flaws and mocking them isn’t too challenging, as countless billions of school bullies will profess. Acknowledging strengths and applauding them takes a bit more humility, dignity and – gulp – a degree of taste. So, if I go and praise some posters and others come forward and say they suck, why… people might think I have bad taste! I, who spoke favourably of Sorority Row, Erotibot and A Night in the Woods!

Well, lest I start overthinking shit, I’ll just get right to it. Whilst as we’ve established this has been a bad year in a bad decade for crappy Photoshop posters, this has also been a good year for good ol’ fashioned hand painted posters too. Whilst the neo-grindhouse movement (if we can call it a movement) has resulted in movies of variable quality, most of which are positively doggy-paddling in knowing irony and artifice, it has also resulted in some very nice poster art in the vein of the 70s/80s greats, more than a couple of them down to The Dude Designs. To cite but a few:

Happily, this sentiment has stretched beyond the low-budget indie field:

Okay, some of my affection for these images may be down to nostalgia, but… oh alright, cards on the table, most of it is down to nostalgia. These all look like the VHS covers that caught the eye of so many a fledgling horror fan in video stores worldwide back in the 80s, and indeed still in the 90s. The fact that they’re hand drawn is only part of what makes such film art great. It’s also the framing, the heroic poses, the little hint dropped as to the variety of delights the film may offer: take the images in the centre on Almost Human, and those around the peripheries on Father’s Day, depicting scenes from the films (or so I would assume; of the two I’ve only seen Father’s Day, and was a little on the drunk side at the time, so my recollection is a wee bit hazy. I do clearly recall someone getting their dick bitten off, though I’m not surprised they left that one off the poster). These are images that build a palpable excitement as soon as you lay eyes on them; to look upon them is to taste the popcorn, feel the leather stretch under your backside, feel the surge of anticipation as the lights go down. Whether the films themselves necessarily measure up is secondary – and, to our purposes here, not really that important. Indeed, to date I’ve seen only two of the films above – and of course Frankenstein Created Bikers hasn’t even been made yet – but I’m still anxious to see them all on the strength of this artwork.

Also from the hand-drawn/would-look-great-on-my-wall files (but in promotion of a film which I know for sure is awesome), this lovely little number for John Dies at the End:

Now, these next two might not really count as they weren’t used as official artwork, but they’re hand-drawn, very pretty and brilliantly evoke the spirit of the movies concerned nonetheless: a sweet, Escher-esque take on The Cabin in the Woods and a cool comic-style alternative poster for [REC]3 by Walking Dead illustrator Tony Moore (not that I had a problem with the official artwork used for either film):

But it would be remiss of me to fill this column with nothing but hand-painted efforts. I might badmouth Photoshop, but I still have every confidence that great work can be done through the use of good ol’ fashioned cameras and oh-so modern computers, as these next ones will demonstrate. The methods used are of secondary concern at best so long as they are utilised well, and the concept and image composition are up to scratch.

Case in point: still haven’t seen The ABCs of Death or Dead Shadows, but these posters sure do make them look badass:

Didn’t care much for The Theatre Bizarre, but this is nice and creepy/sexy poster nonetheless:

As I gave Metrodome a hard time over their efforts for Juan of the Dead and The Innkeepers, seems only sporting to note that they can get it right, as they did with The Devil’s Business. While the digital trickery on display is immediately apparent, this time it’s utilised to craft a handsome, enigmatic image which provides a good reflection of the mysterious, atmospheric film therein. (All I object to is that ‘one for fans of Kill List’ bit. Pah.)

Another one that’s clearly done a bit of time in a computerland but come out looking good is this cover for Lovely Molly. Again, it may have quotes and star ratings up the arse, but the central image is arresting enough to make up for it.

And finally – I rather like this Nurse 3D poster. Don’t think I need to elaborate on that.

Agree/disagree with my top picks? Got any others that you think deserve applause/evisceration? Once again, feel free to let me know on Twitter or Facebook.

By Ben Bussey

As we’re getting close to the end of 2012 – and, depending on who you talk to, the end of all life on Earth as we know it – now’s about the right time to reflect on what kind of year it’s been for the horror/cult/trash/insert preferred term here movies that we hold so dear. I don’t know about everyone else, but all things considered I think 2012 has been pretty damn good, with no shortage of films to get excited about, and all of us at Brutal As Hell are looking forward to revisiting the highs and lows in the weeks between now and Christmas/Hannukah/the holidays/Armageddon/insert preferred term here.

To kick things off though, here’s part one of my look back at the film artwork of 2012. Now, I daresay this is one of the most contentious elements of contemporary cinema overall. Most of us agree that standards have dropped significantly in recent times, with Photoshopped floating heads taking over where once gorgeous handpainted efforts were the norm. Most perplexing and frustrating, though, are the many recent instances of DVD distributors opting to go with ugly, lazy Photoshop jobs even when great posters already exist. Okay, maybe there are rights issues involved, but even so, surely they can do better than some of these. To start with…

The Innkeepers

An above-average haunted house movie, that had inspired not one but two above-average posters:

Pretty, eh? Yet for the Region 2 DVD release, Metrodome opted to go with… this?

Really? A disembodied, zombie-looking hand hanging over an old hotel bell, against a plain white backdrop? I suppose it sort of relates to the theme of the film, but good grief it’s unsightly. Clearly the design is more interested in highlighting the review quotes than providing an accuarate and attractive representation of the film itself. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with review quotes on a poster or DVD cover, but they shouldn’t detract from the central image, let alone be the focus themselves. And if they must be there, surely they could be in a nicer font.

Juan of the Dead

A character-based film, as the title would suggest. Therefore, we definitely need the character to be the focal point, yes? Hence this reasonably handsome poster:

So what did they come up with for the DVD…?

U!G!L!Y! You ain’t got no alibi! You ugly, ugly DVD cover! Just what substances does one need to be under the influence of for those heads to start looking like they belong on those bodies? How exactly is Juan’s small head casting that massive shadow over his torso? And when have you ever seen anyone hold up a gun in two hands whilst also clutching a machete? Where’s the machete’s handle? Just how big are that lady’s hands? And what’s with the strangely unfazed random chick crowdsurfing the wave of zombie hands in the bottom right? In fact, I’m not even convinced those are zombie hands. I think it’s that tunnel of helping hands from Labyrinth. They’ve broken free, and have made it their mission to ruin as many horror DVD covers as possible. And all because of their shame over groping an underage Jennifer Connolly. But I digress.

We Are The Night

This is an awkward one. Momentum had no shortage of existing posters to draw from, though admittedly none of them were too great in the first place; yet their curious decision was to take these two images…

… and combine them to create this.

What the hell were they thinking? I get it, they want to emphasise the vampirism, which might not be immediately evident from the first image. But to solve that with a trickle of blood under Nina Hoss’s mouth, and to superimpose alternate heads over the other two, tranforming Jennifer Ulrich into Anna Fischer in the process… just wrong.

Cockneys vs. Zombies

Now, in this instance the original theatrical release poster might not have been to all tastes, but it was at least making an effort to do something different and interesting, and play on the film’s London setting in a less than obvious way:

Given that it was a slightly abstract way of selling a pretty straightfoward comedy horror, it’s not surprising Studiocanal opted for a more conventional DVD cover:

Okay, not the worst ever – I certainly don’t object to the emphasis on gun-toting geriatrics Alan Ford and Honor Blackman – but it’s another one suffering from a bad case of superimposed head syndrome. Just look at the visible outline around Harry Treadaway. And what the hell is he meant to be doing with his leg? Resting it on his grandad’s shoulder? It’s so clearly a scene staged within a computer, it lacks any sense of real drama. The framing doesn’t sit right with me, either – and again we’ve got those disembodied Labyrinth hands peeping around the corner, which it seems is now the fallback method of suggesting zombie attack. Hmmph. Not the worst cover art concept, but it went a bit Pete Tong.

And the last bad Photoshop job for now:

Truth or Dare (AKA Truth or Die)

Now, as much as I dislike Photoshopping, I can appreciate there are times when it’s the most convienient option; say, when trying to show a small group of people facing the zombie apocalypse. But really, how hard is it to get four actors tied to chairs in a single room? It’s not bloody hard at all, hence so many films have played on that set-up in recent years, including this one of course. So why the hell couldn’t an actual photo of this ensemble be used? Why, once again, the bleeding obvious superimposed heads that clearly don’t match the lighting in the room? And look at Jennie Jacques in the bottom left: is it just me, or is that a rather unnatural angle she’s holding her head at? Can you comfortably hold your head that far to the left and look ahead of you like she’s meant to be doing there? I mean, it’s not quite contortionism of Society-ish proportions, but still. And that whole ‘spin the bottle’ tagline doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense given their hands are tied behind their backs. Are they meant to use their feet?

EDIT: Just remembered one more shitty hack job I can’t let off the hook; and not for the last time in our look back on 2012…

Okay, well that’s enough of the crap for now. Catch up with me shortly for a look at some of the better movie art 2012 has had to offer – and if you have any particular favourite/least favourite posters and covers you’d like to share, feel free to let me know on Twitter or Facebook.

By Kit Rathenar

There can’t be a horror fan alive who doesn’t know the legend of Dracula. The vampire Count with his black cape, his crumbling castle, his numerous brides and his insatiable thirst for the blood of the living may be the single most iconic figure in all of Western horror. Even people who’ve never read or heard of the book recognise his name and image, and he’s been riffed on, pastiched, and reinterpreted in every direction imaginable. He’s the original, the one and only. It’s probably fair to say that every vampire you’ll ever meet in popular culture is, at one remove or another, indeed a child of Dracula.

And yet, despite the fact that typing “Dracula” into IMDb search gets you well over two hundred exact or partial title hits, it would be hard to claim that there’s ever been a truly definitive film of Bram Stoker’s original novel. While the Cliff Notes version of the plot is engraved on every fan’s memory, each new version takes away or adds something, shifts characters around, reinterprets the dynamics or changes the ending. It’s even more true to say that there’s never been a truly definitive portrayal of Dracula himself – after all, for everyone who hails Bela Lugosi, there’s a Christopher Lee fan waiting in the alley with a stake. Certainly to play Dracula as Stoker wrote him would be a hugely demanding role for any actor. The necessary combination of aristocratic grace, bestial ferocity, old-world eccentricity and dominating charisma is so complex that most attempts have been skewed in favour of one aspect or the other of the Count’s personality, or just descended into outright ham. Indeed, the best portrayals are often found in the looser adaptations – Frank Langella’s beautifully understated rendering in John Badham’s 1979 Dracula is my own favourite, but that’s a version that takes considerable liberties with the plot. To cast the perfect Dracula in a truly faithful presentation of the original novel seems, on the face of it, like an impossible challenge.

Which is why, despite the fact that I was only twelve at the time, I can still remember the excitement when rumours started to leak out about Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula. The word went round in a whisper that this was going to be the greatest Dracula ever. The most extravagant, dramatic, spectacular and faithful adaptation the world had ever seen. I wasn’t going to be able to watch it for a few years, of course, but the 18 rating hanging over it just made it more scarily exciting to anticipate. What could Coppola possibly have done to make the classic Victorian tale – that I’d already read when I was barely into double digits – merit a full-on “adults only” sticker?

Well, twenty years down the line, we all know the answer to that one. Contentions that this was going to be a truly book-accurate adaptation turned out to be less than truthful, as Coppola took a repressed and neurotic horror story and turned it into an overcharged, fantastical, and shamelessly bloodsoaked erotic romance. He certainly succeeded in reinventing Dracula for a new generation, however, and the influence of his version can readily be traced all the way through the last twenty years – from the long line of sexualised, visually sumptuous vampire flicks that came out through the nineties and early 2000s, through to blockbusters like Van Helsing with its obvious visual and design nods, even to the surfacing of lines from the movie in metal lyrics and tabletop wargames borrowing the armour designs. For better or worse, Coppola’s Dracula got everywhere.

Much of the credit for the iconic quality of this adaptation has to rest of course with Gary Oldman, who does an extraordinary job of playing one of the most demanding anti-heroes in cinematic history. Coppola’s Vlad Dracula as written is a strangely damaged creature, his emotions and motivations jarringly skipping tracks from one scene to another. In Transylvania, ancient and withered by time, he’s a fawning, almost senile figure enlivened by occasional flashes of deranged fury; in London with Mina, he’s torn between the roles of courtly lover and the affronted prince fighting the desire to simply cut through the emotional red tape and take what he already considers to be his by right. With Lucy, he’s the beast of her secret dreams; when he confronts Van Helsing and his stooges, he’s an out-and-out monster. Faced with this chaotic character to make sense of, Oldman, while he does ham it up at some points, makes a sterling effort and, importantly, manages to retain his dignity when it counts the most. His romance with Winona Ryder’s reserved yet passionate Mina is, character-wise at least, the finest thing about this film by far. Their scenes are unfailingly intense, beautiful and eloquently romantic, arguably the only times when this film manages to be truly profound in its drama. If Twilight is supposed to be the perfect vampire wish-fulfilment fantasy for the modern age, Coppola’s Dracula is a grander, nobler, older version by far. And the plot twist that makes Mina into Dracula’s own beloved Elisabeta reborn only adds to its magic, after the glimpse we’ve seen of the fifteenth-century original – I’ve actually often wished that Coppola would go back and make a prequel based on the events that we see briefly in the movie’s opening flashback. Short though it is, it’s breathtakingly evocative, and hugely adds to the sense of scale and scope that the narrative possesses.

Indeed, truth be told, the leading couple are set off so magnificently against the backdrop of the supporting cast that I almost suspect Coppola of deliberately directing everyone else so as to peel our sympathies away from them all. For Dracula and Mina stand alone, as the only characters who haven’t been sabotaged by either the script or their own performances. Anthony Hopkins’s scenery-chewing Van Helsing takes the novel’s eccentric but compassionate professor and turns him into a cheerful sociopath who seems to have no awareness at all of the distress he causes with his outrageous words and actions. Seward, Morris and Holmwood, three men who in the novel all carry themselves with an almost painful level of dignity, spend their first few appearances falling figuratively (and literally in Seward’s case) over their own feet; and the less said about Keanu Reeves’s wet-behind-the-ears, damn near castrated rendition of Jonathan Harker the better, since a great deal has been said already by others. Sadie Frost’s Lucy is portrayed as a nymphomaniac nymphet whose scandalous demeanour ruins any sense that this is set in the real Victorian era, though I fault the script for that rather than her performance; Frost, despite a sometimes glassy-eyed demeanour, does her absolute best with what must have been a role as embarrassing to play as it is to watch.

And yet, despite all of this actorial shambling, Dracula somehow remains a glorious film. Aside from Oldman and Ryder’s show-saving joint performance, the cinematography and visual direction alone set this movie head and shoulders above the common herd. It hasn’t dated for the very simple reason that it’s put together out of techniques stolen from across almost a hundred years of filmmaking; practically all the effects are done in-camera, making Dracula effectively the Viking funeral of vintage special effects before the example of Jurassic Park sent everyone off down the CGI rabbithole. It was a daring decision on Coppola’s part to take the cutting edge of filmmaking and shove it up the studio’s arse (ouch) but it was absolutely the right one. The lush, dreamy, gothic visuals of this film would almost certainly have been spoiled, not to mention instantly dated, by the CGI of the time, but shooting them in the old style ties this film smoothly back into the atmosphere of its predecessors all the way back to the days of Bela Lugosi, making this a visual treat for fans of classic horror rather than a betrayal of their traditions. It’s a film I find endlessly inspirational, filling my head up with swirling images and half-captured ideas every time I watch it. No matter how cynical I can be when I’m sitting down and commenting on it after the fact, when I’m there in the moment I’m enchanted every time.

Indeed, it’s arguably more impressive for a film to be so flawed and yet so magical, than it would be for it to be merely perfect. Happy birthday Dracula – many, MANY happy returns.

By Ben Bussey

Gather round young ‘uns, and I shall spin ye a tale of Halloween night some twenty years past… yes, it’s another one of those retrospectives based in childhood reminiscence. What can I say? Writing this shit down and posting it on the internet is considerably cheaper and more convenient than psychotherapy. Anyway, given that I seem to have been one of the few original viewers of this notorious bit of TV history that did not require therapy afterwards – even though I was considerably younger and as such obviously so much more impressionable and susceptible than the many adult viewers who were so appalled by what they saw – I daresay my perspective on this matter might be worth something.

Halloween 1992 fell on a Saturday. I was 12 years old, clad in a hastily assembled zombie costume of sorts with streaks of my mum’s reddest lipstick crusting on my cheeks, and was hosting what I would optimistically class as a Halloween party; after all, what says ‘party’ like six or seven 12 year olds sitting in a living room drinking cola, eating crisps and playing Atmosfear? But not long after 9pm, all gameplay and tomfoolery was called to a halt as we flicked to BBC1 to watch what I told my friends was a drama about ghosthunting. Within moments they were telling me I was wrong, and that this was a real, live programme. It was cutting between a TV studio set and what appeared to be a real suburban house, and it had familiar TV presenters in it: long-established BBC stalwart Michael Parkinson, real-life couple Sarah Greene and Mike Smith, and Craig Charles, still our hero back in the days when Red Dwarf was good. They were all referred to by their real names, and were speaking directly to camera. The sound and camera crew often stumbled into shot. Perhaps most significantly for us at the time, the BBC phone number 081 811 8181, instantly recognisable to any child of the 90s from Saturday morning show Going Live (on which Greene was a host), was frequently being flashed up on screen inviting viewers to call in. It had to be real, my friends insisted. I proceeded to pick up that week’s Radio Times, in which Ghostwatch was the cover story, and flicked to the feature within the magazine which made it clear that the programme was scripted, pre-shot and 100% fictitious. No doubt I also proceeded to lambast my peers for not having the common sense and decency to read the Radio Times. Yep, I was a master of social graces even then.

However, perhaps I wasn’t vocal enough. Maybe I should have gone out into the streets and shouted out, “cool it everybody, Ghostwatch is just pretend; now take it easy and enjoy it!” Unfortunately, a few too many people did precisely the opposite. They believed that what they were watching was actually happening – not necessarily a problem for the first forty-five minutes or so, in which not a great deal of note happens. But then, in the parlance of our times, shit gets real. (Or not, as the case may be.) Weird noises from nowhere. Pictures flying off the walls. Scratches showing up all over the faces of the kids, and unnerving, unnatural voices coming from the kids’ mouths. Fleeting glimpses of someone or something who shouldn’t have been there; the sinister presence known only as Pipes.

Once the batshit finale gave way to a simple end credits sequence and BBC1 continued their evening’s programming as if nothing had happened, one can only imagine the split reactions. Many, like myself, were left exhilarated by 90 minutes of highly effective supernatural entertainment, and proceeded to flick over to BBC2 where a whole night of horror movies was lined up; ah, what a great night of TV that was. Alas, thousands more viewers were left feeling somewhat less cheery. On realising Ghostwatch had been scripted after all, many felt betrayed and humiliated. Others apparently went on believing it actually had been for real. And – of course – a buttload of the most uppity and self-righteous ones called the BBC and any/all media outlets at their disposal, and complained as loudly as possible.

What a lot of absolute pillocks we have in Britain. (Well, I shouldn’t be surprised really; they’d just voted John Major back in earlier that same year.)

Revisting Ghostwatch in 2012 is a curious experience. On the one hand it’s a time capsule of early 90s Britain, still caught in an 80s hangover a few years before that whole Cool Britainnia nonsense swept the nation, with countless relics of the era scattered here and there: shoulder pads under Sarah Greene’s T-shirt, Jason Donovan and MC Hammer posters on the girls’ bedroom wall, and what I think is a Commodore Amiga hooked up to the TV. On the other hand, it’s also a piece of drama that’s rather ahead of its time given the form and content. It was broadcast seven years before The Blair Witch Project hit cinemas, and well over fifteen years before the term ‘found footage’ became part of the venacular (and not long thereafter a dirty word for many). Subsequently it might not have aged all that well, but at the time it was truly unlike anything many viewers, myself included, had experienced before. Knowing it was not ‘real’ did not, and indeed does not diminish its power in any way.

In any case, it’s not like Ghostwatch adds up to 90 minutes of utterly naturalistic drama. Some of the performances are pretty stagey, not least those of the two children; I mean, who’d be sitting around reading a magazine or changing into their pyjamas when there are TV cameras right in front of you? More to the point, since when was being enthralled by a horror movie or a ghost story contingent on believing it was real, anyway? That extra dash of verisimilitude just gives the action a bit of an edge, making the viewer that bit more receptive; lulling us to play along as though we really do believe what we’re seeing, much as how we might enter a ghost train or haunted house show knowing full well that it’s all staged but on some level allowing ourselves to make believe that it’s for real. And let’s face it: no one has ever picked up a copy of, say, Dracula, Carrie or World War Z – all of which take an epistolary form not entirely dissimilar to that of Ghostwatch – and mistaken them for actual historical memoirs, have they? And even if they did, have we ever heard them demanding such books be banned (for that reason at least)?

Unfortunately, a few too many pompous, miserable bastards did not take Ghostwatch in the spirit it was intended. For a taste of how hostile the reaction was (whipped up, as ever, by our beloved tabloid media), look no further than this panel show in which producers Ruth Baumgarten and Richard Brooke defend the programme against an audience of uptight fuckwits who are out to crucify them. If the attitudes on display there don’t make your blood boil, I don’t know what will. It should pretty much tell you all you need to know that these people knowingly allowed their children to watch a show that was broadcast after 9pm without bothering to read up about it first, yet feel no culpability whatsoever for how their children subsequently reacted. Well, once again, I was 12 years old at the time, I knew it wasn’t real, and I enjoyed it. Does that count for anything?

Unfortunately, the British news media can’t sell something if it doesn’t have an air of quasi-apocalyptic despair to it, hence Ghostwatch was written up as huge, cruel and irresponsible joke on the part of the BBC. Most heinously it was cited as the reason behind a young man’s suicide – despite the fact that, as writer Stephen Volk has long since emphasised, “the coroner at the inquest did not even mention the drama.” (Incidentally, his look back at the furore at the link above is well worth a read for detailing the length and breadth of Ghostwatch’s legacy.) Subsequently, although it is available on DVD it has never been repeated on British television, and apparently remains to this day something of a no-go area for the BBC. Still, I should think they’ve got rather bigger worries hanging on their shoulders at this moment in time…

20 years on, the landscape of television and the horror genre are somewhat different. Ghosthunting shows are now many, their veracity scarcely being an issue in their popularity, as Annie recently discussed. The content of TV in general is now a lot less restricted, and the concept of the 9pm watershed more commonly accepted; these days we’re well used to late night TV shows filled with blood, guts, tits, cocks, drugs, and people calling each other fucking cunts, and as such we can be forgiven for finding Ghostwatch a wee bit tame by comparison. On top of which, I find it highly unlikely such a programme could inspire quite the same reaction now, given that so many of us are prone to live-tweeting our thoughts on TV shows as they happen and Googling anything we see that raises a question the very moment that question comes to mind.

If we can disregard the question of whether Ghostwatch duped viewers and instead simply consider the programme as a piece of TV drama, there is much to appreciate. It’s certainly not short of flaws; as previously stated, the acting is variable, it’s sometimes a little overreliant on obvious jump scares, and not all of the key players are given much to do, with Mike Smith and especially Craig Charles generally feeling like fifth wheels. But in the midst of this, Ghostwatch does also raise some interesting questions on the subject of parapsychology, conveying points from both the side of the sceptic, embodied by the stoic Parkie and the blasé Charles, and that of the believer embodied by Greene and Gillian Bevane’s parapsychologist; which, knowingly or unknowingly, gives proceedings a perhaps somewhat cliched gender-based divide, particularly given the inhabitants of the haunted house are all female, abandoned by a similarly sceptical husband/father. There are also some intriuging suggestions as to what form the supernatural might take in the information age, particularly in the wonderfully outlandish ‘ghost in the machine’ climax.

Perhaps above all else for the devoted horror fan, Ghostwatch reminds us of the importance of being open to different and potentially interesting modes of storytelling. Yes, a great many of us (myself included) have long since fallen out of love with found footage, and not without justification; but in the right hands, a pseudo-documentary approach can prove highly effective for cooking up scares, as Ghostwatch demonstrates. The trick isn’t that the makers are deceiving the audience; it’s that the audience is ready and willing to be deceived, and within a fantastical context confront those tantalising and/or terrifying “what if?” questions, for 90 minutes or so at least. And what better time is there for that than the night of October 31st?

So, Happy Halloween to all, and to all a good night. Listen out for any strange noises in the witching hour; and be sure to keep a close eye on the cupboard under the stairs…