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Review by Ben Bussey

Ambition; perhaps both the most vital, yet also most hazardous attribute a filmmaker can have. If you aim high and deliver, you will vindicate yourself and by all rights should be applauded for it. However, if you fall short of the mark you may well end up the subject of a hundred thousand derogatory tweets, talk-back comments and message board posts. On the evidence of his debut film Inkubus, Glen Ciano is clearly an ambitious filmmaker. He’s hired Robert Englund as his titular villain, an apparently immortal demon who has been merrily murdering his way through history, and William Forsythe as a grizzled old cop whose first encounter with the demon many years earlier left him traumatised. So, with two genre heavyweights headlining the cast and nods toward a potentially epic mythology, Inkubus is clearly intended as something more than your average direct-to-DVD horror movie; a field in which most filmmakers seem content to aim low. Unfortunately, when pretty much everything else betrays the low-rent nature of the production, and the whole endeavour is executed with such a lack of invention or atmosphere, there’s no escaping the sense that Ciano and co have set themselves up for a fall.

True to form for a low budget debut film, the action takes place largely in a single location over a single evening, with a hint of Tarantino-ish jumping back and forth in time. Things kick off with a hospital-set birth sequence; given that this is a horror movie, you can make an educated guess as to how things turn out. Next thing we know the bereaved father, Detective Tom Caretti (Joey Fatone, who I can happily say I did not recognise as a former member of N-Sync), is sitting in a rubber room in a straightjacket, recounting the events that led him there: the night his police station was visited by Inkubus. From then on, we stay for the most part in the police station, where they’re operating on a skeleton crew in the process of shutting down (echoes of Assault On Precinct 13), and are subsequently unprepared for a guy to show up holding a dead girl’s head, claiming responsibility for hundreds of notorious murders going back centuries. Knowing his rights, Inkubus makes his phone call to retired Detective Gil Diamante (Forsythe), the one cop who ever came close to taking him down. Diamante readily agrees to come to the station, warning Caretti to expect the unexpected; and so begins a game of psychological cat-and-mouse which, naturally, will wind up killing most of the people involved.

It’s not a bad premise by any means, and it’s helped significantly by the presence of Englund and Forsythe. As a talkative demon with the ability to alter reality, Inkubus clearly isn’t a million miles away from Freddy, but Englund’s performance here is considerably more understated; he’s more of a quiet, refined, world-weary psycho killer, which feels appropriate given Englund’s obviously not as young as he was. Equally world-weary and even more grizzled is Forsythe, delivering every line as though he’d just sucked a hundred Marlboros a second earlier. I can’t imagine either actor would rank this amongst their best work, but like the best old professionals they give it their all regardless.

Unfortunately, barely anything else in Inkubus works at all. The supporting cast are bland, the story does not grip, and the aesthetics leave a great deal to be desired (insert yet another rant about how shitty DV looks). Less discerning gore fans may be satisfied, as there are a few enjoyably bloody moments; see the picture above. However, those hoping for respite in the form of T&A will be sorely disappointed, as while there are a couple of sex scenes – one of which features the very attractive though not especially compelling Michelle Ray Smith – it’s all strictly clothes-on. This, I think, indicates how Ciano is trying to avoid the usual pitfalls of direct-to-DVD; hoping to de-emphasise titilation in favour of real drama and chills.

Sad to say, he’s fighting a losing battle. Not unlike Noboru Iguchi’s latest, Tomie Unlimited, Inkubus is neither sophisticated enough to satisfy the erudite genre aficionado, nor is it enough fun for Friday night beer and pizza viewing. It is of course commendable that Ciano and his team have made efforts to go above and beyond the confines of their price range to make something that stands apart, but Inkubus simply isn’t strong enough in concept or execution for this to be the case. Were it not for the presence of Englund and Forsythe it’s hard to see many people being interested in the film at all, and even with them, the end results are frankly less than memorable.

Trinity X release Inkubus to Region 2 DVD on February 13th.

Review by Stephanie Scaife

Eureka Entertainment brings us the next instalment from their Masters of Cinema series in the form of the little known pseudo-documentary called Punishment Park, directed by cult British director Peter Watkins (The War Game, Culloden). After a poor critical response and with its tough, political subject matter ensuring distribution near impossible, Punishment Park received a limited release in 1971 before all but disappearing, only surfacing occasionally in academic film papers and on worn out VHS copies passed amongst those in the know. Now we finally have this excellent Blu-ray edition that has been lovingly transferred from a brand new 35mm print of a rare restored, negative kept in Paris, meaning that it looks and sounds fantastic despite having been shot on handheld 16mm on a shoestring budget with a cast of unprofessional actors.

Set in a near future dystopian US in the wake of Kent State and with the backdrop of Nixon and the escalating war in Vietnam; hippies, left-wing radicals, draft dodgers and all those considered to be an “internal threat” are arrested and put in front of an impossible tribunal. Led by right-wing government officials and the likes of an uptight and self-righteous housewife from an organisation called The Silent Majority for a Unified America (think The AFA), who when asked what she’d do if one of her own children were to be brought before the tribunal curtly states, “My kids wouldn’t do that, they’ve been trained differently”, which says it all really. This is an American future where you do as you’re told or face the consequences. In this instance the consequences are the choice between 20 years imprisonment in a maximum security facility or opting to spend 3 days in Bear Mountain Punishment Park in the Californian desert. Of course, the majority opt for the latter choice, thus unwittingly throwing themselves into a law enforcement training exercise that involves being pursued across 53 miles of blistering 100 degree desert with no water by a gang of trigger happy cops and National Guardsmen in what can only be described as an extreme version of capture the flag.

The film follows and intercuts between two groups of detainees who are being filmed by a BBC camera crew (narrated by Watkins himself). The first group, 637, are shown at the start of their 3 days in Punishment Park, whilst group 638 begin their civilian court hearings. As tensions rise in the tribunals and the reality of their fate dawns on both the detainees and the documentary crew filming them, Punishment Park quickly escalates to its shockingly inevitable and violent conclusion.

Despite its flaws, Punishment Park makes for compelling viewing. We’re never really given any insight into exactly how the documentary crew received such unrestricted access or how they survive when their subjects are seen at the brink of death due to dehydration; whilst the tribunal scenes, however impassioned, offer no real answers from either side of the argument, instead often descending into shouting matches that offer little in the way of variation and merely result in insults being slung from both directions. Even so, Punishment Park is still a remarkable film that really stands up over 40 years since its original release, remaining relevant in the post 9/11 world of secret prisons, Guantanamo Bay and leaked torture footage that we live in today. The pursuing group of law enforcement officers are led by the chillingly apathetic Sheriff Edwards (Jim Bohan) whose reaction of sheer indifference to being caught on film murdering the detainees in cold blood couldn’t be more relevant to what’s being seen in the media today.

If Punishment Park shocked viewers upon its initial release then it should outright terrify them today, due primarily to its continued relevance and ability to confront the contemporary viewer with the undeniable fact that things really haven’t gotten much better over the past 40 years and we still live in a pervasive society ruled by the 1%. Although it certainly does not make for easy viewing I’d recommend Punishment Park as a cult curiosity. It will always struggle to find an audience, but it is admirable in its intentions and Watkins is nothing if not a unique and innovative filmmaker.

As well as this being an excellent transfer of the film Eureka has provided a whole host of brilliant special features, including a 30 minute introduction to the film by Watkins, an audio commentary by Dr. Joseph Gomez (who wrote a book on Watkins) and a 40 page booklet with 2 essays and reprints.   

Punishment Park is released on dual format DVD/Blu-ray on 23 January 2012.

Review by Nia Edwards-Behi

If I may, before I begin to review this film properly, get a complaint out of the way. Whoever designed the cover of this DVD needs a pat on the back for having seen the cover for the I Spit on Your Grave remake and a big fat medal for thinking ‘oh hey I can rip that off for that DVD cover commission I got even though the image has got shit all to do with the film!’ Seriously, watch the film, and see how the woman on the cover actually looks more like Camille Keaton – never mind Sarah Butler – than poor Michelle Page, who actually stars in Rogue River, the film supposedly on the disc. I’d applaud them if I thought this was a genuinely exploitative attempt to cash in with the similarity; however, this just plain stinks of laziness.

Okay, and breathe. I could go on, but hey, it’s just a DVD cover, and luckily, Rogue River is not the junky rip-off the cover would have you believe. It’s nothing like I Spit on Your Grave, anyway, and while it’s not without several major flaws, it’s certainly an enjoyable enough film, in so much as a nasty little offering such as this can be enjoyed.

Rogue River begins with Mara (Michelle Page) hoping to scatter her father’s ashes at a riverside he would take her to as a child. There she meets Jon (Bill Moseley) who advises her that regulations state she can’t scatter remains in the river. Jon seems helpful enough, and when Mara discovers her car has been towed away, he offers to drive her to his house before taking her back into town. At Jon’s home, we meet Lea (Lucinda Jenney), Jon’s wife, busily preparing dinner. She instructs Mara to stay, and, as I’m sure every single person watching the film will gather… things can only go downhill from here. Jon and Lea are certainly not who they seem, and Mara faces great suffering at their hands.

The main issue for me, with Rogue River, is that it simply tries to do too much. By cramming in every single ‘ew, gross!’ revelation about Jon and Lea, the films risks becoming a little bit too pantomimic, and the monstrous acts they subject Mara to lose a little of their edge. Similarly, by subjecting Mara to such a variety of ordeals without fully establishing her as a particularly sympathetic character, it’s hard to be fully emotionally involved in the film. Kudos to the film for its inclusion of, y’know, an actual story, but it is sadly under-developed, which, given the film’s slender 78 minute running time, seems like an issue that could have been addressed. The pacing’s not quite right either, the narrative’s apparent second half seemingly slotted into fifteen minutes. Instead, we get kidnap! Torture! Incest? Torture! Sexual assault! Argh, incest! in a manner that’s not quite as punchy as those exclamation points might imply.

It’s certainly a film that ticks boxes, and, overall, it’s a watchable film. Michelle Page makes for a decent enough heroine (except for when she screams…that is one annoying scream), and Moseley and Jenney making a suitably sinister duo. Moseley in particular stands out, his more underplayed moments as striking as his more signature rant-mode. A few key moments fall a little flat, thanks to some not-quite-right-direction and, er, that scream, and unfortunately that includes the film’s bloody climax.  There are several plot holes and questionable character motivations in the film, too, but, all in all, these flaws merit an eye roll rather than a reach for the off-switch.

Rogue River is worth a watch, and won’t take up much of your time. It is released to DVD and Blu-Ray on 16th January from G2 Pictures; at the time of writing, the special features for this disc are to be confirmed.

Review by Ben Bussey

There is a particular potency to films (or stories told in any medium, for that matter) which go to lengths to establish a naturalistic context, then introduce a supernatural element. When we are presented with a story world which we can swallow as real, it gives that bit more power to the presence of the fantastic, making the audience that bit more open to the idea that magic and monsters could truly exist amidst the mundane. The pursuit of this effect has arguably been the principle drive behind the found footage subgenre – well, that and the fact that they’re relatively cheap to make and easy to sell – but just how successful the films have been is, of course, open to debate. As I said in my FrightFest 2011 report, “So often the model seems little more than an excuse for filmmaking on the cheap, and it feels as though for every [REC] there are half a dozen Zombie Diaries. It was a pleasant surprise, then, that a couple of this year’s entries (the other being A Night In The Woods) demonstrated there may well be life in found footage yet. Troll Hunter to my mind more than lived up to the hype, proving not only one of the most entertaining first-person-camcorder films in recent memory, but also quite possibly the best monster movie since The Host.” Over four months and a couple of viewings later, I can happily say Troll Hunter more than stands up to this assessment.

For those who came in late: a trio of media students with a documentary to make have chosen an alleged illegal bear hunter known only as Hans (Otto Jesperson) to be the unwitting subject of their project. Mystery abounds wherever this man goes; he sleeps all day in a mobile home (or RV as y’all Americans call them) that is strangely decorated with odious herbs, whilst by night he ventures out in a heavily armoured jeep garnished with strange slime and what look like giant claw marks. Yet no matter how dangerous the man and his business may be, our young heroes are not about to be deterred. They follow him across rural Norway until at last they get a chance to sneak a peek at him in action, and the truth comes out in a moment which, convieniently, requires no subtitles: with strange lights and noises behind him, an anxious Hans dashes through the dark woods directly towards the young camera crew and roars, “TROLL!”

As great as the temptation might be to compare and contrast Troll Hunter with The Blair Witch Project, Paranormal Activity and the like, in a sense these are not especially relevant points of reference. Where the aforementioned found footage films and so many of their imitators would seem intended as cinematic endurance tests, promising (if not always delivering) suspense and scares of the most intense and realistic kind, Troll Hunter is more interested in provoking a sense of wonder. Witness the climax of the first troll confrontation; once the great beast is defeated, the terror of the students gives way to an almost hysterical joy. Learning that fairy-tale creatures are real gives them a whole new outlook on the world, and from that point on they can’t be dragged from Hans’ side. It’s easy to see why. Deep down, who wouldn’t like to believe that magical monsters actually exist somewhere in the real world? The armchair cryptozoologists, parapsychologists and/or Fortean Times readers among us will certainly find much to relate to. And, given how gorgeous the snowy woodland and mountain range settings are, I wouldn’t be surprised if the film does wonders for Norway’s tourist industry, and troll hunter friendly hostels pop up in abundance.

And yes, those trolls really are the ace up the sleeve. Found footage has long been open to criticism for how much it leaves unseen; yes, we can nod to Val Lewton, argue for the power of the imagination and the importance of making the audience do some work, but just as easily we can complain of a lack of imagination and invention, and an easy excuse for technical incompetence. Troll Hunter avoids this beautifully as, while the titular monsters are not onscreen all that often, when they are they are clearly visible and – no word of exaggeration – absolutely breathtaking to behold. It is here that District 9 and Monsters seem considerably more appropriate reference points than Blair Witch or the PAs; the astonishing believability of the creatures is only enhanced by how clearly low-budget the production is overall, by comparison with major Hollywood productions at least. Comparisons with Cloverfield are also easy to make, but happily the camerawork here is considerably less wobbly and nausea-inducing than in Matt Reeves’ New York monster movie, and indeed so many other found footage films. (I doubt I’m alone in saying the inevitability of motion sickness plays a large part in putting me off the subgenre. What can I say, I have a delicate disposition.)

There are of course sociological speculations aplenty to be made from this film, and how enthusiastically it has been received internationally. The notion of mythical creatures existing and religious beliefs having a real, quantifiable power is certainly an attractive one to many in these theologically turbulent times, and we always have an appetite for films that tell us our governments are lying to us, concealing secrets so huge they could change the world. But I hardly imagine writer/director André Øvredal or co-writer Håvard S. Johansen are overly concerned with such matters, preoccupied as they are with simply giving us something to smile about. That’s the key thing that makes this film such a breath of fresh air in this day and age, when near enough every new horror film of note is on a mission to shock and appal. When all is said and done, Troll Hunter is a light-hearted, even family friendly fantasy (a bit of bone-crunching aside, the 15 certificate is scarcely warranted) which is exciting, funny and captivating in a manner that harks back to the good old days of Harryhausen. To my mind, we don’t get nearly enough films of this kind; or, at least, not ones that are actually good. (I’m looking in your direction, Clash of the Titans remake.)

Troll Hunter is released to Region 2 DVD and Blu-Ray on 9th January, from Momentum Pictures. The disc boasts plenty of deleted/extended/alternate scenes, visual effects features, and the option to watch it dubbed into English for those of us who are too lazy to read subtitles and/or impatient for the inevitable US remake. Our friends at Cult Labs would also like you to know there’s a nice Fanhub site and a fun little Facebook game out there for your online entertainment.

Review by Keri O’Shea

2011 has been a bumper year for horror comedies, it seems. At least, I’ve had the benefit of a pretty clear run of horror-comedies this year that have worked very well  – which is a nice surprise, as it can be rough terrain at times – neither horror nor comedy, fish nor fowl. So how does DeadHeads hold up? I went into this viewing wondering if my clear run was about to draw to a close, but knowing that Ben reviewed it after this year’s Frightfest and thought it was great, as did Kayley at Toronto After Dark. I have to say, I think that the ‘when’ and ‘where’ in this case goes some way to explain this very favourable verdict. Watching it alone, in December, hunched in front of a heater at home, I daresay I got something rather different from my viewing of the film.

Before I rattle on about this, here’s the basic plot. Mike (Michael McKiddy) has a problem: he’s just woken up alone, disorientated and amnesic in some sort of pod. Oh, and he’s also a zombie, although in this case this essentially amounts to a nasty skin condition because, unlike most zombies, he’s lucid, smart and not too interested in chowing down on the other white meat, not to mention the fact that he’s been shot in the head and is still going strong. After he escapes, he rambles around, trying to get a sense of where he is, and runs into another lucid zombie by the name of Brent (Ross Kidder). Gradually, they piece together a few things. Mike has been dead for three years, they’re in Colorado, and before his little accident he was about to propose to his girlfriend Ellie. As Brent opines, he evidently dodged that bullet and caught another. Still, they decide that Mike ought to track down the young lady in question because if love sees no colour, then it sure as shit isn’t going to turn a hair at a bit of putrefaction. Thing is, though, two zombies aren’t going to be able to road trip across to Michigan just like that; there’s a group of bounty hunters on their tails, and some sinister reasons why they ended up in their unfortunate postmortem state.

My first thought here was that DeadHeads was going to end up as some sort of post-Japanese body horror, which itself owes a fair amount to US 80s body horror, like Re-Animator, or else have a lot in common with interpretations of grindhouse classics like Hobo with a Shotgun; the bright colouration, stylised gore and cartoonish credits certainly put me in mind of some of these, but the movie didn’t really stick with this opening impression, settling into more standard road movie/buddy style humour before too long – zombies notwithstanding, of course. Not that directors/writers The Pierce Brothers neglect to pay homage to horror along the way; as proudly declared on the press release which accompanied my screener, the guys are the sons of Evil Dead SFX photographer Bart Pierce, and no opportunity is missed to nod towards that cult classic, including a bordering-on-nepotistic amount of footage from the film itself during a drive-in scene. It’s not the only movie reference, either; you might also note a mention of Dawn of the Dead, copious Shaun of the Dead scenealikes (although if anyone dares trot out the jaded suggestion that ‘this is this year’s Shaun of the Dead’ I’ll strangle them) and even a mention of The Goonies. Essentially, this is a film almost tailor-made to generate crowd-wide approbation at horror movie festivals. We all know the kind. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but it’s a thing, and unless you’re prone to whooping at the screen in your living room, some of the in-jokes might be lost on home audiences. 

One more issue, though – it may well be that the film was at a disadvantage with me because of its similarities to another horror-comedy I saw and reviewed very recently, namely Wasting Away (2007), alternatively known as ‘Aaah! Zombies!!’ in all its badly-punctuated glory. (Read that review at Sex Gore Mutants.) In that horror-comedy too we had lucid, sympathetic zombies for protagonists, struggling to understand their plights and get to grips with the subject of love whilst dealing with, you know, being the living dead, most notably the fact that the corrupt living wanted to dispose of them. I realise that this is just poor luck on my part, but when you see two very similar movies in a short space of time I’m afraid it inevitably affects the experience of viewing the more recent one. The whole zombie motif is also so overused these days that unless absolutely everything else in the film is amazing, then there’s a serious risk of the film being less than welcome.

Still, it’s not all doom and gloom for DeadHeads at all. The slapstick elements and gags here are often fun, to be fair, the pace of the movie is about right, and the characterisation is pleasantly overblown to a degree that the more folk you could get watching this, the more enjoyable it would doubtless be. It’s decently and earnestly acted throughout, too, and although it takes on the theme of romance in amongst all that zombie action, it handles that plot element just fine, neither too trite nor too involved in tone. This film didn’t rock my world, but it was okay, and the fact that the movie is endorsed by none other than Bruce Campbell will see it a long way, I’m sure.

DeadHeads is released to Region 2 DVD and Blu-Ray on 2nd January from G2 Pictures.

Review by Nia Edwards-Behi

Editor’s note: be warned that this review contains substantial spoilers. For a less spoilery (though not much more postive) appraisal, see Ben’s review from FrightFest. Alternatively, stop reading once you reach the picture of the person in the funny-looking mask…

It’s always pleasing to witness a British genre film gain some real attention and acclaim, not only from genre fans and critics, but from the mainstream presses too. Kill List’s many festival screenings and theatrical release brought with it a healthy dose of hype, which, somehow, I managed to avoid looking at in any great detail. I like to try not to taint my film experience too much beforehand with other people’s hyperbole, particularly when cries of ‘originality!’ and ‘shocking!’ are being made. Of course, despite my pretentions of avoiding all hype, that’s never possible, and I still watched Kill List expecting something great. Great, though, is not really what I got.

Kill List has many, many strengths. Its core performances are incredibly involving, lead duo Neil Maskell (Jay) and Michael Smiley (Gal) managing to make their monstrous characters compelling, though not likeable, which was key to sustaining my interest in the film, to the end at least. MyAnna Buring fares less well, for me, effective though her performance is as the shrill, irrational Shel. The film looks beautiful to boot, both in its cinematography and its editing. I would have preferred a more judicious use of slow motion, though, and the far more effective use of mismatched sound and visuals is a more impressive, albeit slightly over-used, conspicuous stylistic trick.

Up to a point, the film’s narrative sustains itself too, at least as an interesting thriller. However, from the outset the narrative’s over-riding similarity to another recent horror-thriller is absolutely, fundamentally distracting. Although certainly not plagiarising the earlier film, it hits so many similar beats, offers such similar scenarios that it’s difficult not to draw comparison. Where the film truly falls apart, for me, is in its ending. Now, to contextualise, I really enjoy a bat-shit insane ending, or a good twist, or a lack of closure, or a combination of these things. However, Kill List does not achieve any of these things effectively; its much lauded climax is less of a twist and more of a messy change in pace and tone that raises more questions than it answers. That the film’s climax is infuriatingly similar to the film it’s mimicked for 85 minutes adds insult to injury, and left me scratching my head as to what all the fuss has been about.

SPOILER ALERT!

It’s difficult to describe my problems with the film without explicitly comparing it to A Serbian Film. No, Kill List is not a controversy-baiting questionable political metaphor, yet it bears countless similarities to 2010’s enfant terrible of genre cinema. Change the professions from ‘porn star’ to ‘hit man’ and the basic narrative of both films is the same: traumatised family man who has come upon hard times is encouraged by a former colleague to take on one last job with a mysterious employer. The job spirals out of control, leading to chaos and tragedy.

Okay, so basic narrative similarity is an unfair criticism – such is the nature of genre anyway. But take moments from both films – touching moments between father and son, the sardonic former partner, the mysterious female double agent, the devoted wife, the dark underbelly of a respectable veneer (art/exploitation; politics/cultism) – and the generic narrative similarities start to stand out. But, as I’ve said, it is with the film’s climax that this similarity comes to a head, so to speak – in A Serbian Film, Milos, in his drug-riddled state, rapes his son. Sex has been his profession, his libido his tool, and here at the film’s climax it is put to its most horrifying use. The same, unfortunately, goes for Kill List: Jay, in his final hit, is forced, blinded, to a fight to the death with the Hunchback. Jay is triumphant, his years of experience as a hit man reaching their crescendo as he relentlessly stabs his opponent in the back. The leering, cultish crowd cheers, and the hunchback is revealed to be nothing of the sort, but rather his wife, who had been carrying their son on her back. Jay, using the tools of his trade, has used them in the most horrifying way imaginable, in the murder of his son.

It’s fairly evident that there’s a twist on its way with the ‘hunchback,’ but this jarring similarity makes for a particularly unsatisfying ending. There is no shock value left when it’s been done so recently and so infamously. It’s a damn shame, given as the film is otherwise incredibly promising as a thriller. It’s a film worth watching, and I don’t doubt that without the comparison point of A Serbian Film, it becomes incredibly stronger. However, personally, those similarities were overwhelmingly distracting and detracting. Regardless, Ben Wheatley’s certainly a name to keep an eye on, his stylish eye evident throughout the film.

Along with a couple of film commentaries, the DVD comes with a few interviews with filmmakers and stars, and a brief but interesting ‘making of’ comprised of behind the scenes footage, camera tests and FX details.

Kill List is released to Region 2 DVD and Blu-Ray on 26th December from Studiocanal.

Review by Ben Bussey

Okay. At least 600 words on a movie about man-eating sharks that swim in the sand instead of the sea. I can do this. Of course I can. Never mind that it basically requires no review as the title, DVD cover and trailer tell you all you need to know. Never mind that it retreads the exact same territory that countless low budget creature features have over the decades. Never mind that it’s designed to be essentially critic-proof, as it wears its outright stupidity as a badge of honour; accuse it of being inane, uninventive, lazy, badly written, badly directed, badly shot, badly acted and sporting pathetic special effects, and those responsible will no doubt laugh, cheer and insist that was entirely the point, smiling down from their ivory tower of ironic detachment.

Sigh. Breathe. Breathe.

Alright, here’s the thing. Being a bit ironic will only float you so far. True, this kind of monster movie is not an especially demanding proposition, but certain criteria must be met: good monsters, attractive locations, similarly attractive and (where possible) endearing performers, a sense of humour, and decent set-pieces. And, particularly if it’s a DTV deal like this one, a hefty side order of gratuitous gore and nudity wouldn’t go amiss either.

So, just how much of this does Sand Sharks deliver, I hear you ask? Well… tempted as I am to score it a big fat zero, that might be a little harsh. The creature design isn’t completely awful, the sandy beaches are pleasant enough, and the cast aren’t necessarily the worst-looking, least-likeable ensemble you’ll ever come across. But as for everything else… yeesh. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: just because a film is knowingly shit doesn’t keep it from being actually shit. And so it is with Sand Sharks.

We have the classic ensemble of also-rans: Corin Nemec, AKA the one from Stargate SG-1 who wasn’t Daniel Jackson; Vanessa Lee Evigan, daughter of Greg (My Two Dads) and less bankable sister of Brianna (Sorority Row, Burning Bright); Brooke Hogan, by-product of Hulkamania. With a line-up as (ahem) star-studded as that, it’s no wonder everything else is cut-price, particularly once we reach the climactic super-awesome beach party which has all of twenty people in attendance. And of course the budget isn’t there for too much creature action, so the gaps are filled in with… gulp… plot and dialogue. And all the while, because it’s clearly intended for the SyFy Channel, nobody gets to swear, nobody gets laid, nobody even comes close to getting naked. Sure, there’s a smidgeon of blood and guts, but otherwise it’s all so safe and sanitary they could show this at church camp. They even go so far as to have a brief moment when a girl is about to remove her bikini top, before a sand shark jumps up and chows down (and that non-money shot even appears in the trailer below). Obviously this is meant to be a little joke, but it just leaves the viewer wondering what the point is.

It doesn’t matter how closely you imitate key scenes and lines from Jaws, saying shit like “You’re gonna need a bigger beach.” It doesn’t matter that Brooke Hogan makes a Roger Corman reference (Sand Sharks is of course being distributed by Corman’s AWP), in-between spouting marine biological blather in such a manner as to make Denise Richards in The World Is Not Enough suddenly seem entirely credible as a nuclear physicist. It doesn’t matter how hard Corin Nemec tries to channel Bruce Campbell. Sometimes a shit, stupid film is just a shit, stupid film, no matter how hard they ram the tongue into the cheek. That’s over 600 words now, isn’t it…?

Chelsea Films release Sand Sharks to Region 2 DVD from 9th January 2012. Happy New Fucking Year.

Review by Ben Bussey

Sex, mental illness, Japan: these are at the heart of both these films. I should stress straight away that, while I’ve chosen to review the films together, they are not being sold together; they are from neither the same filmmakers nor the same distributor, and were made almost two decades apart. However, given how close they are in concept and theme, Tokyo Decadence and Guilty of Romance make for an appropriate double bill. That said, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend watching them back to back, unless you relish the prospect of spending around four hours being numbed by the sight of emotionally bankrupt individuals degrading themselves in the desperate search for something resembling feeling. A thought-provoking evening’s entertainment, for sure, but not likely to leave you in a particularly sunny state of mind.

I feel I should also confess right away that Tokyo Decadence has been sitting on my shelf for a couple of months now; it was released back-to-back with The Cheerleaders/Revenge of the Cheerleaders (now there’s some strange bedfellows) as the first releases of new Arrow sub-label Arrowdrome Erotic. At first I told myself the reason I put off writing it up was that I didn’t think it was entirely appropriate for Brutal As Hell; not an argument that holds up, I admit, given that I went ahead and reviewed the decidedly non-horror Cheerleaders movies. No, the truth of it is I avoided writing it up because I was intimidated. Yes, I said it. We hardened, unfeeling web critics can still be colossal fannies on occasion. I was intimidated because Tokyo Decadence is a hard film to surmise; straightforward in narrative terms, but more complex on a psychological level. Then, on sitting down to watch Guilty of Romance, I couldn’t help but note the many similarities between the two films. As well as both being made in Japan and centring on young women in the sex trade, both films defy genre boundaries and easy explanation. However, I can confidently declare this much about both: they may focus heavily on sex, but I would not class either of them as erotic films. The sex here is compulsive, cold, hard, emotionless, with very little pleasure involved.

Tokyo Decadence AKA Topâzu (1992) was written and directed by Ryū Murakami, adapted from his own novel (and if you needed further evidence that this is not going to be a happy tale, Murakami also wrote the source novel of Audition). Miho Nikaido stars as Ai, a young woman who works as an S&M prostitute. Taking an almost fly-on-the-wall approach, the film follows Ai through a series of jobs in which either she or the client is humiliated. The big question, however, is quite how and why someone as extraordinarily shy, naïve and insecure as Ai got into this line of work; but as much as she is employed to fill some kind of void for her clients, it becomes clear that Ai has quite a void of her own in need of filling (stop sniggering at the back).

Very much an arthouse film, Tokyo Decadence unfolds at a languid pace, shot mostly in long takes with minimal dialogue and music, subsequently leaving the S&M content as the main focal point. Little surprise, then, that the film has a chequered past with censors worldwide: one of the earliest NC-17s in the US, it was banned outright in Australia and South Korea, and had around twenty minutes trimmed (presumably by the distributors) before being first submitted to the BBFC. Now granted an uncut UK release for the first time, it’s not hard to see why the prudes were not amused given the presence of dildos, erotic asphyxiation, piss-drinking and so on. Given how little there is in the way of plot, we can imagine how easily the censors could dismiss such scenes as ‘decontextualised depravity’ and claim this as justification for their censorship, much in the way the BBFC recently justified banning The Bunny Game. Such an argument would, of course, be very lazy indeed; just because Murakami doesn’t spell things out for us in black and white doesn’t mean there’s nothing going on between the lines. It’s not the easiest film to read, I’ll grant you, but it’s definitely saying something about the potentially destructive power of desire; kind of like Hellraiser, but without all the murder, regenerated corpses and extradimensional sadomasochists. Oh, and in case there was ever any doubt that censors are harsher on independent arthouse films than they are on mainstream studio output, it’s worth noting that Tokyo Decadence was released in the same year that the global box office was dominated by Basic Instinct.

By contrast with Murakami’s film, Shion Sono’s Guilty of Romance AKA Koi no tsumi (2011), while still not exactly laugh-a-minute stuff, is not quite so dour an affair. Aesthetically it’s far more stylised, with a bold colour scheme and prominent use of piano-based classical music; there is a thick, dark streak of humour underlying proceedings; there are moments, however brief, in which the participants do seem to be taking actual satisfaction from their debauched behaviour. (And, if I may be entirely candid, I pity anyone who can take no pleasure from the sight of Megumi Kagurazaka in states of undress. I am a feeble, predictable straight male who crumbles at the sight of women’s breasts, and hers are astonishing.) Factor in the framing device of a murder mystery – the action intermittently flashing forward to police officers investigating the gruesome homicide of an initially unidentified woman – and the result is a considerably more accessible, conventionally plot-driven film than Tokyo Decadence. Even so, it’s still liable to push the panic buttons of the prudish.

Izumi (Kagurazaka) is the image of a dutiful housewife, wed to successful novelist Yukio (Kanj Tsuda) who specialises in romantic fiction yet is emotionally detached in everyday life. Working away from home, he leaves at the same time every morning and gets back at the same time every night, and given how fastidiously Izumi ensures his slippers and tea are ready it’s apparent he has beaten this routine into her, figuratively or literally. Anxious to get out, Izumi timidly persuades Yukio to let her take part-time work, which she finds at a supermarket deli handing out free samples of sausage (told you there was humour). Here she is approached and offered work by a woman who claims to be a modelling agent; either through naïveté or a desperation for any kind of a new life experience, Izumi accepts, and inevitably the work turns out to be in porn. But as she tumbles further down the rabbit hole of her new double life, Izumi encounters Mitsuko (Makoto Togashi), a woman leading quite the double life of her own as both a prostitute and a literature professor. Mitsuko takes Izumi under her wing and teaches her the trade, kind of like a Yoda or Mr Miyagi in clear heels. But – if this really needs to be said – Mitsuko clearly has major issues, and is lining Izumi up for something more than just selling her body.

I’m not sure if I’m at a significant disadvantage having to date never seen any of Shion Sono’s other films, but he’s a filmmaker I’ve long since heard good things about; I understand this is the final part of his ‘hate’ trilogy, following from Love Exposure and Cold Fish. It doesn’t seem unfair to assume that Murakami’s film may have influenced Sono’s work here, but we certainly couldn’t class it as a rip-off. Many reviews have also noted echoes of Belle De Jour, which are readily apparent. However, considering the film as a product of 2011, it’s also easy to relate it to the likes of A Serbian Film and Red White and Blue; it’s not that I assume either to have necessarily been a direct influence, but rather that in common with those films Guilty of Romance seems symptomatic of a new breed of extreme psychosexual melodrama, wherein the ferocity and joylessness of the onscreen sexual activity results in scenes more unnerving than most screen violence.

I’ll admit, I do find it difficult to discern quite what the overriding message of either Tokyo Decadence or Guilty of Romance really is. In a curious way, neither film is too far removed from the kind of early exploitation that Doris Wishman pioneered; films which purport to be cautionary tales demonstrating the terrible consequences of sin, whilst gleefully displaying as much sinful behaviour as possible. We meet both Ai and Izumi on slippery slopes, and the implication is that neither of them have any hope of getting back up again. Are we then to interpret these films as condemning open female sexuality, and by association reaffirming the patriarchal order? Or are these instead films of a feminist leaning, highlighting how women are demonised within this patriarchy? Or, as an IMDb reviewer says of Guilty of Romance, are they simply “a constant male masturbation fantasy with a few literature references tossed in to justify it?” Neither film presents easy answers, but each raises questions worth pondering. Once again, an appropriate double bill in thematic terms, but be warned that watching them back to back could potentially have a seriously detrimental effect on your libido.

Tokyo Decadence is available now on DVD from Arrowdrome Erotic; Guilty of Romance is released to DVD and Blu-Ray on November 28th from Eureka. (Note that the Guilty of Romance Blu-Ray also features the original cut, some 30 minutes longer than the cut reviewed here.)