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Review by Stephanie Scaife.

The Cat o’ Nine Tails (1971) Dario Argento’s second feature, and purportedly his least favourite, is the newest Blu-ray release from Arrow Video. Sitting in between The Bird with the Crystal Plumage and Four Flies on Grey Velvet as part of Argento’s loosely connected animal trilogy, The Cat o’ Nine Tails does not unfortunately feature an actual cat, just a metaphorical whip that relates to the nine different plot strands that slowly uncover the identity of the killer in this watchable but convoluted giallo murder mystery.

Karl Malden stars as Franco “Cookie” Arno, a blind puzzlemaker who lives with his young niece Lori (Cinzia De Carolis). One evening Arno happens to overhear a conversation about blackmail taking place between two men in a car parked outside The Terzi Institute, a genetic institute in Rome. Arno stops to tie his shoe laces and asks Lori to describe the men in the car; one of the men is obscured but the other turns out to be Dr. Calabresi (Carlo Alighiero) who soon ends up dead after being pushed in front of a train by an unseen assailant in the wake of a robbery at the institute.

Arno takes a great interest in the case and joins forces with local journalist Carlo Giordani (James Franciscus), revealing that he too was once a journalist before the accident that made him blind. As the list of murder victims grows the investigative duo are introduced to a selection of would be suspects including Anna Terzi (Catherine Spaark in an array of impressively hideous outfits) the beautiful femme fatale and adopted daughter of the Institute’s owner, Dr. Braun (Horst Frank) a high-brow homosexual and Dr. Carsoni (Aldo Reggiani) a young genius with a peculiar interest in chromosome configurations.

The Cat o’ Nine Tails starts off as a fairly average espionage thriller/murder mystery, but this being a giallo film it soon becomes overwrought with plot twists and increasingly difficult for the viewer to fathom. As the plot unfolded and our unique crime fighting duo began to close in on the killer I found myself not even particularly caring who it was or why they were doing it, instead my appreciation for the film lay more in its ambiance and permeating air of peculiarity. Having said that there is still much to admire here; particularly the Ennio Morricone soundtrack (although admittedly underused), and Argento’s emerging ability to create a sinister and ubiquitous threat through the use of extreme close-ups and POV shots from the killer’s perspective. Overall though I found The Cat o’ Nine Tails to be a little dull and often tricky to follow making it difficult to recommend, especially to those unfamiliar with Argento’s oeuvre. However, when you consider much of his output over the years (particularly of late) it is still easy to rank this amongst his better films. I’m not sure I’d specifically recommend the Blu-ray transfer either, there is only a marginal improvement from the DVD and there was some definite blurring and unnatural brightness in places. Making Cat o’ Nine Tails a slightly disappointing Arrow Video release from their generally very strong blu-ray output and one for collectors and Argento fans only.

The Cat o’ Nine Tails is currently available on all-region Blu-ray from Arrow Video. The special features include interviews with Argento, the documentary Dario Argento: An Eye for Horror, a trailer reel and an exclusive booklet.

Review by Keri O’Shea.

Ah, 70s exploitation cinema, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…the unapologetic cramming of sex, horror and any combination of pop culture references always makes for a fun watch, even when much within the film’s plot is oddly lacking. I like to think of these movies as trashy time capsules, and The Devil’s Kiss is no exception. As a representative of its ilk, it certainly has enough going on to entertain. If I outline the plot, you’ll see just what I mean.

Widow Claire Grandier – played by Spanish cult film actress and Naschy co-star Silvia Solar – is (comparatively) down on her luck since losing her husband. She has been reduced to giving psychic readings to entertain parties of bored aristocrats, and in this line of work she visits the castle of the Duke de Haussemont. Impressed and sorry for her (not to mention spooked by her predictions), the Duke offers her a room in the castle where she can advance the ‘research’ which she tells him about. How wrong he is to help her, though! Claire Grandier actually has a plan to avenge her husband’s death and a big grudge against the de Haussemont family, whom she blames: together with her companion, the malevolent Professor Gruber, they combine the dark arts with some bad science, recruit an alleged rapist dwarf (no, really) and set about creating… a killer zombie.

Now, if that doesn’t sound like a fun movie to you, then I don’t know what would.

Spanish exploitation cinema is perhaps not as exhaustively available as, say, the contemporary French or Italian material – but it more than holds its own, especially when you consider how hard it was to get these films made in the restrictive political climate of the time. Still, the good thing is that there’s still so much to discover. Even a genre big name like Paul Naschy, who most people know, has very few films available – but I think this will change, and it’s great to see films like The Devil’s Kiss are getting attention too.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t a good film by many conventional measures, but its brand of all-inclusive dementedness makes it worthwhile. There’s a nod to nearly every exploitation staple you can think of, from Satanism to sex, to crazed scientists and the obligatory go-go dancing, and a lot of striking scenes. It’s one of those films that would improve exponentially according to how many people you could get watching it – because you don’t need to concentrate on every nuance of the plot, and you can forgive how rambling and daft it is to focus on the best bits. The Devil’s Kiss obviously worked on the premise that it should be all things to all men, but this ‘dash of everything’ approach means the film is never dull.

Silvia Solar – who sadly passed away earlier this year – is a fun femme fatale here. A striking-looking woman for starters – all raven hair and kohl eyes – she also joins the hallowed ranks of exploitation actresses who play their roles utterly straight-faced. This earnestness adds something to the roles which wouldn’t be there if they were played ironically; Solar delivers her dour platitudes and occult ramblings with style. The supporting cast of miscreants are very strong too, and whilst the lack of budget is evident, this isn’t a bad-looking film either. If you like Gothic castles and hokey laboratories, then you’re laughing.

The Devil’s Kiss won’t change your life, but it’s a decent example of 70s Eurohorror and an entertaining ride – what it lacks in cogency, it makes up for elsewhere. The full release of this will contain liner notes from Stephen Thrower, no less, and as he’s a guy who has retained his enthusiasm for sleazy cult cinema in a way a lot of his contemporary talking-heads haven’t, I am interested to see what he has to say about this oddball movie.

The Devil’s Kiss is released to DVD by Arrowdrome on 17th October 2011.

Review by Keri O’Shea.

Sex. Cannibalism. Sex and cannibalism. You might be forgiven for thinking that it would be completely impossible to make a boring film which contained both of those themes, but somehow, it has been done twice in France! In 2001 Claire Denis made Trouble Every Day, where even the entrancing Béatrice Dalle couldn’t save the plot from being piecemeal and poorly-paced. Now we have Cannibal, and even making allowances for this being a début feature from writer-director Benjamin Viré, it is notable mainly for managing to be even more dull than Trouble Every Day. I’ll say it again – I’m talking about two films rendering blood and sex combined utterly tiresome. It’s an achievement of sorts, I suppose…

The plot is thus: troubled young golfer Max (Nicolas Gob)  – who’d be less troubled and more of a golfer if he didn’t try to play in the woods, perhaps –  finds a bloodied young woman lying unconscious. He takes her home, cleans her up, and decides she can stay, christening her Bianca. Inevitably, this isolated man begins to fall for Bianca; the attraction is undimmed even when he follows her into the woods one night and sees her partially devouring a man she’s having sex with. Hey, needs must and all that. As you might imagine, though, Bianca is known to a few people, and they are looking for her. To defend his peckish lady-friend, Max has to confront some demons from his past…

Cannibal suffers almost immediately by trying to surpass all of the usual things an audience might depend on to engage with a story; characterisation is treated very minimally, there is little dialogue (until the end, when there’s too much) and the early scenes of the film lack any real attempt to develop a focus. There’s lots of real time camera work at the start, and as such, little editing and the inclusion of a lot of unnecessary footage. It doesn’t exactly give you a burning interest in Max and even the discovery of Bianca – which has potential as a scene – is handled in the same stumbling, pace-free way. We are then faced with lots of people looking wistfully into the middle distance, asking one another “Ça va?” and slowly eating meals. It isn’t beneficial to furthering the plot and it actively disengaged me from the film, even at this early stage. Furthermore, the style of shooting (hand held cameras, a washed-out, pinkish caste, lots of darkness) made it technically difficult to see what was going on: again, an early scene featuring Bianca had the capacity to shock, but I struggled to see it. I got the distinct impression of a director trying to run before he can crawl; if you want to dispose of all the usual elements which make up a movie, I think you need an awareness of how important they are and evidence that you can craft something remarkable which doesn’t need them. If you can’t do that, then your film will fail.

From here, there’s lots more domestic detail and, what I assume, is time given to establishing the relationship between the two main players. Personally, I was so beaten back by the film by the thirty-minute mark that I had trouble accepting the genuineness of any love between Max and Bianca; again, there is just too much filler, which dilutes any sense of development or narrative progression. By the time the film changed tack and added in crime drama elements – replete with acres of tiresome platitudes about ‘respect’ and so on – I felt baffled. The main issue is that you never find yourself believing that any of the characters here have any sort of internal life: they just drift along for far too long, and then that’s that.

So, there we have it. A promising idea scuppered, because the director preferred to fart around with unconventional camera work (and so on) than develop it properly. The slick packaging and blurb might convince you to give this a go; just remember, it’s all there to tease you.

Cannibal is out now on Region 2 DVD from Matchbox Films.

Review by Ben Bussey.

Red White & Blue is the story of Erica (Amanda Fuller) and Nate (Noah Taylor), two neighbours in a crumbling apartment building, and Franki (Marc Senter), a guitarist in a struggling rock band. It takes place in Austin. Beyond that, I’m wary to mention anything of the plot. Simon Rumley’s film is a difficult one to discuss without giving anything away, which might explain why in the run-up to its British release some reviewers seem to have thought to hell with it and given away the lot (not naming names, but shame on you). One thing I will categorically state is that if you’re looking for a horror movie to facilitate a fun night in with a curry and some beers, Red White & Blue is most definitely not the film you’re after. If, however, you want to see independent filmmaking of the highest order, filmmaking which challenges the viewer at every turn and pushes the boundaries of what we percieve to be horror, then you need look no further.

It may be set in Austin and peopled with working class Americans (yes, I’m aware Noah Taylor isn’t actually from round those parts), but at heart Red White & Blue is not too far removed from the upper class English drama of Rumley’s previous film The Living and the Dead. Both films defy easy description; both for the most part emphasise character over narrative. Perhaps most significantly when considering these films as entries in a modern horror cycle, these are films with horrific content but without clearly defined antagonists. Yes, heinous acts are committed by people in a more than questionable state of mind, but each person has their reasons for doing such things. We certainly need not condone these actions, but nor do we condemn the person responsible as evil. This is a pretty rare approach, even in the most uncompromising films of today; even A Serbian Film, notable for featuring its protagonist Milos engaging in some of the most hideous behaviour imaginable, ultimately relieved Milos of much of the blame and heaped it all on the shoulders of the unequivocal villian Vukmir. In Red White & Blue, however, the actions of Erica, Nate and Frankie are entirely their own doing, right or wrong, and each in their own way remains to a certain extent sympathetic in spite of the awful things they have done.

Far from the passive experience that is so often provided by much low-budget horror, Red White & Blue is a film which requires a lot of work on the part of the viewer. Not only does it leave you to make your own moral assessments of the characters and their actions, but it also leaves many blank spaces in the narrative, leaving a great many questions left unanswered and a great deal left unsaid. There are large stretches in which dialogue is sparse at best; indeed, unless I’m mistaken not a word is uttered in the first five minutes. Okay, I give up, there’s no way I can expand on this without getting into the plot just a little: as we are introduced to Fuller’s Erica and Taylor’s Nate and their burgeoning relationship (whatever kind of relationship it is), neither character is what you’d call a great people person, and the sparsity of the dialogue reflects this. By contrast, once we get properly acquainted with Senter’s Franki, he’s very much the motormouth, as befits his wannabe rock star status. But in each case, that which is said might not necessarily reflect that which actually is. They all have their secrets and have all made their own deceptions, which come to a head in the confrontational final act. It’s drama worthy of Chekov or Ibsen, if either of them wrote a play set in Austin and ended it with several scenes of horrendous violence. (I should hardly think that counts as a spoiler.)

The presence of Marc Senter may draw comparisons between this film and The Lost, Chris Sivertson’s screen adaptation of Jack Ketchum’s novel. The films have more in common than a great Senter performance. To a large extent, Rumley (along with the likes of Sivertson and Lucky McKee) is developing on screen that same brand of naturalistic, character-based, blue collar horror that Ketchum pioneered in fiction. Where so many slasher and torture films deliver on nothing more than bloodshed for its own sake, Red White & Blue is the kind of film in which blood does not spill until the tensions between the characters have reached breaking point. As such, it’s obviously not a barrel of laughs, and not necessarily a film you’ll be too eager to revisit. But it’s a film that demands to be seen, if only once, as a firm reminder of the intelligence, emotion and pure drama that horror cinema is capable of at its very best, in the hands of an exceptional writer/director and cast. 

Red White & Blue is in select UK cinemas now, and comes to DVD on 10th October from Trinity Entertainment. For another take on the film, check out Britt’s review.

Nia Edwards-Behi reviews the first film from Panic Button director Chris Crow, soon to premiere at Abertoir 2011.

A hapless group, stranded in unfamiliar territory, hunted down by a relentless monster – human or otherwise – is a staple of our beloved genre. We’ve more or less seen it all before, as is the way with genre at the best of times, but thankfully every now and again along comes a breath of fresh air. Chris Crow’s debut film takes the run-around-the-woods film back to its roots, and as a result offers up a fine piece of genre filmmaking. Sean (Joseph Millson) travels to Wales, with friends Adam (Michael Jibson) and Danny (Gary Mavers), in order to meet with a man who promises him an easy way out of a potential bankruptcy. Arriving at the rural location they find themselves instantly at odds with local nutter Bill (Joshua Richards), an altercation that will lead to a night of desperate survival.

It’d be easy to label Devil’s Bridge as ‘the Welsh Deliverance’, and such a comparison wouldn’t be too far off the mark. Harkening back to a 1970s, down-and-dirty aesthetic, the film is a visual treat, making the very most of its wonderful, rural location. No helpful sprite is going to emerge from these trees, as dark and twisted they loom over our protagonists. They’re a likeable enough bunch, albeit thoroughly misguided. A highlight of the film for me is the expected pub scene, where, like in countless films before, the protagonists find themselves in the local, and are met with an icy reception. Gladly, however, the scene is not just a blow-by-blow rehash of every other pub scene in such films, but rather plays on the power dynamics normally on display in an unexpected way.

Some nice in-jokes pay homage to the film’s cinematic forebears – duelling banjos and reference to Trencher’s house – but just like Crow’s second feature Panic Button, Devil’s Bridge is a very modern film, its central dodgy dealings the result of economic recession and financial desperation. The usual dichotomies riddle the film – town and country, past and present – while class has become a very murky theme of the film. The town is no longer rich, the present no longer stable, yet both continue to lord it over a disadvantaged past via the youthful outsiders at the film’s core. This thematic play with convention is massively refreshing, and lends Devil’s Bridge a great deal of credibility as the product of someone who cares about the story he’s telling, as well as the way he’s telling it.

Crow’s direction is stylish without being ostentatious; though I’m not wholly convinced by the framing device used in the film, it does provide the film with the punchy ending it might otherwise have lacked. As a first feature, written, directed and edited by Crow, Devil’s Bridge is terrifically paced, compelling throughout its short but satisfying running time. While Crow’s second feature depends a great deal more on a suspension of disbelief, Devil’s Bridge is wonderfully believable. The cast is uniformly strong, with Michael Jibson once again excellent as the oddly-likeable Adam, despite his character being, well, a bit of a pain in the bum. Most memorable, though, is undoubtedly Joshua Richards. Hidden away and detached as the icy voice of the Alligator in Panic Button, here Richards is almost the reverse, the embodiment of full-bloodied, hands-on brutality. His performance is truly terrifying as the scorned and primal man, territorial to the end.

The film’s use of Welsh history is a little heavy-handed, but that may be due in part to over-familiarity on my part. That over-familiarity also means that at times I did find myself slightly rooting for the antagonist, the defiant ranting of characters like Adam, however futile, offensive enough to have me wanting to see him receive his comeuppance. Is that how inbred Nevadans feel when they watch The Hills Have Eyes? I don’t know, but it provides a wonderfully discomforting edge to the film. Regardless, this is a dark, thoughtful film, which offers characters to care about and a murky depiction of right and wrong. Simple and exhilarating, Devil’s Bridge confirms Chris Crow as a name to watch.

Devil’s Bridge will receive its world premiere at Abertoir 2011 – keep an eye on www.abertoir.co.uk for full screening details as they’re announced!

Review by Stephanie Scaife.

51 is another of the After Dark Originals produced by SyFy, and a particularly lacklustre effort at that, which for this sort of low budget made-for-television movie should give you an indication of just how dull this is. Directed by Jason Connery (son of Sean), 51 is an army vs. aliens horror film that pretty much fails to deliver on almost every level and despite a few recognisable names in the cast, they all appear to be phoning in a performance just for the paycheque.

The premise is that due to decades of overwhelming pressure Area 51 has finally decided to let the media in, under strict supervision of course. The lucky few picked to gain access include reporter Claire (Vanessa Branch), TV anchor Sam (John Shea), camerawoman Mindy (Lena Clark) and photo journalist Kevin (Damon Lipari). Colonel Martin (Bruce Boxleitner) has been tasked with giving the visitors a heavily chaperoned tour of the facilities, which of course aims to completely overlook that fact that there are actual living alien specimens within Area 51. Rather inconveniently, on the very same day of the media visit Patient Zero, a hostile shapeshifting alien life form, escapes from his cell, goes on a killing spree and sets loose the other aliens held captive within the facility.

Also along for the ride are two rather whiney soldiers, Sergeant Hannah (Rachel Miner) who is deeply troubled by a past event where she was falsely branded a hero after committing an act of cowardice (which we learn via a pointless and badly delivered monologue) and Aaron “Shoes” Schumacher (Jason London) who spends the duration of the movie just looking very, very tired.

The plot itself is fairly derivative and nonsensical, borrowing heavily from other better films; for example, a scene where they are all tested in a bid to figure out who is the alien is unashamedly straight out of The Thing. Otherwise it’s just a matter of the small cast running back and forth through the same three rooms that are just decorated slightly differently each time to make it look like a large scale military base, being killed off by some rather dodgy looking and decidedly unscary aliens. Nothing else really happens and little is explained as to the ins and outs of Area 51 or where the aliens came from.

One positive that 51 has is the lack of CGI. The gore effects and the aliens are good old latex and fake blood, which I always appreciate over cheap looking and poorly done digital effects. Sometimes there can be something appealing about these sorts of schlocky low-budget films, but not here. 51 is mostly just a boring waste of 90 minutes that you’ll undoubtedly wish you’d spent doing something more worthwhile, like watching paint dry.

51 is available now on Region 2 DVD and Blu-ray.

Review by Aaron Williams.

I’m sure that those of you reading this review have been led here by your taste for the cinematically weird and wonderful and maybe even a good old case of curiosity. When Bunraku first arrived at my doorstep I will admit I was pretty pessimistic. The cover screams ‘Sin City cash in’ and the cast list won’t exactly have cinemagoers lining up around the block.

What is Bunraku, anyway?

Banraku is a form of puppet theatre from Japan, a national tradition for hundreds of years, telling stories of good versus evil, honour and heroism. Guy Moshe’s film is a fusion of not only Japanese tradition but Western ones too. Set against this origami city – yep, you heard that right, it’s literally an origami city – we have a tale that evokes the spaghetti westerns of Sergio Leone laced with a little 5os film noir.

An animated prologue – I’m getting pretty sick of these things now – introduces us to a post war world where guns have been outlawed and any battles fought are now contested with the a blade or a steady fist. Our story opens in the city ruled by a man named Nicola (Yeah, that IS a girl’s name) the wood cutter, a dab hand with his trusty axe and the leader of a band of deadly killers. Enter mysterious drifter (Josh Hartnett) and young Japanese warrior Yoshi, both with their own agendas. They clash at first but soon realise that if they are to topple the Woodcutter’s rule, they are to work together.

The set up should have had your ears pricked up in interest by now – on paper this all sounds great, in execution, it sadly crumbles from the starting gates. Initially the world is hard to take your eyes from, truly a dystopian cityscape you will never have seen before. A lot of the sweeping shots under bridges and between houses look like they were made with the recent fascination in 3D technology in mind. But as soon as the live action actors set foot on this curious landscape the illusion falls apart, now seeming like a Playstation 3 game.

Sin City was an obvious influence here but deep into the film’s running time I couldn’t help but think of Dick Tracy and (shudder) Joel Schumacher’s Batman and Robin. This has that same theatrical fun house feel where nothing is real and nothing should be taken seriously at all. This fusion of imagery has been accomplished far more successfully in the recent (and extremely excellent) Scott Pilgrim Versus The World.

Sin City was a large melting pot and murder, sex, death and madness with a film noir twist – Bunraku comes across more like a violent Saturday morning cartoon. Sure, said violence is indeed impressive, the fight scenes visceral and complex, but you simply won’t care. The narrative wanders aimlessly through a series of tired and tried situations that will bore the piss from you. Sure, it’s all very colourful and pretty but how old are you? If your answer is ten years old then the visuals will keep you impressed through the frankly way over long running time.

The performances are largely unimpressive with the exception of the every dependable Ron Perlman as the villainous Nicol. This man should be given much more work than he gets – and not just as a big red monster. It’s odd how a project with such a low budget was condemned to such a low profile release. This would have some life on the big screen with the right marketing push behind it – we’ve seen much worse haven’t we?

For those of you still curious enough, Bunraku will start its DVD run from October 10th courtesy of G2 Pictures.

Review by Keri O’Shea.

I’m going to start this review with a confession. When Ben, the UK editor, asked me to cover the DVD release of The Dead for this site (Ben’s note: I had already reviewed it at FrightFest 2010, which you can read here), I made a glib joke about not wanting to get in trouble with the director if I didn’t like the film: some of you who follow horror news online may know why I said that. When the movie trailer was first released last year over on twitchfilm.com, one of the film’s two directors – Jonathan Ford – launched into some incredibly irate responses to negative comments left on the site. This attracted attention to the trailer, but for all the wrong reasons, and it was down to Jonathan’s brother and co-director Howard Ford to come along and smooth over the ruffled feathers – which he did with good grace, I might add.

I haven’t relaxed my attitudes on how directors should act towards fans and fan writers, and as I’ve talked at length about this elsewhere, I won’t repeat myself here. However, having actually seen the film, I find myself in the position of sharing some of Jon Ford’s exasperation with judgements which were – even at that stage – being confidently handed out by a small number of posters at Twitch. Specifically, charges of racism were being made against the film; Jon Ford reacted badly to these. I can understand why. Once something or someone gets misidentified as ‘racist,’ that shit sticks. It’s a difficult label to remove: say nothing and suspicion grows, argue against it and find yourself evermore on the defensive. So let me just say clearly, before I move on with my review of this well-shot, strangely-beautiful and competent zombie movie, that I could identify absolutely nothing of racism therein, and if others have done so, consider me baffled and depressed by that fact.

Two military men are desperately trying to make their ways back to their families in an (unnamed) African country compromised by a blood-borne infection which is spreading out of control. When the last evacuation plane crashes on its way out, US military engineer Brian Murphy seems to be the sole survivor in a land now filled with dead men walking; as slow, deliberate and unsteady as they are, they are relentless. As he wonders what to do and where to go, he has his life saved by absconding local soldier, Sergeant Daniel Dembele – played by Ghanaian superstar Prince David Oseia – who had returned to his village, found his wife dead, and his son departed to a military base in the north. Whilst Daniel is grateful that his boy is apparently safe, he wants to find him. Despite expressing surprise that there are any Americans left in the country, Daniel suggests that Brian accompany him to the base: two people stand more chance of getting there safely, after all.

So far, so familiar. Yet, despite the fact that The Dead deals in these recognisable zombie movie motifs, what it does with them is both entertaining and proficient. It takes something of the spirit of much older films – think early Romero, or perhaps Fulci’s Zombi – in that there are no fast-moving zombies here, and we’re back with the (infinitely superior and far more sinister) plodding, inescapable dead. Having presented us with an old school version of the undead, the film chooses as its background somewhere quite new, at least to most Western audiences. The film was shot in the country of Burkina Faso, and as such, familiar horror is juxtaposed with unfamiliar, varied landscapes which are striking to look at. The Ford Brothers play to the great strengths of the appearance of the country, giving an impression throughout of beauty compromised. A vivid palate of golds, reds and sea-greens and a variety of styles of shots maintains this idea throughout. Dialogue is used sparsely: this, together with the slow-moving zombies and the sense of vastness communicated by the long shots lends the film a dreamlike quality, which when it gives way to moments of tension, feels like a well-handled change. Despite not being about to reinvent the wheel, The Dead is a well-made film which largely plays to its strengths.

Despite the fact that we have two soldiers as lead characters here, political explication is kept to a minimum: you could spend a great deal of time drawing out every mention of politics, or looking for symbolism, but for me the driving force of the film is family, with the inclusion of friendships, rather than being a treatise on militarism. Daniel is a strong character (and actually, a more effective soldier and rescuer than Murphy): his determination to see his son again makes up the most part of the plot, and Murphy depends on him. Murphy also shares his motivations: he is a family man, and his driving force is also to get home. The friendship between two men in extraordinary circumstances is believable, moving and nicely-drawn, despite the relatively low amount of dialogue. That is what I mainly took away from the film – that human relationships can endure, or develop, even under the most extreme duress. It’s a humane touch which only underlines the horror of the situation.

Like any indie, it’s not a perfect film. The sombre pace starts to stretch a little thin in places, although the film moves on just steadily enough to maintain interest (and, despite having seen hundreds of zombie films in my life, despite having a reasonable idea of what was going to happen, I was never bored here). The lead actor Rob Freeman maintains a po-faced militarism which renders some of his lines flat, and I’d have liked to see a more low-key performance from him. That said, things come together here in a moving way, there’s lots to like here, and fans of the genre will find enough gore and enough humanity to render this an effective story.

If the initial wave of nervous – and stupid – negative opinion surrounding The Dead stops people from giving it a chance, then that is, quite simply, a fucking shame. Getting films made anywhere in Africa isn’t the easy option, but the Ford Brothers did it, and they did a good job. This is a worthy addition to genre film which deserves our time and attention as fans. As an addendum: look at the film credits. Every single extra involved in the making of this film gets a credit, making this one of the most exhaustive lists I’ve ever seen, and if you’re interested in supporting the region where the film was made, there’s a link for you to do so.

Anchor Bay Entertainment will release The Dead on DVD and Blu-Ray from 10th October. You can also read Marc Patterson’s extensive interview with Jonathan and Howard Ford, from FrightFest UK 2010 Right Here.

‘The Dead’ TRAILER from Bryce Holland on Vimeo.