Archive: Author:

DVD Review: Outcast

Posted on by

Outcast (2010)
Distributor: Momentum Pictures
DVD Release Date: 17th January 2011
Directed by: Colm McCarthy
Starring: James Nesbitt, Kate Dickie, Niall Bruton, Hanna Stanbridge
Review by: Ben Bussey

A run-down, uninviting housing estate in Edinburgh has two new residents: a Irish traveller named Mary (Kate Dickie) and her adolescent son Fergal (Nial Bruton). Hastily accepting the first flat the council housing associate offers them, Mary wastes no time getting them settled, which in their case involves painting occult symbols on the walls for protection. It’s easy to see that Mary and Fergal are on the run from someone or something, but their troubles take a somewhat different form than those of most ordinary folk. Hot on their trail, and freshly tattooed with similar occult markings, is Cathal (James Nesbitt), a fellow traveller determined to track Mary and Fergal down, and with the aid of knowledgable magician Liam (Ciaran McMenamin) he sets out to do so by mystical means.

But as Kate does her utmost to keep herself and her son hidden from public view, Fergal finds himself drawn to his pretty young neighbour Petronella (Hanna Stanbridge). Friendship blooms, which quickly blossoms into romance, which of course quickly promises to blossom into the beast with two backs. His mother may warn him furiously that he must keep his passions in check, but naturally Fergal cannot help but act on impulse. After all, he’s only human… or is he?

Thanks to an interesting premise, an above-average cast and a serious approach, this humble, midrange-budget film is one of the most unique and enjoyable British horrors in recent memory. What makes it so fascinating and compelling is the manner in which it takes elements of folklore and witchcraft – typically associated with the grandiose and escapist – and transposes them to an all-too recognisable grim reality of existence on the brink of poverty. This isn’t the glossy, CG-fuelled magical world of The Craft, wherein even Fairuza Balk’s trailer looks warm and cosy. This is a world of the neglected underclass, replete with crumbling concrete tower blocks, and flats with damp walls.  It is to the film’s credit that for the most part it plays like a non-supernatural kitchen sink drama. Nesbitt may be a grim obsessive villian, Dickie may be an stern overprotective matriach, and Stanbridge may be the young temptress next door, but none of these performances are played in a stereotypical, camp fashion. Bruton in particular does himself proud with an nicely understated turn as the insecure, hormonally charged teen sitting on a timebomb of pent-up emotion.

Given this level of naturalism, when mysticism is added to the mix the results are interesting indeed. We see rituals performed, incantations muttered and sigils scrawled, but the use of special effects in these sequences is restrained indeed. Films which present the occult in so realistic a fashion are few and far between, and as such this really helps to set Outcast apart; indeed, I have already seen it mentioned in the same breath as The Wicker Man. However, whilst The Wicker Man never offered any evidence that the heathen practices of the people of Summerisle yielded any real, physical results, here there is no question that the magic does exactly what it says on the tin. The idea of such supernatural forces at work in the most mundane, cold, industrial locale is a compelling notion.

A little more conventional, however, is the lycanthropic element. Yes, as the cover image suggests this isn’t just a tale of witchcraft but also of werewolves. Our furry friends may be one of the great staples of horror, but as we have seen alarmingly often in the last two decades – from Wolf, to American Werewolf In Paris, to Cursed, to last year’s The Wolfman –  they can be a bit tricky to get right. Alas, Outcast does fall into some of the typical wolf-related pitfalls. The equation of ‘the beast within’ to repressed sexuality is a pretty well-trodden path, and while it may bring some agreeably torrid sequences it also results in by far the most predictable elements of the narrative. And then there’s the beast itself. This is usually the biggest stumbling block for werewolf movies, and I’m sorry to say Outcast doesn’t quite clear it either. When the creature is finally revealed, it simply doesn’t look very good, which somewhat sours the conclusion of a film that had otherwise built an oppressive supernatural atmosphere with minimal SFX.

However, as with the similarly lacklustre werewolf in the closing scenes of Ginger Snaps, these minor failings are easy to overlook when everything else in the film works so well. The debut feature of established TV director Colm McCarthy, there is more than enough here to suggest he has a bright future in film, genre or otherwise. From the bold, against-type casting of James Nesbitt all the way down to the council estate chavs (amongst whom, a great many fanboys will doubtless be excited to learn, is a brief appearance from Doctor Who’s latest companion Karen Gillan), there isn’t a bad performance in sight, which is a distinct rarity in debut horror movies. Sure, the climactic scenes may concede to cliche somewhat, but at no point does Outcast concede to trash; never does it treat the drama any less seriously than we would expect were it a straight urban drama that did not involve magic and monsters. As such, Outcast is a film that demands to be seen, and taken seriously, by a wide audience. Here’s hoping that happens. Be sure you don’t let this one pass you by.

UK DVD Review: Deep Red

Posted on by

Deep Red (Profondo Rosso) (1975)
Distributor: Arrow
DVD/Blu-Ray Release Date: 3rd January 2011
Directed by: Dario Argento
Starring: David Hemmings, Daria Nicolodi, Gabriele Lavia, Macha Meril
Review by: Nia Edwards-Behi

Say the name Dario Argento and chances are one of two films will spring to mind first: Suspiria, his lurid masterpiece of the supernatural, or Profondo Rosso, the ultimate giallo film. As a long-time Argento fan, I will never be able to distinguish which of the two is my ultimate ‘favourite’, but while Suspiria finds strength in its occasional – I’d argue purposeful – incoherence, Profondo Rosso is a masterclass of tightly-plotted intrigue and visual mastery.

I’ve no doubt that the majority of horror fans will be familiar with Profondo Rosso, but if not then Arrow Video’s excellent new edition is the perfect introduction. Released under the film’s English title, Deep Red, the film is being made available on Blu-Ray for the first time, and on regular DVD, both versions including the film fully uncut for the first time in the UK. For the unfamiliar, a simple plot synopsis won’t do, lest I do the film a disservice and make it sound like every other giallo, but here goes: pianist Marc Daly (David Hemmings) witnesses the murder of his neighbour, a world-renowned psychic. He sets out to solve the mystery, aided by journalist Gianna Brezzi (Daria Nicolodi), certain that he has forgotten a vital clue. Marc’s investigation is stunted at every turn and as the body count rises the killer is eventually revealed in the film’s shocking climax.

Hemmings’ performance as Marc is wonderfully naïve, recalling his famous role in Antonioni’s Blow Up. Nicolodi, in her first of many memorable collaborations with Argento, is effortlessly effervescent as Gianna. Although many of her scenes were cut when the film was first released in the USA, for me, the humour and power of her character is a great contribution to the film’s overall success. The supporting cast is impressively strong, often a weakness of so many Italian horror films; from the sympathetic Gabriele Lavia as Marc’s drunk friend Carlo, to the deliciously demented Carla Calamai as Carlo’s mother, Marta, and little Nicoletta Elmi as Olga, one of the most unnecessarily but brilliantly creepy children ever committed to celluloid.

It’s almost impossible to think about Argento’s films without thinking about their music, and Goblin’s score is one of the greatest. Both of its time and timeless, the score is a prog-rock masterpiece packed to the brim with a relentless Moog-melody and a thumping bass – never has death sounded so funky. Goblin frontman Claudio Simonetti makes a big part of the Arrow release, introducing the new cut of the film, and featuring in the wonderful short documentary Music to Murder For!, in which he discusses the process of scoring the film. The documentary does not play lip service to Giorgio Gaslini, who composed additional tracks of the score, but that’s such a common occurrence when discussing the film it’s a negligible oversight.

For all its strengths, it is only in the hands of the masterful Argento that Deep Red becomes truly unforgettable. One of my favourite scenes in the film is not one of its most famous, not one of several gruesome murders; but a scene in which Marc, composing a gentle jazz riff on his piano, is stalked and taunted by the killer. It’s an extended scene, characterised by close-ups of Marc and manuscript; and the approaching killer. The scene takes on an impressively sinister tone in what is a particularly low-key moment. When Marc desperately answers the phone to Gianna the utter helplessness of the character is at its most apparent. If the giallo film is about the failure of traditional masculinity, then Marc is the genre’s greatest example and all the finer for it.

Two versions of the film are available on this release – the uncut, longest version, available in the UK for the first time, and the shorter, aforementioned edited down version. Both versions include either the original Italian sound with English subtitles, or the English dub. Such completism is a welcome aspect of the release. This is true despite the fact that the English dub is fairly horrendous, although in fairness, it’s no worse than most Italian dubs. However, being accustomed to the subtitled version, to hear the jarring dubbing is a shock to the system. The main addition to the new uncut version is the controversial scene of a lizard pinned to the ground (at the hands of young Olga). I’m not wholly convinced by the production company’s claim that the effect was achieved with a false pin and not through animal cruelty, which secured the film’s uncut release, but it is nice to have a complete cut of the film. While some might argue that the cut version of the film results in a more streamlined version of the narrative – missing most of Marc and Gianna’s dalliance, for example – I’d argue that missing these scenes only results in an inferior, less interesting film.

Other extras on the edition include an interview with Argento himself, an insightful piece touching upon much of his other work, as well as Deep Red. By far my favourite extra is the interview with Daria Nicolodi. I’m a big fan of her work with Argento and hearing her give such a personal account of working on Deep Red and in other films is an absolute delight. Her honesty is very refreshing, and hearing her speak of Argento being ego-centric with such an obvious sense of affection is quite lovely. This edition also features a commentary track by Thomas Rostock, who has contributed to previous releases of the film. As ever with Arrow’s Argento releases, the new artwork is fantastic, and the sleeve notes by Alan Jones make for an interesting read, as expected. With this nigh-on definitive edition of a landmark film, Arrow have truly cemented themselves as the most important DVD label for fans and nostalgics of genre filmmaking.

UK DVD Review: Puppet Master: Axis of Evil

Posted on by

Puppet Master: Axis of Evil (2010)
Distributor (UK): Revolver/Full Moon
DVD Release Date (UK): 24th January 2011
Directed by: David DeCoteau
Starring: Levi Fiehler, Jenna Gallaher, Taylor M. Graham, Tom Sandoval
Review by: Ben Bussey

California, during the Second World War. Upstairs in the Bodega Bay Inn, a most unusual puppeteer named Toulon is about to die. Meanwhile, down in the basement mending chairs is a young man named Danny (Fiehler), a skilled carpenter who longs to enlist and fight for his country, but cannot due to being lame in one leg. Coming into possession of Toulon’s puppets, Danny takes them back home in the hope of fixing them up and figuring out Toulon’s secret of controlling the puppets without the use of strings. But on returning home, Danny happens upon a dastardly plot hatched by an uneasy alliance between spies from Germany and Japan. At last, Danny will indeed get to fight the enemies of the free world, but with two distinct differences. Firstly, he’ll get to do it on his home soil. Secondly, his weapons won’t be bullets, bombs or bayonets, but puppets.

This, apparently, is the first entry in the Puppet Master series for a decade, and the ninth film in the series to date. The ninth. Wow. I had no idea the premise of Puppet Master stretched that far. Actually, let me rephrase that: I remain unconvinced that the premise of Pupper Master can stretch that far. I’m no well-versed devotee of these movies, nor for that matter anything Full Moon have done. I’m aware of them as a vaguely more upmarket, less knowingly offensive version of Troma. What little I have seen of their output blurs in my memory, partly due to having seen them many years ago; partly due to having seen them through a haze of Mad Dog 20/20 or Thunderbird or some other adolescent intoxicant of choice; and partly because, unsurprisingly, the movies are more than a bit samey, and more than a bit piss-poor. And so it is to a large extent with Puppet Master: Axis of Evil. It may be a 2010 production, but you’d be forgiven for thinking it was plucked straight out of 1989. From the cheap sets, the low-rent cinematography (yet crucially what looks to be film, not digital) and the pseudo-orchestral score played out on a synthesizer, it looks, sounds and feels like an 80s B-movie through and through. This, of course, is by no means a bad thing. But if you’re going to revive an old and long dormant franchise in much the same spirit as before, it probably wouldn’t hurt if the franchise in question was much cop to begin with.

Even so, credit where it’s due: efforts are clearly being made to craft something interesting here. Schindler’s List or Saving Private Ryan this ain’t, but the wartime period is approached surprisingly seriously, with proceedings largely driven by Danny’s patriotic anxiety over not being able to fight. Indeed, once Danny uncovers the bizarre German/Japanese conspiracy on his doorstep (and concessions are not made to political correctness here, with the characters routinely referring to the Germans and the Japanese by terms we  frown upon today), he’s really pretty happy about it; at last he has the chance to kick some enemy ass. Now, I tried my hardest to identify any kind of sly commentary on modern day patriotism in the wake of 9/11 and the war on terror; after all, why else would the filmmakers choose a title that evokes so directly the words of George Dubya Bush? But honestly, if any such contemporary resonance is intended, I’m damned if I could spot it. The whole thing seems to be aiming more for the feel of a simple, pulpy, Saturday morning adventure serial.

Unfortunately, the predictable weaknesses occur, most significantly a cast that is not up to the job at all, in particular those struggling to be convincing as Nazi spies. Then there’s a script stuffed with overloaded, trite dialogue. Then there’s the absurdly sudden ending, presumably intended to leave things open for a direct sequel but simply denying the viewer any sense of closure. And as for the puppets themselves; honestly, they barely even register. They’re just another weird little detail in a movie already bulging with weirdness. I dunno, perhaps long-time Puppet Master fans (and there must be some out there if they’ve got to nine bloody films) will find something to enjoy, but the uninitiated are very unlikely to be won over. I’d say it was well time they cut the strings off these puppets, were it not that they had no strings to begin with…

Film Review: 127 Hours

Posted on by


127 Hours (2010)
Studio: Fox Searchlight
Release Date (UK): 7th January 2011
Directed by: Danny Boyle
Starring: James Franco, Amber Tamblyn, Kate Mara, Treat Williams
Review by: Ben Bussey

Aaron Ralston lives the kind of life a great many of us only imagine living. A genuine lover of the great outdoors, he’s out in the wilderness at every opportunity, climbing and hiking and scrambling and mountain biking, embracing it all with a devil-may-care attitude. But hand-in-hand with that is an isolated existence, a self-imposed distance from his family, friends, and the girl that got away. All this comes back to bite Aaron squarely on the backside when, whilst traversing a narrow ravine, a boulder suddenly comes loose sending him hurtling to the floor below; and, more pressingly, trapping his hand. He doesn’t have much in the way of food or water, hasn’t let anyone know where he is, and all efforts to shift the boulder prove to be in vain. Aaron is set for five days of pain, anxiety and introspection, with a terrible decision waiting to be made.

There’s been an interesting spot of debate amongst the editorial staff of Brutal As Hell as to whether or not we should cover 127 Hours. Anyone who has heard anything about it, and the true life story that inspired it (as chronicled in Ralston’s book Between A Rock And A Hard Place – no surprises that rather bad pun of a title was ditched) knows very well that the protagonist winds up severing his own arm with a blunt pocket knife. It goes without saying that gorehounds are going to be sitting up and taking notice. But does this necessarily mean the film qualifies as horror? After all, this is the latest film from Danny Boyle, his first since picking up the best director Oscar for Slumdog Millionaire, and whilst a few titles from his somewhat eclectic filmography have ventured into horror territory – the most notable of these being, of course, 28 Days Later – he’s generally regarded a fairly respectable, upmarket, ‘serious’ filmmaker. Does that make his work appropriate for coverage at Brutal As Hell, or not?

Well, it’s fair to say that 127 Hours really isn’t a horror film. Yet it has a great deal in common with a couple of films we’ve enthusiastically covered in the past year, despite the similarly debatable genre status of both: Frozen, and Buried. (Almost a pity they didn’t choose to call this film Rocked, or something along those lines.) We might regard these films as a spiritual trilogy, or examples of a new subgenre in its own right: claustrophobic, character-based survivalist drama, films which place their protagonists in a life-threatening situation where they are alone and cannot move.  127 Hours is by far the most visually dynamic of the three, accentuating Aaron’s ordeal with plentiful flashbacks, fantasy sequences, and bizarre shots from the inside of his water bottles and the camcorder which he addresses intermitently. These devices serve to break the tension somewhat, and subsequently the atmosphere is not so oppressive here as in Adam Green and Rodrigo Cortes’s films. But 127 Hours more than compensates for this with sheer dramatic power and insight into the central character.

For this, we must give credit to James Franco. I’ll be honest, until now I had imagined he would wind up an ‘also-ran’ among the actors of his age range, doomed to remain in the shadows of the likes of Jake Gyllenhall, Ryan Reynolds, Chris Evans, Cillian Murphy, and his old co-star Tobey Maguire. While he’s never given what I would consider a bad performance, I didn’t suspect he had it in him to really carry a film. Of course, here he is doing just that, and he does a tremendous job. Being less muscular and conventionally handsome than some of his aforementioned contemporaries, he’s easier to buy as a slightly odd loner with relationship issues. He’s strong without being rugged, vulnerable without being weedy; he’s a great example of the everyman hero, the otherwise average guy who rises to the challenge and pushes through against the odds, despite his own fears and failings.

And if that last sentence sounds a bit of a sentimental, feel-good, life-affirming platitude; well, that’s not entirely inappropriate. Sentimental it is not, but 127 Hours is ultimately very much a feel-good, life-affirming film. It’s not giving anything away to reveal that Aaron lives, and whilst the means to that survival may be dire – and yes, gore fans, very messy indeed  – once the shadow of death has been escaped it’s a steady path to an emotionally euphoric climax, aided considerably by the soundtrack. This sense of euphoria, I might add, is very often at the heart of horror. When the hapless victim at last escapes and/or defeats their oppressor, we are at least implicitly reassured that we mere mortals possess greater strength than we realise; that when it comes to life or death, we have it in us to endure and to prevail. So while 127 Hours really isn’t a horror film, its ultimate message is the same as a great many horror films. And this message is conveyed with considerably more technical skill and artistic panache than most. Danny Boyle rarely puts a foot wrong, and I daresay this immediately ranks as one of his finest films. In short, don’t miss it.

That said, I rather wish they’d chosen a tagline for the poster above that didn’t invoke the spectre of Paul Daniels. (If you’re British and over 25, you should know where I’m coming from.)

UK DVD Review: Bare Behind Bars

Posted on by

Bare Behind Bars (1980)
Distributor: Arrow
DVD Release Date: 31 January 2011
Director: Oswaldo de Oliveira
Starring: Maria Stella Splendore, Marta Anderson, Danielle Ferrite, Neide Ribeiro
Review by: Keri O’Shea

Like many ‘women in prison’ movies, Bare Behind Bars doesn’t seek to establish itself as a philosophical work. You can never accuse Oswaldo de Oliveira of failing to deliver on his title. Not only does the title screen – which also features the fantastically-lewd original artwork by Cinema Sewer maestro Robin Bougie – provide the viewer with clips of some of the most, ahem, notable scenes, but within a meagre five minutes of the start we’ve already met our boozy warden, our baton-wielding guards and a horde of hot prisoners; we’ve also witnessed a stabbing, a brawl, a subsequent hosing-down and a spot of nude water torture. Bergman it ain’t, and nor would we want it to be.

This is a romp, through and through; therefore a coherent, innovative plot is absolutely secondary to cramming as many acres of nude female flesh into the proceedings as possible. However, as far as it goes, Bare Behind Bars charts the clampdown on a South American women’s jail after an inmate is stabbed in the back with a razor during exercise. The (hot, lesbian) guards’ investigation seems to chiefly consist of stripping everyone, or sending them to the (hot, lesbian) nurse for an internal examination, or sending them to the (hot, lesbian) warden’s office for questioning, or a combination of these. We are also introduced to the fact that the prison has a lucrative sideline in selling the most nubile girls to an outside agency. This happens to one girl, Betty, who is sent off to live with a rich (hot, lesbian) patroness. Betty’s former peers have no such luck; conditions in the jail are going from bad to worse. When they can stand it no more, a small group of women begin to plot their escape…

This is all conducted in the most lurid manner imaginable. Don’t come to this film expecting any rumination on the subject of female criminality: the prison here is basically just a framing device, the institution is nameless, and most of the women remain nameless. It’s also worth saying that this film is very, very sleazy. The sex is unsimulated, folks, and the cuts which have been made for the film to get its 18 certificate remove only some of the most explicit frames. So, it’s not for the prudish, and it certainly doesn’t go for a political angle, but there is more to Bare Behind Bars than a montage of sex scenes. The film is delightfully self-aware, and that self-awareness is often expressed through its odd comic touches. For example, I laughed at the ingenious way the women had rigged up string which allowed them to pass a dildo between cells, and at the ether-addled nurse who tries to take her boss’s blood pressure by putting the cuff around her neck.

Oswaldo de Oliveira’s enthusiastic approach to en masse nudity and frantic lesbian action meant that his film has never before received a release in the UK, despite the best efforts of Redemption Films during the 1990s. Justifying their initial ban, the BBFC (British Board of Film Classification) said of the film that, “its appeal rested primarily on the spectacle of naked women en masse, at the mercy of cruel authority, the meagre narrative moving through image after image of violation – by sex, by medical examination, by crude sex toys, by razor blades, by rats.” Having just seen the film for the first time, I’d of course agree that the film depends heavily on the salacious, but I cannot agree that Bare Behind Bars is as downright nasty as the BBFC thought back then. It’s more nude than nasty; there are some violent scenes, but there is a good deal less violence and aggression here than in many other women in prison films and a lot more campy humour, which the censor seemed to miss. This is an entertainingly sordid, zany piece of exploitation film, and Arrow Video has done a sterling job on their upcoming UK release.

DVD Review: Battle Royale Limited Edition 3 Disc Set

Posted on by

Battle Royale (2000/01)
Distributor: Arrow
DVD/Blu-Ray Release Date: 13th December 2010
Directed by: Kinji Fukasaku
Starring: Takeshi Kitano, Tatsuya Fujiwara, Taro Yamamoto, Aki Maeda
Review by: Ben Bussey

Japan: the turn of the millennium. The nation is in a state of social and economic crisis. Unemployment and school truancy rates have skyrocketed. The government reacts in much the way most authority figures worldwide have tended to react this past century or so: they blame it all on the kids. And so, in a bid to get the little bastards back in line, an educational reform act is passed whereby random school classes will be forcibly shipped to an uninhabited island and given three days to kill each other. The last kid standing is the winner. If they don’t co-operate, they all die. And this time around, it’s the turn of Class B. Two years earlier these adolescents were under the tutelage of Kitano (portrayed by Takeshi Kitano, funnily enough), a highly disillusioned teacher who turned his back on education after a member of Class B stabbed him in the leg. Now he’s back to see them send one another to their graves.

Did you need that synopsis? Maybe; maybe not. I remain fuzzy on just how widely seen this film is internationally, given the well-documented problems it has had finding US distribution. But here in the UK where I am, I don’t think it’s any exaggeration to call Battle Royale a firmly established cult classic. Indeed, it’s so embedded in the fan consciousness that on approaching this new edition from Arrow I was at first taken aback to realise that the film is only a decade old.  With its heavily armed teens in school uniform bloodily murdering one another over the soundtrack of Verdi’s Requiem, this is a film that clearly aims to be provocative and iconic. And it is very successful in that aim. Indeed, it says something for the film’s iconography that Arrow have foregone their signature white sleeve and original cover art with this DVD, opting instead for the film’s trademark blood-red BR logo on a black background. But Battle Royale has a great deal more to offer than stuff that looks good on posters and T-shirts. Plainly and simply, it’s a tour de force of contemporary cinema, as thrilling as it is thought-provoking, unmistakably Japanese yet transcending the boundaries of genre and nationality.

It’s interesting to revisit Battle Royale in the aftermath of A Serbian Film. The two films definitely share some common ground in that the surrounding controversy tends to overshadow the actual content of the films themselves. Not unlike A Serbian Film, Battle Royale has a wider agenda than just pissing off the moral minority; and while both films may have been born of specific regional anxieties, the themes explored resonate on a global scale. After all, it seems every nation is concerned with controlling its young, fuelled in recent years by horror stories (some exaggerated, some not) of classroom violence and teachers denied the right to defend themselves. Teachers like Kitano exist, for certain, and Takeshi Kitano does absolutely sterling work in the role, presenting us with a man so downtrodden as to be almost entirely devoid of emotion. He appears to take neither sorrow nor joy from what he does, wearing the same blank expression whether he’s committing murder, looking his own death in the face, or eating a cookie. The result is an intimidating yet oddly sympathetic character.

But the real protagonists are the teenagers. And here’s the ace up Battle Royale’s sleeve: they’re just an average, ordinary bunch of schoolkids. These are not some cutthroat rabble of gang members out to be the biggest badass on the block, they’re just typical adolescents concerned with typical adolescent stuff; who’s the coolest, who’s cutest. What makes the film so compelling is witnessing the different ways the teens react to being thrown into a kill-or-be-killed scenario: some branching off into groups whilst others go solo, some refusing to play ball whilst others willingly embrace murder. One of film’s most impressive attributes is how it well it makes use of such a broad ensemble, starting out as a class of forty-two pupils. Inevitably a select few tend to take the spotlight – the young would-be lovers Nakagawa and Nanahara (Maeda, Fujiwara), ‘transfer students’ Kawada and Kiriyama (Yamamoto, Masanobu Ando), and the sexually-charged psychopath Mitsuko (Kou Shibasaki) – but Kinji Fukasaku’s direction and Kenta Fukasaku’s script (from Koushon Takami’s novel) ensures that  every cast member gets their time to shine, and happily none of them fall flat. Indeed, it may come as a surprise that we see so little of Chiaki Kuriyama, perhaps the most recognised of the ensemble since being immortalised as Gogo in Kill Bill Vol. 1.

This edition – which it should be noted is Region 0, like all Arrow releases (and that includes the Blu-Ray) – sports both the original 2000 theatrical cut, plus the 2001 special edition with specially shot additional footage. As to which is the superior cut; it will no doubt come down to personal preference, but to my mind the special edition doesn’t add a great deal of particular importance, comprising mainly of flashbacks which add a teeny bit of background context, plus a little added CG blood spray and muzzle flash, and most glaringly three epilogues. Alas, the additional end scenes do nothing to improve the film’s one major weakness: a rather feeble, easy and sentimental resolution. And please, in a film that boasts an otherwise impeccable soundtrack, couldn’t there be another special edition wherein the end credits don’t play out against such a horrendous soft-rock track? Sounds like the Japanese equivilant of Nickelback. Shudder.

The extras are an interesting lot, consisting largely of behind the scenes footage and coverage of the film’s release in Japan, all of which appears very fly on the wall. It’s intriuging to note the difference in tone between Japanese premieres and press conferences compared to those of Hollywood; there’s a distinct formality here, cast and director bowing to the audience and addressing them in hushed, respectful tones. It’s also made clear that the film being classified R-15, barring entry to those below that age, was regarded a big deal. This seems particularly curious from a British perspective, given that this DVD carries an 18 certificate from the BBFC; which, considering the level of bloodshed on show, seems appropriate enough. A good indicator of how attitudes toward film classification vary around the world, no doubt. All this will be great for hardcore fans, although it may not hold everyone’s interest; but well worth taking a peek at is a touching reenactment of the ‘How To Play Battle Royale’ sequence as a happy birthday message to director Fukasaku, who turned 70 during filming. And that only serves to make Battle Royale that bit more astonishing; that a man so old could craft a film that is not only bursting at the seams with youthful energy, but also speaks so effectively to, and of, the adolescent condition.

But enough of my rabbiting on. If you don’t own this film already, this is the edition to pick up. And if you’re quick enough to get one of the initial limited edition run of 5,000 there’s even more in the package which I’ve been unable to preview, including an exclusive comic, two supplemental booklets and picture postcards. But with or without all that extra stuff, you need Battle Royale in your life. It’s every bit as exhilarating today as it was ten years ago, and I’m hard pressed to see a time when it will not be regarded one of the greatest, most important films that Japan has ever produced.

Review: A Serbian Film (UK Cut)

Posted on by

A Serbian Film (Srpski Film) (2010)
Distributor: Revolver Entertainment
Release Date (UK): 10 December 2010
Directed by: Srdjan Spasojevic
Starring: Srdjan Todorovic, Sergej Trifunovic, Jelena Gavrilovic, Katarina Zutic
Review by: Ben Bussey

CAUTION: This review features substantial spoilers.

As a general rule of thumb, we prefer to keep things as spoiler-free as possible at Brutal As Hell, but in this instance as part of my job here is to illustrate the differences between the original cut and the BBFC approved version, I felt it was necessary to discuss the scenes that were affected. On top of which, given how much debate this film has inspired these past nine months, I sadly suspect the content of the most notorious sequences has long since become common knowledge…

And oh, has this film inspired debate. Our own Britt Hayes covered the world premiere at SXSW, and the resulting review (which I recommend you read before continuing here, if you haven’t already done so) quickly became one of the most visited and commented-upon articles in the site’s history. Whenever and wherever A Serbian Film comes up, extreme reactions follow. I myself was all set to catch the UK premiere at this August’s Frightfest, until the film was abruptly pulled from the schedule mere days before the event; it was the most discussed film of the festival, without even being shown. And this past Thursday at the Prince Charles Cinema, finally getting to introduce the film – albeit in a cut more than four minutes shorter than the filmmakers intended – Frightfest organiser Alan Jones declared A Serbian Film to be the most controversial film he had ever encountered in his career; quite a statement when you consider that this is a man who worked through the video nasties era.

What a dilemma that leaves for this reviewer. It would surely be insufficient for me to merely give a brief synopsis then summarise my own feelings on the film. A Serbian Film has long since become more than a horror movie; it is a rallying cry. Yet, of course, it does not scream the same thing to everyone. It has some (and not just the usual moralist minority) calling for greater censorship, and others calling out for the liberties of the artist and the viewer.

All this ensures that A Serbian Film is without question a noteworthy film. Thankfully, it doesn’t begin and end with sensationalism. A Serbian Film is of course provactive, disturbing and distasteful, but above and beyond this it really is quite a remarkable piece of filmmaking. At the tail end of arguably the most controversial scene in a film bulging with controversial scenes, the psychologist/filmmaker/megalomaniac Vukmir (an astonishing Sergej Trifunovic) declares his work to be “a new genre,” and one gets the impression that’s just what was being aimed for with this film. And I daresay they weren’t far off.

This kind of content – sexual violence as horror, and the male sex drive as monster – really hasn’t been explored this way on film before. I found myself reminded of the most distressing literary explorations of the subject that I have ever encountered: American Psycho, Jack Ketchum’s The Girl Next Door, but even more so than those – Andrea Dworkin’s Pornography: Men Possessing Women. Any heterosexual male who has ever read Dworkin has doubtless gone through the same cycle I did of being enraged by the assertions made of our gender, yet ultimately coming to the crushing realisation that everything said about the masculine was true: the drive to dominate, to brutalise, to attempt to satiate the ultimately insatiable appetite.

This, I think, is the overriding theme that has made A Serbian Film the hot topic it is. At the screening, director Spasojevic reiterated his assertion that the film’s primary function is to serve as a metaphor for life in his home nation (and while I do not doubt his conviction, I must say I do not entirely approve of filmmakers promoting so specific a reading of their work; there’s a lot to be said for leaving things open to interpretation). But to my mind the film is really driven by the universal theme of the male sex drive, and of course the universal taboos of rape and paedophilia. It is not anti-porn per se – central protagonist Milos (the also remarkable Srdjan Todorovic) is portrayed as a well-balanced, down-to-earth family man, never frowned upon for his chosen profession – but tough questions are asked about where ‘good’ porn ends and ‘bad’ porn begins, and just how much it takes for a man to embrace those heinous impulses which, like it or not, on some level exist within us all.

This would seem the appropriate place to address the cuts made by the BBFC – and as such, spoilers will follow.

After reading that A Serbian Film is the most censored UK theatrical release in almost two decades (having been cut by 4 minutes 12 seconds – which, incidentally, is 30 seconds more than was initially demanded prior to the film being pulled from Frightfest), it comes as something of a surprise that the film does not feel much weaker for it. Images of erections, ejaculation and necrophilia, once major no-nos with the BBFC, remain intact. Even that scene with the newborn baby is lacking only a few shots, leaving the worst of it to the viewer’s imagination. However – and this is something that very few people seem to have said in A Serbian Film’s defence – the worst of it had been left to the viewer’s imagination anyway. The way A Serbian Film has been talked about (not least by those commenting on Britt’s review) would give the impression that this was a film that never cut away, that left nothing unshown, that examined every unspeakable atrocity in gynecological detail. This is an absolute falsehood. Of course the acts commited in the film are atrocious, but for the most part they remain suggested and, lest we forget, simulated.

By and large only specific shots have been censored, most of them relating to children in sexual scenes; cutaways to images of children on TV screens whilst characters are being fellated. That the children themselves never appear in frame during sexual activity and are not participants therein was not sufficient, it would seem. The final rape scene has had a few shots trimmed too, notably those of the small body beneath the sack. The only scene that has been almost entirely excised is the murder-by-fellatio, and this is one of the few really jarring moments where it is obvious a cut has been made, and as such it does hurt the rhythm of what was otherwise a very well edited film.

For the most part the cuts may not substantially lessen the impact or detract meaning from the scenes in question, but this does not make the justification of this censorship any less shaky. The BBFC classify these cuts as applying to “images of sexual and sexualised violence which have a tendency to eroticise or endorse the behaviour.” Put simply, this is nonsense. Certainly the scenes in question are explicit, often uncomfortably so, but to suggest that the film promotes rape and paedophilia is beyond absurd. Never is it remotely implied that Vukmir is in the right, or that what Milos is coerced into doing is good. We might note that Milos only performs these acts when drugged out of his mind, and when at last he comes to his senses he is left a broken man by what he has done, and his once happy family a shell of what it was. I’d hardly call that an endorsement.

Whether you accept the film as a political allegory or not, there is no question that A Serbian Film stirs deep questions in the mind of all those who see it, and regardless of whether or not the viewer enjoys the film they are unlikely to forget it. Scott Weinberg has famously remarked, “I admire and detest it at the same time. And I will never watch it again. Ever.” I understand and respect his position, but I must say – having at the time of writing seen A Serbian Film twice, both in its original and BBFC-approved versions, I have every intention of watching again. Not because I like the idea of rape and murder, but because I appreciate good filmmaking; and, as simply hasn’t been said enough, A Serbian Film is a very well made film indeed. It is beautifully photographed and edited, powerfully scored, very well written, and tremendously acted: truly, without two such skilled lead actors as Tororovic and Trifunovic, there’s no way the film would have such an impact. Plus, as has also not been noted enough, it’s truly quite funny at times: don’t tell me we’re not supposed to laugh at Milos diving through a window like Sally in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, or a man being killed by a cock in his eye socket (another moment that notably went by the BBFC unscathed).  Censored or uncensored, this is without question one of the most distinctive, powerful films in recent memory. It’s not for all tastes, for certain, but this has always been true of the horror genre, and A Serbian Film stands tall as an example of what can be achieved within horror by those with the skill and vision to push the generic boundaries into genuinely new places; into something approaching “a new genre.”

UK DVD Review: A Bay of Blood

Posted on by

A Bay of Blood (AKA Twitch of the Death Nerve/Reazione a Catena/Carnage/Bloodbath/Many, many more…) (1971)
Distributor: Arrow Video
DVD/Blu-Ray Release Date (UK): 13th December 2010
Directed by: Mario Bava
Starring: Claudine Auger, Luigi Pustilli, Claudio Camaso, Anna Maria Rosati
Review by: Ben Bussey

Deep in an idyllic wilderness lies a serene, unspoiled bay. Amongst all this nature, the only concessions to modern civilisation are a few buildings: a luxury mansion, a disused nightclub, and some rather more simple shacks which house the few human residents. Ownership of this estate falls to an aged Countess… for the first few minutes of the film, at least. Soon enough she’s bumped off. Even sooner, more people are getting bumped off. It seems there a more than a couple of interested parties looking to claim ownership of the bay, and they will stop at nothing to get it.

As the vast number of alternate titles reflect, A Bay of Blood is a prime relic of the grindhouse/exploitation era. As its body count and lurid murders reflect, it is also a clear precursor of the slasher genre, its influence on the early Friday the 13th movies being particularly apparent and well documented. All this considered, it is without doubt one of those must-see movies for all those of us who fancy ourselves more than casual horror fans. Some mighty oaks sprang forth from this acorn, for certain. Even so, to say that a film had a significant impact on that which came thereafter is not necessarily to offer any guarantee that it still holds up to contemporary audience sensibilities. It may well have broken new ground on release, but can A Bay of Blood still stand tall alongside the slasher stalwarts for which it was at least partially responsible?

To begin with, it is perhaps unsurprising that the deaths are by and large fairly tame by modern standards. It may have been one of the illustrious seventy-two titles to make the UK’s notorious Video Nasty blacklist back in 1984, but in 2010 I’m frankly surprised the BBFC still deem it violent enough to warrant an 18 certificate. Still, while the hack ‘n’ slash moments may not push the envelope and test the gag reflex the way they did for the early 70s audience, they do retain their gleefully ghoulish sense of humour. As I think can be said of much of Mario Bava’s work, A Bay of Blood bridges the gap between vintage and modern age horror in an interesting way; for while the gore may point forward to the Savini era, the labyrinthine plot in which seemingly everybody is literally out to stab everybody else in the back (not so much a whodunit as a who’ll-do-it-first) feels more in keeping with an old-fashioned slamming door farce.

But again, whether this is enough to command the attention of audiences today is debatable. The often languid pace tries the patience at times, particularly with a number of overlong and largely unnecessary flashback sequences in the final act. Oftentimes it’s hard to avoid playing Spot The Bit Friday the 13th Ripped Off (at least two key murders, and possibly the earliest example of that time honoured slasher staple: the skinny dip). This may be fun at first, but ultimately it only serves to distance the viewer further from engaging with the film itself on its own terms.

Even so, there can be little debate that A Bay of Blood is a landmark film in the history of the genre, and as such it’s a title that a great many horror aficianados will want to have in their collection. Happily, it’s another great edition from Arrow, the reigning champions of cult genre classics in the DVD/Blu-Ray age.  In their signature white sleeve with specially created cover art, we have two discs boasting the movie in both its English and Italian versions; extended interviews with Bava’s cameraman Gianlorenzo Battaglia and screenwriter Dardano Sacchetti (something of a hit machine, having also scripted many of Argento and Fulci’s most celebrated movies); two clips from Trailers From Hell featuring Edgar Wright giving his commentary on two of the trailers; and an interview with Joe Dante, discussing Bava’s significance in the grindhouse era. I do have a few minor complaints on these; the Dante interview suffers from poor sound, the trailers have no option to view without Edgar Wright’s commentary, and I do find it a little pompous and unnecessary for DVD mini-documentaries to boast full-length opening title sequences. Still, for the window they provide into the impact of the film and its director, the extras are more than welcome, and I understand the Blu-Ray edition has all the aforementioned and more besides.

No, all things considered A Bay of Blood does not hold up as well as many of the groundbreaking horror movies of the 70s, but it was a groundbreaker nonetheless. It’s a must-see movie, even if that only means must-see-once. A worthy purchase either way.

DVD Review: Deadly Outlaw: Rekka

Posted on by

Deadly Outlaw: Rekka (AKA Jitsuroku Andô Noboru kyôdô-den: Rekka AKA Violent Fire) (2002)
Distributor (UK): Arrow Video
Release Date: 22nd November 2010
Directed by: Takashi Miike
Starring: Riki Takeuchi, Kenichi Endo, Sonny Chiba
Review by: Ben Bussey

It’s modern day Tokyo gangland, and as ever things are a little fraught in the day to day goings-on of the Yakuza. One of the bosses has been assassinated by a rival gang, and while this news does not necessarily bring a smile to anyone’s face, few among them wish to see it lead to the inevitable outright gang war. However, this does not include Kunisada (Takeuchi). Fiercely loyal to his murdered boss and driven by a psychotic urge for vengeance, he wants blood and lots of it. Drop a man so unhinged into the complex web of gang politics, give him access to weapons, and all things considered it’s pretty much a given that things are going to get messy. And, as this is a Takashi Miike movie, it’s also pretty much a given that things are going to be bizarre, excessive, ocassionally unintelligible, but always stylish. So it is with Deadly Outlaw: Rekka.

Given that Miike is primarily celebrated in the west for Ichi The Killer and Audition, the temptation is always to attempt to find parallels with those films in any of his other works. However, this is to lose sight of the fact that Miike is (by western standards at least) a ridiculously prolific filmmaker, having directed over fifty – yes, fifty – feature films to date in a career that doesn’t even quite span two decades yet. Subsequently, it shouldn’t be too unexpected that the films in question will vary wildly in tone, content, and of course quality. And so, whilst there may at face value be conceptual similarities between this film and Ichi, Deadly Outlaw: Rekka is very much its own beast.

For starters, that dreaded keyword that is so often used in reference to Miike – ‘extreme’ – is not so applicable here. Sure, when the main protagonist is a bloodthirsty rogue Yakuza no-one’s going to mistake this for a Nancy Myers film, but by comparison with the aforementioned Miike films this is considerably milder stuff in terms of viscera. That said, when it comes to the other keyword that Miike is generally measured against – weirdness – this film has that in spades. From the frequently nude assassin casually wearing the severed hands of his last victim still clenched around his neck, to Kunisada inexplicably dyeing his hair gray, to an ending guaranteed to make audiences worldwide utter the universally recognised phrase “what the fuck?”, this is one odd little movie, make no mistake.

As if Miike’s distinct directorial style was not enough, a further iconic quality is lent to proceedings by the soundtrack. I must confess to having never before heard of Flower Travellin’ Band, nor their 1971 album Satori from which much of Deadly Outlaw: Rekka’s music is taken, but damned if it ain’t some catchy shit. Think oriental Black Sabbath and you’re on the right track. This vintage Japanese rock is utilised in much the way Scorcese uses British and American 60s/70s classics, and it really adds to the mood in a big way. On top of which, a couple of members of Flower Travellin’ Band also appear in the movie (though I must again hastily confess to having no idea which roles they play).

I suspect that, owing to its comparatively low score on the fucked-up scale, this film is unlikely to garner as much attention as Ichi or Audition, and it’s fair to say that all in all it is a far less distinct, memorable and effective film. Indeed, the fact that it’s only just getting a UK release now eight years after it was made would seem to reflect its somewhat cooler reception. Even so, this is still a pretty good gangland thriller that’s got enough grit, masculinity and batshit weirdness to leave the viewer satisfied. It’ll thrill you, amuse you and leave you pondering what the hell you just watched, and if that ain’t signature Miike then I don’t know what is.

Film Review: Dream Home

Posted on by

Dream Home (Wai dor lei ah yut ho) (2010)
Distributor: Network Releasing (UK) IFC Films (US)
Release date: 19th November 2010 (UK) 2011 TBC (US)
Directed by: Ho-Cheung Pang
Starring: Josie Ho, Eason Chan
Review by: Stephanie Scaife

Cheng Li-sheung (Josie Ho) is a young professional planning to take her first step on to the property ladder. She has saved every spare penny that she has ever earned and has become obsessed with buying a particular apartment in an affluent area with a sea view. However, due to soaring house prices in Hong Kong and the struggling economy at large things don’t quite go according to plan, and after the owners reject her initial bid for the apartment Cheng Li-sheung takes extreme measures to ensure that the market value and appeal of the property plummets drastically. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures. 

What’s interesting about the protagonist is that she is not your typical movie psycho killer in the traditional sense; she is merely doing what she needs to do to achieve her goal, and she exacts each murder with cold, grim and determined brutality. Seemingly neither enjoying what she is doing nor being particularly troubled by it, she has resolutely decided what she must do to get her dream home and goes about methodically enacting her plan. Billionaire heiress Josie Ho gives a committed and convincing performance as Cheng Li-sheung, making her believable even when some of the victims and murders verge on the ridiculous at times, and judging by her being cast in Steven Soderbergh’s new film Contagion she’s surely destined for international stardom.

The non-linear narrative jumps back and forth between the present and flashbacks of different periods in Cheng Li-sheung’s life that explain exactly why she’s been driven to such extremes. Lonely, working a dead end job and lacking in self-confidence she becomes increasingly obsessed with reaching her goal. Her lazy brother, ungrateful father and her selfish, inconsiderate and married lover all gradually push her closer and closer to the edge.  

Dream Home may ultimately struggle to find a wide audience, with the excessive violence perhaps over shadowing the social satire for the average viewer. But it does have a vast amount of cult appeal and there is a lot here for genre fans to admire, even if the director does occasionally pander to expectations with a shocking lack of subtlety, including seeing prospective victims smoking pot, excessively drinking and engaging in various debauched sexual acts before being ruthlessly executed. 

A blackly comic social commentary slasher film about the competitive and overpriced Hong Kong housing market that is supposedly based on true events may seem like a strange premise, but it was surprisingly entertaining and if, like myself, you’re a young person in a big city dreaming of getting onto the property ladder you may find yourself sympathizing with Cheng Li-sheung’s cause even though her solution to the problem is rather extreme. Ho-Cheung Pang is a prolific maverick young filmmaker, and if this is anything to go by he’s definitely one to keep an eye on in the future.

Review: The Fallow Field

Posted on by

The Fallow Field (2009)
Production company: Figment
Directed by: Leigh Dovey
Starring: Steve Garry, Michael Dacre, Natalie Overs, Johnny Vivash
Review by: Ben Bussey

Matt Sadler (Garry) has a few problems in his life. First off, his missus no longer wants anything to do with him. Secondly, the mistress he’s been keeping, who has in no small part contributed to his being dumped by his missus, also no longer wants anything to do with him. And yet, neither of these causes for concern are quite so troubling as the fact that Matt cannot recall where he has been or what he has been doing for the past week. Nor is this the first time he has had such an episode. Anxious to learn the truth behind his memory loss, Matt finds himself driving through the countryside, fuelled by some obscure feeling that he has been there before. This leads him to a remote farm, inhabited by a sinister lone farmer, Calham (Dacre). At first Matt is certain the two of them have never met before, but before long he learns this is not the case; Calham is in fact very much involved with Matt, and more specifically Matt’s blackouts. Soon Matt learns the full extent of Calham’s dark and deviant hobbies, and how they tie in to a most unusual field on his land.

Not long into The Fallow Field, I found myself thinking “hmm, this is kind of like a blend of Memento and Wolf Creek.” Not long thereafter, on reading the press kit PDF, I found the film described as – lo and behold – “echoing shades of Memento and Wolf Creek but set against the backdrop of English harvest time.” Feels odd and a little jarring to read a film officially surmised in near enough the exact same terms I had used in my head, and in a strange way it augments my overall feelings about the film itself; the overriding feeling being, I’m sorry to say, one of disappointment. I can see what the filmmakers were aiming for, and respect their ambition to craft something distinct and sophisticated, but sadly The Fallow Field falls some distance short of the mark.

I do tend to take umbrage with any film that takes itself too seriously, and that is very much the case here. Being for the most part a two-man show with a slow burn pace, built largely from protacted scenes of dialogue replete with frequent lengthy silences, The Fallow Field almost feels like the horror movie Harold Pinter never made. Leigh Dovey’s script and direction emphasise character, atmosphere and tension over explicit detail, and as an artistic choice I have no problem with this whatsoever. However, such an approach can only be entirely effective if the script and the actors are of the requisite calibre, and I’m afraid this simply isn’t the case here. Steve Garry’s Matt and Michael Dacre’s Calham may be suitably mismatched physically as the bemused city boy and the predatory country bumpkin (FYI, that’s essentially the British equivalent of redneck), but neither actor really inhabits their role the way the film needs them to, and Dovey’s frequently lacklustre dialogue does them few favours. The complete absence of humour lends proceedings an air of stiff formality, which may have been intended to boost the tension but ultimately only serves to make the film a more alienating and tedious experience.

It gives me little pleasure to have to say this of The Fallow Field, as the potential was there for something better. Not all the efforts toward tension and atmosphere are in vain; Nicholas Kindon’s cinematography is decent, as is Adam Ford’s low, moody soundtrack. Dovey’s script is not without its strengths either; the first act does carry a genuine sense of mystery and a couple of bona fide surprises, and the central macguffin (which I’m not about to spoil, thank you very much) is an interesting one, reminscent of vintage Stephen King. But when all is said and done, The Fallow Field simply doesn’t pack the kind of punch aims to. Even so, I very much hope we’ll see Mr Dovey behind the camera again soon, having learned a few lessons; I daresay we may yet see some very good work out of this director. Alas, on this evidence he’s not quite there yet.