Comic Review: Wolf Moon #1

By Svetlana Fedotov

Werewolves are a pretty safe bet when it comes to whipping out a scary story. Like vampires and zombies, they already come with their own set of rules, mythology, and an image ready to be penned into the “enter-scary-creature” blank space on the horror tax form. In fact, I probably wouldn’t even bother reviewing a werewolf comic if it didn’t have something special going on with it, or at least a ton of gore – and luckily, DC/Vertigo’s Wolf Moon has both! Taking the timeless classic motif of an obsessed occult hunter looking for revenge and adding that special Vertigo twist, this new tale of lycanthrope madness breathes new life into the tired trope; even playing with the basic concepts of the creature itself. A commentary on modern horror as much as a good old spooky tale, Wolf Moon will definitely be turning some heads.


The comic focuses on our protagonist Dillon, a hardened, scar-faced, tough man who has dedicated his life to hunting werewolves. He soon receives an email about an attack in Kentucky and shoots off before the trail gets cold, monologuing the whole while like a Wes Anderson movie. But there’s nothing funny about what he comes across. A werewolf, drunk on bloodlust and looking for warm bodies to devour, is tearing its way across a gas station. Dillon quickly grabs control of the situation but hesitates at the last minute to finish the job, fearful for the poor soul trapped in the werewolf’s body. As the monster disappears into the surrounding woods, he reveals that werewolves are not a one-person creature, but, in fact move from body to body, reappearing in a different person every full moon. Essentially, it’s a body-hopping spirit, never staying in one person for long. One of these hosts had happened to be Dillon, and after being used up like a cheap bottle of wine he has dedicated himself to never letting that happen to anyone else.

The cool thing about Wolf Moon is that it doesn’t just take the same old werewolf story, doll it up in a fancy dress and call it a brand new work. Instead, it completely re-invents the basic structure of how the creature even exists, opening up a whole series of questions that could easily transfer into new story arcs. In fact, the only confirmed fact that we have is that silver bullets can kill the monster; everything else is pretty much a guess. Are werewolves a disease then, like a cough that kills; or is there something more sinister going on, like a demonic possession? What happens when you get bit by one? How does the werewolf choose who it’s going to take over next? See, questions! Questions I want answers too! Also, despite the overwhelming inquiries into in the creature’s biology, it doesn’t feel like you’re questioning anything because it’s incredulous, but because it’s a really cool idea. Wolf Moon is doing for werewolves what American Vampire did for vampires: new lore, new possibilities, endless fun.

The author Cullen Bunn is no stranger when it comes to writing weird stories, most notably known for the horror western Sixth Gun from Oni Press. He does a wonderful job of reinventing the wheel on Wolf Moon while still recognizing the importance of established werewolf mythos, giving the reader something to hold onto as they explore the new concept. Though the main character is not very original, he’s not so by-the-books that it becomes a distraction and he is an appropriate lead to act as a catalyst for the upcoming events. The art by Jeremy Huan works well with the script and he is familiar with drawing for a darker work. It’s got a pretty solid Vertigo vibe and does what it’s supposed to do; that is, tell one hell of a story. I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely looking forward to the rest of the run.

Abertoir 2014 Review: The Forgotten (2014)


Review by Tristan Bishop

If there’s one thing we Brits excel at, it’s a good ghost story. From MR James (arguably the master of the form) to the 1945 Ealing studios spooky portmanteau tale Dead Of Night, to the blockbusting Woman In Black, we’ve got the restless dead covered. The reasons for this are debatable, of course, but one of them must surely be that we’re an old island, full of ruins, large, isolated houses, run-down graveyards and dark country roads. Our surroundings lend themselves to gothic tales of revenge or unrequited love from beyond the grave; our rich history, when the surface is scratched, is filled with madness, poverty and murder. Adding to this ghastly heritage is The Forgotten, but this is not a film set in a huge gothic building, like 2011’s The Awakening, or even a spooky country church like last years’ brilliant The Borderlands; instead, The Forgotten is set in another Great British institution – an abandoned council estate.

The main character in the film is Tommy (played by Clem Tibber), a young teenager who goes to live with his father Mark (Shaun Dingwall, a familiar face from British television) on said estate. Tommy is surprised to find that his mother is not there – his father tells him (rather unconvincingly) that she is staying with a friend, and it transpires that his father’s ‘work’ seems to be a little outside the law – most of what he does seems to be stripping copper pipes and other materials from the soon-to-demolished estate (presumably for sale on the black market). Not a great life for a young man, especially a sensitive, artistic one like Tommy, who spends his free time sketching his surroundings. When a gang of local thugs ridicule his artwork and attempt to steal his portable CD player (hang on, when is this film set?), Tommy is saved by Carmen (Elarica Gallacher), who literally fights the aggressors off with a big stick. It transpires Carmen works at the local cafe, and, despite being initially guarded and stand-offish, soon becomes friendly with Tommy.

Unfortunately not everything goes quite so well for the young man – he becomes unnerved by freaky noises from elsewhere in the estate, and someone (or something) moves all his belongings around when he is out of the flat. Adding to the unease, Tommy’s father turns out to not be a very nice guy – at one point he brings a prostitute back to the rundown estate, who proceeds to run screaming from the flat over some unseen transgression, which leads us to question what exactly has happened to Tommy’s mother. And when the local pimps rough up the father in retaliation, leaving Tommy to fend for himself, he begins to investigate strange noises in the flat next to theirs, eventually convincing Carmen to help him out; but what they find there might be an unpleasant revelation for both of them.


The grim council estate setting of The Forgotten will be familiar to viewers of British TV drama; in fact, director Oliver Frampton and writer James Hall were both script editors on long-running police-based TV series The Bill in a previous life, and whilst it isn’t the first film to try and bring horror conventions into an urban British milieu (see the mini-wave of ‘hoodie horror’ from a few years ago, including films like Citadel, set in an abandoned Glaswegian tower block), it’s certainly the most effective example, mainly because it has real empathy for the young, main characters. In fact the main problem with the films that precede it is that they tend to play on the middle class paranoia over roving gangs of savage youths who are perceived to populate the council estates of Britain, whereas here the characters are very much the product of their environment (especially Carmen). There’s tenderness and understanding at work that makes the characters likeable and relatable (helped by excellent performances from the leads), even to those who have never faced the hardships that they do. But let’s not forget that this is a ghost story first and foremost – and thankfully this aspect is also handled in a subtle and intelligent manner, with a slow build and pay-off that, for once, works and doesn’t leave the audience bored to tears by the midway mark. As with the best ghost stories, you don’t see much here (aside from one split second shot), but sound is very well utilised, and the set design inside the abandoned flat is thoroughly creepy, suggesting a descent into hell itself. In its latter stages the film even takes some turns which I wasn’t expecting at all, and still manages to end on a satisfying, if rather devastating, note.

So if you’re a fan of the Great British spook story, and don’t mind your chills mixed up with a bit of urban grit, The Forgotten is a must-see – tender and subtle, yet powerful enough to linger in your memory (unlike the title may suggest).

VOD Review: Mockingbird (2014)

Review by Quin

I have always believed that it’s not always the way the movie ends that matters, it’s how you get there. While it’s true that many a bad ending have ruined films for me in the past, it isn’t always the case. Of course it’s ideal that the viewer be left in the dark when it comes to big twist endings that everyone will be talking about; but if the film is strong enough throughout, the setup should be as important than the ultimate payoff. In real life, when people are faced with the things similar to what we see in horror films, there isn’t always closure. It’s probably quite rare to have everything tidied up all nice and some form of justice handed down. As sad as it is, bad things happen to good people and there is hardly ever a reason for it that we could ever understand. In this new found footage film (I’m getting very close to scrapping that term from my vocabulary and only referring to it as first person ordeal) things finish off in what I believe to be a spectacularly inferior way to what we see during the rest of the ordeal. I won’t spoil it for you, although it would hardly matter. But I also want you to see this film, because in spite of a bad ending, it’s pretty damn suspenseful.

mockingbird-posterThe year is 1995. A married couple, a young man living with his mother, and a young female student living alone all receive an anonymous delivery on their doorstep – a box with a video camera inside. At first, they all seem to think the delivery is due to a contest entry they vaguely remember filling out at the mall. Only the young man, portly and bearded wearing a Melvins t-shirt – he is hyper enthusiastic and lacking in any reasonable level of common sense, doesn’t seem to care where his video camera came from. He just thinks it’s cool – oh, and he also receives a clown suit and makeup kit with his camera.

Soon enough, they all get a message that they are not to stop filming. This message is accompanied by a horrific video of a young boy being shot after screaming, “I did everything you said! I never stopped filming!” The age-old conundrum in found footage of “Why didn’t they put the camera down and run?” has been officially served: keep filming if you want to live. Plus, there has to be at least a little bit of curiosity in the characters as to what the heck the point is to all of this.

This film ends no differently than all found footage films, but as I said, the reason for it all and the way it wraps up is head scratching and eye roll inducing. To be honest, I watch a lot of horror movies like I’m doing an Aubrey Plaza impression. As if to say to the screen, “Scare me. I dare you,” only to laugh in it’s face at its not-scariness. Well, the thing that makes Mockingbird so watchable and fun is its incredible pacing and editing together of all of its characters’ individual ordeals. Director and writer Bryan Bertino (who previously brought us The Strangers – which is a film I loved, even though many did not) keeps the action tight, uses lighting, color and music (Beethoven, Mozart, Grieg, Berlioz) in an effective way, and sort of makes you forget you’re watching a found footage film. And even though I have to say I didn’t like the ending, the final scene was amazing to look at with all of that red and translucence. The visual esthetics are enough for me to appreciate it, and I just didn’t think the ending detracted enough from rest of the film. Mockingbird may be the most visually stunning found footage film I’ve ever seen.

The actors in the film are mostly unknown – or at least I didn’t know them. The one familiar face is the mother of the guy who gets the clown suit. Her name is Lee Garlington and she’s had guest roles on practically every TV show since the 80s. She also played Myrna in Psycho 2 and 3 (yeah, nobody is allowed to complain about sequels anymore, they’ve been doing this shit for decades). The unknown cast works well in this. The film has a pretty slow setup, but the interactions between characters – some only by telephone – feel real. Unlike other films of this type where the acting ruins the believability, with Mockingbird it’s easy to get drawn in and feel something for this mostly likable bunch of people. Once the movie switches into suspense mode, it never slows down and the acting maintains the same level of realism.

If you enjoy feeling nervous for fictional characters, and why wouldn’t you if you watch scary movies, then check this out soon. It probably won’t have the staying power of many of your favorites and the end might make you grumble, or maybe I’m being silly and the ending is actually awesome. Anything is possible. But I’m confident in proclaiming Mockingbird’s 95% originality. Perhaps they would have been better off keeping it open-ended, like the way those real-life ordeals often are. But if you stay open minded, you might get something you’re looking for out of Mockingbird. I certainly did.

Mockingbird is available on VOD and Region 1 DVD from Blumhouse. It is also streaming on Netflix in the US.

Comic Review: ODY-C #1

By Svetlana Fedotov

Classic works get revived all the time; smarter, sassier, and sexier with each version. Look at Sherlock Holmes, with its Robert Downey Jr.s and Benedict Cumberbatchs sexying the classic detective up, or the new Exodus movie, which frankly just seems unnecessary. A tried and true story is always solid for adaption and ODY-C is no expectation. A re-telling of the Homer epic The Odyssey, ODY-C brings a new spin to the epic, swapping genders and species while attempting to keep the core journey of the war-weary soldiers on their way home. While heavy on the art and colors, the story itself gets a bit lost in the delivery creating more of a visual trip than anything else. But, if anything, it’s pretty.


The comic opens up with warrior Odyssia praying for a safe journey home from her recent battle in depths of the cosmos. A leader of an all-female and alien army, we are introduced to their world that consists of mind-powered spaceships, multi-colored women, and the Greek gods themselves who ultimately guide the journey among petty jealousies and backhanded bets (and yes, the gods are also gender swapped). As Odyssia attempts to adjust to a life of peace, she gets flashbacks of her warlord days and quickly learns they are far from over when the ship is suddenly attacked. Among the flash attacks and hot action, uncertainties brew in her crew, leading her warriors to question her abilities as leader.

ODY-C is like the space opera of Classic Lit 101; interesting, yet probably in need of a bit of context. The comic seems to come from the idea that everyone has read The Odyssey and jumps right into the pretty words and visuals without any background story. While it’s natural for works to open up on a random scene and then explain it later, ODY-C never offers much of an explanation; just a “roll-with-it” kind of attitude. Frankly, I’m not 100% about what happened in it. There are aliens, sexual undertones, some kind of war, and a lot of colors? Honestly, it felt like coming in in the middle of a Heavy Metal comic that left the station three issues ago. But, speaking of Heavy Metal, the art is very reminiscent (if not a little cheap) of early Heavy Metal magazine. The actual technical aspects, such as figures and faces, are hard on the eyes, but the colors and visualization of outer space is pretty top notch. The panel layouts are very organic as well, adding very well to the overall flow of the work.

As much as this works attempts to bring new readers to old classics, it feels like it felt short of grabbing my attention. Unless it really picks up in issue two, you’re better off reading the writer Matt Fraction’s superhero work. I suggest Hawkeye.

DVD Review: Gun Woman (2013)

Gun WomanReview by Ben Bussey

Asami: a relatively common name in Japan so I understand, and yet to fans of contemporary Japanese exploitation cinema it can only mean one person. While she generally appears in supporting roles, the porno/pinku veteran has pretty much become the Linnea Quigley of J-sploitation: the mere sight of her face (not to mention the rest of her) immediately lets you know that you’re in for some good old trashy fun. As such, Gun Woman – her first work with writer-director Kurando Mitsutake – might just catch existing Asami fans a little off-guard (I was going to say “catch with their pants down” but… never mind). Ostensibly her first western leading role – though to all intents and purposes this is a Japanese film, despite being shot in the US – it’s in many ways pretty far removed from the more explicitly cartoonish and tongue-in-cheek fare with which Asami is most closely associated. While many of us first encountered the actress in The Machine Girl, in which Minase Yashiro’s arm is replaced by a gargantuan machine gun, this latest film approaches the whole Japanese body/weapon thing in a rather more grim and grounded fashion, and slides it messily into a bleak and nasty revenge tale that’s low on belly laughs, but high on sleaze and shock value. Take equal parts Thriller: A Cruel Picture and Nikita, toss in a blender, add some wasabi, and voila – you’ve got Gun Woman.

Nor does the Nikita influence go unnoted, by the way, as at one point an American supporting character mocks the scenario as being straight out of a Luc Besson movie. If that sounds a bit contrived and Scream-y, well… we’ll come to that later.

Asami is Mayumi – although it’s half surprising they bothered giving her a name at all, considering no one ever directly addresses her by it, nor does she herself say practically anything throughout. A fucked up meth-head, she’s literally on the cusp of suicide when she’s abducted for sale as a sex slave. However, her buyer, a brilliant doctor known only as Mastermind (Kairi Narita), has something rather different planned. Sending Mayumi cold turkey and putting her into some very intense physical and psychological training, Mastermind’s aim is to turn her into the ultimate assassin, in order to send her after the rich, powerful and politically protected sadistic maniac (Noriaki Kamata) who raped and murdered his wife. As for the specifics of Mastermind’s plan; damn, it’s hard not to give these details away, and sadly I’ve seen some write-ups online that don’t shy away from spilling it all upfront, but I’m going to hold back to keep from spoiling the series of bona fide WTF moments hidden up Gun Woman’s sleeve.

Wait, did I just infer Gun Woman has sleeves? Huh. That’s a rather inappropriate turn of phrase, as – just to add more weight to the Linnea Quigley analogy – Asami spends a great deal of her screentime with barely a stitch of clothing on, and once the final reel comes around she’s wearing literally nothing but blood; some her own, some other people’s. Though the film has yet to go past the BBFC, I note Monster Pictures have rather optimistically slapped a 15 certificate on their early DVD artwork, but I very much doubt that’ll read anything but 18 on the final copy.* I don’t use Thriller: A Cruel Picture as a reference point lightly; no, thankfully this film doesn’t have any hardcore penetration rape scenes, but it’s still a pretty rough and mean-spirited piece of work in which the heroes and villains are often very hard to tell apart.

Considering how much full nudity is involved and just how out there the material is, it is rather hard to envisage anyone other than Asami taking on this role – but still, her performance here is quite far removed from the Asami we know and love. She’s rightly noted for her comedic chops, and most of her roles let her really cut loose with melodramatic excess, yet in Gun Woman she’s playing very much the opposite; a taciturn, stoney-faced, serous character more akin to the kind of roles we so fondly remember Meiko Kaji for. Sure, the film itself is plenty excessive and melodramatic with heavy undertones of gallows humour, but Asami’s playing it totally straight, and doing a damn good job of it. And when the time comes to kick arse, you better believe she looks more than up to the task.

So it’s all good, as the kids say? Well, yes and no. There is the matter of the rather odd choice of framing mechanism, presumably utilised with a view to giving the film a more western feel, as a pair of American criminals (Matthew Floyd Miller and Dean Simone) relay the story to us in conversation whilst driving from LA to Las Vegas on a job. The film spends rather more time with them than feels entirely necessary, bookending the main story and popping up to comment on it now again, often to punch holes in its logic; kind of like if Peter Falk and Fred Savage in The Princess Bride were low-level gangsters. The actors themselves are fine, but the scenes are jarring and feel like they belong in an entirely different film; there’s also a certain awkwardness to the dialogue which would seem to emphasise these Americans are working from a Japanese script which may quite literally have lost something in the translation. All that said, in some sense these scenes feel entirely appropriate; there is of course a long history of Asian and European exploitation movies (and mainstream movies for that matter) tacking on American sequences to help sell the film internationally.

Caution – little bit of a spoiler coming up now…

In any case, the final scene with the American characters gives us a smirk-inducing climax which states that the Gun Woman – now reborn as a slick super-assassin complete with her own theme song (think a cross between Shirley Bassey and Pat Benatar) – will be back to kill another day. Could this turn out simply to be the origin story of a whole series of Gun Woman thrillers? I can think of plenty of worse things. Gun Woman is a very long way from flawless, but as a brutal, bloody and unabashedly sleazy slice of J-sploitation (minus the overly silly humour which sometimes threatens to derail the genre), it certainly gets the job done. If you like the idea of Asami going more Meiko Kaji than Linnea Quigley, then track it down for sure.

Gun Woman is released to Region 2 DVD and Blu-ray on 29th December 2014, from Monster Pictures.

* Update, 1st Dec 2014: Gun Woman has indeed been rated 18, with cuts. I’m told by Monster that the review copy I saw was uncensored, and the BBFC demanded the removal of a (simulated) cum shot in a scene of sexual violence.

Abertoir 2014 Review: Noboru Iguchi’s Live (Raivu) (2014)

Review by Tristan Bishop

The advance word on Noboru Iguchi’s Live, which received its UK premiere at this year’s Abertoir Horror Festival, was that the scatalogically-obsessed manchild of Japanese cinema was toning it down a bit – unsurprising really, as it might prove a little difficult to top the excesses of Dead Sushi (2012) and Zombie Ass (2011). But fear not, because although the director has hit his mid-forties he’s not lost the manic energy and inventiveness that mark the best of his work. Rather, he’s channeling it into more conventional genre forms, although Live is still a long way from the approach of your standard Hollywood blockbuster (and not just in budget terms).

Live begins with a down-on-his-luck young man named Naoto (played by Yuki Yamada), who, having left his single mother and home, and unable to keep down a job, receives a phone call from a mysterious stranger, who has delivered him a box containing a smartphone and a copy of a novel called ‘Live’. The stranger then tells him that he has kidnapped Naoto’s mother and will inject her with lethal poison if he does not co-operate, sending video footage to the smartphone to back up his claims.

It turns out that the mysterious voice, as mysterious voices often seem to, wants Naoto to play a game – a game which is a re-enactment of the one featured in the novel. Directed to go to a sports centre, he soon discovers several other people carrying smartphones and copies of the novel, all of whom have had a loved one kidnapped and are being forced to play along – mostly because they have the same (or similar) names to characters in the book. The game will mirror the plot of the book, which will see the ‘contestants’ competing in a marathon against each other, with difficulties to overcome and riddles to solve. Of course, those who disobey will have a loved one killed.

Changing into some unflattering yellow running costumes, the contestants soon attract unwanted attention from both police (via a couple of outrageous early accidental deaths) and people posting their pictures and videos on social media, as they race to reach a 30-storey building called ‘Hell’s Tower’. En route, Naoto teams up with friendly 17-year old Shinsuki (Yuki Morinaga), and Rumi (Ito Ono), who the others deem a ‘weird chick’, whilst other characters include a highly-strung sporty type who will not lose at any cost, and the amazing Asami (much loved by us at Brutal As Hell), playing against type as dowdy and gawky, but obviously slightly unhinged. So far that sounds (bar the couple of OTT gore sequences) like pretty light fare for Iguchi, but once the characters reach Hell’s Tower, things switch up pretty quickly. As Rumi says, referencing the novel Live, “I’ve read a lot, and I’ve read this. Things are about to get crazy”. And that’s exactly what things do get – highlights include the scantily-clad roller-skating female assassin ‘Crossbow Angel’, rooftop chainsaw fighting, and, in a wonderful moment of geek reference, a weaponised motorcycle (“Just like Megaforce!” a character exclaims).

Live comes across as both a send-up of, and cash-in on, such ‘game of death’ blockbusters as Battle Royale (2000), The Hunger Games (2012), and even Bruce Lee’s original and unfinished Game Of Death (1973) – check out the yellow running gear for a nod to Bruce, and the way that the names and ages of the characters flash up on the screen (along with a dramatic musical flourish) for Kinji Fukasaku’s masterwork. What makes it intriguing is that the novel in the film is an actual book, and Iguchi’s film is a meta-adaptation of it. There’s not much information about the novel itself in English, so I wasn’t able to ascertain quite how closely the film follows the plot, but it seems that Iguchi is commenting on the nature of adaptation itself – a bit like Charlie Kaufman but with more fighting girls and shots of bottoms. Because yes, let’s not forget this is an Iguchi film, so his baser instincts take precedence over his intellectual ones, although he’s nothing if not self-aware – at one point the camera focusses slightly too long on a girl’s bosom, which is then mirrored by the next scene doing the same with a ripped male torso. Thankfully this makes for an entertaining watch and the blood & bums stuff manage to balance quite nicely with the loftier aims, preventing the film from becoming too self-indulgent on either side.

It’s not perfect however – the budget is obviously painfully low, and most of the gore is CGI stuff (although pretty good of its type), and the film loses the way in the final 20 minutes, shifting to a darker dramatic, revelatory tone which doesn’t really work after the slow build and release that comes before it. Also, Asami doesn’t get a great deal to do for most of the running time, although she does eventually get to steal the show in what is probably the film’s stand-out scene. Overall, however, Live is a hell of a good time, and points towards an interesting future for Iguchi.

Abertoir 2014 Review: Over Your Dead Body (2014)


Review by Karolina Gruschka

Takashi Miike is a Japanese auteur known for his strange films: take Visitor Q (2001), for instance, a bizarre movie about a highly dysfunctional family or the surreal zombie musical The Happiness of the Katakuris (2001). However, Miike is probably most (in)famous for the disturbing Audition (1999) and the ultraviolent Ichi the Killer (2001). All of his work is a selection of different movies that do not really fit into one generic category, but based on their often violent, disturbing and extreme content Miike’s movies are predominantly considered horror and shown at horror film festivals. Over Your Dead Body is no exception, although it is in line with his more recent strand of traditionally orientated Japanese tales.

The story of the movie is mainly set during rehearsals for an adaptation of the traditional Kabuki play Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan. The theatre piece is the tale of Lemon, a selfish, superficial and disreputable Ronin who, in striving for success, walks over dead bodies. Despite having a beautiful and understanding young wife, Lemon increasingly takes the frustration over his lack of prospects out on Oiwa. Seeing properous Oume’s crush on him as an opportunity, he stands by as Oume’s family poison his wife (and as a result the breastfeeding son!). Lemon grows increasingly repulsed by the now disfigured Oiwa and schemes a horrific plot that frames her as an adulturess, which will give him a lawful reason for divorce. The disgraceful betrayal of Lemon towards his wife and child end in the latters’ deaths. But no evil deed like such goes unpunished; Oiwa returns as a vengeful spirit to haunt Lemon and now, in turn, to make his life a misery.

As rehearsals progress, the play comes to life, blurring the boundaries between the Real and art. The relationship between cheating Kosuke (Ebizo Ichikawa) who plays Lemon, and lovestruck celebrity Miyuki (Ko Shibasaki) playing Oiwa takes a dark and disturbing turn as their situation starts to mirror that of the play. Japanese theatre, such as Kabuki, is a highly codified and stylized form of expression that requires complete dedication for developing purity of style. Miike leaves the audience uncertain as to whether the performers’ devotion crosses the line to manic obsession, or if potentially a supernatural force is at play that has transferred from the historic props (i.e. the recurring comb) onto the actors.
One can always be certain of Takashi Miike to go full out in regards to aesthetics. Over Your Dead Body does not disappoint, as it is a work of utter beauty. Do not expect glamor by visual excess like in Ichi the Killer, but a more serene and eerie visual indulgence (theatre folks, think Robert Wilson). Though the English film title might imply otherwise, there is not much gory violence in Over Your Dead Body either; as a result those rare savage moments work with such a brute force on the spectator’s mind, that s/he will be left haunted by it.

I saw the UK premiere of Takashi Miike’s new movie as part of Abertoir, the amazing horror film festival taking place each year in Aberystwyth, Wales. Of course, deprived of sleep, oxygen and ‘proper’ nutrition it is usually the funny and event-rich films that capture one’s attention (the films that made the top 3 of the festival were all hilarious); that said, in spite of the slow avant-garde-esque pacing, Over Your Dead Body lured, enchanted and kept me captivated throughout its whole duration. Consequently, it was sad to discover that the movie had received the lowest rating of the festival with 3.12 out of 5. I suspect that Over Your Dead Body received partially high and in part very low ratings, leveling it out to a medium score. Weighty films are simply not everyone’s cup of coffee, especially not in a late evening slot under the aforementioned circumstances.

Interestingly enough, Over Your Dead Body fitted perfectly in with this year’s theme of Abertoir: Video Nasties. It may be a cultural product steering more towards the “high art” side of film, rather than “popular culture”, but thematically it deals with the same issue UK moral panics were concerned with in the 1980s and 1990s: life imitating art. In this case it is (representational) life being affected by a “high brow” theatre play, as opposed to using a “low brow” and “obscene” horror tape to deprave the human soul. This makes me question why it is usually the filmic end of art-horror that causes such a stir and not, let’s say, a violent painting or a dangerous performance piece; there seems to exist the presumption that horror film audiences are of a less civilized and more misguided nature. Surely, the fact that academics like Johnny Walker and Mark McKenna combined own the complete DPP39 and talked about VHS collecting during Abertoir shows that to assume such thing is to make an ass of u & me.

If you get the chance, go and see Over Your Dead Body on the big screen, as the heightened audio-visual quality will only enhance this sublime, yet disconcerting master piece.

Abertoir 2014: Ben and Keri talk Tusk

By Ben Bussey and Keri O’Shea

After seeing Kevin Smith’s Tusk at Abertoir Horror Festival 2014, your illustrious editors reflect on the experience. In case you haven’t heard about it, in a nutshell it’s about sleazy podcaster Wallace Bryton (Justin Long) who goes to interview wacky old seafarer Howard Howe (Michael Parks) about his life – but it turns out Howe is completely insane, and intends to turn Wallace into the best friend he ever had: a walrus with which he was once lost at sea. We suspected this one would leave us with plenty to talk about, and indeed it did. There will be spoilers, but you’ll be warned before the worst of them…

Ben: Okay – so I don’t know where the first UK public screening of Kevin Smith’s new film Tusk took place, but the second was on a Saturday afternoon in front of a bunch of mostly hungover people in Aberystwyth. And we were there.

Keri: A challenging one for the hungover audience. I mean, tonally the film is so odd…comedic; nasty; body horror too? Unlike anything else I’ve seen Kevin Smith deliver.

Ben: Absolutely. There is a great deal of it that’s immediately recognisable as Kevin Smith, certainly more than was the case with Red State – but then there’s all that other stuff. How well versed in Kevin Smith are you, by the way? I’ve pretty much been following him since I saw Mallrats back in the 90s; seen everything he’s done except Cop Out. Rather went off him in recent years, so his sudden shift toward horror was kind of a pleasant surprise.

Keri: Well, I idolised his early stuff – Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma…though I confess I kind of dropped away as an avid viewer, so I haven’t seen Red State. Haven’t seen any of his stuff in a while, which probably made the shock of Tusk a lot greater. The very well-handled naturalistic dialogue is still there in Tusk, for sure, and the laughs come from that but – well, nothing else felt like a Smith movie.

Yikes, he made Jay and Silent Bob Get Old: Tea Bagging in the UK? So Tusk not his first foray into body horror, then?

Ben: Haven’t seen that; I assume it’s a live video of their UK tour from a year or two ago, around the same time he was decrying all film criticism as meaningless because he was tired of getting bad reviews. It’s very refreshing to see that, after acting like a petulant child online, he’s channeled that disaffection the right way: by actually getting outside of his usual parameters and taking a stab at something different.

Like I said, Red State was an even more drastic change – I definitely recommend seeing it, although it isn’t a complete success. And of course one of the key things about Red State in relation to Tusk: it was the first time Smith and Michael Parks worked together.

Keri: Ah. And he did stellar work as a psychopath in Tusk.

Ben: But in the interests of starting at the beginning, I suppose we should first acknowledge the real lead – Justin Long’s mindbogglingly obnoxious comedy podcaster Wallace, presumably so named because it sounds a bit like Walrus.

Keri: Possibly – I hadn’t thought of that. Though his character made me wonder – what are the limits on sympathy? A guy gets picked up by a maniac, but then he’s in that neck of the woods to spitefully exploit a kid on his podcast. I did pity Wallace – maybe in a sort of magnifying-glass-insect way – but he certainly wasn’t pitched as a hero, and I think that made the way the film unfolded a hell of a lot more interesting…

Ben: Definitely, yeah. As much as the whole ‘man gets turned into a walrus’ premise was settled on primarily because of its bizarro appeal, it was also utilised in a fairly intelligent way; Wallace is paying for his own inhumanity by literally being robbed of his humanity. Smith being very catholic again, I suppose.

Keri: I guess – although, we can say that the other man-walruses may well not have had his flaws (mild spoiler there: it transpires Wallace isn’t the first person Howard has done this to), and for all the laughs, we had a pretty fucking brutal story of a mentally ill former abuse victim visiting the sins of the fathers (or indeed the Fathers) on people who had no part in it.

Ben: Oh yeah, I’d almost forgotten about his whole orphanage abuse backstory. Certainly Howard Howe is by far the more sympathetic of the two in almost every respect; it’s just the little detail of him being an extremely dangerous lunatic.

Keri: Again, that whole ‘where does sympathy begin and end’ question, I guess…

Ben: He was a nice man really; could he help it if he liked to mutilate people to make them resemble walruses?

Keri: I’m sure he could, yes! This is where the decision to add humour was, I think, a real saving grace.

Ben: Well yeah. You couldn’t possibly play something so out there completely straight. But it was also surprising just how much of it WAS played straight, even in the most out-there moments. It’s that rare thing in horror comedy, when you’re not entirely sure whether to laugh or be freaked out, and you end up feeling a mix of both – which, in a way, only makes it more disturbing.

Keri: Like the ring tone…cutting through scenes of pretty full-on peril with something utterly daft and a real earworm!

Ben: Oh god yes. Much as was the case with American Mary two years ago, I’ve been unable to get that damned ringtone out of my head. It felt like a character in its own right.

Keri: Well in AM’s case that was a standard-issue ringtone, so I heard it everywhere! Less likely with Tusk…though I might get it.

Ben: Smith is a marketing master, so I’m sure you’ll be able to pick out a Tusk fan in a crowd no problem – they’ll have that ringtone and they’ll be wearing one of those ‘Red & White but never Blue’ T-shirts.

Keri: Shall we talk about the mysterious cameo..?

Ben: Yeah, I’m happy to talk about the cameo – it’s not exactly a secret, and we generally go at least partially into spoilers when we do these things (although I guess in this case it’s a film far less people will have had the chance to see yet.)

Keri: Well, we shall give due warning…

ALRIGHT READERS, YOU SAW IT – YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. TUSK CASTING SPOILER COMING UP…

…I was just still thinking about the comedic aspect, and wondering how you found (‘ulp) Depp?

Ben: I really didn’t like Johnny Depp in this at all. But the thing is, I know that this has less to do with the role or his performance than it is to do with my overarching wish that he would stop having to be so bloody eccentric all the time and get back to being a proper actor. That said – do you know who the first person to be offered the role was?

Keri: I’m pretty much with you on Depp, though I admire the way he gets away with this sort of thing all the time now. Who was it?

Ben: Quentin Tarantino.

Keri: ….Not sure if I think that would have been good or not!

Ben: Know what you mean! I’m fairly sure it would have been worse. I guess Depp pulls it off better (heheheh) in those rare few moments which require real gravitas – his final scene in particular. Ultimately I just didn’t like that character, as he only served to facilitate that whole best friend & girlfriend subplot which was, well, a bit shit.

Keri: The whole Keystone Cops bit is always over-handled. That said, I had the biggest issue (with a film overall I really enjoyed in its bold fuckedupness) with the ending.

Ben: You and me both. It’s one thing for a film to play around with some weird ideas, but you have keep some semblance of reality… shall we go into specifics or do we want to keep from getting too spoilery?

Keri: I say go for it with bold warning at the start….

ALRIGHT THEN READERS – CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED ONCE AGAIN, WE’RE ABOUT TO SPOIL THE END OF TUSK…

Tusk (2014) trailer (Screengrab)

Ben: Okay then – the whole idea of leaving him in walrus form, and letting him live as if he was a walrus; it maybe works as a cruel joke, but it just didn’t feel in any way logical. I never studied psychology, but I’ve certainly heard tell of instances where people who had spent extended periods of time with animals wound up behaving like the animals. But we’re talking years, I think. Wallace – he was in walrus form at best two days, and not in the company of other walruses. (Can’t quite believe I’m talking about this so seriously…)

Keri: Seemed really cruel to have this bizarre ending to me – whereby they save his life, somehow keep him as an animal (a big ask, in a sequence of big asks), then have that epilogue with his girlfriend’s anecdote about crying being ‘what separates us from the animals,’ before we see the ‘animal’ crying himself. I don’t know. The film asks us to take a lot on board, but that seemed too much – too mean and too weird, and yes, I know that sounds ridiculous and as if I can readily accept everything that came before…

Ben: It’s a pretty severe punishment for someone whose worst crime is, well, being a bit of a prick. But it does make the overall morality of the film interesting, particularly given that Wallace was written as a podcaster because that’s what Smith himself primarily does these days. The overall message would seem to be a warning against being cruel to strangers online, which does seem to be a big thing these days.

Keri: And apparently, there’s a whole sequence after the credits which may have added more insult to injury.

Ben: Oh, I hadn’t heard about any post-credits scene. And now I’m in two minds as to whether or not I want to know what happens in it.

Keri: Up to you – just read a savage review of the film via Badass Digest. I’ll leave that to you…

Ben: Right – will take that into consideration.

Keri: Anyway, we should probably wrap this up here or hereabouts…

Ben: Yep, I think we’ve about covered it, and I guess my final thoughts would be that, in spite of the misgivings we share, overall I really enjoyed Tusk. It set out to be a weird, unpredictable horror comedy that lingers in your memory, and it succeeded.

Keri: So – Tusk. Smith has made it clear in recent years that he ‘doesn’t give a fuck’ and Tusk is testament to the fact that he doesn’t – doesn’t care to respect genre conventions, or rest in a genre at all…as such, the film is an odd fish (!) but I think people hammering it as a bad horror film; well, horror film it ain’t, in an straightforward way. Probably missing the point to see it as such.

It has big big issues, but I don’t loathe it. In fact, I was engrossed by it, and I think aside from godawful cameos and over-extending any logic past the point of no return, it was an interesting film. It was kind of like Human Centipede meshed with Portlandia. I think that is my final word!

Ben: Two films I haven’t seen.

Keri: Portlandia is TV.

Ben: Okay, a film and a TV show I haven’t seen. But anyway – the key thing I take from all this is ‘interesting film.’ More than anything else, I’m just happy to see that Kevin Smith is making films that are interesting again – not necessarily great, but interesting. I wasn’t sure we’d see the day again.

Blu-Ray Review: Trancers (1985)

trancers-2Review by Ben Bussey

Whaddya know, another mid-80s title reborn in HD courtesy of 88 Films, and (not unlike The Toxic Avenger before it) it’s another of those kind of ‘where it all began’ movies. An early directorial effort from now-legendary low budget schlockmaster Charles Band, it spawned five sequels in the following two decades, and began a long-running collaboration between Band’s Full Moon Entertainment and leading man Tim Thomerson… and, until now, I’ve been oblivious to pretty much all of it. Oh, I’ve long been aware that the Trancers movies existed, but somehow I’ve never wound up actually seeing any of them, nor even having any idea what they were about. Well, the first movie at least is an energetic hodge-podge of bits and pieces fleeced from Blade Runner and The Terminator, with perhaps a hint of Scanners, and a liberal smattering of cartoonish hard-boiled cop heroics. Plus new wave Helen Hunt.

Trancers - 88 Films Blu-rayThomerson is the gloriously named Jack Deth, a 23rd century detective on the trial of the enigmatic Whistler, a psychic uber-criminal with the ability to turn ordinary, unsuspecting people into Trancers: aggressive zombies who will obey his every command. Alas, Whistler has managed to elude Deth in a rather novel way; by using a drug which allows him to psychically travel back to 1985 Los Angeles and inhabit the body of a 20th century ancestor. Modern technology, eh? Naturally Deth is called upon to do likewise, and not long thereafter wakes up in the body of one of his own ancestors named Phil, who happily also lived in LA, and apparently just had a one-night stand with new wave chick Leena (Hunt), who’s working as an elf at a mall Santa’s Grotto over the Christmas season. But when Jack/Phil takes Leena to work, and shortly thereafter finds himself under attack from an unusually pale and veiny Chris Cringle, it becomes apparent that Whistler is one step ahead. And so the inevitable race against time, fight to the finish begins…

So yeah; we’ve got Blade Runner in the whole noir-ish future cop thing, and Terminator in the whole travel back in time, run from bad guy with a pretty young woman thing. What we don’t have is the same kind of budget or production value as either of those films (not that The Terminator was especially big-budget). As such, it’s kind of ironic that, by comparison with Charles Band’s later movies, Trancers is actually a relatively slick-looking production, I suppose because it was a movie made for the big screen as opposed to the direct-to-video material which Band would ultimately cement his legacy with. Either way, as is so often the case with cheap and cheerful productions like this the somewhat crude aesthetic is all part of the fun. Plus, you know, you can’t help but giggle when Thomerson comes under attack from a guy in a Santa suit, or a little old lady in a diner.

This is what lifts Trancers above many others of its ilk: it quite clearly isn’t taking itself too seriously. Thomerson seems to be having a ball as Jack Deth, with his trenchcoat, gun, greased-back hair and endless supply of one-liners. Sure, it’s more than a little improbable that he’d so easily score with the much younger Leena, but we don’t have room to list the number of times Hollywood has played that particular card, do we? Still, as curious as it is to see the future Oscar-winner Hunt cutting her teeth here (teeth which I’m pretty sure she’s had some work done on since this film, incidentally), this isn’t the embarrassing early blip on her CV that some might assume it to be. Hunt gives a really good performance in a character which turns out to be a bit more than just a girl on the hero’s arm, proving to be strong, resourceful and vital in helping him get by in 20th century LA. Given Hunt returned with Thomerson in 1991’s Trancers 2, it would appear she isn’t embarrassed by the role, and she certainly shouldn’t be.

I can’t pretend Trancers has left me with an overwhelming desire to hunt down all the sequels in revel in the further adventures of zombie-fighting future cop Jack Deth, but I certainly wouldn’t turn my nose up should the opportunity present itself. Nor should fans of the series or anyone who enjoys a bit of All-American 80s trash have any hesitation in giving this Blu-ray a look. Extras include commentary from Band and Thomerson, a retrospective documentary, archive interviews with Thomerson, Helen Hunt and co-star Megan Ward, trailers for the sequels, booklet notes and reversible sleeve including the original poster and new art from Rick Melton (pictured above).

Trancers is released to Blu-ray in the UK on 24th November, from 88 Films.

Blu-Ray Review: The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (40th Anniversary Edition)

Review by Nia Edwards-Behi

What’s left to say about The Texas Chain Saw Massacre that hasn’t already been said? The film is one of those behemoths that looms over the rest of the horror genre, a classic hailing from that dangerous frontier of American horror filmmaking in the 1970s, and its impact and intensity have barely faded since. So much has already been said about the film, from the history of its intensive production, to its distribution difficulties, to its censorship issues, to its influence on the genre as a whole.

For the benefit of those who may have lived under an up-ended armadillo the past 40 years, a synopsis: under a blazing Texas sun a group of young people travel together in a cramped van. Sally Hardesty, and her wheelchair-bound brother Franklin, have brought their friends Jerry, Pam and Kirk along for the ride to check up on their grandfather’s grave, which they’ve been informed has been desecrated. Deciding to take in the old Hardesty home too, along the way the travellers pick up a hitchhiker, whose talk of slaughterhouse work grows increasingly strange, until he cuts himself and attacks Franklin with his own penknife. Having ejected the hitchhiker from the van the group drives to the Hardesty home in order to wait for the only visible petrol station to receive a delivery of more fuel. Pam and Kirk go off in search of a local watering hole to swim, but upon finding it dry they investigate a nearby house in search of fuel. When they do not return, Jerry goes looking for them, only to fail to return to the Hardesty homestead himself. Sally and Franklin are forced into the dark night to search for their friends, but when they stumble upon the mask-wearing, chainsaw-wielding hulk of a man called Leatherface, both their fates are sealed.

It almost seems a little unnecessary to avoid spoilers when discussing a film such as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, because surely – surely! – everyone’s seen it? Apparently not – in advance of going into production on the 2003 remake (yes, let’s all take a moment to consider that the remake came out over a decade ago), Platinum Dunes conducted market research which showed that their target demographic – young males, obviously – had overwhelmingly heard of, but not actually seen, the film. Could it be that the immense (sub)cultural standing of the film works against it in a new context, whereby perhaps for some a film can be so ubiquitous it becomes invisible? This is one of those films whose reputation precedes it, and perhaps for some the reputation is enough. Often a film turns out to be less than its reputation might suggest – less shocking, less inventive, less frightening – but this is not the case with The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, which is so much more.

I’ve written extensively (or might that be excessively?) about a film I find to be very similar, in some ways, being The Last House on the Left. Like Craven’s film, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre emerges as a product of its era, a visceral and nihilistic response to the real-world violence and tumult of the USA in the early 70s. For all its intensity, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is somehow less cruel to its youths than The Last House on the Left, despite the prolonged torment Sally is subjected to. However, it is never the less an intensely downbeat film. The film’s ending sees its heroine escape the clutches of Leatherface, but this is no triumph: her anguished, iconic screams don’t really instil the audience with hope that she might recover from her ordeal. The nihilism which infuses The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is better counter-balanced by its sense of humour than The Last House on the Left. The humour is pitch-black, however, and it might take a very particular GSOH to chuckle at Grandpa’s attempts to bludgeon his dinner guest.

This is, of course, the new 4K restored release of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, and indeed the film’s never looked better (the restoration might be a little wasted on my own PS3-and-slightly-old-TV set up, though). I’m one of those people who can love a film without necessarily being able to notice any miniscule changes made too it, so all I can really accurately say about the restoration is that it looks fantastic, and the whites of Sally’s eyes have never been whiter. This release comes with a glut of extra features, a lot of which have appeared on previous releases of the film, but it also includes extensive new extras too, my particular highlight is the new set of outtakes and deleted scenes, made all the more eerie for their lack of sound. Even if you already own previous releases of the film (like I do), this new release has a lot to recommend it.

With recent news that we’re soon to be subjected to yet another foray into this franchise, this release is a timely reminder of what a great and powerful film The Texas Chain Saw Massacre still is. If reports are correct then Maury and Bustilo are going to be taking us on a ride with young Leatherface, to uncover what made him the lumbering beast we know and love. Re-watching the original film reminded me that I really just don’t care what his origin is. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a film which makes you care about its very simple young protagonists, and makes you fear the villains out to get them. It’s easy to forget that the film is about Sally and her friends, not really about Leatherface and his family. They are and should be the focus of the story in order for Leatherface and his clan to be as effective as they are. Thankfully, no amount of superfluous backstory will ever manage to dull the terror of witnessing Leatherface emerge from the dark, eyes wild and chainsaw in hand.

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre 40th Anniversary Blu-ray and Steelbook editions are available now in the UK from Second Sight.

 

Abertoir 2014 Review: Faults (2014)

Faults (2)Review by Ben Bussey

There’s a joke about this being a ‘cult’ movie in here somewhere, but try as I might I can’t seem to pin it down. You see, not only is the debut feature of writer-director Riley Stearns a film likely to attract a cult following, but it also deals with the subject of religious cults – but in a rather unexpected and unpredictable fashion. It’s also one of those tricky movies which defies easy genre categorisation; it’s not exactly horror, yet not exactly straight drama, and while there’s plenty of humour in the mix it’s certainly not a comedy either. Ultimately this unconventionality is a huge part of what makes the film so appealing, though while it may often leave the viewer uncertain as to where it’s all headed, its key strengths are readily apparent: compelling writing and direction from Stearns, and two exemplary central performances from Leland Orser and Mary Elizabeth Winstead (also the film’s producer).

Orser is Ansel Roth, and it seems the plan was that he’d be the figurehead of a media empire by now as one of the world’s foremost experts on religious cults – and, even more vitally, how to ‘deprogram’ those who have fallen under the spell of such shady organizations. Alas, this isn’t quite how it has worked out, as when we meet him he’s reduced to hosting miniscule seminars in fleapit motels with a tower of unsold books at his side, some rather pressing debts hanging over his head, and some great personal and professional failures weighing down on his heart. Just when he’s a hair’s breadth away from giving it all up (not just the career, but life itself), a chance at redemption – and, not for nothing, remuneration –  suddenly arises in the form of a middle-aged couple desperately seeking Roth’s help in retrieving their daughter Claire (Winstead) from a cult known only as Faults. The parents agree to a somewhat radical course of action which sees Roth kidnap Claire and steal her away to a remote motel room in which she is to be forcibly yet humanely imprisoned, and through several days of counselling be persuaded to step outside of the cult mindset and get back to her old life. Whether Roth can succeed in doing so whilst also keeping a rather insistent debt collector at bay is another matter. And then, of course, there’s always that old chestnut of whether or not things are quite what they seem…

Yeah – as well as being a tricky genre-dodger, Faults is also a film that’s tricky to talk about in much detail without getting into spoilers (which, don’t worry, I will endeavour to avoid here). I’ll go so far as to say that in many respects it’s evocative of The Wicker Man, but even that feels like saying a little too much. Essentially what we have here is a character-based piece which almost feels more akin to a stage play with its minimal cast and locations, and predominant emphasis on dialogue over action. Nevertheless, it develops into something intensely atmospheric and fascinating, dealing with compelling questions not only about the religious convictions of Winstead’s supposed victim, but also the convictions of Orser’s supposed deprogramming expert. A broken man who initially tells the woman’s parents he no longer gives a shit, Claire comes to embody Roth’s last chance to prove that he isn’t a fraud and a failure. Nor is this the only thing she comes to embody for Roth, as his feelings toward his subject threaten to go a bit beyond the accepted standards of a doctor-patient relationship.

FaultsThere will, I’m sure, be some cries of nepotism at Winstead’s casting here, given she’s also the wife of writer-director Stearns; but then, given she’s a vastly bigger name than he is, surely it would closer to the truth to say he’s riding her coat tails. But in any instance, this is not a case of celebrity stunt casting, for while the role of Claire is pretty far removed from the bulk of the more mainstream fare Winstead made her name on, it’s a role she proves a perfect fit for. There’s a curious emotional distance about her that makes her difficult to read, clearly making her a particular challenge to her would-be saviour. Also, this may be the fact that I’ve long been a little in love with the actress speaking, but it’s not at all hard to see how Roth would fall under her spell. This may be one respect in which the director being the actress’s husband is an advantage, as Stearns’ camera manages to emphasise Winstead’s obvious desirability without getting sleazy about it. There’s one staggeringly sexy moment in which a semi-clad Winstead delivers an extremely quotable line which I’m really having to fight the urge to give away… you’ll know it when you hear it, I assure you.

Still, as much as Winstead is at the heart of it all, the film really belongs to Leland Orser, and his performance is the real revelation. Up to now he’s been one of those actors whom I’d see in the odd movie and say, “hey, I’ve seen him before” – I primarily remember him as the guy John Doe fitted with the lethal strap-on of doom in Seven.  Here, he really emerges as a leading man of note; Roth is the kind of role you could easily imagine William H Macy or Bryan Cranston acting up a storm in, an ineffectual man torn between his better judgement and his ambition, but all the while teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown. It’s all very tragi-comic, and the humour is vital to the film’s success, but this is never at the expense of the emotional drama which steadily builds toward an inevitably explosive finale – though, perhaps not explosive in the way you might expect.

Screening on the penultimate day of Abertoir 2014, Faults was not the first new film I saw at the Aberystwyth event, and as previously stated its status as a horror film is open to debate; yet it grabbed me in a way none of the other new films managed, winding up probably my favourite of the festival. It’s not hard to envisage it breaking through to a wider audience, and it certainly deserves to do so. I recommend seeking it out at your earliest opportunity.