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Review by Tristan Bishop

Nosferatu is now 92 years old, ladies and gentlemen – only 8 years until it gets a telegram from the Queen, in fact, so it seems odd that it should be getting a big re-release right now, but Eureka’s Masters Of Cinema label is putting out what promises to be the ultimate home release of this undying classic, as well as putting it out to cinemas in the run-up to Halloween. Most of you will have seen the original already, I would imagine, and those that haven’t will feel like they have – the film is now so embedded in popular culture. Hell, it even inspired one of the stranger Fast Show sketches back in the 90’s (“Monster! Monster!”). However, I had only previously seen the film twice before in my life – once at the tender age of 6 when I was staying at my sister’s house and was allowed to stay up late for Chinese food and monster movies, and again when I reached 18 and was given a VHS copy by a friend who was utterly bemused by it.

This version, however, is almost certainly the most complete and the closest to director FW Murnau’s original vision that has been seen in the last 90 or so years. For those that are not familiar with the history of the film, on its original release the film was (quite rightly) recognised by Bram Stoker’s widow as being a total rehash of Dracula with all the names changed. She took the producers to court in the UK, and they were ordered to destroy all prints of the film and burn the negative. Thankfully, UK law does not extend all the way to Germany, and the order was not followed to the letter. However the producers still felt they had an albatross around their necks, so they quickly sold off all the film material. A company called Deutsche Film Produktion purchased it, and re-edited the film into a slightly longer version (using extra material from Murnau’s unused out-takes), and re-released the film in 1930 under the alternate title ‘The Twelfth Hour’. The film was then released in the US and was re-cut again, and since then many film scholars and archivists have worked to try and assemble something close to what was intended to be seen.

The version here is a restoration completed in 2007 by F. W. Murnau-Stiftung and Luciano Berriatua, which includes material from a variety of sources (including the out-takes used in the Twelfth Hour variant), as well as unearthing the original score, unheard for nearly 85 years.

I’ll assume you are already well familiar with the plot, whether you have seen this, or perhaps Tod Browning’s version of Dracula (1931), Hammer’s Dracula (1958), Jess Franco’s Count Dracula (1970 – starring Christopher Lee and Klaus Kinski, and undoubtedly the closest adaption of Stoker’s work), or even Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), they are all basically the same story with minor changes – Young man leaves young wife to travel to Carpathian mountains to meet with a count who turns out to be a vampire, who keeps him enslaved whilst he plots to travel to England to seduce/feed on aforementioned wife. The major differences here are that England has been replaced by a small town in Germany (the fictional ‘Wisborg’), many of the secondary characters have been removed, and the ones that do remain, as mentioned above, have all had their names changed – Dracula is now Count Orlock, Renfield is now ‘Knock’ and Jonathan and Mina Harker are now Thomas and Ellen Hutter. The vampiric methods are slightly different here also: Orlock does not enslave or ‘turn’ his victims – they die outright, causing the townsfolk to blame a plague (possibly closer to the reality which inspired the vampire myths).

It’s near impossible to critique a film so central to the history of the horror film (even to film in general), and especially when a film is this old – silent German expressionist films don’t play by the same rules as modern day films, that’s for sure (unless you’re double-billing it with The Artist), but Nosferatu has a power that extends beyond ‘importance’ or interest only to film historians. Murnau’s direction, for instance, whilst a little leisurely at times, especially in the build-up, brings us some startling and effective moments – the first glimpse of Orlock is masterful, as he appears as a lonely figure, something less than human, at his castle gates, and the sequence on-board the ship which is carrying Orlock’s coffin contains some of the most famous imagery from the film, and positively reeks of atmosphere. The climax also stands as one of the most effective there is – from Orlock’s entrance, helped by some startling editing work whereby he appears to will a gate to open, to his final death throes, this remains spell-binding stuff. There is also the rarely-discussed humour of the film – from the count’s skeleton clock, to lines such as ‘Your wife has a lovely neck.’

The other main trump card here is Orlock himself – Played by Max Schreck, a German actor who is so convincing in his role that a whole mythology exists about whether he was an actual vampire (explored in 2000’s Shadow Of the Vampire) – he wasn’t, of course (unless he managed to balance being undead with having a successful film career), but he manages to portray a repellent, yet fascinating creature who inspires fear and sympathy at the same time. Incredibly, Schreck was a mere 42 at the time he made the film (coincidentally the same age as Murnau was at his tragic death in a car accident), but appears twice as old, his elongated, twisted physical appearance and exaggerated movements bring to life a character who embodies disease and loneliness. It’s an astonishing performance which even great actors such as Klaus Kinski (in the excellent Werner Herzog remake of 1979) and Willem Defoe (the aforementioned Shadow Of The Vampire) fail to match.

So, to the technical aspects – the film still looks battered and worn (although the print is as clear and bright as could be made under the circumstances), but we’re lucky to have a complete version at all, and the extras on the 2 disc release (sadly not available on the review copy) also look fascinating. The restored score is perhaps a little too alternately florid and strident for modern tastes, but is of its time, and very welcome as part of the restoration.

So if you’ve never seen Nosferatu, do yourself a favour and catch the re-release on the big screen, and if you have, well, this is the definitive version.

Eureka release Nosferatu to limited UK cinemas on 25th October, then to DVD & Blu-ray on 18th November 2013.

Review by Stephanie Scaife

If Machete felt like they were flogging a dead horse then Machete Kills is very much flogging a rotten, decomposed dead horse, which is as sad and depressing as you might imagine.

Much like everyone else, I was fairly taken with Robert Rodriguez’s fake trailer for Machete that accompanied his and Tarantino’s hit and miss bag of B-movie homage in Grindhouse, and when the first feature length incarnation hit screens in 2010 I was really hoping that it would live up to the promise of the trailer. It didn’t. It was a gimmick that worked extremely well as a short, but as a film it grew old very quickly and what was initially good fun soon became cynical, lazy and more than a little offensive (and not in a good way). Then when I found out that there was a sequel on the way I was more than a little apprehensive, and it turns out I was right to be so. Of course being thrown into the film with a yet another trailer for a proposed third film, Machete Kills Again… In Space didn’t help matters either.

Danny Trejo, of course, returns as ex-federale cum secret agent Machete who is recruited by the President (Charlie Sheen, here credited by his birth name Carlos Estevez) to take out Mendez (Demian Bichir), an insane revolutionary who suffers from a multiple personality disorder and who also happens to have a nuclear warhead pointed at Washington. With the aid of undercover agent Miss San Antonio (Amber Heard) Machete heads south of the border, all the while dodging various mercenaries and other ne’er do wells all intent on claiming the bounty on his head. This is where one of the only fun elements of the film comes into play in the form of El Camaleón, a mercenary whose name may give you a clue as to why his appearance changes (Walton Goggins, Cuba Gooding Jr. Antonio Banderas and Lady Gaga all take a turn here).

Less fun however is Desdemona (Sofia Vergara), a man-hating dominatrix who leads a band of scantily clad working girls on the trail of Machete and Mendez following the death of her daughter Cereza (Vanessa Hudgens). Although a certain level of misogyny and tight fitting clothing is a given with any exploitation film, there was something about Vergara’s character that left a particularly bad taste in my mouth. I’m fairly sure her ammunition-filled underwear and monologue about chewing her father’s balls off were supposed to be funny, and they really weren’t. Elsewhere we also have appearances from Michelle Rodriguez reprising the role as Luz, along with the likes of Tom Savini, William Sadler and Marko Zaror in a who’s who line-up of various cult figures.

Mel Gibson shows up as Voz, a crazed weapons dealer who is the real mastermind behind the nuclear bomb and who (along with Bichir) is the only person in Machete Kills that appears to be making any sort of effort to act at all, and that’s probably because he’s a crazy old racist and he desperately wants to redeem himself in some way. Really there isn’t much point in trying to explain anything about the overly convoluted plot; after all, that’s not the reason why people watch and enjoy films like Machete Kills. Yes, there is a lot of violence, corny one liners, half-naked chicks, crazy weapons (a particular favourite is a gun that turns people inside out) and it tries awfully hard to be funny. I think that perhaps if you’ve had a few beers and are surrounded by your mates then this could have the potential to be watchable, in a so-bad-it’s-sometimes-okay sort of a way, but when crammed into a press screening whilst completely sober I found the whole thing to be quite boring and more than a little bit dumb.

Machete Kills is on general release in the UK from Friday 11 October.

Review by Ben Bussey

Quoth the Bard, “what’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.” But then, old Bill never hit upon this cracker, did he? Yup, as memorable monikers go, Ernesto Diaz Espinoza’s film definitely has a bit of an edge from the get-go. Throw in the many tantalising images which have been lighting up the internet for more than a year, showing actress Fernanda Urrejola almost wearing a very eye-catching costume, and hey presto – you’ve got a movie which your average, shallow, flesh-hungry fanboy types (e.g. me) are immediately gagging to see.

Still, I think I’ve grown up enough to keep my expectations in check with these things; Tristan’s distinctly lukewarm review earlier this year, along with a largely muted reception out of FrightFest definitely helped in that regard. So I was hardly taken aback to find on sitting down to watch Bring Me the Head of the Machine Gun Woman (in the preferred viewing time of the midnight hour on a Friday night) that it isn’t really all that. Fun? Sure. Memorable? Not especially. Anything we haven’t seen before? You really don’t need to ask that one…

Of course, the first thing that really has to be emphasised about Bring Me the Head of the Machine Gun Woman is – it isn’t about the Machine Gun Woman. It’s the story of a guy named Santiago (Matias Oviedo). That’s the guy pictured at the top. Find him as enticing as the lady on the cover art pictured left? I’m guessing not. Tough, because you’ll be seeing a great deal more of him than of her. Yep, that old ‘sex sells’ trick in action yet again.

As you might expect, Santiago is a nerdy, insecure twentysomething who still lives at home with his mother and gets most of his action from videogames. However, he also DJs at a club that just happens to be run by a gangster, the humourously named Che Sausage (Jorge Alis). When our wimpish audience identification figure happens to overhear the boss ordering a hit, his life is immediately in jeoprady – unless he can make good on his desperate offer to hunt down the wanted party himself. No mean feat, considering the target is – but of course – the deadliest woman who ever lived.

You know how it’s going to go down straight away. Standard male wish fulfillment territory: weedy manchild gets to play tough guy, crosses paths with stone cold fantasy female, proves the only one capable of melting her heart, gets in her pants, and joins forces with her to massacre the macho assholes who kept them both down. Hmm… maybe I should have given a spoiler warning there. But, like I said, it’s painfully apparent from the beginning that things will proceed in that manner.

Does this predictability impede the fun? Not necessarily. So long as you go in not expecting to be surprised, it’s all cool and the gang. As neo-grindhouse movies go, this is a really very mild one – and honestly, I’m quite glad of that. Many such movies, like Hobo With a Shotgun and Dear God No, have relied quite heavily on shock tactics, and there are certainly moments when Machine Gun Woman could easily have done the same, but no; the only people who really suffer are the ones who really deserve it, and the gore and nudity quota is actually pretty low. In fact, I’m a little surprised that – contrary to the cover art above – the BBFC have slapped Machine Gun Woman with an 18 certificate; I certainly don’t see anything harsher here than in, say, this summer’s 15-rated Kick-Ass 2. Ah, but when one film comes from independent Chilean filmmakers, and the other from Universal Pictures…

Problem is, this comparative mildness might mean exploitation enthusiasts will feel shortchanged. I gather it may also set the movie pretty far apart from the Grand Theft Auto games on which it’s said to be modelled – though as potentially the only male human being in the western hemisphere who’s never played a GTA game, I couldn’t honestly say. I did find the movie’s chapter structure – each presented as a video game mission which our player Santiago either succeeds or fails – to be a cute touch, reminiscent of Edgar Wright. It might have got tedious had the film dragged on too long, but as it has the good grace to clock in at a comfortable 75 minutes, we should have no such complaints.

So, while Bring Me the Head of the Machine Gun Woman isn’t really anything special, it’s all passable enough for an undemanding evening’s entertainment, with a likeable enough leading man, despicable enough baddies, and – in case you missed it – a heroine who’s plenty easy on the eye. As ever, if you’ve seen the trailer (embedded once again below) then you’ve seen most of the best bits, but if you do choose to see it in its entirety it shouldn’t leave you too disappointed, so long as you’re not expecting much.

Bring Me the Head of the Machine Gun Woman is out on Region 2 DVD and Blu-ray on 14th October, from Clear Vision.

Review by Ben Bussey

On those rare occasions that someone might feel inclined to defend the flood of horror remakes that we’ve seen over the past ten years, one precedent we might easily measure it against is that of Hammer Horror. For the most part we tend to class them simply as time honoured classics now; the silver age of the Gothic horror movie, following on from Universal’s golden age. But really, if we take a step back and reconsider, we might very well say that what Hammer did wasn’t all that different from what the likes of Platinum Dunes have been doing this past decade; picking out the best known, most marketable genre titles of years gone by, giving them a cursory dusting over, and churning out new interpretations as quickly and cheaply as possible.

Some readers may be crying blasphemy at that comparison, and I don’t blame them. Honestly though, the more I think about it and the more I read about it, the more Hammer’s success in the horror genre really does seem like sheer, blind luck. As the extras on this DVD emphasise, their noted screenwriter Jimmy Sangster pretty much fell into doing the scripts, having previously done other behind the scenes roles. Nor was he alone in being shoehorned into so key a position. By all accounts, the bulk of the actors who accepted roles in the films did so begrudgingly; Yvonne Furneaux went from this to La Dolce Vita, and it’s not hard to imagine which she would prefer talking about afterwards.

But of course, Hammer did have the loyal services of those two great gents in need of no introduction; Christopher Lee, and the sainted Peter Cushing, whose praises we sang loudly back in May on the hundredth anniversary of his birth. Through their dedication, skill and immeasurable screen presence, those two men were able to lend an air of real dignity and drama to material which might very easily have seemed crummy. And my, were they tested in that regard. Very often the crumminess of the material threatened to overwhelm the gravitas of the performers.

I sadly fear that The Mummy may have been one instance where the crumminess came up trumps.

As again is remarked in the extras, The Mummy must have seemed the natural follow-up to The Curse of Frankenstein and Dracula; it was Universal’s third monster hit, so it might as well have been the same for Hammer, right? Hm. Same reasoning that led to Platinum bloody Dunes following The Texas bleeding Chainsaw Massacre with Friday the flipping 13th, then A Nightmare on buggering Elm Street… and we all know how well those turned out. (Yes, I’m opting for milder, more British swear words; seems appropriate, given we’re talking about Hammer.) From the first seconds of The Mummy alone, it becomes immediately apparent that swapping a gloomy European setting for a sweaty Egyptian one might not have been the best move. Hammer’s use of sets was always readily apparent, but their attempts to convince us their cast are on an archaeological dig in the desert heat are so unconvincing it’s beyond a joke. There doesn’t even appear to be anything resembling sand for one thing. And how impeccably clean the never-before-opened tomb is, without a speck of dust in sight; not to mention that warm green glow within, where no natural light can presumably get in…

Okay, so perhaps this is nit-picking. Verisimilitude was never too high on Hammer’s list of priorities, and that’s part of their charm. But consider also how higgledy-piggledy the script is, following its extended Egyptian intro with a long stint in Blighty, before heading back to Egypt midway for an overlong, awkwardly placed flashback sequence; and all the while, a love story element which is seemingly pivotal remains underemphasised in the narrative. Take all that into account and The Mummy comes to radiate outright shoddiness, as opposed to the homely cut-price charm we know and love Hammer for.

Certainly, there are consolations. As we’ve remarked before, Cushing and Lee can make pretty much anything watchable between them, and given this was their fourth collaboration with director Terence Fisher, naturally this is always going to be a film of some interest. But I for one can’t shake a feeling that they were all just going through the motions a bit here. And who could blame them, given how prolific they were? Dracula was only a year earlier, Curse of Frankenstein the year before that, and they’d all done other films in between, including The Hound of the Baskervilles earlier in 1959.

It’s funny, but to me it feels like the mirror reverse of how things were for Universal: their version of The Mummy, directed by Dracula’s cinematographer Karl Freund, followed essentially the same parameters as their celebrated but ultimately lacklustre breakthrough horror with Todd Browning and Lugosi, and to my mind Freund’s film does it all better than Browning’s by a long shot. Here, pretty much the exact opposite is true. With their Dracula, Hammer pretty well knocked it out of the park (feels so wrong using such an American turn of phrase given the circumstances, but sod it), whilst their follow-up take on The Mummy aims to repeat that success but just can’t manage the same level of appeal. The comparative lack of further Mummy films from Hammer, as opposed to the deluge of Frankensteins and Draculas to come, pretty well tells you all you need to know (though I suspect I’m not alone in my affection for the later Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb, Valerie Leon’s dainty bejewelled get-up obviously playing no small part in that…)

But hey, that’s just me. It’s still Hammer, so it’s pretty well impossible to hate it – and should you be a fan of the film, there’s little doubt you’ll be perfectly happy with the treatment it’s received here. I’ve only seen the DVD (it comes in a combo pack with a Blu-ray edition), but the sound and picture quality are excellent. The extras are also plentiful, with bonus features devoted to the making of the film, some more covering memories of working in Hammer in general (though the comparative stiffness and formality of the interview subjects may jar somewhat with those of us accustomed to the more casual approach of modern filmmakers), and a few other curiosities such as an ITV clips show on Cushing narrated by Oliver Reed (which I vividly recall seeing in my teens). However, the most value for money is provided in the form of an additional full-length film, a 1952 effort from Fisher entitled Stolen Face. A world away from the gaudy, fantastical world of Kensington gore that Fisher would end up best known for, Stolen Face is a slightly more down-to-earth melodrama, a British film noir with heavily Hitchcockian overtones; indeed, I gather it’s not inconceivable that Hitchcock may have taken some inspiration from it, but I’ll avoid saying more so as not to spoil anything.

Whilst The Mummy may well be one of the lesser entries in Hammer’s back catalogue, it’s still great to see it preserved in this way, and I can’t wait to see more of their titles given this treatment.

The Mummy is released in Region 2/B Blu-ray and DVD combo pack on 14th October 2013, from Icon Entertainment/Hammer.

Review by Quin

There was a time when low budget films were either great or awful. A low budget used to mean that the entire production and the look of the picture often suffered. These days, I’m seeing a lot of films that look like hardly any money went into making it, but technically and visually – they aren’t too bad. Now granted, I have not seen a monetary figure attached to Under the Bed. But judging by the effects and lack of stars, I would venture to guess that this was a cheapie.

The premise of Under the Bed is simple and we’ve seen it all before. Wikipedia’s outline of the plot is adequate: “Two brothers team up to battle a creature under the bed, in what is being described as a suburban nightmare tale.” Sounds awesome right? Well there is slightly more to it than that. The older brother has just gotten out of a hospital after suffering a mental breakdown following some sort of traumatic experience. He comes home to a house that always has the lights off, where his little brother, father and stepmother try to get on with life as if nothing happened. Good thing because for a long time pretty much nothing happens.

The first supernatural event takes place in a washing machine, not under a bed. And then it takes about 30 minutes before we finally see the bed mentioned in the title. The two boys are sitting there talking about scary things when they stop and look at the bed. At this moment the camera pans ever-so-slowly-toward-the-bed. But that’s it. As viewers, we just look at it. Yep, that’s a bed alright. I bet there’s something under it. The next time we see the bed, we’re treated to growling noises. See, I told you there was something under there.

In another scene, we see one of our heroes, I think it’s the younger kid – honestly I don’t even know anymore – he’s sitting in science class when he falls asleep. This gives the director a chance to make us think we’re watching A Nightmare on Elm Street. All of these disjointed scenes lead up to the big battle against the evil lurking under the bed. This comes complete with the montage of the heroes getting ready with their supplies while music to get you pumped up plays loudly.

Overall this movie is boring, predictable and unimaginative. The script puts too much detail in the wrong places and then uses huge jumps in logic to get where it needs to go. I think a backstory at the beginning would have been a good idea. Which is somewhat ironic, since there are so many films that start off with a backstory that really shouldn’t.

I would go as far as to say that this could have been a really good short film. If director Stephen C. Miller had filmed a 5 minute version of the first hour of this movie and then kept the last 15 minutes, it would have been kind of great. In the final battle there are some good looking visual effects and the scenes are well lit using only flashlights. But the effects leading up are disappointing and are things we’ve seen. The first look we get at the monsters are only an arm and a claw. Which, let’s be honest, looks an awful lot like Vinz Clortho, the keymaster of Gozer in Ghostbusters.

Under the Bed takes itself way too seriously, and seems to be a mishmash of so many other things. While it feels like an Elm Street movie mixed with a serious version of the Troma film Monster in the Closet, it really could have benefited from some silliness and probably should have been an animated kids film. What I’m saying is any other way this movie could have been done would have been better than what it actually was. Good thing it’s not available in the U.K. and it doesn’t look like it will be. But if you don’t believe me when I say it stinks and you just want to find out for yourself, it’s available on Video on Demand in the US and you can rent the DVD from Netflix. Which incidentally, only has a trailer. Much like the film itself, the features on the DVD aren’t so special.

Under the Bed is available now on Region 1 DVD, Blu-ray and on demand services, via Xlrator Media.

Review by Tristan Bishop

Well, found footage films are still being made. In the past few years I’ve watched literally dozens of these films, and whilst there is the occasionally effective entry (The Tunnel (2011), for instance), most of the cycle ranges in quality from ‘dull’ to ‘execrable’. Found footage has, as I have discussed on Brutal As Hell before, an obvious attraction to first-time film-makers, being extremely cheap to shoot, and of course horror films have always been considered an effective calling card to the film industry. But now we have even ‘name’ directors like Barry Levinson (The passable The Bay (2012)) and Renny Harlin (The disappointing The Dyatlov Pass Incident/Devil’s Pass (2013)) getting in on the act, and bringing medium-sized budgets with them, so the first-timers should be having to rely more on ideas and atmosphere to make an impression. This doesn’t seem to stem the flow of utter rubbish being passed off to us horror addicts, though, as films as awful as A Night In The Woods (2011) and The Sigil (2012) are still gracing our shelves, so someone MUST be buying/renting this stuff? Possibly when they find out that all the copies of Paranormal Activity 4 at Blockbuster are on rent? So, let’s find out if Daylight (a film with not one, but THREE first feature directors onboard) can bring anything new to the table.

We are given a short, amateur documentary-style intro and told that what we are about to see is two ‘unedited’ tapes which were discovered by the police. We are then shown recordings of a Child Protection Service team investigating claims of abuse at a school. They interview various schoolmates and teachers of a 14 year old (played by Jeanine Cameron, who I would guess is a good few years older in real life) who has been found with bruises, but who is otherwise foul-mouthed and uncooperative. All suspicions seem to point towards the local priest (played by Patrick Andersen), who is plagued by rumours of unpunished transgressions involving vulnerable children. However, as the team digs deeper into the mystery they find that the case may well be something more terrifying than they originally imagined. Could they in fact have uncovered a real case of demonic possession?

Well, where can I start? In the interests of fairness I’ll praise the talents of child actor Sydney Morris, who plays the pivotal part of Sydney Irons in a natural, convincing way. In fact, she out-acts every single other person in this production – the performances range on a sliding scale from disinterested to outright groan-worthy (Jeanine Cameron, who is given embarrassingly lurid dialogue to spout, and fails to convince completely). The script really doesn’t help either – it’s leaden, dull stuff, devoid of any humour or colour, and, with the child abuse theme, slightly distasteful too. The worst crime, however, is the way the film approaches the second tape – we go from a fairly straight-forward (if uninvolving) narrative to what amounts to a student cut & paste experiment. To be fair, the second half of the film does contain one or two interesting ideas – one specific reveal is actually rather good, but is lost in the ultimately confusing montage of sequences.

One really does wonder what the film-makers were doing here – was it an attempt to try something new and disturbing? Breaking down the usual narrative structure into a collage of bits culled from various sources? Quite possibly, but it fails to disturb, coming off as both confused and confusing – like the worst elements of David Lynch without Lynch’s ear and eye for the truly surreal, leaving one to wonder whether the film-makers looked at what they had, and then decided to make the film more interesting by re-shaping it into something more ‘challenging’. The cut & paste aesthetic is also mirrored in the way that the film-makers plunder successful films for the scare sequences – Oh look! A scene of people running around screaming in the dark like The Blair Witch Project (1999) – and lots of static shots of a bed like in Paranormal Activity (2007), and the only creepy moment of the film is reminiscent of a far more effective sequence in The Others (2001).

I always feel a bit bad panning a first feature – I have no problem with film-makers using the horror genre as a stepping stone to possible future commercial success, as long we get a half-decent film out of their efforts, but if what we get is an under-developed, badly-made, and frankly cynical attempt to jump on a cycle that every horror fan is sick to the back teeth of, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.

“The second tape leaves more questions than answers” says the announcer at the intro of this film. The only question I was left with was ‘why bother?’.

Daylight is available now at VOD site The Horror Show.

Review by Ben Bussey

Well alright. It’s time to dust off that old phrase that we so seldom find use for these days: I can honestly say I’ve never seen a movie quite like this before.

Oh, we’ve seen these kind of characters, we’ve been told this kind of story: but have we seen it realised in a microbudget style more typically associated with grubby, formulaic slasher/torture flicks? Writer/director/star Jason Trost has taken a fairly classic comic book story set-up, brought it to life in an unusually straight-laced and decidedly non-family friendly fashion – and then sold it first and foremost to the horror crowd who, after all, are considerably more welcoming (or at least more accustomed) to super-cheap fare than the comic book movie crowd. In so doing, Trost has made a film which just might genuinely break new ground, both for microbudget horror and superhero movies.

Is it 100% successful? Perhaps not – but, as every superhero tale of note from the past three decades has gone out of its way to remind us, even the mightiest have their frailties.

All Superheroes Must Die (originally entitled Vs. – presumably changed to avoid confusion with Ryûhei Kitamura’s breakthrough movie, and/or to be more search engine friendly) opens on four curiously dressed individuals waking up in various locations around a small town in the dead of night. These, we soon learn, are Charge (Trost), Cutthroat (Lucas Till), Shadow (Sophie Merkley) and The Wall (Lee Valmassy). Bit by bit they come to their senses, none of them knowing how they wound up where they are, or why they all have small, oozing needle marks on their wrists. Soon enough they find one another – evidently the team have not seen one another for some time, and didn’t necessarily part on the best terms. Not long thereafter they realise that all but one of them has completely lost their powers. Not long after that they find themselves seeing the face of one of their old enemies, Rickshaw (the time-honoured badass that is James Remar), who with classic supervillain flair informs them the entire town and all its inhabitants are rigged to explode, and that if the now-mostly powerless superteam want to save all those innocents, they’re going to have to play a special game.

From that synopsis alone, it’s not hard to see why this has been sold as the Saw of supehero movies (waking up in a strange place with memory loss, being forced to play along with a sadistic maniac’s orders). However, All Superheroes Must Die encapsulates the comic book reading experience better than almost any other recent superhero movie I can think of. Anyone who’s ever read comics will surely recall many instances of that strange moment when you pick up an unfamiliar title for the first time. Jumping in in the middle of a story, you don’t know who the characters are, what their powers are, what their history is, what’s going on or why; the circumstances seem profoundly unlikely, and the characters look fairly ridiculous (I think it’s to the film’s credit that they use traditional superhero costumes, as opposed to black leather or street clothes as might have seemed cooler).

And yet at once, there’s an immediate sense of familiarity to these strangers; and despite the glaring absurdity of everything around, you find yourself accepting these as part and parcel of this story world, and just go with it. That’s what’s so nice about the set-up here; there’s almost no preamble, and very little in the way of backstory. As much as I love a good superhero movie, the deluge of origin stories has long since gotten tedious, and so few of them are courageous enough to just drop you in the deep end. Hell, even Dredd had a two minute voiceover intro.

And in common with Dredd, what puts All Superheroes Must Die most closely in tune with the bulk of post-80s comics is its harsh, not-for-kids content: superheroes who swear, have sex, have a fairly relaxed attitude toward killing, and invariably find harsh reality intruding on their garish dreamworld. Innocent blood will not be spared, and nor will the mental and physical well-being of our heroes. Some might question what the point is of introducing a group of superheroes only to immediately strip them of their superpowers, but this in its own way is another time-honoured convention of superhero storytelling, one which this year’s Iron Man 3 tackled to great effect: if you take away the super, how does the hero stand up on his own?

And hey, if you’re going to have a psychotic super-villain putting your team through their paces, it might as well be James Remar. An actor with his charisma, not to mention his level of cult appeal, is no doubt a godsend when the budget isn’t there to fully realise physical threat on a practical scale. Given the classic bad guy duty of delivering ominous monologues direct to camera, the seasoned actor brings exactly the gravitas needed to convey the sense of real danger facing the protagonists.

Naturally, more of a question mark might hang over how well his young cast mates hold up by comparison. Happily, for the most part they prove more than up to the job, despite their youth. Trost manages fine as both director and ostensible lead, bringing a classic square-jaw good guy feel. Lucas Till, who brings a bit of superhero cred given he was in X-Men: First Class the same year he made this, also brings a weight that defies his years as the more on-edge Cutthroat. Sadly, the one real weak link proves to be Sophie Merkley: while Trost’s script gives her just as much to do, she just doesn’t bring the same level of gusto.

Ultimately, it’s doubtful All Superheroes Must Die will win over a large audience; those more accustomed to megabudget fare will most likely complain of its low production values. This is a shame, though, as I daresay a lot of mainstream comic book movies could stand to learn a few lessons from it. So, for that matter, can the microbudget scene: it’s rare that we see a production as low budget as this take on such potentially silly material and have the balls to play it dead straight, rather than lapsing into self-parody as so many do. This is the first film I’ve seen from Jason Trost, and I look forward to seeing more from him in the future – including but not limited to A World Without Superheroes, the sequel set for next year.

This DVD from Monster has some nice extras, including an intro from Trost, and footage from the post-screening Q&A at the film’s premiere at TIFF 2011.

All Superheroes Must Die comes to Region 2 DVD and Blu-ray on 7th October 2013, from Monster Pictures.

Review by Stephanie Scaife

I had one of those very rare experiences watching Filth, whereby when I emerged bleary eyed from the cinema I truly wasn’t sure what I thought of the film. Did I love it or did I hate it? I just wasn’t sure. It was certainly an experience and I wanted to be careful that I didn’t let too many of my biases come in to play (being that I’m a fan of the source material and rather partial to James McAvoy), so it has required an unfounded amount of thought on my part in the build up to writing this review. Perhaps I’m being a tad overdramatic here; it is just a movie after all and one that has received pretty much universally favourable reviews across the board.

Filth is based on Irvine Welsh’s third novel, released in 1998 and widely regarded as one of his best (an opinion that I share). Like much of his material you may be inclined to label it as unfilmable, and would indeed have good reason to do so. Trainspotting remains the sole example of Welsh’s work having been successfully transferred to the screen, and with the attempts to make The Acid House and Ecstasy best left forgotten, Filth is certainly the best attempt since.

I think part of the problem with Welsh is that he likes to push things as far as he can into the realms of the vulgar and the absurd, which creates indelible images that sear into your brain from the pages of his novels, but conversely would be almost entirely impossible to portray on screen. I read Trainspotting shortly after the film was released in 1996 and I can still recall certain scenes very clearly even after all this time: an adolescent Begbie’s novel masturbation technique, a used tampon dunked into a bowl of soup that is served up in a restaurant etc. – both of which are absent from the film, and perhaps with good reason too. Filth treads this line perhaps a little too close to the edge, with some of the more surreal aspects of the book providing the weaker elements of the film; a talking tapeworm being replaced with an Australian Jim Broadbent sporting a bizarrely large forehead springs to mind. As a whole though it is largely successful as an adaptation, but as someone who has recently read the book it’s difficult to say how much of the plot I’m filling in that those new to the story may miss.

James McAvoy gives a powerhouse performance as Detective Sergeant Bruce Robertson, a vulgar mess of a man strung out on alcohol and cocaine and fuelled seemingly by his own selfish need for one-upmanship in a bid to secure a promotion at work, not to mention his continued struggle with bipolar disorder following the departure of his wife Carole (Shauna Macdonald). McAvoy is one of the best and most likeable actors around today and here he goes completely against type with greasy hair, bad skin and a few extra pounds, as he spews forth some of the most misogynistic, racist and homophobic insults imaginable with almost entirely unrestrained glee and joie de vivre ,creating and inhabiting one of the vilest characters imaginable. It is both horrifying and thrilling to watch, not to mention very, very funny. Having impressed in roles ranging from a young Charles Xavier in X-Men: First Class to his recent run on stage as Macbeth, McAvoy is clearly a versatile actor, but here he is truly something else and essentially (and successfully) carries the weight of film. With almost anyone else it’s entirely foreseeable that Filth just wouldn’t have worked at all on the screen.

Although I had my issues with the film, there are a few stand out scenes that had me laughing out loud in the cinema, most notably when Robertson and his hapless best friend Bladesey (Eddie Marsan) take a vice filled trip to Hamburg. Following on from his scene stealing performance in The World’s End, Marsan is proving himself to be some sort of comedy genius. Then there’s the Christmas party scene where male members of the police force are goaded by Robertson into photocopying their cocks, and trust me you’ll never be able to look at Jamie Bell in the same way again! I also enjoyed how the film attempted (although with varying success) to capture the surrealistic nature of the book and Robertson’s mental deterioration, providing us with some genuinely unsettling and frankly bizarre imagery that will undoubtedly stick with you for days following the film.

So, going back to my apprehensions about film – I think tonally it’s all over the damned place, and although I understand that it’s very tricky to balance the humour with the truly abhorrent behaviour of the characters, Filth doesn’t quite manage to pull it off. It is very broadly comedic in places, lifting it at times into farce, causing the more sinister elements to sit slightly uneasily and smoothing out some of the truly nasty stuff that’s in the book. There is the occasional whiff of simply trying hard to offend without really being particularly transgressive. One minute we’re seeing Robertson force an underage girl into giving him a blow-job, then we’re laughing at a tasteless joke, the next we’re being encouraged to feel sorry for him based on some early childhood trauma.

I also didn’t really understand why the central case surrounding a murder was changed from being a black victim to an Asian victim. Are words like “gook” or “chinky” more acceptable than the alternatives? Also, from setting it in the present day I’m not so sure that the bigoted representation of the male dominated world of the police force entirely rings true (or at least I hope not), despite the fact that it’s intended to be exaggerated parody. There are also far too many characters pushed to the sidelines with very little to do in the shadow of Robertson. Eddie Marsan and Jamie Bell do a fine job with what they’re given, as does Shirley Henderson who is fantastic as Bladesey’s wife Bunty, the victim of a cruel prank caller that pretends to be Frank Sidebottom. Elsewhere we have Imogen Poots, Pollyanna McIntosh, Martin Compston, Kate Dickie and even David Soul, not to mention a whole treasure trove of Scottish character actors all vying for attention, even if for a brief moment.

Overall, I think that I decided that I do in fact like Filth. It’s extremely funny, very weird and absolutely disgusting. It will no doubt provoke walkouts as it’s a far stranger film than the trailer and marketing suggests, and the language will no doubt offend. But if you go into a cinema and buy a ticket to see Filth, you’ll get exactly what you paid for…

Filth is released in Scotland on 27 September and across the rest of the UK from 4 October.

Review by Stephanie Scaife

It was somewhat of a relief when I sat down to watch The Body as it turned out to be one of those rare instances when a screener you receive actually turns out to be pretty good. After opening Sitges last year and screening at The London Film Festival, The Body has finally made its way to DVD and Blu-ray in the UK. The first feature film directed by Oriol Paulo, whose previous credits include screenwriting duties on Julia’s Eyes, this is a tense and overwrought thriller in the vein of Brian De Palma that twists and turns it way through a gripping, if at times convoluted, plot to its unexpected conclusion.

The film starts well, hooking you in from the get-go as the corpse of extremely wealthy business tycoon Mayka Villaverde (Belén Rueda) mysteriously disappears from the morgue, with the sole witness being a security guard that fled the scene only to be hit by a car. He’s now in a coma, leaving Detective Jaime Peña (José Coronado) and his team to try and figure out exactly what happened, the starting point being Mayka’s young widower Álex Ulloa (Hugo Silva) who seems miraculously unfazed by his wife’s sudden death. The Body takes place over the course of one night and is intercut with flashbacks that gradually offer insight into Mayka and Álex’s relationship; as well as the run up to her death which we learn very early on was carefully engineered by Álex and his girlfriend Carla (Aura Garrido). This revelation early on lets you know that nothing is going to be as you expect with this film. My initial expectation was that it would be a straightforward whodunit, but as the film progresses you realise that all your preconceptions about the genre are being cast aside. This works to a certain extent, especially in terms of holding your interest and continuously surprising you with each turn it takes; however, it does by the end have the faint whiff of perhaps trying just a little too hard, dipping it into the realms of fantasy when sometimes something unexpected becomes something unbelievable.

Belén Rueda (The Orphanage) is fantastic as the overbearing and controlling Mayka, portraying her as both sympathetic and loathsome in a complicated performance that could easily have fallen flat in the hands of a lesser actor. I found myself both rooting for her and wishing for her demise in equal turns, an emotion that surely mirrors the dilemma of her tormented young husband Álex, who himself earns our sympathy in the face of his relationship with Mayka who is domineering and possessive; yet seeking solace in the arms of an attractive young student ensures that he acts selfishly and rashly. I find great enjoyment in a film where the characters are not black and white, as in life there is nobody who is one or the other, and those shades of grey (although perhaps treading into the realms of melodrama here at times) make the characters more realistic and unpredictable due to our familiarity with more straightforward and clear cut narratives.

Where The Body falls foul is in its heavy handed soundtrack that is about as subtle as a flashing sign being brought into frame stating “something bad is about to happen…” And the final few minutes really stretched the realms of what is plausible, even in terms of a genre film, but overall you could do a lot worse than The Body if you’re in the mood for something that’s going to keep you guessing until the very end.

The Body is out now on Region 2 DVD and Blu-ray from Kaleidoscope Home Entertainment.