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Review by Ben Bussey

Desperate times make for desperate people. We may think we’ve got it tough now, but hey, it could be worse; we could be living without technology in an unforgiving wilderness, in the aftermath of the Black Death. Whilst Escape might be reasonably classed as a historical piece, given it’s set in a period in our world’s past, there are definitely grounds to class it as a post-apocalyptic movie. That’s very much the mood as we follow an impoverished family of four whilst they make their way, wearily but contentedly, through the desolate yet beautiful landscape of Norway. But as we know, to show even the faintest sign of contentment within the first few minutes of a movie like this is to invite devastating grief – and it isn’t long before arrows come storming out of nowhere, and cloaked aggressors with knives and axes in hand charge down the cosy family wagon.

In no short order, adolescent Signe (Isabel Christine Andreasen) is the only one left standing; cutthroat woodland bandits can always find uses for a girl of her age, after all. But before you start thinking this is purely a tale of a young woman’s battle to survive the savagery of man, we see who the undisputed leader of the gang is: Dagmar (Ingrid Bolsø Berdal), a white haired warrior woman whose level of compassion is sufficient to make Margaret Thatcher look like Mother Teresa. There’s also an even younger girl in the gang’s camp, named Frigg (Milla Olin), whom Dagmar has raised as her own – and, in a very fucked up way, bringing Signe into the camp is meant to be for Frigg’s benefit. So just what can Signe do, knowing the people she is up against and the fate that awaits her? Well – there’s a clue in the title…

(Oh, and if you’re still sniggering about there being a character called Frigg, you’re not alone. I was in full Beavis and Butthead laugh mode almost every time her name was uttered. There’s even a moment in the deleted scenes when Dagmar says “do it for Frigg’s sake,” and I just about died.)

I must admit straight away to not being particularly familiar with director Roar Uthaug, or his frequent collaborator Ingrid Bolsø Berdal. I caught a bit of their first movie, the more conventional teen horror Cold Prey, but it left me a bit cold (pun intended of course); and though I didn’t know it at the time, I’ve seen Berdal in Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters and The ABCs of Death. It would seem, though, that Uthaug is one of the prominent figures, alongside the likes of Tommy Wirkola, Thomas Cappelen Malling and André Øvredal, who are establishing Norway as a major new presence in genre cinema – and Escape should do nothing to hurt that cause. Coming in at a spritely 76 minutes, it’s an intense, adrenaline-charged survivalist adventure with a hard edge, but also some real emotional content; and while it may often strain credibility, it’s never less than gripping.

So just how much of the old disbelief-suspension is required, I hear you ask? Well, the press release describes Escape as ‘The Hunger Games stripped bare;’ a frame of reference I’m in no position to comment on, given my almost complete ignorance of the Hunger Games franchise (beyond the omnipresent ‘Battle Royale with Cheese’ joke). If anything, Escape struck me as kind of a midway point between Apocalypto and the I Spit On Your Grave remake. As the 15 certificate might suggest, it’s nowhere near as brutal as either of those films, but it does play on the same basic concepts: a) battle for survival against merciless adversaries in the great outdoors, and b) hitherto fragile young woman suddenly develops the will and the skill to fight back. Without giving anything away, there’s one particular moment about two thirds of the way through that’s almost identical to a scene in I Spit On Your Grave 2010, and the female protagonist’s actions thereafter are very much along the same lines. Again, this is only a 15, so don’t expect shotgun butt-rape or anything; but seeing a young woman who could barely lift a bow and arrow in the first scenes, yet successfully defends herself with it in the last act, with virtually no training in the interim… yep, suspension of disbelief is most definitely required.

Of course, assembling a band of bastards to antagonise an innocent protagonist, making us hate them and long for her escape and revenge; that’s all well and good. What makes Escape more interesting is the complexity of its central villain. As cruel and hideous as Dagmar is, she turns into a completely different person with Frigg (heheheheh… ah, it never gets old). Unsurprisingly, there’s a bit of backstory here; before the end of the movie we do get to understand what made Dagmar the person she is, which – while not excusing her – does put her actions in a different light. It’s a meaty role, and Berdal does a great job with it.

Balancing things out, Isabel Christine Andreasen and Milla Olin give nice performances of their own as the young innocents Signe and Frigg (heheh… okay, I’ll stop now). One of the real benefits of the film’s comparatively short running time is the lack of extraneous dialogue; we get to know these characters first and foremost by their actions, and though both have clearly suffered tremendous personal losses we don’t get any of the kind of woe-is-me monologues we might anticipate from a Hollywood take on this kind of narrative. Happily, this means that, though the shadow of sentimentality does hang ominously overhead, Escape manages to avoid it for the most part.

The last, perhaps most significant thing to note about Escape – not unlike Troll Hunter before it – is what a good job it does of making the Norwegian countryside look gorgeous. The rocky woodland terrain under the silvery sky really is quite a sight to behold, and even though a lot of it was achieved with a hint of digital trickery, it’s still enough to stir the heart of the armchair adventurer. Throw a fast-paced fight for survival in there with compelling characters, and you’ve got yourself a perfectly agreeable way to spend less than an hour and a half.

Escape is released to Region 2 DVD on 29th July, from Entertainment One.

Review by Ben Bussey

Talk about expectation. It’s a noun, meaning 1) the act or the state of expecting: to wait in expectation, 2) the act or state of looking forward or anticipating, 3) an expectant mental attitude: a high pitch of expectation, 4) something expected; a thing looked forward to, 5) Often, expectations, a prospect of future good or profit: to have great expectations. Much obliged, Dictionary.reference.com.

And yes, there can be no question they’re very much present with the arrival of The World’s End. The concluding film of the Cornetto trilogy reuniting writer/director Edgar Wright, writer/actor Simon Pegg, and actor Nick Frost, this is the film that wraps up the cycle that began back in 2004 with Shaun of the Dead. Nine years on, the trio’s zom-rom-com is now justly held high as one of the greatest horror comedies ever made, and whilst 2007’s Hot Fuzz perhaps didn’t win over quite so many with its oddball mix of small town English sensibilities and Hollywood shoot-’em-up action, that too has stood the test of time as a superbly crafted, profoundly witty piece of work. Now, the team having spent a little time apart, producing more divisive movies – Wright’s Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, Pegg and Frost’s Paul – the old gang have gotten back together in the hope of reclaiming their former glories, with a movie about… well… an old gang getting back together, in the hope of reclaiming their former glories.

Most such reformations have a tendency to end badly. So how does this one fare…?

Oh, why am I bothering to build up like I’m going to say The World’s End is a disappointment? You must realise I’m faking you out. It totally isn’t a disappointment at all. The World’s End is every bit as good as its predecessors; every bit as likely to captivate audiences, merit innumerable repeat viewings, and inspire debate in unhealthy quantities.

It’s also every bit as different from both its predecessors as Hot Fuzz was from Shaun of the Dead. Not content to blend laddish Brit humour with dystopian sci-fi, The World’s End also significantly ups the quota of one element that was a little less prominent in Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz: genuinely serious character-based drama, handling painful realities facing a great many of us approaching middle age.

The basic premise, as you may have gathered from the existing trailers, is that Pegg’s character Gary King, despite having hit his 40s, is trapped in perpetual adolescence. Whilst his old gang who hasn’t seen in the best part of twenty years – Andy (Frost), Steven (Paddy Considine), Oliver (Martin Freeman) and Peter (Eddie Marsan) – have all moved on to comfortable lives, steady jobs and smart suits, Gary’s still wearing the same clothes and driving the same car that he has since 1990. Tracking each of the old gang down in turn, Gary persuades them to reunite for another attempt at the Golden Mile, the marathon pub crawl around their hometown that they failed to complete so long ago; but on returning, they gradually realise things are not quite the same on their old stomping ground. Something very strange, and very sinister, has happened to Newton Haven.

Again, this much you already know from the trailers. What you might not expect based on the promotional campaign (don’t worry, I won’t get into spoilers) is just how seriously the characters are treated. Pegg’s Gary isn’t just a bit of a deluded loser – he’s a man with very real mental health problems, and while he may provide laughs aplenty the film is in no way flippant about this, nor is it the unabashed celebration of British binge-drinking culture that some might expect. When Frost’s Andy orders a tap water, in the trailer it seems to offer a laugh at his expense; in fact, Andy has very good reasons for having gone teetotal, and these turn out to be most of the same reasons why the old gang have not gotten together again since the 90s. There’s also a revealing moment with Marsan’s character Peter that’s genuinely quite heart-breaking. There’s also a revealing moment involving Paddy Considine’s arse, but that’s a whole different matter.

So how does the dystopian sci-fi mesh with all this middle-aged issue-based drama, I hear you ask? Answer – every bit as well as expected, i.e. great. The battles between the pissed-up 40 year olds and the sort-of robots (one of the best recurring gags in the film is the on-going debate as to what they should refer to them as) are as ridiculously over-the-top and incongruous as the zombie fights of Shaun and gun battles of Hot Fuzz, and that’s where so much of the humour comes from. When it comes to the raison d’être of the sort-of robot invasion – whilst again avoiding spoilers, I will say that this one is a bit more compelling than the ultimately rather silly central device of Hot Fuzz (this one is a spoiler – the village elders covertly committing mass murder in order to win the Village of the Year award). The World’s End deals with quite legitimate fears about corporate homogenisation, with every town and every city gradually being stripped of its individuality. Sure, in part that’s an element of the midlife anxieties at the heart of the film; the sense that the world is moving on without you. But the question remains, is this new remodelled world necessarily better than what came before?

In a sense, it wouldn’t surprise me if The World’s End becomes this year’s Cabin in the Woods, partly due to the somewhat abstract nature of the threat, but more so because I suspect the very ending of the film may divide opinion somewhat. Once again, as I’m making a conscious effort to avoid spoilers, I can’t really elaborate too much on that, but I don’t think it’s going to please everyone. I will say this much, though – proper old late 80s Goths should be absolutely delighted by the final scene.

And there’s one of the key things former 80s/90s indie kids not unlike myself are going to take from The World’s End: nostalgia overload on the soundtrack. I’m not sure if they actually compiled a specific track list, or just grabbed one of the Shine CDs from a box in someone’s attic. If memory serves, outside of one expertly-selected track by The Doors, it’s all music from between about ’88-’93. For someone like me who listened to it all growing up, much of it is glorious; equally, some of it might challenge the earlier question as to whether the new world is inferior to the old. Some bands are forgotten for good reason; case in point, the Soup Dragons…

So, what with its foreboding title and the foreknowledge that it marks the conclusion of the Three Flavours Cornetto trilogy (yes, it’s there, keep an eye out), does The World’s End mark the last time Wright, Pegg and Frost will work together? I certainly hope not. This shows the team still working at the height of their powers, balancing their usual fanboy glee with a hitherto unseen level of maturity, and sensitive handling of difficult issues. All the while, the most important thing of all is never forgotten: showing the audience a good time. Enthralling, engrossing and entertaining from start to finish, this is a damn fine movie that shouldn’t be missed.

The World’s End is in UK cinemas now, and opens in the US on August 23rd, from Universal.

Review by Stephanie Scaife

I remember seeing Fear X at FrightFest 10 years ago and witnessing a rather terse Q&A session with filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn, where he took issue with the accusation of being nothing more than a Lynch wannabe by a put out audience member who absolutely hated the film. This is the sort of reaction that has plagued Refn throughout his career, and he has proven himself to be a real love him or hate him director. The exception came with perhaps his most accessible film to date, Drive, which saw him garner widespread success and acclaim. Now he’s teamed up with Ryan Gosling once more for this hyper-violent Bangkok set thriller that has polarised audiences like no other film this year. Reviews are either singing its praises or bemoaning its indulgences; there is no middle ground between the 1 star and the 5 star reviews, an accomplishment that Refn seems fairly at ease with.

Going back to 2003, I liked Fear X a lot and I’ve been a regular admirer of Refn’s work ever since, and whilst it is easy (and also true) to describe his work as Lynchian, I don’t see that as a criticism necessarily. Lynch is a filmmaker like no other, and whilst I will admit to worshiping at his altar in a particularly clichéd film fan sort of a way, as an adjective I believe that “Lynchian” is thrown around too much to describe pretty much anything that is a little bit weird. To me it means more than simply likening something to the work of Lynch, and I tend to use it sparingly because it is such a lazy phrase. For me it’s more than just a descriptor of oddness, it is more specifically about the characters, how they don’t really act like people do in the real world; there are awkward pauses in conversations, lingering looks that last longer than is comfortable, and an all-encompassing sense of dread that pervades every scene and line of dialogue. Even though every single other review references Lynch and I hate to jump on the bandwagon, it is very apt when describing Only God Forgives and the overwhelming otherness that it exudes. Refn is also clearly more than just a copycat director. His reference points may occasionally lack subtlety but this is a wholly original piece of filmmaking, as are his other works.

Another word I don’t like to throw around without good reason is pornography, as it has become so synonymous with the so-called “torture porn” genre, a term I’ve never liked or felt comfortable with. However, in the case of Only God Forgives, it is sort of like pornography, in the way that pornography bears little to no similarity to actual real life sex; it’s stylised, exaggerated, awfully well lit… Only God Forgives is pornographic in the way it portrays violence, which is excessive and bears little resemblance to reality. It’s overtly stylised and looks fantastic, and like porn, it has a place and serves a purpose. Obviously though, it’s not going to be to everyone’s taste and as it is being heavily marketed to a mainstream audience as some sort of Drive follow-up, I can foresee walk-outs galore at multiplexes across the country. Whatever you do, don’t go in expecting Drive 2 because not only will you be sorely disappointed, but you’ll also probably be very confused.

The plot, what there is of one, centres around Julian (an all but mute Ryan Gosling) who runs a Thai boxing club as a front for a drug trafficking business with his brother Billy (Tom Burke). The murder of Billy prompts the arrival of their mother, walking Oedipus complex and matriarch from hell, Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas). It’s interesting that the film is dedicated to Alejandro Jodorowsky because Crystal is perhaps the most batshit insane and manipulative screen mother since Concha in Jodorowsky’s Santa Sangre. Her control over Julian is absolute and she knows how to get exactly what she wants from him. It’s even implied that perhaps her relationship with Billy went a step farther into the realms of Freudian inappropriateness and there is a charming scene where she compares the sizes of her son’s cocks over dinner. I’m also not sure if I’ve quite recovered from hearing the beautiful and generally very classy Kristin Scott Thomas say the words “cum dumpster”. Either way, she is absolutely fantastic in this and I think I’m now slightly in love with her.

Julian proves himself to be a disappointment after not having sought revenge on those responsible for Billy’s death so Crystal takes matters into her own hands, resulting in nothing particularly nice for anyone concerned. Retired cop Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm) is called upon to sort the mess out and he certainly has a way of getting things done, a god-like figure who brandishes a machete and loves a bit of karaoke that Julian realises he must challenge to a fight. I don’t want to talk too much about what happens in the film, as I think it works best going in cold and also because what exactly is going on is never particularly clear anyway. This is a film to be experienced, not explained.

Only God Forgives is a visually impressive film; every single frame is executed to perfection and its style is faultless. Regardless of your opinions of his work, Refn is a skilled filmmaker and along with cinematographer Larry Smith and art directors Russell Barnes and Witoon Suanyai he has created a visual feast that warrants multiple viewings. Cliff Martinez also provides a score that rivals and perhaps even exceeds his work on Drive, undeniably cool and a provocative ear pounding accompaniment to the visual assault on screen. I personally loved Only God Forgives, it may be Refn’s best film to date in my opinion and I enjoyed its ambition and excesses. Admittedly I love this sort of thing and it is the kind of pretention that I can really get behind and admire: it’s entirely inaccessible, self-indulgent, brutally violent, thought provoking, meanderingly slow at points and I absolutely loved it. This is my film of the year so far and I can’t wait to see it again.

Only God Forgives is released in UK cinemas on August 2.

Review by Dustin Hall

The Conjuring could be called ‘traditional’ horror, or maybe even ‘by the numbers’. Yet, I wouldn’t call it boring by any stretch. If you’ve seen any ghost story of the past decade or three, you’re familiar with this build-up. A family moves into an old secluded farmhouse which, being set in the 70’s, is secluded and quiet, out on the fringes of society. The dog refuses to enter the premises and mysteriously, almost instantly, dies. The doors open on their own. The clocks all stop at the same time every night. Kids get imaginary friends. Sometimes they sleepwalk. Cue creepy music, Exorcist-font title, a little type-face ‘Based on a True Story’ blurb, and there ya have it, every ghost movie set up since cinema-immemorial.

Tropes aside, The Conjuring is pretty enjoyable.

What sets this movie apart from the others, love ’em or hate ’em, is The Warrens. The controversial pair of self-proclaimed ‘Demonologists’ have been traveling the country for decades (or, well, they had been. Ed Warren passed in 2006 and presumably still travels with his wife to lectures), making a living off of the retelling of their cases. Conveniently, most of the subjects of their cases have also managed to make a killing off of wonderfully written recounting of their haunting and the movie rights. Personally, do I believe any of the Warren’s cases? Absolutely not (and believe me, I’d like to). Healthy skepticism aside, their beliefs and cases rely upon a devout belief in Christianity and a war against Satan and his Demons that just doesn’t jive with my own belief set. However, for some that works just fine, and if nothing else one can’t help but be interested in some of the cool cases they’ve written up. They make for some damn fine stories, Amityville Horror being the most famous. Ultimately, though, this script, which languished for years in development Hell until it was re-written with the Warrens as the main characters, really benefited from the change of perspective, and managed to deliver a fresh take on the haunting tale, one that followed the medium more than the victims.

The result is a solid, if unremarkable, haunting movie that manages to deliver classic ghost images while avoiding some of the typical cheap scares of haunting movies. Its a happy surprise to find a movie that relies more on suspense and creepy vibes over jump scares. In fact, there are very few ‘strange noise turns out to be a cat that jumps out from off-screen’ kind of crap moments here. Rather, we just have some good ol’ timey bump in the night moments backed by solid visuals, and good uses of the house’s creepy, rustic look.

If anything, two complaints. First off, this claims to be the ‘most intense case the Warrens ever worked on’, but for it being so intense, the movie lacks any real visceral moments. Amityville comes off as a more hard core haunting, if you were to compare cinematic interpretations. The harder-edge in the movie version comes from the threat to the Warrens’ own household by the vengeful ghost, if anything. But many details of the ‘real’ case are left out of the movie. Not mentioned is the fact that the Warrens claim to have failed in their cleansing of the house, only making the ghost more angry, or the fact that the haunting lasted for about 10 years.

There are many great haunting accounts from the family’s telling of the story that just didn’t make it in. Rather, the filmmakers stick to more conventional movie haunting moments. The second complaint is a slight lack of internal mythological consistency. At the beginning of the film, Ed gives a series of signs to look for to recognize when a haunting is being perpetuated by a demon rather than a ghost. Through the movie, we’re given some hints that a Demon, or non-human entity is behind the whole thing, but at the end, nope, its just a regular human ghost. Odd.

Looking past these moments though, The Conjuring delivers a familiar story that will still manage to give ghost lovers a few thrills. While it lacks the personal terror of something like Lovely Molly, or the intrigue of paranormal investigator movies like The Legend of Hell House, there’s always a general horror audience out there, and a trove of young, movie-going ghost-virgins out there that’ll just be wrecked by this. It appeals to the yokel in all of us that looks for faces in the window reflections of old buildings, wonders if human-like dolls move around after we sleep, and attributes simple acts of chance to angels and demons. And if nothing else, it makes for a nice companion piece while you go dig up the actual case files of the Warrens and come to your own conclusions.

Review by Ben Bussey

As horror fans, one question we invariably find ourselves asking of any new movie that comes along – especially when it’s the work of a not-yet established filmmaker – is whether or not they have the requisite genre fan credentials for the job. There has of course never been any shortage of people trying to break into the film industry who decide to give horror a go for no better reason than its relative cheapness and marketability, regardless of the fact that they themselves have no vested interest in the genre. It’s the attitude that’s arguably responsible for at least two thirds of the worthless crap that so often clogs up the pipes of the great horror machine.

However, we can quite safely say that it’s not the case with first-time feature writer/director Rodrigo Gudiño. Given he’s the founding editor of Rue Morgue magazine and the subsequent Rue Morgue media empire, I shouldn’t think anyone will question whether or not this is someone who has chosen to make a horror movie for the wrong reasons. Quite the opposite, in fact: with The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh, Gudiño would appear to have set out to make a film custom designed to appeal to the sensibilities of bona fide horror aficionados – but if you think that means wall-to-wall machetes, naked chicks and entrails, think again. This is a far more subdued affair which places the emphasis squarely on atmosphere, much in the same vein of those classics of understated menace, The Innocents and The Haunting. No, it’s not quite in the same league as either of those time-honoured masterpieces, but damned if it doesn’t make a good stab of it.

Following the death of his mother, Leon Leigh (Aaron Poole) enters the house she has left him for the first time in a long time. As unlikely as it is for returning to the home of your deceased parent to ever be in any way easy, visiting the home of the recently departed Rosalind Leigh is especially jarring, as the whole place is filled up practically top to bottom with religious effigies. (There’s this woman who does TV reality shows in Britain about how to sell your house, who’s infamous for constantly chastising prospective house-sellers for having too much clutter; she’d pass out in shock if she so much as put her foot in the door of Rosalind Leigh’s house.)

But, as you might expect, the house is cluttered with more than just material possessions: it’s a haunted place, in every sense. Having long since been driven away by his mother’s fanatical devotion to an angel-worshipping cult which almost certainly had a part to play in his father’s suicide, his mother’s last letters to her son – which we hear throughout the film in her voice (that of Vanessa Redgrave) – demand that Leon reconnect with the faith that he has long since renounced. Throughout his stay, Leon’s perception of what is or is not real will indeed be challenged – but is it genuinely the presence of his deceased mother he feels in the house, or simply his own memories and unresolved feelings coming back to haunt him? Or is there, indeed, any difference between the two?

So, it’s a guy, in a house, with possible ghosts; you’d be forgiven for thinking you’d seen it all before, and indeed Gudiño’s film does hit plenty of familiar narrative marks. However, the stylistic devices are, at times, something altogether different. Where most films would have opted for flashbacks, or cuts to pseudo-archive news footage to recount past events, Gudiño strings together very distinctive montages of stationary images, empty of human activity: a long shot of a bridge to denote Leon’s father’s suicide, a slow pan across a glass-strewn bar to indicate Leon’s subsequent lifestyle choices. Nor are these the only shots devoid of people, as for the most part this is a one-man show, following Aaron Poole (who does terrific work flying solo) through the Leigh house, his only interactions with others coming through phone conversations, and one visitor at the door who remains unseen. Only in home video footage of the cult to which Rosalind belonged do we see other actors at all.

On top of this, Gudiño is also smart enough to not bog things down with extraneous exposition and backstory. Whilst Vanessa Redgrave’s occasional voiceover provides some context, and Poole’s few conversations with others give us a few more details, it’s very much left to the viewer to pay attention and fill in the blanks – and don’t expect much in the way of clear, definitive answers. I did find myself reminded of Berberian Sound Studio, Peter Strickland’s divisive but – in both mine and Tristan’s view – really quite brilliant film, which also played out an enigmatic scenario in an obtuse manner. Just as Strickland’s film seemed to split audiences right down the middle, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Gudiño’s having a similar impact. Questions of faith, the nature of ghosts and the existence/non-existence of the hereafter are prevalent; audience reactions to that subject are always going to be mixed.

But once again – I find it hard to envisage any real horror devotee not being at least a little seduced by The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh, if only for its absolutely sumptous visuals and setting. Samy Inayeh’s cinematography is just beautiful, and they couldn’t have asked for a better location to shoot in: with its wonderfully eccentric architecture and absolute deluge of Gothic treasures and trinkets wherever the lens is pointed, the Leigh house is one that I suspect a great many horror fans wouldn’t mind living in, ghosts and all. Honestly, at times I felt like I was watching a particularly sombre episode of Cribs.

The Last Will & Testament of Rosalind Leigh is released to Region 2 DVD on 5th August, from Metrodome.

Review by Nia Edwards-Behi

I’ve almost no doubt that there are very few genre fans – particularly those who frequent this website – who haven’t heard of The Bunny Game. Adam Rehmeier’s first feature film was a collaboration with the performance artist Rodleen Getsic, a stark and brutal examination of suffering and of release. The film was banned in the UK by the BBFC for its extreme content, in what surely goes down as one of their stupider recent decisions.

Rehmeier now follows up The Bunny Game with something almost-but-not-quite completely different. If we have seen The Bunny Game then we have already met our titular character, very briefly, at the film’s close. Jonas is not so much a direct sequel as it is a thematic sequel; for me Bergman’s faith trilogy springs to mind as an apt comparison, though I’m sure some might balk at such a suggestion. Jonas can be watched with no prior experience of The Bunny Game, but I suspect that an experience of the former film does enrich the experience of watching the follow-up.

As much as The Bunny Game was a filmic rendition of performance art, Jonas is itself something of an experiment with the nature of film. Told in six separate verses, the film can be viewed as a sequential whole feature film (this is how I watched it), or it could be taken apart, seen piece by piece over time, out of order. Jonas is also a performance experiment, planned but improvised, using real people and real responses. As a result Jonas is as much a documentary as it is a fictional film.

The premise is simple. Eighteen months on from The Bunny Game, Jonas (Gregg Gilmore) has been washed up on a beach and is afforded another chance at life. Believing himself to be in communication with God, he has a mission: to seek out those God guides him to, to invite them to witness a message from God himself. In the film we follow Jonas over the course of a week, meeting a variety of different people he believes have spiritually called out to him; that God wants to save.

The first two verses of the film introduce us to Jonas. He is a sombre, grey man, precise in his ways and entirely plain. He wanders the city of Los Angeles and stays in nondescript motels. Is he lost or content? Is he praying for the city, or communicating with it? It’s never entirely clear, a wonderful sense of vagueness emerging from Gilmore’s mostly dead-pan performance. We see much of the mundanity of Jonas’s life throughout the film – he exercises in the morning, he washes his clothes in a hotel bathroom, he changes a plaster on his feet, and, most of all, we again and again see him sitting alone and eating. Testament to Gilmore’s presence and performance, this mundanity never becomes dull, and if anything it is these moments that allow us to feel most for Jonas.

The wide variety of people Jonas meets respond to him with varying degrees of credulity. Some believe in God differently to Jonas, some have no religion at all, but many agree to meet at the designated time to receive God’s message. It’s clear that several of the characters agree out of genuine, faithful interest, others out of curiosity, and others perhaps just to get rid of him. Then there are those who do not agree to attend, those Jonas believes might be ‘possessed’ or otherwise confused by the Devil. Regardless of the outcome of Jonas’s visits, the conversations he has with these people are personal to them, revealing beliefs about life, about love, about faith, about humanity.

It might all sound a bit dour and grim, but the film is not without its humour. Jonas has a series of spiritual gestures and affectations he employs when communicating with God, which at times look beautiful, but at others completely and utterly absurd. My favourite moment of humour is when Jonas tells God he is concerned about one of the young men he has spoken to, because “a young man with such a full beard must be hiding something.”

As much as we do come to root for Jonas, to sympathise for him, there are some truly sinister moments when we are reminded of the narrow-mindedness of his cause. Some of the characters he meets are particularly vulnerable – a middle-aged man who has lost his family, a young gay man – and Jonas incisively manipulates them. Even with those who are more open to his message are manipulated to a degree, or so it seems, as Jonas says his prayer and asks them, incessantly, “can you repeat that after me?” When repeating his prayer to the weeping gay man, whom he has broken down with his doctrine, he asks “Amen? Amen?” making an affirmation into a sinister tool of manipulation.

We do see some glances at Jonas’s own private life. We know that he was once a sinner (if we’ve seen The Bunny Game we might have greater insight into this), and we see some flashbacks to this life. In his past life Jonas wore a suit of white, but as a tool of God he wears nothing but black, as though his whole being was remade when he washed up on that beach. We get some brief insight into his estranged family too, and it is wonderfully never clear if the estrangement is due to his past crimes or due to his new dedication to God. We rarely see Jonas happy in his task – twice we see only hints of a smile on his face. Both times he is listening to expressions of faith from others – an older woman singing a gospel song, a young Christian rapper – but we can only see the side of his face. His happiness is obscured from us. It’s made very clear the Jonas is a broken man, desperately trying to mend the world around him as well as trying to mend himself.

When we do finally see a true smile from Jonas, near the end of the film, there’s something of the Norman Bates about it. It precedes his journey to Venice Beach to receive and share in God’s big message. What the message might be is left very much up to the viewer – I know what I think the message is, but I’m sure plenty of others will receive it differently. Regardless of that, it’s a powerful ending to a quiet and insightful film.

With Jonas, Rehmeier proves himself an incredibly skillful filmmaker once more. Whatever you might think of the content of his films, there is no doubting his ability to compose, shoot and edit beautiful and striking images. Working once again in collaboration, his film challenges our perceptions of storytelling and of filmmaking. Gilmore’s contribution should not be underplayed here (as with Getsic previously), his conceptualisation and performance of Jonas crucial to the film working at all.

The film is clearly personal to the filmmaker, the performer and the many people who took part. In an incredibly brave and creative move both Rehmeier and Gilmore decided that the film should be seen for free. The integrity the two men show in their creative process is really quite stunningly refreshing. In many ways, this unusual release strategy reflects the film itself – Jonas travels the city, giving the Bible for free to those in need. It doesn’t really matter that it’s the Bible, and it doesn’t really matter that Jonas is a Christian. It’s Jonas that matters and it’s the people he engages with that matter. The film could so easily have been dull and didactic in the wrong hands, but instead Jonas is a powerful, complex and provocative film.

Jonas will be FREE to watch in upcoming weeks via www.jonasmovie.com.

Review by Ben Bussey

What if the dead came back – for real? Not as rotting, mindless, flesh-hungry zombies; not as possibly mad Eric Draven-esque avenging angels. What if they just showed up one day, fully dressed, not decomposed, not brain-dead, looking exactly as they did the day before they died, as if nothing had happened? How would society en masse deal with the situation, in basic practical terms – never mind dealing with the broader ramifications of the phenomena? How as hitherto bereaved individuals would we react, having long since come to terms with the loss of our loved ones, only for them to suddenly re-appear? And if the dead returned, could they possibly be the same people they were before?

That’s the fascinating jump-off point for Les Revenants, the 2004 French film from director/co-writer Robin Campillo, formerly released in the US as They Came Back, now released in the UK as The Returned off the back of the TV series of the same name, inspired by the film in question. At the time of writing, I’ve watched the first two episodes of the series, and thus far I’m impressed by what I’ve seen; its enigmatic slow-burn approach makes for great television, building intrigue, luring the viewer back to see how things progress. However, taking that same approach with a single feature-length narrative proves not quite so effective, meaning that which is the film’s principle distinctive attribute ultimately proves to be, in some respects, its downfall.

The main thing we notice about Campillo’s film is the matter-of-factness of it all. That image above of the blank-faced people walking slowly into town, all in notably light shades of clothing – that’s the very first shot of the film. Before we’ve been introduced to a single character, we know that they are all people who have died within the previous decade, that they all suddenly showed up all over the world on the same day, and that this particular French town has had 13,000 returnees. Does the township break down into madness? Go flooding into church, screaming the end is near? Run screaming in terror from their deceased relatives, or screaming in hysteria into their arms? Nope – instead there is an oppressive air of numbness. The initial questions asked are not whether Hell has indeed run out of room, but rather what the hell is to be done with this sudden rise in population: jobs, housing, reintegration into society. Any kind of emotional response to the situation is avoided all around. And these are the French, man. They invented romance, poetry and shit, didn’t they? If they’ve lost that loving feeling, what hope is there for the rest of us?

This cold, clinical, emotionless quality is not only present in the performances and photography, but in the locations too. I can’t verify this, but I think the TV series may subsequently have been shot in some of the same places: it’s a recently built town, stark, clean, square-edged and modern, and not unlike the new home setting of Poltergeist, it’s just about the last place you would expect a supernatural phenomenon to occur. All this builds to create a sense of acute alienation which, at first, is really quite compelling; but it doesn’t take long to realise there aren’t many places the film can go with it.

As much as I hate to keep comparing the movie to the TV series, there can be little question that the show has the upper hand, as it well and truly gives you time to get to know the characters. The Returned is, after all, far more driven by character and relationships than it is by plot, and with all and sundry in more or less the exact same borderline-catatonic state, it’s easy to start losing track of who’s who. It also means that, once attempts are made to build to a dramatic climax, it can’t help feeling a bit forced and unnatural; though not anywhere near as ridiculous as it might have been, under the circumstances.

To class the film or the show as being about zombies is, I think, the wrong way to approach it. Indeed, you’d be forgiven for not regarding it horror at all. None of this is a bad thing, necessarily; The Returned does succeed in doing something significantly different with a familiar genre motif, but it doesn’t realise it to its full potential within 100 minutes. As such, a TV spin-off was the entirely sensible way to go, leaving this film almost certain to wind up nothing more than a curiosity, a point of reference for series fans who want to take a look back at how it all got started. Hmm… Buffy the Vampire Slayer, anyone?

The Returned comes to Region 2 DVD on 22nd July, from Arrow Films.

Review by Dustin Hall

For many this summer, this is the one we’ve been waiting for. Pacific Rim. Giant monsters flashing us back to Godzilla’s glory days, mechs reminding us of Mazinger Z, carnage to the extreme, and finally, FINALLY, a movie that isn’t a remake, an adaptation, or a sequel.

And they said it would bomb. But I, like many of you, believe in Guillermo Del Toro.

Guillermo is one of my favorite filmmakers working today. His films are inventive, often daring, and he’s got the balls to take some risks in order to tell a good story. And his fingerprints are all over this thing. The movie plays homage to the old Kaiju films from Japan without being weighed down, burdened by references. It builds characters and relationships, becoming something more than just a big dumb punching match. The visual effects, the sound, the look, the feel, are all painstakingly crafted into a tremendous cinematic experience. Every inch of Pacific Rim is quality, quality, quality.

And yet, I will say, I wasn’t blown away.

Pacific Rim is the story of a pair of misfit Jaeger Pilots, Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam), and Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi), and their training to pilot the mech Gypsy Danger, one of the last four Jaeger bots, on a final stand at the end of the world. (The Jaegers must be piloted by a paired team due to the mental strain of being linked to a giant robot’s computer systems.) The two of them don’t really fit in with the rest of the pilots, despite their exceptional skills, as Raleigh is reluctant to fight again after losing his brother to a Kaiju on a mission, and Mori is soft spoken and prone to freezing up in the cockpit. The pair have to learn to work together as a team, not only with each other, but also the international assembly of other Jaeger pilots, as they desperately try to find a way to permanently seal the portal in the ocean before an army of giant monstrosities pours out. Charlie Day runs around as quirky comedy relief science guy, all the while, basically just handing a PhD to his Always Sunny character. Also, Ron Perlman, so, score.

Up front, Pacific Rim just wasn’t quite the film I thought it would be. Every hero’s journey is a tale told in three parts, first of the hero’s origin and ascension, then of the glory days and triumph of that hero, and then finally the declination of that hero; their end, either dying, or going lame and being put out to pasture. And while I expected the film to be a big, fun, uplifting tale about the rise of the Jaeger robots and their heroic pilots, instead Pacific Rim is about the end of the program, when there are only a few of the old robots left, their pilots already abandoned by the public, their days as heroes already consigned to a sad end. Because of this, many of the moments I was looking forward to seeing in the moment were relegated to a series of news clips and flashbacks at the beginning of the movie. The first Kaiju attacks, the impotence of the army in trying to repel their unrelenting attacks, the invention of the first ‘Jaeger’ robots, and the almost comical way in which society begins to idolize the very monsters that threaten to destroy them, turning them instead into action figures and video games. Really, much of the things I’ve liked and have missed in the old Godzilla and Jet Jaguar flicks. Even much of the politics of a world under siege by giant aquatic monsters is just barely touched upon. The rich moving inland, starvation, collapsing economies; I would have liked to have known more, but they are just window trappings, really. I felt those elements were too quickly bypassed, and a lot of the interesting bits of the world building were swept aside for the end of the world scenario we are presented with. Sure, we get enough origin stories as it is with all the franchise reboots out there, but that’s because it works so well to introduce us to a new fictional landscape.

Expectations aside, there’s still a lot to love in the movie. The action scenes, of which there are surprisingly few, are tremendous. The film’s highlight is definitely the battle at the end of act two, which sees all four of the Jaegers engaged with two Kaiju at once, ripping the city to shreds and generally just reveling in mayhem. In a summer already rife with city-leveling disasters, Pacific Rim is no exception. Where this movie is likely to succeed over its summer contemporaries Star Trek and Superman, though, is that unlike those films, despite how dark and downbeat much of the surroundings are, it never loses its exuberant, triumphant, and overall fun spirit. Pacific Rim remains fun, and that positivity is likely why it will end up winning over most audiences.

Pacific Rim seems to lack a lot of elements of a ‘great film’. The world-building, I feel, was left a little shallow. The characters are all caricatures pulled from the tropes of other films: the insecure and brooding hero, his cocky and angry for no reason rival guy, quiet girl who needs self esteem, a gruff but lovable drill sergeant, all of these guys we’ve seen before… and in fact, like three of the actors look so similar and bland (re: whitebread), I had trouble telling them apart. The American and the Aussie could have been clones, aside from their accents. It comes across as a stripped down Evangelion, a monster movie that doesn’t revel in the triumphs of its predecessors, but neither does it add anything that would make it a true cinematic wonder; both emotional depth and real science application are thrown out the window. But maybe that’s not what Guillermo was going for, anyway. It’s reminiscent of Lucas’s eventual alterations to the original Star Wars, wherein many of the heavy sci-fi elements were stripped away to make a simple, approachable, space opera. Pacific Rim seems to have done the same. A smash opera, then? And maybe that will be the trait that makes the movie into an enduring classic, a light, fluffy bit of popcorn fun that just stands out enough from its peers for being different and reveling in its own inventiveness.

Pacific Rim is a movie that has little flourishes, touches of everything, character development, science, politics, philosophy… all of them done well, but none of them taken to any great level of achievement. Rather, they are all so subtly used as to be of no consequence. And yet it’s just smart enough to work. If you love giant monster movies, then make no mistake, you’ll love the movie. And if you’re on the fence, it’s definitely worth checking out. Maybe it’s not the brilliant, mind blowing epic I had hoped for, but Pacific Rim IS fun, and it IS probably the blockbuster of the summer that ends leaving the audience feeling the most pumped, the most upbeat, and most inspired.

Pacific Rim is out in cinemas just about everywhere now, from Warner Bros.

Review by Kit Rathenar

It’s not often I watch a film that’s genuinely so terrible that I don’t know where to start laying into it first, but The Vatican Exorcisms is one of the few to earn this dubious accolade. If the team responsible for this trainwreck were hoping to discredit the Catholic Church, bad luck – they’ve mostly succeeded only in discrediting themselves. This is a film so bad I can’t believe I sat through it.

On the purely technical side, while I’m aware that the found-footage mockumentary format frees directors from the obligations of actually knowing how to make a decent film, it’s amazing how often you find ones that seem to have been made by someone who’s never watched a documentary in their life either. The Vatican Exorcisms is one such. Irrelevant content, ham-fisted cuts, and grammatically incorrect bumper text are proudly showcased throughout. The camerawork alone would make any BBC professional weep into his mug of tea, being in obligatory seasick-o-vision because fictional documentary crews aren’t allowed tripods or Steadicam. The sound boom takes centre stage at critical moments, nobody can manage to check their monitor and be sure that the camera is pointing the right way, and up-the-nose angles abound (after all, when filming oneself alone in a hotel room, the approved method is to hold the camera in the manner of someone taking a Tumblr selfie, rather than, eg, setting it up on the nightstand – right?)

Plotwise, meanwhile, this is supposedly an investigation/expose into either Satanic corruption in the Vatican, or the practice of exorcism itself – it’s not clear which, as the first twenty minutes focus on the former, only for this line of inquiry to be then completely dropped in favour of pure exorcism footage that never once challenges the veracity or probity of the priest involved. What it does call into question is his competence, as out of four exorcisms shown, none of them appear to be successful and some of them only make the situation worse. When you consider that Christ explicitly granted his followers the authority to cast out devils in his name, you have to wonder how they’ve gotten so bad at it.

But of course, this isn’t actually a film about the realities of possession and exorcism, let alone about the secret politics or policies of the Vatican. This is simply a quick slap-together of religious horror cliches; and despite an opening disclaimer warning of “shocking” viewing, most of what should have been the money shots of said cliches happen offscreen into the bargain. Footage of a “black mass” shows us nothing but scores of candles laid out in a severely cockeyed pentagram, a burning cross, and a couple of unconscious women being hauled around, before culminating in the film crew being chased out of a graveyard by what look like a bunch of Ku Klux Klan extras. A possessed nun sits and… does absolutely nothing for an entire day, to such a degree that I was peering at the screen trying to work out whether she was a real human being or some sort of prop rubber nun (and not in the fetish sense, either, though admittedly that would have made this film way more entertaining). And as soon as something starts to happen, of course, the officiating priest predictably throws everyone out of the room.

The only part of this film that genuinely impressed me was the last of the exorcism sequences, and that was purely down to the dramatic performances turned in by the priest and possessee involved. Watching a man supposedly possessed by demons run circles around a church rotunda while being fulminated at by a bearded priest wielding an aspergillum like it was a holy sword almost, for a moment, made this movie worth sitting through. However, that was definitely only almost. In short, the only thing truly diabolical about The Vatican Exorcisms is the fact that it ever got distribution. Avoid this film at any cost.

The Vatican Exorcisms is out now on Region 2 DVD, from Metrodome.

Review by Nia Edwards-Behi

Clara (Gemma Arterton) and her daughter Eleanor (Saoirse Ronan) are forced to begin a new life in a dreary seaside town after Clara murders a man who pursued them at their former dwelling. Clara, now selling herself on the street, takes advantage of down-and-out Noel (Daniel Mays), by taking over his ruined guest-house and transforming it into a brothel. As Clara earns their keep, Eleanor wanders the town, and meets Frank (Caleb Landry Jones), a sickly young man who finds himself instantly attracted to the quiet, mysterious Eleanor. Eleanor tries to stay away, as she is increasingly tempted to spill her secret.

Clara and Eleanor are more than 200 years old, and survive by drinking the blood of other humans. As the film progresses we learn more and more about the two women’s pasts, as Clara was forced into a life of prostitution by an unscrupulous army officer (Johnny Lee Miller), and finds an escape from her life through the apparently kinder soldier Davelle (Sam Riley). She reunites with Eleanor, whom she had given up to a better life at an orphanage, and the two have since been running for their lives.

It’s fair to say that Byzantium is not a cheery film. For all its colours and bright lights, the tone is sombre, and all its characters are miserable. However, that’s not to say that the film is without humour. There’s a fine thread of morbid, blacker-than-black humour in the film, usually stemming from Clara. However, this is a film imbued with misery – so not some three-act tale that trundles toward a tragic and sad ending. There isn’t any genuine happiness to be found, though there are facades, and there are moments of relief, or of rest, or of potential. This sense of sadness is constantly underlined by the film’s setting. Set in a nameless seaside town, it constantly rains, the pier is dilapidated and the streets and buildings grey and anonymous. There is some warmth to be found inside buildings, such as in the town’s college, but we get only glimpses at these spaces, and they are soon infected by the misery that surrounds Eleanor and Clara.

The mother-daughter pair central to the film is perhaps the first of its kind in what’s ostensibly a vampire film. Their relationship is tempestuous to say the least, the two women screaming at each other at times, yells of “I hate you!” from Eleanor befitting any teenage tantrum. Clara is fiercely protective of Eleanor, for reasons we see revealed as the film goes on. She is ruthless in her desire to keep her daughter safe and sheltered, while Eleanor wants nothing more than for her mother to give her a better life. They are diametrically contrasted: Clara is the whore, the profession forced upon her 200-odd years ago now, literally, in her blood; while Eleanor, raised in a strict orphanage knows nothing but modesty and the desire to be truthful and good. However, as we see them in the present both women are monsters, too, and equally as dangerous. Although Eleanor is figured as ‘the innocent’, and the death she doles out apparently merciful, she is much less in control of herself than Clara. Indeed, Clara lies and kills out of necessity, while Eleanor seems to kill out of boredom.

It’s notable that as ‘monsters’ Clara and Eleanor aren’t especially super-human, nor are they sub-human. They’re really still quite like all the mortals around them, only they’ve been allowed to step out of the realm of time. This is clearest when considering the human characters in the film. Noel is stricken by grief, and desperate as a result, and likewise Frank is stricken by disease. The two men are affected by time in a very different way to Clara and Eleanor, so while the women are frozen outside of it, the men are experiencing the ruthless way in which it passes. The apart-ness of the women is again emphasised through the film’s cinematography and direction. Again and again throughout the film the women are seen either as reflections in mirrors or they are distorted behind panes of glass.

For all its stunning visuals and cinematography – and it truly is jaw-droppingly stunning at times – this film is a character study, and it has the cast to pull it off. In the lead roles Arterton and Ronan are really superb. I’ve no doubt that Ronan will get a lot of the praise, for once more playing a young character older than her years, but Arterton steals the show as Clara. Much of the marketing of the film seems to have focused on the fact that she’s sexy (well duh), but the subtlety of her performance is wonderful. At times, and sometimes all at once, alluring, threatening, broken and hysterical, she entirely convinces as a 200 year old woman who seemingly saved herself from victimhood. It must be said that Landry Jones once again stands out, with a somewhat bizarre and yet for me entirely convincing performance as Frank. It’s interesting to note that he’s yet again playing a sickly character – following Antiviral – so it’ll be nice to see him tackle something different at some point too (as an aside, I’m quite sad he doesn’t seem to be reprising his role as Banshee in the upcoming X-Men sequel). The rest of the main cast – Mays, Riley and Miller – give impressive turns too, Riley perhaps the most short-changed of the lot with the least to do.

Byzantium is probably one of the best horror films I’ve seen so far this year; it’s a refreshingly detailed and rich horror film that at once plays with tradition while offering something new, so it’s quite a shame that it hasn’t had a better reception so far. It’s not often we’re treated to an intelligent and beautiful horror film that gets a mainstream release, so it’s a shame that it seems to have been squandered somewhat – seeming to have been snatched from cinemas as soon as it was released. I truly hope that by the time the film hits DVD it will find an appreciative audience, as it deserves to be seen and adored.