Archive: Author: Darren Gaskell

Séance (2024)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

1892. California. It’s then and there we find novelist Emma Strand (Scottie Thompson) holidaying with artist husband Albert (Connor Paolo) and doing their best to enjoy a day on the beach when they meet George Ford (Jilon VanOver) and his wife Lillian (Vivian Kerr). After a mannered and somewhat awkward chat, the four end up at the house of the Fords for dinner, despite the fact there’s a storm brewing, both figuratively and literally.

Putting these four people under one roof is hardly the best of ideas for any number of reasons. Emma and Albert’s marriage appears to be under some strain. George just happens to be Emma’s previous husband and there’s a definite spark between them. To top off this most testing of evenings, Lillian suggests holding a séance in order to communicate with their daughter Hazel, who has recently passed away. Not wanting to agitate the fragile Lillian, the rest agree. Now, what’s going on with those creepy looking dolls and unexplained noises around the place?

Taking its inspiration from a play by August Strindberg, Séance’s limited locations, small cast and emphasis on interpersonal interaction over generic horror action could easily be adapted for that particular arena but director/writer/performer Kerr’s flair for a dimly lit, nighttime wander around a shadowy Victorian mansion or a woozy, tragic flashback plant this firmly in the realm of the cinematic experience.

For a movie which such a title, the actual séance doesn’t occur until over a half hour into the movie and it’s over in a few minutes. However, the brittle connection between the foursome and the unfailing politeness of Victorian society paves the way for the ritual, then informs the behaviour of the increasingly fraught four afterwards as the puzzle deepens. Does the spirit of Hazel still reside in the house, as Lillian believes?

The fact that Séance doesn’t behave like your average haunted house movie, nor does it even attempt to scare the audience out of its wits, may prove an issue with those who expect the level of unease generated by such titles as The Haunting. There are a couple of jump scares, but there’s a feeling they’re included just to keep the viewer on their toes and supply genre nods as a reward for sticking with the tangled relationship drama and character development.

For me, the tangled relationship drama and character development is what sets Kerr’s film apart from the pack. The pacing is deliberate, the reveals controlled, the atmosphere charged with potential peril. All four protagonists are given the time to show themselves, every one of them painted in realistic shades of grey, making decisions which will raise questions as to their motives and possible involvement in the mystery.

Make no mistake, everyone on screen is doing great work here, but special mention must go to the superb Scottie Thompson. It’s almost impossible to take your eyes off her when she’s part of a scene, her face a picture of female strength in a patriarchal society but hinting at the turmoil under that surface. In many ways, she’s the de facto heroine of the piece, but she’s also thinking about leaving husband number two for ex-husband number one.

Kerr’s Lillian is initially presented as the bereaved, psychologically damaged archetype but this, like so much of the film, is also something of a front as we discover the details of her personality and her marriage to George. Speaking of George, VanOver is emblematic of the wealthy men of that era – gregarious and willing to provide, but also unable to fully come to terms with modern, self-sufficient women such as Emma whilst still desiring them. As for Paolo, his Albert is a mess of suppressed emotion and wouldn’t hurt a fly – or would he?

The final act amplifies both the Gothic melodrama and the horror but, once again, it’s on Séance’s own terms, swerving the gore and the screaming to interrogate a matter that’s unfortunately as prevalent today as it was back then, forcing the characters and the watcher to re-evaluate their positions in this strange story. The payoff is measured but satisfying and even if the final shot introduces one last chill that’s arguably unnecessary, it did make me smile.

Séance may not play to the jump scare crowd but if you’re looking for unhurried, intriguing development of well-defined, realistically flawed characters battling both the supernatural and the stifling moral code of the time, this is a wonderful way to spend eighty five minutes. The production design is attractive, the writing is sharp, the cast is exemplary. Vivian Kerr has crafted an uncommonly absorbing horror tale with intelligence and heart.

Fantasia 2025: Hotel Acropole

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Rivka (Judith Zins) checks into the titular accommodation, accompanied by an urn containing the ashes of her partner Hugo. She’s also carrying Hugo’s baby and a deep, painful wound on her back which has refused to heal in the wake of Hugo’s passing, Having been advised to isolate herself from those around her, she plans an evening of solitude until Abel (Sébastien Houbani), a face from her past, shows up unexpectedly at her window and she allows him into the room…

Written and directed by Sarah Lasry, Hotel Acropole is an often artful two hander which explores love, loss, regret and manages to walk the line between erotica and body horror all in its twenty minutes. The dialogue may occasionally sail close to being too on the nose, but there’s a shorthand at work which needs to deal with unresolved issues between our two protagonists, the fallout of a love triangle and the mystery surrounding Rivka’s lengthy lesion, a glistening, seeping marvel of FX from David Scherer.

Short on runtime doesn’t mean short on emotion and Lasry knows when to hold a look for an extra second or emphasise a pregnant (yes, apologies for the pun) pause. If the set-up of two old acquaintances skirting around an obvious elephant in the room seems familiar, it is. Knowing glances, loaded sentences. You’ve been here before. And yet, there’s a precision about Lasry’s eye for the setting and the interactions between her leads which means you haven’t.

The quality of the performances from Zins and Houbani, coupled with the uncommon intensity of the overall atmosphere, elevates this unusual relationship mini-drama further even before it unveils a sequence of Cronenberg-esque sexy/gross strangeness as the launching point for the payoff. Elsewhere, this might feel like a cheap shot to haul in some genre credibility, but Hotel Acropole has built specifically towards this and, even if you can feel your gorge rising, there’s an acceptance and an inevitability as to how this story will play out.

After the initial dose of obfuscation and with key details about all of the characters – dead or alive – shrouded in doubt, it’s a surprise that the resolution of Hotel Acropole is, in many ways, a straightforward one. The burden of Rivka’s grief and her guilt about the past is complex and murky but the potential route through is signposted along the way and isn’t there just to provide closure in this contained environment.

Could Hotel Acropole be expanded into a feature? No doubt. There’s enough of the unexplored in Rivka, Abel and the offscreen, oft mentioned Hugo’s backgrounds to flesh out these people and supply yet more intrigue. As it stands, this exquisitely presented package, gorgeously framed by cinematographer Manuel Bolaños, gets to the heart of the matter in fleet fashion and leaves you with at least one image which won’t be leaving your mind in a hurry.

Hotel Acropole (2025) received its world premiere at the Fantasia International Film Festival on 27th July.

Fantasia 2025: Lucid

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Mia (Caitlin Acken Taylor) is an art student who doesn’t think much of herself as an artist and, unfortunately, this viewpoint appears to extend to not only the others in her class but also her professor, who thinks her work is full of clichés and needs to push past her many creative blocks. Given a deadline of one week to produce “something with heart” or be kicked off the course, Mia looks for a source of inspiration and potentially finds one during a visit to local psychic and witchy type Syd (Mackenzie Lemire), who provides Mia with Lucid, a special candy which, in small doses, should open Mia’s mind and pave the way for her creative expression to flourish. Just one rule: Don’t overdo it. Which, of course, the headstrong Mia ignores almost immediately…

Described as “punk rock body horror” and a “coming of monster story,” Lucid has those things but if you’re expecting a Cronenbergian take, think again as the body horror and monster elements sit reasonably far back in the mix. It’s more of a commentary on art, music, individuality and confronting the demons of the past, all wrapped in writing/directing duo Deanna Milligan and Ramsey Fendall’s experimental style.

That could be my way of saying that you might find this too self-consciously DIY, with its jumps back and forth between 35mm and 16mm formats, intrusive bursts of noise, mixes of live action and animation and frequent trips to a club to sample various musical numbers – which I loved, by the way, but that’s one of the reasons this runs to a hundred and nine minutes and there could be moments along the way where you’re tempted to jump into the screen and tell Mia she really needs to be getting on with her project.

However, it’s this refusal to rush into any sort of decisive action and leave Mia drifting for much of the time that gives Lucid its singular approach. The loose narrative and various digressions also allow space for lead performer Caitlin Acken Taylor to cut loose with a mesmerising and occasionally ferocious central performance.

Splattered with paint and dressing to impress absolutely no one for a decent chunk of the tale, she portrays both the aesthetic and the frustration of the creative type with authenticity, eschewing the manic pixie, easel cradling, dream girl of something dreadful like She’s All That (thank you for giving me a reason to air how much I detest that) and being unafraid making Mia someone who’s not always easy to like. She treats those around her like crap. She lashes out constantly. She steals from the till at work. And yet, there’s always that wish for Mia to truly find herself, despite herself.

The supporting cast might be a little overstuffed, but there are a number of players who ensure their limited screen time counts, chiefly Lemire, whose Syd is sassy, worldly and advises Mia with an unconcealed streak of irritation that’s highly amusing. The Greek chorus of Mia’s classmates is arguably underused but Lucid is a film which, similar to Mia’s artistic journey, plumbs the depths in search of a number of disparate ideas which don’t always bubble to the surface as they should.

As a debut feature, there’s often a drive to include as many concepts as possible and Lucid often has so much going on that the main plot becomes mired. However, I’d rather a movie has so many thoughts it doesn’t always know what to do with them all and, although I previously mentioned that the monster work isn’t front and centre, the creature is brilliantly realised, steering away from the usual gloopy, drooling, toothy terror to intrigue and unnerve in a very different way.

As a piece of art, Lucid has a particular vision and it’s clear that it’s in no way pandering to the crowd. Visually it’s arresting and occasionally startling; narratively you may need it to get to the point more quickly than it does, but there’s no denying that Milligan and Fendall have made this in exactly the way they wanted. It might flirt with pretension, but this is staved off by the amusing digs at the art world. The musical numbers may feel like unnecessary detours but they enrich the world building and provide a haunting undercurrent to the final act. The symbolism may feel obvious, but then swings to arcane. If you don’t know art but you know what you like, this might drive you to distraction. Even so, it’s a fascinating experience. I’m not going to say you’ll love it – there’s a decent chance you won’t – but you’ll feel that behind it all, there’s a will to create something memorable.

Lucid (2025) received its world premiere at the Fantasia Film Festival on 22nd July.

Raindance 2025: Dirty Boy

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

In the early moments of Dirty Boy, the voiceover of the main character of Isaac (Stan Steinbichler) informs the audience that “Your mind is a bus.” In Isaac’s case, it’s hard to tell who’s at the wheel at any one time, as he’s been raised to obey the strict teaching of a religious cult headed by the fearsome Walter Wentworth (Graham McTavish) and his wife Verity (Susie Porter). In addition, Isaac’s schizophrenia has led to him going off the range both figuratively and literally, leading to various periods of time in isolation to contemplate his actions.

Isaac believes he is becoming a burden to those around him and with frequent visits to the unorthodox Dr. Cronin (Olivia Chenery) at the First Rural Asylum For The Unfortunate doing little to help, he plots an escape. However, with a revelation that the cult may be about to frame him for a serious of ritualistic murders, is his best chance to destroy the whole thing from within and save their next potential victim?

Writer/director Doug Rao takes a familiar horror setting and immediately skews it, the unreliable narration keeping the viewer on their toes as to just what exactly is going on. Ostensibly, Isaac is the hero of the piece but we’re also fed information – sometimes by the Wentworths, sometimes by Isaac’s filter-free alter ego Frankie The Dragon – that our troubled protagonist has done some terrible things in his time, which makes it tricky for those attempting to identify a character for which to truly root.

The religious trappings also extend to the structure of the story, split into chapters with titles such as Genesis, and there are dire consequences to anyone who ignores Walter’s twisted rules as to what his flock shalt or shalt not do. It’s not a huge surprise to learn that the patriarch of the group is a wrong ‘un and his own predilections, justified by his own fervent belief that he has been chosen to grow his flock, both give the movie’s title an extra spin and push the proceedings into yet more disturbing territory. However, in those moments, Rao chooses to suggest rather than force the audience into an explicit endurance test, which is a welcome decision.

McTavish has described Dirty Boy as “the bastard offspring of The Sound Of Music” and he’s pretty much on the money, with the Wentworth clan enjoying a good old singalong in picturesque Austrian locations before forcing one of their number to drink an entire bottle of apple cider vinegar in order to cleanse their impure thoughts. As for Walter, he may not be on screen for the longest time but his deliberate delivery of dialogue and unnerving calmness is one of the film’s strongest suits.

As the lead, Steinbichler has to get to grips with an extremely complex character whose outward sweetness and awkwardness conceals a heart of darkness – or does it? It’s a bold performance and he handles both the dramatic and the queasily comedic which a surefootedness that consistently engages. Isaac may not be a role model, but there’s an empathy inherent in his plight and there’s a fascination as to how he’s going to react next, honourably or otherwise.

As a parable of how evil is allowed to run rampant under the cover of religion, Dirty Boy isn’t unique in that field, but Rao’s visual flair and a knack for the unsettling lift it above the norm. If anything, there are too many ideas struggling for space and Isaac’s one ally Hope (see what they did there?), played by an excellent but underused Honor Gillies, is almost lost in the shuffle but it’s the overarching ambition and the refusal to allow the viewer time to breathe which impresses.

The shifts into the darkest of humour may be too extreme for some and the main Chenery/Steinbichler vignette could easily be a glimpse into a totally separate movie, but the parameters of this very weird world are able to bend without breaking. This is also evident in the climax which, although opting for a more recognisable type of resolution, heads off somewhere else and casually drops in a final, amusingly disturbing kicker. Dirty Boy may not always land correctly, but it takes a number of pleasingly big jumps and Doug Rao is definitely one to keep an eye on.

Dirty Boy (2024) featured at this year’s Raindance Film Festival.

Raindance 2025: If You Should Leave Before Me

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Mark (Shane P. Allen) and Joshua (John Wilcox) are a married couple whose loving relationship has come under recent stress due to a tragic event. Despite the fact that a wedge has clearly been driven between them, they choose to focus instead on their work, which is to guide recently deceased souls into the afterlife. However, at some point, the couple is going to be forced to address the elephant in the room…

Written and directed by The Andersons (Boyd and J. Markus), If You Should Leave Before Me (2025) takes its slightly outlandish and episodic premise to investigate the joy, sadness and fragility of existence itself with a warm sense of humour and a naturalistic approach to the many ways we try to cope with death. Only in this case, it’s mostly folks trying to come to terms with their own death, aided and occasionally abetted by Mark and Joshua.

Set in the home of our main characters, the introduction of their unwitting – and often unwilling – customers is innovative, as each new challenge arrives in the shape of a door which appears and then leads them to a very specific area, which is designed according to the life of the person who has passed. For instance, the initial onscreen encounter with a woman called Bonnie takes place in “budget Narnia,” which appears to be both a glimpse into Bonnie’s headspace and a sly comment on the indie constraints the movie is working within.

This fantasy drama possesses the structure of an anthology movie as our intrepid duo find themselves in different stories which require them to discover the essence of their latest subject and overcome fear and obstacles in order to steer them towards the light. As with life itself, some of these assignments are relatively straightforward, but some take far longer than expected and so the normal “there’ll be another segment in fifteen minutes” expectation of that subgenre is subverted. Those side quests overlap, particularly when it comes to an obstructive, homophobic German called Gunter who’s immediately dubbed “Nazi Man” by an annoyed Joshua. I should mention Tom Noga’s work as Gunter, a seemingly dreadful bigot at first glance, but with far more going on under the surface.

The early rifts in both the visuals and the day to day verbal sparring between Mark and Joshua hint strongly at what’s wrong between the two of them and the early reveal of that is welcome, as the resulting fallout pushes the second half of the movie into potentially devastating emotional territory while keeping the framing device intact, causing the pair to confront the issues they’ve been so politely trying to avoid.

The inclusion of a malign presence which attempts to tear our protagonists from their world and into the next gives If You Should Leave Before Me a horror-adjacent edge, but terror fans should temper their expectations accordingly. This is a romantic and comedic tale first and foremost, albeit with a sure grasp on its willingness to hop into unexpected genre territory. The martial arts action sequence is a delight, a deliberately mannered and increasingly bloody scrap that would jar in most circumstances, but fits the “anything goes” ethos of this film perfectly.

In the two central roles, Allen and Wilcox complement each other wonderfully, the former with his measured, reflective methods and the latter’s more effusive, heart on his sleeve approach to life. I began their journey with slight puzzlement at how they ended up together, but the story and performances paint in those crucial details as to what makes a union tick and as the piece moves into its last act my feeling was “Of course they’re together, they’re perfect for each other.”

If You Should Leave Before Me is something of an oddity, of that there’s little doubt, but its peculiarity won me over instantly and the sadness which always lurks in the background, ready to undercut those moments of pure joy, hits hard. This is the point of the review where I will freely admit that I had to pause the screener at just before the hour and a quarter mark to have a cry. At almost two hours on the dot, the pace may occasionally be a tad too leisurely, but The Andersons’ uncommon examination of love and loss is frequently charming, occasionally overwhelming and I loved it.

If You Should Leave Before Me (2025) featured at this year’s Raindance Film Festival on 21st June.

Raindance 2025: Loner

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

When vlogger Angus (Charlie Robb) gets an opportunity to enjoy the peace and tranquillity of a remote Northumberland retreat, he jumps at the chance to escape the stresses of everyday life and the thought of a digital detox certainly appeals. Well, until he gets there and sets up multiple cameras in order to record his experiences in the midst of nature and what it means to live off the land. However, the noises he hears in the night might not just be the local wildlife. Is an ancient protector of the woods about to make Angus regret he ever left the city?

We’re in that area of horror marked “found footage,” specifically weird things happening in dense forests, in which even the keenest sense of direction gets you nowhere and you’re never going to get so much as one bar on your mobile phone. The Blair Witch Project arguably has something to answer for in terms of the cavalcade of execrable knockoffs which followed it but, over a quarter of a century from Heather’s iconic dribble of snot, the idea of filming yourself in a creepy, isolated place still has legs and Loner brings sufficient freshness to hold the interest, despite a relatively hefty runtime of a hundred minutes.

Early on, it’s clear that most of the action is going to focus on Angus and no one else, which is a bold move in itself as this leaves Robb to carry the entire weight of the piece via a series of monologues and escalating personal disasters. Initially, he’s full of terrible jokes and a certain level of self-deprecation – performative or otherwise – but as the unfamiliar surroundings cause his nerves to shred, those jokes turn to increasingly nervous laughter and self-loathing, suggesting that he may be just as big a danger to himself as any creature of myth lurking in the undergrowth.

Angus’ excitement about celebrating his forthcoming thirtieth birthday and using that landmark as a platform to reinvent himself soon gives way to various items going missing from the cabin, supplies dwindling and the spectre of partner Katie coming back to haunt him in a big way. An early line of dialogue about proving to himself that he’s good at something gives more than a peep into the soul of someone who comes across as a little too much, because he doesn’t believe he’s worth a great deal. Although there’s still a little guilty and darkly comic enjoyment to be had at him being toyed with by forces beyond his control, there’s a depth of characterisation that isn’t often present in this kind of movie.

Loner does check in at some of the subgenre’s waypoints, such as disquieting noises in the distance and the odd jump scare as something unexpected swings into view, but there are detours into generally unexplored territory to keep the viewer invested. A running gag about a mischievous presence stealing items of increasing importance is horrible fun and leads to Angus attempting to channel his inner Bear Grylls. Elsewhere, the existence of a handy guide about local myths and legends suggests that Angus possibly doesn’t have to take on the Big Bad but barter with it in terms of offerings, which results in…actually, that’s too gross to spoil.

Robb’s performance is interestingly poised and the balancing act between sympathetic and downright bloody annoying is specifically tested in that first act. However, as the plot progresses, the unveiling of Angus as a rather lonely and tragic figure should win over a lot of folks – unless you’re here for the psychological torture, in which case, fill your boots with this and never ask me to meet you for a coffee anywhere.

Yes, it’s possibly around fifteen minutes too long to truly grip. Yes, you may find the ultimate reveal a little bewildering, maybe even a little disappointing, if you’re waiting for a genuinely unhinged climax. However, I enjoyed the late swerve it took before settling on an ending that’s both emotional and quietly, effectively disturbing. In a field marked with identikit trudges on a well worn path, at least Loner has the smarts to stride out for much of the way on its own.

Loner features at this year’s Raindance Film Festival, premiering on 21st June 2025.

Bound (2023)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

After throwing abusive stepfather figure and local drug dealer Gordy (Bryant Carroll) out of the family home, art student Bella (Alexandra Faye Sadeghian) forlornly hopes that he will stay out of the lives of both her and fragile mother Yeva (Pooya Mohseni). However, he’s back almost instantly, Yeva caving in to Gordy’s pleading and assuring Bella that “your dad isn’t mad.” Bella decides not to wait around to find out, fleeing to New York City with Bandit, her pet flying squirrel.

The Big Apple presents Bella with an opportunity to start again, but what opportunities are available when you’re a homeless runaway? Heading to a coffee shop run by the kindly Owais (Ramin Karimloo) after a night on the streetd results in her getting a job as a trainee barista. Wandering the area further, a sojourn to a nearby dive bar tended by the savvy Marta (Jessica Pimentel) provides Bella with more work and puts a roof over her head (and Bandit’s too, let’s not forget). Wannabe fashion designer Standrick (Jaye Alexander) rounds out Bella’s newfound clan courtesy of a run-in at the clothing store at which he works. As Owais tells Bella early in the proceedings, things will get better but, with the unstable Gordy in pursuit of Bella, is that even possible?

Written and directed by the wonderfully named Isaac Hirotsu Woofter, Bound is a thoughtful, beautifully performed indie drama which immerses the viewer in a meticulously crafted side of New York which is the antithesis of so many glossy “If I can make it there” fairytales. There’s plenty of grit and grime, naturally, but there’s also hope in abundance and an overarching message that family is where you find it. The avoidance of persistent doom is welcome – that’s not to say there aren’t downbeat moments, but the proceedings swerve the usual performatively sombre clichés.

The initial scenes in the city reminded me of late 70s/early 80s Abel Ferrara in terms of the depiction of the NYC “slice of life” away from the touristy centre and, for me, that’s in no way a bad thing. The cinematography of Maximilian Lewin and Jake Simpson doesn’t possess that 42nd Street scuzz of a Driller Killer or Ms. 45, opting for a cleaner, more focused look, but the carefully chosen shots build an accurate picture of the suburbs in a way which gives the area its own distinct personality without ever distracting from the main story.

One of the canny methods by which Woofter brings his screenplay to vivid life is the casting of a cadre of seasoned Broadway professionals, which means the viewer is unlikely to be taken out of the tale by spotting a more recognisable face from a studio production which draws the attention to that performer’s work, rather than being swept along with Bella’s journey. It also means that there’s convincing, nuanced, unshowy work across the board. Pimentel is arguably the most well-known of the players, having appeared in Orange Is The New Black across several seasons, but her portrayal of Marta immediately makes you forget her other work.

Of the more experienced folks in Bound, special mention must go to Bryant Carroll as the twitchy Gordy. As the de facto villain of the piece, he’s well served by Woofter’s uncommon diligence when it comes to giving us a fully fleshed-out bad guy, but Carroll makes Gordy even more than the often unpleasant person whose need for control almost always crosses the line in worrying ways. In many ways, he’s a tragic figure, dogged by personal demons and unable to truly articulate his needs, the resulting frustration often leading to threatened or actual violence. Carroll is remarkable, allowing the watcher to see the constant struggles and psychological issues below the angry surface, which makes Gordy far more interesting than the bogey man he first appears to be.

Of course, the supporting turns could be the best ever and Bound would still not work if the lead weren’t up to the task of carrying much of its emotional weight. Alexandra Faye Sadeghian is phenomenal, giving one of the best performances I’ve seen in a long, long time. Apparently, some of the events are based on her own experiences and, if that’s the case, my sympathies are with her first and foremost: feeding that past into her portrayal of Bella shows a particularly bold and fearless approach to the material.

Our introduction to Bella has her hiding in a treehouse – probably the same treehouse she hid in as a younger child – and her bond with Bandit shows her need for a connection she’s unlikely to receive from her increasingly addled and wraith-like mother. As with most of Bound, Bella’s emotions are measured and realistic, making the moments when she finally breaks down all the more heartbreaking. I’ll admit I paused the movie a couple of times to have a cry myself. It’s that kind of experience.

Also, Bella’s pithy back and forth with Standrick lends the tale some levity and although it’s probably a little of a push to say that Sadeghian and Alexander shine as an unexpectedly comedic double act in the midst of the darkness, their fiery but friendly exchanges are a delight. Alexander is a treat, giving Standrick a defiant edge which is inbuilt from his character’s general trials as a gay man, but also showing his vulnerability and weariness at having to deal with that kind of prejudice on a daily basis. When Bella lashes out and throws out a particular epithet that begins with “f,” Standrick’s reaction is that Bella should take some time out to calm down, but there’s also a side of him that clearly bristles at hearing that word yet again. Again, it’s another great performance in a work brimming with great performances and Alexander is undoubtedly one to look out for in future.

If there’s a section of the movie where Bound isn’t quite as sure of itself it’s the third act, when a coincidence spins the plot off into revenge thriller territory and the bonds between Bella and her city support network are tested, leading to a showdown which is both incredibly messy and too neat at the same time (apologies, you’ll need to see the movie to appreciate that confusing description; it’s a huge spoiler otherwise). Even so, the quality of the writing and acting navigates the odd bumpy spot with skill, leading to a final scene which may be laced with uncertainty, but is also shot through with the promise of what’s to come.

I’m acutely aware of how wanky this is going to sound, but Bound captures the true spirit of independent film making, showcasing the talents of a committed cast and crew making a movie their way without an eye on what is going to play well to an audience. The fact that it had me gripped from start to finish is testament to Woofter’s superb screenplay, a keen sense of pace and a slew of grounded, detailed performances that make the hundred and forty-three minutes fly by. The subject matter may be dark, but it’s handled with a deftness of touch that it never feels like the downer you might be expecting.

Bound (2023) is available to stream now.

The Thicket (2024)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Orphaned as a result of a smallpox epidemic, siblings Jack (Levon Hawke) and Lula Parker (Esme Creed-Miles) leave their homestead and, with their grandfather, begin a journey across forbidding territory to their aunt’s place. A run-in with notorious outlaw Cutthroat Bill (Juliette Lewis) ends with grandfather dead, Lula kidnapped and Jack needing to rescue his sister. Enlisting the help of bounty hunter Reginald Jones (Peter Dinklage) and his grave-digging, rifle-toting partner Eustace Hollow (Gbenga Akinnagbe), their quest takes them through a wintry, deadly landscape towards the no-man’s land known as The Thicket…

Based on a highly regarded Joe R. Lansdale novel and with the screen version announced as far back as 2014, this passion project for Peter Dinklage (he’s also one of the producers) finally began pre-production in 2020, but was stalled by the COVID-19 pandemic. Fast forward to 2023, when filming finally commenced with one major change in the cast, which saw Lewis replacing the original Bill of Noomi Rapace and James Hetfield – yes, that James Hetfield – announced as part of the ensemble. Now, I could spend the rest of the review attempting to crowbar in awful Metallica-based puns but I’m here to tell you about the movie and nothing else matters. I’m not apologising for that one.

It’s easy to scoff at what could be described as stunt casting, but Hetfield is rather good in a supporting role, playing the reluctantly deputised Simon Deasy, tasked by his employer to bring back Jones for his part in an early incident in which said employer attempted to short-change then kill Jones, resulting in Jones demonstrating his deftness with the blade. Yes, there’s some grungy violence in The Thicket but it doesn’t wallow in shootings and stabbings. In fact, some of the nastiest business in the whole movie is carried out just offscreen, leaving the viewer to construct their own particular level of dreadfulness.

On one hand, we’re in classic Western territory, with a band of misfits roaming the wilderness to dispense justice to some bad folks, calling off at the odd town, discussing their mission around the campfire, that kind of thing. However, the inclusion of early vehicular developments give The Thicket an interesting spin, a motorbike speeding past Lula in the opening moments and Jones driving an early form of truck at one point. The snow-covered vistas are also uncommon in this kind of sagebrush saga and add to the atmosphere. It feels like this is a last, blood-soaked hurrah for the Wild West, about to be overtaken by a more civilised form of society.

The focus on the villain of the piece, particularly in the first half, isn’t exactly revisionist, but having the time split between heroes and villains allows for Lewis’ grizzled, scarred Bill to exert more of a hold on the proceedings. Rapace would have been fine in the role, of that there’s no doubt, but the recasting hasn’t damaged the piece. Far from it, as Lewis is chilling throughout and more than a match for the ragtag band of mostly terrified men dragged into her world.

The film is littered with notable acting talent but the generous roster of characters is a little too large for all of them to make an impact, which means that the always superb Macon Blair gets a criminally small amount of screen time. What it does mean is that there’s nothing approaching a duff performance to be found in The Thicket and Dinklage cuts a more rounded hero than most, capable in the action sequences but relying more on his smarts and experience to outwit his enemies. The familiar air of world weariness is there, but this doesn’t lead to him sinking into a whiskey bottle and warning that we all have it coming. Clint already did that, he did it brilliantly, we don’t need it again.

The Thicket is an enjoyable, sometimes gritty oater which could easily cop out by constantly falling back on dark humour to leaven the proceedings and almost never does. It doesn’t lean so far into its grimness to be competing with something like The Proposition, but it’s certainly many shades darker than the average John Wayne flick. The contained nature of the piece means it doesn’t have the epic sweep of a Leone opus (come on, what does?) and a general refusal to stick steadfastly to the usual template runs the risk of corralling itself. However, there’s enough of the unusual about it to make it well worth a watch and Dinklage should be given the necessary kudos for helping to get this made. Like its characters, it’s slightly out of time, but that’s what will provides the hook for many of us.

Having read other takes on the film, there’s some criticism as to not capturing the richness and complexities of the source material. I will admit that it’s a Landsdale book I haven’t yet got around to reading, but even at a hundred and five minutes in length The Thicket is going to be something of a distillation and approximation of the book. In my view, this brings plenty to the table and although there’s a clinical efficiency and unspectacular approach to a number of the kills which may stick in the craw of those looking for The Wild Bunch levels of claret, it fits well with the unromanticised portrayal of this particular period of history. Saddle up and take a ride with this one.

The Thicket is available on Digital Platforms now (released 21st April) and hits DVD on 26th May. Distributed by Signature Entertainment.

Screamboat (2025)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

It’s public domain IP time, folks! After Winnie The Pooh: Blood And Honey waded into the concept of bringing horror riffs to classic, childhood favourites, a number of projects were queueing up to put their own scary spin on a number of beloved characters as soon as those pesky copyright issues were out of the way. Peter Pan and Popeye have both been given a macabre makeover and Screamboat is another production to ride that wave, announced just one day after the Steamboat Willie incarnation of a certain mouse was declared. It’s taken longer to get here than masked killer flick The Mouse Trap – let’s be honest, I’ve ordered Blu-Rays that took longer to get here than The Mouse Trap – and with relatively short distance but distance nonetheless, Screamboat may suffer less from the passing association than it could have.

A pre-title card sequence puts our rancorous rodent in play after being unwittingly freed from captivity and his decades of resentment are about to be unleashed on the passengers taking the late night Staten Island Ferry, including Selena (Alison Pittel) who has designs on working in the world of fashion but is running out of enthusiasm as regards her time in the Big Apple. She’s also less than thrilled that she’s part of the high energy, even higher pitched birthday celebrations of a group of “princesses” (geddit?) with names such as Ilsa, Bella and Jazzy (geddit?).

Where Blood And Honey felt like a variation on The Strangers where the original bad guys could have been cut and pasted over with A.A. Milne’s creations, Steven LaMorte’s movie at least takes the standard slasher set-up – a bunch of folks trapped in one location at the mercy of a psycho – and leans the action at least a little into the wheelhouse of its diminutive murderer, whistling while he works and played with panache by David Howard Thornton. Yes, he of Art The Clown infamy, bringing his talents as a mostly silent performer to bear here, whether it’s falling in love with the Final Girl or breaking into a dance routine on the top of a block with which he’s just splattered some poor bloke’s bonce.

With a runtime of a hundred and two minutes, Screamboat threatens to run aground in the middle section, which leaves it becalmed for a while following a breezy first act which gets the craft on the water in timely fashion and chucks in a couple of gruesome early kills for good measure. It’s the section of the movie in which the backstory of Willie is sketched in, courtesy of the voice of experience and exposition that is Barry (played by Jarlath Conroy) who’s playing a less grizzled version of his Bill McDermott from Day Of The Dead. To help him along there’s an animated (well, sorta) flashback, which doesn’t come close to hitting the impressive heights of the similarly formatted opener from Blood And Honey, but doesn’t have its drawback of those subsequent live-action scenes making the viewer long for the cartoon sequence.

The screenplay by LaMorte and Matthew Garcia-Dunn might not be big on the development of its protagonists, other than a potential romantic subplot between Selena and unambitious ferry company employee Pete (Jessy Posey), but its sense of dropping as many people as possible into Willie’s kill zone as possible to be offed in various, bloody ways will be music to the ears of the less discerning gorehound. And if you, like I, have travelled on the Staten Island Ferry and thought “That’s not long enough a trip to sustain a feature length movie” then there’s an unplanned extension to the voyage.

Speaking of unplanned extensions, one of the kills does feature a police officer’s appendage being lopped off in the midst of the film’s one attempt at including a little gratuitous nudity, which it grabs with both hands – not literally, before you get too excited – and unveils with the line “Can you feel the love tonight?.” The frequent, semi references to the House Of Mouse might be about as subtle as the hammer Willie uses to batter one of his victims (before feeding him into the ferry’s propeller to make sure) but this does demonstrate that, as scattershot as the approach is, some thought has also gone into it. I can not deny that.

Shot on board a decommissioned ferry and featuring plenty of good, old fashioned practical effects, Screamboat may feature wobbly acting (save for DHT and the Conroy cameo) but it has genuine production values and a sense of fun that’s lacking in the other spins on public domain horror we’ve been treated to so far. I’m going to forget the digitally rendered fire, it rarely looks good, but if you’ve got a prosthetic dick kicking around from one of the set pieces, why not use it in a hilariously childish way somewhere else? I laughed out loud at this point and I am not embarrassed to admit it. I wasn’t asked to review Citizen Kane here.

The final act may make a slightly odd play for sympathy towards Willie, considering he’s slaughtered a literal boatload of people over the previous hour and a half, but at least this is still undercut with the comic strip-style daftness which permeates the rest of the film and it’s bolstered further by Thornton’s comedic talents. The ending, like so many other slashers, leaves the proceedings open for a potential sequel. The very thought of this may terrify the viewing public far more than anything on display in Screamboat, but I had a far better time with this than I thought I would.

So, is Screamboat a great movie? Absolutely not. However, it takes a potentially flimsy premise and runs with it, resulting in a movie experience that’s often as clunky as the Staten Island Ferry itself, but just about wins through in the end with its weird charm, silly gags and a number of pleasingly gory set pieces. If you’re looking for something undemanding, be our guest.

Screamboat (2025) is currently on limited cinematic release, only at Vue.

The Rule of Jenny Pen (2024)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Judge Stefan Mortensen (Geoffrey Rush) is presiding over his latest case and pronouncing both his contempt and a custodial sentence of sixteen years to the paedophile in his dock when his speech falters, he loses focus and then collapses, having suffered a stroke. Next, he’s being wheeled into the Royal Pine Mews Care Home, an establishment which meets Mortenson’s current financial level, the Judge having fallen foul of investments which have failed.


Once there, Stefan’s dream of a single room where he can’t be bothered is immediately shattered as he’s introduced to roommate Tony Garfield (George Henare), an ex-international rugby player. The carers think the two will get on like a house on fire, but Stefan’s view of the world – and those he perceives to be below his level – is such that his experience of those sportsmen has been watching them dodge rape charges.


However, the prospect of an enforced sidekick pales into insignificance as Stefan discovers there’s a genuinely malevolent presence in this seemingly benign environment. Dave Crealy (John Lithgow) may look, and often behave, like a sweet, slightly lost old man who expresses himself through the puppet of a baby doll called Jenny Pen, but he’s very different out of the sight of the carers, roaming the halls in the early hours and alarming the inhabitants, forcing them to pledge allegiance to Jenny Pen in demeaning and disgusting ways. Crealy sees Mortensen as a worthy target and the new addition is next on the list to answer to the question of who rules the roost.


Director James Ashcroft’s debut feature was the jarring, brutal road movie Coming Home In The Dark and, although this follow up isn’t as explicitly violent, The Rule Of Jenny Pen is no less disturbing, playing on our natural fears of getting old and becoming frail, with fewer ways in which to defend ourselves and with fewer people in our corner. The scenes in which our partially paralysed protagonist struggles to complete basic physical tasks and then begins to lose his cognitive abilities would be chilling enough without Lithgow lurking in the shadows, waiting for his moment to pounce.


Early on in the proceedings, Stefan says, “Where there are no lions, hyenas rule,” and this is the case at Royal Pine Mews as Crealy preys on the weak around him, whether it’s helping himself to the soup of a female resident or subjecting Tony to a prolonged, frightening assault in the dead of night. The ex-Judge decides that Crealy must be stopped, but can he deal with a man who has the nursing staff wrapped around his little finger and can’t see that the bloke’s a psychopath?


Ashcroft sets up an interesting clash between the learned Mortensen, who likes to think deeply about life and quote from A Farewell To Arms, and everyman Cleary, who enjoys dancing a frenetic jig while singing Knees Up Mother Brown. At first, Mortensen’s general arrogance and willingness to humiliate Tony doesn’t exactly paint him as the most sympathetic of characters but he soon learns a lesson in finding out exactly who your friends are. The reveal of Cleary as not only a bully but someone potentially capable of murder ups the stakes and makes for a number of tense, sometimes blackly comic, encounters as he vows to break Mortensen and make him bow to Jenny Pen.


The Rule Of Jenny Pen capitalises on its unusual setting and its powerhouse performances, delivering an indie horror which relies on its constant sense of threat plus a handful of harrowing scenes, and one or two moments of absolute madness, to keep the viewer on edge. A sequence in which Lithgow gatecrashes a hitherto gentle spot of community ballroom dancing and transforms it into a senior version of a mosh pit is a demented delight.


It has to be said that some suspension of disbelief is required, certainly when it comes to how certain events could happen in a care home without someone either questioning them or at least having some way of recording them, but the screenplay by Ashcroft and Eli Kent throws its focus on the battle between Mortensen and Cleary and mostly keeps the care home staff in the background, except for a few amusingly accurate asides as they deal with the day to day strangeness of their workplace. Of course, the care home’s manager doesn’t believe a word of the accusations against Cleary.


Geoffrey Rush, in his first acting role since 2019’s Storm Boy, portrays Mortenson as a man naturally prone to seeking justice and standing up to the bullies of society, but whose intolerance of those he sees as cowards and fools almost proves his undoing, his air of superiority clouding the judgements of those around him. It’s a nuanced, complex performance, holding up superbly against the frankly terrifying Lithgow, whose marrow-freezing stare and endlessly cruel streak will have audiences dreading the next time he shows up and then climbing the walls waiting for him to get his comeuppance. There’s one particular scene in which he’s introduced as a silhouette and the feeling that something dreadful is going to happen is palpable.


It’s pleasing to see horror which features older, wiser folks in peril as opposed to yet another round of bright young things being chopped into pieces. The Rule Of Jenny Pen is, like the folks in Royal Pine Mews, steadily paced, but this allows the tension to be cranked up to oppressive levels. The final showdown and its aftermath might trigger thoughts of how that last scene came to be without specific ramifications, but it doesn’t derail what’s gone before. We’re enjoying an era in which accomplished actors are giving great performances in the horror genre without immediately being accused of slumming it and long may that continue. Rush and Lithgow are exceptional in a film which is thoroughly unnerving from start to finish.

The Rule of Jenny Pen (2024) is in select cinemas from 14th March 2025.

Heart Eyes (2025)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Recently single Ally (Olivia Holt) feeds her current feelings on romance into a bold pitch for the jewellery company she works for, focusing on doomed couples throughout the ages. This does not sit well with Ally’s boss Crystal (Michaela Watkins) who thinks the ad is in poor taste and could easily be linked to the Heart Eyes Killer, a serial wacko who has been targeting couples for the past couple of Valentine’s Days. To rescue the campaign, Ally is teamed up with hotshot pitch dude Jay (Mason Gooding), the same guy Ally literally bumped into as she stopped for coffee earlier that day.


A meeting at a restaurant to discuss strategy sees Ally and Jay bump heads in the metaphorical sense this time, and the evening looks to be ending early until Ally sees her previous boyfriend arriving with his new girlfriend. In an attempt to salvage something from the lowest point of her already crappy day, Ally pretends Jay is her new beau and makes a point of kissing him in public in front of her ex. What Ally and Jay don’t know is that the Heart Eyes killer has is watching the place and has just added them both to the kill list…


Directed by Josh Ruben, whose previous feature was Werewolves Within, and co-written/co-produced by Christopher Landon, a key creative force in a number of genre entries including the Happy Death Day movies, I went into Heart Eyes hoping for a combination of scares, slashings and snappy scripting common to those titles. I’m happy to report that this new entry into potential franchise territory does not disappoint, ditching the meta trappings of such juggernauts as Scream, but keeping the tense, gory pre-titles action and presenting a list of suspects and a rising body count, all investigated by dogged detectives Hobbs (Devon Sawa) and Shaw (Jordana Brewster). Yes, there is a joke about their surnames.


Comedy horror is a tricky one to get right, that’s for certain. Comedy horror romance is a juggling act inviting failure. However, if you set aside the bloody set pieces and frequent jump scares, Heart Eyes also works terrifically well as a romcom, giving the viewer an amusing but not overplayed meet cute and some classic initial tension between Ally and Jay before throwing various obstacles – and several bodies – in a twisted take on the usual will they, won’t they plot.


Holt is delightful as the reluctant marketing type and even more reluctant battler of a scary murdering type. Ally is given the chucklesome background of a med school dropout who changed careers due to having issues with the sight of blood. As someone who doesn’t flinch at fake claret splattering the screen, but has to fight the urge to throw up whenever I see a drop of the red stuff spilled for real, I was with her.


Gooding, fresh from being the Scream continuation’s human knife magnet, gets to step out of the supporting shadows and proves a more than capable romantic lead. In so many romcoms, his character would be utterly insufferable in act one but his performance, coupled with the writing, plays down the antagonistic aspects of a guy brought in to ostensibly fix the gaffes made by an already ridiculed and emotionally wounded Ally. There’s also the undeniable fact that he’s a very handsome chap, which should go a long way to smoothing over any issues with anyone who has accepted the mission of sitting through the nasty bits to savour this eye candy.


So, let’s take a look at those nasty bits, shot through with humour, but not skimping on some spectacular gore and various painful collisions with body parts and bladed objects. This is a film which knows the value of regular grimaces punctuating the giggles. There’s also an equal opportunity air brought to the who’s saving who of the escalating clashes between mistaken pairing and killer, and those skirmishes are played out in a variety of locations such as a carousel, a police station and a drive-in.


He may no longer be attached to Scream 7 but Christopher Landon has landed on his feet here, helming a breezy slasher which delivers a perfect balance of fun and frights, confidently mixing the sweet with the splattery. As with Wes Craven’s genre savvy opus, this has its own, potentially iconic line in slaughter chic and a similarly convoluted resolution which sets it as a standalone for the time being, but possesses the scope for what could well be a brand new horror franchise. The next incarnation of Ghostface’s ongoing spree will have to go some to match this.

Heart Eyes (2025) is on general release now.