Archive: Author: Darren Gaskell

Mamántula (2023)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Detectives Lorena (Lorena Iglesias) and Marta (Marta Bassols) are called in to investigate a bizarre murder in which the remains of the victim amount to little more than a puddle of goo. This puts them hot on the trail of a serial killer (Moisés Richart) who – let me check my notes here – is a giant, alien tarantula disguised as a human with an insatiable craving for blood and semen, which is necessary for him to construct a web to return to his original dimension. He acquires this by – quick check of the notes again – fellating his unsuspecting prey to death. Yes, you did read that correctly, but feel free to go back and read it again just to be certain.

Ion De Sosa’s quite frankly head-scratching concoction may only run for forty-eight minutes, but that forty-eight minutes brims with bewildering oddness, plus so many close ups of penises that you’ll be wondering when one will have your eye out. Safe to say that, for a great many viewers, watching some bloke receiving a lethal blowjob will be the cue for them to find something else to watch but, in a twisted way, it’s their loss if they don’t see this through to the end, if only because there’s truly little out there that’s so casually batshit.

In some ways, this plays out as if it’s a cosy thriller pilot that was sucked (!) into an alternate universe where the controller of ITV just didn’t give a toss about any post-watershed rules, although the workplace relationship of Lorena and Marta heads to the bedroom in a timeframe far quicker than any “will they, won’t they” played out over several seasons. Many of the staples of your standard police procedural are present and correct here, including a panicked public and the prospect of the case being handed over to rival cops. Okay, yes, the main suspect is an arachnid from outer space, but there are still witnesses to be questioned, leads to be followed and chase sequences to be deployed at key moments.

As the body count rises, Mamántula’s thirst becomes ever greater and a potential deviation from his overall mission is noticed by worried superiors out in the galaxy somewhere, leading to the following line: “He’s swallowing a lot of spunk. He already seems different.” I bet whoever rendered the subtitles for this remembers that day at work. As the net closes in and our ‘tecs find themselves ever closer to unravelling the overall web of weirdness, action beats and ever more gooey effects await in a climax that provides some degree of unexpected closure, but still leaves the viewer wondering just what the hell was going on.

Using the word “bizarre” to describe Mamántula is like saying Nic Cage’s performance in Mandy is a tiny bit unhinged. Avant-garde to the point of having to redefine that term, its mix of fantasy horror, homoerotic set-ups and crime series trappings places De Sosa’s film on a shelf all of its own. The Berlin settings lend the tale a smear of urban grit, but that doesn’t prevent a detour out into a glittery cosmos where a gathering of space spiders ponder the proceedings down on planet Earth. Say what you like, you don’t get that during your weekly dose of Law And Order.

Packing a number of daring ideas into its maxi-short/mini-feature runtime, Mamántula may be purposely short on explanation, but it’s long on offbeat characterisation and gloopy gore scenes. It also possesses a surprising amount of heart and humour, which goes some way to offsetting its graphic, absurdist excesses. This is outlandish genre fare for people who already like outlandish genre fare. Ultimately, it may not have the time to develop everything set out in its unique vision but, if you can stay the course, you’re unlikely to forget this one in a hurry.

Mamántula (2023) featured as part of the SoHome Horror Pride Festival 2024.

Cannibal Mukbang (2023)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Socially awkward customer service rep Mark (Nate Wise) bumps into the vivacious, outgoing Ash (April Consalo) at a convenience store, before Ash bumps into Mark with her car. Waking up at her place, Mark thinks it’s the last place a guy like him should be, but Ash allays his initial panic by not freaking out at the small detail of the metal plate in Mark’s head and then reveals that she’s an Internet celebrity in the bizarre world of mukbanging, a subgenre of online videos involving consumption of vast quantities of food for a hungry audience.

As their unlikely liaison blossoms into something potentially serious, Mark finds out more about Ash, his curiosity leading him to discover just how she sources her delicious fare. Ash is luring society’s undesirables to their doom, turning them into tender morsels and Mark, as an initially unwitting accessory, is now along for the ride. As the bodies pile up and their relationship is tested, will love win the day?

Blood. Sex. Food. So goes the tagline for Cannibal Mukbang. And there’s no denying that all three of those can be found in Aimee Kuge’s fusion of romantic comedy, vigilante thriller and gore flick. Meet cute turns into meat cut as Ash transforms from manic pixie dream girl into mad as hell destroyer of predatory incels. It’s a bold narrative decision but the skill of the writing – complete with uncompromising origin story – plus an enthralling, complex performance from Consalo – works to keep the viewer gripped, if not always totally on side. In the same situation, I can’t say I wouldn’t have been helping Ash rid the streets of scum. Don’t be judgey.

Although the movie spends most of its time focused on our dubious, nervy hero and the object of his affection, the supporting turns are given space and time to land, including those of Kathryn Whistler as Mark’s online therapist Dr. Klein and My Bloody Banjo alumnus Clay Von Carlowitz honing his corporate douche routine as Mark’s boorish brother Maverick, who will ultimately prove pivotal to the plot as the mayhem escalates.

Cannibal Mukbang succeeds on an impressive number of levels, delivering on the carnage for the gorehounds but also hitting the mark time and again as an accomplished romantic comedy (okay, the most twisted romantic comedy you’re ever likely to see, but it still works beautifully). It has an acute understanding of that genre’s tropes, replacing the usual sugary montage of rictus grins and differing date locations with a succession of gleefully mounted murders, perfectly reflecting this film’s dark yet amusing vibe.

And there’s not just spoofing afoot. Dig a little deeper and Kuge’s screenplay has many things to say about toxic relationships, addiction and the struggles in breaking the cycle of dependency. Having been fed the forbidden fruit – well, forbidden meat – Mark is confronted with the shocking revelation that nothing else will truly satisfy, leading to him quitting his (admittedly rubbish) job and ignoring most other things in favour of Ash.

Taking this on its title alone, you could be wondering how quickly it will head down the Troma route. As a genuine fan of many flicks from that particular filmic stable, I’m not of the opinion that choosing that kind of style is a bad thing, but Cannibal Mukbang’s anarchic moments come from a vastly different, far more intriguing place. The shocks and the laughs are earned and the emotional stakes possess an uncommon authenticity, bolstered by the chemistry between the two leads.

Aesthetically, it’s also a cut above. Careful choices of lighting enhance the mood and the quirky costume design belies the fact that it’s also brilliantly calculated to spark our pre-conceived expectations about character. The cinematography is noteworthy too, whether it’s conveying the cosy cocoon of Ash’s home, the shabbier urban surroundings or a superb, grainy flashback sequence which economically, brutally outlines a defining event in our mukbanger’s past.

A piquant debut, Cannibal Mukbang is an unexpected delight, blending its genres with aplomb and serving up an appetising treat for the more discerning horror palate, especially one that enjoys a combination of the sweet and the savoury. Its unwillingness to compromise on its ingredients extends to a final course which may not be everyone’s cup of tea but, even as a Yorkshireman and therefore committed tea drinker, I’ll admit there are gourmet experiences which can’t be rounded off with something comforting. This is one of those experiences.

Chow down on this with gusto. Aimee Kuge has cooked up a storm.

Cannibal Mukbang (2023) featured as part of SoHome Horror Pride 2024.

Saint Drogo (2023)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Caleb (Brandon Perras-Sanchez) and Adrian (Michael J. Ahern) are a couple whose relationship is heading for the rocks, so they take a make or break trip to an off-season Provincetown in Cape Cod, where the atmosphere seems off from the start and an oddly friendly local called Eric (Matthew Pidge) assumes both the role of their guide and the hitherto missing element of a throuple.

That’s not a spoiler as such and should also act as a primer for the amount of sex between guys that takes place in this movie. You can ditch both the film and the review right now if you’re going to have conniptions about this. Also, the fact that I’ve reviewed The Girl With The Haunted Vagina, Poor Things and the forthcoming Mamantula doesn’t mean that I’m assuming the role of Warped Perspective’s sexy times correspondent [though the role is yours if you want it – Ed.]. Trust me, you do not need me in that position. Please excuse my choice of words.

As a matter of fact, it’s the sex that underpins the plot to a certain degree, acting as a pointer to the hedonism lurking just beneath the surface of this eerie, deserted destination and to the ever shakier foundations of Caleb and Adrian’s relationship, done few favours by a new, intriguing third party. This also strengthens Caleb’s resolve to investigate the disappearance of previous partner Isaac (Tradd Sanderson), about whom he has been experiencing vivid, graphic nightmares.

I should point out that Saint Drogo is from the filmmakers who brought us the micro-budgeted, gonzo, unashamedly queer, slasher riot that is Death Drop Gorgeous. I should also point out that this film is a marked progression in terms of filmmaking maturity. I’m never going to pretend I didn’t find Death Drop Gorgeous a total hoot, but I know some of you out there couldn’t get on with it. To you folks, fair play, but I’m urging you to give this one a try. This sophomore effort is a complete 180 in terms of tone and there’s a definite leap forward in the plotting, the writing and the visual aesthetic while still keeping those outlandish gore sequences firmly in place.

Overcoming a slightly shaky and occasionally stilted opening act, Saint Drogo grows in confidence and hits its stride as the mystery comes into play, with every new character a potential bad guy in surroundings which are alien even to those who should normally feel at home there. There are sharp asides as to what makes gay society tick and the forces at work which set norms and behaviours, even in groups which would initially appear to be outside of expected controls.

Coastal towns – offseason or not – always make for locations which are fertile ground for attracting the other of all types. Think Potter’s Bluff in Dead And Buried or the alternate vision of North Yorkshire seaside town Scarborough which Rose Glass provided in Saint Maud. Here, P-town is a mix of actual, modern day socioeconomic concerns, skewed further for fictional effect by a folk horror element which recalls, inevitably, The Wicker Man. The shadow Robin Hardy’s movie has cast over the subgenre is impossible to ignore but, if you thought Howie’s demise was a cruel one, just wait until you see what Saint Drogo has in store come the final act.

Whereas the violence in Death Drop Gorgeous was generally OTT enough for a good giggle, the grue here is positively chilling. Limb breaking, disembowelling and decapitation is seen in lingering, hideous detail as the viewer hopes against hope for unlikely, last minute salvation that, of course, doesn’t happen. I’ve watched the movie three times now and there are certain moments which lose none of their power to shock.

Perras-Sanchez and Ahern make for a sweet but bruised partnership and the opening stanza shows how their affinity for each other has taken a number of hits over the recent past. As much as the viewer wishes them the best, there’s a sense that the trip they take is too little, too late and the film plays upon this as Caleb becomes increasingly suspicious of their holiday haven’s residents and looks for the secret, all-powerful society he’s convinced is lurking behind the town’s deceptively shabby façade.

Examining the politics of same sex relationships with a startling side of splattery set pieces and keen observations on the transformative – but not always positive – influence of tourism, Saint Drogo is a sea change from the Death Drop Gorgeous guys. It’s the follow-up film you would have not expected and it is well worth your time to see how their craft is developing apace.

Saint Drogo featured at the SoHome Horror Pride Festival 2024.

Fantasia 2024: Infinite Summer

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Mia (Teele Kalijuvee-O’Brock) packs a bag and heads for an Estonian beach retreat. She’s looking forward to catching up with friends Sarah (Joanna Gross) and Grere (Johanna Rosin). However, once she arrives, it becomes clear that their previous camaraderie is not what it used to be; Sarah and Grere are focused on partying and an app called Extreme Dating. In a reluctant attempt to join in, Mia connects with the app and meets a man called Doctor Mindfulness (Ciaran Davies), who supplies her with a chemical-assisted respirator device with which she can supposedly access a higher plane of existence…

As a brief synopsis of a movie in the coming of age subgenre, the above should give some idea that Infinite Summer does not remotely head down the path you would expect. Adding that this movie is written and directed by Miguel Llansó, who unleashed Jesus Shows You The Way To The Highway on an unsuspecting world may have you reaching for the box marked “Close” or waiting for it to bring the sensory assault.

As much as I enjoyed much of that 8-bit inflected grab bag of ideas, Llansó’s latest opus takes a far less frantic approach, allowing his fascinating central ideas the room to breathe rather than battering the viewer into submission with yet another plot strand, N64-inspired action sequence or bizarre back and forth of dialogue. Infinite Summer is confident enough in the creation of its own alternate world not to fall back on cheesy humour and this makes for a richer experience. Yes, the script can’t resist chucking in the odd elliptical exchange but somehow it wouldn’t be authentic Llansó if it didn’t somewhere along the line.

Using that backdrop of that supposedly halcyon final summer before the responsibilities of adulthood kick in, Infinite Summer examines the fading of friendships and the opening up of scary, exciting new prospects by posing the question “What would you do if you could access everything, everywhere?.” We’ll leave the “all at once” to another project. The AI voice in the respirator, introduces themselves as Eleusis – a temple for a second birth – and is welcoming but also guarded, tempting its user to unlock its secrets but also warning, like an ASMR Jack Nicholson, that they may not be able to handle the truth.

Did I mention the subplot involving Tallinn Zoo and its disappearing animals? My bad, I didn’t. Yes, this is going on too, as investigators Katrin (Katariina Unt) and Jack (Steve Vanoni) get their sleuthing band back together to find out just what the hell is going on. Their droll asides may occasionally feel as though the story is stalling for time, but I loved the two of them and I’d happily watch them transplanted into a Midsomer Murders-style series if only to have the ITV/BBC 8pm cosy crime audience scratching their heads and wondering if they’ve had something slipped into their Ovaltine.

I’ve seen this described as a “transhumanist romp” but I have a slight issue with the word “romp” as that, to me at least, conjures up an atmosphere of pervading, ultimately grating wackiness. Don’t get me wrong, there is humour to be found in Infinite Summer but how many wacky romps grapple with the concepts of transformation right down to an atomic level? Carry On Cosmos this is not, unless I missed the entry in that series in which Sid James weighs up the pros and cons of artificial intelligence. I’d love to have seen that one, by the way.

In the lead, Kalijuvee-O’Brock is excellent, giving a performance which will gain the sympathy of various viewers as she makes those questionable, stubborn, youthful decisions with which many of us will identify. Gross and Rosin make their mark in smaller but important roles, initially annoying both Mia – and, to be fair, me – with their incessant talk of guys and their snickering, swiping left or right antics but providing comment on how all of us nix certain ideas because they don’t line up with our thoughts and then hypocritically go along with them anyway because, you know, FOMO, and we’d be just as good as those things, if not better.

Both Infinite Summer and Jesus Shows You The Way To The Highway trade in blurring the boundaries of reality but the latter’s ramshackle, random ducking and diving is replaced by beautiful scenes of literal spacing out and a central character grappling with an opportunity to live without limits as she discovers more and more about a universe in which shared experiences transcend flesh and bone.

The resolution reads as both uplifting and crushing, an odd mix of parental concern for the potentially dire fate of their children, and the adoption by those children of a world which is evolving at a pace that threatens to leave behind everyone but those who are riding the cutting edge of technology. Infinite Summer is a must for those seeking an adventure into the strange, one spiced with oblique body horror trappings and psychedelic journeys beyond. You’ll be left with so many questions as the end credits roll but oh! What questions they are. As with the respirator of Doctor Mindfulness, allow the effects of Miguel Llansó’s unique product to permeate your consciousness and you could be transported to somewhere genuinely unfamiliar.

Infinite Summer (2024) featured as part of this year’s Fantasia International Film Festival.

In a Violent Nature (2024)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

In the decrepit remains of a fire tower, a locket hangs in close up. A few lines of offscreen chatter leads to said locket being taken: the conversation has hardly faded into the distance before the ground shudders and a hulking corpse rises from the grave. It’s unlikely that he’s going to ask for it back in a friendly way…

Writer/director Chris Nash’s spin on the slasher flick posits the question “What does the killer get up to between murders?” and, although this particular maniac doesn’t have the city lifestyle of, say, Frank Zito in, er, Maniac, the great outdoors does provide an opportunity for appreciating the picturesque surroundings and getting the step count up as Johnny – for he has not just a name but a local legend attached – wanders the woodlands in search of his next target.

Approaching a well-worn subgenre from a different angle is always welcome and this is applied literally to the opening fifteen minutes of In a Violent Nature, providing a grimly fascinating viewpoint as the camera hovers just behind Johnny in a way which gamers will particularly appreciate. This also presents the film with an immediate problem: can it spend ninety minutes wandering a few paces behind the antagonist and retain the interest of the audience?

As it turns out, the movie decides not to carry out that particular experiment. Once the killer closes in on a campfire gathering of disposable young folks, the proceedings switch from eavesdropping from the trees to circling the group in close quarters, as the tragic backstory of Johnny is recounted and we glimpse their nemesis in the background. It’s the switch between killer cam and traditional slaughter set-up that undercuts the project’s pitch and drags it back into a mainstream it spent half of the first act indicating it would never venture into.

Yes, this movie draws inspiration from slow cinema and the relatively sedate pace will throw off many a gorehound weaned on the antics of Jason Voorhees, but the atmospheric locations and the drawn out sense that something dreadful will eventually happen is effective. The major issue is that In A Violent Nature doesn’t fully commit to changing the game, leaning on tropes to soften any bewilderment its audience may be experiencing.

The fact that Johnny is the strong, silent type doesn’t exactly help matters either. An early flashback projected in a mirror sketches out those basic details about why he’s ready to kill everyone in his path, but any further character development is jettisoned in favour of him finding ever more icky-looking weaponry to use or would-be iconic garb to don. Also, there’s a lot of him walking. And I mean A LOT. There’s only so much yomping through the undergrowth you can take before it seems that you could be watching an episode of Countryfile.

The doomed dwellers of the cabin don’t fare much better either, most of them presented as a means of adding to the body count and yet, as unsympathetic as they are, do they deserve to die? The original Friday The 13th featured at least some engaging characters which left the viewer conflicted as they met various sticky ends, and its ever more cartoony sequels took the “line ‘em up, hack ‘em down” ethos to levels of silliness which felt more fairground ride than hard driving horror. Here, there’s a mean streak a mile wide to the kills which, however impressive and elaborate the effects are, feels like it’s a demonstration of nihilism just for the sake of it.

Having said that, a couple of the set-pieces are to be applauded, merely for their sheer innovative gruesomeness. A cliff-top attack using dragging hooks develops into the one thing you definitely won’t forget about this, with its initial wince-inducing dose of head trauma transforming into an unexpected tour de force of cracking bones and spilling guts. Did folks walk out of the screening during this? Yes, they did. Credit where it’s due, so kudos to FX supervisor Steven Kostanski (he of cult favourite Manborg) and his team.

It’s not just wham, bang – well, not just wham, bang, drag, crack, splat, crack, splat, drag, drag, splat in the above case. Just over an hour in, a sequence involving an incapacitated soon-to-be victim and a hideous piece of machinery called a log splitter amps up both the suspense and the flat out cruelty, its deliberate, inescapable brutality treating the viewer to a cold shower of terror as the tale heads into the last act showdown.

Ah, that last act showdown. The blackly comic moment at which a taunt backfires spectacularly may rob the confrontation of its momentum and introduce unnecessary levity, but I chuckled at its audacity in playing out such a ridiculously gross gag to breaking point. From there, the time honoured killer versus final survivor endgame is played out and, to be fair to In A Violent Nature, it heads back to its initial M.O. of bringing something distinct to the table, skewing the usual climax in a way that, depending on your viewpoint, you’ll find either daring or thoroughly unsatisfactory. Or, if you’re me, both.

Lauded as the horror film of 2024 in some quarters and dismissed as the worst film ever in others, I found In A Violent Nature to be neither of those. The movie breaks too many of its own rules about the innovations it trumpets in the opening scenes and the sporadic bursts of humour, although skilfully handled, don’t sit particularly well with much of the bleakness on display. The effects are mostly top drawer but anyone expecting wall-to-wall bloodshed might be twiddling their thumbs during long takes in which nothing much appears to be happening.

In A Violent Nature succeeds in provoking discussion like no other rural kill pic out there, falling in the middle ground between fascinatingly experimental and overly familiar. A splattering of memorable gore may not be enough to tide the viewer over during Johnny’s various strolls but, at the very least, Chris Nash has made a film which sets itself apart from others in the subgenre, regardless of your feelings about the end product.

In a Violent Nature (2024) is on a limited UK cinematic run this July. It is also available to stream on Amazon and via other streaming services: click here to find out more about availability in your area..

Houseboat Horror (1989)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Having recently rewatched the superb Wake In Fright, I was reminded of just how impressive Australian horror can be. That nightmarish classic led me to revisit Picnic At Hanging Rock, Next Of Kin and Long Weekend. All particularly good, all well worth tracking down. Of course, you already know that, unfortunately, this review is of none of the aforementioned titles. No, I’m heading to the opposite end of the Antipodean chiller spectrum where you can find Houseboat Horror, a 1989 shot on video fright flick which has been often cited as the worst film ever made Down Under. Does it genuinely deserve that tag, though?

On the whole, I would say it’s in with a pretty big shout.

The story – such that it is – sees a “rock” band take a trip to picturesque Lake Infinity in order to shoot a music video for a song which, according to the clapperboard, is called Young And Groovey (sic). Of course, the four lunks and their film crew are totally unaware that they’re about to be targeted by a psycho with murder on their mind. It’s a warmer climes version of Swedish shocker Blood Tracks, if you will, except that Blood Tracks looks like an absolute masterpiece of terror compared to this. You’ll be praying for hair metal quintet Easy Action to show up in order to lend this thing a bit of dubious cred. Spoiler: they don’t show up.

The arguable draw here, is the toplining talent of Alan Dale, who at the time was approaching the middle of his stint as soap patriarch Jim Robinson in Neighbours. He’s joined by a load of other folks who, unlike Dale, didn’t go on to appear in 24 and the skills of his oppos extend to spending various scenes talking over each other, occasionally at the expense of expository dialogue. Don’t worry, you won’t miss the twists, because there aren’t any.

Directed (well, kind of) by Kendal Flannigan and Ollie Martin, this is visually drab, 1980s horror by numbers which at least has the good sense to kill off a couple of folks – okay, one of them isn’t that great at playing dead for the camera – before the titles roll, but then faffs about for the next thirty-five minutes with character non-development and a screenplay that’s chocka with stilted exchanges before the carnage recommences in the second half and the bodies pile up.

It has to be said that there’s a pretty nasty, if undetailed, repeated stabbing which actually works, but that turns out to be a fluke as the other suspense sequences are clumsily handled, mostly consisting of shots of the killer’s boots as they close in on their next victim. The gore is far too brief to make any impact either, often seen after the fact or, when it is shown in real time, cutting away quickly from an unconvincing effect. The filmmakers clearly saved their effects money shot – a head being sliced in half – for near the end and do you know what? It’s not worth it in the slightest, losing out in the memorability stakes to the least spectacular death by harpoon ever committed to celluloid, which culminates in a hilariously low key reaction by the character being offed.

If the houseboat lifestyle is for the more affluent, there’s no evidence of that here, the operation being run by the Victorian version of supporting characters from Minder and an unrelenting lack of glamour on board said vessels, with one person proclaiming “This is living,” while standing in an unremarkable kitchen with an open box of Corn Flakes on the worktop. It’s details such as this which kept me watching. There you go, “kept me watching” is a pull quote that can be used totally out of context.

The dialogue is mostly of the type uttered by no human being ever, be it the interminable chit chat between the thinly drawn characters or the odd rural weirdo showing up to talk in a tone which only requires them to be wearing an “I AM MENTAL” T-shirt to make matters a tad more obvious. The one note of realism, I will concede, is the very Ocker reaction of “Piss off!” to someone confronting them with a massive knife, and I will admit to having to pause the film at that point in order to collect myself.

Is there anything positive to say? Well, compared to other SOV fare, it’s edging towards technically competent and it all cuts together more smoothly than, say, Boardinghouse. However, anyone who’s seen that hot mess from ’82 will know that’s damning Houseboat Horror with the faintest of praise. At least Boardinghouse’s bizarre plotting and chainsaw edits make it a memorable experience, even if it’s absolutely no good. What we’re presented with here is a sluggish, cut and paste slasher complete with the usual, far too obvious, suspects and a late in the day, undercooked revenge motive. It ends up being The Burning on an extremely low heat.

Quoting directly from the end credits, complete with unnecessary upper case emphasis, Houseboat Horror was “Produced with the assistance of the entertainment development branch of AUSTRALIA’S WORLD FAMOUS, UNDERGROUND Nightclub, Melbourne” and this does go some way to explaining the end product, which possesses those classic nightclub staples of annoying twats, random drinking, a bit of uncomfortable nudity and the feeling that you’ve had enough of it all after eighty-five minutes.

For folks who love bad, shot on video horror movies, this is bad and it’s shot on video. For everyone else, the prospect of hearing Jim Robinson drop the F-bomb is no reason to watch this. If you really need to see a Neighbours actor in an Aussie horror film, Ian Smith – none other than Harold Bishop – is in 1993’s gloopy and bonkers Body Melt. It’s no classic, but it’s a bloody ripper compared to Houseboat Horror.

Masochists take note: Houseboat Horror (1989) is somehow now available on Shudder and other streaming outlets.

Trim Season (2023)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Emma (Bethlehem Million) is in the proverbial cinematic pickle, having been sacked from her job, instantly hitting the “necking sauvignon blanc straight from the bottle” stage and being given notice by her roommate because of unpaid rent. However, friend of a friend James (Marc Senter) offers her the chance to make a welcome pile of cash by spending two weeks on a remote marijuana farm as a trimmer.

Heading out there with friend Julia (Alex Essoe), they meet their fellow workers for the fortnight and are introduced to Mona (Jane Badler), the music loving, weed smoking owner of the farm. It’s not long before Emma is suspicious of the whole set-up, but there appears to be no way back out until the work on the crop has been completed…
Directed by Ariel Vida, who can boast vast experience as a production designer on a wide variety of projects including Benson and Moorhead movies such as The Endless and Something In The Dirt, there’s a similar, otherworldly atmosphere to Trim Season essayed by both its location and visual approach.

Although it doesn’t build the surrounding mythology quite as richly as those aforementioned movies, that leaves enough unexplained for the viewer to fill in their own version of the blanks. This is especially true of the film’s first half, which opts for a burn matching the leisurely sparking of the farm’s complimentary joints in order to develop the characters and to allow the inherent creepiness to sink in.

It’s a particularly interesting set of characters we get to spend time with too, including the wonderfully named Juliette Kenn De Balinthazy as the congenitally-insensitive-to-pain Lex, Synchronic alumnus Ally Ioannides as chronic aficionado (and just plain insensitive) Harriet and transgender performer Bex Taylor-Klaus as the thoroughly decent Dusty, someone with a troubled past and an imperfect present wrought upon them by perceptions of gender, detailed in an effective, unnerving way without labouring the point.

An early snippet of dialogue establishes the power circles at play, explaining that female trimmers are chosen because women are less likely to steal and/or attempt an overthrow the operation, contrasting with the male muscle guarding the compound and Mona’s sons Christopher and Malcolm helping out their ma with the family business. Of course, Emma is handed the time-honoured opportunity to transform from browbeaten to bold and Million navigates the demands of the role without being either too frustrating a doormat or an unconvincing arse kicker.


Trim Season’s decision to underplay character traits around which entire movies could be built may frustrate those who want it to go big, but this reflects its confidence in less being so much more in every facet. Except one. I’m referring to the delicious, intoxicating performance of Jane Badler, who brings a wonderful unpredictability to every scene in which she appears. For those of us who can remember all the way back to her iconic turn in classic TV sci-fi V, let’s just say that Mona, in her own cryptic way, would be more than a match for Diana.


If any of the above suggests than Trim Season doesn’t ultimately deliver a satisfying hit, fans of both atmospheric oddness and bloody mayhem are advised to roll up. The cold open delivers a startling, nasty double killing and the final act blends both Midsommar and Suspiria vibes as the gloves are off both figuratively and literally for the mother of all supernatural smackdowns. All of this is played out against evocative, beautifully lit, rural backdrops, lovingly photographed and the handsome location work would form the visual bedrock of a glacially paced, backwoods drama in alternate circumstances. In this case, it’s a picturesque setting for multiple stabbings, appendage loss, unfortunates bleeding from their eyes and I’m here for it.


That said, come the climax, the proceedings turn on a dime and, given the deliberate build up, the relatively rushed payoff gives a slight feeling of not being fully earned but, to quote Mona from earlier in the movie, that’s a forgiveable offence when the rest of the production provides a long lasting high in terms of the care and quality bestowed upon it, topped with an excellent score from Joseph Bishara, which features a superb, memorably ominous musical cue accompanying a character’s change of expression. If you didn’t think things were going to go badly before that (and bless your trusting heart if you didn’t), those few seconds will make you think “Oh, they’re screwed.”


With an ensemble of strong, female performers at its core and more than a nod to inclusivity which doesn’t feel crowbarred in merely to tick a box, Trim Season rewards those who choose to inhale its exquisitely crafted product slowly and deeply.

Trim Season (2023) gets a select cinematic release on June 7th.

House of Screaming Glass (2024)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

On her twenty-seventh birthday, Elizabeth Cadosia (Lani Call) inherits her grandmother’s dilapidated schoolhouse. Soon after Elizabeth moves in, she begins to experience disturbing visions and the subsequent discovery of various artefacts around the place reveals that her grandmother was a practitioner of black magic. Will Elizabeth follow in those footsteps too?

The blurb for this movie referred to director David R. Williams being inspired by, amongst other things, Tarkovsky and Antonioni’s “slow” cinema and there is little doubt that House Of Screaming Glass takes its time in almost everything it does, stamping – or should that actually be gently pressing? – its glacially paced process on the proceedings from the opening scene, in which the camera inches upwards from a gruesome bit of business splattering the floor to an upstairs window of a building. If you think that’s a patience tester, you don’t know the half of it. This loitering version of the first half of the crane shot in Tenebrae is just easing you in.

From there on, Elizabeth takes a leisurely wander around the house and gardens, sits at a piano and taps out a piece by Beethoven, leafs through a book and so on, all accompanied by a voiceover which lets the viewer in on our protagonist’s thoughts. If this all sounds like a movie you’re going to switch off after twenty minutes, I’m not here to tell you that you definitely won’t be switching it off after twenty minutes. Just hold on, though…

Yes, a huge amount of this movie features just one person on screen. Yes, a huge amount of this movie does not feature on-screen dialogue. However, it’s this approach which sets House Of Screaming Glass in its own, vastly different place from the pack. It clearly wrings the very last drop from its microbudget, deploying striking props, including a beautifully designed, Raimi-esque Necronomicon, and the odd gorge rising, viscous effect to jar the watcher out of any potential slumber.

Speaking of slumber, there’s no doubt that the offbeat, dreamy atmosphere is maintained throughout, but the tempo is often far too languorous for its own good. The long takes eventually undercut any building dread, save for the previously mentioned piano scene, in which something lurking in the blurry background is keyed into each note of the tune so that the film hits a high in terms of genuine tension. Holding matters together is the excellent Lani Call, her one woman horror show requiring many changes of mood and character and she acquits herself admirably. Replacing the role of Final Girl with Only Girl, she’s an unorthodox yet perfect choice for Elizabeth, letting us into the various psychological aspects of someone dealing with both a mysterious past and a potentially dangerous present, while still retaining a little of the enigmatic.

The final act does pick up the pace (relatively), the weirdness amps up and the resolution of the plot ties up with where we came in. The payoff may be far from satisfying for some, but it tracks with the film as a whole – oblique yet somehow straightforward at the same time. The climax goes for the unnerving rather than the spectacular and, given what is known from that initial sequence, I wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking “I spent 103 minutes to get to that”? I’m not entirely sure that me suggesting that it’s more of an overall experience would cut much ice, either.

For anyone looking for a change of pace, I would be asking just how much of a change of pace they require before visiting House Of Screaming Glass. This is measured and then some. However, there’s little like this out there and it deserves credit for putting its own spin on what could have been bland witchcraft fare. The temptation is to say that it could lose half an hour and be a better movie, but a seventy-five minute version would lose the peculiar ambiance that makes it such an atypical watch. Fans of wham bam horror are advised to steer clear, but fans of no budget indie horror or the generally curious may want to give this a whirl, if only for the intriguing performance by Call.

House of Screaming Glass arrived on VOD and DVD on Tuesday, May 21st, from DeskPop Entertainment.

DogMan (2023)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

The latest from Luc Besson begins with an onscreen quote from Lamartine: “Whenever there is an unfortunate, God sends a dog.” The unfortunate in question here is Doug (Caleb Landry Jones) and God hasn’t settled for one dog, there’s a whole van load of them to be found as our protagonist’s vehicle is pulled over by the police in New Jersey. Oh, and Doug is dressed as Marilyn Monroe.

Enter Dr. Evelyn Decker (Jonica T. Gibbs), who is assigned to evaluate Doug’s psychological state. The initial pleasantries give way to the inevitable questions about how this animal lover in drag came to be on the wrong side of the law, and the flashbacks commence, beginning with Doug’s brutal childhood, through his experiences in various care homes and to his ultimate role as friend to all canines.

DogMan is a curious beast. As a potential comeback movie for Besson, his first directorial effort since 2019’s Anna, it bears some of the hallmarks of his earlier work with a certain regard to skewed action set pieces and an undeniable je ne sais quoi in terms of visual flair. However, very much like its hero, it’s unsure of where it should settle. The idea of various deeds of doggy derring-do for Doug is an outlandish one to begin with, but when that premise is transplanted to a jewellery heist, it feels like this should be a film for kids.

If you’re expecting an action movie, this flick is going to lead you down a number of detours before the lead starts flying. Detours such as: how Doug came to love the works of Shakespeare, powered by his developing love for drama teacher Salma (Grace Palma), which is admittedly sweet but is also a prime example of the tonal whiplash in which this tale constantly trades, the amusing am-dram montage curtailed by a swift goodbye and the next incoming downer.

It’s not that the background detail is boring; far from it. Those historical notes give context and motivation for Doug to confront the bad guys in what could have been a satisfying, extended third act showdown. Instead, the confrontation is put on hold while the story wanders off to consider the small matter of how you can become a celebrated drag act, following a spot of lip syncing to Edith Piaf. Are you going to see that in the new Jason Statham movie? * I think not.

I can’t deny that this takes the film in an unexpected and sometimes emotional direction, even if its queens do possess an air of the stereotypical, but it also deals a near fatal blow to the already flagging pace. The daft denouement, when it eventually comes around, isn’t particularly helped by the fact that dogs vs bad guys doesn’t work so well when the dogs look more like they’ll lick your face rather than tear your throat out.

It’s clear that Besson is at least continuing to try to make something different and the wackiness trajectory of his previous few projects should have hinted at the level of jaw dropping batshittery DogMan was aiming for. Disappointingly, it’s never quite batshit enough, holding back at the moments it could have genuinely swung for the fences, although the Lassie-style moment involving a severed finger is a highlight.

And yet, despite my many misgivings, DogMan is worth a watch because of its intent to re-invent the action thriller, even if the results fall a long way short of those ambitions. If that isn’t enough, then the performance of Caleb Landry Jones should be reason enough to stick with it for a few minutes shy of a couple of hours. There are nods to a Joker-style origin story but his work rises above lazy comparisons, presenting a complex and sympathetic character, damaged but unbowed and with a keen sense of humour. His interactions with Gibbs point up some fine scripting, which is refreshingly free of the snark and spite usually found in those two handers. It’s a shame that too much of it is hamstrung by its cartoony villains and a propensity to aim for profound dialogue when the better option would have been to let Caleb Landry Jones’ expressions do the talking.

Overall, it’s the veritable dog’s dinner, but it has a sense of the barking mad which may endear it to viewers who want to see Luc Besson’s take on the perma-rain and grimy suburbs you’d normally see in a DC Universe story.

*By the way, I very much enjoyed The Beekeeper. Jason Statham does not need to lip sync to Edith Piaf, he just needs to thump a whole lot of people. Which he does. Particularly well.

DogMan (2023) will be released on 11th March 2024.

Trunk (2024)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Malina (Sina Martens) wakes up to find herself in the trunk of a car – hence the title, apologies to anyone here for elephant-related action – but you’re here now, so you may as well read the rest of this. Unable to extricate herself from the vehicle before it sets off, her mobile phone is the only means of communicating with the outside world. Malina needs to find a way to inform the authorities of her ever changing location, but also must embark upon a mission to unravel the mystery of how she came to be in such a predicament in the first place.

Firstly, and for our UK readers in particular, I am going to get any potential jokes about Das Boot out of the way right now. It was mentioned in a chat when I was asked if I’d like to view this film; I laughed at the cinematic wordplay; we need speak about this no more. Secondly, for those of you who read the above paragraph and thought “How does she still have her phone”?, that’s cleared up in the opening sequence.
Modern day folks in peril stories usually require their protagonists to wind up in a remote location with no signal, or to have their phone run out of battery life, or to have it broken, and so on, and so on. One of the fun elements of writer/director Marc Schießer’s film is that Malina’s phone has to function fairly well in order for her to search for vital information and to chat to the various people who will help and/or hinder her along the way.

Yes, the story can’t resist the odd moment of crappy reception and the terrifying prospect of reduced internet speed, but the bulk of the tale hinges pleasingly on our heroine being able to get into touch with the world around her. There’s even an amusing early search for articles on how to free yourself from a trunk. I’ll leave you to guess just how useful that area of cyberspace is.

The early details about Malina establish that she’s resourceful and smart, with a medical degree that turns out to be very handy when it comes to a spot of lengthy, grisly self-repair in the first act. This area of expertise also feeds into the admittedly short list of reasons as to why someone might want to kidnap her, as we’re drip fed details about a tragedy which previously occurred on her watch.

The setting is less claustrophobic than it initially threatens to be, with gliding camerawork giving us a tour of the space at regular intervals. Also, the focus is more on Malina’s phone interactions than the close up, breathy panic prevalent in other titles such as Buried. A broken light cluster also allows a glimpse into the outside world, as well as being the viewpoint for an inventive action sequence as Malina attempts to turn the tables on her captor.

Trunk is a watchable, sporadically suspenseful thriller with a fine central performance from Sina Martens. As the only person on screen for a large chunk of the runtime, her portrayal of the capable yet psychologically frail Malina more than holds the interest and Schießer’s screenplay takes the requisite amount of care in building a layered, winningly flawed character who doesn’t turn into an invincible ass-kicker out of nowhere, but whose cerebral, practical approach is her weapon when confronting an increasingly desperate series of situations.

Martens’ sterling work makes it all the more disappointing the final act heads into all too familiar territory, with a plot swerve I suspect a lot of viewers will see coming from a mile off. In addition, a certain member of the cast is consigned to a stock fate, which is played out in such a way that even casual film fans will be able to walk through it beat by beat. Having been gripped for much of the first hour, the reveals of the last thirty minutes and the mundane motive rob the climax of momentum, although Malina’s ultimate fight or flight decision is nicely staged.

The late in the game shortcomings of Trunk shouldn’t be a barrier to enjoying what is, for the most part, a decently engineered, single location nightmare with a keen sense of pace and a good grasp of when to unveil those vital, extra pieces of information. Its resolution may opt for the efficient as opposed to the electrifying, but there’s still a certain amount of satisfaction to be gained from the movie as a whole, even if some early moments may hint in the direction of an unexpected road which is never taken. If nothing else, the undoubted presence of Sina Martens is likely to keep you watching.

Trunk (2024) launches on Prime Video on 26th January 2024.

Poor Things (2023)

Posted on by Darren Gaskell

Accomplished scientist Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe) gives new life to Bella (Emma Stone), a recently deceased young woman, via a brain transplant and some good old fashioned, Frankenstein-style electrical charge. In order to track Bella’s development, “God” enlists the help of student Max McCandles (Ramy Youssef) and Max comes to fall for Bella’s unfiltered view of existence.

An agreement is struck which will see Max and Bella married, and so the legal services of Duncan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo) are employed to ensure the paperwork is all in order. However, Wedderburn is so taken with Bella that he suggests the two of them run off together for an adventure in Lisbon…
The latest button pusher from Yorgos Lanthimos is – thankfully for me at least – less performatively, nudgingly odd than, say, The Killing Of A Sacred Deer and the surreal nature of the story (adapted from the novel by Alasdair Gray) immediately lends itself to the general weirdness on screen and to the giddy cinematography of Robbie Ryan.

Underpinning the sci-fi fantasy trappings is a story of a woman fighting to gain agency in a quasi-Victorian, male-dominated society and Stone is phenomenal as the rapidly evolving Bella, leaving a trail of beguiled and/or terrified men in her wake. Her uninhibited performance is one of the most indelible I’ve experienced, the initial physical comedy and some gruesomely chucklesome scalpel abuse giving way to a considered, self-educated, formidable presence whose grip of sexual politics may prove as troubling to the audience as it is to those in her orbit.

The supporting cast is top class, most notably Ruffalo, playing a debauched type whose edifice of next level caddishness is steadily eroded by a force of nature. He’s sleazy, foul mouthed and shamefully hilarious. Youssef supplies the voice of ethical reason and Dafoe, under a layer of prosthetics, provides a spicy Scottish accent and an affecting portrayal of an outsider striking out in his own way, despite hideous damage, both physically and psychologically.

As the adventure unfolds and expands geographically, there’s time for leisure, for several spots of drinking and gambling, and for other memorable characters to drift in and out of the tale, including Rainer Werner Fassbender alumnus Hanna Schygulla as the wily Martha, Jerrod Carmichael as the cynical, philosophy-averse Harry and an astonishing Kathryn Hunter as the complex Madame Swiney. Even in a yarn with so much focus on its main protagonist, everyone is given the opportunity to make their mark.

In these times of column inches being given to how sex scenes are no longer necessary in movies, Bella’s antics are more than likely to give a few folks an attack of the vapours but, for all the nudity and, as our protagonist likes to call it, “furious jumping,” Poor Things is decidedly unsexy, considering the amount of flesh on view. As with other Lanthimos projects, there’s a certain amount of built-in uncomfortableness, but the playful approach of the piece tends to mitigate the more troublesome moments, coupled with the fact that Bella, for all of her awkwardness, exerts a level of control which nullifies the potential threat attached to otherwise precarious situations.

In contrast to the icky moments, which also include some bizarre and grotesquely comic body horror, the production design by James White and Shona Heath is breathtakingly gorgeous, building a steampunk-inflected world where trams whistle overhead in a Portuguese capital city brimming with architectural and artistic clashes. The sequence in which Bella takes a wander around the neighbourhood is a triumph of jaw dropping, detailed set construction and carefully deployed, digital flourishes. Even if the rest of the film isn’t to your taste, this mini tour ought to impress in terms of the sheer craft on display.

As to the fact that the UK version of Poor Things has been edited to amend one specific vignette in a Paris brothel, the changes aren’t noticeable and don’t affect the flow of the scene, the impact or the queasy comedy, of those few moments. As someone who hasn’t exactly been the biggest defender of the BBFC in the past (don’t get me started on Video Nasties), the cuts were in line with legal requirements and Disney, the distributor, agreed to make alterations following an advisory screening, so don’t be marching to the classification board to complain. At least not this time.

Despite the questionable behaviour demonstrated time and again across the two hours and twenty-one minutes of Bella’s odyssey, this a movie which celebrates the generosity of the human spirit and consistently suggests that a good heart and a willingness to do the right thing will ultimately bring its reward. Yes, there’s a point at which Bella decides that she must punch a baby but trust me, this is much better natured than I had expected. The baby punching? It doesn’t happen (apologies for the spoiler) and there’s context to be considered. Don’t be marching down to the nearest baby. Ever.

Poor Things, while edging Lanthimos closer to the mainstream, still contains content that will turn people off, weird people out, or both. Dialogue I found to be hilarious will set others on edge. Using various sexual encounters to thrust the plot forward may have folks heading to the exit. What cannot be denied is a turn from Stone that is not only a career best, but should be talked about for years to come. Also, as a fan of pastéis de nata, it’s a delight to see her attacking those delicious custard tarts with the gusto advised by Wedderburn.

Eccentric, frequently delightful and strangely sweet, despite the fact that the c-word gets an outing not one but five times, Poor Things could not be a better start for UK cinema releases in 2024. Let’s hope that we can see movies of this quality across the entire year.

Poor Things (2023) is in cinemas now.