Archive: Author: Admin

From Black (2023)

Posted on by Admin

By Gabby Foor

Grief is a hungry emotion. Even the smallest reminder of what’s been lost can send it back to gnaw at us in our state of paralysis. From Black is an emotional supernatural tale of grief, guilt, a mother’s deepest imperfections and the sacrifices required to accept our heartache. Taking a familiar theme to explore the extents we would go in order to restore what’s been lost to us, but with overly transparent and sometimes completely unlikable characters, as well as its lack of answers to pertinent questions, leave this promising film falling just short. It takes the time to say everything it’s feeling, but I would go so far to say that after all the explanation, there remains no sense of closure.

As we open, crisp natural imagery and a string-heavy score leads us to a police officer entering an abandoned house. We hear a 911 call play, “I have to get out…” the voice chokes out. The officer continues to explore the house as we hear, “It could still be here,” from the other end of the call. Moving to another room, the officer discovers rune like symbols on the floor, candles, salt, and behind another door, a massive amount of blood. It’s not hard to deduce what type of practice was performed here; nevertheless, we cut to the police station where Cora (Anna Camp), the house’s owner, is now being held, also covered in blood. Sergeant Bray (Jennifer Lafleur), who was surveying the house, appears to have history with Cora and takes it upon herself to question her, which is how we end up with the narration style of the story flipping between Cora’s interrogation at the station and whatever memory may be enacted next.

Bray’s personal attachment stems from being involved when Cora’s young son, Noah (Eduardo Campirano), went missing years prior and Bray worked the case. I’ve heard it said many a time a child can be called an orphan, but there is no word that can properly label a parent that has lost a child, so her commitment to Cora, a difficult woman, is admirable. Bray may be easy to understand, but Cora is not the most affable main character. As we flip back in time we see that Cora was a negligent mother and active heroin addict with a Hoarders style house to fit. Getting sober was only some sort of existential bargain with the universe she made when her son went missing. Her priorities throughout the film are mostly selfish, and she has an uncanny way of leaving nothing a mystery: all emotions are painted on her smug face or spat back at any well-meaning person. Cora recalls the day her boy went missing: she was passed out high, and with this, we flash ahead in her past where she is attempting to heal in a small, local grief support group.

Led by a man who lost his daughter years ago, Abel (John Ales), Cora tries to use this group as a healthy method to cope and finds herself finally overcome by the need to share her story for the first time with the group, on her son’s birthday. This outpouring of emotion seemingly touches Abel, who begins to connect with Cora. He visits her at work, telling the darkest Finding Nemo theory I’ve ever heard, and eventually visits her home, checking on her, as she’s stopped attending group suddenly. There in her kitchen Abel propositions her, in regards to her son’s disappearance, offering her a chance to “heal” and to “fix” things so that Cora might actually see her son in the flesh again. It figures the leader of a grief group would have gone down the darkest alleys to find a reprieve from pain. In typical fashion and with condescending scepticism, Cora rejects the concept, but later, after a shocking story from Abel about what’s achievable, she opens her mind to the possibilities, and she begins to prepare for some sinister rite.

With clear, clean visuals and themes similar to Anything for Jackson and even Smile, this movie had potential to work in some scary devices, but I don’t think I was frightened once during this, rather saddened and frustrated. In fact, I found the voice of what I assume was supposed to be a darker force soothing, like a dark angel. My main issue with the film is that there doesn’t seem to be many answers as to why Cora really wants her son back, especially when we see exactly why he went missing to begin with, and why she is so determined to defy every second chance and good intention that comes her way. I, more often, levelled with the patient entity that didn’t necessarily present itself malevolently in its dealings, only unnervingly in its appearance or reasonably furious in the face of obstinance. It, along with its origins and remarkably honest and fair bargaining system, remain very much a mystery I would have liked to solve throughout the film as well.

Thomas Marchese, the director, is a former police officer as I’ve read, whose only other full-length film is a humanizing documentary regarding the difficulties confronting the police force. From Black, being his second feature, leads to claims he based these duplicitous and sometimes confusing character behaviors and decisions on his time “working narcotics.” This perspective is possibly why we receive an unforgiving portrayal of addiction in From Black. Characters like Cora’s abusive ex Wyatt (Travis Hammer) add more stereotypes, and his rambling, offensive presence adds almost nothing to the film. Unfortunately, it paints an ugly picture for people suffering from dependence or trapped in abusive relationships, and to the bitter end, the film shows no sign of redemption or hope for those suffering.

It takes Cora being backed into a literal corner, having burned every bridge, for us to finally receive any sense of resolution. I was so frustrated watching her waste the goodwill of others that by the end I was only ready to see if I was going to be somewhat content or infuriated with the finale. The ending smartly leaves itself open for more story to be told, but I’m not sure with the lack of answers provided that I would take this ride again unless it guaranteed information to fill the voids the film left. From Black utilizes themes from other frightening, successful films, but never seems to fully commit to any of them. It is a perfectly watchable piece with a talented cast, clean cinematography and well executed practical effects, but – dissected – leaves too many holes and a plot that leaves you dying for satisfaction. I recommend you go in with an open mind and plenty of patience for bad behavior, but prepare for From Black to remain mostly opaque. 

From Black is available to stream on Shudder now.

Cocaine Bear (2023)

Posted on by Admin

By Gabby Foor

Cocaine Bear, loosely based on a true story, is an audacious reimagining of the 1985 story of a black bear ingesting cocaine but, instead of the bear dying from the dose, it goes on a riot. This tale is more aimless than rampaging story wise, but is full of chuckles. Elizabeth Banks’ Cocaine Bear may, in my opinion, take liberties more often than needed, but it has fun doing it. I had few expectations coming into this film, and I’m glad I left them low. This mash up of dread and jest is certainly a unique entry, but it can’t quite balance its intended blend of humor or horror, leaning heavily into humor and relying on gore for its fright. If you’re looking for a goofy, grisly ride with little to worry about, this is the place to devour drugs, savagery (I had a flying dismembered limb tally going) and slapstick comedy in what is otherwise pure beastly violence.

We open to an elated drug smuggler (Matthew Rhys in a short-lived role) dropping his stash. Some of this appears to land in the Georgia wilderness, where a curious bear finds and ingests it, and the rest of which appears to land in Tennessee. The film begins with quotes from the world’s greatest source of info: Wikipedia. It explains the best method to fend off a black bear, and ironically in this situation, it’s the best way to get you killed. After it’s clear our smuggler made part of his drop, we arrive on some hikers in Georgia, 1985, enjoying a trip. As they trek, they are amazed at the sight of a black bear acting odd, but are somehow not distraught by it, taking photos. As you may guess, soon the watchers have become the watched and one of the hikers is taken and dismembered by the frenzied creature. Banks’ true story stretch as to what have might happened works in the earliest portion of the movie, but fades as the “plot” thickens.

Back in civilization the police have arrived in Tennessee to investigate the narcotics drop, and our ill-fated smuggler whose parachute failed. They have the accused narrowed in on an old familiar to the department, Sid White (Ray Liotta, may he rest in peace), as their main suspect. As time is of the essence, White sends his men Daveed (O’Shea Jackson Jr.) and his emotional son Eddie (Alden Ehrenreich) to retrieve the leftover goods from the wilderness. As the law and the dealers close in on the deadly location, Blood Mountain, we finally cut to Sari (Keri Russell) a stressed single mother taking care of her young daughter Dee Dee (Brooklyn Prince). After their plans to Nashville don’t suit Dee Dee’s tastes, she skips school to visit the waterfalls she’s been wanting to paint, bringing her friend Henry (Christian Convery). In a ludicrous excerpt after discovering the scattered drugs, the kids take turns eating cocaine. Not long after the fun and games begin however, the children realize they are being stalked, and soon Dee Dee is hauled into the woods. Once Sari gets a call from the school regarding Dee Dee’s absence, she finds a map to Dee Dee’s likely location, locates a ranger station (manned by a ditzy Margot Martindale as Ranger Liz) and attempts to find her daughter.

The first half is a decent amount of setup, location changing and character gathering, such as an awkward two-minute diner scene revolving around bad pasta and depression for White’s two henchmen that was only meant to set up a “tip” for the police. The two men furthermore embark on a Lord of the Rings level walk through the movie, engaging in strangely emotional talks along the way, as they move in search of their prize. With their amount of screen time, I suppose we needed to know them better from 21 questions, and maybe it’s just the backstory we need. The generally solid performances only have a few standouts, like Henry and Daveed, whose innocent and jaded sense of humors, respectively, lift the dialogue in their scenes. These go hand in hand with generally average camera work in this portion and effects that do nothing to intensify the thrills, get creative with the beast’s movements or positioning (we’ve all seen the same pop up scare a million times with the hikers’ camera), or to enhance any decent acting that might have occurred. For all of these shortcomings I will say this film picks up the pace in its second half as all characters collide and the bear finally gets both the vicious and comical screen time we have been waiting for.

In its second portion, Cocaine Bear does go all out and has as much fun as it can, so I will try to give it credit. Its humor can range from a very Jurassic Park “Clever girl,” scene, to downright goofy CGI bear behavior. The moment for me that stole the film is a scene involving an ambulance with its back wide open, a desperate EMT and the classic poppy Depeche Mode tune “Just Can’t Get Enough.” This scene is also some of the only traces of decent cinematography, wide tracking some of the most intense action from the animal yet. These scenes are so outrageous that you can’t help but admire the gumption they take, but you can also be uprooted by the pure silliness of the effects and over the top reactions. Maybe this feeling of displacement is just my experience, and these are the qualities that make Cocaine Bear an effective comedy. I haven’t been affected by a creature feature of similar amusement and obvious hyperbole since Boar, which took an unusual animal selection and made it terrifying. Cocaine Bear had the task of doing what movies like Back Country did, taking a common predator and reinventing its capabilities, but done here with tongue in cheek sensibilities.

I had hoped for more genuine laughs or a fright, but I walked away feeling silly not chilly, and I’ll assume that’s closer to what Banks wants. Cocaine Bear stepped up to the plate with what looked like the intention to achieve cult status with a loosely true story and madcap concept to spin it off into the bizarre realms that made films like Mandy stick. However, cult status is earned, and I’m not sure that with the lack of plot, inconsistent performances and hokey effects that in this age this film can establish itself to stand the test of time. Ultimately, for me, Cocaine Bear did its job and nothing more as a slapstick star-studded comedy dressed as a thriller. I don’t know what this reinvention will do for you, but I can say don’t let me dissuade you from a weird, wild time. While I may not have enjoyed all that Cocaine Bear had to offer, I tip my cap to it, and I can see what it’s pawing at. Maybe I just need a hit of something to wrap my head around it.

The Creeping (2022)

Posted on by Admin

By Gabby Foor

After my last opportunity to review a Dark Sky Films feature I was eager to see what The Creeping had to offer, and my god, I was not disappointed. This moving haunted house story hits all the marks a good ghost story should, whilst working in darker personal aspects like illness, grief and abuse. Jamie Hooper masterfully builds a family dynamic, then rips it apart between the gravity of the haunting and the horrific sins that inspired it. With gorgeous visuals and a talented cast, it looks like they’ve done it again with a truly unnerving film that is as dreadful as it is beautiful.

Starting in the past with a tender but creepy bedtime story, it seems young Anna and her father Harry (Johnathan Nyati) enjoy a good spooky tale. But when Anna ventures into the dark house against her father’s advice, a chair moves on its own, sending her fleeing. As the presence takes to hammering away at her door, it bursts open, and as it does, we burst into the year 1985, to Anna (Riann Steele) all grown up and seemingly past her brush with wickedness. With a tense string score setting the tone, we follow her to her grandmother (Jane Lowe) Lucy’s house, where Anna will be helping Karen (Sophie Thompson), her live-in caretaker, tend to Lucy’s needs as her dementia progresses. Tight shots on vacant spaces or family photos emphasize this family’s anxiety and loss as Anna faces discussing her father’s passing, as well as the fact that Lucy continually confuses Anna for Maggie, Anna’s mother, who passed away during childbirth.

After Karen tries to calm Anna’s fluctuating emotions about Lucy, she takes the time to get reacquainted with the property after a little ghostly moment in the bedroom. Nostalgia takes hold as one of a few wistful, gorgeous technicolor memories that appear throughout the film takes over for Anna, and she remembers fonder times in the house with her father. As the warmth of the moment fades, Anna returns to take over for Karen on the night watch and is forced to recall the death of her parents due to Lucy’s dementia. As Lucy tries to recall a song from Harry and Maggie’s wedding, she is driven to a frenzy, until it’s time for bed and her memory fails again, once again mistaking Anna for Maggie. This dance is painful to watch for anyone with aging parents as Anna tries to pierce the fog of the disease, but with minimal success.

At last on the first night, the entity – fond of 3:23am – plagues Anna with nightmares and visions (keep a close eye on them), opening her door to invite a similar exploration to her childhood. Instead of ghosts however, she finds Lucy, shrouded, methodically scrubbing the floor in a trance. This alone is enough of a horror movie if you’ve seen The Visit or The Taking of Deborah Logan. Exploration in the house the next morning leads to the discovery of a two-way baby alarm to keep an eye on Lucy, who is rambling that someone has been talking to her, “creeping around”, not that Karen pays any mind as she continues her duties. After getting Lucy fresh air in the garden, Lucy is distressed by something only she can see (for the moment) in the window we were focused on not that long ago, as we arrived at the house. Later, with Lucy finally tucked into bed, Anna can appreciate the pool, with the baby alarm not far away. While Anna enjoys her swim, however, she stops as she hears Lucy talking frantically through the feedback on the monitor, but there’s one thing she didn’t count on: that there is someone else talking back to her.

With influences and themes from films of all ages such as The Taking of Deborah Logan to The Dark and the Wicked, this film seamlessly blends the terrors of real life with supernatural pressures. Seeing Lucy in her frenzies as her illness consumes her, causing her to wander at night or behave in terrifying ways, reminds me how scary this disease is. On the other side, well timed and well utilized special effects deliver, and old-fashioned haunted house tricks make the movie tense throughout. Chairs are moved, cabinets bang, voices come from nowhere and glowing eyes cut through the dark; it’s classic but expected haunted house fare that doesn’t feel too stale here. What struck me was that the entity never overwhelms the message of the story, though its depiction and screen time is unsettling to say the least, especially when its motives are laid bare. This was evil once in human form: some secrets don’t want to stay buried, and every victim needs a voice. This delicate balance that collides into all of the answers we have been waiting for is perfectly executed to deliver the humanity of the family’s story as well as the sinister appearance and effects you may expect from an evil of this caliber.

This sordid subject matter preoccupied me at a primal level – that someone or something so close to me could be so evil and demented, or that people are all too capable of such repugnant acts as those in The Creeping. With that said, even with such delicate subject matter, Hooper and his team carry this with grace and taste, making no meals out of hard topics or victims. This story has a hell of an ending with reveals that unveil incredibly dark secrets, making sense of events and of each character’s arc. I can’t recommend this story enough, of a family and its discord, and a haunting so powerful it could split every member apart. Ending both with notes of tragedy and chords of hope, this story may not be happy, but it has heart-warming moments and a conclusion that redeems the horrors of the past. The Creeping is one of the best ghost stories I’ve seen in a while, and I hope you take the time, now that it’s out of the shadows and available for streaming, to take a look.

The Creeping (2022) is available now.

After She Died (2022)

Posted on by Admin

By Gabby Foor

When my father shaved his moustache for the first time when I was a child, I was told I didn’t have the best reaction. His face had changed and the familiar black line above his smile was gone, much to my young heart’s distress. After that reaction, he never did it again. Jack Dignan’s debut feature film After She Died is an inventive psychological and supernatural thriller based on a parent’s façade and how we cling to the images of loved ones. Once we’ve lost someone we love, it’s to be expected you see reminders of them everywhere. The problem with this scenario is that likely when someone’s gone you never expect to see them again, or anyone that could pass as their doppelganger, for that matter. Unnerving and twisted, After She Died takes a fresh take on grief and all the terrors that go with it.

We begin with Jen (Liliana Ritchie), a graduating high school student who is listening to what is a particularly venomous bout between her parents John (Paul Talbot) and Isabel (Vanessa Madrid). In the wake of the fight, Isabel goes to Jen and explains why she stays in her difficult marriage, conversing gently in Spanish with her daughter, backlit by cold blue tones with the ladies lit in a warm, bold orange. Isabel gives Jen a necklace, a family heirloom, to always have a piece of her mother nearby. We quickly cut away and it’s clear that Isabel has passed in some tragic fashion, leaving her family to mourn on graduation day – thanks to Jen’s father who scheduled the burial on the same day, it appears. 

On a bright day later that week, as Jen ponders her friends moving on with their lives out of town, wildfires burning with smoke clouding the horizon, Jen thinks of her father, a firefighter, and worries for his safety. Luckily, he is unharmed after his time in the fire and shortly afterwards, brings home his new girlfriend, Florence. With her mother not even cold, Jen races to hug Florence but then realizes the sick reality that she only looks exactly like her mother, and she is still just a stranger that her father intends to quickly move in on account of the fire damage. An awkward dinner trying to draw parallels between Jen and Florence fails to win Jen over, and Florence, prompted by her watch alarm, leaves the table shortly after; she’s then seen bleeding from her nose and eye in the bathroom. Making the effort however, Jen offers to volunteer at the same place as Florence to try and bond with her, where it is revealed she also speaks Spanish. A friend, Louis (Adam Golledge), is struck immediately by Florence’s appearance and tries to approach Jen, but after a mishap with the volunteer check-in and an injury to a staff member, Florence is sent running towards the smoking woods, and the plot begins to unravel.

 The use of smoke and beautifully soft piano music from Andrew Back reminded me in some ways of Silent Hill in the beginning act, its haze and tell-tale piano gently chiming in the background of the story of a wounded family. But this movie is altogether something different. With a low budget, this movie leans into its strength with a beautiful score and bold lighting. Interesting edits of memory or supernatural visions cut through scenes and potentially otherworldly forces aren’t presented in CGI, but masked flesh and blood for a more corporeal haunting. The cast is also fully game for their roles, especially Madrid, pulling double duty. This morbid doppelganger action only gets more intense as the being spends longer with the family, becoming more desperate and manipulative, prying at their grief, inflicting pain. Supernatural and psychological blend seamlessly as this movie twists and turns you down a path towards truth. The concept is quite interesting, the answers even more so, and while you may be able to conjure theories of what is happening after the first introduction to a strong supernatural entity, the execution is done colorfully and manically as the second half of the film burns bright with so many possibilities for each character.

Dignan pulls off his debut with confidence, no doubt, with a score and imagery that’s easy to get lost in. The movie is a pleasurable visual experience, I’ll say, and with limited effects I was struck by the quality of some of the wild images and some of the violence and gore that would usually be done with less care and more money. This tightly budgeted piece does so much well with a unique concept, and while they leave many breadcrumbs along the way to guide you, After She Died is a winding road you need to follow closely for a possibly divisive ending I didn’t expect. This film is certain of itself, set in its tone, and visually commanding. I may have floundered during the first half with the pace of this film and some scenes and reactions that felt misplaced. However, it was certainly worth the watch for a fresh horror concept done well by a fresh director with apparent talent and definitive style. All told, this presentation of Dignan’s work is a beautiful, messy treat with heavy hitting themes throughout. Just don’t worry if by the end you’re seeing doubles.

After She Died is now available worldwide on VOD, Tubi and DVD/Blu-Ray.

Gateway (2021)

Posted on by Admin

By contributor Gabby Foor

The ice-cold Irish thriller Gateway from director Niall Owens opens with a simple quote, “Never open the door to a lesser evil, for other greater ones invariably slink in after.” This reminds me of The Offering’s powerful quote, “Only we decide how much good and evil enters our realm,” and foreshadows the darkness that will pry at our characters from behind closed doors. This well-lit, cerebral haunting focused on a cryptic locked door delivers slow building tension and rock-solid emotional performances, that make its modest but effective horror plot device a disturbing addition to the psychological thriller genre.

Mike (Tim Creed) is a tormented man. From his bed to his every day comings and goings, he is shadowed by visions of his sister Hannah (Fiona Hardy). It’s apparent he carries guilt from her tragic passing, attacked and abandoned in an alley, left for dead. Mike cannot shake her memory. Though it seems he has larger troubles besides his emotional scarring: he owes money to some people you wouldn’t want to have to split the dinner check with, and is in the market to find a location to start a marijuana growing operation. Armed with a tip-off and a group of his mates, he sets off to scout out an abandoned house to try and get his operation off the ground and get out of hot water before his time is up. This first portion of the film plays out more like a heist than a horror, with the gathering of a crew, characters meeting in shady places, park bench drop-offs and hushed business meetings held with close confidantes.

This action-driven tone takes a back seat once the group finally arrives at their destination and begin to explore the vacant location to set-up shop. The usual bickering goes on as the group explores the site and talks logistics, but they stumble on something in the house they didn’t expect: a locked door with no way to open it. Naturally, as the group drifts in their separate directions, one unfortunate soul, Phil (Joe Lyons), is the first to witness the door open itself. What he witnesses drives him to tears, from hysteria, wonder or fear is hard to say. However, several minutes later, he exits the room and silently, abruptly and unceremoniously ends his own life.

What comes to pass, and what I refuse to spoil, is a slow-burn of wide eyes and the many faces of fear confronting what’s behind the door, and the mysterious forces that seem to lurk around it. The viewer may be able to guess what waits behind the door for each soul it opens up to, and its devilishly simple, but it’s an effective exposé for such secretive, grimy people with pasts best not discussed. The pacing of the movie after the door first begins its work is intentional; nothing is forced, and though the film is a modest length, some viewers may find the formula of one after another falling prey to the door predictable. The evil working behind the scenes takes its time and takes the film to a simmer occasionally. I, however, think it utilizes its timed very well to create strain, ask questions, and to invest in and understand the murky origins of the crew.

Stylish, clear camera work and committed performances go hand in hand to create a dramatic look at the characters’ emotional states. Blunt close-ups of fraught faces leave no secrets; the actors lay passions bare, especially Creed as he paves the way with every mark of disappointment and unease etched on his face. A special shout out goes to Laurence Ubong Williams who plays Eddie, another man in the group struggling with a personal loss who uses his screen time powerfully, and may have one of the most impactful scenes and shocking reactions with the malevolence lurking behind the door. The way the camera closes in on the intimate moments happening within and between the men makes it feel as though you’re a part of the conversation, making every emotion and traumatic flashback more significant.

It’s not just the visuals of this film that make it a pleasing watch, but the audio as well. I’ve heard it said in many a haunted house movie that houses like the one featured in Gateway are “alive” in a sense. The audio and sound mixing lends itself to the feeling that the house has a pulse, a breath, joints that move and creak. Where a score is missing in this movie or soundtracks piled in, there is a sense of breath or a faint whisper following you in the house as though it is a living organism. The sound of groaning wood and an active woodstove sound like the old bones and the stretching lungs of an ancient being, straining for life. This blend of sound effects filling in the silence and ramping up the creep factor was particularly effective in a film that doesn’t rely on the standard frights or the classic disruptive noisy jump scare.

Gateway blends crime, chills, and trauma, using an effective method to unravel it all into a satisfying conclusion that addresses the mysteries behind each of these men and their secrets. I would have robbed myself of many answers and a few heartbreaking twists and turns, had I given up at the first sight of sluggishness. I can say with certainty that any measured parts of this movie are worth waiting through for the ending, which reveals destructive secrets in its final moments. I also believe any “slow” part of this movie that I have seen reviewed elsewhere is merely plot development described with impatience. I insist that if you watch it you are being enduring, as it is a compact thriller worthy of your time. Gateway hits hard and deliberate with commanding visuals and a dedicated cast, led by a director who never loses vision. It’s up to you now to open the door and see if you’re interested.

Gateway is currently on release in the U.S with Dark Sky Films and the MPI Media Group.

Huesera: The Bone Woman (2022)

Posted on by Admin

By contributor Gabby Foor

Motherhood, for me, was always an idea laced with fear. From the time I could understand my mother’s aches and pains from having me, I wondered at the fate of a mother and if I wanted to bear that myself. As nameless as the entity that stalks Valeria (Natalia Solian) is, so too is the unnamed pressure women bear, from the moment they are given their first baby doll to becoming mothers. We don’t know why we are given this task, but it is assumed we are to bear children one day, or disappoint. Michelle Garza Cerveza’s debut tosses tired pregnancy tropes and reinvigorates them with both new levels of bodily discomfort, black magic, colorful light and camera work and complex characters. Huesera: The Bone Woman takes the power of a supernatural entity and the very real haunting pressures and judgements that follow us as women, and molds it into a maternal tale that creates an almost literal cacophony of anxieties.

Between medicine and religion, is where we find Valeria and her husband Raul (Alfonso Dosal) trying to get pregnant with the help of their doctors and prayer. Classic beliefs, in that even after a doctor visit, my mother and I still light candles for health anyway. Much to both their joy they succeed, but it doesn’t take long for things to take a sour turn for Valeria who seems to see reminders of children everywhere. Valeria will have to give up her workshop in order for it to be a nursery and is already dealing with a nosy mother in law who doesn’t respect her craft to build a crib. To pile on, come Mother’s Day, of all days, her own family makes it plain, through the vicious verbal woman-on-woman crime most girls are familiar with, that they find her pregnancy almost laughable. They ask if she’s even held her nieces and nephews and humiliate her with a story of when she was younger and babysat a neighbor boy, accidentally dropping him down the stairs. The good news is at least she’s not a spinster like her aunt Isabel (Mercedes Hernandez), the only woman to offer her any comfort and to recognize her budding nervous dependency of cracking bones. Certainly, don’t look to her husband for support during the film; he’s fine to let her take emotional battery here and there.

After a brief but tense run-in with an old friend from her punk rock days, Octavia (Mayra Batalla), Val’s reminded of the choices that led her to this domestic life. Nervous ticks and bad habits start to pierce the exhausted veil for Valeria, and her husband isn’t interested in touching her anymore in case it “hurts the baby.” On another sleepless night, Valeria witnesses what looks like a woman climb out of her window and jump to the street below, shattering her skeleton. Terrified, she realizes the woman isn’t dead but is instead moving and crackling below, attempting to reach out with a distorted face. She frantically tries to show Raul the disfigured body, but is despondent when she sees that the woman missing. After this episode, it’s back to the doctor who sees that she’s lost weight, has anaemia, no appetite and intense morning sickness. The cure? Finish getting rid of your workshop, only bringing up more memories of the life with Octavia she left behind, followed by more haunting occurrences tied to this entity. 

Cerveza does an excellent job with pacing this film as the middle does slow down, but instead of focusing on the supernatural closes in on the personal difficulties. The fear comes in two flavors of the emotional and the visceral for me, personally. Valeria’s identity and desires are stripped down from beginning to end. The viewer is given an interesting perspective at the film’s conclusion, and somewhat of a choice, as to what Valeria may or may not want, and I love this playfulness. But up until the very end watching her independence and spirit get picked raw was frightening, from the shouts of “I don’t like domestication!” from her past to the cries of labor, we watch her evolution and deconstruction. Val used to be rebellious, an array of dark colors compared to this pleasing suburban paint sample. Her pregnancy made her just another nameless, aimless “mommy”, and she is forced to dismantle her passions and her body on her own terms for the baby and for the satisfaction of her family and husband. This is above all why motherhood scares me: the loss of self.

The visceral fear credit should go to whoever designed and edited the audio for this film, in this case Christian Giraud. When Valeria is haunted by this entity, it is signalled by the disturbing chorus of snapping of bones. The sounds are so real, so perfectly human and so loud it is like it’s in the room with you, and can have you grabbing at your own joints for reassurance. This fleshy marrow crunch radiates through you. As Valeria gets anxious and cracks her knuckles, neck and back in a skeletal orchestra you dread that the entity may be about to appear, with twisting limbs or hands reaching out to rip or grab. Similarly, as the atmosphere gets intense around Val, you can hear sounds swell, like a television or other background noise that in real life, can become all too much when things in your head are more than you can bear. The use of sound to overwhelm the viewer in the same way Valeria is feeling these intense emotions is experiential and hasn’t happened since my theater viewing of Sinister, with its constant oppressive droning soundtrack that beats its viewer into submission with pure noise. Closing your eyes offers no respite here.

Huesera: the Bone Woman will likely leave a lot of viewers with questions on their lips. Huesera, a mysterious word itself, means “bonemaker” or “bonesetter,” similar words are to that of “chiropractor”; maybe this will give a little life to the title and Valeria’s constant need to realign. The entity, the ritual and the way by which Valeria is given a second chance at life are never really given names or explanations, only intense visuals and suggestion for the viewer to act on. These prayers and rituals remind me of the ones my family has done, filling my nose with the scent of sage and Florida Water sprayed over me as my mother gently prays, “Sana sana colita de rana…” an old Spanish rhyme to help me when I felt ill or burdened. As Valeria is broken to pieces, I am reminded in the film’s final scene why I myself own the style of ceramic that the women are sipping from: kintsugi or “gold joinery,” the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with precious metals. Though we and Valeria may be broken at times, we can refill the seams with something beautiful to show for our pain, and these women, as they sit bonded like pieces of pottery in the aftermath of ritual and reconciliation that they will carry for life, are nothing short of stunning.

Huesera is available now to stream or to buy.

The Haunting of the Lady-Jane (2023)

Posted on by Admin

By contributor Gabby Foor

Most tragedies have come and gone by the time we arrive at the funeral, but our journey is only beginning in The Haunting of the Lady-Jane when we arrive in a church half-full of mourners. Kneeling and distressed is Lily (Natasha Linton), straining to absorb the priest’s words through her grief after her father’s passing and through the tense, judgmental looks from her family. Only once communion is given does the tension explode, and what were only looks exchanged between the pews become venom spat at Lily from her own mother and sister. She broke her father’s heart, she is a sinner, how can she live with herself? This tirade would be enough to drive anyone away in their weakest moment, and paints a picture in muted shades and bright lights of where the religious overtones and family discord might carry our protagonist.

We jump six months into the future where Lily has found success as an author and is also somewhat of a feminine icon, it seems, from the reaction of her fans at a book signing. She is far from home and even though her sister Kayleigh (Rosanne Priest) does her best to convince Lily to return home for some form of reconciliation, it seems Lily is still too wounded by the funeral encounter and abruptly ends the call. She is instead off to meet Zara (Bryony Harvey) whom she has met through her blog, and who also seems to be haunted by some family trouble. They intend to travel together, both seemingly bonded by a love for art, feminism, and wanderlust, and Zara is thrilled to supposedly be included in Lily’s new book. As they traverse Camden, Zara sees a flier for a barge ride to Birmingham and the two are taken by the benefits of the peace, quiet and isolation on the water. Zara books it immediately and they begin their day long trip to the canal through trains and long walks through bleak uninhabited fields and railroads.

They finally arrive at the vessel the Lady-Jane and meet their oddball captain Willard (Sean Botha), who carries with him a love of superstition and a seemingly sad backstory, told mostly through flashbacks. A word on these, as they do expand the story: you’ll need to pay careful attention when our director cuts these flashbacks and voiceovers into the film, as there is almost no warning when the story begins to cut to the past and sometimes it can leave you with more questions than answers. Continuing with our story, Willard welcomes our ladies aboard with more religious iconography; there’s a weirdness about him, to be outright, forming an unwanted addition to the trip for both passengers, but they’re willing to overlook it for the free ride.

As the ride progresses, the eeriness of the canals begin to make themselves apparent in shifting shadows and sounds carried on the water; a short stop to let the girls get a drink becomes deadly. This leads them to a late night drink with their captain, and the tragic tale of RÀN.

As for the film’s spectre, RÀN, her backstory and her appearance make her troubling, but not overly frightening. She works in the background and haunts the three travellers on her own schedule, as a good phantom should. The trauma and emotional burden of the passengers, tormented in various ways by their memories and by the symbol of RÀN’s arrival, make for a worthy ghost story. The director drew connections to The Woman in Black, which I can clearly see as this figure moves in the shadows, or a feminine face is only seen briefly and harshly close up. The atmosphere doesn’t call for constant jump scares or a special-effects generated boogeyman, and this spirit’s appearance and her tortured story, along with the loss these three travellers share, is enough to generate tension. Human or supernatural, the damage done by RÀN will remain in question, and her appearance and her story of violation reminds me in some ways of the legend of La Llorona, but that’s my Latin heritage kicking in.

The Haunting of the Lady-Jane is a sizzling cinder with mostly strong performances for its first two acts, providing a couple of disquieting moments and forcing the viewer to ask questions about what is haunting the water. As I try to leave you with virtually no spoilers, don’t let the leisurely pace of the film deny you; you will need to reach the end of The Haunting of the Lady-Jane to get your answers and an interesting payoff. It is an unsettling folk view that hides its monster literally and figuratively very well, never giving too much away up front, but unfortunately also not providing many answers. This is undoubtedly a well-told tale that would have only benefited from a little more transparency. However, by my measure, this is a ghostly chiller that delivers unease throughout with a little twist, solid acting, and interesting color and camera work leaving a lasting visual impression as our travels through this film end.

The Haunting of the Lady-Jane is currently on its festival run and will be available to wider audiences in 2024. You can find out more about the film here.

Knock at the Cabin (2023)

Posted on by Admin

By contributor Gabby Foor

Do you even bother to answer the door anymore? The same way we can screen calls, a knock on the door is an antiquated thing. Many of us would pretend we aren’t home to avoid the awkward interaction with a political flier or a Jehovah’s witness, but what if no isn’t an option?

Director M. Night Shyamalan is no stranger in attempting to end the world, but usually the attempt is more disastrous than an actual apocalypse. Anyone that can recall The Happening and After Earth could recollect the ineffective and underwhelming attempts to jolt the viewer with the larger-than-life existential concept of our inevitable permanent termination. Both movies were poorly executed and ultimately forgettable. Knock at the Cabin takes away the upfront disaster elements that generally pervade our director’s work with heavy action or overdone visuals, and replaces them with a human element of danger, spiritual undertones, wavering trust, and an impossible choice for a loving family.

With beautiful, crisp camera work, we take in a cabin and its serene natural surroundings. Innocently planted at its center is a child, Wen (Kristen Cui), collecting grasshoppers. It doesn’t take long before she is interrupted by what we are constantly warned as a child to avoid: a stranger. Clad in a crisp white shirt and moving gingerly through the trees, Leonard (Dave Bautista) approaches the girl with the promise that he only wants to be friends. But when a game of trust makes Wen uncomfortable and three other strangers are seen lurking just beyond the tree line, Leonard makes his first play at telling Wen that she will have to let him and his associates in to the cabin to speak to her family, or they will find their way in any other way they must.

Off the bat this is a pretty unconvincing way to find your way in anywhere, by scaring a family’s child. But Wen, returns to her two fathers Eric (Johnathan Groff) and Andrew (Ben Aldridge), who are taken aback when Leonard makes it known they don’t wish the family harm, but that he does not wish to converse through a closed door. The family scrambles to barricade as Leonard and his three associates (Rupert Grint, Abby Quinn, and Nikki Amuka-Bird) work their way in with handmade “tools” that look a lot more like weapons. Once the house is breached, the four settle in, binding the family to chairs, to finally say their piece: they have seen visions of the apocalypse, this cabin, these woods. One person in this family must die; the family must choose their sacrifice and follow through; suicide is not an option and there is no turning back. This choice must be made to save all other life on the planet.

While grappling with the idea of this choice and the possibility that they are being targeted as a same sex couple by a group with an agenda, Eric turns inwards emotionally while Andrew lets the lawyer in him go on the offensive, railing against the reasoning of their captors. They refuse their offer, saying they would wander a barren earth instead of making a sacrifice. The way the story flashes back in time over the course of the movie shows each choice and each sacrifice these two men have had to make to be together and have a family, making everything they have even more precious, so no one can blame them when they refuse. But once they have rejected the choice, a shocking act of violence unfolds in the cabin, and deadly tsunamis and earth quakes rip across the country.

The problem with this group of believers is they knowingly, and for no good reason, sow doubt in their captives and the audience. Is this a religious faction? Is this family being targeted over incidents from the past? Is this manipulated media? But the story never lets itself go too far towards truth or fiction in order to establish the family in the cabin, or its audience, firmly in either scepticism or believing in its invaders’ decrees. I enjoyed the idea of the “unseen” elements of what is going on – not only in the world outside but in the moments of brutality within the cabin that show themselves in horror and nausea on the witnesses’ face and don’t need to be played out for excess drama. This is a human story after all, and the director never robs us of that with gratuitous violence.

The performance that steals the show, in my opinion, is that of Dave Bautista. Leonard is a second-grade teacher from Chicago with gentle mannerisms, an awkward way about him but a genuine benevolence that can’t be dismissed as dishonest. Bautista’s empathy and devotion to the character’s broken-hearted mission and conflicted remembrance of his simple life, filled with basketball games and the laughs of children, is enough to sway the audience to his side more than once. Among the four home invaders, Bautista stands among them as a timid but stoic presence, pressing a questionable undertaking of violence that could never seem to suit his forgiving, modest presence.

As we walk away from another M. Night original, I’ll say I’m not disappointed. I haven’t been able to guess the ending to a decent twist to one of his films since The Visit, and he hasn’t been able to get as close to successfully ending the world as now. There are plenty of things wrong in this beautifully-shot love story to family and the overarching fear of losing what is ours, including plot holes, narrative inconsistency and some scenes that won’t pack a punch for those viewers hoping that the R rating might bring more blood-spilling chills. However, I think Knock at the Cabin is a perfectly watchable entry in Shyamalan’s filmography and I’d like to see if you can get what he’s playing at, too.

Knock at the Cabin (2023) is available from Amazon Prime and other outlets now.

Attachment (2022)

Posted on by Admin

By contributor Gabby Foor

‘Attachment’ is such an ambiguous word in this title’s sense, used so intentionally to describe a mother, a daughter, a lover, or something more. While this film brings much to love and much to fear, uneven characters and a slow pace might overwhelm any story of romance or unique stories rooted in Jewish mysticism that we might not normally get to enjoy.

Danish based former actress Maja (Josephine Park) and Londoner Leah (Elle Kendrick) have the quintessential rom-com meetup in a bookstore where Maja is to perform a children’s reading. When the two realize they have swapped books by accident, it opens the road for afternoon tea, as orchestrated by a captivated Maja. Tea transitions to wine as tensions deescalate and the two begin to fall for each other in a classic, dreamy montage. Developing inside jokes, singing in Danish, cuddling and karaoke are for these two early love at its finest. There are signs in this paradise, though, of impending disaster: minor sleep walking, memory lapses, an amulet to protect against disease, and a mother that won’t stop calling; these trigger a seizure so powerful in Leah that she breaks her leg.

With little to no discussion with anyone, Maja and Leah head to back to London, so she can recover in her flat (in the same building she shares with her mother). Leah’s mother, Chana (Sofie Gråbøl) is a stern and unapproachable woman, Danish by birth, religious by marriage and fiercely protective of Leah and her care. Her attitude towards Maja is dismissive and Chana feels Maja doesn’t have much right to be there, making little issue of telling her she finds her a nuisance. She is, by design, a hard character to like, but part of me hurts for her throughout the entire film, with her tragic back story of never quite having a place to fit in. Maja finds that Chana’s odd behavior lines up with her house, where Maja finds Jewish symbols and totems hidden in various places. She takes it upon herself one day to find a bookshop to get somewhat more educated, where she’s helped by a man named Lev—Leah’s uncle, no less.

Lev immediately notices an amulet given to Maja by Chana, stating that an amethyst (a protective and divine stone for all you rock lovers) keeps “demons and the like” away. He takes her under his wing and begins teaching her about the Shemot and some aspects of Jewish mysticism. While her education with Lev continues on the side, she manages to open up with Chana to a certain degree, seeing her place in the community, going on not-so-average errands with her and discussing, in their native tongue, some aspects of their past. Overall, this seems to be a step forward, but once Chana realizes anyone is getting involved with her culture or her daughter, she turns away again.

These conflicts open up the plot for Maja and Leah to flee, and for the actual evil in question that’s at work to stir. Up until now there are few frightening effects in Attachment: some spooky sounds, some candles that light up on their own, and the general discomfort that the movie generates, but its pace can’t hold up. The movie drags along through to the third act with sabotaging exploits from characters I couldn’t get my head around and confusing changes of heart. Attachment tries to bring in many interesting pieces of Jewish lore and to root itself firmly in Jewish culture as it tells its story, but I felt bombarded with facts and metaphors, rather than a story, like the conveniently placed Witch of Endor in Maja’s teachings, meant to align with Chana, I’m sure.

The final act finally gives explanation of what is happening to Leah, but viewers only get a snapshot of it. This whole movie felt like a horror movie for Chana, when you consider what she loses throughout the film. I was disappointed with the reveals at the end meant to finally inspire fear of this true “attachment” and the unsurprising turn of events that lead to the conclusion, including somewhat infuriating revelations from Maja regarding whether or not Chana was well-meaning. This movie presents itself as though it could be a respite for women, where the characters could be understanding or forgiving, but none of them seem malleable; it is frustrating to the end.

With interesting offerings like The Vigil which provides its own story of guilt and attachment, and The Offering providing more distinct glimpses into Jewish culture and some traditional entities, Attachment leaves culture and horror muddled in exchange for a slow love story marred by metaphors for abandonment, regret and betrayal. This doesn’t translate to fright, only sadness.

Attachment (2022) is available to watch now on Shudder, Prime, and other streaming platforms.

Don’t Open That Door! Gabby’s Favourite Horror Video Games

Posted on by Admin
Soma

By guest contributor Gabby Foor

Horror games provide a unique experience compared to film because they are directly engaging. The sound is in your headset, you control the character and make the life or death choices; it’s you who are directly experiencing jump scares and conducting bloody battles. You get to be a part of the story, influence the outcome, as well as experience the adrenaline rush first-hand. This makes it all the more special when a game is committed to film or television, and you can relive those jump scare moments or tracking shots where you can recall running for your life where you just…barely…made it. This makes gaming the immersive experience people both want and watch now.

With the rise of The Last of Us, the continuous remakes of Resident Evil, the remakes of games coming to screens this year and the general influence of games on media such as The Witcher, Silent Hill, and a begrudging Willy’s Wonderland, I thought it timely to go over some horror games that have broken ground over the years. Agree or disagree, here are some of the most popular and influential horror games, loosely ranked, that I’ve played over the last twenty years.

Hunter: The Reckoning (2002)


A top down hack and slash game, White Wolf Publishing’s Hunter: The Reckoning was a horror experience ahead of its time. Driven by a grinding heavy metal soundtrack and even featuring its own music video, Hunter starred four super charged human characters – Avenger, Defender, Judge and Martyr- as they battle their way into a haunted prison to stop their city from being damned to eternity. Don’t be fooled by the machine guns and arterial sprays, the storyline is as meaty as its monsters. Beneath the town of Ashcroft lies heartbreak, loss, an unwilling serial killer, a vengeful spirit leading the hunters through an infested city, and a vampiric warden ready to sacrifice every soul in town to get his family back.

Resident Evil 2 (1998 & 2019)


Resident Evil is a staple in the horror survival and zombie apocalypse genre and Capcom’s release of Resident Evil 2, the dead to rights remake of the 1998 classic, showed the same commitment that made the game a standard. We return to Raccoon City and follow protagonists Leon and Claire as they try to battle their way out of an overrun town. Ignore the attempts at taking this to film for now as the Resident Evil entries cannot seem to find their footing on the big screen, not even the more recent and faithful Welcome to Racoon City. The graphics, characters, cut scenes and gameplay are faithful to the original and earned Resident Evil 2 Ultimate Game of the Year at 2019’s Golden Joystick Awards. It outsold its predecessor, right down to the zombies so squishy that they will run you out of ammo, and is a remake that is worth playing.

Resident Evil 2

The Suffering (2004)


The Suffering is a first-and-third person horror shooter game developed by Surreal Software and based in psychological horror, morality and brutality. You are Torque, unsure of your guilt or innocence regarding the triple homicide of your wife and two sons. After an earthquake, you are tasked with escaping an island infested with monsters, represented with each incarnation of a form of execution (hanging, lethal injection, firing squad, etc.) Only through your choices in escaping the island and facing down your own demons can you determine if you really are an innocent man, or if the demons are coming for the right inmate.

Five Nights at Freddy’s (2014)


Five Nights at Freddy’s is a deeply twisted story created by Scott Cawthon with mountains of lore, multiple instalments and a devoted fan base. I have played the first three and it is a game based on knowing how to react to any given animatronic serial killer that comes your way. You see, Freddy’s is filled with animatronics that come to life at night, fuelled by the spirits of dead children killed in the restaurant. Your job is to use security cameras, doors, lights and a limited power supply to defend yourself. Sounds simple, right? After so many jump scares, your nerves are fried. Freddy’s has many games and (though it is denied) is rumored to have inspired the film Willy’s Wonderland, starring Nicholas Cage in a hilarious non-speaking role in a pizza parlor with a troubled past. The games and graphics are fairly simple with relatively minor changes made throughout the franchise, that keep it busting through your screen for more.

Five Nights at Freddy’s

Silent Hill (1999)


Often referenced as one of the greatest games of all time, Konami’s Silent Hill is the first installment of the iconic series released to Playstation. Using fog, intense darkness and disorienting graphics, we are not the horror superhero; instead we are described as an “everyman,” in this case Harry Mason, searching for his missing daughter in the fictional town of Silent Hill and discovering the menacing cult lurking in its haze. The game urges you towards unseen deities and your daughter’s true origin and is loosely based on the real town of Centralia, Pennsylvania. Five endings are possible and the game’s graphics and mechanics make it a standout from other horror survival games which focus on fighting. Silent Hill did make it to the big screen in a film starring Radha Mitchell, Laurie Holden and Sean Bean, but failed to dazzle critics and audiences with its lack of commitment to the original game and what some could say was a flailing plot. Overall, the game solidifies itself more historically than the film franchise.

Dead by Daylight (2016)


Making death a team sport, Dead by Daylight, released by Behavior Interactive, teams you up with friends to outwit different breeds of killer that hunt you through fields as you try to rev generators, acquire totems and generally try not to get hooked like a side of beef onto a tree. Killers are given special abilities depending on your choice and those hunted are tasked to outwit their pursuer to survive the night. While certainly a popular game, I wouldn’t call DBD the most unique or interesting of the horror games out there. It is however great for parties, or for the lone wolves out there that enjoy being the killer…

Dead by Daylight

Outlast (2013)


As far as survival horror goes, Outlast is iconic but simple. Released by Red Barrels, the game revolves around a journalist who has decided to investigate an isolated asylum deep in Colorado. While it received generally positive reviews and has a sequel and a new entry set to release this year, Outlast revolved around one concept: run. The survival mechanics are set for you to hide, crawl, climb, mantle, whatever it takes to avoid the dangers lurking around you. It makes for a tense play, but after every death (you can’t fight back) you are reset to your checkpoint. Frustration and fear.

Soma (2015)


A first-person survival horror game from Frictional Games, Soma takes on horror and many other themes with this science fiction entry that tackles mechanics, consciousness, and our future. Taking place on an underwater research facility which houses machines that have human characteristics, our protagonist awakens here and must make sense of his place, his future, and the monsters lurking on board. With two difficulty levels allowing you to explore the mountain of clues Soma leaves for you, one where monsters are merely scary and one where you can be killed, Soma allows for exploration. While it may be too slow for some, criticized as a “walking simulator” by critics, Soma opens the door to questions about machines, their capabilities and what might happen to our consciousness after we pass.

Phasmophobia (2020)


Phasmophobia, a more recent entry, is highly interactive and allows for first person play on PC or VR. You, and possibly a group of friends can play as a group of ghost hunters investigating various locations and types of spirits. At twelve different locations, you are tasked to use different equipment, and potentially get photo evidence, of Phasmophobia’s twenty-four different spirits that all draw on different types of lore. Custom difficulty was recently added to the game, making the jump scares and team work even more demanding as you try to survive the night (and get paid). This highly rated and highly interactive game was made popular mostly through streaming and, if you have the gear, is an excellent way to get spooky with your friends.

Layers of Fear (2016)


Layers of Fear, released by the Bloober Team, is a psychological horror game following a disturbed painter attempting to piece together his magnum opus and his memory. Presented in first person, you limp around a Victorian mansion, undergoing trippy hallucinations, reminders of your pasts and some terrifying experiences. While Layers of Fear left plot holes, meant to be filled by a sequel and promised to be smoothed over by what is neither the remake nor reboot Layers of Fear game set to release this summer, it stands as a disgusting and beautiful work of art alone. The game’s puzzle- and story-driven aspects that don’t rely heavily on survival make it a story-based entry I’m fond of, one where the scares aren’t delivered by stalking killers. While it may be uneven, the mystery and thrills compel the player to continue the traumatic journey for answers.

Layers of Fear

The Last of Us (2013)


By now The Last of Us has become a sensation following its HBO adaptation starring Pedro Pascal, but nearly ten years ago, this game slammed into Playstation, developed by Sony and Naughty Dog to turn the zombie genre on its head. There have been many causes of zombie outbreaks in film and TV through the years, with The Last of Us, here we are, with a more sinister and viable form of transmission: fungus. The Last of Us joins Joel, a grizzled survivor and smuggler tasked with something that usually doesn’t cross his cargo: a teenager. The game takes sprawling landscapes, gorgeous graphics and disfigured frights and stretches it across a story of loss, survival, and hope. The story of The Last of Us is so powerful that its accuracy from game to television was hailed across the board, showing that games can carry just as powerful a message as other forms of media, if you care to listen.

Little Nightmares (2017)


Little Nightmares is one of those rare games that takes you back to your childhood where things big, strange, and unknown are always scary looking. Released by Tarsier Studios, we follow a little girl, Six, who attempts to escape The Maw, a ship infested by deformed, monstrous, hungry beings. Little Nightmares explores a 2.5D world, allows no combat, but is driven by puzzles and stealth as you try to outwit and create ways around your pursuers to navigate the devilish Maw. While Little Nightmare’s story may leave you wondering, its whimsical approach to the disgusting and fearful leaves you running full speed.

Dead Space (2008)


Dead Space, developed by Visceral Games and owned by EA, is a science fiction horror franchise. Anyone that enjoyed Event Horizon (1997) can find traces of its eerie atmosphere in this game. In the original 2008 release, you are engineer Isaac Clarke, on a rescue team for another vessel, the Ishimura, which has gone radio silent. When their ship suffers damage and is forced to dock onto the damaged and seemingly abandoned Ishimura, the trouble begins. Our explorations are met with claustrophobia, betrayal, improvised weapons and monsters called the Necromorph that will stalk you through this game. With countless references to the psychologically manipulative films that inspired it, like Alien and Event Horizon, Dead Space firmly places the player in a nightmare where they must use their smarts to navigate the decaying ship to find any hopes of returning home. Dead Space returns to players’ screens this year with a remake, proving that this franchise has holding power which solidifies it with the greats as one of the scariest and most engaging games to date.

Fresh (2022)

Posted on by Admin

By guest contributor Gabby Foor

Online dating is a minefield, synonymous with unseen dangers. To avoid disaster, calculated chances are made to meet our mates: manicured profiles; quippy one liners designed to test the waters. Users are all on display to be judged, selected, and sampled.

This is how we find quiet cool girl Noa, adeptly played by Daisy Edgar Jones, in a sea of left swipes and hollow messages from online dating profiles. Despite this, she presses on in hopes of finding a connection. Fresh opens on the quintessential bad date: a little gross, a little sexist, with a little casual racism thrown at the server. This is what Noa deals with from a gentleman who apparently thinks he is knocking it out of the park. His idea of being complimentary takes root in “their parent’s generation” when he believes women tried harder; he also adds that Noa would just look better in a dress! By the time he’s swiped her leftovers and graciously let her take a little off her side of the bill, it’s clear this man has struck out.

Even though she gracefully rejects her greasy date when sparks fail to fly, he launches into the tirade everyone is afraid of but expects from the “nice guy.” Leaving her visibly shaken, she insults herself for even reacting with fear, thinking a man was (though to his credit, he wasn’t) following her. This contradictory feeling where you owe your best version of yourself to anyone you meet, while also never feeling entitled to boundaries, is exhausting to watch.

The grocery store scene is painfully unromantic but an “organic meeting” there is too perfect a pun to pass up. Sebastian Stan is charming and funny as Steve, the cotton candy grape toting suitor interested in getting Noa’s number. It’s also her first natural interaction in some time. His sleek attitude, carefree sense of humor and undeniable smarts (he’s a surgeon, no less), make him echelons above the men Noa has been wasting time on. While she is sold, her best friend Mollie (a gregarious Jojo T. Gibbs) who has been cynical about all men from the beginning it seems, still has her doubts when a weekend getaway is brought into play after a couple of successful dates.

Fresh is impossible not to spoil a bit in its second act after Steve stops off for the night in his remote home before he and Noa have reached their final destination, and, after drugging Noa’s drink, reveals his intentions. Steve’s charisma and role as caretaker never falters even as he victimizes, carrying well into what appears to be legitimately tender moments with Noa later in the film. Steve wants more than just a unique date with beautiful, thoughtfully chosen women; he wants an experience to match his tastes. However, Noa interests him more than your average girl. She’s the quiet, shy, curious, different girl he’s been hoping for. With a little bit of knowledge, Noa can take the cool girl inside and let her out, to mingle with Steve’s bizarre chemistry.

Fresh swivels between the disturbing and the absurd. Following sterile looking tracking shots as we navigate the hallways of Steve’s maze-like home, showing how he views women as a product, we get softer, dimly lit shots across a dinner table, with stolen smiles making you forget the horror that led you there. It’s performances like Steve dancing, hammering away in the kitchen to the beat of Animotion’s Obsession, trying on sunglasses, bras, and generally seeming thrilled with himself that take you away. It’s the film’s use of songs like this, along with very awkward, very human feeling dinner encounters where Daisy Edgar Jones shines, that keep Fresh, and its title villain, from getting too dark. Its grotesque subject matter contrasts with moments that reminded me of Ex Machina’s surprise dance scene, or bursts of nostalgic music to take away from the horror – reminiscent of The Purge: Election Year’s opening scene, meant to disarm you immediately with Parliament’s Give up the Funk. This shows that Fresh knows when to take its foot off the gas and when to stop telling a woman to smile.

While this film is half feminist beat down on a man that says women are the market for this violence and half a comedic exercise in how light-hearted you can make your meals, Fresh does leave some things to be desired. The fact that Noa lands Mollie into dangerous territory from her wanderlust is frustrating, but what bothered me most was the stone-faced character Ann (Charlotte Le Bon). I won’t completely spoil her, but she is morally ambiguous at best and an enabler or “part of the fucking problem” at her worst. I’m sure this flick would run well over two hours if we dove deeper into these issues, but Fresh is a sharply eccentric, sometimes comedic entry into a dark sub-genre. It has enough style and twists to keep the viewer going and enough laughs to keep things from getting too bleak, a nice balance for a film about women literally surviving the dating market.