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Review by Keri O’Shea

When a legendary genre film star passes away, fans often take that as an opportunity to revisit their most compelling work. It’s a mark of respect. It reminds us of how we came to know that name in the first place. Well, as much as this is often true, in my case, this was my first-ever viewing of The House on the Edge of the Park: not only had I waited a long time to see this movie, but I was coming to it under poignant circumstances which I know you’ll all understand. With the inimitable Mr. Hess introducing the film and featuring heavily in this DVD release’s extras, it was hard not to see this as a swansong release of sorts – but, what a swansong. David Hess, you excelled at your job. You will be missed.

Hess excelled at what he did because he embodied menace so well. This is exactly what Annie summed up in her eulogy to Hess: the discrepancy between the nice guy she knew and that terrifying presence on-screen is quite something. In keeping with this, The House on the Edge of the Park is not a friendly work. It starts nasty, and it stays nasty, albeit without being a straightforward story of bad guys wreaking havoc. The film works so well due to its ambiguities. Immoral car mechanic Alex (Hess) knows how to have a good time, and he will have himself a good time utterly at the expense of his fellow man (or more likely, woman), treating them as collateral – whilst his best friend, the mentally-challenged Ricky (Giovanni Lombardo Radice) is always there for him, although he lacks the wicked sense of purpose of the more dominant of the two. When they get held up on their way to a night out by a late-night repair job, for a couple of moneyed people on their way to a house party on the right side of the tracks, they decide to go along. The rich pair are happy enough with this, and why? It’s because Alex is charming, charismatic, plausible – like a lot of the best crazies – whilst his friend Ricky is obviously harmless. But, wait – is there more to it than that? The idle rich they meet seem to treat them like a novelty act, encouraging Ricky to strip for their amusement, and teasing them both with the promise of sex. Who is exploiting who here? When a thwarted Alex suspects that their hosts are cheating Ricky at poker, tensions soon escalate. It’s time to shift the power balance, and Alex sees to that in a series of ways more psychologically gruelling than grisly – not that they’re any the weaker for that. Far from it.

Let’s make one thing very clear: this entire movie is underpinned by sex – typically sleazy, forced, thwarted, or dysfunctional in some way. Rape, a standard exploitation motif which is used so much less frequently these days, is a common occurrence throughout, and the juxtaposition of sex with fear and violence originally sent the BBFC (British Board of Film Classification) into banning meltdown because the organisation felt that blurring sex and violence on-screen could blur them off-screen. Ack. It’s a question dealt with in detail in the extras on this release (see below) but, suffice to say, consensual sex is rare in The House on the Edge of the Park, and perhaps questionably so even then. Nudity is full and frequent accordingly, although for all the hot air about conflating sex with violence, bloody violence is actually rather low in the mix. This film works far more by intimidation. That’s where Hess comes in. Even without the revelatory first scenes which establish Hess as a Bad Man, I think I would have felt the same unease I did throughout the movie. I felt lots of things throughout, but anxiety was one of the strongest emotions, and I was definitely always waiting for something terrible to happen, regardless of how benign things appeared to be (at least on the surface). Hess exudes the sort of gravity from which you cannot avert your gaze.

One of the other things I felt – and something I initially felt uncomfortable with, in light of what actually happens in the film – was sympathy for the devil. It was difficult not to empathise with Alex, just as it was difficult not to empathise with another Alex from a certain movie called A Clockwork Orange. Neither of these are straightforward boogeymen. Hess’s character is brutal, but there’s a sort of joy to him, too. Thanks to the ambiguous behaviour of the party hosts, it’s impossible not to see that some of his behaviour is provoked (if not therefore justified). Ricky, also, can be cruel, but I was never unequivocally sure how much of that he was responsible for – either because of his obvious mental difficulties, or his relationship to Alex. In fact, if any character is truly brutalised here then to my mind it’s Ricky: certain scenes involving a certain young woman called Cindy might indeed be cruel, but Ricky is mistreated throughout and by everyone. The rich householders regard both guests as lesser beings, though, and the class elements of this film are hard to miss. Alex is switched on enough to see what’s going on in that respect, and happy to deliver some not-so subtle reminders to the “rich assholes” that he and Ricky now call the shots. Or do they? Can they? There’s that ambiguity again, as well as another reason you might empathise with the ‘villains’ of the piece.

Strong performances from all the cast, Deodato’s skilled filming and the mother of all incongruous soundtracks ( you will be singing ‘Sweetly, O Sweetly’ afterwards) help to make The House on the Edge of the Park what it is: pure exploitation gold, unafraid to plumb the depths of the human condition and layer outrage upon outrage for its viewers. It’s taken me this long to see it; I will definitely be watching this again.

This Shameless DVD is of very high quality, with bright colours, sharp definition and good audio, plus a host of extras. One of these is a twenty-minute interview segment featuring Hess and Deodato discussing the film, with some interesting thoughts about theme, morality, and the difference between filming in Europe and the US. (This is no puff piece, either, and both men talk openly about the personal differences they’d had during filming). Then there’s an extensive extra – not originally intended for release – featuring the patron saint of the British anti-censorship movement, Professor Martin Barker, speaking at the CineExcess festival about the types of data and analysis used to justify extensive cuts and bans. There’s then a right to reply for the BBFC; it’s a fairly academic extra, but interesting and relevant, especially now that the BBFC seem to be gearing up for another fight with horror audiences. In a separate segment, David Hess discusses the cuts made to The House on the Edge of the Park, before we’re shown a list of those cuts. The film’s theatrical trailer is also present on the disc. All in all this is an exhaustive, well put together release.

Shameless release The House on the Edge of the Park to DVD from 31st October.  

Review by Stephanie Scaife – moderate spoilers ahead.

Sam Peckinpah’s most controversial film Straw Dogs finally makes its way on to Blu-Ray this week, just in time for its 40th anniversary and to coincide with the release of the remake (out in the UK on 4th November, and reviewed here). It was made during a difficult period in Peckinpah’s life when he’d been blacklisted by Hollywood, after the catastrophic production of The Ballad of Cable Hogue, and his drinking problem had started to take hold. Upon its release Straw Dogs was universally well received by critics but due to the violent content it somewhat predictably came into trouble with the censors, particularly here in the UK where it wasn’t available uncut until as recently as 2002.

Dustin Hoffman stars as David Sumner, an American academic and mathematician who moves with his beautiful young wife Amy (Susan George) to live on her family farm in her hometown of Wakely, a fictional West Country village. Almost immediately they run into conflict with the locals, Amy with Charlie (Del henney) the childhood sweetheart she’d left behind to attend university in America, and David doesn’t do himself any favours by walking into a pub and ordering “any kind of American cigarettes” whilst obliviously getting in-between a darts player and his board, living up to the stereotype of an arrogant American with a superiority complex. Not that the unwelcoming, borderline inbred and often hostile Cornish locals don’t equally live up to their own stereotypes.

David is a small, mild mannered man who goes completely out of his way to avoid any sort of physical or verbal conflict, making him the ideal target for the tough local group of handymen and layabouts that he hires to help fix up his garage, including Charlie who still clearly has an eye for the unruly Amy. Clearly frustrated Amy acts up and often behaves in a childish fashion; chewing gum loudly, messing with David’s mathematical formulae on his blackboard and just generally behaving in a belligerent manner. This of course is due to their marriage being on the rocks and David’s insistence on old fashioned ideals whereby he works and she takes care of the home. Amy however has other ideas; she resolutely refuses to wear a bra, believes she can control any situation and fawns over her cat (that David clearly hates).

Despite their problems David and Amy do have an obvious amount of affection and a great deal of love for one another, despite the unlikely pairing and age gap. Then just when things start to look like they may settle down for the couple, Amy’s cat turns up dead and David is goaded into an emasculating hunting trip that is merely a distraction to lure him away from the farm whilst Norman (Ken Hutchinson) and Charlie return to rape Amy. This pivotal scene is of course central to the majority of the controversy surrounding the film, primarily due to moral grey area that hangs over the scene. Initially Charlie appears and forces himself on to Amy; she protests at first but is seemingly coerced by Charlie into giving herself over to him and even perhaps enjoying the encounter. However, seconds after his apology Charlie betrays Amy again by holding her down whilst Norman assaults her. This second rape has none of the grey area of the first; it is brutal, violent and unquestionably committed against Amy’s will.

David never finds out about the rape, but Amy’s flashbacks during a local community event where she is confronted by her attackers is brilliantly portrayed via the use of editing during the scene, ending with her and David leaving the event early. At the same time the village idiot Niles (David Warner) is seduced by a local girl whom he accidentally strangles in a scene that is evocative of Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. Unaware of what Niles has done, David takes him into their farmhouse and protects him from the locals who are out for blood and revenge, culminating in a violent siege where David finally grows a pair and decides to defend himself and his property.

Straw Dogs has aged well and it definitely stands up to repeat viewings. However, I’ve never particularly understood its status as a classic or why it has been so lauded with praise and hailed as groundbreaking. I think it’s a perfectly acceptable psychological thriller that is often implausible but still effectively tense and occasionally thought provoking. Susan George and Dustin Hoffman along with the rest of the cast give strong performances, despite the fact that they are playing stereotypes and their motives aren’t always entirely clear. It is claimed by some, including Peckinpah’s biographer Garner Simmons, to be an anti-violence film, and that by having irrational and extreme violence erupting almost inexplicably on screen it is making a statement about the state of the world at large. I however don’t particularly buy into this; instead I view Peckinpah as more of a provocateur, merely attempting to push buttons by committing to screen acts of rape and violence hitherto unseen at the time of the film’s release in a bid to create a reaction and stir up emotions in the audience, which he ultimately succeeded in doing.

The Blu-Ray itself looks good with a 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer; there is even a before and after special feature that highlights the improvements made by the digital remastering of the film. The audio quality is also excellent, creating a great balance between the sound effects, dialogue and music. The disc comes packed with special features, although most of them are already on the DVD release from 2002, including a few informative if not slightly self-congratulatory interviews with Susan George, Dan Melnick and Garner Simmons, as well an amusing 1971 on location documentary and the usual host of commentaries, trailers and TV spots. Overall though it’s a strong package and definitely worth picking up if you are a fan of the film.

Straw Dogs: The Ultimate 40th Anniversary Blu-Ray is released on 24 October in the UK, from Freemantle Enterprises.

 Review by Keri O’Shea.

The internet may be a boon for film fans in many ways, but it can also be a curse; try avoiding the reviews and opinions of your peers when you’re desperately trying not to form a verdict on a film you’ve yet to see and you’ll understand what I mean. The Woman (2011) was just such a movie: it was, for many folk (including Ben!), the best thing at this year’s FrightFest and they wanted to share their thoughts accordingly, on Twitter and elsewhere. So, I did go into my first viewing of this much talked-about movie with some idea of what was to follow – including the various debates about misogyny, or otherwise, being present in the film – but I was keen to see what had garnered such praise from nearly everyone I knew.

Well, The Woman is slick, well-packaged and well-shot. It boasts some decent performances, and good locations. There is a lot to like here. I can see that.

However, that’s where I part ways with the general consensus; I have no wish to be a contrarian, but allow me to throw my hat in the ring here: I found The Woman vulgar, bordering on stupid, with heavy-handed dialogue and sloppy symbolism throughout. As for the cries of ‘misogyny!’, that heavy-handed dialogue gives us an answer on that score. The fact that it’s used to pepper the movie with sexist platitudes actually demonstrates that this isn’t a misogynistic movie; what we have here is a screenplay designed to press buttons, designed to irritate, rather than any organic sense of a prevailing attitude, sexist or otherwise. Misogynistic? No. Offensive? Yes – it’s offensive to me when a film strives so cynically to be offensive. It smacks of a film made to be discussed first and enjoyed second.

Is it just me? Are other horror fans getting tired of being manipulated like this?

You probably all have an approximate idea of the plot by now, but just to outline it: family-man-with-a-dark-side Chris Cleek (Sean Bridgers) is out hunting one day when he spies a strange, feral-looking woman bathing in a creek. He decides to make it his project to take her home, clean her up and ‘civilise’ her, with the help of his unwitting wife Belle, his daughters and his son. This civilising influence consists of chaining her up in a fruit cellar and mistreating her – not that she can’t give as good as she gets, mind, hence this is one warped family unit which is about to implode.

There are some interesting interplays between the characters here, to be fair. Whilst Chris is too much of an all-boxes-ticked villain to really take seriously, Angela Bettis comes across as authentically fraught and repressed – developing upon that sort of nervy energy she brought to the screen in the hugely-superior May (2002). Adolescent son Brian – played by first-time movie actor Zach Rand – is far more intriguing than his pa, too, and watching him move from passive-aggressive to plain old aggressive is a highlight. As for ‘the woman’ herself, I was at least grateful that they made no attempts whatsoever to prettify her; she looks, and sounds, alarming. That said, what is she? Is she human? Even allowing for the fact that females in films can so often surpass the realms of possibility when it comes to physical strength, the woman here can do things which should be straight-up impossible. If there wasn’t that confusion, then throw in the ramifications of a certain, very short flashback (I assume) sequence towards the end of the film: you can see what I mean at 1 hour and 26 minutes in, just in case you missed it. Are you confused yet? I was. It felt tacked-on to add depth, but in so doing this disrupted the plot significantly in a film which already had issues, if you think about it at all beyond how ‘uncompromising’ it is. Brutality is presented in lieu of cogency. You can’t just lob in a handful of curveballs at the end of a film and leave it at that.

As for attitudes to women in the film, sure, all the women are victims or monsters, but that was evidently McKee’s intention. He knew he’d get noticed for this and crowbarred in as much inappropriateness as possible, whether it added anything to the plot or not (including the ridiculous inclusion of the Hot Female Teacher who simply works her way through a catalogue of professional errors before ending up as chow). McKee doesn’t really give us any positive characters at all, though, and certainly no positive male characters; this is a knowing walk through provocation, all overlaid with a bizarre, jarring lyrics-irrelevant-to-plot soundtrack.

What we have in The Woman, put simply, is a high-gloss exploitation flick which believes it’s art and has been sold to fans along these lines. Many fans have swallowed this whole. It certainly isn’t the first time in recent years. Martyrs (2008) springs to mind, and there’s even some similarity in theme when you consider we have another round of female imprisonment and torture to ‘better’ a woman here. Well, many fans evidently enjoyed this polished piece of shock cinema, but I did not. I’m fed up of filmmakers distinguishing themselves only by how much controversy they can drum up, and if I want to watch an unsettling film which deals with the topics of gender and power, give me Deadgirl (2008) any day. I will say one thing, though – this is one film which many, many people will end up seeing, regardless of how they then feel. Thus we have the strength of this kind of movie – a movie which has got itself noticed, after all, even in a very crowded market – and, doubtless, there’ll be more like this on the way.

Revolver Entertainment release The Woman to Region 2 Blu-Ray and DVD from 17th October.

Review by Stephanie Scaife.

The Cat o’ Nine Tails (1971) Dario Argento’s second feature, and purportedly his least favourite, is the newest Blu-ray release from Arrow Video. Sitting in between The Bird with the Crystal Plumage and Four Flies on Grey Velvet as part of Argento’s loosely connected animal trilogy, The Cat o’ Nine Tails does not unfortunately feature an actual cat, just a metaphorical whip that relates to the nine different plot strands that slowly uncover the identity of the killer in this watchable but convoluted giallo murder mystery.

Karl Malden stars as Franco “Cookie” Arno, a blind puzzlemaker who lives with his young niece Lori (Cinzia De Carolis). One evening Arno happens to overhear a conversation about blackmail taking place between two men in a car parked outside The Terzi Institute, a genetic institute in Rome. Arno stops to tie his shoe laces and asks Lori to describe the men in the car; one of the men is obscured but the other turns out to be Dr. Calabresi (Carlo Alighiero) who soon ends up dead after being pushed in front of a train by an unseen assailant in the wake of a robbery at the institute.

Arno takes a great interest in the case and joins forces with local journalist Carlo Giordani (James Franciscus), revealing that he too was once a journalist before the accident that made him blind. As the list of murder victims grows the investigative duo are introduced to a selection of would be suspects including Anna Terzi (Catherine Spaark in an array of impressively hideous outfits) the beautiful femme fatale and adopted daughter of the Institute’s owner, Dr. Braun (Horst Frank) a high-brow homosexual and Dr. Carsoni (Aldo Reggiani) a young genius with a peculiar interest in chromosome configurations.

The Cat o’ Nine Tails starts off as a fairly average espionage thriller/murder mystery, but this being a giallo film it soon becomes overwrought with plot twists and increasingly difficult for the viewer to fathom. As the plot unfolded and our unique crime fighting duo began to close in on the killer I found myself not even particularly caring who it was or why they were doing it, instead my appreciation for the film lay more in its ambiance and permeating air of peculiarity. Having said that there is still much to admire here; particularly the Ennio Morricone soundtrack (although admittedly underused), and Argento’s emerging ability to create a sinister and ubiquitous threat through the use of extreme close-ups and POV shots from the killer’s perspective. Overall though I found The Cat o’ Nine Tails to be a little dull and often tricky to follow making it difficult to recommend, especially to those unfamiliar with Argento’s oeuvre. However, when you consider much of his output over the years (particularly of late) it is still easy to rank this amongst his better films. I’m not sure I’d specifically recommend the Blu-ray transfer either, there is only a marginal improvement from the DVD and there was some definite blurring and unnatural brightness in places. Making Cat o’ Nine Tails a slightly disappointing Arrow Video release from their generally very strong blu-ray output and one for collectors and Argento fans only.

The Cat o’ Nine Tails is currently available on all-region Blu-ray from Arrow Video. The special features include interviews with Argento, the documentary Dario Argento: An Eye for Horror, a trailer reel and an exclusive booklet.

Review by Keri O’Shea.

Ah, 70s exploitation cinema, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…the unapologetic cramming of sex, horror and any combination of pop culture references always makes for a fun watch, even when much within the film’s plot is oddly lacking. I like to think of these movies as trashy time capsules, and The Devil’s Kiss is no exception. As a representative of its ilk, it certainly has enough going on to entertain. If I outline the plot, you’ll see just what I mean.

Widow Claire Grandier – played by Spanish cult film actress and Naschy co-star Silvia Solar – is (comparatively) down on her luck since losing her husband. She has been reduced to giving psychic readings to entertain parties of bored aristocrats, and in this line of work she visits the castle of the Duke de Haussemont. Impressed and sorry for her (not to mention spooked by her predictions), the Duke offers her a room in the castle where she can advance the ‘research’ which she tells him about. How wrong he is to help her, though! Claire Grandier actually has a plan to avenge her husband’s death and a big grudge against the de Haussemont family, whom she blames: together with her companion, the malevolent Professor Gruber, they combine the dark arts with some bad science, recruit an alleged rapist dwarf (no, really) and set about creating… a killer zombie.

Now, if that doesn’t sound like a fun movie to you, then I don’t know what would.

Spanish exploitation cinema is perhaps not as exhaustively available as, say, the contemporary French or Italian material – but it more than holds its own, especially when you consider how hard it was to get these films made in the restrictive political climate of the time. Still, the good thing is that there’s still so much to discover. Even a genre big name like Paul Naschy, who most people know, has very few films available – but I think this will change, and it’s great to see films like The Devil’s Kiss are getting attention too.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t a good film by many conventional measures, but its brand of all-inclusive dementedness makes it worthwhile. There’s a nod to nearly every exploitation staple you can think of, from Satanism to sex, to crazed scientists and the obligatory go-go dancing, and a lot of striking scenes. It’s one of those films that would improve exponentially according to how many people you could get watching it – because you don’t need to concentrate on every nuance of the plot, and you can forgive how rambling and daft it is to focus on the best bits. The Devil’s Kiss obviously worked on the premise that it should be all things to all men, but this ‘dash of everything’ approach means the film is never dull.

Silvia Solar – who sadly passed away earlier this year – is a fun femme fatale here. A striking-looking woman for starters – all raven hair and kohl eyes – she also joins the hallowed ranks of exploitation actresses who play their roles utterly straight-faced. This earnestness adds something to the roles which wouldn’t be there if they were played ironically; Solar delivers her dour platitudes and occult ramblings with style. The supporting cast of miscreants are very strong too, and whilst the lack of budget is evident, this isn’t a bad-looking film either. If you like Gothic castles and hokey laboratories, then you’re laughing.

The Devil’s Kiss won’t change your life, but it’s a decent example of 70s Eurohorror and an entertaining ride – what it lacks in cogency, it makes up for elsewhere. The full release of this will contain liner notes from Stephen Thrower, no less, and as he’s a guy who has retained his enthusiasm for sleazy cult cinema in a way a lot of his contemporary talking-heads haven’t, I am interested to see what he has to say about this oddball movie.

The Devil’s Kiss is released to DVD by Arrowdrome on 17th October 2011.

Review by Keri O’Shea.

Sex. Cannibalism. Sex and cannibalism. You might be forgiven for thinking that it would be completely impossible to make a boring film which contained both of those themes, but somehow, it has been done twice in France! In 2001 Claire Denis made Trouble Every Day, where even the entrancing Béatrice Dalle couldn’t save the plot from being piecemeal and poorly-paced. Now we have Cannibal, and even making allowances for this being a début feature from writer-director Benjamin Viré, it is notable mainly for managing to be even more dull than Trouble Every Day. I’ll say it again – I’m talking about two films rendering blood and sex combined utterly tiresome. It’s an achievement of sorts, I suppose…

The plot is thus: troubled young golfer Max (Nicolas Gob)  – who’d be less troubled and more of a golfer if he didn’t try to play in the woods, perhaps –  finds a bloodied young woman lying unconscious. He takes her home, cleans her up, and decides she can stay, christening her Bianca. Inevitably, this isolated man begins to fall for Bianca; the attraction is undimmed even when he follows her into the woods one night and sees her partially devouring a man she’s having sex with. Hey, needs must and all that. As you might imagine, though, Bianca is known to a few people, and they are looking for her. To defend his peckish lady-friend, Max has to confront some demons from his past…

Cannibal suffers almost immediately by trying to surpass all of the usual things an audience might depend on to engage with a story; characterisation is treated very minimally, there is little dialogue (until the end, when there’s too much) and the early scenes of the film lack any real attempt to develop a focus. There’s lots of real time camera work at the start, and as such, little editing and the inclusion of a lot of unnecessary footage. It doesn’t exactly give you a burning interest in Max and even the discovery of Bianca – which has potential as a scene – is handled in the same stumbling, pace-free way. We are then faced with lots of people looking wistfully into the middle distance, asking one another “Ça va?” and slowly eating meals. It isn’t beneficial to furthering the plot and it actively disengaged me from the film, even at this early stage. Furthermore, the style of shooting (hand held cameras, a washed-out, pinkish caste, lots of darkness) made it technically difficult to see what was going on: again, an early scene featuring Bianca had the capacity to shock, but I struggled to see it. I got the distinct impression of a director trying to run before he can crawl; if you want to dispose of all the usual elements which make up a movie, I think you need an awareness of how important they are and evidence that you can craft something remarkable which doesn’t need them. If you can’t do that, then your film will fail.

From here, there’s lots more domestic detail and, what I assume, is time given to establishing the relationship between the two main players. Personally, I was so beaten back by the film by the thirty-minute mark that I had trouble accepting the genuineness of any love between Max and Bianca; again, there is just too much filler, which dilutes any sense of development or narrative progression. By the time the film changed tack and added in crime drama elements – replete with acres of tiresome platitudes about ‘respect’ and so on – I felt baffled. The main issue is that you never find yourself believing that any of the characters here have any sort of internal life: they just drift along for far too long, and then that’s that.

So, there we have it. A promising idea scuppered, because the director preferred to fart around with unconventional camera work (and so on) than develop it properly. The slick packaging and blurb might convince you to give this a go; just remember, it’s all there to tease you.

Cannibal is out now on Region 2 DVD from Matchbox Films.

Review by Ben Bussey.

Red White & Blue is the story of Erica (Amanda Fuller) and Nate (Noah Taylor), two neighbours in a crumbling apartment building, and Franki (Marc Senter), a guitarist in a struggling rock band. It takes place in Austin. Beyond that, I’m wary to mention anything of the plot. Simon Rumley’s film is a difficult one to discuss without giving anything away, which might explain why in the run-up to its British release some reviewers seem to have thought to hell with it and given away the lot (not naming names, but shame on you). One thing I will categorically state is that if you’re looking for a horror movie to facilitate a fun night in with a curry and some beers, Red White & Blue is most definitely not the film you’re after. If, however, you want to see independent filmmaking of the highest order, filmmaking which challenges the viewer at every turn and pushes the boundaries of what we percieve to be horror, then you need look no further.

It may be set in Austin and peopled with working class Americans (yes, I’m aware Noah Taylor isn’t actually from round those parts), but at heart Red White & Blue is not too far removed from the upper class English drama of Rumley’s previous film The Living and the Dead. Both films defy easy description; both for the most part emphasise character over narrative. Perhaps most significantly when considering these films as entries in a modern horror cycle, these are films with horrific content but without clearly defined antagonists. Yes, heinous acts are committed by people in a more than questionable state of mind, but each person has their reasons for doing such things. We certainly need not condone these actions, but nor do we condemn the person responsible as evil. This is a pretty rare approach, even in the most uncompromising films of today; even A Serbian Film, notable for featuring its protagonist Milos engaging in some of the most hideous behaviour imaginable, ultimately relieved Milos of much of the blame and heaped it all on the shoulders of the unequivocal villian Vukmir. In Red White & Blue, however, the actions of Erica, Nate and Frankie are entirely their own doing, right or wrong, and each in their own way remains to a certain extent sympathetic in spite of the awful things they have done.

Far from the passive experience that is so often provided by much low-budget horror, Red White & Blue is a film which requires a lot of work on the part of the viewer. Not only does it leave you to make your own moral assessments of the characters and their actions, but it also leaves many blank spaces in the narrative, leaving a great many questions left unanswered and a great deal left unsaid. There are large stretches in which dialogue is sparse at best; indeed, unless I’m mistaken not a word is uttered in the first five minutes. Okay, I give up, there’s no way I can expand on this without getting into the plot just a little: as we are introduced to Fuller’s Erica and Taylor’s Nate and their burgeoning relationship (whatever kind of relationship it is), neither character is what you’d call a great people person, and the sparsity of the dialogue reflects this. By contrast, once we get properly acquainted with Senter’s Franki, he’s very much the motormouth, as befits his wannabe rock star status. But in each case, that which is said might not necessarily reflect that which actually is. They all have their secrets and have all made their own deceptions, which come to a head in the confrontational final act. It’s drama worthy of Chekov or Ibsen, if either of them wrote a play set in Austin and ended it with several scenes of horrendous violence. (I should hardly think that counts as a spoiler.)

The presence of Marc Senter may draw comparisons between this film and The Lost, Chris Sivertson’s screen adaptation of Jack Ketchum’s novel. The films have more in common than a great Senter performance. To a large extent, Rumley (along with the likes of Sivertson and Lucky McKee) is developing on screen that same brand of naturalistic, character-based, blue collar horror that Ketchum pioneered in fiction. Where so many slasher and torture films deliver on nothing more than bloodshed for its own sake, Red White & Blue is the kind of film in which blood does not spill until the tensions between the characters have reached breaking point. As such, it’s obviously not a barrel of laughs, and not necessarily a film you’ll be too eager to revisit. But it’s a film that demands to be seen, if only once, as a firm reminder of the intelligence, emotion and pure drama that horror cinema is capable of at its very best, in the hands of an exceptional writer/director and cast. 

Red White & Blue is in select UK cinemas now, and comes to DVD on 10th October from Trinity Entertainment. For another take on the film, check out Britt’s review.

Nia Edwards-Behi reviews the first film from Panic Button director Chris Crow, soon to premiere at Abertoir 2011.

A hapless group, stranded in unfamiliar territory, hunted down by a relentless monster – human or otherwise – is a staple of our beloved genre. We’ve more or less seen it all before, as is the way with genre at the best of times, but thankfully every now and again along comes a breath of fresh air. Chris Crow’s debut film takes the run-around-the-woods film back to its roots, and as a result offers up a fine piece of genre filmmaking. Sean (Joseph Millson) travels to Wales, with friends Adam (Michael Jibson) and Danny (Gary Mavers), in order to meet with a man who promises him an easy way out of a potential bankruptcy. Arriving at the rural location they find themselves instantly at odds with local nutter Bill (Joshua Richards), an altercation that will lead to a night of desperate survival.

It’d be easy to label Devil’s Bridge as ‘the Welsh Deliverance’, and such a comparison wouldn’t be too far off the mark. Harkening back to a 1970s, down-and-dirty aesthetic, the film is a visual treat, making the very most of its wonderful, rural location. No helpful sprite is going to emerge from these trees, as dark and twisted they loom over our protagonists. They’re a likeable enough bunch, albeit thoroughly misguided. A highlight of the film for me is the expected pub scene, where, like in countless films before, the protagonists find themselves in the local, and are met with an icy reception. Gladly, however, the scene is not just a blow-by-blow rehash of every other pub scene in such films, but rather plays on the power dynamics normally on display in an unexpected way.

Some nice in-jokes pay homage to the film’s cinematic forebears – duelling banjos and reference to Trencher’s house – but just like Crow’s second feature Panic Button, Devil’s Bridge is a very modern film, its central dodgy dealings the result of economic recession and financial desperation. The usual dichotomies riddle the film – town and country, past and present – while class has become a very murky theme of the film. The town is no longer rich, the present no longer stable, yet both continue to lord it over a disadvantaged past via the youthful outsiders at the film’s core. This thematic play with convention is massively refreshing, and lends Devil’s Bridge a great deal of credibility as the product of someone who cares about the story he’s telling, as well as the way he’s telling it.

Crow’s direction is stylish without being ostentatious; though I’m not wholly convinced by the framing device used in the film, it does provide the film with the punchy ending it might otherwise have lacked. As a first feature, written, directed and edited by Crow, Devil’s Bridge is terrifically paced, compelling throughout its short but satisfying running time. While Crow’s second feature depends a great deal more on a suspension of disbelief, Devil’s Bridge is wonderfully believable. The cast is uniformly strong, with Michael Jibson once again excellent as the oddly-likeable Adam, despite his character being, well, a bit of a pain in the bum. Most memorable, though, is undoubtedly Joshua Richards. Hidden away and detached as the icy voice of the Alligator in Panic Button, here Richards is almost the reverse, the embodiment of full-bloodied, hands-on brutality. His performance is truly terrifying as the scorned and primal man, territorial to the end.

The film’s use of Welsh history is a little heavy-handed, but that may be due in part to over-familiarity on my part. That over-familiarity also means that at times I did find myself slightly rooting for the antagonist, the defiant ranting of characters like Adam, however futile, offensive enough to have me wanting to see him receive his comeuppance. Is that how inbred Nevadans feel when they watch The Hills Have Eyes? I don’t know, but it provides a wonderfully discomforting edge to the film. Regardless, this is a dark, thoughtful film, which offers characters to care about and a murky depiction of right and wrong. Simple and exhilarating, Devil’s Bridge confirms Chris Crow as a name to watch.

Devil’s Bridge will receive its world premiere at Abertoir 2011 – keep an eye on www.abertoir.co.uk for full screening details as they’re announced!