Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

Also known, somewhat more appropriately, as The Man with The Severed Head, this 1973 French/Spanish co-production directed by Juan Fortuny (Les Délinquants) stars Paul Naschy, Spain’s answer to Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing and Vincent Price all rolled into one (he was flexible). Naschy plays Jack Surnett, a gang leader out to rip off a jewellery store. Not being the smartest cookie in the jar, he botches the job and gets a police bullet in the head. His only hope for survival is that most impossible of medical procedures: a brain transplant.

 

Luckily for him, his crew know of a doctor who, in turn, connects them to a mad professor called Teets (you read that right). Teets has the skill to perform the operation but can’t use his hands anymore so suggests his wife does it with him shouting directions. And who better to donate a brain than Surnett’s demented arch rival known only as ‘The Sadist’?  The transplant goes ahead (pun intended) and Surnett gets a brain even more vile than his own. Can you guess what happens next? We suspect you can.

Crimson comes from a prolific era of Euro horror production many genre fans celebrate for its sensuous atmosphere, inventive plotting and elegant use of locations to disguise a general lack of budget. You’d guess none of that from this utterly pedestrian and predictable effort that shoots at softcore exploitation, Frankenstein-esque horror and tense gangland drama but misses on all counts. When he’s given the chance here, Paul Naschy has some fun as a bandaged-up transplant terrorist, conducting a leeringly violent rampage with admirable gusto. But considering the top-billing, he spends an uncomfortable amount of screen time horizontal on an operating table or in bed. It’s almost as though he’s worked out the film is so lousy he’s best off waiting out the running time and collecting the cheque.

 

There are a few bright spots amid the often interminable running around and in-fighting among gang members; the nightclub where we meet The Sadist has possibly the most bizarre cabaret act of the 1970s, the ensuring decapitation sequence is unintentionally very funny indeed, the transplant operation itself is rather well shot and the jazzy soundtrack livens things up. But it’s small change.

 

As we’re now used to expecting from even the most risible of 1970s Euro schlock remasters, the quality of the picture on this Black House release is excellent and the version here delivers enough gratuitous nudity and bloodletting to distract from the frequent periods where the plot grinds to near standstill. If you want to check out Naschy’s work, there are so many better places to start – Vengeance of the Zombies, Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll or Night of the Werewolf to name but three. He may not have been in the same league as Cushing, Lee or Price (far from it), but – given a decent script – he knew how to sell a monster.

 

CRIMSON / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: JUAN FORTUNY / SCREENPLAY: JUAN FORTUNY, MARIUS LESEOUR, H.L. ROSTAINE / STARRING: PAUL NASCHY, ROBERTO MAURI, RICARDO PALMEROLA / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

When a credits sequence presents its cast ‘in order of appearance’ and yet the final character you’re introduced to is the seventh name you read, you get the impression the filmmakers involved are more interested in appearances than reality. Such is the problem throughout Project Eden Vol. 1, where almost every decision stems from the desire to make everything look or sound like it’s from a better movie – with no thought to the logic of either the characters or the narrative.

 

Evelyn (Fradenburgh) is the widowed mother of a boy who exists in a limbo between being awake and lacking consciousness, who after six years the authorities have decided it’s time to put to sleep. Upon going home to ponder this eventuality, Evelyn is disturbed by Ethan (Hansen), an ex-military man (like Evelyn’s late husband) whose own daughter suffered from the same condition, and who sort-of implies that Evelyn’s son is at the centre of a global conspiracy. With fake FBI officers hot on their tails, the pair head over the border in search of answers from an increasingly unlikely series of obvious guru types – none of whom seem willing to speak with any kind of beneficial clarity.

 

This isn’t even a case of the substance being hamstrung by the style, as the dialogue, direction and performances are all deeply clunky; it’s the kind of film where the supporting characters are defined by the eccentricity they’ve each been given, where hiding in plain sight is taken to an idiotic degree (‘They’ll never think to look for us in this, the only building within view’) and where the dialogue alternates abruptly between being toe-curlingly expositional and barely bothering to explain what’s going on. Fradenburgh’s Evelyn is given to taking on trust and subsequently acting upon a vast amount of very loosely given and never substantiated information, whereas the subsequent narrative reverses and character developments are so heavily signposted it’s astonishing she can’t see them coming.

 

Project Eden is very pretty – someone evidently got a new drone for Christmas – but the acting is all just a little too intense and self-conscious, and such humour as there is forced and incongruous. It’s incredibly woolly-minded, the eventual revelation about humanity’s situation being potentially interesting but ill thought through and clumsily presented. The hippies versus heavies scenario desperately wants to favour the freethinkers (prior to revealing them as anything but) while being too in awe of its guns and chases.

 

This is confused and heavy-going, and thanks to its ‘Part one of two’ nature rather unsatisfying. It is, however, entirely possible that it will find a welcoming audience among the kind of viewers who enjoy superficial profundity and lots of talking in really deep voices.

Special Features: The Concept / Journey to Eden, Building a Set / Waipu – A Day on Set / Sounds of Eden / Trailers

 

PROJECT EDEN VOL. 1 / CERT: M (AUSTRALIA) / DIRECTOR: ASHLEE JENSEN, TERRANCE M. YOUNG / SCREENPLAY: ASHLEE JENSEN, TERRANCE M. YOUNG / STARRING: EMILY FRADENBURGH, PETER CHRISTIAN HANSEN, MIKE DUPOD, CLIFF SIMON, ERICK AVARI / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW (AUSTRALIA); UK RELEASE TBA

 

A butcher (Titus Muizelaar) with a voracious sexual appetite works with an attractive young apprentice, Roxy (Nellie Benner) who records the goings on around the butchers shop with a handheld, night vision camera. After the butcher is found dead, a police inspector (also played by Titus Muizelaar) comes to investigate the crime.

Meat is a difficult film to categorise and also hard to get a handle on. It doesn’t seem to follow any sort of logical frame. The butchers shop, surely the most dirty butchers shop in all of the Netherlands, seems to exist on its own, in a strange and unfulfilled space. There seems to be some sort of dwelling above it but it’s unclear who it belongs to. It’s also a bit difficult to work out how the characters relate to each other. Some seem to be in relationships but then also don’t seem to be. The butcher spouts sexually explicit things to his apprentice, standing right up against her, almost trapping her, and she seems to not like it but then also kind of likes it. There isn’t any evolution to the characters and their relationships and none of them really make an impression.

The film also doesn’t seem to have much to say or do. The parallels between the slapping noise of sex and the wet slaps of the butchered meat against each other would seem to lend itself to some sort of meaning about using each other for sex, or people just being meat, something which the title of the film would allude to, but the film never really goes for this. The doppelgänger characters could also suggest a point about identity but again the film doesn’t do anything with this quirk. Meat doesn’t have enough sex or nudity to stimulate enough titillation to slot itself into the soft core category either, something which it flirts with but never straps itself to. There are attempts at surreality and with pieces like this sometimes it is enough to let the interesting visuals and tone wash over you like an art work or a visual poem but Meat never has an artistic eye or a visual flair. It does have a weird song about meat though.

Meat is a film that doesn’t really know what it wants to be. As a result it just ends up as boring and unmemorable.

MEAT / CERT: 18 / DIRECTORS: VICTOR NIEUWENHUIJS, MAARTJE SEYFERTH / SCREENPLAY: MAARTJE SEYFERTH / STARRING: TITUS MUIZELAAR, NELLIE BENNER, WILMA BAKKER / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Perhaps the reason the two Kojak telemovies didn’t take a UK DVD bow in 2012 when they, along with the 1970s seasons, were released on disc in the United States, was because the opening of Operation Grange the previous year had renewed sensitivity over the disappearance of Madeleine McCann. Albert Ruben’s adaptation of Dorothy Uhnak’s 1977 crime novel The Investigation, includes similarities not just with the facts of the McCann case, but also the allegations that have been made in the ensuing years. Without giving too much away, the resolution of The Price of Justice might have been felt as too insensitive to those wary of jumping to the wrong conclusions about the McCann parents’ involvement in their daughter’s disappearance.

After the discovery of the bodies of two children in the Harlem river, the newly promoted Inspector Theo Kojak is persuaded to take the case thanks to an ambitious boss hoping to win the New York mayoral election. Thus the scene is set for a story grafting politics, the mafia and big media interests onto the plight of a distraught mother whose prime is rapidly disappearing behind her, and whose marriage and relationships aren’t quite as straightforward as they might be.

Kate Nelligan, later Oscar-nominated for The Prince of Tides, is Kitty, a working mother with an inexplicably expensive apartment and a possibly estranged husband who might or might not live above his nearby bar. With Kojak’s chief badgering for a quick indictment, Kitty rapidly becomes the number one suspect – and when the deaths of anybody else who may be involved start mounting up, the case is quickly closed leaving our cuddly Greek detective to continue investigating off the books.

Uhnak’s book is pretty standard, the story of a detective who falls for a potentially manipulative victim – indeed the same year, Ridley Scott’s fairly similar Someone to Watch Over Me was in the cinemas – but the romantic element is played down in translation, in favour of various sub-plots about the desirability of Kitty and the lengths the men in her life will go to in order to protect her poor decisions.

Nelligan is excellent as the shell-shocked mother, her rightful distress allowing for just enough ambiguity to keep the viewer intrigued. Meanwhile Telly Savalas combines steel and geniality as the eponymous detective who never allows his feelings to get in the way of a case. They’re a fascinating match, and the resolution is appropriately emotional.

This looks again like a straight transfer from a VHS master, so the picture and sound are no better than you might have seen on TV thirty years ago. But the story is strong enough to compensate, such that this is well worth looking out.

KOJAK: THE PRICE OF JUSTICE / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: ALAN METZGER / SCREENPLAY: ALBERT RUBEN / STARRING: TELLY SAVALAS, KATE NELLIGAN, PAT HINGLE, JACK THOMPSON, BRIAN MURRAY, JOHN BEDFORD LLOYD, JEFFREY de MUNN / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Few people of a certain age will fail to remember Telly Savalas’ lollipop-sucking Greek-American TV detective Theo Kojak, star of five seasons of homicide investigations for Universal Television in the 1970s and a repeats mainstay for many years afterwards. Kojak returned for two tele-movies in the mid-1980s, and with the first five seasons having been issued on DVD several years ago, Fabulous Films have finally given the two 1980s movies a shiny disc release now.

 

The first of these, The Belarus File was adapted from former Special Investigator John Loftus’ exposé revealing the US government’s practise of harbouring Nazi criminals and collaborators during the decades after WWII, specifically those who had originated in White Russia, and takes Kojak back to his televisual roots – Abby Mann’s pilot episode of the series had been an adaptation of a non-related, non-fiction work back in 1973.

 

Having dispensed with both the cavity-causing lollies and the slightly awkward catchphrases (albeit the most famous, “Who loves ya baby?” does make a fairly contrived appearance during the film), Kojak finds himself investigating the apparently unrelated brutal murders of a number of elderly Russian immigrants, parallel to helping a family friend out with her Russian immigrant father’s odd behaviour. While the former case takes him to the State Department and an initially reluctant co-investigator in Suzanne Pleshette, it’s the latter that – unsurprisingly to modern viewers – eventually leads him to the perpetrator, and a resolution that is as frustrating as any number of post-Watergate political scandal stories should have led him to expect.

 

Some of the humour and casual bigotry of 1970s Kojak has been dropped in favour of an approach that sticks just the right side of self-righteous, with even a soberly sanctimonious Savalas still a compelling enough screen presence to dominate proceedings, in spite of the likes of Max von Sydow – as the gentle but anxious friend, whose affable exterior conceals hitherto unexpressed troubles – in the cast. This is a grown-up variation on the Kojak theme, playing in the same arena as the likes of Defence of the Realm and The Manchurian Candidate, but remaining mostly understated and never overplaying its themes to the point of piousness.

 

The transfer is blurry and unrestored and the very 1980s soundtrack rather muddy, which together with a synch issue (we tried the review copy on a number of players which all revealed the same problem) give a not unenjoyable sensation of watching something evocatively historic. As a halfway house between the vaguely cartoonish Theo Kojak of memory and the gritty, relevant policiers of which it was a contemporary, The Belarus File is actually rather decent, being both compelling and human – if somewhat undernourished by today’s standards of complexity and characterisation.

 

KOJAK: THE BELARUS FILE / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: ROBERT MARKOWITZ / SCREENPLAY: ALBERT RUBEN / STARRING: TELLY SAVALAS, SUZANNE PLESHETTE, MAX VON SYDOW, HERBERT BERGHOF, DAN FRAZER, GEORGE SAVALAS / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

A co-production between Chinese and Indian studios, Kung Fu Yoga goes full tilt as an action-adventure with plenty of comedy. In it, Jackie Chan plays Jack Chan (full marks, writers), a world renowned professor of archaeology heading up a team learning all about the Terracotta Warriors. He’s also an expert on the interlinked history of China and the Indian empire of Magadha from centuries ago.

 

It’s for this reason that an Indian professor brings to Jack a long-lost map that is meant to tell of the location of an even more long-lost treasure that belonged to the empire, and Jack agrees to help lead the search. He also brings in on the hunt the adventurer/tomb raider son of an old colleague who had searched for the treasure his entire life without success, his researchers and other help along the way. The group set off and quickly discover that wherever the journey takes them, there are others that would find the treasure first, and this is only the start.

 

Western comparisons can be made with the likes of the Indiana Jones films, but also with movies like National Treasure and undoubtedly the Fast & Furious series. Kung Fu Yoga is glossy and globetrotting with almost everyone in it seemingly stepping out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Add to this they’re all ridiculously flexible thanks to either the kung fu or yoga of the title.

 

It’s of course nothing that original, though it is certainly interesting to have a non-American (or British for that matter) film attempt the same approach to universal global appeal as the above-mentioned franchises. In this it’s actually somewhat successful, and although not nearly as expensive as the F&F films this is not low budget with director Tong also making it look as handsome as possible. He handles the numerous action sequences well as one would expect too. It’s an at-times odd mix of family-friendly adventuring with an occasionally strong level of violence, so is not for youngsters no matter what the posters might suggest.

 

Chan remains a likeable presence and anchors the film in his good nature. Some things really don’t work (like the computer-animated flashback that opens the movie) and it’s shameless in taking ‘inspirations’ from other films, as well as being mercilessly cheesy. It has a needlessly convoluted plot, with awkward performances at times and is perhaps best suited for fans of Jackie himself (imbued as it is with his signature knockabout style of action). However, for what honestly amounts to a pretty cynical ‘great idea’ some besuited marketing types had, it’s actually not that unlikable. Qualified recommendation: you could do much worse.

 

KUNG FU YOGA / CERT: 12 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: STANLEY TONG / STARRING: JACKIE CHAN, AARIF RAHMAN, ZHANG YIXING, SONU SOOD / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

When a film comes along which captures the hearts of the critics and the public, which garners rave reviews and appears to be universally praised and which gets whopping ratings on the likes of IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes, you hope you’re in for something special. But sometimes, you watch those films and think to yourself, “Really? Is that it?”. You scratch your head, wondering what you missed, trying to figure out if you watched the right movie. You just don’t get it. Think Whiplash. Think I Am Love. Think Raw.

 

Riding a tidal wave of praise, this French arthouse horror tells the story of a young girl, Justine, and her first week at the illustrious veterinarian school which her parents attended and in which her elder sister currently studies. Animal care seems to be high on the family agenda – they are strict vegetarians with only the rebellious sister Alexia having succumbed to meat eating. Justine is awkward and doesn’t fit in, her only ally being her handsome gay roommate Adrien. But when Justine is forced to eat a piece of liver in a fresher’s initiation ceremony, her longing for raw meat becomes more and more extreme until it’s only human flesh and blood which will satisfy her cravings.

 

Somewhere inside Raw is the film other people seem to have seen but which this reviewer didn’t – a feminist horror where, instead of vampirism standing in as the allegorical take on people not belonging whilst their sexuality is awakening, it’s cannibalism. There’s no doubt that it has the power to shock, the vet school setting ensuring there’s always something grisly happening, from drugged horses to dead dogs being cut open, and at least one scene involving a severed finger is so excruciating it would be hard for anyone not to watch from behind their own.

 

But problems lie in the nonsensical plot and in characters you can’t wait to see the back of.

 

If this school reflects the standard of French education then pray your pet never gets ill whilst you’re on holiday there. First time director Julia Ducournau turns it into a hell hole of frat idiots who think nothing of throwing furniture out of windows, torturing freshers with more animal blood than even Carrie had to endure, throwing paint over them and generally behaving like complete arses. It’s extremely annoying. And, apart from that, given what we find out about the family later in the film, it makes absolutely NO SENSE to send Justine there.

 

The actors put in excellent, committed performances but none of the characters are in the least bit likeable, Adrien apart, (and what a shame he ends up sleeping with Justine rather than just being allowed to be gay – yawn).

 

In the end, what it’s all about has been addressed so many times in much better horror films, making Raw about as deep as a paper cut, despite reviews suggesting it has things to say about family, body image and society’s view of women. A second viewing might enlighten these themes, but spending time with these people again would be a bloody nightmare.

 

RAW / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: JULIA DUCOURNAU / STARRING: GARANCE MARILLIER, ELLA RUMPF, RABAH NAÏT OUFELLA / RELEASE DATE: 14TH AUGUST

Having completely sideswiped everyone thanks to films like Sightseers and High-Rise, the duo of director Ben Wheatley and screenwriter Amy Jump return for Free Fire, which is quite possibly Wheatley’s most mainstream entry to date. Set in 1970s Boston, a weapons deal that’s orchestrated by incompetent suppliers and dealers within an abandoned warehouse goes south, which results in a volatile shootout that lasts nearly all 90 minutes of the film’s running time. This is Wheatley attempting to dial back on narrative and complex themes, which drove his last film High-Rise, and instead opt for a straight up cat-and-mouse shootout between these two warring factions, with characters flip-flopping between allegiances and motivations. This makes Free Fire sound like it’s all violence, gunplay and style with no substance whatsoever, but despite the fact that this film may be light on story, you are rewarded with a viscerally entertaining cinema experience.

 

We may know the kind of scenario that’s going on in this film going in, but Wheatley cleverly builds up the tension, just like he did in Kill List, and by the time the pin drops and the first shot is fired, he delivers the goods with aplomb. The violence on display here has an element of slapstick, which results in some genuinely hilarious moments of black comedy, and even the gunfire sound effects are very cartoonish, yet strangely don’t feel out of place since it fits in well with the movie’s tone. In fact, the cartoonish violence is very reminiscent of Home Alone or a Tom and Jerry cartoon in that characters get shot multiple times yet still manage to stay alive and be active and mobile to the point where a character is severely grazed through his head and is somehow still alive.

 

The characters in this film are incredibly broad with very distinctive personalities and walk around in these extravagant suits with massive collars and garish colours, almost to the point where there’s this aura of vanity surrounding these individuals. Everyone’s self-aware and that’s why there’s this huge clash of egos from the get-go, and every performer in this film delivers their A-game, from the likes of Michael Smiley, Cillian Murphy and Brie Larson. Some standouts among them include Armie Hammer who is subtly convincing as the cool and suave slime ball, while Sharlto Copley completely hams it up as the pseudo-main antagonist of the movie. However, standing out strongly was the central conflict between Sam Riley and Jack Treynor, which ranges and escalates from funny to bloody.

 

In the end, Free Fire is really this absurdist black comedy with gunfire and bloodshed; it’s about these characters placed within this deadly situation born out of vanity and egoism, which could’ve easily been avoided, but just descends into out-of-control carnage. It is true that the gunfire battle becomes a little too drawn out, but it is still an enjoyably absurd ride with great performances and a cracking ‘70s soundtrack involving classics by John Denver and The Real Kids. Despite some flaws, this is still one of the most unique cinematic experiences you’ll have this year.

 

FREE FIRE / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: BEN WHEATLEY / SCREENPLAY: AMY JUMP, BEN WHEATLEY / STARRING: SHARLTO COPLEY, ARMIE HAMMER, BRIE LARSON, CILLIAN MURPHY, JACK REYNOR, BABOU CEESAY / RELEASE DATE: 7TH AUGUST

As a writer who has become well versed in film language over four decades, it is often a welcoming moment when you are introduced to a radical filmmaker who is as contrasting in his own culture as the films he directed can be interpreted in yours.

 

Arrow Video, under their sister label Arrow Academy, have managed to assemble a brand-new Blu-Ray release of maverick director Seijun Suzuki’s three late-in-the-career Taisho Trilogy films, Zigueunerweisen (1980), Kagero-Za (1981) and Yumeji (1991). It is a welcome opportunity for UK fans of Far Eastern cinema to get a lovingly assembled box-set and if you are keen to learn more about radical filmmaking from the region, then by all means delve into the films here.

 

However, please be aware that these are in turns visually stimulating and slow-burning affairs, where plot and character are merely a small part of the artistic, cinematic and theatrical canvas that Suzuki has put together.  At times you might find that ideas and narrative are lost in a haze of weird and wonderful ambiguity and the mild touches of sexual idealism can throw you.

 

This writer must confess that he was not too familiar before viewing these films with the director’s work, nor with the ‘Taisho’ Era (1912 – 26) which defined a lot of change to the Japanese cultural mind-set in much the same way that the ‘Renaissance’ periods of centuries past might have defined change in the UK and Europe.

 

Zigueunerweisen tells of the relationship between a college professor and an old colleague who has been accused of killing a fisherman’s wife. The title refers to a recording featured in the film by Spanish composer Sarasate. Kagero-Za focuses on a man’s obsession with a woman who may or may not exist and his desire to travel to acquaint himself further with her, with dark consequences, whilst Yumeji is a fusion of visual collages based loosely on the life of poet and painter Takehisa Yumeji.

 

Your appreciation and acknowledgement of the films in the trilogy may well be coloured by your desire to seek out the films, coupled with what your mood might be. This writer certainly feels that another viewing of each is in order, at least to delve further into what the filmmaker’s intentions were. Visually they provide interesting concepts that are both cinematic and poetic, even if at times you are finding the whole experience a little hazy as each film evolves from start to finish.

 

Indeed, it appears that the films were a reaction by Suzuki to his own artistic frustrations when dealing with the local studio system. Thanks to the likes of Quentin Tarantino, Jim Jarmusch and others, the films found an outlet internationally which enabled further appreciation and it is nice that Arrow have put an affectionate collection together.

On balance though, these are films aimed at a limited core group of arthouse cinema fans firstly, but worth a look overall anyway.

 

THE TAISHO TRILOGY / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: SEIJUN SUZUKI / SCREENPLAY: Yōzō Tanaka / STARRING: YOSHIO HARADA, YŪSAKU MATSUDA, KENJI SAWADA / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Writer/director Warren Dudley made us sit up and take notice here at Starburst HQ a few years ago with his micro-budget British found footage feature The Cutting Room. A name to watch, we thought sagely. Turns out our tingling Spidey senses were right on the money yet again; Warren’s back with his second film which happily more than justifies our faith in him the first time out. Cage – another shoestring affair for sure – is a tense and supremely accomplished little thriller set almost entirely in one location and featuring just one on-screen cast member. This is a conceit which offers up any number of pitfalls and yet Dudley nimbly sidesteps them all, delivering an unnerving, jagged film which puts its lead (and, indeed, only) character into an uncomfortable and extreme situation and then asks us what we might do if we found ourselves faced with a similar unpalatable dilemma.

 

It’s late 2001 and a lean opening sequence introduces us to Gracie Blake (Cutting Room’s Quinlan) as she paces the countryside around Seattle (the film’s only exterior scene); a series of telephone calls tell us all we need to know at this stage about her circumstances.  She works on a telephone chat-line, she’s heavily in debt, her young daughter is in temporary foster care. Things are rough and about get rougher as she breaks her golden rule and agrees to meet one of her telephone customers on the promise of enough cash to lift her out of her impecunity. But when she wakes and finds herself chained up and locked in a wooden cage in an abandoned warehouse somewhere not far from the middle of nowhere with only her mobile phone for company, it becomes apparent that there’s more to the deal than she might have anticipated. Her implacable captor Peter (Bergin, a presence in voice only) tells her that this is something he has to do and that she’ll be safe, fed and watered (and provided with a reassuring supply of toilet rolls) until such time as he sees fit to release her. Gracie keeps in touch with the outside world – her boyfriend, her parents – without being able to call the Police or, at first, explain what’s happened to her and where she is.

 

What’s a girl to do? Gracie panics, she screams, she tries to reason with her captor and she tries to reassure her loved ones even as her situation becomes more desperate and her need to escape becomes more pronounced. Although Cage is pretty much a one-hander and the action is confined to one stifling location, Dudley dextrously never allows the film to feel cramped or claustrophobic. We quickly become immersed in Gracie’s plight and we’re rooting for things to turn out right for her and the plot cleverly teases her – and the audience – with the anticipation of imminent freedom and then cruelly snatches it away. In the final reel one last devastating twist (which it’s entirely possible some might find in slightly bad taste) pitches the film into much darker territory and turns a propulsive, unsettling thriller into something akin to a terrifying horror story ripped straight from our worst nightmares. Lucy-Jane Quinlan is astonishingly good as Gracie – it takes an actor of rare confidence to hold an entire film together alone – and Warren Dudley exhibits an innate ability to tell a taut story economically, his script slick and well-observed, his direction endlessly inventive; he really makes the restricted scale of the story work and clearly delights in finding new ways of exploiting the setting and the situation to maximum dramatic effect.

 

A wonderful and very welcome antidote to the usual summer blockbuster overload; we’re more than pleased to see Warren Dudley building on the promise of his debut feature. This is one Cage we recommend you get into without hesitation.

 

CAGE / CERT: 15 / SCREENPLAY AND DIRECTOR: WARREN DUDLEY / STARRING: LUCY-JANE QUINLAN, PATRICK BERGIN, JAKE UNSWORTH / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW