Review Category: Movie

In a world where we’re moving closer and closer to virtual reality becoming as commonplace as checking our Instagram feeds, Charles Baker’s debut feature feels perfectly timed to make a substantial comment on how today’s society is consumed by the digital world. Although The Call Up may lack in three dimensional characters and authentic story-telling, there seems to be a simple yet effective message warning us of the dangers of VR, and such a message comes to the forefront through a film that’s both captivating and deftly crafted.

The Call Up sees a group of online gamers called upon to test a state-of-the-art virtual reality game. Presented with cutting edge technology, the rag-tag bunch are thrown into a virtual warzone that’s every gamer’s fantasy come true. However, their bliss is torn asunder when the reality portion of this virtual reality becomes all too real…

For a film with such visual ingenuity, The Call Up doesn’t get off to a great start. Stiff direction and bland characters don’t exactly set a high standard, but fortunately the film gets to grips with its cast and loosens the rigidness of its direction, as more bullets fly and more levels in this murderous game are undertaken. The cast themselves fill each of their roles with just enough effect to make them resonate with you. There’s the leader, the pretty girl, the tubby one, the bully and the black guy – hardly original. The Call Up could certainly have benefited from a more diverse approach to its characters, lending a greater sense of humanity to the overall danger.

However, that separation between the human and the technological elements of The Call Up makes you sit up and pay attention to the technological elements even more. The visuals in this film have an understated grace that puts the bulk of CGI-ridden Hollywood to shame. The seamless blending between the fiction and the reality of the world in The Call Up gives this film a healthy dose of visual delicacy. Classy stuff for a film about a real-life shoot-‘em-up video game! What’s not too subtle here is the film’s apparent message of VR being a glorious thing to indulge in, but its effects on the real world can spiral out of control.

Still, The Call Up is an impressively riveting film, one that’s atmosphere and set-up makes for quality viewing, but it’s not without its faults. The Call Up valiantly tries to be the video game movie Hardcore Henry failed to be, thanks to its extreme emphasis on grotesque spectacle. In that sense, The Call Up is most certainly the stronger of the two, but a better handling of immersive characters and engaging plot prevents The Call Up from being a perfect film. It’s ultimately restricted to being a well-crafted action drama that’s still somewhat enveloping, thanks to its clashing characters and jaw-dropping visual effects.

When it comes to video game movies, we’re currently smothered by the likes of Wreck-It Ralph, Ratchet and Clank, Warcraft, and still haunted by the memories of Pixels and Hardcore Henry. The Call Up makes us wish video game movies were more like this.

THE CALL UP / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: CHARLES BARKER / STARRING: PARKER SAWYERS, MORFYDD CLARK, MAX DEACON, CHRISTOPHER OBI / RELEASE DATE: 20TH MAY

A family of desert Hillbillies kidnap a girl so as to marry her off, rape and then murder her. “You got spunk,” Momma hillbilly tells captive Audra, thereby promising the audience her survival for at least a little longer than the girl taken and brutalised during the opening credits. And she’ll need it, being trapped in the plot of Don’t Tell the Bride by way of House of 1000 Corpses as she is. 

Titty-groping, sleazy, brutality typifies Jim Lane’s Betrothed, in which female characters are frequently referred to as “whore” and men repeatedly beat and rape their kidnapped wives on the kitchen floor for imagined slights. Given the atrocities taking place here, it’s a wonder that Audra (an inappropriately chipper Mikayla Gibson) holds her composure so well – not once losing her shit in the face of rampant rape and murder. In this case, Gibson being an altogether terrible actress is to the film’s benefit – were this depicted with any level of competence, Betrothed would be a really disturbing horror film.

Instead, there are rubbish one-liners (“did you spill coffee on yourself?” “No… on you”), a gay kid chained up in the attic (“they said I could be anything… I wanted to be a Princess”) and a stereotypically dogged cop trying to find Audra, but really just there to pad the story out into feature length. Like the two hundred odd miles between Hillbilly ranch and civilisation, Betrothed is a massive slog, enlivened only by the short appearances of genre faces Suze Lanier-Bramlett (The Hills Have Eyes) and Bill Oberst Jr. (nothing good, but at least he tries). Free of the farm, the last twenty minutes are at least slightly entertaining, even as the film itself steadfastly refuses to end.

It’s no fun raging against Indie horror films clearly made on a shoestring budget, but this is one of the worst. Morally objectionable and profoundly useless on a technical level, it’s a tone-deaf Hillbilly rape nightmare, enjoyable only on a grotesquely ironic level. And then, when it’s finally over and finished, Betrothed ends with the Peep Show theme tune. Wait, what?

BETROTHED / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR: JIM LANE / SCREENPLAY: JEFF ROSENBERG / STARRING: MIKAYLA GIBSON, JOEY BELL, DAVID BROWN, ELIZABETH CASTILLO, JAMIE B CLINE / UK RELEASE DATE: WIDE RELEASE (TBA); JULY (VOD RELEASE) 

After a doctor at small-town abortion clinic is murdered, its councillor Angela continues to give advice, despite the opposition and threats from the local evangelical congregation, who believe that a spate of sick children is God’s punishment for suffering her to live, rather than the local mine poisoning the water supply, and begin hounding her in a modern day witch hunt.

Despite its subject matter this is not a film discussing the morality of abortion, but rather the slow erosion of the rights of women in an age and a country that both pride themselves for their purported modernity, and those people who would see society dragged back into the Dark Ages, while law enforcement panders to their anachronistic conviction in theocratic doctrine. 

We might perceive the Westboro Baptists and others of their ilk as little more than a joke, given disproportionate levels of media attention, but when people genuinely believe their actions serve the will of a higher power, than the laws that maintain the nation in which they live (and by convenient coincidence that will always seeming to coincide with their own beliefs) they have the potential to become truly dangerous. In doing so, they grant themselves the right to dictate who has the right to live, and so they can decree who should die.

Representing such backward fundamentalism is the loathsome pastor Jeremiah Baarker, co-writer Shane Twerdun is a manifestation of the banality of evil. Soft-spoken, a perpetual smug half-smile and never seeming to blink, he regurgitates misogynistic preachings of man’s natural dominion over women with such conviction it takes you aback that someone can genuinely take such beliefs seriously, and you itch to put a fist through his face long before you witness his remorseless abuse of his wife. 

Most of the congregation are anonymous sign-waving thugs with no presence beyond making up a force of numbers, which is precisely the point. Like a colony of insects mutely manoeuvring in a singular purpose, until given new commands, these people have no personality or resolve of their own, but merely obey Baarker’s instructions with such slavish and unthinking piety that their actions are an extension of his own will to obstruct and negate all the good that Angela attempts to do, through intimidation and violence. All the while a colossal storm heads towards the town, as if the Almighty himself is voicing his displeasure at the crimes of wanton hate being perpetrated in his name. 

Viewing She Who Must Burn is something of an endurance test. Not in that phrase’s usual sense of being utterly tedious, but because sitting though it is a physically draining ordeal that takes a while to fully recover from. The close-up handheld camerawork gives events an uncomfortable intimacy, forcing you to acknowledge the repugnant actions committed by the faithful, while implying a tacit complicity on your part and demanding to know what you’re going to do about them. The film’s heavy and unflinching portrayal of all too real subject matter is an unforgiving and harrowing experience that never relents for a moment. 

SHE WHO MUST BURN / CERT: TBA / DIRECTOR: LARRY KENT / SCREENPLAY: LARRY KENT, SHANE TWERDUN / STARRING: SARAH SMYTH, SHANE TWERDUN, ANDREW MOXHAM, MISSY CROSS, ANDREW DUNBAR / RELEASE DATE: TBA

When beloved actress Anna Fritz is found dead at a party, she is whisked off to an undisclosed morgue before the media frenzy has time to deploy itself and broadcast her location to the salivating masses. However, this didn’t count on a skeevy morgue attendant who likes taking pictures of attractive bodies and the appearance of two of his friends on their way to a party loaded up with drink and drugs, who harangue him into being allowed to take a look at the beautiful star’s corpse.

That takes you up to about ten minutes into the film, but to say any more would be too much of a spoiler of what awaits you, and you’re far better off going into it knowing as little as possible, lest the impact of any surprises be lessened by advanced knowledge. Suffice to say that things quickly go bad for the three friends and they find themselves in a situation with no easy way out, the extremes of each of their natures quickly coming to the fore.

While hateful misogyny is often utilised to lazily characterise unsympathetic characters, here its use is a statement of men’s attitudes towards women and the kind of things they convince themselves are justified if they think there will be no consequences. The worst kind of misogynist is one who genuinely doesn’t see himself as a bad guy but just a victim of circumstance, and whose protestations of innocence inspire seething contempt at his repugnant arrogance. The film makes such observations, without requiring them to be explicitly stated, and so avoids getting preachy or condescending about it.

The tension gradually crescendos with each passing minute, and is maintained by the constantly shifting levels of control each character has over the situation and the others. Despite the potential for trashy exploitation, the most deplorable aspects of the story are portrayed with a degree of tact; sometimes merely knowing something is happening is enough, without requiring it to be shown in graphic detail. The simplicity of the story is matched by the single setting, in which most of it is set, and imbues it with an atmosphere of claustrophobia that soon becomes oppressive. Freedom might be just on the other side of a door, but to attain it is far more than a simple case of just walking through.

The Corpse of Anna Fritz unflinchingly delves into the darkened recesses of human nature, where even the most reasonable of us can occasionally find ourselves slipping in our lowest moments. The film is not an easy watch, nor can it be said to be in any way entertaining; it’s short, nasty, brutal and utterly compelling.

THE CORPSE OF ANNA FRITZ / CERT: TBA / HÈCTOR HERNÁNDEZ VICENS / SCREENPLAY: ISAAC P CREUS, HÈCTOR HERNÁNDEZ VICENS / STARRING: ALBA RIBAS, CRISTIAN VALENCIA, ALBERT CARBÓ, BERNAT SAUMELL / RELEASE DATE: TBA

Stanley lives alone on an isolated farm in a Welsh valley, spending his days digging a well, tending to his chickens and plaining wood. And so his simple existence might have continued were it not for the appearance of Iwan and Sara, a young couple stranded when their car crashes in a nearby river. It soon becomes apparent that they are all harbouring secrets, and that the tranquil idyll of the rural haven will soon be shattered.

The first genre movie ever made in the Welsh language, Yr Ymadawiad (The Passing in English) is difficult to classify simply, but is all the more distinctive as a result. It straddles a hazy point somewhere between genre and art house, containing aspects of both but not wholly classifiable as one or the other.

A three-handed drama mostly lacking any action, the character interaction forms the bulk of the story. The precise nature of the relationship between Iwan and Sara is difficult to get a proper read on, as one minute they are casually intimate and affectionate, while the next they seem unsure how they feel about even touching each other. Sara occasionally transforms at will into an exhibitionist minx, getting off on the thought that someone could be watching her. Iwan, meanwhile, grows jealous of any time she spends apart from him, becoming increasingly domineering and threatening, as he feels his authority is undermined. Stanley is a quiet enigma, almost childlike in his reluctance to engage without prompting. His every action is precise in its physical economy, like each movement is carefully thought out before being performed.

The film is light on dialogue for lengthy patches, relying on visuals and imagery to advance the story and relate characters’ thoughts. Shot largely with natural light, be it the grey-white haze of the overcast Welsh sky during day or the flickering blaze of oil lamps at night, the lack of artifice creates an intimacy with the surroundings that gradually pulls you in until you, like the characters, believe you’ve found your own personal paradise and never want to leave. As the morning sun shines on trees, still damp from the night’s rain, and clouds of mist envelop the landscape in an eldritch haze, you truly believe that the cold, the wet and the mud of the countryside has never looked so beautiful. It’s the kind of film that needs to be seen in a cinema, being such a visual-heavy and immersive experience it requires a viewing where all other sense and perception is suspended, and your world literally extends no further than the isolated Welsh valley.

The dank and dilapidated house in which the makeshift trio stay is curiously timeless, seemingly untouched by the progression of the world beyond. Despite nothing overt occurring, there is a creeping sense of otherness about the whole situation, and it’s precisely this lingering lack of certainly that makes the film so compelling. Yr Ymadawiad asks for a great deal of patience as you await its narrative payoff, but the breathtaking scenery it provides makes the time it takes to get there an unforgettable experience.

YR YMADAWIAD / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: GARETH BRYN / SCREENPLAY: ED TALFAN / STARRING: MARK LEWIS JONES, DYFAN DWYFOR, ANNES ELWY / RELEASE DATE: TBA

Offering a slight twist on the usual teens-go-to-a-cabin-to-get-murdered story, Frank Pérez-Garland’s Face Of The Devil ruins any slight early promise, through bland plotting and bland characters who meet their ends in equally bland ways.

La Cara del Diablo – to give the film’s original title – follows seven friends as they head to a remote jungle complex for a fun-filled weekend. On the first night they are told a spooky story about a demon called “el tenche” who possesses people and forces them to commit various atrocities. And as luck would have it, this whistling demon (it really doesn’t matter why it supposedly whistles, as it actually doesn’t) happens to show up and begin to work its way through the hapless holidaymakers.

As an entry into what is a vastly overcrowded subgenre, Face Of The Devil offers absolutely nothing new, and even fails at making routine and formulaic horror tropes interesting. There is a member of the group with a dark past, some unrequited love, strange exposition-delivering locals, a little nudity; all the boxes are ticked, but they are ticked in such an uninspiring and unimaginative way as to be simply boring. Long, drawn out scenes obviously designed to develop some tension are instead tedious in the extreme, and the deaths themselves also offer little to sate the appetites of the modern horror fan. Some malevolently murky water and a little off-camera butchery does not a slasher film make, and coupled with ineffective implementation of the “quiet, quiet…BANG” style of filmmaking, Face Of The Devil really does disappoint on virtually every level.

The only interesting thing then about Pérez-Garland’s film is why was it even made at all? No one ever sets out to produce a bad film but there is something so weary and repetitive about Face Of The Devil, as though the filmmakers never really believed in what they were making.

Sadly, this is a film to avoid. With so many average-to-decent horror films on release, whatever your streaming platform of choice, life really is too short for the bad ones. Although, in truth, Face Of The Devil isn’t actually bad, it’s just really, really dull.

FACE OF THE DEVIL / CERT: TBC / DIRECTOR: FRANK PÉREZ-GARLAND / SCREENPLAY: VANESSA SABA / STARRING: VANIA ACCINELLI, 
SERGIO GJURINOVIC,
VANESSA SABA / RELEASE DATE: UK RELEASE TBA

The Zero Boys is something of a slow burn. As such how much you enjoy the movie will depend on whether or not. You prefer horror that takes its time to unwind. Most of the movie is about introducing the characters and setting up the situation that they find themselves in. It isn’t until the latter half of the movie that the characters become aware of the danger and the movie doesn’t truly hit its stride until the last 20-30 minutes.

The Zero Boys focuses less on jump scares and gore for its suspense than it does a general atmosphere of suspense. The people behind the Blu-ray have done an excellent job at remastering the movie for HD. The visuals are crystal clear and director Nico Mastorakis was right when he said that the movie had been given the appearance of something shot more recently. The visuals gel perfectly with the score (composed by a young Hans Zimmer) to reinforce the idea that danger is always around the corner.

Sadly, this tension isn’t always present when it comes to the villains of the movie. We get a vague sense of who is coming after the characters and we get a glimpse at their motivations in a manner similar to the torture porn movies that would follow decades later but we never get a sense of what it is that the villains get out of their actions. The actors manage to do their best with what they are given but getting a greater sense of who they were could have added a greater feeling of menace to the movie.

When watching The Zero Boys, it is easy to see the early days of elements that have since become commonplace in more recent movies. It does get some of these elements right and there is fun to be had in watching it. However, the elements introduced in movies like these have been improved upon by the movies that followed.

Like any good remastering, the film is something of a time capsule. It’s crisp in its presentation and the movie has aged well enough to not suffer as a result. There are a few fun extra features. The most noteworthy of which involves Nico Mastorakis sitting down to have an interview with himself. The interview is conducted with the right amount of tongue in cheek humour to stop it being silly. It also helps that the director actually asks himself serious questions about the movie and how it was made, rather than merely stroking his ego. The Zero Boys is worth getting for anyone looking for something fun to watch for an evening in.

THE ZERO BOYS / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: NICO MASTORAKIS / STARRING: DANIEL HIRSCH, KELLI MARONEY, NICOLE RIO, TOM SHELL, JARED MOSES, CRYSTAL CARSON / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

 

To describe Evolution is a difficult feat. This is a film that’s been compared to Under the Skin, Cronenberg body-horror and Upstream Colour after all. And it comes from Lucile Hadžihalilović, the creative and romantic partner of Gaspar Noé and (more importantly) the talented director behind Innocence. ‘Normal’ this is not.

The setting is a small beach town, populated only by young boys and androgynous looking women. Days are spent playing on the rocks and diving in the sea. One day, one of the boys – Nicholas (Max Brebant) – sees a dead body underwater with a red starfish on it. This leads him to an awakening of sorts, as he begins to question his existence and the people around him.

The women – previously accepted as the boys’ mothers and guardians – now appear more sinister and their intentions are questioned. What do they do on the beach at night? And why are the boys being taken to a hospital and operated on? One of the women – Stella (Roxane Duran) – forms a bond with Nicolas, as more questions are raised and only occasionally answered. The mysteriously macabre and dream-like nature of the film allow you to forgive this, and just watch.

Evolution is beautifully shot and mesmerising, if without a conventional narrative. Metaphors of puberty, maternity and sexuality are woven into the film and, although at times it is jarring, it is never disturbing to the point of complete unpleasantness. Unique and challenging, with a foreboding nature similar to – but less intense than – Goodnight Mommy, it’s definitely an evolution in the horror genre.

EVOLUTION / CERT: TBC / DIRECTOR: LUCILE HADŽIHALILOVIĆ / SCREENPLAY: LUCILE HADŽIHALILOVIĆ, ALANTE KAVAITE, GEOFF COX / STARRING: MAX BREBANT, ROXANE DURAN, JULIE-MARIE PARMENTIER, MATHIEU GOLDFELD, NISSIM RENARD / RELEASE DATE: MAY 6TH 

Despite being finished back in 2013 (and even redone as a short last year), it’s only now that Zak Hilditch’s These Final Hours gets a UK cinema run, and it’s about time. Hilditch’s ‘end of the world’ effort is a movie that could well be a dark horse bet to be one of many people’s favourite films of the year by the time that 2016 comes to a close.

Plot-wise, as suggested by the title, the movie tells the tale of a world awaiting impending doom. As other countries have already begun to be wiped out after a meteor crashes into the North Atlantic, the action here takes place in Australia. We’re introduced to James (Nathan Phillips) and his lover, Zoe (Jessica De Gouw), as it soon becomes clear that the two are at odds over just how exactly to spend their final 12 hours; Zoe wants to spend their last hours together, whilst James instead has plans to meet up with some friends and his girlfriend (yep, there’s more than one lady in his life) in order to have the party to end all parties so that he doesn’t feel the soon-to-be-here death that awaits all of mankind.

Within the opening moments of the film, we’re firmly made aware that James is not a great guy. Whether it’s womanizing, drug taking, or simply his selfish, single-minded nature, the character is far from any sort of hero, but then again, this is a film that isn’t necessarily about heroes. In fact, it’s simply about ending your living days in the way that you see fit, with Hilditch exploring the differing reactions to the apocalypse. Some people choose to take their own life, some choose to commit crimes, others want to be with their loved ones, and some, like James and his friends, decide to just get fucked up in one final gathering of true excess. For James, though, his plans get a tad derailed when he comes across Rose (Angourie Rice), a young girl searching for her father. And this is where the narrative of These Final Hours changes, with James presented with the dilemma of another day of being his old self or a chance at some form of redemption and of doing one final act of selflessness, opening up the chance to finally do the right thing and explore what really matters in life.

Whilst These Final Hours may fly under the radar of some, it’s certainly worth hunting down, with Zak Hilditch marking himself out as a real talent in how he has crafted such a tense, atmospheric, engaging movie that feels dirty, visceral and gritty yet also meaningful, evocative, poignant and visually stunning as the beaten down world is often reflected in the sunlit landscape of what the end of the world really looks like. Key to all of this, though, are the performances of Nathan Phillips and Angourie Rice. Their supporting cast are also worthy of note and are all pitch-perfect, but it’s the film’s leads who both shine equally as bright. Phillips balances the turmoil of his situation expertly, with his turn here suggesting the 35-year-old actor could become a true breakout star if given the chance in a bigger scale picture. As for young Angourie Rice, rarely has a child put in such an impressive performance in recent memory.

Simply put, with These Final Hours, Zak Hilditch has created a low-budget effort that could, and should, very well be a highlight of the year.

THESE FINAL HOURS / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: ZAK HILDITCH / STARRING: NATHAN PHILLIPS, ANGOURIE RICE, JESSICA DE GOUW, DAVID FIELD / RELEASE DATE: MAY 6TH

As another Box Office silly season packed with superheroes and belligerent extra-terrestrials careers towards us, find time, if you can, for a science-fiction film with a bit more brain than brawn. Jeff Nichols follows up his critically acclaimed lo-fi hits Take Shelter (also starring Shannon) and Mud with a well-crafted, genuinely-intelligent and occasionally awe-inspiring experience which says rather more about the human condition than any number of men in colourful costumes bashing seven bells out of one another – no matter how much they cuss and swear.

Roy (Shannon), his eight year-old son Alton (Leiberher), along with Roy’s old friend and state trooper Lucas (Edgerton) are on the run from both a religious cult and the FBI, each of whom have their own very particular designs on Alton. The boy has extraordinary abilities and has prophesied an imminent cataclysmic event. The trio are fleeing, road-trip style, across the country and eventually are reunited with the boy’s mother, Sarah (Dunst), a former now ex-communicated cult member who hasn’t seen her son in two years. As the day of the ‘event’ approaches, Alton realises the truth about who he is – but both the cult and the FBI are closing in and time is running out…

Midnight Special wears its indie credentials proudly on its sleeve. This is a film where story and character come first; it’s a measured, unhurried story, refreshingly unshowy and yet not afraid to broaden its visual horizons and dazzle when it needs to. At one point, Alton uses his powers to pull a spy satellite out of the sky and the resulting debris tumbles to Earth like a meteorite storm, hitting the ground and exploding and destroying a petrol station where the group have briefly stopped to refuel. The moments when dazzling blue light explodes from the screaming boy’s eyes are uncomfortable but undeniably spectacular and the film’s finale – we won’t spoil it here – is astonishing in its quiet simplicity and yet also in its scope and grandeur. It’s a cinematic moment which will literally leave you breathless at its understated stately beauty, a vista of eerie unearthliness more compelling and convincing than any number of more generously-budgeted mainstream studio genre movies.

Jeff Nichols’ unfussy, occasionally wry script is perfectly complemented by considered performances by his cast from the solid Shannon, the ever-impressive Edgerton and even Kirsten Dunst, now thankfully putting in some decent legwork in distancing herself from her whiny, needy portrayal of MJ in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy. Midnight Special is a story about humanity and human beings and their place in the greater scheme of things, a proper science-fiction film about ideas and concepts and the effect extraordinary events can have on ordinary people. Destined to become a cult classic in the short term, time will ultimately recognise Midnight Special as a new modern landmark in a genre which has become saturated by spectacle and all-too often devalued as cheap popcorn entertainment for undemanding kids and teens. Midnight Special really is very special indeed.

MIDNIGHT SPECIAL / CERT: 12A / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: JEFF NICHOLS / STARRING: MICHAEL SHANNON, JOEL EDGERTON, KIRSTEN DUNST, JAEDEN LIEBERHER / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW