Review Category: Movie

Time travel, the ravages of ageing, and electronic wangs all form part of the story in the latest off-the-wall film from Rubber director Quentin Dupieux.

Middle-aged couple Alain (Alain Chabat) and Marie (Léa Drucker) decide on their dream home when the estate agent shows them a unique selling point. In the basement is a hole, which you can climb down and find yourself in the same house – only 20 minutes in the future. When you return to the regular timeline you’re also two days younger. Marie starts to have an unhealthy obsession with the metaphysical marvel, much to Alain’s despair. Meanwhile, Alain’s boss happily reveals that he’s had an electronic knob installed in Japan, which you can control with your mobile phone.

Dupieux’s continues his streak of bizarre movies with this light-hearted but poignant tale that has a Charlie Kaufman quality. There are interesting points made about accepting the ageing process and the insane pursuit of eternal youth as Marie spends more and more time in the near-future side of the house in the hope of the modelling career she wanted when she was younger. More hilarious is Gégé (Benoît Magimel), the boss with the bionic dick. Far from being embarrassed, he gleefully brings it up (the topic, ahem) at a dinner party and is paranoid that the couple is not impressed.

The writer/director doesn’t labour his points but leaves no doubt about the harmful effects of the two characters’ obsessions. More concerned with the humanity of the situation than the science, he makes no attempt to rationalise the time-hopping phenomena and just provides an entertaining and thought-provoking 90 minutes.

Incredible But True is available to stream on Arrow and is released on Blu-ray on December 5th.

YouTuber ‘Amazing’ Andy (Will Madden) makes prank videos and accepts an invitation to spend the weekend with his former partner and school friend Bryce (director and co-writer Jeff Ryan). Bryce has become a Hollywood star and Andy is clearly jealous but treats his mate as a sell-out. Bringing some friends and his regular cameraman to make a ‘vlogumentary’ exposing Bryce, but bigger things are afoot when past nightmares return.

Using the obnoxious vlogger approach, Mean Spirited raises slightly above the usual found footage movie. The more aware you are of the presentation styles that the film incorporates, the higher your enjoyment. The brashness doesn’t particularly lend itself to a full-length feature for those who are not invested in that lifestyle and staging. As things progress and the story leans into a more demonic range, it gets much more interesting. The characters are more annoying than endearing, which doesn’t really give us much emotional attachment when they are in peril, which is a shame as when things kick off, it’s a lot more fun.

Making his feature debut, Scott Lyus’ Walking Against the Rain is a powerful, engrossing, very human drama set against within a devastated Earth filled with roaming monsters.

Blair (Sophia Eleni) and Tommy (Reece Douglas) are struggling to survive after a calamity took place. Eking out an existence by raiding deserted evacuation centres, they find each other miles apart via walkie-talkies. They make a deal to try to meet so they set off on a perilous journey, never knowing when they might come into contact with other, less friendly, people or even worse, the Forsaken (James Swanton), a mutant humanoid breed that is adapting quickly to the find their prey: humans.

Without any backstory, Lyus jumps straight into introducing us to his protagonists. Blair seems to be the more resourceful of the two, almost to the point that it’s not clear how Tommy has survived this far into the post-apocalyptic world we’re in. The conceit of connecting them with walkie-talkies (the batteries of which will die at any time) is an interesting one, although we don’t know how they both have them, being so far apart! Almost as terrifying as the Xenomorph-like creatures that can (and do) turn up at any time are the other surviving humans. They are either religious zealots or homicidal chancers, willing to kill for the slim chance of some food. There’s still hope, however, with the ever-watchable Johnny Vivash’s James, a widower who helps one of the characters when they get into a deadly position. We’d like to think there would be people like that come the end of days.

Neal Parson’s cinematography makes the most of the desolate northern scenery, and there are some really effective locations. Sophia Eleni and Reece Douglas are superb as the leads; utterly believable and able to project the right amount of grief at the situation they are in. Every human character has suffered loss, and it’s this emotion that powers the story more than fear, although there’s plenty of that with some well-handled shocks. Walking Against the Rain is a confident debut that deserves to be seen.

Siblings Nathan (Nathan Wallace) and Mirra (Jenna Sander) return to their family farm following the suicide of their father. The pair have long-standing troubles; Nathan is a sober addict who is lured into his old ways, particularly when old friend Greg (Samuel Dunning) turns up. He’s also having vivid nightmares and after looking into the farm’s past, is convinced the workers who have stayed on, spellbinding sisters Scarlett (Estelle Girard Parks) and Alice (writer/director Elise Finnerty), are related to the land’s original owners, who could have been witches and their father may have gained the land illicitly.

The Ones You Didn’t Burn is a brooding, simmering and thoughtful film rather than out-and-out horror. It’s well acted by all involved. Nathan Wallace, in particular, represents the character’s turmoil honestly and as he goes deeper into the rabbit hole of land ownership and his lapse back into drug use. Elise Finnerty has crafted a dream-like quality at times for her debut feature and while it’s only around 70 minutes long, it doesn’t zip along faster than it needs to be. Brett Phillips’ cinematography is evocative of a modern western, with the expansive farmland given its own character. It’s a thoughtful film that builds up the fraught atmosphere to the nightmarish climax.

In 2015, indie filmmaker Liam Regan released his twisted debut, My Bloody Banjo (formally just Banjo), fast forward seven years and we’re back in the same universe, with this follow-up/not sequel.

Beth (Lyndsey Craine) is a vegan Goth trying to make her way through high school and yet another low-budget horror film. Unfortunately, Henenlotter High isn’t like other schools, rather than focus on their curriculum, they are keen to promote mass shootings. The highlight of the year: an ‘All You Can Eat Massacre’. Whoever wins gets the chance to either go on a spree or shoot themselves. Beth is hoping to win for the latter, particularly since she’s often bullied by the clique of clichéd girls (named Melissa, Clarissa, and Sabrina). When a new teacher, Miss Campbell (Lala Barlow) arrives, Beth develops a new urge: to eat human flesh.

Regan has teamed up with the Troma guys and it’s clear why it’s a match made in gooey heaven. Almost every taboo is broken, no gag is too risqué to pull, and while not everything lands on the first watch (it is a film that requires another run-through to fully appreciate), there’s a lot to enjoy if you’re in the same frame of mind. While it goes without saying that Eating Miss Campbell won’t be for everyone, there’s plenty to enjoy.

As well as being a spot-on satire on American high school life (as depicted in the films, at least), there’s plenty of social commentary, dished out with a ladle rather than a spoon. The aesthetic is very much in the Troma mould (Uncle Lloyd makes his obligatory, welcome appearance) but that’s not to say it’s sloppy. Far from it. It’s well acted; Lyndsey Craine is fabulous as the fourth-wall-breaking Beth and Laurence R. Harvey is at his creepy best, and everybody does their OTT best. It’s also very well shot by Hamish Saks and the team has excelled at making the low-budget look anything but.

If you want to be bombarded with almost constant bad taste dialogue and situations, you can’t go wrong with Eating Miss Campbell.

This anthology, directed by Tyler Cornack (best known for Butt Boy), is a twisted mishmash of tales that won’t be for everyone but does provide some fun.

Hosted by Paul Ford (The Field Guide to Evil), who, as he says is “A pretty weird choice for a host”. He sets the tone for what’s to come as he ushers in the first story, in which a husband becomes obsessed with finding out who ‘she’ is in the expression “that’s what she said”. A lonely woman who develops a relationship with a corpse she finds one day displays the type of irreverence the film has.

Cornack’s film could be considered a perverse Twilight Zone (apparently a TV series is in development) and won’t be for everyone, but those with a dark streak (OK, most of us, then!) will find something to enjoy. Re-Animator-eque moments, the lengths friends will go to, and mobster stereotypes all come into the mix, and fans of Butt Boy will be glad to know Cornack hasn’t forgotten the bad-taste-meter as there’s plenty of sick humour.

Each section is well-filmed and doesn’t overstay its welcome, although as with all portmanteau films, some stories are stronger than others and the pay-offs are hit-and-miss. Ford’s deadpan host is one of the highlights, though, and it’ll likely gain a cult following.

Jean Rollin is a filmmaker who is often forgotten when one looks back at horror and fantasy cinema and those who have influenced others. However, Dime Ballin and Kat Ellinger’s documentary corrects that discrepancy with a thoughtful and discerning look at the French director’s work and life.

Rather than fill the screen with the usual subjects delivering their opinions, we have a range of people who either knew or worked with Rollin, and the result is a much more personal approach. The more recognisable names included are Brigitte Lahaie, who appeared in several of Jean’s films, including one of his most popular, Fascination (1979). No one can forget that iconic image of Brigitte brandishing a scythe in the promotional stills even if they never saw the film. The still-effervescent Françoise Pascal talks about the director fondly from her time making arguably one of his most beautiful films, La Rose de fer (The Iron Rose, 1973). Another rare talking head is Nigel Wingrove, head honcho of Redemption Films, who released many of Rollin’s films on VHS in the UK in the ‘80s.

Orchestrator of Storms gives a glorious appraisal and understanding of Jean Rollin’s movies and life and if you haven’t sampled any of his output, this documentary will inspire you to check them out, and for those of us already converted to the cause, it’s a fascinating and engaging insight.