Review Category: Reviews

BABY REINDEER

The true story of writer and comedian Richard Gadd’s experience with a female stalker, as previously told in his one-man Edinburgh Fringe show, and now adapted into a Netflix limited series of the same name.

Adapting the story across seven episodes, Gadd plays barman and aspiring comedian Donny Dunn, who attracts the attention of stalker Martha (Jessica Gunning) with a kind word and a cup of tea. Donny quickly realises that there’s something not quite right about Martha, but sympathy, good humour, and a little bit of ego keep him stringing her on… long after he realises that he shouldn’t.

From here, things quickly spiral out of control, with Martha inserting herself into every corner of Donny’s life, in both jobs (including a nails-down-the-chalkboard uncomfortable comedy gig, where he lightly encourages her heckling for the laughs), at home, and in his burgeoning relationship with Teri (Nava Mau). And yet, no matter how far Martha goes – harassing his family, assaulting him in a dark alley – Donny can’t bring himself to cut her off completely.

No one-man show this; Gadd and Gunning are a magnetic pairing, finding sympathy in the latter’s sad, scary, intense performance as Martha. The series also serves as a retelling of Gadd’s other stage show, Monkey See Monkey Do – an account of his most harrowing secret and the basis for the darkest, saddest, most disturbing episode of television you’ll see this year.

There are no easy answers here, and much of Baby Reindeer involves Donny/Gadd attempting to make sense of his own past trauma, resisting the urge to paint Martha as a pantomime villain or himself as the hapless victim. Combining Nighty Night/League of Gentlemen-esque laughs with the tone and atmosphere of a horror film, it’s a difficult, provocative work full of palpable pain and humanity.

Baby Reindeer doesn’t make for easy viewing but rewards those who would tolerate the more upsetting sequences with sharp writing, layered performances and a rich vein of black comedy, well tapped.

BABY REINDEER is out now on Netflix UK & Ireland.

FOUNDERS DAY

Amidst an increasingly vicious mayoral race, a masked serial killer stalks the streets of small-town America, terrorising its denizens with a rictus smile and a bloodied gavel. Traumatised when the killer chooses her girlfriend as the first victim, young Allison (Naomi Grace) attempts to survive the night – her hometown becoming a blood-drenched battleground in the battle of the mayors.

This political slasher film by director Erik Bloomquist and co-writer (plus brother) Carson Bloomquist brings a modern-day agenda to a story straight out of My Bloody Valentine or the Scream franchise. There’s a masked killer on the loose, picking off various victims in and around town… but whodunnit?

The political angle is interesting but disappointingly toothless, with very little separating mayoral candidates Blair Gladwell (Amy Hargreaves) and Harold Faulkner (Jayce Bartok) beyond the fact that one of them is a woman and the other looks a bit like Cary Elwes. Both sides suck, sure (how very South Park of you), but there’s not much reason to care about either.

With other members of the cast struggling to hold up their end (its lead’s shrieking quickly becomes a problem), it’s down to veterans Catherine Curtin and William Russ to man the fort, giving an air of respectability to the misjudged comedy and clunky social commentary.

Grisly kill sequences and effectively employed stalk-and-slash tropes give the final stretch a bit of a boost. However, this slasher twist isn’t quite twisted enough when it comes down to the final count.

FOUNDERS DAY is released on digital platforms on April 29th.

ALASDAIR BECKETT-KING: NEVERMORE

Alasdair Beckett King Credit-Edward-Moore

Tall, ginger, and surprisingly English comedian Alasdair Beckett-King has made a name for himself thanks to some perfectly formed short pieces of comedy on social media platforms such as Instagram and YouTube. His material is the sort that will delight STARBURST readers: a mix of pop-culture observation, quick wit, and an awkward and geeky persona that is incredibly charming.

His current stand-up act, Nevermore, is a tight sixty minutes of extremely well-timed and energetic humour. These are short bursts of intensely silly and extremely accessible comedy that bring a gentle smile to the face. Beckett-King then uses short video clips to alter the pace of the show and turn that smile into a deep belly laugh. The videos are often integral to the routine, allowing the comedians to talk to themselves without seeming too indulgent.

The routine is semi-autobiographical, like a lot of comedy, without being too personal. We learn that Alasdair is a Geordie (he grew up near Newcastle) with both Scottish and English parents, and he’s able to tap this regional distinctiveness into something unique and funny.

The show feels incredibly short (despite being a solid hour) and this is because it’s so well-packed. No prop is wasted, no aside or simple observation isn’t wrapped up. The content is pure fun; there are no politics here, nor does Beckett-King ever feel the need to punch down to get a laugh; this is wholesome and entertaining stuff.

If you are familiar with the artist’s social media, you may recognise a joke or two, but given that the show is full of original and clever material, you’ll barely notice between guffaws. It is incredibly daft in the most brilliant way.

Alasdair Beckett-King is an amazing chortle-merchant; see this exciting young talent while they are still doing smaller, intimate venues if you can.

You can find out more about Alasdair Beckett King and his current tour, here. And book here.

THE COFFEE TABLE

One man’s spite-purchase becomes a family’s downfall when the gaudy coffee table Jesús (David Pareja) buys to piss off his wife proves to be the ultimate pain in the neck.

Already going through a rough patch in their marriage, new parents Jesús and María (Estefanía de los Santos) find their life turned upside down after buying an allegedly ‘unbreakable’ table from a seedy furniture salesman. Such innocuous beginnings kick off this pitch-black farce from director Caye Casas and co-writer Cristina Borobia.

Not recommended for the faint of heart nor easily upset, The Coffee Table is a provocative, needling work of misery-porn – taking its instigating tragedy and steadfastly refusing to flinch from the ensuing agony. As the fallout settles and Jesús and María gather the family for lunch, Casas and Borobia dial up the discomfort, in a feverish anxiety nightmare which recalls both the work of the Safdie Brothers and that episode of Peep Show where they kill and eat the dog.

But for all the deliberate, gleeful cruelty, The Coffee Table’s core strength is its empathy – pinpointing exactly where it hurts and turning the screw, unleashing fresh heartbreak with every pointed comment or now bleakly appropriate sentiment. The writing and direction is well supported by the film’s performances, which find humanity in the darkness, no matter how unpleasant things become – nor darkly ridiculous the situation.

Deeply shocking and genuinely transgressive, The Coffee Table does not make for easy or pleasant viewing – but it is an impressive work of boundary-bashing trauma-baiting from filmmakers who both delight in and profoundly understand their victims’ pain. The ultimate in feel-bad cinema!

THE COFFEE TABLE is out on digital release from 20 May.

THE FIRST OMEN

The arrival of The First Omen, the prequel to 1976’s The Omen (one of the better post-Exorcist ‘demonic child’ horror movies) couldn’t have been more unfortunately-timed, appearing in cinemas alongside the (mother) superior Immaculate which treads very similar narrative ground. The First Omen may be of interest due to its connection to a ‘franchise’ launched nearly fifty years ago, but ultimately, this is the weaker, less interesting film even if Omen obsessives (we’re assuming there are such people if only to justify the existence of the film at all) will enjoy the threads that aim to bind it to the bigger picture(s) to come.

Rome, 1971 and novitiate Margaret Daino (Nell Tiger Free, excellent) arrives to take up her post at the Vizzardeli Orphanage and is warmly greeted by Cardinal Lawrence (Bill Nighy), Abbess Silvia (Sonia Braga), and fellow novitiate Luz (Maria Caballero). The two young nuns visit a disco, and Margaret dances with the charismatic Paolo (Andrea Arcangeli), but she blacks out and wakes the next morning with no memory of the night before. During an encounter with Father Brennan (played by Patrick Troughton in the 1976 film but here by Ralph Ineson in an ill-advised wig), Margaret is informed that radicals within the church are conspiring to bring the Antichrist to Earth in a bid to terrify people into returning to the church. Margaret’s own investigations uncover a terrible conspiracy that involves a cabal of nuns at the Orphanage and reaches to the highest levels of the church itself as well as back into Margaret’s own past.

It’s all very melodramatic and the film, directed powerfully by Arkasha Stevenson, fulfils its remit to serve as a predecessor to the 1976 original – this feels very much of the time it’s set in. But it’s a drab, beige affair that drags its heels and only really comes to life during a couple of audacious set pieces. Nods to the original are quite subtle – an early scene cleverly hints at the ultimate fate of Troughton’s older Brennan in The Omen, and there’s even a quick visual reference to Gregory Peck’s Robert Thorn. It’s inevitable that The First Omen feels old-fashioned even if by design, but its cliched cocktail of devious nuns, impregnating demons and ‘the mark of the beast’ (that’s 666 to you) ends this unnecessary exhuming of an old film series not with a bang but a wimple.

THE FIRST OMEN is in cinemas now

RIDDLE OF FIRE

Set in a semi-fantastical rural Wyoming that is instantly familiar and magical, golden, and sun saturated on Kodak film, Riddle of Fire is a distillation of all the child-centred fantasy and adventure films you got to watch when you were off school sick. It follows the adventures of a gang of three tearaway kids (Phoebe Ferro, Charlie Stover, and Skyler Peters) whose summer holiday plans – which initially resemble a magical realist junior Grand Theft Auto – hit a firewall that necessitates the baking of a near-mythical blueberry pie, setting off a spiralling series of side quests that lead to self-discovery, wild swimming, vomiting, and a concerning amount of child peril.

The debut of writer and star (as a bumbling henchman) Weston Razooli, Riddle of Fire is set in a surprisingly convincing alternative rural America, where a self-conscious fairy tale plotline with magic, princesses, charms, curses, woodsmen, and wicked witches (played by an authentically chilling Lio Tipton), fits naturally with monster trucks, all-night bars and tacky gas station knick-knacks. It also features adorably chaotic children at its centre, who are allowed to cuss, fight each other, and get incredibly filthy dirty, which we always find uplifting.

But for all its magic, the film crams too much too slowly to maintain the snappy side quest promise of the opening section. While the child stars are sweet and (mostly) very natural, they are most fun as their chaotic, criminal selves at the film’s opening, so their arc of learning to match their better angels feels almost disappointing. Nonetheless, if you are off poorly from school (or wish you were), Riddle of Fire will definitely deliver the fresh baked blueberry pie taste of nostalgia you need.

RIDDLE OF FIRE premieres exclusively on the Icon Film Channel from May 6th, and will then release in selected UK cinemas on June 7th

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES ARCADE: WRATH OF THE MUTANTS

PLATFORM: PC, PS4/5, SWITCH, XBOX ONE/SERIES (REVIEWED) | RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

An expanded version of the 2017 arcade game based on Nickelodeon’s 2012 TMNT revival, Wrath of the Mutants is a side-scrolling beat ’em up along the same lines as Streets of Rage, Double Dragon and, lest we forget, the classic 1989 Turtles arcade game and its 1991 follow-up, Turtles in Time. Playable solo or with up to three friends in four-player co-op (local only – there’s no online functionality at all, sadly, not even online leaderboards), this edition of WotM contains all of the original’s star power (there’s voice work from Seth Green, Gilbert Gottfried, Curb Your Enthusiasm‘s JB Smoove, amongst others) as well as a couple of extra levels and boss fights, all of which are definite plus points, but unfortunately nothing has been done to make the game more exciting than the original.

Each of the four Turtles control identically, able to attack with a single button, grab and throw items, and pick up tokens to summon assistance from Leatherhead and/or Metalhead who quickly wipe out all of the enemies before disappearing again. Shell tokens send you spinning around the screen for a few seconds, a handful of projectile weapons can be used on occasion, and – in the only difference between any of the Turtles – you’re able to unleash a character-specific screen-clearing special attack when your power meter fills up. There are no combos to speak of, nor any upgrades to work towards or secrets or collectibles to find, and the combat feels quite stiff and clunky, making each trip through any given level feel very limited and simplistic.

Any given stage will take around ten minutes to finish, meaning the whole game can be wrapped up within about an hour. There are three difficulty settings to challenge yourself with, but higher difficulties don’t seem to alter anything other than the amount of lives you’re given to get to the end of each stage. Wrath of the Mutants is inoffensive enough to possibly recommend to younger kids who love TMNT but aren’t yet savvy enough to get to grips with anything more than mashing buttons and hoping for the best, which may well be the game’s intended audience. Anyone hoping for something to rival Shredder’s Revenge, though, will be sorely disappointed.

HUNT HER, KILL HER

Working the graveyard shift in a furniture factory, janitor Karen (Natalie Terrazzino) finds herself facing a fight for her
life when a gang of masked intruders break in, apparently set on slicing her to bits.

Directed by Greg Swinson and Ryan Thiessen, Hunt Her, Kill Her (you see what they did there) boasts a simple
premise – Die Hard meets The Strangers in a perilous industrial warehouse. In Terrazzino, the film finds a strong lead,
and Swinson and Thiessen, put through a whole gauntlet of violence and abuse. Filmed in the Tennessee
hometown of The Evil Dead, this brutal action thriller shares DNA with the Sam Raimi classic (plus a brick borrowed
from the original cabin) – and this can be deeply felt in the directors’ treatment of their Ash, single mother factory
worker Karen.

The action beats and horrifying gore are perhaps surprising, given the shaky start it gets off to. Thankfully, Terrazzino
soon finds her feet, and once the would-be killers break-in, the film never lets up until its grisly, unpredictable end.

The budget may be low – evident in the unpleasant visuals and some grimace-worthy performances from Karen’s
attackers – but the action is well done. Employing gloopy practical effects and putting the many warehouse tools and environmental kills surrounding Karen to good use, Hunt Her, Kill Her is a particularly nasty genre work.

HUNT HER, KILL HER is out April 26th.

THE CAT AND THE CANARY (1927)

The silent classic from director Paul Leni (The Last Warning) still impresses – even more so in this Eureka! Blu-ray.

The story has been told numerous times since this first adaptation of the stage play. A greedy group of relatives descend on an old mansion for a will reading on the 20th anniversary of the passing of ‘crazy’ Cyrus West. There’s a secondary clause when the heir is announced: should they be deemed mentally unfit before the morning, another inheritor will benefit. Unfortunately, the second benefactor has found out they are in for a fortune, and the initial recipient could be in mortal danger. Add the fact that there’s a deadly escaped criminal who thinks they’re a cat loose, and you can guarantee an eventful night.

Stunningly filmed and full of striking expressionist and surreal flourishes, Leni’s masterpiece is often overshadowed by the more familiar 1939 Bob Hope version of the story due to it being a silent movie. However, it’s one of the movies in which many of the ‘old dark house’ tropes were born, so it’s doubly important. It also stands up amazingly well almost 100 years since it was made. The comic relief in this version is provided by Harold Lloyd-alike Creighton Hale, and fortunately, his presence doesn’t take away from the creepiness of the visuals. Even the intertitles possess an eerie quality, emphasising the action on-screen. Despite the familiarity of the story, this version still surprises and has some genuinely creepy moments. It also shows what a visionary Leni was and how tragic it was that he died so young, only three years after this unmissable classic.

Eureka’s release has several interesting extras. Two commentaries add context to the feature with an entertaining zest. A fascinating video essay delves into the history of old dark house stories on stage and screen while a pair of critics give insights to the picture. Sure, there is some repeated information when you watch each extra back-to-back, but they are enjoyable and informative enough to be worthwhile.

THE CAT AND THE CANARY is available on Blu-ray from April 22nd.

HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS

What a title! And thankfully, the film delivers; if it were called “This Movie Will Give You $1,000,000” I would be writing this review from a yacht. Greenhorn director Mike Cheslik introduces us to an alcoholic cider manufacturer in pioneer-time America who must learn to survive in the wilderness by fighting off rabbits, raccoons, and, of course, beavers, as played by cast members in Disneyland-style costumes. Although on the surface, it may seem like a parodic B-movie oddity, it is, instead, a cannot be ignored rip-roaring comedy that will stand the test of time for its classic elements alongside its timeliness. The trick Cheslik and his team have pulled off is to create a fresh feeling, original film with the familiarity of an old sweater.

Rather than creating new aesthetics whole cloth, the filmmakers lifted a combination of ideas from other art in an original way. This is ‘Influenced Cinema’. Cheslik joins the ranks of Quentin Tarantino and Edgar Wright in constructing works so strongly indebted to their creators’ influences that they are inextricable until a generation decides only to remember the influenced work. Audiences are hailing Hundreds of Beavers as the return of early cinema, and indeed, the almost completely dialogue-free black and white movie brings to mind Chaplin’s slapstick or, in talkies, W.C. Field’s absurd games. But Cheslik has layered upon it so much more. The Looney Tunes logic, a Silver Age Disney animated musical number, charming Muppets-like expression, and most prominently, a Legend of Zelda video game shop system, inventory tracker, overworld map, and use of sound effects are all in service of a wholly original story.

While certainly frenetic, the collage feels so natural in execution. Watching our fur trapper friend set traps like comedic setups with ten-minute later punchline payoffs is genuinely engrossing. The experience of seeing the film isn’t a nostalgic one we hold at a distance but a raw, immersive laughter powerhouse that could only come to us now. This child of the ’00s and ’10s American Midwest Internet video sketch scene doesn’t adopt its parent’s propensity for parody. The “going out in the woods to film a thing with friends” could easily turn into something derivative. Instead, these filmmakers set out to make something fun and original from the media that made them. In a world where Hollywood comedy movies are relegated to the Apatow-style of improvisational awkwardness, it’s incredibly refreshing to explore other avenues of movie comedy that are not reliant on references to pop culture even as they adopt their look.

If you seek to be surprised with genuine movie magic, the kind of delights where a younger version of yourself would wonder how a certain effect, stunt, or gag has been achieved or how a script seems to know exactly how your mind works, then there’s no better recommendation this year. Through a combination of costuming, animation, green screen environments, and a sprinkle of puppetry, the world of Hundreds of Beavers feels as tangible as Hyrule, as brimming with laughter as the Muppet theatre, and as full of imagination as the woods behind your own suburban house.

HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS is on general release in the US.