Solo Lady Horrors
by
Kristin Battestella
Old
and recent, foreign or domestic – this viewing quartet is a healthy
dose of solitary moms, virgins, co-eds, and tough ladies
single-handedly facing the scares.
Goodnight Mommy –
Lullabies and divine outdoor locations quickly turn ominous with dark
caves, deep lakes, nearby cemeteries, and underground tombs accenting
this 2014 Austrian psychological scare featuring twin boys and a
mother under wraps. Despite the bunk beds, wise viewers will of
course immediately wonder if there are really two sons – one always
hides or jumps out while the other calls, and their mother only
acknowledges one boy amid talk of an accident and a separation.
Mirrors, windows, blurred portraits, and odd artwork embellish their
cool mod home, and eerie visuals heighten the freaky surgery
bandages, prying peering, twisted dreams, and creepy bugs. Close the
blinds, no visitors, total quiet – the twins become increasingly
suspicious when such strict recovery rules and more unusual behaviors
don't compare to sing-a-longs and loving tapes made pre-surgery.
Naturally, English audiences have to pay attention due to the German
dialogue and subtitles, however viewers must also watch for silent
moments and visual clues as this TV host mom's obsession with her
surgery results increases and the boys' talking back turns into some
rough encounters. The sons research videos online and find strange
photos while hidden baby monitors and timer tick tocks up the
suspense. Who's right? Who's overreacting? What if we could see
things from the opposite point of view? They want proof she is their
mother and contact the local priest, but these seemingly innocent
boys play some gruesome games, too. The situation becomes more and
more claustrophobic, becoming trapped indoors and locked in one room
with homemade defenses and cringe-worthy torture done with something
as simple as the magnify glass with sunlight trick. The audience is
swayed with evidence one way before being presented with new
unreliability, familial violence, and pyromaniac tendencies in a
fiery topper. At times, this feels more like a sad drama than a
horror movie and some elements might have needed a bit more
clarification. However, the horrible stuff herein and debating on the
what ifs lasts long after the viewing, and this is a fine isolated
tale using slight of hand power of suggestion for its slow burn
unraveling.
The House of the Devil – Creepy menus, cult statistics, and
retro credits start this 2009 blu-ray featuring Jocelin Donahue (The
Burrowers), Dee Wallace (The Howling), and Mary Woronov
(Death Race 2000). Payphones, eighties rhythms, and old
fashioned style add period flair alongside onscreen smoking, maps,
feathered hair, and a big old cabinet television showing Night of
the Living Dead. Even the giant
Walkman and slightly corny music montage and dance about the house
has a purpose in the narrative. Church bells, cemeteries, and
an imminent eclipse lay the scary foundation, and rather than an
opening scare fake-out, writer/director/editor Ti West (The
Innkeepers) uses zooms and
movement within the camera frame to create viewer intimacy, closing
in from the chilly exterior and ominous windows as the suspicious
phone calls lead to desperate babysitting jobs, desolate night
drives, and a maze-like Victorian manor. Yes, our Samantha is
at times very dumb and unaware she is in a horror movies thanks to
plot holes a collaborator not wearing so many behind the scenes hats
could have clarified. Mistakes and convenient contrivances in the
somewhat tacked on final act also break the solitary point of view
for the audience's benefit. However, that finale free for all with
ritual candles, hooded robes, and a sudden twist ending is in the
seventies splatter spirit, and the simmering, silent build happens
naturally over the film. Instead of hollow thrills a minute, the
viewer is allowed time to suspect the scary attic, theorize on
suspicious photos, and listen for every noise – we know something
is supposed to happen but not when. Though this kind of approach may
seem boring to some, this innate alone trickle let's us appreciate
the dark basement and the inopportune power outage for when the
titular frights do happen. It's nice to have something different from
the mainstream horror trite, too – not to mention an $8 pizza!
Hush
– Writer and director Mike Flanagan (Oculus, Absentia) and
his wife, co-writer, and star Kate Siegel place our deaf-mute author
in a pleasant forest cabin for some writing, relaxation, and terror
in this 2016 eighty minute Netflix original. Comfort cooking noise
fades and unheard laptop tones switch to wild kitchen alarms –
immediately establishing the common sounds taken for granted
alongside subtitled Sign Language, feeling vibrations for sound, and
hearing an author voice in your head brainstorms. Friends speak while
they sign, breaking up the quiet for the viewer, and we must pay
attention to writing onscreen such as book jackets and manuscript
text. Understandably, phone technology and Facetime calls are
important, but an over-reliance on gadgets in horror can be tiring
and soon dated with wi-fi switches, lost connections, and cut power.
Fortunately, the intimate home makes the audience accustomed to the
hearing challenges before adding the muffled silence, unseen scares,
unheard screams, and instant cyberstalking. Through windows or
foreground focus and background action, we have the full perspective
when the protagonist doesn't. It is however a mistake to reveal the
crossbow and Bowie knife wielding stalker so completely. We don't
need to know the sociopath motivation nor should the viewer feel for
the killer or care if he has any personality, and removing his mask
just creates limp assholery. The frightening unknown with footstep
vibrations, hands at the window, and approaching shadows creates a
better siege, and the mystery of who and why is lost in the contrived
lulls and stupid mistakes while Maddie waits around for his taunts
instead of fighting back. Why not set something on fire, smoke signal
authorities? Having her inner monologue address the situation and the
pros or cons in each course of action is also better than breaking
Maddie's point of view and using fake out possibilities. Although
it's a pity millennial viewers wouldn't watch something that was all
silent, the long periods with no dialogue, sound effects, and score
crescendos do just fine in accenting these unique dynamics. While not
perfect, this tale has enough thriller tense and innate woman alone
in peril – and thus proves exactly why I must know where all the
windows, entrances, and exits are in a given location and never sit
with my back to any of them!
A Virgin Among the Living Dead
– Various versions of this 1971 French/Spanish co-production exist
thanks to re-releases of Jesus Franco's (The
Awful Doctor Orloff)
edition and added zombie footage from director Jean Rollin
(Fascination).
The trying to be poetic narration is unnecessary, the subtitles are
off, and the dubbing is out of sync with the serious close ups. A
dockside tense and snotty hotel warnings don't bode well for the
boobies and little white panties revealing an obvious brown carpet
not matching the blonde drapes, either. Askew angles, empty rooms,
and creepy statues make this secluded villa Old World eerie – kind
of like the mid-century Gothic look my parents' house had when I was
a kid with big, foreboding lamps, tall, arched mirrors, and The
Man with the Golden Helmet above
an orange settee.
Yes, I now realize this probably explains a lot about my interest in
horror. (That and being forced to wear pink and bows but that is
another story.) A happy nature stroll can't compete with demented
music and deathbed vigils, and townsfolk suggestions to run,
abandoned chapels, and prayer recitations are ignored in favor of
this freaky family's casual views on death. Distorted camerawork
accentuates weird eyes, facial oddities, and ritual pursuits as flies
and buzzing sounds increase. From voyeuristic geezers and bats on the
bed to a giant dildo on the floor and a blind chick getting her
seventies bush trimmed by another girl sucking on her bloody boob –
it's time to get out of Dodge. Unfortunately, the inconsistent
characters and forgetful, stalling plot are very thin with potential
psychic connections unclear and a running in circles, going nowhere
fast pace. Intercut zooms while everyone squints over the reading of
the will feels Charlie
Brown wah-wah,
and nothing comes of possible sexual awakenings, suicides, and
daughters
paying for sins of the father themes. There were no zombies in the
version I saw – I'm not even sure which version it was. However,
the muddled onscreen reflects the messy behind the scenes intrusions,
and the overall result is not as good as it could have been.
Fortunately, this isn't super bad, and Franco enthusiasts will find
many bemusing aspects alongside the saucy violence and undead
foretellings.
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