"A" Horrors List!

 

"A" Horrors list!

by Kristin Battestella

What happens when you alphabetize your Netflix queue? Three “A” horror movies in a row! Fortunately, these feminine horrors, period pieces, and cinema scares bring a decent “A” game, too.

Amulet – Debut writer and director Romola Garai's (Angel) 2020 feminine horror spin has many of the same faults as other writer/director combos in need of a fine tuning second eye. Overly arty shots, zooms, and angles that may or may not be significant pad a longer than necessary duration that's very slow, and the weird for the sake of it sometimes gets in the way of otherwise fine gore. The lack of subtitles and soft dialogue muddle what should be intriguing characterizations, and dual storytelling will be confusing to some thanks to dreams, flashbacks, and little explanation on who, where, and when. Nothing happens until the final fifteen minutes, leaving potentially fascinating monsters, demons, and magic without equal attention. Fortunately, haunting melodies and out of focus blurs immediately create unease and distortion amid foggy mountains, lovely forests, shelter cots, and hospital haggard. Seemingly kind nun Imelda Staunton (Harry Potter) sends our soldier to work in a cluttered fixer upper with dusty old things, shabby wallpaper, and a fearful young woman caring for her ill mother in the attic. Suspect cooking, ravenous seconds, and bite marks create innuendo between the bachelor and our pretty girl, but gross plumbing, bloody linens, black water, and an albino bat in the toilet bowl lead to freaky scares. Choking attacks, gutted fish squishes, knives, and stabs in a vaginal looking throat lead to confessed mistakes, rapaciousness, bone cracking revelations, and unforgiving ancient gods. Mirrored clues, cigarettes hints, and jewelry suggestions add to the deranged as supposedly good men still ain't shit. Shell motifs and a surreal reentering of the womb make for some wild scenery in the standout finale as man gets to know what a woman's lot in life feels like – and it is not an undeserved punishment. Although this won't be for everyone, the symbolic imagery and well done gore have heaps to say for fans of feminine horror.

Anguish – Bigas Lunas (Jamon Jamon) directs Zelda Rubenstein (Teen Witch) in this 1986 Spanish meta brimming with gross eyeballs, mama's boy killers, and onscreen warnings about subliminal suggestions and medical assistance in the theater lobby. Birds and knitting at home with mom should be quaint, but cages, snails, shells, and ticking clocks accent the bizarre relationship. Up close surgeries and poking and prodding around the eyes escalate to opera drowning out the screams and black tie snobbery marred with blood. Reverse countdowns, heartbeats, regression, and telepathic commands match the staircase fights and stabbing instruments as the violence is both precision and opportunistic. The squeamish audience watching The Mommy herein the dark cinema, however, can't look away as they eat their popcorn because, after all, it's only a movie. Hypnosis captivates the internal viewers, taking its time with the deceptive ebb and flow spiral imagery. Unlike today's desensitizing in your face and excessive slight of hand, seeing a person in fear helps us relate to the terror as it slows down, making room to ramp it up rather than just being out of control up up up numbing all the time. Precious few exterior establishing shots place but don't break immersion amid shrewd use of what's in and out focus and multiple layers of horror. Visually there's also a sense of depth; actions aren't 3D thrust out at us but characters within must move deeper and look around the corner as the doors are locked and the killer roams. Shushing spectators go on eating more popcorn regardless of the titular discomforts around them because the make believe cinema within a cinema mirror imagery is more important to them. Men in the ladies room chills and theater shootings are real world disturbing – a prophetic analysis on movie obsessions and how we view everything through someone else's lens. The films, tears, and violence merge thanks to panic and helplessness as the life imitating art goes too far. The only resource is “Let's go find a phone booth,” and mother takes matters into her own hands amid police in the projection room and hostages in front of the movie screen. The last resort is to stop the movie and turn up the lights, but the picture asks, “What are you looking at?” while the credits roll in this surprisingly smart commentary on our voyeuristic tendencies.

Apostle – Picturesque views, lovely mountains, and 1905 train whistles lead to shady docks, rough travels, and an isolated Welsh island commune in this 2018 Netflix Original starring Dan Stevens (Downton Abbey) and Michael Sheen (Underworld). Opium addicts are not up to the journey, but personal items are to be left behind, for “She” decides what to give or take. Three escapees founded the community with “Her voice” – the goddess of the island who saves those who are godless. Lanterns, creepy hymns, fire and brimstone sermons, and ghostly figures in the window escalate to spying and bloodlettings amid hidden doors under the rug, skeleton keys, and scary barns in the forest. Despite obvious Wicker Man inspirations; the poisoned crops, deformed animal births, recitations, and blasphemers don't underestimate the audience by pretending the moss, fog, caves, and mystical trees are innocent or quaint. Fears over low supplies, the king's ships, and infiltration begat swords, spears, torches, and threats. Ominous, pulsing music accents the shaking and withdrawals as the mysteries intensify thanks to shrieking old ladies suggesting earlier sirens, ancient writings, and goddess worship. Boxer Rebellion torment and burning crosses add to the previous loss of faith and unanswered prayers. Is anyone pure or is the divine an illusion? The Scriptures, however, come in handy for convincing the cult faithful to beware the wolf in sheep's clothing. Leaders who believed their original free society concept grow weary over the violence, crimes, and consequences as the community divides over innocent bloodshed. The turn of the century rural gives way to medieval-esque torture with purification rituals, gory cuts, black hoods, shackles, and false prophets. Man thinks he can imprison a goddess and control her, dictating who will be sacrificed or starved. The patriarchy doesn't want anything taken from it – especially control or its daughters – but the lies and manipulation assure the goddess will have her say. At over two hours, the slow burn grows flabby with too many tangents. It's difficult to believe so much happens in just a few days, and the organized religion bad but faith or natural worship good mixed messages commentary unravel with inconsistencies, rushing at the end when again a second pair of eyes would have helped writer and director Gareth Evans (The Raid). Although the religious food for thought mystery fumbles, the period mood and folk atmosphere here provide unique entertainment.

Yes, I still have a Netflix DVD queue. Don't judge me. 😁