Recent Religious Horrors

 

Recent Religious Horror

by Kristin Battestella

This trio of 2020s frights takes on evil in several forms. However, some results are better than others are – ranging from decent to frustrating and downright bad viewing experiences.

Pretty Good

The First Omen – Sonia Braga (Kiss of the Spiderwoman), Bill Nighy (Underworld), and Charles Dance (Game of Thrones) provide supporting gravitas in this 2024 prequel to The Omen co-written by debut director Arkasha Stevenson (Vessels). Tolling bells, scaffolding perils, and shattered glass begat shadowed confessions and whispers of unnatural conceptions. Black hoods, bound rituals, pregnancy, blood, and pleas to not be touched again make for a chilling start before the sunny arrival of our friendly American nun at the 1971 Roman orphanage. The old corridors look shabby with an amber, aged patina, and we wonder what goes on in this villa filled with women. These nuns smoke and giggle about the milkman, however union protests and youth counterculture that distrust church authority worry the Cardinal. Our novice recounts being a problem child herself, punished and subdued as a ward of the church for what was said to be an overactive imagination. She's reluctant to sneak out and hit the neon disco but soon gets into the dancing and sweaty kisses before regrets, kneeling, and prayers. Lookalike women, sisterhood suggestions, lesbian taboos, and repeated creepy hair fanning out upon the pillows foreshadow more while an excommunicated priest warns of evil things happening. Immolation, delirious weirdness, and monstrous nasty provide what we think we see in the dark fears amid eerie frescoes, hidden rooms, and disturbing offspring. Pregnancy is not a beautiful experience but gory with medical tools and horrible visions of demon hands and orifices. Backward chants and altars treat the Cesarean as ceremony – escalating to claws, growls, retching, convulsions, and baby cries. The elders claim this abomination is a miracle to save the church, however viewers will know what's what re mother and jackal before the ninety minute mark, and this didn't need to be two hours. Pointless arty shots and short cryptic scenes are disjointed while silly jump scares negate the more natural simmering horror mood. Swelling music calls attention to itself, heralding the spooky when the chorales should only be heard as diegetic and innate to the ritual vows. The revelations are overdone with repeated mark of the beast questions and Antichrist goals that don't make much sense when the sixth month, sixth hour, sixth day approaching should have driven the plot. Though very atmospheric and overall entertaining thanks to sudden, disturbing horrors; the last half hour drags on with fiery slow motion and but wait there's more too many endings. Instead of leading up to the picture of Gregory Peck and fin, this overstays its welcome by eking out room for The First Exorcism 2: Boogaloo.

Frustrating

The Harbinger – Native American seer Irene Bedard (Smoke Signals) educates writer/director/producer/star Will Klipstine (The Evolution of Andrew Andrews) on saving his damned daughter in this devilish 2022 tale. Hangings, mysterious death relics, and burning in hell declarations lead to our on the go family refusing the psychologist's concerns. Sunny flashbacks of happier times are oddly intercut with a cliché driving montage and an ominous gas station stop before an annoying neighbor gives the newcomers the bigoted scoop on the nearby cursed reservation. Our daughter kills a frog and pushes children out of the tree house, but the something evil afoot parental arguments are too on the nose – forcing the sinister amid disjointed scenes that don't happen organically. Viewers wonder what's on purpose, deflection, or padding as more caricature neighbors come and go. Little miss creepy is unwelcome at the reservation, but our seer both says there is no hope for such evil yet there is something they can do. Although not stereotypically portrayed, there also simply aren't enough Native American motifs. Mystical explanations devolve into magical gobbledygook about quests, blessed daggers, and sacred stones. Repetitive scenes with redundant exposition get preposterous as everyone tells but no one actually does anything. Our father finally admits the devil has his daughter's soul, and his having been a single parent would have been much more interesting. The best moments here are between dad and daughter with her asking if he remembers what she was really like and his carrying her to bed as always. One scene with our wife going to confession and the priest kicking her out goes nowhere thanks to demonic reflections, spooky whispers, dreams, and sepia speakeasy specters negating the too few and far between emotional family moments. Continued happy flashbacks don't create emotion, just delay the current inaction as our passive family makes no progress. The Mrs. hardly interacts with her daughter unless it's to be whooshed around the kitchen, complaining her husband needs to do more rather than being proactive herself. Likewise, our seer tells of colonial curses and sacrifices in the town crypt but she's not actively involved in any ritual to prevent the collecting of souls. Dead animals accumulate and demons attack the bed as more deaths and comeuppance are given after the fact. Police investigations again fall back on flashbacks – repeating the deals with the devil and harbinger exposition twice more with who's actually in on appeasing the devil. Their faith in God and any Catholicism are a non-factor but convenient cemetery maps and prohibition tunnels provide action contrivances, convenient angels, and gangster ghosts. The horn and hoof red devil begats back and forth flying daggers stabbing people like it's “Who's on First” – the effects aren't terrible but the finale descends into unnecessary twists and obvious self-sacrifice. Diablo ex machina reincarnation and more historical exposition thrown at the screen become terribly frustrating, silly, and overlong. Though watchable if you accept this is a flawed production that had potential, this should have been a taut, streamlined ninety minutes.

Skip It

The Exorcism of God – I want to appreciate the Mexican setting, Spanish flavor, and Catholic mood of this 2021 parable, but my gosh if this isn't pieces of every other exorcism movie put together. I laughed in the first five minutes over the Exorcist knockoffs and ridiculously sexual opening exorcism – predicting it was a prologue that would to jump to a new many years later focus. Even priests named Michael and Peter are derivative of the maligned The Seventh Day, and it was very easy to zone out and half pay attention when not chuckling at the demon special effects. The earnest performances are so earnest they don't know they are in a horror movie. Sometimes that is good, most of the time it isn't. Every set piece scare is also for the audience – negating any of the priestly conflicts with repeated, increasingly hammy sexual possession shocks. This setting deserved a much better script, and Saban should really stick to Power Rangers instead of trying to make horror movies. How could a studio/distributor release forty-five films in 2022? Even if that was somehow pandemic backlog, terrible movies like this result in such littered streaming. More important than the assembly line industry, however, is the downright offensive, trying to be shocking, scandalous possession and sex ploys toward church abuse victims. A priest claiming a demon made him molest young women in his care is your plot? Who thought rape jokes were a good idea?

Horror Hexes!

 

Horror Hexes, Oh My!

By Kristin Battestella

These diverse, contemporary scares accent their cultural horrors with hexes, charms, and chills. Read on for protection, warnings, and mistakes from the parables herein.

Evil Eye – Traditional, superstitious Delhi mother Sarita Choudhury (Homeland) worries when her New Orleans daughter meets a too good to be true, suave, wealthy stranger in this 2020 Blumhouse/Amazon tale based on an Audible original. The culture and customs are immediately felt thanks to the styles, music, and protection charms. Old fashioned Mom follows Hindu astrology and warns that it's easy for a relationship to be perfect in the beginning. She's displeased with the whirlwind jewelry and doesn't want them to move in together unless they're married. It's too soon and she loves her daughter too much. Their horoscopes are exceptionally compatible, almost suspiciously, and our father objects to mom's invasive hiring of a private detective. He thinks she is inventing things to worry about, but viewers spot the possessive, fast red flags as our daughter quits her job and moves without telling mom. Video phone calls visualize the bothersome intrusions – differing time zones mean one side is always waking or disturbing the other. Family strife and realistic unease beyond the horror make flashes of mom's prior violent experience unnecessary until we get the whole story in full. Rather than a typical research montage, the right versus wrong argument is refreshing as the upsetting past comes to light in heartfelt dialogue. Are we suspicious because our mothers taught us to be? Children don't know everything about their parents or why they do what they do, and the stalking effects linger – knowing he is always there is frightful enough. Although the ladies bond over crap men, mom's demands about unborn curses and reincarnation sound crazy and controlling. She says she'll drop everything and get rid of the charms in face to face split screens, but chilling evidence and eerie revelations lead to in person confrontations where blood proves stronger than romance or evil. Domestic action rushes an ending that feels more like a straight thriller with no mystical connections, for the supernatural spiritual here won't be esoteric enough for viewers expecting full on horror. Fortunately, the family relationships and cultural drama anchor the supposition.

The Old Ways – A possessed American reporter is abducted by Veracruz brujas in this 2020 Mexican ode with dungeons, chains, herbs, and rituals. Our victim states who she is as if that gives her license to do anything – out of touch with her own culture while the interspersed English and Spanish reflect the miscommunication layers. Despite face paintings, occult drawings, goat milk, and salt across the threshold, she insists she doesn't have the “it” they fear. Cell phones and escape attempts are dealt with swiftly as her local relatives warn her she went where she shouldn't have gone. They will help rid her of the demon, but she still manages to retrieve her bag and shoot the heroin between her toes. After being bound and painted, she pretends, lying to fake her way out of the ritual before snakes slither in amid blood, hair in the mouth, and dead chickens. Arguments with her cousin reveal her twenty year absence, longstanding family troubles, and forgotten protective talismans from their abuela. Occasional diegetic music and a retro fan add flavor and heat while candles flicker and viewers question what we may or may not see in the darkest dungeon corner. Rustic demon documents, a bilingual dictionary, and “psychic surgery” escalate to bulbous sacs with extra teeth, vomiting, and snakes in the stomach. Rather than delays contrived for the audience or drawn out torture porn, the well paced demon encounters are about the possessed coming to believe, ask for help, and understand the terror of looking in the mirror and having something else look back. Healers instead of modern medicine and past exorcisms gone awry are told with personal sadness and lifelong grief – tearful pain with no need for today's whoosh flashbacks. The opening history and brief flash intrusions here are indeed unnecessary – nothing should visually take us from the dungeon congestion – for the suffering turned cleansing experience does better when this sticks to telling its tale without such modern cinema conventions. Chilling demon hints accent the one on one journey and willpower carried by the small ensemble. Serious research and ritual prep begats bones cracking, death whistles, visions in the smoke, Nahuatl demonology, and fatal trades embracing who you are. The ritual is recognizably similar to traditional exorcisms yet stays true to its unique cultural elements for horror viewers looking for something special.

Spell– Pleas, violence, and lingering scars open this 2020 parable starring Omari Hardwick (Power) and Loretta Devine (Waiting to Exhale). Rising above childhood cruelty has led to fancy suits, wealth, and law firm success. The high rise offices are sleek and shiny, but the self-involved teenagers joke about the backwoods past when a funeral summons the family to rural Kentucky. Dad Marquis, however, is unwilling to punish and have his children fear him like his father. He insists on winning with words because it is expected of them to fight and give in to Black stereotypes. Flying his own plane to Appalachia shows how much the elite family stands out at the rusty gas station convenience store with skulls and potions on the shelves. Marquis laughs at the outhouse and doesn't believe in the Mojo bags for protection against conjuring. He and his wife argue over their entitled teens belittling the country folks, ramping up the tension inside the cockpit as a storm brews over the mountains with lightning, maydays, and alarms. Marquis wakes in an attic bedroom, injured but under the care of an old fashioned couple objecting to his cursing yet assuring their hoodoo effigy is the best medicine. Marquis demands to know what happened to his family, for they are nowhere to be found at the out of the past rustic farm house. Vintage sewing machines, candles, and colloquialisms provide a suspicious quaint while calming powders, birds, and boogities invoke the rootwork folk magic. Marquis will pay whatever it takes for an ambulance and proper rescue team, but Ms. Eloise has no phone. Such tools meant to heal or communicate only become dividers among us but salt at the window will keep out the devil. Although he's not actually bound, shrewd filming angles above the bed or through the frame visualize Marquis' incapacitated position. A foot injury that's not what it seems, rainstorms, and revival meetings with animal parts, sacrifices, and chanting make for perilous escape attempts. The foul afoot doesn't underestimate the viewer thanks to suspect food, vomit, and one on ones where Marquis has to play along despite his belief that it's all psychosomatic mumbo jumbo. He's been trying to escape his past but must embrace who he is to cast the bones and beat them at their own magic. Belying use of the color white in the bed frame, locked doorknob, and innocuous pearls accents the eerie close calls in the tight house quarters before flashlights in the woods, ritual carvings, and bloody evidence lead to agony and desperation. The anguish and disturbia is personal – not drawn out viewer shocks. Frantic searches and hysterical digging reveal grimoires with flesh of my flesh spells and boogity doll bindings for and against. Marquis re-injures himself to maintain the ruse as torches and knives help him believe in a little fiery hoodoo of his own. The blu-ray edition features a half hour of deleted scenes increasing the out of touch kids versus Marquis' passiveness – strengthening his later man of action with more isolation. I'm surprised this received negative reviews with complaints about derivative occult cliches that completely ignore the history, cultural subtext, social commentary, and Black experience setting off the blood moon reap what you sow.

A Disappointing Skip

Old – Tropical sand, surf, palm trees, and cocktails set the vacation mood for M. Night Shyamalan's (The Sixth Sense) 2021 adaptation. The resort manager directs our families to a private reserve where beautiful caverns and inlet vistas lead to nosebleeds, chest pains, and bodies in the lagoon. When our guests try to leave the beach; zooms, warps, and blackouts send them back where they started amid knives, arguments, healing wounds, and growing tumors. Unfortunately, the dizzying, frustrating camerawork makes the viewer wonder what's significant. We can't see major action or important developments because the camera is always panning and pointing somewhere else. Although a stylistic choice mirroring the blink and you miss it metaphors, it's a terrible way to tell a story. Clunky, repetitive, simplistic dialogue; precocious kids who unrealistically introduce themselves to every stranger and ask who they are and what they do; disconnecting couples reiterating their relationships; and constantly quoted insurance statistics get...old...fast. Even with emergency surgical incisions rapidly closing, increasing schizophrenia, numerous sicknesses, swift decomposition, expedited youths, and a quickly deceased dog; it takes the group far too long to realize the a la Lost creepy happening. Any commentary on beauty, ageism, wealth, or divorce is never fully realized for most of the violence, wrinkles, rapid eating, even faster pregnancy, and growing young adults still mentally children happens off screen while someone watches from the cliffs as if we aren't supposed to know this is some kind of experiment. There's a lot of math about the hours per aging but we never truly witness the expedited struggle of old age because the interfering aesthetics constantly call attention to themselves. Rather than accenting our aging fears, such audience awareness detracts from the climbing fails, blurred vision, broken bones, and contorted backs. Underutilized doctors and nurses behave stupidly because the plot says so while diverse characters that should represent the social or racist dynamics become superfluous. Contrived childhood answers and notebooks found on the beach lead to perilous swims and an unnecessary meta meta with our director as actor. Seeing the accelerated aging from a pharmaceutical or medical perspective might have been intriguing, but the tacked on comeuppance underestimates the audience. Like low budget horror with a writer/director wearing too many hats, the indulgent M. Night was not the best writer or director for this material. The resort bookends should have been excised for more taut introspection, leaving what should be a provocative concept with no rewatch value.

Terror en la Casa!

 

Terror en la Casa

by Kristin Battestella

These slashers, ladykillers, and murder mysteries bring the horror home with period piece nostalgia and international flavor.

Cemetery of Terror – Retro TV static, eerie horror sounds, gory slices, and elevator shocks waste no time in this 1985 Mexican slasher. The English subtitles don't exactly match the spoken Spanish, but the hip tunes come from diegetic cassettes and boomboxes as the randy medical students and bathing suit babes plan to party in an abandoned house on Halloween. Though fitting with cobwebs, covered furniture, and evil grimoires, it's bemusing that the house doesn't seem old enough to be so abandoned thanks to the seventies paneling and shag carpets. A suave psychiatrist who knows the killer's satanic history and the police captain who think it's all routine add Miami Vice style as more local youths test each other's courage by going to the graveyard. That station wagon fits six adults – cruising along with the satanic killer's body in the back, no big. It's both humorous and demented as the morgue stretchers and dares to summon the dead escalate to Latin incantations in the cemetery on Halloween under the full moon. Sudden storms and scary, point of view suspense from our resurrected killer provide well done people in fear with no need for stereotypes, torture porn, or exploitation. Disturbing death blows happen fast as the killer gets intimate with his bloody, claw hands in well paced motivations that aren't drawn out for unnecessary effect. There's little to indicate it's Halloween besides jack-o-lanterns and vintage masks, for the skulls, crypts on fire, open graves, and tattered zombies rising are scary enough. Smoke and red lights accent the simplicity of kids in peril – unable to phone their parents and running in fear right back to the terrible manor. Sure, wielding a cross deters the zombies who can somehow walk through an entire cemetery full of cross grave markers anyway, but the multi layered horrors are effective without today's in your face hyperbole. Fiery black books and one on one battles with our man of action psychiatrist lead to a fun topper striking the right balance between genre winks and chills.

It Happened at Nightmare Inn – Originally A Candle for the Devil, this 1973 Spanish parable opens with swanky cityscapes and airplanes leading to our quaint village hotel run by two seriously uptight sisters. They violently object to their pretty blonde guest sunbathing on the roof and call her fatality divine providence for her indecency. After they chop up some lamb and scrub up the evidence, the elegant, soft spoken, less provocative sister of their late guest arrives alongside another tourist in hot pants dancing in the town fountain and a young mother with a baby knocking on their door. The perky and carefree blondes contrast the older, self righteous, harsh brunettes in dark button up clothes, and severe Gothic furniture, villa arches, stained glass, and organ crescendos match the medieval artwork, Inquisition past, and Catholic atmosphere. These ladies insist on running a respectable establishment, but one has a dalliance with the servant boy and the other gawks at the raunchy local men. She gets herself torn up in the briers as a mea culpa zen before donning a silky dress and saucy stockings. Our sisters almost turn on each other over the cash box, but it's time to sharpen the knives and tut tut at the hussy guests as innuendo and shaming layer the pent up attacks. Who gave them the right to be so high and mighty when they are women just the same? These supposed hasty departures make the townsfolk suspicious as a few slaps escalate to kidnapping, woman on woman violence, and fatal penetrations mirror the underlying guilt, repression, and demented joy. Snooping for evidence, vats in the basement, village intrigue, and close calls suspense culminate in food poisoning, gory revelations, axes, and eyeballs. Today this would be so unnecessarily heavy handed, and of course there are varying versions – a sixty-seven minute sanitized edition and a longer seventy-three minutes that still has awkward cuts on the sex and kills. Fortunately, this is an entertaining examination on female stereotypes via horror and it's worth pursuing the proper blu-ray edition.

Murder Mansion – There are varying versions of this 1972 Spanish/Italian La Mansion de la Niebla, however the organ music, dangerous mountain drives, and sexy hitchhikers set the snowy, seventies suave nonetheless. Gossipy couples, love triangles, and business before pleasure affairs are initially confusing, but the dubbing is well done – bemusing bickering rather than monotone banal. Soren to Milan overnight drives on the old valley road and ominous turns not on the map lead to squealing tires and car accidents near the foggy cemetery. A man with a sickle walks along the side of the road before more fearful figures in the mist and cackling echoes. Classic cars, cigarettes, guns, and creepy portraits add to the gothic atmosphere as one and all become stranded at the titular manor. The nearby village is abandoned, and our suspect hostess recounts local vampire legends and tales of the town witch to her hysterical guests. Hear tell of prior decapitation and impalements are dismissed despite the increasingly uneasy, eerie mood thanks to mirrors, evil eyes, and occult images looming over every room. Bare ladies' backs, lez be friends suggestions, and father/daughter jealousy or worse create innuendo before the dirty dude knocking on every bedroom door gets what's coming to him in chilling ghostly encounters. Billowing nightgowns escalate to blurred visions and fatal heartbeats as creaking doors and cobwebs lead to underground tunnels, chapel crypts, and coffins. Contemporary films often fail at this kind of surprising reveal, and although the edited editions excise the saucy violence, the genuine frights are effective without the skin and splatter overused today. The talkative set up and party flashbacks pad time on a thin story and too many uneven characterizations, but fortunately, this moody midnight scary remain swift and entertaining.

Retro Television Bonus

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre – This eighty minute 1964 CBS television film written and directed by Joseph Stefano (Psycho) was originally envisaged as a horror anthology pilot. Martin Landau stars (Mission: Impossible) as charming architect cum ghost hunter Nelson Orion ”as in the constellation” amid steamy kisses, picturesque beaches, and a mod bachelor pad. However screams, foggy cemeteries, and a family tomb with a horseshoe phone beside the un-embalmed interred provide Poe references and gothic atmosphere. Creepy housekeeper Judith Anderson (Rebecca) lurks about the grand manor, and the frazzled son of the deceased receives sobbing phone calls from a mother who's been dead for a year. The coffin is open and the receiver is warm but the skeleton is undisturbed, and midnight graveside meetings wax on how the wealthy make such elaborate art wasted on the dead while so many live in squalor. Howling winds, flickering lanterns, and closing crypt doors acerbate locked in the vault fears while the black and white lighting schemes accent wrought iron fences and marble tombs. Chandeliers, overhead angles, and multiple staircases make the mausoleum or manor appear larger amid rattling furniture, “psychical” powers, and science versus dogma debates. Orion doesn't charge for genuine hauntings but enjoys catching pranksters. He's not a medium but is wary of unbelievers – for he believes in freeing people of what haunts them be it guilt or ghost. Largely twofer dialogue carries the plot as Orion ponders what kind of mother expected a grown married man to always be home beside the phone. His sassy old housekeeper helps his “morbid adventures” as the sounding board for his exposition or deduction. Numerous up close shots of Landau push him as star, and this really could have been a delicious show with weekly horror guests. While the Spanish history on the titular missions and a whiff of religion are fine, the hear tell bleeding ghosts Orion's previously debunked feel tacked on when we could have seen that story. And Judith Anderson is supposed to be Hispanic? Seriously? At times the skepticism and music are laid on thick with repeated camera shots and unnecessary padding scenes. However the primitive chromakey overlays and phantom figures on the beach remain eerie. The then contemporary sleek and classical art work well with gothic candles, glowing paintings, and poison tonics as fatal pasts lead to stabbings and surprisingly well filmed vehicular revenge. Though at times somewhat Scooby Doo thanks to obvious supposition for modern viewers, this has some surprisingly creepy moments and fun performances for a late night watch.

Female, Family, and Youth Horrors

 

Female, Family, and Youth Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

These feminine and international horror pieces offer an intriguing genre look at parental relationships, family breakdowns, and youths in peril amid grief, death, cults, and predators.

Blood Moon – Emma Tammi (The Wind) directs this 2021 Hulu/Blumhouse Into the Dark installment opening with snarling, cages, claw marks, and phases of the moon. Our waitress mother must protect her son Luna via unusual hardware purchases, tranquilizers, and remote real estate with a sturdy basement. She does her own sawing and welding amid home schooling, staying up at night, and avoiding the dogs at the bar. Certainly it's obvious what is what here. However the mountain skylines, desert nights, and dusty pick up trucks add western mood while past flirtations contrast the current on the road and always on edge frazzled routine. Although he's a nice kid with video games and bedtime stories, raw meat in the refrigerator catches his eye and it's essential mom has off during the full moon. Her pregnancy announcement was met with unique hereditary details, and now mom regales Luna with endearing stories about his father before the disturbing pains the child must endure. Our former lawyer loved her husband despite his condition, but we don't see any horrific special effects – just knowing they suffer is upsetting enough. Luna needs a bath the next morning and he's not hungry for breakfast, blending the family bonding, real world efforts, and underlying horror alongside racial profiling, fetishism, and predatory against which a single minority mother must prepare. Does this fearful little family risk putting themselves out there with one of the good guys and friendly convenience store connections? A seemingly innocent tooth infection means ducking out of the hospital once blood work is needed, and procuring fresh beef means there's no time to be pulled over by the nasty sheriff. The kid wants to be a kid but mom has rules for a reason, for work shifts and birthday parties on the night of the full moon cut the horror close. Subtle distortions and echoes add atmosphere as the calendar keeps pace – anchoring but not overtaking the characters struggling with lost in the night unknowns, incriminating smells when the meat's not fresh, well meaning but untimely guests, and interfering authorities. Some may be disappointed there are no awe-inspiring panorama fantastics or outright frights. However the camera remains on a helpless mother crying for her son amid growls and gunshots – keeping the instincts, fears, and relationships real. Mom has been forced to make terrible choices before, but one's true nature is nobody's fault in this well done little parable about what lengths a mother goes through for her son, horror and all.

Midsommar – Solemn forests, haunting vocals, no response messages, and disturbing goodbye emails open director Ari Aster's (Hereditary) 2019 US/Swedish co-production starring Florence Pugh (Black Widow). Sobbing and wailing blend with the distorted scoring as smartphones and technology are shrewdly used for negative communication – delivering the worst news and technically leaving our fragile Dani alone amid distant boyfriends, red emergency lights, and body bags. A friend invites everyone back to his isolated Swedish commune for the summer solstice pageant, and she latches on to the trip despite her boyfriend's scholastic goals and PhD research. In camera visuals reflect the couple's dissonance with talking to reflections and who's looming in the foreground or insignificant in the background. Arguments, weak apologies, and semantics on who said what or when acerbate the awkwardness over forgotten birthdays and culture shocks. Unique transitions, doors closing to change scenes, airplane to car window views, and upside down highways create an unnerving topsy turvy. Whispering trees and rippling visuals invoke unease while untranslated Swedish accents the peer pressure, disorienting mushroom tea, and midnight daylight off kilter. Despite rustic trails, quaint buildings, sunburst motifs, and festive music, there's an underlying weirdness to the skin the fool games, bear in a cage, love spells, foretelling tapestries, and white robes. Every shape, number, season, and position has meaning – yellow triangles, table arrangements, funeral pyres, and walking backwards are carefully coordinated. Chanting, processions, lookalikes, and slow motion ceremonies escalate with blood on the rune stones, suicide parallels, and ritual deaths. Violent blows and squishy gore mar the pretty as sacrificial red on white is said to be a joyful custom in the circle of life. Warped sounds and heavy silence set off temple break-ins and mutilation consequences as our appropriately named boyfriend Christian stands out among the dancing contests and flower crowns. Feasts and leafy visions contrast the sex rites and flesh in the garden as seeds are planted with drug trips and paralysis. Spirals, May pole montages, overlays, Dutch angles, and dizzying spins reflect the heady whirlwind, however the erroneous acceptance, disturbing made special, and bad boyfriend analogy could have been done in one hundred minutes or less. With repeated introductions, redundant dream sequences, too many characters, and local lore throwaways here already, I can't imagine what else is left to be said in the even longer director's cut. Although there's not a lot of repeat value in this overlong two and a half hours, perhaps it's worth two watches for the deft foreshadowing, unique touches, ironic exit music, and all consuming, broken cult mentality.

It Splits Itself

Intruders – Stormy Madrid nights and scary bedtime stories start this 2012 Spanish/UK production starring Clive Owen (Children of Men) and Carice van Houten (Black Death) off well before youthful witnessing and frightful figures on the balcony. The shadows are chilling, but the CGI monster is immediately silly, and the terror is erroneously dismissed as a dream fake out before London resets and grandma's countryside quaint. Bright, redundant UK establishing views jar with dark, dated quarters in Spain, and the dual storytelling isn't as meta voyeur as it thinks it is. Fine feline harbingers, gnarly tree hiding places, and ominous notes about Hollowface being woken lead to another storytelling switch as our too old for birthday parties and teddy bears twelve year old recounts the hooded peeping tom creeping at the window. Dad leaves his naked wife to comfort their daughter when she still runs to him over her nightmares, but any Electra opportunities or salacious subtext when she interrupts them is never explored because we're cutting away to placating church rituals and priests suggesting a psychiatrist instead. Devoid faces, creaking, light bulb pops, flashlights under the covers, and messy lipstick add tension, however visuals linking bleak London streets and dangerous Madrid concrete fail because of the disjointed narrative. Scarecrow effigies set on fire in the middle of the suburban night are silly – acerbating the fears our parents are trying to prevent amid useless police and underutilized security cameras. Repeat encounters and lame constructs stall any momentum as the back and forth undercuts the family drama. Our tween fears what she imagines will happen, yet she stops speaking and keeps writing about Hollowface's lair in her room. Doctors suspect this is a shared hallucination but nobody reads what the children have written and the adults are unable or unwilling to piece everything together. While dolly zooms shrewdly reflect the distance and separation from delusion, mirrors and notions on children being the division between parents fall prey to convenient clues. Telling the tale straight from the beginning would have been much better than delaying, teasing, and duping the audience with what we've already deduced. The youthful storytelling and rated R adult themes are unsure who the audience is as unnecessarily hidden information and faulty framework hamper the performances and any potentially provocative implications. Besides, his name is John and our daughter is Mia Farrow? Lolz.

"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. 😁

Spanish Netflix Horrors!

Spanish Netflix Horrors!

By Kristin Battestella

At times, it's tough muddling through the foreign Netflix content and re-branded continental originals padded with run of the mill scares. Fortunately this trio of short and long form international Netflix productions featuring Basque witch hunts, Mexican demon hunters, and transatlantic wartime mysteries provides plenty of unique thrills.

Coven of Sisters – Burning pyres and whispers of witches communing with Lucifer jump right into the 1609 Basque torment in this award winning 2020 international/Spanish Netflix production. Seventy-seven executions and counting mar the beautiful cliffs, picturesque ships, and moss forests as royal judges seek out maritime towns where women have been left alone and apparently up to no good. Excellent carriages, armor, frocks, and stoneworks provide period mood as our happy girls weave and dream of far off places. They are captured and stripped with bags over their heads and fear evident thanks to questions about summoning Beelzebub. The girls point fingers at each other – wavering from confident of their innocence and nonchalant about the witch accusations to quivering and afraid after beatings and shaved heads. Tension builds in the one room unknown as suspicions and confessions raise the frazzled interrogations and double talk entrapment. Guards ask if they offer themselves to Lucifer while prodding with needles and searching their bodies for any devil's mark. Where did the devil stick his tail in them? Did they dance? Dancing spreads fanaticism! There are no fast intercut montages or fake outs toying with the audience, just in scene interplay with eerie screams and uninterrupted singsong. They make up chants and have their jailers procure oddities for this supposed sabbath ritual, but it isn't a game when those sinister captors devoutly persecuting every blasphemy readily jump to devilish conclusions. Men wonder if they are bewitched by the tempting supple, pressing the weary girls into saying what they want to hear, and these daughters stall to avoid the stake, hoods, torches, and shackles until their sailing fathers return. They hope to escape during the full moon, so one tells a wild tale with preposterous twists in hopes of taking blame to save the others. Our supposedly learned, religious men bemusingly believe every fantastic turn, and after witnessing all our recent stateside strife, it's not surprising how this kind of pitchfork hysteria and mob idiocy spreads. If they want to see a witches sabbath, the girls may as well makes fools of them complete with mushrooms, contortions, and flying. This is an excellent presentation on allure, hypocrisy, and consequences in a unique, horrible history setting made easily accessible thanks to several subtitle and language options.

Diablero – This 2018-20 Mexican Netflix series based on the book by the late Francisco Haghenbeck is oddly structured with fourteen episodes ranging between a few forty minute episodes and mostly shorter half hour entries. Despite steady directors and a regular writers room, the pace is uneven, treading tires over demonic puzzle pieces while prologues each episode give the viewer the same information twice. Voices are soft compared to loud violence, and the subtitles don't exactly match the spoken languages. Silly tentacles, levitations, and in your face demon roars are unnecessary, and the hot priest in a towel is weird, too. Fortunately, shadowed stabbings, hooded attackers, and demonic abductions are frightening. Edgy music and Mexico City panache accent the last rites, chaos, and evil spirits trapped in bottles. There's a lot to establish with ecclesiastics, creepy ephemera, steampunk gadgets, and mystical mixed cultures. However great characterizations anchor the quicksilver weapons and uneasy alliances. Career oriented cardinals and ineffective police can't help with these demonic problems, but others struggle to accept why God allows these things to happen, if he ever even existed, or if humanity has been abandoned. Missing bodies, occult symbols, burned flesh, deceptive encounters, eerie eyes, and demonic dissected lab rats deepen the scary while seedy criminal shenanigans provide sassy humor. Despite knife standoffs, morgue switch-a-roos, and intriguing connections between pregnant women, simpletons, abused nuns, and significant birth dates; it takes half the First Season to get anywhere with the secret organizations, intertwined family histories, and spells. Our Priest is correct in saying events happen for nothing and they should investigate properly. Seeing the abducted daughter amid demon chases, false escapes, and no reception close calls doesn't let us wonder on her fate. We can read such meanwhile but here the detours detract from what should be a much more focused story. Unnecessary psychic demon vessels with cool headphones, uncomfortable self-harm emo angst, and awkward man of the cloth flirtations waste time by creating more problems – slowing plot progression and stumbling on to one piece of information per episode. Their diablero dad asks why they didn't come for his help sooner when the answers were right under their noses, and the rocky relationships and diablera expertise are disjointed between more flashbacks and underutilized spooky bookstores before rushing into end of the world by dawn countdowns. Subtle possessions, the Church knowing more than it's saying, and evil conclaves toying with life and death are much more chilling. Nahuatl invocations, Latin exorcisms, salt circles, and demon summonings add horror while nightmares, violence at the altar, and scary witches with freaky voices provide great revelations. Bewitching teas, earthquakes, four horsemen of the apocalypse parallels, archaeological clues, dark caverns, and evil children finally bring our players together as our reluctant heroes wax on what they'll do if they survive amid traffic jam humor and #endoftheworld selfies. The intense action, quality demon effects, ulterior motives, and faith are well done as bittersweet reunions and meteorite cover ups lead into the more colorful Season Two. Despite some resolutions, our crew struggles against demon drugs, slimy goo, and dominatrix diableras. Some want to be normal but demons ruin the dinner date with messages from the other side. Gas oven rituals and hidden night club comic relief escalate to Mictlan barges of the dead and in limbo rescues. Monster exorcisms fail against mad science experiments thanks to mystical keys, surprising murders, grave digging, and cranky undead relatives. Chosen children, angel possessions, family flashbacks, and deals with death are repetitive and players from the First Season are dismissed for new characters. The anonymous villain clichés are also unnecessary as are lez be friends baiting and the frigging sex with the priest, but fortunately, the plot is more personal and taut in Year Two thanks to diablera training, reincarnation, and demon mind games. Thunderstorms and haunted house encounters are well done alongside monstrous transformations, bloody smoothies, funerals, and sacrifices. Shootouts and revenge culminate in surprising deaths and a bemusing if left open for more finale. The intriguing story, great world building, and fine characters meander with one step forward, two steps back frustrations, but the good versus evil adventures come together in the end. Without such unfocused structural flaws, this could have gone on for another two seasons.

High Seas – The twenty-two episode 2019 Spanish murder mystery Alta Mar jumps right into the action with stowaway suspense, albatross omens, and murder aboard a post-war luxury cruise liner en route from Spain to Brazil. High end period detail including hats, gloves, brooches, satin, stoles, frocks, and cigarettes matches the Art Deco splendor, sumptuous colors, inlaid woodwork, and divine staircases. Impressive ship visuals and Titanic engineering specs provide scale alongside maze like halls, askew angles, turbulent waves, and thunderstorms. Jazzy ballads and grand ballrooms create mood before intrepid writers, telegrams, cryptic conversations, and suspicious midnight rendezvous raise the disappearances, accusations, and blackmail. In debt Lotharios, lecherous in-laws, and handsome officers clash with underbelly workmen and disgruntled servants, and the episodic chapters allow time for plots high and low. Course changes and defying orders question who's in charge – the aging captain, wealthy owners, angry shareholders, or the slimy ship detective? Ominous cargo holds, stolen lipstick, lockets, typewriters, and ransacked rooms escalate to man overboard emergencies, fires, and promises to take one's secrets to the grave. Intertwined crimes are resolved as new twists and turns are well balanced between the dramatic love triangles, faked accidents, and fishy business deals. Microfilm clues and poisoned cocktails reveal previous conspiracies, past motives, and Nazi gold. It's dangerous to wander the secret passages amid power outages, red lights, and increasingly dark corridors, yet surprising deaths aren't what they seem thanks to mad doctors and tick tock countdowns. Blinding blows, chases, castaways, and an SOS start Season Two alongside tarot cards, psychic clues, and seances. Crackling intercoms, bloody bodies on the bed, ghosts, dead women walking on deck, spooky phone calls, and more paranormal are not out of the blue, but rather a natural progression of the escalating circumstances. However, is the vintage Ouija an elaborate ruse or are there really evil spirits starboard? The ship becomes a character of its own with messages on the mirror, old fashioned spy gadgets, lifeboat rigs, and daring escapes. Too many lies, betrayals, and forged letters acerbate wedding shocks, secret pregnancies, and business takeovers. There are some soap opera slaps in the face, too! Shipwreck deceptions and bodies in trunks culminate in one final kicker before Year Three takes a new course from Buenos Aires to Mexico. Our writer published a novel about the cruise experience, but strange suitors at the bookstore and a spooky antique shop lead to British Intelligence and objectives to track down an incoming passenger who's really a Nazi doctor carrying a deadly virus. It's fun to see who's back for better or worse – same crew, servants in new ship staff positions, fresh crisscrossing romances. A second sister ship will travel behind with expensive cargo, but a man is shot on the first night out and bodies end up in the car boot in the hold. Do you up security and alarm the passengers? Those who know about incriminating notes are indisposed via fevers, injections, and Luger murder weapons. Bandaged patients aboard provide intrigue amid suspicious radio transmissions, magic disappearing acts, and dark room suspense. Missing photographs, doppelgangers, and torturous know how make for shady alliances, but one can't worry about scruples after an innocent man is dead. Code decryption, trick lighters, and secret cameras uncover planted evidence, sinister green tubes, and ruinous revenge as gaslighting, threats, and mutiny lead to armed standoffs and shocking gunshots. Concentration camp survivors recall sadistic doctors who enjoyed what they did, but evil lookalikes slip up thanks to disguises and a scrumptious masquerade ball with perfect lighting, glam, and gowns. Life or death maydays raise the outbreak finale, yet it is strange to see vintage masks, quarantines, and plague panic these days. Coughing and spreading symptoms remind us of our socially distant reality, but prayers, ulterior motives, and divided sisters add to the evacuations, knives, and showdowns. Rescue warships would rather sink than save, but vaccines come in the nick of time – with a twist or three. The destination pacing and cliffhangers are easy to marathon, but it's a pity Netflix turned its back on this series. Nothing here is superfluous thanks to Shakespearean asides, whispers in the gallery, and well done mysteries. Obviously this not being full on horror may disappoint some, however the period atmosphere, sweeping melodrama, and gothic twists remind me of Dark Shadows' earlier years.

Netflix also has a bad habit of not promoting its branded foreign content. It's apparent their current model is quantity over quality, populating its catalog with as much original and proprietary premieres as possible – presuming you'll binge one and stay for the next recommend similar click and chill. Remember, it's in their best interest to keep you streaming. Sometimes that works and you find great shows! However more often than not it means unique movies get lost in the shuffle and shows that deserve more time are dropped after a few seasons. This leaves a lot of unfulfilling filler – especially in the horror and genre categories which seem to have the most flotsam and jetsam.

Spanish Monsters and Mayhem

Spanish Monsters and Mayhem

by Kristin Battestella

Spend a late night with this retro trio of scares de España featuring saucy creatures, vampires, and wild heists...

Graveyard of Horror – Heavy digging gets the camera dirty as lightning flashes and hearts pound in this immediately atmospheric 1971 Spanish twister likewise known under such juicy titles as The Butcher of Binbrook and Necrophagus. Dreary stonework, torches, ancient family castles, and gothic style set off the gloomy narration telling of desperate escapes and late wives. When our scientist returns home on the train – with an old lady who has a dead pig dripping blood in her suitcase for some random reason – his in-laws aren't exactly forthcoming about the fatal circumstances. They blame him for choosing his career over family, but shady doctors and a suspect death certificate acerbate the cemetery scares and dug up coffins. Hooded and masked figures roam the family vaults, and rumblings underneath the loose earth lead to creepy hands, monstrous eyes, growling, and screams. The bizarre is well done with what we don't see as the metamorphosis experiments gone wrong unleash mauling creatures to terrorize the kids playing in the snow. Sacrifices and boiling barrels get rid of the bones and heady evidence while the jealous ladies look over their shoulder as secret love letters and saucy dalliances come back to bite, stab, and slice them. Of course, all the nonsensical back and forth is terribly confusing and stereotypical dubbing with no original language and subtitles option hampers all the lookalike people. Zooms upon everyone's squinting eyes and heavy handed voiceovers laughably assure viewers know to be suspicious! I'm not even sure I know what's really happening here, yet somehow the spooky mood and eerie visuals provide a few fun surprises for a late night viewing.

Human Beasts – Paul Naschy (The Werewolf vs The VampireWoman) writes, produces, directs, and stars in the delicious sounding 1980 Spain/Japan co-production Carnaval de las Bestias. A knife sharpening Naschy at a candlelit dinner introduces the gangs, ferries, international intrigue, and diamond heist planning as grim portraits, skeletons, and chanting music set the macabre mood. With theft training, massage parlors, and a whiff of romance, this has a little bit of everything! Location transitions and exposition on the hold up technicalities move fast, and the decoy motorcycles, gunshots, and blood lead to double crosses, broken hearts, and vows for revenge. A girl can only take so much amid shootouts, sieges in forested ruins, and explosive booby traps. Perilous pursuits, river rapids, scorpions, injuries, and buried fortunes escalate as the action stumbles into suspicion and horror. Seemingly demure ladies come to the rescue, daughters of a doctor with a fine home, medicine, nudity, and seduction. Brief flashbacks of the love gone wrong mix with the voyeur point of view – someone is always watching, peering through the cracks between sisterly cat fights, horny veterinarians, and the master whipping the topless maid while she begs for more. A lot's happening for a seemingly low budget foreign production, but the gothic revival furniture, creaking rocking chairs, ticking grandfather clocks, antiques, and statues accent the amateur archaeology, scenic locales, and rural festivals. It's also nice that the Japanese people don't speak Spanish when no one else is around just for the sake of the audience. Squealing pigs, curing hams and sausages, more pills for the patient – our family doesn't care about our crook's past, he just needs to eat up and get healthy! What's a little spilled wine, thunderstorms, knives, and gory meat hooks? Ghosts aren't what they seem but dangerous staircases lead to attic surprises, leather aprons, and killer mysteries. Graveside visions of the doctor's late wife, nightmares, tolling bells, skulls – good girls go saucy and screams rise from the pigpen as the animals finish off the bodily evidence and it's wild stuff! While recent films often miss the mark in trying to get this mix right, the interwoven steamy, action plots, horror history, and cleaver scares here are surprisingly fun and well done.

A Naschy Bonus!

The Vampyre: Images from a Nightmare – This short twenty-four minute 2007 film starring Paul Naschy in one of his final appearances is included on the Human Beasts DVD. Although the credits and onscreen intertitles take up a few valuable moments and stereotypical strobe is overused, quotes based upon Dr. Polidori lend authenticity to the obviously low budget lighting and inadvertent shaky cam as a naive poet stumbles upon the sinister Lord Ruthven. Top hats, cloaks, candles, cobblestone streets, shadows, and iris tricks provide period flair and nods to silent horror, and even the faux Victorian ladies clothing looks okay as they strip down while under the vampire's spell. The Swan Lake music and little dialogue continues the silent homage, but the fade ins and outs between scenes that only last a few moments make this not so much scary, just weird – a group of odd, existential, arty, creepy vignettes as the titular neck nibbles mount. Despite feeling somewhat light on the actual The Vampyre story, this can be fun for fans of Naschy or viewers who like good gothic atmosphere. I feel like this is the kind of thing that should be projected on a billowing curtain at a spooky party.

Home Invasions and Family Horrors

 

Home Invasions and Family Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

It's time for another round of contemporary family dramas mixing home invasion horrors, haunted houses, and supernatural intruders – the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Us – Lupita Nyong'o (12 Years A Slave) and Winston Duke (Black Panther) star in Jordan Peele's (Get Out) 2019 doppleganger chiller. Warnings of underground unknowns, VHS, retro boob tubes, and ye olde 1986 commercials for Hands Across America set the scene before Santa Cruz carnivals, Thriller t-shirts, dark beaches, thunderstorms, and fun house horrors. Her parents' banter was already strained before the trauma, and the now adult Addy hasn't told her husband of the experience, either. They return to her family home, but their daughter's too busy with her phone, the son's really too old to be playing with toys, and her oblivious to her discomfort husband wants to keep up with the Joneses with a cool boat. The spooky basement, cabinets big enough to hide in, and mirrors with reflections that seem to look back at you lead to the same eerie fun house, crazy beach folk, repeated twin moments, elevens, jinx, and double jinx. Peering through dark windows and talking with your back to a person layer visuals and dual suggestions while our husband jokes about what was in the hall of mirrors coming to get Addy and their rich white friends remain out of touch snobs more interested in alcohol and plastic surgery. Our Mr. thinks he can handle trespassers with threats and a baseball bat, but power outages and unresponsive lookalikes banging at the door make for a fearful home invasion. This unarmed, mid century beach house and its many windows aren't exactly secure, and the entire break in happens in real time without frenetic cameras and zorp boom music. Croaking, unaccustomed to speaking accounts tell tales of the tethered and shadowed receiving pain below while we have light and warmth above, and each of the underground confronts their compatriots with disturbing torments, freaky pursuits, and mimicking pantomime. Ironic Beach Boys cues and sardonic smart home devices are no help at all! Addy starts timid, but this threatened mother turns bad ass, angry, and desperate to save her son as the bizarre deaths and replacement reveals escalate with distorted reversals, fractured experiences, and not quite right through the looking glass. The timely titular we and the American initialization mirror the united privileged for some but underbelly torment for many. We kind of know what's what going in here and the wither tos and why fors aren't as important as the underlying social statements. However, drawn out, unnecessary moments and repeated, uneven showdowns make this a little long. Chases, defeats, and hard violence are easy or contrived depending on if the tethered is conveniently primitive and animalistic or agile and adept as needed. Elaborate underground talk and random fights don't explain how big this takeover is. Police are called but never arrive, both a horror trope as well as a commentary on the system, but the supposedly self aware genre send ups make characters stupid or erroneously humorous. Homages don't upend but play into the horror cliches as car keys are forgotten, no one worries about food or weapons bigger than a fireplace poker, and they get out of the car in the middle of the woods. And how did they get so many pristine, matching underground supplies? The final act explanations and intercut dance parallels descend into stereotypical horror with quick editing and that obnoxious zorp boom music, but with so many great things here, there's no need for generic horror designs. There are flaws, the audience must take a lot of leaps, and final twists should have been told in the big reveal rather than montaged at the end. Our writer/director/producer needed a tighter edit in the last act, but the excellent foreshadowing, dual visuals, and social commentary make for repeat viewings and scary entertainment.

An Unfortunate Skip

Marrowbone – An ill mother on the run with her children moves back to her dilapidated Maine home in this 2017 Spanish production co-starring Anya Taylor-Joy (The Witch). Old toys, vintage fashions, and retro cameras set the sixties scene as the family reverts to the titular house's maiden name, starting over with forest explorations, beach side fun with the pretty girl next door, and a summer to remember. Their dying mom insists they bury her in the garden and hide her death until the soon to be twenty-one oldest can legally keep the children together. Unfortunately, the terrible father they're fleeing arrives, and six months later the isolated children live in fear of ghosts, cracked and covered mirrors, stained ceilings, and a bricked up attic. A visit from the family lawyer needing house funds and paperwork signed provides forgery suspense and close calls on the ruse amid pesky raccoons, creaking sounds, and something moving upstairs. A lot of what's seen and heard is the kids scaring themselves, but they hide in a blanket fort and play The Beach Boys' “Wouldn't It Be Nice,” which are always good choices. The middle siblings, however, are unhappy at the oldest having all the fun while they're trapped at home, and they wonder if his girlfriend would be interested if she knew the truth. Newspaper clippings fill in the details, but the point of view should never leave the house. Contrived, jealous lawyer out to get them love triangles and blackmail are unnecessary, padding an already long run time with too many deflections. The nonsensical, non-linear revelations have both little foreshadowing yet obvious blackouts and head injuries cast doubt. What is real, supernatural, or unreliable? Within, within, around and around, leap after leap deaths, ghosts, delusions, truths, and twists descend into some kind of knock down, drag out fight yet the romance survives it all as the scares fall apart. If they never really happened, what is the point? This very thin concept would have been over fast if we saw each trope and twist in real time, and once again, maybe an outside eye should have told writer and director Sergio G. Sanchez (The Orphanage) enough is enough.

This Should Not Have Been A Horror Movie

The Darkness – Orange deserts, blue skies, Bear Grylls quips, and ancient evil stones ruin the sunny Grand Canyon vacation for Kevin Bacon (X-Men:First Class) and Radha Mitchell (Silent Hill) in this 2016 Blumhouse misstep from director Greg McLean (Rogue). Their son wanders away, falling into an underground cave and taking its ominous rune stones home. Mom works at home amid the hectic appliances and electronics but we don't know what she does beside grocery shop for liquor and let her son pick out any balloons or toys he wants while dad's at the office with a hot young thing. Creaking attic scenes and teen girl in the shower scares are unnecessary because not only are they never referred to again, but mom also has bathroom and swimming pool moments that amount to nothing. Most of the scares are fake – a startling reflection, loud television, dreams, the boy being weird, or the daughter screaming at her parents when they finally notice she's bulimic. The family doesn't discuss their issues, just sends the boy to grandma's house for snakes and cat shocks that the parents refuse to believe. Mom continually defends her son even after he sets his room on fire, wondering if this is karma for something they did but her husband thinks they shouldn't blame themselves for their children's behaviors because his autism is at fault. o_O The product placement for everything from Absolut Vodka to Diamond dollar store matches is bemusing and the photoshopped spirit in the family portrait is lolz, however the mystical Asian friend, making autism itself part of the scares, and blaming evil Native Americans are so, so not cool. But hey, an internet research montage explains that bad smells are demonic manifestations and there's even a grainy online video! A video which our wife sends to her husband's work email so he can look up supernatural autism abilities at the office! They head to the presidential hotel suite and make Gideon Bible jokes while admonished Spanish speaking healers wear turquoise to prove they can handle these bad Anasazi, and the research montage is shown again because nobody bothered to watch the end of video explaining about the stones. This playing at Poltergeist is a chore to finish, and the horror of a bad family would have been better as a straight drama with no supernatural try hard. If these parents had been paying attention before everything hit the fan, there wouldn't have been a problem. And who pays the price? The neighbor's dog dagnabbit.