Bats! Bats! Bats! 🦇

 

Bats! Bats! Bats! 🦇

By Kristin Battestella

It's time to put on our serious film criticism caps for some chiroptera pictures that don't take themselves so seriously. 🦇

Bats – Terribly dressed necking teens suffer flapping whooshes, bat shrieks, and strobe splatter in this 1999 mutant bats run amok so bad it's good written by John Logan (Penny Dreadful) starring Sheriff Lou Diamond Phillips (La Bamba) and scientist Dina Meyer (Starship Troopers). Picturesque Mountains, blue skies, desert rocks, technobabble, batology jokes, and Latin names are for the audience as CDC credentials are repeated and multiple plane trips finally get everyone to the scene. Everything before the autopsy analysis, gory cadavers, and jugular bite marks suggesting what's afoot could have been excised because we know bats are the culprit. The escaped subjects, scientific deduction, and government red tape move fast as the mayor worries about the newspaper headlines. Old computer graphics and folding maps demonstrate the spread risk despite the human arrogance, shady officials, and talkative, repetitive dire. It is smart, however, that we don't see some ridiculous monster bats immediately – screeches, swooping, bats breaking in, and the colony eyes lighting up at fresh prey provide innate unease. Most of the comic relief is unnecessary and misplaced when the situation is already preposterous yet chilling. People freak and flail while country music plays, babies lay in cribs beside the open windows, and bats await while the trucker eats his tater tots. The mayor warns people, but “everybody in Texas thinks they know everything about everything,” a surprisingly spot on observation on how people who don't listen and think they know best acerbate the horror. Although this wants to be The Birds and it isn't that clever, trapped deaths, wings enveloping the face, and bats seeming to enjoy pinning their terrified victims are disturbing. Guns aren't going to do anything, and the growling cloud comes on so fast to those unprepared. Distorted bat points of view accent the well done animatronics and lengthy action sequences – the CGI looks better than today's rushed fix it in post effects – but the melodramatic exclaims and stupid behaviors get old fast and the bats retreat for cinematic convenience. Fortifying the school while listening to opera, making lots of coffee, going to the roost itself, military not helping them, military dropping gear, convenient mines – pointless activity and mixed motivations make for a disjointed back and forth almost deliberately designed for flicking the television channels or missing something after commercial breaks. Maniacal, laughable scientists and deliberately released bats aren't shocking as reveals we already know pad the one step forward two steps back to meet ninety minutes. It takes an hour for anyone to consider using a frosty fire extinguisher or air conditioners, dialogue is lifted directly from Aliens, and the military is taken out off screen so our heroes can swim in the guano. Bombing countdowns, keys to the machinery, and bat shootouts add one snag in the plan after another, and it's easy to zone out or forget what the goal is. One wonders why this fly by night product is Rated R, and the science and government serious or self aware humor and horror never finds the right approach. Fortunately, it's all a bemusingly bad romp perfect for a fun midnight roast.

Nightwing – Desert silhouettes, sunset vistas, and Anasazi ruins are beautiful but eerie, rocky, and perilous in this 1979 adaptation directed by Arthur Hiller (Love Story). Henry Mancini (Romeo and Juliet) music and Crystal Gale on the radio accent the dusty roads, rustic jeeps, and cowboy hats as unexplained animal deaths acerbate Hopi Reservation friction between Maski police, Pahana councils, and Indian Bureau technicalities. Our deputy can't believe in prophecies to embrace your inner coyote warrior when the trailer clinic doesn't have neonatal necessities and basic medical care to which all Americans are supposed to be entitled. Stereotypical white savior Strother Martin (Slap Shot) is married to a local yet complains how the Meskwaki are ungrateful for his bare minimum services. Arguments keep the horror succinct – blood lose, bite marks, ammonia – as the outcast shaman warns of broken circles and beasts coming to end the world. The tricked out station wagon with backseat microscopes and satellite dishes on the roof encounters stampedes, dead sheep, bubonic plague, and doctors paid off despite the blood on the white burial cloth. Patronizing oil men say there's no time for stoned priests and visions of the deceased when there is money to be made. Souvenirs and superstition versus tissue samples and sulfur research increase gossip about who's Christian or believes in witches and rain dances. Those wanting to prove that they aren't drunk doll making fanatics aren't wrong. Do you prospect on sacred ground because money is the white man's god and that means schools and medicine for your people? Nature is indiscriminate but people will profit on the deceased for the right price. Backstabbing villains reveal their true selfishness, more concerned about oil deals then quarantines or alerting state authorities. Hymn singing white tourists don't want to hear blasphemy that all religion begins as superstition, but those disbelievers of local ways are who we see horribly attacked – before trampling old ladies to save themselves. Some swooping action and bad bats are laughable, but the practical effects look nicer than our poor CGI as the howling winds, screeching, hissing, and screams shatter the bleak desert night. Torches and hazmat suits lead to empty graves and underground chambers amid broken down vehicles, 128F heat, and transistor trackers. Bat specialist David Warner's (Wallander) flourishing, no fear vampire bringers of death soliloquies paint bats as the quintessence of evil in Shakespeare meets Jaws chilling as the freaky little teeth chew their way in when the electric fence falters. For those expecting horror a minute, this will be slow and overlong. Outside of George Clutesi (Prophecy), the cast is also unfortunately not Native American or First Nations. Despite some weak effects and mystical convenience, the well done drama comes full circle thanks to real bat footage, dangerous spelunking, and conflict beyond the horror warning us not to dismiss practices we don't understand. I'm surprised the ahead of its time statements were so ill received then, but it's downright eerie to watch this now in the Covid world – and not because of the bats.

Vampire Bats – Professor Lucy Lawless (Xena: Warrior Princess) leads this 2005 TV movie padded with unnecessary hip college action, dated music, bad dancing, cool lingo, and terrible style. The raves, booze, neon, and bad aughts attitudes should have been excised for opening with mom Lucy struggling with breakfast, no air conditioning, house renovations, and back to school. This domestic stress doesn't need the frenetic camera work thanks to boxes, toys, and pesky sister Brett Butler (Grace Under Fire) babysitting. Night fisherman Craig Ferguson (The Late Late Show) also adds enough winking humor in a stereotypical attack with a lot of looking up, spinning cameras, and screams. Seeing police question students as the teacher intervenes is better than the unnecessary party beginning as our professor inspects the deceased – identifying bite marks, unknown fangs, and the absence of blood. The nettlesome mayor doesn't want to panic the public over bat droppings, but strobe transitions of newspapers with vampire headlines held up to the camera are lame, distracting from debates about putting family first and letting the authorities handle the unexplained. It's shrewd that we don't see bad special effects attacks, however setting up a scary frat scene only to cut away from the potential horror seems pointless. The batty overlays and cartoonish CGI at the cocktail party also don't match the action as people knock over tables and fall amid dizzying, hectic photography. Fortunately, bats under the dock, hanging from the church eaves, or swirling above the moonlit waters and up close shots of the little bloodsuckers are choice atmosphere. Classroom discussion about habitat and environment or bats as parasites not killers should be the only time we see the campus. Waste disposal whispers, rabies, experiments, and students offering to help capture the critters lead to teeth mutations, the need to feed, and rushing to the car once the wings start flapping. Gloves, cages, nets, and chemicals invoke science while the overhead projector and chalkboards create nostalgia. The biology couple, however, doesn't need students tagging along to spy on the local toxic plant, and the story suffers once the husband is reduced in favor of the kids accidentally discovering how the bats react to music. Wouldn't unusual sonar be the first thing scientists test? Though feeling long for ninety minutes, the final fifteen minutes rushes with missing family and luring the bats planning. The close calls are well done, and the entire movie should have had this intensity, but whether toxic waste, corruption, and EPA failures were the mutant cause goes unresolved. This wants to poke fun at horror cliches but is neither humorous nor scary and tries so, so hard to be cool when it doesn't know its audience. Ironically, this yarn is better than it has any business being if you can take it for what it is.

Did you know that the vampire bat's species name is Desmodontinae? I like it. 🦇

Dead Man's Gun Season Two

 

Dead Man's Gun Season 2 Falls Apart

by Kristin Battestella

The twenty-two episode 1998-99 Second Season of the Showtime western anthology Dead Man's Gun puts meek farmer Bruce Davison (X-Men) among the bank robbers and shootouts of “Ties That Bind” before chain gangs, deadly prison conditions, and pleas to the governor. Snake bites, bodily clues, rural chases, and set up escape attempts escalate to violence and corruption before revenge and one on one justice. Multiple people possess our titular evil gun, adding to its deadly mystique as some fall prey to its lure while others can resist its bad luck. A boy's school teacher with a fatal diagnosis can't handle his rowdy classroom in “Sheep's Clothing” until our gun in his hand improves his confidence, command, even his ailments. Perhaps more provocative now, this chilling parable on how a weapon creates obsession and threatens the lives in the classroom shows that a gun in the wrong hands is not empowerment to the innocents it harms. It's so easy to pull the trigger once you start, and this Third Episode should have been the season premiere. Irish Catholics and English Protestants likewise bend God's law as they see fit in “Sisters of Mercy.” Our nuns are both angry at blasphemy and the saloon being open on Sunday – not because it is the Lord's day, but it's when they planned to rob the bank next door. They bide their time helping the poor and broken women, pistol whipping the man who beats a working girl. The humor mixed with intrigue, however, is somewhat hollow despite the religious subject matter, and early in the season Dead Man's Gun has several decent, but not quite perfect episodes. Fortunately series producer Henry Winkler's titular “Hangman” calculates weight, scaffold height, and neck snap speed for a quick and easy death as decreed. It would have been intriguing if Dead Man's Gun had a regular character like this traveling in the gun's wake. Mercy is not his to give when an accused minister professes innocence, and the haunting voices and eerie mirrors standout as deeper introspection than “Sisters of Mercy” because the roulette is played serious sans humor. Our gun interferes in giving and taking life amid fear of the noose, perceived miracles, and those once hung who survived and get away with it. Statements about this gun not being for killing versus “all guns are meant for killing” are again provocative to hear now, and this episode would have made a fine series finale.

“The Judgment Of Joe Dean Bonner” premiere would seem to have it all, including a creepy storekeeper who also runs the hotel named “Final Hour” and becomes the judge presenting the eponymous victims and flashbacks. The judge isn't the devil, but says he knows him well. Despite chilling moments and more supernatural aspects than the rest of the season, this contrived trial plays at both justice for the deceased as well as sympathy for their killer. The man versus the devil comeuppance could have been stronger, and it all comes off too modern. Rather than focusing on the evil aspects, Dead Man's Gun often becomes less about the gun and is more often straight western stories. Vintage boxing photographs and bare knuckle fights in “Winner Takes All” lead to shady promoters, rival showman, and the gun as the prize. The period sports had potential, but the training montages and positive orphan inspirations are so wholesome they're on the wrong show. “The Trapper” tries to tackle respectful Native American revenge, but the stereotypical racist white men are cruel and unnecessary. The shape-shifting justice is great – Dead Man's Gun needed more supernatural horror not less – but the gun temptation was there for the taking and this story is all from the wrong perspective. The tribe or location is never stated, and too many episodes are just generic “The” entries playing it safe and the back end of the season suffers most. The murderous but unaware cobbler in “Sleepwalker” could have been fascinating as point of view horror for a psychosis brought out by the gun, however, the silly saucy, jealousy, and motives end up a total snooze. Rather than use the gun, a woman leaves aces calling cards after her elaborate kills in “Four of a Kind” amid precocious little girls, interchangeable thugs and lawman, meek storekeepers, and laughable derivatives. When you put explosives in somebody's walnuts, don't leave the bottle clearly labeled nitroglycerin out for all to see. The new unpopular female doctor in “The Oath” is also overwrought with modern statements complete with snake oil salesmen, Old West anti-vaxxers, and frustrating Dr. Quinn copycats again on the wrong show. An Italian immigrant heading West in “The Vine” also makes for stereotypical characterizations, cliché accents, and sentimental strings laid on thick as Dead Man's Gun inexplicably turns from sinister to sweet and tender. Hopes? Dreams? Religious chorales and miraculous plants? “Bad Boys” offers more nameless sheriffs and hollow standoffs before a trio of kids uses the gun to do good against nasty dads. I was ready to turn this off in first five minutes but ended up watching on 1.5 speed. Quicksand, haberdashers, and the eponymous study of “The Phrenologist” fall flat amid rival suitors, baddies looking for loot, and some kid who grows up to be Thomas Edison. The fancy fast talking performance is obnoxious and laughable for all the wrong reasons.

Season Two does best mid-season with the long haired and vain Michael York (Romeo and Juliet) as “The Collector.” His unique pieces include the gun and he's seeking a fellow professor of fine taste. The supposed civility and elitism add layers to the bumbling Old West archaeology rivalry as these so-called appreciators of Native American artifacts plunder nonetheless. They shoot buffalo because of their rarity and follow a treasure map to gold, scalps, bullets, and betrayals. Haughty British crook on the lamb Lysette Anthony (Dracula: Dead and Loving It) puts on the fake jolly good and hopes to make a crabby ex-Confederate general her next stool pigeon in “The Mimesers.” Again humor over suspense hurts the sinister household menace– the Southern generic crazy is over the top and the steamy attempts to get the loot would have been better with her alone instead of via a demented husband encouraging his wife. Fortunately, suspicious stock certificates, burying money in the backyard, and the key to the safe around his neck escalate to killer double crosses and for love or money twists. Seeing Michael Dorn (Star Trek) out of his Worf makeup in “The Pinkerton” is only the beginning of this noir styled Dashiell Hammett yarn. The racist, territorial sheriff resents this Pinkerton assigned to a local kidnapping case, but our man has succeeded in all his previous cases and admits a colored man has to be twice as good to get the job. Multifaceted performances and punchlines like “I'm a detective not a magician” accent the ransoms, suspect family, and procedural but in the Old West tone. He's warned to arm himself with our gun, but distrusts it's fine workmanship before ordering coffee at the saloon and talking down angry miners with high brow insults. Friendly barmaids versus femme fatales, motives, and clues are obvious to the wise viewer, but town lynch mobs, bullets, and deduction lead to respect. Our Pinkerton lost his family in a robbery shootout and killed the outlaws responsible, but it didn't bring his family back, and this remains one of Dead Man's Gun's best episodes. It almost feels like a backdoor pilot, and again, having a character like this recur could have given the series another season. In “Seven Deadly Sins,” Daniel Baldwin (Homicide: Life on the Street) is ready to take charge of his late father's bank but is forced to work under his brother. He happily screws customers on collateral, loans, and policy loopholes while drinking gambling, stealing, and blaming shortages on another clerk. He blackmails a farmer's wife for sex and uses our gun to achieve his corrupt goals, indulging in all the gluttonous vices before his fitting comeuppance.

Full moons and wolf howls lead to knives, splatter, and murdered prostitutes in “The Ripper,” which almost feels like a fun Halloween episode in what's supposed to be a horror series. Scotland Yard's Peter Firth (MI-5) is on the trail of Jack the Ripper – an American who has fled home and continued killing. Of course we immediately suspect a culprit, but the killing for satisfaction psychology makes for an entertaining what if before newspaper clippings, telegram evidence, working girl dalliances, and winking twists. A feisty writer coming West wants to write the life story of amoral gunslinger Billy Campbell (The 4400) for “The Regulator“ but his exploits aren't exactly legal and their tête-à-tête is tame today. It's disturbing, however, when he talks about the allure of our gun, what it takes to pull the trigger, and how to cull the herd. Any man will use a weapon if given the chance – it's a fairy tale to think otherwise – and it's eerie to see the tables turn on our likable scoundrel who says the terrible things we do now. Kate Jackson (Dark Shadows) directs the sermons, raunchy rides, and husbands chasing after wandering swindler Patrick Duffy (Dallas) in “The Womanizer.” He knows how to play the guitar as well as women, and the tone is sincere or humorous and cavalier depending on his honesty or triumph – save for an incriminating birthmark, that is. Again, the avenging church assassin in pursuit of his gun would have been a neat repeat character, and eventually the ultimate punishment catches our Lothario: marriage. Chez Emil Haute Cuisine also brings class to the West in “The Good Chef” even if the crowd can't pronounce the French names. The home cooking restaurant next door can't compete with the connoisseur who insists food is to dine not merely ingest, and any uncouth customers asking for ketchup, poor table manners, and quitting staff meet our gun. Although the tasty subject been done better on Tales from the Crypt and the temperamental chef feels too silly and modern, this is one of the better latter episodes culminating in the expected secret recipes. Sadly, the hasty series finale “A Just Reward” is a clip show cop out reusing weak moments from Season One and inexplicably the terrible “Bad Boys” from Year Two. This supposedly ominous Mr. Smith looks like a modern man in a black suit amid padding horseback chases, plodding camera panoramas, and mystical double talk suddenly concerned with the gun's effect on all who touch it when most of this lighthearted season the gun had no mind of its own. Mr. Smith says he's the gun's original owner before a laughable grim reaper transformation. It's camp and hokey like a bad Halloween costume, and the devilish judge from the faulty premiere would have been a better bookend to the series.

Thankfully, the outdoor photography is bright and barren or dusty and muddy as needed. Some interiors are slightly plain or dark, but the period clutter does a lot with little – oil lamps, nib pens, pocket watches, wallpaper, and wash basins. Vintage medical equipment or school house ephemera vary per episode as does the saloon piano and shadow schemes. Up close photography clearly cuts corners, but old fashioned gauze on the lens creates eerie overlays in camera as needed. Holsters, horses, and stagecoaches provide action while hats, spectacles, leather, and dusters provide a somewhat eighties meets 1880s style. Though fitting, the stock western facades on Dead Man's Gun all look the same. The town's not meant to be the same locale – it would be better if it were – but the set savings are clear despite careful shooting of specific buildings per episode. Slow motion shots feel dated and production quality varies from hour to hour. Bonnets, corsets and combinations look the part, but the women's dresses are costume modern and the ladies' hair is often terribly straggly – as if Old West look simply means unwashed. Elder actors make for better rustic than the out of place too nineties younger guests, but the repeating familiar faces become as noticeable as the bad generic, incorrect Southern accents. Unlike Year One with creators Howard and Ed Spielman writing, over half the episodes here have more than two credited writers, often as many as four. Combined with numerous directors, it's easy to see where Dead Man's Gun lost its cohesion, and the dragging forty-four minute episodes should have been a taut half hour instead. Dead Man's Gun DVDs are now also elusive and streaming options come and go, but the series works best as aired when you catch a one off weird western. Today this kind of show would be so violent it wouldn't be entertaining, yet dated filler episodes disappointingly stray from the paranormal gun aspects. Despite provocative stories, name stars, and intriguing characterizations, it's not surprising Dead Man's Gun was canceled once it forgoes its own chilling weapon and devilish premise, leaving the series as an awkward transition between the wholesome western television standard and today's serious bleak. Fortunately, skipping a clunker when marathoning Dead Man's Gun now solves any problems.

New Happenings at InSession Film!

 

If you've been reading our classic film reviews and actor countdowns moonlighting at InSession Film, you may have heard about the new Women InSession film podcast including Yours Truly alongside my fellow female film critics at InSession! 🙋‍♀️

You can listen to the First Three Episodes of Women InSession wherever you hear your favorite podcasts. This opening trilogy is a bit of a Classic Film dive:

Women InSession Episode 1: Our Top 3 Classics with @Zita Short

Women InSession Episode 2: George Stevens and A Place in the Sun with @ZitaShort and @Amy Thomasson

Women InSession Episode 3: Westerns from a Feminine Perspective with @ZitaShort

We have a fun, new announcement! Beginning this week we have a new podcast to add to the InSession Film family, led by @thereforereview @Zita_Short @filmswithamy @athomasson11 @ShadanLarki and @eRockReviews! pic.twitter.com/w8JzcdDObG

— InSession Film (@InSessionFilm) July 20, 2022

Look for our next Women InSession podcast episodes chatting about everything from Titanic and Kate Winslet to Alfred Hitchcock! Don't forget to read some of our Classic Film essays, too:

An Ingrid Bergman Potluck

A Fun Jane Seymour Trio

Larger than Life Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton Pictures

Stay up to date on the latest from us at InSession Film on Twitter! 🎬

DVD Video Hauls!

 

Recently on our Youtube Channel, we've featured a few Thrift Hauls and DVD Unboxings including box sets, television series, blu-rays, even books on film and VHS. Here's a round up of our affordable finds!

Your friendly neighborhood thrift shopper and physical media enthusiast Kristin Battestella gets a little carried away in sharing some recent DVD, Box Set, and Blu-ray finds! There are few music, sports, and holiday surprises, too! Please feel free to read some of the reviews of the films featured linked below and comment if you wish to see an in depth look at a specific title or more videos like this.

 

Kristin Battestella is breaking the bank once again with 50 cent VHS finds, Classic Hollywood Books, blu-ray hauls, and more thrift DVDs! Okay, so there are a few duplicates, but there's a good coughexcusecough reason! Please feel free to like or subscribe and comment here or Twitter if there is something you'd like to see discussed in more detail. You can also browse some of our written reviews of the movies featured at I Think, Therefore I Review or InSession Film. Thank you for watching!

 
Kristin Battestella waxes on classics, westerns, John Wayne, and more in this Father's Day themed DVD thrift haul. Shopping second hand for memorable movies is a great gift for the gentlefolk in your life! Not that I was specifically looking for dad-oriented finds, and I'm keeping the cool video sets, too. 😏

Our Reviews at InSession Film

Frightening Flix Video Review Playlist

Therefore I Review Video Playlist

The Deep (2010)

 

Superficial The Deep is Disappointing

by Kristin Battestella

After the mysterious loss of the scientific expedition Hermes, her sister submarine Orpheus – led by Frances (Minnie Driver) and Samson (Goran Visnjic) – dives 2,000 feet below the Arctic to continue the renewable energy research. Engineer Clem's (James Nesbitt) wife Catherine (Orla Brady) was on the Hermes and salvage expert Raymond (Tobias Menzies) may know more then he's telling as Russian rivals, underwater dangers, and surprise vessels expedite the race to explore the sea bed in the 2010 five part British serial The Deep.

Archive videos and bleak recordings from the lost Hermes open “To the Furthest Place” amid witch's stone tokens, family goodbyes, and a final toast at the pub before the Orpheus shoves off to the North Pole. The first twenty minutes builds the backstory and the upsetting potential of what happened to the Hermes. However, we shouldn't have seen the Hermes in res prologue if the current crew has their ominous logs, and once we are below in the Orpheus, we should stay amid the isolation, eerie underwater vents, and hydrothermal life possibilities. Automated arms work outside while the people wait with monitors and headsets. They're on a first name basis yet some have a terse, patronizing tone despite oxygen emergencies, trapped submersibles, and ominous sonar signals. Failed wench recoveries lead to alarms, flickering lights, airlock intensity, and crushing disasters. The accident happens fast, with enough disaster visuals but not ridiculously drawn out shock and awe CGI panoramas. Something else is diving above the Orpheus, and again, there's no need to revisit the trawler above thanks to the congested arguments, convulsion injuries, and apparent murders. Desperate repairs, written notes held up to the port hole, low power – the possible killer on board could have been a taut episode unto itself. Unfortunately, The Deep's pace falters with the bloated “Into the Belly of the Beast.” Once again, unnecessary scenes above break the underwater weight versus buoyancy, nosebleeds, and radiation fears. How long has this massive Russian vessel been drilling in this protected environment? The spooky ship is never full explored despite the should be ominous flashlights, bodies, leaks, and bad smells. This episode is much slower moving – redundant rather than horror of the unknown. Bigger issues on UN treaties or industrial pollution disappear alongside lab computers, abandoned equipment, and hissing tanks forgotten rather than used for, you know, information. The lack of a medical doctor shows with autopsies, gunshots, and nuclear dangers, but once again, The Deep must revisit outside perspectives apart from Orpheus. The contrived antagonism already feels silly and superficial, calling the serial's entire structure into question. Maybe there should have been an episode from the Russian perspective, another with the conspiracy depths, and one dedicated family episode rather than dividing the drama between everything but the eponymous submarine.

The motherboards are fried in “Ghosts of the Deep,” but there's no distress beacon, only people arguing whether they're on Russian or Greenwich time while the reactors overheat. Nobody explores who or what is on the vessel, and control rod fixes begat a lengthy lottery contrived for suspense. The irrelevant lethal exposure is not empathetic when the engineer or mechanic could have done their jobs, and repairing Orpheus with salvaged parts is treated as a surprising last minute realization rather than the primary goal. They conveniently find the lost Hermes instantly, and the back up pod's copy, over, roger, repeat interrupts the eerie tomb search with family mementos and pictures in the deceased's locker. An entire flashback hour recounting what happened to the Hermes could have been interesting, but the quiet personal and any intrigue on what happened to the crew are dismissed until a provocative figure seen at the porthole. There aren't any medical check ups, explanations, or debriefings for those rescued, and everything but the last ten minutes of the Third Hour could have been skipped. More meaningless, anonymous technobabble opens “Everything Put Together Falls Apart” before arguments about the pile of body bags and shootouts across the moon pool. Hydrogen producing lava bugs are equated as an organism that eats crap and farts clean fuel, leaving The Deep sorely lacking in a realistic medium between the highbrow gobbledygook and treating viewers like we're stupid. One scientist must deduce what would have been known had somebody turned on the computers found in Episode Two, and another already knew everything but didn't say. The race 8,500 feet deep isn't that interesting despite forbidden pipelines and buckling infrastructure, and this is another half an episode that could have been excised. Each useless excursion and finite maneuver somehow always succeeds despite pressure risks, Nitrogen biproducts, acid, and power drains. Emotions versus research waver, and marathoning The Deep acerbates the uneven motivation flaws and overly dramatic nick of time cheats. Staying alive would have been enough for The Deep without the rival conspiracies as supposedly smart people become foolish to serve the plot in “The Last Breath.” Turnabout shock attempts, multiple traitors, and more shootouts that lead to nothing delay the ruined families and people crying over the deaths they caused. The Orpheus surfaces lickity split to meet generic conspiracy henchman confiscating their research. Oil secrets versus bio fuel discoveries hit the audience over the head yet never address the deeper issues thanks to time wasting technicalities, preposterous survivals, ridiculous deaths, laughable characterizations, and ghosts.

Cold captain Minnie Driver (Phantom of the Opera) goes over all the checks and measures and insists her priority is the crew's safety. However she catches feelings and puts everyone at risk when not calling others selfish for their personal agendas. Frances vows to leave no one behind – after leaving somebody behind every episode – falling back on tired “We don't have a choice!” apologies with each dire failure. She tells others to bury their emotion but is unable to do her job thanks to uneven tears and ineffectual characterizations proving her wrong. Rather than doing what is necessary or surfacing for help, Frances foolishly never considers who really holds the expedition purse strings. Goran Visnjic's (ER) Samson is excited that the Hermes' failure is now his chance to go deep. He thinks he is so cool, but his wife worries he'll cheat – probably because Samson and Frances already knocked boots. Samson only tells Frances how he really feels when she's unconscious yet boasts when he's lifting dead bodies less than a day after being shot in the shoulder. He really doesn't seem like a nice guy and is an even worst scientist. Widower James Nesbitt (Murphy's Law) doesn't actually do any engineering, either. However, Clem's grief doesn't need any other sounding board, and the redundant daughter at home storyline contributes to the bloated problems on The Deep, taking away from Clem's immediate angst and the arguments over family, death, science, and priorities. Flashbacks of Orla Brady (Star Trek: Picard) as his wife Catherine before and during the Hermes mission also waste time, and seeing her through logs or archive research is forgotten because through it all, nobody bothers asking what's been happening the last six months. Of course, we know to be suspicious when Tobias Menzies (The Night Manager) claims to be an outside salvage man who knows nothing about what befell the Hermes, and the stereotypical Black person also dies first. Three secondary diverse yet disposable and undefined crew members on the sub seem too young to even be there. They repeat everything everyone else says a la Sigourney Weaver in Galaxy Quest, fearfully objecting and questioning everything. They never know what to do and are even told to shut up for being so annoying. Translators don't translate, anonymous mechanics never fix anything, chefs never cook, and the bad guys' allegiances change from hour to hour as the wishy washy plot decides. It's almost fascinating to see so many characters embody such frustrating minutia.

Ironically, the ominous blues set the mood well with reflections, ripples, and enough light for us to see the well done underwater effects. Creepy green lighting and choice reds set off the rounded glass, ladders, and hatches while ice, puffy coats, and chunky sweaters keep the chill. Darkness beyond the submarine lights, foreboding hull noises, and neat, if meaningless vampire squid add atmosphere while talk of recycled neon and oxygen accents the congested interiors. Where an American piece is often panning awe and cool wonder, The Deep is largely still until the final episode visually rushes with noticeably jarring handheld action and shaky cam zooms. An onscreen running out of air countdown or duration under water clock would have actualized the timing for the audience as well as anchored the pacing for series director Jim O'Hanlon (A Touch of Cloth) and writer Simon Donald (Fortitude). Unfortunately, the previouslies illuminate how superfluous the middle hours are, and the next week teasers indicate how many apparent calamities amount to nothing. The Deep should have been three parts or two ninety minute movies, for every tangent deflates the contained characters under pressure premise, and the playing at science fiction perils runs aground with derivative politics away from the water.

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.

Quiz Show (1994) Video Review

 

Let's talk briefly about the multifaceted 1994 film Quiz Show, directed by Robert Redford and starring Ralph Fiennes, John Turturro, Rob Morrow, and more. This ahead of its time drama layers the commentary on television and the audience ourselves mirror today's celebrity and social media.

Please feel free to comment below or join the conversation with us at Therefore I Review on Twitter! Let us know if you'd like to see more of these single film video critiques. Thank you for watching and feel free to read more of our Ralph Fiennes analysis at InSession Film!

The Unusual Ralph Fiennes at InSession Film

Shakespeare Brevity Video Review

Classic Shakespeare Film List

Marilyn Monroe at the 300 Passions Podcast

Frightening Flix Horror Video Reviews Playlist

April DVD Thrift Haul

Horror Cliches I'm Tired of Seeing Video Review

 

Hello Contrivance, my old friend! 

It's time to fast forward over the prologues, driving to the horrors, and jump scares to have a fireside chat with Kristin Battestella aka Kbatz as we discuss all the formulaic tropes and problems with paint by numbers horror movies! For more Frightening Flix editorials as well as Kbatz Krafts projects anyone can do, pick up your copy of the Horror Addicts Guide to Life Book 2 workbook anthology available now on Amazon. What Horror cliches are YOU tired of seeing?

Horror Addicts Guide to Life Book 2

Horror Addicts Guide to Life Book 1

Our Frightening Flix Video Reviews Playlist

Follow Kbatz Krafts and Frightening Flix at HorrorAddicts.net or Instagram and Twitter!

My Horror Addicts Guide to Life Book 2 Press Tour Interview

Thank You for Watching! 

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.