Showing posts with label Tim Ritter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tim Ritter. Show all posts

Thursday, August 15, 2019

Review: HI-Death (Unrated)


Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2019
Images from the Internet


HI-Death: Unrated
Directed by Anthony Catanese; Amanda Payton; Tim Ritter; Todd Sheet; Brad Sykes
Nightfall Pictures / Wild Eye Releasing / MVD Entertainment
111 minutes, 2018

The anthology film HI-8: Horror Independent Eight (2013) was a bit of a success, so it’s not surprising that a sequel would be underway… And here it is!

With five different directors and shorts cobbled together, we are presented a collection with some of the better-known indie film directors, like Todd Sheets and Tim Ritter. The name of the film is a nice word play: the “HI” part is an acronym for “Horror Independent.” The first HI-8 was low-rez, shot on video shorts, but this one is in High Def(inition), so it ends up as HI-Death. Smart.

The wraparound story, directed by Brad Sykes, has two women (Kristen Adams and Kate Durocher) visiting Los Angeles who opt to take a film hop to a batch of horror short films playing around the city, and thereby seeing the locales along the way. One is more reluctant but goes along for the every increasingly disturbing views.

In the first short, “Death Has a Conscious,” we have an artsy, nearly psychedelic view of a young woman who is obviously a junkie, living life on the edge no matter what the circumstances. We follow her around as she does her thing, and when she goes too far, we meet the titular boneyard creature who after centuries of taking people to shuffle off their mortal coil, is despondent about his position and discusses it at length with the soul he takes and the viewing audience (i.e., us). Lots of masks and rumination abound. It’s a good story and director Anthony Catanese presents it in a palatable fashion with bright primary colors and close-ups in his 12 minutes.

Following this is cult low-key director Tim Ritter’s “Dealers of Death.” Ritter is kind of like the American Jesse Franco in that his work is filled with bizarreness, questionable acting and some decent effects. The story, however, I found quite interesting, focusing on a junkie (he even wears a shirt that proclaims the descriptor right on it) named Marty (Todd Martin) who is also a collector of serial killer memorabilia. He is obsessed with this as much as the drugs, for which he will do anything to obtain, including ripping off his own dealer, Rockoff (Thomas Kindler, playing a character that seems to be right out of a Dakota Ray film) to pay for it. There are some nice twists and turns it in as Rockoff confronts Marty and his girlfriend Pamela (Trish Erickson-Martin). I won’t give away the punchline, but it was a well-deserved comeuppance, even though the short felt a bit longer than needed at 25 minutes.

Next up is “Night Drop,” directed by Amanda Payton. It is short at 11 minutes, but sweet on tension. Trevor (Christopher Preyer), a new employee at a video store (wait…what?), is locking up for the first time when a mysterious DVD in a red case shows up. There is no doubt that there is an influence of Ringu/The Ring running through this (watch it and you die!), but Payton does a really decent job of keeping up the apprehension level all the way through, so kudos on that. Some of the characters that come in and out are a bit over the top, such as a nutzo homeless person (Dylan Thomas… no, not the poet!), but it’s easily forgivable filler and produces a nice jump scare. So far, it’s been my fave piece, but usually the best is held for last, so I reserve my judgement for now.

Taking place in Hollywood, it only makes sense that at least one of the stories deals with the film industry (not counting the end-user of the previous tale). For that we are given Sykes’ “Cold Read,” a 19-minute look at the audition process. Nervous Julianna (Fabiana Formica) is late for her read for a part. The director (Jay Sosnicki) and his assistant (Julia Vally, who reminds me of Abigail Hawk from “Blue Bloods”) are not sympathetic to the process. What was enjoyable for me was thinking that they show both sides of the audition process, namely what it is like to deal with a difficult director and crew, and what the director and crew must do to deal with difficult actors. Sykes’ manages to keep the creepiness going throughout with a good story with a nice twist ending.

The last and most esoteric story at 18 minutes is “The Muse,” which is hinted at in the wraparound story via marquees and the like. It is directed by cult classic director Todd Sheets, who brings along many of his regulars, who are always nice to see as they work so well together. By far the goriest and nudity-laden of the batch, Sheets presents to us a painter (Nick Randol) and his demon muse Darkness (Eve Smith), as well as bringing us into the HP Lovecraft universe. It’s a dark tale, for sure, but it satisfies.

For extras, there are a bunch of trailers: the Teaser, the Official, the Original, and the one for the first of this franchise, Hi-8. Next up is a 17-minute “Anatomy of a Scream: The Making of COLD READ.” It’s mostly watching the crew filming the scenes, and there is nothing gained or lost by watching it. It is interesting to see the volume of people they could put in a small room and still make an effective film.
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There are two commentary tracks, one of which is with Brad Sykes and some of his crew discussing how the idea of the anthology came together, how they shot his segment and the wraparound, and the way the film was “gathered” from the other directors. There is also some discussion about each of the filmmakers. The other track are the directors and some crew of each individual short, who go through their tracks on the making of the film, anecdotes, etc. Todd Sheets, a master of this kind of thing, gives the most effective and fluid talk of the batch.

As an anthology film by multiple directors/writers, this is generally better than many others I’ve seen in that the consistency of the quality of the stories being pretty engrossing. Many are arty, but don’t fall into the oblique and cryptic. Nearly across the board, they tend to lean towards the use of primary colors for emotion (see Creepshow [1982] as an example). Also, in most of them, the acting is stronger than usual in shorts. HI-Death is a good way to continue – if not step up – with the franchise, and I look forward to it continuing.



Friday, January 5, 2018

Review: Truth or Dare – A Critical Madness

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2018
Images from the Internet



Truth or Dare: A Critical Madness
Directed, and written by Tim Ritter
Sub Rosa Studios
87 minutes, 1986 / 2010
www.SRSCinema.com
www.MVDvisual.com


Around the time VCRs came into fashion during the early to mid-1980s, the top two sellers / renters at video stores were porn and horror. This opened up a whole new genre of cinema, the made-for-video release. Most of the time these were shot on low budget, making some of Roger Corman’s films look expansive, on inferior quality stock and with actors who were, well, lets just say not exactly of Meryl Streep's caliber.

Director Tim Ritter was 18 or 19 when he directed this film, shot entirely on 16mm which gave it a grainy, ‘70s television feel (the main character driving a ’77 Firebird helps with that image; I kept expecting Dolemite to exit the car). The Chicago company that helped finance the project tried to take it away from him when they found out his age, but with a lawsuit, he retained "custody." In the meanwhile, they undermined him at every turn by changing plot points, actors, and even core storyline on second string shooting, making this an inconsistent mess as far as continuity, so the viewer must go beyond suspension of disbelief, and enter a land of no limits, to the level of Gilligan’s Island. A well-discussed point is that the main villain (there is no mystery on who the killer is from the first scene) keeps coming up with weapons out of nowhere, including machine guns, a (very fake looking) mace, a machete, and a large bolt-cutter.

Okay, that being said, if one is willing to accept the film for what it is and the period it was birthed, this is a fun popcorn-chomper. It really is a time capsule when the rules for straight-to-video product had not yet been written, and anything was possible. For this subgenre at that time, Truth or Dare is a fun ride almost because of the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and I do not mean this as a put-down at all. It is what it is, and this film is no better or worse than, say, 1978’s The Tool Box Murders (sans Pamelyn Ferdin, of course).

Lead nutcase Mike Strauber, acted at first as nerdy and rising to full insanity, is played by John Brace, whose previous credit is as a member of the Burt Reynolds’ Playhouse in Jupiter, Florida (near where this film was shot). His only other credit listed is also from 1986, which is an appearance on Cheers. Brace does some serious scenery chewing, but he manages to be one of the more professional actors in the picture; though I wonder how much he was actually there since during the last half he is wearing a full-face mask made of copper (wouldn’t that get really hot in Florida?) and his body shape and hair changes often, as his character is obviously being played by stunt people.

Most of the cast is amazingly amateurish, in a fun way, though. Raymond Carbone plays a wild police detective named Rosenberg who is obviously from the Chicago area (and a real ex-cop), Terence Andreucci plays the comic relief cop who is way too old and physically stiff for his part (it’s fun watching him try to crouch behind, say, a small rider mower), and Kerry Ellen Walker portrays a baffling hitchhiker (though her brief role soon becomes clear) who was obviously hired more for her cleavage, boxy figure, and big hair then for her acting talent (this is her only credit). And practically the entire Duff family makes an appearance in various roles (perhaps since the film was cast by Priscilla Duff?). I was especially laughing at the “teen punks” who were obviously in their overweight 30s. Then there is the wonderfully named actor Asbestos Felt, one of the only people in this film that has an upcoming credit.

The only on-camera cast-person who had a somewhat healthy career is Mary Fanaro, who played Stauber’s wife, though her many credits seem to peter out in 1999. Of course, there is an infamous cameo by a then-tween A.J. McLean, who would go on to have silly facial hair in the Backstreet Boys.

Perhaps because of the time period before MTV was influencing everything with music video style editing, or maybe it was that Ritter just didn’t really know what he was doing, the edits are kept to a minimum, with shots lasting much longer than one would expect these days, lingering in imaginative ways. For example, when Mike leaves his house after finding his wife in bed with her boss (hey, the first shot is of them in action, so no spoiler alert needed here), he storms out with his wife standing at the door. The camera stays steady on her back and the door as he storms out of frame for a few seconds, and then his car appears backing out of the driveway into the street. With such slow editing and pacing, more drama is built up. Sure, Sergei Eisenstein said that editing equals action, but in these days of 2-second cuts, this works by doing the opposite.

Yes, there is gore and appliance special effect, and some of them are well done, though most of kind of cheesy, of course. A majority of the action is done off-camera, such that the viewer will see the knife come down, and then the next shot the limb is already cut in CSI full gore. It’s rare to actually see the action itself rather than the aftereffect, and yet it still retains a nice blood-to-gore ratio.

There are a lot of enjoyable holes in the story, of which my favorite – even more than the mysterious appearing weapons – being that the police have trouble finding Mike, even though he drives around in his ’77 Firebird, wearing a full-face copper mask (surely a nod to Jason and the Shape), with his blinkers on throughout the whole film. And I won’t even go into him shooting three people at a bus stop with a machine gun while traffic continues to flow around him on a busy street.

There are some obvious comedy set pieces, as well as the unintentional, such as the use of the text crawl under the image of the Sunnydale Mental Institution, or the complaining neighbor who rants, oblivious to Mike loading up on weapons from the car.

The music deserves some comment: wow. Tacky ‘80s synth (usually one bar repeated over and over) for the tense moments, lame piano twinkling (probably also the synth) for the softer emotional parts, and the final credit song, “Critical Madness,” which is just, well, bad (in a fun way), sung occasionally on key by Kay Reed with the Church of Our Savior Choir (I kid you not), from Chicago.

There are extras on this DVD. Trailers for this and the next two (shot on video) Truth or Dare sequels (fourth is currently in production) – they look more like porn S&M tapes – and an interesting Behind-the-Scenes documentary, which is essentially Ritter talking over clips, like a commentary. And speaking of commentaries, there is a full length one by Ritter and a couple of the actors. Now, don’t go expecting a shot-by-shot analysis, but the conversation is pretty interesting about getting funded, the lawsuit, and the like, to keep it from getting dull (like any of the Farrelly Brothers’ or Kevin Smith bore-fest talks).

The word classic has been bandied about for this film, and in its way, it is. It was one of the first of a new direct-to-video genre, and while it’s far from perfect, it’s more than adequate if one is willing to take the step to just accept it for what it is. I probably won’t be the only one to say this, but: go ahead a get this film… I dare you.

This review was originally published in ffanzeen.blogspot.com.