All genres of suspense, terror, and horror will be reviewed by Richard Gary. His address to send preview copies supplied upon request to rbf55@msn.com.
The Secret of Sinchanee Directed by Steven Grayhm
Truth Entertainment; Team House Studios; High Octane Pictures; Vertical
Entertainment
115 minutes, 2021
https://teamhousestudios.com/
It is quite common for
a genre film to have a prologue. In fact, it’s hard to find one that does not,
and this one is a bit longer than most, setting up for what will happen later on
(a side note: I admired the commitment of a person in the scene in a deep and dark
December), with placards informing us about the rivalry between the fictional mixed
American Indian/First Nation tribe of Sinchanee, and the also fictional rival pagan
(i.e., witches) followers of Atlantow (aka the spirit of death).
In the opening, it’s
1995 and we are introduced to a family and a stone arrowhead that will surely
be significant later (or else why would it be here, eh wot?).
Steven Grayhm
Post-credits, in The
Present, we are introduced to the protagonist of the piece, an insomnia-burdened
industrial tow truck driver named Will (director Steven Grayhm, giving off a Mark
Wahlberg vibe), who has just inherited his late estranged father’s house in Deerfield,
a town in northwestern Massachusetts; I often used to pass it on Interstate 91
on my way to Vermont soon after the prologue took place. This house is more
like a cabin in the middle of the woods, miles from anywhere. But it is where Will
grew up.
It is also where he
witnessed a brutal murder. There were lots of suspects, such as his schizophrenic
father (Chris Neville) and some lost soul (Don McAlister) hiding out in the
house’s shed. This all takes place in the dead of winter, past and present, and
a safe place out of the cold is important.
In the now, people are
starting to die in the area, a mother and a daughter pair, and two ex-married
detectives, Carrie (Tamara Austin) and toxic-masculinity-infused Drew (Nate
Boyer; he also played with the Seattle Seahawks), who share a daughter Ava
(television starlet Laila Lockhart Kraner) are on the case that seems to bring
them into the realm of Will.
Meanwhile Will’s world
is getting more and more haunted by spirits that seem to lean increasingly towards
the malevolent. Is it from his lack of sleep and dreaming when he sees and
hears odd and scary things, or has the veil parted and worlds are colliding? And
who is the mysterious Jesus-like figure Solomon Goodblood (Rudy Reyes); will he
live up to his name or be a trickster?
Over time we worry
about Will’s – er – will to fight for his own sanity, and how it affects
those around him, especially as Detective Carrie is ever deeper drawn into his
world. This is a domain of supernatural evil, that is beyond poltergeists. It
has a mission.
This film is mostly a
slow burn, albeit beautiful to view. There is long, sweeping side-to-side shots
(dolly or steadi-cam) or slow, lingering close-ups that add to the mood. The
film is pretty dark in moments, and the use of lighting seems to be more
natural illumination and tones than, say, high contrast or lens of primary colors,
which sometimes gets overused. There is also some really nice drone work,
soaring over roads, old barns and farm houses. The shots of shadow-work during
a teepee scene were impressive.
Tamara Austin
There is no doubt about
it, the film is long at an hour and forty-five minutes, but I have to say, even
with some tightening to make it shorter, it was a decent enough looking film to
keep my interest, and enough characters to keep me intrigued, but not too much
to get cumbersome. Also, the acting was better than most. With its lack of
comedy (oh, it is dead serious), there is less over-emoting and more of a sincerity
(see below).
There is some violence,
but most of it off-screen. This could easily play on broadcast television due
to lack of blood and no nudity. But it is also anxiety-building, with some jump
scares and people and things popping in and out. During the slower, roaming
shots, as people search through the house and woods beyond, make sure to pay
attention and check out the spaces behind the characters.
I am impressed that this
film’s Team House group hires ex-military behind and in front of the camera,
including 10 veterans and 1 Gold Star sister. This includes Boyer, who was Special
Forces {Green Beret), and Reyes, of the Marine First Reconnaissance Battalion
(Special Forces), both of whom saw action in the Middle East. Thank you all for
your service.
This is the Ontario Director’s
fourth feature, though he has appeared as an actor in many others’ releases. This
film can be viewed as a chance to be a showcase for him, but this goes beyond
that in showing talent for filmmaking proper. It nicely uses his own mixed Indigenous
heritage of Weskarini Alogonquin First Nation people of La Petite Nation as credence
to a story based on a spiritual focus. Luckily, he is talented on both sides of
the camera.
This could easily be
seen as fitting into the haunted house genre, but it is actually quite
more than that, by mixing in the Indigenous elements that give the film more gravitas.
The story is solid drama, without watering it down with humor. It stays true to
the world it creates, and that improves the story.
So, while I normally
do not give spoilers I will say this: the dog is fine in the end. Also, stick
around for the epilogue (or, as I like to call it, post-ilogue) for a
no-surprise tie-up that really was necessary anyway, so I am glad it was included.
Vancouver-based
director Ryan Nicholson left quite a legacy before he passed on in 2019,
including Gutterballs (2008), Collar (2014; reviewed HERE), and this little gem that I have heard of
but had never seen. Now it’s out in a two-disk Blu-ray.
Nicholson was known
for his extreme version of cinema, with violence, gore, sex and lots and lots
of other nastiness. His films are not for the weak of heart, and this one
certainly lives up to the legend that has followed it.
Right from the start,
we meet very pregnant prostitute Rose (the ever amazing and brave performer,
Debbie Rochon; there are definitely aspect of the opening that are a nod to her
history with Troma, such as a television in the motel room playing 1986’s Class
of Nuke ‘Em High, and Lloyd Kaufman has a cameo as a “tranny,” which is how
it is listed in the credits). Rose’s violent pimp, Leroy (Ronald Patrick Thompson,
the only black actor in the cast with dialogue, is a vicious pimp; that’s all I’m
sayin’) not only wants her to keep making money, but also demands she get rid
of her baby through despicable means, despite it being close to popping.
Debbie Rochon
Her time is close, so
the pimp decides to take things into his own closet, the new Texas style of
abortion in what is definitely an extremely cringey scene that most, especially
women, are bound to turn their heads. If I may digress, I used to work in a
movie theater, and whenever any man got kicked in the gonads on-screen, you
would hear a collective and deep “Oof” by the men in the audience, followed by
giggling in higher, female voices. Nearly every time. This is kind of the
reverse of that.
Somehow, the baby
survives this assault with many lacerations to the face, teeth like Belial in Basket
Case (1982), and a not-fully-developed brain. He is thrown out to be
brought up by a homeless man (director Nicholson), and is named Hanger (Nathan
Dashwood), a nod to his method of birth. When he hits 18, he’s put on the
street and given a job in a junk yard’s recycling yard by a creepy, monotone
guy who had a thing for Rose called The John (Dan Ellis, really standing out in
the acting department). Actually, this is true in Canada – where this is filmed
– that people with disabilities work in recycling centers. However, rather than
those who have mental disabilities or Down Syndrome, the people in this film
(of course) are not only mentally and physically handicapped, they’re also
degenerates.
Dan Ellis
Tall and lanky Hanger
is matched up as roommates with beer and porn obsessed co-worker Russell (Wade
Gibb, a white guy playing an Asian character, who seems to ad lib a lot to
great effect). Soon we see Hanger’s innate lust for violence and a bit of
cannibalism come to the front, which makes him a perfect vehicle for revenge
against Leroy and others. Hanger is directed by the John towards getting even
for his mama.
There is a lot to digest
in this film, all of it stuff you may want to puke out at some point, be it
tampon tea, GHB sex with colostomy holes, the infamous abortion scene,
and…well, let’s just leave it there for now, shall we?
There are also a ton
of facial prosthetics that are used (by Michelle Grady) on nearly every male in
the story, making everyone look as warped as the storyline, including sores,
pimples, an amazing nose on the John that seems right out of Sin City (2005).
And like Sin City, the look of the film is quite unique and, well, dirty
looking, with some phenomenal lighting, silhouetting, and angles that work with
the prosthetics to make them look even more fantastical (by cinematographer and
editor Jay Gavin, his first time for both).
This can only be
described as extreme cinema, though the word transgressive comes to mind.
Blood, gore, violence, coarse language including the use of the N-word, and
abnormal sex are the theme, which is right up where Nicholson wanted it to be.
This is the kind of film he loves to watch, and as he explained in the
commentary, he makes his films for himself, not for the fans, of which there
are rightfully many, even though it is a niche market.
Nathan Dashwood, Wade Gibb
The gore is plentiful,
which is no surprise, the makeup is as extreme as the violence, and the women
are quite beautiful, with standouts being a junkyard admin assistant named
Nicole (Candice Le, aka Candice Lewad) who likes to show a lot of cleavage and
pleasure herself in explicit ways, a full-lipped prostitute named Trashy (Stephanie
Walker), and of course there is Ms. Rochon, in an extended cameo. Women are
pretty secondary to the story, which focuses more on Hanger, The John, Leroy
and odd Russell.
Being a 2-disc special
Blu-ray release, let’s take a look at the hours upon hours of extras. First up
is a Triple-X version of the film. Call me crazy, but I watched it and the
regular, and I did not see a difference. It’s pretty hardcore anyway. There is
also a full-length commentary by the director, Ryan Nicholson, completed for
the DVD release in 2010, which he manages to remain interesting throughout.
Most of the extras were filmed during this period.
Next up is “Behind the
Stoma: The Making and Taking of Hanger” (20 min.). In case you don’t
know, a stoma is “an artificial opening made into a hollow organ” (thank you
Wikipedia). This is a really well shot collection of interviews with the
director and some of the cast, mixed with behind-the-scenes clips. Generally,
it was quite engaging, with everything being long enough to get a grip on it,
but short enough not to overstay its welcome. Other films’ Makings Of
featurettes could use this as a model. This is followed by another “Making Of”
featurette (26 min). It’s a rehearsal with Nicholson working through the
introduction to Leroy scene with the cast, including Rochon. While fun to
watch, I don’t think I would turn it on again, though I was happy to have seen
it once.
Ronald Patrick Thompson
“Taking of Hanger, Enough Dope to Hang
Yourself With: On the Stet with Lloyd Kaufman” (12 min.). If Kaufman is there
on set, one should always do a featurette with this film legend and ad lib maven.
Most of the footage here was shot by Kaufman himself, and then the camera is
handed off to Ryan’s (adult) son for Lloyd’s “Melvina the Tranny” scenes. It’s
a funny, unusual behind the scenes, but what else would you expect from
Kaufman? His friendship with Rochon, whose career turned a corner in his films,
is evident and smile-worthy.
The “Blooper Reel” (2
min.), “Deleted Scenes” (6 min.), which is also a blooper reel, and Additional
Scenes” (20 min.), which is more of a behind the scenes kind of deal, could all
have been combined into one 28-minute piece. Nothing very special. Again, glad
I saw it, but would probably not watch again
“Black on White Bred”
(3 min.) is the film within the film of the porno (hard “R”) that stars Hanger’s
mom Rose and Leroy, including the money shot. Don’t really know what more to
say about this, except Rochon is definitely one to give for her art.
Gibb
The second disc is “The
Raw Tapes, Volume 1” through “Volume 5”. These are the raw footage and can be
seen as almost a Master’s Class in indie filmmaking. Each one of these five are
on average 3 hours long, Honestly, no, I did not sit through all of them, but I
did some zooming around. I have a life, as there are over 18 hours of extras in
total. Maybe one day I will come back to these.
There is a photo
gallery, and the usual sound and chapter choices on the first disk. Even with
the “everything but the kitchen sink” mentality, the only thing missing was English
subtitles for those of us with a bit of a hearing thing (too much seeing the
Ramones, Johnny Thunders’ Heartbreakers, etc., in small clubs and loud volume).
Sometimes I wonder
where Nicholson, who also did make-up for some very major releases, would have
gone in his directorial career if he had not succumbed to brain cancer before
the age of 40. Gratefully, he is being appreciated after the fact.
“What Walks There Walks Alone”: A
Comparison of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House and Robert
Wise’s The Haunting
While going
for my advanced degree in Media Ecology at New York University, I took a class
with Professor Joy Boyum, “Fiction into Film,” and wrote this as a report. It matches
one of my favorite books with one of my best-loved films. The paper is dated
May 5, 1993. Please note for those who have neither read the book or viewed the
film, there are spoilers.
Clown:
“O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear, your true-love’s coming.
That can sing both high and low
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting.
Every wise man’s song doth know.”
– Twelfth Night, Act 2, Scene 1
Robert Wise’s direction of The Haunting (1963),
an adaptation of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House (1) (1959),
remains one of the more memorable psychological supernatural thrillers brought
to the screen. The film’s success has much to do with the cinematic elements
brought to the story as the tale itself.
Wise’s choice to not show the apparition(s),
with one brief exception a heartbeat long, is an effective tool for presenting
a stronger psychological narrative edge to the story that perhaps might have
been lost if he had chosen the easier “fright” route of wraith effects. The
doorknob jiggling and mysterious hand-holding is all the more convincing because
of the riddle of who or what is roaming the halls of Hill House.
Wise also emphasizes an element of
claustrophobia that is sometimes lacking in the novel. Jackson places much of
the action during the day on the grounds and hills surrounding the house;
invisible footfalls in the grass appear less horrific. Wise, however, used the darkness
of mahogany interiors, earth tones and shadows to give the viewer a sense of
entrapment and depraved evil. Once the lead protagonist, Eleanor, arrives at
Hill House, the only outdoor scenes are two on the terrace (first in daylight,
then at night) and two on the grounds, by the front door, when Mrs. Markway
arrives (day) and Eleanor’s final departure from the house (night).
One of the perplexities of Hill House is the
way the house is designed. Eighty years earlier than the story is set,
the house’s architect, the overbearing Hugh Crain, build a structure that was as
distorted and enigmatic as its contriver. Wise sets a somber tone through the
use of quick, jerky editing and especially irregular camera angles to reveal
the skewed house design and a conundrum of doors that shut themselves (by
design, not spirit).
The key theme of the film, as well as the
novel, is loneliness. Both are introduced by a prologue (narrated on film),
“Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness
within… and whatever walked there, walked alone.” Entering into this dark
isolation are four characters, each lonely in his or her individual way.
Eleanor Lance (Vance, in the novel), played by Julie Harris, arrives after
years of isolation spent taking care of her domineering and sickly mother.
Eleanor views her stay at Hill House as a chance to flower, to belong. In the
novel, she repeatedly utters a line from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night: “Journey’s
end in lovers meeting.” Though this is only quoted once in the film, the theme
remains the same: there is a sense of love’s absence, of a desire to find a
place in the universe where she is her own person, accepted by others for who
she is. Eleanor has no real home (she lives with her sister’s family), no one to
love, and no one to love her.
There is an almost claustrophobic feel of
dread and naivete about the world within her, as she created a dream life of an
apartment of her own with matching stone lions on the mantlepiece. Eleanor is desperate
to fit in and gain back what she believes she had lost through many years of
solitude.
The future owner of Hill House, Luke Sanderson
(Sannerson in the film, played by Russ Tamblyn), is also rejected by his
family. His lonely past has produced a “liar…also a thief.” The novel presents
Luke as an in-depth character who is a scalawag, but also has a heart, and is
merely acting out of his sadness and need to be accepted. He is presented as
the first possibly lover at “journey’s end” for Eleanor. In the film, however,
he remains undefined, reduced to comic relief.
Whereas in the novel, Dr. John Montague
(Markway in the film, Richard Johnson), who leads the supernatural “expedition”
into the house, is known by Eleanor to be married from his first introduction;
this fact is hidden from her in the film, setting up a possible liaison between
them. Is John the lover at “journey’s end”? Many of the romantic actions taken
by Luke in the book are given to John in the film, such as offering a steadying
hand to Eleanor as she looks up at the tower (nearly toppling over a balcony),
or rescuing her from the shaky ladder in the library. The novel presents John
as lonely, due to the shrewish nature of his wife, unnamed except as Mrs.
Montague. She is presented as a person who has no regard for her husband’s methods,
dismissive of Montague as a person, self-promoting, and a supernatural
“expert.” The film merely hints that John is lonely, and might end up in
the company of Eleanor.
A subplot of possible lesbian romance is then
presented by the last of the four main characters, introduced by Theodora
(Claire Bloom). This theme is interjected in the novel as Theo arrives at Hill
House after a painful fight with her “roommate,” feeling dejected and somewhat
bitter. In the film, Theo’s orientation is broached through dialogue, presented
more as the reason for her loneliness: “By the time I’m through with you
Nell, you’ll be a different person”; elsewhere asked what she is afraid of, Theo
responds, “Of knowing what I really want.” Her sarcastic manner is treated as
rooted in the sexual orientation, as well. Though Eleanor is repulsed by
Theodora’s sexuality in the film (“The world is full of inconsistencies.
Unnatural things. Nature’s mistakes, they’re called. You, for instance.”), in
both the film and the novel, Eleanor eventually wants to go off and live with
Theodora. The author posits this as another possibility of “journey’s end where
lovers meet”.
A third theme of the story is that of
parental/daughter relationships. Although Hugh Crain designed the house, he
barely resided there, and eventually died in Europe. It is his warped vision
that dominates the house, however, with a malevolent (male-violent) influence.
His evil is that of control. Even in designing the house, he materialized his
own vision rather than relying on others, with skewered angles and unmatched
lines, going against architectural conformity to express his will. It was with
this will that he ran his house while occupying it with his daughter(s). His
religious fanaticism, which evolved from his bitterness over his wife’s/wives’
demise led him to warn his daughter, “Honor thy father and thy mother,
daughter, authors of your being, upon whom a heavy charge has been laid, that
they lead their child in innocence and righteousness, along the fearful narrow
path of everlasting bliss…” Though his physical presence in the house was
minimal, his influence remains, and it is this warped domination which seems to
affect the weakest of those who enter the house, subduing them to the power of
his control.
Hugh Crain’s malevolence is directed at women.
All who die at Hill House are women: first the wife of Crain, who is killed in
an accident on the grounds before even viewing the house; second, their eldest
daughter (only daughter in the film), Abigail (Sophia in the novel), who dies of
pneumonia at an elderly age in her bedroom, the nursery (“the heart of Hill
House”), while her young servant/companion “dallied in the garden with some
village lout”; third is the companion, who inherits Hill House, who hangs
herself in the library. The last woman to die is Eleanor herself, a possible suicide
who seeks to remain at Hill House, under the influence of the evil will of Hugh
(2) Crain.
There are overlapping images in the context of
the story. An example is that both Eleanor’s mother and Hugh Crain’s daughter
die while banging on the walls for help. This “mother/daughter” parallel is
further mirrored by Eleanor’s guilt over presumed negligence in having slept
through her mother’s knocking, as did the companion, who “dallied” while her
mistress died in distress. Both Eleanor and the companion become obsessed with
the house and the staircase in the library. Both eventually commit suicide. Similarly,
Hugh Crain’s wife died without ever having entered the house, whereas Eleanor
dies driving into a tree at the same spot on the grounds so she does not have
to leave.
In Wise’s vision even more than Jackson’s,
Eleanor is treated by all as a woman-child, though she is in her early 30s,
because of her innocent and cloistered life. In a scene where she is seeking
permission to use what is essentially her half-owned car from her sister’s
family, the relatives reject her request because they view her as childlike and
consequently irresponsible. This scene is dramatized while a child’s melody is
played in the background. Also, throughout the film, again more than the novel,
Theo often calls her by the nickname “Baby,” sometimes in a patronizing tone.
This, of course, reflects back to the nursery, the heart of Hill House, which
has been collecting victims for years. The inflection is present in the novel,
but in a more subtle, sardonic way.
The characterization that is most changed from
novel to film is that of Mrs. Montague (named Grace for the film, played by
Lois Maxwell). Whereas she is a totally disagreeable character in the book
owing to her obnoxious ego and dismissal of concern for nearly all others, the
cinematic version lives up to her first name, presenting her as a strong and
decent person who is unintentionally triangled between John and Eleanor. In the
movie, Eleanor suggests Grace sleep in the “evil” nursery in a pique of jealous
spite, while in the novel, John makes this suggestion because he is acquiescing
to his wife.
Two other characterizations that are altered
from the original source are those of Dr. Montague/Markway and Luke Sannerson/Sanderson.
In the book, Montague, while the leader of the psychic exploration to Hill
House, is seen as a three-dimensional character who is sometimes flawed and
always human. In the film, perhaps because he is presented as a potential love-interest
for Eleanor, Markway becomes a near-swaggering Petruchio-type hero; one can
almost her him slap his knee in self-righteousness. Luke, on the other hand, is
treated the opposite: whereas Montague to Markway comes from human to hero,
Luke Sanderson to Sannerson goes from possible love-interest to practical
joking comic chorus.
An obvious problem in adapting the novel to
the film would be similar that of any phycological drama, the inner narrative
voice. Thought processes are the crux of psychological drama, as the
protagonist struggles with distressing events, and the consequences that are
faced become more severe. Wise takes the most direct approach, and has
Eleanor’s thoughts presented via voice-overs. Though this may be a potentially
overbearing and distracting technique, Wise uses it to optimum effect, holding
back and letting the actor’s expressions tell us of her own inner turmoil in particular
scenes, while voice-overs detail the trauma in others.
In the novel form, the horror story, be it temporal,
spiritual or psychological, has its work before it. Unless the subject matter touches
on the personal fear of the reader, such as something/someone hiding in a
closet or a phobia, like fear of heights (e.g., Vertigo, 1958), the
printed word needs to be worked harder to be shocking, especially to those who
grew up watching film. Historical horror novels such as Mary Wollstonecraft
Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818) or Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Rappaccini’s Daughter” (1844), were
written when there were no moving images that could shock with a sudden “Boo!”,
so the imagination of the reader of the stories is needed to be able to
horrify. Present-day writers such as Clive Barker and sometimes even Stephen
King manage to frighten, but their shocks come from the gross and the gory. The
Haunting of Hill House was published during a period when the horror novel
was based more on the psychological than “visual” manifestations, therefore
crating a timeless horror that does not need to go “boo” or bleed.
Film has a great potential for
frightening the viewer. Whereas the novel can horrify by leaving the terror “unnameable”
(as H.P. Lovecraft was fond of doing) and inviting the reader to realize his or
her worst fear. A film can frighten by presenting a haunting image or a sudden
shock. For example, while the echoing, pounding on walls and jiggling of the
doorknob as “whatever walked there” searches for Eleanor and Theodora in the
Haunting of Hill House creates fear, in The Haunting, the dimension
of fear is heightened by watching the door bend under the weight of the
spirits, the wall- and door-pounding becomes deafening (especially as the
cadence gets perceptually louder, faster and more menacing), and the dissonant disembodied
voices of the mysterious forces (such as what sounds like hard fire and
brimstone preaching by Hugh Crain to his daughter) fill the senses by filling
the screen. Add to this the cinematic touches of shadow and light, juxtaposing
camera angles, eerie music (3) by Humphrey Searle, and dissonant editing
(4).
Through cinematic devices, Wise hold
back on visual information about the antagonistic spirits, to heighten the
sense of mystery and fear through the unknown. He uses the occasional lack
of music to make the terror feel more imminent and tangible, and skewed
closeups to place a fearful image immediately before the viewer in arresting
perspective. While Jackson has Eleanor see spirits in one form or another
(spying invisible foots falls in the grass or viewing ghostly picnics), Wise
chooses not to rely as much on the visual to frighten, but by way of a literary
perspective, employing the imagination, all the while using the cinematic
process to make the viewer’s imagination hold one in terror. The fear of the unknown
usually tends to be less challenging to accept on film because of the
temptation to show precisely what is there for which to be afraid. By choosing
not to display some blatantly showy special effects (other than an occasional
breathing door, for example), and relying on cinematic techniques, wise raises
the stakes from cheap thrills to high horror, without gore and without
hackneyed effects (5).
By viewing the film before reading
the novel, I was able to grasp some concepts that may not have been so obvious
from using the book as the primary source. Details in print are usually more
thorough in pointing out specifics, consequently more information is passed to
the reader. Due to the time in literary history the book was published,
however, less emphasis was placed on the homosexual aspects of the characters
of Theodora and, more subtly, Eleanor (6). The subtlety of this aspect
may have been lost on the reader, but to the viewer, these themes were clearer
and more straightforward.
Another interesting aspect of the
film that Wise added is having the final prologue spoken by Eleanor, after her
death. The closing line was changed from “Whatever walked there, walked alone,
to “We who walk there, walk alone.” By adding this change, Wise
solidifies the realization that the main character and antagonist in both the
film and the novel is Hill House itself. It is the neediest and most demanding.
It is the most appalling, and yet seductive. It is Hill House that is the lover
Eleanor meets at “journey’s end.”
Footnotes:
1. Screenplay by Nelson Gidding.
2. “Hugh” is Old German for “Will”.
3. Music by Humphrey
Searle.
4. Editing by Ernest Walter.
5. For the opposite school of thought, see the Roger Corman films of the same
period.
6. Though novels such as Radclyffe Hall’s The
Well of Loneliness (1928) and Lillian Hellman’s play, The Children’s
Hour (1934) had already been published with the themes, mainstream fiction
still apparently considered the subject a taboo.
Demented (aka The Demented) Directed by Nigel
Hartwell New Blood
Entertainment; Flawless Video Creations; Gate Three Films; Homemade Pie Productions; KBI Productions 96 minutes, 2021 www.newbloodentertainment.com/newblood_demented.html
Just before its
release, the film made a subtle title change, from The Demented, as it
is currently listed on IMDB, to just Demented, so as not to be confused with
another film dealing with zombies with the same namereleased in 2013. This should also not be
confused with the I Spit on Your Grave-ish cult classic Demented(1980, co-starring Harry Reams). So ends the
history lesson.
This Canadian film is
quite different that those others in that this falls well into the category of
torture porn, with a supernatural touch. And in an extremely micro-budget way.
Cheyenne Ennis
Lovebirds Senica (Dakota
House) and Amanda (Cheyenne Ennis, giving a brave performance) go up to Senica’s
cottage on the lake (filmed at Parry Sound, Ontario, about 2 hours north of
Toronto). After dropping a ring on her, they spend the night. When Senica
awakes, Amanda is gone. According to a police detective (the ever-fun Felissa
Rose), so are her parents, and he’s the central person of interest.
Meanwhile, somewhere there
is a room where women are systematically tortured and snuffed for the Dark Web
(it’s always the Dark Web, right?) by a burly guy dressed in black, including a
bullet-proof vest, and a leather hood. His voice is digitally manipulated, and
honestly, I can only make out about half of what he says.
Dakota House
We watch as he’s
a-rapin’ (with his pants all the way on and her underwear intact) and a-chokin’
and a-tauntin’ his chained-to-a-bed victims. We see the room through his video
camera, a fuzzy black-and-white CCTV on a celling corner, and whichever lens
the film’s cameraperson is using to fill in the gaps and keep these scenes from
being “found footage” style.
There is also some
playing with time, with numerous flashbacks to various periods and present day,
making the narrative timeline a bit confusing for a while. In one of these
vignettes (past? present? future?), Amanda is a chainee, abused by the
dark and mysterious man (though at 30 minutes in, I have a guess on who it may
be; I’ll let you know if I’m right, but not who it is, okay? No spoilers).
Between the patterns
of abuse, Amanda is visited by knowing spirits (including one played by
wrestler Angel Williams), who are helpless to aid her, but communicate quite
easily. Don’t get me wrong, this supernatural element is actually what made the
film for me. The violence compared to most torture porn is relatively mild and
mostly threats (and yes, much full-dressed raping).
But the rules of the
film change with Amanda. Her accomplishments are the closest this comes to
empowering women (not counting that the main authority figure is the police detective).
Women generally are seen as torture victims and strippers. Misogyny? Maybe, but
it felt good to have these women get some of their umph back, a lot of
good it will do them in the long run.
Nigel Hartwell and Felissa Rose doing her iconic Angela face
There is a lot of
topless women (did I mention the strippers?), and nothing real to talk about in
the blood department. There are some cheesy CGI effects at a point, but I believe
it was meant to be that way. Y’see, from the way they use scratchy rolling noise
on some of the camera images (though new equipment) made to look like VHS in
the 1980s would explain the ‘80s look of the company’s logo at the beginning of
the film.
The film is overlong
at 96 minutes, but there is easily quite a bit that could be excised and not
lose any of the story. For example, the “torment” scenes are incredibly mild
considered next to something like the Hostel or Saw franchises,
but they are on for what feels like a really long time of just the killer yakking
away in his hard to make out digitized voice. Too many of the scenes and shots –
especially the punishment ones – just seem too “samey,” in part due to the static cameras in the torture room
The acting is okay,
but nothing to write home to mother about, though as always, Rose easily holds
her own; the two main leads often don’t look like they are trying too hard,
especially House, from whom I was expecting more. There are some really well-done
shots, including some drone work, which was refreshing after the obvious green
screen parts.
Ari Lehman, whose band performs during the final credits
The production pattern
is a bit different, but I’m not sure if some of it is intentional on the
director’s part, a stylistic choice, or just a distance necessity (i.e., people
recorded in different places made to look like they are together). Many times,
especially in the police station scenes with Rose, it is pretty obvious that –
despite some similar motifs on the walls that I am pretty sure are green-screened
– the detective and two of the people she is interviewing are single shots and
not in the same room. It seems like House doesn’t know which direction to look,
often off to the wrong side of where the Detective would be standing. When she
interviews a porn/snuff provider, Brad (Canadian wrestling champion Bret Hart),
his acoustical tone is different than hers, and he also looks in the wrong
direction. This “separation” with green screen and different sound is also
employed with a bartender (by cameo-king Ari Lehman). When Amanda and Senica
are introduced as a couple on the drive north, at first this single shot method
was used in the car, but then finally a double shot.
One weird plot point
to me is that Amanda’s parents are also missing, as it is a family thing
with the bad guys. But this is not shown for any other victims. It feels like a
pretty big plot can of worms hole that did not need to be opened in the first
place.
Speaking of sound,
there is an almost amusing moment when we hear a character’s thinking processes,
and it was obviously recorded later in a studio by how well it sounds, but also
that there is a comment when the actor obviously accidentally falls during the
filming, and the narration goes, “Oh, that hurt.” I am so glad they put that
in.
The extras are three
music videos and three company trailers (including this film).
If I had my druthers,
I would like to see them take this film, re-edit it or have third party do it, and see where it goes. It has some nice potential, and I
would like to see that fulfilled. And for the record, I was way off on who was
the killer.
Funhouse Directed by Jason William Lee
Ti Bonny Productions; Sandcastle Pictures; Invention Films; Magnet Releasing/Magnolia
Pictures
106 minutes, 2019 / 2021 http://www.magnetreleasing.com/funhouse/
Here is a bit of irony
for ya: as much as I despise reality programming, especially shows like
“Survivor” and “Fear Factor,” I so do tend to enjoy when films use it as
fodder for a storyline. Media fascinates me, in a Marshal McLuhan/Neil Postman/Jacques
Ellul sort of way. Mixing reality television with social media? Even more
better.
Social critic Neil Postman famously
posited that media such as television (and hence computers) is served best when
it is mere entertainment and minimal on education. Entertainment as distraction
is nothing new, as even the Roman Empire knew about “bread and circuses.” This Swedish/British
Columbia, Canada-filmed release definitely leans in that direction. While the overarching
premise is not novel in the horror genre, people fighting for their lives for
the entertainment of others – recently in films about, say, Escape Rooms – the
addition of Reality Programing gives it a nice twist.
Valter Skarsgård
A rich and sadistic
man (think Jeffrey Epstein-type [alleged]) that tends to tilt his head to the side, Nero
(Jerome Velinsky), who as no moral compass and is willing to pay people large
sums to do dastardly things, puts together an online reality show titled “Furcus’
House of Fun” (aka “Funhouse”). He gathers a group of eight attractive mix-gendered
(but no LGBQ) C-Level has-beens from around the world for what they think is a “Big
Brother” or “Survivor” kind of show for a prize of USD$5 million, but it ends
up the latter program is more literal than figurative.
The central character
is Kasper (Valter Skarsgård), a Swedish man whose claim to fame is that he was
married to a pop star who, like the others – a nice touch is that most of the
actors are actually from the countries they represent – arrives in a house in an
undisclosed location with no memory of how they got there (after they had
signed the contract). They all have different colored shirts to make it easy to
identify by the world-wide web audience. The rest include the likes of an Influencer,
Mixed Martial Arts fighter, a model, and a one-hit wonder singer, for example.
At first, it is all
fun and games as the contestants (someone uses the word “dysfunctional”) get to
know each other, make out, sing karaoke, go into the hot tub, drink a lot
of alcohol, and be served by people dressed in odd Panda masks (the animal is
the logo of the program). There is even the old “confession booth” they all
must enter and try to win the favor of the audience, who votes out whomever
they choose every three days, though it gets progressively quicker. And this is
where events get dicey. Of course, they are being filmed 24/7.
The first act of about
20 minutes, helps the film’s viewers to both get to understand the premise
framework of the show, and also sets up some background to the characters. When
you have eight of them, it is easy to just see them as fodder for the violence
to come, but this way we can get to know and either like or dislike them. There
are some friendships made and some rivalries (a memorable quote: “People like
me…bitch.”). This will make it more emotional as shit hits the fan into the
second act when the blood begins to flow in challenges that take on an elaborate,
almost Saw franchise fashion. It also kind of reminds me of Cube (1997).
Again, as a student of
media, I find it equally fascinating when the story focuses on the audience,
the “Perez Hilton” kind of snarky webcasts making puns about deaths (e.g., “How
can you take selfies without arms?”), and the CNN type of newscasts and
interviews. As each kill naturally gets more gruesome, in some ways, like Dog
Bites Man! (1992), it puts the film viewer as a participant in the action
similar to the web show’s audience. Are we sitting there enjoying the painful
killing of this octet, one by one? Most likely, yes. You know there are going
to be those who sit in front of their large HD screens and pump fists screaming
“yes!” while the other hand holds the beer (or popcorn).
Yes, I realize that
this is not reality, but does it inoculate us to real violence? That is a
question that has seriously been asked in modern cinema since at least the
1980s (remember the “Video Nasties” situation in England, and the PMRC in the
States?). I have no opinion one way or another, as I enjoy these kinds of
films, but I also like to look at the sociological aspects, as well.
The Head Panda gives a
twisted but accurate description of what society considers entertainment, amusingly
using the Kardashians as an example of decline. But, as I said above, it
predates that. Just look how many copies of the Faces of Death VHS sold
(or was rented), and is even discussed now on many genre chat boards. On those
very chat boards, people often request suggestions for the bloodiest, goriest,
and most disturbing releases. Yes, I agree that there is a difference between
reality and cinema magic, but shows like those I mentioned above, like “Fear Factor,”
“Survivor,” and even those like “The Bachelor,” “Hell’s Kitchen,” “The Housewives
of (Wherever),” and that nasty recent Ellen DeGeneres’ “Ellen’s Games of Games,
has helped make violence and social interactions into entertainment. While meta-commentary
in the film is explicit, it is also not preachy and stays off the soapbox,
unlike my annotation.
And speaking of cinematic
magic, the SFX is damn fine here if that is your thing, as it is mine. Lots
of violence, torture (not in a focused, body horror kind of way), and missing
or separated body parts. The acting in the film, for the most part, is quite
good, with the standouts being Cat (Amanda House, aka musician Mandy Mouse) and
especially scene stealer Nevin (Dayleigh Nelson, playing a Brit, but is from
British Columbia).
My complaints are
minimal and twofold: first, it was a tad long though the pacing of the kills is
nicely distributed once they start; second, I found the sex scene later on a
bit unbelievable considering both the circumstances and the conversation that preceded
it. But both of these were not enough to take away from the story, which had
more than a couple of interesting twists and turns to keep up the attention and
enjoyment level. As for the social observations, well in this case, it actually
adds to the story rather than bogging it down. This is a competent and fun
thrill ride by sophomore feature filmmaker Lee.
Skinwalker: The Howl
of the Rougarou
Directed by Seth Breedlove Small Town Monsters; 1091 Pictures
70 minutes, 2021 www.smalltownmonsterss.com
One of the things I enjoy about Small Town Monsters’
releases is that not only does each documentary focus on a particular cryptid,
but they centralize the story; they will pick a part of the country and focus
on that area, even if it covers a corner of multiple states, situating the events,
including the more commonly widespread ones, such as Bigfoot.
So, after covering the likes of the Bell Witch,
Bigfoot and Mothman, among many others, here they focus on one of my favorite
topics, the werewolf. This mystical creature has been having a resurgence
lately, with films like Bonehill Road (2017), Night Howl (2017), Lyncanimator
(2018), and the upcoming The Beast Comes at Midnight, so it makes sense
to check on one in the real world. in this case, southern Louisiana.
This is a change since most of the previous films by STM I have seen involve
the Northeast. It is great to see them stretching their (literal) boundaries.
Like Bigfoot, which has multiple names depending on
the location (e.g., Yeti, Sasquatch), the “Skinwalker” down in the bayou is
known by the Cajun (Acadians originally from Nova Scotia) term, Rougarou (or as
I, as a Brooklyn boy heard it, Loup-garou). The story of a man-wolf hybrid has
been around for centuries in those swampy areas, giving rise to multiple alleged
sightings and stories of meaning.
That is where this story takes off, into the swampy,
spooky landscape that has appeared in so many horror releases, such as in
Hammer Films’ The Mummy (1959) and many voodoo zombie B-films of the
1940s. It’s a mysterious place full of danger, like quicksand, poisonous
snakes, alligators, and the legendary Rougarou.
The film is narrated by Lyle Blackburn, who has done
so for a few other Breedlove releases, but he is also the lead vocalist and
guitarist of the gothabilly band, Ghoultown, and has written an appropriate
book to this film called Swamps: Monsters and Mysteries from the Mire (2020).
He does a fine job in a slow and measured manner that’s appropriate for the
location of the story, though without the drawl.
The film is broken into chapters. The first wisely
mixed a few of the legends with a smattering of the background of the area,
including some stunning photography as always; another is how the legend of the
Rougarou started both by the American Indians/First Nations who lived in the
area, and then by the French settlers. Apparently, the werewolf is historically
common folklore in French literature.
The story continues in how the Rougarou is created, be
it half-human, half-wolf, or mostly wolf but standing upright. It also includes
some fun first- and second-hand stories by the locals, including the person who
runs the Rougarou Fest held in Houma, LA, and members of the local Houma Tribe
for whom the city is named.
An interesting aspect to me is the variations of the Rougarou.
Most of the other cryptids tend to hold steady in their concept and aim, but
because the Rougarou is a mixture of Indigenous tribes and European influence,
the look, the means of transformation, and even modus operandi changes
often. For some, the Rougarou almost takes the Boogeyman/Krampus role of being
used to keep kids in line (e.g., “If you’re bad, the Rougarou will getcha!”),
for others they are merely wood-and-swamp creatures, and mostly they are humans
who have been cursed (one example is a wife who puts the lycanthropy on her
good-fer-nuthin’ husband).
While there are certainly similarities between the
various visions of the creature, there definitely appears to be a more human
aspect, even with the occasional fear-mongering of either eating human flesh or
souls. The latter is subtly explained by the very Catholic-based religions in
the region. Most other beliefs, such as Baptist or Lutheran, would most likely
(in my opinion) just express the Rougarou as either the work of the Devil, or to
be a minion of such (Demon). Catholicism is often more varied in possibilities
of evil entities, although Devils and Demons are right up there (ever hear of a
Lutheran exorcism?).
Because of the addition of the human aspect of
transformation, even though it is made clear that the Rougarou can appear as
any animal or human, or even a bird or tree, it is usually associated with
white clothing and fur (such as rabbits) except for the werewolf version. The
consistent seems to be the red glowing eyes. This makes the creature more
engaging in a The Thing (1983) way because it could be anyone, even the
person sitting next to you in church, as one person interviewed posits.
As with most of the Small Town Monsters releases, there
is a mixture of live interviews and travelogues of the area under discussion,
some creative artwork and cartooning, and in this case, some really fabulous
recreations. The wolf suits are stunning, easily as good as some of the more
popular films like Dog Soldiers (2002), which relies more on man-wolf
hybrids than, say, the mostly wolf shape of An American Werewolf in London (1981).
It is these recreations that really flesh out the stories and give visuals beyond
the talking heads syndrome.
With modern technology, salt-water flooding of the sweet
water swamps thanks to climate change, and the different directions of the winds
of culture, the documentary also tackles the possible future for the Rougarou.
For a company and director that is incredibly
prolific, it is admirable that the quality of these films never diminishes. If
you are into cryptids or just cryptid-curious, this will not disappoint, as is
true with the other STM fare available at the link at the top of the page.
