Director Report Card: Joe Dante (2019)

20. Nightmare Cinema

As I've commented on many times before, the horror anthology genre has undergone a serious revival in the last decade. The millennial wave of horror omnibus films are largely defined by gathering together a collection of indie filmmakers with one or two hits under their belt. These films are so common now that the idea has lost its novelty. At first, I was ready to dismiss “Nightmare Cinema” as just 2019's edition of the indie horror anthology... Until I realized it was “Masters of Horror: The Movie.” While Mick Garris' Showtime series never lived up to its potential, it was still a cult favorite. Garris has made several attempts to revive the premise, with “Nightmare Cinema” being the latest example. Garris gathered together four of his friends and colleagues – including “Masters of Horror” veteran Joe Dante – for five spooky tales, this time with a movie theater acting as the framing device.

We begin with “The Thing in the Woods.” Directed by Alejandro Brugués, of “Juan of the Dead” fame, it begins as a standard slasher story. A young woman is being chased through the woods by a murderer in a welding mask. She encounters several friends, all of whom are brutally dispatched by the masked killer. However, it's soon revealed that not everything is as it seems. Earlier in the weekend, this gathering of sexy college students noticed a strange meteorite falling from the sky, an event that indirectly led up to the bloodshed. (

As horror fans, we've certainly seen countless riffs on the slasher genre. Vampires and zombies are probably the only archetype deconstructed more. “The Thing in the Woods” at least has a clever twist on the premise. The reveal that there's a science fiction variation on the premise here, that the murders might even be justified, is unexpected. Brugués' direction is energetic, the camera being attached to a spinning sledge hammer. While the gore is elaborate, involving blow torching and face bashing, it often looks a little rubbery. The highly photogenic cast is largely blanks, which might actually be intentional.

The second episode is Joe Dante's contribution. “Mirari” revolves around Anna, a soon-to-be-married young woman. Anna is deeply self-conscious about a facial scar from a car accident. Her fiance David recommends plastic surgeon Dr. Mirari, who supposedly did a great job on his mom's recent improvement. Mirari keeps recommending more and more procedures to Anna. The girl, her body bandaged up after surgery, is prevented from looking in a mirror or calling anyone. Soon, it becomes evident that David is forcing his bride-to-be into something she neither expects nor wants.

If the presence of a heavily bandaged face and a surreal clinic didn't make it obvious, Joe Dante is paying homage to “The Twilight Zone” here. In some ways, “Mirari” operates fairly tensely. It's obvious to the audience that something ominous is happening at the plastic surgery office quickly enough. Anna's increasingly desperate attempts to escape are stifled quickly enough, in a way that just confirms the sinister suspicions. The segment is visually well assembled. The dream sequences are appropriately surreal. Cool, nighttime blues are utilized throughout the segment's second half, creating an atmospheric feeling.

However, “Mirari” ultimately leaves the audience feeling uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons. Anna is ultimately a victim. She is being manipulated by her finance, who is pretty clearly a massive creepozoid. She is trapped in this hellish situation which only gets worst. Once the easily predicted twist ending arrives, her life is completely ruined. Yet the poor girl didn't actually do anythig wrong, besides love the wrong person. Why is the story punishing her so cruelly? That unnecessarily mean-spirited quality ultimately leaves the audience uncertain of how to feel about “Mirari.”

“Mashit” is directed by Ryuhei Kitamura, the madman behind “Versus,” “Godzilla: Final Wars,” and “The Midnight Meat Train.” (Garris always liked to invite an Asian filmmaker into “Masters of Horror” and Kitamura clearly fits that bill here.) The segment is set inside a Catholic school. A young student kills himself by leaping from the top of the building. The school girls begin to see disturbing visions and act strangely. Father Benedict and Sister Patricia, who are screwing, soon discover that the demon lord Mashit is behind these ghastly events. And that's when all Hell breaks loose.

Of all the filmmakers involved with “Nightmare Cinema,” Kitamura is the one whose stylistic touch is most evident. When a school girl is tossed head-over-heels in slow motion, there's no doubt about who directed this. The director's hyper-kinetic visual approach is widely seen all throughout the episode. There's quite a lot of spooky build-up in “Mashit,” involving the sudden appearance of a lava-skinned demon and the church setting being creepy. Kitamura eventually cuts loose wildly. “Mashit” quickly explodes into crazy action and wild gore as a sword-wielding priest battles a church full of demonically possessed school girls. A guitar-driven hard rock score from Aldo Shllaku powers this crazy action even further. Though clearly indebted to “Evil Dead 2” and “Night of the Demons,” Kitamura's contribution is highly entertaining.

The fourth installment is directed by David Slade, who previously made “Hard Candy” and “30 Days of Night.” (And, uh, one of the “Twilight” movies.) ”This Way to Egress” concerns Helen, who is stuck in a very unusual waiting room. Her two sons are there for an appointment which never seems to be coming. The people around her begin to look increasingly demonic. A black, mold-like substance is growing on all the surfaces. It soon becomes apparent that otherworldly forces are both operating around Helen and through her.

With ”This Way to Egress,” Slade wears his influences on its sleeve. A whispered-about and otherworldly conspiracy, an uncertain perception of reality, and the appearance of a bio-mechanical gun are clearly inspired by “Videodrome” and Cronenberg's work in general. The filthy industrial setting and black-and-white photography recall “Eraserhead.” Humans slowly morphing into inhuman creatures in a disturbing hospital setting is clearly taken from “Jacob's Ladder.” Slade combines these influences to create an unnerving, nightmarish tone... Which is good because, otherwise, “This Way to Egress” makes no sense at all. The characters are too thin to make this brief trip into surreal hell worthwhile for anything besides the creepy atmosphere.

“Nightmare Cinema” concludes with “Dead,” Mick Garris' latest directorial effort. Riley is a piano prodigy and his parents are very proud. After an impressive concert, the family car is hijacked. The mugger kills Riley's dad and shoots him. He flatlines on the operating table but is revived. This brush with death grants Riley the ability to see the spirits of the recently deceased. He's haunted by visions from the other side, wondering if his mom is also dead. Meanwhile, the killer who shot him once before sneaks into the hospital to finish the job he started.

Mick Garris has done a lot of work for television. At times, “Dead” feels a lot like pilot for a television series chopped down to fit into this anthology. It's the longest of “Nightmare Cinema's” segments. Its premise, of a teenager suddenly gaining the ability to see ghosts, could easily be the foundation for a TV show. Garris' script is often on the mawkish side. A character enters the film solely to be a source of exposition, just to exit suddenly. Faces appearing out of a white light to belch platitudes is, by far, the story's cheesiest touch. The climax is an awkward wrestling match with the bad guy. Having said that, I didn't totally hate “Dead” either. The hospital setting is sort of likably cozy. Not making the ghosts outright malevolent, so much as merely lost and scared, was a nice touch. Re-configuring “The Sixth Sense” into a detective show isn't the worst premise I've ever heard. It's a mildly entertaining

”Nightmare Cinema” is long for an anthology, running at two hours. Most of that runtime is devoted to the segments, leaving little room for a framing device. The scenes of Mickey Rourke, serving as our grim host in a theater that plays people visions of their deaths, aren't the most exciting anyway. Rumor has it that “Nightmare Cinema” was originally conceived as a TV show, meaning this really was supposed to be a new “Masters of Horror.” Maybe the next time Mick tries to resurrect this concept, it'll be as a streaming series. (“Nightmare Cinema” is streaming exclusively on Shudder, a likely home for such a hypothetical future project.) As a movie, it has enough decent or semi-decent segments to satisfy this not-to-discriminating horror fan, with Kitamura's tale being the highlight. [Grade: B-]