Director Report Card: Adam Wingard (2012)

6. V/H/S

By 2011, “mumblegore” – the indie horror genre that sort-of, kind-of evolved out of the mumblecore movement – was defined enough to compile several notable filmmakers. Found footage had also grown to be the defining horror fad of the previous decade. Around that time, the production arm of website Bloody Disgusting had the idea of combine the two movements. Six filmmakers would be invited to participate: Adam Wingard, thoroughly established now because of “You're Next;” David Bruckner, one of the men behind “The Signal;” Ti West, of “House of the Devil” and “The Innkeepers” fame; Glen McQuaid from “I Sell the Dead;” Joe Swanberg who had moved into horror himself with “Silver Bullets;” and collective Radio Silence, who had made several clever Youtube videos. The gimmick of the project, utilizing a lo-fi VHS aesthetic, would lend the movie its title. “V/H/S” would open in October of 2012. 

The framing device, “Tape 56,” involves found footage collectors breaking into a home to locate a valuable tape. Instead, they discover a library of strange recordings: “Amateur Night” concerns frat boys who buy glasses with a built-in camera. They hope to make some clandestine pornography but instead encounter an unusual, and deadly, woman. “Second Honeymoon” concerns a couple on a romantic road trip, pursued by an intruder. “Tuesday the 17th” documents young people traveling into the woods. Only one of them is aware of the invisible killer that roams the area. “The Sick Thing that Happened to Emily When She was Younger” is a recording of video calls between two lovers, the girl soon relating her history of unusual phenomenon. “10/31/98” follows some guys looking for a Halloween haunted house that stumble into a real supernatural ritual. 

By 2012, there had been a lot of found footage movies. “Paranormal Activity” opened the flood gates. The best of these films subtly commented on the presence of cameras in every part of our lives. The worst of them simply used the format to disguise their meager budgets and lack of creativity. “V/H/S” smartly exploits the technical side of the found footage genre for as many scares as possible. Each segment capitalizes on the immediacy of the format, crazy things happening in real time to our characters. Each segment is intimate, putting us right behind the camera with the terrified protagonists. 

Best yet, the retro VHS aesthetic is played with in innovative ways. “Tuesday the 17th” has the typical slasher killer only being visible through the camera lens, where he appears as a blur of pixels. Pixilation is used throughout as a clever way to distort audience's view of events, leaving us in suspense of new scares. Previous murders committed in the same locations flash on-screen in split-second glimpses. Bruckner's, Swanberg's, and Radio Silence's segments all seamlessly incorporate elaborate special effect shots into their film, making them seem more real. (And scarier.) Best yet, the film rarely degrades into incoherent shaky-cam like so many inferior found footage films. Not to mention the VHS angle adds a retro touch to the film that's irresistible to terminal nostaglist like myself.

Frequent Wingard collaborator Simon Barrett wrote several of the segments, as well as producing the film. I'm betting Adam Wingard was brought onto the project very early. If you look at “V/H/S” as a part of his overall filmography, it can be seen as a return to his “Home Sick” days of extreme horror. The letters of the title stand, not for Video Home System, but Violence, Horror, and Sex. Most of the segments deliver on that promise. Nudity is prolific. Gore is common, including several scenes that toss bloody bits right into the camera lens. In the opening minutes of the framing device, the protagonist scream and assault a woman, flashing her breasts for the camera. It's loud, aggressive, juvenile, and in-your-face. 

Something this knowingly obnoxious might have a limited appeal but there's a logic behind “V/H/S'” madness. Combined with the retro style, it's meant to invoke shot-on-video gore-fests made by young horror fans. The framing device, “Amateur Night,” and “Tuesday the 17th” also operate under “Tales from the Crypt” logic. By which I mean they are stories about bad people doing bad things and inevitably receiving supernatural comeuppance for their crimes. It's a classic narrative style that allows authors to revel in amoral behavior while ultimately re-enforcing a moral universe. And it's a fitting homage to make, since the horror anthology genre has its roots in those E.C. comic books. 

Admittedly, a set-up like that sometimes makes it hard for you to care about the main characters. Most of the lads in “Amateur Night” are obnoxious, would-be date-rapists who see nothing wrong with recording a sexual encounter without the girl's permission. Bruckner smartly makes the story's protagonist the one guy in the group who objects to this plan. The framing device has no such center. The characters are all objectively terrible people. Wingard has a good idea behind the segment, putting the scares in plain sight as it were. A corpse is in the background of most of the framing device, the viewer left in suspense over when it'll spring to life. Yet it's hard to care too much when the boys are so rotten.

“Amateur Night” also works extremely well, possibly being the best segment in the film, because it's expertly executed. Putting the camera in the glasses lens brilliantly makes the separation between the audience and the characters in the movie even smaller. It's a first person movie. Bruckner utilizes this smartly, setting most of the story in a small hotel room. That leaves little room for our protagonist to run from a crazy monster, leading to a panicked sense of tension. Bruckner also fills that limited space with simply freaky imagery. Like it's femme fatale contorting in the shadows of the hotel room, lit only by a flickering TV screen. Once again, the lo-fi visuals cleverly disguises the seams in the special effects making them – like a body sailing across a room or the slow transformation of the attacker – seem far more uncanny.

Another reason I really like “Amateur Night” is it's one of the few horror films that utilizes a succubus as its monster. The dream-invading sex demons are as old as vampires but they really show up on film. (And when they do, it's usually as objects of lust, not fear.) Lily – an obvious allusion to Lilith – is played by the spectacularly wide-eyed Hannah Fierman. Her behavior is fittingly alien. Despite her predatory nature, there's something almost innocent about her behavior. She repeatedly tells Clint, the only decent guy in the group, she “likes him” in a childish fashion. As Lily's demonic side is revealed, the eccentricity of Fierman's face are exaggerated by wonderfully freaky make-up effects. Yet she maintains that undeniably sensual, weirdly innocent demeanor even then. And the segment has a wonderfully clever ending. "Amateur Night" was good enough to be spun-off into its own film.

The second segment, “Second Honeymoon,” is among the film's weaker. (Which was a bit of a surprise upon release, considering Ti West was the most critically acclaimed of these filmmakers at the time.) It's basically a modernized riff on an old urban legend. The one about a honeymooning couple who develop the film in their camera, just to discover pictures of their toothbrushes up some nasty customers' asses. Since everyone uses digital cameras now, this idea is replaced with an intruder entering their hotel room and recording themselves swishing a toothbrush in the toilet bowl. This plays even more into the legend's roots, that fear of your privacy being violated when you're on the road.

“Second Honeymoon” is also unnecessarily long, as there's several meandering scenes devoted to the couple roaming around. Yet devoting so much time to the couple's interactions does add more verisimilitude to the segment. It really feels like a random vacation tape. Joe Swanberg and Sophia Takal, both filmmakers, have a warm rapport as the couple. Swanberg comes off as slightly meat-headed but lovable while Takal seems like a sweet girl. All that warmth is sacrificed for a shock ending that comes out of nowhere, is anticipated by nothing in the story, and is seriously abrupt.

“Tuesday the 17th” is definitely my second favorite segment in the film, as it manages to find a new variation on the much-abused slasher formula. The characters fit into the archetypes of the genre: The nerd, the jock, the slutty girl. Except this time, the final girl is intentionally leading her friends into a trap. The gory flashback footage appearing on-screen sets up an unsettling atmosphere. This is further emphasized by the cast's increasingly strange behavior as they get get deeper into the woods. The gore is brutal. Once again, I have to laud the creativity behind the killer's appearance, which further gives a camera a reason to be in the story. In about twenty minutes, it manages to pack in almost everything I want from a slasher movie.

“The Sick Thing That Happened to Emily When She was Younger” has its ups-and-downs. For an anthology about stories on VHS tapes, it's weird that this is told through video chat. Yet the segment still manages to be effectively unnerving. The stationary camera of the video chat leaves the viewer constantly checking over the characters' shoulders, for sight of any of the strange spectres. The ghostly figures that appear are creepy. They are barely glimpsed, child-sized entities that wander on-screen in a flurry of pixels. Emily assumes they are ghosts... Yet she also finds strange objects under her skin. Anyone familiar with alien abduction lore will make the connection quickly. 

Yet something even darker emerges from this. When Emily cuts open her arm to try and squeeze the object out, parallels are drawn to various mental illnesses. A final twist reveals that Emily's boyfriend is not only aware of what's happening but complacent in it. He's essentially gaslighting her about the terrifying truth. Considering Swanberg specializes in stories about dysfunctional relationships, it's not surprising he'd take the story in that direction. It's admittedly a new angle, even if it does lead to an exposition heavy ending. 

Radio Silence's “10/31/98” is essentially an extended effects reel. Most of its run time is devoted to its trio of characters screwing around an empty house. When the supernatural shit finally hits the demonic fan, cleverly utilized effects puts all sorts of nightmarish images on-screen. Ghostly hands reach through walls. People are snatched up by invisible forces and disappear into shadows. There's really nothing else compelling about this segment but these moments, with their groaning sound design and frenzied direction, are so damn scary. This is not too surprising once you realize the episode is basically an expansion of a terrifying viral video the same team created.  That Youtube clip was also scary as hell and it didn't have a story or any characters either. 

Like most of Adam Wingard and Ti West's films, “V/H/S” had a divisive reception. Critics tended to like it but horror fans were more split. The found footage style being extremely overexposed at the time might've been a factor. Nevertheless, “V/H/S” was a commercial success and quickly found a following. I was a fan from day one and it's notable as one of the few films to really scare the crap out of my buddy and old podcast co-host, JD. “V/H/S” isn't quite as fresh now as it was in 2012 yet I mostly still find plenty to enjoy about it. [Grade: A-]