Back in July, the Barbie/Oppenheimer double feature dominated chatter for weeks. The “Barbenheimer” joke will probably be the defining film-related meme of the year and, nicely, both movies went on to make a bunch of money. Yet, on that same day, another largely overlooked motion picture also came out. “Cobweb” was some medium budget horror film, co-produced by Seth Rogan and Evan Goldberg, that Lionsgate dumped into theaters on July 21st with minimal advertising. I saw the title, watched the trailer, and dismissed it as another mediocre jump-scare fest. However, lately, I've been seeing some people praise the film. When I read that “Cobweb” is takes place on Halloween and makes good use of its October setting, I knew I was going to have to give it a shot in the backend of the month.
One week before Halloween, eight-year-old Peter begins to hear a voice from inside his bedroom wall. This worries his parents, his high-strung mother Carol and stern father Mark. They don't allow him to go trick-or-treating, saying a young girl vanished several years ago. He continues to talk to the voice in his wall, who encourages him to stand up to a bully. The resulting incident causes Mark to lock Peter in the basement. This causes the voice to tell Peter more, that she's his sister, that his parents are evil, that they've locked her up in the walls, and that something most be done about it. The fallout of Peter's decision goes horribly wrong.
I'll also give director Samuel Bodin and writer Chris Thomas Devlin some faint praise. “Cobweb” is not as heavy on the obnoxious jump scares as it probably could have been. They definitely are still there. The soundtrack – which features a nicely spooky main theme – still blares at times or piles on the discordant strings. The scene most guilty of these crimes is a dumb-ass nightmare sequence, where Peter imagines his father standing in the corner and blinking loudly. His mother then runs down the hallway through the shadows, in a manic fashion. With the way this moment climaxes with an attempted head-ripping, it plays like the shitty version of a scene from “Hereditary.”
I figured this was too obvious a turn and, yes, “Cobweb” has a twist coming. The threat in the story changes completely as the true nature of the voice Peter is hearing is revealed. The last third of “Cobweb” is outrageously gory and ladles on the twitchy, contortionist horror. Yet the nature of this twist ending, honestly, offends me a little bit. The script, essentially, excuses all of the parents' horrible behavior as a necessary evil to keep a far greater threat at bay. In the end, the newly emerged antagonist even characterizes the parents' behavior as sweet towards their son. Sorry, guys. Trying to justify child abuse for the sake of a cheap, twist ending really rubs me the wrong way. “Cobweb” learned the wrong lesson from “Malignant” and “Barbarian.” Not every horror film can be improved by suddenly becoming a hyper-violent monster movie in the last third. I know, this is a hard truth to read.
When I think of Scandinavian cinema, my brain still goes to the moody art films of Ingmar Bergman or softcore “nature documentaries.” Yet, since “Let the Right One In” blew up roughly a decade ago, a real attempt has been made to export genre movies from that part of the world more often. The likes of “Troll Hunter,” the “Cold Prey” series, and the “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” franchise have spread Norwegian and Swedish voices all over the glove. If one is to look into the history of Scandinavian horror, you'll find some interesting titles. Such as “Lake of the Dead.” Adapted from Andre Bjerke's mystery novel, also considered a beloved classic in Norway, the film is considered a breakthrough work in its home country. Though relatively obscure in the U.S. for years, “Lake of the Dead” is now on disc and all over streaming for obsessive genre nerds like me to enjoy.
A group of friends travel from Oslo into the Norwegian countryside to visit a cabin by a lake. They include psychologist Kal Bugge, writer Bernhard and his wife, critic Gabriel, lawyer Gabriel and his girlfriend Liljan. Liljan's brother Werner has been staying at the cabin but, when they arrive, he's nowhere to be seen. His hunting dog is found dead by the lake. This particular body of water has a legend around it. That a man named Tore Gruvik, who had an incestuous obsession with his sister, went crazy upon discovering her with a lover, murdering them both. Afterwards, he threw himself into the lake in an act of suicide. The spirits of Tore and his sister are said to possess anyone staying in the cabin. As the weekend goes on, and more strange clues are discovered, Kal and Bernhard begin to suspect that a ghost may be responsible for Bernard's disappearance.
As fascinating as these ideas are, they come with a price. “Lake of the Dead” has a fairly large cast of characters, all of which are introduced quickly. The movie sits us on a train with this group, as they are introduced and their dynamics are set-up. Most of these characters are middle-aged Norwegian men, some of them looking quite a bit alike. When combined with a screenplay that's heavy on the conversation and debates, it makes “Lake of the Dead” a little hard to follow at times. This is the kind of storytelling that is probably better suited to the print page, where you can keep track of who is who and what they are discussing, a little when it's all spitting out of your TV or monitor at the speed of life.
“Lake of the Dead” is talky, set-bound, and pretty slow. Like many an old dark house film, it features a long-winded denouncement, where the hero debunks everything that happened. Yet this one does bring the creepiness when necessary. That “Lake of the Dead” casts a long shadow over Norwegian genre cinema is not horribly surprising. Lots of the genre stuff coming out of that country has a similarly chilly ambiance and use of local folklore. “Lake of the Dead” would be remade in 2019, while the source novel is actually the second book Bjerke featuring the Kal Bugge character. I wonder if any of those have been adapted as well? [7/10]
Years ago, David Fincher and the “Deadpool” guy began working on a big-screen reboot of “Heavy Metal.” Eventually the film fell into development hell, amid rights issues concerning the comic book. However, the project would receive a resurrection of sorts when Netflix stepped in. Fincher and Tim Miller's “Heavy Metal” soon mutated into “Love, Death & Robots.” Now a series of animated shorts and episodes, each story connects with one of the three concepts mentioned in the title. Among the 35 episodes produced thus far, ranging in length from six to twenty-one minutes, Fincher himself has only directed one. That would be “Bad Traveling,” from the third season.
Set in a vaguely Victorian era, “Bad Travelling” is set on a vessel at sea, hunting sharks for their oil. The boat and its crew is attacked by a giant, crab-like monster known as a thanopod. The crew eventually drives the beast into the hold of the ship. Straws are drawn to determine who will confront the monster, with navigator Torrin ultimately accepting. The thanonpod communicates with him through the corpse of a crewman, asking to be taken to a near-by populated island. Torrin instead plots to drop the beast off at an unpopulated island. This is unpopular with the crew and much bloodshed soon. A grave situation gets even worse when Torrin discovers that the monster has just given birth.
From a narrative perspective, “Bad Travelling” proves to be a deeply moody, largely downbeat experience. This world is a dreary, cynical one. That's set up early on, when Torrin is tossed out to deal with the monster. That everyone aboard the ship is a selfish bastard only interested in protecting their own hide makes it a little too hard to care about who lives and dies. I guess this is for the best as “Bad Travelling's” gory action sequences – furthering that video game feel – leave few people alive. The ending is so abrupt and fatalistic that I'm not sure how to feel about it. Yet, if nothing else, that giant crab monster is pretty fucking cool. I would definitely be interested in seeing David Fincher take a shot at animation again in the future though. [6/10]
Early in this year's Six Weeks of Halloween, I watched “Skinamarink,” as part of an informal series I've been doing on this analog horror thing all season. Since we're at the other end of the October Country now, it seems logical for me to revisit this topic. Before making “Skinamarink,” director Kyle Edward Ball had a Youtube channel called Bite-Sized Nightmares. There, he would make short films out of childhood nightmares sent to him by viewers. Out of these suggestions would emerge “Heck,” which is essentially a prototype for Ball's feature length debut. “Heck” follows a child awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of the TV. He stumbles through his dark, empty house looking for his mother, seemingly unable to leave. The night stretches on and on, the child never growing any older and staying alone in a place that is both very familiar and very strange.
It's easy to see how “Skinamarink” could have emerged out of “Heck.” Both the short and its expansion feature more-or-less the same construction. Both are devoted to shots of an unassuming suburban home at night, from the knee-high perspective of a child. The kid wanders around the darken house, the light from the TV screen – playing old cartoons – being his only source of illumination. That means this twenty-minute film is largely made-up of blurry, underlit shots of corners of a room, a fuzzy television screen, and toys spread over the carpet. Being a more modest production, “Heck” is even more low-key than “Skinamarink” is. The otherworldly malevolence Ball's feature featured can only be hinted at here. Largely through title cards suggesting the time that has passed and the last scene, which does feature a chilling final line.
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