Director Report Card: Larry Fessenden (2024)

8. Blackout

While Larry Fessenden has lent his talents to a wide variety of films as a character actor and producer, as a director, monster movies remain his first love. Almost every work he's personally directed has had a beastie or creature of some sort in it. With "Habit" and "Depraved," he did his own take on two of the big classic monster archetypes: Vampires and Frankenstein. Which, among fans of such things, raised a question: When was he going to make a werewolf movie? Clearly, this was an idea that's been on Larry's mind too. While producing found footage horror anthology, "V/H/S," he conceived of a wolfman segment that went unfilmed. In 2019, he expanded on the idea for his popular podcast series, "Tales from Beyond the Pale," with an episode entitled "Blackout." Four years later, a film with the same title and some of the same story elements would arise, finally seeing general release earlier this year. Among in-the-know indie horror fans, "Blackout" has been well-received as another idiosyncratic work from the established filmmaker. 

Artist Charley Barrett returns to the small town he grew up in. Following the death of his father, Charley has spiraled into alcoholism. This led to a breakup with his long-time girlfriend, Sharon. He is back home with the intention to resolve unfinished business. Jack Hammond – Sharon's dad – is a wealthy land developer currently pushing through a controversial new resort. Charley has uncovered documents from his late dad that he feels proves Hammond's shady business dealings. The town is torn on another issue too: A series of grisly murders have occurred, people torn apart by some sort of animal, and some are eager to blame the killings on the local Latino population. Charley knows the truth however. He knows, when the full moon rises, he transforms into a hairy, bloodthirsty monster. And he intends to make sure the killings stop.

From the title on down, "Blackout" frequently draws attention to Charley's alcoholism. When especially stressed, he stops in at a liquor store, grabs a bottle, and chugs it before getting back on the road. That night, he turns into a wolf while behind the wheel, leading to the deaths of two bystanders. The idea of booze turning a seemingly average man into a monster, then able to kill without question, is not an unexplored idea. The "werewolf as alcoholism" metaphor has been brought up often when discussing the subtext of this classic monster. Films like "Wolf" and "Silver Bullet" engage with the idea. The connection is all the more obvious when you consider the lives of Wolfman actors Oliver Reed and Lon Chaney. (Both of whom get shout-outs here.) The observation that an ordinary guy can turn into an uninhibited, violent monster is similar to the werewolf legend is nothing new. "Blackout" is only different in this approach by making the idea an acknowledged part of the story. Charley blackouts, wakes up the next day, terrified at what awful things he did while he wasn't himself. Is it a curse or the booze? 

The werewolf concept is also more versatile than that, which is why it has endured. Charley's erratic behavior has left his personal life in tatters but the bottle is not the magic potion that turns this Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde. Until the very end of the film, we don't learn the circumstances that led our protagonist to becoming a lycanthrope. Instead, he talks about falling into a dark mood after his dad's death. The details are never explicitly stated but he clearly had a difficult relationship with his father, with hints at abuse of one form or another. His distance from his dad is apparent in a conversation when we learned he gifted his father a painting once and assumed he simply threw it away. Daddy issues are an intrinsic part of the werewolf legend too, going back to "The Wolf Man." A father looking into his son's eyes and only seeing a monster is another potent metaphor to draw from the werewolf story. (Star Alex Hurt is also the son of William Hurt and supposedly channel some of his own father/son turmoil into the role.)

However, Charley's dad is already dead before "Blackout" starts. Those wounds can never be fully resolved. In an early scene, Sharon tells Charley that there's a darkness inside him that she simply can't overlook. He tries to vent his stormy feelings through his art, often drawing or painting sinister canvases the day after he's had a transformation. In other words, there's something knotted up and disturbed inside this man. In "Blackout," the wolf isn't only a metaphor for alcoholism or father hang-ups. A mournful mood hangs over the entire film, climaxing with Charley's attempt to take his own life. Whether it be depression over the mistakes he's made or grief from never being able to resolve tattered bounds, the wolf represents the darkness inside Charley. And inside all of us. We are all cursed when we are born, with our genetic heritage and connections to other people, some of which are doomed to turn rotten. "Blackout" draws its power from that idea, that sorrow and misdeeds can well up inside any of us and is only looking for a chance to run wild. 

That darkness takes many forms too. Fessenden's monster movies have always featured a social or political subtext of some sort. It was environmental in "No Telling," "Wendigo," and "The Last Winter." "Depraved" took aim at soldiers who return home from war with debilitating conditions and the pharmaceutical industry that preys on them. I had read "Blackout" is Fessenden's commentary on the red-hatted fascism that has gripped America in the last decade. Certainly, this idea is floating around inside "Blackout" too. When Charley returns home, he sees political signs on the road that are both in favor and against the resort being built. The idea that Jack Hammond is obviously a corrupt businessman, whose dirty dealings are known to everyone but always seems to escape punishment by authorities, shielded by his wealth and status. He diverts attention away from his own crimes by immigrants and racial minorities. This technique has been wildly successful, as a band of redneck would-be crime stoppers repeatedly harass the Mexican man that is being blamed for the murder. Before the end, a gang of vigilantes come to round the innocent man up. In other words, "Blackout" is certainly Fessenden's movie about Trumpism, in the sense that it's about how the powerful and the corrupt exploit a fear of cultural outsiders to cover up the real threat they pose to the community. 

However, "Blackout" is not as heavy-handed as a lot of attempts to grapple with what the hell is happening in this country. Instead, the spectre of racism and xenophobia, which the powerful use as scapegoats, is merely another symptom of the darkness in the human soul. "Blackout" has an environmental element to it as well, as it's pointed out that the resort Hammond is building will have disastrous effects on the local wildlife. In a key scene, Charley talks with an old friend clearing trees for the incoming hotel. He asks him if he would still work this job if he knew exactly how crooked his boss is. The man makes a noncommittal answer, suggesting he probably would because he needs the work. And that's a big problem for all of us, isn't it? We are all trapped in this world and we all have to survive in it. Conmen like Trump and those like him come into power by playing on the economic insecurity we all deal with. 

"Blackout" points its eyes at the idea that these schisms are, more often than not, manufactured by these same cronies. Throughout "Blackout," it's pointed out that this town is divided. Neighbors have turned into enemies. Trust has broken down within the communities. The town preacher attempts to reach out to the lynch mob's better nature. Notably, the small town cops are depicted as a neutral force in this, which strikes me as an unlikely idea. Fessenden's answer to this division, that people are united by more than what separates them, may come off as hopelessly naïve in light of recent events. Nevertheless, "Blackout" is a lot more nuanced with its take on this subject than a lot of other stories have been. It attempts to understand the conditions that bred these problems, not merely invoke them as easily identified cultural boogeymen. 

"Blackout" is Charley's story, his personal journey being centered by most of the runtime. However, this is a movie about this whole town. As our protagonist returns home, he reconnects with one figure after another. Not just his ex but a lawyer that he clearly shares some chemistry with, a guitar strumming old friend, and people who knew his dad. The script takes its time to add a lot of local color and personality to even its most incidental characters. Without the werewolf, this would be an effecting low-key drama about a wayward man once again learning that going home is not so easy. The clear affection that Fessenden and the cast adds to this idea makes it a lot more believable though. Familiar faces like Barbara Crampton, Kevin Corrigan and James Le Gros appear to flesh these supporting characters out more, while the angsty but charming Alex Hurt makes for a compelling lead. 

There is a werewolf in this movie though. Fessenden has never been afraid of embracing his work's status as horror movies. "Blackout" begins with a stellar sequence of a young couple getting intimate in a field while being observed, and eventually attacked, by the wolf man. This is far from the only time the film gives into its pulpier instincts. The poster worthy image of Charley, all wolfed out, holding a shapely but dead woman in his arms is noteworthy. The finale features a torn off hand dangling from his slobbering jaws. There's more than enough slashed faces and torn out throats to satisfy any Fangoria readers in the audience. The make-up that brings Charley's wolf man form to life is knowingly humble. Hurt wears hairy claws and an elaborate mask while wearing work pants and a buttoned up shirt, much like Lon Chaney before him. You can feel Fessenden's joy, as a grown-up monster kid, in being able to play with these famous visual signifiers.

While the film certainly has fun dropping shout-outs to Larry Talbot and Paul Naschey's El Hombre Lobo, it has a lot more on its mind. The humping couple at the beginning aren't the only flesh on display in the film. Charley eventually comes to prey on Sharon, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt while spending time with her current beau. This plays off the age-old idea that a wolfman always targets the person he loves the most. It also centers this monster as a fleshy one, fixated on the blood and sinew of the human form. There is something sexy about a werewolf, isn't there? About embracing our more animal nature, losing control of our conscious, and ripping into people viciously. This speaks to both a sexual context and a societal one. As much as that wild animal lives in all of us, "Blackout" argues – with quite a degree of resigned sadness – that there has to be a better way though. Surely we can all put away our primitive instincts and focus on what's good for all of us, right? Maybe that hope is a more mature response to the state of the world today than giving into fear and that desire to rip another person apart. 

"Blackout" clearly blends its heady ideas about human nature and community with the monster movie thrills we expect. Fessenden is an old hand at this by now. "Blackout" undeniably looks and feels like a Fessenden joint. It has the carefully deployed indie rock soundtrack. The photography is both naturalistic and stylized, finding beauty and foreboding gravity aplenty in the natural world. "Blackout" is especially notable for showing the director's more playful visual eye. The dissociation of Charley's transformation result in some stylized visuals and camera tricks. Most notably when a flashback is illustrated as if its one of his paintings, a moment of animation in the film that caught me off-guard but I welcome just the same. "Blackout" shows the director staying true to the gritty but artistic instincts that has always made his work so distinctive. 

"Blackout" worked its spell on me for most of its runtime, delivering the sharply observed social commentary and grisly thrills I've come to expect with a surprisingly cozy cast bringing it to life. I was with the movie up until an unusually vague denouncement, which leaves the audience on a somewhat deflated feeling... While also featuring a cameo from the Frankensteinian star of Fessenden's "Depraved." While such pre-credits teasers of an interconnected cinematic universe might be an odd move from the fiercely independent Fessenden, he's harkening back to a much older tradition than Marvel movies. After all, Frankenstein met the Wolf Man long before the Avengers ever assembled. Whether this is a set-up for Fessenden making his own monster mash or merely a knowing nod at his inspiration remains to be seen. Either way, "Blackout" doesn't quite stick the landing while still being a bold take on a classic idea from one of the genre's cleverest auteurs, a smart creature feature with many things on its mind that never forgets that its monster is the star of the show. [Grade: A-]

Director Report Card: Larry Fessenden (2021)

7. Isolation

About a year ago, in my review of “Host,” I pointed out how the pandemic era of horror film-making had already started. In the months since Rob Savage released his “directed-over-Zoom” ghost thriller, several other independent horror projects also made in-secret during the early days of the pandemic have come out. Those would be new movies from high-profile filmmakers Ben Wheatley and Neill Blomkamp... As well as a third example. Unlike the others, “Isolation” is an anthology film, presenting nine stories from twelve different directors. “Isolation” would also distinguish itself from the other pandemic inspired projects by literally being about the pandemic. Among the directors invited to join “Isolation” was Larry Fessenden, whose involvement always gets me interested in a project. 

“Isolation” is a little different from your usual horror anthology in a big way. Instead of its stories being totally self-contained, they are all set in the same world. (A few of the stories even directly connect.) It's a world where a highly contagious, airborne virus has swept across the globe. COVID-19 or Corona Virus are not specifically mentioned by name. In fact,  the virus of “Isolation” seems to mutate far faster than its real world equivalent, leading to far more extensive society-wide breakdown then we've experienced. (So far, anyway.) Despite being fictionalized, most of the details — feverish symptoms, people wearing masks in public, abandoned city streets — are the same. Either way, it's a decent premise for an anthology film. And, I suppose, a fictional approach  is a bit more tactful than making a horror movie about our actual pandemic would be. 

The nine stories are as follows: “Fever” concerns a feverish man who takes an unorthodox approach to keeping his family safe. “5G” follows a conspiracy theorist who hears a voice telling him to take direct action against the cell towers he believes are spreading the virus. “The Dread” is about a married couple, whose home is broken into by an intruder. “Pacific Northwest” tracks a pair of young children, who have to fend for themselves when their parents die. “Meat Hands” has a lonely young man forming a bond with the dead body on his front lawn. “It's Inside” is about a different conspiracy theorist, who fears the government has infiltrated her home and her body. “Gust” shows a woman who is afraid of the air around her. “Homebodies” sees an investigative journalist, tasked with getting new stories about the pandemic, sneaking into the home of a reclusive family. Lastly, the protagonist of “Comfort Zone” is a young woman inside a shipping container, infected with the virus, communicating with a man on the outside. 

Larry Fessenden does double duty on "Fever," as he both directs and stars in it. (Maybe triple duty, as he contributes a song as well.) The segment starts out intriguing enough, taking us right inside the head of a man infected with the virus. Fessenden's narration speaks of feeling guilty over catching the virus, despite being extra careful, which seems like a realistic emotion to explore. The hallucinations that follow his feverish state — seeing his wife and son jerkily move around the bedroom — are interesting. Fessenden engineers more of these surreal sights in the last half. Yet "Fever's" horror content is abrupt, a shocking act of violence being included halfway through and never quite followed up on. Ultimately, the segment feels like a half-formed sketch, instead of a fully realized story. 

"5G" comes to us from Andrew Kasch, who previously directed "This Means War," one of the best segments in "Tales of Halloween." This short also has a strong start. There's some amusing irony in a house arrest bracelet being the source of a voice, badgering a conspiracy theorist to get more paranoid. Yet it's disappointing that "5G" never attempts to address the reason why people believe these things. Considering the segment ends in a blunt, violent manner, I'm inclined to think the whole thing is a sick joke. That it's about an asshole getting what's coming to him. If that's the case, it's never exactly funny. Graham Denman is also a bit flat as the main character.

The third episode of "Isolation" is probably its weakest. "The Dread" both stars and was directed by Dennie Gordon, whose previous movies include "Joe Dirt," "What a Girl Wants," and "New York Minute." Presumably she was selected to participate in this anthology, not because of her features, but because of her work on TV shows like "Legion" and "Waco." Anyway, it's an almost plotless story largely devoted to Gordon wandering around an apartment, stalked by an unseen man. There's not much tension or dread in the proceedings. We never learn anything about the woman, so it's hard to care too much about what happens to her. It has a baffling ending that seems to be a twist of some sort but is so vague that I don't totally understand it. 

Luckily, "Isolation" starts to improve after three lackluster segments. "Pacific Northwest" was made by Bobby Roe, the man behind the "Houses October Built" films. There's something deeply sad about its premise, of two children left totally alone following the death of their parents. The characters are played by Roe's actual children. Their naturalistic performances, which I suspect were largely improvised, are convincing. The kids are totally vulnerable, of course, which allows a grim tension to slowly built. Roe smartly drags the suspense out later on, as the kids have some close calls with home invaders. Roe's documentary style direction is a bit distracting at times but this is still the first segment in the film that really works.

The fifth story, "Meat Hands," comes from Adam R. Brown and Kyle I. Kelley, who have made some shorts I have not seen. This one really focuses on the idea of isolation, as it's largely quiet protagonist — played by Brown — is totally alone in his house. The title comes from his habit of filling a glove with ground meat and heating it up, just so he can feel something like the touch of another person. There's a real sense of sadness as we watch him get sicker, coughing and vomiting more. The lack of music, use of background noise, and tendency to frame its main character in wider shots adds extends this feeling of loneliness. It's easy to predict where this is going, from the minute the dead body outside appears, but it's still an effective short.

"It's Inside" is directed by Kier Siewert and Alix Austin, the team behind "Retch," a solid short that combined visceral body horror with dark humor. Their contribution here does much the same. The back half of this one features some seriously cringe-inducing gore, that continues to escalate in severity. There's also some effective jump scares, as the paranoid fantasy of home invaders in invisibility-granting suits come to life. "It's Inside" also looks pretty good, utilizing shadows and sickly, neon colors in interesting ways. Austin herself plays the conspiracy theorist and is equally unhinged and pathetic. Overall, I liked how this one gets bigger and crazier as it goes on. It's probably my favorite segment in the film. 

The seventh segment, "Gust," is also pretty good. It was made by Zach Passero, who previously directed "Wicked Lake" and has worked as an editor, animator, and effects artist on multiple Lucky McKee productions. Much like “Meat Hands,” “Gust” focuses on the sense of isolation its protagonist — an unnamed woman — feels. While the previous character was dealing with loneliness, she's dealing with fear. The wind constantly hammering at her home makes it feel like this airborne disease is coming for her. Is it paranoia or a serious concern? The final image of the segment, which hits like the punchline of a cruel joke, makes the answer clear. The sound design is excellent and makes the threat of the blustery air appropriately felt. Drone shots of the empty city streets are utilized to further chilling effect. “Gust” is another highlight of the film.

Alexandre Neary, whose short “The Teddy Bear's Picnic” was memorably grisly, directs “Homebodies.” This one is done in the found footage style, bringing the “V/H/S” series to mind. The idea of exploring a dark, creepy house full of some shocking surprises does make for a decent scare or two. The found footage format is good for stories like this, for putting the audience right in the main character's shoes. What arcane things are going on inside the rich family's home is not made explicitly clear, which is a bit frustrating. Though there is some nasty gore here. The newscaster character that motivates the plot is unnecessarily obnoxious. “Homebodies” functions decently enough, though I doubt I'll remember anything about it in a day or two. 

“Isolation” concludes with “Comfort Zone,” the only non-English language segment. It comes from German director Christian Pasquariello, whose has made a number of shorts and a feature called “Alien Invasion: S.U.M.1.” “Comfort Zone” represents the film in its most low-key mode, as it's really not much than a conversation between two people. The huge, hollow shipping container makes a decently spooky setting. Fine Belger gives a likable performance as Eva, the girl inside the crate. The ending doesn't have the impact I think the filmmakers were hoping for though. It gives all of “Isolation” something of an underwhelming ending.

“Isolation” will probably be most valuable as a weirdo snapshot of the early days of the pandemic, reflecting the thoughts and fears of filmmakers during that time. Taken as art itself, it's trickier to recommend. Horror anthologies tend to be uneven affairs. This is just a given, considering the format of multiple stories being squished together. “Isolation” is definitely among the more uneven ones I've seen recently. The quality of the segments vary between pretty good to feeling unfinished. And for Larry Fessenden completest, it's likely to be remembered more as a footnote than a major work. [Grade: C+]

Director Report Card: Larry Fessenden (2019)

6. Depraved

Throughout his long career, Larry Fessenden has shown a repeated fascination with the story of Frankenstein. He's spoken before about the influence the Universal Monster movies had on his young mind and it's easy to guess which was his favorite. “No Telling” was directly inspired by Mary Shelly's masterpiece, though in a loose way. His segment in “ABCs of Death 2” featured repeated visual references to the classic versions of “Frankenstein.” Around the same time, Fessenden directed a music video/short film entitled “Frankenstein Cannot Be Stopped.” With his seventh horror feature, “Depraved,” Fessenden has directly adapted the “Frankenstein” premise.

College graduate Alex thinks his biggest problem is the argument he just had with his girlfriend about maybe having kids someday. While out walking, he's attacked and killed. He next awakens in a loft in Brooklyn. He has no memory of his past and does not know his name. He is the latest experiment of Henry, a doctor and veteran of the war in the Middle East, who has sewn together dead bodies to create new life. Henry calls his creation Adam and begins to re-educate him on the ways of the world. Henry's partner, a man named Pollidori, educates Adam in a more cynical way. Soon, the monster begins to formulate ideas of his own.

Given his stated love of the “Frankenstein” story, it's unsurprising that “Depraved” heavily references and even directly adapts past versions of the well-known tale. Within the opening minutes, Alex puts on a black overcoat and Doc Martins, just like Boris Karloff. Fessenden draws directly from Shelley's text when he names the scientist Henry, his creation Adam, and his girlfriend Elizabeth. He even names a minor character Shelly. Since Dr. Pretorious is copyrighted to Universal Studio, Henry's luciferian mentor is named Polidori, a reference to Mary Shelly's social circle that has been made so many time, it's a reference onto itself. Many of the well-known plot points – the monster demanding a mate, seeking vengeance against the doctor, being chased by mobs – put in appearance. “Depraved” is so clearly built upon the “Frankenstein” legacy that simple elements like a burning building or a snowy night feel like references.

Fessenden is clearly a student of the “Frankenstein” story. Yet “Depraved” is not a mere game of Spot the Reference. Instead, the director is once again attempting to update the classical story. “Depraved” is awash in modern American anxieties. Adam is repeatedly told to choke down pills, whole handfuls at a time. The doctor uses this chance to reference the drug crisis sweeping the country right now. Later, we learn that Polidori is an employee of a pharmaceutical company, that a special drug is being tested upon the stitched-together corpse. This continues themes Fessenden has been building on since “No Telling,” showing a clear disgust with corporate science disregarding humanity in favor of advancement, all in the name of profits.

Yet something even more specific is on Fessenden's mind with “Depraved.” Henry is a veteran of the Middle East conflicts. His desire to recreate life is a direct result of all the death and destruction he saw in the military. Liz, a nurse at the V.A., insists Henry has PTSD but he denies this. Even if Henry claims he's fine, his creation seems to reflect his fractured mental state. Much like a soldier recovering from a war wound, Adam is covered in scars. He has to re-learn how to walk, how to talk, how to take care of himself. Even after these lessons, he's still a shell of a human being. His mind is flooded with upsetting memories he has no control over. He has difficulty reintegrating into society. The Frankensteinian sutures and scars are physical manifestations of the psychic scars of PTSD, of traumatic brain injuries, of a long road to recovery with no end in sight.

Still, as willing as Fessenden is to move the story into the modern age, he maintains the essential subtext of Shelley's text. “Frankenstein” is about parenthood and, in its own way, so is “Depraved.” The film begins with Alex and his girlfriend having sex, before they have their argument about the potential to have kids. After being resurrected, the newly rechristened Adam is very child-like, peeing in his pants and being read children's books. More than once, Polidori refers to Henry as Adam's “Daddy.” Following the beats of the “Frankenstien” legend, “Depraved” is ultimately about someone creating life but being totally unprepared for the responsibilities of this choice. (Fessenden also slips in some of that gay subtext people love to read into “Frankenstein,” as Polidori's interest in Adam doesn't seem entirely platonic.)

By setting “Depraved” largely in Brooklyn, Fessenden does something else. He recalls his own early films. In many ways, “Depraved” is on a similar wavelength as “Habit” was. Aside from both modern updates of classic horror archetypes set, they are both largely set in the dismal parts of the big city. “Depraved” makes its home in dark apartments, rundown alley ways, and isolated bars. Several times, Adam is taken for a ride through the city, leading to long sequences watching the characters just go about their business in this urban setting. The isolation of New York proves an ideal setting for a story of a monster realizing his disconnect with the rest of humanity.

It's not just Fessenden's use of location and themes that roots “Depraved” to his earlier movies. This is, by far, his most visually stylistic movie since “Wendigo.” Though the lightning bolt integral to Frankenstein's origin is excised from the story, lightning bolts flash on-screen repeatedly throughout the film. As we often assume Adam's perspective, we often see things through his fractured minds. Swirling splotches appear on-screen, blurring blobs of color visualizing the “monster's” splintered mental state. Montages show puzzles being perfectly assembled in seconds. Any time someone is subdued by drugs, we see a cloudy plum floating on-screen. Some might find this extreme stylization distracting or overdone but Larry has been doing this for years. It's cool to see him embrace that visual panache once more.

“Depraved” is similar to “Habit” in that its more of a character study, than a horror movie setting out to scare its audience. Yet there are undeniably disturbing moments in the movie. In the film's last third, there's a brilliant black-and-white sequence – the movie's most blatant homage to the Universal films of the 1930s and 1940s – that is fantastically dream-like before growing more visceral. The most unnerving scene in the film concerns Adam uncovering the true nature of his origin. He stumbles upon gritty, handheld recordings of the doctors stitching his body together, cutting it open before sealing it back up. Naturally, Adam freaks out a bit. How off-handed and casual the recording is makes its contents even more disturbing, showing unnatural science being performed as if it was nothing unusual at all.

“Depraved” features Fessenden working once again with a cast of relatively unknown actors. David Call, best known for television and indie films, plays Henry as a man not entirely determined to achieve his goal. He frequently seems exhausted by the responsibilities of caring for Adam. Call, often bringing a degree of humor to the part, creates a man grappling with a mental illness while refusing to acknowledge that illness. Even better is Alex Breaux as Adam. Breaux manages to combine all the necessary elements of the Frankenstein monster. He is child-like, an innocent thrust into a life he never chose. Yet as he is abused more and more by those around him, he brings a determined fatality to the role of a not-quite human monster.

The weakest link in the cast is Joshua Leonard as Polidori. Its a verbose part, as Polidori likes to monologue extensively about the nature of the world, life, and existence. Leonard can't make thes reams of dialogue sound nature and the character just ends up becoming insufferable. Ana Kayne projects a sure-handed kindness as Liz, to the point where you wonder why she's interested in a guy like Henry. Chloe Levine is largely adorable as Lucy, Alex's fiance in-life. Lastly, Addison Timlin – excellent in “Like Me,” another Glass Eye Pix production – brings a lot of color to the small role of Shelley, the unlucky girl chosen by the monster to become his mate.

“Depraved” rolls along pretty smoothly for most of its two hour run time. However, in the last third, the film suddenly changes direction in a very odd way. Alex/Adam has more-or-less been the protagonist for most of the film. We've been following him from the first scene and have largely assumed his perspective as he was brought back to life. Suddenly, the monster is out of the story and Henry becomes our main character. The shift totally throws the film's pacing off and it never recovers. The last half-hour of “Depraved” comes as off sluggish and disorganized, the ending pulled in multiple different directions in a very unsatisfying manner.

It's a shame that “Depraved” falls apart a bit as its coming to an end. Up to that point, it was a nicely acted, smartly written, and disturbing update of the “Frankenstein” premise, bringing a totally new perspective to the material without compromising its basic ideas. Despite a weak ending, “Depraved” has still won Larry Fessenden some of the best reviews of his career. Especially coming after the weak “Beneath,” it can certainly be called a return-to-form. You can definitely tell this is a movie he has wanted to make for quite a while, a personal and highly relevant reinvention of one of the greatest horror stories of all time. [Grade: B]

Larry Fessenden seems to take fairly long breaks between his feature films. But he's definitely not relaxing during that time. Through his Glass Eye Pix production company, Fessenden is highly busy producing and acting in other people's films. Right now, he has four films in production, appearing either in front of the camera as an actor or behind it as a producer. So I'm sure Larry Fessenden will direct another clever, socially conscious horror movie at some point. But it'll likely be a while, as he lends his talents to other filmmakers. But, hey, the guy likes to stay busy. There's nothing wrong with that.

Director Report Card: Larry Fessenden (2013)

5. Beneath

Conceptually, the idea of a television devoted to nothing but horror movies and shows sounds like a great idea. To be totally honest, I've dreamed of a fantastical Horror Network my entire life. For a brief period of time, horror fans actually had two networks specifically devoted to the genre to choose from. FearNet ran from 2006 to 2014. Chiller ran from 2007 to 2017. Yet neither lived up to their potential, FearNet having a repetitive schedule of the same underwhelming movies and Chiller eventually degrading into re-runs of horror adjacent TV shows. Both networks rarely showed anything made before the eighties and both usually edited movies for time and content. I remember FearNet's death being bemoaned by some but Chiller seems to be missed by exactly no one.

Yet you can't say both networks didn't at least go for it. FearNet's original TV series “Holliston” won a cult following, as did its yearly 24-hour marathon of “Trick r Treat” on Halloween. Chiller, meanwhile, presented an interesting line-up of original movies. They adapted well-known horror stories, like “The Monkey's Paw” or Brian Keene's “Ghoul.” Interesting independent productions, like “The Boy” and “Siren,” were part of the network's line-up. Among the network's earliest acquisitions was “Beneath,” Larry Fessenden's first directorial credit after a lengthy six year break.

A group of high school friends, before heading their separate ways to different colleges, decide to  go on one last trip together. The introspective Johnny, who harbors a crush on blonde Kitty his whole life, picks the location: A secluded lake on his family's property. There's no cell reception out there and Johnny is warned not to take his friends out on the body of water... But the kids jump on a boat anyway, deciding to take a swim in the middle of the lake. That's when a monstrous muskie with a hunger for human flesh emerges, trapping the teens there and starting to pick them off one-by-one. As tension escalate, secrets are revealed and betrayals surface.

Interestingly enough, all of Larry Fessenden's directional credits have been monster movies of one sort or another. The man has a clear respect for the narrative tradition of the mythological and Gothic archetypes. “Beneath” is the first of his films he didn't write but it's easy to see what attracted him to the screenplay. With “Beneath,” he wades into the waters of the lake monster. He pays visual homage to “Creature from the Black Lagoon,” with a shot of floodlights on the water. As for the big fish hunting our teens, its right out of any local crytozoological legend. It's less of a fantastical beasts and more the stuff of old fishermen's tales.

Admirably, “Beneath's” creates its monstrous fish solely through practical effects. Considering its TV origins, you'd expect some janky CGI to be utilized. Therein likes a problem though. Much like his wendigo, Fessenden's big fish is not the most convincing special effect. It certainly looks like a plausible big fish. (Wikipedia say its a giant catfish, I think it looks like a muskie.) However, it's obviously a puppet. The eyes are unexpressive. Its jaws flap open and close in a mechanical, unconvincing manner. Its movements are stiff, even totally under the water. The central threat of “Beneath” never seems to be truly alive and that is distracting.

Yet even if the big fish was more convincing, it wouldn't solve “Beneath's” biggest problem. All the characters in the film are cliches. Johnny is the quiet type, Kitty is the blonde cheerleader, Matt is the dumb jock. His brother Simon is the resentful little brother. Zeke is a nerdy film student. And brunette Deb doesn't even get that much personality. Worst yet, all the characters are cliched assholes. Zeke is utterly obnoxious, with an uncomfortably large ego. Johnny stupidly puts all his friends in danger. Matt is every bit the jerk jock. Simon is a passive aggressive Nice Guy who eventually reveals himself to be a casual psychopath. The film heaps on Kitty for cheating on Matt but her being so hateful and manipulative seems a more serious crime. There's no reason to care if any of these people live or die. They are all awful.

A project like “Beneath” presents a certain mechanical challenge to a filmmaker, especially one who has been in the business for years, like Fessenden. For the majority of its run time, “Beneath” is confined to one location. The group of characters are stuck on a small boat for almost the entire film. Fessenden supposedly cut flashbacks from the script, preferring to focus entirely on the boat. Yet such a limited location presents limited story opportunities. Once the first victim is claimed, and her body is used to lure the fish away, the film sets into a repetitive structure. The movie basically runs out of ideas of how to continue its story about an hour in, throwing in increasingly desperate story developments. Like another boat or chopping up their current boat to use as oars. This is why “The Raft” was only a segment in “Creepshow 2,” instead of occupying the whole movie.

“Beneath” is also very heavy on one of my least favorite horror tropes: Most of “Beneath” is devoted to endless bickering between the cast member. A plot point the film repeatedly returns to is the characters voting on who deserves to sacrifice themselves to the fish the most next. It's hard to imagine any group of normal humans deciding this would be a reasonable course of action, much less several times within the same day, as depicted here. All sorts of stupid, petty rivalries emerge as the cast endlessly argues about this stuff. Since the characters are such stereotypes, and so aggressively unlikable, it's hard to care too much about their interpersonal drama. It's just another way to beef up a story too thin for a whole movie.

Disappointingly, “Beneath” even lurches into the realm of unintentional comedy once or twice. That a group of humans, even dumb ones, are outsmarted by a fish, even a smart one, quickly begins to strain credibility. This leads to a mildly clever sequence involving a rope... A moment that is undermined by the ridiculous look on a corpse's face. Another moment that made me laugh, that probably wasn't suppose to, involves Kitty frantically hacking at the muskie with a hatchet. Her wacks are so limp-wristed, and the film's presentation of them is so frenzied, that you can't help but chuckle. There's a definite disconnect there.

I didn't really like “Beneath” but there are some things that are interesting about the movie. I suspect the film might have, at some point in its development, being designed as a found footage film. Zeke, being the movie's stock-parts film geek, has a Go-Pro strapped to his wrist throughout the entire movie. More than once, the movie assumes the point-of-view of this camera. Usually, this is done just to highlight his aggravating character traits. But one time it actually works really well. As he's tossed into the water and gobbled up by the big fish, we see through his camera once again. And it's actually a pretty scary sequence, a flash of teeth and blood flooding the water, crunching and screaming heard off-screen. It suggest Fessenden probably could've made a pretty solid found footage flick. (Even if it would've been indistinguishable from an episode of “Lost Tapes,” as far as plot goes.)

Though “Beneath's” script makes far too many mistakes, there are one or two sort of interesting choices there. First off, the film has a “Psycho”-esque twist, introducing a character that seems to be the protagonist only to kill them off halfway through the movie. I mean, it's not a new idea but I didn't see it coming. Secondly, the film hints at a greater mythology surrounding its killer fish. It would seem the creature has been inhabiting this lake for quite a while. The presence of a significant necklace even suggests a mystical element to the lake monster. That element of the story is left beguilingly unexplored, making me think its something Fessenden probably brought to to the script.

Speaking of which! Are any of Larry's stylistic quirks evident in “Beneath?” Sad to say, not really. You would think a story about a lake monster would allow the director to include some of his environmental themes. “Creature from the Black Lagoon,” after all, was an early example of eco-horror. “Beneath” is shockingly empty in that regard. This is basically a slasher movie, set on a tiny boat with a big fish instead of Jason, and nothing deeper to say. (One of the characters has the last name of “Voorhees,” as if that connection wasn't explicit enough.) Visually, the film is largely defined by jerky whip-pans and shaky hand-held work. Only a shot of the sky streaking by recalls Fessenden's usual touches.

It's hard to call “Beneath” that good or interesting. Even though his Glass Eye Pix produced it, you get the impression that Fessenden was largely acting in work-for-hire mode here. Even his “Fear Itself” episode is better and more distinct than this. “Beneath” would get a brief theatrical release before premiering on Chiller. The film received the weakest reviews of Fessenden's career, though it also wasn't entirely without its defenders. While I like the idea, ultimately I found “Beneath” to be a bit... Fishy. (By the way, the horror network I've always dreamed of does exist now, but as a streaming service instead of a TV channel. Which I suppose is the way of the future anyway.) [Grade: C-]

Director Report Card: Larry Fessenden (2006)

4. The Last Winter

We movie nerds can't help but want to break a director's filmography down into tightly knotted collections. It's part of the OCD inherent in dweeb-dom. Lots of filmmakers make actual trilogies but sometimes directors make otherwise unrelated movies linked by themes. So, if you really want to, you can build two different thematic trilogies out of Larry Fessenden's career. “No Telling” begins an eco-horror trilogy that would continues through “Wendigo” and climaxes with “The Last Winter.” Alternatively, “Wendigo” and “The Last Winter” are the first two parts of a thematic trilogy about wendigoes that ends with “Flesh and Bone,” Fessenden's episode of “Fear Itself.” Granted, both of these super specific nerdy ideas will be screwed up if Fessenden ever returns to either of these themes again.

Thanks to recently redefined legal boundaries, the KIK Corporation is now being allowed to drill inside Alaska's Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. A team from the oil company is led by Ed Pollack, with environmentalist James Hoffman tagging along to help approve any of the ideas Pollack and the company has. Hoffman is deeply concerned about the effect global warming is having on the area, as ancient arctic permafrost is beginning to melt. This is confounded when strange things begin to happen at the outpost. Other members of the team start to act erratically. The weather gets weirder. People start to hear and see things that aren't there. Has the melting permafrost unleashed hallucination-causing gases or is something much more sinister now loose?

“The Last Winter” is a horror movie built upon anxieties surrounding global warming and climate change. This made it forward-thinking in 2006 and frighteningly relevant in 2019. Corporate capitalist like Pollock are only interested in exploiting the environment for profit, complaining when environmental concerns interrupt his plans to expedite the drilling. He wraps his actions in empty rhetoric about energy independence but it's clear that money is his prime motivator. Hoffman, meanwhile, is quickly growing hopeless in the face of a rapidly deteriorating environment. “The Last Winter” is impressively fatalistic. It doesn't portray climate change as something that can be changed. The damage has been done and we are doomed because of it. This is a feeling anyone living in 2019, anyone who is paying attention anyway, is very familiar with.

In more than just its ecological themes, “The Last Winter” builds upon other ideas previously presented in “Wendigo.” That movie was set in the dead of winter but near a small town, so its feeling of wintry isolation only went so far. “The Last Winter” is set far within the Alaskan wilderness. It depicts huge, flat fields of seemingly nothing but snow and ice. Humans seem utterly tiny and insignificant when stepping through such endless, empty landscapes... A feeling that is emphasized by the film's frequent use of wide-shots. The excellent sound design focuses in chilly winds blowing outside the windows, only making everyone feel more isolated and alone in this frozen wasteland.

The location goes a long way in “The Last Winter” and ends up contributing to its creepiest sequence. Among the expedition is the young nephew of the head of the drilling company. He is the first person affected by the strangeness about to unfold. He acts erratically, standing in the snow starring at stuff no one else can see. Eventually, he is drawn out into the icy field at night, walking out in the freezing temperature totally naked. He brings a camera with him and his found footage, giving us a brief glimpse at something spectral outside the outpost. At this point, “The Last Winter” effectively captures a creepy sense of uncanniness.

However, Fessenden's approach to the material is ultimately a little too vague. What kind of horror movie is “The Last Winter,” anyway? Is it a movie about oil company employees being threatened by recently unearth ghostly spirits? Or is it a movie about an isolated group being driven crazy by Arctic methane release? “The Last Winter” eventually lays its cards down but it toys with both possibilities for a while. This makes the movie a little too vague at times, especially in later scenes where cast members become violent without provocation. Too often, “The Last Winter” feels like a collection of scenes of people acting weird for pretty much no reason.

Larry Fessenden doesn't really make the kind of horror movies that have a lot of jump scares or loud shock sequence. Even “Wendigo,” the closest thing he's ever done to a straight-up monster movie, was more atmosphere driven than anything else. “The Last Winter” follows that approach for the first part, using the spooky winter isolation and blowing wind to generate a feeling of unease. It does, occasional, try to include a big scare though. Such as a scene where an airplane crashes suddenly into the outpost, killing the pilots instantly and fatally burning another character. That scene really feels like it comes out of nowhere, a big action movie special effect inserted into a film that's a lot more subtle than that.

Continuing this less frantic approach, “The Last Winter” does not feature many of Fessenden's more extreme stylistic quirks. There's certainly none of the manic camera work or overly stylized editing techniques we saw in “Wendigo.” In fact, “The Last Winter” is rather still in its visual composition, effectively making use of the bright and empty location. However, Larry can't help himself a few times. There's at least one shotgun-blast montage of a notebook being presented to us. Later, there's a brief moment of surrealism, as a dying character is carried back to his childhood memories of a less sinister winter.

“The Last Winter” has something else in common with “Wendigo.” The monsters in that movie didn't really work, brought down by some not-so-hot special effects. “The Last Winter” has a similar problem. It also uses the term “wendigo” for its hostile spirits, even though that's an Algonquian word, not an Inuit word. They look kind of similar, being giant ghostly creatures with angry moose heads... However, the CGI used to create the monsters is not very impressive. The spectral creatures work best when seen as only vaguely moving shapes in the night. When they get up in the audience's face, the seams start to show. Truthfully, I'm not sure “The Last Winter” needed an on-screen monster at all. The supernatural element might've been best kept off-camera entirely.

Then again, the CGI moose monsters do contribute to what is, by far, the most effectively sequence in “The Last Winter.” The team is picked off by various forces, internal and external, until only two remain. Hoffman calls his girlfriend back at the lab. She cowers in a closest as crows pick at a near-by dead body. As she talks on the phone with him, she hears the monstrous spirits closing in on him. The next scene has her awakening to water flooding around her ankles and sounds of destruction happening just out of frame. Its an apocalyptic ending, suggesting an end-of-the-world scenario that is equally physical – floods and monsters destroying cities – as it is philosophical – whole groups of people committing suicide in the face of this unstoppable ecological disaster.

A big reason why “The Last Winter” isn't scarier is that the cast of characters never really come to life. Fessenden makes some token attempts to expand the characters, with that old chestnut the love triangle. Hoffman is currently dating Abbey Sellers, one of the scientist working with the oil company. She use to date Pollock. The company man is baffled by what she sees in the emotional, sensitive environmentalist. The two men continue to argue about this connection of their's, even as the marauding moose monsters are closing in around them. It's a rather silly plot point, obviously inserted to beef up the characters some.

Still, the movie does feature a decent cast. Ron Perlman is top-billed as Pollock. This is the kind of role Perlman excels at, a gruff asshole who remains strangely likable largely because he's charming in his smart-ass ways. James LeGros is effectively grim as Hoffman, a man slowly cracking under the pressure of of what he's witnessing. A scene where he explains his atheism is a good moment for both the actor and the character. Kevin Corrigan has a decent role as Motor, the team mechanic whose smart-alack delivery makes him something like the film's comic relief. Connie Nielson, as Abbey, is largely reduced to being the peace-keeper between the men. Nielson is a likable actor though and makes the most of what she's given.

”The Last Winter” was Fessenden's biggest budget yet, the movie costing seven million dollars. The money is definitely on the screen, as that real life location is a big reason why the movie works at all. Ultimately, “The Last Winter” is a movie I want to like more than I actually do. The premise is really cool, the isolated setting is so very creepy, its use of environmental anxieties are potent, and there are several effectively spooky moments. However, the thinly sketched characters and an approach to its supernatural threat that is somehow both too vague and too in-your-face keeps the movie from being sturdier. [Grade: B-]

Director Report Card: Larry Fessenden (2001)

3. Wendigo

“Wendigo” is the first Larry Fessenden movie I had ever heard of. The movie came out on DVD around the time when I was first beginning to pay attention to movies, horror in particular. As I was aware of the mythological concept of the wendigo – I read Marvel comics as a kid, after all – the film's title really stuck out to me. It was also one of my earliest exposure to a truly divisive movie. Horror fans seemed to react to “Wendigo” in a love-it-or-hate-it fashion, with the movie earning some raves but also plenty of drubs too. When I finally got around to seeing the movie a few years later, I understood this reaction. “Wendigo” shows Fessenden's style evolving in more extreme directions.

Married couple Kim and George are heading up to a vacation home in the Catskills Mountain, their young son Miles accompanying them. While driving up a wintry road, they strike a deer with their car. The buck was being chased by a hunter named Otis. When he sees that the animal's rack has been damaged in the collision, he becomes angry. After the family arrives at the cabin, they soon discovers that Otis may still be harassing them. Miles, meanwhile, continues to be haunted by the image of the dying deer. While in town, an old Indian shaman hands him a small statue of a wendigo, a monster from Algonquian mythology. As danger soon closes in, Miles suspects the wendigo is stalking him and his family.

As with “No Telling” and “Habit,” “Wendigo” shows Larry Fessenden putting his own riff on a well-worn horror concept. The movie squarely belongs to the story type of urbanites venturing from the city to the countryside, only to be tormented by depraved locals. The film is set far too north to be a true example of redneck horror but Fessenden still draws a sharp societal line between his refined, intellectual protagonists and his shit-kicking antagonists. This is not the only horror cliches “Wendigo” is riffing on. The film also features a mysterious shop clerk who wasn't there before and isn't there afterwards. The film opens with the shot of a Wolf Man action figure and “Wendigo” is sort of a werewolf movie, as its about man's beastly side showing through his human appearance.

“No Telling” certainly got some mileage out of the isolation of its country setting. “Wendigo” pushes that element even further. The film is set in the snowy forest. We frequently hear the chilly wind blowing through the sparse tree tops. Mysterious footsteps are spotted in the freshly fallen snow. Snow willows up into the air, creating white clouds. A forest at night can be spooky enough. When you cover it in snow and ice, that sense of isolation is only increased. The film only increases this by continually violating the safety of the family's vacation home. We see bullet holes punched in glasses, a hole drilled in the wall. Everywhere Kim and George goes, the creeping winter – and the very human monsters it contains – threaten to get inside.

As his first two features made apparent, Larry Fessenden movies are never just about the monster movie premises they proclaim to feature. They are usually making some deeper point. From its opening act of violence, “Wendigo” is clearly a polemic against multiple types of toxic masculinity. Otis the hunter is extremely angry with George for stealing the act of killing a deer, murdering an innocent animal, from him. He proceeds to belittle and passive-aggressively harasses the intellectual, artistic George. Otis is also obsessed with firearms, carrying guns of multiple types with him everywhere. He uses his bullets to pierce George and Kim's winter home, and eventually decides their "crimes" – disrupting his ritual of macho bloodshed, of bloody self-actualization – must be punished with death.

If the primary threat inside “Wendigo” is explicitly male, it's also explicitly white. “Wendigo” is another movie from a white filmmaker, about a white family being attacked by a creature from Native American mythology. There's even a moment where a wise old Indian informs a little white kid about the titular entity. Yet Fessenden is at least partially aware of the uncomfortable disconnect here. The small village was built upon another community, when the area was flooded for an artificial lake. The same way all of this land, this country, was built upon Native societies. As in “No Telling,” Fessenden zeroes in on animals being abused by people. The hunting of deer are depicted as cruel, senseless. Later, we see a horde of dead, skinned rabbits. The wendigo is later depicted as deer-like, seemingly getting revenge on those that killed the deer in the opening scene. So the Native American spirit is a deer, just like those senselessly killed by men who are trying to prove their own fragile masculinity. In other words, the deer become symbols of the displaced, hunted Native population, striking back at the imperialistic invaders that have intruded in their country.

Unless, of course, I'm reading way too much into it. Because Fessenden puts his own spin on the legendary wendigo. Like too many storytellers, Fessenden reduces the Algonquian spirit of cannibalism to a generic Native American monster. The unending hunger of the wendigo is mentioned only in passing, Fessenden focusing more on the creature's shape-shifting abilities. The spirit's association with winter and the cold is floating around inside the movie but never made explicit. Instead, Fessenden makes the Wendigo both tree-like and deer-like, a weird pop culture connotation that emerged somewhere along the line that has nothing to do with actual descriptions of the wendigo. Though at least Fessenden didn't just make the monster a furry, Bigfoot thing.

Despite not having much to do with the mythological wendigo” there is something elemental about the film's treatment of its monster. There's no attempt to rationalize or explain the creature. The wendigo exists apart from humanity. Though we can guess at them, its exact motives remain mysterious and impossible to decipher. Why does it act as attacker sometimes and protector other times, threatening Miles and his father in one scene before seemingly destroying Otis on the boy's behalf? We simply do not know. Maybe that's just sloppy writing or maybe Fessenden was intentionally invoking an otherworldly threat. Either way, “Wendigo's” approach to its titular monster is certainly more interesting than most movies about mythological ideas, that attempt to explain the spiritual with the scientific.

Whatever his more ornate intentions were, Fessenden definitely wanted “Wendigo” to be a scary movie. The occasionally flashy or showy camera and editing techniques he showed in his first two features come on even stronger here. There's some distracting handheld camera work in the earlier scenes, especially those devoted to deer lingering near the snow-choked roads. The film wants to create an atmosphere of freaky dread. It does this with a number of artsy visuals. Shots of the house's interior rotated jaggedly around the building, like snapshots. At one point, the camera zooms in and freeze-frames on Miles' eye. Static-y images are overlaid atop each other. Moments like these draw a little too much attention to themselves.

If “Wendigo” has its big problem, that's one of them. Though the film desperately wants to be scary, it simply is not. The low budget is a determent there. There are two physical manifestations of the wendigo: A rough approximation of a deer-headed man made from interlocking tree branches, referred to in the credits as “Twiggy,” and the were-deer monster that appears in the last act. None of these are convincing special effects. But I'm not sure either would be scary even if the effects were better. Both are simply goofy designs. The way Fessenden presents the latter monster in particular, often via jerky, rock video style editing, doesn't disguise the essential silliness of the design. A similar shot of a dead deer jerking to life or a twitching man leaping off the operating table and screaming even veers towards unintentional laughter.

While his parents get top billing, Miles truly is the protagonist of “Wendigo.” That's another reason the film begins by focusing in on his toys. The movie is largely told from a child's perspective. We see his nightmares, which are among the film's more effective surreal moments. The threat of loosing his parents, every child's greatest fear, is what drives much of the movie's tension. Miles is played by Erik Per Sullivan, best known to a generation of TV watchers as Dewey on “Malcolm in the Middle.” Funnily enough, Sullivan maintains the same delivery he perfected as Dewey here, a very spacey kid that is oddly observant of the world around him. Which actually works pretty well for “Wendigo.”

“Wendigo” stars Patricia Clarkson and Jake Weber, among the most well-known performers Fessenden had worked with up to this point. Weber's George is a deeply neurotic character, insecure about his profession as a photographer for advertisement. Yet he has decent chemistry with Sullivan as his son, making the emotional center of the film more believable. Clarkson is even better as Kim, an intelligent woman who is usually under control except when situations push her too far. The two also share a surprisingly graphic love scene, which I'm sure serves some greater purpose in Fessenden's filmic thesis.

I don't think “Wendigo” is as scary or ultimately involving as Fessenden's previous two features. However, it is certainly an interesting horror movie. It's got some spooky atmosphere and a head full of fascinating ideas, even if the whole never quite hangs together. It would appear to be the director's most well-known film, most likely because he was somehow the first director to actually make a movie entitled after the well-known mythological monster. (Though that didn't matter much to audiences, as Wikipedia drolly describes the film as “not a major box office attraction.”) It won't appeal to everyone but adventurous horror fans should give it a chance. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Larry Fessenden (1995)

2. Habit

As I said earlier, Larry Fessenden began his film career shooting underground movie on video as part of his local, New York City art scene. Most of these shorts were under ten minutes but a few of them were a bit longer. 1981's “A Face in the Crowd” is about an hour long. So is 1989's “Hollow Venus: Diary of a Go-Go Dancer.” One of of these more elaborate early films was 1981's “Habit.” Fessenden must have been fond of this particular short because, a decade later, he would remake “Habit” as a feature film.

Sam is a bit of a mess right now. He's recently split up with his girlfriend, Liza. His father has past away from mysterious circumstances. He's living in a slum apartment in a bad part of New York City and working as a waiter in an even sleazier bar. All of this stress is causing him to grow increasingly dependent on alcohol. It's in this mind frame that he meets Anna, at a Halloween party of a mutual friend. She is mysterious and sexy, immediately hooking up with Sam. The two start a whirlwind relationship. Sam soon notices that Anna likes to bite him and drink his blood during sex. As his grip on sanity starts to slip, he begins to increasingly suspect that Anna is a vampire.

With “No Telling,” Larry Fessenden reinvented the mad scientist premise through the lens of ecological concerns. With “Habit,” he reinterprets another classic horror concept through another socially conscious idea. “Habit” is a vampire movie about addiction. Sam's dependency on booze, drowning out the pain of life, is rather explicitly compared to Anna's need to drink blood. Sam grows increasingly sick as Anna feeds on him more and more, which his friends just assume is a result of his worsening alcoholism. Is he constantly hung over because his blood is getting sucked away a little at a time? Or because he can never put away the bottle? The film itself seems to want to keep this ambiguous, as it ends with the suggestion that Anna might not have existed at all. (Even though the story clearly contradicts that possibility several times, when other people acknowledge her.)

Fessenden is hardly the first person to draw a comparison between vampirism and drug addiction, so “Habit” isn't exactly touching on new ground there. The film is more interesting when read as being about an especially toxic relationship. Sam and Anna leap into a relationship quickly, things getting sexual on the very first date. From there, she's forcing herself into his life as much as possible. She shows up uninvited while he's out with other friends. When visiting the same friends over Thanksgiving, Anna also appears out of the blue. She crashes his dad's funeral. When Sam insists on taking a break, Anna won't take no for an answer. And so, a vampire stalking its prey and a clingy, obsessive relationship become practically indistinguishable from each other.

Yet the vampire is a symbol of something else in “Habit.” Sam is haunted by the past. It's suggested that he never recovered from his mother's death, which occurred when he was only a boy. The more recent death of his emotionally distant, misanthropic father has only drudged up more of those memories. Sam is also having trouble letting go of Liza, the two meeting up for lunch or talking on the phone a few times throughout the film. As if things couldn't be made anymore obvious, Sam's dad was also an archaeologist, someone literally preoccupied with digging up the past. A pivotal moment directly links Anna with that profession. Like the vampire, Sam's past is dead but not quite settled and continues to linger over his present.

As much as “Habit” wants to utilize the vampire as a symbol, it's also refreshingly direct with its movie monster. In its own way, “Habit” plays a lot of the classical vampire tropes totally straight. Anna's bloodsucking is directly linked with sex, the two often occurring at the same time. She also has a bond with wolves. She can't enter a building without being invited. She finds the smell of garlic intolerable. She doesn't like the sun much. She seemingly cast no reflection. The film even hints that she doesn't like running water, when she's forced to step out of the rain. A crucifix is busted out at one point. Like Carmilla, she attempts to seduce men and women alike. Like Dracula, she arrives in the city via boat. Like all vampires, she is a nocturnal visitor, creeping into Sam's bedroom as a shadowy wisp to take his blood in his sleep, the film directly addressing the sleep paralysis origins of the vampire myth. It's pretty cool that “Habit” is so clearly a post-modern deconstruction of the vampire concept but also knows all the traditional rules too.

While “No Telling” was set in the countryside, “Habit” is set in the grimiest parts of New York City. Sam is introduced wandering through the streets of the city, everything around him looking dirty and pest-infested. All the apartments in this film seem to be darkly lit and cluttered up with junk. More than once, we see food rotting away in sinks. At his job in the bar, Sam notices a cockroach twitching and dying on the kitchen floor. “Habit” captures a pretty scuzzy atmosphere and that extends to the movie's sex scenes, which are unapologetic in their graphic content, showing human bodies humping away on floors and roof tops. This approach certainly grounds “Habit” as a gritty tale of addiction and madness amid a decaying modern metropolis.

Having successfully made a scary horror movie with “No Telling,” we already know Larry Fessenden can make a creepy movie. Yet, with “Habit,” you feel him kind of struggling to create a genuine horror film. I mean, yes, obviously this is a horror movie. Its frightening sequences are even pretty effective. Sam has a bizarre nightmare where he runs through the city streets nude, eventually coming to a derelict boat inhabited with mocking ghosts of the people in his life. The best scene is that nighttime visitation from Anna, where she appears as a “Nosferatu”-style shadow or phantasm that creeps above his bed. By the time the final act arrives, where the vampire is breaking into Sam's apartment and he's desperately trying to fight her off, “Habit” even becomes thrilling. Yet some of the quote-unquote scary scenes in the movie draw too much attention to themselves, like that sequence of Sam and Anna being chased by “wolves” – dogs with bike reflector eyes – through the park, which is more silly than scary.

If you didn't already know, now is the time to mention it. In addition to writing, directing, and editing, Larry Fessenden also stars in “Habit.” It's common knowledge now that the director is actually a pretty decent actor. Not blessed with movie star looks, Fessenden has a compellingly eccentric screen presence. He plays Sam as a guy slowly being consumed by his bad habits and his demons, Fessenden doing a good job of portraying someone just barely trying to hold it together. His acting is at its best near the end, when Sam truly starts to crack up and Anna's vampiric intentions begin to close in on him. Fessenden panics on screen well and it helps increases the tension of the last act.

Starring alongside Fessenden is the mysterious Meredith Snaider as Anna. Much like the director, Snaider is also reprising her role from the 1981 original “Habit.” These are her only film roles. Which is surprising, as Snaider is clearly quite talented. She has an eerie sensuality to her that is perfect for playing a vampire. She slithers and creeps in an animal-like fashion, those eyes casting bedroom glances at our hero and, by extension, the audience. That ravenous hunger becomes even more apparent as she bares her fangs more and more, becoming a believably dangerous vampire. She's also funny and fashionable, looking especially sleek in sunglasses and a leather trench coat.

“Habit” does have its flaws though. “No Telling,” though ultimately disturbing, still had a pretentious streak and a somewhat meandering pace. “Habit” only continues these issues. Nearly two hours long, the film's story includes a number of unnecessary detours, such as Sam and a friend going swimming on a beach or going on a long car drive. In fact, those friends are another problem the movie has. Aaron Beall and Patricia Coleman as Nick and Rae come off as fairly obnoxious, artsy-fartsy hipster types. Neither are especially convincing actors and both, but Beall especially, perform their characters in broad and shouting fashions.

Another flaw “Habit” shares with “No Telling” is a bad tendency to explain itself to the audience.  Just like in that movie, the film eventually features a conversation that spells out most of the subtext of what's happening on-screen. While Sam is trying to explain to Nick that Anna is an actual, actual vampire, Nick rebuttals that vampires – people who want to take something from you – are everywhere. Also, that he's drinking too much. Obviously, Larry knows that the audience watching his films must be pretty smart. So why does he feel the need to include such obvious, on-point conversations in his first two features?

”Habit” could quite possibly be considered Larry Fessenden's breakthrough film. While “No Telling” was largely overlooked, now and then, “Habit” would receive quite a few decent notices from critics. It won a couple of festival awards and was even nominated for a few Independent Spirit Awards. (This film also got shown on IFC fairly often, back when that network was still good.) While I think the film lacks the unnerving power of “No Telling,” it is a pretty clever and well made variation on the vampire concept. [Grade: B]