Halloween 2024: October 29th

Strange Darling (2024)

Roughly ten thousand horror movies come out a year. This genre attracts seriously devoted fans but sheer volume means titles still get overlooked. Did you know the Soska Sisters made a straight-to-Tubi zombie flick with the little Catwoman from “Gotham” this year? Me neither! Anyway, there are definitely levels of “overlooked” in this genre though. I saw a tweet a while back that said “Strange Darling” was overlooked. The film got great reviews from the industry websites and pulled in a decent amount of buzz among the fandom. But it didn't make “Terrifier” money, which I guess means it's an underperformer. Well, I never forget a title and I've had “Strange Darling” on my list since it started to grab positive notices on the festival circuit not too long ago. Let's sneak this one in before October is over. 

The opening narration promises that the film depicts the final hours of an infamous serial killer's rampage. A woman, identified as only The Lady, speeds away in a vehicle from a man pursuing her. Following a car accident, she runs into the woods where the man stays on her trail. She arrives at the home of a pair of eccentrics and hides within. This chase began the night before in a seedy hotel, the man and woman met up for some casual sex. This quickly escalated to a game of erotic roleplay, both parties soon arguing over who is truly in control. “Strange Darling's” structure continues to leap back and forth through time, as it reveals more of what led up to these moments and the true identities of both people.

I try to avoid spoilers as best as I can, especially when writing about relatively new releases, but it will be very difficult to talk about "Strange Darling" without ruining its central twist. Turn back off you want to go into this motion blind. "Strange Darling" is, essentially, a game of misdirection being played between the viewer and the filmmaker. Everything in the opening sequence is designed to make us think the man is the the aggressor, frenzied snorting cocaine as he chases after the desperate female or presented as a violent lunatic in a black-and-white image. The non-linear story structure intentionally gives the impression that the man is murdering random people as he pursues his ultimate target. As the film backtracks between its various chapters, we quickly discover this is not exactly the case. The film is a classic switch-a-roo, the apparent prey actually being the predator all along. Writer/director JT Mollner is intentionally using our preconceived notions about horror films – and, indeed, life in general – to try and catch us off-guard. We expect the fleeing woman to be the victim and the gun-totting man to be the killer. If your brain has been poisoned by watching too many movies and learning about basic story structure like me, the incoming twist will be a lot easier to anticipate. Nevertheless, I must admit that "Strange Darling's" swerve is nicely orchestrated. Beginning in the middle, leaping ahead, before returning to the start is a clever way to keep us guessing and looking for signs of the grim truth to come. As an exercise in non-linear storytelling and subversion of cinematic tropes, "Strange Darling" is reasonably well executed. 

The question must be asked though: To what purpose is this trickery invoked? It's tempting to compare "Strange Darling" to movies like "Hard Candy" or "Gone Girl," which play with expectations in order to make points about gender roles, capital punishment, or the media. What deeper reasoning is there to "Strange Darling's" twisting story? The woman asks the man to handcuff her and choke her, while roleplaying as a serial killer and his victim. Which certainly suggests a criticism of how we immediately assume men are the perpetrators of violence and women are the victims of it. Once the twist comes, you assume there's a feminist angle here, of a woman striking back at the patriarchal structures. Except our killer lady is unambiguously presented as a villain, the apparently murderous man actually being a hero. When the time comes to reveal any reasoning at all to the Lady's killing spree, the script provides a single line with vague connotations. There's no attempt to delve deeper into her warped psyche. This is paired with a frankly embarrassing scene where a female cop immediately believes the woman is in crisis and the reasonable male authority figure questions the scenario. In other words, "Strange Darling" flips our expectations on its head to prove that... Women are villains sometimes and men are victims sometimes? That we should... Doubt women and believe men? Is this some half-assed anti-#MeToo propaganda? What the fuck kind of message is that? 

Giving Mollner the benefit of the doubt and assuming he's not some sort of Men's Rights Activist, "Strange Darling" exists as a technical exercise. A title card proudly proclaims the movie was shot on 35mm film while the opening scroll obviously recalls "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre." The timeline shifting, chaptered structure brings "Pulp Fiction" and the dozens of Tarantino imitators that followed in its path to mind. The film screws around with editing, a prominent indie rock soundtrack, and split diopter shots. In other words, "Strange Darling" is some smart-assed film school bullshit. As far as examples of such self-indulgent theatrics go, it's well done. Willa Fitzgerald and Kyle Gallner make convincing leads, the former almost successfully selling the movie's deception while the latter gives a nicely physical performance. The headshots and throat stabbings catch you off-guard. I definitely wanted to know more about the old hippy couple living in the woods, played by Ed Begley Jr.  and Barbara Hershey. The details we learn about their lives – a belief in Sasquatch, a hobby of assembling old jigsaw puzzles, a thought-out shared history – adds a lot of color to the movie's middle section. All of this suggests that "Strange Darling" could have been a fleshed-out story if it wasn't so enamored of its own twists and turns. 

Ultimately, "Strange Darling" has some stylish filmmaking on its side and a decent pair of lead performances, in service of a smug story that never actually says much. Ironically, the strong first act suggests a straight-forward chase story – similar to John Hyams' "Alone" – without all the narrative fuckery probably would have made for a better movie. Alternatively, if the roleplay element of the story was embraced more, we might have gotten an interesting story about power dynamics, such as in "Sanctuary" or "Piercings." Instead, "Strange Darling" refuses to make any coherent point about gender at all and mostly exists as a testament to the "cleverness" of its own twist. And it's a decent twist but a feature length film needs more than that, which Mollner and his team stubbornly refuses to provide. An extra point for an effective use of "Love Hurts," despite that being probably the most obvious pop standard you could include a lo-fi cover of in your indie thriller about a hook-up gone horribly wrong. [6/10]

Doomsday Machine (1972)

It is easy to overlook this fact but, during the original five year run of "Movie Macabre," Elvira actually did host some good movies. I don't know if weathered, forty year old VHS recordings of Elvira introducing "Peeping Tom," "Masque of the Red Death" or "Village of the Damned" are out there somewhere. The handful of commercial releases the original broadcasts have gotten are usually of the public domain movies – or at least very, very cheap to acquire movies – she presented. That was certainly the case with the handful of installments Shout! Factory put out on disc like a decade ago, releases that can still be found in thrift stores to this day. Most of the titles on those sets were for less-than-sterling motion pictures like "Monstroid" or "Frankenstein's Castle of Freaks." "Doomsday Machine," a forgotten attempt at a sci-fi thriller from 1972, is another such example. But I watched "Werewolf of Washington" the other day so I suppose there's no reason not for me to talk about the other presentation in that same double feature. 

In the far-flung future year of 1975, U.S. spies use cat throwing and pigtail assisted homicide to sneak into a Chinese laboratory. Inside, they find a device that, if activated, could start a nuclear chain reaction that would destroy the world. The military immediately commandeers a manned space flight to Venus, forcing the all-male crew to include three female scientists. (Including a Soviet one.) This is to have a breeding population in space, should the worst happen. Well, it does. For reasons that aren't explained, the Chinese government activated the doomsday device and wipe out all life on Earth. Now, the crew of the Astra are the only humans left alive. They wrestle with the philosophical implications of this while encountering new perils on their way to Venus. 

Production on "Doomsday Machine" began in 1967, with Herbert J. Leder in the director's chair, before money ran out. The footage languished on a shelf for five years before minimal funds where found to at least complete the film in some form. I say "in some form" because the new team, led by Harry Hope and Lee Shalom, did not have access to the original cast or sets. The change over when this happens is blatantly obvious. The last fifteen minutes of the movie features the characters wearing face obscuring space helmets and communicating exclusively through radio coms, their voices sounding notably different. This final act also involves several new plot developments previously unheard on the way to a truly baffling and deeply underwhelming ending. I suspect the special effects sequences of the ship flying through space and the destruction of Earth were also the result of the 1972 reshoots... Mainly because they are all made up of stock footage from other movies, mostly Ishiro Honda's "Gorath" and David L. Hewitt's "The Wizard of Mars." This is very apparent, partially because the effects shots from "Gorath" look much better than anything else in the movie, but mostly because no attempt was made to match the different space ships across all the stock footage. The Astra inexplicably changed shape and form all throughout "Doomsday Machine's" runtime. 

Not that the stolen effects shots and bizarre non-ending make that much of a difference. All of "Doomsday Machine" is paced like molasses rolling down a hillside, moving with a deeply drab and almost otherworldly stiltedness that makes the entire film feel like an sixties instructional film. The characters are all one-note and the acting is dry. Rather than attempt to build any tension from events as massive as the destruction of all life on Earth, the film rolls right along with little emotion registering. Much time is spent on droll nonsense like attempting to lighten the ship's load, dictate radiation levels, or slowly debate who should breed with whom. The only recognizable human emotions that rise to the surface in "Doomsday Machine" is a kind of pathetic horniness and a deeply unseemly resentment towards women. That the heroes are on a mission to repopulate the human race always floats under the surface, earlier scenes involving the girls changing into their underwear or teasing the guys while only wearing towels. While the film feels far too juvenile to be a sexploitation flick, the scorn and eventual violence the me show the women is far more startling. The film is so slow and uneventful – yes, I realize I'm saying that about a plot where the entire world is destroyed – that it numbs you into a sleep-like state before smacking you with an attempted rape and beating scene. 

"Doomsday Machine" is far too glacial to achieve the status of a cult classic. However, sometimes there are signs that the film could have been a campy hoot. The shiny skin-tight space suits are ideal ZeeRust nonsense. The lift-off sequence involves the crew sitting down in leather recliners while psychedelic lights wash over them. In fact, "Doomsday Machine" is oddly colorful at times, space apparently being awash with swingin' sixties lava lamp lights. The sets are extremely limited and crude but there is a funky, knock-off "Star Trek" feel to them that I kind of like. The classic sci-fi series is also invoked by the ambient sound design, full of far-off warbling and electronic space noises. Unfortunately, the film's ineptness only made me laugh once. A moment that should be dramatic, the death of two characters, is undermined by some extremely goofy attempts to replicate zero gravity and depressurization. 

"Doomsday Machine" being an incomplete sixties film, dusted off in the early seventies and stapled together with some stock footage and crushingly slow new scenes, is difficult not to notice. If the movie had seen release when originally planned, it still would've felt like a throwback to fifties sci-fi. That feeling was amplified by 1972, creating a dull experience that feels truly out of time. One assumes "Doomsday Machine" was intended to capitalize on space race mania and Cold War tension but was sunk by its complete inability to be interesting and total lack of excitement. This is the kind of low budget schlock deeply improved by Elvira's quibs and gags, all of which are decently sharp. I'm also shocked it was never featured on "Mystery Science Theater 3000," given its public domain status, but it was featured on quasi-revival series "Cinematic Titanic," if you want a good idea of what a riffed version of the film would feel like. Better yet, "Doomsday Machine" would be a great option to put on if you're struggling to get to sleep. Never before has the extinction of the human race and the Earth dying in nuclear hellfire been such a soothing nap aide. One extra point for the cat tossing and hilarious zero-G acting. [3/10]

Love, Death & Robots: The Witness

One of the most freeing aspects of "Love, Death, and Robots," Tim Miller and David Fincher's animated sci-fi anthology, is that the episodes are not confined to one specific runtime. The episode I watched last year was comparable to a standard TV time slot while "The Witness" runs all of twelve minutes. It's the right length for this story: In a rather "Blade Runner"-like city, a woman is doing her makeup on a hotel room. A loud noise alerts her to something happening in the apartment across the street. Seemingly, she has witnessed a man committing a murder. She flees, the apparent assassin in hot pursuit. The woman arrives at her job, as a dancer in some sort of bondage-themed strip club/brothel, unaware that the killer has followed her there. She grabs a pistol from her boss' room and the chase begins again, the man drawing ever closer. 

As I detailed last year, "Love, Death & Robots" arose out of an attempt to make a new film out of French magazine, "Heavy Metal." That publication was well known for two things: Introducing the highly detailed, often surreal artwork of visionaries like Moebius and Richard Corben to the west. On a more puerile level, the comic was also notorious for featuring lots of nudity and sex, far beyond what was permissible in American comics at the time. "The Witness" definitely draws as much, if not more so, from the latter instinct as the former. The female protagonist having the job of a stripper involves her slithering out of a dress, eventually thrusting her body directly at the viewer. While this is happening, the male antagonist has two sex droids of some sort, clad in fetish gear, squirming all over him. The entire last act of the story involves the female lead being clad only in an open robe, her naked body often exposed. This story being so preoccupied with the idea of being watched and observed suggests the flesh on display, and the main character being a sex worker, serves a purpose. She sees and is seen in turn, both seeking and sought after. Yet I also don't think "The Witness" is making a coherent point about women being objectified. I think the filmmakers involved – one of which is Alberto Mielgo, who won an Oscar for pretentious bullshit "The Windshield Wiper" and was a visual consultant on "Into the Spider-Verse" – probably wanted to see some cartoon titties and bush too.

Luckily, "The Witness" has more going for it than just the titillation of computer generated nudity. The animation style is definitely akin to "The Windshield Wiper," taking the same sort of unusual angles to many of the scenes and a somewhat blurry, out-of-focus visual approach. It works a lot better here, helping to capture the disorganized quality of being on the run and the adrenaline of the chase. As in "Spider-Verse," there's also some brief flashes of traditional animation and comic book style sound effects layered over the CGI visuals, which adds an interesting effect. As a twelve minute piece of story telling, "The Witness" is intriguing and mildly suspenseful. Even though I wish we got a little more of the sci-fi setting and that the ironic twist ending wasn't projected so far in advance by the beginning. [7/10]

The Fall (2019)

Earlier this year, Jonathan Glazer's “The Zone of Interest” would win Oscars for Best International Film and Best Sound. It was a haunting film, more than one review comparing it to a horror movie. While his sci-fi mind-bender “Under the Skin” is probably Glazer's most proper entry into the horror genre, there is another example. “The Fall” is a seven minute short film Glazer directed for A24 in 2019. It concerns a panicked man hiding in a tree from a pursuing mob. Each person wears masks, depicting faces locked in grimacing expressions. The attackers pull the man from the tree, snap a photo of him, and strap him into a gallows. The trap door is opened and the man falls into a seemingly bottomless pit, the others watching patiently until the rope falls out of sight.

Yes, “The Fall” is another short film that falls – if you'll excuse the pun – into the artsy-fartsy domain. Like much of Glazer's work, “The Fall” does capture a properly unsettling, nightmare like tone. The basic gist of the short, of many pursuing one, could certainly have come out of any nightmare. As is the idea that this mob is attacking this single man – whose innonence is represented by his mask having a remorseful face – for no discernable reason. The masks remind me of Japanese Noh masks, in the way they freeze the human face in one expression. Such a simple but undoubtedly uncanny distortion of the commonplace is another element out of a bad dream. Ideas like a pit we fall into forever would be dismissed by the waking mind but is exactly the kind of thing the subconscious mind would literally dream up.

Something else “The Fall” has in common with Glazer's other work is how precisely it is assembled, in its sounds and visuals. The score, from Glazer's regular collaborator Mica Levi, is an oppressive soundscape of mounting noise and groan-like exclamations. The mumbling shouts of the crowd, the winding of the rope as it slides off the gallows, and the tree swaying are all carefully placed to produce a direct response. Tom Debenham's cinematography is rich and dark, often seemingly adopting the point of view of an unseen observer. As if we are stumbling upon some horrible ritual in the forest at night, unaware of its meaning but surely knowing it's very bad. 

And for all these reasons and more, “The Fall” is an effective and disquieting burst of nightmare imagery. Now, what does it all mean? Most seem to read the film as symbolic of fascism, seeing parallels in the way a non-conformist is attacked by a faceless but identical mob. Considering Glazer cites a photograph of Trump's sons with an animal they killed as an inspiration, I'm sure this was no doubt intentional. Yet the visuals presented here are vague that you could read just about any meaning into them that you want. “The Fall” is probably best absorbed as an exercise in straight dream logic, recalling feelings and ideas without any specific destination behind them. I do know that, despite its potent visuals and expert production, “The Fall” struck me as incomplete. As if it's a prologue to a longer story, that ends just when it seems to really get moving. Simply put, it's a striking exercise in sound and images that didn't resonate with me on a deeper level. I guess it goes that way sometimes. [6/10]

Halloween 2024: October 28th

The Substance (2024)

If you are willing to dig deep enough, every year is a good year for horror. Thinking more specifically, if you stay in touch with the indie scene and don't judge merely based on what is playing at the multiplexes, you're likely to find lots of fantastic offerings in any given year. However, 2024 has been an especially good year for indie horror at the box office. As I type this, an unrated gore-fest made entirely outside the studio system is hacking up the top ten. NEON and A24 continue to make break-through hits with smart marketing. Most recently, arthouse digital distributor MUBI has proven the power of buzz-worthy genre films at the box office with “The Substance,” which has become a word-of-mouth hit and stuck around in theaters far longer than niche pictures like this usually do. “The Substance” has already been hotly debated but the simple fact remains: People are seeing it and talking about it. I'm a little behind, as usual, but it's my turn to weigh in.

Elizabeth Sparkle was once the toast of Hollywood, with awards and fame to her name. That was a long time ago. Now, she hosts a morning exercise show that is slipping in the ratings. On account of producers desiring a younger star, her show is canceled. Feeling despondent, she receives a tip about a new product called the Substance. She must go to a secluded locker to retrieve the order, a dispassionate voice on the phone informing her of the product's rules. She injects herself and a younger, sexier version emerges from Elizabeth's back. Her original self rendered catatonic, the new and improved model – who takes the name Sue – immediately finds fame and success in Sparkle's old timeslot. The conditions of the Substance dictate that “Sue” must trade places with Elizabeth every other week. Hungry to be loved and adored more, Sue begins to bend the rules... Which immediately has gruesome, horrifying side effects.

“The Substance” comes to us from Coralie Fargeat, previously of “Revenge.” That film aggressively shook up the formula of the rape/revenge premise. Fargeat's latest attacks the systemic issues of youth, vanity, and women being disregarded by the entertainment industry with similar ferocity. The point it makes are not subtle. Shortly after Sparkle's introduction, the grotesque face of a shrieking male exec is shoved into the camera. In a later scene, he's scarfing down on shrimp in the most disgusting manner possible. Later, Fargeat cuts from a close-up of a woman's perfectly shaped buttocks to a less appealing male buttocks. In other words: Women are subjected to beauty standards that men simply don't have to deal with. This ties into other commonly observed points, about how women are judged much more harshly when aging, how women's values are attuned to their appearance, and how Hollywood is obsessed with beauty and abhors ugliness. These points are thrown at us via over-the-top satirical exaggeration. 

No, “The Substance” isn't subtle. However, Fargeat's film isn't merely taking potshots at the obvious inequalities we are all very aware of in Hollywood. Instead, this is a far more personal story about self-hatred. Sparkles – played by a fearless Demi Moore – obsesses over her own image as much as the industry does. She stares at her own body in the mirror. After getting a date with an old high school body, she smears her face with make-up over and over again before staying inside. After Sue – Margauret Qualey, a vision – emerges, Elizabeth begins to judge herself harsher than before. She sinks into self-destruction, resenting her better looking half. This is despite the mysterious voice on the phone assuring her that Sparkles and Sue are one. They are same person. However, Sparkles inability to love herself – an internalizing of Hollywood' brutal beauty standards – is ultimately what pushes her to more extreme actions. “The Substance” is an indictment of Hollywood's treatment of women but it explores that theme through the the more personal lens of self-hatred. 

Whatever criticism you can leverage at “The Substance's” lack of subtly, you can't deny that the film embraces it. Benajamin Kracun's cinematography is highly stylized. It switches between extreme close-ups and the characters standing in the distance amid the highly stylized sets. Gliding camerawork carries one scene into another, often paired with Raffertie's aggressive electronic dance score. That lends a propulsive effect to many of the sequences, often centering around Qualley's expertly sculpted gluteus maximus as she writhes and bounces about many scenes. As “The Substance” grows more grotesque, this directorial style begins to feel like a hammer to the head. Every gross-out hits with maximum strength between the carefully constructed editing and often unrelenting visuals. By the blood and pus filled finale, “The Substance” makes you feel properly assaulted, feeling like one hell of an experience. 

The fact that “The Substance” has crossed over to some degree of mainstream success is what surprises me the most. This movie is, ya know, pretty fucked-up. It attacks the body horror element with the same over-the-top vigor that is approaches its satire with. This results in one shockingly gross sequence after another. Notably images like multiple eyeballs swishing around inside one socket or a tumor appearing on an ass cheek is the movie only getting started. The emergence of a turkey leg seemed to be the nastiest scene... Until “The Substance” kicks further into gear in its second half, throwing one misshapen body part after another at us. By the finale, the film is reaching levels of spurting fluids and malformed flesh that would put a Troma movie to shame. It's over-the-top, vile, disgusting, and holy shit did I love it. That a movie can still make me wince is a sign that I appreciate it. 

Since the Discourse moves so quickly these days, a certain contingency has already decided that “The Substance” is overrated. Or that it's secretly sexist or that it's not feminist in the right ways. All the tiring ways the discussion of cinema has been reduced down to tweets and buzz words these days. That the movie might end up being an awards season contender – improbable as that seems to me, stranger things have happened – means we are only in the beginning of the great debate around “The Substance.” Whatever the consensus ends up being, it's safe to say I loved this one. Gross, endlessly stylized, very European, and a ride from beginning to end, “The Substance” certainly won't be a film I forget any time soon. [9/10]

Hellbound (1994)

Fans of action movies owe so much to Menahem Galan and Yoram Globus' Cannon Group. While they produced a number of off-beat films during their glory days, the company will forever be most associated with the hyper-macho icons of eighties action cheese. They introduced Van Damme and Dudikoff to the world. They turned Dolph into He-Man, Sly into Cobra, Sho Kosugi into a ninja, and paired Charles Bronson with Michael Winner or J. Lee Thompson for a series of increasingly sleazier shoot-em-ups. If not any of those guys, there's no action figure more associated with the studio than Chuck Norris, who made his most successful films at Cannon. By the nineties, however, the studio was not what it once was. Golan left in '89 and an endless series of mergers, lawsuits, and buyouts followed. The company would finally collapse into bankruptcy in 1994... But not before putting out one final movie, starring their most faithful star. "Hellbound" is also notable for being, as my best buddy JD always ecstatically calls it, "the movie where Chuck Norris fights the devil." Now, how am I supposed to resist that? I figured I better sneak it in before October comes to a close. 

During the crusades, King Richard would lock an emissary of the devil known as Prosatanos in a tomb somewhere in the holy lands. The magical scepter that would allow him to bring about the end of days is shattered and spread across the world. In the fifties, a pair of grave robbers would free Prosatanos, the demon setting out on a quest to find and reassemble the relic. In nineties Chicago, a rabbi and professor of folklore is brutally murdered in a sleazy apartment. Sgt. Frank Shatter and Det. Calvin Jackson investigate, discovering part of an ancient scepter at the crime scene. A link between the killings and the myths of Prosatanos soon emerges. The cops are dispatched to Israel, following a trail of violence that leads them to Professor Malcolm Lockley. Who is, obviously, Prosatanos in human form and is dangerously close to fulfilling the prophecy and bringing about the apocalypse. 

By the middle nineties, Chuck Norris was successful enough that he could exert more control over the kinds of characters he played and films he made. The ultra-violent, salacious exploitation movies that made him a star gave way to lighter, more family-friendly fair like "Top Dog," "Forest Warrior," and "Sidekicks." This was, no doubt, a reflection of Norris' far-right Christian beliefs which would find their ultimate expression in his long-running TV show, "Walker, Texas Ranger." "Hellbound" is an R-rated movie that features a demon ripping people's hearts out and a hooker getting tossed out a window. Despite that, this is squarely a product of the "Walker" era of Norris' career. Sgt. Shatter is a light-hearted hero, who tells jokes with his partner and befriends a pair of mischievous street kids while in Israel. The highlights of the film involve Norris kicking the shit out of four random intruders in his hotel room, with the amount of roundhouse kicks, spin-punches, and defenestration that you'd expect. However, Norris' talent for bone-breaking action feels repeatedly restrained. There are no shoot-outs and the evil demon from Hell is the only baddie Chuck kills. He shares an utterly chaste romance with his "Walker" co-star, Sheree J. Wilson. The film seems almost more focused on the action star cracking jokes and being a wholesome hero. This, in turn, forces Norris to emote. Which was not his strong suit, even after being a movie star for twenty years. 

The result is a tonally inconsistent, often tedious excuse for an action movie. Far too much of "Hellbound" is devoted to the comedy stylings of Calvin Levels, as Shatter's often frustrated and humiliated partner. Levels' japes and one-liners are never anything less than eye-rolling. The low-point of the film's groan-inducing comic relief is a painfully long sequence where an Israeli cab driver leads the heroes on a wacky car chase through Tel Aviv. That, and the equally long-winded scenes devoted to the pickpocketing kids, feel like scenes out of a PG family movie. Aaron Norris – not coincidentally, Chuck's brother who directed most of the movies from this part of the star's career – shoots "Hellbound" like a TV movie. George S. Clinton's score is often light-hearted, featuring a lot of clownish klezmer music. The Zionist subtext inherent in the Israeli setting, the reoccurring presence of a Jesus-like figure lurking in the background of multiple scenes, and the demonic villain irrevocably put the stink of a low-budget Christian movie all over this thing. About the only source of unintentional camp here is the homoerotism present in the cops' partnership. They argue about sleeping arrangements in their hotel room, talk about women without showing any sexual desire for them, and generally spend every scene together. Aaron throws in a few lingering close-ups of men's asses in blue jeans too, as if to confirm what the film unavoidably suggests. 

"Hellbound" has so many long, crushingly lame stretches that it's easy to overlook the rare moments that aren't bad. Norris only has two fight scenes but both are decently choreographed, despite Chuck's lack of finesse with a pre-mortem one-liner. "Hellbound" was shot by João Fernandes, Joseph Zito's go-to cinematographer who became part of Norris' crew after "Missing in Action" and "Invasion U.S.A." There are definitely moments in "Hellbound" that recall Fernandes' work on "The Prowler" and "Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter." A backlit shot of the villain standing in a temple, surrounded by mist, is a cool. A sequence where he stalks two Catholic priests on a train isn't bad. Christopher Neame is utterly ridiculous as the villain. His eyes bulge, his skullet haircut flows, his skin glistens with sweat. A cheesy reverb is added to his voice and he wears press-on nails in several scenes. Despite that, the horror stuff in "Hellbound" is competently done. The gore isn't memorable but the Satanic rituals and monster stalking scenes are all passable. If the film wasn't so deathly afraid of its exploitation movie instincts – the late, great Zoë Trilling appears as a hooker who never takes her clothes off – "Hellbound" might have been a decent time-waster. (Funny enough, Fernandes followed Norris into the world of low budget religious flicks, an amusing destination for the photographer of "Deep Throat" and "The Devil in Miss Jones.") 

In other words, "Hellbound" in no way, shape, or forms lives up to what its "Chuck Norris versus the devil" premise promises. Especially since the bad guy isn't actually the devil but the devil's errand boy. JD, you fool, you mislead me. If "Hellbound" had been made during the eighties and directed by a splatter expert like Zito, it probably would've been awesome. Being made deep in Chuck's wholesome period, with Aaron Norris' middling talent behind the camera, results in an unfortunately limp experience. Cannon's turbulent late years meant "Hellbound" didn't see general release – straight to video, unsurprisingly – until two years after it was shot, showing the sad final fate of the once-proud exploitation studio. Of the handful of horror mashups Norris appeared in across his career, this one falls far short of "Silent Rage" and "Hero and the Terror." I haven't seen that zombie movie he did since coming out of retirement as an internet meme but I'm going to guess that "Hellbound" is probably marginally better than that, on account of not co-starring Vanilla Ice. [5/10]

American Horror Stories: Ba'al

"American Horror Story" is a show I have an unearned resentment towards. Everything I've read makes it sound like a series that prioritizes shock value and a kind of self-aware outrageousness over the things that make horror interesting to me. Mostly though, I was annoyed by the program advertising itself as an "anthology." This pedantic nerd feels that label should be reserved for shows that tell a stand alone story every week, instead of devoting a season to one plot line. Yet "American Horror Story" was so popular that it changed the meaning of the phrase for a while, numerous networks debuting "anthologies" following the same one-season, one-story format. Basically, for almost a decade, I'd see the words "anthology" in a press release, get intrigued, only to see the program doing the twelve-hour runtime shit. And it was all "American Horror Story's" fault. By 2021, either real anthologies had regained a foothold in pop culture or somebody finally told Ryan Murphy he's been using the wrong word all this time. That's when a spin-off, "American Horror Stories," debuted. A genuine anthology program telling self-contained narratives, the show hasn't garnered much attention outside the pre-existing "AHS" fandom... But I figured, for the sake of fairness, I should give it a shot. 

"Ba'al" follows Liv, a rich heiress, who has been struggling to conceive a child with her actor husband, Matt. When all else fails, she's given a small fertility idol by the secretary at the clinic. She places it under their bed while having sex and, nine months later, they welcome a little boy named Aaron into the world. However, the postpartum depression hits Liv hard, as she becomes fearful that her own baby hates her. That's when she starts to see and hear strange things. Such as a demonic figure looming over Aaron's crib or threatening voices over the baby monitor. She looks up the idol and discovers it is of the demon Ba'al. Becoming increasingly convinced that an evil presence is threatening her baby, Liv slips even further into madness... But is everything as it seems?

I've never seen an episode of "American Horror Story," as it sounds like not my kind of thing. But I went into this spin-off with an open mind. "Ba'al," however, features all of the annoying quirks that seem commonplace on its mother series. Namely, an unearned pride over packing a basic cable show with this level of sex, violence, and profanity. Mostly though, I was simply stunned by how bad the writing is for this hour of television. The characters in "Ba'al" speak in exposition alone. The secretary that gifts the Ba'al idol blankly explains its purpose with little prompting. Liv, while in bed with her own husband, explains how she inherited all her wealth. A frightened maid, upon seeing the statue, warns that it's evil. From the opening minutes to the final scene, everyone in "Ba'al" exists simply to fulfil the whims of the story, usually via dropping their function through some painfully tin-eared dialogue. 

In general, the narrative is obvious and awkward in its execution. Liv never questions how strange it is that a random woman gifts her a pagan statue. When the idol begins to reappear in her home, taking on a more demonic shape each time, it never occurs to her to simply throw it away. When she belatedly looks up the symbol she's been given, she immediately finds a Wikipedia page explaining exactly what she's dealing with. A second trip to the magic user who gave her the statue has the woman pausing to explain what a grimoire is, among other laden dialogue. When the twist in the tail arrives, everybody involved flatly explains their participation like cartoonish villains. That twist, by the way, seems to be in service towards social commentary about believing women. It's the kind of satirical angle that simply cannot wait to congratulate itself, right down to using the actual word for the phenomenon this episode is about. The fucking exposition doesn't stop there either, literally continuing until the final scene. There is not an atom of wit, subtly, or emotion invested in this story. 

"American Horror Stories" clearly wasn't a cheap production, FX investing quite a lot of money into this spin-off of one of their flagship programs. Strong production values can't hide the inability to generate a decent scare. "Ba'al" mostly relies on loud jump scares, through a classical red-skinned devil leering at the heroine suddenly. When that fails, it layers on the gut ripping and implied blowjobs. This combines with acting that struck me as shockingly bad. Billie Lourd plays Liv and has exactly two modes throughout the whole episode: Dull surprise, delivering most of her dialogue monotonely, or shrieking profanity. Ronen Rubenstein is such an exaggerated douchebag that you can never believe he's real. Everything I've seen Ryan Murphy say gave me the distinct impression that he had little respect for the horror genre. "Ba'al," if it's representative of the overall quality of "American Horror Stories," suggests he also has no respect for the audience. Words like "lazy" and "dumb" don't really illustrate the lack of effort and complete contempt for the viewer that radiates from this program. [2/10]

The Sermon (2018)

If you're looking for modern horror shorts on YouTube, the options are overwhelming. Once Sturgeon's Law settles in, you realize that the majority are simply not worth your time. This is, presumably, the advantage of curator networks like CryptTV and Alter. They sort through the dross and find the gold, right? Unfortunately, I haven't personally observed this to be true. Alter is a little higher quality than its competition but most of the horror shorts showcased on these channels are formulaic jump-scare delivery machines with little else on their minds. Diamonds in the rough do exist though. Such as "The Sermon," which takes place in an isolated religious community. The pastor delivers his daily sermon, preaching fire and brimstone and decrying the "abominations" in their midst. In flashback, we see an older woman in the village has been discovered to be a lesbian. She is subsequently dragged into the woods by the townsfolks, strung up, and humiliated. Among the crowd is the pastor's daughter who is also the woman's lover. During the service, we see that the younger woman has found a way to deliver revenge against the fanatics of the church with a little help from an otherworldly force. 

Stories of cloistered off Christian communities, where the self-proclaimed pious authority figures are given free reign to abuse and manipulate their followers in the name of God, are nothing new. I already wrote about at least one film on that very topic earlier in the month. While "The Sermon" hardly breaks new ground, it is an exercise in economy. We know little of the presumed cults' habits and beliefs. From what we do see, it's easy to assume that everyone lives in fear of sinning, with any non-conformist and women in general being treated badly. "The Sermon" doesn't elaborate on what time it takes place in or most of its characters' names. However, with a handful of scenes and the use of some visual short hand, we learn everything about these people that we need to know. The Holy Word is preached, not in service of brotherhood or community, but as a bludgeon of control. With an ominous electronic score and slow, isolated shots of the empty English countryside, "The Sermon" immediately gives us an idea of what it's like to live in such a judgmental environment. 

It's also fairly obvious to guess that this is a classic horror story of comeuppance. The Bible-thumping hypocrites, who use their faith as a mask for their own sadism and a tool to enforce their tyranny, get what's coming to them. The mechanics of this revenge are not hard to predict. The ending lands this one straight in "good for her" territory. However, the presence of a briefly glimpsed supernatural entity – a shrouded figure in black lurking in the background – places this in that canon of stories about the struggle between the olde ways and modern Christian morality. Moreover, the gruesome way this revenge plays out is admittedly well done, a visceral burst of gross-out visuals that were definitely needed to give this one a little extra punch. Director Dean Puckett produces some memorable images, despite his folk horror influences being obvious. His other short, "Satan's Bite," trades in similar themes to equally good effect, so he's talented at this. His narrative feature debut, "The Severed Sun," is currently playing the festival circuit and sounds a bit like an expansion of "The Sermon." I'll have to give that one a look, whenever it arrives to the masses, based on the strength of these ten minutes. [7/10]

Halloween 2024: October 27th

Cuckoo (2024)

In 2018, German director Tilman Singer would gain a decent amount of buzz for "Luz." The possession thriller with a twisting narrative and retro soundtrack was quite good, meaning I was already in the bag for Singer's next feature. The director would team with Neon for his follow-up, "Cuckoo." The distributor managed to turn "Longlegs" into a breakout indie hit earlier in the year. With "Cuckoo" dropping a month afterwards, you can tell Neon was hopeful this could be a similar sleeper success. The film had a similarly cryptic advertising campaign, which gave away little about the plot and focused largely on eerie vibes. This didn't quite work out, the film falling just short of its seven million dollar budget at the box office, but "Cuckoo" has still emerged as one of the most notable horror releases of the year. If nothing else, the film continues Dan Stevens' run as 2024's reigning Scream King, after "Abigail" and "Godzilla X Kong."

Teenage Gretchen is still grieving the death of her mother, often leaving messages on her still active answering machine. Her father has moved on much more quickly, marrying Beth and begetting a daughter named Alma. Gretchen's half-sister suffers from a peculiar condition that causes her to have seizures. The family arrives in Bavaria, the father working for the mysterious Herr König to design a hotel. He quickly takes an interest in Gretchen and Alma. He promises to help the younger girl and gets the teenager a job at the front desk. That's when Gretchen notices strange things: Time loops, a hypnotizing shriek from the forest, women having compulsive vomiting. Most prominently, she is pursued by an inhuman seeming woman in a hood and dark glasses. Everyone insists Gretchen is crazy but, with the help of a rogue police detective, she uncovers a bizarre conspiracy. König and her little half-sister are at the center of it. 

There are times when being an obsessive movie nerd with an interest in folklore and biology can be a determent. I mean, it often is generally but, specifically, my own instincts ruined the experience of "Cuckoo" a little. The script keeps the narrative thrust close to its chest for most of the story, which the advertising did little to betray. For its first hour, "Cuckoo" certainly operates as one of those indie horror flicks where weird shit is happening, leading to apparent hallucinations for its heroine, and we don't know why yet. However, I found myself predicting the general direction of the story quickly enough. Mostly because I know what the cuckoo bird is most famous for, aside from fancy clocks. Turn away now if you want to go into "Cuckoo" with the sense of mystery it clearly demands: This is a monster movie. Singer's script is something like a science fiction update of the changeling myth, of fairies leaving their offspring with a normal family until they are old enough to be retrieved. (The script doesn't directly invoke this folklore, which was a missed opportunity, if you ask me.) I am not the kind of person who feels film-watching is a game of trying to outsmart the writer. "Cuckoo" still managed to create a properly off-center ambiance that I could appreciate. However, figuring out what is going on far before the lead characters do does drain a story like this of its suspense some. "Cuckoo" is the kind of movie designed to keep the viewer asking questions until the pivotal reveal. I guess my niche interests happened to put me one step ahead in this case. 

The main impression "Luz" made on me was a narrative structure that jumped around in time and its stylish cinematography. "Cuckoo" shows that Singer clearly has trademarks. The film does not prepare you for the time loops before they occur. In effect, this makes you wonder if the streaming service you're watching the movie on isn't glitching at first. That certainly adds to a strange atmosphere, that the presence of random vomiting spells, long stretches in other language, and weirdo close-ups on reverberating larynxes furthers along. Ultimately, I do think "Cuckoo" is better looking than it is scary. Paul Faltz' cinematography often involves long shots and swerving camera movements. This creates to a number of striking images. Such as a gun in a pillow case bursting into flames, a disorientating car crash, or a series of book shelves falling down like dominos. Singer and his team have the tools to engineer suspense and tension here, which they do succeed at from time to time. However, I would say "Cuckoo" greatly overestimates how frightening a woman with a hood and handkerchief around her head and echoing shrieking sounds are. The former is more goofy than creepy, a horror villain that reminds me of my old bubbe. As for the latter, the noise proved a bit more irritating than I think was intended. 

There's another reason "Cuckoo" didn't hook me as much as I hoped. Gretchen's character arc involves her processing the passing of her mother and accepting Alma as her new family. In an early scene, she specifics that the little girl is only kind of her sister. By the end, the plan is, these two will form a bond. Sadly, I didn't quite buy it. First off, Gretchen and Alma simply don't have that much screen time together, the younger sister remaining in the hospital for much of the runtime. Secondly, Gretchen is a somewhat thorny protagonist. She is frosty to her family, resentful of them. Clearly, her grief has put her in a bad mood. Understandable enough but the script should've made more of an effort to make us feel that pain. Instead, "Cuckoo" is always slightly distance from its characters. It's no fault of the cast. Hunter Schafer is a dependable heroine and I found the way Gretchen gains more injuries as the story goes on to be an amusingly sick joke. Dan Stevens, meanwhile, is a perfectly wicked villain as Herr König, adopting a ridiculous Hans Landa accent and being equal parts sinister, charming, intimidating, and funny in the role. 

Tilman Singer's extremely German sensibilities and a tone that prioritizes unsettling weirdness over anything else might have made "Cuckoo" less entertaining than it could have been. As I said, this is a monster movie and features a fittingly grotesque – if subtle – antagonist in its last act. The movie also ends, much to my delight, with an elaborate shoot-out. When you factor in all the gross-out puking and the chase scenes, the ingredients where here for a fine B-movie. Sadly, horror flicks that balances unironically cheap thrills and deeper ideas are not as common as they used to be. "Cuckoo" isn't bad. It's pretty good at times, honestly. Stevens happily hamming it up as a scheming mad scientist more than justifies the time spent watching. However, a more full-throated approach to the scares and a script more willing to put us in the heroine's head would've improved it substantially. Nevertheless, Singer is clearly a talented guy with an approach all his own. Hopefully he'll nail the delicate balancing act on his next movie. [6/10]

Malpertuis (1971)

Our journey around the world via different country's horror movies concludes in an unexpected place: That cozy little spot along the North Sea, nestled in the Low Countries, known as the Kingdom of Belgium. The Belgians have gifted many fine cultural exports to the globe: René Magritte, Chantal Akerman, the Smurfs, Jean-Claude Van Damme. Despite the proud state of Belgian cinema, the country has not produced too many directors best known for their work in the horror genre. Until the recent emergence of Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani, there was really only one director from that part of the world you could slap on your overly long Masters of Horror lists. That would be Harry Kümel, whose "Daughters of Darkness" is a dreamy, erotic classic and probably the best lesbian vampire movie. The same year Kümel released that film, he also completed another, more overlooked, but no less distinctive picture. Based on Jean Ray's 1943 gothic novel, "Malpertuis" did see release abroad in the early seventies, probably owing to an above-the-title appearance from Orson Welles. Usually, however, this was in a dubbed version entitled "The Legend of Doom House" that was missing a half-hour. Kümel's two hour director's cut has circulated widely for many years now, the film gaining more defenders and now being regarded as a cult classic in its own right. 

A young sailor named Jan pulls into port. He leaves his rowdy friends behind in search of his childhood home and his sister, Nancy. After discovering his home burned, he follows what he thinks is Nancy into a night club, where a man bludgeons him into unconsciousness. Jan awakens with his sister in Malpertuis, the sprawling gothic manor owned by his occultist uncle, Cassavius. The old man is sickly and knows the end is near, preparing to divide his estate up among his heirs. He hopes Jan will take up his position as head of the household and leader of the group of eccentrics that call Malpertuis their home. However, the inheritance comes with one condition: All rights to the family fortune will be voided if they leave the castle grounds. Jan is drawn deeper into the mystery of the home, exploring its endless corridors and secret passageways. He falls for a beautiful but strange woman named Euryale, who leads him towards the unsettling truth about the house's occupants. Meanwhile, any one who attempts to leave Malpertuis begins to die...

With "Malpertuis," Kümal builds upon the dreamy atmosphere he created in "Daughters of Darkness." The film features many surreal elements. Several of the female characters, including both Jan's sister and his love interest, are played by the same actress. The city Jan finds himself in feels strangely empty at times. As a location, Malpertuis takes the idea of the towering gothic mansion and turns it into a labyrinth of tunnels, doors, and passageways. There are beggars in chains within cells under the stairs. Jan finds the severed paw of a homunculus in a mouse trap. The longer the film goes on, the clearer it becomes that this perpetually dusty and shadow-strewn castle is a metaphor for the twisting labyrinth of the human subconscious. The Malpertuis halls do not seem to follow any interior logic, the layout of the building changing every time someone turns around. The walls and rooms become increasingly stranger as the story progresses. The last act of the film – wholly excised from the "Legend of Doom House" cut – takes the idea that Jan is increasingly trapped in his own dreamland to its most inevitable conclusion. The result is a movie that is sometimes tricky to get ahold of yet, once the viewer surrenders to its phantasmagorical power, becomes quite arresting. 

Part of what makes "Malpertuis" a little trickier for me to get into than "Daughters of Darkness" is that the film has a surprisingly large cast. The titular home is filled with many unusual residents, most of whom fill some job or position within the structure of the castle. There's an eccentric taxidermist, a trio of dour sisters, a pair of comedic servants, so on and so forth. Jan himself, played by the very blonde and blue-eyed Mathieu Carrière, is never developed much beyond an innocent visitor to this strange land. All of this is quite intentional though. "Malpertuis" is a film about the subconscious in the Jungian tradition. Each of the characters correspond to a classical archetype. There's the trickster, the fool, the dying mentor, the virginal maiden, the seductress, and the young man who has not yet begun to grasp his own destiny. This idea is set up by the very first scene, which features someone reading a child "Alice in Wonderland," suggesting the film that follows is a fairy tale of sorts as well as a dive into a fantastical underworld. (Notably, a character named Alice also appears.) That the cast are extensions of ancient figureheads is the entire point, drawing direct parallels between many of its characters and the gods and villains of Greek mythology. In that light, Malpertuis becomes the Labyrinth of Minos with Jan as the naïve Alice exploring this malevolent wonderland. By the end, the names that the Greeks worshipped and whispered about have been absorbed by the collective unconscious, reduced to stories that are told to children and exists only within the winding corridors of our own mind. This makes "Malpertuis" a deeply post-modern work, showing how the myths of old have been superseded in the modern age by Freudian psychology and attempts to explain how our mind works and not merely populate it with archetypal faces. 

It's all quite fascinating to a pretentious nobody like myself, with an interest in classical mythology and Campbellian analysis. However, while watching "Malpertuis," I did find myself wondering if this was one of those inscrutable art films that somehow found their way onto various lists about the horror genre. The titular mansion is very spooky but, for its first hour, "Malpertuis" resembles more of an absurdist comedy than a horror movie. Watching a puffy, gasping Orson Welles light up when presented with a taxidermized rat, a bizarre burlesque show, or the squabbling servants of the home go about their duties is obviously meant to provoke laughter, not fear. As it winds closer to its point, "Malpertuis" does become a more haunting experience. There's a discovery of a gruesome dead body that wouldn't be out of place in a giallo. A grotesque, stuffed chimpanzee puts in a notable experience. Jan explores the foggy tomb of his uncle. By the final act, the myriad of residents are informed more by their relationship to figures from Greek mythology. A chained man is gorily torn open by an eagle, recreating the story of Prometheus. When confronted by a Christian cross, one of the mansion's residents expels a plume of fire from his mouth like a dragon, rejecting the symbol of modern religion. By the time the first of several reveals has come, it's quite obvious which classic monster of Greek myth is inhabiting this castle. "Malpertuis" doesn't run entirely on dream logic but it is a nightmare, growing more menacing the deeper it grows to the primordial stories it invokes.  

I'm not surprised that a deliberately surreal film with such blatantly intellectual goals was cut up and re-edited into a tawdry monster movie by American distributors only interested in making a quick buck. Exploitation producers knew how to sell the lesbian vampire melodrama of "Daughters of Darkness" but this was a harder egg to crack. "Malpertuis" was a movie always destined more for the arthouse than the grindhouse. Perhaps the film's reception in the seventies is why Kümel would largely step away from genre filmmaking afterwards, with the rest of his work receiving limited releases in the west. It's a weird, fascinating film though in direct conversation with modern psychological woes and how it relates to the old stories. The film currently can't be found on any streaming service, making it primed for rediscovery via an extras packed Blu-ray re-release from Arrow or Criterion or some label like that. It's a harder film to relate to than "Daughters of Darkness" – which I really need to get around to writing about some day – but a rewarding one that has a lot to say and grows stranger and more menacing as it goes along. A good note to end my world tour on, I think. [8/10]

50 States of Fright: Grey Cloud Island (Minnesota)

Quibi might have possibly been the all-time worst idea for a streaming service but we did get "50 States of Fright," a pretty cool horror anthology series, out of it. "Grey Cloud Island," Minnesota's installment, comes to us from "Intruders" director Adam Schindler. It concerns a group of college freshmen undergoing a fraternity initiation. They are left on Grey Cloud Island, supposedly the most haunted stretch of land in the state, and told to walk back home on foot. As they navigate the woods, they come upon a strange home. Inside, a young woman has been chained up in an iron mask, seemingly a sacrifice for a Neo-Pagan Norse cult of some sort. The boys decide to rescue the girl and soon find themselves pursued by the modern day vikings, who are determined to reclaim their prisoner and more than willing to use deadly force to do it.

"Grey Cloud Island" is essentially a 23 minute slasher film and quite a well executed one too. The frat boys are developed enough, through their dialogue interactions and body language, and to get us invested before the bodies start to fall. By thrusting right into this situation, we have as much information as the characters do, meaning the viewer is similarly dragged along on this night from hell too. The twists and turns along the way aren't too hard to predict. The true nature of a seemingly benign old woman the boys seek shelter with is given away by the distinctive symbol on her necklace. The final reveal concerning the girl in the mask is heavily foreshadowed via a painting glimpsed on a wall in one scene. 

What genuinely makes "Grey Cloud Island" a solid half-hour is the creative variations on the formula it displays and the robust direction from Schindler. Ditching the stereotypical slasher killer for a whole pack of modern day vikings, seemingly led by valkyrie-like women, is a clever idea. Especially since the production designers clearly did their work, evident in the elaborate knot patterns seen on the cultist or one of them using some Glima. The violence is surprisingly intense and creative. A knife pinning a hand to a wall or a throwing axe to the forehead are well delivered shocks, followed by some nicely splattering gore effects. When a monster appears on-screen, it has a refreshingly freaky design. In other words, "Grey Cloud Island" is exactly the kind of meat-and-potatoes comfort horror I seek from anthology shows. By the way, Grey Cloud Island is a real place and a few of the associated legends are mentioned here. However, the idea of an early Nordic colonization of the area and a bottomless pit are sourced from other Minnesotan myths. [7/10]

Missing in the Mansion (2012)

At this point, it is not an overstatement to say that the Disney corporation is a force for evil. However, at the same time, Disney's cultural legacy is impossible to ignore. The company has built its business around getting its hooks in consumers during their childhood, who forever associate the brand with the nostalgic warm-and-fuzzies. Such a model inevitably invites subversion. In 2013, a tiny indie film would make a splash by covertly filming itself within Disney World. The hype around "Escape from Tomorrow" faded once people got a look at the movie. It also wasn't the first time someone tried such an experiment. A year before, YouTubers Jeremiah and Josh Daws made a short found footage horror film inside the actual Haunted Mansion at Disneyland entitled "Missing in the Mansion." However you feel about Disney as an entity, that's such a great gimmick for a found footage flick that I had to check it out. 

"Missing in the Mansion" has the classic "Blair Witch" framing device, claiming to be unaltered footage discovered on the ride. We see Kevin – who dreams of working as a Disney Imagineer – documenting his brother Scott's day in the park with his girlfriend, Jess. He's there to record the proposal but keeps recording afterwards. Soon, the trio arrives at the Haunted Mansion. They discuss rumors that the attraction is literally haunted, which disturbs Jess. They talk her into joining them on the ride anyway... And that's when something goes very wrong.

Disney is so insistent on maintaining the image of their theme parks as "the happiest place on Earth," that they won't allow emergency vehicles on the lot. The idea that bad things are still going to happen at a place with such a squeaky-clean image is a fruitful one. The footage begins with a shot of Kevin attempting to record a video resume for Disney but feeling like a failure before he starts. That sets up the idea early on that sadder, more desperate emotions float under the park's veneer of giddiness. Similarly, for every happy moment the camera catches, like Jess' gleeful acceptance of Scott's proposal, there's another less joyful interaction – such as the couple arguing – that is recorded. That pairs well with the set-up of the short, that people often dump the ashes of human beings at Disney attractions, seemingly inviting a haunting. In other words, no matter how hard you try and block out the sad, frustrating, dark realities of the world, they always find a way in. 

Being filmed in the actual park adds a level of credibility to "Missing in the Mansion" that a lot of found footage flicks lack. The early scenes, of the trio running around the park and talking, feel totally realistic. If you didn't know better, it would be very easy to be tricked into thinking this was genuine footage. Once we get into the Mansion, when the lights go down, there is an occasional sense of eeriness here too. Especially once the passengers look around and realize they are totally alone in their Doom Buggies. The "safe" thrills of the PG rated ride don't seem so safe when you're the only one there, do they? Sadly, "Missing in the Mansion" lacks the scares necessary to truly make its premise work. The final minutes feel quite hokey and the actual ghosts appearing on-screen are not convincing. At this point, you realize "Missing in the Mansion" was made by actual Disney Adults and not some plucky filmmakers primarily looking to subvert the wholesome image of Uncle Walt's institution. Still, it's a neat idea for a short film and, at only eleven minutes long, more than worth your time. Maybe "Escape from Tomorrow" would've been better received if it was only a short, instead of a feature film. [6/10]