Genre: Thriller

Selfie From Hell (2018) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Something Evil Has Already Set Its Eyes on You…” – Hannah

In the horror genre, mystery plays a pivotal role in stories where the characters strive to uncover the cause behind the terrifying events they face, engaging the audience beyond scares via an instinctive desire for answers/explanations. However, in the case of 2018’s hilariously titled, low-budget horror; Selfie From Hell (or Selfieman in some regions), the central mystery frequently works to its detriment, yielding further questions and nonsensical moments rather than deepening the narrative or its underlying themes. Still, that’s not to say that a compelling mystery would’ve salvaged Selfie From Hell, as this social media-focused horror is an utter failure on every front, generally evoking boredom rather than fear.

Plot Summary: When influencer Julia falls mysteriously ill while visiting her cousin Hannah in Oregon, Hannah turns to Julia’s online content in search of an explanation for her unusual ailment. But, as she digs ever deeper, her cousin’s online activity reveals connections to the dark web, a twisted internet challenge and a malevolent, otherworldly force bleeding into reality…

Selfie From Hell, written and directed by Erdal Ceylan (Demon’s Dawn), was expanded from his earlier short film of the same name, also featuring Meelah Adams. The two-minute short consists of Adams’ character taking selfies in her home before noticing a dark figure behind her in the images, which then consumes her. As a concept for a short film, the idea is serviceable, if a little cheesy, yet doesn’t retain nearly enough depth for a feature-length undertaking, even if Ceylan makes a feeble attempt to incorporate an underlying theme of social media addiction and the dangers of careless internet usage, similar to other gimcrack social media-centric horrors, such as Smiley (2012), #Horror (2015) and Friend Request (2016). Furthermore, the previously mentioned ‘mystery’ at the centre of the film is neither intriguing nor well-constructed, presenting conundrums to the audience with little allure or clarity.

The small cast of Alyson Walker, Tony Giroux, Meelah Adams and Ian Butcher delivers fairly lacklustre performances across the board, in part due to the shoddy dialogue and characterisation, which lack depth, intrigue and any semblance of intentional humour. Regarding the characters’ relation to the plot, Hannah’s investigation into her cousin’s ailment leads her down a rabbit hole linked to a secretive website on the dark web. Here, she meets an enigmatic, patently untrustworthy individual, who gives the Selfieman (the titular creature of the film) a run for his money in the absurd name department with the online handle, F34R3473R, or “FearEater,” a character so cartoonishly malicious that his handful of appearances are rarely taken seriously. Outside of her investigation, there is a dreary romantic subplot between Hannah and her tech-savvy friend Trevor, who aids her in her exploration while secretly harbouring a crush on her, which is as predictable as it is vapid.

Visually, the cinematography by Jeremy Walter Cox is somewhat amateurish, seldom allowing for appealing shots. Other elements of the production, such as the lighting and audio, however, are adequate, which is worth noting as this isn’t always the case with low-budget flicks, especially when they place such strong emphasis on the sights and sounds surrounding their characters. What’s more, the design of the supernatural entity, the Selfieman, is rather generic, appearing only a handful of times as a towering, spindly figure with skeletal features, whilst his abilities, motivation, and the rules he abides by never receive any explanation amidst the fleeting runtime.

Being a low-budget project, Selfie From Hell didn’t have an original score composed for it, despite Peter Allen getting credited as the film’s composer. Instead, the Selfie From Hell employs an assortment of stock music, all of which are hackneyed horror tracks. In many instances, the score also telegraphs each character’s actions, often unnecessarily so, with every moment intended to be frightening or impactful, retaining a bothersome sound cue, whether that be a message arising on a laptop screen or catching a glimpse of a figure in the background of an image, which consistently fails to make these instances startling.

Even with a runtime of only seventy-three minutes, Selfie From Hell feels dragged out and overstuffed with too many ideas, all of them poorly illustrated and vying for attention, mainly because the film would rather focus on pushing a vareity of cheap, bombastic jump-scares instead of making the effort to earn its frights, some of which appear even worse as a result of the inclusion of janky, low-grade CGI to depict the Selfieman and several other supernatural elements. While some of these issues could be attributed to the film’s low budget, others certainly cannot.

In summary, clearly hoping to follow in the footsteps of Lights Out, a 2013 short film later expanded into a feature-length horror release, Selfie From Hell was, in actuality, released to little fanfare, and deservedly so. Candidly low-budget and struggling to sustain its runtime, Selfie From Hell was flawed from its very inception, being based on a short film with a rather tacky concept that only functions as a cheap thrill for horror fans. A one-trick pony with dreadful dialogue, bland performances, and a monumental overreliance on jump-scares, leading me to believe that the filmmakers didn’t give much thought to how a short film building up to a single scare could develop into a feature-length project. Rating: 1/10.

The Mouse Trap (2024) – Film Review

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“I Can See You… Do You Wanna See Me?” – Mickey Mouse

Announced on January 1st, 2024, the same day Steamboat Willie (1928) entered the public domain, the animated short directed by Walt Disney and Ub Iwerks, considered by many to be Mickey and Minnie Mouse’s public debut, despite both characters actually premiering a few months prior in a test screening of Plane Crazy (1928) and the then-unreleased; The Gallopin’ Gaucho (1928). Mickey’s Mouse Trap, later renamed; The Mouse Trap, due to the Walt Disney Company still retaining the commercial rights to the character’s name, is a tedious and derivative low-budget slasher that merely takes the iconic rodent and distorts him into a thundering serial killer without any semblance of wit, dread or depth, to agonisingly painful results.

Plot Summary: On the evening of her 21st birthday, teenager Alex is surprised with a birthday party by her friends at the arcade where she works. But, not long into their night of celebration, a deranged killer dressed as Mickey Mouse interrupts their get-together, forcing Alex and her friends to use their quick thinking to survive the night…

Writer and actor, Simon Phillips, the man behind the mouse mask, is a self-described; “1980s Baby,” who loved the bloody slasher flicks of the time, explaining in an interview; “So, Mouse Trap, to Me, Was Like the Cheesy, Clichéd 1980s and 1990s Horror Movies. I Was Like, Let’s Do This. Let’s Make Mickey Mouse a Slasher Killer. Let’s Trap These Kids in an Amusement Park or an Arcade. And, Like a 1990s Movie, Don’t Think About It Too Much. Just Have Fun!” While this ambition is admirable, The Mouse Trap undoubtedly fails in the aspect of ‘fun,’ harbouring flat, irritating characters, a needlessly complicated setup and a series of vapid kills, with the obligatory, uninteresting drama of assorted jocks, nerds, goths and popular girls scattered in between. And, with quotes like “How Did I Get Stuck With You?! I’m Too Pretty for This!” the dialogue swiftly announces itself for all the wrong reasons.

The central cast of Sophie McIntosh, Alex Fen, Madeline Kelman, Ben Harris, Callum Sywyk and Mireille Gagné do their best with the weak material they are given, with McIntosh retaining at least some semblance of screen-presence in the leading role as Alex, but that’s about it, as their characters are simply cardboard cutouts, neither entertaining nor likeable, with the shoddy dialogue and scarcity of character development rarely helping in this regard. While Simon Phillips’ physical performance as the titular killer is somewhat eerie, his vocal performance is certainly not, as he utters hokey, intended-to-be-intimidating lines via a ghastly Mickey Mouse impression. Perhaps the worst part of The Mouse Trap, however, is the arbitrary cutaways to a police station where one of the survivors cryptically recounts the night’s events (including moments they weren’t even present for) merely as an excuse to pad out the runtime.

If you enjoy watching monotonous, drawn-out shots of teenagers playing air hockey or drinking seemingly nothing out of plastic party cups, then The Mouse Trap is for you. As, despite being branded as a throwback to 1980s/1990s slashers, the first on-screen kill doesn’t actually occur until almost an hour into the runtime, with each victim getting dispatched in ways that lack both memorability and solid blood/gore effects, in addition to being presented in a visually flat manner as a result of the cinematography by multitasking director Jamie Bailey (Deinfluencer, What Lurks Beneath, The Omor Heist).

On another pessimistic note, the original score by Darren Morze is a rather forgettable horror soundtrack that doesn’t justify its numerous tracks, in spite of their tongue-in-cheek titles, such as The Miracle Survivor, Cat and Mouse, Birthday Wish and Total Serial Killer Vibes. The film also implements an aggravating jump-scare-like audio cue every time Mickey appears on-screen, in what I assume is a lacklustre attempt to startle its audience.

Regarding the titular killer, The Mouse Trap does little to differentiate Mickey from any other slasher, solely depicting him as a large man in a mask with murderous intent. That said, the film does at least attempt to explain the origin of Mickey Mouse as a killer in utterly bizzare fashion, as Tim Collins, the manager of the arcade Alex works at, is soon revealed to be ‘possessed’ by a malvolent entity after watching a film reel of Steamboat Willie while sipping a glass of vodka beside film memorabilia, in a moment that is just as nonsensical as it is ridiculous. Outside of this moment, though, The Mouse Trap could just as well be a slasher headlined by Deadmau5 or any number of other mouse-related characters, as none of the traits associated with the anthropomorphic mouse are here, whether accurate or parodied, with Mickey even harbouring an unexplained ability to teleport, which has an equally unexplained weakness to strobing lights.

In summary, in typical ‘horror parody’ fashion, The Mouse Trap is neither amusing nor high-brow, nor does it make effective use of the character/franchise it is mimicking. Instead, the film struggles to justify its existence as a man in a cheap-looking mouse mask slaughters annoying teens with little personality or charm. Perhaps a trenchant satire of Disney and its squeaky-clean image as a family-friendly entertainment giant is too much to ask for, or too legally treacherous. Either way, the only merriment on offer in The Mouse Trap is the occasional piece of unintentional humour that comes from the killer’s bi-sphere silhouette. Rating: 1/10.

Grave Encounters (2011) – Film Review

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“This Place Is About as Haunted as a Sock Drawer…” – Lance Preston

Impressively produced on a budget of around £89,000, the 2011 found-footage flick; Grave Encounters, is an effective, if rarely groundbreaking, contemporary horror. Whilst not as down-to-earth or as painfully slow-paced as several other found-footage releases, such as Paranormal Activity (2007) or Mr. Jones (2013), Grave Encounters wastes little time getting into the monstrosities that lie within the walls of its central setting of an abandoned psychiatric hospital, utilising its dark corridors and rusted medical equipment to deliver memorably creepy moments and a fairly unnerving atmosphere, despite its many faults.

Plot Summary: Voluntarily locking themselves inside the infamous, abandoned Collingwood Psychiatric Hospital, to increase the stakes of their ghost-hunting reality show, Grave Encounters, host Lance Preston and the rest of his team prepare to capture every minute of their overnight paranormal investigation on camera. But, as the hospital’s walls begin to shift into a labyrinth of endless corridors, each inhabited by the spirits of former staff and patients, the group soon realise they may be filming their last episode…

Written and directed by Colin Minihan and Stuart Ortiz, also known as the “Vicious Brothers,” the format and host of the fictional Grave Encounters reality show takes influence from the real-world series; Ghost Adventures, and its host, Zak Bagans, known for his black muscle t-shirts and technique of attempting to invoke paranormal activity by cursing at the supposed spectres, inviting aggression. This inspiration is evident from the outset, as Grave Encounters humorously mocks the ghost-hunting reality shows of the late 2000s, dissecting the manufactured appeal behind the format and its many tricks of the trade. For example, early on in the film, Lance pays a groundskeeper to provide a false statement during an interview that he witnessed paranormal activity on the grounds of the hospital, a known practice in supernatural reality television, as over the years, hundreds of interviewees have publicly admitted to being paid to “Just Make Something Up for the Camera.”

The central cast of Sean Rogerson, Ashleigh Gryzko, T.C. Gibson, Mackenzie Gray and Juan Riedinger provide the occasional moment of levity early in the runtime as a means to break up the flurry of distress and torment their characters later endure. During many of these moments, the characters also make offhand comments regarding their situation, referencing filmmaking conventions and well-known horror tropes that add a level of realism to the dialogue. This doesn’t mean that all of the Grave Encounters crew are strictly likeable, however, as T.J., the truculent cameraman, does far too much complaining and arguing whilst the host, Lance Preston, and the supposed psychic, James Houston, are suitably sleazy for success-hungry individuals who fabricate hauntings for a living, having never witnessed evidence of the supernatural previously. Still, the cast accurately portrays every character’s sense of unease, which is what matters most.

Shot over ten nights and two days, the majority of the cinematography for Grave Encounters by Tony Mirza fittingly matches the style of stationary and hand-held shots seen in traditional ghost-hunting reality shows, with the fictitious Collingwood Psychiatric Hospital portrayed through the real-world Riverview Hospital, an abandoned mental institution in Coquitlam, British Columbia, built at the turn of the 20th century and closed down in 2012, formerly hosting films such as Watchmen (2009). Grave Encounters utilises this ominous setting remarkably well, presenting the building as a dark, momentous presence to the point where it becomes a character in its own right. The opaque hallways of the abandoned building also greatly lend themselves to the film’s phosphorescently green colour palette as a result of the characters’ dependence on night vision to find their way around.

Similar to other found-footage flicks, Grave Encounters doesn’t possess much of a soundtrack, with the original score by Quynne Craddock only being employed for the deliberately dated, excessively edgy theme for the Grave Encounters intro and the atmospheric track that plays over the end credits, which is suitably bleak and unsettling. In an effort to differentiate itself from those other releases, however, Minihan and Ortiz wanted their spirits to be far less subtle and more forcefully frightening, desiring the various apparitions to “Visibly Run” at the audience as opposed to barely materialising or gradually moving objects.

Outside of its real-world influences, Grave Encounters follows The Blair Witch Project (1999) formula of letting its initially brash characters mentally break down before the incursion of the unnatural, embracing some found-footage clichés, such as slamming doors and slowly opening windows, whilst avoiding others in exchange for more eerie concepts, like when the group learn about the hospital’s disturbing history of lobotomies and medical experimentation. In terms of the spirits’ appearance, each harbours a serviceably sinister, if somewhat generic design, often sprinting towards the camera with a cheesy CG effect that distorts their eyes and mouth, spoiling the horror, much like the film’s frustrating overreliance on camera glitches whenever supernatural frights occur.

In summary, although Grave Encounters starts rather slowly, once the first crew member disappears, the pacing picks up nicely, with plenty of twists, turns and creepy surprises to keep the film rolling along. While hardly original or downright terrifying, Grave Encounters gets almost every beat of its found-footage premise right, succeeding in its attempt to critique the many ghost-hunting reality shows that inspired it, even surpassing its higher-budget, candidly titled 2012 sequel; Grave Encounters 2, a largely forgettable, strangely self-referential expansion to the ghostly frights and low-budget storytelling of the first. Rating: 6/10.

Double Indemnity (1944) – Film Review

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“How Could I Have Known That Murder Could Sometimes Smell Like Honeysuckle?” – Walter Neff

Widely regarded as one of the greatest films released during the Golden Age of Hollywood, Double Indemnity is a 1944 crime-thriller that combines suspense and sharp wit, conveying its captivating story of murder and romance through stylish, achromatic visuals and scintillating dialogue. Despite the technical limitations of its time and the occasional dragging scene, Double Indemnity‘s favourable qualities easily outweigh its shortcomings, setting the standard for almost every noir that followed, to the point that the American Film Institute actually ranked the film as their “29th Greatest Movie of All Time” in 2007.

Plot Summary: Living a life largely devoid of excitement, the smooth-talking insurance salesman Walter Neff finds his thirst for more quenched when he encounters the seductive Phyllis Dietrichson, the weary wife of a callous husband whom she plans to murder and cash out on his ‘accidental’ death claim, eventually convincing Walter to join her devious scheme. But, when his quick-witted supervisor, Barton Keyes, becomes suspicious of the claim, Walter’s paranoia gets the better of him as the pair’s fiendish ploy begins to fall apart…

Based on the novella of the same name by James M. Cain, supposedly inspired by a 1927 murder case perpetrated by a married woman and her lover, whose trial he attended whilst working as a journalist in New York. During this, Ruth Snyder persuaded her boyfriend, Judd Gray, to kill her husband, Albert, after having him take out an insurance policy with a double-indemnity clause before the couple were ultimately identified, arrested and convicted. Although the novella was well-adapted to the silver screen by screenwriters Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler, the pair did not get along while penning the screenplay, a process loaded with arguments and behind-the-scenes drama. Nevertheless, the two writers’ squabbles may have been worthwhile as the dialogue exchanges between characters perfectly exemplify the noir genre, being both snappy and comical. So much so that the scene where Walter and Phyllis meet for the first time could be seen as the template for what virtually all notable noir films sound like.

Despite several cast members initially being apprehensive about signing on to the project, with the late lead Fred MacMurray even on the verge of turning down the role because he feared his career would be ruined by playing such a despicable character, every cast member in Double Indemnity is performing to their highest ability. From MacMurray and the late Barbara Stanwyck as murderous lovers, Walter Neff and Phyllis Dietrichson, flaunting their palpable on-screen chemistry, to the late Edward G. Robinson as Walter’s astute, snarky office manager, Barton Keyes, exhibiting a perfect balance of tenacity and humour, smelling something rotten about Mr. Dietrichson’s untimely demise, all of the performances are worthy of the screenplay’s well-crafted verbal exchanges.

Owing much of its visual brilliance to the late cinematographer John F. Seitz, an influential figure in camerawork with a career spanning several decades, Seitz’s work on Double Indemnity is often deemed a masterclass in stylish visuals. Well-known for his ability to use light and shadows to evoke mood, Seitz was instrumental in establishing the visual language of the noir genre via this film and many others, with the chiaroscuro lighting, tight framing and innovative use of darkness heightening the tension and moral ambiguity that pervade the narrative, his collaboration with the late director Billy Wilder (Sabrina, Some Like It Hot, The Apartment) only elevating Double Indemnity into a film that visually communicates its underlying themes of greed, betrayal and moral corruption as much as the dialogue. Additionally, light filtering in through blinds (a staple of the noir genre) is frequently used to visually depict Walter being ‘behind bars.’

The late Miklos Rózsa’s stagey original score is your traditional orchestral soundtrack, with the opening piece; Prelude, being a standout track, dramatically enriching the opening credit sequence where a mysterious silhouette of a man stepping toward the camera on crutches soon engulfs the screen. Following this, Rózsa adds emotional depth to the film with the track; Murder Theme, a suspenseful piece in which the striking of a timpani forms a grim rhythm, accompanied by violins that deliver a numbing pulse, alluding to the characters’ dark intentions.

Outside of the crime elements, Double Indemnity also harbours a hefty amount of romance within its narrative, largely thanks to the previously mentioned chemistry between MacMurray and Stanwyck, but also as a result of the film’s sensual moments and even moderately suggestive visuals for the time. For example, when Walter first meets Phyllis, the camera is drawn to a bracelet (or anklet) on her right ankle, with an urban legend stating that a married woman wearing a right-sided anklet indicates she is married yet available to other men. One of the many details that not only adds to the characterisation of Phyllis, but also serves as a humorous time capsule of the 1940s, when merely showing a woman’s ankle was considered scandalous.

In summary, if there is one Golden Age Hollywood classic that defines the very essence of the genre it’s a part of, it’s Double Indemnity, standing as a tremendous example of how to craft an engaging crime-thriller, building tension by employing intimate close-ups and honed dialogue. For a film from this era, you can’t do much better than Double Indemnity, a famed noir that stands the test of time after seventy years and will likely stand for seventy more, given its venerable reputation. Rating: 8/10.

Underwater (2020) – Film Review

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“There’s a Comfort in Cynicism. There Is a Lot Less to Lose.” – Norah Price

Substituting deep space for the deep sea, Underwater is a 2020 sci-fi thriller that takes a hefty amount of inspiration from the illustrious Alien franchise, namely the original 1979 sci-fi-horror classic, with its story centring on a group of survivors navigating a dim, claustrophobic facility submerged deep beneath the ocean’s surface, all while a terrifying, otherworldly force stalks them, picking them off one by one. It’s a familiar format, to be sure, and whilst some will find this type of narrative worn out by this point, I have always enjoyed these sorts of unnerving stories, especially when filmmakers, like director William Eubank (The Signal, Paranormal Activity: Next of Kin, Land of Bad), repeatedly strive to integrate stylish visuals and elements of Lovecraftian horror to suppress the strong sense of déjà vu.

Plot Summary: Operating in the murky depths of the Mariana Trench, the Kepler 822, a research and drilling installation, slowly pushes its way towards the centre of the Earth. But, when a mysterious earthquake extensively damages much of the deep-water facility, mechanical engineer Norah Price, along with a handful of other survivors, band together and take action, faced with the immense task of suiting up and trekking across the ocean floor to safety as something sinister lurks among the facility’s scattered debris…

As a result of the Walt Disney Company’s takeover of 20th Century Fox as part of their acquisition of 21st Century Fox in 2019, Underwater‘s initial release date was drastically pushed back, with production occurring in early 2017. Due to this prolonged release and its skimpy marketing, Underwater was a financial failure, which is unfortunate, as while the film is nothing extraordinary, it is an entertaining flick that keeps up a relentless pace, clocking in at an agreeable nighty-six minutes. Still, it’s indisputable that Underwater wears its inspirations on its sleeve, both to its detriment and otherwise, sometimes appearing overly familiar, primarily through its numerous parallels to the previously mentioned Alien series, beginning straight from the opening scene as the camera slowly pans around the foreboding corridors of the Kepler Station with no dialogue spoken, similar to the opening scene of Alien (1979), where there is likewise no dialogue as the camera pans around the Nostromo, the spacecraft the central characters are aboard.

Evidently inspired by Ellen Ripley through her quick thinking and authority in the face of an unknown threat, Kristen Stewart portrays protagonist Norah Price, who, whilst not incredibly memorable or extensively developed, is given enough characterisation to make her an honourable lead, with Stewart appropriately conveying dread or courage whenever required. Furthermore, the supporting cast of Vincent Cassel, Mamoudou Athie, T.J. Miller, John Gallagher Jr. and Jessica Henwick are terrific, despite many of their characters being archetypes at best and paper-thin cutouts at worst. Yet, in all honesty, in a film such as this, I feel that is all you really need, given that most of the characters serve their purpose in merely portraying walking appetisers for the creatures that are stalking them, showcasing their fearsome capabilities. Additionally, Underwater does a splendid job whenever it delivers exposition, particularly during an early sequence between Norah and her colleague Rodrigo, where the audience is swiftly supplied with everything they need to know.

Presenting the ocean as just as frightening as the vast darkness of space, the cinematography by Bojan Bazelli is stellar for the most part, as Bazelli captures the claustrophobic atmosphere of the Kepler beautifully, supplying every moment with suspense, not only because of the creatures, but the unease induced by the opaque water and crushing pressure attempting to breach the ravaged walls of the facility, a notion amplified by the aquatic colour palette of blues, greys and greens. On top of the camerawork, the design of the creatures is meritorious, clearly taking visual influence from much of H.P. Lovecraft’s work, as well as well-known ocean-dwelling wildlife, such as anglerfish. Regrettably, however, these unsettling creature designs are partially spoilt by the second-rate CGI that perpetually represents them.

For its part, Marco Beltrami and Brandon Roberts’ original score is adept at provoking the asphyxiating claustrophobia one would feel being trapped in an underwater facility via tracks like The Bends, Sprung a Leak and Squid Market, again in a similar vein to the Alien franchise. Furthermore, the sound design throughout the runtime lends itself to the ominous atmosphere, as the submerged facility ceaselessly creaks from the damage it has endured. But, the sound design is undoubtedly at its most effective when heard during the point-of-view sequences from inside Norah’s diving suit.

Intriguingly, for the many underwater sequences, the cast sported heavy, airtight suits, each weighing around 63kg, they were then filmed on dimly lit soundstages utilising volumetric scanning. An interesting bit of trivia that, in my opinion, highlights how much effort was put into this flick outside of its undeniably poor marketing.

In summary, although Underwater is occasionally overly reminiscent (or reliant if you prefer) on renowned films across its primary genres, I don’t believe that means Underwater can’t be admired for what it is, as personally, I’d much rather see an original narrative heavily inspired by a beloved piece of cinema, than a remake or unwarranted sequel of/to one. As such, Underwater is a film that I feel will find a second life on streaming services, as this sci-fi-thriller is a pleasant watch for anyone looking to immerse themselves in some deep-sea storytelling. Rating: 6/10.

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Cocaine Bear (2023) – Film Review

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“What the Fuck Is Wrong With That Bear?!” – Beth

Partially inspired by an incident that took place in 1985, where lawyer-turned-drug smuggler Andrew Thornton took to the skies to drop blocks of cocaine over Knoxville, Tennessee, before leaping out of his aircraft carrying a duffel bag containing roughly £11 million worth, ultimately falling to his death when his parachute malfunctioned. A regional black bear was believed to have stumbled upon some of his stash, as two months later, a Georgia hunter discovered a bear carcass surrounded by the remains of a bag investigators later deemed to be Thornton’s. Although no deaths were reported as a result of the intoxicated animal, with a medical examiner concluding that the two-hundred-pound beast likely overdosed within minutes, dying from cerebral haemorrhaging and respiratory heart failure, the notorious story of the amusingly nicknamed; “Pablo Escobear,” was ripe for a cinematic adaptation given its utter absurdity, and the bluntly titled; Cocaine Bear, released in 2023, aimed (yet failed) to fill that void.

Plot Summary: When a duffel bag stuffed with around $14 million in cocaine falls from the sky in the aftermath of a 1980s drug smuggling excursion, a colossal, national park-roaming American black bear unconsciously devours much of the white powder, steering the animal on a bloody path of destruction as it becomes the most dangerous apex predator on the planet for the next few hours…

Directed by Elizabeth Banks (Movie 43 – Segment: Middleschool Date, Pitch Perfect 2, Charlie’s Angels), the title of Cocaine Bear was originally intended to be a temporary working title, but the producers eventually decided to release the film under that moniker as they couldn’t think of a title more fitting. To some extent, this bit of trivia serves as a representation of the film itself, as Cocaine Bear is exactly what it sounds like; a ludicrous, violent and corny comedic thriller that adapts a story almost too outlandish to believe. Of course, to create a more marketable flick, the filmmakers do make a string of alterations to the real story as, in reality, when the animal’s carcass was found, it had already been dead for around a month, in contrast to the rampage depicted in the film, which occurs shortly after the smuggler’s death. Moreover, investigators never reported any threatening or destructive behaviour ahead of its death, nor did the bear eat the entirety of the supply Thornton was thought to have smuggled, as officials deduced that an unknown individual had fled with a portion of the stash. Still, it is an amusing tale to bring to the silver screen, especially since animal experts have always been somewhat uncertain as to whether animals experience the same type of high that humans do from substances like alcohol or marijuana, despite some animals seemingly ingesting substances like catnip and hallucinogenic mushrooms for their recreational effects.

Featuring one of the last-ever performances from famed actor Ray Liotta, as the actor sadly passed away on May 26th, 2022, a mere week after he re-recorded some of his lines during the film’s post-production phase. The central cast of Keri Russell, Alden Ehrenreich, O’Shea Jackson Jr., Isiah Whitlock Jr. and Liotta himself are all serviceable in their various roles. While some of the cast portray relatively likeable yet significantly underdeveloped, hapless residents, others lend their acting skills to portraying scummy drug peddlers who ultimately earn their comeuppance when confronting the ravenous, cocaine-plugged beast. However, whilst much of the cast is well-versed in the comedy genre, one of Cocaine Bear‘s most significant shortcomings is undoubtedly its inconsistent, overly cartoonish humour throughout.

Aside from the CG effects of the titular bear, which adequately convey its size, strength and weight, the visuals of Cocaine Bear are rather bland, rarely employing distinctive shots or creative set design as the cinematography by John Guleserian predominantly largely relies on generic mid-shots, with much of the editing harbouring little rhythm and the bloodthirsty beast’s killings possessing minimal creativity, often having a severed limb merely dumped in front of the camera.

In terms of the original score, talented composer Mark Mothersbaugh’s soundtrack is sufficient yet rather sterile in the grand scheme, with the poorly-anointed tracks of Bear Attack, Bathroom Fight and Bear Dance being the only high points as Mothersbaugh attempts to integrate a selection of instruments from the ’80s to lend authenticity to the 1980s setting.

Bizarrely, although set in an unnamed national park in Knoxville, Tennessee, Cocaine Bear was truthfully shot in Ireland, with the crooked forest trails of the Irish outdoors appearing largely indistinguishable from that of the U.S. Very few Irish actors were cast, however, excluding extras, presumably to play into this implied American setting.

In summary, Cocaine Bear stumbles even as the lowbrow flick many (myself included) expected it to be, lacking entertainment value and a strong sense of satire in spite of the film leaving a peculiar cinematic legacy, with a slew of low-budget rip-offs emerging shortly after its release, each more absurd than the last, such as Cocaine Shark (2023) and Attack of the Meth Gator (2023). Thus, I’d suggest bypassing Cocaine Bear and simply scouring for a documentary on the event. Conversely, if you are ever passing through Lexington, Kentucky, perhaps consider visiting the Kentucky for Kentucky Mall, where the bear’s preserved body is actually on display, further corroborating the animal’s enchantingly strange legacy. Rating: 4/10.

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The Quiet Ones (2014) – Film Review

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“What if You Could Prove That the Supernatural Was Merely a Manifestation of What Alreadly Exists in the Mind; the Subconscious?” – Professor Joepsh Coupland

Shot in 2012 yet not released until 2014, The Quiet Ones is a 1970s-set, melancholic horror loosely based on the Philip Experiment, a 1972 parapsychology experiment conducted in Toronto, Ontario, made to determine whether living subjects can communicate with fictionalised ghosts through expectations of human will. Led by mathematical geneticist Dr. A.R. George Owen and overseen by psychologist Dr. Joel Whitton, their goal was to create a fictional character through a purposeful methodology and then ‘attempt’ to communicate with it through a séance. The created character was anointed; “Philip Aylesford,” referred to as “Philip” during the test. Although participants did report feeling a ghostly presence, table vibrations, breezes, unexplained echoes and eerie noises, matching responses to questions about Philip’s life, an apparition ultimately never appeared. Nevertheless, director John Pogue (Quarantine 2: The Terminal, Blood Brother, Deep Blue Sea 3) set out to take this real-world trial and twist it into an unnerving horror flick to, regrettably, minimal success.

Plot Summary: Summoning his top students to a secluded estate on the outskirts of Oxford in 1974, the unorthodox Professor Joseph Coupland proposes to the deeply troubled orphan Jane Harper that they perform a risky experiment to manifest the darkness within her. Operating under the theory that paranormal activity is triggered by negative human energy, Joseph and his team employ a series of tests to push the young woman to the brink of sanity. But, as the morally questionable experiment continues, the professor and his ambitious students soon realise they may have unwillingly released an unrelenting horror…

Heavily rewritten during production for budgetary reasons, The Quiet Ones does have a captivating piece of inspiration at its core, with the Philip Experiment being historically regarded as one of the most promiscuous and unsettling experiments of the 1970s, often playing into the configuration of conventional séances as Dr. A.R. George Owen sat his participants around a table, dimming the lights and requesting no communication between the group, even if the experiment has been criticised in recent years for lacking systematic management and clear results due to the unreliability of séances. Similar tests were conducted in the years following creating further make-believe characters, known as “Lilith” and “Humphrey,” producing near-identical results that were eventually deemed inconclusive. Regardless, it’s a bewitching real-world event for a horror flick, mashing up elements of science and the supernatural as frightening occurrences get underway, leading the researchers to admit their understanding of life and death isn’t as accurate as they once thought.

Portraying the zealous research team, Jared Harris, Sam Claflin, Olivia Cooke, Erin Richards and Rory Fleck Byrne are on all their A-game, with Harris being a particular highlight as the intelligent and self-assured Professor Joseph Coupland, portraying the character as equal parts unpredictable and oddly calming, it’s just a shame the character’s emotional backstory isn’t utilised to its full effect. In one of her first major roles, the then-upcoming actress, Olivia Cooke, is also a stand out, portraying Jane as an immensely tragic woman who has suffered from mental illness and uncanny events almost all of her life, being sent in and out of foster homes as a result of the malevolence enveloping her like a storm.

Continuously made to appear as if portions of the film were shot on ’70s-era cameras, The Quiet Ones is one of those horror flicks that feels as if it could have very easily been conceived as an entirely found-footage endeavour, but instead, the film uses the found-footage format sparingly, only employing the visual aesthetic at pivotal moments in the narrative. Most notably, during the scene with the Kirlian photography experiment (as seen through the lens of Brian’s 16mm camera), which was actually filmed by Sam Claflin himself, although not with an authentic 1970s camera, but with the contemporary camera of cinematographer Mátyás Erdély.

Comparable to how many of the film’s frights are your typical, lethargic jump-scares, such as windows slamming, doors knocking, beds breaking and chandeliers falling (each time, the deafening scare being preceded by an elongated silence), the orginal score by Lucas Vidal features the usual assortment of rackety, blaring tracks, like Not Scientific Proof and Bathtub Attack. Perhaps some of this audible bombardment was meant to conceal that there isn’t much depth to the story beyond the underlying theme of science and its relation to the supernatural.

In addition to The Quiet Ones, the infamous Philip Experiment also inspired the horror flick; The Apparition, released a few years prior in 2012, but that isn’t too surprising, given that a 2019 poll concluded that nearly half of the American populace believes that spirits and/or demons exist, despite overwhelming evidence that belief that life persists after death is declining.

In summary, The Quiet Ones is a horror flick that, in my opinion, is deserving of its largely overlooked status in the horror genre, as most of the film relies on cheap frights and visual trickery more than genuine dread to unnerve its audience. Though the film possesses an honourable cast, an appealing setting and an intriguing real-world influence, its rather lifeless execution holds it back. In essence, The Quiet Ones is much like the experiment in its narrative, throwing ideas into a beaker and praying it works as intended, yet it doesn’t achieve the desired outcome. Rating: low 5/10.

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The Darkest Hour (2011) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“What’s the Dress Code for the End of the World? Jacket, No Tie?” – Sean

Initially intriguing yet ultimately vacuous, 2011’s The Darkest Hour is an apocalyptic blockbuster that will seem like familiar territory for most with its relatively straightforward premise of a group of survivors escaping a hostile, extraterrestrial foe, its only genuinely innovative ideas appearing in the form of its setting; Moscow, and the unique, electricity-based abilities/appearance of its unworldly invaders. Rammed with immensely corny dialogue, uninteresting characters and cheap-looking set design, The Darkest Hour fails on most fronts, leaving its title to ironically reference the fact that the film’s initial release may have been the ‘darkest hour’ for all the careers of those involved in its production.

Plot Summary: When American software developers Sean and Ben travel to Moscow to sell their latest program to investors, their Swedish associate Skyler double-crosses them, forcing them out of the deal. In an attempt to drown their sorrows, the duo head to a nightclub. Until, out of the blue, the Russian population is startled by the appearance of mysterious rays in the sky, soon discovering that the lights are, in actuality, an extraterrestrial force invading Earth and utilising our power supply to eradicate all mankind…

The inclusion of the Russian setting and, by proxy, Russian crew/extras can be attributed to producer Timur Bekmambetov, who after becoming involved in the project, allowed the production to use Moscow as a backdrop instead of the typical U.S. locations, predominantly due to Bekmambetov owning his own production company in the city, known as Bazelevs, where the majority of the film was shot, with the crew consisting of roughly 30% Americans and 70% Russians. In conjunction with director Chris Gorak (Right at Your Door), who ordinarily serves as an art director/production designer on sets, harbouring minimal experience as a director, the duo aimed to make a film that would thrill audiences and feel distinct via its foremost setting, but evidently, they did not achieve this.

The central cast of Emile Hirsch, Max Minghella, Olivia Thirlby, Rachael Taylor and Joel Kinnaman are strong names, but unfortunately, all portray rather simplistic and indistinguishable characters. Fortunately, the audience is provided with a few leads that hint towards the impending extraterrestrial invasion as protagonists Sean and Ben prepare to close the deal for a party-spot program they’ve created, only to find that their alleged business associate, Skyler, has ripped them off, stealing their idea and pushing them out. Supposedly, after putting much time and effort into their project, the pair idiotically did nothing to protect their intellectual property, merely moping around a nightclub until they encounter American traveller, Natalie, her Australian friend Anne, as well as Skyler, whom they shepherd into their group during the initial raid in spite of his earlier betrayal with next-to-no drama.

Shot in 3D as opposed to going through post-conversion. The Darkest Hour‘s production was originally fifty-eight days, with a further eight to nine days being added onto the production schedule once it was decided the film would be shot in 3D. Yet, throughout the runtime, these 3D effects barely register due to so much of the film taking place in dimly-lit environments (frequently depicted by shabby sets), the only real highlight of the 3D effects being the eye-catching opening title sequence. Furthermore, despite The Darkest Hour‘s constant attempts to bombard the audience with disintegrating civilians, handcrafted weapons and adrenalin-fulled chases across deserted, dust-covered streets, many of the film’s action sequences are fairly lacklustre, with the cinematography by Scott Kevan doing little to enhance the cinematic ennui.

From tracks like Northern Lights to Here’s Our Mission and Man Overboard, the film’s orginal score by Tyler Bates is occasionally effective but not all that memorable, often feeling just as gaudy yet creatively uninspired as the visuals, barring the score’s recurring use of bellowing electronic rhythms and propulsive synthesised experiments, serving, in a way, as an audible extension of the eerie, electrical sound design that accompanies the belligerent extraterrestrials.

As mentioned many times, the film’s unusual alien species only ever appear in some form of electrolocation, sensing the electricity in living beings by generating electrical fields. A downside of this ability, however, is that the extraterrestrials cannot see through any type of glass, as the transparent material is a poor conductor of electricity. This fascinating concept is what makes the aliens stand out when compared to invaders from other sci-fi blockbusters, especially since they are protected by electrical shields and can vaporise their victims instantaneously. As such, this imperceptible, seemingly unstoppable force draws the audience in through mystery and uncertainty, eliminating much of the population of Moscow overnight. That said, the extraterrestrial’s unpredictable, electrical abilities do begin to break down the longer the central group of survivors outwit them, given the group should lack any of the skills or knowledge needed to find a way out of their precarious situation. Of course, another minor issue arises in their colour as the aliens take on a glowing golden appearance, whereas electricity, in reality, is colourless.

In summary, The Darkest Hour is a sci-fi blockbuster that falters in its many attempts to propel its audience past their inevitable plot-related questions, the occasional wobbly acting and the easily foreseeable climax. While the film does include a handful of intriguing ideas and excellent electricity-affiliated visuals (alongside a periodic usage of real-world science), The Darkest Hour is obviously not the ‘electrifying’ experience the filmmakers intended it to be. Rating: 3/10.

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Terminator: Dark Fate (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Come With Me or You’ll Be Dead in Thirty Seconds…” – Grace

After bringing the titular, wise-cracking anti-hero to the silver screen with his 2016 directorial debut; Deadpool, filmmaker Tim Miller lept onto a series with evenly iconic characters, the Terminator franchise. Kicking off with the original sci-fi-action classic in 1984, Miller’s entry in the series; Terminator: Dark Fate, released in 2019, functions as both a sequel to the first two installments and a reboot of the franchise, aiming to breathe new life into this ageing sci-fi saga. Unfortunately, however, Terminator: Dark Fate is an unremarkable, mean-spirited and overly familiar affair, lacking thrilling, fast-paced action sequences and imaginative concepts, all whilst occasionally spitting in the face of the series’ most dedicated fans through its handful of baffling creative decisions.

Plot Summary: Twenty-five years after the elimination of Cyberdyne, the company that would one day create the world-ending network of supercomputers known as Skynet, another seemingly unimportant human, this time car assembly worker, Dani Ramos, is inexplicably targeted by a Terminator from the future as the shapeshifting, nearly indestructible, REV-9, is sent to eliminate her in present-day Mexico City. Luckily for Dani, a fearless protector also arrives from the future, the bionically-enhanced Resistance solider, Grace, along with a custodian from the past, a bitter, armed-to-the-teeth Sarah Connor…

Disappointed and uninvolved with Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (2003), Terminator Salvation (2009) and Terminator Genisys (2015), producer James Cameron considers Terminator: Dark Fate to be a direct sequel to his projects; The Terminator (1984) and Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), remarking that while he was generally supportive of those films due to his close friendship with actor Arnold Schwarzenegger, he jumped at the offer to produce Terminator: Dark Fate, seeing it as an opportunity to oversee his franchise’s future. However, Cameron’s inherently controlling attitude did come with drawbacks as he claimed that, although he was involved in the writing process, he didn’t interfere with Miller’s oversight and never visited the set. Yet, Miller recalls things differently, claiming Cameron stepped in for some uncredited editing, finding his cut somewhat rough and prolonged. Cameron also admitted that he and Miller had their share of disagreements, ultimately leading Miller to state it’s unlikely he would work with Cameron again. These creative differences are noticeable in the final product as there is a shortage of polish in some areas, primarily in the subpar CGI and conversational dialogue, which is often corny and crass.

Blending the original’s cast with fresh faces, the central cast of Linda Hamilton, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mackenzie Davis and Gabriel Luna all do a serviceable job of portraying their respective characters, regardless of whether they are humans or machines, newcomers or returning legends. That is, excluding Natalia Reyes as Dani Ramos, who frequently fails to believably portray Dani as a fearless and firm figure due to her short stature and rather weak line delivery.

Standing as the only Terminator film where none of the action takes place in Los Angeles, Ken Seng’s cinematography is one of the few positive aspects of Terminator: Dark Fate, as the camerawork is dynamic and favourably supports the numerous action sequences, making extensive use of the latest setting for the sci-fi saga; Mexico City. Alas, the action set pieces aren’t as arresting, lacking the physicality and grittiness of the series’ first two entries, despite the admirable inclusion of their bloody brutality.

The original score by Tom Holkenborg (a.k.a. Junkie XL) is habitually loud and imposing, initiating with the track; Terminated, and continuing with tracks like My Name Is Dani, The Wall and Screaming Turbines, the foremost of which softens the score up via Mexican-style guitars, lending a lighter tone to some scenes. Still, it likely goes without saying that, although adequate, the soundtrack doesn’t hold a candle to the original Terminator score, even if the film attempts to earn nostalgia points by implementing its well-known mix of synth, drums and electronics whenever possible, including the audible motif; “Dun Dun Dun Dun Dun.”

Spoilers ahead in this section for those who wish to go into their viewing blind, but I’m sure many are wondering where the significant character, John Conner, is in all of this. Well, in the opening scene of the film, young John is actually shot dead by a Terminator. Whilst shocking, this moment not only deprives the audience of any screen-time with the fan-favourite character, but also renders the conclusion of the second entry meaningless. Moreover, with Skynet no longer existing, thanks to the events of that film, the screenplay conjures up a ‘new’ antagonist with Legion. This almost indistinguishable, equally hostile A.I. force is just far too similar to what the series has attempted previously to appear innovative, alongside its use of an already comparable narrative structure.

In summary, Terminator: Dark Fate is just as uninspired as its bland sub-title suggests, often feeling like a sequel/reboot made out of obligation than anything else. And, with the franchise’s previous restart attempts in Terminator Salvation and Terminator Genisys, each written to be the first of a trilogy before that idea was scrapped due to a lack of critical and commercial success. Terminator: Dark Fate is yet another series revamp succumbing to a disappointing box office gross and lacklustre reviews, the rough outline written for its two sequels being discarded, leaving the future of the franchise uncertain and, in my opinion, indicating that the Terminator franchise needs to be ‘terminated’ itself, evidently running low on ingenuity and relevance. Rating: 3/10.

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Leave the World Behind (2023) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“A Conspiracy Theory About a Shadowy Group of People Running the World Is Far Too Lazy of an Explanation… Especially When the Truth Is Much Scarier.” – G. H. Scott

Suspenseful, intriguing and enigmatic, 2023’s Leave the World Behind is an adaptation of the novel of the same name by Rumaan Alam. Steadily drawing its audience in through its engaging premise and stunning camerawork, this stylish Netflix Original is an apocalyptic thriller centred around the idea of humanity’s destruction being brought about by our distrust of others, our overreliance on modern technology and our lack of control over the planet. And, although not perfect, the film is a predominantly engrossing and intricate original flick for the streaming service in more ways than one.

Plot Summary: Exchanging New York City for a much-needed family getaway at a luxurious, remote rental home, couple Amanda and Clay Sanford are shaken by the late-night arrival of the sharply-dressed stranger, G. H. Scott, and his daughter, Ruth, bearing troubling news of a regional blackout and communication issues. But, as the pair are invited inside and speculate on why this rapid technological breakdown is occurring, all signs begin to point to more than a temporary malfunction…

Written and directed by Sam Esmail (Comet), creator of the incredibly gripping and considerably underrated crime-thriller television series; Mr. Robot, through which Esmail proves his extraordinary talent as a screenwriter and director. Leave the World Behind proves, once again, that Esmail is an absurdly talented filmmaker, governing the film’s pacing, upsurge in tension and consistently dour tone to an astonishing degree, all whilst enveloping the story in an unpredictable and surprisingly close to reality ‘end of the world’ scenario, even if the narrative unnecessarily harbours a lengthy runtime of almost two and a half hours. I can, however, see some taking issue with the film as a result of its conclusion, which is rather inconclusive and underwhelming after all the film’s build-up, even though the climax does answer many of the questions the audience likely possesses at that time.

The central cast of Julia Roberts, Mahershala Ali, Ethan Hawke, Myha’la, Farrah Mackenzie, Charlie Evans and Kevin Bacon all hold their own throughout the runtime, authentically portraying a concerned family, a pair of fairly unwelcomed guests and a distrustful neighbour with the appropriate dose of awkwardness and apprehension. Yet, the characters themselves aren’t given enough to make them appear memorable or complex, merely functioning as viewpoints for the audience as they piece together the sprinklings of clues and information they uncover in relation to the circumstances that are transpiring around them.

Utilising its colour palette to represent specific characters, like the colour blue, for example, being employed around the Sanford family, with their bedroom, car, clothes and other minor details all sharing this colour. The visuals, specifically the sleek cinematography by Tod Campbell, are inventive and attractive, visually conveying much of the paranoia the characters are feeling while implementing Esmail’s signature style of filmmaking via uncomfortable close-ups on the characters, positioning them in the corner of the frame to further put the audience on edge, with even the wall art in the master bedroom altering over time as Amanda and Clay’s temperament intensifies. Additionally, Leave the World Behind houses a few moments of fairly impressive CGI whenever the characters encounter a CG flamboyance of flamingos or a herd of deer near their rental home, which is certainly abnormal and visually interesting, yet the animals’ significance in the grander narrative is largely lost on me.

Crafting an outstanding score for all four series of Mr. Robot, Mac Quayle is a superb composer and continues to prove his worth with his nail-biting, horror-esque score for Leave the World Behind, continuously adding to the suspense of each and every scene, whether there is any physical peril at that time or not. During tracks such as; Beach Day and Cyberattack, Quayle’s orginal score is led by an isolated, eerie piano piece, placing the audience (for a brief moment) amid the film’s impending apocalypse and the human drama unfurling within. However, as much as the score attempts to immerse the audience in the narrative, some of the licensed songs chosen for the film have the counter effect, seeming unsuitable and irrelevant to both the tone and the story, despite the stylish opening animated sequence where one of these songs is featured, serving as an electrifying curtain-raiser.

On another note, Leave the World Behind interestingly contains several references to Esmail’s previously mentioned television series, including Amanda’s laptop and the yellow emergency kits the character, Danny, purchases both being produced by E-Corp, a fictional corporation featured in the series, as well as a book written by the Mr. Robot character, Irving, also appearing, suggesting that the stories may take place in the same universe, which would make sense, given the stories’ shared notions of hackers, cyberattacks and theories regarding online terrorist groups.

In summary, Leave the World Behind is a Netflix Original that will undoubtedly divide its audience, taking an unconventional approach to the well-known formula of the apocalyptic scenario, leaning more into the isolated paranoia and scepticism of an ordinary American family rather than the grand destruction of famed cities and their associated landmarks across the globe. Even so, whilst not quite as polished or as compelling as Esmail’s masterwork of a television series, Leave the World Behind definitely has its notable elements, in my opinion, grounding itself in reality as much as possible. Rating: 7/10.

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