Of course, it always hurts a little extra when we lose someone from our beloved Star Trek family, and bless her heart and soul for being there back in the days when the franchise was just getting off to its second good start.  If that 'second good start' meaning escapes you, then go and ask a real Trekkie!

Sally Kellerman was an award-winning actress who always seemed like a real classy lady, like one of the true dames who could've ruled Hollywood had she been born a generation earlier than she was.  I know that moviegoers of a certain era will likely always remember her as the original 'Maj. Margaret 'Hot Lips' O'Houlihan,' a role that's etched in cinema legend.  But her career spanned an incredible one hundred and fifty eight different screen roles (per IMDB.com), and that makes her no slouch, indeed.

As for her appearances in genre properties?

She made an uncredited visit to the world of Rod Serling's The Twilight Zone in 1963, and -- around the same time -- she paid her respects to The Outer Limits not once but twice.  She likely shot her work for Star Trek and the fondly remembered I, Spy around the same time (circa 1966).  1967 saw the lady making stops into the TV worlds of Tarzan and The Invaders.  Though it's certainly a dubious contribution to the world of Fantasy, 1986's tepid Meatballs III: Summer Job saw Kellerman as 'Roxy Dujour,' a deceased porn star who returns to Earth (as a ghost, of course, not a zombie) to help a camper lose his virginity.  (Gasp!)  In 1990, she enjoyed guest work in an episode of The Ray Bradbury Theater, an anthology program based on the author's short stories.  There may be one or two more, but I think you get my point: there was no property this talk drink of water was afraid to tackle, so let her resilience and tenacity inspire you in whatever you set out to accomplish today.

Thoughts and prayers are extended to the lady's family and friends.  May she forever rest in peace.

-- EZ

Back in the very late 1980’s, I worked for a short time in video retail.
 
Alas, it wasn’t all that interesting work, but because the home rental business was still in its expansion phase the position I held certainly gave me the opportunity to vastly understand and explore the wide, wide, wide variety of titles coming out from all over the world.  I wasn’t provided with much pre-release publicity materials as others, but video release day was usually when the stores received an incredible assortment of new tapes – many of which folks had rarely heard of – and this forced us to ‘bone up’ as quickly as we could in an era with minimal research tools.  I didn’t have a Wikipedia.org to consult, and IMDB.com had never been heard of.  Consequently, the greatest asset I had was to watch the film itself and form my own ‘educated’ opinion.
 
So when a little something something like Surf Nazis Must Die was released for general consumption, I’ll admit most of us didn’t quite know what to make of it.  I couldn’t watch everything, so it was a flick I passed over to some subordinates to watch, knowing they’d share their insights with me.  If I spoke with ten workers who’d seen it, then the positive/negative response was probably 50/50, but even those who spoke highly of it stressed it definitely wasn’t going to be a rental most folks would enjoy.  Normally with that close a divide in the audience I’d end up screening it myself, but I never did.  I was in a phase that pushed me more toward somewhat ‘high art’ and/or classics, and something marketed as so ‘punkish’ and ‘forgettable’ just couldn’t squeeze itself into my schedule.
 
Well, nearly four decades later, I’ve finally seen the thing.  In one respect, I’m glad I waited because being somewhat older and wiser I probably found more to appreciate in it than otherwise.  It’s a weirdly hypnotic experience – one that’s hard to look away from – but much like I cautioned back then remains true today: this ain’t gonna be for everyone.
​

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging:
“In the wake of a killer earthquake, the beaches of California have been taken over by vicious neo-Nazi punks.  No one can halt the megalomanic reign of Adolf and his stiletto-heeled, leather-clad Eva, until they pick on the son of Eleanor ‘Mama’ Washington.  Now she’s out for vengeance.”
 
Sigh.
 
I’ve often said that 1984’s Dune is best talked about by people who’ve read the source material, and that kinda/sorta captures my sentiments about Surf Nazis Must Die: it’s best discussed by people who’ve seen it and liked it.
 
On its face, the title is probably the most interesting and captivating element of the entire production.  Its uniqueness practically compels a potential viewer to pick it up, to look it up, to read a bit more on what this curious thing is about.  Essentially, that’s very good, as I found its set-up so very, very weak that I was glad I knew more about its setting as its opening vignettes did little to establish this world.  Yes, that’s definitely a weakness of the narrative, but I suspect most viewers drawn to this curious oddity will give it a pass on that point.
 
Plus, it has surfing.
 
What you have with Surf Nazis is the classic revenge picture given a Fantasy-themed makeover for an audience not all that concerned with specifics.  The background of these characters never figures into its premise, nor is there a stitch of character development chucked anywhere between the opening and closing credits.  While many critics dub it a type of grindhouse feature, I’d stop short of making that comparison mostly because I see those films as reveling more in the excesses of sex, blood, and violence; and, factually, Surf Nazis has very little of those.  Further, I’d argue what it does have is largely tame by comparison to other releases of its era.  It ain’t Disney, true, but it ain’t Peckinpah, either.
​

It does have surfing.
 
But the picture’s greatest weakness is that it really starts and goes nowhere.  Things happen – these beach bums decide they’re going to work together in their stand against an Apocalypse that doesn’t look all that dangerous – and folks either respond to them or they don’t.  The greatest through-line to all it involves Mama Washington’s quest for justice, but – if that’s the central plot – her revenge accounts for marginal screen time in a picture otherwise preoccupied with the punks.  Eventually, a conflict arises that pits these gangs against one another, but it’s all handled with so little focus and explanation I couldn’t confirm exactly what the problem was, is, or became.
 
Surfing isn’t a conflict, but that’s in there.  Lots of it.  Couldn’t say why.  But it’s there.
 
As happens with many films that build a cult following, there are some nuggets of gold in here.  Gail Neely (as Mama) does a great job fleshing out the underdeveloped hero a bit, and Dawn Wildsmith (as Eva) admirably fills out her leather garb while chewing scenery up and spitting it out.  To his credit, Michael Sonye laces his scenes with just enough creepiness (as Mengele) that I suspect audiences would’ve loved to have spent more time with him.  Barry Brenner (as Adolf) – the lead villain – is little more than a fit-and-trim poser, looking more like an unemployed Chippendale’s dancer than he ever does a force for evil.
 
And yet Surf Nazis endures.  It’s the kind of film that – like a cockroach – will survive long after we’ve been turned to dust or reduced to worm food.  It defies logic, but it squeezes very little of that into any of its glorious eighty minutes.
 
You know what it does squeeze in there?  Surfing.
​

Surf Nazis Must Die (1987) was produced by Troma Entertainment.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by Troma itself.  As for the technical specifications?  Well, the film had an awful lot of grain to begin with – for its California setting, everything is surprisingly pale – and none of this was ever rendered what I’d call vividly; still, I guess it’s nice to have the title available on Blu-ray, no?  I just wish maybe they’d tinkered with the video and sound a bit more as it’s pretty uninspired.
 
Lastly, if you’re looking for special features, the disc does boast a nice number of short bits, though I was disappointed to see so many of them not directly related to the film itself so much as they were the Troma company, but it is what it is.  There are an assortment of short interviews, some deleted scenes, an extended interview that (curiously) plays like an audio commentary track but isn’t an audio commentary track (you’ll understand if you can find it), and some other bits.  Though a bit underwhelming, I did get a few laughs from them.
 
(Mildly) Recommended.
 
Hey, no film is perfect, and I’m not even sure that anyone involved with the making of Surf Nazis Must Die ever intended it to be.  On the B-Movie scale?  It gets a solid C.  It isn’t so much “gloriously depraved” as it is “depraved,” and it isn’t so much “deliciously campy” as it is “campy.”  Performances are exactly what one might expect, and the plot – what little there is – is heavily supported by long sequences of surfers surfing.  Radical.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Troma Entertainment provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Surf Nazis Must Die (1987) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

-- EZ

Metaphors have long been a tool in telling stories.
 
For instance, metaphors draw audiences in without a lot of splash or visual trickery.  In an almost subversive way, they eliminate the need for exposition or information dumps as they posit just the required amount of data in such a way as to lay a foundation from which to build.  Furthermore, they give a responsible storyteller another tool in the toolbag that can be used practically at any moment to underscore the emotions a character might be experiencing.  This has a way of not only establishing a baseline but also updating the audience as to where we’re at in the film and maybe even point in the direction we’re heading.  It’s an economic way of communicating a lot of stuff in simple terms.
 
Naturally, there are disadvantages to relying too heavily on a device.  If the viewers are at a loss to understand why a metaphor has been inserted, then directors run the risk of disenfranchising the audience, putting them at odds with what’s happening in the film.  Also, if the metaphor is employed inconsistently throughout the entire story, then viewers might struggle to make sense of how some scenes add into the narrative center.  Of course, I won’t even get started on the prospect about whether the metaphor is a bad choice as that really has an endless list of weaknesses introduced as a consequence of a bad decision.
 
Take Back The Night (2021) makes, arguably, a very effective case for using metaphors on film but only up to a point: what do you do when the monster truly is a fictional monster?  Have we just spent 90 minutes pushing a message when that message distracts from the vicarious thrill long associated with our enjoyment of Horror features?  How does the viewer reconcile those differences – the thrill of being scared with the reality of being attacked – in the film’s closure?  I’m not wise enough to have the answers, but I’m always willing to ask the questions … even when it hurts.  That’s my curse.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s promotional materials:
“Finding herself the victim of a violent monster attack, Jane launches a vigilante campaign to hunt the beast that tried to kill her. Jane’s efforts intensify, but her troubling history of drug use and mental illness bubbles to the surface causing her family, community, and authorities to question the authenticity of her account. Suddenly alone in her fight, Jane starts to doubt her own memory of the attack…to doubt if Monster exists at all.”
​

I’ve never been a fan of using metaphor to tell a story.  Granted, one of my all-time favorite television shows – Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek – used the technique an awful lot back in its day, but its writers did so for a very specific reason: they couldn’t get many of the program’s topics past network censors and onto the Boob Tube back then at the risk of courting some controversy, so they cleverly couched society’s biggest challenges of the era in a fabric that preserved the idea with a healthy smattering of Science Fiction and Fantasy.  Sometimes, it worked.  Other times, audiences probably chuckled to themselves.  I know I did.
 
With Take Back The Night, director Gia Elliot joined forces with co-writer and star Emma Fitzpatrick to plumb the depths of female-centric Horror by crafting their traditional monster movie with a bit of a social justice critique.  Jane (as played by Fitzpatrick) was attacked by … well … something in a dark alley the night after her rather successful art gallery launch.  While the assault itself didn’t appear to be sexual in nature (in fact, I don’t think the story clarifies what exactly it was, though there’s a healthy amount of midsection excision, bruising, and wrist-scarring involved), the metaphor is drawn that way chiefly owed to the gender of the characters (not that there’s anything wrong with that).  If it seems that I’m being weirdly specific, the truth is that I am as I’ve tried to be clear that I struggle with metaphor-heavy tales.
 
As a Horror film, Take Back The Night works best in its second half.  The first is a bit heavy with some meandering stretches of Jane understandably numb from the encounter.  While the creature is a bit nebulous – it’s really given no significant backstory other than it’s here, it’s been here, and it’s exclusively preying on women – it’s all rendered in a way with blackness and shadows that ratchets up the tension effectively.  In fact, the creature sequences were so grand that I honestly wished there were more of them!  The climax is particularly good, and there’s even a slim opening for a potential follow-up, something that almost universally applies to good creature features made with a deep respect for things that go bump in the night.  Its leads – Fitzpatrick and Jennifer Lafleur (as the police detective trying to make sense of Jane’s evolving case) – are particularly winning.  Kudos to all involved on all these points.
 
But … and this is where the controversy starts …
 
The only man in the film is a philanderer who joins Jane for what we’re shown to be a consensual (yet debatable) pairing in the bathroom in the opening segment.  (There are other small male roles, but this is the only one of any visual importance, so far as I’m concerned, because of its ramifications from start-to-finish.  This Night is female-centric, and it was likely designed that way.)
 
Ahem.
 
This is important to me because this being Jane’s only real interaction with a man – there’s even no father mentioned in her backstory though science would tell me one had to be there at some point – so it also has to educate me about her character as much as it does his.  This male’s face is never shown (I’m sure this was intentional), and he’s only identified strategically by shots of him having sex with our lead.  It’s only then that we see the wedding ring on his finger, and I think this was done to clearly present him as a person willing to compromise his morality (assuming he had any to begin with) in the pursuit of sex.
 
The fact that there are no responsible males in the film implies the greater statement: there are no responsible males in this world.  That’s a sentiment I don’t embrace – it’s certainly not a world view I accept or identify with – and that’s what I mean when I say metaphors can be risky propositions.
 
Alas, Elliot and Fitzpatrick’s metaphor doesn’t stop there.
​

Before long, we’re introduced to a small but growing cast of characters, none of which are given any names.  They’re simply identified on film by either their relationship to Jane or what profession they have in life.  While I might suspect the storytellers’ motives in using such a tactic, I’ve absolutely no means to know for certain, which leaves me only further befuddled about what they’re trying to say about our world-at-large.  Is it that the only people who matter in Jane’s world are faceless, nameless souls?  She apparently makes her living largely off the sale of her art and as an influencer on social media, so is this a commentary on how detached our civilization has grown from itself?  Do her buyers not matter?  Do her friends not matter?  Or is it, simply, no one matters but Jane?  It’s her story, so maybe that’s all this is, but I’ve no way to know.
 
So I won’t pretend to understand what the filmmakers were trying to suggest with such ambiguity – even the film’s monster is essentially just a splotch of blackness with occasional arms and legs and only a few remaining identifiable details (are those eyes? They look like orbs.  I see hands, yes, but little else …).  While I can ponder any number of potential extrapolations, a metaphor’s chief weakness is that it has to be perfectly understood in order to effectively communicate the ‘moral of the story’ … and what I get here falsely assigns a bit of celebrity to victimhood, for lack of a better explanation.  I felt like I was being told a tale to rally around a particular sentiment in the finale … I just don’t know what I’m supposed to champion here.
 
Don’t get me wrong: I’m all in for shutting down predators.  I shouldn’t have to say that but anticipating the reaction to my review I find it preemptively necessary.
 
Truthfully, predators have no place in a civil society.  I think everyone agrees on that point.  I have family members who’ve dealt with issues relating to it, so I am speaking from a position of admittedly limited experience.  Further, I’ve seen, read, and heard enough true stories involving assault, about how the reporting process is flawed, about the struggles the victim is forced to endure, etc., and I agree that’s a cultural travesty we’ll never quite recover from.  But what you have here – because it’s a Horror movie – is entirely fictional and never presented as being possibly authentic.  Lose the metaphor, tell a real rape story, and everything else here makes sense.  But as a Horror entry?
 
I just struggle with the messaging.  Always have.  Likely always will.
 
Take Back The Night (2021) was produced by Emma Fitzpatrick, Kwanza Gooden, and Gia Elliott.  Publicity materials indicate that the feature film will be both screened theatrically and available on demand starting March 4, 2022.
 
Recommended, but a few words of caution as Take Back The Night is positioned as a metaphor discussing violence against females.  While I heartily stand with victims of assault, isn’t it kinda/sorta irresponsible to pair your FICTIONAL MONSTER MOVIE with real-world crimes?  Doesn’t that diminish those suffering from legitimate, frightening experiences and almost cheapen what honest victims have gone through?  I could be wrong (have been before), but I see this is a marketing misstep.  I understand the similarities clearly scripted here; it just kinda/sorta left me with a bad taste in my mouth afterward.  But, hey, if the film gets both sides talking?  That can only be good … right?
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Dark Sky Films provided me with a complimentary streaming link of Take Back The Night (2021) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Generally speaking, I tend to avoid covering traditional slasher films on SciFiHistory.Net mostly because there’s very little originality in them … well, except for the killing.
 
Slasher films tend to follow a formula very closely.  They present a scenario wherein someone has been so egregiously wronged that this character emerges psychologically broken to the point wherein his or her only means of expression becomes murdering others.  Much in the same way Hollywood might seize on a popular concept of the day, production companies will be suddenly inspired to run with their own variations-on-a-theme (i.e. a killer with a chainsaw inspires a killer with a drill, etc.).  So far as I’m concerned, there just isn’t that much variety within these pictures to make for any substantive observations about the differences, and I bow out, leaving these feasts for others to devour.  Have at it!
 
But from time-to-time I will jump back into that fray.  Occasionally I’ll discover an old slasher film I’ve only heard of but not seen airing on cable, so I’ll set the DVR or make it a night in.  Because I do tend to gravitate toward providing coverage for older films, I’m also offered opportunities to view and review older films selected for new transfers from any number of companies; and I’m largely all-too-happy to give those a spin.  Believe it or not, there are some gems lurking in the darkness still out there; I know I’ll never get to all of them in a single lifetime, but that won’t stop me from trying.  Could that make me a serial killer?  Maybe in some phantom universe …
 
All of this brings me to today: Deadly Games (1982) is a mostly bland iteration on the serial killer theme, but I’ll give it a few points for trying something a bit different.  Though it’s relatively tame – especially by other contemporary attempts at cinema glory – a leaner cut may’ve made the end result a bit more memorable, though it still may’ve lacked one compelling lead performance (by killer or victim) to seriously break ground.

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging:
“A masked maniac with a penchant for a monster-themed board game is playing his own twisted game with the women of a small American town.  Each time the dice is rolled, another victim meets a grisly end.  Returning home to mourn the death of her murdered sister, Keegan befriends local cop Roger and reclusive cinema projectionist Billy – but soon finds herself in the killer’s sights.”
 
When the killer has to essentially pull the film to a halt and deliver a soliloquy about who he is, why he did it, and why he won’t stop, has the story bottomed out?
 
Don’t get me wrong: there are countless flicks who handle these kind of reveals with great effect, but Deadly Games just isn’t one of them.  Who among us doesn’t appreciate when the story’s central character ‘needs a moment’ to stand up on his soapbox and cry out against the pains inflicted upon him by humanity, his government, or – gasp! – his closest friends?  It can make for great cinema – the kind that produces goosebumps – but it’s staged here with a rather dull recounting by killer Roger Lane (played by Sam Groom) as the camera pulls back and back and back to leave our best baddie with the smallest presence in the frame.
 
Well, perhaps that’s exactly what writer/director Scott Mansfield intended.
 
His Games, after all, were scripted to take place in some anonymous small town in Anywhere, America where everyone who eats at the corner restaurant knows everybody else’s business.  (Trust me: I grew up in one of these little haunts, so I know firsthand how they work.)  Nothing happens in these places, so the gossip of day-to-day life becomes a living soap opera these residents create all on their own.  It’s their entertainment.  Having a serial killer take up residence and begin offing the neighbors finally graces them with a kind of celebrity status; and because that kind of thing never takes place here each and every one of them believes they could be next.
​

That isn’t a bad place to begin this story because it’s clear that, centrally, his Games is obsessed with the life not lived.  Indeed, his film opens with the murder that sets everything in motion: some anonymous but deliciously attractive woman comes home from work to her reclusive abode.  Unwinding from the day’s events, she opens the door, stands looking out at the forest surrounding her house, and begins to disrobe in an enchanting fashion.  Clearly, she’s being emotionally swept away – even if only in her imagination – to another time and another place, somewhere that she’s the center of attention or larger than life.  What happens next?  Well, life intrudes – a telephone call pulls her back to the grim reality of her life … and pretty soon she’s dead.
 
Sadly, what follows such an inspired opening paves the way for the film’s greatest weakness: it’s chocked full of small-town campiness.
 
In particular, our lead – Keegan (Jo Ann Harris) – relies on your accepting her girl-next-story beauty with one of the goofiest senses of humor on film.  At times, it felt like Mansfield was trying to caricature the ‘funny girl’ who emerges from little stops all across the fruited plains; but what was intended to be humorous only felt more annoying as the story wore on.  Adding a bit more clunk to the script, Mansfield kinda/sorta gifts each of his town lasses with a signature quirk – one’s a bit clueless; one’s a bit obsessed with gossip; one’s endlessly bawdy.  It’s effective to a degree, but it’s all overplayed to the point of predictability here, and that provides the film with no solid foundation.  Though it may be true to its environment, that doesn’t mean it makes for great storytelling, especially not when it’s relied on so exclusively.
 
Having grown up and left my small town, I can say assuredly that no one wants to go back there.  While the setting might make for an interesting diversion, constructing the entire narrative around small town life might amp up one’s authenticity but it makes for somewhat boring bedfellows … and don’t even get me started on small town sex life (which even works its way into the script).
 
In particular, slasher films need a hook that takes them up a notch, and these Games have none.  The through-line of the story here seems to be (without divulging the identity) to kill off all of the town’s best-looking women (which in itself could’ve been a hook, if it were written that way); and that’s not enough of a spine to give this visual creature a life of its own.  Mansfield’s thriller kinda/sorta wanted to buck tradition – maybe even become the anti-serial-killer serial killer movie – but where’s the fun in that?  As I’ve often said, stories like this are meant to maximize either scare factor or give audiences a chance to vicariously revel in bloodlust; and these Games feel nothing like a game.  They’re fairly rote.  They’re fairly routine.  While a scene here or there might poke fun at the way these stories unfold (hello, cemetery scene), it’s all delivered with little to no aplomb so as to make the rising body count forgettable.  That’s no way to die … not even in a small town.
 
I’d be remiss, though, if I didn’t pose this closing thought: even with so many insignificant moments rolled into one, I could still argue that the film might have a chance with a leaner cut, a tighter edit, and maybe even greater exploration of what the story’s central board game fixation was all about.  (Sure, I can posit a theory or two, but as a narrative device it just wasn’t given enough screen time here.)  At one hour and thirty-five minutes, the thrills are simply spaced too far apart here; trimming the excess – especially when so much of it is just small-town life – would’ve minimally increased the excitement and maybe even made the killer seem a bit more ominous.  As it stands, there’s just too much fluff, and that weight’s unnecessary.
​

Deadly Games (1982) was produced by Great Plains Films.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the reliable Arrow Video.  As for the technical specifications?  This 2K restoration looks and sounds very good, though there remain a few sequences of noticeably inferior film sources.  As for the special features?  Arrow Video is no slouch in that department, and they’ve ponied up a grand new audio commentary (from The Hysteria Continues), and interview with John Eggett (special effects and stunts), an image gallery, the original theatrical trailer, new artwork, a collectible insert with essay, and some BD-ROM content.  It’s a grand collection for fans to absorb.
 
Alas, this is one that’s hard to give any measure of an enthusiastic thumbs up, but if formulaic chills are your thing then maybe it’s worth a view.  Deadly Games’ cast is a blend of the ordinary – no one stands out, not even its signature killer.  Its examination of small-town psychology makes for a few interesting observations, but they’re not revelatory enough to deem them as anything that’ll redefine life as we know it.  They’re novel – much as the people who come from small towns – and that’s it.  The great Steve Railsback turns in a solid supporting performance as the town’s ‘creep,’ and even that feels wasted (up until a point) in this whole affair.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Video provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Deadly Games (1982) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Far be it from me to wade into a controversy (snicker snicker) ...

As a member of a variety of Science Fiction and Fantasy related Facebook groups, I'm well aware of how often modern politics drives a wedge between various factions of the membership.  The discussion of particular issues does have the tendency of putting individuals up on their respective soap boxes; and, yes, I too have probably waded from time-to-time into waters far too deep for my own safety.  I think that's natural -- as humans -- to want to sound off on matters of importance; while I personally believe there's nothing wrong with giving people a bit off rope to wander around the issues, I equally comprehend that some folks just can't help but hang themselves with the same rope.

For what it's worth, Science Fiction and Politics have always been topics difficult to separate; and this is largely because so much of good SciFi -- not 'hard SciFi,' per se -- involves subjects tied directly to a political philosophy.

In fact, many in academia will insist that Science Fiction got its start in the 1800's specifically when a group of forward-thinking writers started penning scripts, stories, and manuscripts aboard what their ideal society would resemble.  This 'Utopian' movement certainly set a trend which many scribes wanted to sound off on -- much like today's Facebook corners -- and, as a result, there were competing theories about the best way to move mankind from its dark days to brighter climates.  As you can imagine, these various platforms only led to more and more discussion -- as well as more and more stories -- and the movement gave audiences some of the best literature of its day precisely because those telling stories were insistent upon creating their particular visions of tomorrow.

Secondly, some of Science Fiction and Fantasy's very greatest works were penned with specific political ideas in mind.  Can you imagine trying to distance the works of, say, Kurt Vonnegut from his political leanings?  Or how about Robert A. Heinlein?  George Orwell?  Margaret Atwood?  Or even the ground-breaking H.G. Wells?  How do you discuss any dystopian novel, series, or movie and ignore the politics?  I've argue that you can't -- at least, you can't discuss it fully -- and even making a cursory attempt demonstrates the follow of trying to limit or restrict free speech.  Like Jeff Goldblum's character in Jurassic Park warned, nature finds a way ... and eventually much of SciFi's themes do as well.

Lastly, I'd point my finger toward the vast space operas or galactic sagas that have experienced some highs and lows in popularity over the years.  Amazon.com's The Expanse requires a healthy understanding of its own mythological interstellar politics in order to appreciate exactly what and where and how everything is occurring; and audiences could easily suggest that even George Lucas' Prequel Trilogy dabbles very openly in the ideas of what unifies various worlds under ideas of a Republic and an Empire.  While these may not be discussions that take place as centrally as the simpler themes of good vs. evil, they're still there ... and all one must do is take a gander at Amazon's listing of the many SciFi franchies that have been used by any number of authors to explore the politics of fiction.  There are quite a few.

So -- as I said above -- I don't want to wade into any controversy here, but Science Fiction and Politics have been joined at the hip since its inception.  Denying folks the opportunity to examine it?  Well, that's exactly what the baddies in SciFi and Fantasy have been trying to do since the start!

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

Some movies just have a magical way of transporting you back to another day and another time, and this is true even if the movie itself wasn’t really all that good to begin with.
 
As I’ve mentioned previously in this space, I spent the first few years of life growing up on a farm in nowhere Illinois.  Once my sister and I were approaching school age, the family picked up and moved into a nearby city (not all that large) to obviously make that easier on everyone.  Naturally, this relocation also benefitted my mother and father as it meant they could get together more often with friends on Friday and Saturday nights, in which case my sister and I would be dropped off at the babysitter’s house for a few hours.
 
As the quiet one of the two of us, I spent most of this time propped up on the floor in front of the television.  Whoever’s house it was?  That person would put something he or she found appropriate on the screen (FYI: this was well before the days of home video), and I’d pretty much be expected to stay there and watch it.  Thinking back, I can tell you without reservation that I can only remember two things I saw.  One?  Star Trek.  The original series.  I couldn’t tell you which episodes, but I distinctly remember Kirk and Spock.  (Spock more so than Kirk, if I’m honest.  I’m pretty sure it was the ears.)  The other thing?  Someone fixed the channel on Bert I. Gordon’s Village Of The Giants.
 
Of all things to remember, how do I recall that so clearly?
 
It’s entirely because the guy of the house – I don’t recall his name – turned to me after he figured out what was on.  Bending down beside me, he pointed at the screen and told me, “Don’t grow up and turn out like these kids.”
​

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging:
“Eleven-year-old Genius mixes up some super-goo with his chemistry set, turning cats and ducks into giants.  When a group of wild teenagers see the results, they gobble it up too and turn into towering tyrants, challenging adults and making mayhem while the world desperately searches for an anti-teen antidote.”
 
Most readers here know of my fondness for older films.
 
Truth be told, Village Of The Giants isn’t one I’m all that crazy about.  Though it does have a hold on me for reasons cited above, it’s an otherwise glorious failure on so many levels one would probably go crazy trying to quantify it.  The acting isn’t particularly good.  Its production detail isn’t all that riveting.  There’s probably not a ‘big moment’ in any of it worth replicating elsewhere.  And still the picture is the kind of release that endures, largely owed to a cult(ish) fascination with the finished goods.
 
The name Bert I. Gordon likely doesn’t resonate with most, but for fans of genre entertainment it’s one that comes up from time-to-time.  Gordon’s resume includes a respectable two dozen flicks; and those genre projects vary greatly in terms of general quality much less memorability.  Titles like King Dinosaur (1955), The Amazing Colossal Man (1957), and The Spider (1958) are very unlikely to make any historian’s ‘best of’ listing any time soon, but they possibly had a particular relevance for audiences of their era.  I watched them several times across the years of TV syndication of my youth, and I believe – though I could be wrong – Gordon’s films have been given the MST3K treatment more than any other director … and that kind of quality has got to count for something!
 
Adapted from ideas presented in the H.G. Wells’ novel The Food Of The Gods, this Village rather cleverly couches some biting social commentary in between moments of friction between people big and small.
 
Our chief antagonist, Fred (played by Beau Bridges), definitely represents the free-spirited teens of the 1960’s.  They pushed back against authority of any kind.  They openly doubted the words of ‘the man.’  Things like government and the civil society were to be avoided at all costs.  Fred and his lot (actually a reasonably impressive roster of young talent from the day) are introduced when climbing out of a car crash, screaming in delight, dancing in the rain, and rolling around in the mud in some rhythmic display of hedonism.  Once they lose interest with that, they openly announce they’ll be heading into the nearby town to cause trouble.
​

​These sentiments typify the youth of the 1960’s, the ones who were rebelling against class structure of any type, pushing back against the U.S. involvement in wars abroad (Vietnam), and openly demonstrating against things their parents before had long held dear.  Clearly, Fred was likely intended to appear as a spokesman – his gang of cohorts a rowdy political party all of their own – and I suspect director Gordon and screenwriting pal Alan Calliou thought they were tapping into the zeitgeist of that era by pitting these disaffected souls against the residents of Hainesville, California.
 
Now, this is not to say that the youth of Hainesville were necessarily any better.  Clearly, there are a few bad apples in every town, and we’re soon introduced to Mike (Tommy Kirk) and Nancy (Charla Doherty) who spend their afternoon on the couch smooching quietly as Nancy’s parents are out of town for the foreseeable future.  But their benign make-out session is a far, far cry from what Fred and his friends were up to, so it’s clear that what the central conflict of this story will inevitably become.  It’s the counterculture versus conformity though brought to life via some fantastic concoction that makes small things grow big.
 
Setting aside that MacGuffin, Village becomes a project that’s easier to talk for that symbolism than much else.
 
Its story is a bit flat – apparently, Hainesville is the only city on the planet whose citizens express no concern nor despair with giant-sized felines, ducks, and teenagers, treating these developments as perfectly commonplace.  Its production details – including effects – are a bit undercooked; there’s very little done consistently to scale in here (as it applies to the giants), and the entire look of the town is all very generic.  (Having grown up in a small town, I can assure you that most have their own ‘flair.’)  Lastly, its script really has no functioning and central protagonist.  Mike emerges as a bland frontrunner to kinda/sorta ‘save the day,’ but it isn’t as if he sought the role nor did events craft him to serve as a leading man.  Conflict works best when it’s embodied by opposites; Fred and his friends’ antics pretty much emasculate even the women in here, and the failure to centralize the force of goodness in a single voice really hurts the film’s shifting focus.
 
Still, it’s hard to defy Village’s charm when it comes to composing scenes where the ‘bigs’ and the ‘littles’ collide.
 
Proving girls just want to have fun, one of the giant-sized rebels lifts up a small townie and proceeds to dance the night away with the tiny man clinging to her bra straps for dear life, his arms astride her massive monster breasts.  (It’s a scene featured prominently in the film’s advertising slicks.)  When the Hainesville teens concoct a scheme to trap the lumbering Fred, they spend a sequence weaving and winding through his telephone pole sized legs.  In the film’s climax, that same unfortunate townie dancing partner must descend from a building’s rafters, rappel onto those same magnificent bosoms, and drug the giant girl who ether.  The things some men will do for justice!
 
Respectfully, it’s time like those that Village grows greater than the sum of its parts and quite probably accounts for whatever following it maintains to this day.  I’d argue that many of these scenes are laced with a kind of latent, subversive ribaldry that – presented otherwise – might not have achieved censor approvals.  While the rest of the film relies on a kind of childlike wholesomeness, these moments feel just a bit filthy … like a Dirty Walt Disney production, were there such a thing.
 
Nice work, Mr. Gordon.  Nice work.  If you can get it.
​

Village Of The Giants (1965) was produced by Berkeley Productions, Embassy Pictures, and Joseph E. Levine Productions.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via Kino Lorber.  As for the technical specifications?  This 4K restoration looks and sounds absolutely incredible; having seen this one (in bits and pieces) over the years on television and cable I can say that it’s never (NEVER) look anywhere near this good.  (The story is still what it is, so that may not mean much to most folks.)  As for the special features?  Well, besides the trailer there’s a good commentary provided by film critic Tim Lucas.  As can happen with some of these older releases, much of the information he presents is ancillary and not directly involved with this production, but there’s still plenty of nuggets in here to make for a quick feast.
 
Recommended.
 
Let’s be perfectly honest with one another, shall we?  Most folks aware of Village Of The Giants would point to it and proclaim that it’s because of films like this that Science Fiction and Fantasy has the jaundiced reputation it does as a genre.  Still, there are those of us who’d point to the same and argue it’s because of films like this that our genre has its beloved charm!  Reality is what you make of it; and, while the motion picture is as thick with flaws as are Beau Bridges monstrous, overgrown ankles, it’s still a guilty pleasure to behold.  Imperfect.  Hollow.  Fractured.  And, yet, we can’t look away …
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Village Of The Giants (1965) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

Well, well, well ...

Readers, I spent the better part of yesterday afternoon devouring the forthcoming release from Kino Lorber: the 1965 SciFi/Fantasy Village Of The Giants.  It's an incredible 4K restoration of an admittedly not-all-that-incredible film, but in all honesty I was mildly fascinated with it.  It could be that I've never quite seen this version of the picture: the restoration work was incredible.  Like so many who follow older films, I've seen this one on television over the years, and it's always been grainy and blurry in spots.  I was so impressed with the quality of the rework that I ended up doing a fair number of screencaps from it and decided to share them for posterity's sake with their own page on SciFiHistory.Net.  I figure fans of it might eventually be more interested in picking up the Blu-ray if they get a better taste of what to anticipate.

Interested?

Well, my screencaps are located right here.

Mind you, I don't do like some of the really devoted Science Fiction enthusiasts do and sit for hours just trying to get the absolute perfect scene for preservation.  I give it a once-over and hope I've captured enough quality to get the job done.  Just do take a gander: it's a very, very, very impressive restoration.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

Huh.  Well, that looks a bit odd.

As I've always cautioned, I rarely make all that much fuss over what some marketing executives chose to highlight in their particular coming attractions.  Often times, the final story ends up veering in slightly different directions than what's promised.  And I've also always been a bit skeptical of mentioning the work of other filmmakers in what's supposed to be an advertisement for your own, and the earlier works of Christopher Nolan were just a bit too trippy for my tastes.  (Yes, yes, yes, I know I'm in the minority.)

In any event, it kinda/sorta looks like director Rob Schroeder's P.R. time are lining him up to be the next Nolan with their spin on Ultrasound (2021), which looks set to launch in theaters and on demand this upcoming March 11th.  Plot details are a bit sketchy, but here's what they've listed under their citation on the reliable IMDB.com:

"After his car breaks down, Glen spends one hell of an odd night with a married couple, setting into motion a chain of events that alter their lives plus those of several random strangers."

​Interestingly enough, the project has a fairly respectable score on IMDB.com (6.6 on their 10 scale) as well as a healthy 24 critical reviews (as of today's date).  I suspect the flick has enjoyed a bit of exposure on the film festival circuit; though such reviews make for pleasant reading, I've often found that they don't always represent the more 'common man' perspective as event viewings like that tend to be loaded with industry insiders looking for a bigger gig.  Again, peeps, that's not intended as an insult to anyone; it's just an honest reflection of what I've seen.

Trailer will be below.  Those of you interested?  You know what to do.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

 -- EZ
​

​​​From time-to-time, I find it fun to pen a flashback review.  Flashbacks take a trip in time, going into either recent or distant history to take another look at something I’ve seen before for the sole purpose of seeing how maybe it, I have changed, or times have changed … making it a unique experience all over again.
​

​From the film’s IMDB.com citation:
“A homicide detective and an anthropologist try to destroy a South American lizard-like god, who’s on a people eating rampage in a Chicago museum.”
 
Well.  Welcome to the Windy City, my friends.
 
I do remember seeing Peter Hyams’ The Relic in cinemas, and I do distinctly remember not being all that enamored with the end results.  As is often the case, the film still has bits and pieces I enjoy – along with some stuff that I think weighed it down unnecessarily – making it a mixed bag of highs and lows that never quite congealed the way a good scare should.  Seems to me (at the time), I dubbed it a fairly routine monster movie with the sole exception that I didn’t feel all that sorry for the monster.  (I do like giving them a bit of empathy.  So sue me.)
 
Hyams was no stranger to Science Fiction and Fantasy at the time, already having features like Capricorn One (1977), Outland (1981), 2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984), Stay Tuned (1992), and Timecop (1994) under his belt.  Interestingly enough, he’s also credited with penning the script for Outland, an impressive but slow-moving flick that enjoyed a ‘Best Writing’ nomination from the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror Films.  (Outland was also nominated for a 1982 Hugo Award.)  Hyams also adapted Arthur C. Clarke’s 2010 to the silver screen, and that motion picture brought home the bacon – well, the trophy – from the 1985 Hugo Awards for ‘Best Dramatic Presentation.’
 
Adapted from a novel by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, the script appears to have passed through several pairs of hands to get it into shootable condition.  If I’m understanding all the creditable mechanics properly, Amy Holden Jones (her only pure genre project) penned the first draft, one that was further attended to by John Raffo (no SciFi or Fantasy to his name other than this).  Their work was then handed off to screenwriting partners Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver, a married couple who’ve since reappeared on the genre scenes with scripts for Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes (2011), Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes (2014), and Jurassic World (2015).
​

Being unfamiliar with the book, it’s impossible for me to know if perhaps some of the qualms I suffered with The Relic’s story may have stemmed from the source material, so I’ll leave that alone.  I do think that the film tinkers with a wealth of scientific and cultural ideas, and – despite the meatiness of the concepts – I thought most everything was translated very well for audiences to follow.  Technobabble can slow down a story, but most of the discussions here were presented conversationally; and that definitely helps viewers who may’ve otherwise struggled with the premise.
 
Still – as I said above – at its heart The Relic is the classic monster movie given a contemporary locked box setting, that of the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago.
 
Housing all of this within a museum is a curious choice, indeed.  Museums are not regularly thought of as places for scaring one silly.  From my experience, they tend to be rather dry and quiet environments.  While often scenic, they don’t exactly have – open to the public – rooms and corridors one might associate with frenetic action or blood-curdling chills; but what The Relic proposes is that – behind-the-scenes – this grand old structure has even plenty of space that could be exploited for its thrills and chills, even blessing it with a subterranean level leading to city infrastructure just perfect for a creature-in-hiding to build its den.
 
All of that is well and good.  Having never been backstage at any museum, I’ve no way of knowing the extent of its rooms and storehouses.  But what Hyams’ depicts rather casually here ends up seeming like an OSHA nightmare.  Offices and workrooms are so poorly lit that I can’t imagine anyone willing to stay gainfully employed in that space for too long a time; while its easy to dismiss boiler rooms and security offices as having dim spotlights, The Relic’s quarters look more like they were pulled out of some 1940’s noir film sets as opposed to a place where people actually punch a clock for a living.  Granted, I can accept some suspension of disbelief – Hyams was likely trying to set the proper mood for his monster movie – but the technique used here strains credibility.  Much of the film is just entirely too dark.
 
Stars Penelope Ann Miller and Tom Sizemore deserve credit much of the credit for bringing the dark to light here.
​

I’d been in love with Miller’s work since her appearance as the lovely ‘Margo Lane’ from the tepid silver screen adaptation of The Shadow (1994), so it was fabulous to see her building a career in genre projects.  Alas, it wasn’t quite meant to be as her work really steered more toward conventional properties after this (I hope we didn’t scare her away!).  Still, she effectively channels a kind of ‘Dana Scully’ vibe here (from Fox TV’s popular The X-Files).  Her character – Dr. Margo Green – handles a lot of The Relic’s exposition, a great choice so far as this guy is concerned because I’d sit and listen to her read me the ingredients off a mayonnaise jar.  But giving credit where credit is due, she tackles these duties with practiced gusto and yet – unlike many lesser SciFi and Fantasy scripts – she’s actually allowed to be truly frightened in the face of monstrous adversity.  Audiences feel her shock and horror when discovering a beheaded coworker, and her scenes opposite the film’s creature are particularly effective as she struggles to maintain her fright while drawing the menace into a trap.  It’s a great performance that keeps one riveted.
 
Sizemore – an incredible busy actor whose career is fast approaching three hundred different screen projects on IMDB.com – has always had this blue-collar appeal for me.  While he might play characters of authority – here, he’s the Chicago homicide detective working against the city system to get things under control – I’ve never seen him as someone who kowtows his way through life.  The folks he embodies seem like the common man, so casting him here as the understated voice of normalcy (who just happens to have a superstitious streak) strengthens the picture.  His is a voice that’s easy to root for, and while it’s a bit sad that his ‘Lt. Vincent D’Agosta’ ends up being locked out of the finale (pun intended) it’s great that he and Miller are given a happy closing reunion.
 
I’d be remiss as a genre geek if I failed to also highlight the involvement of actor Clayton Rohner, another personal favorite of mine who deserved some greater attention.  He first caught my eye with his work in an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation (“Too Short A Season”), and I’ve watched for him ever since.  He turned up in a stellar Fantasy series, Good Vs Evil (1999-2000), that truly deserved a wider audience than it earned; and fans might recognize him from any number of visits to such franchises as The X-Files, Angel, Jake 2.0, Dollhouse, and Stitchers.  In The Relic, his ‘Detective Hollingsworth’ is essentially Sizemore’s partner; and he delivers a great workmanlike performance leading folks to safety.
​

What really matters in a monster movie is – without a doubt – a monster, and The Relic doesn’t disappoint.
 
Stan Winston designed the film’s creature – a bit of a chimera for reasons that tie into the plot – and it works on every conceivable level.  Thankfully, there’s enough lighting in parts of the film’s second half that audiences to do to see it in all its wheezing glory; but a tighter script – one that didn’t have it moving from one side of the museum to the other so that it could be practically everywhere at once – might’ve made all of this a bit more believable.  At one point, I’d begun to suspect that there were two of them; since that wasn’t the case, I stand by that observation.  The film has the thing hunting survivors through the city sewers only what seems like seconds after falling through the museum roof moments ago; how the critter got so far so fast never gets explained, and that was a narrative hiccup in need of a remedy.
 
In retrospect, I suppose I’d conclude that I liked The Relic a bit more on this later viewing than I did on the first go’round.  Some of that could be owed to my being a little older (and a little wiser), but I’d still insist that the film’s increasingly dark corners did it no favors with audiences of the day.  Straining to identify exactly what it is one’s looking at isn’t the reason we go to the theaters to vicariously have the wits scared out of us, and just a bit more light on the subject may’ve given this chiller a bit more appeal.

​-- EZ

​​I’ve always argued that traditional Horror films suffer from one central drawback: no matter how interested the viewers might be with the plot, its mechanics, or its performances, they’re still all patiently waiting for the next body to drop.
 
After all, everybody knows that’s what the main appeal of Horror has been, remains, and always will be.  Films of the genre are one of the truest expressions of vicarious entertainment because … well … we can’t go out and do what the baddies are doing lest we risk being caught, charged, and incarcerated.  We’re rapt in our seats waiting for the kill.  We’re focused on those characters we think are next in line to suffer a cruel, cruel fate.  We’re watching the sidelines trying to figure out just how and when the source of evil might strike.  And we’re likely to suspend our disbelief over practically anything in order to witness some bloodshed.  That’s just life in Horror, folks.
 
Thankfully, Horror comes in all shapes and sizes … but rarely – rarely – does it come with a legitimate family angle.
 
Now, I’m not talking about the Leatherface family, those relatives featured prominently in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise.  Those cannibals were merely hellbent on figuring out where their next meal is coming from.  That’s their thing.  What I’m talking about here is the family that’s dealt a curse, and – as a consequence – they’re racing against time to undo the danger wished upon them.  That kind of dark magic tangled up in the bloodlines of a family tree has been tinkered with in some foreign affairs I’ve watched.  U.S. flicks dabbling in similar ideas generally involve immigrants, relocated dissidents, foreign asylum seekers, and the like.
 
What these films have that other Horrors don’t is they explore a particular culture in ways big and small … and that’s something which could’ve been a greater asset to The Accursed (2021), a spooky family potboiler emerged from the minds of co-writers and co-directors Kathryn Michelle and Elizabeta Vidovic.  Mixing up potions all of their own, they packed this low-budget chiller with some of the right ingredients but perhaps left a few untouched on the table as well.  And just a bit more spice would’ve elevated this perfunctory scare to something a bit more special.

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com citation:
“Hana spends twenty years suppressing a maleficent curse that was placed upon her bloodline, only to have a family member knowingly release it forcing her to kill or be killed.”
 
As I said above, Horror is perhaps the only genre which truly relies on perpetuating victimhood.  In short: the more, the merrier!  On that score, The Accursed definitely comes up a bit short as the body count never quite reaches the heights possible; and that’s largely owed to the fact that scribes Michelle and Vidovic really centered on keeping this a family affair.  Divulging too many details on that front would really spoil the plot (which I won’t do), but suffice it to say that maybe when you think you’ve had it up to here with this bunch there’s one more secret to drop … so I’ll leave it at that.
 
What I will compliment is how well the writers kinda/sorta framed their ‘worst honeymoon ever’ in the fabric of culture.
 
Essentially what audiences get here are gypsies-of-a-kind.  These characters come from families forced out of their birth countries and relocated to their own quiet corners (in the U.S.) where they do still engage in some of the Old-World habits.  Yes, the uniformed might call this a kind of witchcraft – we eventually do learn that they are practicing something like it – and this family has been labeled as such by the world around them.  It’s this added flavor that gives The Accursed its best moments (well, the ones besides its effect scares), though some of that cultural trickery unspools with not enough exposition for me to truly understand and appreciate what was happening.
 
But while this ethnic angle drew me in – it was the script’s singular source of magic – I couldn’t summon greater interest in much else.  As a ghost story, it was all a bit too generic.
​

The frights – while a few of them are quite effective – ended up being a bit predictable, and that’s never a good thing for any Horror property.  Scares need be constructed to deliver maximum effect; otherwise – as I’ve tried to be perfectly clear – storytellers run the risk of disenfranchising the very reason why the viewers showed up in the first place.  Ratcheting up a sense of dread is all well and good (the co-directors make great use of their camera and location), but a subpar delivery of frights will likely have your audience losing interest.  Winning them back in this type of thriller – one relying on ethnicity – is damn near impossible, especially when they’ve grown tired of waiting for the ax to swing.
 
All of those objections aside, The Accursed certainly brought together a cast capable of delivering the goods (or, at least, what the script provided).  The luminous Yancy Butler has long been a favorite of mine; though her career may not be as storied as others, she brings a great center to this whole affair as the failed sinner whose greatest secret threatens to unravel a bloodline.  The reliable Goran Visnjic could’ve had a bit more to do here; he spends the first half of the picture brooding (it becomes understandable when you know the details), and then I felt like he spent too much of the second half running here and there at Butler’s commands.  I’ve loved Melora Walters since her time on HBO’s Big Love; but most of what she does here felt a bit of an overreach in theatrics.  It’s almost like she’s seen her future, knows she’s destined to fail, and spends her screen time angry; a bit of nuance might’ve served everyone’s goals here better.
 
Are there a few relative newcomers worthy of mention?  There sure are!
 
Maiara Walsh does a great turn here as ‘Zara,’ a young sprite who’s trying to use her cultural talents for good in the community beyond.  She taps a great energy, filling her scenes with a welcome youthful vitality when everyone else is trending dour.  George Harrison Xanthis – as ‘Petar’ – balances his family issues against trying to fit into the world outside, and the script gives him some nice small moments to make all of his struggles seem real.  His dark turn in the second half helps elevate the tragic circumstances everyone was secretly fighting to avoid.  The pretty Izabela Vidovic handles much of what the scripts asks of her fairly well.  Alas, there’s a nebulousness to her character’s motivation in the film’s second half that doesn’t quite reconcile easily with what we’re told earlier, so perhaps one more draft on the script could’ve iron things out a bit more evenly.
 
In the end, The Accursed proves – without reservation – that some families are more of a curse than they’re worth.
​

The Accursed (2021) is produced by Almost Normal Productions, Blue Jean Baby Productions, RMR Productions, and Compound B.  Presently the film is available on a variety of streaming platforms including Apple, iTunes, Amazon, YouTube, and several more.  As for the technical specifications?  The film looks and sounds very solid – there were a few instances wherein someone was visibly speaking on camera but there was no line, so I’m thinking something may’ve been removed and/or edited in post.  Special effects are mostly good, though as can happen from time-to-time with CGI some of the sequences are a bit too obvious.  Overall, it wasn’t a distraction.
 
Recommended.  As this is clearly a smaller, indie-style Horror release, I’m suspecting The Accursed might be cursed to find a wider audience.  Within the broader category of Horror, it really fits more into the subset of witches and/or witchcraft; given that I believe it invokes a specific heritage, it might even be suggested as a ‘cultural Horror film,’ an even more narrow subset of films.  Performances are good – a few are a bit over-the-top – but the entire project could’ve used a more thorough set-up and maybe even some further discussion of the family’s heritage.  That could’ve bolstered some of the slower sequences wherein audiences are waiting for the next body to drop.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Almost Normal Productions provided me with a complimentary streaming link for The Accursed (2021) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ