​Total disclosure: I’ve had an ongoing love/hate relationship with the films of John Carpenter.
 
I know, I know, I know.  How can you be in any kind of a negative relationship with a man who’s better known as ‘The Horror Master,’ am I right?  Honestly, I don’t always understand it myself.  When I do take the time to mull it all over, I usually come back with this bottom-line clarification: I think he explores some incredible subject matter, I think he’s a genius with the camera, but I’ve often found the end results uneven, at best.  When all is said and done, I struggle to pull some original thoughts from the experience, so I do tend to avoid speaking up (or writing about) on any of his projects until I’ve had ample time to cogitate the point of it all.
 
For example, I’ve long said that I don’t understand all the love he’s received throughout the years for The Thing (1982).  (Take a breath, people, just TAKE A BREATH!)  While I don’t dislike the film, I certainly don’t think it’s his best work.  Yes, yes, yes, the practical effects are legendary, but you do know he didn’t do those himself, right?  Of course, the craftsmen deserve the lion’s share of that credit, and I’m willing to let him bask in their glory (with respect), but the story is far too sedate for my liking.  Again, there’s nothing wrong with it: I just don’t see it as his crowning achievement.
 
And – for that matter – neither is The Fog (1980).
 
From what I’m aware, he made this following his real breakout theatrical feature (1978’s Halloween, a picture that practically to this day still defines conventional slasher pictures); and, in some ways, I think it demonstrates the good and the bad in finding success in Hollywood.  While one could argue that Halloween owes its triumph to its grim and trim intensity, The Fog by comparison seems like an attempt to shift the focus more toward what a mainstream audience might desire.  It has some big names in it, as well, and though I can appreciate what a name talent might bring to the property it also kinda/sorta pushes much more toward a studio effort (as opposed to Carpenter employing some guerilla-style filmmaking in his earlier days).  A bigger budget also means easier access to more glittery effects, and I think in some ways that cheapens the scare factor when you make a project more about its technical accomplishments than focusing on bringing frights to life.
 
(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 citations:
“An unearthly fog rolls into a small coastal town exactly 100 years after a ship mysteriously sank in its waters.”
 
The beauty of setting any Horror property in what’s advertised to be a ‘small town’ of any type is that you pretty much have signaled one truth to your audience right out of the gate: somehow – and in some way – the locals at some point are going to have been involved in some wrongdoing.  More than likely, it’s been covered up – maybe forgotten except for a fateful few – and before all of the blood is spilled so will, too, be the secrets that invariably set all of this affair into motion.
​

So The Fog – as conceived by director Carpenter and his creative partner Debra Hill – really offers up no spectacular surprise in filling that portion of the bill.  The duo may posit an unusual discovery of this hidden background, but it’s still there.  Waiting patiently.  The way secrets do.  Once it’s out, the supernatural power surrounding it cannot be denied; and the modern residents will likely have to expend a fair amount of time trying – in no uncertain terms – to put things right.  That’s pretty much The Fog in a nutshell, as they say.
 
Given the fact that Carpenter never quite found his big screen success by ascribing to the predictable or formulaic (to a degree), I was aghast at just how much The Fog felt like a theatrical color-by-numbers production.  Though not all of these predicaments were fully or even appreciably explained, I think it’s still fairly easy to see how all of these elements are going to fumble around in the murky light only to eventually come together in the last act.  Why, there’s even a bit of a coda tagged on after what we’re led to believe was a winning finish, one that – like the big studios always do – hints that maybe – just maybe – things are far from over with the residents of Antonio Bay, California.  Maybe the studio executives were unhappy with the happy ending?  Stranger things have happened.
 
Setting aside some of my disillusionment with the entire film, I’ll still give props to what I think was a stellar and undeniably fabulous first half.  Ignoring a few narrative quibbles, the set-up to so very much of The Fog’s circumstances is the stuff of legend, even bringing in crack acting Thespian John Houseman to ‘set the stage’ for the nightmare that’ll unfold before your very eyes.  Telling a ghost story around the campfire, the august star makes the most of some simple passages; and perhaps that’s how director Carpenter approached this film.  Maybe he thought he was reinventing cinema’s ghost story?  Honestly, there’s ghost of a chance of that happening once this one winds down, leaving Houseman’s scenes the highlight from an otherwise low tide.
 
Once this sleepy little berg is overrun by the mist, all bets are off as to things making perfect sense.
 
There’s a nebulousness to the … erm … spirits?  (Pun intended.)  I guess that’s what you’d call them.  These ghosts come and go only within the fog itself, and, at times, they’re far less a phantom and more like spooky men in dark clothing.  While I’m a big believer that if you can do something practically you should, I think seeing less of these shadowy figures physically would’ve been a good thing.  While some have said that Hitchcock ‘invented’ the creeping visuals, I’ve always thought that it was Carpenter who truly perfected it; and I’m guess that I’m honestly surprised how little he relied on that gift in The Fog’s second half.  All of it was rendered just too literally – with little room for speculation – and I find things scarier the more I have to think about them.  That doesn’t happen here, and I think that cheapens the thrill.
 
Lastly, the fog itself was often rendered on film as a special effect instead of with machinery, and – dare I report? – it was just awful.  It looked like a cheap optical magic act, one anyone could see through.  An obvious bit of visual trickery added in post, it served no purpose other than to pull me out of the carnival attraction, to remind me that you’re only sitting here watching a film of this ride so there’s no need to be frightened.  Clearly, the crew had access to the technology of fog machines – they were used in a handful of the better scenes in here – and that was the better approach to weaving this tale.  I understand that, perhaps, there are limitations in producing that effect on the scale required; so maybe some other sequences should’ve been envisioned to replace efforts to damn obvious.  Who knows?  Sometimes smaller is better … infinitely so.
 
The Fog (1980) was produced by AVCO Embassy Pictures, E.D.I., and Debra Hill Productions.
 
Mildly recommended.
 
A winning premise can only carry any project so far, and – that said – the first half of John Carpenter’s The Fog is dynamic.  It’s an incredibly staged, well-conceived ghost story … but it all crashes in disbelief when obvious special effects negate the rising tension, leaving this boat to crash on the shore in its big finish.  A great cast gets utterly wasted in a predictable finish, one that probably couldn’t have been salvaged even with a tighter edit.

​-- EZ

​Frankly, I pretty much intended on avoiding penning a review for Walt Disney’s serialized Andor program … but, in some ways, I just can’t help myself.
 
Like so many who write about it, Star Wars means an awful lot to me personally.  Yes, I was there – as a youngling the age of eleven – to see the very first motion picture when it launched theatrically back in 1977.  As you can imagine, nostalgia practically beckons that I continue to stoke the flame lit over four and one-half decades ago; while it may not burn as brightly with some of these installments, I still felt impelled to sound off on “The Eye,” the fateful sixth part of its inaugural season.  There were some highs and lows – some of which relate to what I perceive as character weaknesses – but I’ll dispense with the preamble and get down to the business at hand.
 
Without doing any comprehensive plot review (which all too many writers these days think is a requirement of talking about any show), let me say simply that “The Eye” functions as a bit of a bank caper: Andor and this (ahem) merry band of rebels have finally arrived to carry out their mission of absconding with what we’ve been told is an entire Imperial payroll.  Though we’ve never been given any specific reason that the money is needed, it’s safe (I think) to suggest that we’re looking at the very funds that might be used to put the Rebel Alliance into high gear.  After all, funds are required for any adventure, and this impressive haul might be good enough to set up the galaxy’s opposition forces in their fledgling days.
 
Andor himself continues to prove (as I’ve suggested) he’s quite possibly one of the weakest creations in all of the Star Wars pantheon of characters.  While the show has offered up a loose kinda/sorta origin, the only thing these writers are clearly toying with is that he’s an immeasurably angry person.  In fact, he’ll occasional stop at nothing – even killing in cold blood – if that means he can advance himself personally in the galaxy far, far away; and the hour even ends with him displaying yet again that he owes allegiance to no man, no woman, and no cause.  It would seem he joined this action because he had no other choice; no that it’s done, he’s taking what’s his and getting out.
 
I don’t think that should necessarily come as any surprise.  I have read some commentary and reviews about him – critics still seem to be very smitten with Diego Luna’s work in this somewhat politically-charged escapade – and I’m at a loss to understand why.  All he’s shown me are some piloting skills, an affinity with a blaster, and an endless supply of anger.  Everything – it would seem – makes him angry.  Though we have seen incidents of his early life that may’ve given such resentment just cause, I don’t personally believe I’ve seen enough to justify his constant rage.  Constant distrust?  Sure.  But never-ending fury?  Sorry, folks, but I’m at a loss.
 
Early episodes hinted that there was something involving his “sister.”  That thread, at this point, seems to have disappeared; and perhaps – when it rears its head again – that plotline might present the context I feel the show is currently lacking.  While I probably enjoy a bit of mystery like anyone else, I do appreciate knowing just where personal motivations come from … and Andor – the man and the show – I’m just finding a mixed bag.
 
Visually, yes, “The Eye” was pretty arresting.
​

The hour gave us a look at another dwindling culture that’s been squashed nearly into extinction by the efforts of the Empire.  (For the record, I really don’t think any viewers need any more reason to hate Palpatine’s government, but I do understand and appreciate the depths to which any good writing can flesh them out a bit more.)  The officers have now been revealed as not simply mere oppressors (if that wasn’t bad enough), and Tony Gilroy’s script has added racism, misogyny, and (gasp!) capitalists to the equation.  Eventually, they’ll be shown to have kittens and small children, I fear, and only then will their transformation to the Dark Side be complete.
 
Also, the episode gave us a return to action, coupled against the backdrop of a celestial event that lit up the sky “with all the colors of the rainbow” (to borrow a phrase from another Disney property).  Andor piloted the getaway ship right up into this galactic storm, and somehow he managed to escape while considerably smaller ships were pulverized in the process.  Yes, yes, yes: I realize that there was the suggestion that Nemik was using some old school technology that apparently the Empire no longer understands.  It still felt a bit too convenient – perhaps a bit too clever – and more likely a scriptwriter’s invention than anything authentic.
 
However, the hour also offered one of the show’s most uneven character moments to date.
 
One of the fallen rebels, Karis Nemik, is in dire need to medical assistance after nearly being crushed by a pushcart weighed down in Imperial credits.  After their “fearless leader” Vel Sartha insists that they let him die, it’s Skeen – someone who has previously been played as about as untrustworthy as a henchman can be – who practically demands they do everything possible to save the young man.  While it’s ultimately a decision Andor makes, this was still Skeen’s moment, I think, when he was finally given a bit of depth.
 
Lo and behold, the very next scene served up in the story had Skeen advocating for he and Andor to abscond with the stolen loot, leaving everyone behind to be caught, killed, or incarcerated.
 
Erm … hello?
 
Wasn’t this the guy who was just willing to risk it all to save Nemik?
 
And now he couldn’t care less?
 
Am I even watching the same show right now?
 
It’s these narrative moments that kinda/sorta belie logic that have me struggling with all of Andor.  A throwaway line here or there could’ve easily been inserted – it could’ve been something as simple as Skeen suggesting privately to the paid mercenary that he wanted to use this medical emergency as a distraction so that they could now break away – but no such indication came.  Before you know it – hell, before you knew for certain that maybe this Skeen just testing the pilot (something he’s done repeatedly throughout their uneasy partnership – Andor blasts him dead.  Just like that.  Boom.  Here one moment.  Gone the next.  I guess that’s what you get for being inconsistent.
 
There were a few other similar narrative hiccups, and yet I don’t feel the point in belaboring them.  (Well, except I did think the point of this mission was to rob the entire vault, so why did they spend so much time only stealing a fraction of it?  And maybe why was it that no one at the Imperial base questioned the arrival of an all-new unexpected squadron of troopers?  And what was up with the on-again, off-again jamming of the radios?)  Like it or not, these minor failings do affect how some viewers see the show; and the fact that its pacing has been pretty dreadful doesn’t bode well, either.  Splash, action, accents, antics, and visuals can only take one so far … but that’s about all Andor has left in its tank at this point.

​-- EZ

1994’s No Escape is a film I had intended to see in theaters, but – for some reasons now lost to memory – I just never made it.
 
Star Ray Liotta was the big draw for me at the time.  I was definitely interested in seeing how the decorated actor would fare in something that promised to be a bit more Science Fiction than anything I’d seen him in before.  While the previews certainly smacked of a fair amount of testosterone as well, I recall thinking this one was likely going to play out as more akin to William Golding’s novel “Lord Of The Flies” than anything else, and even some of the reviews I read back in that day mirrored those sentiments.  Good films often benefit from great associations, and perhaps that alone helped the flick achieve whatever positive marks it did.
 
As I said, I never caught it on the silver screen, but now I’ve been able to finally rectify that situation as I was offered to stream it in exchange for a review by a current distributor.  This release coming not all that far on the heels of the sad death of actor Ray Liotta definitely brought this one back in the spotlight for me, and I’m glad to have finally caught it in its entirety.  While it’s probably not a picture highly regarded by aficionados of Liotta’s catalogue, I’d argue that in no way, shape, or form did the talented player coast on his laurels here: under his stewardship of the role, this disgraced former soldier might even be in the best possible hands available at the time of his playing it.  He’s equal parts ‘action hero,’ ‘social outcast,’ and ‘broken man’ hell bent on trying to put things right (at least, how he sees them being corrected), and I think he gave it his full, undivided attention.
 
Furthermore, No Escape is backed by an incredible cast, actors who have done great work then and even now, some who have gone on to even bigger pursuits.  Chocked full of familiar faces and an occasionally breakneck pace of action, the film is a heady dose of adrenaline that also tries to incorporate the somewhat typical Hollywood bailiwick of exposing institutionalized corruption.
 
(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:
“A soldier convicted for murdering his commanding officer is dumped and left to die on a prison island inhabited by two camps of convicts.”
 
In fairness to the Michael Gaylin and Joel Gross screenplay (adapted from Richard Herley’s novel, “The Penal Colony”), there is a bit more to No Escape’s plot, but – like the film – let’s just say this synopsis works efficiently as provided just enough of the premise.  These characters are given “just enough” background for audiences to accept them as is.  The prison society is also awarded “just enough” of an explanation for us to see it working.  While I may’ve desired just a bit more depth in key places, the project still hits “just enough” of the right notes to make it a functioning, serviceable SciFi-lite thriller; any closer examination, and it might all fall apart, which would be a tremendous shame.
 
As it is, No Escape feels and works with B-Movie efficiency, though it brought aboard an impressive roster of A-Team talent.  Ray Liotta – no stranger to critical acclaim at this point in his career – stars as disgraced and incarcerated Captain J.T. Robbins, a military officer with a dark secret haunting his otherwise impressive record and one that finds him cast out of civil society into the penal system.  Genre regular Lance Henriksen plays the good-hearted ‘Father’ to the growing union of men convicted of crimes and yet trying to properly ‘start over’ behind bars on a prison island.  Ghostbusters’ regular Ernie Hudson brings the character of Hawkins to life on the screen – a somewhat sergeant-at-arms to Henriksen’s Father.  And the production was rounded out with some professional luminaries as Stuart Wilson, Kevin Dillon, Ian McNeice, and the recognizable Michael Lerner in key roles for good and for bad.
 
At its core, No Escape tries to perhaps be about a small handful of related subjects – justice, incarceration, freedom, and redemption – all of which revolve around a fundamental ‘good vs. evil’ construct within this depicted prison system.  As tends to happen with this style of thriller, the structure is just as corrupt as any of its inmates – a favorite position of Hollywood screenwriters, indeed – so it’s only natural that bad men embrace their inner grace, rise up, throw off their shackles, and expose basically all of civilization as the vile institution it is.  Sigh.  Only in the movies do two wrongs almost always make a right.  While it doesn’t end succinctly with the system being destroyed, it arguably suggests the warden and his minions are well on their way to the unemployment line.
​

Still, I’d be lying if I said I failed to enjoy No Escape because nothing could be further from the proof.  It might be formulaic.  It might strike predictable genre notes at every turn.  It might be entirely fueled by an old school toxic masculinity in more than a few places.  But it’s still about as efficient as it can be, most of which is owed to the expert direction of Martin Campbell.  The award-winning director has served up such similar attractions with GoldenEye (1995), The Mask Of Zorro (1998), and Casino Royale (2006), all features that showcase how well-produced and occasionally glossy fare push through any narrative weaknesses to the delight of audiences.  Though No Escape is arguably grittier than these mentioned counterparts, it still shines of Campbell’s excellent attention to detail, giving the story even a bit more heart to balance out some dire circumstances.
 
I’d be remiss in my duties if I failed to point out that even the Academy Of Science Fiction, Fantasy, And Horror Films thought similarly: in 1995, No Escape enjoyed a nomination in the category of ‘Best Science Fiction Film,’ an award that ultimately went to the glossier crowd-pleaser Stargate (which, in turn, launched one of Science Fiction’s biggest franchises).  But on those merits alone, No Escape is definitely the kind of film that deserves a viewing for fans of genre properties if for no other reason than it boasts a helluva cast, some smart visuals, and some impressive though occasionally perfunctory action.
 
No Escape (1994) was produced by Columbia Pictures, Pacific Western, Platinum Pictures (III), and Allied Filmmakers.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by Unearthed Films (although, for clarity’s sake, I viewed this release via streaming).  As for the technical specifications?  Though I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds for this film to be fantastic from start-to-finish.
 
Highly recommended.
 
In director Campbell’s hands, No Escape certainly delivered an action-packed and thoughtful flick – maybe too thoughtful, at times – giving some talented greats like Ray Liotta, Lance Henriksen, and Ernie Hudson a cult feature on the fringes of Science Fiction.  While it may not have all the right moves to have secured box office gold, it certainly hits enough marks to be re-examined as of late (with Liotta’s passing) and maybe given the dose of respect both its characters wanted and methinks it deserves.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Unearthed Films provided me with complimentary streaming access to No Escape (1994) 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

One of the central requirements for any supernatural thriller to be successful is that it must – above all else – be reasonably unpredictable.
 
Now, a phrase like “reasonably unpredictable” shouldn’t be parsed by readers, and I will provide a brief clarification as I think it appropriate.  “Reasonably unpredictable” doesn’t mean that I cannot foresee all narrative elements; rather, there should be an acceptable mix of surprises along with twists we can generally accept as obvious.  Since there are only a handful of main plotlines used in what we’re told in all stories, it’s safe to assume some developments can and might be expected, but if the majority of what comes to pass is rather easy to assume in advance then most likely there’s going to be an uphill battle for all involved to ratchet up any palpable tension amongst these players.
 
And – hey – maybe palpable tension isn’t even necessary, am I right?  Maybe what truly matters most in a ghost or spirit or even a phantom’s tale is the ethereal quality?  The way the story might drift back and forth between what’s real, what’s imagined, and what’s not could take priority over all of the film’s aesthetics, in which case viewers might suffer a kind of jet lag upon conclusion, asking themselves, “What the Hell did I just watch?”  Good tomes of this type are hard to come by; you know ‘em when you see ‘em, and even then it’s hard to describe the experience after the fact when talking about such a spectacle among friends.
 
But …
 
The Witch (1966) tries very hard to evoke the right atmosphere for its kinda/sorta spectral analysis of an otherworldly relationship.  Men have been chasing women since the dawn of time, so maybe someone should’ve lowered the bar here.  While it succeeds in a very limited fashion (which I’ll discuss below), I thought it misfired more than it should’ve, making it a bit of a slog, a bit of a mess, and a bit of a yawn.
 
(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:
“A womanizing author is lured to a mansion by an old woman under the guise of working as a librarian.  Her daughter, Aura, appears out of nowhere and begins to seduce him.  Little does he know, Aura doesn’t actually exist.”
 
As a man, I think I long ago reached that fateful point in my life wherein I finally made peace with the fact that there’s more to existence that I’ll never understand than there is within my grasp.  And, yes, as a man, that means women – the fairer sex – I do see as beyond my personal comprehension.
 
I know, I know.  To some that statement may sound a bit sexist.  I can only plead innocence as I don’t mean it that way.  Perhaps a better way of saying it would be that I’ve come to accept that I’ll never quite grasp why men – some men, or at least me – find women so mysterious.  I don’t pretend to know all there is about motivations and desires, and women have this ineffable quality to transcend the ordinary in ways that escape me.  In fact, I think that’s part and parcel of what makes The Witch (1966) a good film, but I also suspect it’s why I found it so unfulfilling.
 
Our protagonist – Sergio Logan (played by Richard Johnson) – clearly has issues in managing his attraction to the ladies, and director Damiano Damiani gets a solid performance out of the man enslaved to a degree by his own overworked libido.  Logan detaches very quickly from one beautiful woman in pursuit of the next, and this presumed intellectual allows himself rather easily to be manipulated to the point of – ahem – committing murder at the behest of a lady he’s just met but fallen head-over-heels for.  Yes, he’s probably just the stuff of a screenwriter’s invention, but so is very much of this melodramatic ghost story that never quite finds solid footing.
 
In fact, there’s honestly very little story in here.
 
The Witch is more about setting and tone.  It rather quickly dispenses with adding layers to its story.  In fact, nearly all of the film takes place within a rather spookily contrived mansion (with great production detail), and the outside world only breaks through in glimpses here and there.  While the script features a few good exchanges between its few characters, the bulk of the conflict stays perfectly fixed around the resulting sexual tension and little else.   While a few good scenes with a few good scraps of dialogue do help to keep an audience’s focus, I found that there’s just not enough substance to give the scenes not about the laws of attraction enough grounding.  Vague suggestions are dropped here and there about what ghostly parascience might be responsible for all of this, but it’s all too obvious far too much of the time.
 
Still, I’d argue that The Witch excels quite nicely when it stays focused – front-and-center – on that alluring quality of – you guessed it – the woman.  She’s man’s greatest mystery, and the film handles that assertion rather deftly when given the chance.
​

Damiani captures both his leading ladies here – the aged Consuelo Lorente (Sarah Ferrati) and her ghostly apparition Aura (Rosanna Schiaffino) – with some beautiful photography.  Though the aesthetics certainly revolve a bit more about the youthful and deceptive Aura, her witchy superior still manages to squeeze herself under the spotlight on key occasions.  The film textually almost serves as a Valentine to that inescapable quality of the female that grants her the ability to occupy a man’s mortal soul; and, while Logan isn’t physically attracted to the elder, it’s still quite clear the woman has a way of commanding her close-up, leaving him with no choice but to sit and watch.  The young and the old are merely two halves of the same whole.  Under Damiani’s influence, these two ladies never really compete for attention: they’re part and parcel of the same sexual universe … in more ways than one.
 
I guess that’s why I’m so surprised that the rest of The Witch doesn’t seem very inviting much less interesting.
 
It’s a fairly tame affair, one that truly only percolates visually when Aura’s hormones are in overdrive – for good and bad intent – and feels more than a bit bookish about authentic relationships.  Anyone whose been in a real pairing admits that there are highs and lows – peaks and valleys – but the only drive that seems to exist here is the carnal one.  (Let it be known that there’s more than spirits that love to go ‘bump’ in the night, am I right?)  A film so feverishly committed to the indefinable quality of the woman to captivate both the body and the mind of man with something as easy as a whisper or a glance or an expression maybe deserved something a bit deeper.  Come its big finish, I was happier that it was all over – probably more than I should’ve been – and wondering what all the fuss was really about.
 
The Witch (1966) was produced by Arco Film.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the reliable Arrow Films – it’s one of four films featured in their 2022 collection, Gothic Fantastico: Four Italian Tales Of Terror.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds of this chiller to be of exceptional quality; I have read that this is an all-new 2K restoration from the film’s original negatives.  As for the special features?  The promotional materials indicate that the disc includes a new commentary from author Kat Ellinger, a video essay from author Miranda Corcoran, an interview with author Antonio Tentori, and a few cursory extras.  It’s a nice collection, though based entirely on my impression on the film I’ll likely not spend much time with these.
 
Mildly recommended.
 
Honestly, I struggled much more with The Witch (1966) than I usually do with older Horror films, and I think that’s largely because so very little actually happens in its 110 minutes.  On top of that, much of what does transpire is more than a bit predictable given the circumstances.  While a thinner cut may’ve been the way to go so far as this reviewer is concerned, there’s still no compelling reason I can think of to ever revisit this yarn, meaning maybe it’s just left best as a one-timer in the vast pantheon of things that kinda/sorta go bump in the night … but not so much.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray screener copy of The Witch (1966) 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

Much like the entire Targaryen family, critics persevere, continuing to watch House Of The Dragon – the HBO spinoff prequel to the vastly stellar Game Of Thrones (yes, I said it, and I stand by it) – even though it may not have the intellectual clout of its predecessor.  Thankfully – as we near the end of this inaugural season – developments are starting to (minimally) put the show on a path to actually being about something … well, something other than the incessant single-family melodrama not unlike TV’s popular Dallas serial on the 1980’s.  With the season finale set to launch on the pay cable network in less than a week, I thought it prim and proper to finally pony up some perspective on “The Green Council,” the ninth episode of the series.
 
As anyone could’ve guessed, the untimely (but is it?) death (finally!) of King Viserys Targaryen has opened up a pandora’s box of treachery.  Audiences learned – as did the young Queen Alicent – that the king’s own council had been secretly plotting efforts to seize the throne once he expired (what show has she been watching so that this came as a surprise?); and this shocking (not really) realization split King’s Landing’s cultural betters into two sides.  Ser Criston Cole showed just how far he’s willing to go for a seat at the table when he murdered in cold blood the council’s most vocal dissenter.  And the Hand – Ser Otto Hightower – could no longer avoid showing his true back-stabbing tendencies as he tried to pull the tapestries out from under his own daughter’s feet in her bid to do what she believes was her legacy.
 
I’m guessing this group’s next family reunion isn’t going to be that cordial.  And holiday cards?  Those are likely a thing of the past.
 
Even though this franchise (but perhaps not this particular incarnation) boasts some of the biggest action sequences ever conceived on television, the Thrones universe has always been more about personal politics than it ever was shock and awe (though it’s certainly delivered on that as well).  Love – true love – is damn near impossible to come by because every player has his or her eyes fixed on either the pursuit of power or a proclamation of authority, so the resulting relationships more often than not take the shape of ‘means to an end’ as opposed as a ‘means to happiness.’  To paraphrase a popular American president, “Ask not what you can do for your neighbor but ask what your neighbor can do for you.”  If your neighbor – or brother or sister or father – has nothing of value, then further relations is baseless, and you’re better off looking elsewhere.
​

Heck, even glimmers of hope tend to get overshadowed very quickly (and often very monumentally) within moments.

​For example, Alicent Hightower’s attempt to maintain even a small measure of moral control over the Iron Throne – a good thing given her recent turn of heart with Princess Rhaenyra where the two childhood friends kinda/sorta reconciled – was dashed away when Princess Rhaenys crashed the royal party with her faithful dragon in tow.  Knowing what little I know of this George RR Martin saga, I can assure you every time something positive appears the horizon, Hell itself is about to break loose … and that’s what happened.  The show – the one with ‘dragon’ even its name – finally gave us more dragon action, and it was pretty glorious, though short-lived.
 
Still, the overall structure of “The Green Council” was that of a chess match.  Pieces were put on the board.  A strategy has evolved.  Moves were made, but the true action it would appear remains in what’s to transpire: even the coming attraction for the season finale was a bit more interesting than this hour.  While it’s fun to watch players positioning and posturing for big moments, there really wasn’t much reward to “Council.”  Alicent took a stand against her daddy – a character I thought seemed duplicitous since the beginning – but they’ll likely be reconciled now that they’ve no choice but to cooperate in the conflict looming.
 
So … I’m forced to offer little substantive reflection on the whole affair.  A sorry state, indeed.
 
Don’t get me wrong: performances were fine, situations were handled with some interest and curiosity, the effects work was good (still, not that impressed with the handiwork this season), and the small surprises here and there were nice touches.  But “Council” as a whole?  Well, it’s almost like a ‘what if’ episode: ‘what if’ the king dies and everyone has to now take their respective stands?  What will occur?  What clash will this precipitate?  Who will align with whom?  Well, we did that, just now, and it’s up to the other side to enter the fray.  This is what happens when you give audiences so much filler: you tease them with an incomplete meal, but the main course will come next week.  Hopefully, it’ll be glorious.
 
At this point, I’m expecting a lot of exposition, though.

​-- EZ

Since even my youngest days, I’ve always been a fan of the standard mystery procedural.
 
So much of my youth was spent watching some television shows centered on some reclusive genius who showed up when called upon to solve crimes.  No matter the program, these procedurals followed the same structure.  A big event would happen in the show’s opening moments, and then the detective (or pseudo-detective, private investigator, or beat cop) would spend the bulk of the hour gathering witness statements, considering the evidence, piecing together what went down, and ultimately expose the evildoer in the show’s closing moments, leaving just enough time for a handy epilogue.  Naturally, this format evolved a bit over the years – sometimes the protagonist was older, maybe a retired physician, someone with a dog or a fondness for sweets, or even lady detectives got into the act (what with their feminine intuition) – but the assembly stayed true: before the credits rolled, you could rest assured that justice – in whatever shape it took – would be served.  That’s just the way TV worked.
 
It wasn’t long before this formula made the transition to the motion picture house.  Granted, more money was spent on film – meaning largely that the stakes could be raised, and our hero (or heroine) were afforded a whole cast of supporting players.  But try as they might storytellers still clung to what worked best: use the bulk of the running time to go about the procedure of showing just what a genius our lead researcher was, and then allow that hero to save the day.  Maybe – just maybe – set the stage for a sequel.  There’s always room for more.
 
Released in 1959, The Bat pretty much fit the mold for what audiences of that day wanted from their murder mysteries.  Give the killer a bit of flair.  Present the hero as a respected member of some wider community.  Raise the stakes – meaning deliver more victims – as the plot thickens.  Bring it all to a head in the last reel.  That’s what the public wanted, so that’s what Hollywood delivered, compliments of a script that tries (but not too hard) to push boundaries in ways that might even tempt fans of other genres to tune in and check out what all of the excitement was about.
 
(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:
“The predator has steel claws and rips his victims to shreds!  But who is he?  Vincent Price stars in this thriller about a dilapidated estate that becomes the site of a grisly murder …”
 
There’s a bit more, but I’m going to leave it at that as the printed synopsis is really far too much advertising copy than it is legitimate plot summary, and I do try to avoid that stuff.  Suffice it to say that The Bat is a little bit of a few things – of which I’ll discuss below – but never quite settles into a single narrative focus to be as entirely interesting and effective as it could.  It isn’t bad, as it is: it’s just … well … it’s all over the place.
 
Essentially, The Bat takes the shape of a Horror-tinged murder mystery, but it does so with really broad strokes.  Some of this is owed to the fact that writer/director Crane Milbur’s adaptation of the Mary Roberts Rinehart novel (previously turned into a stage play) dabbles with the usual trappings: this old house has a bit of a local mystery surrounding it, the townsfolk even chatter on about the place’s curious legend, and aging novelist Cornelia van Gorder (played by Agnes Moorehead) even vows to ‘get to the bottom of things’ with the help of her hired held and a small cavalry of little ladies.  For those who understand the reference, it helps to think of The Bat not unlike an episode of TV’s ‘Murder, She Wrote’ and you get the idea.  No matter how many bodies might pile up (and there are a few), this one maintains a fairly saccharin affair.
 
However, casting Hollywood legend Vincent Price in one of the central roles probably helped amp up the camp factor both then and now.  Price stars as the town’s Dr. Malcolm Wells, a curious insider who just happens to be in the right place at the right time to both learn the possible whereabouts of a hidden one million dollars as well as demonstrate that he’s willing to kill for it.  (Whatever happened to the doctor’s oath of “First, do no harm”?)  But despite the fact that he might be in on the whole caper, the audience is never treated to any scene of the good doctor actually trying to locate the hidden loot.  Why, it’s almost like he’s decided to take a back seat and let the rest of the action unfold.
 
Still, all too much of The Bat runs on melodramatic hyperbole.  As I said, the bank’s been robbed of their assets, and it’s hinted at being akin to the crime of the century.  Then, an unexplained forest fire breaks out just in the nick of time to give Dr. Wells plausible cover for the murder he did.  Then, the main plot gets set aside for a brewing ‘storm of the century’ back in town.  Apparently, nothing small ever happens ‘round these parts, and this is about the time when The Bat – an uncharacteristically nightmarish and violent predator for the 1950’s – gets introduced as the main killer, amping up the exaggeration even further.  Thankfully, it’s after this that things kinda/sorta settle down, and we’re treated to an actual s-t-o-r-y instead of more embellishment.
​

​Alas, the cast is honestly a bit too slim for there to be that many suspects as to The Bat’s secret identity.  Ample deflection does help keep the larger predicament afloat when other films may’ve bogged down, but Wilbur’s script still functions on far too much exposition in the more important scenes.  A nice bit involving a secret room with a hidden vault saves the last act from total boredom, although the big finish has all of the structure of any villain being unmasked in the fondly remember Scooby Doo cartoons.  It’s all a bit too tame, a bit too easy, and a bit too theatrical.
 
It's worth noting that author Rinehart was a bit ahead of her time in crafting what would become big screen and TV business: the female-centric mystery procedural was her mainstay, it would seem.  As I mentioned above, much of The Bat feels like the inspiration for the elderly lady sleuth who spends her days split between writing books and solving crimes.  Mystery purists will tell you that Rinehart’s work predates even the vastly more popular Agatha Christie’s pen, making her library one worth looking into.  Sadly, she seems to have been forgotten for her contribution to literature as even scholar Jason Ney remarks in his essay provided in this disc’s collector’s booklet.
 
The Bat (1959) was produced by Liberty Pictures.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the reliable folks at The Film Detective.  As for the technical specifications?  Once again, let me confess that I’m no trained video expert, but it is rare to see these older black-and-white flicks looking as damn good as this one does: images are crisp, and the audio levels are solid.  As for the special features?  The collection includes a feature-length commentary from film scholar Jason A. Ney; a companion essay (collector’s booklet); a featurette exploring The Bat’s writer/director Crane; and some archival radio broadcast episodes featuring Price himself.  It’s a great assortment that should keep fans ‘batty’ for a while.
 
Mildly recommended.
 
At best, The Bat (1959) is a bit of a mixed bag.  It’s not quite Horror, but it has Horror elements.  It’s not quite Thriller, but it embraces a bit of the Thriller’s conventions.  And while it’s largely been regarded as a whodunnit the cast of characters really offers only a slim picking of legitimate subjects, so it really isn’t all that difficult to figure out who the odds favor as a guilty culprit.  Still, it perseveres – probably best owed to Moorehead and Price’s work – and makes for an easy-on-the-eyes 80 minutes.  Worse things could be said.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at The Film Detective provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Bat (1959) 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

Happy Monday, faithful readers!

Over the weekend -- on top of developing a very, very nasty tooth issue that hopefully will be dealt with today -- I visited a local WalMart and scored a couple of fabulous finds, the first of which I've already opened up and snapped a few pictures of this morning.

I'd written previously about securing a few of the Micro Galaxy Squadron finds -- these exceptional Star Wars molds all built to roughly the same scale as a previous toy issue -- and this AT-ST is a delight.  Honestly, I'd even forgotten that this one was out there, having only seen it I believe once listed in an online article about this line's release.  The stores have had more than a fair share of TIE Fighters and Darth Vader's TIE Fighter, but some of these other items must be extremely short-packed.  Indeed, take a gander over at the ol' eBay, and you'll see an incredible of assortment of them going for a pretty hefty price; given the number of them turning up at this point, I think it's safe to suggest that more of them have flooded the merchant marketplace, and sellers are trying to unload them while the asking price can still be pretty impressive.  I took mine out of the package just this a.m., and I'm glad I did.  I love tinkering with these little things.

In any event, I smalled a few pictures and wanted to share them.  I'll try to get up some snaps of the other items I found later in the week, as I'm off to brush my teeth and hit the dentist's office fairly soon.

In the meantime ... may the Force be with us!

-- EZ
​

Honestly, I was never a fan of the wider Harry Potter universe.

I do recall when the original book -- the very first Potter adventure -- was making waves in the literary community.  As a response to all of the good news, I went out to a local bookstore and picked up a first edition of the U.S. printing -- not the British one or import -- and read it with some interest.  Sadly, it just didn't do anything for me.  It felt a bit too -- erm -- proper.  A bit too forced.  A bit too 'staged' magical.  While I can appreciate that it struck a chord with younger (and young-at-heart) readers, it just fell flat with me ... but I did end up selling that first U.S. edition for a pretty respectable price on the ol' eBay back in the day.  I'll never pass up the chance to make a decent buck, that's true.

In any event, I still thought it might make for an interesting cinematic property.  I welcomed that news with some curiosity, and I remember even dragging my wife to see the film during its first week in theaters.  Alas -- much like the book -- it just didn't work for me.  In fact, I thought the entire first film was damn near boring -- if I'm being perfectly frank with readers -- and my wife felt much the same.  Again, I'm glad that it was so warmly embraced by millions upon millions around the world.  All I can really say is that I -- for whatever reason -- just don't share what you see in it.  Things like that can happen.

But I'll always appreciate the efforts of talented souls who helped to bring that world to life for so many, and the fabulous Robbie Coltrane enjoyed his own corner in that cinematic universe.  Though I'll likely remember him for his contributions to ther properties and franchises, I think it's grand that so many know him for this project.  Hopefully this interest will someday encourage others to seek out what the talented actor did elsewhere, as I think his performances deserve wider study.

Alas, none of us live forever: word reached my desk just this morning via the Information Superhighway that Mr. Coltrane has left us once and for all.  Thankfully, we'll always have his screen work to remember him by.

As always, prayers are extended to the fans, family, and friends of Mr. Coltrane in their time of need.

​-- EZ

Though I do consider myself a pretty solid connoisseur of Horror in general, I’ll admit to the fact that I’ve not watched as many chillers and thrillers from other countries as I’ve seen U.S. born and made.
 
Some of this is owed to the fact that I’m largely unaware of other nations’ cultural histories.  It’s been my experience that the better Horror features – unlike other film genres – tend to be grounded in folklore unknown to me.  While I can undoubtedly watch and appreciate a film’s visceral scares, I do – more than other viewers – prefer to be grounded in the knowledge of where these ideas originate, how their people think of them, and the way these factors interact within the context of a particular story.  Still, J-Horror (Japanese haunts) have managed to bridge this divide far better than other countries – mostly owed to good translations – so I can say I’ve given more of their entries a screening than perhaps any other country’s library.  Whenever I’ve been in doubt, I’ll do a little research, and that helps to give me a foundation with which to begin thinking about the tale the way I do.
 
And a little research was necessary after my viewing of Evil Dead Trap 2: Hideki (1992).
 
Now, don’t misunderstand me: this isn’t because I necessarily thought I missed anything.  At its core, Evil Dead Trap 2 is a thrill ride – one layered with some very dark and bloody events all surrounding a pretty dour existence – and it functions efficiently on that level.  Still, there are some elements intertwined within the screenplay involving mysticism, abortion, and the traditional roles of men and women that I thought may’ve meant more than they did at face value.  In the end, I’m not certain they were intended for greater meaning; they may’ve been incorporated to give audiences just a little something extra to mull over once the credits rolled.
 
(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:
“A female projectionist is haunted by the image of a small boy.  Perhaps driven by insanity from a former abortion she goes on a killing spree, gutting women and removing their stomachs.  Her relationship with her attractive and successful friend drives the plot deeper into insanity.”
 
Like love, we never truly know why we’re drawn into some of our friendships.
 
Some of these relationships make perfect sense.  When we see another person who shares some of the same preferences and interests in life, then we establish a natural bond.  As our tastes may change over time and experience, some of these pair-ups might fluctuate, either slipping away or perhaps even growing deeper.  However, there are some friendships that work solely on ‘clicking.’  For reasons that may escape us, we simply feel better when we’re with that special someone.  Though we may have little in common, we’re still almost magnetically drawn to one another, and it becomes just one more expression of who we are collectively instead of individually.
 
For the life of me, I can’t even begin to imagine what drew the characters of Emi and Aki into their relationship in Evil Dead Trap 2.
 
Emi (as played by Rie Kondoh) is the thin and attractive news anchor for the local television station.  She’s got good looks, she’s got an assortment of equally charming friends, and the world – as they say – is at her fingertips.  Aki (Shoko Nakajima) – by contrast – is a rather plump introvert who whiles away her life as a movie projectionist, seemingly only happy when she’s by herself and in dark places.  But somehow writer/director Izo Hashimoto’s script would have us believe that these two found each other in high school, hit it off, and have been the best of friends ever since.  They appear to have nothing in common.  They don’t seem to even have any true open affinity for the other when in public.  They just don’t look like the complement one another in the slightest.  And, yet?  Here we are.
​
Textually, that’s perfectly as Hideki – also the name of a small boy who shows up almost supernaturally during Aki’s darkest moments – is a study in opposites (to a degree).  We spend the bulk of this journey alongside Aki, and – in that process – we do see her making attempts to transcend being ordinary.  In her private moments, she longs for affection.  When a possible romance appears on the horizon (in the guise of Emi’s philandering suitor Kurahashi), she’s smitten with its potential.  But deep down in her soul, Aki is already so damaged that she’s taken to murdering prostitutes and then somewhat violently desecrating their bodies … an activity that, eventually, draws Emi into her inner circle: as the local newshound, she’s hellbent on exposing this evildoer.  But, on that campaign, Emi becomes embroiled with a bloodlust all of her own, pitting these two opposites on course for an eventual showdown.
​

​Let me warn you: when they do meet, it’s no-holds-barred.  Both ladies are out for blood.
 
There’s a sprinkling of other elements that help Evil Dead Trap 2 feel like director Hashimoto may’ve been reaching for greater significance.
 
J-Horror was really just getting grounded in that nation, but Hideki – the phantom boy – is an inclusion that cries out for some explanation.  At times, it appears that he’s the ghost of an aborted child in Aki’s youth, but later on there’s a suggestion that perhaps he stands for the maternal ‘want’ of a baby in order to feel complete.  This confusion doesn’t serve the picture well, and maybe Hashimoto could’ve improved its eventual performance with audiences by being a tad more specific.  As it’s left in the climax – Aki and Hideki stare into mutual oblivion – the possible connotation escapes me.
 
Also, there’s a bit of discussion involving Japanese mysticism.  At one point in the film, Aki’s boss encourages her to try to find comfort in the throws of a religious group founded by his former wife; and – the dutiful employee – Aki goes to a meeting.  During a treatment with prayer, she falls into a bit of a trance, producing spirit-induced scribbles that suggest her ties quite directly to the string of unsolved murders plaguing the big city.  The psychic even senses the young woman’s latent ‘powers of suggestion’ alongside her own limited ability, a development that puts the two of them also at odds.  Don’t worry: Aki’s dark side will fix that liability when the time is right.
 
Lastly, Hashimoto peppers his film with some interesting and occasionally dreamlike imagery.  Aki strolls through the streets in an almost trancelike state, eventually carrying out her evil deeds.  The curious little boy keeps showing up – in darkened theater audiences, in the background of Emi’s videotaped news segments, etc.  Aki, Emi, and Kurahashi keep being drawn to meetings with one another – some planned, some seemingly random – and, though there’s little conflict, it’s clear that something more is going on inside their respective minds.  Just what that is never becomes clear, weakening the foundation of the trinity in this story.
 
What’s sad is that – at face value – none of these hints truly seem to add up to anything other than serving as some visual and narrative trickery meant to heighten the atmosphere.  Come the big finish when our two leading ladies are finally going mano-a-mano, the director infuses their faceoff with competing imagery: Emi’s ruthless choice of a boxcutter as a preferred weapon of choice versus Aki’s somewhat elegant film shears.  It’s a clear contrast – one might think their selection should be reversed based on what we know of their respective personalities – but what am I to make of it?  Is it subtext, or is the fact that they’re both dripping with blood all that matters?
 
Confusion aside, this Trap is still an impressive array of visuals, ones that just might keep you up at night.  On that respect, Hashimoto’s probably very proud of himself.
​

Evil Dead Trap 2: Hideki (1992) was produced by Japan Home Video (JHV).  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by Unearthed Films.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m not trained video expert – and I watched this one via streaming (which can occasionally have its own hang-ups, am I right?) – I thought the sights and sounds were quite good.  Clearly, director Hashimoto has a flair for capturing some impressive visuals – ones that perhaps even give the audience something to think about while absorbing the story – and I’d highly recommend it for fans of J-Horror and beyond on the merits of its aesthetic: it’s quite interesting throughout most of the affair.
 
Evil Dead Trap 2: Hideki is an almost dream-like affair.  Reality seems to overlap with fantasy – in more ways than one – in this tale of two friends who find themselves curiously drawn closer in the bloodiest of pursuits.  Still, the lack of any definitive explanation for precisely how all of this began, what the true nature of their relationship is, and where all of it supposedly went wrong makes the film feel vastly more like a cinematic exercise – maybe even somewhat experimental in nature – than it does a pure beginning-middle-end story.  Don’t be mistaken: things to come to a bloody finish, but I’ve still let to know what to make of it all.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Unearthed Films provided me with complimentary streaming access to Evil Dead Trap 2: Hideki (1992) 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
​

Like so many who pontificate on film these days, I, too, grew up in the VHS craze that began in the late 1970’s and stretched well into early 2000’s.
 
In fact, I worked in home video rental for a short time, helping to manage a small series of rental stores in suburban Illinois.  For those who also survived those dark days, it seemed like everyone who worked in such outlets had to be a bit of a film nut to begin with: customers would come in expecting these learned clerks to pony up a wealth of entertainment options, especially when the major new release titles were all out on rental.  So you had to know more than a little bit about your store’s inventory in order to be successful at it, and that’s how many of us truly started on the path that brings us to where we are (respectively) today.
 
As you can imagine, I had to watch a ton of flicks.  Something was always playing on monitors in the store, and I spent more than a few nights absorbing some of the most curious titles that our regional inventory manager selected for our rental catalogue.  Practically everything on the shelves had some income potential – at least, that’s how we were trained to look at them – and we simply had to find out how to best market and/or suggest them whenever an opportunity presented itself.
 
Back in those days, there weren’t all that many ‘found footage films,’ but there was an awful lot of schlock … and that’s why I think it’s grand that some filmmakers joined hands and assembled V/H/S/99, a ‘found footage’ homage to those days of yesteryear.  While it’s probably not going to interest every consumer of product today, I think it’s definitely something folks of that era can heartily appreciate.
 
(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:
“Witness a hellish vision of 1999, as social isolation, analog technology and disturbing home videos fuse into a nightmare of found footage savagery.”
 
Folks, I’m going to admit right up front that I – as your faithful genre movie critic – am probably not going to be the least impartial reviewer for this particular feature.  That doesn’t mean I won’t be brutally honest in my assessment of it; rather, it’s that I’ll be as forthright as I can … because (A) I do tend to be a fan of ‘found footage films’; and (B) I do tend to be a fan of theatrical anthologies.  What V/H/S/99 has done here has combined two of my personal favorites, so you can imagine exactly how happy am I to have discovered it this morning.
 
Simply put, I’m in cinematic bliss.
 
Now setting aside that single qualification, I think that I can still safely conclude that – as ‘found footage’ goes – just about all of VHS has the usual strengths and weaknesses others have long ascribed to this unique subgenre of Horror.  Yes, it’s filled with the obligatory shakycam action.  Of course, it’s occasionally a bit of a struggle to perfectly follow all of the captured recording.  It goes without saying that viewers should pause the cognitive part of the brain which forces us to overthink a premise.  Though some of the screenplays here are a bit brighter than others, I still think the end result is a solid testament to what storytellers can accomplish when they set their mind to it … and a bit out of the norm.
 
VHS features five separate stories, each told at roughly the same 20-minute-ish length.  The film also features some modest connective segments – some goofy stop motion style animation stuff and other bits – that kinda/sorta help serve to set the tone for what the broader VHS phenomenon meant to home audiences as well as budding homegrown filmmakers.  It’s all rendered with the imperfections of re-used and re-played videotapes … so buckle up for a modest dissection on each tale.
​

Shredding

​As can happen with any anthology project, there are going to be pluses and minuses.  Shredding is neither a great first installment nor that good of a Horror story to begin with, mostly because it’s the kind of thing that’s probably going to be seen and forgotten, especially given the improvements that follow in other stories.  Such is the nature of competition, and yet I still think it’s a worthy competitor.
 
Four teenagers who’ve set out to become their own successful punk/grunge garage band continue to seek out and explore other antics with which to demonstrate their ‘cool factor.’  They’ve taken to capturing all of their adolescent shtick on video and are likely sharing it with friends.  When they hear the local legend about another four-person band who died onstage after being trampled by their fans, they (of course) decide that it’s time for that possibly haunted locale to serve as their new private stomping grounds.  But as kids will be kids, they rather quickly offend the spirits of the dead, and nothing can save them from the impending dismemberment.
 
Shredding is an adequate story that plays out rather predictably.  It’s little more than a cautionary tale with a serviceable amount of blood, guts, and zombies thrown in for good measure.  It suffers from a wealth of plot holes – why would these undead rockers want to use video cameras to capture the bloodshed from their own perspective, mainly – but still manages to effectively get from start-to-finish, though little else.

​Suicide Bid
 
Let it be known that sorority ladies can be the worst kind of ‘mean girls’ of record, and you’ll get the gist of Suicide Bid right away.  Fundamentally, a “suicide bid” is when one college coed decides to put all of her eggs in one basket, meaning that she’ll only accept an invite from one particular Greek organization or be damned to social obscurity.  However, when the ladies of one group hear that Lily has indeed opted for such a bid, they decide to fool her into a dark challenge: spend the night in a sealed coffin (with a video camera inside to capture the experience), and you can be one of them.
 
As you might imagine, this is little more than a prank … but the script from writer/director Johannes Roberts goes a step further by giving the event a bit of local folklore: a girl is rumored to have died in a similar sorority prank, and her spirit has been known to pay an unwelcome visit to the ladies who attempt it again.  The way things happen in Horror films, the hazing goes horribly awry.  Before the night is over, every one of these women will come to regret their part in the cemetery.
 
Alas, Bid’s weakness is that the technology to craft all of this together as a ‘found footage’ project is impossible.  Multiple recording sources would have to be edited together – instead of one continuous take, as is the custom for the genre – so this one doesn’t feel nearly as authentic as it could.  Its scares are good, true … it just isn’t quite as ‘found’ as it is ‘edited.’
​

​Ozzy's Dungeon
 
Surely, the 1990’s had their fair share of kid-centric programming that put the youngsters through a bit of prankish escapades, sometimes with the hope of great reward.  What happened more often than not was that these contestants ended up looking foolish – while audiences watched – and they likely became punchlines in the private lives that they led once the cameras were turned away.  What Ozzy’s Dungeon imagines is a bit of demented Horror/Porn twist where a physically maimed competitor exacts a bit of revenge (ultimately) on the ones who put her through these gory paces.
 
If you survived the game and made it to Ozzy’s Dungeon, then you were granted one wish by the mysterious ‘Ozzy,’ a nebulous figure never shown on television.  (Don’t worry: we get to see Ozzy.)  As you can guess, the promise of making a family’s dream come true is what compelled folks to risk their reputation.  But the price ultimately extracted from an accident gone wrong doesn’t stop with the show’s cancellation; when a Detroit family opts to get its retribution on the show’s lurid host, they’ll not only meet Ozzy face-to-face but also suffer the wrath of their angriest young daughter.
 
Like Suicide Bid, Dungeon isn’t so much a ‘found footage’ film as it is a Horror feature that utilizes the good, bad, and ugly of ‘found footage’ trickery to weave its bloody spell.  Also, it suffers from the all-too-common shortcoming of ‘why would a person stand there videotaping these events if they truly took place in real time?’  Dare I say no one would.  They’d likely be running for their lives.  (I know I would.)  Performances are good, its zany obstacles courses are a bit gross and brutal, but its finale felt a bit abrupt for me – almost rushed – leaving me with a few questions I couldn’t quite answer.
​

​The Gawkers
 
Thankfully, The Gawkers – as conceived by Chris Lee Hill and Tyler MacIntyre (who also directed) – starts to put VHS on the right track to legitimate ‘found footage’ glory: a group of teenage boys take to using the family camcorder to both document their wayward existence as well as a means to spy on the beautiful girl-next-door.  When the truth of just what and who she is comes to life, they realize – all too late – that they’re in for the scare of their suddenly short lives.  This is Horror, after all, and this tale most decidedly delivers.
 
Proving that boys will be boys, Gawkers is faithfully grounded in the adolescent exploits of young men.  (I can say this as I, too, was once a young man.)  The script goes to good lengths to show them in their various shenanigans – some mildly dangerous, some just plain stupid.  After circling those events well enough to define its players, Hill and MacIntyre then home in on their attempts to ogle the new neighbor beauty.  Those paying close attention will likely spot the warning signs of just what terror awaits the irresponsible – definitely readers of Greek mythology should – but everyone is amply rewarded for their patience in the final moments.
 
This is what ‘found footage’ as a format can do exceedingly well: it can both comment on our society at large (i.e. the failed judgement calls some of us make in our most private moments) while pushing the audience closer and closer to the precariousness of how fragile life can be.  In truth, who’s the bigger ‘gawker’ – these gregarious young perverts or those of us watching from the other side of the television or movie screen?  It’s a small point but one hit so very well in a slim running time.
​

​To Hell And Back
 
VHS concludes with a rather spectacular, somewhat dizzying, yet affectionate ‘found footage’ flick: videographers Nate and Troy are spending their night on local assignment, taping the summoning ritual for some secret coven of witches.  Fate (and Satan, it would seem) has other plans in store for them, however, as the cast spell misfires somewhat, instead sending them into the Underworld with only eight minutes remaining until midnight for them to find a way back or risk being trapped there forever!
 
Simply put, I found To Hell And Back an idea good enough that, quite frankly, it could be a stand alone feature.  The writing/directing team of Vanessa & Joseph Winter (of Shudder’s recent entry Deadstream) are no stranger to ‘found footage,’ and their mastery of the concept should be the stuff of their own local legend.  They cram just the right amount of story into this lean and mean frightening machine that it works gloriously, pitting Nate and Troy against one horrific demon after another in their quest to find any way out rather than risk eternity in the darkness.  Still, I’d love to see more – maybe even more of a conventional motion picture utilizing the ‘found footage’ aspect in the sillier moments – and I think the potential is definitely there.
 
Yes, yes, and yes: Hell has a few quibbles here and there.  The truth is – like cited in examples above – it’s hard to believe anyone would have the presence of mind to maintain videotaping these trials and tribulations when experienced in reality.  But that’s the beauty of most of this: it isn’t meant to be taken seriously.  It’s meant to be a carnival attraction – taken on only by those bravest enough to endure its whips and turns – and Hell succeeds in 20 minutes where many who’ve had far longer have failed.
 
Highly recommended.
 
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: ‘found footage’ is not for everyone.  But for those of us who love this sort of thing, then V/H/S/99 (2022) has just the right amount of jumps and giggles that everyone should find something to love in here.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Shudder provided me with complimentary screening access to V/H/S/99 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