809 Jacob Street by Marty Young

In this particular stanza of a review, I will usually give a mini-lecture about the author under our microscope: how she or he fits into the landscape of dark fiction etc.etc. For Australian Marty Young, I won’t go into too much detail – but suffice to say we have an author who has been at the forefront of Australian horror for quite some time ... and I don’t mean publishing (although he has been partaking of that also). No, Marty’s time has been devoted to the shadows; working tirelessly behind the scenes to build a community that was somewhat non-existent in its current incarnation less than a decade ago. By giving genesis to a small cabal that would ultimately become the Australian Horror Writers Association, Marty changed the landscape of Australian horror in perpetuity - providing starved writers here a much-needed voice on the world stage. And he did this, of course, while tinkering away on his own novels. When the small press Black Beacon Books sprang up a short time ago, it seemed like the perfect time for Marty to release his debut novel ... pairing him with a publisher well-versed fiction and equally enthusiastic about the genre. 

809 Jacob Street introduces us to Joey Blue, a resident vagrant of Parkton. (Think Castle Rock or any other fictitious town). Joey is an old bluesman who wanders the borderlands of his town, never quite figuring out if he is actually alive or a ghost himself. Blotting out the past with heavy drink, Joey is paid a visit from an old friend who requires help - whose disappearance years ago is tied to the house on 809 Jacob Street: a rambling old structure which has seen its fair share of death and stands like a testament to the ultimate haunted house. 

Across town we Byron James, a young Australian recently moved to Parktown. Adapting to small town life after Sydney is hard ... especially with his new friends Ian and Hamish – both of whom are into the macabre and have an overt obsession with the house on Jacob Street. After Byron’s personal research into the house’s past fails to yield sufficient information, a journal falls into his hands. And then, when Ian proposes a night journey to find out some answers for themselves, it seems like a perfect yet dangerous plan.  

Although aware of Marty’s work previous, I came into 809 Jacob Street almost completely cold and without the vaguest notion of what to expect. Sure, both of us have grown up on a rich and steady diet of Stephen King – but I wasn’t quite prepared for how proficient this little novel turned out to be. Evoking those stories of old with his motley crew of kids (1980’s horror fiction), Marty gives the reader a subtle coming-of-age tale while also delivering cerebral prose that becomes almost narcotizing after a while. Here, there is a slow build of tension that is somewhat effortless ... as if 809 Jacob Street was a latter novel in the author’s resume. Also interspersed within the story are small, hallucinatory images from artist David Schembri keeping within the guidelines of restrained horror while complementing the prose. If I had one gripe with the tale as whole, it was having the author unceremoniously pull a character at the midway point without them having any real influence in the final act. Like a series of intersecting dominoes, the two-plot strands failed to align in a coherent manner – a small blight in an otherwise consummate tale of dark fiction. 

THE CHILDREN

Evil, malign children as the focal point for a horror premise. Let’s reel off just a few of them, shall we? There are outings such as The Exorcist and The Omen, of course – retro masterpieces that have stood their ground over the span of generations. Different incarnations of Village of The Damned and vintage classics like The Bad Seed. For modern audiences, there is the memorable performance by Gage Creed in Pet Sematary. And, in horror literature, Stephen King laid out some of the early foundations with Children of the Corn ...  a small, dark slice of rural Americana that has spawned an entirely unremarkable franchise. What all of this tells us, of course – is that little monsters in the genre are here to stay. When the most innocent of our creatures in the human tribe succumb to a malady of evil, wide-eyed disbelief is often tempered with guilty pleasure. As the children go about enacting revenge on their oppressive adult overlords, it’s occasionally all too easy to root for them.

Released in 2008, The Children is a British horror film that found approval on its native shores but has largely gone under the radar elsewhere. Here, the writer's have taken a well-worn sub-genre (creepy kids), but found a relatively original plot for them to navigate around. Though an unexplained virus seems to be at the crux of the narrative, the story is lent strength by its isolated setting, domestic component, and a slow build of tension.

Snow is thick on the ground when Elaine and her family (husband Jonah, teenage daughter Casey, and two younger children), arrive to spend Christmas and New Years with her sister Chloe and her own extended family. It’s a picturesque occasion ... not only having relatives under one roof for the festive season but doing so in a country environment quintessentially British: a holiday of fire, hearth and snow. Laughter is prevalent, and the decorations have been hung. Soon, family members begin exhibiting strange symptoms: some of the children are vomiting and becoming listless; emo teenager Casey merely wants to escape. Random acts of playtime in the snow turn malicious with deliberate acts of sabotage intended to hurt the adults. Misbehaving children, crying children, and a general air of malaise (beyond the ordinary holiday norm) all culminate in a gruesome fatality: the demise of an adult in a contrivance that is anything but an accident. Although the authorities are alerted, the snow and isolation delay a response, giving the children more than enough time to form an unruly cabal ... and play the adults off to their ultimate demise.

Though the catalyst for the children’s decent into madness is never properly addressed, its very enigma makes their motivations ultimately more appealing. With no rules or strictures, you never quite know what to expect or what palpable spooks lay in wait – a refreshing change from a decade of horror where ‘nothing we haven’t seen before’ becomes a ritual critique. By the mid-point, a lot of confusion abounds – not just for the terrified adults, but for the viewer who now has to contend with second-act filler: moody looks from our teenage emo, over-acting, and awkward dialogue. Fortunately these small, self-conscious scenes do not over-extend themselves, making headway into a third act that amps up the carnage and doesn’t overly censure itself.

Low on gore but still potent in atmosphere, music, and pacing - The Children is reminiscent of some of the more memorable films of the eighties – albeit with a far lower budget. (With all that snow, The Omen II sprung to mind on more than one occasion). Performances from the children are mature, and overall the film stretches its rating by daring to splice them with unrestricted savagery. The ending, when it arrives, is one the finest elements here. Not a twist per se ... more a final ‘coda’ that raises more questions and leaves the door open for added mythology.

GHOSTS IN A DESERT WORLD AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK HALLOWEEN 2013

First released as an eBook in August 2011, my debut short story collection will be available (under the auspices of Hodgepodge Press) as a paperback Halloween 2013. Revised and updated, this incarnation features two new stories The GRIEF SCHOOL and the previously unpublished MUTABILITY OF THE FLESH.  

"The depth is there, the atmosphere is there, making this one of the best examples of this genre I've had the pleasure to read. This collection not only shows that the writer has the chops to go places, but that he should be there already."

-Daniel I Russell, author of Shadow Award nominated CRITIQUE

The comparisons between Tait and Lansdale come when you experience the dread that both manage to so easily create. Tait's stories put us in a world that could be just around the corner for any of us. The country road, the small town, the inevitable outcome of too much popular culture, and a complete disregard for the sanctity of human life. The writing is competent and imaginative. The stories deliver and the blood just drips from every page.

-Paul Mannering, author of TANKBREAD 

DARK MERIDIAN

Grab a free digital copy for a short time. 

Here: DARK MERIDIAN 

Tricks, Mischief and Mayhem by Daniel I Russell

Over the years – in what I think is a natural evolution – I've become become somewhat cynical apropos to the short story in the horror genre. ‘A quick kiss in the dark by a stranger’ Stephen King once described them – and although this is a fitting metaphor, I’ve always found their somewhat cryptic nature to be a hindrance to a rewarding experience. More often than not, a reader will go in completely cold, for there is seldom an accompanying description beyond a vague, only hinted at theme or illustration. Not only that, but their overall incoherence has caused me to routinely abandon plenty of them. Quotable syntax notwithstanding, there have been many occasions where I’ve come away from the last sentence of a short story only to think: what the hell just happened? And: Did any of that actually make a lick of sense?

Of course, there are exceptions to the rule - and one writer I will always make time for is Daniel I Russell. After consistently proving he knows the formula for coherence over the extended length of a story, Daniel has finally accumulated together in one volume the ‘bridgework’ stories that have catapulted him to where he sits now ... as an industrious workhorse in the field of horror, and an individual who cares about all facets of the genre. Initially, this was a compilation I received in a protracted Word document – and although I enjoy such ‘kisses in the dark’ within this format, I ultimately wanted the full experience of the published book; not simply the heft and weight of its physical binding, but the added extras of an introduction by Brett McBean, and compelling end-notes on each story’s genesis by the author.

By the Banks of the Nabarra 

A domestic tale revolving around the Australian Bunyip – a mythological creature from Aboriginal folklore whose environs include billabongs, creeks, and waterholes. Here, an isolated rural family is terrorized by a stepfather patriarch. Fed up, the mother hatches a plan to dispose of the miscreant once and for all. But her plans are waylaid with the introduction of a beast who resides in the nearby lake.

Narratively, this is a very straightforward horror premise ... but it’s ultimately made entertaining by the domestic component and Daniel tackling his first home grown Australian monster. One of the openers, By the Banks of Nabarra is characteristic of what lies in store: heavy, realistic dialogue and descriptive ‘gross-out’ horror that goes right for the jugular.

Disproportional

First person narration of romance that goes horribly awry. After her first husband walked out, lonely single mother Agnes has finally worked up the courage to ask a co-worker to her home for dinner. But first he has to meet her son ... a disproportional creature with unconventional appetites. What I liked here was the miniature in images – descriptions that are unexpected but don’t break a stories spell or give us a mini-lecture:

My house sits on top. When I drive up and see it there all alone, I always think it’s been naughty and sent to sit in the corner, away from all the cookie-cutter houses that like to behave.

It Comes But Once a Year

A somewhat (Christmas) story featuring a character from Daniel’s early novel Samhane. In his notes, the author talks about composing an ‘ejaculation story.’ Although I consider myself well versed in sub-genres and grew up reading Richard Laymon, I will admit to a certain non-exposure in this particular category. As you can imagine, the story features Christmas lights ... but comes with a side-dish of monsters, mayhem, and seminal fluid.

Broken Bough   

Another domestic tale ... this one actually reminded me a little of King’s The Last Rung on the Ladder – at least in terms of tone. Here, a zombie apocalypse has arrived, but the dead are merely background static to a couples isolation, depression, and misgivings. In a claustrophobic apartment, a baby that won’t stop crying is just more white noise, forcing our mother to be backed into a corner ... or perhaps a balcony. Broken Bough is the perfect example of heart contained within horror. 

Devolution  

My personal favorite, and one that was composed for a short story slot (and set in the same universe) as Brett McBean’s Jungle trilogy. It’s a miscellaneous cast – with our narrator being a New Yorker of middle-eastern decent in a tropical rain forest apocalypse. Sequestered on an island with a motley crew of varied misfits, it isn’t long before a Lord of the Flies mentality slips in ... and again I was reminded of King (in this instance The Mist), where a character with unstoppable charisma latches onto the good book and exploits it. As sides are chosen and division sets in, the value of belief will be learned for narrator and reader alike.

This is just a small snippet of the twenty-two tales contained within Tricks, Mischief and Mayhem – a vast funhouse of a collection encompassing everything from B grade horror schlock (Fluffs), to World War 2 melodrama (A Picture Tells and Following Orders). Of the cryptic nature I spoke of earlier, I will admit to finding some here, and occasionally I struggled to find a linear map contained within the story. All told, however, every positive facet of Daniel’s writing is put on display – chief among them the ring of exactness and truth he can give to dialogue. Above all, the short stories here represent a capstone to a segment of his career ... each tale a snapshot of time from the life of a writer whose greatest work is yet to come.

Welcome to the show.


  

EXCISION

Through the annals of literature and film, dark humor - and black comedies in particular – have been hard to pigeonhole as they often tread a fine line around many genres. In literature, a book like Needful Things could certainly be construed as a black comedy – yet the novel contains a myriad of nightmarish scenes that to call it anything less than a horror novel would be a disservice to the book overall. In the movie medium (where the term gallows humor is applied more liberally), the permission slip to laugh at morbidity is accomplished through outings such as the original Evil Dead trilogy. More often than not, however, it is the small independent film where this particular sub-genre burns brightest.

Although containing elements of comedy and satire, Excision stands out as one of the darkest films I’ve encountered in years ... a Donnie Darko for the new decade.

A disturbed and colorless high-school student Pauline (AnnaLynne Mcord) has ambitions for a career in medicine (surgery in particular). Loathed by her idealistic peers, she sits awkwardly at the center of a modern family headed by eccentric and overbearing mother Phyllis (Tracie Lords), a dying sister with cystic fibrosis, and a father who panders to the whims of his wife. While having features hinting at beauty, Pauline struts around with a simian gait espousing crude insights and able quips that ultimately isolate her from everyone. With a penchant for vivid dreams involving necrophilia, surgical procedures, and vivisection – Pauline is the very definition of misfit. Being a nonconformist aside, Pauline is still at the mercy of all teenage compulsions ... including the urge to lose her virginity. And so - after selecting a popular girl’s boyfriend to fulfill the function – she sets about a clinical seduction eventually leading to a macabre union seldom seen in film.

Though slow at times, Excision is still layered with enough subtext, oddball camera angles, and small cameos to make the experience uniquely atypical. There is Pauline’s math teacher (played tongue-in-cheek by veteran Malcolm McDowell); there is her archetypal teenage neighbor across the street who incessantly skips rope. But it’s the relationship with her mother that remains the crux of the narrative. Here, Tracie Lords has given us the performance of her mainstream career, eliciting sympathy and scoundrel in equal measure. Before, I compared this film somewhat to Donnie Darko; although no supernatural elements are involved, a viewer will still see vague parallels in the domestic dinner conversations of Pauline’s family ... snippets of dialogue that underscore the notion of pent up anxiety ready to implode under the thin veneer of plastic suburbia. More reminiscent, perhaps, are the themes and tones explored in both American Beauty and the original Carrie. 

Excision is the first feature film from writer/director Richard Bates – and here has crafted a gem in all the ways that count: snappy dialogue, original performances, tight direction, and biting social satire. The path to gore is tread subtly at first ... but there are enough disturbing visuals overall to place this firmly in a particular horror category not easy to define. But be warned: bleakness and nihilism take center stage, so leave your optimism at the door.    

No One Lives

Japanese director Ryûhei Kitamura has an impressive resume. Although I’m not overly familiar with the body of work that began his journey (outings such as Versus), I – like many others – stumbled upon this unique talent after being exposed to the genuine horrors of The Midnight Meat Train. With an arsenal of very Kitamura techniques at his disposal (stylish hyper-kinetic camera movement and offbeat angles, among others), we all watched in awe as he faithfully brought Clive Barker's vision blazing into a new millennium. An adaptation now legendary for not getting the treatment it deserved – one wonders whether the overall experience had shattered Ryûhei in some capacity. Would he still want to pursue such outlandish monsters in the aftermath? Or would he perhaps try to find a safer path to success? Thankfully the former was chosen, and with No One Lives our director has selected a script from first time writer David Cohen that again raises the bar and gives us a lofty and unique perspective of the genre.

The journey begins as many others: in true slasher fashion, a young woman is stalked through suburban forest by an unknown assailant using sophisticated equipment. Before being apprehended, she leaves a cryptic message … bread crumbs for those in authority who may be looking for her. Scene two – and we have more familiar territory: a seemingly normal couple are negotiating the highways with some serious luggage in tow. The unnamed pair have made a decision to ‘relocate’ and begin a new existence. Although their motives are not clear, it appears our charismatic male is certainly the one at the controls. When they stop off at an out-of-the-way motel to recharge, we are then treated to some obscure dialogue. Some revelations are at hand, however – and through cobbled together news stories we ascertain the missing young woman is the offspring of society’s elite. After finding her breadcrumbs intact, the call goes out to secure her freedom and life.

Switching gears, we're then introduced to a gang of modern thieves in the midst of a large scale mansion heist. Quicker than expected, it’s ascertained pilfering and burglary are just some of the crimes this cabal entertains when the vacationing family unexpectedly show up. In the aftermath, the two factions cross paths in a small diner setting off a chain of interlocking events revealing a major and unpredictable twist … a happening that simply cannot be disclosed here. And although the couple find themselves the target of these outlaws, a killer emerges that will dwarf them all leading to a cat and mouse showdown in the thug’s lair where anybody is potential prey.

Without revealing the twist, I will say the rest of the film follows a steady formula of imaginative kill sequences. Holed in like rats, the criminal gang have finally met their match. Giddy with the twist – and by now relishing the outing – I was somewhat disappointed when various flaws began to appear … chief among them character's breaking the cardinal rule of an intelligent horror film: acting stupid. With a killer having already displayed near invincible prowess, that does not stop the injured and maimed trying to escape in the most foolhardy way possible – simply walking out the front door. It’s here, unfortunately, that the sophistication slips. Thankfully the second half is salvaged by key moments of flashback detailing our heroine’s plight – sequences giving rise to philosophic undertones asking pertinent questions concerning evil and its motivations.

I know all this sounds outwardly confusing – like a mash-up of very different genres barely related to each other – but with all plot points revolving around the twist, what looks messy on paper actually comes out sharp. Altogether, Ryûhei Kitamura has delivered a very unique and dark experience: an amalgamation of two disparate plot lines shoved together with enough force the generated heat melds the elements. Recommended.

The Purge

Despite a minuscule budget of only three million, The Purge received quite a lot of pre-release hype. Part of this (of course) is attributed to actor Ethan Hawke’s participation. After the critical success of both Daybreakers and Sinister, Hawke seems to know how to pick them. Another element to the excitement is the intriguing and original premise: an amalgamation of horror and (not-too-distant) science fiction that seems right at home within the pages of dystopian literature.  

It’s the year 2022, and the United States of America has found a way to curtail excessive crime and overpopulation. On one night every year (over a twelve hour period) all criminal activity is sanctioned ... including murder. Punishment is suspended and violence reigns supreme. This annual - and supposedly cathartic experience – has been aptly titled The Purge. Through news blips and media loops we quickly discover that despite the moral implications, The Purge is actually effective: for the remaining year misdemeanors remain almost non-existent. Apparently, the simple answer to humanity’s psychological tribulation is a united mental enema of depravity; an abandoning of all civilized behavior in favor of our ingrained base needs and ancestral animal instincts.

If all of this sounds a tad implausible, it is. However, in this particular instance I was happy to suspend all disbelief for the sake of entertainment.  While it would have been interesting to look at the worldwide effect of The Purge, writer/director James Demonaco has opted instead to take a close look at the domestic component – to put under the microscope one well-to-do American family and see what mayhem eschews. The Sandin family – an envy of their entire neighborhood – have everything they need to survive. James (Ethan Hawke) knows security intimately. After all, he sells it for a living. His wife Mary (Lena Headey – better known as Cersei from Game of Thrones), is effective at keeping both her American accent and family together. Teenage children Charlie and Zoey come with their own baggage: Charlie has major issues with The Purge, and his sister Zoey is fuming her father won’t let her date an older boy from school. Soon night draws near and the shutters go up. When young Charlie succumbs to his warring empathy and opens up their house to a pursued homeless man, it isn't long before all hell breaks loose from numerous fronts. The homeless victim has escaped in the house, and his masked vigilante hunters (looking for all the world like The Stranger’s home invaders on steroids) have arrived on the front doorstep demanding their god-given American right to purge. It then falls to the entire Sandin clan to make a decision: do they succumb to the invaders ultimatum - thereby becoming no better than Purge participants – or do they fight to keep their ethics alive?

Notwithstanding a director at the helm who has worked with similar themes before (Assault on Precinct 13), The Purge still suffers from various flaws. The pacing – while lent strength with a rousing ‘heartbeat’ soundtrack – never seems to attain the lofty heights we originally envisioned, and developments become stalled as the audience guesses hurdle after hurdle. Although our masked adversary is decidedly creepy at times espousing patriotic rhetoric and generally giving off an American Psycho kind of vibe, his predictable bedlam comes far too late in the film and is ultimately ineffective.

All told, The Purge is still an above average thriller containing just enough claustrophobic moments and subtle action sequences to put it on the map. With Universal already giving the follow up a green light, one can hope future writers take heed of the wonky philosophic undertones and give more credence to The Purge’s attractive concept.  

Chained

From the somewhat vague synopsis provided by other media, a viewer may garner the opinion Chained might be something akin to a (low budget) gritty urban thriller along the lines of Michael Mann’s Collateral. However, such notions are quickly dispelled as we bear witness to a terrified adolescent male rummaging through a box containing female identification cards. When a doorbell suddenly rings and the child looks up fraught, it doesn’t take a sleuth to ascertain a serial killer is about to enter the fray. Enter he does, and soon we have reached the garish conclusion Chained will rapidly descend into the most taboo strictures of film-making; that any allusions of a crime/thriller are wholly discarded as the child cowers in fear and the screams of a new victim are heralded through the walls. Who is this child? And how did he come to be in such depraved circumstances?  

Cut to eight weeks earlier and Tim (our future captive), is taking in a movie with his mother. Afterward – and at the behest of his father – both mother and son enter a cab and make for home. But the mundane ride back takes macabre twist when taxi-cab driver Bob - a mentally unstable killer played by Vincent D’Onofrio – decides to make little Tim’s mother his next unwitting victim. Forced to endure Bob’s depravity up close and personal, Tim is suddenly orphaned and in the lair of a maniac. Our killer, having done his deed, sees the presence of the child as a new-found opportunity. Does he use little Tim as a mere slave to help him in his daily carnage? Or does he decide to do something even more sinister ... to mold Tim like clay in his image; to make the boy a protégé out of untarnished innocence and teach him the art of death. 

It’s an original premise, and before going any further we must shine the spotlight on the director: Jennifer Chambers Lynch – a surname synonymous with surrealist film-making. After the debacle of her debut Boxing Helena, Jennifer fled the broad audience and delved into more minor pursuits ... reminiscent, perhaps, of her father David. While Chained reflects nothing of David’s unique – some would say Lynchian - cinematic style, it is still imbued with enough disturbing and violent moments to warrant a small comparison. Shot in a mere fourteen days, Jennifer’s technique is domestic, claustrophobic, and all too real. With only two central characters, this is the sort of get-under-your-skin creepiness that leaves a lasting impression. 

Fast forward to many years later and little Timmy is all grown up. Now resembling a gaunt rock star, mentor Bob continues his slow methodology of indoctrination. Given the dehumanizing nickname of ‘Rabbit’, our padawan-in-training still retains his adolescent conscience and mild mannered innocence. Rewarded accordingly – and metered out with punishment in the same token – little Rabbit tries to find a subtle chink in Bob’s armor ... a monumental task given that Bob (living in rural isolation and anonymity) has perfected his killing art.

To call this film ‘unrelenting’ is an understatement – and it’s outings like Chained that reinforce something the collective horror tribe has always known: you do not need a monumental budget or prestigious studio backing to create an indie masterpiece. The only flaw – and with a second viewing I had grave doubts it was a flaw – was a shocking ‘twist’ ending that’s almost an unnecessary addition. It’s a small blemish, because the rest of the film is faultless in almost every department. Here, Jennifer Lynch translates our real-world horrors with skill and dexterity, and we can only hope this director decides to call horror her home.

DARK MERIDIAN OUT IN PAPERBACK

It's finally here - the first of a trilogy. Get your copy in paperback and ebook: Dark Meridian

The story continues in OLEARIA (2014) and THE HOPE OF KINFOLD. (2015). 

"Inventive and suspenseful, Dark Meridian is a story of epic proportions, told in Tait's distinctive, genre blending style."

-Tracie McBride, author of Ghosts Can Bleed.