Unveiling a cover ...

Severance

This is the second film from British director Christopher Smith I’m putting under the microscope (the first being CREEP only two short reviews ago). A film following immediately after that title in the director’s pantheon, this is Christopher shifting gear from ‘the denizens of the underground tube-world’ to a more sophisticated outdoors romp with comedic stylings. That’s not to say blood isn’t on the menu (on the contrary, it’s delivered in buckets); but Severance is black comedy territory interspersed with some truly unnerving horror in the film’s final stages.  

In the forests of Hungary, the sales division for a military arms corporation are travelling on a bus through twisting mountainous terrain. Boarded by a motley crew of disparate English workers (and one American), their destination is a luxury retreat in the wilds to participate in team building exercises. Right off the cuff, we know we’re in comedy country by the cast alone. There’s Gordon (mildly overweight and bumbling, reminiscent of Nick Frost’s character from Shaun of the Dead); there’s Steve (a young everyman who has a penchant for magic mushrooms); beautiful Maggie (the American), Jill (full of punch lines); and rounding off the ensemble are Billy Harris and Richard the Manager. When their bus encounters a tree blocking access to the road, the driver soon abandons ship, leaving the group completely isolated and in charge of locating the retreat solo ... which they soon do.

The Lodge (old and decrepit), contains documents alluding to its past history: a mental asylum – or perhaps a re-education center for Russian war criminals. Though the true history is never agreed upon, one thing is for certain ... a fresh pie found in the kitchen containing a human tooth is evidence enough they are not alone. When Jill spots a sinister intruder loitering in the bushes later that night, all agree abandoning the Lodge would be a wise course of action ... though not before a game of paintball to ensure at least some team-building activity takes place. What soon follows is carnage, and lots of it, as the group is slowly picked off one at a time by a cabal of bloodthirsty maniacs.

Despite a somewhat meandering middle-act, this is an intelligent romp that balances the precarious juggling act of suspense and humor perfectly. Though Severance is certainly a vehicle for the ‘slasher’ sub-genre, there are just enough amiable twists involved for that particular title to seem somewhat ill-fitting. While gore-hounds will get their subtle fill (decapitations, bear-traps, and torture sequences), there is also a modicum of ‘heart’ facilitated by a gifted cast who seldom put a foot wrong. Also noteworthy are the practical special effects, producing a gritty and stylish element to proceedings complementing the European locale.

Still relatively unknown in some horror circles, Severance is a ride that without question deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Dog Soldiers, Shaun of the Dead, and The Descent.

Hoffman's Creeper and other Disturbing Tales

For a few years now I’ve been watching Australia’s Cameron Trost – from humble beginnings publishing with Midnight Echo, to his shorter novel Letterbox, and finally acting as midwife and editor-in-chief to Black Beacon Books, an independent publishing venture specializing in mystery, suspense, psychological horror, and the just plain weird. In short, all the niches we’re here to promote. Though still in a stage of infancy, the small press is already showing professional hallmarks by working with a gifted team that includes Greg Chapman (whom I’m sure some of you met at the recent WHC), David Schembri, and Sandra Fowke. With Hoffman’s Creeper, Cameron gives us all the stories that have led him to this point – an imaginative chart showcasing broader influences while at the same time giving rise to his own unique voice.  Here is a snippet of some:

The Ritual.

One of the collections openers is probably its strongest, the tale of a small cadre of female school students who - in order to gain power - turn to thaumaturgy and establish a coven. It’s one containing an amiable twist, with a side of perversion. Foremost, it establishes Trost’s style: a fair heaping of dialogue with subtle mystery in the background like far-off radio noise.

Kangaroo Point.

A kind of reverse-coin approach to mental-illness. Eric Sanderson, while taking the walk home along the path past Kangaroo Point, encounters another man in the act of suicide meditation. With nicely crafted characterization, this is somewhat evocative of King’s tale The Last Rung On the Ladder. Here Cameron weaves the human into horror.

Hoffman’s Creeper

The title tale is also one of the more memorable ... the story of Professor Samuel Hoffman – a professional botanist whose adoration of the plant realm will see him adopt some eccentric (and macabre), practices. Though one could call this a more staid take on Little Shop of Horrors, I found something more here: a perspective of the world that views other species (in this case plant life), humanity’s equal if not better. In the real world it’s a science we are only now beginning to penetrate – just how conscious is the green world surrounding us?

So ... what can we take away from the collection? As a working whole, the stories presented are 'light' dark fiction (some bordering on YA). Though Cameron knows how to construct a clean sentence, the subtle horror provoked – at times - a casual response. A positive method Cameron employs is a kind of fail-safe twist (usually within the closing paragraphs) designed to rock reader's perceptions of what came before. It’s a token technique – one that other writers aspire to but which Trost seems to have mastered.

With any debut collection there will be drawbacks (novice things like show, don’t tell), but for the most part Trost has laid down solid groundwork for future endeavors.


 

The Babadook

Earlier this year, South Australian author Sean Williams posted the trailer to an up-and-coming independent horror excursion called The Babadook. To say my interest piqued immediately was an understatement (not only because filming locations were local), but because the trailer displayed something genuinely unique: a dark, domestic outing rooted in suburbia and spliced with an almost cavalcade feel. Within the first few moments I was under the impression The Babadook might be a ‘footage’ film – if only because what I saw on screen felt so genuine and raw. Several moments later I realized the error, having been momentarily fooled because I was observing real, stylized performances that cut to the bone. Cobble this with an effective score (and a storyline somewhat evocative of literary dark fiction), and you have a film showcasing potential success.

But The Babadook is more than just a success; it’s a triumph of independent film-making.

Shot in Adelaide, Amelia is a widow and single parent raising Samuel – an eccentric, somewhat hyperactive child who’s inability to fit in at school (as well as acclimatize to his own family), is making simple day to day living a chore. Losing her husband in a car accident – a calamity taking place on the drive to give birth to Samuel – has given rise to an existence of alienation and despair. Especially on Samuel’s birthday. Though it’s a challenging relationship, the two still share a close affinity, and Amelia’s attempts to pacify her son’s worsening dreams lead to a nightly story hour of classic fiction: fables from old where the monster is always banished. These are fears that have trickled into the day, and Samuel has taken to designing makeshift wooden weapons in a personal battle with the unseen. Among the books at Amelia’s disposal is one she cannot remember purchasing ... The Babadook – a macabre, beautifully illustrated fairy-tale featuring gaudy pop-ups and sinister rhymes. Once read aloud, the cadence acts as a summons to something beyond the veil.

What shines in The Babadook is not so much the story; it’s not even the more frightening moments. No, what works here are the subtle things employed: the sepia-toned suburbia, the stark performances. Child actor Noah Wiseman is a revelation, displaying sympathy and aversion in equal measure. Our mother and child relationship is rife with magnetism and feels completely genuine. Small, memorable cameo’s appear (most notably Daniel Hershall who played John Bunting in Snowtown), whose presence is concrete despite the brevity of screen time. And lurking behind it all is the domestic component: an absent father looming over proceedings like the dark spirit of the Babadook itself.

Make no mistake, though: this is a film intended to disturb, and those key scenes designed for this (even for individuals schooled in the genre), can be genuinely unnerving. An original creation at times cartoonish, and at times malign, the Babadook reaches from beyond the fabric of another reality to slowly engulf and possess. To get the message across, writer and director Jennifer Kent has employed slick camera work and effective compositing to create an atmosphere where our fears – in this case the dread of a family torn asunder – are duly amplified in a process that goes far beyond the limits of resources at hand. Touching, gritty, and starkly relevant, The Babadook is slow burn horror at its absolute finest.

CREEP

For those familiar with what I look for in the dark cinematic excursion, appraising Creep should come as no surprise. Independent and off the cuff, with a soupcon of sophistication; the kind of film dalliance where passion and ingenuity often takes over from budget constraints or any noticeable studio interference. Released a decade ago and with little fanfare, Creep showcases the talent of then-burgeoning UK director Christopher Smith: the man behind such accomplished efforts as Triangle (2009) and Black Death (2010).   

Through a small epilogue involving sewer-workers, Smith kindly introduces the territory: the London underground ... a dank tunnel-world of labyrinthine train tubes, the human homeless, and sewer cesspools. In short, the perfect stage for calamity. Soon after, we attend a party with young German Kate (Franka Potente – Run Lola Run), who has it on good authority that George Clooney is at a popular club nearby. Though planning to attend with a friend, Kate abandons the party solo ... and subsequently falls asleep en route on a London train platform. Waking up alone – and now imprisoned – Kate is slowly initiated to the denizens of the tube-world and must stay alive until morning.

From first impressions of the poster, one might get the notion this is similar in vein to The Midnight Meat Train ... but this is a different, somewhat domestic animal compared to that romp. The antagonist, when it presents itself, is not quite the monster you expect – and for key moments during the build-up you’ll be trying to decide whether this is slasher territory or if Kate is running the gauntlet of the fantastique. After the human threats are dispatched, a killer finally steps into the limelight, a species of human troglophile cannibalistic in nature. Temporarily captured, Kate is put ‘on ice’ until her deformed attacker decides to return ... and it’s here she teams up with another victim to be granted small insights into a genuinely creepy hermit who has a history all of his own. 

Though this review more or less falls under the auspices of ‘Retrospective’ Creep still stands up today as an effective gore-fest with some original content for its time. While it lacks a cohesive plot (and features a heroine that will jangle your nerves with unrealistic dialogue), the director has made the main focus here claustrophobic tension with an aside of unforgettable splatter. Most of all, you are witnessing the early stages of a gifted filmmaker honing his skills in a distinctive setting that’s ideal for the genre.  

Devil's Due

Everywhere we look nowadays a ‘footage’ film is being churned out somewhere. Whether you love or hate this distinct sub-genre (shaky camera work and naturalistic acting) – it matters little in today’s climate, because they are certainly here to stay. Not only are such films inexpensive, they consistently make a truck load of money. While some skate the fringes of accomplished viewing (REC), others fall so far below the paradigm of what constitutes effective film-making they should be regulated to the annals of direct-to-video cannon in perpetuity. When it was announced a while back that a ‘found footage take’ on Rosemary’s Baby and The Omen was in the offing (and that director's from a segment of the film VHS had been acquired for helming duties), one could almost envision the end result without viewing a single frame.

Recently married young Americans Samantha and Zach McCall are going on a honeymoon. Their destination: the Dominican Republic. One night, after getting waylaid returning back to their motel, an assertive cab driver seduces them into trying out an underground bar ... one presumably not located on any map. After experiencing this somewhat taboo club, the footage then shifts to jerky scenes evocative of dark worship; the chanting and supplications of a cult satanic in nature. The next morning (and with no memory of the jaunt back), both Samantha and Zach fly home to the United States. Not long after – despite being religious about birth control - Samantha falls pregnant. And thus begins a lackluster and derivative premise.

What follows is everything you would expect when giving birth to Satan: Samantha experiences nosebleeds, fugue states, and a burgeoning disdain for her new hubby. Previously a vegetarian, raw meat is abruptly on the agenda. (Even the variety consumed in public supermarkets). On the street outside the McCall’s home, sinister and shady character's make a habit of loitering about. Though the territory here is well mapped, there are (of course) small and quiet moments of merit. In this found footage era, jump scares are ubiquitous, and the viewer will find an occasional one that works. What doesn’t work is mining the techniques of others, even going so far as to mimic recent outings like Chronicle. In this regard, the makers have turned homage into a banal science.  

Other virtues? There aren’t many ... though our lead actor (Allison Miller) does a more than competent job with what’s on offer, eliciting creepy stares spliced with her genuine girl-next-door persona. Another positive would be the film’s overall modernity: mainstream releases in 2014 are all going to have a polished sheen, regardless of budget constraints. And, toward the climax, there are more than a few effective effects. 

But sadly these aren’t enough to atone for Devil’s Due overall blandness: eight-nine minutes of home video that is (at times) insipid viewing for all.  

DAVEY RIBBON RELEASE DATE

April 27th 2014 will be the official release day for DAVEY RIBBON in both paperback and ebook formats. Come along and join the official facebook launch day.

"Just like his ghostly character, Davey Ribbon, author Matthew Tait latches on with haunting prose that doesn’t let go until the very end.” – Greg Chapman, author of 'The Noctuary' and 'The Last Night of October'

"Matthew Tait invites us to visit Cyclone Cove, a coastal community whose bizarre inhabitants and creepy landmarks have all crept out of the author's gothic imagination. This story reads like a macabre fairy-tale. And yet somehow, it manages to ring true, giving you that creeping feeling that it could all be real - that Cyclone Cove could be just down the road from your town." - Cameron Trost, owner of Black Beacon Books and author of 'Hoffman's Creeper and Other Disturbing Tales'

Open Grave

There is an old school plot device that occasionally works well: protagonist wakes up in the aftermath of a serious crime with no memory of how they arrived there ... and (sometimes) cannot recall their very identity. This sets up an interesting premise: is the newly awakened person a victim of the crime or its perpetrator? Will they recall their identity in a blaze of revelation or will recollection take place over the course of the story? 

Such is the case in the opening frames of Open Grave: a brutal and harrowing scene involving District 9’s Shartlo Copley awakening in a wilderness pit chock full of dead bodies in various stages of decomposistion. Above, a storm is raging – and our main man does not recall who he is or how he arrived. After escaping the ossuary, our John Doe comes into even more mystery: a mansion full of five other occupants (a mute girl, a German, and three other Americans) – all of whom are just as ignorant. Though each individual discovers an identification card, trust levels are frayed to nonexistent and the group will duel in a desperate game to piece together the enigma. 

And the mystery? In addition to the charnel pit, the entire backwoods property is surrounded by human beings in the throes of Rigor Mortis – some of them stapled to trees with barbed-wire; others perishing by additional agonies. And during it all, our strangers are slowly recalling in flashback snippets what came before: a viral outbreak of some kind? Were medical experiments performed on the compound? Were each of them friend or foe? This is the second act, and it is here the traits of all involved begin to shine: superb direction, masterful editing, and a chilling, appropriate score. Though Shartlo Copley’s South African accent at times tries to bleed in, he still manages to hold his ground for the most part and give a performance where it’s hard to envisage anybody else taking the lead.   

Despite a somewhat slow build up to the finale, we have here a refreshingly original set-up. It’s bleak (the tone gaudy and liquorice stained), and it’s suspenseful. Most of all the film is leagues ahead of director Gonzalo López-Gallego’s previous Hollywood effort Apollo 18. With Gonzalo now setting up impressive fiefdom in the science fiction and horror genre, the only downside here was Open Grave receiving little to no theatrical attention.   

Banshee Chapter

During the cold war, an intelligence branch of the United States government known as the CIA became heavily engaged in programs dedicated to mind and thought control – the largest of which is now universally known as MKUltra. In this secret project, the US government used normal citizens – habitually without the individuals consent – to test a wide range of psychotropic drugs ... in particular LSD. Though the authoritarian experiments here were frightening enough in and of themselves, even more alarming is the never documented human cost: the men and woman who vanished into the ether suffering psychosis, delusions, insanity, and everything in between. Just what stories will the general public never know? What waking visions and nightmares were some of these people privy to?  

With such a rich store of historical data here up for grabs, it was only a matter of time before somebody tried to mine it fictitiously on screen. Not only has first time director Blair Erikson done just that, he has taken the above elements and fused them with a score of other motif’s including HP Lovecraft (in particular his story The Beyond); experimental radio broadcasting, and real life characters fictionalized for the purpose of storytelling. On paper this seems like a heady mix – one that could ultimately implode. But Banshee Chapter comes equipped with just enough unique sophistication and snatches of brilliance that at times you'll will be left reeling.

Make no mistake; this is a ‘footage’ film. But ‘found footage’ has, thankfully, been left off the menu. What we have instead is a kind of a hybrid excursion inter-spliced with genuinely creepy stock recordings of real and fictionalized MKULtra experiments.

Present day, and James Hirsch has decided to take an old school MKULtra concoction himself ... and film proceedings. With his friend at the camera’s helm, it isn’t long before a sinister radio-broadcast takes up a chorus – along with an all pervading malaise that something altogether alien is just outside the door and homing in on James’s thoughts. After James’s mysterious disappearance, it then falls to his old college friend Anne to pick up the pieces. A present day reporter, Anne remains at the crux of the narrative – guided by a desire not only to find James but to unravel some of the evidence acquired.

And it’s this evidence that leads her to counter culture writer Thomas Blackburn – a fictitious rendering of author Hunter S Thompson. Though at first Blackburn’s character feels somewhat unnecessary – if only because of the real life writers ardent worship – a viewer will slowly acclimatize: Hunter S Thompson, for all his eccentricity, was a man deeply rooted in the milieu on offer: CIA investigations, hippy subculture, and a deep seeded paranoia of authority. After ingesting the drug herself, Thomas and Anne are led on a pursuit for answers ... a chase where monsters from another realm are always peeking just around the corner.

While some might be turned off by the low budget, we have at our core here a film made with great care. Not only are effective jump scares prevalent, but there is a whole elusive quality to proceedings that was such a pertinent part of Lovecraft’s work. The monsters – though intangible – haunt the narrative through subtle images and a radio broadcast that will occupy your dreams. Throw in the ‘true life factor’ and we have a film that will eventually go on to become a cult classic.

         

DAVEY RIBBON

This is the final artwork for my forthcoming novel from HodgePodge Press, DAVEY RIBBON. Available in both eBook and Paperback formats soon.