Critters – Page 2

The Secret Of Crickley Hall (2012)

Sounds like a Hardy Boys Mystery that never made it to the editing stage, but The Secret Of Crickley Hall is a cracking good BBC miniseries (three one-hour episodes) based on the book by James Herbert.

Written and directed by Dr. Who alum Joe Ahearne, the story straddles past/present timelines, spilling the dramatic details of the Caleigh family, who are hoping for a fresh start in the North of England after the disappearance of their son.

The idea of turning the page on tragedy seems highly unlikely at this location, as Crickley Hall turns out to be a former orphanage that was overseen by seriously damaged WW I veteran Augustus Cribben (Douglas Henshall) and his seething sister Magda (Sarah Smart).

In keeping with the popular paranormal theory that those who’ve experienced loss are more sensitive to the plight of the deceased (The Changeling, et al), motivated mom Eve Caleigh (Suranne Jones), intuits that her still-missing child is somehow connected with the orphans who died in a flood at Crickley Hall during WW II.

This leads to a parallel narrative from the past about Nancy Linnet (Olivia Cooke), a determined young teacher hired to educate the wayward waifs of Crickley Hall. Instead, she uncovers terrible abuses visited upon the children by the cruel Cribben siblings, who unfortunately remain above suspicion in their community.

With a few splashes of redemption, revenge, and romance, and featuring a realistically frightening ghost, The Secret Of Crickley Hall is well-above-average haunted house hoopla handled by a cast of top drawer talent that includes David Warner and Donald Sumpter in crucial character roles.

Ghosts may or may not be scarier in the English countryside, but their tales fit this bleak territory like a black glove.

Recommended!

Hush (2016)

Tonight! The War Between the Sexes! Right here on Pay Per View! Let’s give it up for Hush!

Writer-director Mike Flanagan (Haunting of Hill House, Fall of the House of Usher, Midnight Mass, Oculus) and his wife, writer-actress Kate Siegel constructed this lean, mean thriller about a deaf-mute author fighting for her life against a sadistic killer.

Hush also makes sense as an anxiety inducing metaphor about unwanted male attention, as Maddie Young (Siegel), a best-selling author, can’t even have a reasonable expectation of privacy IN THE MIDDLE OF A FRIGGIN’ FOREST!

Maddie lives in a nice house (with lots of doors and windows) somewhere in the deep woods. A bout with meningitis at age 13 has left her without speech and hearing, but she has a crafty writer’s brain that never stops ticking, as we squeamishly witness her reviewing potential escape options that never materialize.

The plucky scribe finds herself trapped in her bucolic hacienda by a masked madman (John Gallagher Jr) with a crossbow, who just recently finished an evisceration job on Maddie’s neighbor (Samantha Sloyan).

Who? Why? Not important. Perhaps Cupid’s in a real bad mood today. Flanagan and Siegel play the cat-mouse game to the hilt, which usually ends up plunging into someone’s neck or torso.

Nosey neighbors don’t fare well in Hush, but the timely arrival of a cat named Bitch provides Maddie with enough of a diversion to go on the offensive against toxic masculinity. The killer reminds Maddie that he’s enjoying himself, and that he can take her whenever he wants.

The maniac clearly derives grim pleasure in cutting off her limited means of communication (he also collects cell phones) and watching Maddie react to the mounting stressors he places upon her.

The entire movie is gaze-oriented. Maddie is either keeping track of her assailant roaming around in her yard (he makes no effort at stealth or concealing his identity, which makes the situation even more dire)—or the killer is feverishly observing Maddie as she tries to hide and barricade herself inside a house with too many access points.

As I mentioned, Hush is all killer, no filler. No competing storylines, no comedy relief, no shaky camera tomfoolery. Just two people (one of whom can’t call for help) airing their differences. To the death.

This is what happens when you don’t respect boundaries.

Godzilla X Kong: The New Empire (2024)

This is what I get for not staying in touch.

It’s been quite a spell since I sat down with Godzilla. And King Kong? Forever.

This is the fourth (!) Godzilla-Kong film in the Monsterverse series that started 10 years ago with Godzilla. Since then, both creatures have been busy with their lives.

Godzilla appears in times of emergency to battle renegade monsters on behalf of humanity, though the collateral damage is usually catastrophic, as when he falls asleep in the Roman Coliseum after crushing a giant crustacean.

Meanwhile, King Kong is trying to reestablish his simian kingdom in Hollow Earth, after the destruction of Skull Island, but a bad tooth is preventing the great ape from leading his best life.

Dr. Ilene Andrews (Rebecca Hall), the head of Kong Research (I applied for that job!), is busy raising Jia (Kaylee Hottle), the last survivor of the Iwi Tribe from Skull Island, but the little native girl doesn’t seem to work and play with others.

It’s not always easy having a psychic connection to King Kong.

Oh yeah, Kong’s tooth. Andrews calls in her old friend Trapper (Dan Stevens) a swinging monster dentist, who replaces Kong’s busted canine. She also recruits Bernie Hayes (Brian Tyree Henry) a plugged-in podcaster and documentarian to interpret seismic data that suggests Godzilla is on the move.

Anyway, the humans recede into the background once the monsters start flinging each other around, only appearing in the latter part of the movie to provide exposition, which is helpful, since we‘re changing locations so often it becomes a chore to remember where we were and what we were doing before the last tumult.

There are new monsters (now referred to as Titans) on display in Godzilla X King: The New Empire, the most interesting being Shemo, an enslaved frost-breathing beastie controlled by Skar King, Kong’s villainous rival for the throne of Apeland.

With obvious tie-ins for video games and distinctive character tchotchkes up the wazoo, the running time of the movie is almost two hours, leaving you plenty of time to question your choice of accessories, as well as the decisions that led you here.

Look, Godzilla X Kong: The New Empire is little more than cutting-edge spectacle with some comedy relief, but it is extremely well-crafted by director Adam Wingard (You’re Next, Death Note). Everything, from creature effects to models and background art look sensational, the blending of live action and CGI absolutely seamless.

There is a storyline here, if you care to indulge, but it’s really not all that necessary. If something vital takes place, one of the characters will explain what it is, leaving us free to revel in big noisy carnage.

I got no problem with that, especially after a couple bowls of Cereal Milk.

Nope (2022)

Maybe the world isn’t ready for a sci-fi/horror Western starring a nonwhite cast, but I sure as hell am.

Writer-director Jordan Peele muses on a number of subjects in Nope, some in subtle fashion, others with blunt force trauma.

Otis Junior (OJ, played by Daniel Kaluuya) is a hard-working fella who runs the Haywood family horse training business somewhere in the California desert, following the recent passing of his father (Keith David) under mysterious circumstances.

His wayward sister Emerald (Keke Palmer) is trying to help out, but the fast-talking urbanite hype gal and the plainspoken cowboy are clearly not on the same page when it comes to getting work, resulting in a blown TV audition for one of their horses.

Not too far away, Ricky “Jupe” Park (Steven Yeun), a former child actor, runs an amusement park-frontier theme town. Park, a frequent customer of Haywood’s Hollywood Horses, lets OJ know that he would be interested in buying his entire operation.

These are the dramatic bones that make up the story, and Peele does his utmost to flesh out the situation by sensibly introducing creatures from another world on safari for exotic culinary specimens.

Time to cowboy up!

Peele delivers a ton of thematic groceries to the table, and it’s good eating. The pursuit of fame regardless of personal danger, appears to be his thesis statement, as both OJ and Ricky Park want to exploit the alien menace that hovers nearby for their own gain.

Fortunately, OJ comes to his senses. Others aren’t so lucky.

Nope stretches over two hours but Peele keeps everything smelling fresh. He definitely flexes a fondness for John Ford and Steven Spielberg, with bright, postcard vistas from the mysterious desert contrasted with tight indoor framing that clearly defines two different worlds—tamed and untamed.

Peele’s stinging observations about the invisibility of blacks and other minorities in the history of the motion picture industry are squarely on topic, and he remedies this historical omission with a brave black cowboy hero for us to root for.

When was the last time we saw one of those outside of Blazing Saddles?

Infested (2023)

Even Stephen King loves Infested!

So how come I don’t?

French filmmaker Sebastien Vanicek spins an undeniably creepy tale about the rag-tag residents of a dilapidated apartment building besieged by Middle-Eastern spiders that reproduce at an alarming rate.

Our hero, Kaleb (Théo Christine), is an exotic animal fancier and sneaker pimp with a troubled personal life. Seeking to numb his sorrows with a little retail therapy, he buys an expensive spider from a shady agent and promptly loses the little bugger once he gets home.

Next thing you know, there are spiders everywhere! Big ones, small ones, nasty ones, climbing out of every nook and cranny!

The poisonous pests lay eggs in their human victims, so they can emerge from the corpse, en masse, for maximum “ick” factor.

Kaleb’s flat is in the remarkable Picasso Arenas, near Paris, designed by architect Manuel Núñez Yanowsky, which makes for an artfully labyrinthine backdrop for the anxious apartment dwellers trapped between advancing arachnids and brutal, unsympathetic cops trying to contain the threat.

My main beef with Infested is that the spiders themselves are rather lacking in character. Once ensconced in the building, they aren’t especially aggressive, though they do erupt in an impressive array of shapes and sizes.

When I saw Arachnaphobia (1990) in the theater, the audience was so rapt that we were continually brushing our clothes due to imagined, unseen invaders.

Perhaps it was the smaller screen, but the uncanny feeling of being trapped in a web never really materialized in Infested, though not for a lack of effort by Vanicek and a likable cast that spends most of its screen time cowering in dark corners.

This is where the lion’s share of the character development takes place. Old friends confessing their various misdeeds and misunderstandings, diminishing the sense of urgency necessary to sustain tension or terror.

It’s a pretty good movie, just not all that scary. Let’s see if the Arachnophobia reboot can do any better.

The Tank (2023)

Tanks for nothing.

The Tank fails to capitalize on a perfectly serviceable premise reminiscent of H.P. Lovecraft’s The Shuttered Room, in which a financially strapped family inherits a long-abandoned property on the Oregon coast. (Actually filmed in New Zealand!)

Conveniently set in the 1970s (no cellphones, duh), The Tank dutifully introduces us to Ben (Matt Whelan) and his wife Jules (Luciane Buchanan), a young couple eking out a living as co-owners of a pet shop.

One day a lawyer arrives with a mysterious deed to a mysterious house that Ben’s mysterious mother (a madwoman) had in her possession, and without further prompting, Ben and Jules pack up their daughter Reia (Zara Nausbaum) and the family dog (who doesn’t die) and split for the new beach house.

Writer-director Scott Walker does an okay job of placing his protagonists in a suitably eerie environment, but there isn’t much going on for the first hour of the film, and frankly it’s not worth the time investment spent waiting for a little action.

What follows are approximately 46 scenes of Ben and Jules wandering about their property in the dark with only lanterns to the light the way, and they mostly add up to zilch. All manner of growls, grunts, and groans are investigated but nothing turns up and everyone goes back to sleep.

Finally, some flesh-eating salamanders materialize in the water tank beneath the house and make their presence known by mauling a couple of secondary characters.

The salamanders have no eyes, so that’s a bit creepy.

Where did they come from? Are they monsters? Did they kill Ben’s father and sister? Most of these mysterious queries remain unanswered, so be prepared for the bitter taste of disappointment upon conclusion of The Tank, because it will not inspire much joy—other than the dog’s survival.

Alligator 2: The Mutation (1991)

Eleven years after Joe Dante and John Sayles delivered one of the best giant critter movies ever, the not-as-good (but not bad!) sequel, Alligator 2: The Mutation shows up.

It lacks the satirical bite of its predecessor, but the plot is a carbon copy of Alligator, with a smattering of Jaws, once again pitting a wise-cracking cop against a reptilian nightmare lurking in the city sewer system.

Speaking of cities, A2 is filmed in Echo Park dressed up to look like a small town where everyone knows each other. Here, local Latino families are threatened by an evil developer (Steve Railsback) with a lot of toxic waste to unload.

David Hodges (Joseph Bologna) is the detective in charge of the mutilated bodies that start piling up, and he’s beset on all sides by difficult choices, not made any easier by the fact that his scientist wife Christine (Dee Wallace Stone) wants him to quit smoking for his birthday.

Taking another page from the original movie, Vinnie Brown (Railsback), the black-hearted villain of our story, hires comic-relief hunters, led by Hawk Hawkins (Richard Lynch, in a scene-chewing special) as a Cajun gator-getter flanked by a brood of gun-toting rednecks.

Good old Major Healy, Bill Daily, is on hand as the spineless mayor, and veteran faces like Wallace, Brock Peters, and Kane Hodder add some seasoning to the soup.

It’s a fun flick, but Alligator 2: The Mutation can’t duplicate the depth and daring of the first film, which is what happens when you replace director Joe Dante with Jon Hess, and screenwriter John Sayles with Curt Allen.

The practical effects depicting gore and gator mayhem aren’t nearly as good as the first movie, released a decade earlier. Fluctuating gator size doesn’t help. Come on people! Keep up with technology!

In the final reckoning, it checks a bunch of boxes, and you’ll have a decent time chuckling at all the ridiculous hair-dos and don’ts, and occasional cheese-metal anthems.

Leaving D.C. (2012)

Welcome to another edition of I Should Have Stayed In the City.

In Leaving D.C., a surprisingly anxiety inducing found-footage thriller, writer-director Josh Criss stars as Mark Klein, a 20-year veteran of working like a donkey as a technical writer in our nation’s capitol.

After achieving some measure of financial independence, Mark buys his “dream house” that comes with 17 acres of land—smack dab in the middle of Nowhere, West Virginia.

To chart his return to nature, Mark sends video updates to the members of his OCD support group back in Washington. These start out in relatively benign fashion, but it soon becomes apparent that our humble narrator is obsessed with the idea that he’s not alone in this remote wilderness.

Every night at a little after three in the morning, some form of disturbance takes place that causes the already anxious Mark Klein to devolve into a nervous wreck, despite the fact that he’s installed a state-of-the-art security system and even bought a handgun.

As an OCD sufferer myself, I found Mark’s slippery slope into extreme agitation a comically familiar one, as rational thinking is replaced with desperation and poor decision making.

The weirdest manifestation Mark has to deal with is flute playing right outside his window. In the middle of the woods. Miles from his nearest neighbor.

That would be enough for me to abandon ship, but Mark digs in his heels.

I don’t think I’m spoiling anything when I reveal that our man Mark is not up to the task of solving this mystery.

Instead, it solves him.

We are enthusiastically recommending Leaving D.C., and let it be a lesson to you.

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019)

“Stories hurt. Stories heal.”

Folklorist Alvin Schwartz is the author of the source material for Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, but in the fertile hands of director Andre Ovredal (Trollhunter) and producer Guillermo del Toro, these words not only spring to life, they chase us down a long dark hallway.

With the 1968 presidential election of Richard Nixon serving as an ominous backdrop, we are invited into the picturesque community of Mill Valley, Pennsylvania, where Halloween is in full swing.

Stella (Zoe Margaret Colletti), a fan of horror movies and a burgeoning writer, is putting the finishing touches on her witch costume in preparation for an evening out with Auggie (Gabriel Rush), and Chuck (Austin Zajur), her two doofus friends.

In short order, they manage to piss off Tommy Milner (Austin Abrams), the town bully, and he and his goon buddies chase the luckless teens into a drive-in showing Night of the Living Dead. There, they take refuge in a car belonging to Ramon (Michael Garza), a stranger in town, who coincidentally is also on the run.

With Ramon in tow, Stella and her friends decide to explore the Bellows Mansion, the local haunted house of mystery, and in doing so, release the spirit of Sarah Bellows, a raging ghost bent on revenge.

While the connecting narrative of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is an increasingly familiar page torn from Ray Bradbury, Stephen King, Stranger Things, etc, the monsters conceived by del Toro and Ovredal bring the zing to this production.

The Fat Lady, Harold the Scarecrow, the Jangly Man, and the Big Toe Zombie are the stuff of newer, fresher nightmares, elbowing aside worn-out boogeyman templates that neither frighten nor satisfy.

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark also ends in such a way that a second film is practically required so Stella can rescue Auggie and Chuck. I only hope that the sequel is likewise handled by del Toro and Overdal, who are perfectly suited to the task.

In case my review is too ambiguous, I heartily recommend Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, now and in the future.

Spoonful of Sugar (2022)

Time for another installment of The Babysitter Saga, where we get to know the folks minding our precious offspring, while Mom and Dad sip martinis beneath a romantic moon, in search of dormant passion.

Spoonful of Sugar introduces us to Millicent (Morgan Saylor), an awkward college student hired to keep tabs on Johnny (Danilo Crovetti), a nonverbal autistic boy with a ton of allergies.

Johnny’s mother Rebecca (Kat Foster) is a successful writer married to Jacob (Myko Olivier), a hunky, shirtless carpenter that works from home.

Yes, this is a basic recipe for any number of Cinemax potboilers. Fortunately, director Mercedes Bryce Morgan and writer Leah Saint Marie have bigger fish to fry.

Nothing in the film is what it appears to be—it’s much, much worse, often to the point of absolute lunacy.

Millicent seems a virginal innocent, charged with caring for a seriously damaged child in an astronaut costume, whose parents are at the end of their ropes.

And that’s when Morgan brings her ingredients to a furious boil. Jacob and Millicent explore their animal attraction, even as the latter self-medicates with generous doses of LSD.

Historically (hysterically?), it could be argued that the combination of sex and drugs transforms Millicent into something evil, but the evidence presented indicates she’s already had a thriving career in the field, leaving a discreet stash of bodies in her wake.

It’s a calling she shares with young Johnny.

What ensues is a surreal, nightmarish custody battle, with both parties revealing a heart of darkness.

Millicent and Rebecca square off centerstage in a bloody contest of parenting styles, competing for Jacob, and the love of a mute boy with increasingly special needs of his own.

The outrageous extremes and shocking tableaux favored by Mercedes Bryce Morgan slow cook into a marvelously harrowing stew of taboos that satisfies a craving we didn’t even know we had.

Spoonful of Sugar is potentially dangerous medicine. Please consult your mad doctor before ingesting.